Chapter Text
They have picked a peaceful place to settle down. The house Nuada tracks them down to is in the gentle slope of the mountain, nestled between dense pines.
Kill me. You must. For I will not stop. I cannot.
Nuada is here to make good on his word. He walks past scorched patches of earth, a splintered tree here and there. They have made themselves painfully obvious. Then, they lack the practice of having had to hide themselves for thousands of years.
When he steps into the clearing next to the house, he does not find what he expects. No demon, no witch, but a human and two children. The three of them sit in the high reeds growing next to a lake that is so close to the ocean, it feels itself a sibling to it.
The children are decidedly not human. Both of them marked with the jet black hair of their parents, red tails and stark yellow eyes. One of them has sat itself into the shallow water at the edge of the lake, throwing up its burning hands to pat them into the water. It giggles at the zissh of it, as the flames distinguish.
The other one is crawling in the mud, until it catches what it's been prowling the ground for. Proudly it holds up a toad for inspection to the human watching them. He's young, though not terribly so for one of his kind. Brown curls frame his face, kind eyes and sweet smile speaking of tender affection as he gently cups his hands under the toad. He says something the child seems disappointed by. The human tilts his head and Nuada strains his ears to hear his next words, walking slowly closer to them along the treeline.
"You wouldn't like someone taking you away from your home, right?"
The child shakes its head and frowns. Still it holds onto the toad.
"It is a very pretty frog," the human admits indulgently.
"'s a toad," the child mumbles, cradling it to its chest. It croaks a pitiable protest.
"A very pretty toad," is conceded. "Only because it is where it is happy. Do you think it would be happy in a cage? Would you be?"
The child shakes its head again, slowly this time. The human still patiently has his hands cupped under the toad.
"If you let me put it down, we can look at it some more?"
Hesitantly the child puts the distressed animal into awaiting hands. They turn away from Nuada, towards the water, and within seconds he hears a quiet splash, followed by the giggle of the child. Too young to hold onto much sorrow for long.
This is not what Nuada expected to find.
Then, although Nuada has made no sound he is aware of, the human turns around to him. Their eyes meet and while Nuada is sure that he looks surprised, the human does not. He's not sure why he feels frozen in place as he is studied by bright, curious eyes.
Only when one of the children pulls on his arm insistently, calling his name John, come look, does the human turn away from him. He kneels down to be at the same eye level as his little companion. Close as he has come, Nuada sees the newly freed toad sit on a stone next to them. The man called John smiles at the child excitedly grasping his hand.
"You've made a friend," John says. He looks back at Nuada over his shoulder and gestures with his head for him to come closer. Nuada feels not himself as he does as he is bid. He would not behave like this. Stupefied and dumb in the face of serenity. And yet, he steps out of the cover of the trees and approaches slowly, until he stands next to the trio, looking down on them.
The children barely pay him any attention, just another grown-up who does not compare to the wonders of new, curious things. But John looks up at him. Nuada blocks out the sun above him, and John kneels in his shadow. Muddy hands in his lap, his lips rise into a wry smile.
"An appropriate way of meeting you, I suppose, Prince Nuada." John inclines his head in a mock-bow, but somehow, it doesn't feel ridiculing. Just mischievous. Like so many of Nuada's people.
"You know me then."
John nods. "They've been worried about you showing up one day, you know." He tilts his head in that curious way again. "But I don't think you're here to do what they're afraid of."
The corners of Nuada's mouth pull into an unused, confused smile. "I am not?"
John shakes his head. "No, you are not."
"Are you completely out of your mind?!"
Liz is fuming, literally. She has one twin sitting on her hip, the other one hugging her leg, tail curled around her ankle.
"How could you let him get near them?" she hisses. Hellboy is sitting next to John at the table, expression very clearly telling him, you're on your own with this, buddy.
John frowns at Liz. "And how exactly would I have stopped him?"
Liz leans down to him, so close that he feels the heat of her breath when she says, dangerously low, "You could have done anything other than telling him to come closer." John looks at Ellie innocently peering up at him through her bangs. Little traitor.
"He was just standing there." Looking lost. Lonely. Inhumanly beautiful. John sighs at himself. Maybe he's gone mad in Antarctica. All that endless summer sun. "He hasn't done anything yet, has he? He didn't sound like the type to show up and wait around."
"He's a weird little bastard," Hellboy grumbles and Ethan gasps from his perch on Liz' hip, "Swear jar!" He's too young to speak so well, John thinks. They are both too big for their age, too smart. If they were human, that is.
Liz sighs and adjusts Ethan in her grasp. "Nuada's unpredictable," she says eventually. "Unstable. Who knows when he will change his mind."
The kitchen chair Hellboy has been sitting on scratches over the hardwood floor as he stands up. He rounds the table and settles a heavy hand around Liz. "Then we'll get rid of him again. First family adventure," he grins with that roguish charm of his and Liz fails to suppress her own smile.
They make a good picture. A good family. John turns his eyes away.
Nuada has other things to do than come back to the cabin. Leaders to persuade and giants to rouse. And yet, two days later, he finds himself back at the shore of the lake. He finds John there, too, laid down in the clearing among dandelions and buttercups, half hidden by high grass.
Nuada casts his shadow over him again as he steps next to him, but to no effects this time. He's fast asleep. There are dark shadows under his eyes and now that Nuada is not distracted by their focus on him, he notices the pale skin and raw bitten nails of his fingers that rest on his belly.
John seems to be a creature in dire need of rest and the mountain has decided to cradle him in a soft embrace. Standing next to him makes Nuada take stock of his own exhaustion, settled so deep in him, it must have seeped into the marrow of his bones by now. The constant struggle to make his people survive is an honor to keep up. But gods, is it tiring to be doing it alone, when everyone else seems to have capitulated. It is sorrowful work to scream against the apathy of the very people whose continued existence he is trying to secure.
So yes, Nuada very much feels something in him reach out to the comfort displayed in front of him. The inviting smell of sun warmed earth and grass that would softly bend itself to pillow his body. He doesn't see the harm in sitting down here for a while.
When he wakes up, an unknown time to him later, it is to those blue eyes sleepily looking at him. Nuada blinks awake and stays very still. He waits for shock, for fear. If John has not known of his past, he must know by now. What he is to humanity. And yet. Once more, there is only a pleased smile given to him, even softer than the time before. Like John is happy to see him, which cannot be. Still, it makes Nuada's chest ache.
When John does speak, his voice is raspy with sleep, barely a whisper. "I'm here," he says and wets his lips, pink tongue darting out for just a second. Nuada feels his old heart beat against his ribcage. John softly clears his throat. "I am here," he starts again, voice still very quiet, eyes fixed on Nuada's, "for a few weeks."