Work Text:
The little country of Askazer-Shivadlakia, perched on the edge of the French Riviera, was known for its temperate climate -- its pleasant winters as much as its balmy summers. Most of the tourists were drawn, naturally, to Fons-Askaz, the charming beach town and capitol city, with its many restaurants, ocean breezes, and the very good chance of seeing a royal wandering into town for lunch.
The northern region of the country -- sleepy, rural, given over to dairy grazing and the production of exceptional cheese, good wine, and beef sausage that was admittedly an acquired taste -- lured fewer tourists. Still, those who came were seeking something altogether different and willing to spend more, with an appreciation for nature and developed palates in search of new edible adventures. Most of the dairy farms had at least a small front room where they would serve samples for their visitors, and the larger ones had restaurants (rebranded in the last decade or two as 'farm to table') and even guesthouses or small inns attached. One had a spa.
King Gregory III and his heart, the King Consort Theophile ("Eddie" to his friends), were not staying at the spa, or even at the little royal hunting bungalow that the Shivadh kings and queens had kept for centuries at the northernmost point of the country. They were about three hours' drive from the coast, taking a long weekend for themselves in a comfortable little cottage set off from the main lodgings at a local farmhouse. The October air was crisp, but still warm enough for shirtsleeves most days, and there was still al-fresco dining at the farm's newly-opened Taverna Da Roman, which had been getting strong reviews for its charcuterie and traditional Italo-Shivadh fare. It wasn't the king's mandate to visit every new restaurant or resort that opened in his country, but he hardly had to be ordered when his husband suggested inspecting this one.
"So?" Gregory asked, leaning back in his chair, enjoying the taverna's warm patio and a stomach full of good food. Eddie, across from him, was still eating; he'd been slower and more selective about his tastings, as a trained chef, and had been taking notes since they'd arrived the day before. "I think I can make some overall predictions about your verdict, but you've had a few meals here now -- what do you think?"
"I will never be tired of this country," Eddie said, with an immigrant's true passion for his chosen home. He plucked the last of the halloumi off the heated iron bar it had been brought on and piled it with some tomato pesto on a crostini.
"Probably for the best, given you're a king of it," Gregory said with a smile.
"I like to think of it," Eddie said, talking with his mouth full but employing the skill of years as a television food host to do it very neatly, "more like I married a man who happened to give me a country for a wedding present."
"All my kingdom and my heart," Gregory replied.
"Not to be unromantic, because I love you too, but I'm busy with this cheese," Eddie said, and Gregory laughed. "I don't always like crostini this oily but I think they're keeping the toasting temperature low because it's olive oil and I'll forgive a lot for good olive oil. Super hard to find these days."
"I think they're getting it from Jerry's estate," Gregory said. "Have to ask. Jer'll be pleased, you know how he is about the produce."
"With good reason," Eddie said, swallowing and picking up his wineglass before sitting back. The sun was just down, and they were lighting the lamps around the patio. Gregory was looking forward to perhaps a quiet walk in the low foothills nearby, at the edge of a forest that separated Askazer-Shivadlakia from Italy, and an early night in, with perhaps some fooling-around with Eddie. Although probably they'd have to do a short video about their trip for Photogram first. Gregory had grown to like those; they were great PR, generally, and Eddie did most of the work while he sat and looked ornamental, something that as a politician he rarely got to do.
"Huh," Eddie said into the comfortable silence, in a voice that Gregory had learned meant both trouble and adventure. He was watching a pair of men walking across the patio -- a large, dark-haired man with a tripod and what looked like some kind of microphone rig over his shoulder, and a redhead carrying a black duffle bag, with a hunting knife strapped to his waist.
"Friends of yours?" Gregory asked, amused, watching their progress as well. The redhead with the big knife also had some kind of device in his hands with a lit-up screen. He looked tough, rangy almost, while his companion was burlier, with deeply tanned skin.
"No, but not unfamiliar. Pretty sure that's the Small Adventures guys," Eddie said.
"The who now?"
"They run a Photogram, we've talked occasionally. Americans. I didn't know they were in Askazer-Shivadlakia or I'd have invited them to Fons-Askaz," Eddie said. "They're mostly harmless weirdos but I don't know about letting them run around unsupervised in my country."
"Your country," Gregory repeated, pleased. "Not like we can stop them, Eddie, unless they're doing some kind of crime. What's their story?"
"They're one of those supernatural investigation shows, but they specialize in stuff nobody else thinks is interesting enough to look into," Eddie said. "Mostly cryptids. Bigfoot, Loch Ness Monster, that kind of thing, but only really niche legends."
"What do you suppose they'd be doing here?" Gregory asked, twisting to watch as they took the footpath off the patio and towards the hiking trails into the forest.
"I don't know. You aware of any local cryptids?"
"Not really. There are a few jokes about a monster in the lake, down by the fishing lodge."
"Really? How sure are you that it's a joke? That lake is weird."
"They named her Assy," Gregory said. Eddie choked on his wine. "Like Nessie, only in Askazer-Shivalakia."
"Joke. Gotcha," Eddie agreed.
"Anyway if there was one, father would have shot it by now, probably," Gregory said. "If they're looking for monsters, could be they're after a Squasc."
"Squasc?"
"Little furry squirrely things," Gregory said. "Like uh, I suppose like a Brownie or a TomTom. They play pranks on naughty children. Mom used to tell me if I was naughty a Squasc would come tickle me when I slept. It wasn't really a threat," he added, seeing Eddie's face. "She'd tickle me when she said it, and then I'd pretend to sleep so I could see a Squasc, and then I'd actually fall asleep, which was definitely her goal. Anyway, I was a very well-behaved child."
"Huh. I'll have to ask at the farmhouse. If they gave permission for filming in the forest, they probably know what those boys are up to," Eddie said. "I might have a word with them about a collaboration. Fix them some snacks to take with them on their Squasc hunt, I film me cooking for them, they film them eating what I cooked. What's a Squasc eat, do you think?"
"Childrens' toes, according to my mother," Gregory answered absently.
"I realize neither of us had a normal upbringing but you are so weird and I love it," Eddie said.
Romantic evening stroll accomplished, and fooling-around satisfyingly concluded, Gregory was asleep, wrapped around Eddie because he got too warm otherwise and Eddie liked being the little spoon, a novelty for a man of his size.
Gregory wasn't sure at first what woke him, but it had definitely been a noise; he had a rare moment of whatever that was, it's not my problem and was about to go back to sleep when he heard it again: a short, sharp panicked sort of yelp. It was followed by distant yelling, but drawing closer. He sat up in bed, unfortunately elbowing Eddie in the process.
"M'up, m'up," Eddie grumbled, startled. "What -- this isn't a bakery," he added, bewildered. Gregory, who knew he'd worked in a bakery for a while and still had dreams where he had to get up at three in the morning for it, patted his shoulder.
"Hear that?" he asked, pointing in the direction of the yelling. Eddie, looking wild, got up and went to the window, pulling the curtain aside. Gregory went to the door and opened it, putting his head out.
It took a second for them to pick out the movement, with only moonlight to see by, but eventually the mysterious shouting coalesced into two figures running through the overgrown pasture between the treeline and the guesthouse like a devil was chasing them. Gregory flipped on the light over the door and then, just in case, picked up a guest umbrella from the stand just inside and prepared to do battle.
"Hey!" one of the men yelled, when he saw the light come on. "Let us in, let us in!"
Gregory stepped outside, making way, and glared searchingly at the trees and the pasture as the two men darted inside. One of them grabbed him (rude) and hauled him inside (extra rude) and the other slammed the door shut. Both were panting.
"Uh, Greg?" Eddie asked, eyes on the umbrella, held in the threatening manner of a man who'd taken self-defense as an elective at a very expensive boarding school. Gregory lowered it, putting it back in the stand, and turned to the two panting men.
It was, as he suspected it might be, the Small Adventures guys -- the redhead, chest heaving, had the tripod over his shoulder, camera strapped to it, and his dark-haired friend had something technological strapped around him. Their duffle bag was nowhere to be seen.
"Did it follow us?" the redhead demanded. Eddie peered out the window.
"What did it look like?" he asked. The two looked at each other. "Not seeing anything. Get yourselves in trouble with the local wildlife?"
"Uh, if by local wildlife you mean a definite svichwurm."
Gregory couldn't help it; he was only half awake but pumped with adrenaline, and he burst out laughing. All three of the other men stared at him. His politician's brain kicked in, and he composed himself, gulping.
"I'm sorry, that was incredibly rude," he said, patting his own chest. "Eddie, any sign of a monster out there?"
"Well, nothing's moving, but I wouldn't know a switchworm if I met one," Eddie said. He turned from the window. "Hope you guys were filming when it happened."
"We were, I think my mic's still -- uh," the redhead said, staring at him. Eddie grinned. "Eddie Rambler?"
"It's Hank, isn't it?" he said, offering his hand. The redhead, presumably Hank, took it. "Hank and Benjamin, right?"
"What the hell are you doing here?" Hank asked. Benjamin was slowly extricating himself from whatever it was he was wearing on a harness around his chest.
"I kinda live here now, you may have heard," Eddie said drily.
"Oh yeah, no, I mean, here," Hank said.
Eddie gestured at Gregory. "Vacation with the husband."
Both men looked at Gregory again. He gave a bow, Shivadh-style.
"Well, fuck," Benjamin said.
"Ben!" Hank hissed.
"He's the king!" Ben hissed back at the redhead.
"Now is not the time!"
"Gentlemen," Gregory said, because he had some experience dealing with the oh no that's the king sentiment he ran into -- most often from tourists, since his own subjects didn't tend to be overly impressed. "I don't stand on formality. Any friend of Eddie's."
"I'm so sorry we woke you. We will absolutely let you get back to...sleeping," Hank said. "If the coast is clear we can make a run for the farmhouse."
"Are you staying up there?" Gregory asked. "We'd be happy to walk you back, if you're concerned."
"I'm gonna need a minute to find some real clothes," Eddie said.
"I -- that's not necessary," Ben began, but Hank interrupted.
"It'd be nice though," he added, looking nervously at the windows.
"I'm fairly sure if a svichwurm is out there, he's not coming after me," Gregory said, as Eddie rummaged in an open suitcase, coming up with a pair of sweatpants and tossing Gregory a hoodie. "I'll take the umbrella, we'll be fine."
A few minutes found them, armed with an umbrella, two cellphone flashlights, and an electric torch, walking cautiously up to the farmhouse. Eddie kept up a stream of chatter, clearly to put the other two at ease, and Gregory kept the umbrella at the ready. He didn't imagine there was an actual local cryptid out there, but they did occasionally deal with wildcats, wolves, and jackals. Not usually predatory towards humans, but Ben and Hank had probably not improved matters by running around yelling.
"Anyhow," Eddie said, as they reached the farmhouse gate. "Get yourselves inside. Maybe get some sleep," he added kindly. "Hey, come get brunch with us, huh? Like say 10:30? You gotta try the eggs here. So fresh they'd peep if they weren't cooked to perfection."
The two men seemed to have a silent conversation with each other, mainly in head tilts and widened eyes, until Hank turned to Eddie and said, "We'd love to. Sorry again we woke you up."
"Don't worry about it. Go on," Eddie said, waving them through the gate. He leaned on the low fence, waiting until they were inside, before turning to Greg.
"I'm definitely missing subtext," Eddie said, pushing away from the gate. "What's a switchworm and why did you laugh?"
"Come back to bed. I'll explain in the morning," Gregory said. "Don't get me started tonight or we'll never get to sleep again."
Even with their midnight interruption, Gregory was up at five by habit; despite the rumored svichwurm, he put on his athletic shoes and took a lovely run on the dairy's springy turf, passing mist-shrouded cattle and one small herd of a neighboring farm's sheep as he did a leisurely few kilometers around the grounds. Eddie was still asleep when he got back, so he ducked into the shower, and when he emerged Eddie was propped halfway up in bed, working on his phone.
"Al says hi," he said, as Gregory walked into the bedroom, towel around his waist. "I asked the palace groupchat what a switchworm is and your dad just laughed at me. It was a mistake teaching him how to use emojis."
"He always knew how to use emojis, he was just trolling us until you forced him to admit he knew by trying to teach him," Gregory replied. He pulled underwear and trousers on, threw on the previous night's hoodie, and sat on the bed cross-legged, facing Eddie. "You want to film me telling you about the svichwurm?"
"You're suggesting filming? Must be awesome," Eddie said, rolling to dig in the backpack hanging off the post of the beside table, coming up with a little tripod. He set it on the table, leaning over to center and focus it, arranged Gregory's hair briefly, then went back to the phone and hit record. He would be off-screen but close enough to be audible; Gregory looked at him and not the camera, hands resting in his lap.
"Repeat after me, my love: svichwurm," he said.
"Svichwurm," Eddie repeated obediently, giving him a smile.
"Svichwurm is the Shivadh name for a creature that shows up in legends all over the alps, but it's mostly loanwords -- Svich is Italo-Shivadh for Swiss, wurm is a Germanic term for a large lizard, or in this case a dragon," he said.
"Swiss dragon," Eddie said. "Sounds like a backcountry name for some kind of brown liquor."
"Good band name," Gregory replied. "Other places call them tatzelwurm or stollwurm. Usually it's a smallish, venomous dragon with a cat's face. We supposedly call it svichwurm because they come down from the Swiss alps into Askazer-Shivadlakia, but I think really it's just because our version of the legend involves the Swiss."
"What is the legend?" Eddie asked.
"Well, that's why my father and I both laughed when the topic came up," Gregory said. "In most places they're just kind of out there, roaming the hills."
"Like Bigfoot?"
"Sure. Records of them being sighted, but no actual legends involved. Hikers or hunters or whatnot go out wandering and run into the local dragon. They get a whiff of poisonous breath, and pass out or run away, but that's the end of it. There are records of wandering children getting bitten and dying, but that's mostly propaganda to keep kids well-behaved. They're rumored to steal milk -- straight from the udder, or from the big cans after milking if they can get it."
"Greg, I have to tell you, the phrase straight from the udder is certainly the highlight of my morning."
"The day is young," Gregory replied. "The point is, the svichwurms would come down from the alps and steal milk from Shivadh dairies. We were quite mad at the Swiss about it, truth be told. Keep your dragons in your own country. Still, we're very small. Not much we could do about it."
"I'd pick a fight with the Swiss," Eddie said.
"Eddie, you know I love you, but the Swiss invented that Army Knife for a reason," Gregory said. "Do not pick a fight with the Swiss now or ever."
"Their cheese is overrated and their Miss makes subpar cocoa," Eddie said.
"Eddie!"
"Don't worry, I'll edit this out."
"Good." Gregory said. "Where were we?"
"Keep your dragons in your own damn country."
"Right." Gregory adjusted his posture. "We were irritated that the svichwurms were coming into the country, and the Swiss weren't doing anything about it -- not that I know what they'd do, to be honest. Now, the story is that Gilles Roman y Askaz, hero of the country's founding, did this, but we tend to say anything heroic that happened in history, he did it. So let's say some young hero -- "
"He should be handsome," Eddie said.
Gregory grinned. "Some young, extremely handsome hero, perhaps with a shock of dark hair and a royal bearing, went up into the dairies and killed a svichwurm and took it to the local Swiss village that it probably came from, demanding to be paid for dispatching it. But the mayor of the village said it wasn't even a very big svichwurm; they argued about how big it was and the mayor insisted it was only the length of a man, when it was clearly larger. Now," Gregory continued, "this turns very quickly into a shaggy dog story, and I'm not going to put you through all that. The essence is that he keeps catching bigger and bigger svichwurms and every time the mayor of the local Swiss town says it's smaller and smaller until he says one is the size of his finger even though it's the size of a bull."
"Fascinated to know where this is going," Eddie said.
"Finally our hero kills a svichwurm the size of a whale! This part you try to stretch out as long as you can, with a description of how he kills it and gets it to the village. But when he gets there the mayor still won't pay him. He says, That little thing? It's only the size of my -- but he can't think of anything smaller to say than his finger. And the hero replies, I'll help you out: the only thing smaller than your finger is your dick."
Eddie let out a startled yelp of laughter, then gasped, then laughed again.
"It's a bit controversial these days, you know, not really the done thing to make small-penis jokes anymore. We don't body-shame! But the reason I laughed when it came up is that in Shivadh culture, the svichwurm is a shaggy dog joke that turns into a dick joke," Gregory said. "Svichwurm is a general old-fashioned euphemism for genitals. If you say hey, your svichwurm is loose it means your fly is down. If you say you're looking for a svichwurm, it means you'd like to get laid."
Eddie stared at him, then reached out and picked up the phone he was filming on, turning it so he was filming himself.
"I am a king of this country and I bring the best of it to you," he said. "You're welcome, internet."
Hank and Ben arrived at brunch looking much more put together; hair brushed, clothes tidy, freshly shaved. Eddie waved them over and Gregory stood briefly to shake hands.
"How did the rest of your night go?" he asked, settling in. Eddie had already ordered for the table, family-style, and he poured them each coffee from the carafe as they helped themselves to the rumored spectacular eggs.
"Well, we reviewed the footage once we'd calmed down," Hank said, just as Ben took a bite of eggs and said, "Holy shit."
"Told you they were good," Eddie said to him. "You see anything mythological?"
"Cryptozoological," Hank corrected. Ben was busy shoveling eggs into his mouth. "Nah, the camera didn't get it -- wrong angle. Damn thing snuck up behind us." He ran a hand through his curly red hair, then scratched his beard. "It was definitely what we were looking for though. And we got some interesting audio once we retrieved the bag. Had our wireless recorder in it."
"I mean, interesting audio, aside from our screaming," Ben said.
"The viewers like a good scream, to be honest," Hank added.
"Well, they'll get plenty," Ben announced.
"No footage at all?" Gregory asked, and then men exchanged glances. Gregory cut a faintly amused look at Eddie before turning back to them. "Look, you're going to have to stop being intimidated by me at some point."
"It's not that exactly," Hank said slowly.
"Would you like to come on a svichwurm hunt with us?" Ben asked, almost on top of him, and Eddie made a high noise of panic, holding in laughter.
"Gentlemen, Eddie has a video you should probably see, and I'm not averse to sharing it with you for your Photogram," Gregory said. "But I'd like to know: have a lot of people been giggling at you when you mention you're on a svichwurm hunt?"
"Yeah, but they generally do anyway," Ben said glumly.
"In this country," Eddie said, voice a little high, clearly trying to contain himself, "you boys should know that svichwurm is a slang term for a dick."
They looked appalled and spoke together. "What?" "That didn't show up in any of our research!"
"I'm not surprised. Unless you were in the Shivadh national archives, it wouldn't," Gregory said, calmly making himself a sandwich of a croissant, the last of the eggs that Ben hadn't yet devoured, a thick slice of soft buttery cheese, and some fragrant mustard. "Guessing most of your sources are either Swiss or French?"
"Swiss," Ben confirmed.
"Yeah, they hate that joke," Gregory said.
"As I had it explained to me this morning, because like you two I'm an American lost in the Shivadh wilderness, when you say you're going on a svichwurm hunt, you're looking for a good time. And you just propositioned the king of Askazer-Shivadlakia," Eddie added. Ben's ears turned red.
"I don't take it personally. I've certainly gone on a svichwurm hunt or two in my youth," Gregory said. Hank choked on his coffee. "Afraid I'm married now, though."
"Sexual propositions aside," Hank said, giving Ben a pointed look, "the research we did find said that svichwurms will obey the nobility. Like unicorns with virgins."
"Another notorious pair," Gregory said. "Yes, I've heard that version of the story. Supposedly we can command them," he told Eddie.
"Do I count if I'm only by marriage?" Eddie asked.
"There are so many dirty jokes I'm trying not to make," Gregory said with a sigh. He turned back to Hank and Ben. "I really don't think Eddie or I would be of any help, but Eddie does love a Photogram stunt, and he was already wondering if you'd like him to make you snacks. I suppose spending a night in the forest looking for cryptids could be entertaining. I want a thermos full of something warm and alcoholic, however."
"I can arrange that. Are you two going out again tonight?" Eddie asked. Hank and Ben looked at each other and nodded. "Well. We'll come along. I'll see about provisions. Mulled wine?" he asked Gregory.
"I'd also accept buttered rum, but the wine's probably for the best," Gregory agreed.
Even only a few hours' drive north of the coast, it got colder at night. Eddie, who had grown up surfing in central California, had conceded to a light jacket but refused to change his cargo shorts for cargo pants ("If I'm going to have any pockets I'm going to have the maximum possible number of pockets at all times"). Gregory had gone to boarding school in the Swiss Alps but had not enjoyed the winters there, and was wearing a thermal shirt and a thicker felt jacket. Hank and Ben were from New York and Wisconsin respectively, he found out, and were still in shirtsleeves.
"So," Hank explained, mostly for the video Ben was recording, as they strolled into the forest, "After last night's scare and hasty retreat, we met up with notorious food influencer Eddie Rambler, now King Theophile of Askazer Shivadlakia, and his husband, King Gregory III. And you all heard if you watched the preview research episode -- and if you didn't, click here," he added, pointing upwards at where a link would be when he uploaded the video. "If you watched the preview research episode you know that we discovered that royalty can command the svichwurm."
"Every Shivadh who watches this is going to lose their shit," Gregory whispered to Eddie.
"I know, it's fantastic," Eddie replied.
"So we've asked the kings along to see if we can find the beast again, and if we can maybe get it to obey," Hank finished. "Also, Eddie packed some really good snacks."
"And you can check those snacks out over on my Photogram -- just look for the collab tag," Eddie said, poking his head into frame. Hank shoved him playfully, and Ben stopped recording.
"Do you think what we saw was really a svichwurm?" Hank asked Gregory, as Ben wandered off to save the video. "I've been going over it in my head and I can't figure it out."
"Well, whatever it was, it scared the life out of you," Gregory said. "So even if it's just some local predator, it'd be good to have proof. I'm sorry I really can't take the svichwurm seriously, but I believe something dangerous scared you -- you don't seem the type to run from rustling leaves."
"We try not to be," Hank agreed.
"I think it was probably a wildcat, maybe blowing in its winter coat," Gregory said. "But why be snobby about it? This will be an extremely entertaining evening regardless. And Eddie's enjoying himself."
"Ben's a big fan," Hank said. "He swears by Eddie Rambler's Washing Machine Chicken recipe. He usually only makes it for his dates but he's made it for me a few times and it's awesome."
"You and he aren't...?" Gregory asked, because he had, honestly, assumed.
"Oh! No. Can you imagine?" Hank said, grinning, but there was a tiny hint of truth to the question. Hank could imagine, Gregory decided. "Ben's straight. Dates a lot of redheads. Right type, wrong equipment, me."
"Probably wise anyway. Hypocritical of me to say, given I share an office with Eddie, but it can be difficult, two creatives working together and involved," Gregory said.
"Fleetwood Mac."
"Sonny and Cher."
"Sid and Nancy."
"Oh, dark," Gregory said with a low whistle. "Zelda and Scott Fitzgerald."
"What are you two doing?" Eddie asked, dropping back to walk with them. "We're already roughing it, no need to bring more camp in."
"Your coming-out video was inspirational," Hank told him, with deceptive earnestness. "I do the Bisexual Rainbow dance for my nieces all the time. They know all the hand movements."
"Express yourself, princess," Eddie said, and Hank batted his eyes at him before resuming his march.
"We were discussing famously dysfunctional couples," Gregory said. "I hadn't even got to Oscar Wilde yet."
"As the resident Californian, I'm here to say your negative vibes are really bringing down the mood," Eddie said. "Happy couples only. Paul and Julia Child."
"I'll take your word for it. All right -- mom and dad," Gregory said with a grin.
"Cheat. I'm going to have to double-cheat you. You and me," Eddie announced.
"You know, you guys make me feel okay not being in a relationship," Hank said to Gregory.
"We're on vacation and Eddie's full of schmaltz," Gregory said.
"I'm going to go see if Ben actually remembers where we were last night," Hank said. "You two lovebirds get it out of your system."
"Now, there goes a walking shame," Eddie said, twining his fingers in Gregory's as Hank ran to catch up with Ben.
"What's that?"
"Those two idiots. I genuinely thought they were married."
"Me too!" Gregory said, turning to him. "Hank says they're not even dating."
"Ben said that too. He claims he's straight in his socials."
"Now, my love, we don't impugn sexual identities," Gregory told him. After a brief pause, he added, "But if I was going to -- "
"Right?"
"Well, let it lie. I do think Hank's got a crush. I asked about them and he was a little too quick to laugh." Gregory bumped Eddie's arm as they walked. "You ever end up in a situation like that? Pining for someone? Maybe even mutual pining."
"Well, there was a reckless young prince of my acquaintance who didn't want to marry me," Eddie said. Gregory grinned at him. "But I wasn't pining sexually. Very fulfilled actually."
"Nice to hear that."
"What about you?"
"Oh, fellow students here and there when I was a kid, but usually only as long as we were in class together. At the end of term, off I'd flit. Other than that...no, I think I've always favored the direct route. Took me long enough to figure out what it was I wanted, once I did I wasn't wasting time not going after it."
"Decisive," Eddie grunted dramatically. "Good quality in a king."
"Aha! I knew I marked it. Down this way," Ben called from up ahead. He was shining the torch on a streak of white chalk he'd apparently marked on a tree earlier. "We're off the trail from here."
"What made you choose this spot?" Eddie asked, as they ducked into the foliage.
"Wait, wait..." Hank took the camera from Ben and started filming. "Okay, take that again, Eddie?"
"What made you choose this spot?" Eddie asked, brushing leaves out of the way, second take as flawlessly acted as the first one had been spontaneous. Gregory never failed to marvel at show business.
"We were taking some readings on one of Ben's new experimental gadgets," Hank said.
"There's a theory that the reason we don't have evidence of certain cryptids is that they give off a specific electromagnetic resonance," Ben said. "Every living being generates an electromagnetic field, but most are very weak. Cryptids might generate one that disrupts the human brain. Makes it hard to see or record them. I built a little thing that senses electrical currents and indicates certain frequencies. Followed it out here."
"Why aren't we using it tonight?" Gregory asked.
"Got thrashed when we ran. I need a soldering iron to fix it and I forgot to pack mine," Ben said. "Bout another half a mile that way, I think. We're hoping it comes back to the same place. Lizards are surprisingly territorial, as we found out in the Tucson Dragon video."
"It'd be a weird evolutionary bumble if it really does have wings," Gregory mused. "Most bigger creatures evolved from some four-legged ancestor. It's why birds have two wings, two feet, whales have two flippers and vestigial legs off back by the tail. Unless you're a crab or a bug of some kind, you're generally just not going to have more than four limbs. Can't have four legs and wings. Well, flying lizards, but those are convergent evolution, the wings aren't limbs properly. Did you know a flying lizard and a gliding snake both get air from expanding ribs?" he asked Eddie.
"No, I didn't know that. Why did you?" Eddie asked.
"Passing fascination with skeletons when I was twelve?" Gregory guessed.
"I bet you had the shortest goth phase on record," Eddie said.
"Yeah, it lasted the exact length of a Robert Smith album," Gregory replied. Ben snorted a laugh. "I see you had the same phase, Ben."
"That, but it's also weird, like, hearing you talk like a person," Ben said. "No offense. Before today you were, you know. The King, Capital T, Capital K."
"It took me some adjusting too," Gregory said. "One day I was still me, but I was also suddenly in charge of a whole country."
"That's how we felt a little when the Photogram took off," Hank said, and Ben nodded. "We were just tooling around the country entertaining ourselves and then...we were a brand. Then we had employees. We offer people health insurance, which is wild."
"So, metaphorically speaking, you're kings too," Gregory said. "The true treasure was clearly the venomous cat-faced lizard monsters which obeyed us along the way."
"Speak for yourself, I refuse to make use of any of this for personal growth," Ben replied.
It took them another minute to reach the weird, oblong clearing where they'd been set up the night before. It was only about ten feet wide, but there was an uneven chunk of earth at one end that made for a natural blind, and a good place to sit. Eddie kicked a piece of fallen tree around until it was positioned as a backrest, then settled in; Gregory lowered himself to the ground next to him, enjoying Eddie's warm arm over his shoulders, while Hank and Ben set up the equipment.
"Not that I don't like a vacation read as much as the next king," Eddie said, "but this is way better than curling up in the guesthouse with you and a book."
"I feel like this is probably somehow your destiny," Gregory said. "Always winding up on adventures when you just mean to take a job, or a vacation."
"It's because I know a good thing when I see it and I have no impulse control," Eddie told him.
"I don't know, he showed up one day to cater my coronation, came home with me, and never left," Gregory said, as if he were being interviewed.
"I wasn't doing anything more interesting than ruling a country, that's for sure. Hey," he added, as Ben came over to sit nearby. "You all done?"
"Not quite, but Hank's got to do it all from here. I knock stuff over in the dark, but also Hank says my electrical field distracts him," Ben said.
"Sure, that's very distracting, I bet," Eddie said. Gregory got the sense Eddie felt it wasn't Ben's electrical field that was distracting. "Hey, you want to do a quick LiveGram? Pique interest for the video releases later?"
"Nah, Hank's better on live than I am, I get nervous," Ben said. "You two can, though, if you want."
"Hey, friends and fans," Eddie said, phone already lifted, streaming live to his followers. Gregory gave the camera his best I'm the king smile, genuinely pleased that the signal was strong enough, this far out, that they could still stream. "We're out here tonight in the rolling hills of the Shivadh North with the Small Adventure guys, Hank and Ben. Giving it a minute or two for peoples' notifications to go off, and I see the chat's filling up. How are you guys tonight?" he asked, as activity began to spike on his photogram page and the chat began scrolling. "Uh-huh, I'm seeing lots of strong feelings. That's a good question, someone just asked where we're staying because they love the views. I have the name and permission to share it and I'm one hundred percent not going to until we're back in the palace. Be safe out there on the internet, kids, don't tell people where you are until you aren't there anymore. Oh, hey, that's an extremely inappropriate follow-up which I will not be answering except to say I have no complaints...and I'm seeing people asking about the cookie recipe."
Eddie gave a dramatic sigh. The cookie recipe had been the plague of his previous week, Gregory knew, because neither the internet nor Eddie himself would stop talking about it. "Yes, it is two cups, not two pounds, of flour. We've already corrected it on the site and it was always correct in the video. I'm not sure what more I can do to fix the thing, people are just going to keep doing the dumb made it exactly to the recipe meme videos. Oh, you're just here to drag me? You know what, I'm fine with that. Okay -- so, as I said, we're out here in the Shivadh North, with the Small Adventure guys. We're here to look for a local cryptid."
He took a breath, and Gregory realized too late that it was a trap.
"What cryptid are we looking for, Greg?" he asked, leering at the camera.
Gregory sighed. "The svichwurm," he said, keeping his tone even.
"That's right, what are we doing?" Eddie prompted.
Gregory rolled his eyes. "We're looking for a svichwurm."
"Only the Shivadh viewers will know why this is so funny right now, but trust me, it's super funny and in a few days you'll get why," Eddie continued. "Anyway, we've got awesome eats and a thermos of mulled wine, which you can find in the beverages section of the recipe sideblog. Soon we'll have some cool videos up and if we find anything before we can post about it, well, keep an eye on CNN! Just kidding, CNN is garbage, get your news from Tumblr."
He flicked the stream off as Gregory laughed. Ben had his eye on Hank; he said, "Good timing, I think we're about set."
"What do we do now? Wait, I suppose?" Gregory asked.
"Yeah. Little like fishing," Ben said, as Hank left the equipment nearby and came over, laptop in hand.
"Mics and cameras are set. Night-vision's on everywhere. The electromagnetic lures are all humming, I assume that means they're working."
"Should be," Ben agreed. Hank eyed the three of them -- Gregory leaned into Eddie, Ben alone nearby -- and eased himself down next to Ben, on the far side of the kings. If Ben were to put his arm over Hank's shoulders like Eddie was doing to him, Gregory thought, at this angle they wouldn't even see it.
"No bright phone screens, but you can run a reader in night mode, if you want," Hank said. "You can talk but it's better if you don't -- and don't take it over about forty decibels, low voices only. I'll let you know if the volume climbs."
"I don't think we'll need to talk much," Eddie said. "Nice night out. Enjoy the quiet and the view."
Gregory certainly didn't mind the opportunity to be silent, to stargaze a bit and be out in the fresh (if chilly) air. It gave him time to mull things over, to let go of the little political squabbles and focus instead on the big questions. He thought about the ten year plan he was supposed to be working on for the national report, but also about more personal things -- his future with Eddie now that they were married, and whether Jerry and Alanna were doing all right (he worried, perhaps overly, about who would get custody of him if they broke up). And, glancing around occasionally, he did wonder -- could they, if they put some elbow into it, get Hank and Ben together somehow?
He smiled at the last one, leaning further into Eddie's side. Of course, Ben might really not be attracted to Hank, but not every romance had to be sexual. Then again, what would change if they were together? Conceptually, perhaps not much. Maybe a lot, emotionally.
He wondered if Eddie was wondering. He was pretty curious in general about how Eddie was occupying his time; Ben and Hank were watching the monitors, the screen dimmed down almost to nothing, and holding a very soft conversation, presumably under forty decibels.
At least one of his questions was answered a moment later. Eddie wasn't thinking of anything to keep him occupied; Eddie was snoring gently.
Gregory poked him, just enough for him to wake, not quite enough for him to be startled by it. He'd have let him sleep, but the snore was definitely starting to go over the sound limit. To cover the poke, he turned a little to face Hank and Ben.
"You know," he said, keeping his voice low, "there's another story about the svichwurm. It's kind of tied into why we turn it into a dick joke, though, and it's...a private story, maybe. Not everything is content, right?"
"Don't say that at the Photogram conventions," Hank said, grinning. "What's the other story?"
"The other, older story about the svichwurm is that it appears to bless new unions. When a destined love forms in a village, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, the svichwurm senses it somehow and comes to see. They're still annoying, they're still nuisances -- they steal milk, they upset the forest and they stink -- but nobody hunts them or tries to drive them off, because they're delivering a blessing."
"Sounds like a very mixed blessing," Ben said sourly.
"At least the downsides of the svichwurm are immediately obvious; there's no catch, because the catch is right out there in the open," Gregory said. Eddie leaned over from behind him, resting his chin on Gregory's shoulder.
"You didn't tell me this," he said.
"It didn't occur to me," Gregory replied, sparing him an affectionate sidelong glance, raising a hand to pet his gold hair. "The Shivadh love a romance," he told Ben and Hank. "We like drama and excitement and theatre. One reason my marriage to Eddie was so universally accepted is that it's a good story, the king marrying a commoner. That's one of our favorites."
"No one commoner than me. Only way that could have gone better is if I was secretly also the son of a king," Eddie said. Hank grinned at him. Ben looked thoughtful.
"So if a svichwurm really is here, perhaps it's because there's a good story here, too. A grand romance," Gregory said. His eyes flicked to the laptop screen monitoring the night-vision cameras, but there wasn't anything there.
"Perhaps it's here because of you two," Ben suggested.
"No -- it always shows up at the start of of a romance," Gregory said. "Granted, each day is a new day with one's love, et cetera, but it arrives sometimes before people even know they're meant to be together. Eddie and I are married, it's not here for us. Probably some guests at the farm," he added with a shrug. Eddie leaned back, but wrapped an arm around Gregory's waist to pull him along, settling Gregory between his legs, back against his chest. Gregory rested his head on Eddie's shoulder.
"What are you up to?" Eddie asked in his ear, too quiet for even the other men to hear.
"Nudging things along," Gregory replied.
"Are you lying to gullible American tourists?" Eddie asked, settling his arms around Gregory's waist loosely.
"I wouldn't say lying or gullible. I would say I'm embroidering on an already fantastical story in order to add spice to the imaginations of two cryptozoologists. Besides, how do you think legends begin? It's all a story someone told someone else, and everyone decided to believe in it."
"Troublemaker."
"I'm the king. Who better than me to mold our culture?"
Eddie pressed his lips to Gregory's temple, sighing in contentment. "Well, fine, meddle if you must."
"It's a duty and a pleasure," Gregory said, and then let his voice rise a little. "Ben, Hank, would it upset your vigil if I got up and stretched my legs? I'm getting pins and needles."
"Should be fine, just move slowly and away from the bait, not towards it," Hank said.
"Not certain I love going alone. Ben, would you mind being royal escort? Eddie's just gotten comfortable."
"Oh, have I," Eddie murmured.
"I wasn't the one who fell asleep," Gregory told him. Eddie gave him a boost up, copping a gentle feel of his ass on the way, as Ben got up from his seat as well. Gregory soft-footed slowly away from the clearing, Ben just behind him.
"Do you suppose we'll scare it off if we talk?" Gregory asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"All the legends about you, you might attract it," Ben replied, grinning. "The royal you, I mean. Not many legends about you personally yet."
"Shame, I wouldn't mind being legendary," Gregory said.
"Well, you did show up in that math probability paper."
"Which one's that? Eddie hasn't mentioned it, and I'm unfortunately too busy ruling a country to keep tabs on my social media profile."
"They worked out that Askazer-Shivadlakia has some meme about it go viral about three times a year, average," Ben said. "Then someone tracked them all down and they found out it was literally every four months. Almost to the week. You're the most mathematically regular king in the world."
"Well, it's not World's Sexiest Man, but it'll do," Gregory said. "Legends about the royal me, eh?"
"We might have missed the svichworm as a dick joke, but we did do our homework," Ben said. "Listened to your dad's podcast about former kings and queens, that kind of thing."
"He'll be pleased to hear it."
"Ask you a personal question?" Ben said. Gregory nodded. "There's an urban legend that your grandfather was a horse-whisperer. Not metaphorical, like, the real old-time kind that could tame wild horses."
"There is the legend. I don't think it's true. He was just a good rider, and he loved horses. You should see his other grandson, Jerry, my cousin -- he inherited grandfather's passions. He trains and breeds them, and could probably do well in competition if he wanted." Gregory looked sidelong at him. "It's persistent, though, the idea that we're animal-charmers. Some of the older fishermen in the commercial fleet think my father can call fish. They swear when he was a kid, they'd have a better catch if he showed up to watch the boats leave harbor."
"What about you?"
"Oh, I'm a more modern king for a more modern constituency. If there are those kinds of myths about me, I suppose they're on Photogram somewhere. Besides, I like to think my specialty is charming people."
He gave Ben a dazzling grin, and Ben laughed quietly.
"Well, we appreciate you coming out to help us on this hunt, anyway," Ben said. "Great publicity for the channel. Sounds crass to say but I figure, if you're married to Eddie Rambler, you understand."
"I do." Gregory nodded. "Ask you a personal question in return?"
"Sure."
"You and Hank -- you really aren't together?"
Ben shook his head. Gregory began gently to loop them back around towards the clearing.
"We get that sometimes," he said. "No, just friends."
"Huh. I thought I saw a spark. Hank said you're straight, though, that puts a wrench in the relationship," Gregory said with a smile. Ben was silent, thoughtful. Gregory nudged him gently with his elbow.
"You ever kind of assume something, and then let other people assume?" Ben asked. "And by the time you realize you're wrong, everyone else has been wrong for ages too? So it'd be like. Super awkward to correct them. And weirdly pointed."
"I came out in my twenties," Gregory said. "So yeah, I've got a taste of that."
"Hank was super excited to come here. He says Askazer-Shivadlakia's like the Gayborhood only a whole country of it."
Gregory stifled a laugh. "Well, we do what we can," he agreed. "How about you? Were you, uh, excited?"
Ben gave him a dry look. "I was a little worried I'd get clocked."
"Sorry. Very finely tuned gaydar. Comes of being educated at a European boarding school," Gregory said. He let the silence go for a little before he asked, "Does Hank know?"
"Hank thinks I'm straight."
"Well, I was more asking if he knows you're into him, but okay, the one probably precludes the other."
"Doesn't matter, anyway -- just because I have, you know, unhelpful emotions, mostly to do with him, doesn't mean he would uh, understand or share those emotions," Ben said gloomily.
"I realize this is a lot more personal than random myths about my father and the fishing catch," Gregory said gently, "but do you think I didn't also notice the way he looks at you?"
Ben didn't reply.
"Brave of you to tell me, if you're struggling to tell anyone else," Gregory added.
"Well, easier to tell a relative stranger. Who are you going to tell? And it's not like I thought you'd take it badly."
"True. Your secret's safe with me. But I do think you should keep an eye on Hank."
"Why?"
"Well, if you pay close attention, you might see more like I see," Gregory said, as the dim light of Hank's computer monitor became visible again. "Thanks for the stroll."
"Thanks for the conversation," Ben replied, almost absently. Gregory went to Eddie and settled in again, leaned back against him, pleased with himself.
"That was relatively fast," Eddie said.
"I didn't get where I am by being inefficient," Gregory said.
"My lap? No, you got there pretty quick," Eddie agreed, sliding an arm around his waist. Gregory drummed his fingers Eddie's forearm, amused.
He tried to watch Ben and Hank out of the corner of his eye, but it wasn't easy to do subtly, and without much else to pretend to be looking at, he mostly just watched the little clearing or tilted his head back on Eddie's shoulder to watch the stars. Occasionally, one of them would say something quietly, voice a low murmur. Every so often, Eddie dozed off and then twitched awake.
"Not that I'd suggest it, but if I was in charge of making videos like this, with big long stretches of nothin'," Eddie said, at one point in the deep dark of just-past-midnight, "I'd open a linked Onlyfans and film myself making out with you to keep awake. We'd make bank in amateur porn."
"Are we still kings of a small country in this scenario?" Gregory asked.
"Only in terms of that being a fun kink people could pay us to roleplay," Eddie said, after a moment's thought. "Probably muddy the friendly-cryptozoologist brand to do poorly lit outdoor softcore on the side, though."
"It would not, I have to tell you, be great for our brand, either," Gregory said.
"Speak for yourself, there's fanfic about us -- " Eddie began, but Gregory hushed him quietly. Something was moving in the clearing. Probably not a svichwurm, possibly whatever local wild animal had scared Ben and Hank the night before, but still. He pointed, and felt Eddie huff air against his cheek in acknowledgement.
Whatever it was, it moved slowly and silently, but there was no particular predatory air about it. Gregory had spent enough time outdoors with his parents to recognize most native wildlife -- he'd even encountered a bear, once, camping with his father. This was much too small to be a bear. He couldn't put his finger on how, but it also wasn't moving right to be a wild cat or a wolf. Too big to be any of the wild rodents, stoats and voles and badgers. It looked almost like a giant bat, crawling along the ground, or --
"Gregory," Eddie said softly. The creature's head lifted, still in shadow, at the noise. "Is that a komodo dragon."
"No, komodo dragons don't have -- " Gregory said, and then realized as he said it that whatever it was, it looked like a bat because it had wings.
"Holy shit," Eddie breathed.
A shaft of moonlight struck the animal and Gregory went tense -- the same tension, the same adrenaline-fueled stillness, as when he and his father had seen the bear, years ago. Fight, flight, or freeze -- and he'd frozen, and so had Michaelis briefly, before reaching for the rifle. The bear had just snuffed at them and moved onward, and they'd let it go. Now he felt Eddie tense up as well, because what they were looking at...
It wasn't like a wurm at all, he thought, in some distant corner of his mind; wurms were specifically shaped, and this was...it was a proper dragon, like the sturdy beast on the Welsh flag. Four legs, two wings, a blocky head and glittering eyes, the whole thing mottled brown-green, muscles bunching and flexing under pebbled skin, silent in the night. As he watched, it lifted its wings, spreading them wide, stretching.
They didn't have a rifle, or anything more weapon-like than the tripod the camera was sitting on. In theory they should run; the svichwurm had poisonous breath, but he couldn't smell its supposed stink, not from here in any case.
He tried to turn, to see if Ben and Hank were seeing this as well, but when he shifted Eddie's arm tightened; he managed to twist his neck a little painfully, up and around, but Ben and Hank were gone. The laptop was there, so they probably hadn't run, but lord alone knew where they were.
He turned back, neck and shoulders protesting at all the movement, looking for the svichwurm again; it raised its head still further, as if offended by his gaze --
And then Gregory startled awake, uncomfortably damp and with his head crooked painfully against Eddie's chest.
The barest hint of light was rising in the east, and it was clear what had woken him -- Hank and Ben were moving around, quietly packing up.
"Did I miss anything?" Gregory asked, carefully stretching, trying not to use Eddie as leverage to push himself upright.
"Nah, all quiet," Eddie said. "And you won't miss me ruthlessly mocking you for sleeping, because I'll be doing that over breakfast."
"I should bring back beheadings for upstart spouses," Gregory said. Eddie gave him another boost to his feet, then used him as leverage to pull himself up.
"Sorry nothing showed," Gregory called out to Hank, who shrugged.
"We might find something on the footage later. Worst case, the mics always pick up some electromagnetic nonsense, and we can posit a ghost scared it off," Hank answered.
"Wait, are you going to claim a ghost scared off your cryptid?" Gregory asked.
"Do you want to know the finest moment of television so-called documentary I've ever seen?" Hank asked, sliding equipment into dew-wet nylon cases, shaking them off as he went. "It was some aliens-in-history show, and the talking head said to the camera, absolutely barefaced and sincere..."
"We know Merlin was a wizard, but what if he was also an alien?" Ben chimed in with Hank in unison. Eddie laughed.
"It'll be a good segue into one of the ghost stories Ben found, and we're doing a haunted villa in Tuscany next." Hank zipped up the case and slung it on his back. "It's in an olive grove so lots of When You're Here, You're Family jokes."
Gregory squinted at him. Eddie cracked up laughing.
"You should call it Endless Spook And Breadsticks!" he crowed.
"This is a uniquely American moment, isn't it?" Gregory asked.
"Little bit," Hank agreed. "We can steal that title though, right Eddie?"
"Oh sure. Just send me a postcard from Siena or wherever."
They eventually got completely packed, and Gregory was beginning to feel a trifle chilly, between the dampness of the morning and the wind in the trees. He couldn't get the image out of his head, either, of the dream he'd had, with the squat brown svichwurm creeping stealthily into view. His subconscious had almost definitely taken it from some weird mashup of komodo dragons and the Welsh flag, but it had looked very realistic. And it had looked right at him, just before he woke.
"Guys, Greg's freezing and I'm starving," Eddie called, as Ben and Hank began loading up with the equipment. "Give us something to carry and we'll forge the path on ahead."
"Do you remember how to get back?" Gregory asked under his breath.
"Well enough."
"If we both die in the forest, my father's definitely going to make it into a podcast," Gregory muttered.
"I have wild reasons for this, tell you in a minute," Eddie said, then took a backpack from Hank and a small bag from Ben, passing the latter to Gregory. "See you at the farmhouse? We'll do breakfast, talk shit over."
"You got it," Hank said, looking oddly relieved.
It wasn't actually that hard to find their way back to the path, given they'd trod the grass pretty flat the night before; they were barely out of earshot, and could still see the clearing, when Eddie began to laugh.
"You are some kind of magic," he said, leaning over to kiss Gregory as they walked. "What you did miss, which I couldn't tell you before, is Ben and Hank having a very heated whispered conversation around three in the morning, then sneaking off to make out."
"They did what," Gregory asked, floored.
"Pretty sure, anyway. Here, let's get about ten feet further -- there," Eddie said, turning to point through a gap in the trees. The clearing was still only dimly lit, but it wasn't all that difficult to see Hank, red hair gleaming in what light there was, pressing Ben up against a convenient tree. Gregory turned away quickly, but Eddie caught his pleased look and threw an arm over his shoulders, pulling him in, warming him.
"Good work, Your Majesty," he said.
Breakfast was lively. Gregory couldn't keep the smile off his face; Eddie kept up conversation while eating his body weight in sausage, eggs, and pastry, and Ben and Hank kept excitedly showing each other vague technical readings on their various equipment while reviewing the whole night in extreme fast-forward and eating whatever was put in front of them. Apparently the did have some very interesting readings, and at the end of breakfast they set up a camera at the table so they could film a discussion of the night's work.
"So, we didn't get one on camera while we were here," Hank said towards the end of the discussion, sipping the last of his pomegranate juice. "But we have a lot of really great data to review, and some very anomalous readings to parse out. Wish we could have shown you two a really wild Small Adventures night of cryptid hunting, but it's probably for the best. Wouldn't want to put the kings in too much danger."
"I had fun," Eddie said. "Got some ideas for future camping trip spreads, which is just as well. Gregory likes getting outdoors, doesn't get to very often."
"No, I should fix that," Gregory agreed. "I did enjoy it. Even the napping," he added, before Eddie could say anything. "I had a wild dream, actually."
"Oh?" Hank prompted.
"Yeah, I dreamed I saw the svichwurm."
"You had a vision?" Ben demanded.
"It was a dream," Gregory said, amused. "Let's not go telling the world the king of Askazer-Shivadlakia is seeing visions of cryptids. Very vivid, but just a dream."
"What did it look like?" Hank asked eagerly.
"Oh, I don't know, in the dream I thought it was a big bat at first. Then it looked more sort of like a komodo dragon, just with batlike wings, and once I'd kind of...put it all together, it looked almost heraldic. Like Y Ddraig Goch, the dragon on the Welsh flag, only in brown and green instead of red. It was very realistic, for a dream," he said. "Quite impressed with my own subconscious, really."
"Well, if we ever manage to see one in the flesh, we'll let you know how it looks compared to your dream," Hank said cheerfully, turning to the camera. "Remember to like and subscribe for more wild weirdness -- and more Small Adventures!"
He clicked the camera off and sat back, stretching. He cut his eyes sidelong to Ben, briefly, and then back to the kings across the table from him.
"Hate to eat and run, but we need to repack and check out if we're going to make it to our haunted villa before nightfall," he said. Ben nodded sagely. "Anything you need from us? You want your office to take a look at the final cut before we post?"
"I don't think we need to, as long as you're reasonably sensible about it," Gregory said. "No footage of me drooling in my sleep or of Eddie committing felonies?"
"Did you commit felonies out there?" Hank asked.
"I'm always up to something, but no, can't think of anything," Eddie said. "Travel safe, boys. See you on Photogram."
They lingered as Ben and Hank left; diners were beginning to trickle in, but nobody needed their table just yet.
"Did you really dream about the svichwurm?" Eddie asked.
"Yeah, it was a little surreal."
"Think it means anything?"
"No idea. I'll have to ask Alanna, she had a witch phase when we were kids," Gregory said. "Maybe it really was a herald of new love. Bet when Hank said they needed to repack, he meant they needed to go make out."
"Ah, young love," Eddie sighed. "Come on, we should wash and have a nap ourselves before we have to drive back this afternoon."
They were almost to the guesthouse, Eddie getting out his key, when Gregory caught movement at the treeline, across the overgrown field nearby. Could have been a goat or a sheep, or even a jackal; it was about the right size, and deep brown. But he was sure, just for a second, he saw whatever-it-was rustle its wings.
"What's up?" Eddie asked, noticing his distraction. Gregory shaded his eyes, but whether it was a farm animal or something more mystical, by the time he looked again it was gone.
"Nothing. Thought I saw a goat," he said, and followed Eddie inside.
"So, did you non-metaphorically catch a svichwurm?" Michaelis asked over dinner that night, after they'd returned. He and Jes had come up to the palace to hear about their trip, bringing Noah along with them, and they'd had to spend a few minutes explaining the svichwurm to Noah. Who, it turned out, hadn't heard of them before but had gotten the "be good or the squasc will eat your toes" story as a child from Jes.
"No sign of the svichwurm, even for us kings," Eddie replied. "We did make a number of funny dick jokes. And Gregory made up a spectacular pack of lies."
"I'm the king. If I say something's an ancient Shivadh myth, it's an ancient Shivadh myth," Gregory said to Eddie, and then turned to his father. "I told them the svichwurm appeared to herald new love."
"Oh, that's fun," Jes said. "But not true?"
"Well, it's true now," Gregory said. "Or will be, if they put the clip of me saying it on photogram."
"It's like a Mandela Effect on purpose," Noah said, looking to Jes for confirmation. "Like how people remember singing Eidelweiss in prewar Germany, but it was written in 1959."
"That makes me sound much more impressive and clever than I am," Gregory said, smiling at the boy. "Anyway it's no more harm than Uncle Eitan starting that rumor about you being a fish caller, father."
"Ah, yes. Eithan thought I needed a touch of the mystic, in PR terms, when I was running for king," Michaelis said to Noah. "Made up a myth that as a child I was a lucky charm for the fishing fleet. A lot of the old sailors believe it even now."
"Really he just liked to watch the ships go out," Gregory told Jes.
"That I did. Still do. It's all nonsense anyway," Michaelis said. "Everyone knows the true gift of the Shivadh kings is that we can see ghosts and spirits."
"Dad," Gregory rolled his eyes.
"No, I remember hearing that as a kid," Jes said.
"The rumor started with Gregory II, I think, or maybe got reinforced with him, because they said he used some supernatural force to see the future," Michaelis shrugged. "We aren't blood to the old royal family, at least I'm not -- Gregory is, through his mother. Then again, it might be a perk of the job rather than a gene gone awry. Ever seen anything supernatural?" he asked Gregory.
"No, and you know that's ridiculous," Gregory said, though not as firmly as he might have two days ago. Michaelis gave Noah a conspiratorial look and went back to eating dinner.
"Anyway, it did the job," Eddie said. "He's a king, a gourmet, a sex symbol AND a matchmaker...how does he do it all? Next on Even Oprah Thinks You're An Overachiever."
"Speaking of overachieving, Noah had some questions for you," Jes said, nudging their son. "He's looking at UC Santa Cruz for college."
"Oh, shit! Sure," Eddie said, scooting over a little so he and Noah could talk. Gregory watched, amused; Michaelis leaned in.
"You look unsettled," his father said. "You know I don't really believe that, about the royal family seeing visions and such."
"Don't know. I did think I saw something, but I think it was a dream."
"You don't sound very certain."
Gregory shook his head. "Difficult to say. Doesn't matter, in any case; I'm pretty sure whatever I saw, if I saw anything, it was a good omen."
"Well, that's fine then," Michaelis said. "Everyone likes a good omen."
The postcard from Siena arrived soon after, as promised. Gregory posted a picture of it sitting on his desk to Photogram, a rare personal post from the king, tagging the Small Adventures guys. A personal message showed up in his inbox from Ben's account a few hours later, that just read guess the svichwurm worked, and included a selfie of him and Hank, in front of the presumably haunted villa, Ben kissing Hank's cheek as he grinned.
See? It pays to listen to the king, Gregory replied, and went about his day with good cheer.
Somewhere, off in the forest, a little figure curled up in the hollow of a grassy clearing stirred; she yawned with wide, blocky jaws, flipped her wings against her back, and tucked her face under her front legs, well at peace with the world and willing to sleep another few hours until sunset. Having done her mythical duty, she was looking forward to raiding the nearby dairy and perhaps scaring a hunter or two, before heading further north to the winter hibernation grounds in Switzerland.
END