The Bird Hour

Macdonnell reported that Strange had been insensible since shortly before they had closed the gate at Hougoumont. It was not the case that Macdonnell’s own account was really all that coherent; he was spattered in blood still, knee-high with mud, and dazed, and Grant expected that he would shortly require a good deal of brandy if he were to continue functioning. Some of what he said could have been mistaken for raving, but Grant knew that it was not— bodies torn and flung about by ivy strands, a great strangling hand that rose from clay to crush a French sous-lieutenant… “And then,” Macdonnell concluded, “we had got the gate closed, and were quite occupied in killing all of the Frenchmen.” Grant could still smell the blood. It was very heavy in the air. “To be frank, sir, Mr Strange was— I did not think he had survived.”

Title: The Bird Hour

Author: kvikindi

Characters: Colquhoun Grant/Jonathan Strange

Prompt: I can’t be the only one thinking wallsex with magical vines during that scene in Waterloo…right?

Summary: After Waterloo.

“Grant felt once more in thrall to him: impelled to protect him, as though Strange were a territory in a country that he had been ordered to defend. Unfair, damned unfair that he should feel so. Strange was not his charge; and yet…”

Read it on Archive Of Our Own

Read it on the jsmn kinkmeme

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