The Glitter Jungle:
Fiction:
Five Things That Never Happened to Kronos
Snippets. Methos/Kronos
1.
The anger weakened him for a moment; the blinding sense of betrayal, of *hurt*. Much more painful than a knife to the gut. He wasn't used to being hurt like that.
Methos was a survivor, Kronos knew that. But he was also their brother, their *family*. He loved Silas. His face showed more than guilt and fear; it showed pain, and torn emotions. It showed *apology*. Kronos took a deep breath, and felt like there was cold metal inside him.
He was so distracted by the look on Methos' face, that Macleod's sword missed him by half an inch, whooshing past his ear. He barely flinched at the right moment.
But he gathered himself, ignored the burning pain in his shoulder and in his gut. Concentrated his efforts, using the rage to his benefit rather than letting it cloud his judgement. Precise, powerful strike, and "you're history" were, ironically enough, Macleod's last words.
He turned, and the sight of Methos taking Silas' head was the last thing before lightning hit him. Kronos fell to his knees, sweet agonising pain lancing through him, familiar, powerful, and always enjoyable.
Except now it was somehow different...
Macleod's memories filtered through to him, but so did Silas', things he knew about Silas, images from their time together, and a vague sense of Methos himself, of his pain. Of his confusion, and emotions Kronos didn't know Methos had. The electricity zinged between them, jumping from one to the other. Despite the fog curling and twisting around them, and even from this far, Kronos could clearly see Methos' eyes.
It felt familiar somehow. Like they've danced this dance before, but different somehow. And Kronos' flesh was hot, his cock was hard, and he was looking from Macleod's blood on his hands to Methos' eyes and laughing almost hysterically. And the bright lights kept coming.
When it was all over, he lifted his head, panting, and called loud and clear across the distance between them, pleasure as well as a threat evident in his voice, topped with heavy amusement:
"I guess it's just you and me now... brother."
2.
They were both here; she could feel it. Cassandra walked into the hall and faced a dilemma of a long lifetime. Both Methos and Kronos were recovering from their Quickenings and Duncan's body was on the floor. He had failed. It was up to her now.
So who would she take first?
She wanted them both dead. Both their faces haunted her sleep in nightmares too horrid to think of. But it was Kronos' laughter that brought back the more painful memories, and so she strode determinedly in his direction. Standing above him, she lifted her sword and smiled coldly in victory.
And stumbled back as a knife shot through the air and embedded itself in her chest. She looked down to it, shocked, and then dropped to the floor, dead.
Methos rose slowly.
Kronos smiled at him. Recovering, he lifted his sword, still wet with Macleod's blood, and took Cassandra's head.
This time, Methos stood right by him when the Quickening hit. And when
it was over, it was Methos' arms he fell into.
3.
There was a reason Immortals wore such long coats, and it had nothing to do with carrying swords.
Methos stood in a corner of one of the corridors at the abandoned submarine base, and waited, heart beating in anticipation. He felt the buzz - Immortals rarely had the element of surprise with each other - and as soon as Kronos turned the corner, Methos flashed open his coat.
He was wearing nothing underneath. Kronos stopped in his tracks, mouth hanging open. Took him a few uncharacteristic moments to find his bearings, and then his lips quirked in the old familiar smile and his eyes twinkled. Naked Methos was something to behold, indeed.
"You will now do everything I say," Methos said in a low voice, swaying lightly from side to side. Following the movement of Methos' cock, Kronos' eyes became heavier with lust. "You will obey my every word." Methos rocked back and forth on his heels, and Kronos nodded with the bobbing of his cock.
"I will obey your every word," he repeated, slightly slurred.
"You will abandon any plan to destroy or kill," Methos said quietly, seriously. "You will lead a peaceful life, like me, and only raise a sword to save your life."
Kronos slowly drifted towards him, taking his steps drowsily, entranced.
"You will be mine, Kronos. Do you understand it? Mine." A hint of the old Methos glimmered inside him, no longer the frightened follower but instead the leader, like once before.
"Yours," Kronos whispered. He made the final step, stood right before Methos, and reached a hand, grabbing the hard cock and stroking it slowly. Methos moaned.
"We ride?" Kronos asked, still spellbound, exhaling a gasp.
Methos laughed, breathy. "Oh yes. We ride."
4.
"This is one thing I never had," Kronos said.
"What?" Methos put down his sword, checking his brother for any signs of injury.
The other horseman looked serious, contemplating. "Someone to protect me. Not just to watch my back, but to protect me."
Methos glanced at him, and then back at Macleod. Earlier, he had raised his sword and stood between them, stating he won't give up either. Threatening them both until he got his way, because Macleod knew that having Kronos on their side would be easier than fighting him. Macleod also trusted Methos' ability to contain and control Kronos. And Kronos... Kronos just assumed Methos had a good plan.
And he did. A brilliant plan. He'd have them both, he won't have to fight either, and he won't have to give up anything.
Brilliant plan. Worked better than expected, too. One soft touch to Kronos' cheek, one show of trust when Methos turned his back to his brother and lifted his sword at Macleod, and that was all it took.
Kronos' words confirmed it. And looking deep into his brother's eyes, Methos could see why.
Before his first death, Kronos was no one's child. After, he was no one's student, hunting alone in the woods and always amazed when he returned to life after a bear attack, after falling off a cliff, after dying time and time again.
Then he met with Methos, and soon after, Caspian. They rode together and then Methos brought Silas along, and they were *family*. Kronos could trust all of them with his life, back then. They have all changed since, some more, some less, but he never knew another family, never knew other brothers. They were all he had. Silas had his pets, Caspian had the friends inside his head. Methos could always adapt to whatever came with the wind. But Kronos...
Methos didn't pity him. Never had. You could never relate an emotion like pity to someone as proud, as strong as Kronos was.
But Methos could feel a hollow ache inside, the likes of which he hadn't felt in centuries. Sympathy, perhaps, and a will to make things better.
"You have your kinsmen, and I have mine, Macleod," he said quietly.
5.
"Do you still enjoy the sight of blood?" Cassandra asked, a cruel smirk marring her features.
Kronos doubled over in pain. The agony was intense. He thought about knifing himself in the gut just to end it all.
The witch laughed and walked away, not sparing another glance in his direction. He coughed and curled in on himself in a puddle of his own blood.
He knew he wasn't going to die. And if he would, he'd only wake up again. And again. He didn't know how long the pain would last.
Methos patted his back comfortingly.
"It will only be a couple of days. A week at most." He tried to offer. Kronos looked at him with horror. A *week*?!
Methos looked at Duncan, helpless. "Maybe we should ask someone who might know ways to ease his pain. Do you think Amanda...?"
"Immortal women don't experience that." Kronos managed to gasp. The pain reminded him of the last time Methos shoved a broadsword through his stomach. He did now what he did then; crawled to Methos and rested his head on his ancient lover's feet.
"No, but Immortal men do," Duncan remarked dryly. Kronos glared at him. If looks could kill, the Quickening would've burned down the barge.
Methos rose decidedly and mustered all the information on mortal females he had gathered in his long years on this earth.
"Duncan, go buy chocolates. And painkillers. And a hot water bottle. Kronos?"
Duncan turned towards the door. He was glad he was going to miss the
sight of the World's Oldest Immortal gently rubbing the End of Time's belly.
Info
on #5:
Quote: "Kronos is the End of That Time of the Month!"