Huntsman/Hal - Sacred forest [nsfw]

[thorforgottoshower]

Fandom: Crosscanon - Snow White & The Huntsman/The Hollow Crown
Pairing: Halric
Category: Drabblish ficish thing
Rating: R
Warning: Some minor sex but mostly fluff
Summary: Hal wants to visit Sanctuary

For as much as the Huntsman hates the enchanted forest, the dwarves that frequently it, and the obnoxious little faeries that buzz about like joyous, over-sized gnats, he’d endure it for an eternity if it meant he’d be able to watch how Hal’s eyes widen, jaw drops and wonder completely takes his being in an almost childish manner.

He really should have known better than to bring the place up in passing as they’d laid wrapped up under a royal duvet, Hal tucked against his shoulder as the Huntsman mumbled his aggravation for the place and it’s occupants in his normal string of disapproving rumbling. He should have known to drop the subject when he’d seen the prince’s eye instantly light up at the word ‘faeries’, only brightening with ‘dwarves’ and ‘magic’. But it had struck him so how different Hal’s kingdom was from that of Tabor. Perhaps if he’d gone on about the harrowing tales of the dark forest he might be able to dissuade the man of his wonder at magical nonsense, but Eric was given the distinct feeling it would only entrance him more.

He’d hoped stories of it would keep him happy, but it seemed the more stories the Huntsman fed him, the more Hal wanted until it finally became apparent he wanted to visit the place. So after a day or so of Eric trying his best to say ‘no’ in as many firm and rude and polite and plain and long-winded ways possible, the Huntsman finally caved and things were prepared to make the trip.

It was good that Hal’s kingdom lay at such an angle to it that the dark forest could be avoided (as he would sooner dig his own grave than allowing Hal into that cursed place) but it somehow hadn’t stopped the inevitable run in with a pack of pint sized nuisances Huntsman seemed to be eternally damned to be acquainted with. Once again, he’d found himself and his traveling companion strung up from a tree by their feet with half-sized men ranting about owed sovereigns and headache, the bill seeming to have expanded much larger since his last time here. Curious. Alarm immediately set in as he saw the vicious little buggers circling around to inspect said companion and Eric began to twist in his binds to snap at them.

“He’s crown prince of a distant and powerful land and should you ankle-biting monsters touch a hair on his head, you’ll have it’s army crawling up your hairy arses in vengeance, so best you cut us down.”

This, of course, went over spectacularly in that Hal was engaged in pleasant and cheerful upside down conversation with Muir and Coll on what wondrous people they were and how lovely their lands are, while Duir and Gort thwacked Huntsman in the stomach and some other places that were very cheap to pay him back for the ankle-biting and hairy arsed comments. Meanwhile Beith had stood back with a pipe in hand, slowly shaking his head in wonder at him.

“How’s a useless git like you always ending up with such fine people as gently princes and princesses?”

“S’pose I’m cursed to be tormented by the silly fools.”

“And not even the good sense enough to appreciate it. Git.”

After a good rummage through Eric’s empty pockets (Hal’s left strangely enough alone), they would be released and led to the forest, and the Huntsman had made certain to drop his gaze to Hal’s face as the final curtain of vines between the trail leading in and the sacred forest itself parted and bright sunlight bathed his pale features, light music trickling through the air meeting their ears as a gentle breeze picked up the stray blond curls surrounding his face. He was purely beautiful, light eyes scanning every detail, soaking it in with a sort of astonished amazement. Damn the immature snickers and cat calls the dwarves would give, but Eric tugged the gorgeous man to his chest and lifted his chin to steal a kiss.

The days in the magical sanctum were spent watching Hal attempt to sneak up on fairies and chase foxes through the brush, later following him to the spring to watch him strip down and float around with the crystalline water. The Huntsman would at first refuse to participate, not wanting to splash around like a nut in a stream surrounded by onlooking sprites, but after a deal of convincing and some boot-tugging, he’d find himself sinking into the cool waters, enjoying the feel of it passing over his skin, an abnormal kind of refreshing that he was certain wasn’t just the atmosphere. Something he would, of course, ruin a few moments later by taking to dunking his swimming companion any time he came within arms reach.

As the sun began to set, Eric would wait until he was certain the dwarves were out of sight and hearing range before pulling Hal close, bringing him up into his arms and whispering things almost sweet and tender about how maddeningly beautiful he was, how he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the tight warmth of his perfect body. On the bank of the stream, with the gentle waters lapping at their legs, Eric took him, burying his hands in his hair, lips against his pale throat, driving into his slow and sensual while moonlight fell, intent on drawing out ever moan, every whimper and drinking in his pleasure.

The nights were spent around the campfire with Hal spinning animate stories of his kingdom and adventures, complete with voices and wild, mead-drunk gestures as if they were all old friends, and Huntsman could barely tell the difference with how well the dwarves took to him. They’d sing, they’d play music, Hal would even take to dancing, to which Eric would firmly refuse to participate. He’ll sit here and sip his drink and smile lightly at your nonsense, but he won’t be participating.

And in the evening, he’d tug the young prince to his chest and close his eyes with lips pressing gently against the man’s temple, merely letting his voice rambling on about the magic of the place roll over him like a lullaby all it’s own. Occasionally he’d toss in a grunt or a chuckle or interrupt him to give a quick capture of his lips as the admiration for his wonder struck him particularly deeply before allowing him to continue. And when Hal would eventually sleep, Eric would spot Beith across the camp giving him that look that spoke of too much knowing of the heart of the crass, standoffish, aloof Huntsman and Eric would grumble a low ‘Shut up’ before tucking his face against Hal’s warm neck, letting sleep take him.

All things packed and ready, despite Hal’s pout at the prospect of leaving the place, before they parted ways with the pack of dwarves, Huntsman found himself tugged down by a lapel to be even at Muir height, a twinkle in the blind elder dwarf’s eyes

“I like this one. You’ll bring him back, won’t you, boy?” Said in the sort of tone of a mother wanting to see the new boyfriend return for dinner another night. Something that sat very strange with the Huntsman.

“At what point did a daft old midget become my doting parent?”

“Someone’s to look after you, you stupid man. Off with you, then.”

And with a reminder of his now somehow increased debt of sovereigns and jugs of mead owed, the two parted from the forest, Eric glancing down once in a while to watch as Hal tossed leaving glances over his shoulder, wide smiles and waves goodbye to his new friends. Silly, daft, fanciful fool. And how Eric did adore him for it.