Your arms flail rapidly, smacking everything from Arthur’s arms. As the stack of books tumble and fall, Arthur swears and hobbles along, holding one of his feet dearly.
“What in God’s name are you doing?!” he shouts, primarily startled rather than upset.
“Iggy! Tell me now, and tell me the truth!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play games with me!” You scoop up his books just as he bends over, and you run a circle around him, the books pressed against your chest. “Tell me,” you command once more.
Arthur sighs and rubs his neck, “Would you care to explain what I must explain to you?” he asks evenly.
A smile lights up your face: you’ll finally get an answer! The answer you've waited for so long to receive! The answer that can heal your heart and mind, and possibly bring you closer to Arthur! You want him to confess...
“What is Stonehenge!? What does it mean?!” you nearly shout while bouncing on the wooden floor. You watch as Arthur frowns a little, opening his mouth and closing it, opening it again, closing it, as if he can’t decide on the correct words.
His hesitation scares you a little. “What’s wrong? What does it mean?”
“You probably won’t like my answer…”
“I don’t care, just tell me!”
“Well,” he leans against one of the many bookcases, glancing out the open window. “It’s classified information…”
Your smile sags down to your feet briefly: classified information? What’s he talking about?
“Please tell me. I won’t tell anyone!” You throw the books over your shoulder and grab the Englishman by the collar and hiss, “Tellll meeeee!”
Arthur shakes his head quickly. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry, love.”
“If you love me, you’ll tell me!” you sob dramatically into his shoulder. “Please! I’ll die!”
“We’ll die one day,”
“But I want to die at least knowing the meaning of life!”
Arthur wraps his arms around you, rocking from one foot to another. “I still can’t tell you, darling.”
“Why nooooot?!” you groan and whine. “You’ve kept it to yourself all this time and you won’t even tell me?! I need to know!”
“Why do you need to know so badly?” Arthur asks.
“For…um… a fanfiction I’m writing…?”
“What kind of fanfiction is it?”
“That doesn’t matter! I totally don’t ship Stonehenge and the Goseck circle! Wh—where’d you come up with that, you pervert?! I don’t have an OTP!”
“Well my OTP is you and me,”
“’You and I’,”
“Yes, indeed…Now what were you asking about again?”
A moment of silence passes before you remember exactly why you were pulling Iggy’s teeth.
“STONEHENGE. DON’T TRY TO CONFUSE ME!” You push away from him and grab the nearest thing within reach, a book, and you raise it threateningly. “If you don’t tell me, bones will be broken, no matter how much I love you.”
“W—wait, put that down…!”
“Stonehenge makes people crazy, Arthur! Crazy because they don’t know! Not telling is really fucked up man, IT’S REALLY F—“Arthur slaps you.
“Get a hold of yourself , woman!”
“I can’t! It’s Stonehenge!” You chuck the book out the window. “I’m scared, Arthur. I’m so scared…!”
“It’s ok, we’ll make it through this together!” he reaches out to you, but you draw away with a hiss.
“Don’t touch me! I can’t live until I know!!” Books tumble from the shelves, the room shakes, the window slams itself shut. You cover your ears as you scream: you can’t control it. You must know!!
“Well that escalated quickly,” Arthur mumbles to himself before he dashes out of the room. “[Name], stop it!” he calls.
“I can’t! Not until I know why Stonehenge exists!” you shout after him. Books finally stop falling, but now everything on the desk flings itself onto the floor. You step over it, following Arthur.
As you enter the hall, the pictures on the walls fall to the cold floor with a crash and the house shakes as if withstanding a violent tremor. You see Arthur scrambling up the stairs and you raise your right arm. “Come back here and tell me!”
A force grabs the back of his shirt just as he reaches the top of the stairs. He groans, “That’s not fair!”
“I…can’t!” He struggles against the supernatural powers, fighting to stay at the top of the stairs. “You just have to accept that you will never know, love!”
“I don’t want to believe that! You know, so tell me!” You pull your right arm back sharply, and Arthur is flung into the air like a doll. Your left arm extends, pushing the couch beneath him just before he lands; he lands on the couch in a sitting position, but the force is so strong that the entire couch tips backwards, flinging his legs into the air.
You approach cautiously, half expecting him to jump up and strangle you, half expecting he’ll finally tell you what you want to know. “Arthur…?” you call quietly.
An incomprehensible murmur comes from him, as he does not move.
“Can you repeat that?” you inquire, stepping around the couch to make eye contact.
Softly, he says, “I’ll tell you.”
Excitement rushes through you so quickly that all the damage you cause reverses itself without you even thinking of it. “You will?!”
“Yes, love,” he groans as the couch flips upright and slides to its correct position with him on it. “I’ll tell you everything.”
You flop down on the couch and grab up his hands. “Please!” You’re close enough to kiss him if you must.
“Alright,” he takes a deep breath and looks you in the eyes, “The truth about Stonehenge, since you so kindly asked.”
“The truth about Stonehenge…”
“…is that I made it when I was drunk. So I have no bloody idea what it was for, either.”
“A—are you sure?”
“This information is classified. You cannot tell anyone.”
Your life is a lie.