Title: Bred in the Bone (10/?)

Author: Emma

Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Andy Davidson, Toshiko Sato, others

Rating: Starts PG, but hey, it’s got Jack and Ianto in it!

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?

Summary: Andy Davidson must embrace his inheritance in order to protect Jack and Ianto’s daughter Gwen

Author's Note: This is an AU where Gwen and Owen were killed by Gray. So if you want to know why Martha is married to Rhys and Jack and Ianto have a CP and two adopted daughters, you may want to read Evolution first

Author’s Note: The title is shamelessly stolen from Robertson Davies’s magnificent novel. It’s also an old saying: what’s bred in the bone will out in the flesh

            For a wild-eyed radical, Achren lived such a conspicuously traditional life that it didn’t take any skill at detecting subtlety to recognize the insult. In the tradition of Tylwyth ascetic warriors she had set up housekeeping in a cave halfway up the hill from the village. A few steps from the mouth of the cave a stream of clear, cold water splashed out of a crevice in the rock and flowed into a natural basin a few feet below. I would bet my Torchwood pension it was the same that resurfaced to fill the well in the town green.

            Angie had changed into a gown like the one Tosh wore, except that it was a dull gold shot through with green thread and its only ornaments were a pair of shoulder pins in the shape of Welsh dragons. She had taught Tosh how to raise the gown’s hem so she could walk properly. Their conspiratorial giggling was making me a little nervous; too much bonding there and I would be outflanked by the Tylwyth ladies.

             Now she pressed her palm against a nearly invisible depression on the rock next to the cave’s mouth. I felt a slight Unlocking as the protective wards came down; interestingly, Ianto flinched at the same time. A physical reaction to wards is a classic sign of an untrained affinity to magick. 

            We followed Angie into a narrow passageway that slanted slightly downwards and ended abruptly in a vaulted chamber lit by rock crystal globes floating at different heights.

            “Wow,” Tosh whispered.

            “We call them stray cats because they will pick up your body heat and follow you from room to room,” I chuckled. “Your own personal spotlight.”

            “Egotists.”

            “Oh yes, that we are.”

            The chamber was furnished plainly: a bed, a table that served both as a desk and for eating, a small cooking area, and several comfortable-looking armchairs grouped around an open firepit. Everything was set out according to ritual, right down to the harp and sword banner hanging behind the largest armchair.

            To be fair, she had not received us in state; she was standing at the table, putting the final touches on a tea tray, and she wore a gown very similar to Tosh’s and Angie’s, but in pure unrelieved black. Even her shoulder pins were carved jet.

            She looked like grandmother.

            Why that should surprise me, I didn’t know. She was Modron’s younger sister, in human royal terms the spare, trained, as was expected by family tradition, to lead armies.  Both were powerful, and so certain of their power that they felt no need to reference it in any outward fashion. Achren was slightly taller and her hair was more auburn than roan, but the eyes were the same: old, wise, and very, very dangerous.

            “I am honored to meet you at last, my lady aunt,” I said in the most formal y-taffodh. “We come seeking advice and assistance.”

            “We will speak saesneg, as Toshiko and Ianto are not yet literate in the Tylwyth tongues.” She motioned to the armchairs. “Angharad, will you pour?”

            “Yes, Grandmother.”

            Achren must have noticed my surprise. “I have stood grandmother to the Jones clan for fifteen hundred years, nephew.”

            “Grandmother… and a bit more?” I hazarded.

            She inclined her head. “As you say.”

            “Forgive me my ignorance, ma’am, but why?” Ianto sounded uncharacteristically bewildered. “Andy seems to think you chose me to play the part of the Winter King in the purification ritual, but I don’t understand how it can be possible.”

            Achren gave him a gentle smile. “My dearest Ianto. I did not choose you to be the Winter King. I bred you. As to how it is possible… Shall you answer for me, nephew?”

            Ah. So I would also be tested. “The Kings need to have an affinity to both the physical and the elemental, but in different degrees.The Tylwyth are people of elemental energy. An affinity for the physical world is a very unusual thing with us. On the other hand, an affinity for the elemental world is very unusual thing with humans, at least in any useful fashion. I would think that you searched until you found a family that showed promise and then proceeded to fine tune their talent.  Fifteen hundred years is a reasonable time to expect results.”

            “So I’m some sort of experiment?”

            “I claim necessity, grandson.” Achren moved to stand directly in front of Ianto. “We lost almost everyone with the physical talents during our escape. Their bodies and minds were less able to tolerate the Road. By the time we settled we were down to one family. And then… illness, one we had never encountered before, and we were down to a single girl child. I was terrified. We were losing the only thing we knew could keep the Beast’s children in check.” She sighed. “I had noticed most of the humans we encountered could at least feel the workings of elemental energy, and there were enough myths around great sorcerers and magicians that I knew there was a good chance some could work with it. I looked for centuries, until I found your ultimate ancestor.”

             "Did grandfather Avallach know what you were doing?” I asked.

            “Oh, yes. So did your grandmother. We were desperate, nephew. And then the Beast’s child showed up. We attempted the ritual and it all fell to pieces. Father died in the final battle. Afterwards, the more conservative among us tried to… shut down the experiment. The Small Ones warned me and I took the family and fled. They laid down a false trail and Modron helped me create Dynogoddeu. She knew we would need a Winter King some day.”

            “We do now, aunt,” I said. “The Small Ones sense a Darkness moving on the Road.”

            “As do I. It is another of the Beast’s children.”

            “What does it want?”

            “I don’t know. Each is different. The one I fought in Tylwyth wanted to stop time and be in the same eternal minute. The one defeated by the Time traveler wanted to destroy all life, lest it destroy him…”

            “The Time traveler?” Ianto asked. “The Doctor fought one of these things?”

            “Yes. It named itself Sutekh the Destroyer. So has your husband. The thing Abbadon, who craved Death to fill his hunger, was a Beast’s child. We were lucky that time. Your husband’s eternal life was the perfect balance for eternal death. I don’t think we’re going to be this lucky again.”

            “Is there any way to find out more about this thing?”

            “You could ask the one who summoned him.” She waved her hand at the fire and the image of a white-haired, dapper man wearing an old-fashioned smoking jacket appeared. “I believe you know him.”