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sshbpodcast · 3 years ago

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Tales from the Holodeck: DS9 Fanfic: Chris’s Story

Not only has A Star to Steer Her By wrapped all of Deep Space Nine, but your podcast hosts are also celebrating our fifth anniversary of bringing you through all of Star Trek! As a treat, we’ve concocted DS9-themed fanfic stories and teleplays in our much-celebrated “Tales from the Holodeck” series that you can listen to us cold read here (this one starts at 39:05). Read on for the transcript of Chris’s Weyoun-Ee’char story below, that might pilot a whole new series we’re all asking for!

[images © Paramount/CBS]

“Dude, Where’s My Ee’char?”

By Chris

Random picks: Weyoun, Ee’char

“Tea, earl grey, hot?”

Miles O’Brien instinctively glanced up at those words. Surely not. Sure enough, a lanky Andorian walked up to the counter and accepted the drink that had been called out. Admiral Picard – well, not Admiral, anymore, but even thinking of him as “Jean-Luc” was bizarre to O’Brien – had less than no reason to be hanging around Starfleet Academy. Or Starfleet anything, for that matter.

“Not that I can entirely blame him,” he mused to himself, going back to the PADD containing last week’s warp field dynamics exam. “Nothing’s felt right since Romulus was destroyed. And then Mars…maybe Keiko’s right. Maybe it’s time to retire.”

He sighed and put down his stylus. Twenty years of teaching at Starfleet academy and even he could see how things were shifting. The students grew less and less enthused, dropout rates going up, those that did stay becoming so by-the-book when it came to everything that it was maddening.

“They’re just lacking in imagination,” he’d moaned to Keiko one day. “If I’d thought like them we’d’ve never got the Defiant working like she did. They think the deflector array is just for deflecting things.”

He had immediately realized how ridiculous and old-mannish it had sounded. But even his wife had been on Starfleet ships long enough to get it. Everything on a ship potentially had a purpose no one had ever dreamed of, and dreaming it up in that critical moment could be the difference between getting the ship home and a warp core breach.

“Professor O’Brien?” came a strangely-familiar voice from behind him. He turned and saw what he thought, at first, must have been a Romulan because they were smiling. And there was a sardonic edge to the tone that didn’t seem terribly Vulcan, either. But the fellow had that waxlike pallor that was unique to the latter, something their cousin species had evolved away over their centuries apart.

“Yes. Can I help you?”

“No, but my employer believes he can help you.”

Well, this was shady. Was Section 31 out for belated revenge? Maybe someone had finally slipped in Starfleet Intelligence and the Orion syndicate found out he’d worked undercover against them? Could it be that some T’Lani was still cross about what he and Julian had revealed about their corruption? The grudge could’ve gone further back; someone related to the incident at Setlik III had tracked him down. Christ, for someone who’d only ever been an engineer he’d sure managed to pile up a list of old enemies that could come calling. Ought to at least make him an honorary Commander for that.

“And he would be?”

“An old friend.” The mystery man reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, red figurine. The coonskin cap was unmistakable. “He said this would explain. He remembers the hours you and the good Doctor spent on this.”

So it wasn’t Julian, but someone who knew how they’d passed their time in their DS9 days. Didn’t rule out Section 31, or necessarily a few others, but it did make him feel a little better. He realized the man was still holding out the figure to him, so he reached out and took it, putting it in the bag he’d been carrying his PADD and some miscellany in.

“My employer understands that you’re too cautious a man to just meet somewhere.” The man’s voice – what was it that was so familiar? – had dropped even further. “Be at your desk in twenty minutes. A signal will come in. Use the code on the bottom of the figure.”

The man turned without another word and strode off. O’Brien raised his eyebrows and watched him go. He’d have to tell Julian about this next time they talked; he’d be jealous. Goodness knows how long it had been since his old friend had been involved in any cloak-and-dagger shenanigans.

Despite everything O’Brien was a little surprised when, back at his desk, his computer began to chirp. The text on the screen read “incoming external transmission”. External transmissions were always supposed to go through central comms; only an Admiral could bypass that procedure, normally. He turned the little figure over and punched in the numbers he saw there.

“Ah, my dear Professor O’Brien!”

“Ga-” O’Brien stopped himself. For some reason he felt if he said the full name of the Cardassian now grinning at him from the screen it would just summon the whole of Starfleet security. Just behind him and to his left stood the mystery Vulcan/Romulan from the cafe.

“You look well, Professor,” Garak continued, not acknowledging whether or not he had caught the Engineer’s odd outburst.

“Having you call me that is a bit weird,” O’Brien admitted. “How about Chief? I think that’s still technically my rank.”

“Very well, Chief. I believe you know my associate?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Oh, how silly of me,” the man said, reaching up. “I still have the mask on.”

His hand slid down his face, and the telltale webbing of a holographic disguise flickered to life as the pallor, eyebrows, and eyes vanished. Instead there was a very different kind of pointed ear, skin like powder, and violently violet eyes.

“Weyoun…”

“Yes, it would seem there were, in fact, a few leftover despite what we had been told.” Garak smirked in that old, familiar, entirely unsettling way of his. “It seems they just meant their Alpha Quadrant supply.”

“Of course, I’m now the actual, final one,” Weyoun added. “Garak here found me right before I was…discarded. My predecessors had not been quite so lucky.”

“Is that where you’ve been the past two decades then?” O’Brien asked. “The Gamma Quadrant?”

“Mostly.” Garak raised his brow briefly. “Someone has to keep an eye on the Dominion. Starfleet Intelligence can hardly be trusted to do it on their own, the Romulans are too busy trying to keep their culture intact, and Klingons have never had a spy agency in their entire recorded history.”

“I see.”

“I came across a story that I thought might interest you.” He glanced down and pecked a few buttons just off-camera, and a ping sounded on the Chief’s computer. “Look particularly carefully at the upper left-hand corner of the screen. It was a pleasure to see you, Chief.”

“Wait…”

But Garak was already gone. O’Brien knew there’d be no point in asking for a trace. Should he report this? He was supposed to, certainly. But this was Garak. O’Brien…well, okay, to say he trusted Garak would be a staggering lie. But he certainly felt like both the Federation and he personally owed him enough that he could be allowed this little indulgence. At least once.

Decision made, O’Brien opened the message he’d been sent. He winced when he recognized rather quickly the world of Argratha. It had all the appearance of a news story of some kind. But the Universal Translator hadn’t caught up to the shift, so he started over and paused it.

Argratha. He’d been twice. The second time some fifteen years later, to testify at a public hearing about his experiences the first time. What his false-memory twenty year imprisonment had been like. There was talk at the time of abandoning the practice; it made the judicial process too casual, too many false guilty charges because, for those who’d never experienced it, what was really lost? The Chief and countless others had told them. How real the time felt, and how cruel the simulation was. He’d told the Special Envoy who’d arranged for him to go that he felt he deserved a medal for how calm he’d been during his testimony. The Envoy had chuckled until the Chief’s expression had told him he had very much meant it.

He started the story up again. When he’d not heard anything for months after his testimony he’d assumed the reforms had failed and the sick practice was still going on. But in fact it had simply taken a bit of extra time and work. The story was about the closing of the final facility that had run such incarcerations. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to weep or go celebrate. He was going to call Keiko straightaway, that much was…

The upper left hand corner.

“No.”

He had almost forgotten to look.

“No.”

Despite it being the entire reason Garak had dropped by.

“Fuck.”

Ee’char. His “imaginary” cellmate. Standing among the crowd of politicians and other self-congratulatory types formally shutting the program down. Almost identical to the twenty-year-older Ee’char from his memories, though one that had clearly lived a somewhat less wretched life. One who’d gotten proper meals and sleep and care, just like O’Brien had.

But did he have the false twenty years that still occasionally wafted into his nightmares and had him waking in a cold sweat? Did he still, on rare occasions, almost set aside a bit of his meal before realizing saving it wasn’t necessary?

“In short, friend,” the Chief said aloud. “Who the fuck are you?”

He was glad the stopover at DS9 to switch transports had been short. None of the old crew were there, anymore, but he was fairly certain he was at least vaguely acquainted with some of the Stafleet staff that still maintained a presence on the Bajoran station, and the last thing he wanted to be was some old man wandering around his old posting looking worn and nostalgic. Even Quark had shipped out for Freecloud. A part of him had been tempted to see if Morn was still at his usual seat in whatever the bar was called now, assuming it was even still a bar. But he had just stayed in the docking ring and then made his way to the next leg of his journey.

He spent the flight through the wormhole standing by a window with just about everyone else. He realized that he’d never gone through it after the War had ended, so it was his first time making the journey in ages that he wasn’t expecting to potentially die on the other end. It was so nice to just watch it, to get lost in its beauty, and vaguely wonder if Sisko was watching him just then.

O’Brien stood in the space between two homes, watching as a car slid noiselessly from the sky and halted in front of the house. Finding his old friend had been much easier than he’d expected; Garak had encoded everything he needed to find the man in the newsclip he’d sent. A door hissed open and the old Argrathan stepped out. He exchanged inaudible words with someone in the vehicle before the door shut and it lazily drifted back into the sky. O’Brien glanced around. No one else seemed to be coming. He watched as the other man walked towards the his home.

The Chief darted from the shadows and jogged across the street. If Ee’char heard him he showed no sign. O’Brien reached up, paused, and then gently tapped the other man on the shoulder. He gasped and spun.

“Yes?” he asked.

“I’m…ah…I’m Miles O’Brien.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, yes, I remember watching your testimony.” He held out a hand “Ko’vax.”

“A pleasure,” the Chief replied, taking his hand and shaking it.

“But why did you come to see me?”

“We…well, we were cellmates, you see.”

“Were we?” He nodded slowly. “Well. Someone had quite the sense of humor.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been arguing against our mental prisons for a very long time.” His lips went slender and he glanced off. “Please. Come in, have a warm drink.”

“I…sure, thank you.”

“I never had the misfortune of experiencing what you or so many others did,” Ko’vax explained, putting down what seemed effectively to be a mug in front of O’Brien. “But my father did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He picked up his own mug, almost took a drink, but didn’t and put it down. “His story was similar to so many others. To yours. Adjusting was so hard. Too hard. They don’t offer any kind of help to reintegrate to society. To help you deal with the fact that you’ve not actually lost any time but it still feels like a huge swathe of your life is gone. That might be worse than actually losing time. I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. I’ve never had the real version.”

“He lasted…half a year. My brother found him.” Ko’vax paused and took a sip of his drink, and the Chief finally did automatically. Not that he took any note of the flavor. “I’d already started writing letters, but I got more active after that. Showed up at politician’s doorsteps. Showed up and shouted at meetings that had nothing to do with it. Became a real pain.”

“Must’ve been afraid they’d…well, you know.”

“Oh, sure. But I didn’t care. Let them. Let them put me in a fifty year dream, a century, I knew I’d be fine. I’d have my rage to see me through.” He sighed. “I was so angry for so long. I mean, I never stopped being angry, but you can’t be as constantly angry as I was at first. That would be impossible.”

“So what happened?”

“I lived my life. But I never stopped my campaigning. Whatever free moment I could scrounge up was spent talking with others who shared my goal. I guess someone thought it would be a good laugh to have a cellmate based on the man who hated them and their program so damn much.” He smiled. “But then I got to be there today. When it all ended. Thanks to so many people. Like you.”

“I…” The Chief paused. “I’m glad I could help.”

“So what made you come to see me?”

“I wasn’t sure who you were, to be honest. Outside of looking like Ee’char. That was his name.” He paused. “I guess a part of me was almost hoping you’d been part of it somehow. So I could let you have it. And feel less bad about…how things went between me and the other you.”

“We didn’t get along, eh?”

“We did, eventually. And then for a long time. But then, towards the end…”

“It gets particularly bad, yes. Everyone says that.”

“Well. Glad to know it wasn’t just me getting special treatment, I suppose.” O’Brien took another drink. Now that he was paying attention he realized it was very pleasant. He’d have to find out what it was and bring some home. “We fought. You…he…I killed him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for. I killed you. Sort of.”

“I’m sorry on behalf of a government that will never properly apologize fo anyone affected by their sick little program because they think it’s just fine. They are giving it up with great reluctance you can be sure.” He paused. “And I’m sorry you were driven to that. I know we’ve barely met but you don’t seem the type. So it must have been truly awful to drive you that far.”

“I guess so. I hope so.” He paused. “I don’t know. I’d killed before. Served in one war already by then. But this was something else. Something that still comes up at me in the wee hours. Every time I’d killed before then I could justify it as having been for my survival. And that’s what I told myself it was that time, but I’d not actually proven that first. I told myself it must have been so I could.”

“I wish I could help. I’m almost sorry I’m not who you thought I was.” He shrugged. “If it helps, well…I didn’t go what you went through, but I saw firsthand what it does to people. I know how real it can seem, even to those who go in knowing it isn’t. You had no idea. I’m sorry they used my face as part of your torture. But, if it helps…well, I forgive you. On behalf of the false me. And I only wish you the best.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, nodded. “That actually is nice to hear, somehow.”

The wormhole again. Its eddies and currents and majesty unchanged even as the twenty years around it had entirely altered O’Brien’s world. Why had the gone all the way to the Gamma Quadrant? What would he have done if Ko’vax had been involved somehow? Certainly not killed him. Shouted for a bit? What good would that have done? But what good had this done? No. Time to move on. Figure out what’s next. He’d been in neutral for far too long, and…

“Oh, I know that look,” came a voice to his side that he scarcely believed he was hearing. “That is the look of the Chief when everything seems against him. When things have stopped making sense.”

O’Brien turned. There, not looking a day older when he’d last seen him, still in the now very out-of-date uniform, stood Captain Sisko.

“Well, Chief. It’s time for things to start making sense again. And I’m going to need your help.”

The End

—

For more DS9 fanfic, check out Caitlin, Jake, and Ames’s stories from this round of Tales from the Holodeck! And be sure to keep listening to new episodes every Thursday on SoundCloud, follow us on Facebook and Twitter, and stay out of brain jail if you can. Jay-sus.

#star trek #star trek deep space 9 #ds9 #fanfic #star trek fanfiction #ds9 fanfiction #weyoun #ee'char #miles o'brien #garak #hard time

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demented-dukey · 5 years ago

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lol this is urs now

“I don’t think,” Roman says, softly. “That I’m supposed to love you.”

Remus just smiles and presses their foreheads together. “When has that ever stopped you before?”

They were the same person, once upon a time. Romulus, King Creativity, making drawings of electrocuting Thomas’s brother and playing war with the earnestness reserved for little boys who don’t know what death is. He dashed through the mindscape, trusty lance in hand, enamored with his life and his existence.But that was before the darkness of the world dimmed the corners of Morality’s starry eyes. It wasn’t his fault, not really. They all had their jobs to do. Even later, neither could bring themselves to blame him.

It hadn’t hurt Roman, just a sharp tug and a sudden feeling of coldness, like something was gone. He staggered to his feet and looked down at the other boy, eyes smudged in purple and hair streaked with white.

He was shaking, jaw clenched so tightly it threatened to crack.

Later, Remus told him it felt a little like being cast from heaven.

“Remus,” one of the broken halves addressed the other. He hadn’t said his name, but Roman knew it, as surely as he would if it were ink-stamped on his own skin. The name was pleasantly sour in his mouth, zinging as if trying to counteract the taste of copper. “Remus, are you okay?”

Remus didn’t move from his huddle, eyes shut tightly.

“Romulus,” he said. “I’m supposed to be Romulus.”

“So am I.”

Slowly opening, dark, murky green eyes stared out at him.

“Your eyes are red,” Roman’s other half said. “They look like blood! Gushing blood!”

He was suddenly up on his feet, chattering excitedly about how pretty blood was, how pretty Roman was.

Roman didn’t realize he had moved until he was crushing the other boy to his chest. He warmed, just a little.

Remus paused his chatter, wriggling like an earthworm until he could look into those red eyes.

“Roman,” he said. “My Roman.“ He twisted his lips. "I don’t think we’re supposed to be apart.”

Roman swallowed down the strange lump in his throat. “Nor do I.”

Somehow, their fingers intertwined.

When the other sides found them, a while later, they were still holding hands.

Theirs becomes a world of stolen glances, hushed murmurs. Their hands touch when they trade papers, sparks shivering up spines at each chaste brush. Remus leans just a little too close when they’re huddled together over scripts, their bangs brushing. Roman lets himself be drawn closer, yet closer when they’re murmuring over a particular idea, lips a whisper apart. They’re waltzing on the edge of something dangerous – dizzy and exhilarated with each almost-misstep and twirl.

They’re brothers; that’s undeniable. Yet, still, that’s not all they are. They’re two parts of a whole, weaker, lesser without each other.

There’s a rubber band around them, pulling painfully tight whenever they’re apart. It never breaks, just snaps them back together. Relief washes over them. Roman can always breathe a little easier when he hears tuneless whistling, and Remus stops checking anxiously over his shoulders when he can smell oak and pencil led - scritch, scritch, scratching against parchment.

How can they resist, when they’re literally each other’s missing piece?

“Your lips should be red too,” Remus says, rhythmically throwing a half-rotten orange in the air and catching it. “Then they’d match your eyes.”

“Hm,” Roman says noncommittally, absorbed in sketching the outline of a lance.

“I’d cut them, if you wanted,” Remus continues, tossing and catching, tossing and catching. “Slice them open with my teeth. You’d look so pretty.”

Roman’s hand jerks across the paper, slicing in half a picture of what once was. “You…" His hand is trembling, and he forces it shut and still. "That’s a new thought.”

“No, it isn’t." Remus isn’t looking at him still – tossing, catching, tossing catching. "Not at all.”

“So you think about my lips a lot then?" Roman’s voice tries to come out teasing, escaping almost panicked. This is against the rules, against the unspoken boundaries they’ve been toeing around since the beginning of them.

"Yup!” Remus agrees cheerfully, still toying with that damn orange. “How pretty and soft they look, how much I could bite them before you started crying, how they’d look stretched around my-”

Roman is across the room and snatching the orange out of the air before Remus can finish his sentence. He looms above his brother, flushed and shaking. His fist clenches just a bit too hard, and the fruit splatters open, sticky citrus dripping from his hand.

Remus grins up at him. “What’d you do that for, brother?”

“Do me a favor,” Roman says, lowly, “and look at me next time you decide to ruin my life.”

Remus shrugs. “Okay." He sits up, languidly, eyes locked with Roman’s, and takes Roman’s orange-dripping hand in both of his own. "How’s this, then?”

Slowly, he brings Roman’s hand to his mouth and licks a stripe up his palm. Swiping his tongue against the pad of Roman’s thumb, he sucks the finger in, cleaning it. Never looking away from Roman, he repeats the action on the other four, until Roman’s hand is wet with spit and his face is flushed with something other than anger.

“You’re awful,” Roman says.

Remus smiles, bright. “I love you too.”

He tastes like citrus, just turned sour.

The rules change. Hands that only brushed become intertwined tightly. Eyes that had looked hastily away meet and become heated. Words and thoughts that had been suppressed become whispered between kisses.

Thomas has some of the most creative ideas he’s ever had.

“You’re my soul mate,” Roman tells him once, between increasingly fevered kisses.

Remus laughs - licks a stripe up his cheek and whispers in his ear. “We don’t have souls, baby.”

Maybe they don’t. They aren’t real, after all. They’re less than a thought – just a collection of sparks and neurons in the mind of a man much more whole than they could ever be.

But here, with his other half deep inside him, flush against him, green eyes staring down, Roman feels complete.

“He didn’t like me at all.” Remus says, softly. They’re lying beside each other in an open, grassy field, counting shooting stars. “Am I scary?”

Roman is quiet for a long moment before he responds. “Everything is,” he says eventually, “before you know it.”

Remus scared him, once upon a time. Before he knew what the hollowness in his chest was, before he knew that you can’t change how you love, before he knew that Remus would love him back.

Remus’s shoulders relax, just slightly.

“I must not scare you at all then,” he purrs. “Since we know each other in the Biblical sense.”

Roman is straddling Remus before his other half can react. “Well,” Roman says coyly, leaning down. “I wouldn’t mind getting reacquainted.”

They do.

“We’re broken,” Roman says. It’s not the first time he’s said it, nor will it be the last.

“I could fix us,” Remus offers, half-joking. “Chop off your arm, put it on my shoulder, and pop in a few stitches.”

It’s almost enough to make Roman laugh.

“No,” he breathes. “Some parts are better like this.”

He can look at his other half now, hold him in his hands, watch his eyes glow with a new idea or darken with more wicked intentions. He can talk to him, speak of things only the two of them can understand. They can venture into the imagination – play knights and soldiers and war, the way they never could when they were together. Sometimes, it’s nice not to be together. It means they’re never alone.

Roman probably isn’t meant to love Remus. He’s loud and crude and obnoxious and hypersexual. He and Roman pick at each other’s ideas until what they have left is better than what either of them could create. He’s everything that Roman isn’t. Everything that he’s missing. They should hate each other.

Roman doesn’t think he’s supposed to love Remus.

He does anyway.

(the above was submitted by Squidward)

DD: Dear Squidward,

Forgive me for hanging on to your submission for so long before posting it. It brought me so much joy and made my heart ache so sweetly every time I opened my inbox and saw it sitting there. But it’s past time for me to finally post your work and share it with the world.

“I don’t think,” Roman says, softly. “That I’m supposed to love you.”

Remus just smiles and presses their foreheads together. “When has that ever stopped you before?”

Oh. Oh fuck. Oh fuck me gently. This was like a fucking punch to the chest every time I read it. How dare you begin a fic so fucking beautifully and heartwrenching. Two lines in and I already knew I would die for this fic.

Later, Remus told him it felt a little like being cast from heaven.

Oh, ow. my heart… I love the subtle biblical references… headcanon accepted…

They’re waltzing on the edge of something dangerous – dizzy and exhilarated with each almost-misstep and twirl.

Your wording is so beautiful, I’m dizzy with it.

Roman’s hand jerks across the paper, slicing in half a picture of what once was.

*sobbing* the imagryyyyy… once again Remus “causes” what once was to be sliced in half…. *flails*

“Do me a favor,” Roman says, lowly, “and look at me next time you decide to ruin my life.”

Fuck. Me. Please. This liiiiiiine. 💚 💚 💚

He tastes like citrus, just turned sour.

*whimpers*

Thomas has some of the most creative ideas he’s ever had.

*sobs and whimpers, flailing*

“You’re my soul mate,” Roman tells him once, between increasingly fevered kisses.

Remus laughs - licks a stripe up his cheek and whispers in his ear. “We don’t have souls, baby.”

That’s it. That’s Roman and Remus in a nutshell. This is so fucking in character it hurts.

“I must not scare you at all then,” he purrs. “Since we know each other in the Biblical sense.”

Roman is straddling Remus before his other half can react. “Well,” Roman says coyly, leaning down. “I wouldn’t mind getting reacquainted.”

*rips my hair out, tears my bosom* I love this sooooo muuuuuuch *sobs*

Sometimes, it’s nice not to be together. It means they’re never alone.

THIS. FUCK. THIS IS WHY I LOVE REMROM. FUCK. THIS IS AMAZING.

They should hate each other.

Roman doesn’t think he’s supposed to love Remus.

He does anyway.

*crying*

I love this fic so much. Thank you for writing and sharing it.

Love, DD

#remrom #romrem #remus sanders #roman sanders #fanfic #submission #ts remus #ts duke #ts roman #sanders sides #thomas sanders

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batskulldrag · 5 years ago

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Phoenix by Fallout Boy

Here’s a fluff finisher. No real warnings, I know I don’t believe it either

Chapter Sixteen: Phoenix by Fallout Boy

“Ok sweetie.” Patton ruffled Virgil’s hair. “Why don’t you go lay down for a little while? And when you get up, we’ll celebrate.”

“Aren’t I a little old for naptime?” Virgil protested.

“No. Naps are awesome. Just wait until you get older, all you’re gonna wanna do is nap.”

“And you did just take some pills that are meant to make you tired.” Logan interjected.

“Alright.” Virgil pulled on his sleeves. “Maybe I should, you know, just to be doing it.”

“You’re right, you need to stop resisting a rest.”

Virgil smiled at that and walked up the stairs and into his room, they didn’t hear his door close. But Virgil was prone to forget to close his door. And as long as he didn’t sleep naked or something ridiculous like that, it was fine.

“Logan, we’re parents.” Patton pounced his husband with a hug, almost knocking him over.

“Oh, my gosh.” Logan said, stunned. “We’re parents. What if I’m a bad parent? The only example of parenting I’ve had was those two cavemen! And what if he is straight? I can’t give him advice for that!”

“Logan, you’re already a great dad.” Patton didn’t let go. “You even got Virgil to open up to you about Payton. And he really likes you. Just because your parents were the worst doesn’t mean you’re gonna be a bad dad.”

“He’s right, Calculator Watch.” Roman agreed. “Your only parental flaw is that you don’t like dad jokes.”

“But what if they were right!?” Logan pulled himself back to look Patton in the eyes, clutching his jacket so hard that he was probably digging holes in it. “What if they were right!?”

“Logan, we’ve been through this before.” Patton gently framed Logan’s face in his hands. “They were wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re not broken or damaged. And you don’t think it’s a good idea to hurt people who don’t fit in your mold. You’re already a great dad, and a way better parent than those useless circle queens.”

“And relationship advice isn’t tied to gender.” Roman rolled his eyes and slapped Logan on the shoulder. “You and Padre are relationship goals, all single people study at your feet. Except me, I’m an expert in my own right.”

“I thought you moved in with us to study us.” Logan smiled at him.

“No, it was just because the rent is cheap.”

“Ok.” Patton kissed Logan’s nose. “Come help me make a cake.”

“I was waiting for you to pull out an excuse to make dessert.”

“Well, if our baby isn’t something to celebrate, then what is?”

“You think you’re so cute.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“I am.” Patton grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen.

Logan quietly watched as Patton pulled out his baking supplies.

“Ok, do you think he’ll want chocolate or vanilla?” Patton bounced up and down with his recipe book pressed to his chest.

“Chocolate.” Roman said confidently. “Everyone likes chocolate.”

“Logan doesn’t.” Patton argued.

“He eats dark chocolate, it’s just sweets he doesn’t like.”

“I tend to abstain from desserts in general,” Logan intervened. “I’m not exactly the best example.”

“I know he liked chocolate when he was a baby.” Patton considered. “But he hasn’t had any sweets since then. His tastes may have changed.”

“Good point.” Roman put his hand on his chin as if he were thinking.

“Go see if he’s asleep yet and ask him.” Logan sighed.

Patton set his book down and scampered upstairs. On his way he kicked himself for not thinking of asking Virgil in the first place. He found Virgil’s door slightly ajar (funny, he could have sworn that it was a door) and knocked on it gently.

“Honey, are you awake?”

“yeah.”

“Ok, quick question, what kind of cake do you like?”

There was a brief pause.

“Chocolate, I guess. It’s been a while.”

“Ok, and would you use chocolate frosting or butter cream?”

“I don’t know, chocolate too.”

“Ok.” Patton beamed. “You get some rest I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.”

“Thank you.” Virgil said sincerely from his end of the door.

Poor baby. Patton thought sadly at that remark.

He really wanted Virgil to be ok, but that was going to take a lot of time. He could almost hear Logan telling him to be patient. He dumped his jacket and vest on the couch as he walked back towards the kitchen and rolled up his sleeves. He almost wished that they had stayed at the courthouse long enough to see Payton taken out in hand cuffs. But he had decided that they had punished his brother enough.

“He says he wants chocolate.” Patton chirped as he picked his recipes back up.

“I told you.” Roman announced triumphantly.

Patton gathered what he needed and contentedly mixed the cake batter. Logan just kind of watched with a pensive expression. But Logan usually looked like he was thinking about something.

“Patton.” Logan finally spoke. “I don’t want to be the one to do this to you, but I’m really the only one who can.”

“What do you mean?” Patton looked around in terror, did Logan want a divorce? But everything was perfect, they were comfortable with each other. They just adopted a kid.

“I know you’re probably hoping for Virgil to start calling you dad.” Logan continued, what a relief, he didn’t want a divorce. “But that may take a while. Until now the word ‘dad’ was used to describe a villain who wanted to hurt him. So, that’s not a label he’s going to use anytime soon, especially on anyone that he likes.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Patton looked down into the batter and back up again. “But I’ll wait until he’s ready. I wasn’t just going to insist he call me dad. But if a ‘hi hungry, I’m dad’ opportunity comes up, I’m taking it.”

“Even I would be sad if you didn’t.” Logan smiled

# # #

Virgil stared up at the ceiling and absentmindedly ran his hand over his stuffed bear. This was it. It was really over. His dad had finally lost custody of him. And sure, he was still worried about how things would play out between him and his uncles but nothing bad had happened yet. For now, at least, he would just have to trust that they believed child abuse to be wrong.

Besides Patton seemed thrilled to have him, and despite being hard to read, Logan seemed happy as well. And they even still thought that they loved him. Virgil moved the bears arms up and down.

“Maybe…” He said out loud to make it real. “Maybe they actually do.”

He sat up and pulled the picture of his birth parents out of his sock drawer. As he gazed at the couple, he could be sure that Payton was just using her. But he didn’t know whether she was using him as well. Granted, Payton probably didn’t have anything she wanted, he certainly didn’t have anything he wanted. Not anymore. Neither of them did anymore.

It was pointless to want something from someone who wasn’t going to give it to you anyway. And while he had to admit that he did want it, he could safely say that he didn’t need it from them anymore. His mom could have her happy family that he wasn’t a part of, and Payton could rot in prison for the next decade. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need them to want him, he didn’t need him to love him.

And as far as Patton and Logan went, at the very least they did care about him. Hell, maybe they did love him. For the longest time he had thought something like that was impossible. But he had also completely believed that people would believe Payton’s word over his. And today the exact opposite happened.

He set his bear on the pillow. His pillow, in his room. What a thought. He was home. He ran his hand over his door as he walked out of his room. A true luxury item.

Virgil lurked downstairs and wandered into the kitchen when he couldn’t find anyone in the living room. The three of them were laughing and joking about something while Patton mixed frosting.

“Virgil.” Patton called happily upon seeing him. “Come have some frosting.”

“Are you feeling any better?” Logan asked, feeling his forehead and grabbing his arm to check his pulse.

“I’m fine.” Virgil laughed.

“Hi fine, I’m dad.” Patton yelled ecstatically.

“Well, he did it.” Roman sighed.

“We knew he would.” Logan shrugged.

“That wasn’t a one off.” Patton pointed his spoon at them. “I’m gonna do that forever.”

Virgil laughed at Patton’s level of enthusiasm and Patton beamed at the idea that someone liked his jokes.

“Logan,” Roman put a hand on his shoulder. “Get ready for twice the number of dad jokes.”

“That’s twice the number of fun.” Patton dabbed a bit of frosting on Virgil’s nose. “And Virgil nose it.”

“Hey, that’s batter-ry.” Virgil teased, taking a step back.

“Well on you it’s dark chocolate.” Patton grinned. “Get it? ‘Cause you’re an emo?”

“I get it.”

“Ok, how can you tell if a cake is sad?” Patton bounced up and down.

“How?”

“It’s in tiers!”

“What do you call a fake noodle?” Virgil laughed.

“What?”

“An impasta.”

“What do you call man with a broken leg?”

“What?”

“An ambulance!”

“I’m in hell.” Logan interrupted.

“Ok we’d better stop.” Virgil smiled. “He might be tempted to pull out a lo-gun.”

Patton and Roman both doubled over laughing while Logan stood quietly.

“Of all the things to be genetic.” Logan smiled and ruffled his hair. “I’m tempted to think they gave you to the wrong brother when you were born.”

“Well, we fixed that.”

“I have one.” Roman announced, wiping away a tear. “What does Payton have in common with a vacuum cleaner?”

“Well they both suck.” Virgil speculated.

“Almost,” Roman corrected. “They both suck and they both have dirt bags inside.”

“Roman that’s mean.” Patton scolded.

“The truth hurts sometimes.” Logan added.

“Logan that was low.” Patton gasped. “gun.”

“Why is that so easy for you?”

“Oh, just try to be a guy named Roman and sit through a history class with him.” Roman rolled his eyes. “Or with anyone. Oh, your names are Roman and Remus, like Romulus and Remus. Are you going home to the wolf?”

“Someone should tell him.” Patton said quickly.

“Not it.” Logan held up his hands.

“Tell me what?” Roman demanded.

“Ain’t nothing but a heart ache.” Virgil took his chance.

“Tell you what Lupine means.” Patton said softly.

“I know what it means.” Roman rolled his eyes. “It means wolf, ha, ha, ha.”

“So, was it a hard birth?” Virgil asked. “Was your mom upset?”

“They were born conjoined at the chest.” Logan answered. “Like all conjoined twins who survive to term they were born through C-section.”

“Had to cut them out, isn’t that easier?”

“No, it’s major abdominal surgery.”

“Oh, that’s why she was mad.” Virgil nodded.

“Ok, your name is Virgil.” Roman accused. “They named you after a poet that I guarantee neither of them ever heard of.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m named after the perfect human, as explained in The Inferno.”

“You were named after Static Shock.” Roman rolled his eyes. “No teenager has read Dante’s work. Or Virgil’s.”

“My work is under rated,” Virgil nodded. “I need a publicity stunt.”

“Not you, Static Shock.”

“Cool, I get to be the perfect man and a superhero. Anything else you want to give me?”

“I think Virgil’s a great name.” Patton interrupted.

“Yeah, you yell ‘Virgil’ in a crowded mall or something and maybe two kids will turn around.” Virgil nodded.

“Yeah, and you’re both of them.” Roman muttered.

“Because we love him twice as much?” Patton beamed, wrapping himself around him.

“Words are losing their meaning.” Logan rubbed his temples.

“Sorry.” Patton looked up apologetically. “We’ll stop repeating that word for now.”

The timer on the oven went off and Virgil jumped a mile at the intrusion.

“The cake!” Patton let go and ran to the oven.

Patton gently set two round trays on top of the oven and switched it off. He clapped happily and bounced back over to the group.

“It needs to cool off for a while.” He announced contentedly. “How about we watch a movie while it chills out?”

Halfway through One Hundred and One Dalmatians Virgil’s eye lids started feeling heavy. He rested his head on Patton’s shoulder, relishing that warm safe feeling that he had first been introduced to in the hospital. Now he could accept something that he hadn’t dared to so much as hope for in the past. He could accept that this was normal. This was how things were supposed to be. He slid his head into Patton’s lap.

“You getting sleepy kiddo?” Patton cooed, running his fingers through his hair.

“Just a little.” Virgil mumbled.

“Well, you have had quite a day.” Logan added. “I think we’ve all earned a rest.”

“You’re gonna be ok from now on.”

“Thank you.” Virgil sighed.

#logicality #parentalmoxiety #parentalanological #platoniclamp #sanderssidesfic #humanau #pattonsanders #logansanders #romansanders #virgilsanders #famILY

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dishonoredrpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations, ALLI! You’ve been accepted for the role of SEVEN OF SWORDS with the faceclaim of CILLIAN MURPHY. Canis is certainly a fucking concept, whom I adore to no end. He’s got a tenacious and willful sort of attitude about him, the kind of incredulous charm and wit that lends itself to an air of villainy and danger, and I think that he fits into the Seven of Swords like one fits into a well-made boot or glove. In spite of remaining leashed like a dog, he’s got no small amount of fire in him, and I’m eager to see what (or who!) he sinks his teeth into during gameplay. You’ve brought me a real gift, dropped it on my doorstep, and I am grateful.

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

— APPLICATION

OOC

NAME: alli PRONOUNS: she / her AGE: twenty - one TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: cst / i am currently on summer break and have the ability to be really active , but sometimes things do come up ! i definitely have plenty of time to be on the dash with several posts within activity limit and when my muse is high ( i’ll be honest i’m a hoe for high fantasy ) my activity is also super up ! ANYTHING ELSE?: what’s the mead sis…….. the wenches are squabbling …….

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON: seven of swords NAME: efferus aubenet / “canis” & “the dog” efferus - of latin meaning , “wild , savage , cruel , barbarous” . a name canis has long since abandoned , preferring even the subtle jab of “the dog” given to him by opponents of his crew and the highborn that look down on him . he finds it just about as cutting as a bread knife . no one except those closest to him ( ie . the pack ) even know this name exists . canis - latin for “ dog ” , though also the scientific genus for all canines , including wolves and coyotes . meant to symbolize canis as the leader of his pack of wild dogs , and a sign of respect , a nickname earned on the streets and not given to him in tyrholm . the dog - a nickname received while working under king septimus , by those that see the second fangs as dirty , unruly , savages . also by revolters who see canis as a dog blindly following the orders of a tyrannical king. in any case , he still prefers this to efferus . sometimes he even barks in response . FACECLAIM: cillian murphy , michiel huisman ( he / him pronouns , cis male ) AGE: thirty - nine , born on the twenty - seventh day of the twelfth month

DETAILS: i always find myself drawn to underdog characters , muses that have overcome more than most others could even imagine to find themselves in their present position . i believe there is so much depth to backgrounds like canis’s . no family so he created his own , nothing to his name so he created his own legacy . a moral compass that tries it’s best to always point north . that fails , because the muse is so painfully human . the irony of a sellsword who wants more for himself ? incredible . when i was skimming the skeletons , it was his that startled practically writing itself , this street urchin turned warrior figure , so i spent a lot of time picking apart the biography until i was left with canis . i did a bit of research on the seventh of swords tarot card , but let me tell you .. i was so pleasantly surprised and intrigued when i did . on one hand , when upright , seven of swords means scheming , resourcefulness , cunning , and lies , all traits that have gotten canis to where he is today , however negative , the legacy he’s forged for himself and all deeply tied to his work . however , when reversed , the seven of swords can mean confession , conscience , regret , and maliciousness , which i think lend beautifully to this character’s private struggles . there is a very heavy mix of negative and positive attributes leant towards seven of sword’s core character , someone who wants to do right by themselves at great cost . when interpreting the tarot as canis , i was drawn to the maliciousness and the regret ( in sometimes equal measure ) of the reversed card . i believe there is so much more to this character than just his web of scheming and lies , that canis’s true self comes from somewhere within , and i’m really excited to explore his inner conflicts. this man has so many issues that he’s buried and i think the possibility of him becoming a part of the revolution? impeccable. my muse for this skeleton ? through the roof .

BACKGROUND

I . O’ ROMULUS AND REMUS , CASTOR AND POLLUX , WHAT IS ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER ? a twin , you were told , though it feels like something you should never be permitted to forget. you’ve never felt him there , not like a phantom limb or a guiding whisper. just a story , when you’re feeling ungrateful for your lot in this realm , that there is only one where there once was two. born in the dead of winter -- the one that bit at the napes of even the most fur cloaked nobility of markholm , that anyone unlucky enough to live through it can still recall as “ceaseless” -- and childbirth takes your mother as it goes. two children , born sickly , cold. so you are dubbed efferus , a savage beast who can claw his way into life , barely holding onto breath , already having taken a life. it takes a village to raise motherless boys. sometimes it takes more than that. your brother doesn’t make it past the winter , but you keep growing , getting stronger by the day , and finally spring flowers bloom forth from hard soil. the goat farmer next door tells your father you are a resilient one , that the undying smiled upon him. another miracle , that your life could be a blessing and not a curse. as long as you knew him , your father kept steadfast in deep religion , devout , praying over the crops. the cattle. the harvest. even your birth , a story he recants so mystically it’s hard to imagine you were there. “we all bled fer you ,” he always starts , like it’s your fault , “my son , my son. let all else be damned fer ‘im.” two lives for the price of one , he reminds you , and you’re just a boy , but you still find it all absurd. there’s never been a rhyme or reason to suffering. “you make a deal with the undying and you get what you paid fer.” sometimes it seems a compliment. others .. you aren’t so sure. your father hath no mercy for the weak or spineless , though he wasn’t an inherently evil man either , at least not in the figments you can conjure of him. you plow the fields , with hands so rough with calluses you can’t feel the hilt of the axe you use to cut the firewood. you milk the cows , so gentle with great beasts you start to forget your name. you’re skin and bone and beating heart , not much to look at , but just the blessing your father asked for all the same. a good boy , in that you were capable and healthy and strong. a bad seed , in that you cared for little and didn’t always do as you were told. it’s your tenth winter when frostbitten tendrils take first your farm , and then your father. you make a deal with the undying and you get what you paid for , you remember , and it almost makes you laugh. perhaps it’s not so funny that you mourn very little the life you lost. perhaps still it is a testament to your strength , a boy of only ten who shoulders already a lifetime of death and decay. who makes it look a load easy to bear. who are you , efferus aubenet? and who will you become?

II . A MIRRORED MIDAS , IF EVERYTHING HE HAD TOUCHED TURNED TO DEATH AND ROT . a street urchin with no farm , no family , and most prominently no coin. winters slip away like sand through an hourglass , and it’s all you can do to keep track of the time that folds beneath you. one year , and you’re frail and quiet and know only to keep to yourself. three years and you’ve developed a taste for fighting , scrappy as you are. it’s just a game , in the beginning , one the other coinless children keep telling you you’re too good at , “it’s no fun fighting a hungry dog.” five years and you’re taller , more meat to your bones. you’re better at sneaking things out of the market , extra to feed your friends. you learned the hard way what happens if you don’t bring back enough , if you turn a blind eye to people who call out your name. you hear it when you dream , half awake in chilled darkness. “i’m so hungry, efferus. i’m so hungry.” you start going by canis. it makes it easier to sleep. six , seven years and you’re so good at fighting that your pockets start to feel heavy. cobbled streets whisper canis when you cross. bruised fists and a bloody conscience , not all soldiers make it out of battle alive. it dawns on you , slowly but with all the force of a crack of lightning , why the others like to call you dog. maybe it’s because you were born from death , or because you know loss so well it colors your eyelids when you blink , but it seems all you’re good for. you discover a rage within you , one which you’re sure ( you hope , foolish as it is ) any man is capable of , if pushed too far. but it’s directionless , vile in the way it sits inside your chambered heart. there is nothing more universal than pain. nothing more isolating than anger. a boy with a taste for blood. so blind to the way you snap , like branch under boot , when you push too hard. what place is there for you in an unforgiving world , wracked with hardship? at whose table do you dine? you knew love once , it felt like sharing bread and blankets and tales of woe. like years on the streets relying only on wit and steadfast determination to survive. like knowing a person fully , inside and out , as you’d always known yourself. that too would be taken from you , like everything else. for the price of just a single coin , you watched your love take their last breath , watched the thief make off with their blood money , felt truly and terribly powerless. worse than losing your father to deep winter chill you lost your first love to a blade. and in the end , it meant nothing. the sons of argos could not undo what you’d done , what had been done to you , but maybe you could give back tenfold. it starts small , at a table in your favorite tavern , as all great plots tended to do. an invitation to join a company you’d heard about only in whispers. you saw espace , penance where others saw a home , but that would always be enough for you. it was intended to be permanent , a family you couldn’t lose , under a friend who would lay down their life for the men , women , and children under their protection. a life of adventure to call your own and you didn’t need to suffer anymore. you had but one skill , it seemed , beyond tending to the herd and trimming too tall crops , and your father once taught you that skill fed fortune ( though the money , you’d find , would come later ) . you don’t think the sons is quite what your dearly departed had in mind , and this makes your smile widen. you’ve always found humor in odd places. what follows is a career far short of extravagant , fighting crime like a bunch of vigilanties , tied to a city state that knows little of its own streets. you hunger for travel , to sink your teeth into shores unseen , land untended. to make a real name for yourself and anyone who followed suit. “mind your place , mutt,” you hear more than once , and you want to swat the others away like flies buzzing in swelling ears. but there’s something sharp , too , like a cut that just won’t heal. your voice is too loud amongst the rest , your name -- the name you paid for in blood -- nothing next to strength’s. the captain you were meant to worship turned to dust in your heavy fist , the family you forged alongside them never yours to call your own. you tell yourself they betrayed you , like everything else in this life they gave you nothing to hold onto save for the back of their coattails , but in truth you were never meant to stay. minding your place felt a lot like digging six feet down to lay rest. it’s like waking from a dream , one you push down when it returns to you in the night , leaving the sons for good. four winters you slept under their tents , ate at their table , and still you feel nothing when you pack what’s yours ( and maybe some of what isn’t , but who would dare come looking for it? ) and go. no one follows , no one even pleads your case , and when you see them playing knights on the docks the fire in you swells. it’s all rot now.

III . WHERE WOULD ICARUS BE NOW , IF SOMEONE WISE HAD CLIPPED CURSED WINGS? iriebury is the stank of unwashed flesh , the heat of southern sun , something to conquer. the citizens are mean and the crime meaner. it makes tyrholm look a lot like playing pretend , the sons seem like a group of toy soldiers. to survive in iriebury you need your bark , you need your bite. naturally , you thrive. it takes just one winter , one warm southern winter , before you have something to call a crew of your very own. the second fangs , a handful of beaten down , nearly finished off mutts that think you look like a future. you’ll find one day , when you’ve turned to face the wrong end of a sword , these dogs’ loyalty knows no bounds. and maybe you do have a family after all. they don’t look like warriors born for battle , but they’re sharp on every edge and speak of you like you hung the moon. like a prophecy spun from the undying herself. the queen of iriebury’s no different , when you flash her a smile and run a sword through her guard. this is your destiny. with work and full bellies , the second fangs grow , picking up more men and women the rest of markholm cast aside , giving them all purpose. leadership becomes you , you’re kind in places other captains breathe fire. your men adore you , and maybe this is why it’s easy to lose yourself a bit. you’ve always been looking for him , that voice inside of you that has guided every confident step , and you really start to believe you’ve found him at the end of a blade. what you do isn’t pretty like life in a castle , it isn’t gentle like the farm or humble like a temple , but it suits you. you find company at the bottom of a bottle , family inside the taverns and brothels , atop dirty cobblestone. it all feels a lot like honor , like duty. you’re known for your loyalty and cunning among burdened skill. work lends to virtue or some mirrored image of the sort. the second fangs take the jobs you approve , not the ones the queen hands you , nails stained with blood , and who knew a mercenary crew with such an eye for morality? bastards that comb the streets but speak with love fresh on their lips. you’re a heathen with heart , of that not even the fiercest opponents can dispute. maybe there is a place in this world for nameless , coinless men with a hunger for something more. you give back to your beloved pack what they give to you ; everything , everything and then some. a life that means more than scraping the bottom of the barrel. you can’t carry on like this forever and survive , and it’s only a matter of time before real gold starts knocking. a steady job , you’re promised. a lifetime of stability , peace. you know more of the king of tyrholm than you let on , and maybe you are naive to trust the word of a woman who did not raise herself , but when you look at your company’s worn faces and tired smiles , weathered from southern strife , it’s never been easier to bend a knee. some odd winters , some odd springs , lived with modest lavesty. septimus is an arse of a man that whispers corroded bidding into your graceless ear. no one but the second fangs knows how much you shake , when the job is done and you’re safe at home. how much weight you shoulder , for yourself , for your men , for the lives you’ve taken. the lives you will take. your crew was never meant to become a rebellion. the glory feels lost , you’re a knight without chivalry , a wolf without teeth. you hear dog more than your own name and you bite back bile when you look in a mirror , but still , you think , you would do it all over again. the second fangs are a happy crew , well fed and housed and nothing like the orphans you sheltered so many moons ago. when it starts to feel like you have your own sons of argos you shelf the thought. your pack looks at you , strong and fit and still just a bit withered , and laugh and cheer. “yer getting old, canis,” they jest , when you stumble into bed. “hunch - backed from all that gold in yer pockets.” you’ve always been wiser than most of them , something raw in your heart that keeps it beating steadfast. better you than them , you know. most men would crack at what you’d seen. what you know. there’s good to be found , once you learn how to look , like the devotion of judgement , a beauty in worship that reminds you of all your father’s useless praying. peaceful in all it’s absurdity. there’s friendship in odd places , with the empress you serve. you find it hard to trust in tyrholm , unaccustomed to the politics of a ruling class , the society that never once smiled down on a farm boy and his widowed father. you want to be wise and cunning , still sometimes you feel inadequate next to those raised in education , but the queen saw your potential before anyone else in the whole retched kingdom , and that has to mean something. there’s the fool , a real dog you sometimes think , who mirrors your old captain so much it makes your skin crawl. they aren’t so bad , but it’s hard for you to look up at someone who serves at the hand of the king. you wonder if others think the same of you. fools , the whole lot of them. you know what the queen expects of you , your word is your livelihood , but these things take time. for now , you’re comfortable ; your cup is full. there’s always been something about wars to come that feels like home , ragged and battle scarred thing that you are. and besides , it’s easier to put out a fire that burns inside your ribs than one that swallows an entire kingdom , of this you are certain.

PLOT IDEAS

STRENGTH: oh boy oh man. canis can’t hold his tongue with distaste even if he tried , and he definitely doesn’t try with them. his anger often gets the better of him and i believe he would try to confront strength every chance he gets. he sees this skeleton as nothing more than the king’s right hand ( literally so exciting to me that strength is also a revolter and i’m sure neither of them know they’re destined to work on the same side again?? ) and i think he reflects a lot of his own inadequacies onto this skeleton , a lot of his failure. with such a tension relationship i’d like to see fights break out .. maybe even between their own respective men that they’d have to quell. far down the line even settling their differences and working together as the military leaders of a revolution because who is better suited for the job than them? but it would take a big blow to canis’s pride to share such a job , to ever work alongside this skeleton instead of against them like he always has. so all around? here for it all. NINE OF WANDS: canis looks at them and sees passion he once was sure he felt , the sharp thing in his gut that once spurred him to forge his own path in a world that never once showed him kindness. his scars are internal , but they wear their scar like a badge of honor , at least that’s how canis sees it. he’d love to not have to kill the king himself , even if he would never admit it. it means a safer life for his men , it means being done with tyrholm and a life of ease and travel , everything he’s always wanted and never seemed to be able to grasp. i wonder if them growing closer through sparring and their ability to provide him the best weapons he’s ever seen could change his opinion on wanting them to kill the king in a fit of rage?? i could see canis wanted to strategize with them , in the end , once he’s done poking the bear. love this gift of a connection a lot !!!! THE EMPRESS: definite ass kissing going on here. canis is more than grateful he was hired by her and not the king , though i do think he might resent them a little for the work the king makes his company do. he prefers to take jobs from them , when ordered , though i feel their relationship at this point goes beyond just work like it does with septimus. he trusts them and it does help him to sleep at night thinking he could be serving their hand and not septimus’s. also entirely possibly they call him the dog but with them it doesn’t feel like malice. he would never dare disrespect the queen , especially one he sees goodness in , sees his entire future in. would be really interesting if canis even is a little too friendly with them , giving them a hard time where maybe no one else would dare to do , an annoying prick in her side that she NEEDS to get what she wants. THE HERMIT: i think he has a lot of respect for the hermit. in ways that his pride keeps him from seeing his similarities with strength , he sees so much of who he once was in them. young , making their own way , maybe even some of the same rage , though canis has no place to put his own. i feel like if the respect was mutual they could have a friendly relationship , canis even pushing advice onto them they might not want or need. if a revolution came he would back them. somewhere , he probably even sees them as something of a good king. canis doesn’t trust them fully , but he could drink with them , knows the second fangs would treat them kindly as well. THE HIGH PRIESTESS: canis is scared of little , but he’s scared shitless of them. he avoids them at all costs , looks the other way when they’re brought to the same space. he doesn’t talk kindly of necromancers , though maybe there is some envy there he needs to address. he’s sure this doesn’t go unnoticed , not with all their years of wisdom. i think it could be really interesting though if one of his closest friends is killed on a job and they bring them back as he watches , sees this power first hand , feels even a debt is owed though none of the fear is gone. a lot of possibilities , i could see the second fangs might be dying a lot more often pretty soon ... JUSTICE: the world calls canis the dog because they see him as filth , as something mangey that feeds from table scraps of the king , but canis sees that justice is the real dog. and he pities him for it. there’s little glory in the work of a bodyguard , and maybe canis wonders how justice would fair in his own company. never the less , i think they could butt heads just as easily as they could share a pint. maybe they’ve even fought in some of the same battles , know each other from war torn lives and have a bond because of this. lots of potential for both malice and comradery , no matter what line of the revolution they tread. THE LOVERS: canis sees himself and more in them. he doesn’t pity easily , has an ability to find the strength in even the smallest mouse , but he pities the lovers. in some ways , i think he wants what they have , longs for something as fulfilling as love , and doesn’t want to see this squashed. every day he gets closer to telling them of the war to come. i really wonder how long he can go without letting anything slip , especially if they look at him with gentleness or show him great kindness. he feels they need to prepare , like he is , for a future of destruction. THE MOON: okay okay .. i have two different paths that i think might be interesting with this skeleton depending on what gets plotted out. BUT .. i could imagine canis stumbles into their office after being badly injured on the job , probably requesting some random herb because it HURTS and he’s WEAK and he needs it to be DONE WITH. one path would lead to the moon healing canis , and once he discovers this ability he probably begs and bribes ( heavily. the man is too wealthy for his own good now , and what else is he going to buy? new boots? his work just fine. ) them to start visiting the second fangs around the city to heal them in secret. he’ll do anything for their ensured safety. the other path works quite the same , only with no healing , just plants , and he’d be very dependent on this muse either way because of the miracles they’re able to work with his men. really really excited for the possibilities of plots with this skeleton. THE TOWER: a backstory plot for these muses is calling my name?? like maybe the tower and canis had a deal where the second fangs would assist them and their men on voyages and pillages for a cut of the treasure when all was said and done , back when the second fangs were fresher and poorer and in desperate need of work. and maybe one of the two betrayed the other on one of these trips , with greed for treasure or something of the like? things could be tense between them now , at each other’s throats. OR there could have never been a betrayal and they’re actually quite good friends who know a little too much about each other’s pasts , and canis offers the tower company amongst the pack knowing he’s lived through canis’s own worst nightmare. the terrifying ordeal of being known. canis could definitely trust them more than he should. this one has me really excited i won’t lie.

CHARACTER DEATH: canis would quite literally volunteer for this so that’s a big yes from me.

WRITING SAMPLE

THE SELF PARA: the tent is warm and the burn of the lamplight casts shadows across familiar faces. the second fangs. his pack, he always calls them, like they’re puppies and not vicious mercenaries. canis is most comfortable here, at ease, his usually pin straight posture relaxed despite the job he knows lays ahead of them. it’s not one he’s entirely comfortable with, an uprising in a poor village. always messy, always felt a bit like putting down a weakened calf at the farm. so they drink, to forget the day that lies ahead, the uncountable days behind. the faces. faces. faces, that echo like screams. he can’t recall who speaks first, but it was likely canis himself, always a little too bold when his body buzzed with liquid courage. “that’s not what i’m asking,” one of his men corrects with a nudge of canis’s shoulder, always aggressive with each other, a pack of wolves nipping at each other’s heels. “the death’s on your hands. but it’s meant to be a good one. worth while.” and the captain’s own eyes twinkle uncharacteristically, perhaps because his inner conscious knows what his mouth does not. that the answer lies waiting at the tip of his tongue, a snarling beast of a target. “and how much coin are we gonna get fer it?” ajax jests, but canis can see the gold flashing in front of his face, even from across the table. canis barks out a laugh, and they all bang their goblets on the table. “aye,” in unison. they know each other inside and out, they speak a language strange and foreign. a family with many moons in their pockets. how many knights can say that? “no coin,” canis finally adds. “no glory. no private dance at the brothel,” eying ren, and there’s another chorus of easy laughter, more aye’s. “one of the nobles,” lawren grunts, and at first there’s just ringing silence. a paranoia that winds it’s way through the small group. they trust each other with their lives but this .. it’s like blasphemy. it’s revolution uncurling within them, more than just a job, it’s a force awakening. lawren speaks again, gentler, louder. “undying knows they’re all pricks.” and it’s easy again, more aye’s, cups overflowing with wine and ale. but in between the laughter, he feels the wrench in his gut, the rage that threatens to flare. an allegiance of blood and blind faith -- it reminds him so much of religion that he squirms. maybe his answer lies in a job, with wicked tendrils wrapped around his neck like a leash. the dog. how wrong would it be to bite the hand that feeds you? “i’d cut off my ring fingers and swear to celibacy to be rid of the fuck all king already,” canis growls, his knuckles white where he grips tight on his cup. and it’s quiet again. when he speaks they listen, they all listen, even the highborn in the castle, like he’s a wave crashing on shore. commanding attention. demanding it. “you’re spending too much time with the clerics,” ren groans, with a face like a fox, her hair hanging limply in her face. he can’t tell if she’s smiling or frowning, but they’re nodding in agreement. all of them. “what good’s that sack of shit king, anyway?” lawren chimes in, and then it’s deafening chatter. all canis can do is listen, absorb the pain of his men, the frustration, see himself reflected in their woes. say what any outsider will about his crew, maybe they are all mutts. one mind, one body, one restless spirit. tired of being used, of being chained to a cause that tries to fill deep chasms in bleeding hearts with gold. what is the price of true freedom? “maybe the end is closer than you think, canis,” a small voice that rises above the others. a girl, mary, raised in the pack, only nearing her seventeenth summer. and she’s a legacy of everything canis has created, the family he wove with bruised and boney fingers. “we haven’t lost a battle, yet.” and she’s right, of course she’s right, whip smart and flea bitten. if there is to be a revolution, aid of the pack would be an immense advantage. it isn’t arrogance with which his men speak. it’s truth. he has to chew on the suggestion, sharp glass in his mouth with every bite, impossible to digest, but maybe with the backing of his crew .. canis has trouble seeing the future beyond a sack of coins and a full bottle of ale. he knows little of politics, even after all his withered years serving as something of a king himself. it’s overwhelming, and he thinks his whole arm shakes when he raises his goblet. “nasty fuckers,” but his teeth shine in the lamplight, like fangs. like canines. “trying to get your own captain killed.” but when they clink glasses, it feels like a deal has been made, like he owes this death to more than just the queen, like the undying herself is watching.

EXTRAS

VOICE : canis has an eclectic sort of accent , a combination of all of the people he met while living on the street , his father , the lands he’s traveled and settled into with his companies . he constantly sticks out as an outsider , no matter where he is . he doesn’t mind this sense of otherness because whenever canis goes , his family is never far . canis’s mockblog can be found HERE his pinterest can be found HERE ( blood tw )

#accepted #accepted: seven of swords

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weerd1 · 5 years ago

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Star Trek DS9 Rewatch Log, Stardate 1909.17: Missions Reviewed, “Inquisition,” “In the Pale Moonlight,” and “His Way.”

In “Inquisition,” Bashir is repairing Chief’s shoulder after a kayaking accident (again) and preparing to go to a medical conference. When he wakes up for his trip he is remarkably groggy and matters are made worse when he is called to ops because Starfleet Internal Affairs, led by a Director Sloan, has come to investigate DS9’s senior staff as someone has been leaking information to the Dominion.

After some time confined to quarters, Julian is just briefly questioned by Sloan, but all seems well. Returning to his quarters, he finds they have been searched, and he receives a cryptic message from O’Brien that Miles had been questioned for two hours, and ONLY about Julian. In a second interrogation, Sloan reveals that he believes Bashir was actually turned during his time in a Dominion prison, and has sublimated all memories of this, making him the perfect spy. Sloan admits that Bashir’s motivation is to save lives, hence using the genetically engineered think tank from “Statistical Probabilities” to try and convince the Federation to surrender. Bashir continues to deny, but Sloan, seemingly with no accountability to anyone but himself begins to raise the stakes. Things just become difficult when Julian is suddenly whisked away in a transporter, and finds himself with Weyoun on a Dominion vessel. The Vorta tells him that in fact he HAS been working for the Founders, but now he has been compromised. Bashir, still simply can’t remember any such programming. Soon after though the Defiant arrives, and Kira and Worf beam over to rescue Bashir. When he’s back on the Defiant though, he is treated as a prisoner. The crew has turned against him. When even O’Brien literally turns his back on Bashir, Julian reaches out to turn Miles back to him, and realizes that O’Brien doesn’t have the shoulder injury he just treated the day before. Everything disappears and a black-clad Sloan is standing with Julian in a holodeck. Sloan explains to Bashir that he runs a branch of Starfleet intelligence called “Section 31” and all of this has been to confirm Bashir’s loyalty for recruitment into the covert organization.

Sloan promises Bashir will see him again. Back on DS9, Bashir realizes he’s been gone since the morning he woke up (which was actually after just an hour’s sleep to keep him off balance). Sisko makes inquiries to Starfleet about Section 31, and the admiralty will neither confirm nor deny their existence. Sisko and Bashir decide they want to infiltrate this organization, so if 31 comes calling again, Sisko advises Bashir to join.

The introduction of something that will become a major plot point throughout the rest of Star Trek. Section 31 will of course continue to appear in DS9 for the rest of the show, we will find out they were already operating in the Earth Starfleet in the 2150s during “Enterprise.” Section 31 is responsible for thawing Khan and trying to provoke a war with the Klingon Empire in “Star Trek Into Darkness.” And finally, the existence and actions of S31 play heavily into the second season of “Discovery.” The Kafka-esque feel of this entire episode is perfect, even if it seems like this is something they would generally do to Miles for the annual “let’s screw with O’Brien” episode. Bashir is a perfect choice though- well placed, genetically engineered, has already made friends with men like Garak, and someone who replicates espionage on the holosuite. Can’t overstate how perfect William Sadler is as Sloan either. It’s a pointed discussion. A utopia like the Federation may not be able to exist without someone behind the scenes doing the wrong things for the right reasons. At least one of out main crew would never do that, right?

“In the Pale Moonlight,” is told entirely as a personal log entry from Benjamin Sisko. He is talking about how “it all went wrong” when he posted a casualty report; the Federation/Klingon alliance is not doing well against the Dominion. Talking with Dax, he realizes they need to get the Romulans to break their non-aggression pact with the Dominion and come into the Alpha Quadrant alliance. Sisko is convinced that the Founders plan to invade Romulus when the main war is done, but will need proof to get the Romulans to act. He approaches Garak to see if anyone can get such records off of Cardassia, but Garak reports back that the Dominion has killed every operative he still as contact with on Cardassia.

Garak suggests faking the proof; he can get a blank Cardassian data rod, and he knows a forger who could build a holo program to demonstrate the “briefing” regarding turning toward Romulus. Sisko is resistant…until another casualty report comes, and Sisko realizes perhaps the ends do justify the means. They proceed with the plan which keeps having moral red flags pop up, but finally convince a Romulan senator to stop at the station and see the “evidence.” The senator analyzes the data and discovers the forgery. He leaves, potentially to tell his government that the Federation tried to trick them into the war, likely leading them to join the Dominion. The senator’s shuttle explodes on the way home, and the Romulans discover the forged rod, believing it to be real and the reason the Dominion destroyed the shuttle. Sisko knows it was Garak who killed the senator (and the forger on the side) and had really planned this from the beginning. But when the Romulans attack the Dominion, Garak tells Sisko they may have saved the Alpha Quadrant, and all it cost was one senator, one criminal, and the self-respect of one Starfleet Officer.

Sisko closes out the dictation of his log:

“So… I lied. I cheated. I bribed men to cover up the crimes of other men. I am an accessory to murder. But most damning of all… I think I can live with it… And if I had to do it all over again… I would. Garak was right about one thing – a guilty conscience is a small price to pay for the safety of the Alpha Quadrant. So I will learn to live with it…Because I can live with it…I can live with it. Computer – erase that entire personal log."

I know I say this more than once during this show but: Holy shit. First there’s Avery Brooks’ performance throughout the episode. As he dictates the log he is just mesmerizing to watch. Andrew Robinson as Garak of course is fantastic. This is of course the origin of the internet meme “It’s a FAAAAKE!” from Senator Vrenek.

And the moral conundrum is really captivating. This is an episode a lot of DS9 detractors use to point out how antithetical they believe DS9 is to “Gene Roddenberry’s vision.” I would argue they forget that classic Trek had many of the same tropes. Watch “Errand of Mercy” and how quickly Kirk and Spock are willing to risk the lives of what they believe to be simple peasants in order to stymie the Klingons. Or “A Private Little War” where Kirk provides rifles to a stone age tribe so the can fight a proxy war against a side supported by the Klingons. Kirk referring to himself as a “soldier” or his line from “A Taste of Armageddon,” “We can admit that we’re killers, but we will not kill today.” Yes, Trek offers a positive view of humanity’s future, but it also uses its science fiction setting to examine the human condition without ever saying humans are perfect. There is no way to examine the human condition without examining what we as a species are willing to do in war. As someone who still periodically has to assess what I did defending my county (and more than once found myself not meeting my own ethical standards) I appreciate Trek asking us to do that, asking us to take a look at ourselves, what we have done, and what we can live with. I can live with it. I will learn to live with it.

Will you?

“His Way” introduces us to Bashir’s new holosuite program, a swinging 60’s Vegas club and lounge singer named Vic Fontaine. The AI in the program is remarkably astute and quickly sums up everyone Bashir introduces to “Vic.” Even Odo becomes intrigued when Vic looks at he and Kira, begins to ask about their status but shies away. Odo begins to go the holosuite to ask Vic for advice on Kira.

They run through a series of exercises to help Odo learn to be “smooth,” and eventually program another 60s character, a torch singer based on Kira. Vic actually on his own reaches out to Kira to tell her to be in the holosuite to have dinner with Odo, and tells Odo that they are working with the hologram again. The two are having a wonderful date when Odo begins to lament that this isn’t the real Kira. When he find out it is he storms out. The two of them meet on the promenade and begin to argue about whether or not they should try it again. “Well then after dinner, I suppose I should try to kiss you then!” Odo shouts. “Maybe!” Kira counters. “Why wait, maybe I should just kiss you now!” “Maybe you should!” and he does. After five years of mooning over her, Odo and Kira have finally come together.

Oh. MY. GOD. How frickin’ sweet. This episode is simply adorable, and the whole scene with them on the promenade is just lovely. Always good to see your OTP (that’s internet talk- “one true pairing”) made canon. It is just about damn time, and their joining is perfectly executed. Also, my sincere and heartfelt thanks to whomever on the DS9 writing staff decided we needed to see Kira in a slinky 60s dress perform “Fever” while laying coquettishly across the piano Odo was playing. I just can’t thank you enough for that.

From the larger Trek standpoint though, we are beginning to deal with questions on the sentience of AI. Yes, The Doctor over on “Voyager” would seem to have been “awake” long enough to gain a self-awareness, but is Vic simply a hologram, or are these “lightbulbs” a new lifeform as much as Data was on TNG? There are some big SF philosophical questions going on behind this delightfully romantic episode.

NEXT VOYAGE: Ancient Bajoran prophecy comes back into play as it is Prophet vs. Pah-Wraith in “The Reckoning.”

#star trek #star trek: Deep Space Nine #ds9 rewatch

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worldcakecakecake · 6 years ago

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Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63

I continue to take forever posting, but please be patient, work …plus a lot of traveling now that I’m back in Europe. Posting this from Germany, more specifically and fantastically, from the Heart’s Kingdom capital, Berlin. I hope you enjoy and continue to await updates…even if sometimes they take months.

… Also, WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS NSFW

Chapter 64

They couldn’t explain it as anything else. It had been dark magic, Khaos’s magic especially. Ludwig had created dark magic with ease, letting it control him and be used to attack Feliciano. When they had announced it to a room full of dignitaries, all those eyes fell on him with question, fear and precaution, some who stood by him moving aside, fearing that he was capable of releasing it that instant. Ludwig hadn’t been able to take that silence, those judging eyes, as if they were glaring to Khaos instead of the Heartian King. He left the room when he couldn’t take that aggravation, hands tightening, biting his lips to not let himself shout, scream, even tear up for the castle to see. The slam he gave to the doors as he exited made many cringe, while others thought on how they could help, some beginning to know that they had to begin the books of generational power and Khaos’s dark magic.

It took three days for Feliciano to fully heal and be allowed leave of the nursing room. He did so with energy and elation, the type that made many question if he had truly been hit by a dark spell.

More important than anything was meeting with Ludwig, embracing and assuring each other of their ever-present love, as well as ready to research and find out about this new side his king just presented.

Ludwig hadn’t come to visit him at all during his time in the nursery room, and when he finally exited, he wasn’t there either, just the pierce to bring him into gloom. He settled off to look for him, many in the castle telling him the same of not knowing whereabouts, of how they had barely seen him the last few days and how haunting things had felt in the castle since. He checked their room, any rooms of leisure, kitchen, dinning, hall, even the ballroom. He only managed to feel his presence in the King’s library, hidden well between its many items, Feliciano knew.

Nobody, only but the King was allowed entrance unless they deemed it so, but Feliciano had already snuck in there enough and his desperation to see Ludwig was stronger than whatever old rule. He gently made his entrance, trying to make his steps subtle, the taps to be confused with the grand clock in the room. He settled deeper into the many old shelves of books, deep into its engulfment, not spotting Ludwig yet and fearing he wouldn’t be here either. That’s when he caught the sound of fabric, as gentle as his steps, Feliciano only catching it because he heightened his senses to find his beloved. He didn’t reveal himself instantly, watching instead as Ludwig leaned back on an old stack of books, playing with a deep red ribbon, wrapping it rather harshly around his hand. He didn’t word, stressed, and Feliciano feared he was even trying to hold his breath as he made this exercise. He would cover his hand in the ribbon, turn it about as if trying to find some change, before he untangled and started again in his other hand.

“Amore…” he called gently, thankfully not startling him, only an empty rise of his eyes, before he turned back to his activity. He gave him no greeting, not even something whispered, like back in those days that he pretended he wasn’t there. Feliciano would not let that happen again. He let himself come near, wrapping his arms around his own, laying on his shoulder, and despite whatever blocking Ludwig tried to do, he leaned towards it, for once stopping his wrapping, breathing and actually relaxing.

“I missed you,” Feliciano started.

“It was…only three days.” Although he had missed him as much, holding himself from letting his arms wrap around him.

“Are you…are you all right?” Feliciano then took his face, forcing him to look into him, watching the other soothe in those bright brown eyes.

Ludwig sighed, given up to them. “I hurt you…I am not,” he managed to admit, trembling as he raised his hands, dearly placing them on Feliciano’s arms, ever so softly pulling him closer. Feliciano let himself fall and completely be depended on his arms, his chest, his usual embrace.

“I’m certain that it wasn’t you.”

“Feliciano-”

“I know you would never, ever, do something like that against me.” He hated to mention this, but they had to address it. “You hold Romulus’s tainted dark magic…we…should have expected this,” he saddened.

Ludwig sighed, becoming looser. “I shouldn’t have done this either way…I really should have…kept my distance in the end. I did what I did to protect you…and I failed horribly at it. Our marriage only made this stronger…this wasn’t supposed to happen…this isn’t what I was planning.”

Feliciano only held tighter, insulted, biting away tears. “No,” he scolded rather harshly in this comfort. “Our marriage was our destiny, our happiness and just the strength this kingdom needs.” He looked up to Ludwig again, shinning eyes resonated well in this dark room. “I am blessed to have you as my husband and will risk anything to always keep you mine. We got Khaos’s books for a reason and I promised you that we will find a way to deal with this with the information. I admit we were focused on other readings and we could have momentarily forgotten…but it’s never too late to get you in control of it, to even use it in our favor,” Feliciano trusted and hoped.

“After what I did to you, I refuse to use that magic again.”

“The best way to come into terms and control it, is by accepting it. Whether you like it or not, it’s still a power that’s part of you and it’s there for your disposal. I know it’s scary and…with what happened to me especially, but we’ll be really careful, and make sure you learn everything so you can make something that is Khaos’s yours. I’m sure you won’t do this again.”

Ludwig felt like he hadn’t smiled since the day of the accident, chuckling and taking a dear hold of Feliciano’s hand. He raised it to his lips to kiss in length, then letting it caress over his jaw.

“I was also in the same position when…finding about all this and…having to use Augusta’s harp. It is intimidating, but…I’ve learned that the best way in dealing with it, is facing it head on, unafraid and confident.”

“When did you become so wise?” Ludwig chuckled.

“I am Queen of Hearts, Ludwig! I have to show my position proud.”

“Even when you cry when you read those horror stories?”

“Of course!”

“And when you’re the real rainbow cookie thief.”

Sudden silence.

“How did you know that?” Feliciano trusted to reveal himself.

“You left them in our room, plain to see.”

“Fine, I might be Queen but I still don’t know how to behave.”

They laughed and enjoyed from this small innocent moment.

Thus the studying began, the intense reading that kept Ludwig awake for hours in their shared bed, Feliciano most of the time having to take the books away from his hand so he could focus on getting some rest. Egildhard and others who had dedicated to learning about dark magic, would sit on for hours with Ludwig, getting him to try basic spells, getting that very control he wanted and even other difficult tactics that he did well to master and grow. Ludwig begged for the confining spot they had for this specific kind of training, no one but his given teachers, healers in the area at whatever emergency and ready cleansing potions that Ludwig liked to take afterwards, hoping it could wash away any evil.

After weeks, Egilhard found him ready to join Kiku and Feliciano in their usual battle training. That day, when Ludwig had entered the room, he did so shy and hesitant, afraid to even look at his usual opponents, who in turn smiled and were more than glad to have him back.

“Ludwig! You are back with your rulers!” Egilhard called out from his usual watching spot, the same smile as the Queen and Jack. Feliciano had to hold himself from jumping and clapping.

“Well, the rules had remained the same. I encourage you to try out everything you have learned. We have healers in the vicinity, and we will act quicker than last time if anything. Are you all ready?”

The three nodded, taking their positions, Ludwig the one that looked the most nervous.

“Begin!” Egilhard called out.

Feliciano started and went again with that energy orb spell, but this time, proof of his practice and power increase, he created many more, the training room a beautiful show of lights, and, which was indeed new to Ludwig, there was a reflection on the floor, like that of water. He knew there was reason for it, but for now, it didn’t show any effect. Kiku knew what it did though, having practiced on a spell that avoided its attack, using it to slide through this reflection like ice, ready. Feliciano began to swing dangerous balls of light like it was a game, picking any random one and just hurling, creating quite a beautiful show to Ludwig. Kiku, now unsheathing a pretend sword, began swinging, breaking them apart with a spell of his own. Feliciano, seeing his approach, did the amazement of getting as many orbs as possible to circle like a large ring, pushing it towards Kiku, sparks exploding beautifully in the reflection, hurling and tiring Kiku in silence, now having no other choice than to sit and regain energy, hoping that Ludwig could take it and distract Feliciano.

The King was actually fearful to face him, especially after these new spells that reminded well of his coming as Ace, but he did have to practice himself, and show his King power, and so he ran and began to formulate something in his mind.

Seeing his approach, whatever the reflection held, Feliciano intensified it and so Ludwig found himself slowed, weakening, every movement more of a force to make. Ludwig knew there was something in the dark spells he could use, that could liberate him, but still so hesitant, still so fearful.

When the force of this spell became too much, basically constricting him to slight pain, Ludwig decided on releasing and testing. He conjured a dark rope like light, managing to whip it to the floor, crashing like glass the reflection under him, revealing the familiar terrain of the training room, where he could move as he wished again. Before Feliciano could bring it back, that very same rope that still lingered he used to wrap around Feliciano’s leg, making him trip and loose his spell all completely. Feliciano quickly stood after cutting the rope with a spell of his own, then creating hardened red shields, ready for the close-up combat. Ludwig engulfed his hands in a dark magic, surely to intensify his punches. He was nervous as he walked forward, fearing what it could do if he didn’t keep his control, but Feliciano’s believing smile as he came closer made him smirk too, bringing forth the confidence to let him throw the first punch.

They kept well in their battle, both their spells doing well to defend and attack, in their deadly rendezvous giving just the time needed for Kiku to fully regain himself. He cut right between them, skillful, hidden, without any kind of expectance, leaving both Ludwig and Feliciano surprised as he managed to stop the dark magic Ludwig had used in his hands. There was a moment of impression as Ludwig now looked to his normal pale hands, Feliciano just as wondered, it was the weakness that Kiku did well to use and trip them.

Kiku stood ready for surely the battle that would come to him, sword, energy spells around him that grew like flowers, ready to act as a shield at whatever their fierceness.

Ludwig and Feliciano gazed between themselves and decided to go at him together. They struck their hands, and from its unwinding they created strong lighting bolts, lighting the entire arena in fierce colors that had many of the soldiers moving back. They stood back to back, uniting, intensifying and making it grow across the room. Kiku was frightful.

In coordination, exact, as they should be one mind as King and Queen, did they raise their hands and omitted their attack. Kiku tried what he could to hold it down with his sword, but it was too powerful, and so he had no other choice than to find cover in a makeshift rock in the area. Ludwig and Feliciano let the lightning dance around the room, loving its splendor and then feeling proud to know that they made it with their combined magic. Kiku couldn’t leave them in that for long, and so he settled on strong wind spells, enough to misdirect the direction of the lightning until Ludwig and Feliciano had to cover themselves. They continued using their combine magic to create a shield to protect them. It was in its shadow that Feliciano got an idea.

“I’m going to make this shield grow and blow, but I need you to use a Polynia spell with it.”

Ludwig’s eyes widened, being that a dark spell. “What? No! We haven’t done that combination! It could go horribly wrong!” He heavily worried, using instead more energy to keep the shield going.

“The books do say that it can be combined with other magic! We won’t know until we try. It's best if we do it now to practice and see where we could go with it!” Feliciano was so sure and ready, for once Ludwig being the one that feared, still crouching in his position as he kept the shield alive. He breathed, knowing that he could be just as brave, just as powerful and daring.

“All right,” he decided, with a determination that made Feliciano smile.

“We’ll make sure Kiku doesn’t get hurt,” Feliciano promised, beginning in silence the spell that made the shield grow as he wanted. Ludwig, still slightly as fearful, began his own incantation, finding concentration and control when he directed the movements of his hand to the ground, letting the spell arise, combining its air with the magic they used for their shield. In amazement to all, they saw the shield grow and even diminish, destroying every spark of lightning Kiku had taken to his control, now heading his direction, ready to attack the poor Jack with all its force. Kiku had no escape, summoning the hands of surrender that made Ludwig and Feliciano win.

In an amazing instant of cease, in a single slash of their hands, the spell engulfed the lightning to nothing, and the shield was gone, peace once again in the training room.

What came next were applauses, from Egilhard and the present soldiers. It was not the kind of reaction they were expecting, but the three royals had smiled, standing and joining to present themselves and hear Egilhard’s new words.

“Beautiful work! The three of you! Kiku, you broke a dark spell! How did you do that?”

“It was an intensified Zara spell. I actually read about it in one of Khaos’s books.”

“We will practice well that spell the next few days then…everyone will,” he called out loud for even the soldiers. “And a combine of dark and Heartian magic, amazing! This is the kind of thing you all should do here! Releasing everything you can do to grow our advantages. Ah, each day I see you three fighting here, I grow even more hopeful.” And the three agreed, with a breath of relief to keep their minds at bay with issues about the war.

“We shall continue our practices in three days’ time.”

“I don’t believe there’s an issue with practicing tomorrow either,” Ludwig told.

Egilhard raised an eye, “sir…isn’t it your birthday tomorrow?”

To be honest, with all the planning, dark power training, calculating, establishing and law enforcing of taking kingship the passing weeks, Ludwig had all forgotten about his own birthday, seen in the width of his eyes, the stilling of his being, his words froze as he tried to find an explanation that didn’t involve telling them that he forgot. The others saw it obvious enough though, smirking.

“I believe I should give you a day to unwind and calm yourself from all the turmoil of war planning, to celebrate a day as the one of your birth. So then, till next time,” Egilhard smiled, making his way to leave, along with several soldiers that followed him, ready for their own training regimen.

Usually, when it was a royal’s birthday, especially a king’s, a new one at that, it was celebrated in the usual lavish ball, but Ludwig had denied it this time, instead just asking for a dinner to spend with his family and some time to relax without any kind of imposing duty. As promised, no rushing servants for the job of the day, no scheduled harsh training, no war planning, no signing, no law abiding, just no one coming to him to break a calm that he had long missed since turning king. He had forgotten the last time he had woken this late in the morning. This time he could enjoy just gazing and cuddling with his husband, not even words to interrupt the serenity.

“I want to give you your present now,” Feliciano gleamed, raising in excitement.

“You got me something?” Ludwig was honestly surprised.

“Mhm!” Feliciano stood from the bed and headed over to one of the many drawers in their wardrobe, an area that had been protected by Pookie for a while now, who would hiss and growl every time Ludwig tried to reach for it.

“Good job,” Feliciano congratulated him, picking up a wrapped package, cuddling Pookie before he took his spot in the bed again, handing over the gift, wanting Ludwig to immediately open.

Too slow in Feliciano’s opinion did Ludwig rip the red packaging with a golden bow, until he was presented with a book, a richly decorated one of trees and birds, probably the most beautiful book cover Ludwig had seen in his life. He stared in utter aw at its design before he read the tittle. “All the Adventures of Dietrich and Irmhild…all of them, this actually has all of them,” Ludwig gazed upward to Feliciano curiously, but still with a shine in his eyes that weakened him to childish wonder.

“Yep! All the stories collected from all over the provinces of the Hearts Kingdom. It even has versions from the Japanese province,” Feliciano glowed proudly.

“How…did you find this?”

“It took asking a bunch of Vikings,” Feliciano laughed. “I was looking for a copy for some time now and read that there was a complete collection somewhere in the Norwegian Province. I contacted Lukas and he managed to find it. In return, I paid him a trip to visit his brother in the Spades Kingdom.”

Ludwig already held the item dear, flipping through to the pages to see it golden, well intact, nothing to prove of age or mold. The stories were divided in their province of coming, with art and borders that brought more enchantment in Ludwig’s eyes.

“This is…this is…amazing, perfect, beautiful…thank you!” He was truly taken, not expecting such a touching and rare gift already so early in the morning of his twentieth birthday. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it, tempted to already begin its reading.

“Do you still like them as much as we used to when we were kids?”

“To be honest, not as much, after all, so much time has passed and I grew other interests, but the stories are still dear to me and I was already thinking of re-reading some, just…never had the time or chance.”

Feliciano cuddled closer, his arms well wrapped around him as they belonged. “Well, you have most of the day, and you can read me a story every night before going to sleep,” he fluttered beautifully, Ludwig chuckling and bringing him more into his arms, his eyes detaching from the book for once to stare into his.

“I’ll be glad to.”

And Feliciano kissed him in thanks and expectation.

Ludwig was in the book the entire day, hours in one of the reading rooms, Feliciano in his own book as well, holding to each other’s hand as they lost themselves in the stories the pages presented, relaxed and like time was now truly theirs.

Around the midafternoon, Ludwig and Feliciano joined the cooks in making a cake, a pink one with fruits and marshmallows that towered high. For their dinner, the dessert was imposing from its sitting in the table, none really eating all the food as they wanted an instant piece. There was enough for the whole castle to eat. Ludwig and Feliciano had enjoyed many pieces, had even brought along with them to their room to enjoy as Ludwig read.

“…they had saved the couple from the deep waters, not minding at all entangling in its current and soaking their traveling clothes,” Ludwig read, resting on the floor, leaning his head to the bed, on either side of him Feliciano’s naked legs as he instead took seating on the bed, taking constant bites of the cake pieces they had brought.

It was like Feliciano was keeping him caged to keep on reading the story and Ludwig did not mind, one arm wrapped around one leg, caressing sweetly. “They had lost time of the day to continue their traveling to Tokyo and so had found settling in an abandoned church along the way. They covered what they could to keep it warm, making a dazzling fire and hanging their clothes to dry from there. The sounds of the night worked well like lullabies, the air enchanting, beautiful, making their gazes between one another heated and wanting…” Ludwig suddenly halted, reading that part again, getting some wrong connotations from what was supposed to be a children’s tale. Thinking perhaps just him jumping to conclusions, he continued.

“…their want for each other could not be held for much longer. They knew they had to act, especially in such a beautiful night, with just the air, just the romance they could succumb to, all their private wishes for once to be released the closer they came, the more their hands looked for more of their skin.” Yes…this was happening. As he rummaged through the next pages of this particular story, Ludwig realized that what followed was a detailed telling of the two main characters’ love making.

“Um…”

“Why did you stop?” Feliciano wondered, not at all perturbed, enjoying still from his cake. Ludwig wondered if he had even heard.

“Feliciano this is…uh…” how could he even word it?

“Come on, Ludwig, it’s nothing we haven’t heard or read ourselves.”

“But these are…childhood heroes…having sex.”

And Feliciano still shrugged. “These are from the Italian tales that were meant for adults. I had heard about it, just never actually…read it to truly see.”

“You really…don’t mind?”

“All natural thigs, Ludwig. Go on, I find parts like these to be beautiful and they’ll be lovely in your voice.”

Ludwig blushed, only getting more shaking.

“Don’t worry.” Feliciano leaned and placed a kiss on his head. “It’s just us. Think of it as part as any other story you’ve read till now.” He smiled in that accepting way that had Ludwig sighing and agreeing, making himself as comfortable between him as he had been for the night.

“…they kissed with that fire blazing behind them, its fuel heating more of their kiss, of the daringness to continue threading free skin.”

Feliciano hummed, loving indeed how the words coming from Ludwig’s mouth made him feel just as heated.

“Dietrich had for so long loved Irmhild’s legs, and what an honor it was to finally have them to his holding however he pleased, threading and taking to his wants.” It was in that exact moment that Ludwig took strong notice of the very pair of legs he found attracting himself, covering well both his sides of vision, now colored and glowing beautifully under the dim lighting of the room.

“He continued forward until he reached his center, drinking his glory, his shouts bringing heavenly glow into the church, more blessing than whatever ritual had long ago taken place.” Ludwig began a soft thread and scratch, his words and tone working an enchantment that had Feliciano slightly moaning. Ludwig smiled as he noticed what his words were doing, taking more embrace of those legs, letting his face lean and fall on them.

“He was above him, taking well the delicacy that laid under him, wanting to his ruling, for no one to dare to take from him and-” Ludwig had been persuaded by the color of Feliciano’s skin and the images in his head enough to fall to the temptation of a kiss. Feliciano hummed and swayed to the kisses placed, Ludwig letting the book close and fall to the ground uncaring. He turned to face both those legs in their entirety, kissing, licking all over them until he dared begin a soft thread up. He took the inner fullness and softness of his thighs, slightly biting, salivating it all in his owning, hands caressing their own way up, until they teased at the hem of his underwear, fingers escaping to take better hold of his backside, as velvet as his legs, pushing him more into his mouth, until he could kiss all his hips.

Feliciano moved wherever was necessary to give him more access, even letting those fingers begin the removal of the garment, kissing behind in its thread down his leg until it was off and he could focus back on his center, which he readily began to take into his mouth. It was surprising how daring he sucked and licked, like an experienced art, that familiar nervousness forgotten to pleasure his lover how he knew and could. To Feliciano, Ludwig’s mouth was already above the reach of great pleasure, his loud moans now decorating the room, letting himself fall to the bed slow, sometimes arching when Ludwig sucked just the right spot.

His mouth on his member was not enough, Ludwig wanted the taste of his stomach and sides, which he began to take, leaving an occasional bite that increased the strength of Feliciano’s shouts. How he loved it, only making him bite harder, hands now caressing at his back, while Feliciano let his own hand traverse his own, as well as his hair and strong arms.

Further up Feliciano’s chest Ludwig went, leaving the ground of the floor until his body joined Feliciano on the bed, on top of him as he decorated him whole in kisses. Feliciano could now wrap his arms around him, scratching, pulling, leaving his own kisses against Ludwig’s head as he instead left them on his collarbone and neck. Ludwig reached Feliciano’s mouth, a kiss heated and passionate that had them writhing across the sheets, always asking for more, driving themselves madden for each other, only a need for a breath enough to dispatch them, into a lock of eyes that kept them frozen in that moment.

Their want was clear, the moment of initiation there and in that silence it was decided, more assurance in the way Feliciano threaded his fingers gently across Ludwig’s face.

“Do we…tonight?” Ludwig still wanted to question aloud.

“Yes…” Feliciano accepted so blissfully already.

“Are…are you sure? Are…you ready?” Ludwig was ever as nervous, but his want was stronger tonight.

“Definitely.”

Ludwig could tell in the utter epitome of dream he represented, taking his face yet again to land him back on their kiss, on wild hands threading the necessary to heighten, to slowly remove articles to reveal more of their skin to small fires that glowed in the room.

Finally, there was a moment that their naked bodies laid against each other, an exhilarating enough that warmed them, painting them red and giving shivers of delight. Ludwig managed so Feliciano could have his head rested by their pillows, checking constantly they were both comfortable in the bed, his eyes and hands getting distracted and placing them once again to grab, to feel and soothe against that amazing skin that continued Feliciano’s hums. Their groins rubbed deliciously together, that cradle of their hips electrifying, having them already grabbing to the sheets tightly as if dear life was hidden in their silk. But Ludwig wanted that depth, and Feliciano wanted him entirely inside him, needy and humming that request, words lost in the foggy haze of their passion. Ludwig could understand it though, letting one hand start a soft thread from his feet, down his legs, to his thighs, his ass, and finally his entrance, testing a single finger, a widening and wetting spell under his breath as he inserted, spinning softly, creating that needed space as well as louder moans and mewls from Feliciano’s mouth. Delightful they were, having Ludwig smirking, testing to do so faster, harder, earning the roll of eyes, arch and screams that he wanted. He dared a second finger, trying the third, until he knew Feliciano was ready to take his own erection, yet he halted, he stared, to that last bits of virginal essence, shown more physically in the promise necklace that still Feliciano wore, the only item on his naked chest.

Despite how dark the room was, Feliciano shone still as reddish, orange and even rose as a sun, truly a beauty, a majesty worthy of being Queen and an Ace, and Ludwig felt so small, so human, but he was to dare at heaven, take it and enjoy from it as if he belonged to be a god as well. Feliciano breathed out, air in heat that tainted him in more colors of love and passion. Ludwig could not remove his eyes as one hand traversed through the bedside table, scourging until he found a familiar red collar.

He remembered how Gilbert had given it to him shortly before they had left on the trip around the four kingdoms, to use if ever this very moment occurred. Ludwig to this day was surprised that it had survived all the countless of things that happened, to be able to wrap around perfect to that delectable neck, one that Ludwig reached to kiss as he angled his hips, tip where it should, body ready, hands gentle and kisses loving. They both enjoyed those kisses, not minding its lengths, its distractions for what was meant to happen next.

“Is it all right?” Ludwig was ever cautious.

“Mhm,” Feliciano nodded, with a slight tremble, one that didn’t make Ludwig so sure.

“Feliciano, are you really-”

“Yes, please, I am,” he was able to convince still, a devotion Ludwig could see clearly in his eyes, that raised his hips, took Feliciano’s hand tightly, laying them as comfortably as he could upon the bed.

“I-I’m going to, okay…”

Feliciano nodded once again and afterwards Ludwig began a smoothing push, both admitting soft, different, but the deeper Ludwig went, Feliciano’s soothing expression grimaced and groaned, away from singing moans. The immense pleasure that started surrounding Ludwig wasn’t worth seeing Feliciano like this. He was ready to depart, but Feliciano raised his hand and kept a strong hold on his shoulders, potent enough to even have his nails piercing the skin there, slowly raising his legs to wrap them around Ludwig.

“Do-don’t worry…please continue,” Feliciano wanted to push on. He kept telling himself that he was ready, that a little pain was not going to ruin it. He could take it.

Ever so careful and worried, Ludwig pushed on slow, hating how Feliciano proceeded to cringe, but he was following the demands of the pushes Feliciano managed with his legs, until Ludwig knew for sure that he was buried deliciously and fully inside him.

It was glorious, like truly engulfed in unimaginable heights, but through that cloudy haze of pleasure he could still see Feliciano’s pain, having to pull himself from this heaven, away from thrusting on like instinct and his want called for, but love and care for Feliciano showed stronger as he lay still, breathing heavily above him, gazing between one another as they let themselves be adjusted and discover. Oh, this was enough, this was fulfilling, amazing, Ludwig wrapping well around him, intermingling breaths and settling with that welcoming of their sex.

“Are…are you all right?” Ludwig managed to word somehow.

Feliciano could only nod, as the piercing passed, as ecstasy began to make its entrance, as light came, as Feliciano’s small groans turned into melodic moans.

“It-it’s, wonderful,” Feliciano breathed out in dream as it slowly turned into the bliss so many had spoken about. Oh, it was so much more than words, or tales, or even pictures. It was an union unlike any, as they said, becoming their one, their power, released in this air of grandeur pleasure.

“You…you can move now,” Feliciano sounded almost hypnotized.

“Are you…really-”

“Yes, I am, just please…” his legs tightened around him, bringing his hands to his back, caress as sweetly, a wonderful touch to add to their present union. “Let’s give in.”

The content, the adoration in his eyes and even the way his body relaxed to the pleasure was just enough for Ludwig, who began to pull, then, in a wonderful friction, in, his first thrust announced in a loud moan.

“More…” Feliciano asked, expecting the strengthening and speed of that fulfill. But Ludwig remained cautious, and despite the amazement and the continuing increase of dreaming haze in his mind, he began slow, with sweet caresses, kisses against Feliciano’s neck that assured him more that Feliciano’s moans were now of indeed deep pleasure.

As the assurance grew, he confided to give in to speed, to take more of those depths, relishing on the skin surrounding him, joining Feliciano in decorating the room in their sounds.

“More…” Feliciano begged more loudly, and this time, oh truly this time, did Ludwig let himself give fully in, harsh, with speed, force, all sparks of lighting and beautiful storms in their bed. It shook, it bounced with their force, all red, all shouts, their union ruling and giving more sparks of love to continue them in those thrusts, in wraps of arms, kisses, strong, wanting to keep that bliss, their heaven. Ludwig quickly learned to use well the strength presented in his body, it aiding to find a spot that had Feliciano losing sense of all the tangible around him.

Only but Ludwig, oh only Ludwig, taking in his all to something that was turning to his mightiest need. They repeated words of love, of makings of strength and speed, until that wanted forever had to reach a peak that they had to accept if even unwanted.

It exploded, it tainted magnificence, they fell harshly but ever so comfortable in their arms, in that comfort, Feliciano still keeping his legs strong around Ludwig’s waist, and Ludwig kept himself inside him, still relishing by knowing well that he was in his queen’s depths, taken for him, all for him, only for him, Ludwig repeating that claim in unintelligible words, kisses and even bites of showcase.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” was their mantra, kisses continuing until exhaustion reached them, until they desired sleep, although wanting to remain in the sweat of what was their deepest passion, together, wraps well around them. Part of Ludwig wanted to hope he could keep himself inside him for all the night, to always keep them unified, hoping for new pleasures to easily pick up and start again. Comfort had won though, content in the naked press of their skin, their easy breaths as they settled into sleep, well into their crooks as continuation of their love making. Ecstasy it was even with eyes closed, in dreams.

Unnoticed went the change of Feliciano’s promise necklace, now red with a beautiful white floral design, uniting in the center to the usual heart of the kingdom.

The promise had been fulfilled, kissed then by the sudden entering of a single red rose petal.

#gerita #Feliciano and the King of Hearts #fatkoh #f&tkoh #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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thesearchforspirk · 7 years ago

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1 x 8: ‘Balance of Terror’ {Subtext Study}

Please read my manifesto here if you haven’t already- it better explains my beliefs as per the Kirk/Spock dynamic and what I aim to accomplish with this blog.

An admittedly shorter study as this episode is without any strong Kirk/Spock interaction to mull over. There are some interesting possible parallels here, but even in that respect I’m not sure I’ll say anything that the TOS Commentary hasn’t already said about this episode. For all these reasons this episode was a bit of a white elephant for me, so if you want to skip this write-up I’ll understand. Either way:

Our episode opens with a wedding on board ship and never has Kirk looked happier to perform his duties as Captain. The fact that this wedding goes smoothly is very important to him (because he cares that much about his crew and is that much of a romantic and I just love him ok) so when he gets a message from Spock that some Earth outposts are in trouble he privately, quietly acknowledges so that no one else will hear. Some shit is about to go down for sure.

(the fact that Scotty escorts the bride down the aisle thrills me to no end- it has nothing to do with this blog, I’m just a shameless Scotty fangirl)

Sure enough the shit does, indeed, hit the fan and two Earth outposts are attacked by some mysterious vessel. The wedding must be abandoned and postponed (someone really does NOT ship this) so everyone can assume emergency battle stations as the Enterprise runs to help. On the bridge Kirk tries to gain as much info as he can about the attackers, though there doesn’t seem to be any definite info. A certain navigator is keen to help though, offering up, “there can’t be much doubt who’s attacking, sir”.

He may be right about that, as it seems the earth outposts are in place to guard the neutral zone, an area agreed upon after a war with the Romulans a long time ago. It turns out said navigator had family members who died in that war so he’s got a bone to pick with the Romulans. Kirk tells him, however, that it was their war and not his so don’t make this a personal thing, bub...even if the attacker of the hour is Romulan, I guess.

Spock replies that a few of the earth outposts have been completely decimated, indicating that the Romulan power must be greater than they thought. Kirk and Spock exchange some concerned looks as the gravity of their situation becomes apparent.

Do you remember our cute wedding couple from earlier? We see them again, hard at work in what appears to be the engineering sector. The groom says, “Happy wedding day- almost.” and the bride jokes, “You won’t get off my hook this easily. I’m gonna marry you mister, battle or phaser weapons notwithstanding.” “Well, meanwhile, temporarily, at least, I’m still your superior officer- so get with it, Mister!” So, apparently cutie pie groom who has a striking resemblance to another certain cutie pie on the ship is his bride-to-be’s superior officer. She just so happens to be seated at a control panel acknowledging orders. I guess that’s pretty inconspicuous enough.

(yeah...nothing to see here)

More on this later.

The bridge crew have to watch helplessly as Outpost 4 is taken out while they’re talking to one of the guys on it. Despite being surrounded by iron and deflector screens the Romulans were still able to disintegrate another outpost so, understandably, Kirk and Spock share some more increasingly concerned looks. After this, Spock says that the vessel appears to be turning back towards Romulus. Kirk wants the Enterprise to follow the ship silently, but the navigator argues (as well as Sulu) that all decks should maintain security alert. Since the vessel was able to do so much in such a short time, it could be that there are spies aboard. Kirk decides to oblige them (another thing I love about Kirk- not letting his crewman talk down to him, but taking and considering and sometimes even heeding advice when its given to him by his inferior officers).

Anyway, Spock manages to get a peek into their ship and what do you know, it’s Sarek! I mean. It’s a Romulan. Same actor as Spock’s dad. The significance here is that they look like Vulcans. It’s telling that it seems everyone looks over at Spock in some kind of horrified realization, except for Kirk- though I think ultimately this is more testament to Kirk’s character than it is anything subtextual; he’s not the sort of person to assume that a person’s resemblance to someone else means they’re in some kind of cahoots with them because he’s not a racist asshole.

Until Undiscovered Country, anyway. Anyway!

Everyone else is staring accusatory at him though and I guess Spock can feel the eyes on him, because he looks over at a very hostile bridge. Kirk is having none of it. He sweeps around the bridge, most of the eyes going back to their work as he passes except for the impassioned navigator. Kirk has to tap said navigator’s panel to remind him where his gaze should be. Even still, this jackass can’t help himself but mutter that Spock should be in charge of decoding anything from the Romulan ship.

You’d think most people on the Enterprise would know what a dumb thing that’d be to say in Kirk’s presence, but alas.

Kirk orders that he repeats himself and offers that he really means he’s complimenting Spock on his ability to decode. Navigator says he’s ‘unsure’ of that. Kirk spins his chair around and says, “Well, here’s one thing you can be sure of, Mister. Leave any bigotry in your quarters, there’s no room for it on the bridge.” and the navigator gets the message- as one would hope.

It should be noted that Spock’s reaction when Kirk starts laying into the guy says a lot about how Kirk must usually react when someone talks smack about his first officer. I have no doubt Spock could handle himself if he had been left to do so, but Kirk won’t hear of that. So, in my humble opinion, this is still a precious moment between them even if not anything irrefutably subtextual.

(this is totally an ‘oh shit he’s gonna kill him’ look if you ask me)

Meanwhile we get an inside look into the Romulan’s ship and see an exchange between Captain Sarek and who appears to be his second in command. They talk of war and stuff, the point being they seem to know each other well and are brothers in arms. We also get a preemptive look into the fact that Captain Sarek and Kirk seem to think a lot alike as commanders. It would seem a parallel is being drawn here perhaps.

So, what about the almost-married couple? Their presence in this certainly isn’t incidental and is yet another pairing of people who know each other well, have fought and worked alongside each other, but seem to share a romantic layer to their relationship as well.

Huh. Interesting stuff, that.

Kirk calls another emergency briefing, including the bigoted navigator from before. He makes some more implications about Spock knowing all about “these people”, to which Kirk tells him to back off again, but Spock actually agrees with him, that if the Romulans are anything like how Vulcans were in the pre-logic time then attack is necessary. Thankfully, they also realize that a comet is nearby and if the Romulans should go through the tail they would end up dragging out debris enough to be spotted even with their cloaking device.

They attempt this in what appears to be a huge gamble- and lose. Captain Sarek has them turn away at the last minute, having guessed Kirk’s move. Kirk himself says “He did exactly what I would’ve done” further cementing a parallel between him and Captain Sarek. They do manage to finally hit the Romulan vessel by firing blind, which causes the second in command to sacrifice himself by being hit by falling debris in order to push Captain Sarek out of the way.

Unfortunately for the Enterprise something short-circuits (near Spock’s panel for some reason) and they’re helpless when the Romulans fire back at them. They back up enough that the shot doesn’t hit them as hard as it might have. Rand also uses the opportunity to press herself against Kirk a bunch and he obliges her, but once again looks moreover pretty uninterested. Can’t blame a girl for trying. We also get another shot of cute almost-married couple, groom-to-be helping bride-to-be to her feet after the impact. So. That’s a thing. Just file it away for now.

More parallels are drawn to the way Kirk and Captain Sarek think and the Romulan second in command is hurt and eventually dies. Fortunately, Spock has the phasers working again, which for reasons I do not understand, rely on the wiring beneath his panel. Whatever, technology. He sure looked cute lying there fixing it, anyway. Kirk is full and ready to violate neutral zone treaty to follow and finish the Romulan vessel if needed, but Captain Sarek utilizes some trickery by throwing debris and the body of his second in command out the side of the ship. Spock and Kirk call his bluff, but have lost the ship on the senors. They decide to turn everything off and hide to see if the Romulan vessel will reveal itself.

The waiting game lasts over nine hours, in which Kirk goes back to his room, conflicted. Rand walks in to offer him something to eat and he looks rather loathe to see her, honestly- but he’s polite and tells her no thanks and please make sure the door closes behind her on the way out, thanks very much. However, when McCoy walks in Kirk looks genuinely pleased and relieved. Rand, honey, it may be time to swim for open waters. Anyway, he and McCoy have a sweet moment in which Kirk is feeling lost and stressed under the circumstances and McCoy says there’s only one of him, only one that could get them through this situation.

Back on the bridge their silence is interrupted when Spock accidentally presses a signal button (which is hilarious in and of itself) and of course now racist navigator is newly convinced Spock is some kind of Romulan spy (to which Kirk attempts to assure him otherwise). Kirk manages to match the Romulan vessel’s moves by blanket firing again, but Captain Sarek’s got another trick up his sleeve; he sends out a nuclear warhead with the debris. Kirk manages to intercept it with a phaser but the Enterprise suffers its own casualties.

The two of them remain in a holding pattern as Captain Sarek is hesitant to attack again, he just wants to go home- alas, he has a duty to crush the enemies of his homeland. He seems as tired as Kirk, honestly. Racist navigator moves to go help groom-to-be with weapons control and when Spock asks if they need any help, he spits back, “This time we’ll do things without your help, Vulcan.” It’s no way address a superior officer and maybe Spock should’ve said something- or maybe he realizes now isn’t the time or place. Either way, he leaves without reprimand just as the weapons room begins to flood with, uh...toxic purple gas, I suppose.

Anyway, time’s up for the Romulan vessel. They hit critically, Kirk interfaces with Captain Sarek one last time and they relate as kindred spirits before Captain Sarek is forced to self destruct. Elsewhere, Spock has managed to rescue racist navigator from the purple gas (and Kirk pointedly asks Spock first if he’s alright even though it’s the navigator that’s laying wounded on the table lmao) but was not able to save groom-to-be.

Kirk goes to comfort the bride and says, “It never makes any sense. We both have to know that there’s a reason.” She assures him she’s alright, but Kirk looks to be on the verge of tears after she leaves. He’s defeated the Romulan vessel, but there’s no victory in it on either side.

While, again, this episode lacks any strong subtextual interaction directly between our boys, it is interesting that the two other pairings featured (Captain Sarek + his second in command, the groom/bride to be) hold resemblances to the both of them and the various aspects of their dynamic. It would certainly have been sufficient to have had the Romulan commander and his SiC be the only parallel present, there really isn’t much need for the soon-to-be married couple that I can think of outside of plot stakes. Heck, we don’t even see much of them. I would argue the stakes are high enough in this episode without the engaged couple, so what purpose do they really serve?

Indeed, it could simply be an addition they put in to highlight just how tragic war is- as Kirk and Captain Sarek come to find within one another, even without the groom’s death. For this reason, this explanation is a bit flimsy, given especially that we already have a parallel drawn between the Romulan commander and his SiC. Groom-to-be even looks like Kirk and happens to be his bride’s superior officer. Coincidence? The universe is rarely so lazy.

That’s about all I have for this episode. I anticipate something a bit meatier to chew on with our next episode, “What Are Little Girls Made Of?”

#spirk #space husbands #balance of terror #episode eight #season one #slash #subtext study #star trek tos #this one is boring sorry yall

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phantom-le6 · 4 years ago

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Film Re-Review - Star Trek: Nemesis

As I’m very much feeling a case of Trek fatigue at the moment, and because I’ve been neglecting other projects to focus on completing these reviews, I’ve decided to make this weekend a quick two-for-one posting weekend, and I present my re-review for the fourth and final TNG movie. For those now following me on Tumblr who don’t see my posts on Facebook regarding these reviews, just to let you know this won’t be the last bit of Trek I do. I did Deep Space Nine years ago when I used to post my reviews on Facebook, and while I’m not aiming to repost those reviews, I am planning to review the Voyager series after I take a break with some non-Trek films and the Batman animated series. Also, in the very short term I’ll be making up lost time on some novel prep, so if my posts are bit infrequent for a little while, don’t worry. Now, with that bit of house-keeping out of the way, let’s have a look at Nemesis.

Plot (as given by Wikipedia):

During a session of the Romulan Imperial Senate, the military offers the plans to join forces with the Reman military and invade the Federation, but the Praetor refuses. As such a green thalaron radiation mist is released into the room by the military and everyone is killed. Meanwhile, the crew of the USS Enterprise-E prepares to bid farewell to long time first officer Commander William Riker and Counselor Deanna Troi, who are soon to be married on Betazed. En route, they discover a positronic energy reading on a planet in the Kolaran system near the Romulan Neutral Zone. Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Lieutenant Commander Worf, and Lieutenant Commander Data land on Kolarus III and discover the remnants of an android resembling Data. When the android is reassembled it reveals its name is B-4, and the crew deduce he is a less advanced earlier version of Data.

Vice Admiral Kathryn Janeway orders the crew to conduct a diplomatic mission to Romulus. Janeway informs Picard that the Romulan government has undergone a military coup and is now controlled by a Reman named Shinzon, saying he wants peace with the Federation and to bring freedom to Remus. This is a surprising development as the Romulans had regarded Remans as an undesirable caste used principally as slave labour and shock troops during the Dominion War, due to their long history of prejudice.

Upon their arrival on Romulus, the crew learns that Shinzon is actually a clone of Picard, following a secret experiment conducted by the Romulans to take Picard's place in Starfleet as a spy; however, he and the project were abandoned after a political change in the Romulan government left him cast away to Remus as a slave. It is there that he meets his Reman brethren and effects his rise to power. It was also on Remus where Shinzon constructed his flagship, a heavily armed warship named Scimitar, with a completely undetectable cloaking device, an arsenal of weapons, and virtually impregnable shields.

Though the diplomatic mission seems to go smoothly, the crew discovers that the Scimitar is emitting low levels of extremely dangerous thalaron radiation (the same radiation used to assassinate the Romulan senate), several unauthorized computer accesses take place aboard the Enterprise, and Troi is mentally attacked by Shinzon while she is having sex with Riker. Shinzon captures Picard for reasons he does not make clear, though later Dr Beverly Crusher informs Picard that Shinzon is slowly dying from the accelerated ageing from his cloning process, and thus needs Picard's blood to live. Shinzon also transports B-4 aboard the Scimitar, revealing that Shinzon was behind the placing of B-4 on Kolarus III in order to lure Picard to Romulus. However, the B-4 Shinzon transported is actually Data posing as B-4 — he rescues Picard and they make their escape back to their ship. Realizing that the Scimitar is a weaponized thalaron emitter with enough power to destroy all life forms in a fleet of ships as well as an entire planet, Data deduces that Shinzon is using the warship to conquer the Federation and destroy Earth.

The Enterprise races back towards Federation space, but is soon ambushed by the Scimitar, disabling the Enterprise's warp drive in the process. In the ensuing assault, the Enterprise is outmatched. Two Romulan warbirds arrive and assist in the assault, but Shinzon destroys one warbird and disables the other. Refocusing his attention on Picard, Shinzon further damages the Enterprise.

Refusing to surrender, Picard uses his heavily damaged ship to ram the Scimitar, causing moderate damage including disabling the disrupter banks. Shinzon then initializes the Scimitar's thalaron weapon in a desperate attempt to take the Enterprise down with him. Picard boards the vessel alone and faces Shinzon. Unable to prevent the weapon's activation, Picard kills Shinzon by impaling him through the abdomen with part of a metallic support strut. Data arrives with a single-use personal transporter, using it to quickly beam the captain back to the Enterprise before destroying the ship at the cost of his life, shutting down the weapon in the process.

While the severely damaged Enterprise is under repair in a space dock in Earth orbit, Picard bids farewell to newly promoted Captain Riker who is off to command the USS Titan, to begin a true peace negotiation mission with Romulus. Picard then meets with android B-4, whereupon he discovers that Data had succeeded in copying the engrams of his neural net into B-4's positronic matrix not long before his death.

Review:

Having re-watched Nemesis, and then looking back at how I reviewed it originally when I was considering these films just as a film series, I can’t say my feeling about this instalment in the franchise has really changed much. It’s not the best TNG film, but I think some of the negative rep it has gained isn’t deserved. Only some, mind; I have to agree that the film was a bit too dark in places, especially the ‘psychic rape’ scene Troi is subjected to mid-film. Not only was that excessively dark in the film that had little light to it, but the show had already done this kind of thing before, albeit more metaphorically. It wasn’t necessary and spoke to the fact that the director Stuart Baird was the wrong choice. Frakes, or failing him another Trek actor-turned-director like Stewart or Burton, should have been at the helm. Baird’s poor performance as director proves that Trek is best handled ‘in-house’ when it comes to behind the camera talent.

Now as to what makes Nemesis good, I’m going to begin by quoting a couple of paragraphs from my original review;

“So, what is it that makes Nemesis a good film? Well, aside from quality action and special effects, the plot examines issues relevant in modern society, which of course is what the best of Trek always does. In this case, Picard and Data are confronted by would-be duplicates of themselves in the characters of Shinzon and B-4, and this brings up the issue of whether or not we’re seeing two of each character or four separate characters. In essence, Picard facing his clone is a metaphor for our current-day issue of whether cloning is acceptable, whether such a science robs us of our individuality or not.

Of course, the answer is it doesn’t – as Data points out in one scene, B-4 and Shinzon lack the desire to better themselves possessed by Picard and Data. For all their similarities, too much about the circumstances in which each character was created and raised is different for them to be the same, and the same applies to any clone. If you cloned an adult, that clone would have to go through their own childhood, and the difference in environment, from the people in their life to the culture they’re exposed to, would be too different from what the DNA donor experienced growing up, and consequently you would end up with a new, different individual. Cloning may produce a genetic replica of someone, but it can never replicate someone in their entirety, can never copy that which makes any one person truly unique.”

The film also brings a lot of closure to the TNG franchise, which is strange considering a fifth TNG film was supposed to be in development at the same time Nemesis was in production. Riker’s promoted and off on the Titan with Troi, Data sacrifices himself, and I can’t really see B4 as a substitute Data, nor Riker serving under Picard now that they’re the same rank. To do a fifth film with just the TNG cast, you’d have to demote Riker and either not use Data at all or pull off some last-minute cross-time beam-out on Data. However, it seems that the fifth film might have included more alumni from the spin-off shows, and that’s an idea that I think could have worked. In fact, at some point I really want to try and write my own version of such a story, because I think Trek hasn’t really capitalised on its own cross-over potential much down the years.

In terms of Data’s part in the story, I think he gets a good ending to his story within the world of Trek. Self-sacrifice for friends, family, duty and the service of a worthy cause are one of the defining attributes of humanity, and given that Data has always been about exploring the human condition, it is fitting that he goes out in the most human way imaginable. However, some aspects of his story are somewhat flawed in terms of continuity. First, we find a random brother of Data’s and what does the crew do? Do they stop and think ‘hang on, we don’t know anything about this android, let’s give it a real work over’? No, they just reassemble it, which in the series was exactly how the crew was almost destroyed by Data’s other brother Lore. Picard’s crew must have a flat line for a learning curve to have not learned the error of their ways by now.

Second, this film makes absolutely no reference to Data’s emotion chip, something all of the past three movies did to some extent. In Generations it was a key plot point, and in First Contact, while in Insurrection it got one mention before presenting a point of inconsistency in Spiner’s performance as Data. In this film, it’s neither heard from nor seen, and it seems annoying that Data’s final appearance essentially regresses him to an earlier point in his evolution as a character. Even more disappointing is that he never got to return to any concepts that failed in the series because he lacked the emotion chip. A proper Data romance of some kind would have been nice to see in the TNG films before he was killed off, for example.

On the plus side, the film doesn’t lack in terms of the quality of its guest cast; you’ve got Whoopi Goldbery and Wil Weaton giving their final performances as Guinan and Wesley Crusher, for starters, as well as Kathryn Janeway from Voyager making an appearance. Add to that a brief appearance by Alan Dale and the inclusions of such notable actors as Tom Hardy (then at the start of his acting career), Ron Perlman (he of Hellboy and Blade II fame, among other things) and Dina Meyer (who I mainly know from Starship Troopers and guest-appearances on Friends and NCIS), and it’s a decent compliment to line up alongside the main TNG cast.

However, all the great casting in the world and all the wonderful issue exploration that is the heart of good Trek can fully redeem Nemesis. Leaving aside outside factors like releasing alongside the fourth of the Brosnan Bond films and the second Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings films, the film is mostly undone by writing flaws and a bad choice of director. I also think it’s strange that instead of putting the failure of Nemesis down to all of this, the powers-that-be further linked in the poor performance of prequel series Enterprise and the previous TNG film to conclude it was a case of ‘franchise fatigue’. With the correct writers and directors, and if Trek had moved forward with its shows instead trying to regress backwards with a pre-Kirk series, not to mention a better choice of release date, more Trek could easily have been done and accepted gladly. This wasn’t franchise fatigue; it was creative blunders plain and simple. For me, Nemesis scored 8 out of 10 originally, and while I am inclined to mark it down this time, I only do so to 7 out of 10.

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infinitysdecendants76730 · 4 years ago

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Infinity’s Descendants- Becoming la Reine de la Mort

“New Understandings”

Malachi and Azazelle walked into the throne room where Lasko, Adonis and Griffith awaited them. “The Head of House sends you on a mission and you come back empty handed? Not much for a first impression, newborn” Griffith jeered. Malachi tossed Griffith a small blood stained burlap bag. “A true death dealer would have delivered the heads of the traitors to the feet of our Elder” Adonis taunted as Griffith emptied the contents of the bag into his hand. “I will keep that in mind in the future” replied Azazelle. “That is enough” said Lasko. He looked up at Griffith and beamed with delight when he saw the three severed tongues in Griffith’s hands. “The two of you are back much sooner than expected. Were either of you injured?” asked Lasko. “Nothing major for me, just a few cuts” replied Azazelle. “Et toi Malachi?” Lasko’s eyes shifted to the other death dealer. “I did sustain a notable injury sir but with a day or two of rest I will be good as new. I am feeling better by the minute” Malachi said nervously. “A couple of days? What sort of injury did you sustain from a mortal that requires multiple days of rest?” Griffith stifled a laugh. “It was not a mortal that gave me this injury sir. It was a vampire” Malachi lifted his shirt to present his wound. His eyes widened as he peeled the bandage back. The opening of his wound was nearly closed, the signs of possible infection were minimal as well. “That wound does not look as if it would require a few days rest. At maximum maybe a few hours before you are fully healed” Lasko said plainly. “It appears that I underestimated my body’s ability to heal itself and Azazelle’s ability to patch a wound. Perhaps in the moment it all seemed far worse than it was” Malachi shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “Very well then, let us now discuss business. Please sit, share with us the knowledge you acquired” Lasko gestured to the stools sat in front of his throne. “Of course” said Malachi. He and Azazelle sat then he began sharing. “It was as we feared. The Duchessa had been provided with detailed design plans of each of the major houses. She had complete lists with the names of all of the hierarchy of both the Gallinari and the Brézé covens. Even the names of the immortal children Lord Lasko” The condescending looks on Griffith’s and Adonis’ faces change to those of utter concern borderline fear. “How did the traitors obtain such knowledge as this?!?” Lasko was outraged. “I do not know sire” replied Malachi. Azazelle stayed silent, observing the body languages everyone in the room. “Was there any further mention of the immortal children or anything else of importance?” Lasko’s question prompted Azazelle to speak on something that had her confused their entire journey back. “She did mention a farm?” “A farm, where?” Lasko appeared to be just as confused as Azazelle. “She did not know, she only said that she was told the preservation of our race depended on it. Forgive me Lasko. I mean Lord Lasko, I know I am new but what need to vampires have for farms when we can feed from the people as we please?” Lasko hesitated to answer her question. “I think that bit of Intel is of no importance us, perhaps something added in to throw us off or confuse us. This coven alone owns several farms that we use as a source of income and to blend in, if you will, with the mortals. I do not think you should concern yourself with this matter” Lasko did something imperceptible to Azazelle since she had not known him long enough but the other death dealers noticed it. Lasko had just lied.

“Azazelle you have done wonderfully. If you would excuse us I would like to have a word with Malachi” he stood, bowed respectfully and Azazelle did the same.

Lasko dismissed Adonis and Griffith as well and once he and Malachi were alone he spoke. “Tell me Malachi. How did she fare?” “She did very well my Lord. I understand why you selected her. I have never seen anything like her in all my years” replied Malachi. “Is there anything you feel I should know about. Something I might not have seen or been made aware of” he looked at Malachi as if he was longing for him to reveal Azazelle’s deepest darkest secret. Malachi thought back over their journey to the things he found odd or out of the ordinary. “Well there was one thing…” he started. “Yes?” Lasko drew nearer to Malachi. “What is it boy?” Initially Malachi was going to tell him about his suspicions of Azazelle’s blood but he thought that unwise and decided to disclose something he assumed Lasko would already be aware of. “She has a high tolerance for sunlight” Even still Malachi withheld information. Azazelle did not just have a ‘high tolerance’ she was fully able to walk in the sunlight like a mortal could. “C’est tout?” asked Lasko, he sounded rather disappointed. “Yes my lord that is all” said Malachi. “You may go now. Well done my boy”

I had left the throne room fairly satisfied with myself. I had successfully completed my first assignment as a shadow killer despite rather bad odds. All I wanted to do so desperately was share my triumphs but I couldn’t. I had no one. No parents. No Jean-Laurent. No Céleste. I made my way to my chambers, to my dismay as I was walking I was being spoke to, congratulated and even thanked by my fellow housemates for what Malachi and I had done in Italy. Oddly I found it refreshing yet awkward at the same time. Once in my chambers ai began to prepare myself for a nice hot bath. I was dying to rid myself of the stench of woods, blood and death.

The bathhouse overlooked the back of the estate. I walked to the window as my bath filled and watched as the soft breeze blew the tall grass here and there. The sun was starting to peak over the rolling hills. I shook my head in hopes of warding off the incoming thoughts of Jean-Laurent but my efforts were in vain. Thoughts of a date he and I went on in a meadow similar to this one began to flood my mind just as the bath finished filling. I happily welcomed the warmth of the water as I lowered myself in. Water always helped me clear my mind so I fully submerged myself in hopes that, in this moment, the water would do me the same favor. I was wrong, descending into this water was like descending into a dream…

Jean-Laurent ducked to evade an incoming strawberry. “Hey! I did not spend all day picking these out of my grandmother’s garden for you to waste them” he says as he grabs the basket of strawberries from my hand. “Aww I am sorry babe. Will you please forgive me?” I try to suppress my laughter. “You can have my forgiveness but it will come at a hefty price” he warns. I sit up straight and fix my dress to mirror my love’s seriousness. “State your price Monsieur” A breeze comes through and he smooths his hair out of his face. He looks so handsome and carefree out here away from the city. “For my forgiveness you must first sit here” he pats his lap with his hands. “Careful monsieur, one might think that you were trying to take advantage of a young women with a request such as this with no one around” my tone the same as his in his warning to me. “Nonsense. A gentleman would never do such a thing” he replies tapping his lap again. “Very well then. I shall trust you for now” Since I am in a dress I sit sideways on his lap as any respectable lady would and he wraps his arms around me. “Secondly, I require 4 kisses” he smiles. “A tough job but I think I can manage” I kiss his left cheek “One” I whisper. Then his forehead “two” I continue. “Three” I softly kiss his right cheek. Before the fourth kiss his eyes meet mine and he regards me with loving expectant eyes “Four” We share a long lingering kiss.

When our lips part He stares at me like no other ever has. “Do I have your forgiveness now?” I ask softly. “There is one final thing I require from you” his lips were back on mine. “And what is that?” I breathed between kisses. “Your heart” he replies. Immediately I pull away and put on the most serious face I can manage. “I fear I cannot give you that” I said. He looked absolutely gutted and full of confusion. “I cannot gift you something that already belongs to you” he smiled again and kissed me with even more passion. As we continued to kiss Jean-Laurent laid me down gently. When my body was flat on the ground it suddenly felt like the ground fell from beneath me. I was now standing at Jean-Laurent’s bedside. “What is wrong?” he was violently coughing up thick black blood and convulsing. “Jean-Laurent please tell me what is wrong!” I looked around at the sick nurses in the room. “Why can’t he hear me?!? Why can none of you hear me!!” I shout. No one pays me any attention and suddenly the ground falls again. I am on the street outside of the hospital I worked at at staring piles of bodies slain by the plague. I am in a panic scanning them all until I saw it. Jean-Laurent’s black eyes staring at me face discolored blue back and purple.

I shot up out of the water with a loud gasp. The bathhouse was completely empty. After I slowed my breathing I decided it was time to leave the bath house. I no longer wanted to be alone.

“Ah Azazelle, I have been searching for you!” I was relieved that I saw a friendly face when I turned. “Bonjour Romulus” I say subconsciously I tightening my robe. “Bonjour, may I accompany you to your chamber?” he asked. I see no harm in that” I replied. Romulus was not exactly the company that I wanted right now but he was company nonetheless. “I wanted to personally congratulate you on your first successfully assignment” I nodded as a thank you. “Are you excited?” “Excited? About what?” I find it extremely odd that people are happy Malachi and I killed people. “Yes, for the celebration. With this being the first task House of Léon has received and completed in 11 years Lasko is sure to throw a huge party.” Had I not still been thinking about my daydream in the bath house I might have reacted differently to this news. “How do you know such things?” I asked just before walking through the door he had opened for me. We were now in the wing of the house where the death dealers resided and we were approachin my chambers. “Well I am the one planning it of course” he laughed.

“Well Romulus. I have enjoyed our talk and I look forward to attending this party you speak of” I was hoping he would leave after I said my farewells but he stood there hands behind his back and took a deep breath. I knew exactly what was about to happen. “Azazelle would it be too forward of me to ask that you accompany me to the celebration? I would love to have you on my arm” his face was so hopeful. It made what I was about to say even harder. “I am flattered by your offer but I must respectfully decline” I felt terrible saying this and felt I needed to clarify further. “Please do not think ill of me. It just that all of this” I swirled my hand around in the air “is very new to me. The house the people the job. I need time to figure out my place in all these things” There that explanation made me feel better. I could have never predicted what he was going to say next. A cheesy grin grew on his face. “You do not have to explain. I completely understand. We have forever mademoiselle and I am a very patient man” he winked, turned on his heels and left.

I had barely any time to settle into my chamber when there was another knock at my door. I recognized it immediately. “You may enter Malachi” As customary he poked his head in “I am not alone, may we still enter?” Not alone, who would he be bringing to my chambers? Please not Romulus I prayed. “Oui, you may still enter” Foolishly I tried to look past him through the door. I was shocked when I saw who the unknown guest was. “Azazelle” he said. “Adonis” I replied. “I suppose I owe you an apology. We just hadn’t had an opportunity like this in years and for Lasko to put you in charge it was a hard pill to swallow. That still was no reason for us to treat you the way that we did. So please accept my sincerest of apologies” I looked at Malachi for confirmation that I could believe this apology. Nothing about him told me that I shouldn’t believe Adonis so I took good word for it. “Apology accepted. Please have a seat” Malachi took his normal seat on the bed beside me and Adonis sat in one of the stools. “So Malachi tells me you are quite the fighter?” said Adonis. “He’s just being modest. He did all the hard work I just took the credit” I really appreciated that he was trying to break the ice. “The tongues were a pleasant surprise as well” he added. “That was not me. That was all Malachi’s doing. I said that taking their lives was enough but Malachi insisted” Not only did he insist he made me hold the tongues until I was able to find that burlap best. “Serves the treacherous bastards right!” Adonis and Malachi both raised there hands as if they were toasting but neither of them had glasses. It was rushing to see them relaxed. All this seriousness was mentally exhausting. “Let me ask the two of you something. Why did you all look so petrified at the mention of immortal children?” Malachi and Adonis glanced at each other. Each waiting to see which of them would answer my question. “Adonis, she knows nothing of this. We must be thorough” said Malachi. “Perhaps we should start at the beginning?” suggested Adonis. Malachi spoke first.

“The Gallinari and Brézé are the two largest covens units all of Europe and Asia. The most prominent Houses in the Brézé coven are the House of Léon, the Maizière family. The Gallinari consists of many houses but those that are of most importance are House Giovanni-Montoire, House Dei Guerrieri and the Corsini family” he paused, I presume to make sure that I was still following him. I nodded and he proceeded. “House Giovanni-Montoire consists mainly of royal vampires. It was so named after its founders Sergio Giovanni and Delphine Montoire. Together these two ancients had four children, since these were born from two vampires with the purest of blood it made them immortal. Many years after forming Giovanni-Montoire Sergio and Delphine lost their will to feed and to live. They ordered their children to spread their ashes after they had been consumed by fire so it would be impossible for them to regenerate” Malachi looked to Adonis and he proved to speak.

“Most nobles and/or direct descendants of Sergio and Delphine are in that house. It is also home to the Camorra, a small council of elders who implement and enforce vampiric laws that are to be obeyed. You became familiar with them at the hearing you had to attend no doubt” I wondered if he was at my hearing but then I remembered that neither he nor Griffith had any idea that Lasko was bringing me back to Léon. “Yes, unfortunately” I replied dryly. Adonis laughed. “I was not aware that vampires could reproduce” I added, grabbing one of my pillows to put in my lap so that I could prop myself up on it. “That is where things get interesting. Almost all vampires are sterile. Marrius is the last of the four immortal children” said Malachi. Now understand why Marrius felt so entitled and was held at such a high esteem.

“Jareth, who is the regent of Giovanni-Montoire is Marrius’ birth son. However, his mother was a mortal” Malachi moved my hands from my pillow and laid his head on the pillow I had just placed in my lap. I did not protest I just placed my hand on his chest. “If Marrius is the last of the immortal children then what was the cause for concern that the Duchessa had a list of their names?” I asked. “The concern was not solely about the immortal children. Mortals are never to be privy of the inner workings of our world. The information she was provided was the very foundation of everything we know. We all know what happens when you damage a buildings foundation” said Adonis. “It falls” Malachi replied. “Exactement” agreed Adonis.

I had to know more. More about what I am protecting if I was going to continue to risk my life for it.

“Jareth is the regent of Giovanni-Montoire you say? Then who is our regent? What is the order of a Coven’s hierarchy?” I asked. After the way things went the day I arrived in Léon I hadn’t expected to be having a free flowing conversation like this with my fellow death dealers this soon.

“The highest of the Hierarchy are the elders. All vampires must answer to the elders. They are viewed as the Kings/Queens of vampire society. They are also the ones that elect their regents. They can also sentence members of their houses to death in the case of treason and certain other things. Lastly they have the power to create and found new covens.”

“Next are the regents. They are chosen by the elders to represent them in the coven’s houses and to be in charge of their estate and affairs during their absence in the house. All vampires that rank below them obey and serve them without question and their orders are only overruled by the elders. If a regent dies another is chosen to succeed them by an Elder. If there is no elder present then the house can choose a regent to lead them by popular vote. If that fails the camorra will choose”

“How is one chosen to be a regent?” I hope my asking this does not lead them to believe that I wish to be a regent. I have no desire, my curiosity just had the best of me.

“A regent is chosen for their past achievements as death dealers and/or for their leadership skills as they already have earned respect among the members of their respective houses.” he replied. Upon meeting Adonis one would never hired that he would ever speak this much. He was actually quite pleasant and very knowledgeable.

“The last of the notable high ranking hierarchy are Heads of House. Usually a regent would inherently take on this role but in some cases there are both in a House. Head of House is responsible for the well-being of the house stronghold and it members making sure everyone is doing their job. They would rule a house only when there was no elder or regent…Was any of that lost upon you?” asked Adonis.

“No I believe I understand. Essentially Lasko is everything here in House of Léon”

“Essentially” they said in unison.

“Has he never thought that to be a cause for concern?” I asked.

“I believe he used to but now I think his concerned has significantly ” said Malachi.

“Why? What caused the change?” If I were Lasko this would always be at the forefront of my mind.

“You” said Adonis.

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worldcakecakecake · 6 years ago

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The Society of Romulus and Remus

Ludwig is the product of a centuries old curse that transforms him into a dangerous werewolf. His only chance for a cure is with Feliciano, heir to the Society of Romulus and Remus, a group of hunters who hunt on the supernatural.

Sorry for the length it has taken me to post. I’ve been in Spain and things have been hectic.

Chapter 10

Ludwig hurried behind Feliciano the whole way to the hospital wing, trying to shout sense into him.

“Feliciano! Lovino’s wounds are too complicated for a beginner! You’ll only put him at more risk!”

“You said I could heal whatever wound!” Feliciano shouted back.

“I didn’t think you would want to heal something at your brother’s level!”

No matter, Feliciano had reached with his still strong intent. Ludwig followed him up the stairs, down the halls and before the ward. Only two nurses were there attending to his falling figure, most of his wounds now covered in healing bandages or IVs. The nurses, having heard how Feliciano reacted when he saw his brother this way, instantly covered and were soon to close.

“Wait! I can heal him!” Feliciano moved between them and took secured standing right next to the sleeping figure.

“Sir, we are doing the best we can ourselves,” one of them tried to stop him.

“Then let me!” He raised his sleeves, revealing well his wolf mark, one of the few times Ludwig had seen it.

As he analyzed how his brother's body was presented, surely mapping well how his own system must be organized in his ruined state, the nurses gazed over to Ludwig hoping he could say the words to get him to move back. He had already tried and knew that anything more will just fall uselessly.

“He learned a Venetian Mark in two days and passed Carlotta’s statue just for this,” it seemed Ludwig was starting to defend upon seeing the confidence Feliciano bore, only slightly trembling because of the haunting of how Lovino was still heavily damaged and without much promise.

The nurses widened upon hearing this, impression enough for them to hold back and watch what this could turn into. If anything, they prepared a blocking and interrupting spell under their breaths for if it failed.

Having those eyes on him made this slightly nerve wrecking, but he quickly learned to shut them off once he was sure of the mapping he had done in his mind and how the spell was going to move across his body. He could do this, he repeated to himself in his mind, enough in it to spark the needed energy. He took the position, straight, focused on his power, arms outstretched, the center well under their shadow. As he produced the magic, all in its well route, Ludwig saw him do something new and that was utter something under his breath. That wasn’t part of the spell. He was just about ready to comment, maybe even stop him, but the blue started along with a spread across the damaged parts of the body.

Ludwig and the nurses could tell it was difficult. Feliciano spent long times in many areas over the difficulty of the passing and the bruises, but more words and he continued through, all intrigued at the normal skin color that was beginning to return. Wounds closed, scars fully disappeared, bringing the body to a glow as if it had come anew to this world. Ludwig had never seen such a clean doing of the spell and surely it had to do with the whispers Feliciano was giving. Even as the body moved with breaths, Feliciano continued on his focus, fully until he had completed the entire body.

In a closing of his hands, it was done, the magic gone, a strong lingering of the energy disappearing away, leaving behind a healthy and bright Lovino, For the first time since his bloodied arrival, his eyes began to blink, adjusting to the heavy lights that glowed above him. The rest didn’t dare move, as if giving it all for Lovino to take.

Finally, hazel eyes widened completely, their usual fire and liveliness that didn’t match this ward, bandages and all the still connected IVs. He raised himself slightly, all sharing stunned expressions, either waiting for some kind of reaction.

“What?” Lovino decided to break the silence.

“You’re… okay?” Feliciano neared, still hesitant to touch him, afraid that he could disturb this and bring him back to his ruin of earlier.

“I’m…completely fine…why…” he looked around to the blankness of the ceiling, walls and floors, the machines, the bandages and the IVs. “Why…why am I in the hospital wing?” He was incredulous, slightly maddened even.

“You…you don’t remember?” One nurse questioned.

“Remember what?”

“The attack!”

“Oh that…yeah, I remember that.” And still he seemed nonchalant, well rested, like he was just lazing on a couch.

They all took a deep breath, one that seemed to push them to the floor in relief.

“So…do you feel okay?” Feliciano began to smile.

“I feel completely all right,” Lovino admitted truthfully, looking over to himself for all those bruises and scars. “How did you-”

“I’ll tell you later, but, Lovino, just let me hug you!” And he jumped on him and brought that embrace. Even with Lovino’s complaints and shouts, the nurses, even Ludwig, could only smile at the touching scene, giving them that loving exchange before they would have to start his removal. In the hardened shakes and the ramblings Feliciano went on with, Lovino tried to escape his eyes anywhere in the rush, landing them suddenly on Ludwig. Their eyes only met briefly, but in those couple of seconds, Lovino held that blue for a long while…wondering…wondering…wondering…until he recognized. Sudden raging darkness, roars, blood, a hundred piercings of what seemed a hundred sharpened teeth, a near reach of death. Lovino found himself returning the embrace of his brother, cradling into his neck and letting himself that comfort of his familiarity. Feliciano felt him trembling suddenly, so he hardened his hold, whispering words of comfort and love to try and ease him back to the calm he held when he woke up. He didn’t notice the hardened glare his brother sent his teacher. Ludwig noticed how the hold was a protective one, territorial, one that flared his inner wolf. It almost seemed like Lovino was staring right at the eyes of the beast even as it lay dormant in that body. Ludwig clenched his fists and pretended to be ignorant to these stares, willingly losing to that battle to try and avoid having Lovino recognize him.

The obvious hint were his eyes, as intense and dangerous as they had been in the attack.

Another nurse was told of the news and it was quickly brought to their leader, who arrived later to give the same embrace of welcome, as suffocating and as embarrassing.

“I was so scared, so scared. I dreaded to lose you and I’m so happy you’re well. You are safe and alive and healthy,” and Augusto had gone on with rumbles, never dispatching from the embrace, not halting the kisses he lay all over Lovino’s head. Sure, he had practically awakened by a coma, didn’t mean that he was accepting all this love feast easily, only trying to find escape even in his jailed position on the bed by the strength of his grandfather’s arms.

“Now, are you sure you’re all right? No headaches, no strains?” Augusto finally released him, his hand working as the expectations to his questions.

“Fine, completely fine. I can’t even remember how it felt like,” Lovino eased, pulling away that searching hand.

“And you’re sure you’re ready to leave the ward?” Augusto still wanted to make sure.

“I would this very instant. In fact, can I leave right now?”

“Easy there, give yourself a break to rest.”

“I rested long enough. I want to get back to work.” Lovino was determined.

“Really?...After that attack?”

“It’s the usual for someone of the society. Heir or not, it was bound to happen to me.”

“This kind of attack would have killed anyone. You’re lucky Feliciano mastered a Venetian Mark in two days just for you, or who knows how things would have ended.”

“Two days!” Lovino shouted incredulous, rising slightly from the bed in the push of surprise.

“I had the same reaction.” Augusto shushed him back to a proper sitting.

Feliciano stood in delight beside the bed, sporting a bright smile.

“I have to say I’m very impressed and of course proud. What made you so determined to learn it in two days?”

“I…really, really, really wanted to save Lovino.”

Augusto smiled, now brining him closer to the bed in his own crushing embrace.

“You are both admirable. Lovino, I see you soon reaching a golden sheep seal, and Feliciano, you have impressed me with this ability. Your dedication is true and just what this society needs.” There was faltering in Feliciano’s smile. “Perhaps you shall soon get your bronze sheep seal. I shall speak to Ludwig, you will be ready for your hunter test.”

Feliciano couldn’t hold his grin, fear carved, one Augusto didn’t notice as Lovino came out with another concern.

“Nonno, can I speak to you alone for a moment?”

Augusto raised an eyebrow, Feliciano already standing from the bed, wanting immediate leaving from his grandfather’s words.

“I’ll let you guys talk then,” Feliciano decided, rushing off to other freer things that could rise him from the new mood his grandfather brought.

They were alone in the ward now, nurses and others passing along not seeming to want to interrupt whatever it was they were to speak about.

“What is it?” Augusto neared to keep their conversation low.

“Ludwig.”

The German they spoke on about had decided on training for the day, exercises and lifts that he shared with others in a gym. He practiced on his breathing, on more of the controls that Augusto had given him, well on him even afterwards as he made his way around the base, thinking if he should have an early dinner or spend time on new readings. He passed by the hospital and suddenly found himself remembering Lovino. Curious over his wellbeing (especially after he was the one that caused it), he went over to see if he was still there. He arrived just to see his first standing since the attack, dressed well and ready to head back to his usual in the base. He seemed quite eager and strong, but then they caught their eyes, and he was soured, angry, turning away and already stomping to some other place in the hospital with no cringe or delay in his body. It was unexpected, and it left Ludwig in question. He didn’t notice Augusto was there until he began to approach him, a confident smile that didn’t show at all menace until a harsh hand had fallen well on his shoulder.

“Come with me, Ludwig,” Augusto commanded, leading Ludwig to another more secluded hall, with no array of doctors and nurses. Even when they found this place, Augusto refused to let him go.

“You were there, weren’t you?” His tone was sharp.

“Whe-where?” Ludwig feared.

“In Lithuania, more specifically, the forest where my grandson was attacked.”

Ludwig froze, silent and with not even a word on his mind to tell Augusto.

“Out with it, boy! Speak the truth!” He commanded.

How could Ludwig continue to defend himself of something that left a marking well for Augusto to know…and perhaps even Lovino.

“Sir…it was a powerful transformation I couldn’t control.”

“Didn’t I give you emergency pills?”

“I couldn’t reach them on time. Sir, I speak with the outmost truth that I was completely taken and unaware. I would never, ever, do a thing to harm you so closely. I apologize heavily, and I am willing to prove it however necessary.”

Augusto saw it well in his eyes, which controlled whatever violence the hunter and grandfather in him wanted to deal this in.

Augusto sighed, his hold now more comforting, his voice the gentile of family. “For your chances in staying in the society, not betraying my trust and your curse breaking, I hope so.”

Ludwig was released, and for a moment he thought he was free.

“I confide in you a lot, Ludwig. But I have to admit, I’m still taking a huge risk in letting you be my son’s private teacher. I trust well your control, plus the medicines and charms I have given you. This is only your first time breaking out of that line and my grandson was saved by a spell you did well to teach Feliciano quickly, so I will let it pass. But mark my words. You attack someone of my family again and I will personally be your end,” he threatened with quite a growl that reminded Ludwig, of well…a wolf.

“Understood.” Ludwig lowered his head in acceptance to such faith.

“Good, now, about Lovino…”

“Did he…?”

“Recognize you? Probably. My grandson has good instinct and can tell the signs of when a beast is among us.”

Ludwig raised his eyes, for he felt Augusto accusing him harshly with that word.

“It was hard convincing him and I doubt I truly cleared his suspicions, but I did enough so he wouldn’t go out to take you down by himself, but be wary, he told me he will keep you under a heavy watch, more so when he knows you spend a lot of time alone with Feliciano.” He turned, soon to take his leave, but of course he wasn’t done yet.

“Which reminds me, Ludwig, I congratulate heavy what you did to get Feliciano to learn it. You have proven more than ever your abilities as a teacher in this base.”

Ludwig tried to hide his pride, but a small grin escaped that Augusto caught.

“How ready do you think he is for his first testing?”

And it was gone, his thoughts now lost on that probability.

“I…don’t know, sir. We haven’t really done much on hunting tactics. When’s the next test?”

Augusto looked through his mind for the exact date. “About a month from now…do you think that’s enough to prepare him?” Augusto seemed to force that determination while Ludwig only stuttered.

“To be honest, sir, I don’t know.” He let himself say and Augusto appreciated it at least.

“After this one, the next test will take place in six months. It would be best if we didn’t have to wait that long,” was the last suggestion he decided to give, turning away to give Ludwig the time to think for himself.

Three days had passed only, days that Ludwig had decided on a locking in his room, reorganizing his year plan notebook concerning his curse breaking, an organizing depending heavily on Feliciano’s progress.

With his quickness in learning the Venetian Mark, something immensely good he admitted, it still drove his planning book in a mess that had him pulling his hair for every change and effect even for months ahead. Another haunting headache was his decision if to enter Feliciano into the next group testing. Sure, it would mean a new level and his first seal, it would mean access to all new materials that had to do with the other spells, as well as just a new name to talk about for the Valenti. But this was majorly a hunting test, risky because they go out into an actual field with actual dangers. Any slip off can be very costly and he just couldn’t imagine seeing Feliciano leave any of that without the least injury of a broken bone. But waiting six months…that would be too long a wait for the rest of the spells, to watch Feliciano improve and grow.

He left his office then, late in the night, halls practically deserted when he arrived at his room. As it had been in his life before he was taken into the society, his room was surrounded by books, all having to do with his teachings, or just new things Ludwig wanted to know more about. Because of their plentitude, sometimes he would forget the books he had, covered well by all the others he would get new, in quite a mess that he wasn’t really proud of. No matter what he did, a book was always on the way, seeming to come from out of nowhere and surprise him as if ready to attack. Ludwig was a werewolf…he could feel anything’s approach and defend himself well…even against books.

He wasn’t meaning to read anything. Once he was done with his washing, he prepared the bed and pushed aside whatever books were on top of it. He hoped he would have a better decision in the morning after sleep, one the very room wanted to help with. As soon as Ludwig was well tucked in his bed, a book he had overhead on a shelf fell right beside his face. Any other and he would pushed it aside like the rest, but the form of its cover took his instant interest.

It was an old leathered book Augusto had lent him back in the year that he had started in the society. It was part of a pile that he had said would help. He hadn’t remembered looking through this one, having better interest in what was Michelangela’s compendium and practically pushing aside the others. This one had a single eye in its front, carved in darkness that was somewhat eerie to Ludwig. He reached for it, opening to find a power and spell book for the usage of eyes. There were several basic ones that he could do himself, ones that you could teach to children, ones he had taught well to other students, difficult ones, even ones he had never read before. The last chapter was on ‘The Bronze Stare’ an extremely familiar one. Usually there was barely anything about it, mostly simplistic things that always kept Ludwig wondering if there was more. But this book, for once, brought something more extensive to the spell, showing more than what Ludwig originally thought it was for.

The Bronze Stare was known as a tracking and sight spell, to see things from afar and to better find and reach them. Yet, as the book showed more that it was perhaps where the spell was originally written on, it said that there was more to its purpose. He read that it could be used to paralyze or even kill from distance. Ludwig now couldn’t find it in him to sleep, reading on in all its full potency…one the would surely help Feliciano for when he joined the test.

This new book slammed well on Ludwig’s desk, startling Feliciano suddenly, who was wide awake, unlike other times mind you.

“You’re joining the next group testing,” Ludwig declared, taking his usual seat in his chair.

“What?” Feliciano was confused.

“You know that every six months, the society creates a test where they send newcomers to the Paneveggio to hunt for creatures that are either released by the very society or happen to be there as they try to find a way to get into our base. Whoever passes it, is granted a new level, a seal and relinquish their titles as beginners. If not, you will have to wait another six months and to be honest, I would rather not wait that long.” He already took pens and empty notebooks ready for the lesson, tapping them as he leaned forward, waiting for whatever questions Feliciano might have. Since he remained silent, he continued.

“You’ll be joining the students of other teachers, will be given all the necessary equipment and will be rightfully prepared.”

“And…when is the test?”

“At the end of the month.”

“But…that only gives us a couple of weeks!” Feliciano panicked.

“I said you’ll be rightfully prepared. For the next couple of weeks, we’ll be focusing on your hunting skills, as well as,” he opened the browned leathered book, until it was back at the important chapter, “the Bronze Stare.”

Feliciano was still too preoccupied with the ticking time, knowing of the exhaustion of physical training that will come, of the soon approach of having to kill to really think about this new spell.

“What is it?” He finally managed to question.

“It’s a sight intensification spell.”

“Oh, then it has to be simple,” Feliciano excited.

“In its basic form, yes, but we’ll be doing something different with it.” And Ludwig then turned the pages until he was in the last section that talked about paralyzing and killing. As soon as Feliciano saw those words, he gulped and moved the furthest away he could in his seat.

“The best chance you have at even surviving this test is this spell.”

That didn’t make Feliciano any confident about it.

Of course, they had to practice the spell, but alongside it they had to prepare Feliciano’s body for the training and intensity the spell asked when it came to hitting its targets until destruction and just hunting in general. It was back to the excruciating exercises, to the bruises from sticks and rocks they would use to practice different weapons, to the cringes and turns that made Feliciano cry, less and less visits to the terrace of statues because of how tired he was and how he wanted to spend most of his time just crashed on his bed.

On one particular day, Ludwig had let Feliciano do his first try on the Bronze stare. After how vicious the last days had been, he thought it to be something that could be of relaxation, peace for his body and mind.

He had been absolutely wrong.

His first tries gave him headaches, bulging and attacking headaches that had him groaning on the floor, Ludwig having to give him potions of medicine and even bags of ice to place on his head. He was sent back to his room completely drained, looking like an attacked mess and wanting nothing more than to lay for weeks on.

He arrived, his shirtless body in red, sweat, pushing everything to the side, simply riding of every piece of clothing and instantly falling upon his bed. The grasp of the darkness of sleep caught him, and he smiled for once in his hardened day as he finally settled with something of peace.

He dreamed of children playing in a beautiful garden, a banquet of the most delightful sweets presented for them. Feliciano acted in this dream as their caretaker, handing them all the caramel apples, chocolates with nuts and gum they wanted. A small orchestra played, a sweetened song that was tempting Feliciano into a dance with the children instead of working on more chocolate lollipops for them.

Ah yes, peace, peace, peace, peace…thunder.

The skies darkened, with an approaching storm, all scurrying to head inside to the palace behind them. Yet Feliciano was the only one that was not permitted the escape, being forced to watch as this storm that came brought along with it a destroying black smoke, tearing apart the surrounding trees, rivers and fountains.

Come on, come on, come on, he repeated to himself as he tried to dispatch from whatever mud kept him standing there, sweating, huffing, shaking, trying every pull he could.

The smoke began to take form, large, a last intimidating wave before it decided to consume this castle of peace, of escape.

No, no, no, no, not this, not that familiarity of the monster wolf, of those eyes of red, another of blue, evil grimaces with the most intimidating teeth, already gushing blood and wanting nothing but more to add. At every shout, at every try to get himself away from that spot, the monster only turned larger, a form of menace that did well to cover his entire being under its shadow.

Beilschmidt, Beilschmidt, Beilschmidt, Beilschmidt, it repeated like always, the last warning before it reigned, dropping its violence and destroy to pain and breaking.

Ludwig Beilschmidt.

Feliciano awoke with a heavy take of breath, only to release it in a scream, a sitting, hard to let it die down, hard to see in this darkness, in this clutching space. He had to give constant taps around his sheets and blankets to realize that he was in his room, alone, no ominous eyes in the darkness ready to consume him. He quickly headed to his bedside table, taking out the matches and lighting one of the scented candles he had there. It was a dim light, but enough to see, not so shinning, a relaxing orange settling in the room that was comfort and embracing warmth.

Once the scent of sea breeze from the candle reached him, he finally breathed easily, settling well on his bed, laying upon it in great relief.

A dream, a dream, it was only a dream. For a moment there was comfort in it, until he remembered that he hadn’t had those kinds of nightmares in a while. He thought them gone, he thought he could finally have that freedom in his dreams, liberated…but it wasn’t so.

It had been a long time since he had cried about them, since he had weakened so much into his bed, dreading their return, their surely continuing to haunt.

Ludwig Beilschmidt. This time they said his full name, reminding Feliciano of the fear in that family name, of his questions pertaining it. All over again to that unsettlement of years ago, wondering and wanting…only this time it was close, it was his teacher, those scolding blue eyes seeming more fearful now than ever. He had never been so terrified of him.

“Why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you stop?” Feliciano scolded himself, gripping his head harshly as he slammed himself against his pillow.

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#The Society of Romulus and Remus #TSORAR #GerIta #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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