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anika-ann · 5 years ago

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Think Again (When You Stop Freaking Out) - Pt.3

The New Level of Crazy

Pairing: None Word count: 2642

Warnings: language, hella lot confusion, attemp at science talk… irony and sass? ;)

Summary: Steve and Foggy go for a trip and Matt has to deal with Avengers’ own science bros. Oh boy.

Story Masterlist

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After a bit awkward process of dressing up, for which Steve kept apologizing profusely – ‘just stop apologizing, Murdock, I heard you the first time’ – they managed to get to the street (which made Steve want to take a beeline back to the apartment, blind or not, because the assault on his senses was brutal) and hailed a cab.

Steve dutifully recited the right address, not allowing Mr. Nelson to speak, only to be questioned by both Nelson – silently – and the cabbie.

“Are you sure? ‘cause I’m pretty confident that it’s the Aven-“

If Steve didn’t know better, he would think he could hear the moment Matt’s friend resigned.

“Yeah, he’s sure. Don’t you know it, even that kind of building needs to be ADA compliant and my friend here is going to test it, so if you would be so kind…” Mr. Nelson interjected, sounding a bit different than before and Steve wondered if this was his business voice or he was just losing his nerve. Either way, it probably worked.

Also, Steve was one hundred percent positive he heard Mr. Nelson’s pulse falter, which was impossible, but ‘impossible’ was just another Thursday for him.

His train of thoughts was cut off by a dialling tone from the lawyer’s phone, soon followed by a female voice.

“Hey, Foggy! Did you reach him? Is he okay?” the woman asked, sounding a bit worried if Steve could take a guess.

A pang of guilt twisted his stomach for making her worry – and while Steve didn’t feel good about it, he wouldn’t have such a strong reaction, not normally. Weird. Maybe it was about the woman’s and Matt’s relationship and the body reacted on its own? This thing was getting stranger with each minute.

“Yeah, Karen. He’s… I don’t know what he is…” Nelson admitted with a twitch.

“What does that mean? Is he… is he hurt? You know, because he’s… uhm… night activities?”

Steve blinked, his eyelashes brushing the lenses of his glasses – dark ones, he assumed, because Matt was blind –, glad no one could see how alarmed he was.

Night activities? What kind of night activities? Steve would like to think they were talking about an… intimate way of spending nights, but he was sure he was not that kind of sore. Blood rushed into his cheeks at thinking about the body he was occupying this way, but he needed to figure this out dammit!

How could a blind lawyer spend his nights in an unusual way, in a way that would get him hurt?

Steve’s money would be on alcohol, but for some reason, he didn’t believe it. There was just something about the way Foggy and Karen spoke about the topic that made him wonder and his hair stood on ends.

And unwittingly, his thoughts once again wandered to a movie he had been forced to watch recently, because it was a classic.

So, logically, his first question back in his role of (apparently) delusional Matt Murdock pretending to be Steve Rogers, after Mr. Nelson hang up, was: “Foggy, am I... am I in a fight club?”

“Are you in a— Matt, if this is a prank, you're really taking it too far,” he hissed back, and ouch, not a good question then. And his heart started racing again – like, unhealthy fast, Steve thought.

“But-“

“Matt. Do you have amnesia? Do you even know who I am?”

“Foggy Nelson,” Steve shot back immediately, happy he had stocked this information and could answer correctly without making the man beside him angry again.

“Yeah, okay. And who's that? How did we meet? What fruit or vegetable we are – yes, I know you insisted it was a fruit, but…?”

Steve just stared. Or, not stared, but he would stare if he could, perfectly confused. Was this a twenty-first century thing? Did friends name themselves after a fruit or vegetable? That didn’t make any sense, right? So, naturally, Steve asked the only questing that did make sense.

“Uhm... is this a test?”

“YES, you duffus!”

“Look, I would really appreciate if you just took me to the Tower-“ Steve gave up, only to be interrupted.

“Yeah and what are we gonna do? You have the sudden urge to reveal your identity to the world’s mightiest heroes? Because if you do-“

“My identity?” Steve cried out, Nelson’s hand covering his mouth right after to shush him.

What the hell? What identity? Was Matt secretly a criminal, hiding behind an act of a lawyer? That wasn’t right. Right?!

“Oh god... you need to stop talking, Matt.”

Steve murmured against the other man’s palm, trying not to think about everything he smelled on it.

“Keep the volume low, Murdock.” Only then, the palm disappeared.

“I'm begging you, Mr. Nelson- Foggy-“

“Okay. Okay. Let's say hi to the real Captain America,” he muttered, sounding surprised, as if he couldn’t believe what they were about to do and he was agreeing to it. “This will not end well. It better get me an autograph at least.”

The rest of the ride was quiet. Not in the actual sense of the word, because of all the noise that made Steve’s/Matt’s head hurt, but the point was, no one said another word.

Mr. Nelson paid for the cab and before Steve knew it, they were walking into the lobby of the Avengers’ Tower, a walking cane in his hand again and hanging onto the other man’s arm so he wouldn’t walk into anything.

The lobby was nice; Steve had never appreciated it, but it must have been soundproof, because the noise of the city almost faded, which was something he was immensely grateful for.

They approached the reception desk, Mr. Nelson leaning onto the woman behind it before she could speak up.

“Good morning. There’s no easy way to say this-“ he lowered his voice to a whisper, “-alright. So, my friend here claims to be Captain America and he didn't escape the psych ward, I swear, and I know-“

The woman’s heartbeat picked up, her perfume swirling the air as she spun on her chair for a phone. “Oh. I'll inform Mr. Stark. He needs someone to make his day.”

“What? Really?”

Steve’s lips twitched. He never thought Tony would actually ask his employees to take care of making his day. But yeah, it sounded like Tony.

“Mr. Stark, I am sorry to interrupt your work-“

“Trust me, you’re not interrupting, Kelly,” Tony’s half-amused half-bone-tired voice replied to the speaker – Steve guessed he wasn’t supposed to hear it, but with Matt’s exceptional hearing, he had no trouble understanding. “What’s up?”

“There are two gentlemen of which one claims to be Captain America, Sir.”

There was a choking noise on the other end of the line.

“You're joking. Send them to Banner's lab.”

“Will do, Mr. Stark. You can go up,” she announced, smile in her voice.

Nelson’s heart freaked out. “Uhm. Really? Okay. Alright. Matt, buddy, come on. Which way…?”

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“You’re weird.”

Matt tilted his head at the voice, before he remembered he needed to look up to that person to actually see them and not to keep staring at his – well, Steve Rogers’s – blood filling the vial; like a tenth one, by the way, this friend of Rogers’ was sure thorough.

A man in a t-shirt and sweats walked in with his eyes glued to Matt while scratching his goatee. Matt’s eyebrows shot up involuntarily at the casual look, so they both examined each other with curious eyes.

“Thanks, T-tony,” Matt said finally, causing the man frown and look at the other scientist.

“Alright, Banner, what’s the word? And don’t repeat my diagnosis, that’s nothing new.”

Aha! Banner! Bruce Banner, Matt remembered. He had heard the name before…

Mr. Stark went to some… flying pictures – holograms, Matt believed they were called –, moving his hands so he could see the data, while Banner stood next to him.

“Not much to tell. My theory is that when he touched the package, it did something to his memories. He said that he— wait, how did you know who Tony was?” Doctor Banner spun to Matt, confused.

“Uhm… you said you would call Tony, so… I guessed we… knew each other.”

“Huh. You guessed we know each other? So you had no clue who I am? Now that’s insulting,” Stark noted, scoffing. Matt fought the urge to roll his eyes at the diva. “Okay, so memories. What else?”

“He says he feels like he’s in a wrong body. That it feels to big – well, he confirmed it when I offered the phrase.”

“What about his brain scans?”

Matt tried to ignore the fact they started talking about him as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Everything seems rather normal, except his brain is… working a lot.”

“Now that’s a new one…”

“Hey!” Matt did jump to defend his/Captain’ honour this time. His protest was thoroughly ignored.

“His cerebellum is going insane, which would make sense – if he doesn’t feel right in his own body, he has to be putting a lot of effort in just walking or sitting upright. Also, it looks like the areas of visual and auditory cortex are misbehaving. He’s using it a lot. Do you have trouble with your hearing? Can you see clearly?”

Matt jumped when being talked to again. Well. A little. I feel like I’m deaf and I can see quite clearly, if that can be described as ‘trouble’.

“Uhm…” Matt fumbled with his fingers, which was an action that didn’t escape Stark’s notice, so he stopped.

“The body language is all wrong.”

Matt gulped at Stark’s note. Yeah, no shit.

“Since when you’re an expert on— no, don’t answer. Just tell me what you mean.”

“What I mean is... if his consciousness returned to the state before the serum, which I guess is your suspicion-“

“Yeah.”

Huh, Matt thought. Now that was an interesting theory. But maybe he should just tell them? Sure, he had no idea how to explain them that he was somehow in someone else’s body, didn’t know how and why, but… they were the Avengers, for God’s sake. Surely they were used to unexplainable…?

“Nervous ticks should stay the same, right? You think he adopted them after?” Stark questioned.

“Uhm, gentlemen-“

“Well, he might have adopted them later, don’t you think? When I’m… the other guy, I’m not exactly-“ Banner motioned with his hands vaguely and Matt just grimaced at being ignored again.

“Sure, but that’s different, right?”

“Doctor Banner-“

“Well, he could always be just hammered, I mean, Thor’s liquor…”

“Come on, Tony…” Doctor Banner questioned him with what could almost be called disgust, clearly annoyed – which was about the same state Matt was as he was being neglected completely.

“Mr. Stark!“

The man in question snapped his head Matt’s direction, shock all over his face. “You never call me that.”

“Well, that would make sense, we never met.”

“You just said you guessed we knew each other,” Stark remarked, confused but intrigued. Matt made a face. Yeah, about that… He cleared his throat.

“Yes. I changed my mind, because this leads nowhere. Firstly, if I could take a guess, my visual cortex is misbehaving, because I am legally blind for the past two decades-“

Bruce paced to Matt, his hand soothingly reaching out as if he was trying to stop him from Hulking out. “Steve, what are you talking-“

“I’m not Steve.”

There was a beat of silence, only intruded by their breaths and a mask of horror on the scientists’ faces as they turned to each other.

“Split personality?” they asked each other simultaneously and Matt face-palmed at his own stupid move.

He rose to his feet. “Barely. My name is Matt Murdock-“

“Friday, run the name.”

“-and I can tell with absolute certainty that I am in the wrong body. And if my assumptions are right-“ Oh shit, that totally slipped his mind, if he was in Steve Rogers’ body, did that mean that- oh, oh fuck, he was blind- “-then your friend is in mine and let me tell you, he’s definitely freaking out.”

Banner and Stark stared at him, speechless, disbelief all over their faces. The stunned silence was cut by Friday’s voice.

“Matthew Michael Murdock born 3rd May 1982 in Metro General, Hell’s Kitchen. His mother Margaret Grace Murdock, father Jonathan Murdock, also known as Battlin’ Jack Murdock in the area. Matthew was orphaned at the age of ten, eight months after the accident in which he was blinded. He grew up-“

“-in Saint Agnes Orphanage, went to law school in Columbia and after an internship at Landman and Zack opened his own firm with Franklin or Foggy Percy Nelson of Nelson and Murdock, with a secretary Karen Page, who was their first client when being a murder suspect, cleared of all charges,” Matt recited, mimicking the mechanical voice, more feeling than seeing the intense glares Stark and Banner were giving him.

“That… is all correct, Sir.”

Matt fell silent, watching the two men expectantly, waiting for them to get their shit together. They might seem at least partly convinced, but that didn’t mean they didn’t look freaked out. So much for them being used to weird.

Tony Stark was the first to recover, raising a hand directed towards Matt. “Hold on. So you’re able to see after like… twenty years.”

“Yes.”

“And you just what? Roll with it? I don’t buy that.”

Matt sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I did throw up as the first thing after I woke up.”

“That’s it true, Mr. Stark,” Friday supplied helpfully and Matt was grateful for the voice for the first time. He smirked in Tony’s direction.

“So… you’re not Steve. Why didn’t you tell us right away?”

“Wait, you actually believe him?” Stark blurted out, incredulous as Banner examined Matt from a whole new angle.

“What? It would explain everything. The visual cortex, his auditory functions – usually, you rely more on your hearing, don’t you? I mean, you have to compensate somehow… the coordination – just imagine, Tony. Even if he would be tall and muscled, becoming a serum-boosted soldier is a whole new level-“

“Well, it doesn’t explain how the hell that would happen! Tell us something lawyery,” Tony challenged Matt and he couldn’t but roll his eyes.

“Do I have to? Isn’t it enough that your building is not ADA compliant? You don’t even have braille in the elevators.”

“They have an AI running them!” the billionaire cried out, wounded. Then he stopped as Matt grinned, realizing Tony just adjusted to his ‘play’. He huffed. “I don’t like him. He’s sassy.”

“Must be terrible, getting a taste of your own medicine,” Banner remarked, the corners of his lips twitching. “But seriously. If you’re in Steve’s body, it does make sense for him to be in yours-“

“There had to be a better way to phrase that. Thanks for the mental image, Banner.”

The doctor just continued. “We need to find him. He really must be freaking out. I mean… freaking out on Steve’s scale. He is accustomed to a certain level of crazy.”

“I would think so, but you didn’t believe me this was happening. Imagine him living it. It is insane, trust me. I have no clue how-”

“Sir, the reception desk is calling you.”

Stark blew a generous amount of air from his mouth in annoyance, still watching Matt, wary. “Put them through.”

Matt only smiled in relief when there were visitors announced. And one of them claimed to be Captain America. Matt was sure Foggy was having a blast; and yeah, he would definitely had to take him to Josie’s for a glass (or two) of shitty whiskey later.

Matt gulped when he realized that the ‘later’ might come much later then he would like. If ever.

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Part 4

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Tags: @igobypoet @mermaidxatxheart

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #matt murdock #daredevil #steve rogers fanfiction #matt murdock fanfiction #bodyswap #think again when you stop freaking out #anika ann

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 5 years ago

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The Mistakes We Made - Chapter Four

Summary: When her high school girlfriend comes back to town after two years with a baby and a terrible story she won’t tell, the Librarian has to deal with the feelings she had worked so hard to keep at bay.

Notes: I have no idea of how libraries work, just roll with it *finger guns*

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4)

Maven cracked her eyes open and squinted immediately. Her face was bathing in the early sunlight, and groaning she realized that she had left the curtains open the night before.

She turned her back to the window, knowing she still had time to rest until her alarm rang. Clutching her blanket tighter around herself, she tried to hang on to the last vestiges of the dream she’d been having. And it had been such a strange dream, so impossible and bittersweet.

Her sleep muddled mind failed to remember much more of it, so she simply accepted to let that be. That is, until she heard sounds of clatter in the kitchen, which made her sit up on her bed immediately. It couldn’t be an animal; she always let her house locked up at night. It wouldn’t be a visitor either: only Maven’s uncle had another key, and he was currently out of town. Her only other option would be faeries, but she had quite a few amulets to keep those away from the house. Besides, the scent coming from the kitchens smelled like coffee, not like flowers or milk like one would expect from the wee folk. So there was only one possibility.

It hadn’t been a dream.

Maven bolted out of her bed, heading straight to the bathroom and throwing water on her face. As her mind began to cooperate, the details of the day before came back to her. Johanna walking into the Poet’s Retreat, asking for help by the lamplight, feeding her child in the living room and putting her to sleep in her stroller: suddenly it all got as clear a the day outside in her head.

But her thoughts clouded over again as her heart took control. The shock of seeing her former best friend back, with a baby and without her husband, had stopped her from thinking about other things the day before. She had acted mostly on impulse. But now that she had rested and spent some time away from Johanna, she began remembering exactly why her impulse had been running away and lashing out.

Her mood didn’t improve as she got dressed, figuring she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep and deciding to get ready for work instead; after all, an early morning wouldn’t hurt. Not to mention it would give her somewhere to hide from her feeling and a certain someone who had awakened them.

She got out of the bedroom wearing her typical clothes: a white button up shirt with a sleeveless grey cardigan on top, a pleated black skirt with leggings underneath and dark flats that were comfortable enough to not make her feet ache when she needed to stand up for hours organizing books.

The usual routine was comforting, in a way. Dressing up, brushing her short hair, putting the things she’d need in her dark blue messenger bag. It made her forget that something out of the ordinary was happening.

Of course, that sense of normality disappeared when she walked down the narrow wood stairs to the kitchen and found herself looking at the unusual picture that her former girlfriend and her baby made in Maven’s house.

“Good morning” Maven said when she was a few steps behind Johanna, who was in front of the oven scrambling eggs. She startled and turned back, facing her host with the fridge and spatula still in hand.

“Oh, good morning!” She chirped, making her tone politely happy and putting a smile on her face, but it wilted when she noticed how gloomy Maven looked. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes hooded with irritation and with dark circles under them, though she could barely see them as Maven’s hair was getting in the way. Surliness seemed to roll off of her in waves, and Johanna knew her way to well to think everything was okay.

But Johanna didn’t have the patience for this, and she surely didn’t have the strength for this any longer. She knew Maven wasn’t Torrin- there wouldn’t be much of a negative consequence if they had a row- but that didn’t mean she had the psychological and emotional strength to deal with a fight. So she just lowered her head and waited for her friend to speak.

Seeing this, Maven lifted her eyebrows in both surprise and mockery. Really? No “stop sulking! What real problems do you even have?”? No “quit being a happiness sucking spirit!”?. Even before everything went to hell, Maven would get an “well, someone woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning.” if her friend noticed she was in a bad mood. Staying quiet wasn’t typical Johanna behavior and it wouldn’t be in a thousand years. But the woman had no marks on her body, and that made a lot of Maven’s preoccupation with her succumb to the nagging voice in her mind telling her that she had warned Johanna, and she had been ignored.. Seemed fair she’d have to face the consequences now.

“I’m going to work.” She said shortly. “I’ll be back by lunchtime to get my stuff. I take it you’re still not back at college?”

“I’m not.”

Maven nodded and looked at the cabinets above Johanna’s head. She should probably get something to eat, but she really didn’t want to be in the same room as her at the moment. “Excuse me” she said as she reached out for the cabinet’s wooden handle, making Johanna take a step to the right. She quickly found a package of biscuits and took it out, giving Johanna space to return to her cooking once more.

She had already turned to leave. Her hand was in the bag where she’d placed her keys. But a bit of her conscience made itself known in her mind through the haze of pain. Monster, it seemed to tell her. You’re just going to leave? Are you really this cold? This is why you’re meant to be alone.

With her heart clenching, just like her fingers around her keys, she said:

“Do you need anything?”

Johanna turned her head from the oven to look at her, a confused frown on her face. Though Maven had to be talking to her, she was staring at the door. “For the baby.” She completed. “Do you have enough diapers and that sort of thing?”

“I do. Thank you.”

“If- if you have any problems” she reluctantly said as she unlocked the door. “You can call me.”

And after she had stepped outside into the chilly morning, she called. “You know, I haven’t changed my number. I was wondering if maybe that was why I never heard from you again, but it seems it remains the same.” Just before she shut the door again, leaving each of them alone with their own pain.

_#_#_#_

Yawning, Maven raised her arms above her head and stretched. After spending a good part of her morning and most of her afternoon sitting at one of the tables in Trollberg’s library, she’d finally finished studying and was ready to head home. For the day, at least.

Picking up her backpack from the chair by her side, she closed each of her notebooks and stored them away, doing the same with her pens. Most students from her class used laptops to do their essays and researches, but Maven’s mother didn’t have enough money to get her one, having to work alone to make ends meet, so she learned to deal with all the paper that she needed to get through college. She found she preferred that, too. Paper was comforting and it didn’t stop working suddenly and made you pay even more to repair it. Paper was reliable, even if it was a bit messy.

When all her things had been put away, Maven got up and lifted a stack with the four books she had used, and set about looking for Mr. Kavindi, to ask if he would put them away or if she could reshelve them herself. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know where pretty much everything went at this point.

She found him eyeing the library’s computer at his desk, frowning at the screen. His worried expression reminded her of the troubles he’d told her about days ago, and suddenly she was afraid that something bad had happened. For whatever reason, Aven had showed up at the library, an action so atypical of him that could probably justify sending him to an asylum, and declared that Mr. Kavindi’s work was insufficient , and that his father would know about how slowly work got done around there.

If it was anyone else, they wouldn’t have cared for the threat. Problem was, the bastard was the son of the mayor. And that complicated things a bit.

Maven didn’t really think that the good hearted librarian would be sent away. She couldn’t think of many people in this town who had the basic knowledge to get the job, and those who did were quite close to Mr. Kavindi and would surely refuse to do such a thing to him, not to mention that they all had their own stable jobs. But that didn’t stop her from being worried for a man who had helped her so much.

“Sir?” She began tentatively and he looked up at her, a smile slowly spreading over his face when he realized it was her.

“I just wanted to know if I should leave this with you or put them away.” She lifted her books in askance.

“Ah, Maven! Leave them at the desk, please.” She did as he said, putting them near a few other ones that also needed to be reshelved. “I wanted to talk to you, but you looked so focused in your studies I didn’t want to bother before.”

“It wouldn’t be a bother, sir. But is everything alright? You know, with the mayor?”

He nodded happily. “More than okay, my girl. You see, Mr. Torrin’s insatisfaction worked on my favour. It would seem the town hall finally allowed me something I’ve been asking for for years. They’re giving the library extra money so that I can have an assistant!”

Maven breathed out in relief and smiled, something she didn’t do quite often but seemed easier when she was with the kind man in front of her. “That’s lovely, sir. Maybe with a little help you could try to do more of those projects you told me you had planned when you first got the job. I bet Aven won’t have anything else to complain about, then.”

The librarian was looking at her with a little smile she couldn’t quite decipher. “Yes, maybe I could. Unfortunately, though, I seem to have a small problem. There seems to be a limited number of people interested in literature in this town, and all of those I’ve consulted weren’t interested in taking this part time job.”

Maven frowned. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone, eventually…” she remembered a girl in her high school class that had liked reading too, but she had moved to another city to go to college. There was also a boy who had been known to love Tolkien, but as far as Maven was concerned, he was studying something related to maths, so he was probably not an option.

“How’s your schedule, Maven?”

The girl looked up from the floor and at him at the unexpected question. “I’ve been handling it well enough. Mostly I have classes in the evening, so I have the mornings and sometimes the nights to myself. I use the half an hour of train ride to study or do homeworks… why?”

“Well, you’re smart, you’re young enough to go around stacking books with little effort, and you’re studying for this.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Would you consider working here?”

Maven could only gape at him. It was too easy, to have her dream job handed to her on a silver platter. It was never this easy. It shouldn’t be this easy. “Are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t.”

“Yes!” She said without thinking twice. Time would get a lot shorter; she’d probably have to stay up many nights. Money wouldn’t be abundant, either; librarians were already underpaid, and a part time, unqualified assistant wouldn’t have it easy either. But it was a beginning. If she did well on that job, maybe once she had majored in Library Science (which she really hoped she would) the town hall would consider her when the time came to choose another librarian. Not to mention she’d get a lot of experience with that.

“I’ll warn you already, it doesn’t pay well.” He joked, but when Maven didn’t waver in her resolution, he asked her to give him her CV as soon as she could. She was a little nervous about that, since she’d barely gotten started on college, but he’d assured her the city hall would trust his decisions. Time tables would be better discussed later, but initially they agreed on having her help him out in the mornings.

She left the library doing her best to look like her usual serene and composed self when inside she felt happier then she’d felt in months. Finally, it seemed things were going her way.

That feeling changed when she began to head home and found there was an unusual flow of people walking towards Main Street. Not quite liking the situation, Maven began turning into Trollberg’s smaller streets, looking for the least used way home.

When she was nearly there, she saw a man, tall with dark skin and eyes, smoking and looking at the sun that was slowly moving down the horizon. Dimitri, her cousin, and the owner of the town’s Hoodoo shop.

She stepped closer. Dimitri knew about things, maybe he’d know what was happening.

“Hello, cousin.” He said before she had a chance to wish him a good evening, without even turning his gaze from the sky to her. “Something on your mind?”

“Yes, actually. Do you know why everyone seems to be going to Main Street?”

He rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, I do. It’s the Aven boy and your friend. Surely you heard that they got married today?”

The girl felt bile rise up in her throat. She knew, of course she knew. But she had tried so hard to forget that she actually missed the date.

Not that she’d been invited, anyway.

“Yes.” She answered simply.

“Yeah, the most dim witted parcel of the city’s population in going to watch them leave town, as if they were celebrities or something. Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Maven fought against the stinging in her eyes. She’d tried to stay away from anything related to Johanna, but still she hadn’t been able to block out the whispering voices in the streets that told her she was moving away to the Aven family’s cabin in the woods. “N- now?” She asked tremulously.

“Yes, now. Why?”

She didn’t answer why. She barely uttered a “thank you, good evening” before sprinting out of the alley in the direction of Main Street as fast as she could.

“Oh, Maven.” Dimitri whispered and shook his head, taking his cigarette to his mouth once again. “Why must you make yourself suffer this way?

_#_#_#_

“Are you going to tell me about it?” Mr. Kavindi asked from under the ladder which she had climbed to stack some books that had been left in one of the library’s desks the night before.

“About what, sir?” Maven replied as she sang the ABCs in her head to find out between which books the one she was holding should go.

He lifted an eyebrow. Maven couldn’t see it, but she was sure she could feel it. “You know what I’m talking about. I know you enough to be able to tell when you’re not okay.”

She groaned internally, putting the book in its correct spot, and taking a moment to caress its red leather spine before she took a deep breath and answered.

“Sir, I would rather not talk about that. I’m sorry.”

Mr. Kavindi sighed. His assistant was such a good girl. He’d always tried to befriend her, but she had always been a closed off one. No matter, he thought. He knew exactly what the issue was about even if she wouldn’t tell him. Ever since she’d began attending the library with a frequency, when she was but a wee child, there had only been one person who had been able to make that sort of anxious energy roll off of her in waves.

He wasn’t going to press any further, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious as to where his assistant could have possibly seen Johanna these days.

“How’s college?” He opted for a change of subject, and she was glad. She could even hear the concern on his voice; he knew that she wasn’t happy with her performance. Whereas before she had had time to study properly, after accepting the job at the library she’d been much more busy, and it only got worse when her mother passed away and she had to do some odd cleaning jobs here and there to make ends meet. Her family tried to help her, but she usually didn’t accept their money unless she had no other choice.

She paid attention to classes and made as good use of her time as she could, so her grades were not going to be bad enough for her to fail, but he knew it disturbed her to not be able to reach her full potential. And if he were honest, it disturbed him too. Maven was made for more than mediocre grades.

“Going as usual.” She answered simply. At the best of days she was somewhat reclused, but today he felt she just didn’t want to talk at all. So he politely excused himself and went to finish the preparations to open the library for the day, leaving the woman alone with her thoughts.

_#_#_#_

It had taken nearly an hour, but Johanna was finally ready to leave. Of all the people she’d hugged and said her goodbyes to, the last one was still in front of her, crying as if she’d gotten married herself.

“Don’t worry, Lucy.” She said to the woman who had been her best friend for the last couple of months. “It’s not like I’m going away forever. You can visit us whenever you like, and we will be back from time to time too!”

“I know, it’s just-“ she made a show of drying her tears. “It was all so very beautiful. The wedding, the lunch… everything! And it all happened so fast! I’ve never seen two people get engaged so quickly; the two of you just have such a deep connection.”

Johanna chuckled at her friend’s sentimentalism, but inwardly agreed with her. She understood Torrin better than anyone. And after she realized that, it didn’t take long for it to become easy to imagine a happily ever after with him. She was living the dream of half of the girls in the town, she knew.

“No time for this.” Johanna’s mother, Kate, said as she walked by the pair with her husband, who was carrying some of Johanna’s luggage. Most of her stuff had already been moved to the house she’d share with her new husband, but there were a few things she’d chosen to take with her. “There are many people waiting to see the two of you. Better not to keep them waiting.”

Johanna frowned. “What?”

“Oh, you know how people are in this town.” A voice came from behind her. She turned and saw him standing at the door of her kitchen, his blue hair falling on his eyes and his shoulder leaning against the wooden frame. There he was. Her Prince Charming.

“They love gossip, babe. And we’re a big thing, you know?” He smirked, stepping closer. “A great part of the town is on Main Street, just waiting to get one last look at us before we begin our life together. Isn’t that amazing?”

No, it really wasn’t. She wasn’t marrying for other people. She was doing it for herself; she’d always been a sociable person, but she wasn’t comfortable with the whole town wanting such involvement in her life. But clearly it made Torrin happy, and if it was good for him…

She forced herself to smile. “Yes! That’s… incredible.”

“Nothing less than what my princess deserves” he smirked, taking her hand. “Now let’s go. Your mother is right, and I can’t wait to begin our life together.”

He took her to the car his father had given him, powerful and imposing in the narrow street of her house. He opened the door for her, and after giving one last goodbye kiss to her mother, father and best friend, she got into the car in the backseat, and Torrin slipped at her side while she straightened the skirts of the dress she had chosen for the trip to their new house in the woods, one that was much more comfortable than the bridal one she had worn in the morning or the other that she had worn in the afternoon for the party.

Torrin took her hand as the driver that his father had hired started the car and headed for Main Street. He hadn’t even finished the turn when Johanna saw the ocean of people that had gathered to see them. The driver drove slowly, and Torrin lowered his window to wave goodbye at the people. Following his lead, Johanna lowered hers too and put her best smile on her face, waving at friends, family, former classmates and even complete strangers.

They yelled and cheered in happiness, but all noise seemed to disappear and time seemed to slow down as Johanna caught a pair of grey eyes in the crowd. It was so fast. Not after five seconds, the car had already moved enough that she couldn’t see her anymore, so she shouldn’t have noticed that she had been clutching her faded purple cardigan tighter around herself, apparently trying to look smaller. She shouldn’t have noticed that her mouth was closed into a tight line, a clear effort to hold back emotion. And she most certainly shouldn’t have noticed that the woman’s cold, grey eyes were filled with unshed tears.

Johanna had been paralyzed after that. Her hand stilled in the air and her gaze was redeemed unable to focus on any other person in the street; she only came back to herself once the car had crossed the town’s gates. Closing her window and her eyes, she took a deep, fortifying breath. Past. Maven was in the past. She was a mistake that Johanna wouldn’t commit again. Their friendship had been relatively harmless, but she’d stepped over a line when she took advantage of their closeness and Johanna’s confusion to turn their relationship into something more. Yes, she told herself. That’s what had happened.

But then why did she have to be at the Main Street to see her one last time, and why did she have to look so forlorn?

“Hey, Earth to Johanna.” Her husband’s voice took her out of her reverie, and she looked away from her hands in her lap and at his smiling face beside her. “Are you alright?”

She made herself smile. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

At her affirmation, he leaned towards her, and she closed the distance between them, making their lips touch. Johanna shut her eyes and forced herself to focus solely on him. This was her fairy tale, her happy ending, and there was no place for Maven in it.

But even though she kept telling this to herself, over and over, she never quite believed it.

_#_#_#_

Maven was feeling slightly better when she went back home in the beginning of the afternoon. Not that her heart had stopped aching - it hadn’t since years ago, and that wasn’t going to change in just a few hours - but her job had actually taken the edge off of her pain.

Her mother used to say that, if being amongst books, trees, or family didn’t help, then it was a very serious problem. At least the book part seemed to have worked, but now she was coming back home, and would have to once again face the source of her pain.

Except she didn’t have to, in the end.

When she arrived home that day, Johanna was absent, her purse gone along with Hilda’s stroller, but the rest of her things were left untouched. On the kitchen counter, there was a small piece of paper with Johanna’s clear, D’Nealian handwriting that said “I went to my parents’. Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Well, Maven thought, I should expect her return to be town gossip by the time I come back. She hoped Johanna knew what she was doing. Her parents loved her, Maven was sure of it (or at least she liked to believe they did), but they weren’t the most sensible people in town. Johanna truly needed their support, and Maven was not sure that this is what she’d receive.

You tried to support her, remember? That same, terrible voice from earlier spoke in the back of her mind. And she turned her back to you. It would serve her well…

The librarian groaned. It would do no good to begrudge someone she was currently trying to help, but apparently she couldn’t help it. There had always been a darker part of her that told her that Johanna’s friendship, and then her love, was too good to be true. That it would crumble down, leave her broken, leave her hollow.

And now that it was proven right, it just wouldn’t leave her alone.

But she was a college student, she didn’t have time to spare with emotional crap. So she sent those thoughts to the back of her mind, where she could as easily take them from when she had the time to actually reflect upon them, and grabbed a few ingredients from the refrigerator. Spreading them over the counter, she hastily put up a ham and cheese sandwich, and began eating as she climbed up the stairs with her bag on her shoulders.

Once in her room, she found the material she’d need for the rest of her day and put it in the bag, closing the buckle on the leather strap. She had barely finished eating when she ran to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, used the toilet, and grabbed a comb that she could use while she ran to the train station.

When she arrived, her train was already waiting for her, so she got in and waited for the doors to close. The train was blessedly empty, as it usually was, and she was able to pick a booth with a table between the two sets of chairs. If an actual group of four arrived, there were other empty booths, so she felt no restrictions when she opened her bag and took out one of her textbooks and a pencil. Her next lecture would begin in 45 minutes, and she would like to make good use of the time it would take to get there.

Soon enough, the doors closed, the train started moving, and the raven haired girl tried to allow her mind to be taken over by the safe normality of her routine, though some of her ghosts just wouldn’t leave her alone.

_#_#_#_

She had run to Main Street in a haze, and now that she was there, her mind was still clouded over. She couldn’t recognize anyone in the small crowd that had gathered, though logically she knew that she had probably seen everyone there at least once. The noises and colours around her were all just a blur of activity, and she couldn’t tell if that was psychological or if she was running out of oxygen from the running.

As minutes passed and she was still waiting there, doing her best to ignore the judgemental whispers and looks the people around her were giving her, she realized that yes, it was psychological. She drew her cardigan tighter around herself, a futile effort to close herself off from the world around her. Her eyes began stinging and she closed them so as not to allow any tear to break free. A Sunday evening and here she was, pining for one last glimpse of her ex. She was truly pathetic, she thought. She should be stronger than this.

But she really, truly wasn’t stronger then this, and the proof of this is that she readily opened her eyes when the people around her began cheering and the sound of a car engine could also be heard. Though her surroundings remained a blur, Maven could see her clearly. She focused on the way her brown eyes skimmed the crowd for acquaintances, shining like melting honey when they caught a beam of light, her short curly hair flowing with the wind. She hungrily drank down her image, committing it to memory, because she was certain she wouldn’t see more of that woman for a long time.

And then their eyes met. For the most terrifying, wonderful second, their eyes met. The happiness that ought to have been in her eyes before wasn’t there anymore, and Maven was certain it was her fault. Of course it was. Who would like to see their ex after their marriage? Her lips stopped smiling, turning into a shocked expression instead. Her hand stilled in the air, too surprised to wave at those people any longer. Maven repeatedly slapped herself mentally. Her simple presence there had ruined their parting celebration.

This is why you’re meant to be alone, a voice inside her mind told her. And it was right. Johanna was a princess, good and strong and loved by all. She deserved her ending with her brave knight, even if Maven wasn’t at all sure about said knight’s morals.

But Johanna was a good character judge, so if she trusted him, shouldn’t Maven too? And now, she had disturbed this gift from the town to them. She had intruded on their happy ending; made the princess feel on edge, she had seen it in her eyes.

Maven sighed and began walking away as the rest of the crowd dispersed. If she had understood this since the beginning, she would have spared herself so much pain.

She was the witch. And there was no room for the witch in the princess’s happy ending.

_#_#_#_

Each night the sight of her front door got more and more alluring. But that was probably because each night Maven got more and more tired, and honestly all she wanted was to do the assignments she absolutely had to, have a bath and go to sleep.

But as fate would have it, she couldn’t do that! After all, Johanna was staying with her and she’d probably have to, once again, face the feelings she’d tried for years to quench down to no avail.

The first thing she did upon entering the house was head to the cupboard and take a package of biscuits out of it. She was starving, but she had no energy to prepare anything to eat. The second was wonder where could Johanna be. She didn’t know if she wanted the woman to be back or not. If she was, that meant more emotional labor for her. But if she wasn’t, Maven would probably be too worried about her to sleep that night.

Dropping her bag on the sofa, she headed to the most obvious room in which to look at first: the room she had allowed Johanna to stay at. As she walked down the corridor, the sound of her crunching the biscuit drowned down the other noise that was reverberating through the corridor, but as she got closer, it got too strong not to hear.

Johanna’s sniffles startled Maven, making her reactionless for a moment before she bolted forward, easily opening the unlocked door and worryingly looking around the room. She found her friend on top of the bed, curled into a ball with her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with every deep breath she took, and only after a moment did she raise her head to look at the intruder.

Looking at Johanna’s red skin and miserable hair, she thought that her parents would need a damn good excuse if they didn’t want Maven to curse them.

#fic: tmwm #sketchbook ship hilda #hilda fanfic #hilda librarian #hilda librarian fanfic #hilda´s mum #hilda johanna #hilda johanna fanfic

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princess-in-a-tower · 7 years ago

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Sansa’s “Beauty and the Beast” Arc, Part 1

GRRM has drawn inspiration for ASoIaF from various other works of fiction as well as historical events. The Lord of the Rings and the War of the Roses are two prominent examples. Not far behind those two big ones though is another story, which happens to be one of the author’s favorites: Beauty and the Beast.

Sidenote 1: For those of you who have not watched the following two versions of Beauty and the Beast, I suggest you at least read their summaries before continuing reading this meta.

La Belle et la Bête (1946)

Beauty and the Beast (1991)

Beauty and the Beast is a fairytale that has heavily influenced Sansa’s arc. Many have commented on the Beauty and the Beast theme in Sansa’s arc before me, and yet no one to my knowledge actually took a step back to look at the bigger picture GRRM has painted. The picture which makes it clear that the outline of Sansa’s story, stripped to its bare bones, is following faithfully the one of Beauty in Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast.

Sidenote 2: Even though GRRM holds Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast in high esteem, I believe he is also critical of it to a degree and subverts the plot points he would like to “fix” (for whatever reason), while at the same time taking care to remain as faithful as possible to the original story. This of course is just my own observation while composing this meta, but GRRM’s own words support it, since he admitted:

Ruling is hard. This was maybe my answer to Tolkien, whom, as much as I admire him, I do quibble with. Lord of the Rings had a very medieval philosophy: that if the king was a good man, the land would prosper. We look at real history and it's not that simple.

George R.R. Martin: The Rolling Stone Interview, April 23, 2014

Sidenote 3: This meta series is in no way a shipping manifesto, but rather a critical in-depth analysis of the ASOIAF text in relation to Cocteau’s “Beauty and the Beast” adaptation. As a result it ended up being extremely critical of ships like Sansa x Sandor and Sansa x Tyrion , because they, in no way, parallel the dynamic between Beauty and the Beast, but rather juxtapose it, as will be demonstrated in the following parts of this meta series. If you like those ships and still decide to read on, please remember that you have been warned.

In the very beginning of her story in AGOT it would have been impossible to guess Sansa would become asoiaf’s most prominent “Beauty” figure, mainly due to the fact that GRRM went to great pains to present her like an “evil step-sister” to Arya’s “heroine”.

When we are introduced to Sansa in Arya’s first POV chapter, and even later in her own first POV chapter, on a surface level she comes off as bratty, spoilt, superficial and snobbish. In other words, she is presented to us in a way that makes her look similar to Beauty’s step-sisters:

Beauty lives in the country with her father, a 17th-century merchant who has lost all his money; her brother, Ludovic, whose only interests are drinking and gambling; and her two sisters, Felicie and Adelaide, who are motivated entirely by spite, selfishness and vanity.

La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) script

Not only that, but it can be argued that Sansa was Ned’s least favorite daughter with Arya as his favorite (proof of that can be found in the following series of metas: Ned, Sansa and Joffrey Part I, Part II, Part III) and it’s not a secret that Sansa looked forward to leaving her father and his protection for that of her husband’s. All of that links Sansa to Felicie and Adelaide and Arya to Beauty, as you can see in the following quotes:

BEAUTY: That wasn't the first time [Avenant has] asked me to marry him since we lost all our money.

THE MERCHANT (to Beauty): So you want to leave me.

BEAUTY: No, father, I'll never leave you.

[…]

THE MERCHANT: They're real little devils, aren’t they? Let them sulk; I'll soon console them. Tomorrow morning I'll go to the port to see to my business. Then one can marry a duke and the other a prince!

La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) script

Another interesting scene is when Sansa wishes to join the queen in the royal wheelhouse, and Arya chooses to get her hands dirty instead:

"You better put on something pretty," Sansa told her. "Septa Mordane said so. We're traveling in the queen's wheelhouse with Princess Myrcella today."

"I'm not," Arya said, trying to brush a tangle out of Nymeria's matted grey fur. "Mycah and I are going to ride upstream and look for rubies at the ford."

A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

This echoes how Adelaide and Felicie wanted to attend the concert at the duchess’ court in the beginning of the film, while Beauty stays back and does chores around the house.

FELICIE(shouting): Beauty, you can wash the floor. We'll be late for the duchess.

La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) script

The parallel here is anything but perfect, considering Sansa genuinely wanted Arya to join her in the royal wheelhouse and repeatedly tried to convince her to do so, unlike Beauty’s sisters, who wanted her to be their servant. That is because, as I said above, GRRM made both Sansa and Arya a mix of Beauty and her two “evil” sisters.

What actually makes the above parallel interesting and layered is exactly this mixing. Once you consider that it was Beauty and Sansa who chose to stay back and do what was right/expected of them (which are two vastly different things for each girl because Beauty is a commoner and Sansa is a noble maiden), while Arya and Beauty’s sisters decided to run off and do something more or less selfish for their own pleasure (which again are two anti-diametrical things for the same reason as above).

To wrap up this parallel between Sansa and Beauty’s sister, we see that she never got to ride with the queen:

“Sansa, the good councilors and I must speak together until the king returns with your father. I fear we shall have to postpone your day with Myrcella. Please give your sweet sister my apologies. Joffrey, perhaps you would be so kind as to entertain our guest today.”

A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

Just like Felicie and Adelaide never got to attend the concert

FELICIE: We were told that the duchess was not receiving, though the court rang with laughter and music.

La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) script

Another thing that makes the connection between Sansa and Beauty more pronounced is the introduction of an “Avenant” figure, who is of course Joffrey: the blonde, dashing suitor with a not so hidden affinity for violence and an all around terrible character, with whom Sansa got to spend a whole lot of alone time in her first chapter. Unlike Beauty though, Sansa (and her father) accepts his marriage proposal and delights in spending time with him.

As we can see, by the end of Sansa’s first chapter, GRRM has established both similarities and differences between Sansa and Beauty. In my opinion GRRM decided to keep the core of Beauty’s character intact in Sansa (dutiful, kind, gentle, protective and romantic) and make her work towards the rest. That was accomplished by giving her some “undesirable” traits shared by Beauty’s sisters, which she would shed in later books through her negative experiences that would in turn result in positive character development.

From here on things only get more complicated, because, as I mentioned in the beginning, GRRM liberally subverts the things he disagrees with in Cocteau’s story. Not only that, but he uses a plethora of characters as stand-ins for Sansa’s “Beast” to move the story forward, all of them his foils in different ways each.

They all have one thing in common though, which establishes them as the Beast’s foils: They don’t care about Sansa’s consent. And the fact that men like Sandor Clegane and Tyrion Lannister could have taken more from Sansa but didn’t in the end, doesn't undo the abuse or lack of agency that Sansa suffers in those situations they put her into.

The most powerful force in Beauty and the Beast isn't magic, or even love, but consent. Most retellings of Villeneuve's version are careful to keep it. The Beast is clear that Beauty must know what she's getting into. (In Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch's 1910 version, it's still more explicit: The Beast warns Beauty's father to "be honest with your daughter. Describe me to her just as I am. Let her be free to choose whether she will come or no...") Later, the Beast asks Beauty herself if she comes willingly. And that first dinner is marked by the Beast's deference to her wishes. Beauty's earliest surprise is how much power she wields. Even in his nightly request that Beauty marry him, he defers. Andrew Lang emphasized the power dynamics in 1889's Blue Fairy Book:

"Oh! What shall I say?" cried Beauty, for she was afraid to make the Beast angry by refusing.

"Say 'yes' or 'no' without fear," he replied.

"Oh! No, Beast," said Beauty hastily

"Since you will not, good-night, Beauty," he said.

And she answered, "Good-night, Beast," very glad to find that her refusal had not provoked him.

Lang was one of many who used marriage proposals for the nightly request (Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont's 1756 retelling was the first), but Villeneuve was under no illusions about the story's undertones. In her original, Beast asks Beauty to sleep with him. Beauty's power is the ability to withhold sexual consent.

Beauty doesn't admit love for the Beast until after he releases her (which permits her to rejoin him on her own terms). But this regard for her will is what first softens Beauty's heart. The story's not just reminding young women to look beyond appearance but reminding young men how to conduct themselves. Fairy-tale scholar Jack Zipes outlines the story's social mandate in Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion: "The mark of beauty for a female is to be found in her submission, obedience, humility, industry, and patience; the mark of manliness is to be found in a man's self-control, politeness, reason, and perseverance."

Disney takes that out, and the story becomes significantly darker. Besides their rocky introduction, he punishes her for refusing to eat with him ("If she doesn't eat with me," he bellows, "then she doesn't eat at all!") and physically threatens her. His temper must be tamed before he can love or be loved—that, not his appearance, is the barrier. It's a decided departure from the courtly Beast, and Beauty's now required to forgive his outbursts before friendship can begin—an additional emotional burden. In this, Disney's more akin to 1978 Czech horror Panna a netvor (in which the Beast barely curbs his appetites and Beauty's drawn to him only through loneliness) than it is to the dreamlike tension of Jean Cocteau.

[...]

But Disney's retelling doesn't acknowledge its darkness. Covering threats with musical numbers doesn't count as exploration of subtext. This wasn't the first Beauty and the Beast adaptation to feature a Beast with rough edges, either; a story centered on power dynamics in relationships will shift to include contemporary concerns. But Disney's retelling asks Beauty to forgive abusive behavior, both ignoring the sovereignty of her consent and erasing the Beast's own obligations. And it's such an influential retelling, it's affected how the archetype has applied. By now, the label of a Beauty and the Beast story applies as much to a relationship in which the woman's love "tames" the man as it does to one about looking beyond appearances. (The CW's recent Beauty and the Beast updated the 1987 series(*) but replaced the scholarly, leonine hero with a handsome man with uncontrollable bursts of violent anger; these abusive undertones are the new beastliness. These days, Beauty is trapped in the Beast's S&M penthouse, and his understanding of consent is decidedly murky.)

How Disney's 'Beauty and the Beast' Became the Darkest Tale of All

(*) The 1987 series with the scholarly leonine hero mentioned above is the CBS TV adaptation, which was written amongst others by GRRM himself.

The above article was written in order to criticize the dark retelling of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast”, but I believe that everything that has been said there about Disney’s version could also be said for Sansa’s “Beauty and the Beast” arc in ASOIAF up until ASOS. And everything that’s been written about the audience’s faulty perception of the archetype can be applied to the readers of ASOIAF as well.

Beauty’s consent is of paramount importance in the original Beauty and the Beast fairytale written by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villenueve, which is something both Cocteau’s film and the CBS TV adaptation stayed true to. And yet, the men who took on the Beast’s role in Sansa’s storyline showed minimal to no respect towards her wishes and an equal amount of concern for her lack of consent. On the contrary, they all used and abused her, each of them in their own way, behaving more like villains than romantic interests. And that is because those men serving as the Beast’s foils are meant to be viewed as villains and not romantic interests, which can be supported by the words of the author himself:

Amazon.com: Do you have a favorite character?

Martin: I've got to admit I kind of like Tyrion Lannister. He's the villain of course, but hey, there's nothing like a good villain.

George RR Martin, Amazon.com, 1999

Martin: I am sometimes surprised by the reactions of women in particular to some of the villains. [unintelligible] Over the years who have written me that their favorite characters are Jaime Lannister, or Sandor Clegane the Hound, or Theon Greyjoy, you know. All of these are deeply troubled individuals with some very dark sides who have done some very dark things.

George RR Martin, interview with Geek and Sundry, June 2012

Commenter 1: Oh please don't cast an old guy for the Hound, his scenes with Sansa are so romantic and erotic, I couldn't bear if it'd feel creepy all of a sudden. Well, that's me making demands. LOL

Martin: Old guy? No, but... the Hound is still a whole lot older than Sansa, and was never written as attractive... you know, those hideous burns and all that... he's a lot more dangerous than he is romantic.

[...]

Commenter 2: LOL, you're such a man. To many of us women, dangerous *is* attractive.

Martin: But no one has any love for poor old Sam Tarly, kind and smart and decent and devoted…

Comments on GRRM’s Not A Blog, August 2009

But why would GRRM decide to change his Beast from the kind and decent Beast archetype into the obviously much more problematic and villainous new one when he started writing AGOT in 1991, just one year after the CBS TV adaptation ended? Considering that 1991 was the year Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” came out and that one of GRRM’s favorite movies is Cocteau’s “Beauty and the Beast”, I believe it’s not that far-fetched to assume this change can be attributed to the author’s discontent with Disney’s adaptation.

In my opinion, the subversion of the “Beauty and the Beast” trope in Sansa’s arc is the author’s in-text critique of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast”. By having the Beast figures in Sansa’s arc be dark, abusive and villainous, GRRM wished to showcase how the new “Beauty and the Beast” trope, where Beauty is required to forgive the Beast’s abusive behavior and “tame” him with her gentleness, should not be romanticized, because, in real life, Beauty not only won’t be able to tame the Beast, but she also shouldn’t be required to.

So in away, I believe he is deconstructing this very dark and problematic version of the trope in order to reinvent the original one. And for the deconstruction part he needs foils, but for the reconstruction he needs the actual Beast. And there are foils of the Beast aplenty in ASOIAF, but only one Beast.

The first foil of the Beast will be discussed in the second part of this meta series.

Special thanks to @kellyvela and @lostlittlesatellites for their help in the writing of this meta with their invaluable input and constant support.

EDIT: The rest of the series can be found in the following links part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

#sansa stark #beauty and the beast trope #sansa stark meta #asoiaf meta #asoiaf and beauty and the beast #jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa meta #jonsa book meta #princess speaks

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ehyde · 7 years ago

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A Void Between Two Stars

Chapter 3

Fandom: Akatsuki no Yona Series: Alien Larp AU Wordcount: 8253 (so far), projected to be about 25k total Characters: Suwon, Judo, Keishuk, Minsu, Zeno, Kyoga, Yonhi, misc OCs Ships: there are several spaceships

The latest installment of my sci-fi au, in which Suwon is an AI leading Kouka in a rebellion against his former extraterrestrial masters. When the connection between the AI and its human host is severed, Suwon–both of them–must learn to live as only half of himself, while Judo faces the challenge of trying to figure out which one, man or machine, is truly his king.

For more info about the AU and other works in the series, check out the series masterpost. Thank you to @greymantleish for beta reading!

Keep reading below the cut or read from the beginning on AO3.

He didn’t sleep again that night. Or perhaps he did, unknowing—it felt like too little time passed, but this body could not keep accurate time, after all...at any rate, he was awake when dawn broke and a servant brought the morning meal he customarily took alone.

All through the night, Won—easier to think of himself as Won than Suwon while he wasn’t fully himself—had searched for a solution to his problem, and still it eluded him. His mind kept turning to other worries. Normally, of course, he could think through whatever caught his fancy, but a human brain could only do so much. He didn’t have time to wonder when or if he could have opened up to Minsu, to wonder if Judo was resting as ordered. Those weren’t priorities...were they? He certainly didn’t have time to worry about the headache that had never quite faded away, or what it might mean. It shouldn’t be like this. With such a limited, human brain, shouldn’t not thinking about things be easier?

He needed his power core. That was his priority. It was out there, and he had hostages...it should be so simple!

“Your Majesty?” Minsu’s voice and a tap at the door greeted him. “You have a...very strange visitor. I should probably turn someone like this away, but…” He paused. Won opened the door so that he could come inside and speak in private. “He says he came on behalf of Princess Yona.”

Princess Yona, who had been in orbit in a ship of her own. It wouldn’t be impossible to land without computer guidance, and if she had, that meant there was a ship within reach. “Show him in,” Won commanded.

“Yes, sir. You’ll be ready by then?” Ready? Belatedly, he realized he hadn’t changed out of his sleeping clothes. “Though he was nearly naked when he arrived, so it hardly matters in this case,” Minsu muttered as he bowed and left the room.

Image did matter, though. Won knew that. Even if he wasn’t truly Suwon, even if his visitor had arrived at the palace...wait, naked? That made no sense. He spent so long trying to puzzle that out that when Minsu returned, he still wore only one layer of his robes. His guest, Yona’s yellow-haired companion, wore a tunic identical to Minsu’s, and might look less out of place than Won did at the moment.

“Ah, it’s been a few decades since Zeno’s worn this uniform! Thanks, lad! Now the boy won’t scold Zeno!” With that, Minsu departed once again.

“Ouryuu,” Won greeted the dragon with a nod.

“Hi, Mister Compu—” Ouryuu stopped. Stared. “Ah, you’re not! I suppose Zeno has to call you big brother king then!”

There was something about Ouryuu he knew, something important. What was it? “Ah, and Mister Computer was supposed to have a long life, too. It’s too bad!”

“I’m not dead,” Won said sharply. “Ouryuu, why are you here?”

“Oh! It seemed important. Zeno wanted to find out what was going on. See, Seiryuu noticed a big ship that was trying to hide. It was taking Mister Computer’s eyes and Seiryuu didn’t like that.” He looked into Won’s eyes. “Neither did the miss. So, it’s a good thing Ryokuryuu had practice being a pirate!”

“You...stopped them?”

“Well, mostly. But our ship got damaged so we had to take theirs and then one of them escaped in their little ship, and it turns out the big one can’t land, and even though most of the metal boxes are still there, we couldn’t talk to anyone. So Zeno decided the best way to find out what was going on was to come down here and ask.”

“...without a landing craft.”

“Ah, Zeno jumped!” He laughed. “Zeno thought it would just be like falling a really long way…”

“Instead, you became a shooting star.” Ah, yes, that was what he’d forgotten about Ouryuu. Useful. “Did it hurt?” he heard himself asking. A pointless question. He didn’t have time for pointless questions.

“Zeno’s fine now! Although, Zeno’s really hungry! Big brother king won’t mind—?” He reached for a bun from Won’s untouched breakfast plate.

“Communications are down,” Won said. “How are you going to report back?”

“Oh, if Zeno writes a letter really big and goes up to the roof of the castle, then Seiryuu can read it!”

“That’s…”

“Well, Seiryuu can copy it for the lad to read. Seiryuu’s still learning!” No, that wasn’t the piece that shouldn’t be possible. Though no more impossible than for Ouryuu to survive falling to earth from orbit without even a suit. “Seeing you gives Zeno most of the answers he needs already,” said Ouryuu. “Ah, Zeno’s glad Mister Computer will be okay! But,” he added, “I’m glad I was able to speak to you, too.”

Won was glad, too. More than glad. Ouryuu’s story, disjointed as it was, had given him hope again. His satellites weren’t gone. His enemies had been subdued. He should probably thank Yona...ah, no, she wouldn’t want to hear that. He remembered that now, too. “The landing craft,” Won said. The final piece he needed to formulate a plan. “When it got away—did it land?”

“Yep,” said Zeno. “If you find it, give Zeno a ride back, ok?”

Won nodded. He could do it now, he was sure of it. He finally reached for the cup of tea that sat waiting for him, long since cold, and then pressed his fingers against his skull, trying to ignore the still-aching pain. He would be himself again. He would.

Judo did, finally, sleep. He woke at dawn and went to the training grounds, as was his custom. But the king had been right—one side of his body was stiff and sore, protesting with every step he took. Luckily, he wasn't here to practice his usual sword katas.

He usually avoided training with his own blast rays. Even after seeing them in action—feeling them in action, now—they just didn’t feel like weapons in his hands. But now, with who knew what future waiting for them, he had to be ready.

And...they didn’t work. “Damn!” he shouted, drawing a few startled glances from the few soldiers training this early. It really did get everything, didn’t it? The attackers last night, they’d had nearly identical weapons. The prison guards must have put them somewhere—but now the flow of his training was ruined. He fell back into his sword katas with a scowl on his face, and after one stumble too many, finally had to admit that he was getting absolutely nothing out of this.

As he stomped back to his office, he met the king coming from the opposite direction. “General Judo, there you are.” Suwon looked every inch his normal, confident self—the only thing out of place in the picture before him was the black-feathered Keishuk at the king’s side. Judo couldn’t tell if the fact that the aven still wore his normal clothing made him look more or less alien—he’d cut off the sleeves of his robes, but the long winglike feathers on his arms had nearly the same effect, and everything else, up to his now-functionless hairpiece, remained the same.“Come with me. We have work to do.”

Thank god. “You have a plan.”

Suwon nodded. “Our prisoner can give us everything we need.” Judo’s heart began to sink. After last night, he wasn’t so sure about that. “Just follow my lead.” He handed Judo a translator as they approached the prison cells, and Judo noted that he did not don one himself. That was a good sign, right? Whatever knowledge he’d lost, it wasn’t everything. Maybe this could work. Computer or not, Suwon seemed like himself again, and Judo trusted that whatever he had in mind, he could pull it off.

The lead aven—Judo still hadn’t learned their name, and didn’t intend to—was a mess. Their feathers were dirty and bent out of shape, and bloody bandages covered more than just their wrist. Suwon shot a glance at Judo, who shook his head. He hadn’t left them like this—but the palace guards did not look kindly on would-be assassins, let alone those who were monsters.

“You!” the aven growled as Judo, Suwon, and Keishuk stepped into the dim candlelight. “This is barbaric! When the Company hears how we’ve been treated—”

“Yes,” said Suwon before Judo could speak. “I should have done more to ensure you received proper care. I was not myself last night,” he added. “As you are well aware.”

“If this is an apology, then why is that here?”

“I did not come here to apologize. I came here because you’re still useful to me. And General Judo is here because you know exactly what he is capable of doing to you if necessary.”

“What makes you think—”

“You want to leave here, don’t you?” Judo frowned. Just what was Suwon planning? “I want to send a message to the Company. But you’ve taken my satellites, and my agents’ ships—” all two of them, but the aven didn’t need to know that— “are out of reach. I will allow to return to your landing craft, go back to your people and seek medical treatment, if you deliver a message for me.”

“Computer!” Keishuk protested. It seemed that he didn’t like the sound of this any more than Judo did. “After what they tried, you can’t possibly expect them to help you! You’re not operating at full capacity—” As Keishuk spoke, the aven prisoner seemed to grow more confident—and that was when Judo knew that Suwon’s plan, whatever it was, was going to succeed.

“I’m keeping your guards here as hostages,” Suwon continued, ignoring Keishuk’s objections. “You must have planned on a location to meet your landing craft. Summon it, and I will escort you there.”

“...why not confiscate my ship and send one of your own people?” the prisoner asked.

“What people?” Suwon asked. “This isn’t something a human can do, no matter how much knowledge I’ve given them. And I need Keishuk here. Warn your friends, of course, if you’re worried about that.” A ridiculous concern, his tone said, and the aven seemed to agree.

“I’ll do it,” the prisoner said. Quick to agree—they thought they were getting the best of the situation, and Judo still couldn’t see how they weren’t. But whatever Suwon’s plan was, the aven was playing right into it. “My hand,” the prisoner demanded. “You kept my hand, didn’t you? On ice?” Judo gaped at them. They’d really been serious about aven doctors sewing it back on!

“...oh,” said Suwon. “I wasn’t thinking clearly yesterday. You understand.”

Even after this, the aven tried to push their luck, asking Suwon to simply let them go rather than escort them to the landing site. But when Judo reminded them that it was for their own protection—that any off-duty soldier who saw a monster wandering free might not hesitate to take their head—they shuddered and didn’t ask again. Keishuk shuddered, too. Suwon allowed the aven to send a brief message via one of the confiscated communicators—no conversation, of course—and then, reluctantly, the aven agreed to lead Suwon to the landing site.

A military cart carried them high into the mountains above the castle, but they had to abandon the cart and travel the last hour on foot. Judo rethought his earlier caution—no one, soldier or otherwise, would have stumbled across them by accident out here. The forest shade scattered the day’s bright sunlight, and Judo almost mistook the shimmering metal hull of the ship for a mountain stream. The only other space-ship he’d seen was the one belonging to Lady Lili’s companions, and this was much smaller.

As the ship came into view, the gleam in their prisoner’s eye was impossible to miss. Judo almost pitied the other aven guards, who they undoubtedly planned to abandon—almost. Then the door of the ship slid open. The monster standing inside was not aven—it was some sort of furred beast, with ears like a cat. Was there no end to them? “Arouk!” cried the monster. “Thank the balance you came. The natives, they had some weapon—they took the carrier—I’m the only one who…” She trailed off, ears twitching in confusion, as she registered the others who had met the ship. “Arouk. What—?”

The aven spun around to face Suwon, feathers flaring in outrage. “You—you knew! You tricked me!”

The cat-creature drew a weapon and fired, but Judo dodged it in time. He didn’t know what sort of force the aven—Arouk—had expected to find waiting for him, but one creature was easy to subdue. He took her weapon and bound her wrists. “We’ll take the shuttle back to the palace,” said Suwon. “Keishuk, can you pilot?” With a nod, Keishuk stepped inside, then Suwon and Judo led their two prisoners before them.

Outside, the ship had seemed to be made of solid metal. From inside, nearly half of it was transparent. Judo had known of ships like this for half a year. He’d never been inside one, let alone flown...but he could marvel at the novelty sometime when he didn’t have prisoners to guard. “So you were toying with me?” Arouk asked. “What you said before is still true, you know. There’s no one you can spare to use the ship.”

“This shuttle is what carries your pulse weapon, is it not?” Arouk stubbornly didn’t budge, but the other prisoner nodded. “Once I learned you used it for multiple attacks, on the satellites too, well—its power source is exactly what I need.”

“But—your message—”

“Oh, I think my message will be quite clear,” said Suwon. “Don’t you?” He looked from Judo to Keishuk, then stared out the wide window at the earth below. “I’m sorry for including you in the deception. Every time I tried to put it into words, the plan fell apart in my head. This human mind is still…”

“This—” the new prisoner began with a start. “This is the AI?”

“He’s not the AI!” Arouk spoke to the new prisoner, but looked directly at Suwon. “He’s an infuriating human who thinks he’s the AI. I don’t know why you’re doing this,” he continued. “Powering up the computer won’t make you part of it again. Your nanobots are dead. You have to know that. You should be happy you’re free.”

“Enough.” One word from Suwon was all it took to silence them. Judo stared at Suwon. Free? He wouldn’t question his king in front of their prisoners—but there were suddenly so many things he needed to ask.

“Your Majesty—”

“We shouldn’t keep them in the dungeons indefinitely,” said Suwon as he, Keishuk, and Judo left their two prisoners with the palace guard. Onlookers—courtiers and soldiers alike—crowded the courtyard, staring at the ship in awe. Even after Lili and several other aven tourists had spoken publicly, the rumors of the monsters’ near-magical technology had been met with doubt. Well, here was their proof. “Every offworlder is an important prisoner. Perhaps an estate near the city…”

“Your Majesty—”

“Ah, yes, Keishuk, I trust you to handle the reboot. Some of these soldiers can help you dismount and move the power source.” They’d already left the courtyard behind, but he gestured as if the soldiers were still right behind him. “Oh. I don’t...I’ve forgotten the name of the craftsman who can help you with my circuitry. I…”

“Minsu can look that up, computer,” said Keishuk. “While I admit that level of detailed soldering and wirework is beyond me—just what were you planning to tell the man? The work has to be done in your chamber.”

“Ah…” Suwon paused, then brightened. “Minsu knows enough to explain what’s needed.”

“No, he does not,” Keishuk countered. “He doesn’t know—”

“He is not to know that it’s me!” said Suwon sharply. “But he knows enough to explain you. Tell him...tell him whatever seems fitting.” Keishuk sighed. “If you go into the city, I suggest you wear a cloak,” he added, unhelpfully.

Keishuk looked as if he wanted to speak again, but he only sighed, turned, and left. Whispers followed him. Rumor must have spread through the palace—it seemed everyone knew who he was, even if they watched him with suspicion.

“Now, Your Majesty—”

“Until Keishuk is ready, I have several mundane tasks to take care of. I’m going to my room now; you need not follow.”

Dammit, the king was definitely avoiding the subject on purpose. “Your Majesty, are you going to address what just happened, or not?”

“We got the power source we needed. I don’t know what else there is to discuss.”

“Dammit, Your Majesty, are you going to be yourself again or aren’t you?”

They were near the king’s chamber, now. Alone. Suwon slumped to the floor. “I don’t know,” he said. “My nanobots are fragile. If the pulse hit them...but we weren’t in the castle. We were in Kuuto. It isn’t certain—” He lifted a hand to massage his temple as he spoke, and Judo remembered the screaming pain in Suwon’s head. Uncertain, is it? “But I’ll be functional again soon. I’ll be myself. Whether or not I can reconnect to this body, I’ll still need it to act as king, so…”

But you are this body. The computer was still offline. Everything the king had done over the past day had been just this body. Of course he was— “What did that aven mean by “free?” Judo asked sharply.

“Find out what equipment Keishuk needed from the university,” said Suwon, ignoring the question. “You can ride out to get it.”

“Your Majesty—”

Suwon stood up, straightened his robes, and looked Judo in the eye. “Go,” he repeated.

And because Judo knew that the man before him was still his king, he left.

#akatsuki no yona #alien larp au #my fic

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