#Blaze is also clean but just because she's part of Silver's mind so he imagines her being that clean

[deadnymaster]

Nah, he licks himself every morning, that's why he's so clean and resistant to the amount of viruses of the past that got extint on the future :v

I was wondering how Silver could look so clean despite living in Crisis City. Maybe that aura keeps him clean? Is that one of his powers?

and then I realized something.

Silver can control things on a molecular level.

Silver's Shield of Light lets him bend literal light. That is photons, Subatomic Particles that he can manipulate with his powers.

So if Silver can clean himself with his powers on a molecular level then he might actually be the single cleanest living thing on earth despite living in the dirtiest environment.

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Nessian multichapter fic)

Chapter 19 - Nesta

This is too long for Tumblr, so read part of it below but all of it on A03.

Emerald blazed threateningly in the dark forest and Nesta’s stomach lurched.

She wanted to snap at Cassian to move — to do something to stop the Illyrian from firing his arrows — but he remained fixed in place, his siphons winking but unused, as if he were out of power. He was still holding Nesta behind him, his grip tight around her arm. And Nesta knew, as surely as breathing, that he would do anything to make sure that she remained unharmed — even if he had yet to move a muscle.

Slowly, Cassian held up his other hand in surrender. Again, the siphon on the finger straps of his leathers flashed through the darkening forest.

“It’s me, Lorrian.”

Hard hazel eyes scanned over them both and Nesta watched them flicker in recognition as they settled on Cassian.

With an angry growl, the Illyrian lowered his bow. His wings flared before they retracted back in again, the same way Cassian’s did when he was pissed off.

“You couldn’t have just warned us of your arrival in your usual fashion, you stupid prick? What the fuck happened to you?”

The males voice was bass and sonorous. It bounced off the trees and rattled through Nesta in a way that made her bones feel brittle. She watched those sharp eyes flit around the dell. His expression turned grim as he took in the charcoaled and bloody remains.

“Fucking kerits, that’s what,” Cassian snapped. “A whole pack of them. Since when do they come this far down from the mountains? We nearly died.”

The males expression turned grim. He kicked at a severed head and Nesta watched it roll into the foliage, tongue still pink and lolling. “I’ve never seen them down here before. What was that silver streak? It looked like fire. It shook the perimeter like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I thought the house was going to come down.”

“That was Nesta,” Cassian explained shortly. “We were trying to get to safety. I thought her magic might pierce through Frawley’s magic. Instead, it felt like a cannon had gone off. It scared off the rest of the kerits and threw me into a boulder.”

Wincing, Cassian brought a hand to his shoulder as if he were remembering the impact. “It near dislocated my shoulder.”

Cassian turned to Nesta then, a critical eye running over her body. Despite her blood splattered face and hair, Nesta was otherwise unharmed. The kerits hadn’t even come close to touching her. She’d incinerated her half circle and Cassian had dealt with his.

“Any injuries I should know about?” he asked her.

Nesta shook her head, but Cassian’s gaze lingered on her a few moments longer, as if he weren’t sure he believed her. Even she was suffering from disbelief; they had been so outnumbered it seemed a miracle that neither of them were suffering from major injuries.

When Cassian seemed satisfied she wasn’t hiding anything, he waved a tired hand. “Nesta meet Lorrian. Although Lorrian is Illyria’s best aerial warrior, it would appear your power managed to scare the shit out of him — congratulations.”

The stern expression of the male - Lorrian - did not disappear at the introduction, and Nesta watched him cross his arms tightly across his muscled chest, the green magic of his right arm flaring from the movement. His piercing look was one of a warrior but Nesta did not flinch, she just stared right back. She was well versed in staring down opponents — what was another Illyrian bat?

It only took a few seconds for Cassian’s words to sink in. Lorrian’s eyes cut sharply from Nesta to Cassian. “Are we talking of the female who killed the King of Hybern?”

Cassian’s hand was instantly on the small of Nesta’s back as she stiffened habitually. The gesture was unusual; Cassian rarely touched her without cause. She resisted the urge to bat him away. When Lorrian tracked the movement she knew why Cassian had done it. It was protective — he was telling Lorrian where his loyalties lay.

Deep in the pit of her stomach, Nesta felt something primal growl.

It made her want to seethe at the same time her body melted into the sound.

“That would be the very same female,” Cassian said with a lightness that was laced with warning. “Feel free to thank her any time.”

A beat of silence followed as the warrior examined the female before him, but then Lorrian’s hardened expression relaxed, and in its wake — a smile. It transformed his face in the same way Cassian’s changed from General to the male she knew when he was off-duty. It was an intentional crack in his armour and the open vulnerability of the action did not escape Nesta. Never had she been that willing to shed her mask for someone she had met moments before. Even her sisters hadn’t seen all of her.

“Well, why didn’t you say? It’s good to meet you, Nesta Archeron.”

A large hand was thrust out towards her — the one that wasn’t glazed in emerald light — for Nesta to shake.

Nesta hesitated for a moment before she moved to grasp Lorrian’s hand. His hazel eyes were sincere and his gaze unwavering, and although her movements were stiff and measured, she made sure her handshake was firm when she grasped his own, even if her hands were spotted with blood.

Lorrian didn’t seem to mind. He bowed his head respectfully at her before he turned to Cassian. It was not a move that Nesta had seen any other Illyrian male do to another female.

“You had better come inside in case there’s anything else lurking about. Frawley will want to see you and you could both do with cleaning up. When she learns about the kerits, she might not be so pissed that you tried to break through her protective magic.”

Cassian winced. “If the witch bids it, I suppose we better.”

Lorrian barked a laugh as he held up his palm to gap between the boulders. It was identical to what she and Cassian did when they entered the bungalow. Emerald siphons flared and the invisible barrier began to fizzle away from the inside out; a splash of gold in the dark.

Exhaustion was pressing on Nesta so keenly that she had to summon all of her focus into getting her body to move forward. Cassian seemed to sense it, his eyes flickering briefly with remorse as they both followed Lorrian to the gap between the boulders. For a moment, Nesta thought Cassian was going to offer to carry her but he clearly thought better of it, gesturing for her to walk through the pocket before him with that crooked half-smile of his.

The hole in the protective bubble sealed with more fizzling, golden light as soon as Cassian had passed through. With it came an overwhelming sense of relief. Unlike the woodland they had left behind them, the forest here felt lighter, as if it were completely devoid of threat. Around them, the woody terrain was alive with movement: birds sung in the trees and small animals scuttled amongst the foliage. Even the trees and plants seemed to take on a brighter and more vibrant quality, the green so lush that if Nesta weren’t so weary, she would bend down to run her fingers through the fluffy woodruff with its constant smattering of tiny, white flowers that grew beneath the pine trees.

“So what actually brought you both here?”

Lorrian’s voice broke Nesta out of her reverie. He was speaking over his shoulder and he looked at Nesta first before his eyes travelled beyond her to land on Cassian. They were walking in single file down a narrow track between the trees, with Lorrian leading the way and with Cassian at the rear. Nesta had no doubt that it was an intentional positioning from Cassian. She could still feel his urge to protect combined with guilt that laced her stomach. The latter was no doubt eating away at him. He clearly hadn’t thought the barrier would react so strongly to her fire or that they would be in danger in the forest.

“I haven’t seen you for a few months,” Lorrian finished. His pointed look at Cassian told Nesta that a visit was overdue. “I imagine it wasn’t your intention to be hijacked by kerits.”

“I took Nesta to see Kamanam today,” Cassian told Lorrian after he had huffed a dark laugh. “We were close by so I thought we’d say hello. We were surrounded by those cackling shits as we headed down into the dell.”

Lorrian stared at Cassian for a little too long but he only nodded silently to show that he had heard. His siphons glowed and with it, the bow and arrows strapped to his back disappeared. The light encasing his arm also vanished, revealing nothing but air from a few inches below Lorrian’s shoulder. His leathers had been tailored to accommodate for his missing limb, the fabric sewn neatly around the stump.

“And how did you like Kamanam, Nesta?” Lorrian asked.

Knowing not to stare at the male’s missing arm, Nesta kept her gaze straight ahead. The path had widened and Lorrian dropped back a few steps so he was side-by-side with her. The movement was slightly laboured, as if he were adjusting to the loss of balance. He was watching Nesta with apprehension — as if he were expecting her to recoil. Nesta wanted to tell him that she was broken too and that she didn’t care to judge anybody, but as usual, her throat had become too tight so she flicked her eyes up to meet his head on.

Something that Nesta translated as respect tinged with relief flickered behind Lorrian’s irises, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed, as she managed to admit, “The Arches are very beautiful.”

But then we nearly died, Nesta wanted to say, but didn’t.

The conversation was such a stark contrast to moments before — casual rather than frenzied — but from the unease laced with pine that sat heavily within her, Nesta knew that this was Cassian’s coping mechanism; feigning joviality because otherwise the gravity of what had happened would be too much.

And Lorrian seemed to know that, too.

His head bobbed. “You should come back on a clear day. Get this one to fly you over the water.” He jerked his head to Cassian who was still a few paces behind. “Frawley and I do it even now, and we’ve been living here for years.”

“If you think I’m ancient,” Cassian told Nesta, the low rumble of his voice travelling the distance, “then you should ask Frawley how old she is. She’s never answered me and I’m still burning with curiosity.”

Lorrian chuckled. “Don’t do that, Nesta. Not if you want to live, at least.”

Lorrian’s features were nothing but friendly now and in the dappled light between the trees, Nesta was able to study him more closely. His dark, curly hair was cropped close to his head and flecked with silver. If Lorrian were human, Nesta would guess that he was forty-or-so, but she had no idea what that made him in Fae terms. He was leaner than Cassian, which wasn’t wholly a surprise; Nesta had never met an Illyrian who was larger or stronger than Cassian. Even so, Lorrian’s remaining arm was still corded with impressive muscle and his skin was marked with the same black tattoos, interspersed with scars.

Nesta couldn’t find it in herself to reply to Lorrian. Perhaps she should have felt warier that she was about to meet a witch, but with every step they took through the woodland, the worse she felt. Her brain became more foggy, her limbs weighing her down like lead. And on top of it all, an all-consuming sense of exhaustion had overcome her.

If she were alone, Nesta would have curled up on the forest floor and made her bed amongst the woodruff and wooly thyme.

“Home sweet home.”

Lorrian’s words pierced through the fog and Nesta managed to drag her eyes up from the soft undergrowth to look ahead of her.

They had just navigated a sharp right-hand turn in the dirt path, and in the distance Nesta could make out a large, thatched cottage. The walls were the colour of magnolia and the red brick chimney was spouting soft billowy smoke.

Yet, whilst it appeared to be a beautiful sanctuary, Nesta found her spine stacking stiffly against her. Nesta hadn’t stepped foot in anyone’s home except Cassian’s in months, and he was the only person who knew she was afraid of fire. How many open and roaring hearths were there going to be in the cottage? How was she going to avoid losing control when already she felt like someone was closing a fist around her windpipes? How was she going to step over threshold without losing it completely? How was she —

Worry stabbed through Nesta so fiercely that her breath caught. She was so preoccupied in trying to take air into her lungs that she didn’t have a spare thought to identify that it wasn’t her own. As they neared the property, Nesta barely saw the chickens in the coop or the horses in the paddock. She didn’t even notice the honeysuckle — her favourite — that climbed up the exterior walls of the cottage. Her lungs rattled as panic clawed through her. Silver spluttered and died at her fingers, her power still too spent from earlier to protect her. Something cracked inside of her; light rushing into the dark, icy water rushing over warm sand.

“Nesta.”

In the far distance, she heard her name but it was muffled. She felt as if she were drowning underwater. It felt like the Cauldron all over again.

She choked on air.

“Nesta.”

This time the sound had a distinctive voice. Something turned inside of her, like a key clicking in a lock, and as her vision started to clear, she made out the large shadowed outline of a male as he stepped towards her. Startled, Nesta flew backwards, an unknown burst of energy taking hold of her. Her hands instinctively balled into fists, but then the scent of pine and musk washed over her and with it came a sense of calm and clarity.

Slowly, her fists unfurled.

“It’s just me,” Cassian said. His words floated towards her. He was still nothing but shadow; large, muscular body and impressive wings. “I’m going to touch you. Ok?”

A strangled noise emitted from her throat and then a large, warm hand was resting on her cheek.

Unthinkingly, Nesta reached up to grab it. Her fingers closed around the hand as her eyes started to see again.

Cassian’s face swam into view. Even through the cracked and dried blood, the concern etched upon his face was so stark she knew that he believed himself responsible for her trauma.

Taking her hand, Cassian rested her palm flat over his chest. Beneath leather and skin, she could feel the pounding of his heart as it threw itself hard against his ribcage, and in her stomach… so much guilt the emotion was bitter on her tongue.

“Breathe with me,” he ordered, before he proceed to take a long, slow breath in.

The sensation of air rushing into his chest was like a balm, and Nesta found herself following his breathing until her lungs no longer rattled and her vision righted completely.

“Is it the chimney?” Cassian asked when her breathing became even, enough that she was no longer gasping. “Or is it... everything that just happened?”

Nesta’s fingers curled around his hand and pressed once into his palm at the same time as she nodded. Both.

“The fire won’t make any noise,” he promised her. “I’d say I’d take you home, but you look like you’re going to collapse and the flight is over an hour.”

Even as he spoke, she knew that if she insisted he would take her back to Windhaven. There was such sincerity in his voice and expression that it hurt to look at him, so she cast her eyes beyond him to their surroundings.

Lorrian was nowhere to be found. Dread twisted through her and that panic started to rise again.

“Where—” Nesta started, but her breath had started to shudder again so she trailed off. There was no point in asking anyway. Of course Lorrian had witnessed it all. No doubt Cassian had asked him to go inside to give them some privacy.

The knowledge was mortifying.

“I asked Lorrian to go inside and silence the fires.”

He squeezed Nesta’s fingers then. She still hadn’t let go of him. The warmth of his touch was comforting against her ice cold skin. It chased away the numbness that was hovering over her like a threat.

“Lorrian suffers from battle trauma, too,” Cassian told her. “You saw his arm?”

Nesta dipped her chin. The action took all of her effort.

“He’s fighting a lot of demons. He won’t mention it. Neither will Frawley. She’s Lorrian’s wife. She’s a witch — she can magic the fire so it won’t make any noise.”

Silence stretched between them. Nesta tried to process his words and form a response, but it was too difficult. The heaviness was washing over her again and already she had started to become unfeeling.

As if Cassian could sense that he was losing her, he dragged a coarse thumb over the back of her hand. The sensation was muted, as if it were happening far, far away.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.

Nesta stared at him. She wanted to frown and ask him why, but words had become difficult again.

Cassian shook his head. The gesture was remorseful and… he was angry at himself. “I shouldn’t have taken you here. Frawley’s portion of the forest has always been the safest—”

“Cassian.”

Cassian broke off as a small, petite female walked briskly towards them. She was wearing a long smock dress which was belted loosely at the waist with leather and made up of different shades of grey. The way her skirts swished around her as she moved gave off the illusion that she was walking through smoke. Pure, white hair fell just below the female’s shoulders and as she came closer, Nesta saw that her eyes were different colours; the left honey brown and the right ice blue. The effect was so startling that half of her face seemed to be bathed in light and the other in dark.

“You scared the shit out of my husband,” she told Cassian brusquely, as she drew up short in front of them.

Cassian made a noise in the back of his throat. The sound reverberated through Nesta. “Did he tell you about the kerits?”

The female — Frawley — snorted in an unkempt sort of way that would have resulted in upturned noses if they were in the human realm. Nesta got the impression that Frawley wouldn’t care. She struck Nesta as the sort of female whose mannerisms were clipped and to-the-point. She didn’t seem like the sort of person who would give a second thought to lady-like behaviour and would impale anyone who decided that they should put her down.

“Introduce me to your companion, Cassian,” Frawley ordered. “And I’ll pretend not to know that this is Nesta Archeron until you do so.”

Cassian grunted in exasperation but his pupils were no longer dark. He had turned to greet Frawley but he hadn’t let go of Nesta’s hand. Frawley’s ice blue eye darted down to glance at it. Cassian squeezed her fingers before he let go, his hand immediately finding purchase on the small of her back again. Encouragement, she realised, for the social situation he knew she did not want to be in.

This time Nesta didn’t want to bat him away. She felt frayed and raw, his touch the only thing keeping her tethered to the present.

“Frawley, meet Nesta Archeron. Nesta, Frawley is the witch who oversees the Eastern territory of The Steppes. And,” he said with a deliberate pause for emphasis, “is supposed to keep the beasts in the forest under control.”

Frawley made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat at Cassian’s words but she did not retaliate. She only rested her disconcerting eyes on Nesta. They seemed to work independently of one another and brown found Nesta after blue.

“We can’t leave it solely to males to protect, can we Nesta?” Frawley clipped. “Now, do come in, it’s getting dark and Caerleon gets forlorn when I leave him inside for too long.”

As she spoke, a sound halfway between a whine and a roar came from the cottage door. Frawley looked pointedly at them as if to indicate the sound had proven her point, before she turned sharply on her heel.

Somehow Nesta made her legs move, even though she wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground. As if he knew how badly she was faring, Cassian kept his hand on her lower back. The sensation alone was enough to keep her upright. She would not add to her burning shame by having to be carried across the threshold. It was bad enough that Cassian had to fly her everywhere as it was.

“That’s quite some power you expelled.” Frawley threw Nesta a discerning look over her shoulder. “I bet you’re feeling drained.”

“Yes,” Nesta said simply, because she couldn’t say anything more.

“Nothing I can’t sort out,” Frawley clipped as she opened the cottage door. It was a wooden stable door, the top half already open. Nesta saw a blur of sandy fur and she tensed instinctively.

A thumb caressed her back, the movement soothing against the sudden terror that gripped her — telling her that it was ok, that the kerits had gone and they were safe.

“Calm down Caer, you stupid Manticore, it’s just Cassian,” Frawley snapped, but a huge moving body of light tan fur jostled the female to the side. Frawley growled in irritation but Nesta barely heard it, she was too busy staring at the beast that had emerged in the doorway.

It was massive. At first, Nesta thought it was a huge lion with a long shaggy mane made of burnt orange, but as it prowled towards her, she could see large, leathery wings on its back and its tail, which was flicking at the tip, was not made up of a tuft of hair but of long spikes like that of a porcupine. The beast’s large paws thudded on the earth and its eyes were molten gold. It was beautiful and deadly and if Nesta had it in her to be afraid she would have already been running.

She took a step backwards, bumping into Cassian’s hard chest.

“Don’t mind Caerleon,” Frawley called quickly to Nesta. She had obviously seen the blood drain from her face. She pronounced the name kaa-lee-uhn, the mystical name rolling off her tongue effortlessly. “He looks terrifying but he’s essentially a big teddy bear when he’s at home.”

Nesta remained stock still as the animal came to a stop a few feet in front of her. It stared at her, its head low and its tail flicking, as if it were measuring her up.

Then Caerleon’s eyes slid to Cassian.

The manticore’s body straightened and his tail shot straight up, curling into a question mark, the needles of his tuft relaxed and soft like the spines of a thistle.

To Nesta’s amazement, the animal trotted over to Cassian with a low whine that sounded like a greeting.

“Hello you beautiful beast,” Cassian said with a low laugh.

Caerleon knocked his head hard into Cassian’s upper torso, rubbing his face against the leather like a cat branding its owner. Dropping his hand from Nesta, Cassian buried his fingers deep into the animal’s mane and ruffled the fur. Caerleon’s purr rumbled so deep that Nesta felt it in her chest but she was reeling from the loss of contact.

It was startling and Nesta felt cold.

She began to slip.

Frawley tutted. “Cassian is the only Fae Caer has ever met who is large enough not be knocked back when he does that. Now, you come with me, Nesta. You look dead on your feet.”

Nesta allowed herself to be led through the hallway, straight into a wide, open kitchen. Frawley sat Nesta down at a large, worn pine table opposite the huge hearth. As promised, the fire was silent, the flames dancing gently as they licked their way up the chimney as if the quiet had brought them calm. The knowledge that there would be no cracking bones eased the tight set of Nesta’s shoulders, even if she did feel like she was hovering above her body, looking down at herself.

She looked very ill, that much she knew, but she couldn’t speak or will her expression into something better. Even her neck felt heavy, the thought of turning to look for Cassian too much, so she stared at the silent fire until she became entranced.

In the distance, Nesta heard clattering — someone moving about the kitchen — and then a warm mug was pressed into her ice-cold hands.

“Drink this,” a stern voice told her. “It’s not too hot, so drink it right up.”

Nesta did as she was told. It tasted of chamomile and honey and... something she couldn’t put her finger on. She didn’t care to ask. With each sip, Nesta felt her body hum and tingle until her body realigned and she was just Nesta sitting in a stranger’s kitchen.

Frawley must have sensed a change in her because she took Nesta’s mug. With a swish of her charcoal skirts she walked over to a steaming cast iron pot on the stove and ladled some more liquid into it.

“Better?” Frawley asked as she handed it back to Nesta. “Best drink another cup. You expelled an awful lot of power in one go.”

Nesta frowned, thinking back to how her power had leapt to the clearing between the boulders.

“I couldn’t stop it,” she told Frawley. “I tried to sever the connection.”

Read the rest of the chapter here.

[witchesoz]

What we know of Oz: Book 1, West and monkeys

We explored the East, so why not go this time to the West! # The West, the Yellow Land, the Country of the Winkies. At the time of the story, it is THE place everyone avoids in Oz. We know that the river that separates the East and the Center leads to the West, because when their raft is carried away the Tin Woodman tells his comrades they’ll end up in the domain of the Wicked Witch of the West. The Emerald City has no road leading to the West, not even a pathway, because nobody wants to go there. 

When Dorothy and her friends start going West, they at first are in the middle of “fields of soft grass, dotted with daisies and buttercups” (due to the pleasantness of the setting, I guess they are in the western part of the “central” region). But when they enter into the Land of the West properly, things take a very different turn. The ground becomes “rougher and hillier” as well as “untilled”. There are no houses, no farms, as well as no trees, so that in this country the sun shines bright and hot, with no fresh shadow to protect the travelers. Contrary to the East, the West clearly suffered from the Wicked Witch’s reign. However, when the heroes travel back to the Emerald City, they describe the Western Country as actually being made of “big fields of buttercups and yellow daisies” (apparently, the local flowers), as well as having some butterflies flying around. Note that this second journey happens at least two weeks if not more after the death of the Wicked Witch – maybe the country had time to regrow a flora and fauna in between? We only see one noticeable location in all of this country – the castle of the Wicked Witch, also called the Yellow Castle because the castle is all yellow, both inside and outside. Interestingly, the castle is never described as creepy or terrifying looking – in fact, the rooms inside the castle are described as “big” and “beautiful”. We know that the Castle is located quite far away from the Emerald City because our protagonists spend at least one week walking away from it, and they still end up “far away” from the Emerald City. # The Winkies are the local population of the West, and in the book’s time period the slaves of the Wicked Witch of the West. It is said that she forced them to work hard for “many years” and treated them with great cruelty, but to what work did they toil every day? It is never specified. Outside of this, we know that the Winkies are noted to not be brave people, fleeing easily in front of the danger – for example, when tasked with killing the Lion, and even when armed with sharp spears, they flee upon hearing his roar. It is noted that the Witch has many Winkie guards around her castle, who are too afraid of the Wicked Witch to disobey her. But deep down they are not bad people, just forced into fear and submission. It is quite interesting that the Witch, herself being a coward, uses fear as a way to control her population. The Winkies celebrate greatly the Witch’s death – and in fact it is them, and not the Munchkins, that decide to turn it into a holiday, celebrating it with feasting and dancing. We also clearly see that the Winkies have a very strong association with gems and metals. We never see any Winkie farm, but they have goldsmiths, as well as “very good” tinsmiths. They take a great liking to the Tin Woodman, to the point they beg him to become their new ruler – and finally their gifts to the heroes are all made of expensive stones and metals. Collars of gold for Toto and the Lion, a bracelet studded with diamonds for Dorothy, a gold-headed walking stick for the Scarecrow, and a silver oil can inlaid with gold and set with precious jewels. (This actually fits very well with the idea that the Wicked Witch dried up the land, preventing any kind of real farming, and the Winkies having to turn to metallurgy and gem-mining to survive). # Of course, she was going to be brought up at some point. The most iconic villain of Oz, the Wicked Witch of the West. Who actually is quite different from how you may imagine her – and is also not so much of a big villain in the Ozian books. 

We know that the Wicked Witch never leaves her country, instead attacking those that enter her borders. Many times throughout the book warnings were given to Dorothy: “If we end up in the West, she will enchant us and make us her slaves!” or “She would make you a slave if you passed her way”. Indeed, the Wicked Witch of the West has a very simple mindset – either you’re a slave, either you’re nothing. She is obsessed with controlling and enslaving anyone who enters or live in her country, and if she can’t enslave you, or if you can’t be a good slave, she will just kill or destroy you. In fact, this was her first decision upon seeing the heroes: a strawman, a tin man, a lion and a little girl? They don’t make good slaves! That is why she tries to kill them at first. But upon seeing it fail, she decides to save one of them: the Lion. She ends up revising her opinion of him after he frightens Winkies with his roar, and decides to capture him and “put him to work”. Once captured and locked in a cage inside her castle, the Wicked Witch tries to tame the Lion in order to harness him to her chariot (in her own words, it would amuse her to have him drag her chariot “like a horse”). However, each time she enters the cage, the Lion roars and threatens her, so she ended up deciding to starve him until he would agree to be harnessed (something Dorothy thwarts by giving food to the Lion every night).

Because you see, this is another big trait of the Wicked Witch of the West – she is a coward. Or rather she is a witch plagued with fears. She is as afraid as everyone else in Oz upon hearing the Lion’s roar, she is terrified upon seeing the Silver Shoes and ready to flee, and she is also said to have two enormous terrors, phobias that prevent her from stealing away the Silver Shoes. In the book, the shoes have no protective charm whatsoever, so the Witch thinks of stealing them when Dorothy takes them off, but the little girl only takes them off twice in the day. When she takes her bath, and when she goes to sleep. And the Witch is both afraid of water (for understandable reasons) and of the dark, so she can never steal the shoes. Yes, you heard it right, the Wicked Witch of the West is afraid of the dark. Yep, quite a twist on the typical witch image, huh? In fact, when you read the book, you realize that the Witch seems mostly associated with the light and the sun than with the night – her country has a hot, blazing sun, is devoid of any vegetation (suggesting a drought of some sort), her castle is of a bright yellow… And the only clouds mentioned in the story appear after the Witch’s death. (Which led to some people theorizing that the Wicked Witch put some sort of spell on the country preventing it from ever raining, causing a massive drought). This also offers quite some contrast with the Wicked Witch of the East, who was ultimately destroyed by the sunlight. Even more ironic is that the inhabitants of the Emerald City call her “wicked and fierce”, so apparently she built herself the reputation of a dangerous and fearless witch, which she is not.

In terms of physical description, we have only two indications about the Witch’s appearance (outside of the fact that she is often referred to as a “woman”). At one point, there is a mention of her having a “skinny feet”, and she only has “one eye”. Some like to interpret it as her wearing an eyepatch, while others rather make a cyclop out of her. But this one eye is said to be “as powerful as a telescope” and able to see “anywhere”. She apparently has a habit of sitting in front of her castle to look around at her country and spy on everyone – this is how she saw the protagonists arrive. We also know that she always carries with her an old umbrella, with which she threatens Dorothy and hits Toto (for hitting the Winkies, she rather has a strap) – the choice of an umbrella is quite fitting given her weakness to water. She is weak to water, but she still allows water in her castle, mind you. In fact, when she makes Dorothy her slave, she puts her in her kitchen, forcing her to sweep the floor and feed the fire with wood, but also to clean pots and kettles – thus Dorothy has to work with water. Plus Dorothy also takes baths while in the castle. I guess the Witch doesn’t want anyone to find out about her weakness so she keeps it around casually as if it was nothing? The book insists that she never touched water or never let water touch her. As for the reason of this water-allergy, the book may reveal it. You see, at one point Toto bites the Wicked Witch in the leg, but no blood comes out of the wound. The narration mentions that the Witch was so wicked that “the blood in her had dried many years before”. The completely absence of any kind of liquid or fluid inside her body may explain why she is so sensitive to water – note here that this is said to be a result of “wickedness”. We can compare it to the Wicked Witch of the East, who was said to have been so old that she dried up in the sun. We also know that the Wicked Witch is prompt to anger because she gets enraged at the mere sight of the travelers inside her country, and when they defeat her first armies, she “stamps her foot, tore her hair and gnashed her teeth”. Because yes, in the book the Wicked Witch has several armies at her service. Of course she has the Winkies that she sends after the heroes, but as noted above they are cowards too and flee easily in front of the Lion’s roar, even when armed with spears. But her true force is located in other armies… the Witch always has, hanging around her neck, a silver whistle. When she blows in it once, she invokes a pack of forty great wolves, with “long legs, fierce eyes and sharp teeth”, that can tear people to pieces. When she blows in it twice, she invokes a great flock of forty crows that can blacken the sky and peck the eyes out of people before tearing them to pieces. Finally, when she blows in it thrice, she invokes a great swarm of black bees that can sting people to death. She invokes all three armies to go after the heroes, but they are all defeated: the Tin Woodman chops the wolves’ heads off, the Scarecrow snaps the neck of all the crows, and the bees all break their sting and die when trying to kill the Tin Woodman. Outside of her silver whistle, Golden Cap and telescope-eye, we also see the Witch do one other bit of magic – in order to get the Silver Shoes, she puts an iron bar in the middle of the kitchen and turns it invisible. Her turning object invisibles ties up with the themes previously explored or mentioned: the one of the sight (her magic eye) as well as the one of the light. Thanks to this bar, she actually manages to steal one of the Silver Shoes and put it on. The narration specifies at this point that to have one of the two shoes is actually to own “half of their charm”, and Dorothy couldn’t possibly use the power of her own shoe against the Witch, even if she knew how (it is unclear if it is because a shoe can’t act against another shoe, or if half of a shoe is not enough power). That is when Dorothy becomes very angry and throws a bucket at her, making the Witch melt like “brown sugar”. She ends up as a “brown, melted, shapeless mass”, and Dorothy just washes it away by cleaning the floor, as she did since many may days for now. # The Golden Cap. I just couldn’t forget this one. This magical cap made of gold, with a “circle of diamonds and rubies” running around it. We know it is the size of Dorothy’s head (since everything in Oz is the size of Dorothy), and it has a strong charm attached to it – it can invoke the Winged Monkeys, a race of monkeys with “a pair of immense and powerful wings attached to their shoulders”. These Monkeys, once invoked by the Cap, are bound to do anything the wearer of the Cap orders them to do, in the limits of what is physically possible. But there are some rules… 

First, to invoke the Winged Monkeys one has to follow a strict ritual. Standing on their left foot, they have to say “Ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!”. Then, standing on their right foot they have to say “Hil-lo, hol-lo, hel-lo!”. Finally, standing on both feet they have to shout “Ziz-zy, zuz-zy, zik!”. All the instructions to this process are written inside the cap, in case anyone forgets. The second limitation is that the wearer of the Cap can only invoke the Winged Monkeys three times, after that the charm stops working. When we first see the Cap, it is in possession of the Wicked Witch of the West (who keeps it inside the same cupboard she keeps all her food in, which… isn’t the safest place to store a powerful magic item, especially since Dorothy found it pretty easily). She already used it two times before the events of the story. She invoked once the Winged Monkeys to help her enslave the Winkies and take the control of the Land of the West; and then she invoked the Winged Monkeys a second time to fight off the Wizard of Oz and banish him out of the Yellow West. The third time she uses the Monkeys, it is to kill the heroes, after all of her previous armies were defeated – the Monkeys carry on her wish, except for her desire to kill Dorothy because she is protected by the North Witch’s kiss and, as they say, “she is protected by the Power of Good, which is greater than the Power of Evil”. A… very strange statement, especially given that the North Witch was said to be weaker than the Wicked East Witch, but anyway.

The Cap then falls into the hands of Dorothy, who also uses it three times. Once to have the Winged Monkeys carry her and her friends from the West to the Emerald City, since they can’t find their way on their own (it is noted at this point that the Winged Monkeys are actually really fast, able to do several days’ worth of walking in a few hours). The second time she invokes them, it is to carry her out of Oz back to Kansas, but the Monkeys answer that they can’t because they “belong” to Oz and can’t leave it, Kansas not being a place for them to exist in. This second invocation is thus wasted. The final time Dorothy invoked them was to pass over the Hammerheads Hills, to the Quadling Country. The Cap finally ended up into the hands of the Glinda, the Good Witch of the South, that promised to use it three times herself – one to bring the Scarecrow back to Emerald City, a second time to bring the Tin Woodman back to the Winkies, and a third time to bring the Lion back to his forest. She also adds that after her wishes are done, she would give the Golden Cap to the Winged Monkeys themselves so that no one may ever use it again. The Winged Monkeys are also noted to be usually heard “chattering and laughing”. The Queen of the Field Mice is perfectly aware of the spell of the Golden Cap and she knows apparently quite well the Winged Monkeys, adding that the mice fear them because they are “full of mischief” and think that it is “great fun” to plague the mice. # We actually also get a complete backstory for the Winged Monkeys and the Golden Cap in the book. It is told to Dorothy by the current leader of the Winged Monkeys, a monkey noted to be “much bigger than the others” (a sentence that was funnily twisted in the 1990s cartoon by having the leader of the Winged Monkeys being actually very fat). This story is pretty interesting because it takes place in the North of Oz, and gives us a bit more information about this unknown country. The Winged Monkeys used to be “free people”, living in a great forest of the North, spending their time eating nuts and fruits, doing as they pleased. The trouble was that the things that pleased them were mischiefs – pulling animal tails, chasing birds, throwing nuts at travelers. They were “careless, happy, full of fun, enjoying every minute of the day”. But one day they became bound to the Golden Cap. This story is said to happen “many years ago”, before Oz-wizard “came out of the clouds” to rule over Oz. At the time, the King of the Winged Monkeys was the current leader’s grandfather. The Winged Monkeys lived in a forest near a handsome palace built of great blocks of ruby (it is quite weird to hear of a red stone in the Gillikin Country, given that the Quadling Country is the one associated with the color red. But at the time Baum had no idea what color the North would have – however note that the rubies can actually be purple!). This palace was the one of Gayelette, a beautiful princess that was also a powerful sorceress. She is never said to be a Witch, or even a Good Wich, but she is described using all of her magic to help people, and she apparently never hurt anyone who was good (which suggests that she hurt the people who were bad).

 Everyone loved Gayelette, but she had one big sorrow in life: she couldn’t find someone to love in return. Apparently, all of the men around her were too “stupid and ugly” to “mate” with one “so beautiful and so wise”. It isn’t clear if this is Gayelette’s own thoughts or an obvious fact… but it seems to imply that the people of the North are dumb uglies. Until one day Gaylette found a boy that was handsome, manly and wise beyond his years. She swore to make him her husband once he grew up, so she took him in her ruby palace and used all of her magic powers to make him “as strong and good and lovely as any woman could wish”. Yeah this sounds a bit creepy… a woman kidnapping a child and using her magic to mold him artificially into the perfect husband… yep, definitively creepy. 

Anyway, finally Quelala, that is the name of the boy, became a man, and the wedding was prepared. Quelala wore a beautiful wedding outfit, a rich costume of pink silk and purple velvet (not here an early idea that the North is associated with purple). He was walking by the side of a river with this outfit when the Winged Monkeys spot him, and deciding to have a bit of fun, took him and threw him in the middle of the river. Quelala wasn’t offended by that, in fact he laughed merrily at the joke, but Gayelette became furious upon seeing the beautiful costume ruined. She was so angry she wanted the Winged Monkeys to be thrown in the river with their wings tied up – which would certainly make them drown. Talk of a good sorceress… Hopefully the Monkey King pleaded very well for his cause, and Quelala also slipped a kind word for the Winged Monkeys. So Gaylette rather punished them by binding them to the Golden Cap with the charm described above – this Golden Cap was a wedding gift from Gaylette to Quelala, and it apparently cost the princess “half of her kingdom”. Quelala was the first owner of the Cap, and his only order was that the Winged Monkeys would go where Gaylette would never see them again. After that the Monkeys lived an idle and peaceful life for many years, before the Cap fell into the hands of the Wicked Witch of the West.

This backstory fascinates Ozian fans in general, who makes all sort of theories about Gayelette – making her a previous Good Witch of the North, or making Gayelette and Quelala the parents of Glinda, or whatever else can pass through their head. Remember though that Gayelette is never called a Witch but merely a "sorceress" without a capital letter, and this position of sorceress is put on the same level as her role of princess, which reinforces this idea that a sorceress is more a job or a function than a person's nature. It is also interesting to note that this backstory talks indeed of a very specific kingdom, presumably located inside the land of Oz, which seems to be a clue that in the past Oz was a group of several kingdoms bordering each other.

[muffindragon227]

I’ll Keep Your Secrets Safe - Ch. 24

Okay, so I’m really sorry for the delay, last week was hell and I basically crawled under a rock to survive it, but I managed to make it through. Anyways, without further ado please enjoy the longest IKYSS chapter yet. Also happy belated birthday to @endingsarenotalwaysbad, sorry I missed you last chapter, I hope this one makes you smile Link to other chapters: HERE

                                           The Heart Of The Matter

Lyon had been sure the oppressive tension from the kitchen would bleed into dinner. How could it not, when his own mother couldn't even bring herself to look at him?

His heart was heavy, as he took his seat at the table, with Mered taking the middle seat next to him.

Juvia lingered by the head of the table.

It was the seat on the other side of him, and where Ur usually sat. He hated how badly he wanted Juvia to sit there instead, but he knew better than to let her.

Before Lyon could say anything Silver slipped up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you take a seat sweetie," He said, and gestured to the spot across from Lyon.

Juvia's eyes lingered on Ur's seat, even as she obeyed, before shooting Silver a pleading look.

He smiled down at her, and then met Lyon's gaze, and pulled back the chair. "You don't mind if I sit here tonight do you?"

"No," Lyon said with a shake of his head. His heart hammered frantically against his chest, as he wondered how his mom would react.

Gray came in next, and clapped his hand on Lyon's shoulder before sliding into the seat next to Mered, and Ultear followed. She placed the salad down on the table and dropped down next to Juvia, leaving only one place left for Ur. One that kept as much distance between her and him as possible. The gesture wasn't lost on him, and he felt himself tearing up.

Ur froze, casserole dish in hand, as she entered the dining room. Her eyes drifted over them all, as she took in the change of seating. Lyon could pinpoint the moment she came to the same conclusion he had. Her lips thinned and she straightened under their collective gazes, then strode to the far end of the table, and set the casserole dish down with a heavy clank.

Silence fell over the room, like a heavy down blanket in the height of summer; smothering.

"So," Juvia said, and took a long sip of wine. She placed the glass down and smiled at him and Mered, a devious little glint in her eye. "How'd you two meet?"

Lyon frowned. "You know how we met."

"I do. But they don't." She pointed round the table, before resting her chin on her knuckles.

"It's true," Ultear chimed in, and equally large smile on her lips. "And I'm rather put out about it." She and Juvia shared a look and broke out into giggles.

Juvia flashed him another smile, then turned to Mered. "Come on, tell them how you met. It's cute."

Mered raised an eyebrow at her "Uh, we met on a gay dating site. Not really sure how that's cute."

Juvia rolled her eyes at him. "You sought him out, looking for someone from the area to talk to. And Lyon was all, 'okay, but we're only friends cause I'm not interested in dating people from my home town,' even though I could tell he was actually interested. I mean it was obvious."

"I wasn't interested. You just assumed I was because I said he was cute," Lyon said.

Juvia rolled her eyes and pointed at him. "That's what you always say before you're about to go and hook up with a guy. It's like subconscious Lyon code for 'want to bang'

Heat raced up the back of Lyon's neck and blazed across his cheeks.

"Really now?" Mered said, eyeing him with a wicked grin.

Lyon shot Juvia a scathing glare. "You're drunk."

"Mmm, maybe a bit. But doesn't mean I'm lying."

"You could always tell the story yourself if you don't like the way she's telling it," Ultear suggested.

Lyon sighed in resignation before beginning the tale over again.

Lyon would stop as he spoke so Mered could add his perspective, or to answer the questions Juvia and Ultear peppered him with, and before long Gray and Silver to joined the conversation with questions of their own. Lyon found himself caught up in the moment, and he almost forgot about Ur. Almost.

Her silence hung in the back of his mind. He tried to catch her eye throughout dinner, but she spent the time staring down at her food, completely shut off from the rest of them. As soon as the meal was done, she excused herself and retreated upstairs, leaving the clean up to the rest of them.

Silver had insisted he'd take care of it, and Gray offered to help, since Juvia and Ultear were too drunk to be of much help. Instead the two women dragged Lyon and Mered into the living room, to continue their interrogation.

Ultear wanted to be filled in on every detail of their relationship, and Juvia was eager to fill in and of the part that Lyon tried to skim over. He didn't mind though, it was a nice distraction.

But try as he might, Lyon couldn't shake the concern he felt for his mom. He knew he shouldn't feel responsible. She was an adult, and no one had actively excluded her from the conversation. Unfortunately, too many years spent looking after her made it impossible for him to ignore her distress.

“Hey, I’m gonna go check on Mom,” he said, interrupting the conversation between the others.

They all stopped talking, and shot him varying levels of concerned looks.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Mered asked.

“You don’t need to; I can go,” Ultear offered.

Juvia placed her hand over his. “We can go with you.”

Lyon shook his head. “It’s fine, I kinda think this is something I gotta do. We used to talk about everything, but I've been lying to her for years now. I get that part of that's on her, but it's on me too.”

Juvia looked like she wanted to protest, but before she could Mered waved Lyon off. “Fine, go do what you gotta do, I’ll keep these two occupied.”

“Thanks,” Lyon said with a smile.

“Just holler if you need us,” Ultear said, leaning back into the couch.

Juvia had yet to let go of Lyon’s hand, and he gave her hand a squeeze.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Juvia sighed, nodded and finally let go. “Okay.”

Lyon knew it wasn't; but she let him go anyways.

Lyon turned and headed for the stairs, before his courage gave out. He stopped as his foot hit the first step. Fear rushed at him, and he wondered if she'd even want to see him. The memory of her turning her back on him in the kitchen burned in his mind.

He closed his eyes and his fingers dug into the wooden banister, and he breathed deep. He opened his eyes and climbed the next stair, then the one after, refusing to stop a second time despite all the doubt. If she turned him away, so be it. At least he could say he tried.

Lyon knocked on the door, and waited with baited breath. His hand shook as he rested it against the doorknob.

Ur didn’t answer.

Lyon took a steadying breath, twisted the doorknob and inched the door open. “Mom?”

“Lyon?” Ur’s voice was strained.

Lyon knew from experience she was near tears. “Can I come in?” His hand trembled, and he waited for her to turn him away.

She never had before, but the years where he’d been her confidant felt like a lifetime ago. A lifetime where he was still the perfect son.

Time stretched the silence that came from the other room felt deafening.

Finally Ur’s answer came through the door. “Of course.”

Relief rushed through him. He pushed open the door, and stepped into the room.

Ur sat at the end of the large king-sized bed with her head in her hands.

She looked up at him as he entered, and wiped her eyes.

Lyon, caught the shimmer of tears on her cheeks and steeled himself as shut the door behind him. He approached slowly and eased himself down beside her. He fought the urge to wind his left arm around her shoulder and pull her into him, as he once would have. Instead he hunched forward and rested his forearms on his knees.

He swallowed and forced the question that was churning in his mind out of his mouth before he could lose the courage. “You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”

Ur blinked at him, then buried her head in her hands all over again and sobbed.

Lyon jolted upright and stared at her wide-eyed. Guilt rose like bile in his throat, but he had no idea what to do about it. He was supposed to be her shoulder to cry on, not the source of her tears.

Never mind the ache that clawed at his heart, and the tears that pricked his own eyes. A sense of betrayal clashed with the guilt. It left him feeling awkward and impotent.

He reached his hand out anyways, and placed it gingerly on her back, running it up and down as she continued to sob. Words of comfort warred in his mind with accusations and he kept his mouth sealed tight for fear the wrong thing would slip free.

Instead he waited, and let her cry it out.

It was a whole new form of torture, sitting there, staring at the walls and ceiling, waiting for her to stop. It felt like an eternity in hell had passed before her sobs began to subside.

Ur straightened and wiped the tears from her face yet again. She took a deep breath and murmured, “I’m sorry, I should not be crying like this to you.”

Lyon continued to stroke her back, as he met her eyes. “It’s fine, it’s what I’m here for.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Ur said, with a shake of her head. “You’re my child, I should be the one supporting you, not the other way around.”

Lyon wasn’t sure what to say to that. Deep down he knew she was right, but that didn't ease the guilt. It didn't change the fact that he'd always gone out of his way to support her, and she'd let him for so long that it was now an ingrained instinct. He had no polite answer, so he shrugged instead.

“You shouldn’t have to ask if I’m disappointed either. I should be happy for you, I want to be happy for you… I just….” Ur trailed off and frowned.

“You’re just not.”

Ur winced. “I feel like a terrible person for even thinking it, but I- I imagined something so different for you. I realize that I don’t get to decide your life, and that you can’t control how you feel, or who you love. I’m not disappointed in you, or by you, I just can’t wrap my head around this. It’s too much, too fast. You loved Sherry, you loved Juvia.”

Lyon sighed. “I never loved Sherry. I mean, I cared about her, you can’t not care about someone you’re that close to for three years, but that’s not the same as love. And Juvia- Juvia’s something else entirely. Like a platonic soulmate or something. I love her more than words but there’s nothing there in the physical department.”

“But wouldn’t it be the same with Mered? I mean, how does that even work?” Ur asked.

Anger flared in Lyon’s heart and he glowered at her. “One, it is different; and two, how is that an appropriate thing to ask me? We may talk openly about stuff, but usually you draw the line at the inner workings of my sex life.”

Ur gaped at him and her cheeks went crimson.

The silence stretched between them and Lyon could see her struggling to form a response. It was a surreal experience; his mom always had a response at the ready, and Lyon had never seen her left speechless.

“You’re right,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “That was uncalled for, and crossed several lines. I’m sorry.”

Lyon’s anger began to dwindle when met the pitiful look she was giving him. He tried to cling to it, knowing he had every right to be offended by what she'd said, but deep down he knew she hadn't meant it maliciously.

It still bothered him, but the initial sting of her words was subsiding. In its wake he was left with a hollow ache. More than anything he wanted her acceptance, along with the unconditional love and support he'd received in his childhood. Only he was an adult now, and he knew that nothing was unconditional. He wasn't going to get what he wanted by demanding it, nor would he get it from condemning her for saying the wrong thing.

His fear was that she wouldn't want to accept him, to deal with this part of him. But facing her now, he could see his own guilt mirrored back at him. Guilt that stemmed from falling short of the expectations of someone you loved.

Lyon sighed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, drawing her into a half hug and resting his head on top of hers. He planted a kiss on the crown of her head. “I know you didn’t mean it. Doesn't mean it didn't hurt, but we can work on that.”

“You mean I can work on it,” Ur said wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. “As much as I'd like to share the blame, this isn’t your shortcoming; it’s mine. I shouldn't be so upset, there's no reason for it."

"But you are," Lyon pointed out.

"But I am." She stared at him, sorrow and regret deepening the lines on her face and aging her before his eyes. "I always thought of myself as open minded. I was so mad at Juvia for even daring to question us, and it turns out she had every right to."

Lyon shook his head and laid his hand over hers. "Juvia had her reasons to say what she did, but she wasn't trying to paint you all as horrible people."

"No just prejudice."

"Mother," Lyon barked in reproach.

Ur opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it when she met his gaze. Her shoulders sagged and she blew the words away in a long exhale. "Sorry."

Lyon pressed his lips into a tight line.

Lyon pressed his lips into a tight line. “Okay, but maybe part of that is her being frustrated on my behalf. It's not like I was in a position to defend myself. I mean, how would you feel if you were in a room full of people badmouthing me without knowing they were?”

Ur’s scowl morphed into a pensive frown as she mulled over his words.

Lyon flopped back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He was disappointed that she still wasn’t particularly receptive to what he had to say, but he had to accept that she was absorbing a lot, and it might be overwhelming for her.

At least she was willing to acknowledge she wasn’t in the right, and wanted to make changes. That had to count for something. He just hoped she’d give Juvia a second chance while she was at it.

Ur laid down next to him and turned her head to face him. “This whole fake dating thing was really your idea?”

“Yep, all me. Not that was hard to convince her. She’s always been super protective like that. She also might have been under the impression you were all rednecks,” he admitted.

Ur scowled at him and he shot her a sheepish smile.

“Does she have feelings for you? Romantically?”

“No. I mean, there’s some attraction, but I don't think she's let herself get too attached. She knows I’m gay, ‘sides, I’m not exactly her type.”

Ur eyed him. “I see. And what exactly is her type?”

“Tall, dark hair, emotionally unavailable,” Lyon teased, and Ur shot him a reproachful look. “Hey, tell me how that’s not true. Anyways, I tried to warn her off him, but they’ve been hanging out at night and he makes her happy. So, you know, I’m over it. Also I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gray smitten with anyone, so there’s that to consider.”

“Are you trying to sell me something, or what?” Ur said.

Lyon shrugged. “Just saying they’re both adults and if I can get over having to share her with Gray, maybe you can get over your misunderstandings with her and remember that up until last night you liked Juvia.”

Ur sighed, but her lips twitched upward into a hint of a smile. “I suppose. I did say that you and Gray not fighting would be a miracle, and I suppose I owe some of that to Juvia….”

“All of it,” Lyon amended. “I was pretty stuck in my resentment.”

“That you were.” Ur laced her fingers with his. “Though I guess a large part of that’s our fault.”

“Partially, but I could have spoken up more. It might have changed a lot of things.”

Ur hummed an agreement.

Lyon thought about how different things would have been if he’d just told his family he was gay when he realized it. It would have been tough at first, but he had a feeling things would have been different between him and Gray. He might never have moved away from home. “Is it bad that I don’t regret it as much as I probably should?”

Ur sat up, and turned to him, bracing herself on her forearm. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if I’d told you, things would have been better. Not perfect, but probably good enough that I never would have left, and then I never would have met Juvia….” Lyon trailed off and glanced at the door.

“She really means alot to you, doesn’t she?”

Lyon met her gaze and nodded. “Yeah. More than I ever put into words. She’s gotten me through a lot, taught me to stand up for myself, fed me.”

“Fine, fine. I get the point and I’ll try to stop taking my frustrations out on her,” Ur huffed.

“Thanks Mom.” He wrapped her in another hug, and they lay on the bed like they used to when he was eight, curled up in each other’s arms for comfort.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a step forward, and sometimes that’s all you can ask.

“Do you have to go?” Lyon said, winding his arms tighter around Mered waist.

Mered strained against Lyon’s hold to grab the scarf and hat Ultear was holding out for him. “Considering tomorrow is Christmas and I already ditched the parentals to come see you, I’m gonna say yeah, I kinda need to go.”

Lyon pouted, and clung to Mered, leaning on him like a dead weight. “But-”

“Oh my god! Stop clinging, you weigh a ton!” Mered said and attempted to pry Lyon’s hands off him and shove him off at the same time.

“I do not!” Lyon wailed, clawing at Mered to keep himself from being dumped on the floor. “Juvia, tell him I’m not heavy.”

Juvia arched a brow at Lyon, from her seat on the staircase and smirked. “I dunno, you’ve been binging on an awful lot of sweets since Wednesday, I wouldn’t be surprised if you packed on some weight.”

“Traitor.” Lyon glared at her over Mered’s shoulder.

“Oh for heaven’s sake Lyon, get off him and stop being so dramatic,” Ur said as she approached from the kitchen with a large bag in hand. “It’s one day, and you still have an entire week before you go home. You’ll survive.”

Lyon released Mered and sunk to the ground dejectedly. He curled in on himself, clutching his heart. “Even my own mother…. No one loves me anymore, they’ve all abandoned me for you.”

Mered patted his head. “There, there.”

Lyon swatted Mered’s hand away. “Don’t ruin the hair, and don’t patronize me either.”

“Good to know your priorities,” Mered said.

Lyon pouted up at him. “That’s mean.”

“Also very accurate,” Juvia added, and grinned wolfishly when he glowered at her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Juvia shrugged. “I’m always on your side. But I need to earn back some brownie points with your boyfriend if I’m gonna bail you out the next time you put your foot in your mouth.”

“Isn’t it kinda counter productive if you tell me that’s what you’re doing?” Mered asked.

“Yeah, but I’m tired,” Juvia said and gestured in Lyon’s direction. “And if it gets him to stop sulking long enough for you to leave, are you really gonna hold it against me?”

Mered pondered her words, his eyes darting back and forth between Juvia and Lyon in some sort of internal debate.

“Just take the way out sweetie, otherwise we’ll be standing here 'til the sun comes up,” Ur said and stepped forward to wrap Mered in a warm hug and hand him the bag. “That’s for you and your parents.”

“Thanks,” Mered said, eyeing Ur for a moment before shrugging and turning to hug Ultear.

“Get home safe,” Ultear said, hugging him back.

Mered nodded and released her.

“You headed out already?” Silver asked, appearing behind Ur and draping his arm around her waist.

“Yep. You know my rents, up at the crack of dawn for presents,” Mered muttered.

Silver chuckled. “I’ll trade you, this lot won’t get up before ten if I’m lucky, and only if there’s coffee ready for them.”

“Done deal,” Lyon said, “You go spend the night with Mered’s folks and Mered can stay here with us and sleep in. Win, win.”

There were a chorus of exasperated groans and muttering following Lyon’s suggestion.

“What? It was just a suggestion.”

Mered shook his head and leaned down, capturing Lyon’s lips in a quick kiss. “You’re a pain in the ass, I’ll see you soon.” He rose and turned in the direction of the living room and hollered. “Bye Gray!”

“Later!”

Mered turned and waved at the rest of the family, and they waved back. “Night, thanks for having me.”

“You’re welcome,” Ur said.

“See you soon kid.”

“Call me when you get home safe,” Ultear said.

Just as Mered pulled open the door, Lyon hauled himself back onto his feet. “I’ll see you out.”

“Sure,” Mered said, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Lyon looked forward to kissing it off him as soon as they had some privacy.

Mered slipped out the door and Lyon followed, but glanced back and caught sight of the soft smile his mom gave him as he shut the door. His heart fluttered happily, before he turned and followed Mered to his car.

Juvia closed her eyes and relished the feel of cold water sliding down her throat. It was refreshing, and helped clear away some of the drunken haze that had been clouding her mind.

“You should have another one of those before we head to bed,” Lyon said. His hand rested on her lower back as he reclined against the couch.

Juvia nodded and stretched forward to set the empty bottle on the coffee table. “Will do.”

Her gaze flickered over to the love seat, and her lips curled into a smile when she found Gray staring at her.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers and a soft blush dusted his cheeks.

Juvia bit down on her lip, to repress the giggle that threatened to burst from her lips. He was just too cute sometimes.

“I still can’t believe you kept up with Ultear tonight," Lyon said, as Juvia straightened. "You’re gonna feel it in the morning.”

“Please, I’ll be fine by the time the rest of you wake up,” Juvia shot back. She'd definitely had too much tonight, but she'd slowed down after dinner, and started nursing her wine instead of gulping it. As it was, she was feeling pretty good. All warm and fuzzy, which was a lot better than where she started the day.

Lyon scoffed. "Sure. We'll see how well that holds up tomorrow."

"Speaking of tomorrow, maybe hold off on another drinking binge. You're gonna make yourself sick," Gray said, his brow dipped into a concerned frown.

Juvia sank back into the couch with her arms crossed. She wanted to accuse him of being a spoil sport, but decided muttering under her breath was childish. Also it didn't seem likely to encourage his affections.

"I'm with Gray on this one. You're miserable to be around when you're drunk on wine, it makes you depressed," Lyon said.

Juvia scowled at him. "Not much of a difference between drunk me and regular me then, is there?"

Gray frowned at her.

Lyon sighed and carded his hand through his hair, then slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I know things haven't exactly been great today, but I talked to my mom. She promised to ease up on you."

Juvia wanted to protest that she didn’t need the help, but she bit it back. The truth was, dealing with Ur’s displeasure had been frustrating and hurt a lot more than she cared to admit. The relief that washed over her when Ur had said goodnight to her earlier was proof of it.

She sighed and snuggled into Lyon's side, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. “Thanks.”

He hummed and ran his hand along her arm comfortingly.

“You look tired,” Gray said, drawing Juvia’s and Lyon's attention. His eyes skimmed over Juvia's figure then locked with hers. "It's been a rough couple days, you should consider making it an early night tonight."

A smile smile tugged at the corner of Juvia’s lips. His concern sent her heart into a flutter and coated her cheeks with a warm blush.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Lyon seconded. “Lord knows you’ll be up at the crack of dawn.”

Juvia hummed and snuggled into Lyon’s chest. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that. Gray’s right, you need some sleep. Head up I’ll grab a bottle from the fridge and bring it up to you,” Lyon said.

Juvia frowned and pulled back, twisting to face him. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m not sleeping up stairs tonight.”

Lyon rolled his eyes. “I thought we covered this last night. I’m gay, you’re a girl, it’s not a big deal.”

“You have a boyfriend now,” Juvia countered.

“Mered knows there’s nothing going on between us.”

“He’s still not comfortable with how close we are.” Juvia locked eyes with Lyon and he frowned back.

“You’re my best friend he’s gonna need to get over that.”

“Yeah, and eventually he will.” Juvia laid her hand over Lyon’s. “But in the meantime you could try to make it easier on him? Sort of a show of faith?”

“By having you sleep on the couch?” Lyon said, displeasure clear in his voice.

Juvia shrugged. “It’s a nice couch. It’s not even that much worse than the dorm beds.”

Lyon scowled at her.

“It saves you having to kick me out of the bed when Mered spends the night,” Juvia said, a suggestive grin tugged at her lips.

Lyon gaped at her and his cheeks went red. “I- We’re not there yet.”

“Maybe not, but you can’t tell me you don’t want to be.” She locked eyes with him and straightened her back. “You really want to make Mered feel like he’s putting me out for staying over?”

“No….” Lyon glanced away a pensive look on his face.

“So then, I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Lyon frown and glanced at Gray, and Juvia followed suit.

“Oi! Don’t look at me, I was done with this conversation the second Mered spending the night came up. Certain things I just don’t want to know about,” Gray muttered the last part.

Lyon glowered at him. “Oh sure, say that now. Woulda been nice if you felt that way when I had to listen to you and Bacchus go on about your flock of floozies.”

Gray had the sense of mind to look guilty. “Yeah, well- Okay, point made, but trust me I have no intention of talking to you about any future partners.”

Juvia’s heart leapt as his gaze flickered to her before flickering away.

“I doubt you’d be able to tell me anything I haven’t already heard,” Lyon said, with a wicked grin.

Gray scowled at him and Juvia smacked him.

“I’ll still pass on getting the details of the inner workings of your sex life thank you,” Gray said, rising from the couch. He turned to Juvia. “I’ll grab you a water and you two can have whatever conversation you want while I’m safely in another room. Holler when it’s safe.”

Lyon cackled. “Suit yourself.”

Gray shook his head and fled from the room.

Juvia bit her lip, eyes trained on his back until he disappeared from view. Once he was gone she let out a disappointed sigh and glanced sideways at Lyon. "I'm not sleeping with you anymore."

"Why not? And don't try to tell me it's for Mered's sake because we both know that's complete and utter B S."

"It's not bullshit. He's totally insecure about how close we are," Juvia huffed.

Lyon fixed her with a disapproving stare. "But that's not why you're giving up your bed. I thought we talked about this, no more lying."

Juvia averted her gaze and her fingers traced patterns in the couch. She was pretty sure that telling him the truth would only backfire on her, but she had promised she'd be more honest with him. "I was hoping to get a chance to talk to Gray about, you know, us. I thought we were kinda on the same page, but he's been acting distant ever since he found out."

“Gray's always distant, that's just who he is,” Lyon said, with a dismissive wave.

Juvia's hands slammed against the couch cushions with a muffled thud.

Lyon jumped and stared at her wide-eyed.

She glowered at him out of the corner of her eye, and spoke through gritted teeth. "See, this is why I don't talk to you. There's no point, you don't even take me seriously."

"Juvia...." He sighed and his shoulders dropped. He ran a hand through his hair then turned to her. His eyes were sorrowful and his brow was furrowed. "Maybe he’s trying not to piss my mom off. She’s been taking shit out on, and anyone with eyes can see you're not actually okay. And she's been cold to him too. Anything that starts between you too right now is just gonna make it worse.”

Juvia's eyes softened and she stared at her hands folded in her lap. She hadn't really thought about it like that. It made sense. Gray had seemed more protective than usual, and he was always more distant when other people where around.

"I guess...." She frowned and turned to Lyon. "You told him you're okay with it, right?"

Lyon rolled his eyes, and draped his arm across her shoulders, and pulled her in for a hug. "Of course. Scout's honour."

Juvia curled into him, and wrapped her arms around him, letting her head fall to his shoulder. She couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off.

Lyon tugged her up against him and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. Just come to bed. You’re over tired, and over thinking all this."

Juvia shook her head. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

“He knows we’re not sleeping together. Mered knows too.”

“I don’t care what they know. I’m gonna end up on this couch eventually, it’s fine.”

“It’s not-“ Lyon growled. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

Juvia buried her face deeper into his shoulder, as heat crept up the back of her neck. “He might ask me to… join him.”

Lyon stiffened beneath her.

“Is that really so bad to hope for?” she asked.

Lyon sighed and there was a soft thunk as his head hit the back of the couch. “You need sleep Juvia.”

“I know, but-“

“No, no buts. Sex is not sleep. More importantly, you two need to talk about shit, and figure some things out. We’re not here forever,” Lyon said.

Juvia pulled away from him and glared back at him. She knew he was right, deep down, but she really didn’t want to talk anymore.

He stared back at her, daring her to argue.

Juvia took a deep breath and slumped back against him. He was right. She was over tired and over sensitive, and still drunk enough that everything was floating to the surface.

Lyon ran his hand along her back, and pulled her back into him.

She collapsed against his chest, not having it in her to fight more. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.

“I just don’t get it,” she whimpered, “what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why’s he holding back now?”

Lyon sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know, and I’m not the person you should be asking.”

Juvia closed her eyes trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. “Please let me stay here. Please. I just want him to know I’m not- I don’t have those kinds of feelings for you.”

“That’s the heart of it?”

Juvia nodded.

Lyon sighed again and shifted, pushing her up and off of him. He scrubbed his hand over his face, and when he met her eyes, Juvia could see the resignation written there. “Okay. Sleep here if you want, just know you’ve got a bed if you want it.”

Juvia smiled at him. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushed himself up off the couch and plodded into the hall. “Oi, Gray, you’re safe from the scary gay sex talk.”

“Yippie.” Juvia could practically hear the eye roll in Gray’s voice and she had to smile.

She got up with a groan and dragged her feet across the room to flop against Lyon. She meant it as a hug, but it was more or less him holding her up. “Night.”

“So you decided you’re just gonna sleep on Lyon in the hallway then?” Gray chuckled as he sauntered towards them holding a water bottle.

Juvia hummed and nuzzled her cheek against Lyon’s chest. “Yep. Perfect compromise.”

“Actually, she’s sleeping on the couch,” Lyon said, as he pried her off of him. He gave her a light shove, sending her stumbling into Gray, who fumble to catch her. “Be a dear and see that she gets there.” With that he hurried up the stairs, calling out a good night as he went.

Juvia struggled to find her footing, as she clung to Gray. She was sure she was beat red.

His hands slid across her back and around her waist to help steady her. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear. "Do I need to carry you?"

Juvia's cheeks burned, and she wasn't sure it was entirely from embarrassment. “You don’t have to, I can walk.”

“You sure?”

Juvia meant to say yes, but all coherent thoughts disappeared as their eyes met. He was so gorgeous, and so close. It wouldn't take much to just lean forward and kiss him.

“Hold this.” Gray shoved the water bottle into her hands then bent forward.

Juvia’s world shifted sideways as he hefted her up onto his shoulder, and she let out a small shriek as he carried her into the living room. He dropped her onto the couch and smirked as she looked up at him from the heap she landed in. She pouted back at him.

He chuckled at her and ruffled her hair. “Drink your water, I’ll be right back.” Before Juvia could protest he turned and trotted out of the room.

Juvia sipped on her water and waited, sulking over the ruined moment, and him manhandling her. His feet slapped against the stairs, and she caught the creak of a door opening. She frowned, wondering what he was up to.

Her answer came when he returned with a large blanket and an arm full of pillows.

“Up. I’m making your bed,” Gray said.

Juvia hurried up and perched on the coffee table as Gray dropped everything onto the couch.

He shifted the pillows up to one end and draped the blanket across the cushions, then up the back of the couch tucking it into the creases. He turned to her and grinned proudly. “Give it a try.”

Juvia crawled across the space between the coffee table and couch. She fluffed the pillows up, then laid down, snuggling into them.

As she did, Gray reached out and pulled the upper half of the comforter down over top of her, and tucked it around her feet. “Better?”

“Mhmm,” Juvia smiled, warmth washing over her that had just as much to do with Gray being doting as it did with the down comforter. “Definitely better than the dorm mattress now.”

He smiled back at her, and settled back onto the coffee table, planting his hands behind him and leaning back. “You know, you could just buy your own mattress.”

“No money.”

“Right.” Gray winced. “Then you should drop a couple hints to my dad over breakfast. Now that Lyon’s back in the fold, I’m sure they’ll be visiting soon. He’d probably drag you out to get a new one.”

Juvia bit her lip, and shook her head. “That’s really not necessary, he’s already got the two of you to pay for anyways.”

“Yeah, but he likes you, and the gallery’s making good money. ‘Sides they owe you something for looking after Lyon all this time.”

Juvia nodded and averted her gaze and fiddled with the edge of the comforter. “Do you think you’ll come down with them?”

Gray scoffed. “I doubt I’ll be able too. It’s hockey season and between that and school my life’s pretty much spoken for until summer.”

“Right.” Juvia tried to hide the disappointment in her voice, but the guilty expression that mapped itself across Gray’s face said she hadn’t done a very good job.

He sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. “But you know, Spring Break will be here soon enough, and I’m sure Lyon’ll drag you back up for that. And once summer hits I’ll have a ton of free time, so I can make the trip down. Stay for a few weeks, let you guys show me around." He flashed her a smile. "Gotta check out all of those Hargeon clubs you two keep talking about.”

Juvia perked up. “Really?”

“Definitely. Though you’ll need to get some AC, no way in hell I’m putting up with those temperatures. I’ll melt.”

Juvia blinked. Had he just implied he’d be staying with her?

Gray’s eyes widened and his cheeks turned bright red. “Uh, that is, by you I mean, you know, Lyon. Or that I'd get a hotel room with AC. Not that you’d need to get one. I mean, I’m not suggesting you need to put me up-“

“You can stay with me,” Juvia said, heart hammering against her chest. “My roommate’ll be gone, and chances are Mered will be down for the summer so Lyon’s room will be occupied. But hotels are expensive, and I’d have the space, and I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Right,” Gray licked his lips, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Sure. We can talk more about it as we get closer.”

Juvia frowned, feeling the distance open up between them like a fissure in the ground.

“Anyways, I should let you get some sleep.” Gray rose from the table, and headed for the stairs.

Juvia wanted to call out after him, to demand an answer or ask what she did wrong, but the words lodged in her throat.

Gray paused at the entrance to the room, but kept his back to her. “Night Juvia.”

And with that he was gone.

The creek of the stairs roused Juvia from her restless sleep. Her eyes fluttered open in time to catch sight of Silver’s back as he crept into the den.

Grey light filtered in from the windows and Juvia pushed herself up and frowned.

The clock on the TV stand read 5:34, confirming that it was too early to be up, even for Silver.

She sighed and sat up, stretching the kinks out of her back. It wasn’t a bad couch, but she’d been restless all night. Overtired and stuck in a loop of thought as she tried to decipher Gray’s behaviour. Juvia rose from the couch, blankets falling away, and shivered when the brisk air hit her skin. Goosebumps rose on her skin as she padded across the cold wooden floor towards the den.

Silver hunched over in front of the fireplace, trying to maneuver the stockings to make room for the one that rested at his feet. It wouldn't have been much of an issue, but they were all full to the brim and he was trying not to make a sound.

Juvia frowned, and her heart skipped a beat. There was no reason for him to hang another stocking, everyone in the family already had one.

“Do you need a hand?” Juvia asked, as she approached.

Silver jolted upright. A couple of gifts threatened to tumbled from the stocking he'd been holding, and he jerked it upright to save them. He clutched his heart with his free hand and glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me,” he breathed. “Uh-“ His eyes darted down to the stocking then back to her, and he tried to shift it out of sight.

It was too little too late. Juvia froze, eyes wide and heart hammering, as she caught sight of her name, stitched into the top of the stocking. "Is that-"

"Nothing you should be seeing."

"It has my name on it," Juvia whispered, and took a shaky step forward. The sight of it was surreal, and Juvia was certain this was some kind of cruel dream.

Silver studied her face, then his lips twitched into a small smile. He sighed and held the stocking out towards her. "It was supposed to be a surprise.

Juvia reached out and grasped it. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as her fingers wrapped around the soft felt. She took it from him cradling it along her arm. Her fingers traced the stitching and embroidery. It looked hand made. "It's beautiful."

"Ur made it. She's been working on it non stop since you got here. Kind of a family tradition,” Silver said.

Juvia frowned. “But she-"

"She loves you. Just as much as the rest of them," Silver said. He closed the distance between them and wrapped her up in his arms. "I told you, no one's abandoning you."

Juvia choked back a sob and clung to Silver as tears streaked down her cheeks. Her fingers tightened around Silver's shirt gripping the fabric as she clung to him, and leaned into his embrace. Her heart ached and she felt like her legs were about to give out.

Silver tightened his hold on her. One hand stroked her hair and he murmured gentle words, trying to sooth her. The exact words were drowned out as Juvia broke into loud retching sobs.

It hurt. It hurt and she had no idea why. It should have been a happy thing. She should have felt relief, knowing that they still cared for her, and wanted her around. after everything that had happened. It should have made her happy, and yet it felt like someone was crushing her heart in their hand, and she couldn’t stop crying.

“Hush now,” Silver said, as her sobs started to abate. “Shh. You didn’t think we were so heartless that we wouldn’t get you gifts, did you?”

His voice was teasing, but it broke her heart all over again, and her sobs picked up their cadence?.

It wasn’t that she thought they were heartless, far from it, but she hadn’t expected anything. Maybe a gift or two, but she was a last minute addition, and not a member of their family. They’d had the gallery to look after, and their Christmas party to plan and she couldn’t even fathom when they had the time to go out and do last minute shopping for her, let alone make her a stocking. And all this time she’d been lying to them, and throwing their shortcomings in their faces.

It was too much.

“I don’t deserve this,” she choked out.

Silver tensed at her words and frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course you do.”

“No I don’t. I’ve lied to you, and I’ve hurt you, and I said horrible things to you and accused you-“

“Juvia, look at me,” Silver commanded.

Juvia swallowed and nuzzled into his chest, not wanting to move. He didn’t pressure her to, but she could feel him waiting for her to comply. She lifted her head and met his gaze.

“None of that, absolutely none of that, makes you less worthy of a place in this family.”

“But-“

“No buts,” Silver said, cutting off her protests. “We have all made mistakes, we have all said or done horrible things at one point or another. We love each other anyways, because that’s what family is about. It’s about support and forgiveness and love. We love you sweetheart. There isn’t much that’ll change that.”

Juvia’s heart clenched. She wanted to believe it, but her mind riled against her, protesting that this was just another disappointment waiting to happen. That no one loved her. No one was gonna stick around forever. “But why?

“Because you’re not a bad kid, and you need some love,” Silver said, as though love were that simple and could be summoned out of need. “Why do you love Lyon?”

Juvia opened her mouth to answer, but frowned when she realize she didn’t have one. She knew that she loved Lyon, but the why of it wasn’t something she’d considered, she couldn’t even pinpoint when it happened. All she knew was that from the moment she met him she wanted to protect him. Then he started to open up to her, and trust her in ways he’d never trusted anyone else, and somewhere along the way it just happened.

“Not so easy to answer is it?” Silver asked

Juvia shook her head and sighed. Her tears had subsided at some point, and the ache in her heart had eased into a dull throb. Exhaustion swept over her, and she leaned into Silver’s hold. Her head rested against his shoulder and her eyes fluttered closed. If she stood there long enough she wondered if she’d finally pass out.

“Go back to bed sweetie. It’s too early, even for you. Besides, Santa can’t bring you your presents while you’re still awake.”

Juvia’s grip tightened and she pressed her face into his shoulder. He radiated warmth and she knew the absence of it would be yet another thing to keep her awake. “Can’t sleep,” she murmured against his chest.

Silver frowned down at her. “And why not? You’re not still worried about Ur, are you?”

“No,” Juvia said and shook her head.

“Gray then?”

Juvia stiffened and jerked her head back to look up at him. “How did you-“

“Please, I’m hardly stupid,” Silver said, sounding rather affronted. “I may have been defending the two of you from Ur, but that doesn’t mean I’ve missed the way you two keep looking at each other.”

Juvia blushed and averted her gaze. Had she really been that obvious?

“Come on, let’s go make you a cup of tea, and see if I can’t sort out whatever mess you two have gotten yourselves into,” Silver said and ushered her towards the kitchen.

Juvia allowed him to guide her, while she debated whether or not it was a good idea to even talk to Silver about this. Gray was his son, so was likely to be a least a little bias. Also he seemed to be under the same impression she had been, the one where Gray was interested, which she was starting to think, might be a false assumption on everyone’s part.

She climbed onto one of the stools as Silver strode towards the counter. She sat in silence, contemplating what to say as she listened to the rush of water, and then the click of the kettle being turned on.

Silver turned back towards her and leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest. “So, why are you losing sleep over my kid?”

Juvia bit her lower lip and let her fingers trace random patterns over the marble. “I don’t know. It’s… complicated I guess?”

“Complicated?” Silver asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It's, well- One minute he’s flirting, or being sweet, and just as I think things are getting-“ Juvia waved her hand as she struggled to find a word that fit. Her fingers curled in frustration “somewhere, he pulls away.”

“So he’s freezing you out?”

Juvia sighed and rest her chin on her upturned palm. “Sort of? I mean, not all the time, just when things seem to be going somewhere between us.”

“Things?” Silver’s lips curled into a devilish smile.

“Like kissing,” Juvia said, hastily waving her hands in front of her face. Heat burned across her cheeks and she knew she’d gone beet red.

Silver gave her a knowing look. “Uh huh.”

“Just kissing,” she insisted. “I swear.”

Her heart hammered and she averted her gaze. This must have been where Lyon got his habit of teasing from.

“You’ll forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe,” Silver said.

The kettle clicked. He turned and fished a mug out of the cupboard, then grabbed a tea bag from the jar on the counter. He dropped it into the cup.

Steam billowed up from the kettle as he poured the water. Juvia watched and her cheeks cooled now that his gaze was no longer fixed on her. Her lips tipped downwards, as she thought about how he’d practically run from her last night. Her heart squeezed. What was she doing wrong?

The mug clinked as Silver set it down in front of her. His brow furrowed as he took in her slumped shoulders and sad eyes. “Or not. He really hasn’t made a move?”

“Really.”

“Well,” Silver said, settling onto the stool beside her. “Maybe he’s trying not to upset Ur.”

Juvia hummed, and wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the heat seep through the ceramic and sting her skin. “That’s what Lyon said.”

“But you don’t think so?”

Juvia shrugged and hunched forward. She blew at the tea, watching as the steam dissipated then rose again. She raised her gaze to look up at him. “Dunno. If that was the case, why not just tell me? It’s like he’s afraid to be alone with me.”

Silver snorted, and Juvia frowned at him. She had no idea what he could possibly think was funny about this.

“Sorry sweetie, I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s a very Gray thing to do.” Silver smothered another chuckle behind his hand, and shook his head. “Boy’s got zero emotional intelligence. He assumes everyone around him comes to the same conclusions he does, and he never stops to consider that he might need to explain himself. You should just tell him how you feel.”

Juvia tried not to let her frustration show. She wasn’t the one who was acting weird, and it frustrated her that she needed to put herself out even further than she already had to get an explanation from him. She was the one who’d kissed him, she was the one who put it all out there and admitted that she wanted to kiss him back on Wednesday. Gray knew where she stood. She shouldn’t need to ask.

Silver sighed and his hand landed over top of hers. “You can also give it some time. Ur’s settling down, and I’m sure in a day or two he’ll realize the storm has passed. Once he knows it’s safe I’m sure he’ll be all over you.”

Juvia blushed at the mental image and muttered “I don’t know about all over me.”

Silver scoffed. “I know my kid. But either way, he already cares about you. Gray would never spend the night sleeping on that couch when he could sleep in his own bed.” Silver fixed her with a meaningful look. “He’s also never been the cuddling type, or the listening type.”

Juvia bit her lip as it tried to twitch into a smile. “So I’ve been told.”

“It means you’re special to him.”

Juvia’s heart lurched, and she stared at Silver, wide-eyed. Her heart thundered against her chest as she took a sip of her tea.

“Which is good, ‘cause I was looking forward to having you as a daughter-in-law.”

Juvia’s throat and nose burned as she choked on her tea. She sputtered and coughed, trying to clear her throat, and her eyes watered as she did. Liquid dripped from her nose and she hastily wiped it away with the napkin Silver handed to her, before continuing to cough.

She sucked in a breath and managed to croak. “You were?”

“Of course!” Silver said and patted her on the back.

She finally managed to stop choking. She wanted to take another sip of her tea, but she held off, worried Silver would say something else.

“I mean, initially I figured you’d marry Lyon, but then I saw you and Gray sleeping on the couch and well…. I’m glad he’s gay. Makes me feel less guilty for rooting for Gray,” Silver confessed.

“You were rooting for him?” Juvia asked. “Even though I was with Lyon?”

“He’s my son,” Silver said, shooting her a guilty look. “I mean, I know Lyon is too, but…. I just want Gray to be happy.”

Juvia stared down at her tea, deep in thought. Her finger traced the handle on the mug. “Me too.”

Lyon sipped his coffee, a small smile playing on his lips, as he stacked the gifts from his stocking into a pile, and hummed along to the Christmas carols. He’d gotten a good haul this year.

Juvia sat on the floor below him. Her shoulder brushed against his dangling leg, where she was propped against the couch. Her tea sat, untouched, on the coffee table, and her gifts had all been step aside. Her new stocking was in her hand and her fingers traced the the embroidery.

Lyon had to admit, it was pretty. He glanced sideways at Ur and caught her eye, sending her a small smile.

She smiled back and puffed up a little with pride. Apparently, they’d had a moment together this morning that involved a very tearful Juvia, and a few hugs. Neither had gone into details, but they’d been civil and talking so far, so he took it as a good sign, even if he still felt a bit protective of Juvia.

A loud smack, drew everyone’s attention to Silver, who was seated on the chair by the window, to the left of the tree. “Alright, enough lollygagging, time for presents!”

Silver grinned down at Gray, who was sitting by the tree, covered in mounds of wrapping paper and gifts. A Santa hat hung from his head.

“Start handing ‘em out kid,” Silver said.

Gray rolled his eyes, but the wide grin on his face gave him away as he started fishing presents out from under the tree.

Once it had been Lyon’s job, but, during high school, Ur’d insisted they share the position. He’d resented Gray for it at the time, but when Gray’d asked him if he wanted to hand out presents today Lyon declined. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but Gray had taken over a lot in the last few years, and it felt unfair to take it all back after having abandoned it.

That, and perhaps he’d felt a little guilty for fighting so hard not to share the position as a kid.

“Come on, hurry it up Gray,” Ultear jeered, grinning down at him from where she reclined on the far end of the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on,” Gray said, as he handed the first gift to her. “That one’s for mom.”

Ultear snorted. “You should take your own advice.”

Gray’s expression soured, as Silver and Lyon erupted into laughter. Juvia muffled her giggles behind her hand, and Ultear flashed Gray a wicked grin, clearly pleased with herself.

“Very funny,” Gray said, and sneered back at Ultear. “Do you want your presents or not?”

It wasn’t much of a threat, but it was enough to get everyone to try and reign in their laughter, as Gray reached under the tree to haul out another present and pass it off.

Juvia glanced up at Lyon as he handed her her first present. “Do I open this now, or?”

“Nah, we usually wait until all the presents are divvied out, then open them all together. Takes less time,” Lyon explained.

Juvia, nodded and placed the present down in front of her, and stacked the next one on top of it when Lyon handed it to her.

Lyon stacked his own presents on the side table behind him, then smirked as Ur handed him the small gift bag that contained his gift to Juvia. Instead of handing it to her he reached out and set it on the coffee table next to her tea. “You gotta save that one for the end.”

She quirked her head to the side and frowned. “Why?”

Lyon smirked. “Cause I want to see your face when you open it.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t protest.

A few more presents were past their way, before the tree was empty.

“This is the last one,” Gray announced as he shifted out from under the tree, holding the last present. He glanced down at the tag. “To Mom, from Ultear. Course you’d be the one to stick it all the way under the back of the tree.”

“Just trying to make it look more full,” Ultear replied.

“Sure,” Gray muttered and crawled forward to pass the gift straight to Ur.

“Alright, let’s open these babies,” Silver cheered, plucking the smallest item from his pile. He smiled as his fiddled with it. “Feels like a book to me.” He glanced over at Juvia and flashed her a blinding smile.

Juvia smiled back, and she fidgeted with the wrapping paper on the gift in her hand as she watched him unwrap the gift.

“Haha! I was right,” Silver crowed, holding the book aloft. “A cook book!”

“Not just any cookbook,” Lyon said, as he nudged Juvia with his knee.

Her cheeks flushed, as Silver cocked his head at her. She averted her gaze, but a small smile played on her lips. “It’s the same version of cookbook my adopted father used to teach me, he gave it to me when he sent me back. It’s where I got the chili recipe from.”

Silver gaped at her. He glanced down at the book and gingerly ran his hand over the cover. When he glanced back up at her his eyes were glazed over. “That’s a beautiful thing to get me sweetheart. Come on, get over here! I demand a hug for that.”

Juvia blushed but did as she was bid, climbing up and over the gifts and piles of paper for the hug.

Gray smiled at them fondly, a look of pride on his face, and Ur was watching them as well. Her hand caught Juvia’s as Juvia returned to her gifts. Juvia stopped, and stared down at Ur like a deer caught in headlights.

“That was very sweet of you,” Ur said.

Juvia blushed and bit her lip. Her eyes darted back to Silver, who was already tearing open Gray’s gift. “He reminds me of him. The good parts.”

Ur squeezed her hand, and smiled at Juvia. “Good.”

Juvia sat back down, wiping the tears from her eyes as she did.

Lyon reached down and gave her shoulder a squeeze and Juvia glanced up at him and placed her hand over his. He could read the thank you in her eyes, even though she didn’t say it out loud. “Open your presents, we’re falling behind.”

Juvia giggled, and carefully began to peel off the wrapping paper.

“Just rip it off,” Lyon said exasperatedly.

“No.” Juvia glowered at him. “I wanna save the paper.”

Lyon rolled his eyes at her and tore a large strip from his own gift. His eyes lit up and a grin split across his face as he stared down at the cover of Phantom of the Opera’s dvd case. “Tear have I told you I love you lately?”

“Mmm, probably, but I can’t remember, so feel free to remind me,” Ultear said.

“I love you, very much,” Lyon said as he tore the rest of the paper off and tossed it at Juvia, to annoy her.

Ultear smirked, and held up the book he'd picked out for her. “Love you too, and Juvia since I'm sure this is her doing.”

“Totally not,” Lyon said. “I picked it out myself.”

Gray scoffed. “I thought Chelia picked it out for you.”

Lyon puffed out his cheeks and glowered at Gray. “Nobody asked you.”

“Just trying to keep you honest,” Gray replied with a smirk.

Ultear laughed at Lyon. “Sounds like quite the team effort. I'm touched.”

“Yeah, well, it was that or a cheap bottle of wine, so stop giving me such a hard time about it.” Lyon crossed his arms over his chest dramatically and put on his best pout.

“You're such a drama queen,” Ultear teased.

Lyon shot her a haughty look. “Absolutely, and queens demand respect.” He snapped his fingers at her.

“Forgive us queen Lyon, for questioning your royal authority,” Juvia said her voice twisted into a horrible attempt at an English accent. She leaned back and stared up at him with a playful grin. “But if it would please your grace, you should return to opening your many offerings for you are holding up the process.”

Lyon snorted and nudged her with his leg, as the rest of the room erupted in laughter.

“You tell him girl,” Ultear jeered.

“Yeah, yeah, focus on your own pile ya saucy little brat.”

Juvia stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to her gifts, and Lyon reached for the next on in his pile.

The rest of the gifts were open without too much preamble. Thank yous and you’re welcomes were exchanged, along with the general fanfare of excitement over items. It wasn’t until Juvia reached for his gift atop the coffee table, that Lyon found himself getting excited.

She fished out the card and carefully started to pry open the envelope.

He set his gifts aside and leaned over her shoulder. “Remember, when I bought that you were supposed to be my girlfriend.”

Juvia frowned and cocked her head at him, and he flashed he a wicked grin. She eyed him warily and set aside the card instead of opening it, and dug through the tissue paper to pull out a small wrapped box that fit in the palm of her hand and paled.

“You didn’t.” She turned to him in wide-eyed panic. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

Lyon shrugged. “Open it.”

Juvia did. Her hands shook as she peeled off the wrapping paper, revealing a small velvet case. She glanced up at him with furrowed brows and questioning eyes. He nodded encouragingly, and fought back his smile. He knew what she was expecting.

He glanced around the room and realized all eyes were on them. The tension in the air was palpable as they waited for Juvia to open the box.

She continued to stare at it, and made no move to open it, so Lyon reached out and plucked it from her hand. He turned it to face her and pried the lid up to reveal the small sapphire earrings he’d bought her.

“You-“ Juvia glared at him and swatted his arm. “You’re such an asshole.”

Lyon burst out laughing. “You don’t like them then?”

“Them?” Ur asked, peering over his shoulder to catch a glimpse at the gift.

Ultear lunged forward and snatched the box from his hand. “Oh thank god, it’s earrings.”

There was a collective sigh of relief, and Silver laughed and clapped his hand on his knee.

Ur glared at Silver. “That wasn’t funny. I nearly had heart failure, I thought he was intending a fake proposal.”

“I thought about it.” Lyon flashed her a wicked grin.

Juvia smacked on the arm again and this time he flinched and rubbed the spot. He turned and pouted at her. “Oh come on, if you saw the look on your faces you would have found it funny too.”

“Not likely,” Juvia scoffed.

“I don’t find it particularly funny either,” Ur scolded.

“It’s a little funny,” Ultear said, and she handed Juvia back the box.

Juvia took it and frowned down at the earrings. She sighed and met Lyon’s gaze. “They’re beautiful, but I can’t accept these.” She shut the box and held it out to him.

Lyon pushed her hand back. “Yes you can.”

“Lyon-“

“Don’t start. They weren’t that expensive, and I’ve dragged you through a ton of shit this week and you never abandoned me. It’s the least I can do.”

Juvia’s shoulders sagged, and she gave him a forlorn look. “But-“

“No buts!” Lyon shook his head at her. “Can you just say thank you and hug me?”

Juvia blushed and averted her gaze. She bit her lower lip and muttered, “Thank you.”

Lyon smiled and held his arms out for her.

She hesitated, but eventually rose onto her knees and leaned in for a hug.

When she pulled away Gray was standing next to them. He shuffled around and scratched the back of his neck, before thrusting a envelope at Lyon.

Lyon stared at it, then glanced up at Gray in confusion. “What’s this?”

“It’s your gift, what else would it be?” Gray said with a frown.

“But we don’t exchange gifts,” Lyon said.

His heart hammered in his chest and he continued to frown at the envelope. There was a certain level of mistrust towards the gift, but guilt tugged at his heart as well. He hadn’t gotten Gray anything.

“Yeah, well, it was kinda pointed out that maybe we should start.” Gray’s eyes darted down to Juvia then then away. His cheeks reddened. “And that if I want things to change between us, I’m gonna have to be sincere about that and do nice things without actually expecting anything for it.”

Lyon reached for the envelope tentatively, and took it from Gray. His mind whispered warnings, that this was some sort of prank and not to get his hopes up, but his heart hammered excitedly against his chest none the less. He carefully ripped along the top of the envelope and pulled four tickets from it.

Chicago was printed in bold letters at the top, and Lyon’s heart halted. He scanned the rest of the ticket with his heart lodged in his throat, then looked up at Gray in shock. “How did you-“

“Mered got ‘em for me,” Gray said and shrugged. “They’re supposed to be pretty good seats.”

“They’re amazing seats,” Lyon replied breathlessly.

“Good, they’re for March Break, and I grabbed four, since I figured you might bring Juvia with you, and you’d want to take Mered too. You can take whoever you want as your fourth,” Gray rambled.

Lyon nodded and stared back at the tickets. This was by far the nicest thing Gray had ever done for him. It felt like acceptance, or an apology for all the years of giving Lyon a hard time about being in drama clubs and theatre. “I know it’s not really your thing, but if you wanted-“

“Really?” Gray looked down at him hopefully.

“Yeah, for sure.” Lyon said. A smile tugged at his lips. “And thanks.”

Gray’s lips twitched up into a smile as well. “You’re welcome.”

Juvia yawned and rubbed her eyes, as the credits on screen started to blur. She was forced to sit up as Lyon shifted beneath her, stretching his arms and arching his back.

“Okay, I need to head to bed. Unlike the two of you, I have no intention of looking like a haggard troll tomorrow due to lack of sleep,” Lyon said. He nudged Juvia, pushing her to shift forward so he could sit up from where they’d been cuddling on the couch.

Gray rolled his eyes and twisted himself so that he could face them from the love seat. “Pretty sure you wind up looking like one anyways; otherwise you wouldn’t need to spend over an hour hogging the bathroom every morning.”

“Beauty is an art form that can’t be rushed,” Lyon sneered. “You’re just hating because you couldn’t look this good if you had a whole day to try.”

“Oh yeah, that must be it,” Gray said.

“Seriously, you’d need half a bottle of concealer to hide those bags you’ve got under your eyes.”

Gray’s mouth twisted into a thin line and his nose scrunched up in disdain.

Juvia hid her giggles behind her hand, finding the expression kind of adorable. She didn’t dare admit Lyon was right. Not when she knew her own eyes looked like they belonged to a raccoon.

“You know,” Lyon said, using his haughty, I know better than you, tone of voice, “If you started putting some Vaseline under your eyes and actually aimed to get more than six hours sleep a night, you could clear them up pretty quick.”

“Sounds like a lotta work,” Gray said.

Lyon sighed and waved his hand dismissively as he headed for the stairs. “Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you when your youth finally gives out and you end up an ugly saggy eyed old man.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Gray said.

Lyon stopped in the door and turned to Juvia. “Try not to let him keep you up all night.”

“No promises,” Juvia shot back with a smile.

“Hopeless, both of you,” Lyon lamented with a shake of his head.

“Good night Lyon,” Juvia singsonged.

He rolled his eyes at her and turned to the stairs, raising his hand in acknowledgement. “Night you two.”

“See you in the morning,” Gray called out, as he leaned forward precariously to snatch the remote from the coffee table. He grabbed a hold of the edge, using it to prop himself up. He had to push off against it once he had the remote to avoid face planting into the floor.

Juvia watched him in silence, enjoying the way the light played off his muscles. His eyes caught hers, but she was too tired to care about being caught staring.

Gray blushed and averted his gaze. “Uh, so….” His fingers drummed against the couch.

“Another movie?” Juvia offered. Tired as she was, this was the first time she’d been alone with Gray since Saturday and she didn’t know if she could handle him running off on her again.

Gray kept his gaze averted, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know-“

“Oh, come on,” Juvia groused, exasperation getting the better of her. She took a breath to reel in her frustration, and tried to keep her tone light and teasing. “One more movie isn’t gonna kill you right? Or are you worried about what Lyon said?”

“Pfft, that’s hardly something I’ve ever had to worry about, but I do have hockey practice tomorrow,” Gray said.

Juvia frowned and bit down on her agitation. Her hand gripped the couch cushion, and her nails bit into the fabric. Of course he had hockey tomorrow, yet another excuse to avoid having to be alone with her.

“Right,” she bit out, and turned her back to him and flopped back down onto the couch. “Well night then.”

Gray sighed. “I didn’t say I was going to bed, just pointing out I need to be up early and so another movie’s not the best idea.”

A flicker of hope sparked in Juvia’s chest. She glanced back over her shoulder at him. “You thinking a show then?”

“Actually, I was wondering if we could talk,” Gray said.

“Talk?” Juvia perked up, turning to face him. Maybe Silver had been right and all he needed was a bit of time.

“Uh, yeah,” Gray said, eyeing her nervously. “I mean, we’ve talked a lot about things already, but you also kinda lied about a lot.” Juvia’s smile faltered with his words. “I thought that this would be a good chance to clarify things, you know? Get to know you and all that.”

“Oh.” Juvia couldn’t deny her disappointment, but she told herself that him wanting to get to know her was a good sign. Maybe he needed to clear up some things that were confusing him, and then they'd talk for real.

“We don’t have to if you don’t-“

“I don’t mind,” Juvia cut him off in a rush, not wanting to lose her window of opportunity. “It’ll be good, to clarify things.”

“Right,” Gray licked his lips. “Good.”

Silence fell between them as they stared at each other awkwardly.

“So…” Juvia prompted.

“So?”

“What do you want clarification on?” she asked.

Gray’s brows furrowed in thought, clearly not having expected the question. “Well, everything, I guess.”

“I thought you had to get up for hockey? I’m gonna need a little more direction than that if you plan to sleep tonight.”

Gray laughed, rich and bold and full, and the sound warmed her insides and turned them to jelly, and then he smiled at her and she was pretty sure her heart stopped entirely. “Okay, fair enough. Well, then start at the beginning. Where were you born?”

Juvia answered, and her insides fluttered as he fired off another question, smile still plastered on his lips. She was pretty sure they weren’t going to bed any time soon, but it was okay. The lack of sleep would be worth it if she could spend the rest of her nights talking to him like this.

[lotornomiko]

The Sacrificial Maiden Chapter Three (Mostly work safe)

She didn’t know what was real, what was fake, those dreamy imaginings of fragmented recollection the result of an over-exhausted and long terrified mind. Such had been her panic, the fear, that and the certainty that she was going to die or worse, so thoroughly cemented as truth in her head, that there was little room for anything else. Certainly not for a savior, the man whose kiss had held the hot heat of a long repressed desire, that warmth and vitality a miracle Alana hadn’t yet been able to appreciate or want.

In those arms, that strong and sure embrace, she hadn’t been capable of feeling safe, suffocating instead on a breath that was both parts sob and scream. Made dizzy and afraid, her panic hadn’t allowed her to truly think or to focus, Alana barely aware of what set her assailant apart from the rest. She didn’t truly notice the unusual color of his hair,  or feel the icy wetness of his clothes. The young woman certainly didn’t notice the look in his eyes, the hope and the affection shining within. She could only focus on the fact that he was kissing her, and gentle though that expression ultimately was, the violence that had beset Coriander, that had targeted the women in a particular way, had been fresh on her mind.

Fighting as best as was possible in the moment, Alana had pushed back against his chest. Desperate to break free of that warm contact, and for the breath that was vital, the young woman had already been halfway to fainting, when she heard him say something, a name of some sort.

Alicia…

She had tried repeating it, and THAT took the last of her strength, Alana passing out for real. Tumbling down into the well of darkness that was both dreams and nightmares, she could only exist in that in between state, plagued by worries, by doubts and by fears, the woman drifting in and out of sleep, but never full awakening. Not even to the sound of voices near her, a man and a woman arguing. They both had sounded so angry, so mad, their words akin to riddles, that heated discussion so far removed from anything Alana could have understood. The one and only thing that she had been able to truly pick up on, was that of a name, and the importance around it. Alicia this, Alicia that, Alicia would have wanted, and each time she heard that name spoken, it made a painful something throbbed from deep within Alana.

Another time there was a man’s low voiced murmur, accompanied by the back of fingers caressing over her cheek. That gentle touch seemed to hold its own weight of expectation, that hopeful demand something that Alana shied away from. She kept on sleeping, as if that was her one and only means of protection, hearing that name, that Alicia, once more.

Sometimes the argumentative woman was back, other times it was just Alana and that man, his voice a low urgent murmur, his hands clasping around one of hers as though in prayer. Once she heard the sound of several females, their voices soft as they made quiet chatter around her. It was those women that helped to somewhat reassure her, none of the violence and the screaming that had spread through out her village to be found. These ladies didn’t sound hurt or afraid, and they certainly didn’t come off as though they had been traumatized by the events that had taken place in Coriander. So at peace were these women, that it made Alana want to believe it had all been nothing more than a nightmare. Nothing more than some horrific imagining brought on by exhaustion and one too many worries, more than one rumor having gone around her village about possible monsters having been sighted.

Surely that talk of demons and undead had made their impact on her, in a world that was otherwise peaceful save for that of the underworld and its threats. She had never seen a single monster herself, but the idea of them had taken root, brought to life in vividly horrific detail in her dreams. Her nightmares, Alana unable to laugh at her own mind’s silliness. It had been too real for that, everything from the crimson malevolence in the fiends’ eyes, to the dig of claws around her neck. That horrific place was past her now, the village was safe, and if a monster DID dare tread against Coriander, the young men of the village were more than prepared to fight it off.

Reassured in thinking that, Alana began to ease out of that drifting state for real. Relaxed as she felt, there was an energy there too, the young woman eager to start her day. To break her fast, and get her chores over with, to connect with friends and family, to actually live the life she had been so terrified of losing. She wanted to see her parents’ smiling faces, to endure her brothers’ teasing, and to hear the latest words from her friends.  Alana in fact, wanted the reassurance of them all, to have the last of her uncertainties chases away by the every day normal of her village.

Eager for it, her lashes quivered, and then her eyes were blinking open. Her unfocused gaze may have not been able to immediately make out the details, that of the extravagance she would soon behold, but she felt it all the same. The sheer opulence of the mattress beneath her, the downy soft pillows, and a thin fabric that shouldn’t have been as warm as it was, that colorful material something the likes of which Alana had never before touched. Such expensive comfort made her heart beat quicken its tempo, the young woman positive that this couldn’t be HER bed, and with it came fear and a whole lot of confusion, Alana not at all understanding the hows and whys of where she was.

That burst of panic only grew worse as her gaze evened out, all of her tired, lethargic state lost to the sheer beauty of this place. The half opened windows that took up nearly all of the Eastern wall, the bright blaze of a summer’s sun casting beams of light that reflect off emerald green and golden hues. It was too beautiful a day, those endless fields of warm color extending further than she could see. It was so wholly unlike the time of Coriander’s fall harvest, the acres of viable farmlands that should have been picked clean, the people of the village well busy with preparing for the upcoming winter.

Falling back against the bed’s many pillows, Alana stared up at a high ceiling, whose surface was a master piece of paint and colored tiles. There seemed no set theme to its pattern, just that wild splash of rainbow that seemed to shift and ripple the longer that she remained staring at it. She blinked her eyes, sure that she was imagining that faint movement, but not that of a bell ringing from a distance. More than one from the sound of it, a faint melody the likes of which she had never before heard, this music far too elegant and rich for a farming village like Coriander.

It was just another thing screaming of how she was no longer in her home, or in her village, maybe not even in her own country. That imagination that she could admit was overactive at the best of times, tried to kick in with its own what ifs, Alana doing her best to not let it get her all hysterical. It was difficult that, when all the possibilities that she could come up with made it all the more likely that her nightmare hadn’t been just a dream after all. With that in her head, with the young woman struggling to control her breathing, she spoke out loud the less offensive but no less scary outcome of the attack she was now sure had really happened to her village.

“Did….Did I DIE?” She was pleased to note that her voice wasn’t betraying just how strong the hysteria deep inside was, though Alana still couldn’t keep the frightened yelp contained at the sound of another woman answering her.

“Goodness no.” Her voice was kind, a warm laugh bubbling up within her, though it didn’t feel as though she was poking fun at Alana. “Though I suppose I can understand WHY you would think that.”

“You….you can?” Alana slowly sat up and turned towards the approaching woman. She was a good ten years older than Alana, if not more, though her chestnut hair had not yet given way to any sign of silver. Her gentle expression was colored by the bright hazel of her eyes, and a smile that should have put the village girl from Coriander at ease. But her heart was racing as fast as her thoughts, because to Alana there was only one other option that could explain where she was. And that one might very well be a fate worse than death!

“I mean this is a rare circumstance, a special exception for a very fortunate young lady.”

“Fortunate!?” Alana couldn’t quite keep a sliver of indigence from seeping into that exclamation. She didn’t feel very fortunate, the horrors that had led her here, only matched by what she assumed was to be her fate.

If the woman picked up on any of Alana’s unease, she didn’t let on. Instead she kept right on talking, almost as though the girl from Coriander hadn’t said anything at all.

“He’ll be so glad to know of your rising.” confided the woman with another smile. “His young lordship was besides himself over how long you stayed under...even with his miracle’s aid.”

Alana wasn’t sure what the woman meant by a miracle’s aid, and truth be known, she didn’t much care, more focused on the idea of this young lordship and what he could want with her, although she suspected she already knew. The thought made her skin crawl, Alana shuddering beneath the strange blanket, her reaction made worse by the memory of a man’s mouth on her.

She couldn’t recall what he had looked like, but his feverish heat and that near unrelenting pressure of his lips, had branded a permanent impression on her. It made her toss off the covers, Alana almost distracted by the long and frilly white night gown that she had been changed into. It wasn’t too immodest a look, but it also wasn’t anything that belonged to her, the young woman’s legs shaking, as she tried to get up out of the bed. They didn’t seem to want to hold her, and she was too far gone to register it had nothing to do with the foot she had injured, no sharp flare up of pain to accompany her stepping down onto a very plush carpet.

“Easy there...” The woman had caught at Alana before she could fully crumple, and though the girl from Coriander tried to balk at the assistance, she found herself seated back on the bed’s edge. “It might be better to just rest up and wait on his return….”

That was the last thing that Alana wanted to do, her alarm ratcheting up by several notches at the mere thought. She tried not to give in to the rising hysteria, the fear of what she imagined would happen in this room, on this bed, should this young Lord return before Alana could make good on an escape.

Even panicked as she was, Alana tried to keep a clear head, to not give in so completely to her fears. Otherwise she might start crying, or worse yet begging, betraying her desire to run the first chance she could get, and she didn’t even know if this seemingly kind woman could even be trusted.

“I...” She hesitated. “I am a little tired...but also hungry.” Which wasn’t a complete lie, her stomach making it’s half starved state known with a gurgle.

“Oh...Oh!” The woman almost looked sheepish. “I’d almost forgotten just how often and vital a need hunger is for a person.” She made a tsking sound then. “Been up in the clouds so long, my head has practically gone to mush. Let’s see about getting you something to eat...his Lordship can wait till after.”

“After...” She almost squeaked the word out, but somehow managed to maintain the lie of being calm. Certainly her collected tone seemed to reassure the woman, another smile given, as the woman fussed at her apron.

“You know how men can be. That much never changes, and his Lordship has been eager for a long time now...for longer than you might realize.”

An eager Lord didn’t sound as though it bode well for her, Alana sure some of the color had leeched out of her pale skin. She couldn’t even find the words to speak, instead just plastering on a warped attempt at a half smile.

“Well than, let’s see about getting you something good to eat.” The woman continued. “Is there anything in particular you would like? We have some of everything.”

“Um...” She couldn’t, wouldn’t concern herself with food, not when her number one priority should be that of escape. The woman would prattle on, listing off some suggestions of food, and ultimately, at Alana’s sheepish shrug of shoulders, a warm bowl of broth was decided on. The woman almost seemed disappointed in how simple a fare it was, shaking her head and muttering something softly under her breath.

“Well then, I’ll be back quicker than two blinks of an eye.” She said, and Alana reached out, as though to grab her. “Yes?”

“Uh...” Again her tongue stalled, but more than anything, Alana needed information. She needed to know just where THIS was, and how far from Coriander she had been taken. The young woman wasn’t well traveled, but she knew how to ride a horse, and thought as long as one could be stolen, and pointed in the right direction, Alana was certain she could make the journey home.

“How long was I….was I out?” She was trying to gauge how much time had passed, as if that could give her a rough idea of how many days travel it was between here and Coriander.

“How long?” The woman shrugged. “Couldn’t really say. Time has little meaning in a place like this.”

That made Alana frown. “Time and its keeping should always be important...” The look she received was kind, but was also a bit indulgent, as though the woman was trying to humor Alana for an odd idea.

“I suppose so...”

It still wasn’t an answer, but she had other questions to try. “So...just WHERE are we?” She tried to act casual, as if that inquiry wasn’t of vital importance to her. That the woman seemed to hesitate, made frustration bloom amid her panic, Alana watching as many different thoughts seem to cross the woman’s mind.

“Somewhere...safe...” She hedged, as though even that was a struggle to admit to.

“But where?”

“I...oh dear...this is never easy...” The woman had turned completely flustered, fussing over her apron and skirts. “And in this case, its even harder than most...I really think you should wait on his Lordship to tell you...”

Alana didn’t plan to be around to ask him anything, her voice coming out sharp, with a kind of authority she normally reserved for her youngest brother. “WHERE!?”

Those nervous hands stilled, the woman looking as though she was bracing herself. “Why...why you’re up in the heavens themselves...Asgard, the realm of the Gods, and the seat of all Creation...”

For a drawn out moment, all Alana could do was stare as the woman nervously babbled. She barely heard the words, barely understood the reassurances the woman was giving her, Alana being reminded she had not died. It was absolutely ludicrous, her mind rejecting this info for fiction, the girl not sure just what sort of madness she had been dragged into, but she was quite certain she wasn’t about to stay for anymore.

“Oh...” Her voice sounded dull with exhaustion, Alana made a show of sliding under the bed’s covers. “Oh my…”

“I know its a lot to take in...” Alana had to bite back a snort at that, this absurd situation and those outrageous claims not something she could put faith in. “I’m really not the one to prove it to you…” added the woman. “Someone like his young Lordship however can…”

“Oh...” A nod of her head to show she was listening, to pretend that she cared about and believe in this outlandish story. “I will look forward to meeting with him.” A pause, Alana then stressing her next words. “After I’ve had something to eat...”

“Oh...oh! Yes, of course! A satisfied stomach will make it much easier to deal.” She had broken into a relieved smile, body bobbing with excitement. “I’ll be just a little while...don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything else. I’ll be around to handle it all!”

“Er...thank you...”

“Esme...” The woman said by way of introduction. “Call me Esme.”

“Um all right...” Common courtesy made her answer, Alana starting to try to introduce herself as well. “I’m...”

“Oh it’s quite all right. I already know who you are. EVERYONE here does!”

Her brow furrowed at that, Alana not able to understand, the idea of everyone here knowing her name, absurd, the young woman not thinking herself anything special enough to deserve that kind of acknowledgment from strangers. The situation just got stranger and stranger, the unease she felt being magnified with every tidbit of info she could get from this Esme.

“The broth?”

“Oh yes!” Esme clucked her tongue against her teeth. “I’ll talk a person’s ear off, if I’m not reminded to stop. Just sit tight, and I’ll be back!”

This time when the woman tried to leave, Alana made no attempt to stop her. But neither did she sit there to linger and wallow in her sense of bemusement. Instead she’d count out the seconds in her head, giving it a good five minutes before she launched into action. Even that seemed too long a time to wait,  Alana not sure how far away the kitchen quarters were, or just when that Esme would return, but she knew she had to get out of here.

She set her bare feet on the floor, sank into the wonderfully lush carpeting, its fibers so soft, it was almost like floating on what Alana had always imagined a cloud would feek. She wouldn’t let that distract her, wouldn’t let any of the grand comforts drive her away from her task. The one sole concession that Alana did take, was to slip on the pair of soft soled shoes, that seemed to match her nightgown in that white color and sparse frills.

It left her as ready as she could be, given the circumstance, Alana vowing that along with a horse, she’d steal some food and some actual clothing, the provisions needed for however long a trip she might take. She only felt a slight stirring of shame at the idea of becoming a thief, Alana hoping the Gods would overlook that sin for the necessity that it was.

That necessity is what drove her, a determined Alana making a bee line for the windows that took up so much of the eastern wall. It was to her luck, that they were so large, and that someone had carelessly left them partly open. It meant she didn’t have to struggle with the heavy glass, and once she had made the short climb up onto the ledge, it was only a matter of dropping that same distance into that colorful field of flowers.

Their perfume all around her, the smell of the many types of flowers didn’t overwhelm each other, so much as enhance her nose’s experience. There was so many kinds, and even colors she had never known could exist in nature, Alana wide eyed with appreciation, but unable to dally. She walked a few uncertain steps, and then just like that, she had broken out into a run, the pace and her fear almost as bad as it had been during the attack on her village.

Soft petals brushed against her ankles, a thorn catching at the hem of her nightgown. Alana tugged it free with a rip of sound, there was so many flowers about, that there was no safe spot to step, her feet trampling the colorful flora. She cringed over it all, not so much about the senseless waste, and more about the blatant path it left, the young woman hoping she would soon be past this field, and into terrain that would be easier to hide her tracks from any would be pursuit.

She kept waiting to hear the shouts, to hear dogs or worse chasing after her, the memory of the attack on Coriander back and alive in her head. Alana ran, remembering more and more, the people hurt, raped, even killed. The village had all but been destroyed, houses burning down, and even the fall harvest had been ruined. Those who had survived, might not live out the winter, their homes itself gone for good. Coriander would most likely never recover, instead stripped and scoured off the face of the world.

Such a realization had brought tears to her eyes, but Alana never once slowed. She’d figure it out, deal with whatever and whoever was left, find what was left of her family, her friends, and go where ever it was that would be a fresh start. A new life for a new village, and as painful as it was, Coriander might better be off forgotten, after the devastation that had occurred. To the people’s home, but also to their heart, their souls.

Certainly her soul hurt. For everyone but especially for those who had died, and the women she had heard being raped. Alana didn’t know how she could face them, didn’t know what could be said, relationships, lives forever changed. That unenviable result still wouldn’t keep Alana staying put, her desperation such she had to get back to the village as fast as possible. Her legs kept on moving, running at a pace she wouldn’t be able to maintain forever. The flowers had given way to a field of wheat, the golden stalks almost taller than her head. They brushed against her body with every step she ran, Alana so blind as to what lay about so that it it was almost a relief when she burst free of them.

Almost, but not quite, Alana stopping up short with a gasp. For now she could see more and more of the landscape around her, the sheer magnificence and beauty, and that of the absolutely impossible. This was an island, just one of many, this grand piece of land floating high and sure above smaller, but no less impressive land masses. Everywhere she looked was that stunning beauty, soaring about the clouds and the vast expanse that made up the heaven’s sky. Alana could only gape in disbelief, in dismay, her shock giving way to that horror, the young woman realizing that she really must have died after all.

To Be Continued…

I’m on a roll it seems….I’m surprised though I got this one done already. Mostly cause I didn’t start writing it until like 2 in the morning, then quit around five to try and get some sleep. But I had a lot of trouble falling and staying asleep, so I think I am running on only three hours maybe of rest. So I didn’t think I would be able to finish this one today….but my insomnia is letting me be productive for once it seems! Yay!?

I am a little uncertain about the last paragraph. I wonder if it was too abrupt, if it was a good stopping point. But I think my energy is fading, so that I can’t think straight to figure out how to add on any more. I had been hoping to have Rufus pop in at the end...but it didn’t happen. Next chapter for sure!

Which will be a Rufus POV I believe. I struggled with starting three, cause I couldn’t decide which character should be the narrative. I was strongly leaning to wards Alicia/Alana...and I am pretty pleased with the results.

Still in the middle of a move...but haven’t completed it yet. X_X So damn stressful…

Laters!

Michelle