#I mean her bloodline magic let’s her use and understand all forms of magic

[truly-yours-hvens]

Random thought but Momonoki-sensie could be one of the most op characters in mairuma if you think about it

[anxious-witch]

Part two of main four's birthstones, this part is on Crystal and Niko's.

Part one is here

Now, Crystal, my fav fiery Aries. Her birthstone is either diamond or bloodstone depending on which website we look at. So let's unpack both, shall we?

First of all diamond, who is forged in the dark, under immense pressure is already quite a lot like the transformational journey Crystal goes through in S1, while she is missing her memories and under a lot of stress both due to stress of the cases and literally being stalked by a demon ex.

Many cultures believe that diamond crystals cleanse, restore, and balance the mind, body, and soul. Because of their brilliance, they’re also associated with the power to illuminate the mind and provide mental clarity. In addition, diamonds are thought to magnify emotions and energies.

Diamond is also one crystal that doesn't need recharging, unlike the rest who require recharging from the Sun, the Moon or similar sources of energy, depening on their peoperties. But the diamond's energy comes from within, given they amplify whatever energy is around. Which unfortunately can mean they amplify negative energy too, so one must be careful when using it.

As for bloodstone, this one is also very, very interesting choice for Crystal.

In Greek mythology, bloodstone was called heliotrope and was believed to have the power to turn the sun red. In legends and mythology, the bloodstone is said to be formed from the spilled blood of Christ. It is also said to have powerful magical properties and to be able to protect its owner from harm. It is should be kept away from children as it may cause them nightmares. The bloodstone is also known as the martyr’s stone or the miracle stone and is thought to bring good luck.

Martyr’s stone? That should be kept away from children because it causes them nightmares? Seems quite fitting for someone with Crystal's powers. Another very important aspect of bloodstone is connection to ancestors.

Like its name suggests, Bloodstone connects to our bloodstream. Tapping into your bloodline with this stone can help connect you to your ancestral lineage and awaken any knowledge that they may have.

Y'know. Like Crystal who quite literally gets her powers from her connection to her ancestrals??? Like. Holy fuck. I love this stone for her sm.

Last but not least, Niko! An Aquarius, with amethyst as her birthstone.

As it is the February birthstone, amethyst has always been linked to love and romance. However, throughout history the gemstone has also been connected to luck, good fortune and general positivity. The anonymous poem below sums it up nicely:

The February-born shall find

Sincerity and peace of mind,

Freedom from passion and from care,

If they, the amethyst will wear.

Let her an amethyst but cherish well,

And strife and care can never her dwell. Anon.

So for Niko, a character that is quite in love with the idea of love, this definitely fits. The same website talks about how amethyst is associate with non-drunkness and a clear mind, and while alcohol isn't prominent in the series, I think we can say that Niko is the one that keeps a clesr head when others get caught up in their emotions. She shows this brilliant after Charles and Edwin come back from hell, using her knowledge to make sure they get to stay where they are.

It (Amethyst) calms and stimulates the mind, helping you become more focused, enhancing memory and improving motivation. Amethyst assists in remembering and understanding dreams. It relieves insomnia. Encourages selflessness and spiritual wisdom.

Amethyst is also know to relieve grief-and we know Niko is grieving her dad, which makes her vulnerable to the sprites in the first place, making her seek out something that reminds her of her dad.

She is also incredibly selfless and despite being the only non-powered human among the main four, she has incredible awarness of the spiritual world, and accepts things like ghosts and sprites even before seeing them.

All in all, I think these are very fitting for the main four.

[ravenousnightwind]

Lemme say first that i totally agree. But imma examine this closely. It's gonna be a long post. Let's go.

Some of it is due to righteous ideology. They feel they have a moral obligation to do it for whatever reason. Others have the concept of "but culture is meant to be shared." They can't understand the concepts of marginalized communities or why they'd want to close off such beauty to the world. However, others see it as their right if they feel drawn to that culture or practice. They'll just appropriate things, even by using standardized understanding and research by those marginalized groups, to understand the practice as a whole so they can then practice it themselves without anyone's say in the matter. Which I consider morally wrong. As their understanding of it can't possibly be accurate to how it's taught in the culture itself when you live it. Nuff said on that, really. They're selfish and care more about their own feelings about this idea of the practice they see or read about than they care about how it harms or even causes a decline in the original cultures.

Some people actually have this other form of righteous ideology where they actually believe it doesn't matter so they're just gonna take it. This sounds familiar because it is typically Americans who do it. It's the whole idea of freedom and you can't tell me what to do. Hey, I mean, I get that, but if someone told me I was doing wrong I'd idk maybe listen if I were practicing say, native beliefs? The other aspect of this is that they might have some ancestry to Native Americans (I'm using those cultures as an example as I am American and have also had other Americans talk about their bloodline profusely.), so they believe thst they automatically have a right to practice or pursue practice because it's part of their ancestry, usually in some vague sense. (I do not personally believe this, and I also supposedly have, according to my family, native ancestry. I didn't grow up in that culture so it's not part of me.)

Speaking on Americans especially. I've not really encountered any other people outside of America who believed in this sort of thing as heavily. I've known some Europeans who expressed similar views, but it was more like a lite version of it than anything else. Like some Europeans, they don't believe racism exists because we're all one big human race. Which..idk is kinda racist or idk something? I don't agree with that either.

However, america is based on many different things, and the one thing we all know is that Americans can be quite arrogant and think they know or can do anything because they feel like it. They see religion as a personal journey, and I'll agree that it is, but they blow it outta proportion and think it is only personal, that beliefs can't belong to a people, or that it's illogical to try to isolate them because then we'll become xenophobic and lose everything. (Their words, not mine. I also disagree with that statement.)

It is not to say, however, that only Americans are like this. There was another lady on YouTube who was claiming to have lost norse magic secrets. I forget her name. But she was basically talking about the practices of the Sami (sp) and sharing it on the internet from what she supposedly learned from her friends where she lives. She also touted all kinds of nonsense about how she has a right because, like I said above, the whole idea of culture is meant to be shared. (Also disagree) She made this long ass video about how culture was meant to be shared and sharing various information about cultural exchange as if it was an excuse to take information freely given and not only to use as her own practice, but to talk about it to other people. Many others who were also within those cultures asked her not to. She did anyways.

So, a lot of this in conclusion has to do with idealisms surrounding the idea of what culture is, what you do with it. They can't fathom anything outside that. They feel personally offended someone would literally just come along and tell them not to do a thing they've been doing for years or whatever. The thing it all has in common with every person I've encountered or known, even people who weren't pagan or spiritual at all in any sense, is that they have a personal interest or right in some way. Whatever their justification is. They don't care about boundaries, nor do they care or think about their own actions. They're just offended. Offended someone would dare question their rights. With Americans, it's easy to sort out cuz the way the country was founded was through a rebellion. But the European lady I mentioned, her right and reason, was because of her supposed friends. So, I can't say for sure, but I'm pretty sure, maybe 85.6% sure that number one, they are highly confident people, and have prior idealisms about why they deserve or have the right or claim to take or use the information, even at the expense of others.

It's honestly and truly fucked. I don't just not agree, I find it quite appauling that their sense of confidence and pride outweighs their ability for self reflection. It's not just gross. It's like almost evil when it concerns some people. (Evil as in they choose it and don't care about the consequences even when they know what happens. They might even do it out of spite, which is even worse)

You know, I don't understand how respecting other witches'/magic workers'/spiritualism practitioners' boundaries could be so very hard.

This practice is closed to outsiders? Just don't do it if you're not invited then.

This thing people don't want said/done to them? Just don't do it to them then.

Why are people's boundaries just so difficult for some of you?

[natsumebookss]

Presenting: A Complete Analysis of the Cinematic Parallels Between Arc 2 And Warriors: The Darkest Hour (Or, Cringe Culture is Dead and Tumblr User natsumebookss Killed It)

Yes, folks, I am actually going there. This, of all things, is going to be my first MagiReco analysis essay of the year because this is something that's been on my mind for a while and what better day to highlight strange associations and shitposty tomfoolery than April Fool's Day?

Let me put it bluntly: the Neo-Magius arc has reminded me a lot of The Darkest Hour, the sixth book of the first Warrior Cats series. It's widely considered to be the best book in the history of the series and boasts an intriguing plotline in which the enemy factions (Clans) are forced to come together to face a common enemy of bloodthirsty outsiders. In the meantime, one of the Clans, ShadowClan, has been taken over by a brutal leader set on supremacy. Sound familiar? Let's get investigating!

Iroha vs. Himena

In order to understand where my comparison comes from, we have to look at the central themes of the first series of Warrior Cats, which The Darkest Hour expands on and ultimately concludes. Probably the main one of importance here is the theme of newcomers and their intentions: do they start their journeys with good intentions or do they have opportunistic motives in mind? Both Iroha and Himena are “newcomers” in a sense—literally the first thing we see Iroha do is exploring Kamihama, and while we know less about where Himena comes from, we can assume she isn’t a Kamihama magical girl due to her lack of involvement with the Magius in Arc 1. Each comes to town with a very different purpose in mind that very often clashes with each other. Similarly, the two major “newcomers” in the first series of Warrior Cats, Firestar and Tigerstar, can be described as mortal enemies, exact opposites of one another to the point where one winning over the other would directly result in the other being driven out for good.

Iroha is a pretty direct analogue to Firestar in this silly comparison—both feel some sense of unfulfillment from their original lives and wander into an unknown area pretty much on a whim. Firestar is a former house cat who later becomes the leader of ThunderClan, just as Iroha becomes the leader of the Kamihama Magia Union. And, just as Iroha faces pushback from being an outsider who makes decisions for Kamihama natives, so too does Firestar. But even then, he proves himself to be a wise and noble leader who strives towards peace.

Tigerstar is practically the exact opposite, a war-hungry leader who falls under the "newcomer" label not because he is an explorer like Firestar, but because he was driven out from his home Clan for attempting to kill his own leader. After being driven out, he targets ShadowClan, whose cats have been almost wiped out by a recent sickness and whose leader is on his last legs. During Tigerstar's time as a wanderer, he takes advantage of this weakness and uses this chance to preach his own form of supremacy. No house cats or half-Clan cats are to be tolerated in any Clans, and he aims to build them into places where only the best with the strongest bloodlines survive. Seemingly through pure charisma alone, Tigerstar bypasses the usual processes and becomes leader of ShadowClan.

I've jokingly called Himena "Tigerstar" since she gained control of Neo-Magius, but she's really the main reason I'm making this whole post in the first place. Her presence is what sets the "Darkest Hour" of Magia Record into motion, and as little as we know about her backstory, I'd be interested in seeing if Himena really comes from Takarazaki. If so, that would mean Himena and Iroha originally came from the same Clan/hometown and went separate paths, much like Tigerstar and Firestar.

So character comparisons are all well and good, but what are the implications behind all of this? How could such a silly comparison influence the way the story goes from here?

Enter BloodClan

The real comparisons between MagiReco Arc 2 and The Darkest Hour only really begin with the Neo-Magius arc. There's no real analogue to Promised Blood in the series, and once Neo-Magius rises to power like ShadowClan, that's where the echoes start to show up. I could go on for days about all the silly cinematic parallels I've found (yes, really) but the most important one for this discussion is that the leader of RiverClan, Leopardstar, joins with Tigerstar for a brief time in his alliance to create a better forest. Her hidden reasons for doing so have been the stuff of fan speculation for years, but what we do know is that much like Shizuka, she genuinely feels that Tigerstar's way is the only way the Clans can keep going. For a time, she folds all of RiverClan's warriors into ShadowClan and the two essentially become one until Leopardstar is eventually forced into seeing the error of her ways. That's where we are now.

Which means that, if we continue the course of these intertwined stories, Himena doesn't have much longer to live.

Fair warning, this is the part of the essay where this becomes purely speculation based on what happens next in The Darkest Hour. Because Tigerstar is not actually the final boss in this scenario.

Tigerstar, in his quest to conquer the forest, enlists the help of BloodClan, a bloodthirsty group of alley cats who end up killing him once they realize he was only using them. He is killed not by the heroes, but by an outside party he thought was on his side (in probably the most graphic scene in Warrior Cats history). Therefore, if Himena is to go full Tigerstar (as she has come close to with her supremacy rhetoric, taking over of a weak faction, and even recruiting another leader to her cause), then she must die. Even more than that, she must be betrayed just as her master plan finally sets itself up.

So who could the traitor be? Not San or anyone else in Neo-Magius, since she must be killed by an outside party to fully complete the parallels. It'd have to be someone she conspired with, a bad deal she made somewhere along the line that we as an audience may not know about yet. I've ranked the four main parties who could cause her demise in order from my least to most preferred options:

1) Kyubey. In an attempt to truly play all sides, Himena decides to consult Kyubey about the Doppel barrier. This would backfire spectacularly and Kyubey would take her out somehow before her plan even came to fruition. A bit too predictable for my tastes.

2) Sena and Alina. This is the most "out of left field" alliance Himena could make, which matches the most with the one Tigerstar makes with BloodClan. However, this would not only introduce the possibility for some more Sena handwaving (i.e. Himena is only like this because Sena is influencing her), but I really don't want to see Alina as the final boss again. This might be an unpopular opinion, but I really want MagiReco to mix things up.

3) Hiko. A lot of other theorists have already covered this territory, so I won't go too deep into it, but many wonder if Hiko is A) really the same person Himena once knew or B) trying to sabotage her from within by agreeing to all her ideas and letting fate take its cruel course with her. I've really grown to love this theory, especially since it's a super metal take on the Tanabata legend, and kinda hope all the fan speculation about this amounts to something in the end. Himena betrayed by her true love and #1 partner in crime would frankly be awesome to see.

4) Folklore of Zero. Part of me wants to believe the Folklore girls are too nice to kill Himena for their cause, but this makes too much narrative sense not to put at the top. Folklore hasn't interacted much with the other factions yet, but they're really being set up to do something big soon. That plus the fact that their ideologies are in complete opposition plus the way Folklore trying to pull the same trick as Neo-Magius caused the Yukuni incident plus the way Sasha is already trying to sabotage things by revealing Himena's master plan to Shigure, Hagumu, and Mitsune means Folklore most likely intends to hit Neo-Magius hard. Hard to the point where Himena would be like "was this all a lie" to Sasha and we'd get so, so much angsty fanfic considering one way or another if Sasha had planned to get this close to Himena all this time just so Folklore could take her out. For that fanfic potential alone, I wholeheartedly endorse this as my favorite Himena death concept.

Conclusion

And there we have it. Despite the title, I didn't go into all the smaller ways Magia Record Arc II parallels The Darkest Hour (some of my favorites being how Tawnypelt's plotline mirrors Kanagi's and how Tigerstar's main love interest is literally named Sasha and you cannot tell me that is not evidence that Himena is literally Tigerstar), but I feel I've made enough comparisons to show how MagiReco could go if it truly wanted to make itself more like Warrior Cats (which it likely doesn't). If you have any more parallels between MagiReco and The Darkest Hour that I may not have picked up on, or any weird comparisons between MagiReco and unrelated media, feel free to let me know in the comments!

[wondernimbus]

battleground — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

request: could i kindly request a draco x reader where they get into a fight before the war, and draco chooses to stay a hogwarts and voldemort but reader pushes herself in front of him to save him? but they both survive 🥺 if it's too complicated dw about it :)

a/n: i tweaked the request a little bit but this is set when the slytherins are sent to the dungeons during the battle of hogwarts! also it isn’t explicitly stated in the text so just in case there’s some confusion, the reader’s parents are death eaters

The cold stone hallway leading to the Slytherin common room is eerily quiet despite the hundred or so Slytherin students trickling into their common room. No one bothers to quell the uneasy tension hanging in the air or makes a move to address the sounds of chaos coming from just up above them, a mere stone floor away.

But at the very middle of the pack, there is someone shoving past people on her way back towards the way they came. Back to the first-floor corridor; back to the war. No one pays her much heed. Everyone is too busy lost in their own conflicted thoughts, and even if they do register the fact that there is a girl among them turning back to head into the very battle they were kicked out of, they make no move to stop her.

Somewhere along the back of the group, she catches sight of a face that brings with it a sudden rush of relief. [Y/N] pushes past the crowd of students clad in green until she stops right in front of him, grabs onto his wrist and drags him along.

The last of the Slytherins have filed into the common room. [Y/N] and Draco stand in the middle of the cold dungeon hall, illuminated only dully by the torches hanging on the walls.

[Y/N] wastes no time. She leans in and presses her lips to his, and it's all force; there is no time for passion or tears or dramatic farewell. She kisses Draco like a starved man, lips all pressure and no tenderness, and Draco kisses her back with just as much fervor, hands gripping onto her waist almost desperately as he holds her to him as close as he can.

And they would stay like that for as long as they can if only they are allowed to, but there is a war to be fought and there are people to be saved. So [Y/N] pulls away, breathless, forehead on Draco's and their lips mere centimeters apart as they breathe in each other's air the same way they have done so many times before.

Draco can think of no words to say; all that leaves his lips is a breathless exhale of her name. Just her name.

[Y/N] nods just a fraction of an inch as though she understands completely, and in a way, she does.

Against her will, she pulls away, fingers gently gliding down his shoulders and down to his middle, where they rest almost hesitantly. In a voice just as quiet as his, she whispers, "I need to go up there, Draco."

Silence. She opens her eyes only to find that he is already looking at her, gaze unreadable. A feeling of uneasiness settles in her stomach.

"Up where?" He's frowning. His hold on her waist has tensed.

"I'm going to fight," [Y/N] says, and her voice is throatier than usual, like a lump has already formed in her throat.

Draco blinks. There's a crease in between his brows; she reaches up to smoothen it out with her fingers out of habit, but his hand flies to her wrist and holds it there, hovering just above his lips.

"You're going to fight," he repeats, still frowning.

[Y/N] swallows. Nods. "And you should, too."

Draco stares at her, brows furrowed. It's at rare times like these that [Y/N] can't quite figure out what he's thinking, but she guesses that it's something along the lines of—

"You can't," Draco says, shaking his head. "You can't. I won't let you."

She reaches up and gently pries his fingers away from her wrist, but his grip on her only tightens. "Draco."

"I'm not letting you risk your life."

She stares at him for a moment, brows drawing together in the middle just like his, but the way she is looking at him is a sharp contrast to his suddenly stern gaze—she looks incredulous, like she can't believe what she's hearing.

"I thought you'd understand," she says, tugging her wrist out of his grasp and taking a step back. A foot of space rests between them, but for some reason it suddenly feels like they are thousands of miles apart. "I can't just hide here while people risk their lives to save—"

"What—to save ours?" Draco cuts her off, scowling. It's unimaginable to think that mere moments ago they were entangled in each other's arms, kissing as though the other will slip away if they don't hold on tight enough. Coldly, Draco says, "They'd throw us to the wolves if they had a chance."

"To save everyone's."

"Don't be ridiculous. If they saw you fighting alongside them, they wouldn't hesitate to turn their wands on you."

"And how do you know that?"

He advances towards her, and for a brief split-second [Y/N] thinks that he's about to kiss her again, but all he does is grab the black and green necktie hanging around her collar and hold it up for her to see.

"Because of this," he snarls. "The moment anyone fighting against the Dark Lord sees you're a Slytherin, they'll think you're an enemy. And the moment any of the Death Eaters see you fighting against them, they'll think you're a traitor—which you are—and they'll kill you. You'd be fighting against both sides."

She scoffs, the first few traces of anger surfacing. "You are making assumptions."

"It's the truth and you know it. You have no choice. Stay here and save your life." He grabs her hand and tugs her towards the direction of the Slytherin common room. The dungeon door has closed. There is no one left in the cold stone corridor but them.

But [Y/N] wrenches herself away from Draco's hold. "I can take care of myself and I am fighting," she says sharply, a sense of finality in her tone. "And I would have asked you to fight by my side but it seems like you'd rather stay and hide here like a coward." The final word escapes the confines of her lips without her even realizing, but the anger in her chest makes it hard for her to feel guilty for it.

"If wanting the love of my life to live makes me a coward then so be it." Draco turns to face her, jaw taut and his eyes flashing. "You're asking me to let you put your life on the line—"

"I'm asking you to trust me—"

"And what happens if you die? What do you suppose I do?" he hisses, and then, his face contorting into a sneer, "I apologize for my selfishness, [Y/N] but I'd much prefer other people die than you."

She scoffs in disbelief. "Always a selfish prick, aren't you, Draco?"

[Y/N] doesn't mean it. Of course she doesn't. But the frustration in her chest is reaching boiling point and the words that leave her lips do so without her even pausing to think about them.

Doing little to mask her scorn, she snaps, "I'd rather die in battle than sit back doing nothing while innocent children are slaughtered."

"Those innocent children hated us for the house we were sorted in," Draco sneers. "They saw the green on our robes and they made sure to stay away from us—they spoke ill of us and spread vile rumors about our families and you're willing to sacrifice yourself for them?"

"And you want to let them die just because they disliked us." She doesn't phrase it like a question.

Draco clenches his jaw. She would have been able to feel the slightest empathy for him if he showed even a tiny bit of guilt, but he holds his gaze in hers resolutely and shakes his head. "I don't want to die for them. And you shouldn't, either."

Her lip curls. "You disgust me."

And it scares her because she isn't sure whether she means it or not.

In one swift movement, [Y/N] reaches up and roughly yanks the green Slytherin tie hanging around her neck. "I don't care what they think about us or what you think about them," she seethes through bared teeth, throwing the necktie at Draco's feet as she holds his gaze with just as much fieriness as she sees in his. "But I refuse to stay here while those people risk their lives fighting for what they believe is right—what is right."

Draco narrows his eyes at her, lips drooping downwards in a scowl. "Even if it means fighting against your parents?"

Her parents. The people who had raised her her entire life and made her believe in things she held true not so long ago. Things that entailed the uselessness of Muggles and Muggleborns alike. Her mother and father, who once cruelly punished her for helping a lost Muggle boy when she was no more than a mere child eager to offer a helping hand.

Parents—do they really deserve to be called that?

With her jaw set, she nods. "I'm done doing things for them. It's time I make decisions for myself."

A cold glare is all she has left to offer Draco before she turns her back on him and walks away, wand in hand.

Part of her understands. She knows that Draco is not much different from her. He has told her stories based on his own experience; stories just like hers that tell tales of pureblooded prejudice and exiled blood-traitors in the vicinity of his own home. But even if he hadn't found enough comfort in her to tell her, she still would have known.

She recognized the look in his eyes the very moment they first met. It was the very same one she saw whenever she looked in the mirror.

But [Y/N] has been luckier than most. Somewhere along her journey to what some would call self-discovery, she'd found something a great deal more important than bloodlines and family trees. Though hesitant at first, she met and came to know people whose blood was perhaps not as magical as hers but whose hearts were purer than any other she had ever seen. Purer than hers, certainly.

She came to know Muggleborns who viewed her as an equal, and everyone else along with her. Muggleborns who treated everyone with kindness not because of the blood in their veins but because it was right.

And because of them [Y/N] has learned to differentiate what is right and what is wrong; what is important and what is not. Now she knows fully well which category one's blood type falls under. She may have been a little late on the uptake, but if risking her life is what it takes to redeem herself, then so be it.

But Draco has a harder time wrapping his head around things. [Y/N] understands; truly, she does. He has been raised to think a certain way and so has she—but if she can break out of the box that her parents have caged her in for so long, why can't he?

Just before she disappears behind the staircase leading away from the dungeons, she stops, and with her gaze fixated on the stone steps, takes a deep breath.

"People like us—" she begins in what was meant to be a stone-cold voice, but her voice is shaky for the first time that day. "They think we're a lost cause. They think we're cold-hearted and we're rotten to the core because of our last names—and you're right—because we're in Slytherin. But if you don't want to fight against the Dark Lord because of your hatred for the people who looked at us as though we were devil's spawn, then at least fight because you want to prove them wrong."

From here, she can make out the sound of spells hurtling through the air and people screaming from up above. She hears panicked voices of people a tiny part of her feels as though she recognizes. Voices she must have heard in her classes. Voices she could have heard in the hallways or in the Great Hall. And despite the fear in her chest and the voice in her lovesick heart telling her to stay with Draco, it's those voices that urge her to put one foot in front of the other until she emerges in the middle of the first-floor corridor, right in the heart of the battle.

—

Death. Chaos. Destruction. She sees it everywhere around her—in the corridors and the classrooms she grew up in, and in the Great Hall, where the large glass windows have been reduced to mere shards and the long house tables have been flipped over and cracked to splinters.

Why take this away from her—from everyone who has lived their childhood in that castle?

For so long Hogwarts has been her sanctuary. Her safe place. The only place in the world where she feels as though she could be at peace. And now it is nothing more than crumbling stone foundations and broken glass and soot and dust.

Jets of red and green light whiz past her almost every step she takes. Fear: she feels it in every fiber of her body like a parasite waiting for the right moment to consume her whole and render her immobile. Part of her wants to run back down the dungeons and join Draco and the rest of the Slytherins—it is so much safer down there—she doesn't have to narrowly dodge recklessly-aimed curses every corner she turns, wondering which one will finally hit her—which one will kill her—

But then she sees none other than Colin Creevey amongst the blur of destruction around her, and just like that she remembers why she's here.

"Colin!" she yells, darting forward. He stands in the middle of the corridor, wand drawn in front of him but looking so lost and confused he might as well have just been an innocent passerby unfortunate enough to come across the Battle of Hogwarts. From this distance [Y/N] can tell he is shaking but no one seems to notice him amongst all the madness; "Colin!"

His name tears out of her throat again as she wills her legs to move as fast as they can, weaving through all the dueling and in some cases, brawling—and she doesn't know what she aims to do, exactly, but she just knows that she has to protect this timid little fifth-year Gryffindor who she has treated like her brother for so many years. The same one who, despite her infamous blood-smattered family tree, was one of the first ones outside of Slytherin to treat her like a normal human being.

She shouts his name again, and somehow, despite all of the noise and the yelling and the sounds of spells being cast all around them, Colin hears her; his eyes meet hers and they flood with relief and recognition, flood with the same bright light [Y/N] has grown so familiar with—

And then the light dies out.

[Y/N]'s entire world freezes.

"No," she gasps.

From behind Colin, a jet of bright green light hurtles straight towards him and hits him in the back—he jolts forward at the impact, and then falls to his knees. A half-moment later, Colin Creevey crumples to the ground, lifeless.

She skids to a stop. A dry sob leaves her lips as the hand holding her wand falls to her side.

No.

—

Five minutes.

Draco spends five minutes in the chilly dungeon corridor, staring at the stone steps [Y/N] had disappeared through only moments before.

If he walks up those steps, it will be to the sight of the school he has come to call his home destroyed. He will see numerous spells hurtling through the air, some finding their targets and others lodging themselves into stone and causing walls to crumble in on themselves. He knows that he will bear witness to a nightmarish scene, but that is not what has Draco hesitating: what stops him is the thought of fighting alongside students just like him who will give him mistrustful glares, as though they are waiting for him to jinx them when their backs are turned.

And perhaps worst of it all is the fact that he will have to fight against familiar faces. He will recognize his aunt, his uncle, his best friend's father, his own parents. And he will point his wand at them and hope that his curse hits them before theirs hits him.

Draco is scared.

He doesn't know if he has enough courage to climb those steps and fight alongside people who barely trust him, and fight against the people who have raised him.

But he can't lose her.

He may be scared, but he can't lose [Y/N].

So Draco unravels his Slytherin tie from his neck, takes a deep breath and walks up the stone steps. He can't lose her—not in this lifetime. He loves her far too much to care about who he has to kill and who he has to fight alongside.

The rest of the world be damned, so long as he doesn't lose her.

—

"You killed him," she whispers. Tears are in her eyes but they haven't quite fallen yet, and despite the invisible hands that have reached into her chest and started squeezing her lungs to a pulp, she manages to say louder, "You killed Colin."

[Y/N] looks up at the Death Eater standing amidst the countless fierce duels. She thinks she hears him laugh behind his mask; cruel and jeering and oddly familiar.

She doesn't pause to think. As soon as the feeling floods back into her arms, she cries "Stupefy!" and a burst of red light explodes out of the end of her wand.

But the Death Eater deflects it with little to no effort. He lets out another laugh, this time louder.

[Y/N] is sure of it this time: she knows that voice. She catches sight of a strand of long platinum blond hair trailing beneath his hood and recognizes him even before he reaches up with one hand and wrenches the mask off of his face.

"Foolish girl," Lucius Malfoy snarls, stopping a mere few feet away from her. "Instead of saving your own skin, you decide to betray the Dark Lord and your own family along with him."

He brandishes his wand; a jet of green light rushes straight towards [Y/N] and she cries "Protego!" at the very last moment, stumbling a little upon impact.

Lucius advances forward, long black robes billowing behind him as [Y/N] backs away, wand trembling slightly in her hand. "You care far too much for those who do not deserve your sympathy," his face contorts into an ugly, spiteful glare, "For Muggles and Mudbloods and filthy blood-traitors—"

"Stupefy!"

Just like the one before it, Lucius deflects this one effortlessly. His upper lip curling contemptuously, he stops in his tracks, wand still pointed at [Y/N] as her chest heaves with deep, heavy breaths of both anger and grief that hasn't quite gone away. "I have always wondered why my son adores you so much."

Another jet of red light bursts from [Y/N]'s wand, but her attempts are futile.

"But he will move on," continues Lucius. "He will forget you and wed someone who is worthy of being a Malfoy." And then the jeering smile on his face droops and intent floods his features as he sneers, "I just have to get rid of you first—Avada K—"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

This time, the spell hits Lucius and his limbs snap to his sides before he topples to the ground, spine rigid.

But [Y/N] hasn't even opened her mouth.

Standing right behind Lucius Malfoy is the last person she would have expected to see—

"Draco," she breathes.

Draco's wand is still drawn and his eyes are blown wide, mouth slightly agape as he stares at his father, who lies face-down on the ground unbeknownst to the fact that it was his own son who had cursed him.

Shock is etched into every inch of Draco's face. He is just as stunned at his actions as [Y/N] is. But when he snaps himself out of his trance and finds it in him to tear his gaze away from his father, the first thing he does is stride towards [Y/N], pull her to him, and hold her with the desperation of a man who has been longing for his lover for centuries.

"You—your father—"

"I know."

"Draco," she exhales into his shoulder, breathless. "Draco—"

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No—no, I'm okay."

Draco takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods. Keeps nodding.

And when he takes her hand in his and runs with her to the courtyard, where there are more Death Eaters to fight and more innocent lives to protect, he can't help but look back and catch a last glimpse of his father on the floor. His father, who is still rigid and unmoving, at the mercy of Order members who might stumble upon him.

Draco doesn't regret it.

The rest of the world be damned—including his own father—so long as he doesn't lose her.

[avengershumanresources]

blood 5 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 4 - part 6 

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

5 - a gift for the princess

Stephen wove through the rowdy crowds of the pub, just jumping out of the in time to avoid being covered in vomit. Men sang, women laughed, and the ale was flowing. 

He had to give Natalia some credit for choosing such a clever cover for their meeting in the back of the pub. 

Spying the owner, John nodded his head toward a discreet door behind the bar. 

Stephen slipped past the crowds, ducking under the tray of a hurrying barmaid, and slipping into the room. 

Natalia was sitting in a chair, rising when he walked into the room. She started talking but Stephen’s attention was fixed on the dark haired prince across the space. 

“What is he doing here?” he demanded sharply, throwing a finger toward the prince. “You’re supposed to be in Asgard.”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain you sack of stupid man,” she shoved him toward an empty chair. “There was a complication.”

Stephen immediately noted that James wasn’t in the room. Neither was the man he’d sent them after. 

“I’m- so sorry,” he started but Loki burst out laughing. 

“Honestly, you’re the Sorcerer Supreme?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “James isn’t dead.”

“Will you both shut up,” Nat snapped at the pair. “James is with the quarry in a rented room across town. Loki?”

He sighed and grabbed hers and Stephen’s hand, a cloud of green smoke enveloping them. 

When the air cleared, they were in the room of an inn Stephen had visited frequently over the years, the space relatively unchanged for the two figures who glanced up at their entrance.

James was leaned back in a chair, picking out pieces of an apple, while Master Mordo sat on the edge of the bed with a book. 

“Mordo?” Stephen asked, astonished at seeing the man before him. “I thought you were dead.”

“As far as Brock is concerned, I am,” he replied, standing to take the other sorcerers hand in greeting. 

“I don’t understand,” he looked between the group before Loki broke the silence. 

“He’s the one who poisoned the princess,” Loki gestured to Mordo, a smirking tugging on his lips. 

Stephen’s hands lit up with shields in a heartbeat, a glowing dagger at Mordo’s throat. 

“Explain,” he hissed.

“Stephen, calm yourself, it’s a misunderstanding,” he replied. “I’m trying to help.”

Stephen lowered his weapon slightly, signaling for the man to continue. 

“The spell was supposed to put her to sleep,” he explained. “Brock is planning something wicked with Obadiah and the princess is key. I needed a means of moving her without stirring attention.”

Stephen’s hands fell to his sides, spells disappearing as they fell. That explained the black smoke when he’d cleared the spell from your system- an unusual occurrence for a simple poisoning. 

“Obadiah plans to wed the princess to Brock in order to secure his army,” Mordo relaxed a little with the active threat to his life now gone, continuing his explanation. “Obadiah is the one who ordered King Anthony dead. He means to secure the throne and kill the prince, but Brock intends to double cross him and secure everything for himself after the prince is dead.”

“Our men wouldn’t let that happen,” Stephen shook his head. 

“That’s not the concern,” Mordo murmured, exchanging an uneasy look with Loki over Stephen’s shoulder. “Securing a lineage in the princess’ bloodline makes his claims all the more legitimate. 

The trickster snapped his fingers and Natalia and James froze into place. Time had been temporarily stopped for all but the three magic users. 

“Stephen, there’s something you need to know,” Loki explained, looking to Mordo who nodded solemnly. “What do you know of the princess’ lineage?” 

“Her father was the late king, Peter is her brother-,” he started but Loki stopped him with a wave of his hand. 

“Her maternal lineage?” he asked. “Her mother, Queen Alexandra, was born of a powerful family of seidr magic users, she was one of the last of the fallen kingdom of Vanaheim.”

“Seidr is extinct,” Stephen shook his head in disbelief but the older sorcerers sighed. “It’s been extinct for centuries.”

“It was said to have died with the queen,” Mordo picked up. “And we let that rumor circulate to take any interested parties interest off of the royal family, in particular a newborn baby girl.”

“I was a child at the time, but my family was consulted by King Anthony for a remedy for his child. He’d lost his wife to greed and desire for her power. He wanted to prevent losing the baby in the same way,” Loki explained. “My mother’s most promising student, Amora, volunteered to the task. She sealed away the princess’ intrinsic power, effectively removing her from the attention of other magic users.”

“Loki had been the princess’ intended for this reason,”  Mordo added quietly. “It was a means to protect both the princess and the kingdom from the untapped power going astray as she got older.”

“I was raised to ensure this secret went to the grave with those few who knew,” he explained, sending Stephen a knowing smirk. “Since there hadn’t been much concern as she grew, and the princess had obvious affections elsewhere, it was decided the marriage could wait.”

Elsewhere, being himself, Stephen realized sheepishly. To what extent did their unspoken affection further endanger the kingdom’s stability? Had he declared his intentions sooner, could he have prevented Brock’s move in the first place?

“When Amora was exiled of Asgard, she built a ruthless reputation that caught the attention of my former King,” Mordo frowned between the men. “Brock was, needless to say, very interested in a particular piece of information Amora provided about the princess. He banished me and ordered Amora to have me killed, but I managed to escape.”

“Brock intends to marry the princess and have Amora force the princess into his control,” Loki’s voice lowered sharply. “Her seidr would serve as an unlimited pool of power for both Brock and Amora, and the princess would be helpless to do anything about it.”

“Can’t he just have her marry him under the spell as well?” Stephen frowned, knowing a number of appropriate spells off the top of his head. It wouldn’t have been the first time he heard of someone using unethical means to sefure a union. 

“That’s where this gets interesting,” Loki snickered, looking to Mordo in amusement. “I haven’t had an opportunity to strengthen my cloaking spell around her. I’d managed to renew it when I said goodbye the day of the funeral, but it’s weakened significantly in the meantime.” 

“Amora’s magic is too weak to penetrate pure seidr, so the princess would have to be bound in marriage before she could twist her will,” Mordo explained. “The marriage ceremony she intends to perform to Brock’s customs will involve blood magic, and no matter the princess’ true feelings, she’ll be stuck trapped unless he is killed or the marriage is annulled in some other manner.”

“But that’s where this gets fun,” Loki purred in excitement. “The princess is in love with you. If her seidr continues in that direction, she should be able to continue to fight Amora’s influence. Possibly even after a union, if somehow this all falls through.”

The thought sent a little tickle off hope through his chest. At least if he stayed true in his desire, Stephen could protect you a little longer. Still, the marriage needed to be stopped before that even became a concern. 

Not only was your wellbeing at stake, but Brock could not be left in control of the region with Amora at his side.

“Then what can we do?” Stephen asked and Loki waved his wave, breaking the time freezing spell and picking up without missing a beat. 

“I’ll protest the union, as her original intended,” he replied. “Because the princess trusts you, you play the most important part in this all.”

Stephen listened while the group detailed their plan. It was an ambitious scheme, but Stephen had to admit, if they all played their parts to perfection- it could work. 

But would it come at the cost of losing your good faith forever?

(—)

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Stephen cupped his forehead, the headache forming when he saw Peter hunched over with a cloak over his head, speaking discreetly to a group of cloaked figures. 

They’d just finished their plan when he spied the poorly disguised prince and his friends. 

“...cannot stand,” he was saying before his gaze wandered to Stephen’s approaching form and he cringed. 

“What’s going on here?” Stephen asked, crossing his arms. The other figures turned around.  Lord Ned and Lady Michelle. “Don’t tell me... are you planning a coup?”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he gestured for Stephen to sit, grabbing the sorcerer by the sleeve of his robes and pulling him down.

“Don’t speak so casually,” he snapped, ushering the sorcerer into an empty seat. “Surely you’ve heard?”

“I’ve heard a great many things, probably more than you, your highness,” he answered sarcastically. “Do be more specific.”

“About the wedding?” he raised a brow, watching for a reaction. 

“Of your sister? I’ve just learned,” he murmured, leaning in and ignoring the pointed looks his companions by the door gave him. 

“Brock intends to propose tomorrow,” he explained. “But Obadiah isn’t telling my sister until the morning. He’s taken my mother and Morgan under house arrest.”

That was a bigger development than Stephen had expected from the boy. 

“He intends to kill the youngest princess and queen mother if the princess does not marry Brock,” Michelle added, looking forlornly at the table. 

“Where’s the princess now?” Were the next words out of Stephen’s mouth. 

When he’d left you hours before, you’d been sound asleep in your chamber. With the wards and protections he’d thrown around you, there wasn’t any reason you shouldn’t still be there.

“Safe in bed,” Peter assured him. “We need a plan. Brock’s army is twice the size of our without our allies.”

“Allies?” Loki had dropped into the bench, shoving Stephen to the side. “Do continue, your majesty.”

“Can  you can open the border and prepare your troops?” Peter asked the prince hopefully, but Loki frowned. 

“No, but I might be able to stall the marriage,” he replied coolly, a subtle wink toward Stephen. “You know how your sister and I have danced around one another. It’s time I make my claim.”

Peter scoffed, nodding toward Stephen. 

“Is he okay with that?” he asked boldly, earning a laugh from the other prince. 

“Strange knows his place,” Loki answered cockily. “He swore his little oaths and we both know the current king isn’t going to let him out as easily as your father would have. What other option does the princess have?”

Peter’s gaze feel on Stephen having been not entirely convinced, but against Stephen’s better instinct, he nodded mechanically. 

It was your best chance of survival. He had his own role to play down the line, so he let Loki convince the group of his undying love and affection for you. 

By the end, Peter seemed convinced that the Asgardian prince could get the marriage thrown away.

While the men gathered and discussed their plans, no one noticed the young Lady and the redhaired assassin conversing quietly in the shadows. 

Nor did they notice when they slipped out the back to meet with an old friend. 

(—)

Wanda found Stephen scribbling down notes on a piece of floating parchment the next morning. Books were floating through the air, and he meticulously thumbed through pages as they moved around him. 

It was clear her friend had been up all night, the bags under his eyes exposing the unspoken truth. 

On the table was an array of ingredients, a small flame burning under a concoction of bubbling green. 

“What are you up to, Strange?” she asked suspiciously when she saw the chapter of the last book he had consulted. “An elixir?”

“A gift-,” he let out a tired sigh, eyes looking miserably to the paperwork strewn in front of him.

“For whom?” Wanda’s eyes widen and her brows shot to her hairline when she read through the incantation. She knew it well, an old, but reliable mixture.

“For the princess.”

(--) 6 - a promise 

TAG LIST (message to be added!):

@ayamenimthiriel  @ladynothing @im-a-bi-disaster-help @idkwhatthisislol

[sassybirdmanandhisangstywife]

Well would you look at that, I’ve crawled back onto this page with another chapter. At least this one’s longer, and in my opinion written better than it’s predecessors. That would be due to me writing my original series, the only reason this chapter took so long. But that’s not what you’re here for. You’re here for the fic

So enjoy Diaval’s crisis ;)

Chapter 5

I hate it when I’m right

Flying across the barren land of Percefrost, I scrambled to come up with a plan. Not that I had much to plan, as I was heading to the castle without any information, but I should at least have an idea of what to do if the usual happens. The usual being a phenomenal failure of whatever the original plan was, and having to resort to a hastily put together backup plan. I shook my head. How have Mistress and I survived for this long? I really haven’t the slightest idea, but I hoped we could continue to have such good luck. Otherwise it’s down to the backup plan. Right, that’s what I was doing. A backup plan, hm......

My tired wings nearly caused me to fall to the ground as I approached Stephan’s old castle. I haven’t been sent to spy on the humans since Aurora was barely older than a hatchling, and I’d forgotten how long the journey is. Especially when you’re quite an old raven. But I had to persevere, and eventually I made it to one of the castle roof’s many holes (it is so fun when it rains in here). This one was situated right over the throne room. I figured that if anything significant was happening, this would be the place where it went down. I flew (well, fell really, as I said it took an enormous amount of energy that I didn’t exactly have to even arrive here) into the roof’s crack. Once I was inside, I quickly landed on the nearest beam. Breathing heavily (NOT panting, once again I am not a bloody mutt), I took a minute to recharge before looking around the large room. What I saw shocked me far more than I could’ve imagined.

Mistress was in chains, not iron otherwise she would be dead already, limp and possibly unconscious. Various cuts and bruises lay all across her limp form, blood actively dripping down more than a few of them. Her horns were scraped, and her wings, ones that were just returned to her, were bloody and twisted, chunks of feathers ripped out all over them both. I can’t even imagine the kind of pain Mistress must be in, emotionally as well as physically. Mistress lay in front of Stephan’s throne. I would say old throne, but that isn’t quite accurate. The bastard was ALIVE. How the fuck does a puny human like him survive a multi-story fall? He may look worse for wear, that being an understatement, but still, it’s just inconsiderate. The king had a positively insane smile on his face, and was shaking from what I assumed to be some kind of twisted joy. He was towering over Mistress,and decided that this was the moment to kick her harshly in her core with an iron boot. Mistress screamed, a shriek of pure agony, and I had to tear myself away from the horrible sight. As I turned my head, I heard a scream of “NO!” echo across the castle. I knew that voice far too well. That sound came from Aurora. My little girl. What have they done with her? I knew that scream was a reaction to Mistress’s pain, but I still saw red. Anyone who dared even touch my daughter without her permission would be annihilated by my hand. At least if I had my way. But for now, I had to hope that Aurora’s bloodline would keep her safe from the worst of Stephan’s fury. Mistress however, was in a far more grave situation.

Stephan then spoke. Or rather, screamed with more volume than an injured human should possess.

“RELASE MY DAUGHTER’S MIND YOU WITCH”

Mistress looked up, and from my vantage point, I could see the bruises and cuts that littered her beautiful face. Choking on my shock, I grew queasy. Mistress was incredibly powerful, why couldn’t she defend herself from a few humans? Powerful humans with far too much iron albeit, but still, just humans. And they had Aurora as well!? Could this get any worse?

Mistress smiled up at Stephan, a tired smile, one full of pain, but more real than anything else I was seeing. She spoke softly, but with a firm purpose.

“I have done nothing to Aurora Stephan. Why would I? She is my daughter aft-“

Mistress was horribly interrupted by a harsh kick to the jaw by Stephan’s iron covered boot.

“SHE IS MY DAUGHTER! MINE, NOT YOURS, AND SHE ALWAYS WILL BE!”

Mistress gave a harsh, cold laugh, one that ended in a painful, bloody coughing fit.

“You gave up that privilege when you sent her away, all those years ago. Aurora grew up without you to guide her, so she turned to those who truly cared. Myself and D-“ she paused, and in that moment, her eyes widened. “......And the fairies.” She finished. I knew Mistress well enough to notice her mistake, but unfortunately, so did Stephan.

“YOU DID NOT MEAN TO SAY THAT!” Stephan screamed, his face turning redder than the dried blood on his face. “WHO ELSE HAS CORRUPTED HER MIND!?!? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE MALEFICENT?!??”

“I have merely raised Aurora to the best of my abilities, something you would have done if you truly wanted to be her father. But I know the truth. You only want that claim for the power it gives you, and so you can be the true corrupter, poisoning her innocent mind with your thoughts of evil. I won’t release Aurora, as I have nothing to release. If your broken mind refuses to understand and accept these truths, that problem does not fall to me to fix.”

Stephan whipped his body around, towards his magnificent throne, and grabbed it’s arms, harshly casting it aside in his fury. The throne crashed to the ground, shattering to bits with a deafening scream. Splinters dug themselves into Mistress’s pale skin, causing her to wince painfully.

“IF YOU REFUSE TO FREE MY DAUGHTER, I WILL FORCE YOUR MAGIC OUT OF HER. IN 9 DAYS TIME, I WILL KILL YOU IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE KINGDOM, SO ALL CAN VEIW THE MIGHTY MALEFICENT’S FAILURE TO SURVIVE. YOU MAY ONLY PREVENT THIS BY RELEASING MY DAUGHTER FROM YOUR POISONING GRIP.”

Oh no. Oh, oh no.

Maleficent barked out another laugh.

“Do you actually expect me to believe that? I know you far too well to truly think my life will be spared. If you are to kill me, so be it. But you will leave my people alone.”

“NEVER! ALL OF THE MOORS SHALL FALL AT MY HAND!”

“That will never happen. The creature who will replace me is far too quick witted to be defeated by you.”

Stephan laughed, in such a way that his insanity shone through like the sun rising on a new day.

“But I have conquered you, the great Maleficent. Are you actually suggesting that you have a superior? You are the one who’s mind is lost if you say that truthfully.”

Mistress smiled softly, showing....happiness? In this situation?? THIS is where she decides to openly show joy????? Despite her uncomfortable position, she spoke with all the confidence in the world.

“Yes. There is only one I would consider my equal, and he shall rule in my stead. Diaval will end you, as well as your pathetic followers King Stephan.” She spat that last part, but I barely registered it. Mistress thought of ME as an equal?!? And she wanted me, of all creatures, to rule all of The Moors? I knew she saw me as more than a servant, for that much was obvious, but an EQUAL!?!?

Just then, my star struck inner rambling came to a stop as Stephan began to speak once more.

“DIAVAL?!? WHO IS THIS CREATURE?!?” The ruined king spat back, before somewhat recovering his composure. “No matter, if I can destroy you, I can certainly take on this Diaval.” Stephan ran his fingers through his hair, matted by his own blood, and straightened his robes. “Now for you, Maleficent,” he smirked cruelly. “Enjoy your last days. Or rather, suffer though them like the beaten animal you are.”

Stephan swept his cloak around his injured form, and strode out of the throne room. I merely stood on my perch in shock.

This definitely got worse. Oh ravens it was so much worse.

Not only were Mistress and Aurora captured, Stephan was somehow ALIVE, about to kill Mistress, and I was expected to LEAD A KINGDOM?!? What am I going to do? How can I possibly fix a disaster of this volume?! I’m just a raven! I don’t have power or wealth, all I have is.......OH.

It was like a candle flickered on in my brain. Suddenly, I knew what to do.

I may not have power over people or land, and I might not have money, but I have an entire kingdom of- shit. Right. I have no way to reach those who would help, as Mistress’s thorn wall is as strong as ever, and she’s the only one who can tear it down. That means, barring the few creatures who can fly over it, including myself, there was no one coming.

I was alone. Utterly and completely alone. What was an insignificant raven like myself to do?

Just then, a glimmer of hope shone through this situation’s never ending darkness.

Stephan’s captain darted his eyes around fearfully, before slowly and cautiously walking toward Mistress. The other guards watched, expressionless as their helmets covered enough of their faces that it was impossible to tell what each was thinking.

The captain sank down on one knee, just ahead of Mistress, and stared at her with bronze eyes that showed emotions too numerous to count.

“Do- do you really think he can do it?” The captain asked with forbidden hope.

“Kill me? My dear captain I am more than too weak to stop him. It is only a matter of Stephan’s whims now.” Mistress said mockingly, resigned to her fate. Not that I would let that happen. If Mistress is to die, I’d give my life to protect her first. But then, the captain said something that pulled the breath away from both myself and my Mistress.

“No, not that. I do not wish for you to die Maleficent. What I mean is.....can the dragon man truly do it?? Can he beat Stephan? Can he....can he free us from this madness?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The humans hated Stephan as well?? And not just any humans, but Stephan’s own royal guard??

Unfortunately, my hopes were quickly shot down.

“Boaralta no!” A nearby gaurd hissed in fury. “Do not wish for the death of our great king! Long live King Stephan!”

The captain, or Boaralta apparently, shook his head roughly and stood up.

“Of course. The witch probably took over my brain. Long live King Stephan.” Boaralta said, solemnly walking back to his position. Although, a shred of my hope was brought back by the sympathetic glance the captain gave Mistress from the corner of his eyes.

Well, it wasn’t a common opinion, but at least someone who could help disagreed with the corrupt king, even if that someone was too afraid to truly speak his mind. It was still hope. Hope to save us all, hope that I, along with everyone else, desperately needed in this time of suffering beyond anything ever seen. I flew out of the castle and away from my Mistress and daughter with this hope, begging the skies and stars that such a small thing could win against such odds. For it had to, or all was lost. And I couldn’t accept that. I could never accept that there is nothing to be done except wait for Mistress to die, The Moors to fall, and my precious daughter to fall into the clutches of such an evil man. I am willing to give my life to avoid that if need be, for that fate is one that can never come to be. I couldn’t bear it.

The only question now is how I am to prevent such a terrible future on my own.

A minor problem of course.

[bangtancentricsblog]

❀ through the centuries

↳ this was part of an ask game that the lovely Mo @suhdays was nice enough to play with me so as a repayment I wrote this 💕

❒ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❒ genre: fluff, a sprinkle of angst

❒ alternative universe: werewolf, mythical, strangers to lovers, soulmate haha…

❒ rating: NC 17

❒ word count: 1.5k +

warnings/disclosures: my size kink kinda jumped out a little bit but not that bad, sheriff Jungkook, cameos from Jaehyun of NCT, Yugyeom of GOT7, Jungkook had a fwb, werewolf jungkook, demi-god mc, magic, some made up story of the how soul mates came to be, jungkook bites MC but like playfully, unedited as always!!

“I literally can’t stand you.” you laugh, smiling up at Jungkook as he offers you a mug. It’s been a little over half a year since you’ve met and though for the most part he is insufferable there is something oddly endearing about him.

“I’m aware.” He says the glimmer to his eyes heats your cheeks so much that you have to turn away. You’re tucked into the corner of his breakfast nook in some of the comfiest sweats you have ever worn, the sun filters through the windows and you bask in its warmth. This home is nothing like your own, it's warmer, more inviting, cozy even, just like Jungkook. He didn't question your appearance at his doorstep all that time ago, had only smiled warmly stepping aside to let you in.

“I have to get to work soon, but you should be fine on your own ‘til I come back for lunch.” He’s humming as he sips from his mug, a cute little song that you now recognize as something that comes from his pack.

“Do you miss your pack?” you murmur, the words are out too quick, slipping past your lips before you can stop them.

“Sometimes, mostly the sense of belonging and my brothers of course.” he answers with a sad smile. Your heart aches for him, a strange sensation in itself since your family holds little warmth, their sense of duty to your goddess always came first. There were no soothing words or warm smiles at any point in your life. Not that you had noticed, it wasn't normal for families to be affectionate, they only taught you what was needed to serve the goddess and keep the bloodline pure.

“I wonder what that’s like.” you sigh taking a sip from your mug, and Jungkook doesn't miss your happy little wiggle as the taste of hot chocolate washes over your tongue. He shoots you one last smile, filling his travel mug, rounding the corner of his kitchen island and running his fingers through your hair.

“I’ll see at lunch, don't get into any trouble while I’m gone.” There’s a tingle in your fingertips, one that settles your racing thoughts and washes over you like a cool rain. You feel so small when you’re with Jungkook, a strange feeling when you yourself are what you’d like to think is normal sized. But Jungkook is big everywhere, just the thought of having seen him so indecently heats your skin once more. It was improper and you prayed the goddess forgave you for your transgressions before marriage. You’re suddenly reminded of just how early it is as the silence settles around you with Jungkook’s absence. Something that makes you more uncomfortable than you’re willing to admit.

The sigh you let out is heavy, breaking the silence if only for a moment, it helps to settle the energy that is abuz in your being. A feeling you are growing more and more accustomed to as the days pass. You suppose you should get started on your daily routine since you are already up and more than awake. After all, the goddess shines down on those who are hardworking.

**

“So are you gonna tell us about your girlfriend?” Yugyeom starts shooting a smirk at Jaehyun who scowls in return.

“That’s literally none of your business.” Jungkook laughs as he types his report.

“No, I really think it is. Some smoking hot girl shows up at your house and you just let her live with you? There’s got to be some story to that.” he says throwing his hands up.

“There isn't, she's a family friend.”

“Wait till Yuna catches wind of this.” Yuyeom laughs before shuffling over to his desk at the back of the station. Jungkook stops typing, gaze moving to Yuna who sits at the reception desk up front. He’s never had anything with her, not really, a hook up here and there but nothing serious at least he hadn't thought so at first. Though if he really thinks about it, like really thinks maybe she had thought something of it? She did leave her clothes at his, and she was constantly sleeping over when they did spend the night together. Hell he’d even taken her to get pancakes at the local diner from time to time but that wasn't enough to make her believe they were an item was it?

“Don’t think about it too hard Kook, Yuna won't think too much about it so you shouldn't either.” Jaehyun says a smile tilting his lips upwards.

“Thanks, I hope you’re right.” he breathes offering a tight lipped smile and going back to his report.

*

Unfortunately Jaehyun is wrong, so very wrong. Yuna had managed to corner Jungkook on his way out of the sheriff station at their lunch break, her arms easily wrapping around his neck as she pressed heated kisses to any skin available to her. He’s not quite sure where to put his hands, as he holds them up and away from her, and it doesn't go unnoticed. She’s quick to peak at him from under her lashes, gaze fogged up with what he assumes would've been enough for him once, but all he can think about right now is the invisible tether that pulls him home, pulls him to you.

“What’s wrong baby?” she asks somewhat breathlessly as she manages to pull herself away from him.

“Yuna listen, we aren’t - well y’know we aren't a couple right?” He feels like he breathes again when her scent no longer drowns his senses, it’s not unpleasant by any means just very pungent. Something that churns his stomach, he rubs at his neck a bit as nerves take over his being, his wolf growing restless before he catches it. The light woody scent that clings to his wrist, one that settles the impatient animal that was roused from it’s slumber the moment she’d pressed herself to his form. His chest rumbles softly almost like a purr one that Yuna doesn’t catch with her human hearing.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, just that we weren’t exclusive or anything and this is just a me thing not a you thing.” he says somewhat awkwardly, he takes in her form watching the emotions play out on her face before she deflates.

“Oh,” she starts after a brief silence “yeah, I knew that.” she sniffles, quickly turning away and leaving. He feels terrible, after all he isn’t trying to be a dick but his wolf is whining at him to get home already, to you.

“Shit, it’s gonna be awkward when i get back.” he sighs running a hand through his hair.

**

You hear Jungkook before you see him, the sound of his footfalls is light but not as light as he thinks. The sun is peeking out at you from behind a cloud, and you thank the goddess for the oncoming rain, not that anyone would believe you if you said to expect rain. Heat blankets your back as Jungkook cages you against the counter, resting his head against your shoulder. He spends some time breathing you in, relishing in your scent and that other thing that he has yet to name but has his wolf presenting his belly.

“I’m so tired.” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you. You perk up craning your neck to catch a glimpse of him when you feel the familiar press of teeth through the fabric of your shirt.

“Are you okay?” you ask, placing your hands atop his where they rest on your stomach.

“Yeah, just tired. Yugyeom asked about you again.”

“Hmm, I should meet him soon. Take an umbrella when you leave, there's rain coming.” you laugh as he nuzzles your neck, the stress from earlier in the day melts away, Jungkook can almost feel the way it leaves his body as he begins to rock you gently. It’s as you two eat lunch together that he finally understands what this unfamiliar feeling is called.

He’s rinsing the dishes, hearing you hum the song from his pack that he recalls a story told to him when he was a pup. A fantastical tale of a goddess whose lover was taken from her, hidden by others who were jealous of their love and cursed to roam the earth as half god half beast. It was only when the moon was full did she find her lover, and thus had created what was once called a mate. A being that was the literal embodiment of the purity of their love but overtime had faded out as the bloodlines continued. He recalls his mother telling him that he and his brothers were the last of his pack that still held the blood of the goddess’ lover though somewhat muddied still carried something that pure. She had claimed they were destined for greatness just as the old goddess and her lover as their ancestors. That one day they would find their mate and they would know.

“Jungkook, are you listening?” you ask, tone soft as you grin up at him. Something in his being shift, he can almost hear it click into place. The air feels electric, your shine so bright almost like the golden light from a full moon, it’s here that he knows he’s found you. His goddess, his mate.

[flowersoldier]

THE FLOWER GIRL AND THE WOLF

Chapter 3: Midgar

ff.net  AO3

Aerith took Cloud for a walk in the slums the next day. Okay, maybe he shouldn't say it this way, it sounded like he's a dog to her. The blonde still wore his coat to hide his ears and tail from the people and Aerith wore the same pink summer dress and red jacket.

“So, what do you think of my home?“ Asked Aerith then and to be honest the wolf didn't know how to answer.

“Uh...well, your place is great. But the rest of the slums...“

“I know, it's not the best place to live in. But it's my home.“ The girl shrugged.

To be honest Cloud couldn't understand how anyone wanted to live here. It's dirty, it's stinky...It's just not a good place to live. “It's weird not being able to see the sky.“

“I don't mind that.“ Said Aerith with a quieter voice. “The sky's kinda...scary.“ The blonde tilted his head, confused, before looking up at the plate. He didn't understand what she meant. “I mean...it's so endless...you never know what might come from it.“ Cloud couldn't say that he understood what she's talking about, but he nodded anyway.

Then, the flower girl was as cheery as ever and dragged him though the slums. They had a snack here and there and Cloud learned to appreciate the humans cooking skills. In the end they had something they called ice-cream. That, too, was really delicious and from all the sweet things people ate this might be his favorite. As Aerith told him more about the human way of life, he noticed a drop of ice-cream running down her jaw. He stopped listening and only stared at the drop, while fighting the urge to lick it off. But this time the urge was too strong and he leaned in to lick it off her face. Aerith stopped talking and only stared at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks once he pulled back.

Only then did he realize his mistake and looked away, his face growing hotter by the second. “S-sorry. Wolf habit...“ He mumbled embarrassed, pulling his hood down to hide his face completely.

“It's okay.“ He heard Aerith say, before he felt her pushing the hood away. And then something soft touched his cheek. Cloud didn't have to look to know what it was. He felt his face getting even hotter then and he turned away from Aerith and pulled his hood back over his face to hide it. Aerith giggled behind his back.

Then they decided to go back to the church. There were flowers she had to take care of, too. Her words. Cloud protected her the whole way there, scaring away all the monsters that wanted to attack Aerith.

Inside the church, the blonde just sat on the ground and watched the girl tending to her flowers. He watched her fingers, using her magic touch on the plants, and his mind went back to the time she petted him when he was in his wolf form. How soft and warm they felt, as she gently ran it through his fur. The thought alone caused a cold shiver to run down his spine.

“What are you thinking?“ Hearing Aerith's voice so close to his ear made him jump in surprise.

“Huh? Nothing.“ He answered and noticed her eye twinkling mischievously. “What?“

“I think you're lying.“ The wolf only hummed, not knowing what to say about it. He knew he's a bad liar sometimes, so fighting it will make him more suspicious.

Cloud helped her taking care of the flowers whenever she needed him, but for the most part he just looked at her and tried very hard not to stare like a creep. It was...really weird. These feelings he suddenly got when she's around. It kinda felt like back then, when he had a crush on Tifa but more intense. The blonde shook his head. No, he shouldn't have a crush on Aerith! She's human and he was a wolf. This wouldn't work!

“What are you thinking, Cloud?“ Asked Aerith again, now her whole attention was at him. It was kinda embarrassing.

“Just...“ He began, trying to think of an excuse quickly. “I think I'll miss this place.“ What he actually meant was that he'll miss her. Aerith smiled sadly, giving him the urge to cheer her up again. But he was never good at cheering people up...

“I'll miss you, too, Cloud.“ She said honestly, making his face flush. The wolf stared at the flowers, as he got the weirdest idea ever.

“What if...“ He mumbled, but then stopped himself. No, this was a bad idea. Elmyra wouldn't want that, even if Aerith said yes.

“What if...?“ Repeated Aerith, looking at him with big, curious eyes.

Cloud shook his head, avoiding her gaze. “Forget it. It's nothing.“ He only glanced at her, when he heard her scooch in. She was sitting very close to him. Too close.

“Tell me.“

He had to look away from her eyes. “It's nothing. Just...I just thought you could come with me.“ Cloud felt so stupid now that he said it. It was the worst idea ever.

“To your pack?“ Asked Aerith thoughtfully.

Cloud shook his head and looked away from her. “Forget it.“

“No! I'd like to come with you and meet your family!“ Said Aerith, crawling over his lap so he was forced to look at her. That was even more embarrassing than just sitting too close together.

“And what about your mom?“

“Well, thank god I'm old enough to decide stuff on my own.“ She replied with a playful tone in her voice.

-----------------------------

After spending some more time in the church they went back to Aeriths place. The kids in the Leave House near her home greeted them happily again, as did every other citizen of Sector 5. She was very popular among the people it seemed. Aerith told him she helped people when they needed it, so it made sense that everyone loved her.

“Cloud?“ The woman suddenly stopped when they stepped on her territory. “I, uh...I'd like to talk with my mom alone for now, okay? Could you...?“

“I'll wait out here till you're done.“ Finished Cloud for her.

“Huh? No you don't need to stay outside! I thought you could go upstairs instead.“

Aerith was really nice, it took him so much strength not to smile too much. “That's fine. I like to be outside. Go in and talk with your mom.“ Also with his enhanced hearing he could probably hear every word when, even when he's upstairs.

“You're really sweet, Cloud.“ Aerith gave him one of her radiant smiles that never failed to take his breath away. His heart thumped happily that this smile was only reserved for him. “You don't have to stay here all the time though. Just look around more, or something, I don't want you to get bored.“

Cloud couldn't help but roll his eyes, the little smile of his was still present though. “Don't worry about me. Go.“

“Okay. I'll get you when we're done talking.“ Aerith giggled and then finally went to the house. Cloud stood there and watched her till she eventually vanished behind the door. Only then did he move. He just walked around the garden, looking at the flowers she planted there, staring at the fish swimming in the pond and held himself back to grab one and eat it raw.

Then he went up the little flower covered hill, where Aerith spoke to the flowers the day before. He kneeled down and stared at the yellow lilies swinging lightly in the breeze. People who could talk to the planet...Until now Cloud thought it's just a fairy tale. But Aerith proved to him that this was very much real. He didn't think she'd lie about these things. And she looked very serious when she said that the flowers' voices couldn't reach her.

Cloud glared at the flowers. “Why aren't you answering her?“ He growled lowly at the plants. Then he sat down, being careful not to squish any flowers and kept glaring at them. What was it that he heard about these special people? There are many different versions of the same story. One said they were humans. One said they were wolves. Another said both kinds existed. Also that these people were the ancestors of the whole shape shifting wolf species. So if Aerith was one of these people...did that mean she had a very old bloodline that reached all the way to both their ancestors? Maybe if Aerith will go to his pack with him, she could probably learn more about her heritage? The people in Cosmo Canyon were very wise and surely knew a thing or two about these people.

---------------------------

Cloud woke up when he felt someone touching his arm. He must've fallen asleep and the sun was gone already. How long was he asleep? Looking up, he saw Aerith hovering over him, smiling gently. Yep, that was a great sight to wake up to. “Hey, sleepyhead. Sorry, it took us longer than I expected...“

Cloud yawned and sat up. “It's okay.“ He did expect it to take that long, after all Aerith wabted to leave her relatively safe home and travel the world. Of course her mother wouldn't agree immediately and try to talk Aerith out of it. “You'll stay here then, right?“

“What are you saying? Of course not.“ Aerith giggled and knelled down to be on eye level with him. “It took me a while but I was able to persuade her. I'm coming with you, Cloud. I have the feeling I can learn more when I'm out there. You know what I mean?“

Of course he did. “Yeah.“ Aerith gave him one of her bright smiles again, before extending her hand. “Come. Let's eat dinner and get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.“ Cloud frowned. She wanted to leave tomorrow? He thought she'd tell him to wait a few more days to prepare and say good bye to everyone...But it wasn't really his business now, was it? If she said she's ready, she she's ready and he won't question it. The blonde took her hand and let her help him get up on his feet, while doing the same to her. When he let go of his hand, it took him quite a lot of self-control not to grab her hand again. And so he just followed her back into the house.

Elmyra looked quite concerned throughout the evening, but they never once talked about the journey ahead of them. And after dinner they all went to bed. Just like the night before, Aerith scent all over the pillow and sheets lulled him to sleep. The only difference was that he had a quite pleasant dream for once.

[darkpoisonouslove]

I'm offering you an empty salt shaker - asks 2, 5, 6, 15 (go ahead, I know you have something XD), 16, 20, 25 (about Bloom searching for her parents storyline)

Starting this again because guess who accidentally hit the key combination for undo and lost half an answered ask! This bitch right here.

I answered 2 here.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

Not that I can think of. It’s usually the source material that ruins things and fandom is tasked with fixing them later.

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?*

I didn’t hate it but Bloom x Icy was incomprehensible to me. Fics helped a lot and so did other posts from here and there and I can see it now. Also, I totally couldn’t see Griffin x Codatorta but that changed, too. Though, that was less fandom and more trashcankitty12 with an ask that made me think about it a little more in-depth so it was pretty much me roping up myself into yet another ship. But ooh, I also don’t think I had considered Palladium x Avalon before fandom but, yes, indeed, it is right there in canon. And I was so puzzled over the Riven x Nabu content I was seeing but after watching seasons 3 and 4, I can totally see where this is coming from. The people are right. That is a bromance right there.

15. Unpopular opinion about the manga/show?

I have no idea what is popular and what isn’t (but you’re right that I have something aka A LOT) so I’ll just list my strong opinionsTM, okay? I will try not to dump on Bloom too much also because it is not a secret that I don’t like her so there is no need for me to go in too much detail.

4kids is the superior dub. That is probably the most controversial opinion I hold. But don’t worry, I’ll try to top it and up the ante. XD

I love Enchantix but it has so many flaws as a concept and even more as an execution and the thing that is really pissing me off is how obviously centered around Bloom’s arc it is. It was clearly created for the advancement of her character and the other girls’ stories came as an afterthought which is why Tecna’s Enchantix was total bullshit. And for having a transformation that is specifically created around Bloom, hers was bullshit as well. I think they should have let her reearn it in order for her to be able to use all of its functions like miniaturizing. Also also, at so many points it totally sounds like Bloom is not upset about the fact that Domino and all of its people were destroyed but about the fact that that means she won’t get her Enchantix. Which btw was a hasty conclusion because at the time Enchantix became a thing, she was still on a mission to find her parents which would have definitely been a way to earn her Enchantix and she had a sign that they were alive. So her angsting over not getting an Enchantix because of what happened on Domino was bad form on the writers’ part.

That spell for good decisions in 1x05 was one of the show’s lowest and most ridiculous moments. It was only included to flaunt in your face how naturally being a leader comes to Bloom because “See? See!!!!!! She can make a good decision without using magic to help her!” So can the majority of the population (note that we are talking about ONE good decision, not an unbreakable sequence of such). She ain’t all that special. Plus, Tecna was written wildly OOC there in order to boost Bloom’s stats so to speak. I’m sorry but Tecna would’ve known that three against four doesn’t give them advantage since they are freshmen and the Trix were seniors at the time. God, that scene was stupid.

Flora is the most boring character in seasons 1-3, fight me about it.

The writers totally had no idea what they were doing with the witches throughout most of season 1 which is why Griffin’s characterization in that season is so inconsistent. Also, wtf was that in 1x06? She straight up tried to kill a bunch of 15-year-old girls. Take a chill pill! I’m glad they figured out a much better balance with her later on.

Not using the fact that Cloud Tower is a living organism more was a fucking wasted opportunity. Especially in season 3 when Valtor took over it. That could have made everything so much better. Also, the witches should have been used more. They were interesting but deserved so much better in terms of development.

Sky should have just fucking died in 2x10. What were these resurrections and Bloom getting healing powers out of nowhere for a total of 5 seconds? You know, that could have been a good setup for a Bloom x Diaspro romance. It would have been so much better if they’d gotten together right after 1x17 and dumped Sky’s sorry ass. Also, Diaspro deserved better.

Riven is the best Specialist but he is especially better than Sky. Remember 1x22 when he was trying to escape CT? He was trapped deep in enemy territory with monsters everywhere and so high above the ground, yet he found his way out. Sky would’ve fucking died out in the open at Magix against one single monster if Bloom hadn’t shown up to rescue him. And the show has the gall to imply that Sky is a better Specialist than Riven is? Please!

The teachers should be fined and sued for emotional and physical damage they haven’t protected their students from. Especially the Alfea teachers who in 1x02 practically admitted that the witches might maim a fairy and they still won’t do shit about it. Nice one!

Griffin and Valtor is canonical subtext and I have nothing more to say about this. It is all there.

Valtor up until 3x18 and Valtor from 3x19 to 3x26 are two different people and the prior is superior in every way. The show ruined him in the last third of the season because there was no other way for Winx to defeat him.

Speaking about Valtor, his whole thing with the Trix is despicable and I hate it so much. It is extremely cringy on their part and extremely underhanded on his and I can’t stand it. Not to mention that it is wildly OOC for the Trix because they are obviously better than that.

I cannot understand saying that Bloom x Valtor is love-hate. I see only hate.

It is ridiculous how easily the Trix beat Griffin in season 6 and how they nearly take control over CT in season 2. And it is also ridiculous that she had to wait for Winx to unspell CT in season 3. She is a teacher, the headmistress of the most prestigious school for witches, a veteran and has been Valtor’s partner (and he himself admitted that together they were unstoppable which means that she has to be pretty powerful and even somewhere close to his level of power). Can the show stop acting like she is defenseless?

The teachers should have been used more. It would’ve been so much better if they were there to at least help Winx if not lead their battles. And it would have made much more sense. Also, how come Ediltrude and Zarathustra literally disappear when it’s convenient and then reappear again (like they did in season 1 when the witches went to Alfea)? That’s just bad writing.

Sky is adopted. He doesn’t resemble Erendor or Samara neither in appearance, nor in character and I hate them enough to headcanon that he was adopted but nobody knows because they don’t want to have claims that he is not an “official” heir of the throne because he isn’t part of the bloodline.

Mike and Vanessa are much more parents to Bloom than Marion and Oritel are, especially when the latter were first released from Obsidian, and the fact that Bloom starts calling them Mike and Vanessa instead of mom and dad after she learns she has other parents is abysmal. Also, they are literally the best parents ever and I love them to death. (I also like Marion and Oritel but Mike and Vanessa are definitely the superior pair of parents if we’re ranking them. I like the idea that the two couples are actually super close and love each other like relatives, in fact.)

What the fuck is up with the magic in this show? There is literally, like, NO FUCKING CONSISTENCY WHATSOEVER! You can’t blink without the rules of it changing in some way. But what am I saying? That would imply that there are any rules which is just not true. Also, there is no clear distinction of how powerful anyone is after season 1. The balance of powers especially between Winx and the Trix is pretty much whatever works for the episode. Same for Winx vs Valtor. The fuckery on that account is unreal. Plus, some of Bloom’s major power explosions happen due to her getting angry. According to the official Wiki - “While practicing or harnessing positive magic, one must keep a compassionate heart, primarily by keeping their thoughts and feelings clear of all negativity, making them capable of attracting positive energy more easily. Thus, if one is plagued with negative thoughts or feelings such as sadness, anger or fear, then their magic will grow   weaker until they may even be left incapable of casting magic until said feelings pass.“ Read that and then read it again, let it sink in. According to the rules of the Winx universe, during some of Bloom’s most powerful moments she was actually using dark magic, not light such because it was fueled by rage. Way to keep it fucking consistent. And that is not just Bloom! FLORA out of all people attacks the Trix in rage in 3x12 when they hurt her sister aka she was also using dark magic at that situation (and then you have Wizgiz scolding Mirta for it in SotLK like it is a sin to use dark magic, smh). In some instances I would argue that it was more of determination to protect rather than anger which I would say would still result in light magic. But The Flora thing, Bloom vs Stormy in 1x09 (Bloom even says she got so angry so that was not a case of protectiveness), Bloom vs Icy in 1x26 and Bloom vs Valtor in 3x14 were definitely rage aka dark magic. And then Bloom is all “fairies don’t have any demons”. Guess again, bitch! Also, writers, you need a dictionary to start comprehending the words you are actually writing?

Now that I think of it, the whole arc in the Resort Realm was bullshit. If it is a magic-free realm, nobody should have any magic in it, period! What is this bullshit that you can use Charmix and Gloomix there because they have higher magical energy? That absolutely doesn’t matter! If there isn’t any magic in the entire realm, having a higher amount of magic in you will not matter because you still can’t use it... because there isn’t any in the realm!!!!!! What the hell! Honestly, the writers can’t comprehend what words mean and that is not the only instance in which it shows.

Someone told me that SotLK is better than Magical Adventure and I don’t mean to offend but that is simply not true. Magical Adventure is leagues above SotLK even if it has some structural problems. Like, literally everything is better. Bloom and Sky are even likable and communicate!!!!!!!! Literally when have you ever seen a better moment for their relationship than in Magical Adventure? If it had been all like that, I would have liked them as a couple.

I think I got everything that comes to mind rn out. Might think of more at some point. I was done and then came back to rage some more because I remembered I had more material.

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

I would have them make smart decisions because 99% of the shit they pull is so stupid it is unreal. I literally cannot tell how they are still alive. Oh, no wait! Plot armor. Yep, that’s it.

But if I had to pick something specific? Bring Nabu back. I sure as hell wouldn’t have killed him. That was an asshole move and I have no idea what the hell the writers were thinking when they wrote that.

And my second choice is - implement a magical system into the series because there isn’t one. Magic always works the way the writers need it to work to pull off their bullshit plot even if it contradicts everything that we’ve seen before. Please, for the love of god! Consistency is already dead; stop stabbing its corpse!!!!

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom?

Purest ship? Lmao, asking me this question is underhanded. XD If you mean no drama, then Flora and Helia Mike and Vanessa. But I think my actual answer would be Griffin x Faragonda because they have been through so much that we know of or we can deduce and they still stuck together. Sure, they had their ups and downs but it is obviously a love for life that has lasted through so many obstacles and keeps lasting. The reason why I can’t say the same for Mike and Vanessa is because we don’t really know that much about their relationship with each other. But anyway I love both these ships so much.

If you’re talking about a canon ship, though, then Brandon and Stella (I do not recognize the stupid relationship drama in season 4 as canon). He did lie to her about his identity in season 1 but it was for his friendship with Sky (alternatively, for his job and duty as Sky’s squire). I just love how obviously in love Brandon is with Stella and how much Stella doesn’t care about anything but him. She didn’t care that he was a “commoner” and - one of my fave moments - in 1x08 she only cared about his well-being rather than the competition. It was adorable and they are adorable and I love them so much. Pure serotonin, right there!

25. How would you end the Bloom searching for her parents storyline/Would you change the ending?

I would certainly change the logistics of the whole thing because, boy, did it make no sense at all. As for the actual ending, I’d argue that physically finding them is not the end of that storyline and she needs to “find” them emotionally as well which would definitely take more time than SotLK cared to address. Like, she got them out of Obsidian and boom, everything’s fine! She literally doesn’t know them! Those are her parents and she doesn’t know anything about them! Their touch and their voices are unfamiliar to her even and they have missed on so much that they will never be able to get back and you’re saying that everything is fine? Yeah, right.

I would have had her spend a year on Domino with them before season 4. The school year that started in SotLK? She spends that with them. Possibly even the one that starts in Magical Adventure as well. She learns everything she can about them and the family history. She also learns how to be a proper royal because she is the Crown Princess now and she has no idea what the fuck she is doing. I would have made seasons 4 and possibly 5 about that and added more politics in it. Layla and Stella are also princesses who will run their kingdoms one day so we could have had adventures in political relations with Winx Club. They are pretty famous so I am sure there would be rulers of other lands that see them as threats and don’t like them. There could have been tension about that and the whole thing with Domino being the planet of the Dragon Fire could have been addressed. Who would dare oppose them when they are the most powerful force? Are they the most powerful force after the 17 years the planet spent as an ice block? Are there old alliances to be reforged? What is the political climate in the Magic Dimension? All absolutely fascinating questions that would have helped the worldbuilding and made place for Marion and Oritel in Bloom’s life and in the show. We could’ve gone back to the feel of season 1 when they also had other things going on besides the big baddie of the season and it could have been a little more episodical with a loose theme to connect the season and the overarching story of Bloom finding her parents and her place in the world she was born in. That could have been positively epic... And a great way to retain the cast because the Company of Light were allegedly friends so we could have seen Marion and Oritel reconnecting with Griffin, Faragonda, Saladin and Hagen. There could have been resurfacing debates left over from the war. Kingdoms angry at Domino for something that happened back then in order to include flashbacks with the events. AND that would work out with the fact that the Ancestral Witches were still around and could have led to another epic battle that wouldn’t end with the destruction of a whole planet. Like I said, there were amazing possibilities... and they were all wasted.

Well, this was long... and just what I needed. I hope some (civilized) discussion will spark out of that because I am tired of screaming in a void and I want people to talk to me.

[alexius-fr]

Chapter 3 - Dissent

Click the link for the AO3 experience or just read below the cut ^^

The Spire's top village was bustling with traders, visitors, and locals there to shop for their daily needs. It'd been a while since Sanguine had been in such a busy place, feeling a bit uncomfortable, noticing he was drawing attention from the overall much smaller dragons. He knew Zephyr's parents owned a food stand, but there were so many in the bustling tiny streets he kind of lost his way. The smells coming from them was making him hungry though.

The afternoon sun beamed down on the busy alleyways, colourful banners asking his attention everywhere he passed. They all advertised the stands they belonged to, like bright colourful billboards. It'd just rained this morning and the sandy path was still a bit damp and muddy, Sanguine sinking down with every step he took. It aggrovated his old injury, having to work harder to even just walk.

Finally, he found it. Zephyr was standing at the side with a tired smile. No wonder, if he'd been up since before dawn to fish. His catch from this morning was laying on display, on a bed of ice to keep them fresh. Odd, where did they get ice here? Sanguine hadn't seen any ice dragons around yet, and the frozen icefields were too far to transport ice from without having it melt.

“Hey, you actually came!” Zephyr smiled happily when he noticed him.

“Was that in doubt?” Sanguine frowned. “No, I'm just happy to see you.” Zephyr said, genuinely. “Welcome to my family's little business.”

“It's indeed very...little.” Sanguine agreed, looking over the little stand, which was in front of what he presumed was their home, hewn out of the rock of the spire, just like all the other houses in the street. It looked like it

“I know, it's not much, but it sustains us. We're happy with what we have, and it's a good life here.” Zephyr said, not offended. “My father's just gone to get us some other supplies we need for tonights dinner. Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, no thank you. I'm fine.” Sanguine said. “Too soon huh? I'm sorry, I get like that.” Zephyr smiled apologetically. “How have you been?” “Well, thank you.” Sanguine appreciated the self reflection, smiling amicably. “Yourself?” “It's been busy. I help Alexius a lot and then I also have to help out here. It's a tough job to juggle it all.” Zephyr said. “Or should I just say I'm fine? Is that the well mannered way?”

“No, I appreciate your honesty. You seem like a hard worker.” Sanguine said, in earnest.

“I suppose I am. I won't deny that I envision a more exciting life for myself eventually though.” Zephyr confessed. “I've read books about monster hunters, a life on the go, helping the people get rid of the most terrifying monsters? Now that sounds exciting to me.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but you don't strike me as a fighter.” Sanguine noted.

“I'm not. Not yet.” Zephyr grinned. “But my mother is going to teach me! She's a fearsome warrior from an old nature bloodline. She tells me stories of how her grandfather fought a great battle in the Icefields, where she was born.” “Ah, so she's the one keeping your food fresh.” Sanguine nodded, understanding.

“She is. But she's been through a lot. She fought hard in her younger days, and she just wanted somewhere to settle and have quiet life with my father and my siblings.” Zephyr said, a fond, loving look in his eyes. It was clear he cared about his family a great deal. A feeling Sanguine had never known. He caught himself wishing he could be closer with the family he had left. Perhaps he really was going soft, just as Silas said.

“Zeph?” a deep, powerful voice spoke, both Sanguine and Zephyr looking up. From Zephyr's home walked a tall ridgeback, her hide as green as forest, her antlers reaching far behind her head, that was tilted back a little bit due to their weight. Sanguine's blood turned to ice at her stare, piercing platinum casting their gaze right through him. Her eyes were not the same colour, but her facial structure and the antlers she grew had Sanguine shudder with the realization that the bloodline Zephyr mentioned was one he was very familiar with. He looked at her and saw him.

Athelstan.

The realization grabbed him by the throat and took his breath away, his heart shrinking in his chest. The likeness was uncanny, there was no doubt. He stood frozen, baffled, staring at her as she greeted her son, unaware of the disturbance her presence had caused.

“Mom, this is Sanguine, the leader of the clan that arrived here two weeks ago.” Zephyr introduced him, oblivious of Sanguine's discomfort. “Sanguine, this is Ziray, my mother.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Ziray smiled, her wizened eyes friendly. Of course, she had no idea who he was. She'd never met him. This put Sanguine at ease somewhat, and he bowed his head.

“Honoured.” he said, respectfully. His eyes lingered on her antlers, which were very impressive in size. Is this what Athelstan would've looked like as well, if he hadn't interfered? He found himself not wanting to think about that subject. He'd destroyed a beautiful young life and there was nothing he could do to change that. He was a plague dragon, it was kill or be killed. Use or be used. Being ruthless was the only way to survive. He believed it. He had to believe it or be lost to despair.

“I know. They're a bit of a chore at times.” Ziray saw him looking at her antlers, but was obviously proud of them as she said it. “They're a gift from the Gladekeeper. Her magic runs deep in our line, even if I was born in a different territory.”

“I think they look beautiful.” Sanguine said, as politely as he could. If she knew what he had done to her relative, she would kill him on the spot. He might even let her, with the wave of regret that washed over him. “I'm sorry, but I can't stay long. I promised my brother we would scout the forests below for more plentiful hunting grounds.” “Aw.” Zephyr pouted a little bit. “That's a shame. But please don't be a stranger.”

“Thank you. I won't. It was lovely to meet you, Ziray.” Sanguine bowed his head again, hearing his mother snap at him for showing such subordination in his thoughts. Leaving, he saw Zephyr looking at him with a concerned frown, but if he knew what was good for him, he would stay away before Sanguine would ruin his life as well. How cruel of fate to place someone he liked in his path and have them be related to his greatest regret in life.

Perhaps Karma really did exist.

Back at the temporary lair, Silas was waiting anxiously, hopping from one foot to the other.

“You're late.” he snapped, as Sanguine struck land in front of him.

“And?” Sanguine frowned.

“I don't know what's gotten into you, brother, but we agreed that we would be gone from this place in a few days. It's been two weeks.” Silas said, obviously annoyed. “And you're planning on staying here even longer. We were supposed to head back home!”

“What does that even mean anymore?” Sanguine scoffed. “We've been on the run for so long that nowhere is home to me.”

“To you, maybe.” Silas said, headstrong. “I miss it. The heartbeat of the land under my feet, the warmth of the bubbling pools, the green haze that coats everything in a dim light.” he sighed, wistful. “It's where we belong, Sange. Regardless of the struggle that awaits us, we have to fight for our rightful place. Our home.”

“Since when do you make the decisions here? I've lead us this far, I think I can go a little bit further.” Sanguine said, irked.

“It's my life too, Sanguine. And that of others in our clan. I'm not the only one who thinks we should be moving on by now.” Silas replied with held back anger. “Besides, your decision making has been rather poor, lately. I thought-”

“-Thought what? That you could talk me into doing something stupid, like turning myself into an abomination?!” Sanguine snapped, his voice mighty as he raised it and growled. He lashed out, Silas flinching, but the bite was never meant to hit him, so it didn't. Sanguine just wanted to put him in his place. He'd had enough of the whining, of the incessant talking, the constant pushback he received from his brother.

Silas looked hurt, angry as he hissed back. “How dare you, I am stronger than you'll ever be!” he snarled, but did not lunge back.

“The Banescales were sealed away for a reason. They were weak. For someone who values our home so much you sure don't seem to uphold it's values, rejecting the form that you were granted on birth, the one gift our mother saw fit to bestow us. She made us stronger than all the others, and you rejected that.” Sanguine spat.

“Adapt. Survive. Overcome.” Silas said, repeating the values. “I adapted, brother. Whereas you'd rather stay weak, crippled. The day will come where you can't threaten people into obedience with your words anymore. And when that day comes...well you'd best beware.”

“Are you threatening me, you little snake?” Sanguine narrowed his eyes.

“Not so little anymore, brother.” Silas challenged. “It's time you started taking me seriously.” “I will.” Sanguine said, raising his head with eyes full of disdain. “When you stop being a joke.”

Silas fell silent, his ruby eyes glinting with rage, his lip pulled up, sharp teeth showing. But he had no reply for Sanguine, silence tense between them. They'd drawn a crowd, other members of the clan looking on tensely. Sanguine tried to gauge their moods, their alignment in the argument, dark eyes scanning the crowd. He felt how interested some where, their judgemental eyes upon him. He hadn't noticed the dissent until now, so in a way Silas was doing him a favour with this. Now all that remained was for him to stamp this fire out before it truly got going. He stalked towards Silas threateningly, holding eye contact. Silas boldly stared back, defiant as always.

“You'd better believe I will be ready when that day comes. I suggest you step back in line and learn your place. I lead this clan. You're just a parasite. Always have been.” he said, his voice low, threatening. “And if anyone else has a problem with me leading, feel free to speak up now.” he called, seeing some onlookers shift uncomfortably. Sanguine allowed the moment to become awkward, the silence dragging on as Silas looked around for support but received none, most dragons resuming their previous activities. Eventually Sanguine scoffed.

“I didn't think so.

He turned is back on Silas and walked into the lair, head held high, not showing how his heart beat in his throat. He'd never imagined he would have to worry about a betrayal that was so close to home. But he would be ready, if Silas tried it again. He sighed, finally out of sight of the others, climbing to his roost to rest and think for a bit.

He didn't notice the gleaming red eyes that watched him from the darkness, a bright rage burning inside them..

[lyssismagical]

you were my new dream

A Parkner & Irondad - Tangled AU 

*

The paintbrush sweeps over the wall gently, adding wispy clouds to the light blue backdrop, and definition to the castle.

He could hear his father’s footsteps making their way down the staircase, shoes clicking against the stone. Shoes meant his father was going out. Again. Leaving Peter alone in the tower.

He drags the paintbrush once more across the newest addition to his walls of paintings, before tugging the curtain down over it just as his father rounded the corner.

“Hop on down from there and get some breakfast,” his father calls out, tossing an apple in Peter’s direction.

Barefeet easily hopping down to the floor, Peter catches the apple and takes a bite, slipping into his designated chair.

His father looked angry this morning, creases deepening between his eyebrows and along his forehead, curving down around his mouth.

“I’ll be out today,” he says shortly, dragging his chair up behind Peter’s and laying a hand flat in Peter’s hair without need for instruction.

Peter makes himself sing the song, feeling the power thrum in his very veins, glowing bright and young. Flower gleam and glow…

As soon as he finishes, looking over his shoulder at the wrinkles disappearing along his father’s forehead and mouth, grey hairs turning back to its regular dark brown.

“Father-”

“I have errands to run,” his father interrupts, standing up and stretching his shoulders.

Peter frowns, shoulders slumping. “It’s my birthday coming up.”

His father lifts an eyebrow, face set in annoyance like he couldn’t be bothered with trying to guess where Peter’s going with this. He tries not to let it hurt his happiness.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to be eighteen.”

Beck rolls his eyes, mouth curving down. “Yes? I’m well aware of your birthday, Peter.”

Frowning, Peter rises from his chair, following his father across the room as Beck prepares what he needs for his journey and errands.

“I wanna see the lights,” Peter blurts, freezing in his steps when Beck turns on him, anger flashing in his eyes like he already knows exactly what Peter means.

“The lights?”

Peter swallows thickly, anxiety thrumming in his chest. He rubs his hands on his old paint-splattered overalls. “The floating lights. They- They go up every year on my birthday, they fill the sky. My birthday is in a few days, I want to see them up close.”

Beck’s always looked scary when he’s angry, intimidatingly taller than Peter and shoulders broad. “Are you asking me to take you out of the tower?”

Don’t fight back, he knows that much. He knows not to fight back in these kinds of arguments, and it’s normally fine. He’s okay with not asking to leave the tower, with hiding behind the brick walls and saying goodbye to his father every week or two when there’s errands he runs without Peter. But this is his eighteenth birthday watching the lanterns fill the sky through the window.

“Just for one day. Just to see the lights. And then we’d come straight back and I wouldn’t ask to leave again,” Peter bargains, unable to stop himself from clumsily backing away.

Beck lifts an eyebrow. “You wanna try that again?”

His breath hitches, fighting back tears. He hates arguing with his father, hates losing every argument he does try to have, hates that he’s backing down again, but it’s not like he has much of a choice against Beck.

“I- I think I want new paint for my birthday?” Peter tries again gesturing at the walls filled to the very brim with his paintings. He wipes his sweaty hands on his overalls again. “The nice stuff you got for my sixteenth?”

Beck runs a hand harshly over his face with a long, exasperated sigh. “You know I’m not trying to be the bad guy here? I just want what’s best for us and that means staying here, where it’s safe, where you’re safe.”

Peter forces a nod. “I know.”

“Paint? That’s a three day trip, at least.”

“I know, I just- It’s better than what I thought before. I shouldn’t have suggested that, it was stupid. Paint is smarter.”

Beck sighs again, carefully brushing back Peter’s curls. “I’ll get you paint, you’re right. You’ll have enough food here to last you three days time. Stay here, stay safe, alright?”

Peter doesn’t say anything as Beck rounds up a new, bigger basket, filled with more essentials for the longer trip out. But soon enough, Beck is ready to go, sitting on the edge of the windowsill.

“I know you don’t quite understand right now, but the outside world is dangerous, Peter. Especially for you, especially with all this power. I’m just doing what’s best for you, alright? Keeping you safe.”

“Of course, father.” Peter offers a soft smile, slipping his hands into the worn fabric of his long sleeve under his overalls, hiding the shaking. “I’ll be here.”

“And I’ll be back in three days time.”

Three days.

He stands at the window, watches as Beck climbs down the side of the tower using the web ladder Peter made, walks to the edge of their hidden enclosure, turns back and waves at Peter, and then he disappears through the vines.

Turning back to his home, Peter tries to cheer himself up. Three days with the tower alone means he can sing as loud as he wants to, climb the walls, paint, and practice baking. He can even reread the three books on his bookshelf.

Three whole days.

*

Harley runs a hand through his hair, gently cupping his little sister’s face.

“I know you don’t like me doing this, but this is for the best, okay? I’ll be back before you know it, Abbie.”

She sighs, too young, too little, to be dragged into the politics, into the mess Harley’s in.

He knows what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he shouldn’t steal from the castle, from the King who’s still grieving the loss of his son, The Missing Prince. He knows it’s wrong to be pawning off the jewelry he steals from the castle for money or food or things to keep his baby sister happy, but he’d do anything to keep his sister safe.

“And if you get caught?”

“There’s plenty of food to last you here, and after that, I trust you to take care of yourself, to find help in the city. You know what the king would do if he found out.”

His fingers are careful, gentle as he twists a strand of her hair between his fingers. He doesn’t use her power, he doesn’t dare exploit her for her magic. He’s not cruel like that.

It was a bad situation. He was four, too young to be put in the situation he had been in. His mother was pregnant and very ill. The doctor they called in said it was likely that both her and the baby would die. But then word spread about the Queen’s pregnancy and how they found a magic flower that would heal her.

That’s where the thieving began. He snuck into the tower and stole just a few drops of the golden liquid. It wasn’t enough to save both of them, so now it’s just him and his little sister, now seventeen years old.

“Stay safe, you hear me?”

Harley offers a lazy smile, tossing his satchel over his shoulder. “Always am, Abbie. Hold down the fort.”

It’s not that the world is full of evil people, that’s nothing like the city, especially with the watchful eye of the Queen, keeping everything in order, but he worries about her. He worries that if she were caught, they might punish her for the Keener’s history of thieving. If anything, they were the bad guys, not the city folks. The only person who’d ever tried to exploit her magic was Quentin Beck, a man who wanted to use Abbie’s hair for his own good, nobody else’s.

He doesn’t keep her locked up in their rickety little home on the outskirts of the island, she’s free to do as she pleases, but she chooses not to go far, instead leaving the work to Harley. She prefers sticking to their little home, taking care of the sick people who come seek them out for her magic hair. She makes housecalls occasionally for those who can’t make the journey to find her and she never charges them, the only heart of gold in the Keener bloodline.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t be worried if I’m not home in a couple days. I don’t know how long this will take.”

She grins, corners of her eyes crinkling and blue eyes shining in the morning sun. “I know. I’ll be here.”

Harley finally turns to the forest, back to the ocean curling up the sand. He takes a deep breath, promises himself he won’t look back, and starts his trek towards the city.

* Peter’s hands are shaking where they grip the stupid frying pan. There’s a man tied to a chair in the next room over. He knocked out a man who tumbled through his window that wasn’t Beck.

He was making himself some lunch and then the man had fallen through the window and Peter had panicked, swinging the pan.

And now there was a man in the next room over, tied to a chair, unconscious.

“Hello?” The stranger calls out.

Peter curses a few times under his breath, turning in a circle as he tries to come up with something. When he comes up blank, unsure what to say or what to do, he steels himself and walks into the main room, taking a deep breath.

The boy tied to the chair looks bored, if anything. Not scared by the synthesized webbing pinning him to the chair, not worried about the bruise forming on his forehead where Peter had hit him with the frying pan, not even vaguely concerned about his satchel missing from his side.

He simply lifts an eyebrow when Peter steps into his line of vision, corners of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile.

“How did you find me?” Peter demands, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to appear more confident than he is. “What do you want?”

“What do I want? What do you want?” the boy says, nose crinkling. “I’ve got places to be, darling.”

Peter can’t help the flush that touches his cheeks. He’s only ever spoken to his father, Beck, and to the animals that occasionally crawl up to his window like squirrels or birds. The closest thing he’s ever had to somebody calling him darling is reading the romance book on the shelf.

He runs a hand through his hair, relaxing at the power that runs from his fingertips to his chest. “How do I know you won’t tell anybody about me? How will I know that you won’t bring anyone else here?”

The boy sniffles like this whole conversation is boring him, but he’s starting to tug at the restraints holding him to the wooden chair.

“Why would I care about you?” the boy says, rolling his eyes. “Can you just give me my bag and let me get on my way?”

Peter takes a step back, hands on his hips. “You want your bag that bad?”

“It’s mine.”

And then an idea hits him with a brilliant clarity. “What do you know about the floating lights?”

The boy lifts an eyebrow, sinking back into the chair and giving up on trying to get out of the webbing. “The floating lights?”

“The- Uh, the lanterns?” Peter repeats, levelling his gaze like his heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest. “The ones that go up every August 10th.”

“The one’s for the Missing Prince?” the boy says, tipping his head to the side. “Eighteen years ago, the King and Queen’s son went missing. They send up lanterns every year on his birthday in hopes he’ll make it back to them.”

Peter ignores the way his chest tightens at the potential coincidence. But it wouldn’t make sense. Beck is his father. Not the King.

The boy looks intrigued, mouth tipping up in a sort of amused smile, fingers tapping incessantly on the arm of the chair.

“I want you to take me to see them,” Peter says, holding his chin high. “If you do, I’ll give you your bag back.”

“That’s not a fair trade.”

Peter shrugs, bottom lip sticking out. “What do you want?”

“You live here alone?”

It’s a strange question and Peter doesn’t know how much he wants to tell the stranger about Beck, but he figures it’s only fair. “My father lives here. Beck.”

“Beck? Like Beck? Like Quentin Beck?” The boy demands, eyes widening. “If so, then that’s what I want. I want your father to never hear that I was here or that you met me or that you know anything, okay?”

Peter nods. “Yeah, of course, your secret’s safe with me. Can I ask why?”

The boy smiles coyly. “Nah, better not ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to. Anyway, you wanna get me out of these? If I’m taking you to see the lanterns, we’re going to need to make the trek all the way to the castle.”

Peter scrambles to find the web dissolvent from under the sink, helping the boy up from the chair.

“I’m, um, I’m Peter.”

The boy smiles, corners of his blue eyes crinkling. “Harley Keener.”

* Harley watches Peter with a sympathetic sort of curiosity.

He’s only a few months older than Abbie, a couple years younger than Harley, but he looks at the world like he’s a child who’s never experienced any of it before.

The way Peter’s barefeet touch down on the grass, toes curling in the dirt like it’s incredible. The way he moves and laughs and dances in the yard like this is the most amazing day of his life, uncaring of Harley waiting for him at the edge of the field.

The way Peter smiles brightly, practically glowing in the midday sunlight, laughing as he splashes through the little pond, grinning up at the sky, rolling through the grass.

The way Peter takes it all in like he’s scared he’ll never get to see it again.

Harley would be lying if he said he didn’t think Peter looked like a god, beautiful and smiling brightly like nothing could hurt the happiness radiating off him.

He wasn’t about to get attached to this random boy he found in a mysterious secluded tower, especially since the boy happened to have Quentin Beck as a father, apparently. Beck who’d been trying to get his hands on Abbie for as long as he could remember. When Beck found out that Abbie had a tiny bit of the magical flower’s abilities, Beck had wanted her for his own, to use her capabilities of curing illnesses and keeping people young.

Briefly, he worries about Peter, but he figures it’s not his problem to worry about the strange boy.

“You ready?” he calls out, arms crossed and leaning against the stones.

Peter lights up even more, excitement shining on his face, and he skips, literally fucking skips over to Harley, grabbing his hand and turning to race through the thick vines hiding the field from the rest of the forest, dragging Harley along with him.

On one hand, Harley adores seeing Peter radiating this kind of joy. It reminds him of a different time, a time where he wasn’t thieving, wasn’t parenting his little sister, wasn’t trying so hard just to get food on the table every night. It reminds of a time when his parents were still alive and he was allowed to be childish and innocently happy like Peter is.

But on the other hand, it makes Harley want to take Peter back to Abbie and his home, to hide Peter away from people like Beck who he knows is a bad man despite what Peter might think about his father. It makes Harley want to keep Peter safe from the true horrors of the world, from grief and ugly dark emotions, because he wants, terribly badly, to keep that shining joy on Peter’s face.

“This is the best day ever!” Peter exclaims, touching absolutely everything he can get his hands on. “Oh my gosh! Thank you so much!”

Harley tries his best to suppress a smile. “Only keeping my end of the bargain, darling.”

He watches Peter flush, a gentle blush spreading across his cheeks and nose, brown eyes sparkling beautifully.

This is considerably low on Best Days Ever for Harley. Getting chased through the forest by the guards after stealing a crown from the castle, isn’t exactly ideal, especially since he’s now met the son of the guy who’s been making Harley’s life a bit hellish lately.

They’re walking through a forest. That hardly ranks as a great day, but apparently it’s Peter’s best. That says something about the life he’s lived. It makes Harley’s chest ache thinking about a life spent cooped up in that dark tower with Beck.

So he makes a stupid joke about how circumstances brought them here of all places, reveling in the way Peter lights up in a smile, hands brushing over the trees as they walk together.

He makes it his personal goal along this strange journey they’ve embarked on, to make Peter smile as often as he can.

* “This is no longer the best day ever,” Peter admits, words echoing in the cave they’ve ended up in.

Chased by royal guards who are after Harley. Peter had no idea he’s on a journey with a Wanted Man, but he finds that he doesn’t care too much. He doesn’t really have the capability to make informed decisions about Harley or about the guards who chased them if he hasn’t spoken to anybody outside of his father ever. So, he finds he doesn’t mind.

What he does mind is the water slowly filling up the cave they’re trapped in.

Harley, eyes wide with panic and hands fumbling against the rock walls for an exit, sends a glare in Peter’s direction.

“I guess he was right,” Peter mutters, pushing himself higher up the back wall of the cave as the water continues to rise rapidly. There’s only a matter of minutes before they’ll run out of space.

Harley dives beneath the water, searching for an exit, a way out, but they’re trapped.

Peter, for his part, isn’t as scared as he thought he would be. He’s always been trapped. Maybe not in a life or death situation like he is now, but that tower had been the only four walls he knew for his entire life. He got to feel grass under his feet, he got feel the sun on his skin, he got to touch the trees, he got to meet Harley, a real human being that wasn’t Beck.

This isn’t the worst way to die, he figures. He could’ve died in that tower without having experienced anything.

On the other hand, though, if he had never left that tower, if had just let Harley leave without making any bargains, they wouldn’t be in this situation at all. They wouldn’t be dying.

Harley resurfaces, gasping. “It’s pitch black down there, can’t see anything… Who was right?”

“My father,” Peter says, head touching the cave’s roof as the water rises to their hips. “He was right about not leaving the tower.”

“He was not right,” Harley spits. “He had no right to keep you locked away from the real world.”

Peter shrugs, blinking back the tears as he accepts their fate. “If I had listened, we wouldn’t be dying. You wouldn’t be dying.”

“Your father’s been trying to take my sister from me for the past couple years,” Harley admits. “The truth may as well come out if we’re on our death beds.”

The water’s up to their shoulders now, rising fast.

“What? Why?”

Harley looks over at him, barely discernible in the darkness of the cave. “I don’t know how much you know about the city’s history, but my sister had some of that magic flower juice. Now Beck wants to use her for selfish reasons.”

“Magic… I have magic hair that glows when I sing!” Peter exclaims, eyes widening. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine-”

And the water goes over their head, completely filling the cave.

But Peter’s curls light up, filling the cave with golden light. Harley spots a section of the wall that’s filled with loose rocks, tightly packed together with a thin stream of water slipping between them.

He swims over, Peter in quick pursuit, and they both claw at the rocks, pulling them out of the way.

But Peter didn’t have the time to take a breath before the water had risen over their heads, so his lungs are burning and his hands are too slow and uncoordinated as he pulls another rock out of the way.

He watches the rocks fall, the water turning into a waterfall as it rushes through the exit, before his vision goes dark.

It’s not long before he jerks awake, coughing up the bit of water he’d inhaled. He’s held against Harley’s chest, curled up in the mud right beside the water that he assumes Harley had pulled him out of.

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him as soon as he’s through with his coughing fit, and his fingers curl into Harley’s soaking wet shirt.

“That was insane,” Peter says, breath catching on another laugh, probably more hysterical than anything.

“You’ve got magic hair,” Harley replies.

“Yeah. Always have.”

“My little sister’s does too.” Harley’s arms tighten around Peter, chest still heaving for air. “I tried to cut it off when she was little, tried to make it normal, but nothing worked. That’s why Beck’s been trying to take her from me.”

Another person with magic hair, with powers, like him. Beck always told him he was the only one, that the city would think of him as a mutant, as a freak and they’d use him for their gain.

He doesn’t want to turn on Beck, he doesn’t want to know of the life Harley’s sister lives with the same powers, but he needs to know.

“Is she- Is she allowed this freedom?” he asks, voice quiet and weak. He’s always just blindly believed Beck, believed that the world was a scary place and that what Beck was doing was for Peter’s safety. But he never once mentioned Harley’s sister, he lied about Peter being the only one with powers.

Harley swallows thickly, looking over at the river. “Yeah. I’m her only guardian and I let her do whatever she wants to as long as she promises to be careful. The only one who’s ever tried to hurt her was Beck.”

Peter’s chest aches, mind blurring through all of the lies Beck told, all of the times he’d made Peter believe that he was alone, all of the times Beck told stories of the cruel world.

As much as he wants to ask Harley for advice, ask him how he’s ever supposed to go back to the way he lived after they see the lanterns, ask him if he’s meant to leave Beck, he can’t. Harley doesn’t like him. Harley’s only tolerating Peter for his own benefit.

So instead, he pulls himself out of Harley’s arms and drags himself to his feet, tucking his shaking hands into the pockets of his soaking wet overalls.

“We should keep moving,” he says, clearing his throat.

He kind of wants to cry. This was supposed to be a one time thing. Just a short trip to the city and back with Harley before he’d go back to accepting his life with Beck in their tower. But now?

Now he doesn’t even know whether or not Beck is a good guy. He doesn’t know who to believe. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. And worst of all, he feels like he has nobody to turn to. He only knows two people to begin with, but he doesn’t know if he can trust either of them.

“Yeah, of course,” Harley murmurs, following Peter to his feet. His eyes narrow and his mouth is set in a frown, crossing his arms in a standoffish way like he doesn’t know what to say or how to say it, like he wants to ask questions but doesn’t know if he can.

Peter sets off again, keeping a few feet ahead of Harley to hide the tears that threaten to spill.

Harley doesn’t say a word.

* “We should stop,” Harley says after a long few hours of walking silently through the forest. “Get some rest. We’re nearing the bridge to the city and we won’t be able to sleep there.”

He nods at the tree they’ve stopped at, where a picture of his face is pinned. A Wanted Poster.

“We’re almost there,” Peter argues. He’s upset and he’s tired and his chest is still aching, hands still trembling.

“The lanterns go up tomorrow night. There’s no point in going into the city until then.”

Harley reaches for Peter’s shoulder, probably to try to comfort him, but Peter moves away from the outstretched hand, digging his fingernails into his palms to try to stop the tears that are dangerously close to falling.

He offers a pathetic attempt at a smile, and nods. “Yeah, okay, we’ll spend the night here.”

“Peter-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Peter mutters, finding them a clearing to set up. “Could you get us some firewood?”

Harley frowns, obviously wanting to say more, but he thinks better of it and turns away.

As soon as Harley’s out of sight, far enough away that Peter can’t even hear his footsteps in the crispy leaves, a shadowy figure appears just in Peter’s peripheral vision.

He spins around, eyes wide as he takes in the cloaked figure.

“What do you want?” He says, voice cracking and showing his fear. He can’t really protect himself. Harley might as well be the weapon, the only one capable of negotiating or running or fighting if they have to. Peter’s got nothing.

The shadowy figure steps into the barely-there light of the rising moon. He pulls his hood back and reveals his face. It’s Beck.

“Father?” Peter says, voice lifting an octave as nerves and fear flood through him. He had one rule to follow: stay in the tower. And yet, here he is, soaking wet, chest aching, and in the middle of the forest.

“I’ve been tracking your movements since you fought those guards a few miles back,” Beck says, keeping his voice low. “I didn’t think you’d run off at all, let alone run off with a criminal. You know that’s what he is, don’t you?”

Peter nods silently, tears threatening to spill as he shoves his shaking hands into his pockets.

His father takes a step forward, expression softening. “I’m sure you’ve had a good time skipping through the woods with a wanted criminal, but come home, honey. We can put this whole stupid trip behind us.”

“No!” he says, surprising even himself. “I think… I think he likes me.”

Peter expects anger, he expects Beck to lash out, to force him home, but none of it comes. Instead, Beck runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Likes you? He’s just using you, Peter. Once he gets this back, he’ll leave you.”

Beck tosses the satchel at Peter and it lands at his feet, crown glittering offendingly in the moonlight.

“How did you-”

“Give that to him, see how long he stays,” Beck says. His voice is soft, gentle, as he smooths back Peter’s damp curls. “And when he leaves you with what he wants, you can still come home. To me.”

Peter shakes his head, pulling away from Beck’s hands. He hates that Beck’s being nice. It just makes everything more confusing. He doesn’t want to be locked up in the tower but he can’t be sure that Harley won’t ditch him as soon as they’ve made good on their deal.

“He’s not going to leave me.”

Beck offers one final smile, sympathetic and worrying, and then he pulls his hood over his head and disappears into the shadow.

“Hey, darling?” Harley calls out. “Could you come help me with some of this?”

Peter hurries into motion, hiding the satchel behind a tree before hurrying over to help Harley build and light the fire to keep them warm and hopefully dry them before their trek to the city in the morning.

Soon enough though, Peter lies down in the grass, upset that the childish joy of feeling grass has faded away, and upset that he can��t seem to come up with any good solutions to all the problems this journey’s created.

He watches the moon rise into the sky, stars sparkling, as Harley finished up with the fire a few feet away, making sure they have enough wood to last them the night.

Eventually, Harley lies down beside Peter, just enough space between them that they don’t touch, but close enough that Peter can hear Harley’s heart.

“I couldn’t possibly understand what you’re going through, but this isn’t about the deal anymore,” Harley says, eyes tracing the sky. “I don’t care about you keeping your end of the bargain, I’m not doing this for that anymore. I’m doing this for you.”

“Why?” Peter voice breaks, and he lifts his shaking hands to press the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Why do you care? What’s so special about me?”

Harley turns his head to look at Peter. “You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met, Peter. You’re smart and you’re brave and you’ve just been dealt a lot of poor hands in your life, that’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Peter admits quietly, looking over at Harley through his glassy eyes.

“I can’t make that decision for you, darling. For now, you can sleep and tomorrow we’ll see the lanterns, and then you can decide to do whatever your heart desires, whatever your next big dream is.”

Peter frowns because that doesn’t answer any of his questions, but it does help relieve some of the stress that had been tying his stomach in knots. He lets his hands fall away from his face and instead, he grabs Harley’s hand.

The thief intertwines their fingers, sending a grin at Peter before closing his eyes. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

And even though Peter doesn’t know what in the world he’s going to after tomorrow, even if he’s terrified that this isn’t going to live up to what he’s dreaming it’ll be, even if he’s scared that after tomorrow he’ll never see Harley again, he still closes his eyes with hopeful anticipation.

* Harley feels like his universe has flipped upside down as he spends the day with Peter in the city.

He’s rarely ever been in the city for good purposes, normally thieving or running from the royal guard or from Beck, he spends most of his free time at home on the edge of the city in their little shack they call home.

But this?

Not only is he helping Peter achieve his dreams of seeing the lanterns, he keeps doing things that surprises even him. He buys a loaf of bread for lunch with the few coins he has. He dances with Peter in townsquare with a few other civilians who either don’t recognize him from the wanted posters that litter the city or choose not to report him.

Harley even takes Peter to the library, explaining quietly that his mom used to read to the children at the library when Harley was little.

And Peter, who’s never seen the city before, is lit up like a star the whole day, grin never falling from his face.

There’s this nagging feeling in his chest that he tries his best to ignore because he finds himself staring blatantly at Peter all throughout the day. Watching him smile brightly or ramble excitedly about everything and anything or watching him dance around the townsquare to the folksy music, smile never leaving his face, laughing breathlessly when Harley trips over his own feet.

Either Peter doesn’t notice Harley’s stare, or he does but doesn’t realize what it means. Either way, Harley doesn’t stop staring. He doesn’t care if Peter sees or anybody else sees him, smiling back at Peter like he’s hopelessly in love.

There’s some anxiety that twists in his stomach. There’s still a good chance Peter’s only using him to leave the tower, and as soon as he’s seen the lights, he’ll make good on his end of the bargain and that’ll be it. There’s a chance that Peter won’t want to stay with him in the city. There’s a chance Peter will choose his tower and Beck over Harley and freedom.

“C’mon, I’ve picked a good spot,” Harley says, reaching out to loop his arm through Peter’s. There’s a flash of confusion that flickers over Peter’s expression, but before Harley can dwell on it, Peter’s grinning again.

“Lead the way, Harley!”

They walk out to the edge of the city where the boats are docked and Harley guides Peter to one of them, helping him into it before he slides in after.

Harley does the rowing while Peter looks around in the same childishly naïve way he had earlier. It’s hard for Harley to even imagine the kind of life Peter’s lived, cooped up without being allowed to leave ever.

Harley’s lived the opposite, growing a garden with Abbie near their home, going swimming in the ocean, running through the forest (away from royal guards, maybe, but still), campfires every weekend.

“Look!” Peter exclaims, attention turning to the sky as the first of the lanterns are raised, the emblem of the city, an upside down triangle in a circle, glowing bright.

He finds that he has a lot of these moments where Peter watches the world with his childlike wonder and Harley watches Peter.

“Here,” Harley murmurs. “I’ve got you another gift.”

From underneath his bench in the boat, he reveals the two lanterns he’d bought in the city earlier without Peter realizing.

Peter’s eyes widen and the browns of his irises are sparkling as lanterns begin to fill the sky around them. His cheeks are flushed a beautiful pink, and he’s sporting a wide smile like his days just keep getting better.

Harley’s never participated in the lanterns, not since the first year after his mom died and he took Abbie, just a baby at the time, out to see them. They couldn’t afford lanterns, but it was nice enough to watch. Sometimes, they’ll still sit out on the beach just beyond their cabin to watch them, but even then, it’s not really tradition.

“I figured you’d want to participate,” Harley says, offering a smile as he lights the lanterns and hands one of them to Peter who’s practically glowing with excitement.

Peter’s smile is one Harley doesn’t think he’ll ever forget as they lift their lanterns into the sky together. They watch as their lanterns join the thousandth of others that join the King and Queen’s in the sky above, lighting up the city.

“Listen,” Peter says, eventually. His hands are trembling, just enough that Harley notices, and the thief takes one of his hands, intertwining their fingers. “I was scared before, I didn’t think you’d bother sticking around once you had what you needed, but, the thing is, I’m not scared anymore, you know what I mean?”

From under his own bench, Peter lifts up Harley’s satchel. The one he’d taken when Harley had mistakenly stumbled into his tower to hide from the royal guards. The one that contained The Missing Prince’s Crown, the same crown that would feed him and Abbie for weeks.

But Harley doesn’t care. He doesn’t want the stolen crown, he doesn’t care about the deal they made. He cares about Peter. No matter how much he tried to convince himself it would be better if he didn’t.

“I’m starting to,” Harley says, pushing the satchel away.

Even if Harley grew up with all the freedom in the world, Harley never knew what it felt like to care. He only ever let himself care about Abbie, anybody else was too much of a hassle, there was too much to bargain.

But Peter grew up loving everything and anything, heart so full of love to give.

Harley’s starting to get it.

With his free hand, Harley cups Peter’s face watching the younger boy blush, a shy smile touching his face. Harley leans forward, recklessly uncaring about consequences.

Their lips are about to touch when Harley sees two figures on the land across from where they’d started. One of the figures points at Harley, crooking their finger.

Harley squints and he makes out both their faces. Beck and Abbie.

Abruptly, he pulls away from Peter, hands fumbling for the oars. “Sorry, I just- I remembered something. Got places to be, people to see, you know.”

It’s obvious that Peter doesn’t know and there’s hurt flashing in his eyes as he nods like he gets it.

But Harley doesn’t have the time to explain it all to Peter. As much as he was starting to like Peter and as much as he really did want to kiss him, Abbie comes before everything.

“Stay here,” Harley says, almost beggingly because as much as he’ll play it off as nonchalant, he doesn’t want to lose Peter to Beck. He doesn’t want Peter to go back to living, cooped up in that tower. He doesn’t want to stay goodbye. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

For good measure, he picks up the satchel. It doesn’t have much, but he hopes he can bribe Beck into giving Abbie back.

“What do you want?” Harley demands as soon as he’s out of earshot of the boat and Peter.

Beck steps out of the shadow, flipping a knife in his hand. “What I want is simple, Mister Keener. I want my kid back. The one that you took from me.”

“I didn’t take him. He asked me to show him to the city.” Harley barely manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He has to play it safe with Abbie on the line.

“Well, I have a feeling he’d choose you over me, and we can’t have that, can we? I need a magical child, so it’s either Peter or Abbie, Mister Keener. It’s your choice, really.”

And it’s unfair, it’s cruel to ask Harley to pick, and it’s worse that he knows who he has to pick. “What do you want me to do?”

Beck laughs coldly. “Take your precious satchel and take the boat back to the city. Turn yourself in to the guard. In return, I’ll send Abbie on her merry way and take Peter back to the tower with me.”

“And if I don’t?”

Beck snaps twice and two men show themselves from nearby. They’re both tall and broad, sporting the same cold smiles as Beck. “I’ll track you both down. I’ve got plenty of contacts within the city.”

“And what? You kill us?”

One of the men shrugs. His voice is low when he speaks, “Turn you in and keep the girl. I could use some extra cash with that hair.”

Harley squares his shoulders, clenches his jaw and nods. “Fine. You win, Beck. I’ll go.”

“Good. It was nice doing business with you, Mister Keener.”

*

Harley lied. He got on a boat the moment he got his stupid satchel back. Didn’t even bother to say goodbye.

Peter only had to make it a few miles into the forest, alone and hurt, before Beck found him, wrapped him up in his cloak and a warm hug, and escorted him the rest of the way back to the tower.

As much as Peter desperately wants to believe Harley, wants to believe that there had to be a reason behind Harley disappearing like he did, there’s no reason he should believe a criminal over his father, the one’s supposedly been trying to keep him safe for his entire life.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Peter,” Beck says when they make it back to the dark safety of the tower. “I really wish he was a good guy, but you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes so high. He’s just a criminal who wanted to sell that crown for money. He didn’t care about you, but I do. I care. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Peter tries to offer a grateful smile through the tears that fill his eyes. “I know. It still sucks.”

In an attempt to help, Beck reveals a box on the table. “I got you that paint you wanted. You’ve got enough to last you at least the year.”

It doesn’t make Peter feel even remotely better. Painting for the year, means that he’ll be in the tower for the year. Cooped up and trying to waste his time painting the walls.

But he sees the attempt at a peace offering. “I’m going to, um, head up to my room. I just want to be alone for a little bit?”

His father smiles gently and brushes back Peter’s curls. Peter can’t help but to miss Harley’s touches. “Of course. I’ll make you some dinner.”

Peter nods and tries to smile back before he ducks off to his room.

He collapses into his bed, trying to stifle his cries as best as he can in his pillow. Harley lied, he betrayed him, he made Peter feel like he really cared. And despite all that, Peter misses him.

His hands are shaking again so he stuffs them in the pockets of his dirty overalls, only to feel something.

A handkerchief. One that Harley had bought him in the city that morning. It’s just a simple blue cloth with the city’s symbol, an upside down triangle in a circle, embroidered into the center in gold.

He holds it up above his head, squinting at it through his tears.

A memory of a man with the same symbol on his shirt, smiling down at Peter. There’s a crown sitting on his head, a crown that looks remarkably similar to the one Harley had stolen.

Peter jerks, blinking up at the ceiling where the same symbols shine down on him, incorporated in all the paintings covering his room.

“That’s The Missing Prince, it’s what the lanterns are for,” Harley had said when he saw Peter looking at the mural. “He disappeared when he was a baby. The King’s still hoping he’ll make his return one day.”

“I’m going to keep you safe, il mio bambino.” It’s the King, the one in his memories.

Peter, clutching the square of fabric in his shaking hands, stumbles up to his feet. It’s the answer to all his questions, but he doesn’t know if it’s the answer he wants.

“I’m The Missing Prince,” he says out loud like it’ll make it feel real.

He remembers the story Harley told of the Missing Prince. How somebody had broken into the tower and stolen the prince right under everybody’s noses, how there were search parties for two years straight through the city and forest in search of the prince before The Queen decided if they hadn’t found him yet, they probably never would.

Peter remembers the stories and if he’s right about being the missing prince, that means Beck kidnapped him. That means all these years of being locked in the tower with Beck were so nobody would find him, not to keep him safe. It was for selfish reasons.

That means that maybe Harley was right all along. That means that he’s living with a villain.

He makes it out into the hallway when he sees Beck, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Is everything okay?” Beck says, the picture perfect caring father.

“I’m the missing prince,” Peter repeats, channeling as much confidence as he can. “Aren’t I?”

Peter’s seen Beck angry before. Normally when it had been too long since he’d used Peter’s powers for his own good, but never like this. He’d never seen Beck look this angry.

“Do you even hear yourself?” he asks, glaring at Peter as he starts up the stairs towards him. “What did that criminal get into your head?”

“All this time,” Peter says, clenching his trembling hands into fists as he meets Beck halfway. “All this time, I was hiding from people who would abuse my power, but I should’ve been hiding from you.”

Beck rolls his eyes like Peter’s just a child throwing a stupid tantrum. “And where will you go? Your criminal can’t help you now.”

“What did you do to him?”

“He’s turned himself in to the guard,” Beck replies, voice sickly sweet. He reaches out and touches Peter’s hair. “He’s to be hanged for his crimes.”

Peter freezes, shock running him cold. Harley’s going to die.

The man he once called his father, once loved like family, smiles down at him cruelly, and Peter shoves him away, doesn’t want him touching Peter’s hair, doesn’t want him so close.

Beck stumbles and falls down the stairs into the vanity where the mirror shatters across the floor.

“No!” Peter shouts, frozen in place. “I won’t let you use my power anymore! I won’t let you keep me here!”

But Beck smiles coldly, picking himself up from off the floor. “You say that like you have a choice.”

* “Hey!” Harley shouts, uselessly trying to pull away from the hands on his arms. His wrists and ankles are cuffed, he’s being taken to his death, but all he really cares about is Peter.

Peter, the sweet naïve boy who just went home with an awful man. A liar. Somebody who threatened Abbie and forced Harley to turn himself in. All he cares about is needing to get Peter out of that tower and safe.

They drag him out into the dirt pit where his execution will take place. One of the royal guards starts reading the list of things he’s done, the majority of them thieving and resisting arrest, all of which he’s aware he’s done. He gets that they’re just following protocol.

“Wait,” Somebody calls out, voice calm and commanding.

Everybody turns their heads up to where the voice came from and there’s a collective gasp as they recognize the man standing tall in the stands.

The guards holding Harley’s arms drop to one knee, a sign of respect for the king that stands strong.

Other than the day of the lanterns, the King never makes appearances in public, leaving all of the responsibilities up to the Queen.

“I’m officially acquitting Mister Harley Keener of all charges,” Tony Stark says, expression never changing from the uncaring mask of the King. “I would like to speak with him.”

Harley doesn’t do much but stare at the King as his cuffs are all removed and he’s given a not-so-gentle shove towards the stairs out of the stadium.

“What? I don’t understand. Sir, not that I want to die, but I don’t deserve to be acquitted after I’ve done nothing but cause harm to your city,” Harley argues as soon as he gets up to face the King.

Up close, Tony is obviously unwell. He’s pale and the dark circles under his eyes tell a story of their own. He looks wearily at Harley like he couldn’t be bothered to try to explain his thought process.

But he sighs and beckons Harley to follow as he starts walking. “A certain someone showed up at the castle gates demanding to be heard. She’s well-known around the city.”

“Abbie.” Harley doesn’t need to think twice. There are not many people who would vouch for him. The list had been up to two people as of yesterday, but he assumes Peter hates him too after what went down.

The King smiles. “Yes. She was quite the character. Down to earth, but the most stubborn person I’d ever met. She said you’d been stealing food for her, and you pawned off all the jewelry you took from the castle for food as well. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

Harley has no idea how to answer a question like that. “I’m sorry about your son. I can’t even imagine how hard that would be.”

“That’s actually what I’m here to ask you about,” Tony continues, leading them towards the bridge that connects to the forest. “I know you’re one to do a lot of travelling to make your money and to stay away from my guards. You’re quick on your feet, obviously a smart guy.”

“You want me to find him, don’t you?”

There’s already some thought that it could be Peter. It would be fair to assume as much. Same first name, same magic. But Abbie has magic too, he can’t jump to conclusions. Not with something this important.

Tony offers another weary smile. “I would forever be in your debt. I know it’s been eighteen years, but… I just need closure.”

“Take care of my sister, would you?”

As soon as Tony nods, Harley takes off into the forest, only one thing on his mind.

* Peter flinches when he hears Harley call out.

He’s alive, at least, but he won’t be for long if he does this.

“Peter!”

The prince listens to the sound of Harley scaling the side of the tower, unable to do more than make muffled cries through the gag in his mouth.

Harley lands on the ground, eyes widening at the sight of Peter, chained to the ground and gagged. He’s sure he’s bruised, right eye swelling shut and blood filling his mouth, but he doesn’t care. He just wants Harley to run and never look back if it keeps him safe.

There’s nothing he can do but cry as Beck steps out from the shadows behind Harley and plunges the knife into Harley stomach.

The blood spreads almost instantly, flowering out on the front of Harley’s dirty shirt.

Peter sobs, pulling uselessly at the chains that hold him down. If Peter had never asked Harley to take him to the city, if he’d followed Beck’s rules, maybe Harley would still be okay. He could’ve lived out his life, however long, with Abbie.

Instead, he’s going to bleed out in this awful tower that’s built on nothing but lies.

“Look at what you’ve done, Peter,” Beck tsks, tossing the knife to the floor carelessly. He crosses the room to grab Peter’s chains, pulling him towards the trapdoor that leads out of the tower. “We’re leave and I’m going to take you somewhere where nobody will ever find you again.”

Peter lets out a muffled shout, pulling at his chains and fumbling to get to Harley who’s fallen to the ground, curled up and bleeding.

“Stop fighting me,” Beck mutters, yanking Peter backwards, hard enough that his gag comes loose.

“I’ll never stop fighting you!” Peter cries. “I will never stop trying to get away from you. Unless you let me heal him. Please, if you let me heal him, I’ll go with you. I won’t run, I won’t fight. I’ll be what you want me to be, just let me heal him.”

Harley groans out a muffled argument, but it falls on deaf ears.

Rolling his eyes, Beck grabs another set of chains to match Peter’s, and after making sure Peter’s secure, Beck ties Harley to one of the support beams among the broken glass.

“Just so you don’t get any ideas,” Beck hisses, making sure the chains are tight around Harley.

As soon as his chains are loosened, Peter hurries right to Harley’s side, carefully pulling his shirt up to assess the wound.

“Don’t,” Harley wheezes, pushing Peter’s hands away.

“I can’t let you die.” Peter’s voice breaks and he tries his best to keep his tears at bay. It’s for the best.

Harley’s glassy eyes meet Peter and through his coughs, he lifts one of his hands to cup Peter’s cheek. “You’ll die if you go.”

Peter tries his best to smile reassuringly through his tears. “I have to do this.”

Harley opens his mouth to argue when Peter’s hand closes over a piece of sharp glass and he holds it up, turning to crouch protectively between Harley and Beck.

“You can’t win if we both die,” Peter says, eyes wide and glass trembling in his grip, digging into his palm.

“Darling, please-” Harley chokes out, reaching out to stop Peter.

But Peter doesn’t dare look back, keeps his attention on Beck’s cold gaze. That’s why, he doesn’t see Harley grabbing the bloody knife from the floor.

Without a second thought, Harley throws the knife with the last of his energy.

Beck doesn’t have the time to react and the knife hits it’s mark in the center of his chest. He sinks to the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

“Harley!” Peter gasps, dropping the glass and grabbing Harley’s shoulders. Harley’s eyes are closed already. Harley died for him. “Please, please no. You can’t have him. Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine. Make the clock reverse. Bring back what once was mine.”

When nothing happens, when the wound doesn’t heal like it was supposed to, Peter gives in to the tears and he leans his forehead against Harley’s chest as he cries. His power can heal wounds, it can keep people young, but it can’t bring people back to life. There’s an extent to his power.

“Bring back- Bring back what once was mine,” Peter whispers again, voice breaking as more tears spill down his cheeks onto Harley’s shirt. “Please.”

And then, like a miracle, Harley sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering open.

“Harley!” Peter breathes, eyes widening as the golden magic swirls in the air around them, and they watch as Harley’s wound stitches itself back up. His magic might not be able to bring people back to life, but love is a special kind of magic.

The prince throws his arms around Harley’s neck, tucking his face in the crook of Harley’s shoulder as he tries to get a hold of his crying. Harley’s arm wraps around his waist, and he presses a kiss to Peter’s temple.

“We’re okay, darling,” he murmurs, hugging Peter close like he’ll never let him go again. “It’s going to be okay.”

But it’s not okay. Not really. They’re covered in blood, Harley killed a man, the same man that stole Peter’s childhood from him. The same man who’d stolen the past eighteen years of his life and kept him hidden in a tower when Peter could’ve been with his parents.

“You were my new dream,” Peter admits, hands curling into Harley’s shirt. “After the lanterns, you were- All I wanted was you. You were my new dream.”

“And you were mine,” Harley says, sighing in relief and pressing his lips to Peter’s forehead.

It’s not okay, but they’ve got each other and that’s all that mattered.

* “I’m scared,” Peter says, squeezing Harley’s hand. He’s yet to heal himself, yet to change out of the same pair of overalls he’d been wearing since the beginning of their adventure which are dirty and bloodstained and ripped. He knows he must look like a disaster, but Harley smiles at him like he’s the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

“It’s going to be okay,” Harley replies, squeezing Peter’s hand back. He’s said that a lot since they left the tower a few hours earlier.

Harley pushes open the doors to the castle where the King and Queen are waiting.

Peter remembers the King. He remembers his dad, even if it is only a single memory.

“Peter?” he says, eyes widening and jaw dropping. He crosses the room slowly as if moving too fast will make Peter disappear.

“Hi, Dad,” Peter says, blinking back tears.

His dad’s there immediately, drawing him into a warm hug, the kind of hug Beck never gave him, and kissing the crown of his head. “Il mio bambino.”

And then his mom is there, hugging from behind and holding him just as lovingly. Peter’s knees buckle at the sheer amount of love he feels, the relief of finally being reunited with his parents, and they all sink to the floor, drawing in close.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harley with his arm around a girl’s shoulders, a girl who he assumes is Abbie, both of them pretending to give the family space.

But Peter reaches his hand out, offering a watery smile, and when Harley takes it, he pulls the two of them into the hug.

“You’re part of our family now too,” Peter says certainly, smiling so wide he thinks his face will break. He’s only had this family for sheer minutes, but it already feels so much better, warmer, more loving, than Beck and the tower had ever been.

At last, Peter sees the light. It’s warm and real and bright. The world has shifted.

Now that he has them.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @tonystarkweneedyou {Let me know if you want to be removed or added}

[theredhairedmonkey]

Callum—A Hero’s Journey

Some of you may be familiar with the concept of the “monomyth,” also called the Hero’s Journey. In comparative literature and mythology, the Hero’s Journey is a common template for a wide variety of tales that involve a hero who goes on a decisive quest, triumphs over their foe, and finally returns home changed or transformed. The concept of the Hero’s Journey was popularized by Joseph Campbell in The Hero with a Thousand Faces, so much of what I will quote below comes from this work.

The Hero’s Journey is seen everywhere in pop culture—the Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Harry Potter, ATLA…and also in the Dragon Prince.

But often in these stories, only a privileged few become heroes. Often they are born to a royal bloodline (like Ezran), have innate special powers (like Rayla), or become a knight in shining armor (like Soren). Their journeys are imbued with cosmic purpose; they follow a hero’s journey because they were destined to.

Very rarely are these stories about someone like Callum, an ordinary person with few talents, who has no bloodline, no destiny to speak of, and no assigned place in the grand scheme of things. Yet his storyline, up through the end of Season 3, has followed the “monomyth” precisely. This could mean that Callum is actually the true hero of our story.

Let’s break down the steps of the Hero’s Journey and apply them to Callum’s arc:

The Ordinary World

Every hero's story begins in the ordinary world. Without this introduction to the hero's life before the adventure begins, there would be no character arc that shows how the hero has changed by the end. During this stage, we find our hero in a state of rest, home in their safe place. They are oblivious to any adventures to come. In this stage, we learn details about our hero, their outlook on life, their true nature and capabilities. We see our hero as human, relatable to ourselves. Identifying with our hero in this stage allows us to empathize with them later.

After a short prologue, the Dragon Prince opens with Callum, the step-child of King Harrow. We are introduced to Callum as a sheltered and bookish prince. He’s fairly awkward, and apart from art, he is shown to be terrible at most other tasks he tries. Nonetheless, he lives a normal life before the Moonshadow assassins arrived. We learn of his love of sketching. We learn that he is, for the most part, good-hearted. We learn that he is just a child, like we all once were.

The Call to Adventure

As Campbell writes, the hero is called to venture “forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder.” Here, this “call” comes as Rayla chases him across the castle, followed by Ezran showing his discovery—the egg of the Dragon Prince.

The revelation that the egg survived is the call to adventure.

Rayla: This changes everything…I can’t believe it. If the egg lives…

Callum: Maybe it could stop the war.

The egg must be brought back to Xadia, a region of supernatural wonder. Callum is being called to this world, reminiscent of what Campbell describes as “…a fateful region of both treasure and danger.” 

Crossing the First Threshold

This is the point at which the hero decides to embark on the adventure and cross over into the unknown, leaving their ordinary world behind. And in spite of having the option to go back for his father with Rayla, Callum decides saving the Dragon Prince is what matters most:

Callum: “It’s up to us now. We have to return this egg. We have to keep it safe and carry it to Xadia.”

However, here the “crossing of the threshold” takes place very gradually; Team Zym spends most of the first two seasons in the Human Kingdoms, and it’s only in 2x09 that Callum and Rayla finally make it to Xadia. But from the moment that Callum leaves Katolis Castle, he has left his ordinary world behind and entered into the adventure beyond.

Supernatural Aid/Meeting the Mentor

Once the hero has committed to the quest, help arrives either in the form of an artifact…

…or help arrives in the form of a person who may present the hero with gifts or important advice. This person has been to the unknown and understands what the hero is up against.

The Road of Trials

The Road of Trials is a series of tests the hero must face to begin the transformation. Here, Callum is tested when:

He must choose whether to sacrifice his newfound power (and sense of self-worth) so that Zym could be born.

He must decide whether to reject the temptation of Dark Magic, and that his life is bound to any destiny.

He must choose whether to take Ibis’ advice to leave the Storm Spire.

And he must choose whether to take the leap and try to save Rayla’s life, knowing he himself could very well die too.

In addition, there are several smaller tests as well, including, among others: Whether Callum should tell Amaya the truth about Rayla; whether he should trust Rayla with the egg; executing a plan for the journey up the Cursed Caldera; the hardship of learning his stepfather had died and deciding whether to continue the mission; journeying through Xadia, the Midnight Desert, and up the Storm Spire; and using his magic and emotional openess to help Rayla find closure with her parents.

But in the process, the hero will fail many of these tests.

Refusal of the Call

Even though it’s more common in modern stories for the hero to jump at the chance for adventure, traditionally they refuse to continue, or even begin, the quest. The hero has fears that need overcoming, second thoughts, or perhaps deep personal doubts as to whether or not they are up to the challenge. When first called a mage by Rayla, Callum’s first reaction is doubt and skepticism (“Who, me? No, I’m...I’m not really anything”).

Later, Callum has a moment when, due to his feeling inadequate, he flatly rejects his place in the story. Fear and self-doubt prevent him from continuing his journey.

The Woman as Temptress

This is the stage in which the hero faces temptation that will distract them from the ultimate quest. The temptation doesn't have to come in the form of a woman. It can be anything material that distracts the hero from what they have set out to accomplish. And here, Callum faces the same temptation that every human mage has had to face:

Atonement with the Hero’s Father

As with the metaphor of being tempted by a woman, this step also represents a metaphor of facing the one who holds power over the hero. In some stories, this could be a literal father (such as with Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader), but in many cases, the person who holds the most power over the hero…is the hero himself. 

The hero confronts that which holds power over them and defeats it. Here, Callum confronts his darker self and takes aim at the idea that his “destiny is already written.”

The Belly of the Whale

At this point on the Hero's Journey, the hero, “instead of conquering or conciliating the power of the threshold, is swallowed into the unknown and would appear to have died.” 

After resolving to be the author of his own destiny, Callum continues his fever dream, voyaging into his “own heart and mind” on a ship where he is the sail. Eventually, instead of being able to brace the storm in his own subconscious, his ship is smashed to pieces and Callum sinks below the waves and begins to drown.

Meeting with the Goddess

This stage doesn't have to have a goddess, per se, but rather a significant power that gives unconditional love and strength to the hero. Here, on the verge of suffocating, there’s one person that Callum turns to for love and strength.

The meeting with the goddess “is the final test of the talent of the hero to win the boon of love, which is life itself enjoyed as the encasement of eternity.” And it is here, in the presence of his mother, that Callum finally learns the secret of the Sky Primal.

Callum: I just have to breathe?

Sarai: To know something truly and deeply, you must know it with your head, hand, and heart. Mind, body, and spirit.

Apotheosis

This is the point of realization in which a greater understanding is achieved. Armed with this new knowledge and perception, the hero is resolved and ready for the more difficult part of the adventure.

And it is at this point that Callum, awakened and enlightened, becomes the first human in countless lifetimes to make a connection to a Primal Source.

The Ultimate Boon

This is the final  stage of the Hero's Journey in which the hero achieves their goal. Here, Callum finally masters Sky Magic, represented by the one ability which we most associate with dominion over the sky:

Flight

Everything that happened prior to this was to test and purify the hero to get him to this place. And just as Callum completes his transformation into a powerful mage, the Dragon Prince is finally returned to his mother, greeted by a group of humans and elves, in a gesture that signals the end of the millennia-long conflict.

[randbwrite]

The Phoenix Queen

Just a teaser of something I’ve been working on for a long time. It’s the beginning of a dark fantasy novel. Enjoy. -R

Faster, she had to move faster. She knew, she could feel it, he was almost gone. Why did she have to sleep? It was just a nap and he promised he wouldn’t leave the throne room. Please…. Please…. Don’t be too late. 

She threw the heavy doors to the throne room open and gasped for air. Though there were only about twenty or so nobles present, the red liquid slowly seeping down the steps to the throne was quite visible. She took off in a run again, her shoes clattering hard against the solid and cold stone.

She shouted his name, yet she couldn’t hear her own voice as she ascended the steps. Her husband lay in front of her, blood slowly trickling down the steps from several stab wounds. She sank to her knees, tears forming in her eyes, her breath shaking as she pulled him into her arms. For the second time in her life, she held the one she loved most, as they lay dying in her arms. His beautiful blue eyes met her brilliant teal ones as she slightly shook her head. He mouthed the words “I love you” and then slowly closed his eyes. 

She let out a cry from the very depths of her being, a wail that sounded of a world-ending. Had her hair not already turned white from the events of her childhood, it would have done so now. The room grew cold and ice crystals began forming across the floor. The nobles glanced back and forth between one another, with several bolting for the open doors. The doors, as if making sure that none would escape justice, slammed closed, the nobles turning back to look upon their queen.

The light in the throne room began to dim, as outside, what appeared to be a solar eclipse suddenly and rapidly appeared in the sky. Hushed whispers of panicked voices arose in the room, all seeming to be some variation of “it can’t be”. The room plunged into total darkness and silence, save for a pair of glowing amethyst eyes near the throne.

Unearthly sounds could be heard from the windows followed by a beastly and deep growl. Small bursts of a purple-black fire ran along the walls, lighting the sconces along the wall with the strange magical fire. A deep, raspy voice echoed through the throne room, 

“My, my, my. What have we here? A murdered king in the throne room. Did none of you pay any attention in school? Or did you think it was all just an old legend meant to scare bureaucrats into not killing their rulers?”

As the room lit more and more, it revealed a man, or what looked like a man, with glowing red eyes standing near the throne. He was dressed oddly, wearing what appeared to be black dragon skin in the form of a long, tailored coat. He leaned against a cane, with a silver dragon head at the handle. His smile sent chills through the nobles who were present, especially when he ran his fingers through his black hair. He picked a piece of dust off the vest of his black suit, seemingly bored with the whole affair. 

A nobleman, still holding a knife drenched in crimson, spoke up, his voice trembling, “A-are you?”

“The one who appears whenever a Wizard monarch is murdered? Yes, that would be me. Please tell me you remember my name at least? One can’t go around bringing about prophecies and fulfilling old legends properly without the requisite knowledge of just who is smiting who, now can we?”

“Dracten? No…. it… it can’t be.” The noble shook his head in disbelief. 

“Ah, well, at least your schooling was good for something. Now, let’s see here. I count…. Five of you with blades, several more with magical residue. My, my, what did he do to deserve such a death?”

“He and his queen have yet to save us from the undead scourge that is threatening to take over the realms.” The noble replied.

The same beastly growl filled the room from before and the man dressed in black slowly walked towards the nobleman, looking quite annoyed. “If you mean to lie to a god, I suggest that you do a better job of it, mortal.”  Once Dracten was right in front of the noble, he tapped his cane on the ground, “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

“He’s only half wizard. Not fit for being a royal.”

Dracten’s eyebrow twitched and his expression grew stern. “THAT is why he was murdered? Not for power, revenge, personal vendetta, the throne? No, you all chose to kill someone, over THAT?”

“Without a pure-blooded heir, the Wizard kingdom would surely suffer a lack of power against the other races.”

Dracten inhaled a few times, seeming to start speaking before pressing his lips together, only to repeat the process over again. “You…. Are an idiot.” Dracten walked away, shaking his head, making his way to the grieving queen. He stretched out his hand to her, which she reluctantly took as he helped her stand. He looked her over and then sighed, “My, my. Being the one to fulfill the prophecy of reuniting the realms apparently was not enough, was it? As you know, I am here at your service, especially seeing as you are the last of the royal bloodline, are you not?”

Her eyes had grown puffy, and her tears had crystalized into ice along her cheeks. She nodded and then spoke in a hoarse voice. “I am.”

“What is your request then? Torment for all eternity? Death, destruction and chaos? Come now, I must have an answer.”

“Any of you who had nothing to do with my husband’s death, leave now.” Her expression grew distant as the doors to the throne room swung open. All but a few hurried out of the room. Just beyond the threshold of the door, several sets of eyes watched with great interest and relief, thankful that they were not caught in the ancient enchantments of the throne room. “Dracten, my wish, in part of my family’s agreement with you ages ago, is to borrow your power for a time.”

He grinned with a deep laugh, “Now THAT, is one I have never been asked for before. Very well, you will be granted my powers for a time. And in return?”

“You may do with their souls as you wish. This I grant you, not only as the queen of the Wizards, but as the rightful heir to the Angelic and Demonic thrones, unifier of the races and restorer of the realms.”

He hit his cane on the floor twice and laughed again, “Excellent! I do love a good show.” He hopped over to the throne and sat down as if getting ready to watch a highly anticipated play. 

The nobleman spoke up, now visibly trembling, “Your Majesty, please, understand what we did was for the good of the kingdom.” Her eyebrow quirked and her gaze met his, her eyes both glowing a deep blood red. “Please… there must be someone far better suited, that you would prefer.”

The ice that had initially formed across the floor now spread, coating every nook and cranny. Dracten watched and laughed, “I’m afraid that won’t do when she loved him dearly. Be a good mortal and die with dignity, or do you mean to grovel?” Dracten’s laughter filled the room. It was an unnerving laugh, one that only one who enjoyed death and destruction could produce. He hit his cane on the floor twice and his eyes glowed brilliantly, the amethyst hue pouring out of his eyes. Blackened smoke, with purple lightning, began to pour out from him, taking the shape of a serpent dragon. It surrounded the queen until she was completely enveloped. 

When the smoke cleared, she stood there in the room, one eye glowing red, the other purple. Dracten now held a goblet and took sips here and there as he made himself more comfortable on the throne. 

“Hear me now. I will never love another. There will be no heir and the royal line will die with me. Then this realm and all our underwater cities will lie in ruins, all for your intolerance of someone who was merely half. And while I will defeat the undead and necromancers that plague us, I will do so on my terms, the same with the remainder of my rule.” She spoke clearly, yet her voice shook, not with sorrow, but with rage. “Tell me. You know me as the Phoenix Queen, yet, have you ever seen a dark phoenix?”

“Erm… no, your Majesty.” He replied, afraid not to answer her. 

The same creepy smile that Dracten once displayed now took hold of her lips as a dark shadow grew from behind her. The fire on the sconces dimmed and the screech of a bird sounded. A great many screams were heard afterward, as retribution and an old bargain was once again fulfilled, the floors stained red, and the sky darkened.

In the days that followed, several funerals were held, the queen standing by at each, expression ice cold, her teal eyes hollow and devoid of emotions. She never cried publicly over the loss of her husband, but rather issued a decree stating what had happened that day, the surviving bureaucrats signing as witnesses. 

The kingdom mourned for their king and for their queen. But there was little time for such things, as there was a horde of undead that needed defeating.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Once Upon A Time

Summary: The reader has a cleaning tradition that she’s embarrassed for the boys to find out about.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x black!reader

Warnings: Violence and mention of smut

A/N: 2 Dean fics in one week? Who do I think I am???

Ever since you were a child obsessed with fairy tales. Not the Grimm brother versions, but Disney’s family-friendly versions. You had your mother to thank for that. She painted her love story with your father as her own fairy tale.

Your mom came from a family of evil witches, but she didn’t share the same values and wanted to help people instead of harm them. As she told it, she didn’t see a way out until she met her own knight in shining armor, your father. He was a hunter and fell in love with your mom while he hunted her family. She helped him defeat them and they ran off to live their own version of happily ever after.

They both hunted until your mom became pregnant with you, their little princess. Even though, they retired from the hunter lifestyle they taught you all about hunting; they always knew there was a possibility for their past to haunt them. While your dad stuck to teaching you about hunting in particular, your mother taught you the art of witchcraft. “There’s a beauty in magic.” She always said.

Unfortunately, your parents happily ever after didn’t last forever. They were right to worry about their past coming back to haunt them. You came back from a sleepover excited to dress up in your princess ‘rags’, sing Disney songs, and clean up the house with your mom. Instead you found their mauled bodies. The remaining werewolves from a pack they killed came back with a revenge. They even tried to kill you when you discovered the bodies, but due to your extensive training you killed them before they got the chance.

Years later you found yourself and your familiar, Aladdin, hunting and living with the Winchesters. To keep the memory alive of your parents, you kept up your mom’s cleaning tradition. Only thing was you always waited for Sam and Dean to go hunting on their own. You may be a little extra with this tradition, so extra Aladdin refused to participate. Sometimes you’ll cast a spell on some birds and sing with them as if you were Cinderella or Snow White. So, if the boys ever caught you, you would never hear the end of it and be deeply embarrassed.

Currently, you were singing your heart out to Part of Your World and washing the dishes when you heard the clearing of someone’s throat. Turning around you saw a set of hazel and emerald eyes filled with mirth and a pair of poorly hidden smirks. “I thought you two wouldn’t be back til tomorrow?” You asked, fidgeting with the hem of your dress and then remembering the bandana a la Cinderella you had on and quickly removing it.

Barely containing his laughter Sam answered you. “You know Dean. Speed limit laws don’t apply to him.” Just as Dean was about to say something, his eyes went wide and zoomed on your shoulder. Raising a hand, he pointed in your direction, “Is that a crab on your shoulder?”

Looking down in fact you saw an annoyed crab glaring at you. In the midst of getting caught, you forgot you turned a reluctant Aladdin into a crab for your Little Mermaid set. “Oops, I’m sorry, Al.” With a wave of your hand you returned your familiar back into his canine form. “Looks like the mutt wasn’t happy being turned into seafood,” Dean muttered as Aladdin stalked off. Your familiar had excellent hearing and growled at the eldest Winchester before returning back to your room.

“Your highness,” Dean bowed before you. Snatching the towel from the sink you balled it up and threw it at Dean’s head.

He caught it instead of letting it hit his face. “Hey, that’s not princess-like,” he reprimanded you. Just to tease him some more you gave Dean the middle finger and he clutched his imaginary pearls.

“What’s up with the Disney routine anyway?” Sam asked, trying to stop you two before y’all got too childish. While you explained the backstory of your cleaning tradition, Sam stood back and mentally shook his head at Dean, who looked at you like a doofus. Sam tried multiple times to get his big brother to admit his feelings for you, but he refused.

Done with your story, you noticed Dean looking at you with that funny face you sometimes catch him with when he thinks you’re not paying attention. “What’s with that stupid look,” you asked him.

Caught off guard, Dean had to quickly come up with an excuse. “Um, I’m just confused about how someone so badass is still obsessed with princesses who always need saving.”

“First of all, me being a badass and loving princesses are not mutually exclusive. Second of all, you must be talking about them older white princesses, because my girls with color didn’t come to play. Tiana, a true boss bitch, Mulan saved a whole country, Pocahontas looked out for her people, and Moana got a whole god together. And third of all, I don’t know why you’re trashing them when you have so much in common with them.”

Dean crossed his arms in disbelief. “Please explain to me how me and a Disney princess are alike.” Chuckling to yourself, you proceeded to explain to Dean. “On the somber note, you have the requirement of at least one dead parent growing up. Sam’s your sidekick, Castiel’s your fairy godmother, Rowena is sorta the wicked witch, just depending on the day, and I’m your knight in shining armor.” Dean couldn’t believe his ears and was about to counter your claim when you interrupted him. “Oh, and you have Rapunzel’s eyes.”

Pointing between him and Sam, Dean responded. “Listen, we don’t need saving that often.” Without saying a word, you cocked and eyebrow and a hip, silently challenging Dean’s claim.

“Ok, you win. I’m a stupid princess, but I’m gonna be Snow White!”

Looking to Sam he had his bitch face while you were confused. He must’ve known why he choose Snow White. You looked to him to ask why and he mouthed ‘You wouldn’t want to know.’ Going against his advisement, you asked Dean why he choose her.

“Because the version I watched, the wicked stepmother was wicked.” His smile suggested it wasn’t the G-rated version you’ve seen before.

With a sway of your hips you walked up to Dean and stared up at him devilishly. “Well, you gotta show me that version. I need to spice up my porn playlist.” Instantly, Dean’s face turned red and Sam off to the side muttered, “You two are perfect for each other.”

You walked off to your room, beginning to sing Kiss the Girl, while leaving the boys in the kitchen dumbfounded. Halfway to your room, you remembered your surprise for Dean. Sticking your head in the kitchen doorway, “Oh, there’s pecan, sweet potato, and apple pie in the oven.” Both boys stared at each other and ran to the oven to get to the treat. Even Sam couldn’t resist your baking.

--

Back in your room, you found Aladdin in his human form laying in your bed and watching tv. He rolled his eyes as he listened to you sing another Disney song. It wasn’t your voice that he was annoyed by, because you had the voice of an angel, but it was who the song was directed to. Al didn’t understand your attraction to Dean, but he supported you, nonetheless.

“Jordan text you. She needs help with a coven of witches in New Orleans. And she said leave the Winchesters at home if you come,” Al informed you in the middle of your song.

“That would’ve been nice to know earlier. Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I was giving you some time with your precious Winchester.”

Deciding not to address that statement you asked Aladdin if he wanted to go with.  “Nope. I got a crazy ass ex down there and I’m having a Smart Guy marathon.”

“Hey! You were supposed to wait for me.” You pouted.

“That was before you turned me into a crustacean.” Knowing that it was fair, you told him bye and went on to tell the boys you were leaving.

“You sure you don’t want us to come?” Sam asked clearly concerned. They didn’t know your friend and were overprotective of you hunting without them. Standing on your toes, you gave each boy a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be fine boys, promise.”

Just as you opened your car door, Dean tugged on your wrist. “Be safe and call us if anything’s fishy.”

Snatching your hand back, you laughed at your friend. “Ok, mom.” Crowding your space, Dean looked at you hungrily. “I preferred to be called daddy.” Cheeks heating up quickly, you turned around and rushed into your car, waving bye to the boys while you heard Dean’s deep chuckle as you drove away.

--

It was setup. Jordan wasn’t just your friend, but your cousin from your mom’s side of your family. The little traitor knew who you were when you ran into her in Atlanta when you were working a job. She continued to earn your trust until she could find the right moment to kidnap you.

Turns out your mom and dad didn’t get rid of the whole family and your grandma somehow survived. The old woman had been plotting against you, since Jordan told her of your existence.

Struggling against the cuffs, you were looking for an escape. “Its useless, my dear. Those cuffs are spelled to imprison supernatural beings.”

Great, the one time being a witch was a bad thing. “Well, can you just kill me now?”

Your grandma turned away from the potion she was concocting and caressed your face. Her amber eyes that reminded you of your mother’s softened. “Don’t be silly, girl. You’re family, even if that didn’t mean anything to your momma. Our coven is growing weak, but you’re the strongest witch ever in our bloodline. With you joining us and the Book of the Damned we’ll return to our former glory.”

All this trouble for that damn book. Even though it saved Dean, that book has been causing so much trouble ever since it came into you and the boys’ possession. “So, this is why you want me. For the Book of the Damned. Well, newsflash no matter what you do to me the boys won’t give it up.”

Stepping away from her potion once more, she knelt down in front of you. “It’s a shame, really. All your power gone to waste. When Jordan informed me of your existence, I thought I would just kill you, but then you got involved with those Winchesters and we were still too weak to deal with them and you. But then I heard Rowena took you under her wing and I felt hope again. I thought Rowena would surely teach you the dark arts, but once again I was wrong. Those damn Winchesters sure do know how to suck out all the fun.”

“If you know I’m so good, then it’s a waste to try to get me to join the coven.” Levitating the mortar, she used to make the potion, your grandma had it in her hands. “Chile, I know I can’t make you do things on your own free will. That’s why I got this little potion for my spell. It’ll make you more malleable to my will. Now open up, girl.”

Refusing to be anyone’s puppet you shut your mouth close. Your grandma was frustrated with your antics and didn’t have any time to play with you. The cuffs dampened your own magic, which allowed your grandma to use hers and get your mouth open. The vile taste of the potion slithered its way down your throat and you knew when you woke up you would be a different person. Hopefully, Sam and Dean would be able to fix you.

--

Once you returned to the bunker, the boys instantly knew something was off about despite you saying nothing went wrong with the hunt. “Man, something’s up with Y/N.” Dean whispered to Sam while you were in the library.

“I know. Something had to have gone with that hunt.” Their whispers died down when they heard you walking towards them.

Holding the Book of the Damned, you made a beeline to the stairs, but Sam stopped you. “Y/N/N, what are you doing with the Book of the Damned?”

Annoyed but also prepared for this moment you threw the boys against the wall. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

With a flick of your wrist the door opened up, letting in your grandma and Jordan.

“What a cute little place! We’ll have to set up base here, Y/N. That’s after we kill the Winchesters of course,” your grandmother informed you while inspecting the bunker.

“Yes, grandmother. Would you like me to dispose of them now?”

The elder Winchester scrunched up his face in anger. “Grandma??? Y/N/N this isn’t you. Break out of it!” He pleaded with you, but his words had no effect on you.

“You evil bitch! What did you do to Y/N?” Dean asked your grandma.

She stood in front of Dean and traced a finger across his face. “Hmmm, I can see why my granddaughter is in love with you. Such masculine features, so handsome that you’re almost pretty. And the passion that radiates off of you, hmph, you must be an excellent lover.”

Dean turned his head away to escape her touch. “Get your filthy hands off my brother! And what did you do to our friend,” Sam reminded her of the more pressing issue.

“Oh, I just made her more pliable to my will. The girl is headstrong like her mother. Too bad I didn’t discover the potion I used on Y/N when I had those wolves kill her mother.” Your grandmother revealed which stirred a little something in you, but you must complete the mission for her. “Y/N, be a dear and kill these oafs. We have important work to do,” she ordered you.

Imagining liquefying their insides, the hunters started to cough up their blood, but as you saw them struggling you started to feel bad. Something didn’t feel right, but you had to press on.

“Y/N, you’re in there I know it. I know you heard her. That wicked bitch killed your parents! Come out and fight, damn it!” Dean was screaming at you, it seemed that the emotional torture was more painful than the physical torture you were dishing out.

Seeing that Dean wasn’t getting through to you, Sam joined in at trying to break through to you.  With each passing second, they were chipping away through your grandmother’s defenses. It worked well enough for your hold to weaken and the boys fell to the ground. The boys easily incapacitated Jordan, leaving your grandma with no backup.

“Y/N, what are you doing? Kill them!” Your grandmother ordered, terrified of what a free Sam and Dean Winchester could do.

You paid her no mind and pinned her to a wall instead. Dean approached you carefully, as if you were a scared animal backed into a corner. “Sweetheart, I know you’re in there.”

Your eyes darted between your grandmother and the Winchester. You didn’t know who to believe with both of them talking to you simultaneously.

Sensing he was losing you, Dean got desperate. “God, I hope this works,” you heard him murmured before he grabbed your face and mashed his lips to yours. At first, your lips you were stiff, resistant to the kiss, but soon it started feeling right, like home, like your lips and his were meant for each other. Your hands snaked up to the back of his head and you pulled Dean closer.

The screaming of your grandma alerted you and made you and Dean break the kiss. Caressing your face, Dean whispered against your lips, “You back?” He asked, his hopeful searching yours.

“Yeah,” you whispered back blinking through tears.

“I should’ve known. You’re weak, just like your mother!” Your grandma somehow pulled herself halfway off the wall, but you pushed her back.

Taking out your gun from the back of your jeans, you pointed it at an unconscious Jordan and shot it right in the center of her forehead, feeling no emotions for so-called friend.

Next, your sights turned onto your grandma. “What?! You can’t grant me the decency of killing me like a witch? You’re gonna kill me like some filthy hunter?” She screamed with her grey locs falling in her face, spit foaming at the mouth, truly looking like a wild woman.

Raising your gun, you only said a few words to her before granting her the same death as your cousin. “Its more than you granted my parents.”

For awhile you stood above your dead grandmother’s body, grieving the life you could’ve have. Standing there reflecting on her need for power it finally hit you, she was the cause of your parents’ deaths. The emotions overtook you and you cried until Dean carried you away and let him fall asleep in his arms.

Waking up hours later you found Dean gone, but the smell of his famous burgers told you exactly where he was. Making your way to the kitchen, you were granted to the scene of Dean cooking, singing along to an old rock song, swinging his hips.

“Wow, you’ve been holding out on me. Who knew you had such killer dance moves?” Placing your hand over your heart, you acted as if you were offended at this great tragedy.

Rolling his eyes at you, Dean lowered his music and started to make you a plate. “I can do that.” You attempted to grab the plate, but Dean moved it out of your reach.

“I got it. Go sit down, pretty girl,” Dean ordered you before he leaned down and gave you a kiss. You guessed that the kiss from earlier wasn’t a one-off and discreetly smiled to yourself, wondering what this means for you and Dean.

Taking your seat, Sam entered the kitchen and began making a plate of his own. “Hey, Y/N, how you feeling?”

“Mmmm, better now. It still hurts, but I know that my mom wouldn’t want me to dwell on it too long. She lived the life that she wanted, even if it was cut short.”

“Between Samuel and your grandma, we had some crazy ass grandparents,” Dean referenced to his grandfather that would’ve let them die in exchange to have Mary back. Little did he know if he could’ve waited a couple of more years, he would’ve had her back.

Setting down his plate and yours, the three of you began eating dinner. Talk varied from when y’all would take the next case, when you should visit Jody and the girls again, when would Cas and Jack get back, and even a little argument about how turkey burgers taste the same as regular burgers.

At that moment you were trying to convince Dean to watch The Little Mermaid with you, but he refused, saying he was too grown to be watching fairy tales. Deciding that he wasn’t too grown, Sam poked fun at Dean. “So, Dean, how did you know how to break the spell put on Y/N?” Sam knew the answer, Dean confided it in him earlier, but he wanted Dean to say it in front of Y/N.  

Looking at his baby brother as if he could strangle him, Dean dropped his burger. “Lucky guess.” He grunted before picking it back up and biting into it.

Your eyes switched back and forth between the brothers. Obviously, Dean was holding something back by the way he was giving Sam bitch face.

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Sam retorted, hiding his smirk by taking a bite of his own burger.

“Oh, Dean, c’mon tell me.” You pleaded, giving him your best puppy dog eyes that he couldn’t resist.

“Truelove’skiss.” He mumbled quickly.

Hiding a giggle, you asked him to repeat himself, “Excuse me, what was that?” You knew exactly what he said, you just wanted him to be louder.

“True love’s kiss, ok! Now can we drop it?” He snapped, embarrassed he knew this little fact and that he was basically announcing his feelings to you this way.

Abandoning your seat, you jumped into Dean’s lap and kissed him all around his face. Sam silently left to give you two privacy and also, he didn’t want to see anything if you two decided to get explicit.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” you whispered into his ear.

Dean’s eyes lit up as if you told him he had an unlimited amount of pie. He knew that for a true love’s kiss to work, both parties had to love each other, but hearing you say it confirmed it for him. “I love you, too.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you snuggled into Dean deeper. “So, does this mean you’ll watch The Little Mermaid with me?”

“I guess,” Dean accepted defeat as you squealed in his lap. “But only if you sing along. I can’t get enough of that voice of yours.”

“Of course, my knight in shining armor.” Dean put an arm behind your back and the other under your knees to carry you bridal style to his cave.

“And at the end of the night can I kiss the girl?” Dean asked with a mischievous grin on his face, glad that he made at least one reference.

Making your voice a bit softer to sound like a princess, you replied, “Oh my dear sir, you can do whatever you like to the princess. She’s forever in your gratitude.”

“Well, princess, be prepared not to finish that movie, because I got other things in mind.”

Soon, Ariel and her pals became a distant memory with the opportunity of a better time spent with Dean. “If that’s the case, then how about you show me how wicked that stepmother was in Snow White?” You offered, suggestively raising your perfectly arched eyebrows.

With that suggestion, Dean changed his course and headed for his bedroom. “Anything for the lady.” Passing a conversating Sam and Al in the hallway, you conjured up earplugs in their hands. Of course, you could’ve soundproofed the room, but you wanted to gross them out instead.

“Dudes, disgusting!” Sam groaned, but you could barely hear him over yours and Deans’ laughs. This is what happily ever looked like and you wouldn’t trade it for a thing in the world.

Tags: @titty-teetee​ @nervouspetsonanime​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @nerd-lovely​

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Hidden Skeletons Part 4

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: nope. 

Author’s Note: Hello next part! I apologize for how long it has taken this one to get done. But here it is! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. While it is a bit of a filler, I promise it is necessary for the next few chapters. There are still two major points that need to be made to make this request complete. One of them will happen in the next one, I promise. ♥

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥ 

It had been late in the night. The rest of the Mikaelsons had gone off to bed, leaving Klaus and Y/N the only ones up. While Klaus had a glass of bourbon in his hand, Y/N held onto her cup of coffee. 

Since the others had headed to bed, Klaus had been getting to know the witch that helped saved his daughter. While he would never admit it out loud, Klaus had been growing used to having her around. He knew that once it was time to take her back, he'd miss her. 

"I bet your siblings are nowhere near how mine can be." Klaus said with a shake of his head. 

Y/N smiled. "Probably not. They are all on their own level of irritating abilities." That had caused them both to chuckle. "My oldest brother doesn't care much for the coven. He doesn't have the ability to practice magic, so he spends a lot of time away on business. As for my other siblings," she shook her head slightly. "They are upset that I was chosen to take my mother's place."

"How is it that one is chosen to lead the great Y/L/N Coven?" He asked curiously.

"A series of tests and trials." She shrugged. "My siblings failed because of their deeper interest for darker magic. There is a test to see if your future intentions for the coven are pure, they failed. I was five when they tested me. Lo and behold, you've got your next leader."

Klaus shook his head. "And you've been groomed ever since." It wasn't a question, but Y/N nodded. 

"Honestly, I never thought I would be chosen." She looked down at her coffee cup for a moment. "If you go based on traditions, I never should have been in the running in the first place."

Klaus raised an eyebrow as he watched her. "How so?" He asked as he leaned forward in his seat. 

Looking up at him, Y/N debated on actually opening up to Klaus. A secret such as this wasn't meant to be shared with any of the members of the coven. So it was safe to tell him, right? At least that was what she had been thinking. 

"You and I are a lot alike." As the words registered in Klaus, Y/N could see the confusion grow in him. "The man who raised me isn't my biological father." She said a moment later. 

Understanding filled Klaus. "I assume you weren't raised the same way I was, though."

"No." She said, shaking her head. "He has always been kind to his kids. Unfortunately, he still believes that I am his. Tradition calls for a child born from two different bloodlines within the coven. My father isn't from the coven nor is he from any witch bloodline. That will make me the first coven leader out of tradition."

"Your coven seems to be alright with you being, well you." He said with a small smile. Her laugh that came caused his smile to fade. 

"Even they don't know. My mother has kept it a secret from everyone. I only know because I found out when I was thirteen. 'Some secrets are better kept. Otherwise chaos would ensue. For a coven of our size, chaos would destroy us.' My mother used to say those words to me every day that I wanted to scream the truth to my dad, to anyone." She shook her head once more. "Covens only care about the power they are able to keep. I'm hoping that when I take over I can change that."

"You already are." Klaus noted as he reached over and placed his hand on top of her knee. "For a coven that stays out of vampire business, you came willingly to help a child in need. I'd say that’s one hell of a statement before you even take over."

While Y/N should have been worried about the information she was telling him, part of her trusted him. She trusted him because they were more alike than she led on. She trusted that since she helped him save his daughter, that he wouldn't go running back to her coven to spread the details she told him. 

She smiled at his words though. "I have a lot of plans for when I take over. I just know its going to take a lot to get them on board with it."

"What plans do you have?" Klaus enjoyed the way her eyes suddenly lit up at the thought of the change she could bring to her coven. It made him smile at the sight. 

"For one, our coven should no longer turn away witches that are wrapped up in vampire business." Y/N noted with a smile. "Not every vampire they encounter is as bad as they seem. Even for you Klaus."

"I'll have you know that I keep to the very rumors that have surfaced." He said with a devilish smirk. He watched as Y/N laughed and the sound itself had warmed him in a way he hadn't been used to. 

"I've seen how you are, Klaus." She said as she placed her coffee cup on the table in front of them. "While you are a force to be reckoned with, there is a side to you that you barely let anyone else see. From where I'm sitting, I think I may be one of the few to see that side."

"That you are." He noted. 

______

"You have everything?" Freya asked as they stood at the airport. 

Klaus rolled his eyes. "We aren't leaving for an extended time, Freya."

Hope smiled at that. "Unless things change." She shrugged. 

Freya laughed catching what Hope had been implying. For the last two weeks Y/N and Klaus had been spending a lot more time together. It seemed that everyone but the two in question could see it. While both of them had denied anything, Freya and Hope could clearly see the two bonding. 

Klaus rolled his eyes. "We'll be back later this week once Y/N's ceremony is done. Anything before, or after, means something went wrong."

"Of course." Freya said with a small smile.  She looked over at Hope. "Make sure he stays out of trouble. We gained an ally with the Y/L/N Coven. Make sure he doesn't mess that up."

Klaus crossed his arms over his chest as he watched his daughter nod and make a promise to his sister. Klaus knew that things always had a tendency to take a turn, but it wasn't always his fault on it. 

"Alright." Y/N said walked up to them holding the tickets. "Apparently mentioning your name gave us first class tickets...again." A small frown formed on her face as she looked at the tickets. "I'm assuming compulsion."

Hope and Freya shook their heads as Klaus smirked. "That is how anyone should travel. Coach is dreadful and I refuse to sit that close to a stranger."

Y/N laughed as she shook her head at the statement. She shouldn't have expected anything less from the Hybrid. "Right."

Freya came up to Y/N and pulled her into a hug. Y/N was no longer surprised by the hugs she had been pulled into with the family. "Please make sure they are safe out there."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Y/N promised. "I'm sure you'll hear all about it from Hope once she gets back."

They pulled away from each other and smiled. "Oh I don't doubt it. I'm expecting several texts and magical visits by the time they come back."

Y/N chuckled. "I promise it will be smooth sailing once we past the main obstacle."

That had caused all three of them to raise an eyebrow. "What obstacle?" Klaus asked.

"My mother."

"Almost a month, Y/N." Her mother's voice boomed the moment they were alone. Klaus and Hope were currently standing outside of the sage protected house, waiting for this particular conversation to be over.  "You've been gone for almost a month and you bring them with you. What the hell were you thinking?"

Y/N hadn't expected to be gone that long. She had expected to be there for however long it took for her to do the spell and then come back. But with each passing day, the Mikaelsons found some other reason for her to stay. One of those reasons being to help Hope control her magic. Something Y/N was all to willing to help out with. 

"I saved someone." She said as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not some child you can keep locked away here."

Her mother scoffed and took a step towards Y/N. "I am your mother. I asked you not to go with a vampire and the one thing you did was cloak yourself and ran off with him. You got roped into their business after all the years that I had instilled in you to not do their bidding."

"A child was at risk of dying and you wanted me to sit back and do nothing." Y/N shook her head. "Tell me mom, if it had been reversed and I was the one that needed help and you had to go to them, you'd want them to help right?"

"It's different and you know it." She narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “We would have been able to care for you no matter the circumstances. You aren’t just some witch that can go and do as she pleases.”

“All I really am is the means of survival to this coven. If it wasn’t for me you would have someone from our bloodline to take over.” Y/N shook her head refusing to lose this argument. She was going to stand by the decision she had made. She had practically been under lock and key her whole life. It didn’t hurt to extend her stay out in New Orleans. “When I do take over, things are going to change a lot more than you would expect them to.”

“They will turn against you.” Her mother noted. “Change isn’t common here. Traditions have been passed down and it is one of the reasons our coven had thrived as it has.”

Y/N scoffed. “Imagine what they would do when they find out I’m not pure blood and you’ve hid that from them. Face it mom, while I have been the best choice to take over this week, I’m the change this coven is going to need to accept. Same as you. The Mikaelsons are here to see the Hollow destroyed. If you don’t do it, don’t complain when I do it later.”

Her mother sighed as she brought a hand up to rub her temples. “Will they leave once I do?” 

Y/N shrugged. “Possibly. Hope is wanting to stay to watch my ceremony.”

“You told them about it?” Her eyebrow raised, not wanting the vampires to stay any longer than necessary.

“Come on, mom.” Y/N sighed. “This is an opportunity to spread the knowledge we’ve kept to ourselves. Doing so with a two person coven isn’t going to hurt.”

Y/N watched as her mother shook her head and turned to look out the window. Y/N joined her as she watched Hope speak with a few other members of the coven. “You do know the stories told about her right?”

“You mean the ones where she is supposed to bring destruction to the world?” Y/N asked as she kept her eyes on Hope. “Yeah those prophecies are considered voided once the Hollow was released from her. The only threat they pose is if we stand against them. I’ve built a bridge between us and them since I’ve been gone.” She looked towards her mother. “Don’t ruin that by turning them away when all they ask is for a safe place for Hope to learn new things that even her Aunt hasn’t seen yet.”

“Fine.” Her mother huffed. “Just until after the ceremony is performed and then they must leave.”

Y/N smiled as she walked out of the house. Her hands had been clasped behind her back. The moment she walked out, Hope’s eyes widened at the smile Y/N had been sporting.

“She’s okay with it?” Hope asked with a smile.

“For the most part.” Y/N gave a slight shrug. “You’ll be able to stay for her to do as needed with the chest and you are more than welcome to stay for the ceremony. But after that-”

“Don’t overstay our welcome.” Klaus finished with a small smirk on his face. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, her smile growing. “Technically you wouldn’t be overstaying with the new leader.”

That caused them all to laugh. While Y/N’s mother had put her foot down, things were about to change the moment Y/N became a leader. Klaus wrapped his arm over Y/N’s shoulder as they began walking towards the guest house. 

From the window, her mother watched as all three of them walked to the guest house. Hope had been facing Klaus and Y/N as she walked backwards. She had been talking about something and as her hands moved to gesture something, she watched Y/N and Klaus throw their heads back in laughter. 

The sight itself had an unsettling feeling in her stomach. The daughter she had raised to take over seemed to getting close to the hybrid. If her mother intuition was good for anything, she knew this was going to end badly.

Just as her thoughts played her phone vibrated with a new message. 

I take it she made it home safely?

Typing quickly she sent the reply.

Yes, but what you’ve told me is true. 

What do you want to do about it?

She sighed and thought for a moment before letting her thumbs move across the screen.

I’ll take care of it. 

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