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umbralstars · 3 years ago

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Sothis, the Church of Seiros and Byleth: A Pagan Reading

Due to L!Byleth and the minor hyperfixation he caused I decided to make a whole discussion on how I personally view Sothis, the Church of Seiros as a whole, and examine Byleth's role in the story.

So just some ground rules before I begin:

This is just how I personally viewed the story as I played it, and my own perspective on the plot and meaning behind certain things. I am open to discussion in the comments and reblogs, and if you disagree with my opinion that's perfectly fine. Also so much of this is going to read like headcanons/assumptions loosely supported by canon's thin red strings and I am ok with that.

If any in-game quotes are used they will mostly come from the Church Library since it's easy to check but I'll paraphrase important scenes that I can remember.

Also after compiling a timeline of events best I can understand it I have made a few assumptions: worship of Sothis existed before the Church of Seiros (perhaps even going as far back as pre-Calamity times) and thus Church doctrine and beliefs is largely based upon previously established beliefs about the Goddess. This doesn't have too much to do with the analysis itself, but I just wanted to say it as I quote The Book of Seiros parts a few times and the writings in those books I hold to have a basis in that pre-Church faith.

With those in place, allow me to begin.

The Sothis/Church of Seiros Meta:

While there have been many metas comparing Sothis and the Church to medieval Christianity, I have always looked at them both through a distinctly non-Christian, Pagan lense.

I myself am a syncretic polytheist who has a complicated history with Southern Baptists. These two core aspects of my spiritual life does color my perceptions of the religion presented in this game and I am fully aware of that. Three Houses came at a time in my life where I was finally seperating myself from my latent Christianity, and exercising my Pagan goggles on this was a major step I took towards that. My intention here isn't to say that Christian coding doesn't exist, but to simply give my ideas and perspective on the religion presented in this game.

First, allow me to give the define the Gods through the lense of a Pagan as it's important to the framing of my ideas:

"The Gods are real, sentient, disembodied minds with awesome greatness and powers beyond what we humans can currently explain with science."

This is the simplest, shortest definition of the Gods I can give and Sothis, beyond a shadow of a doubt, hits all of the criteria as she is presented in the game. The Pagan conception of the Gods does not require any pretense of tri-omnism, and I believe it's best to look at Sothis, and many other FE Gods, through this lense. Sothis, when she was alive and even when she is "dead," is capable of amazing feats such as creating life, turning back time in a limited capacity, and restoring entire continents to life after calamity. While she is not tri-omni, she does not need to be so to be a Goddess and one worthy of worship and reverence.

Church doctrine itself also exhibits other fundamental aspects of Pagan practice and belief that are important to me and many others: animism and the reciprocity cycle. As stated by The Book of Seiros, Part 1,

"The Revelation.The Goddess is all things. She is heaven above and the land below. She is eternity incarnate. She is the present, the past, and the future. Her eyes see all. Her ears hear all. Her hands receive all."

Obvious allusions to omnipresence aside, another reading of this passage is a far more esoteric, and hard to put into words, aspect of Pagan belief about the Gods. In a sense , the Gods are not limited by the physical constraints of the world and their bodies are inherently an aspect of the very universe itself. They are not omnipresent at all times, but they can be wherever they wish to be especially wherever their presence and power is strongest. That is actually the purpose of idols, alters, and temples. The Gods are not idols or are bound by them, those things are simply repositories to allow us humans to connect with and worship them.

The natural world as well can be the "body" of a God. Places where their spirits decide to dwell. Natural phenomenon one can feel their presence in. They are not limited to these places, but upkeep of them is necessary to maintain their power and spirit. In this way that passage can be read as Fodlan and the Blue Sea Star being the places where Sothis' spirit chooses to reside along with her actual remains needing to be maintained to keep her spirit maintained. Her sacred body likely extends across all of Fodlan and her spirit resides most strongly as the Blue Sea Star.

Gods in FE also, more often than not, have a physical body that is important for their connection to the physical world. FE Gods are not incapable of interacting with or watching over the physical world from the spiritual, but have much more free reign when their physical body is alive. The places where their bodies are buried are where their power is most heavily felt, and their spirits the strongest, as evidenced by the Mila Tree and the Good Ending of Future Past in Awakening. This what I believe the true purpose of the Sealed Forest to be. Given how protective Rhea is of the place, the strange alter and Crest of Flames that is just there, and that being where Byleth awakens and Sothis remembers, either parts or the entire rest of Sothis' physical body must be buried there and not actually in the Holy Tomb.

As an aside, the remains of the Nabateans can also be seen through this lense but to a lesser degree. It's obvious that parts of their souls and power remain with their bodies, and thus, maintaining the Relics, Crestsones, and the other Nabatean remains not fashioned into weapons would be of utmost importance to Rhea. Because, if they were to be lost or damaged her kin's spirits may forever be lost to the physical world.

Fodlan being the sacred body of Sothis is also why I believe the Church of Seiros to be an ethnic religion and a henotheistic one to the people of Fodlan. The Goddess is only ever credited in the creation story and a lot of other Church doctrines as having created and choosing Fodlan as her sacred ground. The people of Fodlan likewise are seen as her sacred people. Nothing in Church doctrine says that Sothis is the only God to exist and I truly cannot remember a single instance where anyone says other religions outside the Church are false ones. Hence why I say Fodlanders are henotheistic, where they do not deny the existence of other Gods, but Sothis is the most important and only one worshipped by them. To the people of Fodlan as long as foreigners do not deny her existence and those of Fodlandic descent worship her as they should there is no cause for an uproar.

This is not to say other religions can be practiced freely on Sothis' sacred ground, as evidenced by the women in Abyss who says she worships there "because Abyss is where it is allowed." Along with Atheism among Fodlanders to be a taboo in their societies. Whilst I don't see the Church to be a beacon of religious tolerance (or that Fodlanders don't believe their religion to be the best), I also do not believe them to be proselytizers to places outside of Fodlan.

The reciprocity cycle also has a place within Church doctrine. The Book of Seiros, Part V describes the various commandments Sothis gave to her people and how if they abide by them the Goddess pays the people back with blessings and gifts. Textbook reciprocity is doing something for the Gods, such as sacrifice or ritual, and gaining something back in return or the Gods do something for you and you give back to them in turn. Reciprocity can be as simple as giving thanks for the blessings the Gods give or complex as full ritual, sacrifice, and or prayer to gain a blessing/aid or give thanks for one. The best case of reciprocity I see in game is the restoration quest for the Saint Statues. Whilst the Saints are complicated in how I believe their divinity is handled there is no doubt the player receives blessings from them for restoring their icons.

(While I would like to devote an entire section to them and the Nabateans in general like 80 - 90% of my ideas are headcanon that I'm still not sure of. I don't think the Nabateans are Gods like Sothis is however immortal or long-lived they may be. I also still don't know whether the Saints would be worshiped or venerated in the Church, as I still don't understand the distinction of those two things myself, so I don't want to make a judgement call).

What about Byleth?

Byleth...is tricky. Now, I must preface, that all of this is my opinion. Some of it may not be supported by the game, but this is how I personally write him and his status regarding everything we see in game.

Byleth is, for all intents and purposes, the 13th potential vessel for Sothis to return to the world as they were given Sothis' Creststone on the request of Sitri. Here's the thing. I personally do not believe that Sothis is truly dead or that Byleth manifested her consciousness on happenstance. It has been my personal belief ever since playing the game for the first time that Sothis' spirit does indeed reside in the heavens and that the piece of Sothis that resides in Byleth until his awakening is only a fragment. Along with that I believe that Sothis' consciousness and power manifested in Byleth specifically because Sothis wished for it to be so.

My ideas are centered around a few aspects of the game that have always stood out to me as rather strange if kept in line with the larger context.

Why after all this time and Rhea's many attempts did Sothis manifest in a stillborn child?

How was Sothis able to speak to Byleth and wake him after his 5 year coma?

Why does Byleth loose the Goddess' power at the end of Crimson Flower?

How was Sothis able to speak to Byleth if you choose to S-Support her?

How exactly was Byleth able to dream about something that happened long after Sothis' death even if he can access her memories?

These sticking points have always struck as odd given everything that Sothis says before Byleth's awakening. Sothis should not be able to speak to Byleth at all, but still does so only a few chapters later and comments on the war that Byleth was only privy to the very beginning of.

Hence my belief that Sothis' spirit as the Goddess of Fodlan does reside in the heavens, watching over the continent, and only able to interact with it and its people in subtle ways. Some of her spirit and power laid within her Creststone as it passed from vessel to vessel. One way or another, she was able to foresee the coming war that would change Fodlan fundamentally forever and chose to manifest that piece of her consciousness when the opportunity presented itself. It's why Byleth can dream of a battle that happened long after Sothis' death because he's remembering something experienced by the Creststone and knowledge given by the Goddess soul who resides in heaven.

I also believe that Byleth and Sothis as we saw them during the game was a mistake in some way. Byleth as his own entity was likely not supposed to be and the piece of Sothis' soul that was supposed to manifest wasn't supposed to be amnesiatic or at the very least not separate from Byleth. There were a few times pre-time skip where Sothis would be talking and Byleth's model would be moving and his facial expression changing. Almost like their thoughts were so intertwined that they were practically the same even before the awakening. It's very likely to me that Byleth's memory issues, lack of ability to properly express emotions, and other aspects of their character to be directly connected to the fact that Sothis' soul manifested incorrectly.

The Sothis he hears before waking from his coma and the one he speaks to during his S support is likely the full spirit of the Goddess communicating with him through great effort and only able to because he's her avatar. She knows of the pain Fodlan is experiencing because she can see it and feel it even as Byleth slumbers. Same thing for why Byleth would lose her power and soul piece on Crimson Flower, as Sothis may have interpreted siding with Edelgard as a rejection of being her avatar and simply deciding to be human instead (I don't wish to speak too long on a route I don't particularly like, but I felt that strange ending should be addressed).

My experience as someone who follows a Kemetic path leads me to not see Sothis' soul being split in this way as strange. In this particular religion, as I understand it, the soul is encompassed as multiple different parts all combining to make a singular being. Both Gods and humans have multiple parts to their souls, so one residing in the Creststone, later manifesting in Byleth, and another part residing in the heavens is plausible to me. Also if I wanted to compare Byleth to another FE character, his situation reminds me most of Nagi from FE 11 & 12 who is an amnesiac and likely an incarnation of Naga to aid Marth on his quest. Nagi doesn't get much characterization in those games, but it does show that incarnations/avatar of Gods, who aren't the confusing mess of Robin and Grima for instance, isn't a new concept in series for Byleth.

In terms of what happens after Byleth awakens I do believe that Byleth himself becomes a God or at the very least a demi-god in his own right. As it was Byleth absorbing the piece of Sothis' soul into his own, the Goddess' power was inherited by him alone. The inner turmoil caused by two souls sharing one body finally ceased and Byleth was fundamentally changed becoming, well, an Enlightened One. As the game doesn't really explore Sothis and Byleth much post-Time Skip, due to the war taking precedence and Byleth's unfortunate existence as a silent protag, how exactly he changes is up to personal interpretation. I personally believe he gained not only Sothis' power but some of Sothis' memories and insight that the Creststone soul piece had. He also gained greater control and range of emotional expression and probably took on some of the characteristics Sothis had.

Byleth is both an avatar of the Goddess and his own person at the same time. He is and is not Sothis.

#fire emblem #fe3h #byleth eisner #fe sothis #church of seiros #fodland #fe3h headcanons #m!byleth #i really do apologize if this is rambling #i've had these ideas since first playing the game and never wrote them down #and they all came back to the surface all at once #i can't tell if this is supposed to be meta or pure headcanons #both? both is good

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olimpias · 3 years ago

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*TRANSFORMATION OF A SPIRIT* - A HORROR SHORT STORY BY ELIZA ORMANDY

tw: death, general disturbance

word count: 661

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There is a forest where the mists are silent. The wind stands still in the withering branches, and the shadows dare not change their angle for fear they might collide and wake someone in this unearthly grave.

There is a forest where you fear to set foot lest you stir up the foliage; the grey, dead foliage, always the same since time immemorial.

Even the sun shies away from this forest and drives its flock of clouds over the rigid canopy as quickly as possible, so as not to have to look down on it any longer than necessary.

Thus the forest is left to the only beings that have dwelt in it for as long as there have been forests on earth.

With empty eyes they search the paths, with withered fingers they grasp at every bit of life that has strayed into this place of agony, and when they have destroyed it, their bitter faces glow with malicious pleasure. They are elves, those destructive spirits of nature that wander restlessly, ravenous and merciless.

A sound. The patter of hooves. By the lichen beard of the mountain troll, a rider! He hurries along, barely the horse's hooves touching the ground together once. What a welcome change in this ghastly silent twilight.

Slowly, from the shadow of a large alder tree, a bright wisp emerges, a creature with large, black eye sockets and melting features. With grizzled claws it gropes its way forward, floating through the undergrowth without making a sound, until it sees what it has been waiting for.

A man rides through the forest. He looks around with a hurried gaze.

A human being!

In his arms he holds a little bundle.

A boy!

He smells of life. How soft his skin, how warm his breath.

Come!

Come to me, dear child!

Do you not know the games I will teach you, the flowers I will show you? Will you not see my Mother, who resides on her throne, her golden robe? You shall meet my daughters, they will sing you to sleep with the voices of angels. Of fallen angels.

Pleading hands reach out to the delicate creature, but it ducks, frightened, into the sheltering arms of its father and calls to him in a high, childlike voice. Still, family ties have never been a cause of restraint for the desirous jaws of the elves.

You will not come? I will take you by force!

The boy cries as he feels his soul being separated from his body; the father startles as the boy groans and slumps like a lifeless moth. His heart is surely bleeding now, his spirit lies sore and defenceless in the grip of his captor.

Are you worthy of me? You know who I am, say it! Find the right words, you know them! Just say it!

The soul twitches restlessly back and forth, its light already extinguished.

Say it!

"Elf king!" The piercing shriek makes the air tremble.

How true, how true!

In the midst of the king's bark-encrusted face, a sticky maw opens up and it swallows the helpless, downy thing of a spirit whole, as if it had never been there.

Life, what a powerless little toy in the hands of the everlasting.

And yet they need it, they strive for it, and they remain friendly in their own way to the bodies that carry them.

His skin, like rose petals on a bog pond!

Such a robe befits a ruler and a ruler alone.

The king retires, now that the deed is done.

He catches sight of his reflection in a tree stump filled with rainwater.

Do not the first blond curls already gleam on my bald head? Doesn't a light blue flash there in the chasms that serve as my eyes?

And the pain that comes with human souls - he feels it - the cursed conscience.

A few grains of salt trickle into the small puddle.

The transformation has begun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ taglist under the cut (ask to be +/-)

general taglist: @wherewindysurgeswend @gothicgibsongirl @bookphobe @sadsentinel @aphaimaniis @tragediesoftory@euphoniouspandemonium @ortolon

short story taglist: @wherewindysurgeswend @ryns-ramblings @hysteriwah

#transformation of a spirit #toas #my writing #writing #short story #horror #writeblr #writblr #amwriting

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

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Anchor in the Waves- Chapter 1

Summary: Finan is a slave, forced to row ceaselessly. Betrayed by those he trusted. He believes this will be the end of his life, salt water caking him and an shackle on his ankle. Yet Fate has other plans. When he arrives in Islond for the winter, he meets her. A kindred spirit. Soon they both realize how they need the other. Can they save one another? Or will the waves and whips tear them apart?

Guys! I’m so excited to share this. I’ve always been curious about Uhtred and Finan’s time as slaves and what they endured. So of course my mind decides to run with it.

Note- in the beginning Finan knows Uhtred as Osbert so in the first two chapters, I use Osbert to identify him. Also- Islond=Iceland, Irland=Ireland

I have everything already written so as I finish editing it, I will post. There are four chapters total.

Warnings: There are mentions of beatings, starvation, inhumane conditions, slavery. Nothing graphic though. If you can watch TLK, you’ll be fine.

Irish translations are via google. The translations are in italics.

Tag list: @happyveday @evelynshelby

Days and nights blurred together, one morphing into the next. The only things he knew anymore was the constant taste of salt water, the shackle around his ankle and the unending pain in his body from rowing.

Always rowing.

Finan was unsure how long he had been a slave now. Was it a month? Maybe two? Even more? Time felt meaningless now. All he knew was when he had been sold, bound and blind-folded by those he once trusted, it had been late summer. Now the ship he found himself bound to, was making its final voyage to Islond. There it would reside until the harsh winter ended and the Nordsæ was safe once again. Or however safe the sea could be.

When his feet finally touched dry land, tears welled in his eyes. Never before did he believe the feeling of solid ground could be so comforting. Although he did not have long to enjoy the sensation.

"Move, slave!" The Dane called Hakka yelled, shoving him forward.

Weak from lack of food and constant rowing, he stumbled against the slave in front of him, both barely able to right themselves before sprawling onto the hard ground.

As he stood back up, he scanned around the small village quickly. It looked like the other slaves and himself were being marched towards the large, wooden barns. There were several other buildings about- a large hall, a few smaller cottages and some others that he was unable to guess their purpose from a glance. A few local men and women came out of the buildings, calling greetings to the Danes...to the slavers, while completely ignoring the weakened slaves being driven forward by beatings and sharp words.

Next to, what he guessed was the main hall, stood a young woman in a thin, dirty dress and barefoot. Her dark brown hair hung in a braid over her shoulder. A wooden bucket held in her hands. For the briefest of moments their gazes met…

...then he tripped, just catching himself in time.

"Keep moving, worthless dogs!" Hakka roughly shoved Finan this time, knocking him to the ground. "Get up, slave!"

"Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú!" He yelled back. It was futile to fight back right now, he knew that. Maybe once he had the strength and stamina to fight the slaver without worry, but that was before he had been beaten, starved and forced to row without reprieve. It was foolish to fight back. Despite that, he was sick of being cowed constantly. For a brief moment he wanted to remember who he used to be. (May the Devil choke you!)

That act of defiance earned him a single strike with the whip in punishment. His back burned, but he gritted his teeth and managed to push himself back on his feet to follow the other slaves. He refused to give that bastard the satisfaction of seeing him knocked down for long.

He and his fellow slaves were separated into small groups and distributed between the two barns. Moving slowly, he huddled against the wall, arms wrapped around his torso to preserve what warmth he could. There were gaps between the wooden slats of the walls. With nothing else to do, Finan watched those moving around the small village. The slavers, he recognized, headed straight for the main hall as soon as all the slaves were locked up in the barns. Most likely to drink and celebrate a successful voyage.

He hoped they choked on their ale.

As Finan watched, he noticed her again. It seemed she had been walking through the village, the bucket no longer in hand. As the slavers neared her on their way to the main hall, she stopped, hands clasped in front of her and face pointed down in submission. It caused him to wonder if she was a slave also.

There were no shackles on her, nothing to overtly demonstrate if she was a slave. Her dress was dirty and ragged, clearly something no one took pride in. Finan found himself eyeing her though. She was pretty, he could tell, even from afar. Although she appeared thin, as if meals were deemed optional for her.

The one who owned the slave ship, Master Sverri, stopped in front of her while the others continued by. He said something to her, causing her to shake her head. With a nod, his hand brushed her braid over her shoulder in an almost affection gesture before following the others to the main hall.

Once Master Sverri was out of sight, she shuddered and pulled her braid over her shoulder before continuing on her path.

Finan watched her until she vanished from view then closed his eyes, hoping blessed sleep would find him soon.

Or death.

*****

Stupid. So stupid. If she got caught, a beating would surely follow.

Yet her feet kept moving.

Quietly, she crept along the line of buildings, staying in the shadows from the moon above. The Master and his wife retired to their room hours ago. The other Danes were either in their own homes or passed out drunk in the main hall. There should be no one outside. No one to witness her breaking a direct command.

She hoped.

The ship slaves had been separated into four groups, two groups to a barn. Last year the Master built specific pens to hold the slaves in, keeping only a maximum of five in a pen. In the prior years, the Master usually housed all the ship slaves together in one large pen. Though after the fire last year, he learned his lesson.

The barn containing the pigs and two of the groups was the more pitiful of the two barns. The other barn held a few horses the Master prized. Silently, she crept along the outer edge, keeping eyes and ears alert to any sounds. A couple times she froze at the sudden noise of shuffling or coughing, scared it was one of the Master's men out walking. Thankfully it was not.

Through the slats, she could see the shapes of the ship slaves inside one of the pens. Hopefully she found the right one. She thought she saw him being led here but it was only a glimpse she had been able to catch. If her attention was noticed lingering on him, questions would be asked by the Master's wife.

"Dia dhuit? An bhfuil tú anseo?" She whispered, praying silently in her head this was not a mistake. (Hello? Are you here?)

There was no response besides another bout of coughing inside from the pen. It was impossible to see in the gloom on the barn, especially with the moon to her back.

"Dia dhuit? Éireannach?" She tried again, telling herself if he did not respond, she must leave. She could not afford to get caught here. Her death surely would follow because of what she clutched in her hand. (Hello? Irishman?)

Then a hoarse voice whispered back. "Sea?" A form shuffled over to where she crouched at the far corner. (Yes?)

"Go tapa, tóg seo." She lowered her voice even more, barely above a whisper. She hoped the other ship slaves were sleeping or not paying attention. A sudden fear of being seen and caught threatened to suffocate her. Hurriedly, she slipped the hard biscuit through the gap in the slats into his hand. Soon as he caught it, she turned on her heel and dashed away, not waiting to hear his response. Her fear of being caught outweighed her need to hear gratitude. (Quick, take this.)

Why she felt the compulsive need to share part of her dinner with the stranger, she honestly was unsure. When he had sworn earlier that day, shock had rooted her feet to the spot she stood. It had been over a year since she had heard her mother language. The sound brought a small hint of warmth to her soul, to hear the language she so desperately missed. Even if it was a curse thrown at the Danes that would make her mother blush. Perhaps this was her small way of thanking him for a reminder that Irland was still out there. Even if she had been stolen from it.

Now she had to return to her blanket on the floor and hope no one noticed her absence.

*****

Not until several days later, did she manage to sneak out again. Winter's cold drew closer every day. Already a layer of frost coated the ground every morning. Snow would soon follow.

At the far corner of the barn, the forest behind her and the moon above, she crouched once again, voice barely above a whisper. "Éireannach?" (Irishman?)

A form moved on the other side of the slats and his voice immediately whispered back, as if he had been waiting for her. "An Gaeilge thú?" (You are Irish?)

"Sea. Seo." She passed him a strip of dried meat this time. (Yes. Here.)

Before she could flee, he spoke again. "Cén chaoi a raibh a fhios agat gur Éireannach mé?" (How did you know I am Irish?)

"Mhallaigh tú an lá a tháinig tú." (You cursed the day you arrived.)

He softly chuckled at that, the sound pleasing to her. "Aye, ní mo nóiméad is fearr." (Not my finest moment.)

A smile graced her face, surprising her. It felt so long since anything made her want to smile. Part of her wanted to linger, to hear him speak their native tongue and perhaps smile once more. For a short time, to pretend she was not a slave without a future. She enjoyed the sound of his voice, the beloved Irish accent and the strange underlying charm in it and his words. Yet she needed to get back though. She could not afford to get caught. "Tá orm imeacht." (I must go.)

In the darkness, she crept back to the main hall. Surprising her was the small smile that remained on her lips as she moved in the shadows, due to the thought of him and his last statement. She found herself wanting to see him again.

Stupid. So stupid.

*****

He swore she was an angel to bring him hope.

The cold seeped through the gaps in the slats, causing him to shiver all night. Most of the men stayed huddled together, to share what warmth they could, even if it was futile. Except he stayed in that far back corner of the small pen, where she would appear on the other side, cast in moonlight and with a gift for him. Only twice now she had come to him. The first time he was so shocked by her sudden appearance and the shoving food in his hand, his mind ignored her in order to devour the biscuit. He had not been fed properly in at least two days. This last time he tried to be more grateful and talk to her. Like a skittish deer sensing danger, she tore away sooner than he hoped.

"An bhfuil tú ann?" She softly asked, her form barely visible in the dark. (Are you there?)

Slowly, he turned his head and body, in a vain attempt to be closer to her but also to block the others from seeing their exchange. It was selfish but the pains in one's belly can drown out the sounds of one's morals.

"Aye."

This time another hard biscuit landed in his hand but he did not complain. Food was food. Before she could disappear, he whispered a question, hoping she would stay just a few more moments. "Cad is ainm duit?" (What is your name?)

She sharply inhaled, unmoving; but after a moment her dulcet voice came out in a rushed hush. "Aine."

"Aine." He repeated her name, tasting it on his tongue like a fine ale. "Is mise Finan." (I am Finan.)

"Finan, tá brón orm go bhfuil tú anseo." (Finan, I am sorry you are here.)

Her comment surprised him but it was the sadness in her voice that made him take note. As if she knew something he was not privy to. He had not heard her wander off yet so he ventured another question. "An sclábhaí tú anseo?" (Are you a slave here?)

He half expected her to run and never return, for how easily frightened she seemed. Then again, why should she waste her time with him? Coming out in the cold and darkness, risking herself to bring him food, it lacked sense. He watched her during the day, when she moved about the small village doing her chores, he assumed. There was not much else for him to do, except shiver and listen to his stomach complain. The other slaves barely spoke, all too focused on their own pain and cold. There was one Finan doubted would survive the winter.

A soft sigh from the other side of the slats told him she remained. "Ba bhronntanas mé ón Máistir Sverri dá bhean chéile." (I was a gift from Master Sverri to his wife.)

"Tá brón orm." (I am sorry.)

"Tá orm imeacht." (I must go.)

"Fan!" Even to his own ears, he sounded desperate, it did not matter though. He wished there was a way to show her what her gifts of food and companionship meant to him. He could only guess she risked much to come to him like this. Yet he had nothing to offer, nothing to give besides his words, and even they he deemed meaningless yet still he gave them. "Go raibh maith agat, Aine." (Wait! // Thank you, Aine.)

"Slán." And with that, he could hear her nearly silent footsteps as she raced away from him. Back to the main hall, back to her own world which felt so far from his own. Even if it resided just across the village from him. (Goodbye.)

Quickly, he ate the biscuit, licking his fingers once it was gone to prolong the stale taste. After, he slipped his arms inside of his tunic and hugged them close to his body. With no clear understanding of time besides the rising and setting of the sun, he wondered when spring would come. First, he had to survive winter. With no blankets or warm clothing and lacking proper nutrition, he worried he might not see spring. Even if Aine continued to visit him and lift his spirits for a minute with her kindness. It might not be enough.

The next day snow fell.

*****

Months passed and the snow slowly began to melt. The sun once again brought warmth with it and the ground began to awaken from her deep slumber.

Master Sverri now prepared to sail the seas once again.

He forced the ship slaves to go into the forest and fell trees for repairs needed on his ship. It was while the slaves were going to and from the forest that Aine was able to actually see Finan, more than just a voice and brief glimpses through the barn slats. His hair and beard unruly, his clothes stained and disgusting. Yet sometimes when their eyes met while in passing, there was a spark in them that reminded her...life still filled their lungs and coursed through their veins. In those quick looks, a silent message bonded them- no longer were they alone, they had a kindred spirit in one another.

She stood in the main hall, stoking the large fire in the center. After, she needed to go to the river and get water. The soup for tonight's dinner needed to be started. Gunnhild, Sverri's wife, helped prepare it. She was a strict woman, and if Aine was late to bring the water, the slave usually was forced to forgo her own dinner in punishment for making others wait.

"Girl, refill my cup." Master Sverri commanded, sitting at a long table. A piece of parchment in front of him, and a furrow between his brows as he stared at it. Occasionally, he would make marks on it or curse under breath. He had been sitting there for the past several minutes, slowly drinking his ale and staring at the parchment but had paid no mind to her as she completed chores.

Immediately, she rose from the side of the fire to grab the pitcher of ale from the kitchen and bring it back with her. Without a word, she poured the liquid, extra careful to not spill on the parchment. Even if she was not sure what it was for, it looked important. A harsh punishment would surely follow if she damaged it in any way.

It was when she was mid-pour that she felt his hand slip behind her to caress her waist and glide downward.

She stiffened but continued pouring, unable to escape his wandering hand. Over the past weeks his touches had become more common and bold. Nothing to cause her to fear him, he had never hit or beat her unlike his wife. Yet she knew what those touches meant, how his gaze slid over her body like oil sometimes. It had not gone unnoticed by her or others that if Master Sverri's men tried to touch her, he harshly rebuked them.

The door to the hall opened and in walked one of his men.

"What?" Master Sverri growled; his hand remained on her arse.

The man, Magnus, stepped closer. The dragon tattoo on his bald head always frightened her, but not as much as his leering gaze or hand quick to deliver slaps when the Master was not looking. "The ship slaves are returned for the day. After tomorrow we will have enough wood to repair the hull."

"Good." When Magnus did not leave, Master Sverri raised his eyebrows then waved his hand to indicate his man should speak.

"The men grow bored. More slaves survived the winter than expected. Harald said we should let some fight. Make it a sacrifice for safe seas this year."

"Mmm." Master Sverri removed his hand from Aine, using it to rub the side of his face where his tattoo was and down through his beard.

She took this as her cue to leave. Swiftly, she made her way back towards the kitchen, but not before leaving the jug of ale on the table so the Master would have no need for her to refill his cup. Just inside the door of the kitchen, she paused to listen to his answer.

"After supper tonight. Tell the slaves that the winner will be able to eat the leftovers from our supper. That will make them fight harder. Once the fight is over, we will sacrifice the winner. We can spare two slaves. It will be easy to get more from Yunis. That should bring enough entertainment for now."

Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to alert the Master with how loud it was. All she could think of was Finan fighting in hopes of getting food then instead being killed, all because of others' boredom.

She must warn him.

Ignoring the others in the kitchen, she snatched her water bucket and dashed out. She hoped it only looked like she feared the wrath of Gunnhild and left to get water like every day. When in reality, she was terrified for her friend.

"Finan." She hissed harshly, kneeling at the back corner where they always met. The forms of the men in the pen could be seen so she knew he had to be in there. Her fear for his life outweighed her rationale to be discreet. The other slaves would certainly question why she was here and why Finan was so familiar with her. Truthfully, she feared one of them would inform the Danes about her visits in hopes of a reward. Yet her secret visits continued. Stupid. So stupid.

"Aine?" He whispered back, confusion evident.

"Tá troid le bheith ann anocht i measc beirt de na sclábhaithe long. Déarfaidh siad go bhfaigheann an buaiteoir ithe. Ná iarr troid. Gheobhaidh an bheirt bás. Íobairtfear an buaiteoir. Le do thoil, Finan. Geall nach dtroidfidh tú." (There is to be a fight tonight amongst two of the ship slaves. They will say the winner gets to eat. Do not ask to fight. Both will die. The winner will be sacrificed. Please, Finan. Promise you will not fight.)

His hand reached through the small hole he had made under the slats, gripping hers tightly. "Geallaim, Aine." (I promise, Aine.)

"Go raibh maith agat. Tiocfaidh mé anocht." (Thank you. I will come tonight.)

With that she released his hand and ran towards the river. In one hand she held the handle for the empty bucket. The other one, the one Finan had held, she fisted against her chest, trying desperately to retain the warmth of his touch just a little longer. Even if it was only in her mind.

He had surprised her by knocking away a rotten part of one of the slats, creating a hole just big enough to slip his hand out of but small enough to not get noticed and need to be fixed. It had made passing the food through easier- what she thought the purpose of the hole was for.

Yet that quickly became a secondary notion.

Something shifted between them the first time he grabbed her hand, grasping it gently, as he peered at her as best as he could through the slats where he sat. She had been startled but not frightened. He never once gave her meaning to be frightened of him. If anything, he became a pillar of strength for her. His hand had been shaking slightly from the cold. Without a conscious thought, she cupped his hand between her own and rubbed them together, trying to warm it up even a little. He had teased that there was no need for a fire when a beautiful woman was there to keep him warm.

She snorted and told him to shut his mouth, trying to deflect his teasing. The blush heating her cheeks told the real story of how his words affected her.

Every time after, when she managed to sneak away and bring him food, they held one another's hand while they talked. It was only a few minutes, she feared staying longer and being caught, but she found herself looking forward to it….and missing his touch throughout the day.

Spring was coming though. Soon Master Sverri would leave and the ship slaves with him. Many of those slaves never returned.

Was it selfish of her to hope Finan survived? That she might see him once again, even with the torment he would undeniably endure. Was it selfish?

*****

She clutched his hand tightly between her own, as if that alone would save them. For a long time neither spoke. Words not enough. They held onto each other, a physical representation of the anchor they provided for one another these past months.

Tomorrow he would board the ship and sail away. She doubted she would ever see him again.

"Aine." He breathed out her name, an almost sweet caress in how he said it. "Tú ... tá tú láidir. Mairfidh tú seo." (You...you are strong. You will survive this.)

Tears slipped down her cheeks but she refused to let go of his hand to wipe them away. Instead she pressed her forehead against the slats. If anyone saw her, it would look like she was praying, hands before her, head bowed while on her knees. Yet none of her prayers had been answered for years, so she no longer uttered them.

An almost indistinguishable pressure alerted her that he had pressed his forehead to hers. Something they had never done before. It felt strangely intimate, even though the slats separated them. If she opened her eyes, she could almost see their frosted breaths interweaving, blending into the air around them as one.

"Tá mé ag dul a chailleann tú." She finally murmured, fear making her voice hitch. (I am going to miss you.)

"Agus mise tú." (And I you.)

She needed to walk away, the longer she stayed the more likely she was to get caught. Yet she could not pull herself away. Not now. Not on the eve of their lives being torn from one another.

"Ná bíodh imní ort faoi mo chinniúint. Is é toil Dé anois é. Dírigh ort féin." (Do not worry about my fate. Its God's will now. Focus on yourself.)

"Is fear maith thú, Finan. Tá mé ... tá áthas orm aithne a chur ort." (You are a good man, Finan. I am... I am glad to know you.)

A sound between a chuckle and a sob passed his lips. He inhaled a harsh breath before whispering. "Is dóigh liom go bhfuil easpa ionchais ar fhir. B’fhéidir go gcaithfí é sin a leigheas." (I feel your expectations of men are lacking. Might need to remedy that.)

She gave a quiet laugh but said no more.

They stayed that way for another few minutes, sharing what strength they had between them. For when the sun rose, both of them would no longer feel whole. The whips and the waves to tear them apart.

"Tá rud éigin agam duit." She claimed one of her hands to pull some strips of fabric under her breast-band, where she had stuffed them earlier. She placed them in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. "Tá sé do so lámha. Déan iad a fhilleadh timpeall do phalms. B’fhéidir go gcabhróidh sé beagáinín le…" She trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to think about or remind him of what was to come. (I have something for you. // It's for your hands. Wrap them round your palms. It might help a little with…)

"Go raibh maith agat, Aine, go fírinneach." (Thank you, Aine, truly.)

"Slán, Finan." (Good bye, Finan.)

"Slán, a stòr." (Good bye, my treasure)

With one final squeeze of their hands, she rose and walked away. Finally, she wiped the tears from her face, only for them to be replaced by fresh ones.

The night and future had never seemed so dark before.

*****

Finan leaned back against the side of the ship, watching the man who sat in front of him comfort his friend. He could see Osbert whispering something to Halig, trying to calm him down, to not draw further attention to himself. His wailing for land had drawn notice and would have been his cause for a whipping if Osbert had not covered him with his own body.

There was something, a secret they kept close to their chests. Halig, though, his strength was failing, both strength of mind and body. He was lucky though, Osbert was always there to encourage him.

Looking away from them, his thumbs gently rubbed against the cloth protecting the palms of his hands. If he closed his eyes, he could almost remember her in the moonlight, her hands holding his own, silent tears running down her cheeks.

What she would never know was after she left, he had to stick his fist against his mouth to muffle his own sobs.

He had sworn earlier that day to Osbert that he would kill the slaver Hakka for he was a right bastard that enjoyed inflicting torment. In his own mind, he also made a promise to himself. If he managed to get free, he would save her. Somehow, he would rescue her from her own captivity.

He glanced over as Osbert leaned back against the side of the ship, eyes closed, bottom lip trembling. Silently, he reached over and placed a hand on Osbert's shoulder for a long second before retracting it.

Osbert had spoken of escape often, under the cover of darkness and the stars above. Once they returned to Islond, there had to be a way he insisted. Finan was unsure but the raging fire that burned in Osbert's blue eyes was enough for him to quickly agree. If there was anyone bound to figure out a way, it was this man.

"Back to work, slaves!" Hakka screamed, readying his whip for any man that did not move fast enough. "Pull! Pull!"

Finan closed his eyes for a brief moment as he placed his hands back on the oar. This would not be his fate.

This would not be his end.

Or hers.

#The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom fanfic #finan the last kingdom #finan x ofc #finan the agile #uhtred ragnarson #slavery #mz writes

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dsoe-masteroftheheavenlyyard · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 6–Not Eve; Scene 5

master of the heavenly yard pages 156-168

Once they arrived in Beelzenia, Allen and Nemesis were stunned at the scenery before them.

“That’s—a ‘Blackbox’!?”

The wreckage of the enormous device lay tumbled over the ground.

And an even larger skeleton giant was sleeping with it as a pillow, letting out thunderous snores.

“Er, and that is—”

“The ‘Worldeater’, Allen. One of the dead soldiers that serve Banica. And…a former forest spirit.”

“I see, so that’s Worldeater. This is my first time seeing him in person. I didn’t realize he’d be this big--Oop, looks like he’s waking up.”

The Worldeater sat up and looked at Allen and Nemesis.

“…Who’re you? Yer voices are a jumbling racket in my ears.”

Allen unthinkingly took a step back at that echoing boom of a voice.

“Long time no see, Eater,” Nemesis greeted the giant calmly.

“Ah!? …Do I know you?”

“—If I said I was Levia would that ring a bell?”

“Never heard of ya.”

“…So, you haven’t remembered that far, huh. Then—what about Elluka?”

“Hmph…Ah! Yer that sorceress! Ya look really different.”

“Well, you know how it is. –What on earth happened to this black box?” she asked while pointing at the remains of the ‘Blackbox’.

“This? It came here with some soldiers, so I crushed it. Lich told me to.”

“So that means…you aren’t a soul either.”

“I’m a dead soldier. I have been since before the world got blew up. …I mean, my body did get all scattered for a bit, but Lich made me a new one with mud.”

“And where is Lich now?”

“He’s in the mansion with Lady Banica and the others.”

“Could you show us inside?”

“Sure.”

Eater sluggishly stood up and started to walk.

“Let’s go with him,” Nemesis said as she began walking too. Allen followed behind her.

“…Despite his appearance he seems pretty docile,” Allen whispered to Nemesis as he looked up at Eater from behind.

“Eater’s a good kid. He’s just clumsy, and he’s never really had many friends. –Aside from Lich. The two of them were…childhood friends, so I’ve heard. More than that I can’t say.”

“I see…”

Eventually a red-walled mansion came into view.

--Banica Conchita was in the middle of eating, but when she saw Allen and Nemesis she stopped moving her fork.

“—You over there,” she said, pointing at Nemesis with her fork. “You look pretty hungry. …If you like, you should have some.”

Banica gripped a plate with food on it and hurled it at her.

Nemesis soundly caught it, and then looked at what was on it.

…On the plate was some sort of eight-legged animal, charred black.

“—I’ll have to decline. It’s an illusion, so it wouldn’t fill my stomach anyhow.”

“Oh? Shouldn’t you ought to stop thinking with common sense? The ‘Rules’ of this world have already widely diverged from the ones that you know—Isn’t that right, twin dragon god Levia?”

“…Huh. You could tell my real identity from only a glance.”

“It’s not me. Vlad, inside me, knows about you.”

Vlad—that was the name of the demon that was “eaten” by Banica.

Thanks to that deed, she herself had become the “Demon of Gluttony”. A rare being that was a “contractor” and a "demon” both—that was Banica.

“But my current appearance is different from the one Vlad knows,” Nemesis argued, and Banica’s brows slightly drew in.

“True. That body is the spitting image of your old apprentice, Gumillia…No, this kind of thing isn’t limited to just you two. As I have lived in the glass I have seen people with similar faces born through the ages countless times over. –The people of this world. There are surprisingly few patterns to their appearances. And now this happens.”

“…”

“And what’s more—you are, of course, the one who destroyed the world. But before you did, many bizarre changes were occurring throughout it. For example, the failure of the rule regarding one’s inherited genetics. The father of the physical body you inhabit was Marlon, and your mother was Jakokuan, correct?”

“Yet I was born with green hair…a feature of the Elphe people.”

“You having that appearance is two inexplicable events in one. …We, each having memories as a crewmember of the ‘Climb One’, need to treat this quite a bit more seriously—don’t you think so?”

Nemesis tossed the plate of food off to the side, her expression severe.

“What are you trying to say?”

“This world is not the one that the ‘gods’ were once trying to create. –To my eyes it looks far more incomplete than that. It’s full of peculiarities…But the people of this world don’t think anything of it. For, having known no other world, these things are common sense to them.”

Banica gave a somewhat lonely smile.

“My servants…Arte and Pollo are the same way. The two of them are the ‘Twins of God’, and yet they are still only beings that were born in this world. So it’s quite fortunate that I was able to meet Lich and Eater. However…I would like to let Arte and Pollo know of the world outside this too, if I can—That’s how what I’ve started to think lately.”

“…I don’t much care for this. You’re talking as though you yourself are one of the ‘gods’. You may have Vlad’s memories, but you’re still little more than a resident of the ‘Third Period’, Banica.”

“If you’re going make that claim, that applies to you as well, doesn’t it? You may have originally been a ‘god’, but currently you are a mere human. Aside from being ageless you have no other redeeming features.”

Allen could sense a hostile air between the two of them.

Perhaps it was best to change the subject before this escalated to a brawl.

“We saw that the Tasan army attacked here too,” he cut in, speaking to Banica.

“Indeed. Lich and Eater came back to help me. As you can expect it was a bit much to bear for Arte and Pollo alone to take on the might of their forces.”

…Conversely, from the looks of things those two had managed to repel both the army and the “Blackbox” all on their own.

“Where is Mr. Lich now?”

“Do you have some business with him? I’ll call him over.”

Banica clapped her hands and a man immediately came out from an interior room.

“You summoned me, Lady Banica?”

“This boy wishes to speak with you,” she said, pointing at Allen.

“Oh my…Well well.” Lich gave a smile of satisfaction. “So now Allen Avadonia has made his debut. And—with Levia along. Today is quite a bustling one, hm.”

“Mr. Lich, and Lady Banica. You both once lived in the theater in the forest for a time. Do you know of where its former residents are now?”

Lich and Banica shared a look, appearing to be signaling something to each other. Eventually Lich nodded to Banica, and then replied, “The ‘Doll Director’, ‘Gardener’, and ‘Gear’ are all still residing in the theater. The ‘Master of the Graveyard’—in other words, Lady Banica—is right before you now. As for the ‘Sorceress of Time’ and the ‘Waiter’…That we don’t know.”

“They haven’t visited or--?”

“No.”

“…I see.”

Allen knew that Riliane had been called the “Waiter” in the theater.

I guess even here there’s no clues on Riliane.

His shoulders slumped.

“Is that all you needed? In that case—”

“Wait a second.” This time it was Nemesis who asked Lich a question. “Lich. What do you—intend to do now?”

“…I don’t know what you mean by that question.”

“What will you do with this world? You—experimented on Arth to make a mud human, didn’t you?”

“Ah…Ha ha, I did do that. That wound up being even more of a masterpiece than I had imagined. To think, I made him well enough to even have a child with a human—”

“You never could stand that it was Behemo who created the bodies for the humans in this world. And it’s because of your antagonism towards him, having once been your assistant, that even after becoming a spirit you continued to try to make a new race of humanity. You becoming Banica’s underling was also to research dead soldiers, wasn’t it?”

“…”

“But in the end you were never able to surpass Behemo. You were unable to make any new ‘works’ that were better than Arth.”

“…Did you just come here to mock me?”

The smile had left Lich’s face.

“That’s not my intention. Only—I just figured that our current situation might be the chance you’ve been waiting for.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone in the world has lost their physical bodies from ‘Punishment’. So if you were to prepare new bodies for all of them—”

“You’re saying I could become a ‘god’ of the new world. …Unfortunately I have no plan on doing that.”

“…”

“Certainly, I did once hold such aspirations…But I’ve come to enjoy serving Lady Banica far more than I had anticipated. I have lived in this world for many long years, but I have never found any other woman who holds as much appeal as she does. To just stay with Banica as I am now—I think I’d be satisfied with that outcome.”

“Huh…I see. –I’m relieved.”

“…?”

“If you were to try to become a ‘god’, I’d want to stop you with all of my might.”

“…Heheheh, sounds just like you.”

Appearing to grow bored of their conversation, Banica abruptly stood up from her chair.

“Is the talk concluded? –Then shall we head out now?”

She once more clapped her hands.

This time her twin servants came racing out from further in.

“You called us!?”

“Lady Banica!”

“What’s your report, Arte, Pollo?”

Between the twins it was the boy—Pollo—who spoke first. “Right, we have soundly finished torturing the captured Tasan soldiers! They’ve said that ‘Evils Theater’ is still floating as it was before, in the same spot.”

“I see—then let’s head over there.”

Allen walked up to the other servant…Arte, and spoke to her in a low voice. “—What’s going on, Ney?”

“…Ah!? You’re—Allen!? What are you doing here—”

“Well, let’s just leave that be for now…Do you really plan to go to ‘Evils Theater’?”

Allen had called Arte Ney; that was her other name.

Like Riliane, she was also a being that could reincarnate.

Once she was Gretel, another time she was Arte.

And…her name when she had worked in the Lucifenian palace alongside Allen had been Ney.

Arte looked a little shaken up, but she answered Allen’s question.

“…That’s right. Banica’s pretty ticked off that the ‘gardener’ that we’d thought of as being only good for doing odd jobs has been sending soldiers at us. So—”

“So you’re going to head over and get even with him yourself?”

Listening in on the both of them, Nemesis thoughtlessly let out a snicker. “My…That’s good to hear.” Then she turned to speak to Banica. “Banica Conchita! –Is it alright if I come along with you?”

“Goodness…Why?”

“I also have a bone to pick with Gammon.”

“—You’ll give us your divine assistance, huh? That doesn’t sound too bad. …Alright. Come with us.”

“Thanks for keeping the discussion brief.”

Banica lifted her hand into the air. When she did, all the surrounding walls, decorations, the table, and the meals laid out on top of it all vanished in an instant.

“I was getting tired of living in an illusory mansion anyway. …This is perfect. We’ll take over the theater and then make it our new home.”

Banica started to walk north, and Lich, Eater, Nemesis, Arte, and Pollo followed after her.

--But Arte quickly stopped and turned around.

And then, noticing Allen waving as though to see all of them off, she pulled back to his side.

“Allen…Aren’t you coming?”

“I have other business to take care of. –I have to find Riliane.”

“Riliane? Isn’t she in Lucifenia?”

“The same forces that came here also went to Lucifenia. Riliane escaped from them and went missing.”

“…I see. Do you have any leads?”

“I came here looking for some… Well, I guess I’ll try going around the whole Evillious region until I get a hint.”

On hearing that, Arte appeared to be pondering something.

“Hmm…Hey, Allen?”

“What is it?”

“I think you ought to come with us after all.”

“No, I just said that I—”

“I just remembered, with Riliane’s personality…You think she’ll just keep running away from the people targeting her forever?”

“…Ah.”

Not a chance.

--Ultimately Allen decided to join Banica’s troupe.

Believing that Riliane was also heading for their destination…

Their goal was “Evils Theater”.

At last, the time had come to settle the score.

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judgmentofcorruption · 4 years ago

Text

Episode 10–The Court Ends; Scene 7

Judgment of Corruption, pages 303-316

It was thought that the revolts would quickly be suppressed by the release of the military.

But on the contrary, it was here that something unexpected occurred for the government. A portion of USE allied forces that they deployed defected to the side of the militia.

The former soldier Gammon likely laid the groundwork for that in advance.

Due to this, the fight spread to one of much larger scale, until what had at first been a simple uprising began to take on the look of a full-fledged civil war.

On August 10th, the Dark Star Bureau was attacked by the militia.

The allied forces and the soldiers of PN put up a fight, but they were at a loss against the militia’s strength of numbers, and in just eighteen hours the Dark Star Bureau fell into the militia’s hands.

The next day, reports surfaced that the chief of PN, Bruno Zero, had been captured by the militia.

Gallerian had somehow managed to escape from the militia’s clutches, and slipped out of the bureau.

He used a secret passageway hidden in the back of his fireplace—a device that had been used for the princess to escape from the palace in the “Daughter of Evil” story. The same thing had been put in the Dark Star Bureau.

While avoiding the public eye, Gallerian headed for his estate.

He was sure he had at least some final strength left to him for battle.

“Eater! Where are you!?”

Gallerian cried out the name of the one who controlled his dead soldiers—the “dead god”.

But there was no reply.

He couldn’t find that large frame anywhere in either the house or the gardens.

“…Maybe he ran away.”

The other dead god Lich must have still been with Ma in “Evils Theater” in Elphegort.

--Gallerian no longer had anyone left here he could count on as an ally.

He was the militia’s target. He had provoked too greatly the people’s animosity with his many corrupted judgments.

Gallerian knew that it would be dangerous to stay in his own home. He outfitted himself appropriately and then immediately moved to leave the mansion.

But once he saw what was outside his window, he halted.

“…I’m already surrounded…It’s too late.”

At that moment, running out there would be fatal. He turned on his heel and returned to the study, sitting down in his favorite chair.

And then, though I don’t know why, he switched on the radio that was sitting on his desk.

“—Breaking news. The corpse of Major General Tony Ausdin of the USE allied forces was recently discovered in the garden of his home. There were several wounds on his body, but the one thought to be the killing blow is a .44 calibre revolver bullet that was fired into his temple. General Tony was declared innocent in a trial held—”

After listening that far, he shut off the radio.

Then he noticed a smoking pipe that had been left next to the radio.

Something Ma had forgotten.

Gallerian picked it up and lit it.

Right after he put it to his mouth and sucked in the smoke,

“Cough”

He vigorously started hacking, and immediately set the pipe back down on the desk, putting it out.

“…Not my thing.”

He stood and this time passed his eyes over the bookcase next to him.

His eyes rested on the third shelf, whereon seven thin volumes that looked hand-written were lined up.

Other things Ma had forgotten.

The titles to each were written in small print on the spines.

The Lunacy of Duke Venomania

Evil Food Eater Conchita

The Daughter of Evil

Gift from the Princess Who Brought Sleep

The Tailor of Enbizaka

The remaining two works didn’t have titles written on them.

These were screenplays that were based on tales Ma had gathered on the seven Vessels of Deadly Sin.

“The Vessels of Deadly Sin…I’d been so close. I was—almost about to save Michelle.”

He took one of the screenplays in hand.

Then he sat back down in his chair.

“Michelle…Papa wasn’t able to save you. But at the very least, you must keep living. Where no one can find you, in that theater in the forest—”

After murmuring that, Gallerian leisurely opened the book and started to read.

The Dark Star Bureau had already fallen.

He no longer had any friends or colleagues.

The money that he had saved up was now worthless to him.

Having lost everything, this isolated man waited in his mansion for that moment.

As he read.

That moment when the enraged militiamen would break into his home.

“…They haven’t come in.”

Gallerian closed the book and put it on his desk.

He stood and then peered out his study window.

Just like before, the militia soldiers were surrounding the mansion.

“Why haven’t they advanced?”

There was no one in the mansion anymore to answer his question.

--Or at least, they shouldn’t have been.

“They’re waiting.”

Gallerian turned around in surprise at the voice he heard behind him.

Standing there—was a blue-haired man who looked similar to…or rather, exactly like Gallerian.

“They’re waiting for her to arrive. The person who would be most appropriate for killing you.”

“Who…are you?”

They were two Gallerians, facing each other.

“Who am I? What cruel words. Don’t you know this face better than anyone?”

“Ah…You are me. …No, that’s ridiculous. I can’t be standing in front of myself—”

“But it’s the truth. I am you, and you are me.”

The other Gallerian laughed mockingly.

--But I knew, watching from the side.

It was a terrible joke. He…though he may be identical in form—

He was not Gallerian.

Gallerian himself appeared to realize this.

“I see, you—are ‘Adam’. The being in the spoon.” So saying, Gallerian pulled out the spoon that he always kept on his person. “It was through contracting with you that I became able to speak to Michelle.”

“Correct. It is by my power that you were able to converse with the soul that resides inside the doll.”

“Michelle…lost her body in that incident. But her spirit lived on, and rests inside the doll. If I were to gather the ‘Vessels of Deadly Sin’, I could restore my daughter’s body to her once more—it is believing in that that has brought me this far.”

“But you failed. Before you could finish collecting them all--here you are in this sorry state. Why could you not notice sooner that your own sin would ruin you one of these days?”

As the two of them spoke to each other with their identical faces, I lost track of who was who.

Gallerian—no, Adam, started to laugh as though to make fun of the other.

”Keh heh heh. I’m disappointed in you. –Even with mine and ‘Eve’’s power you failed to gather the vessels, in the end.”

“And ‘Eve’ is?”

“The soul that resides in the doll—You thought that was your daughter, didn’t you? That crafty Ma had you completely fooled. But you’re mistaken. It’s Eve’s soul. Eve and I are fated to be attracted to each other…It’s for that reason that I can converse with her soul.”

“…No. That’s Michelle.”

“That’s what you want to believe, isn’t it? Your mind would be broken if you didn’t. It’s because you know how severe your own weakness is that you’ve clung so heavily to Eve’s soul and the Vessels of Deadly Sin. You’ve continued to accumulate money for an impossible wish. Ordinarily the ‘Marlon Spoon’ houses the demon of ‘Greed’—but whatever the case might have been, you had no need of that. Even without contracting with it, from the very start you’ve been a man greedy for what’s beyond his lot.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Keep saying that. –It is true that once you gather all the Vessels of Deadly Sin, a wish will be granted. But that wish is mine and Eve’s. Once all are assembled, Eve and I will have a second advent. We will recreate this broken-down world. And then we will enjoy eternal happiness in our true Utopia—”

“You’re wrong!” Gallerian cried in rage, moving to knock the other man against the wall.

But his hand passed right through Adam’s body.

“You certainly are obstinate. –Very well. How about I have the very woman herself come here? I’ll call the doll here now…and then we’ll ask her directly whether her soul is that of ‘Eve’ or ‘Michelle’.”

“Can you…do that?”

“I can. Didn’t Ma tell you? I have the power to weaken the repulsion effect of the Vessels of Deadly Sin. Naturally, this isn’t normally a power I can actively use, myself. The power is endowed to the person that I contract with. …However. During my long years of wandering the world, I made my own studies. As long as I am in the middle of contracting with someone, I can receive the benefits of this power. And if I use it skillfully enough—”

“—No, hold on. This place is surrounded by the militia right now. Don’t call her here under these conditions!”

Gallerian tried to stop him, but it apparently fell on deaf ears.

“Now then—come here, Eve!”

--There was no severe change or anything like that.

There was no sound, no flash of light.

She just appeared there beside Gallerian and Adam.

Bizarrely, as she sat in her wheelchair, she was no longer a small doll.

She was the same size as a person—as though she were a living human being.

Even I couldn’t tell if that was reality, or else some illusion that Adam was displaying.

--Well, that’s only natural. I am just a bat, after all.

“Eve!”

“Michelle…”

The two of them both spoke up to the doll at the same time.

When they did, the doll’s eyes quietly opened.

Those calm blue-green eyes looked at the two of them.

“…There’s two of you, Papa?”

The doll inclined its head curiously.

“I’m not your Papa. It’s me, Eve—It’s Adam. Your husband.”

Adam sprang towards the doll.

“No. You’re Michelle, aren’t you? Papa’s beloved daughter.”

Undaunted, Gallerian approached the doll.

The doll compared both of their faces for a short time, but eventually she suddenly faced Gallerian and said, “Papa. I want to see outside.”

“…O-of course. Right away…”

Despite appearing confused, Gallerian went to move the wheelchair so that the doll was facing the window to the outside.

“Who are those people out there?”

“…They’re militia. A revolt—a war has broken out in this country. They’re angry with me, and are all leading an assault on this place.”

“That’s terrible! You haven’t done anything wrong, Papa!”

“No…I—”

“It’s alright, Papa. I—will protect you.”

The color of the doll’s eyes seemed to faintly change.

And immediately afterward—

“AAAAAUGH!”

Screams became audible from outside the window.

One of the militia-men was writhing, blue flames billowing up from his body.

“Did…you do that, Michelle?”

“Don’t worry. That fire only burns people, so it won’t catch on the trees in the garden, or the house.”

One by one, the militia solders burst into flame. They didn’t seem to have any idea what was happening. They tried to put out the fire on their comrades even as they flew into a panic.

The doll said happily to Gallerian, “Everyone at the theater tells me this: ‘You and us are one and the same’. –But they’re wrong. ‘Cause I have this incredible power I can use.”

Gallerian was speechless.

And behind him, Adam was trembling all over.

“What…is that power. Eve…can’t…do that. Who the hell—are you!?”

The doll replied to that question, as though it were perfectly normal, “I am—Papa’s daughter. No more, no less.”

“…Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuah…” Then Adam suddenly started to wail pitifully, “Ma, you bitch! You fucking set me up! This isn’t Eve. This is—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGH!”

Gallerian gazed upon this scene with a cool expression.

“Have you broken, Adam?”

“Ha ha ha! Satisfied? Are you satisfied, now that you’ve beaten me, Gallerian!? But! You’re mistaken! We’ve both lost! We were both deceived! Not just with the doll. There’s a secret that woman didn’t tell you! –Did you think Bruno was your friend? Then I pity you. Even he lied to you. He figured that secret out but he didn’t tell you!”

“What are you saying? I don’t at all get what you’re—That’s enough now, isn’t it Adam? Send Michelle back to the forest where she was.”

“NO! My contract with you is now over! I’m going back to the forest alone—And you two can stay here and burn away in this house together! HA HA HA!”

And with those as his parting words, Adam disappeared with a pop.

The only ones left were Gallerian, and—

An ordinary doll, no longer able to move.

With Adam gone, and the contract between him and Gallerian broken—it was now powerless.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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chelsfic · 5 years ago

Text

Pawn to a Queen - Dracula/Agatha Oneshot - Dracula 2020 fanfic

A/N: This is my love note to Dracula/Agatha. I adore this ship.

Rating: Mature/slightly explicit? It’s pretty tame by my standards, but it does end with the scene from the end of The Dark Compass.

Summary: Agatha’s spirit lives on in the place where Dracula keeps all of his victims. She keeps him company during the long years of sleep beneath the ocean’s surface. A deeper look at Agatha’s experience of what I lovingly refer to as “Dracula’s Blood Palace.”

***

“When did I lose so many pieces? I was winning…”

“No, you’ve been losing from the start.”

Agatha. Quick-witted, sharp-tongued, unflappable Agatha. She feels a fog of confusion dulling her senses and slowing her thoughts. Finding words to respond to her leering, arrogant opponent is like swimming through molasses. Her tongue is heavy, her reflexes slow, a shiver crawls up her spine. Her eyes dance over the chess board but the pieces blur together, indistinguishable.

The Count sits back in his chair, cradling the goblet of hot, thick nectar in his hands and regarding Agatha with a look of mingled affection and amusement. How he loves to watch his pets work it all out. It’s adorable, seeing their little human minds fit the puzzle pieces together. Agatha, though, is his finest conquest. So much intelligence, passion, wit, humor. She really is a delicacy and he’s so pleased he hasn’t rushed her. But time is almost up. All good things must end.

He guides her gently towards the realization. Answering her stammered questions and watching as she paces, hands trembling and eyes alight in suspicion and fear.

“Are you drinking my blood?”

She’s worked herself up to the question, knowing the answer but still fearing to hear it spoken aloud. Poor Agatha. She spent her entire life searching for her God, crying out in prayer for intellectual proof of His existence. And now just as she’s found Him she’s torn away by a demon. Trapped in the beast’s domain and given a cruel mockery of the eternal life she was promised by the Church. It’s enough to make one weep. Or laugh.

Dracula can’t help himself, he stands up and stalks forward invading her personal space, looming over her and mocking her. He draws a finger dripping with her blood to his lips and sucks the sweet essence before her horrified eyes.

***

He comes back gradually to himself, perched over the nun’s weak body and lovingly lapping the spilled blood from her neck. Oh, Agatha, he muses nuzzling her pale cheek. If things were different I’d make you my bride. And how magnificent you’d be.

He hears footsteps and voices coming from below deck. Time for a show.

***

Dracula doesn’t feel the cold. He watches the flickering light of the burning ship as his body is swallowed up by the frigid waters. He turns his head and catches sight of a dark shape sinking below him. The last box of Transylvanian earth. His salvation. He moves through the water and reaches the box just as it hits the ocean floor creating a cloud of sand. As he opens the lid he feels a shiver on the back of his neck and looks up instinctively. She’s gorgeous. Dark tresses floating around her head like a halo, her face serene in peaceful sleep. Agatha’s body takes longer to sink to the bottom and he knows that the tide and the natural process of decay will not leave her undisturbed for long. Still, he likes that she will rest here beneath the waters with him. He watches her body settle into the sand beside the box. He does regret that there hadn’t been time to work on her, to make her like him. But, after all, death is not a parting for Dracula and his victims. He’ll be seeing her again soon.

He takes one last look at Agatha’s face, peaceful in death as he lowers himself into the box and moves to close the lid. His lips quirk in a smile as he goes to his rest.

Check mate, sweet Agatha.

***

There’s a fire crackling cheerfully in the hearth. The room is cozy, lined with shelves full of books in more languages than Agatha has dreamed of. She doesn’t remember how she got here. This should trouble her but she finds it doesn’t. She walks along the walls of overflowing shelves, running her fingertips along the spines and finally choosing a volume to take with her to the plush chair before the fire. She settles into the seat with her feet propped up on a low ottoman and the book nestled in her lap. There are two chairs placed in front of the hearth. Agatha looks over at the empty seat with furrowed brows, her mind grasping for a name, something she’s forgotten. At the sound of his voice everything comes rushing back and her spine straightens in alarm.

“Hello, Agatha,” Dracula’s voice lilts in a singsong tone as he enters the room from some unseen door and takes the other seat by the fire. “This is rather nice, isn’t it? To finally rest?”

She remembers everything. How Dracula attempted to frame her for the murders he’d committed. The desperate attempts to protect the remaining crew and passengers from him. Feeling at the last that she’d finally beat him. But no. She tastes the sour tang of failure and a miserable frown fills her face.

“You’ve killed me,” she states, struggling to sound matter-of-fact but hearing the tremor in her own voice that betrays her emotion.

Dracula shrugs his shoulders and steeples his clawed hands before his face, regarding her with a gimlet stare.

“It would appear so,” he sighs and then smiles at the memory, “And what a pretty corpse you made, Agatha, let me tell you.”

“Spare me,” she hisses with iron beneath her brittle voice. She stares into the fire for a long moment, thoughts spinning incoherently in her head. Or...or is it Count Dracula’s head? Does Agatha still exist as her own being or does every part of her belong to him now?

“Why?” she asks, panicked desperation in her voice. “Why am I still here?”

Dracula quirks his head and regards her with a pitying look.

“It’s not so bad here, is it, Agatha? I’ve tried to make it pleasant for you,” he gestures at the room around them. “You have every book I’ve ever read. And look, behind you you’ll find a workshop where you can continue your studies.”

Agatha swivels to look over her shoulder and, indeed, where before there had been a solid wall of books now there is a little alcove with a workbench, notebooks, beakers, Bunsen burners and racks of specimen jars. She turns back to him, her expression stony. She will not allow him to feel as though he is being somehow magnanimous by giving her a pleasant prison.

She whispers her next words with fury, “And this is where my soul is to reside? Not with my Lord but with my murderer?”

Dracula furrows his brows in a mockery of sympathy, “I did tell you, Agatha, that I would carry you in my veins into the new world. Did I not? You’ll live with me, be a part of me, forever. But it needn’t be a torture for you.”

Agatha takes a long, shaky breath. She's determined not to show him the depth of her despair at those words.

“Why? Why have you made this place for me? Why care for my comfort?”

“Surely, after all we’ve been through... You didn’t think I’d let you suffer, Agatha?”

***

How long has she been here? There’s no way of measuring time in this place. It seems to act differently here than it did in the mortal realm. Agatha might choose a book to read, sit down for a moment in the warmth of the fire, and then rise later having finished the book with no memory of the time passing. On other occasions it feels as though she spends days at a time pacing the room in tight circles. Dracula responds to these bouts of anxiety and restlessness from her. He always appears shortly after her despair takes hold. She came to terms long ago with the fact that his presence has become a comfort to her.

“Agatha, darling,” he whispers, grasping her shoulders in his strong hands and arresting her momentum in mid-stride. She’s in the midst of a nervous episode. He frowns down at her and rubs his palms along her upper arms. He’s found that his touch, his voice, offers comfort to her in these times. For all he delights in possessing her soul, he doesn’t wish for her to be restless, disturbed in this manner. “What’s bothering my brilliant Agatha today?”

“How long? Count Dracula, how long have I been here?” she straightens her spine and meets his eyes with the fiery bravery that first drew him to her.

He guides her to the armchairs with a hand on the small of her back and they take their usual seats before the fire.

“What does it matter, darling?” he argues. “Counting the hours of an eternal life will only lead you to despair.”

Agatha ignores his pleading tone and carries on, “I wish to know how long it has been since my death. Excuse me, since my murder.”

Dracula rolls his eyes at her, “A little dramatic, don’t you think? Aren’t we friends now, finally?”

Agatha knows he has a point. They’ve shared hours of contented silence seated before the fire, days of deep conversation discussing the books she’s read. Dracula has held her as she sobbed in despair and he’s made her laugh telling the story of his life in the dry, sardonic tone that perfectly matches her sense of humor. There are days at a time when she can forget who he is, what he is. Not today.

“I wish to know,” she replies simply.

Dracula sighs and rubs a hand over his brow, “I’m...not sure.”

“What do you mean you are not sure?”

Dracula holds her gaze for a long moment. His dark eyes gleam unnaturally in the firelight, orbs of silver like a wolf’s eyes shining in the dark forest. A predator’s eyes.

“I’ve been...asleep,” he finally answers.

“What?”

“When I leave this place and return to my body I can feel the water on my skin, the packed earth beneath my back. I am still underwater, Agatha. Resting in the place you felled me.”

She feels a flash of victory but it’s short-lived.

“But...you live, still,” she states.

Dracula smiles wickedly, “Oh yes, darling. And I will walk again. It’s only a matter of...time.”

***

She feels the difference right away although she doesn’t understand the significance at first. Before, even when his form wasn’t present in the room with her, she could still feel his spirit very close by. When Dracula comes awake once more into his physical body, his presence, his spirit, feels more remote to Agatha. There’s still a connection between them but it's stretched over a greater distance.

It’s time to return to work. She enters the workshop and begins pouring over her old notebooks, cross referencing every fact, every legend, every story about Count Dracula and his powers. As she works she feels echoes of his thoughts and emotions sweep over her. The frenzied lust that signals his first feeding in a century, the sense of wonder he feels at the new age in which he’s found himself, the calculation of a master predator and manipulator.

He returns to her when he sleeps. He lays his body down on the sensual silk sheets of his new bed, protected from the sun’s burning rays in the stark, modern apartment that Renfield assisted him in obtaining. He closes his eyes and seeks her out. Agatha.

He finds her tinkering in her laboratory, more animated and determined than he’s seen her in ages.

“What are you up to, dear?” he murmurs as he saunters into the room with more of the predator in his step than she’s seen in a long time.

“What does it look like, Count Dracula? I’m working, once more, to foil your evil schemes.”

Dracula’s eyes light in amusement at her words and he leans over to peer down at the notebooks over her shoulder, “Charming. I’m glad to see you’re so lively. I wonder if the blood feeds you as well….?”

Agatha cringes at the thought and steps away from him, snapping the notebook shut and hugging it to her chest.

“Not for long I hope. I’ve been dead and trapped in this purgatory long enough. I’m ready to sleep. You’ve fed from one of my descendants. I can feel her, taste her just as you have. And I can help her stop you once and for all.”

Dracula takes a playful step backward as if her words have physically struck him, “Well, by all means, Agatha I wouldn’t have it any other way. My darling antagonist.”

She narrows her eyes at him and turns back to her work.

***

When the answer comes it is divine in its simplicity. She hears it as a voice inside of her, the voice of God speaking the words, He fears only death.

He lives eternally in shame. A warrior whose father, brothers, and countrymen all gave their lives on the glorious battlefield. But he is too cowardly, too terrified by the hereafter to release his stranglehold on life. So he feeds on the lives of others, stealing their souls so that he may cling to life.

She watches through dear Zoe’s eyes as Count Dracula flinches from the sunlight blazing in through the ostentatious window of his apartment. She sees the moment he realizes that the light cannot hurt him. Watches the existential confusion settle on his face. Pain wracks her form, but she forces this body to stand upright. She has sent Zoe away, giving her this last gift of taking her pain and suffering away and enduring it for her. Dracula’s gaze shifts to her as her breath wavers in just the smallest indication of the overwhelming physical struggle.

“You’re in pain,” he states, his voice laced with concern and she recalls the years they spent together in the liminal space of his psyche. His arms around her, soothing her in her despair. They are adversaries, yes. But partners in the end, it seems.

She gathers her self-control and responds, “I am equal to it.”

Agatha nearly weeps when Count Dracula finally steps into the light, allowing himself to bathe in the warmth he’s been denied for more than five hundred years. His face goes slack in wonder and she sees a glimpse of the boy he might once have been. It’s a beautiful sight for her last, she thinks as she collapses into the leather chair.

If she dies in this body, will she finally be at peace? Will she finally return to the kingdom of her Lord?

Orange light glows on the backs of her eyelids. Agatha opens her eyes to a world of pulsing, molten light. Flames lick at her skin but do not burn. Dracula is with her and instead of feeling repulsed or betrayed she feels a soaring joy that they are together at the end. He holds her in his arms, laying fierce kisses to her naked skin and rocking against her in an ancient, primal dance that she’d forsaken in life. She arches against him, returning his kisses, his touches. She thinks if she’d known it could be like this she might not have followed the path of a nun.

“This isn’t real,” she murmurs against his lips. It’s a dream. He’s drinking my blood. But that would mean...

“After all this time... did you think I’d let it hurt?”

His hushed words ring between them, vibrating along the bond they share and touching a place deep inside Agatha. She feels his care, his love. Indeed, after all this time, the monster...the man is capable of love.

“Aren’t you afraid?” she whispers, their motions are slowing and she feels both of them beginning to fade into the flames.

“Yes,” he answers in a shaky breath. “Will you hold my hand?”

“Of course,” she responds. She takes his hand in hers and they walk away together.

The End

Dracula Tag list:

@charlesdances

**Note to folks on the tag list for Inherited. I didn’t automatically assume you’d also want to be included on this one. If you want me to tag you in all future Drac fics I’ll try to be organized enough to maintain two lists.

#dracula x agatha #bbc dracula #dracula imagine #agatha van helsing #count dracula #claes bang #dolly wells #dracula fanfic #chelsfic #count dracula x agatha #dracula x agatha van helsing #dracula 2020 #dracula netflix

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mrneighbourlove · 4 years ago

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Evil’s Bane: Ch 5. Belief Scattered

It must have felt like a good hour of walking through the fog together. No sound echoing in the cave or even their foot steps. As they kept traveling, Leere wanted to get to know Black more. “I never knew you were an undead all this time. How’d you get so good at hiding that fact?”

"Well, I'm not alive and I'm not dead, so I suppose you'd call me undead. Technically, I'm trapped in the moment of dying." Black explained to Leere, trying to recall what Bonegrinder told him. "Almost like being stuck in limbo, but I'm on earth still. It is said that I will not cease to be until I resolve my unfinished business. Yet, unlike other Wraiths, so I've been told, I'm not mindless."

“So what, you’re a Hellspawn?”

"No, I'm not a demon, just... a trapped soul, I suppose." Black shrugged once. "I'm not exactly sure how to explain it. Necromancy doesn't effect me, so I might not be completely undead, just... odd."

"Black is no Hellspawn, tiny princess, just a unique individual." Bonegrinder told Leere. "Years and years ago, this old snake found Black wandering in a swamp near Yenaldooshi in Omisha. He was able to help him regain part of his memories."

"I recalled that I was traveling back home from Al-Daida with my family and someone had double crossed me."

Leere gave Black a look. There was a weird tilt of her head, as if she was trying something out, and after a moment, she smiled with a simple hum to herself.

"If you have a better explanation, I'm all ears." Black's glowing lavender eyes curved in good humor from behind his head wrap, his body hidden beneath several layers of flowy clothes.

"There have been very few Wraiths that Bonegrinder has seen in this lifetime." The Anagari then admitted. "Even this snake has not all the answers on some issues, but an idea."

“Your soul and body certainly have unique characteristics. Much different then most undead I’ve encountered. And you certainly have control of your own body.”

"That much is true, though I am still trying to figure out what my unfinished business is." Black admitted to the Shadow Sage. "I thought it was to get revenge for my family. Yet, I didn't cease to be after I found their killer."

“You fulfilled your duty in avenging your family, but your destiny lies elsewhere.” Leere pondered a little more about his situation. Spirits, physical or otherwise, usually had a purpose for lingering on the mortal plane after death. “Perhaps you must bring unity to someone else?”

Suddenly as if they were stepping out of a portal, the fog disappeared. They knew they had been walking at a slow incline down, so the sight before the party of travellers was unexpected. An open area with sky was set upon their eyes. Only this time it was not as much a pretty sight. The sky was dreary with clouds hiding any blue. Replacing grasslands was an eerie forest landscape, with many dead trees amongst puke green pine trees. Finally, there was more earth then grass.

"This is what he recalls from the last time he was in this land." Bonegrinder's features contorted into disgusted frown. "Decay."

“I don’t sense anything too off, but be on guard.” Leere sensed life wasn’t dead, but had simply stopped in time was the best choice of wording. As they kept walking, they eventually found a path to walk along. “Civilization ahead?”

"Yes, there should be... unless that has changed as well." Bonegrinder did not sound too enthused about the prospect of seeing more residents of the land of Malus. "This snake still says its not too late to turn back."

Leere looked up to see a couple fairies fly overhead. They looked more insect like, but paid no attention to the group. “Bonegrinder, you promised me a day. You going to use it complaining?”

"He will use it to wipe his scaled ass, complain as much as he likes, and remind you repeatedly that this is a bad idea." The Anagari's tail twitched. "We should not even be here."

"That means he's irritated." Black murmured to Leere.

Leere observed her surroundings with a sigh. Suddenly, they heard talking from nearby. With a hand single, she issued Black and Bonegrinder to be quiet so they’d investigate. Near a lake, there were two men, gutting fish they caught.

"Fuck." Bonegrinder grumbled under his breath when Leere caught sight of the 'local natives'.

“Kenshi. How much longer must we wait?”

“We’ll be gone soon Lang. The whereabouts of my daughter are unknown, but I’m certain this lake is where the anomalies originate from.”

Leere watched the two men; both had darker hair like her. After much consideration, she decided to slowly approach them.

Before Leere could get too far, Bonegrinder's tail whipped out, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back. "What. Are. You. Doing?!"

“Engaging the locals. We have to form communication or we’ll get nowhere.” Leere gritted her teeth at him in hushed whispers. She didn’t like to be man handled like a child.

"We do not know if they're friendlies or hostiles." Black reminded Leere. "It's best to observe firstly."

"Listen to the assassin, tiny princess, he knows better than you do."

From over ahead, a fairy looked down at them. The little insect seemed to scowl at them. Slowly, it flew over to the two men. They stopped their conversation, and listened to the fairy. Suddenly they tensed, looking over to the hiding spot of the group. They both jolted upwards, grabbing sheathed swords. “Kenshi! Go back to the village! Another monster has somehow broken through the barrier, this time in day light!”

"... I'm assuming that means you, Bonegrinder." Black mused dryly with a tiny smirk. "Cause I do not sense any other monsters around here."

"Fuck Prama and Dhakk sideways..." Bonegrinder cursed under his breath. "... go catch them."

"As you wish."

"But don't kill them yet, we need information."

Leere decided to try and run out toward them. “Stop! I’m a Mortuus! I’m friendly!”

The man Leere identified by observation as Lang took a stance, drawing his sword. This revelation only made him more on guard. “You are not from either village.”

Black earned his nickname for being able to blend into the shadows initially, however, he was quite adept at hiding in any environment. In order to keep Kenshi from escaping, the Wraith simply pinned the Mortuus against a rotting tree, both hands trapped behind the back. "I have the second one, Bonegrinder." "Good. We require information." The Anagari slithered out from his spot, eying Lang. "Drop that sword before this snake removes your hand for threatening the tiny princess."

Lang was memorized by the gigantic beast slivering down from the tree line. “The gods really are abandoning us...” Tightening his grip on his blade when he saw Kenshi be pinned, the man planted his feet. “You must be from the capital. I won’t let you take me without a fight.”

Leere glanced over to Black, standing between both Lang and Bonegrinder. “Will you two stand down?! My name is Leere Dragmire. I am a Sage of Hyrule investigating a dark source of evil coming from Malus. I know that there are innocents trapped here. I’m a friend that wishes to help you. If my companion releases your friend, will you lower your guard?”

Lang, looked to Kenshi. He only slightly lowered his stance. “Release my friend.”

"Put down your sword first." Bonegrinder was incredibly stubborn. "Raising a blade at a lady is no small thing."

"Bonegrinder, I believe Leere can handle herself. After all, that sword is very... rusty." Black used basic logic. "And unkept."

"... very well. Though harm her, and this Anagari will remove your head from your shoulders." Black released Kenshi, almost chucking when the Mortuus scrambled away from him.

Kenshi stood by Lang’s side, the latter paying closer attention to Bonegrinder as he sheathed his sword. “You said you came from the outside? It should be impossible for a monster of your size to enter. The barrier of Destroyah disintegrates monsters and demons bigger than a house cat from entering. Not the mention the guardian Mata keeps an eye out for the demonic.”

"Bonegrinder is neither demonic or a monster..." Black stated, earning a blank glance from the two Mortuus. "Let me rephrase that, Bonegrinder is neither demonic nor a monster of these regions. He hails from Omisha, not of Hellspawn origins."

"Pitiful, magical barriers and ancient Colossi are nothing more than pests." Bonegrinder stated bitterly. "Destroyer's works are sloppy."

“Omisha... the land of the cowards who bask in the sun. That’d explain your appearance. Still, we should have been protected from your kind entering too.”

Leere felt tensions start to rise. “What matters is that none of us wish to bring you harm. I merely wish to learn. Can you bring us to your village?”

Both men looked to each other, then spoke in a language, or perhaps code Leere didn’t understand.

Suddenly, Bonegrinder had Lang up off the ground by his neck, his tail wrapped dangerously tight around the Mortuus' throat. He brought the man closer to his face, fangs exposed and snarling. The Anagari was pissed. To keep Kenshi in place, he wrapped the man in his coils. "You dare call us Echidnans cowards when your kind tried to drown the world in Hellspawn? Tortured the innocent? Slaughtered villages full of children?" Bonegrinder's jaw was unhinged, highly tempted to rip out the man's throat. Black warned Leere that there was a reason why the Anagari detested Malus. This country was the responsible for the demise of his home. "It makes this snake wonder if you were worth saving after you killed so many of us alongside Dhakk for choosing to follow Prama."

“BONEGRINDER!!!” On instinct, a large shadowy hand gripped Bonegrinder by the hair, pulling him away from Lang as another shadow hand caught the man from falling. “Do not escalate tensions! I did not bring you here to frighten innocents! Stop acting like a monster!” Both the men were afraid, both by Bonegrinder and by Leere’s magic. “She’s a sorcerer.”

“Just like the elder and Bi-Hanzo.”

Leere glared Bonegrinder down as her shadows calmed down. Slowly, she turned back to the pair. “I overheard you had a missing daughter. I’m a mother myself. Perhaps I can assist you.”

Kenshi nodded. “Yes... Lang. Go to the village and warn them to not attack the Echidnan on sight. I’ll stay with the group and walk with them as a sign of trust...”

Lang, not wanting to be anywhere near Bonegrinder, agreed. “Gladly.”

"He is a monster, Leere," Bonegrinder was angry with the princess for using her magic on him. He leaned down and growled, "It matters not to him the lives of those who could be responsible for the death of his family. Prama agreed to this folly because he wishes for some good to come to this God-forsaken land." The snake warned her, "You are innocent of the crimes of Malus, Leere. The others are not. Friend or foe is not debatable here."

Black was not one for expressing emotion with his stoic face, but even he grimaced at Bonegrinder's icy words. It was rather clear the hate that the Anagari had for this country. Yet, as the shaman slithered off a distance from the princess to cool his head, the Wraith approached Leere. "I apologize." Black said to the Shadow Sage, "I should have warned you of his ire. It is nothing against you, Leere. There are certain horrors that he does not wish to recall and old wounds that have never healed. Perhaps I should go forward with you and have Bonegrinder wait here. I understand your mission, but he... is having a difficult time."

“If he feels he needs to distance himself, then fine.” Leere gestured for Black to follow her as Kenshi lead the way. “All enemies or all allies view is a narrow one though.”

"How would you feel if you had to traverse into the country responsible for the death of your family?" The Wraith asked Leere, curious of her answer. "From what I remember of my human days, I think I would be afraid... and angry."

The shadow sage was sad that her friend couldn’t keep his emotions in check, worried she comprised her relationship with the village before even meeting them. When they arrived at the village, it was a small town, but held a decent enough community. A town hall, a saloon, multiple houses and a church were present buildings seen. Many Mortuus gathered around, astonished by news of outsiders. With so many red eyes on her, Leere could see how tired many of them were. “Hello. I am Leere. Mortuus of Hyrule.”

She was greeted with silence in return. Some of them went back to their daily routines immediately, but kept an eye on her. One man approached, narrowing his gaze at her. “Lang tells me you travel with an Echidnan. Where is it?”

As Black followed Leere to the village, he kept a keen lookout. His master was not too far, he could still sense the Anagari. Though, something felt... a touch off here. The residents looked like sleep had eluded them for ages. "Bonegrinder felt it was best to hold back, lest he..." Black thought of the appropriate word. "Scare the masses." He then inquired. "Why do you ask?"

“As this villages remaining experienced protector, I demand all parties are accounted for.” The man had an air about him that the others didn’t, that he could back up his demands. “The masses live in constant fear of unknown dangers. If he was here, he wouldn’t be unknown.”

Leere held a hand back to him. “He’ll be here shortly. What is your name, if I might ask?”

“I am Bi-Hanzo. Member of the Order of Balance.”

"Balance?" That caught Black's interest. "As in Kaksa? Mother Goddess?"

It was Bi-Hanzo’s first moment to be intrigued. “Yes. The very same. Though I am a dying breed. Both Destroyah and Proxamus, the names we give for Life and Destruction gods, had a hand in Malus’ creation. Our magic of necromancy was fuelled to please Proxamus. Yet both gods haven’t graced us in thousands of years. In time, the factions of Mortuus fell to darkness, blind in dedication to either. Few know of balance and try to keep these communities alive. There is no escape from Malus. Only survival.”

That was a monumental amount of information Leere absorbed. “Well, that’s good. Because I think the Destroyer is on the rise in Malus, and many of you are in grave peril.”

It seemed his master was correct about one issue; the people of Malus had lost hope. He had heard the tales of creation and destruction from his time when he was alive. Then, he learned more as a Wraith underneath Bonegrinder's tutelage. Yet, he was unsure of who was friend or foe. Perhaps a small test was needed... "We are here to seek answers." Black informed Bi-Hanzo. "For the prophecy."

“Prophecy? Those are many, and have many interpretations. Come, I will take you to the elder.”

Before Leere could follow Bi-Hanzo, Black placed his hand on the Shadow Sage's shoulder, silently asking her not to move just yet. "And how do we know this isn't a ploy?"

“I don’t. But I do this thing called taking a leap of faith? Can you jump yourself Black?”

"Jump, run, hide, take your pick. Though you must understand our caution." Black told the man, "The stories we have heard are most unsettling."

“They are most likely true. However, is every fallen leaf red?”

"Only if it's soaked up blood from the ground."

Black’s view on judging people by one cover was unsettling to the woman, discouraging even. It was when Bi-Hanzo added his thoughts to Leere and Black’s exchange of metaphors. “Ah. You can only see violence. That, is why your vision is flawed.”

Leere liked the man’s thinking, nodding along. Some villagers followed the group to a church near a graveyard looking down on the village. Knocking on the door, Bi-Hanzo waited. Finally, he opened the door to the church and gestured the pair to go inside. Leere did so without fear. Inside were very old bleachers, scratched wooden pillars, and a cross hanging on the wall. At the alter, a woman was sitting down reading a book wrapped in leather.

Bi-Hanzo respectfully bowed to the elder. “Lady Jackalen. There is a Mortuus, an undead, and an Echidnan here. Somehow, they penetrated the protective barriers to our small realm.”

"A Wraith, thank you, not an undead. There's a difference. I think." Black insisted as he looked around the church. It was better kept than the whole village. It also made him feel slightly uneasy. Was it because he was trapped between death and life?

Leere walked forward, bowing her head. When she approached the woman, she noticed how white her eyes were. “I am Leere Dragmire. Shadow Sage of Hyrule. I don’t want to alarm you, but I believe your people are in grave danger.”

“A sage? My... how young you look.” The elder cackled lightly to herself. “And you are correct. My people are indeed in danger. Or countless generations, we’ve been kept safe. Despite how much they might have changed, Destroyah and Proxamus gave us a way to protect our pocket realms from the outside world. Only now, within the last decade, those who isolated themselves from the outside world have been going silent. Communities we once shared a psychic communication with snuffed out. We didn’t know what caused this. Until two weeks ago. Devilish abominations coming out in the night to kill and steal away those who live here. Despite all my magics, I can’t find the source of where they reside.”

"Hellspawns." Black stated at the elder's words. "They're good at hiding and lurking around in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to strike. Difficult to track too if they're being aided by another source of magic. I'm surprised they haven't overrun the village yet." He glanced at the few people in the church. "Perhaps they're looking for someone."

“I’ve fought against several unidentified creatures, killed a few, but there’s always more, and there’s always someone taken.” Bi-Hanzo gripped the sides of his coat uncomfortably.

Leere pried for more information. She needed to know what specific danger lied in the shadows of this country. “Do you know if any evil spirits or gods have risen in Malus?”

The elder shook their head. “We do not. No gods have answered our prayers. And we know little of outside this realm of protection. It is our bubble. Our way of life.”

"... what prophecy do you know of?" Black decided to skip past the doom and gloom and search for answers. "My master requires answers."

“Which one? There are many Wraith. Mostly about their chosen god raising hell upon the earth. Some hope a saviour will liberate Malus from torment. Some think they will be servants while all their enemies will become slaves. Even here, some make sacrifices and offerings to their chosen lord in hopes of having their wishes granted.”

"The prophecy my master has long believed is of a young woman of fire, born of a mother of death, would be the host of Kaksa, the Mother Goddess." Black decided there was no harm in elaborating. There were various versions of the prophecy, but all resulted in the same ending. "Dhakk and Prama would have a choice to make. Either they would fight each other, or fight against Chaos."

“Chaos? Ahhhh.”

Leere looked to Black, unsure by the elder’s reaction. “What about Chaos?”

“Hehehe. Oh... oh! This is rich. I remember you now.” The elder’s white eyes were glossed over on Leere. “You were the one who’s parents fled. There are many in Malus who worship Destroyah or Proxamus. Few worship and know of Balance. But very little dared to be of the Cult of the Devil. The Devil came from Chaos you know. Evil was born of Chaos. That evil has a special connection in Malus. Those who served Proxamus were wise to kill those who worshiped the Devil.”

Leere’s comfort levels went from a 10 to a 1 real fast. “I know very little about my birth parents.”

“But you hold the markings, don’t you? I can sense it. Feel it. Hmmm. You’re marked for sacrifice.” Lady Jackalen walked away towards a book shelf, trying to find a specific text.

Black sensed Leere's abrupt uneasiness. The mentioned of Chaos certainly caught the old woman's attention. There were several names for this horrible god of discord, though he knew just a few; Teufel and Tzitzimime. Leere, she almost looked... slightly panicked. Like she was not expecting the elder to recall her or her despicable parents.

“Yes. Here we are.” The elder returned, placing a book down with a face as the cover. Flipping the page, she showed an illustration of the exact tattoo Leere had on her back. “This is it, isn’t it? Ah, no need for words. Your expression tells me enough. You are slated for sacrifice.” Leere looked much paler than usual. “I was. Past tense.”

“Heh heh heh. Present tense, I’m afraid. I can... I can feel the gate on you has been altered. But you are still a viable gateway if there were those who wished to use you.”

“For what?”

“A summoning of great and vile torment to be resurrected.” Flipping the pages, she went through many horrifying sketches of alien looking monstrosities. “Chaos has many spawns of its own. But it’s also a being, by nature, that is fractured. The body, a heart, mind, soul. Chaos is many. The Devil would like it all back. And you, just like one in every generation of Mortuus, carry a seed of resurrection in you. Congratulations on such a terrible fate.”

Bonegrinder had once told Black some time ago that he wished to save the 'tiny princess' from her fate. He really did not know what the Anagari spoke of then, but now, he understood. The assassin recalled the times that Leere was angry with the giant snake for keeping the details of her past from her. She wanted to know and now she did. Yet, Black could not help but feel sorry for her... and for Bonegrinder. The Anagari tried so hard to keep this knowledge from Leere.

Leere looked away when she saw the creature that oozed from her spine when Bonegrinder removes a sigil so long ago. “How did you deal with these children before?”

“We killed them before they could pose a threat to the world. Proxamus would have understood. Destroyah would agree. And it’s what Balance would have desired. And no, before you ask, I don’t think it wise to order your execution. That said, I don’t know why you’ve come here. There is no escape from Malus.”

“What if I can help you? Everyone who is here find a way out?”

“Dear child. That is gullible thinking. Naive. Even if you save us, there are still other villages. I doubt you can find them all.”

"How dare you think you have the power to speak for Kaksa." Bonegrinder was as sneaky as always, having found his way to the church, following Leere's scent. He managed to slip inside through the back, and was now on his usual lounging spot; the ceiling. He had coiled his massive body around the chandeliers, dust falling from above. It was clear the snake was in a foul mood even more so now. "The Mother Goddess abhors the murder of innocent children, even those who had no say in what happened to them. No, this is your failure. Failing to protect them."

"... and this is my master." Black stated with a stoic face. "Bonegrinder."

Lady Jackalen didn’t look surprised. Bi-Hanzo fists glowed a blue aura, but he kept his ground. The elder looked up, frowning lightly. “A swift end is preferable to torture they’d have gone through. It has been a long, long time since I’ve seen one of your kind. Still arrogant. Still boastful of living in better lands. After all, the Mother is part of the reason we remain trapped here. Besides, the children after death could be resurrected. They just needed their minds, not their souls.”

Leere was a little disgusted by that statement. “How old are you? How many souls have you taken?”

“Old enough. Blood magic is a gateway to soul manipulation. As I know you know.” The elder walked over to a seat, taking a moment to sit down. “Although, there’s something about you too, Echidnan. Something faint.”

"And your kind are nothing but slaughterers of the innocent." Bonegrinder hissed through gritted fangs. "Mother of the Monsters erected the barrier because your people decided to play with Chaos' little pets. We Echidnans will not apologize for protecting ourselves and our homeland." The Anagari scoffed as the Elder tried to analyze him. "You know nothing of this old snake, old woman."

"Bonegrinder is ancient like you, lady." Black had no filter.

“Ha. You think yourself a light to our darkness? Yourself righteous? You know that we desired help, yet you turned us away. All lands did. Or they enslaved us. Such was the design of those who fell to true darkness in Malus.”

"Why would Echidnans want to help the kind responsible for the rampaging of their homes? Friend or foe, the Mortuus are two faced." Bonegrinder snorted. "You are going senile, old woman, if you think we would do such a thing." He slid down the wall of the church, settling beside of Leere and Black. "Do you understand now why this snake did not want to bring you here, tiny princess? There is nothing for you here."

“Bi-Hanzo, what do you think? Do you wish freedom from Malus?”

The man was surprised Leere had the fortitude to address him so quickly. “I’d wish it more than anything.”

Leere turned her attention away from the elder and Bonegrinder. “Then I don’t know how long it will take, but I can take you and your people away from this all.”

“I don’t know if I can trust your friend. Unless...”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you stay the night. Protect my village.”

This could be a way of discovering the evil that plagued her dream. Nodding, Leere held an arm out to shake. “I accept.”

Before Bonegrinder, Black, or Lady Jackalen could disagree, Bi-Hanzo shook her hand. “A woman of her word? I look forward to it.”

"You don't have to like my master, but I would highly advise trusting him." Black told Bi-Hanzo and Lady Jackalen. "He knows more than you think he does."

"Let the people believe what they wish, Black, it is of no consequence to this snake." Bonegrinder dismissed the thought from the assassin's viewpoint. "You know what they think of him and you know what he thinks of them."

"What about the prophecy, Bonegrinder?"

"If they do not wish to speak of their prophecy, it matters not. We know what we need to know."

“Come, I will take you to the saloon. You can rest there until nightfall.”

In the darkness of Malus’ infamous great city, deep within a castle wall, creatures scuttled about in the shadows. A mechanical bug crawled along the walls, reaching a man and hissing into his ear. The man paused, patiently listening. Entering a private chamber, his voice echoed in a loud whisper. The man himself was nearly a silhouette of a man, a terrible tall blackness covered in robes and with crimson eyes. “Your brother has slithered his way into Malus it seems.”

"I was wondering when Prama would make the mistake of following that vessel into this realm." Dhakk was as studious as always, surrounded by books. He was looking for a way to rid himself of this earthly host and return to the heavens beside of his beloved Kaksa. Even after all this time, he still longed to be by her side, even if she did prefer his brother. She would never give Prama a second thought after he wiped his brother's existence from history.

Even in candle light, the shadow man was still pure blackness as he walked closer. He more of a shape, he had two horns that helped with a frightful appearance. “The Shadow Sage has also finally come to Malus.”

"Ah... now that is an interesting revelation." Dhakk actually looked up from his book, those glowing turquoise eyes seemingly amused. "The vessel was chosen as the Shadow Sage. Maybe the spirits took pity on her plight."

“There are many of us who wish to use her. Our master wants to make you a deal, Destroyah.” The whisper was like a lullaby to the gods ears.

"I usually do not deal with messengers." Dhakk returned his gaze to his books. "If your master wants a deal, then he can ask me in person."

A pause, for a moment, and the air turned to a chill. “I am asking you.” The candle lights went out, with only the glow of each others eyes in the room giving away the terror both could give. “You deal with an avatar of my will. It’s taxing to make one. You have my respect Dhakk that I let you communicate with one. I know you can be respectful yourself.”

"... a fragment, that you are. But part of Chaos nonetheless." Dhakk still did not look too interested. "What business do you want with me? If you are looking for a way to get to Kaksa, then you're out of luck. I'm sure you heard about her little fit when she tossed my brother and I from the heavens."

“She helped Hylia sever me from my power as well. A power I’m well on my way from achieving once more.” The shadow wisped around the room, holding Dhakk’s shoulders lightly. “What if I helped you gain revenge on your brother in exchange for helping me in return?” His whisper was alluring to listen to. “You keep the snake, and I get what I want from the woman.”

"Tempting. Dare I ask how you plan to achieve this?" Dhakk wanted more details. "Bound to his host or not, my brother Prama is still a very powerful being. How do you plan to enact this 'revenge'? I care not of the woman."

“The woman holds a powerful piece of my essence locked within her. If you complete a ritual to bring this being out of her, you will summon forth a demon to surpass Demise. Alone, it would rip apart the physical fabric of your brother. With you, there’d be no struggle from your brother to be had. From there, he is a soul, and a soul can be scattered, trapped, or lost to time and space. And I know something else that would entice you.”

"As I said before, tempting, but what could be better than gloating as Prama is ripped into a thousand pieces?"

“Hurting those he cares about.” The red eyes glew as the whisper grew insidious. “How he hurt you in taking away your love from you. You can take away the friendships he has. You can make him a failure before you rip him to pieces. Make his friends suffer; make him powerless to stop it.”

"That sounds like a glorious bit of destruction that is making me twitch in anticipation." Dhakk chucked with a sinister grin. "I don't suppose you had a few of these friends in mind?"

“The woman Leere needs to suffer for the ritual to be completed. I know Bonegrinder cares for her the most. Do anything you desire to her, so long as she feels every pain. There is also a subordinate of his known as Black in Malus with them. A Wraith, but he can be made to experience pain. I will lead them to the capital, from there your followers and mine will separate them. With enough time, the woman will unleash the Demon, and I will give it strength to kill your brother, but not before he wallows in the agonizing torment of having lost his friends.”

"Hrm... suffering can be physical or mental. Perhaps a mixture of both would work." Dhakk then was surprised to learn of a Wraith. He always thought of Black as an undead puppet. This was certainly interesting news. "Prama's demise will lead Kaksa right back into my arms. Though, I must say, I am rather curious as to why you'd want to help me. After all, Prama and I helped Kaksa lock you away all those years ago. Do you just want to claim this world as your own? Something that is yours, perhaps?"

“I want the bodies of the mortals that Hylia loved to pile up. That’ll be a start. And I live in the moment. I’m adaptable Dhakk.” The shadow danced around to face the god directly. “We have a deal?”

"Very well. We have a deal." Dhakk agreed with the avatar of Chaos. "So... when do I start?"

Teufel’s shadow man shook his hand, his eyes flickering in and out. The Devil had made his contract. “Now.”

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/625816676434313216/evils-bane-ch-4-dangerous-uncharted-territory

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626094342071828480/evils-bane-ch-6-yield-to-damnation

#Love to hear comments.#Crossover #Leere #Leere Dragmire #Bonegrinder #Teufel #Dhakk #Black the Wraith #Malus #Mortuus #ridersoftheapocalypse

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a-deadly-serenade · 5 years ago

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The Shield and the Sword: Chapter 10: There’s No Place Like Home [Alucard/Reader]

You’re a witch that is skilled in herbology, one that has been persecuted by the church for practically your entire life. In spite of this, moving throughout different towns has allowed you to pick up some chatter about a woman in a village called Lupu. She is supposed to be a wonder when it comes to medicine, and this immediately perks up your interest. So after plucking up some courage, you’ve made it to her door… hoping that she takes you as her apprentice.

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When you awoke you’re surrounded by darkness, your head still reeling from what just happened. But… what exactly happened? Did you kill those monsters? How did you do that…?

The last thing you remember is a bright white light and then suddenly, you were on the ground. You thought of the colosseum, and of its blue flames that resided within the cobblestone torches. Had… had you used the fire to amplify your magic?

The idea seemed ludicrous. Sure, you were good at using your pryokinesis skills, but there was no way that you would be able to pull off such a thing… right?

Right.

But, then again… where were you?

You felt a chill in the air and goosebumps on your skin, and to your surprise, you looked down to see that you sported no shoes. Black, inky water rippled in pools around your feet, and you wondered just how it was you were standing here.

Frankly, it was difficult for you to even look in an attempt of gauging where you were because it was so dark. How were you ever going to navigate around this place?

With a snap of your fingers, a small flame erupted between them, slowly growing in height as you focused your magic on it. It flickered around your shallow breaths, your legs trembling slightly as you took the first couple steps deeper into the unknown depths of the darkness.

You had no idea if you were making any sort of progress, everything around you looked exactly the same and there were no landmarks to help track how far you’d gone.

This is ridiculous, you thought. There has to be a way out of here.

Splash.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you whirl around, eyes wide with fear as you frantically move your flame around in search of what made that noise.

Something… something definitely moved out there.

As you feel your breath starting to even out, you turn to continue on your way, thinking that maybe your mind was starting to play tricks on you. That is until you noticed something out of the corner of your eye.

A white shimmering deer.

The flame in your hand quickly disappears within the palm of your hand, and you lower your head to avert your eyes from their gaze.

The forest spirits had found you.

Your body trembled, but it wasn’t from fear. The power they exuded… you could feel it radiating off them in waves… sharp bursts that felt like tiny needles pricking the tips of your fingers.

The water slowly sloshed all around you as they began to circle you, and even though your eyes were closed, you could just feel their intense stare… feel it down to your very atoms.

What did they want with you? Why had you been brought here? Had you done something wrong when you killed all of those monsters?

That’s when you heard it; a horrible, high pitched wailing that shook you down to the core.

It was unlike any sound you had ever heard before, an eerie wail that seemed to tremble with trepidation and despair. Your soul felt heavy, and your body grew weary, the cries of the forest spirits worming their way into your head. They called out to you, their ancient voices swirling around you like a vortex.

It was becoming too much, streams of tears freely flowing down your face as you covered your ears in an attempt to shut them out. But they were so loud, so unnaturally loud… you felt as though this sound would be permanently sewn into you, haunting you for the rest of your life if you bared listening to any more of it.

“Please!” you begged, and shake your head. “Please stop!”

Your legs give out from under you as the ground begins to shake, a powerful tremor that has you screaming and falling to your knees. Your sobs are ragged, and all you can do is plead over and over that they hear your call, and allow you to see why it is they brought you here.

The same hopelessness that almost took over at the colosseum was beginning to reclaim its territory, and this time, you truly felt lost, as though this is where you had been cursed to spend the rest of time… trapped within the darkness, surrounded by the bereavements of ancient gods.

But then… there’s a tug… at your heart.

A warm presence emerges from the cold, and silence rings out into the air, relief washing over you. It was like you could finally breathe, the weight of their presence finally loosening their grip on your shoulders and you relaxed.

What made them stop?

Your eyes fluttered open, and you are shocked to find that you are surrounded by light. You rubbed away the sting with the back of your hand, and when your vision finally adjusts, it’s only blurred again moments later when your gaze lands on a woman standing before you.

It was as though you had been transformed into a fawn, your legs wobbling like a newborn as you struggled to stay up and run over to her. When you felt her arms wrap around you, her hair tickling your nose, and her smell overwhelming you, that’s when you believed it to be really her.

“Mom…” you whispered hoarsely.

You felt the embrace around you tighten slightly, a fresh round of tears pouring from your eyes when you pulled away to look at her.

She was exactly as you remembered, her smile radiant and beaming and eyes brimming with warmth. She cupped your face with her hand and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“My beautiful baby girl,” she said, her own tears cascading down her cheeks. “How I’ve missed you.”

You gasped and tried to wipe away the tears that seemed to never stop flowing. “I can’t believe that you’re here…”

She smiled at you, and pulled you in close to whisper, “I’m not the only one here.”

Confused, you looked around you, and slowly, from within the thick fog, walked out groups and groups of people.

Your hands reached up to cover your mouth in shock, more tears pouring from your eyes when you see them… see them all.

Your coven.

Familiar faces surrounded you from all around, your grandmother, your childhood friends Sophia and Zoë, and a dozen other families that had all made their little impacts on your life.

“I can’t believe…. you’re all really here,” you repeated before your voice tapered off as more tears streamed down your face. You look over at your grandmother, and run to her, hugging her tightly before you did the same to your friends.

Zoë’s thick dark curls tickled your nose as you rested your forehead against their shoulders, Sophia’s slender arms encircling your waist as the three of you laughed and cried together.

“I’ve missed you,” you mumbled, and then pulled away from them, eyes gazing upon your friends and family. “I’ve missed you all so much…”

“And we’ve missed you,” your grandmother is at your side, her wrinkled hand taking a gentle hold of yours. “We’re so proud of you, sweetheart, how far you’ve come.”

Your breath catches in your throat and your head whirls around to face your mother. “You’ve… you’ve been watching over me?”

“Of course,” Zoë said, her voice light and filled with just the faintest amount of surprise. “What? Did you think we were just going to leave you alone?” she gives you a smile, her dark brown eyes filling with tears, and she laughs and attempts to wipe them away. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of us that easily.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip to keep it from trembling, and you lean into your grandmother’s embrace. “I’m so sorry,” you babbled. “I’m so sorry about everything that happened…” you look towards your mother and grip tightly onto her hands. “If only I hadn’t run… maybe… maybe then you’d be--”

“Hush now,” she said and stroked your face. “Do not say such things. It was my choice to put up that barrier. If there was a way for both me and our coven to survive, I knew that I had to keep you safe. And look at you now… what a remarkable young woman you’ve become.”

You smile, and frantically go to wipe more tears that had managed to slip past. “I’m so glad,” you said and swallowed a lump in your throat. “I’m so glad that I’ve been able to make you all so proud.”

“What, like we’d think otherwise?” Sophia said, and your grandmother chuckled.

The sight of them all here, so happy to be with you, it was an indescribable feeling. Ever since you had lost everyone that you’d held so dear, there had been an unfillable void within the center of your soul, something that you knew would never truly be healed. But, being here… and getting to see them all…

It was as though you had been transported to paradise.

The tricky thing about paradise though, is that you usually never tend to want to leave. It’s a place that entices you to stay, your own personal heaven that lies in wait till it’s time for you to finally leave the mortal coil and join the spirits in the realm of the gods.

And who were you to deny such a gift?

“I’m so happy,” you said, a smile spreading across your face.

Your mother looked at you, her eyes swimming with a mixture of emotions as she leaned down to place a lingering kiss on your forehead. “I know honey, and you have no idea how glad I am to finally see you again, to hold you again… but…”

Her voice tapered off and your head snaps up at the tremble in her voice. “You can’t stay here, my love.”

You recoiled from her embrace, as though she had burnt you, eyes wide from fear. “What… what do you mean? I want to stay here!” you shouted back, as tears began to flow down your cheeks again. “This is all I’ve ever wanted, to be reunited with you, and now you’re telling me to go? ”

“Now listen here, young lady,” your grandmother snapped, but her tone was thick, words tumbling out of her mouth like molasses, betraying her own underlying sadness. “You must listen to what your mother says. You have so much more good to do, more than you realize,” she ruffles your hair playfully and bops the tip of your nose. “You know in your heart that you belong back there… back there with your new family, back there with him.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and although it pained you so… you knew that she was right.

The spirits had offered you the greatest of temptations, and yet, here was your family telling you to ignore their call. They weren’t going to lose you, not on their watch, not when you had so much more life to give.

Your gaze lingered on your grandmother before you turned your attention back to your mother, who smiled down at you and pulled you into a tight hug. Fresh tears welled up within the corners of your eyes, and you shut them tight, for you knew this would be the last goodbye… at least, until fate decided it was time for you to be reunited once more.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, only to you, her voice muffled by your hair. “I love you so much, my beautiful, wonderful daughter… I’ll always be watching over you, my dear, sweet child…”

Warmth seeps through your fingers, through your veins, down to the very marrow of your bones, and when you finally open your eyes, everyone is gone.

You’re startled when you find a flower resting within the palm of your hand, a delicate white poppy, its petals brushing softly against your skin. Where had this come from?

An airy mist swirls around you and your body feels so heavy, your eyelids drooping from exhaustion as you go to lay on the ground. It’s soft, and plush, as though you were laying on a bed… and there’s a smell… it’s sweet …

Lavender?

A voice startles you, someone whispering to themselves in a silent pleading,

“Please, please… if there’s anything out there listening, anything at all… please, just help her wake up… please.”

Who was that?

It’s time to wake up.

Huh? And who said that?

Sweetheart, it’s time to wake up…

Wait… that voice…

Wake up!

A harsh gasp erupts from your throat as you surge forward from the bed, inhaling deep lungfuls of air as you struggled to catch your breath.

You feel the sheens of sweat that covered your body, your clothes and hair sticking uncomfortably tight to your shaking form and your tongue darted out to lick your dry lips, only just noticing how parched you really were.

“Oh thank the gods!”

You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a voice beside you, and feel the bed sink under their weight. Your head whips around to find Lisa at the foot of your bed, her hands clasped together in silent prayer as she whispered ‘thank you’ over and over again into the duvet.

“Lisa?” you croaked out and flinched under her intense gaze.

Her face was stained from tears, and her hair was a disheveled mess, long, frizzy and curly, resting on her shoulders, as opposed to the loose braid she usually wore. The tip of her nose was red, and her eyes puffy from crying, but when she smiled at you, the shock from everything that had just happened seemed to slowly melt away.

“I’m so glad,” she said and sniffled. “I’m so glad that you’re alright,” she laughed and took a firm hold of your hand. “When Adrian came to us, your body lying limp in his arms, I thought the worst had happened to you while you’d been down there…” she shuddered. “You were so pale and so unresponsive… I thought we had already lost you.”

She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and took a deep, shuddering breath. “It was thanks to Vlad that I knew you were still alive… he guessed that you just needed a couple of days to rest after expending so much magic, and oh, am I so glad that he was right!”

At the mention of magic, you looked down at your hands and flexed your fingers. So… it was you who killed all those monsters.

“I never knew…” you whispered, and cleared your throat. “I never knew I was capable of something like that.”

Lisa blinked back a few more tears, and then shakily rose to her feet to pour you a much-needed cup of tea. “When Adrian told us what happened, I was furious.” she let a spoonful of honey drip down into the drink, and then stirred in the rest. “But… I had to focus on you. Even though I wanted to go down there and tear those monsters limb-from-limb myself, I trusted that my husband would be more than capable of dishing out a punishment befitting of those foul beasts.”

She handed you the cup, and you gratefully took it, gulping down mouthfuls of the sweet tea. “I had no idea… I had no idea creatures as powerful as them even existed.”

“Yes well,” she sniffed and took her seat beside your bed once more. “You won’t ever have to worry about encountering those things again.”

She reached over and squeezed your hand again, as though making sure that you were really there, really alive. “Adrian was absolutely hysterical, you know,” she said and chuckled lightly to herself.

Your eyes widened a bit, shocked at this confession. “Hysterical? Adrian?”

She nodded her head. “He refused to leave your side, and I’ll admit that he got on my nerves quite a few times while I checked over your vitals, but I knew that he just needed some reassurance that you were doing alright.”

“I see…” you replied and sipped your tea in quiet contemplation.

Lisa was quiet for a moment, and she opened her mouth as though she might say something before a small argument behind your closed door caught not only her attention but yours as well.

“Adrian, for the last time your mother has wished that she not be disturbed!”

“Did you not hear voices just now? She must be awake!”

“I’m sure it was just your mother--”

“No! I’m certain that it was more than that!” “Adrian, I am telling you to stay back and let your mother do her-- Adrian!”

Too late.

The door swung open as Adrian burst into the room, and when his eyes landed on you, his body seemed to sag from all of the relief washing over him.

There was a sense of urgency within his stride and he made it to the side of your bed in no time at all, where he wasted no time in pulling you into a warm embrace.

A tiny squeak of surprise escaped you, the gesture catching you so off-guard that it took you a couple of seconds to even process what had happened. Your arms trembled slightly as they slowly wrapped around Adrian’s neck, and you buried your burning face within the crook of his neck to shield yourself from the bewildered looks both of his parents were giving the two of you.

“I’m so glad that you’re alright,” he whispered and pulled away to delicately move a few stray hairs from your face. “I was… I was so worried,” he chuckled and gave you a sad smile. “I thought… from the way you looked… I thought--”

“Adrian,” you said. “It’s alright, I’m here, I’m okay,” you smiled. “We’re both okay.”

His golden eyes seemed to sparkle in the low light of the waning sunset that shone through your bedroom window, and he smiled again before pulling you into another tight hug.

This outward display of affection is something that you never expected to see from Adrian, much less in front of his parents. So you quickly tapped him on the shoulder to further prevent your plot of somehow turning to liquid and seeping through the wooden cracks of the floor to hide from becoming a reality.

He gave you a shy smile as he jostled his arms back into his lap, and fidgeted with his hands a bit before settling them by interlocking his fingers together. “I apologize, I should have probably given you some space to breathe a bit considering what you just went through.”

You chuckled nervously and shuffled around a bit to get more comfortable on your bed. “It’s alright… I… didn’t even know I could do something like that. The monsters--Lisa said that they had all been disintegrated,” your gaze focuses upon Vlad. “Is that true?”

He nodded his head. “Yes… it is.” he carefully made his way inside and pulled a chair over to have a seat beside his wife.

“Could you tell me… could you tell me what happened?” you questioned. “I--I mean when you found me, that is.”

Vlad heaved a heavy sigh and gently placed one of his large hands over Lisa’s, who had begun to tremble slightly. “Adrian had transmuted the two of you to us, which came as a right big shock because we had merely been reading in the library together. When I first got a good look at you, I knew immediately that your body had gone into shock from expelling a large amount of magic. I could feel it,” he explained. “Your magic. It was trembling and making a huge muck about your system. I had to calm it down, so I gave you some of my own.”

“What?” you croaked out. “You… gave me some of your magic?”

“Little one,” he chuckled. “I may not look it, but I do have my fair share of abilities up my sleeve. If I had not given you anything, well…”

You look down at your hands and flex your fingers. You really could have died? Geez.

“I had no idea something like that was even in me,” you replied. “It was such a reckless move…”

“No,” Vlad countered. “It’s what saved both of your lives. You just need to practice some more, that’s all. Your body is just not used to producing so much magic within such a short period of time.”

“I…” you began, and nervously swiped your tongue across your chapped bottom lip. “I don’t know if I even want to learn how to control that,” you caged yourself behind your arms as you thought back to those brief moments you can remember amidst it all. The flames… the heat… the burning in your arms… the overwhelming smell of death.

“It’s not something you have to talk about now,” Lisa said, a light bark to her voice as she interjected herself into the conversation. “Right?” she shot her husband a look and he coughed into the crook of his arm as he nodded his head in agreement.

You gave one of Lisa’s hand a firm squeeze to express your gratitude but still held your gaze with Vlad. “I have to know though… just what were those things down there? The way those things spoke to Adrian… it was absolutely abhorrent.”

“I knew who they were once Adrian had described them to me; Valhalla Knights.”

“Valhalla?” you repeated. “You mean… the Norse’s version of Paradise?”

“Yes well,” Vlad said with a roll of his eyes. “These are far from the group of holy men they once were. The only reason I kept them around was because of their fierce loyalty to me, that part of their reputation I did not doubt.” his eyes then narrowed slightly as he cast a look over at Adrian. “I see that that loyalty did not extend to even my own son.”

“It’s not your fault,” you quickly interjected. “We should have been more careful--”

“No, little one,” Vlad interrupted with a smile. “There is no reason to defend my past decisions-- they’re what put the two of you in danger, which is absolutely unforgivable.” in a flourish he got up from where he sat, but not before he leaned down and kissed the top of Lisa’s head. “I am off to have a talk with my supernatural guardsmen. This is my home and I will not have some demons running amuck with my family.”

He bowed before the three of you and with one final glance, he vanished within the blink of an eye, off to go deliver his word to his very terrified followers.

“I’m glad that he’s finally having a talk with them,” Lisa said. “I would sometimes worry that you would wander into some corner of the castle and run into a less than understanding creature that wouldn’t take ‘I’m lost’ as an excuse,” she sighed and ran a hand through her frazzled hair. “I think I’m going to go downstairs and start dinner… it’ll keep my mind busy.” she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, which made you blush.

“I’m so glad that you’re alright,” her eyes shined with new, unshed tears, but she quickly excused herself before they could fall. “Oh, Adrian,” she said from the doorway. “If you wish to join me later, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I will mother,” he replied, but then his eyes found their way back to you and he smiled. “Just… in a bit.”

She gave him a knowing smile and closed the door with a sly, “Well, alright!”

With the two of you now alone, you become keenly aware of how close Adrian was sitting next to you and it sent blood rushing to your face again. You did not know what to say, and your heart hammering in your chest and your palms becoming all sweaty from nerves wasn’t exactly helping things either.

“I don’t suppose I properly thanked you for well, saving my life earlier,” Adrian finally said, with a teasing lilt to his voice. “So, thank you.”

“Oh please,” you snapped back. “If you hadn’t acted like a fool and gotten yourself stabbed and on top of that, tried to perform healing magic that was clearly out of your league, then maybe I wouldn’t have had to go all… I dunno, Hephaestus on them!” you practically shouted, and you felt yourself twinge with annoyance when Adrian merely began laughing at your response.

“What’s so funny?” you grumbled and huffed when he just started laughing harder. “Adrian!” you groaned and lightly punched his shoulder. “You know I’m right!”

“That’s exactly,” his laughter died down to a chuckle. “Why I’m laughing. I cannot believe I thought I was strong enough to heal that wound. What was I thinking?”

“I don’t know! That’s what I want to know!” you teased and started to laugh along with him.

The moment was sweet and it felt nice to joke around and have a laugh after something so traumatic. You felt yourself relax, but then it’s almost as if a pit drops in your stomach, one that you wish could swallow you whole, when he takes one of your hands into a gentle grip.

“You really did save my life back there though,” he smiled. “And Aria’s too,” he added, his fangs gleaming under the light of twilight. “I really don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him. “Oh come on Adrian, I’m sure that you managed fine without me.”

“It’s strange,” he said and leaned in just a bit closer. “We haven’t even known each other a year now, but you’ve somehow made my home feel more… complete.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat and a sense of panic begin to overwhelm you.

I know where this is going, you think to yourself. At least, I think I do… oh please tell me that my sixth sense is all wrong about this!

But the telltale signs are all there; the way he nervously fidgets in his seat on the bed, the way the grip on your hand grew just a fraction tighter, and the way… the way that he’s looking at you.

You feel your heart break in two, unworthy of such a gaze filled with unparalleled amounts of adoration and… and--

“I… I think I’m in--”

Before he could even think of finishing his thought, you put a finger up to his lips to silence him. Your arm began to shake when he opened his eyes in surprise, and then his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, clearly not understanding what was going on.

“Please,” you begged, and your arm slid down from his face and landed onto the bed with a heavy thump. “Please don’t say it…”

Your head lolled forward and you kept your gaze locked onto the comforter of your bed, unable to bring yourself to look at him. There was a tense silence that lingered in the air and for a brief moment, you hoped that he had turned himself into mist or transmuted out of the room, but then his chair scratched sharply against the hardwood floor and the door to your bedroom was harshly yanked open. A heavy, sad sigh permeated the quiet air between the two of you before the door was closed with a controlled sense of desperation, leaving you alone.

That’s when the tears came, hot, heavy globs that streamed down your face as you sobbed until you had nothing left, and buried yourself into your covers so that you may sleep and hide away from the world.

___________________

It was an understatement to say that there was a shift between the dynamic you and Adrian had shared within the walls of Castlevania. The personal lessons you had with each other stopped altogether, you practically avoided him at all costs, and if there was an opportunity where you could eat alone, you took it. Obviously these games could only go on for so long without the other two residents in the home picking up on the obvious tension.

Lisa had been the first to try and make an attempt to talking about it with you, but you had immediately dismissed her questions by directing it instead to a new technique of sutures you wanted to try based on a particular stitching pattern you’d seen on one of the dresses Crina had made.

Vlad had been equally as unsuccessful in getting anything from you, even if he believed his idea of asking you in the garden was a great one. When he tried to bring up Adrian, you broke off the conversation and said that you had to head back to the greenhouse to tend to some of the plants,

“Those rosemary have been acting really finicky lately, I should go check on them.”

Sure, rosemary. He knew you were avoiding Adrian, he wasn’t born yesterday. But all he could do was let you be on your way-- it’s not like he and Lisa were having much luck getting anything out of Adrian either.

You knew that it was a bad idea to act like this, to just avoid the problem and hope that you never had to confront it, but Diana had been right; you needed to talk to someone about this, you felt like you were going crazy with the amount of lying and dodging you’d been doing these past couple days.

Surprisingly, you had found your comfort amongst an unlikely pair of confidants: Adrian’s familiars. Well, the three that didn’t believe you drank the blood of the firstborn and made contracts with demons.

Aria had naturally been the first one to approach you, telling you that even if her master refused to speak to you, that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends! She told you that Amore had been in absolute hysterics when she found out what had happened and that Lockette had murmured something about a, “stubborn lock refusing to break.” Yeah… you knew exactly what she was talking about.

She had been the one who suggested that you visit Hatred and Cereza down in the underground caverns since they might be able to shed another opinion on this whole situation. Hatred had initially acted a bit feisty towards you since you did kind of break his master’s heart and all, but after Aria had filled him in on the talks the two of you had shared, he seemed to calm down.

Cereza thankfully let you know that she was going to try and remain impartial during all of this and settle her opinions once she was able to properly make up her mind. And so it soon became a part of your daily routine to find time to head down to the cave that Hatred called home, with Aria always trailing behind you and Cereza not too far behind so that you could really just… vent.

“Anything happen today?” Aria asked while picking through a porous rock to try and excavate the tiny gem she swears she saw.

“Just Lisa cornering me in the library again,” you said and scratched Cereza under her chin as she hung beside you on a low stalactite.

“You know you can’t avoid her forever!” Hatred chastised. “I just wished you would sit down and talk to her.” “And say what?” you snapped. “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry that I broke your son’s heart because I’m an indecisive mess that thinks she’s undeserving of love.”

Hatred growled and threw a rock in your direction. “I am so sick of this!” he snarled. “Why do you think that?”

“Think what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” he hissed and stomped over to where you sat. “Why do you think you are undeserving of happiness? You’re living a life that some people would do anything to have.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed.

“Am I being ridiculous?” he put his hands on his goat hips and glared at you with his red eyes. “You forget that my kind specializes in making deals with you humans. I’m sure there are plenty alive out there that would offer up their own soul to be in your shoes. Someone with a respectable job, someone that’s living in a life of luxury-- fresh food for every meal, nice clean clothes always at the ready-- and of course, someone that has people that love them.”

He gave you a harsh jab on the knee with one of his long pointy nails. “You two have been acting like such spoiled children-- both you and my master. You can’t even offer the woman who took you in an explanation?” he huffed and shook his head at you disapprovingly. “Honestly.”

Your mouth hung open in shock at Hatred’s speech, with even Aria and Cereza falling silent.

“What?” Hatred wondered. “Am I wrong?”

“No… I…” you’re rendered speechless by his brutal honesty, and it takes you a few minutes to organize all of your thoughts. “You’re right… goddess, I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing with a demon.”

“Hey!”

Aria and Cereza giggled as Hatred’s outburst, and Cereza let out a couple of squeaks and twitches of her ears as she said something to Aria to translate.

“Demon jokes aside,” Aria said to Cereza, who merely cocked her head to the side feigning innocence, “Cereza and I both agree that it’s time for you to come clean with yourself. But, you should at least let someone know what’s been going on,” she flew up off your shoulder and kissed your cheek. “They’re your family. They can help… definitely a lot more than us familiars can.”

You cupped her gently in your hands and kissed her head. “You three have helped me even more than you know. I suppose… I’ve just been afraid to tell them all of this. It’s an awful lot to put on someone.”

“But that’s the whole point of family!” Aria exclaimed. “They’re there so you don’t have to put up with all of this on your own!”

Cereza let out a couple rapid squeaks out to express her concurrence.

“See!” Aria said and pointed to Cereza. “She agrees with me!”

“You’re right,” you said. “I… I need to be more open about all of this,” you got up from where you sat and dusted off pieces of shale from your pants. “I think I’m going to go and find Lisa.”

Hatred comically wiped away some sweat from his brow and collapsed onto the hard stone floor. “I’d say ‘hail Satan’ but I know he doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

You chuckled and thanked the three of them one last time before you exited the caves and quickly made your way back inside the castle to find Lisa. It seemed as though fate was on your side that day, and as you darted down a hallway you practically ran into her, who seemed to be on a mission of her own.

“Lisa!” you exclaimed out in surprise. “I was just looking for you.”

“Really?” one of her fine eyebrows were raised up in confusion, the expression in her eyes a bit more distant than you would have liked. “Because it seems to me that you’ve been hellbent on avoiding us.”

You flinched under her harsh gaze, and sheepishly lowered yours, unaccustomed to her being so upset with you--not like you didn’t deserve it. “Yeah… I’m… well, I wanted to apologize for my behavior.” you took a deep breath and steeled your nerves to look her in the eyes. “I wanted to find you so that I could have a chance to explain myself… if you’ll let me.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes widened a bit. That appeared to catch her off guard and her expression softened a bit. “Yes, of course,” she replied and followed you to your room and took a seat at your desk while you sat on your bed.

It took you several tries to finally find the right words to say but after a couple of deep breaths, you were ready to begin. “First of all, I wanted to say how truly sorry I am for ignoring you and Vlad this week. I’m not… I’m not exactly good at dealing with this sort of thing.”

“I hope you know that neither one of us wanted to pry,” Lisa said. “We just wanted to try and help.”

“I know,” you replied. “I’m just…” you sighed, and then chuckled quietly to yourself. “Frankly, I was terrified.” “Terrified?” Lisa repeated. “Sweetheart, what were you terrified about?”

You felt your lip begin to tremble and let out a bittersweet round of laughter. “Lisa, my life has been marred with tragedy, death, and prejudice. The number of times I found myself surviving with nothing more than the clothes on my back, are too many to count. I thought I was destined to live in destitute for what I was, maybe it’s what I deserved…” you’re quiet for a moment as you let your words settle, and then continue.

“But then I was given a second chance, and it all seemed too good to be true. A family had taken me in knowing what I was, and they didn’t care. They welcomed me as one of their own, re-instilling a sense of purpose within me I thought had long since died. And even though everyone around me has been screaming that I deserve all of it… for some reason, I can’t bring myself to believe it.”

Lisa’s face crumpled under your confession and she left her spot on the chair to join you on the bed and wrap an arm around you. “Why in Heaven’s name do you not think you deserve all of this?”

“I don’t know!” you blurted out hopelessly. “For some reason, I’ve convinced myself I’m cursed and I can’t risk…” your chest heaved as you took a deep breath. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” your voice cracked as you looked at Lisa, fresh tears streaming down your eyes. “I would never be able to forgive myself if something were to happen to you, or Adrian, or even Vlad because of me.”

“Sweetheart,” Lisa took a tight grip of your hand and forced you to keep looking at her. “What happened…” she faltered for a moment, carefully choosing her next words. “What happened to your family was a tragedy, but surely you must know that it wasn’t your fault?”

“I… I know,” you sniffled and wiped away at the tears that kept leaking from the corners of your eyes.

“Good, because it wasn’t. Nothing is going to happen to us because of you. Your family died at the hands of ignorant people clouded by fanatical judgment, not you. It saddens me that you’re letting them strip away the pride you’re supposed to be feeling towards your heritage.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

“You’re berating yourself for feeling happy because you’re a witch, are you not?”

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment and your lip pursed into a thin line as Lisa hit the nail right on the head. How she was able to read you so easily honestly astounded you, and more tears fell as you broke down in her arms.

“It’s…” you whispered, and took a harsh breath. “It’s been so exhausting have to hide and lie my way through life just so I can stay alive because of what I am. I sometimes feel ashamed… my coven was filled with such strong, proud women. Witches are supposed to be fierce and ethereal, a guiding light to the other side of the veil that people are supposed to admire and turn to for help. It’s kind of hard to feel, much less embody any of those traits when the whole country wants nothing more than for you to be burned at the stake.”

“I know times have changed,” Lisa said and brushed some hair away from your face. “But what makes you think that you haven’t taken on these roles even now?”

“What?”

“Come now, little one,” she gave you a lighthearted grin and bopped the tip of your nose. “Ever since you started your studies, you’ve been slowly growing into the witch you were meant to be. How many times have I said how thankful I am you found us? Far too many to count, right?” she gave your hand another squeeze and smiled at you. “I know it’s going to be hard to let go of all of these anxieties, but I hope you know that there isn’t a moment where I’m not indebted to whatever forces brought us together.”

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around Lisa as you brought her into a tight hug. “Thank you…” you whispered. “For everything…”

“Of course,” she replied. “I hope…” she wiped at a stray tear that managed to slip by and gave you another radiant smile. “I hope that you know you’re deserving of everything that’s happened, that you’re deserving of a second chance here with us. And I know Adrian has been in a mood lately, but I’m sure he more than agrees with me.”

You cringe at the mention of Adrian and untangle yourself from your embrace, fiddling with a stray thread on your shirt as you worked up the courage to bring up just what had transpired between the two of you. “Yeah… about Adrian--”

“There you are.”

You whip your head over to look into the doorway to find Vlad standing there in a rich red long-sleeved shirt and black pants, his long black hair having been neatly tied back with a silk red ribbon.

Shying away from his gaze to try and make it look like you weren’t just crying, you hear Lisa clear her throat and ask him,

“What can we do for you dear?”

“I apologize if I interrupted anything,” he said. “But… it’s time.”

You blew your nose into a handkerchief and gazed up skeptically towards Lisa for an explanation on Vlad’s cryptic statement. What does he mean it’s time?

“Oh!” Lisa suddenly exclaimed. “Right, I almost forgot,” she took a hold of your hand and pulled you up with her. “You’re going to want to see this.” was all that she said to you before she leads you out of your room, quick to follow her husband’s long strides as you went up stairwells and whipped around corners until you arrived at a tall wooden door.

Vlad pushed it open with ease and you swallowed nervously at what lay inside. Large gears turned and clanked beside you as they churned who knows what throughout the castle. Occasionally, a pipe would hiss out a stream of steam, and you yelped as one went off near your head.

“What is this place?” you whispered to Lisa.

“You know,” she said, as she looked around the room herself. “I’m not quite so sure myself!”

You gave her a deadpanned expression. Great.

“All I do know is that you shouldn’t take a gander off to the sides,” she pointed over at the edge of the high bridge you were currently walking on. “I think that sight would make anyone queasy.” You swallowed a lump in your throat and shuffled closer to Lisa. “That’s reassuring,” you mumbled.

A large, magnificent window embellished with an extravagant gothic frame stood at the very end of the walkway, and illuminated within the bright morning light was a strange object that appeared to be floating above its pedestal.

You had never seen anything like it and as the three of you ascended the small number of stairs to stand before it, you were entranced by the golden adornments that covered its pitch black body. It was fairly large, but as for what it did… you hadn’t the slightest clue.

“Is everyone all here?” Vlad asked.

“Yes.”

You felt your stomach turn to knots when you heard his voice and in spite of everything that you had talked about with Lisa, you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that Adrian stood beside his father, who let out a surprised chuckle when he noticed his son.

“Good, now,” he turned his attention to you. “What’s about to happen may seem alarming but rest assured, everything will be fine.”

“Uh…” you drawled out. “Alright? I… I’m sorry, what is going on?”

“Just watch,” Lisa replied and pointed to the strange trapezoidal cube.

Vlad stood with his back to the rest of you, his shoulders squared back, and as he lifted his hand before the strange item, it slowly began to let out a bizarre whirring sound and split apart before your eyes, spinning so rapidly that it appeared instead as a large glowing golden orb. Several gears that had been inactive started to turn and the entire castle trembled beneath your feet.

For a split second, you thought maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you because everything outside appeared to be flickering in and out of your view. The trees were there one minute, but then the very next, they were gone. This happened several times before the vast expanse of the Transylvanian wilderness vanished within the fraction of a second and was instead replaced by the glittering white sands and towering cliffsides surrounded by the deep blue sea.

The castle lurched you all forward as it stabilized itself, the cube assembling itself back together and the gears slowing to a halt as you reached your destination.

“What the hell was that?” you uttered.

“Did I never tell you?” Vlad wondered aloud as he turned to face you. “This entire structure is a traveling machine, and I can pilot it to any location on Earth.”

“You can’t be serious,” you said, voice laced with skepticism. “There’s no way you’d be able to move an entire castle within the blink of an eye.”

He merely smiled and instructed that you look out the window with a wave of his hand. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

You were still suspicious even as you walked up towards the window, but as you pressed your face closer to the glass and really took a look… you knew where you were almost immediately and you really couldn’t believe your eyes.

“But, this is impossible… ” you muttered.

“I told you I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Vlad teased as he walked over to stand beside you. “Welcome to Caliacra.”

So it was true. You were in Caliacra.

“This is where we will be staying for the next month or so,” Vlad explained. “Our party is taking place here as well, and is going to be co-hosted by my sister who has dominion over these lands.”

“We’re staying here for a month?” your face was split with a wide grin and your eyes sparkled in delight at this news.

“Yes,” Vlad said with a small smile. “We try and come here every year or so to visit my sister, and being able to escape the cold weather isn’t bad either.”

It was like a dream come true having the opportunity to be back... and for a whole month too. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been here, it surely had to be shortly after… shortly after--

“Do you…” you said all of a sudden. “Do you mind if I went down to the beach?”

Vlad blinked at your forthright request but then he smiled and nodded his head. “Of course. There’s no need to ask me for permission--”

You had taken off out of there before he could even finish his sentence, sprinting down the halls and jumping down two, sometimes three steps at a time. You were a woman possessed, and the only thing that would satiate you was feeling that cool ocean breeze on your face and smelling the sea air as you dug your feet into the warm sand.

Shoving open the back door, you nearly tripped over yourself in your own excitement when you could confirm that yes… this was real. You were in Caliacra. You were back home.

Giddy laughter bubbled up from within your chest and it erupted from you as you began to spin in circles around the cliffside. The view was breathtaking and you were mesmerized at the sight of the white waves crashing against the treacherous rocky shore down below. It was only then that you realized just how picturesque this spot was, and it seemed to be only a couple minutes stroll down the hill to reach the beach, so that’s exactly where you headed.

You ditched your shoes about half-way there, kicking up sand and rocks in your haste to reach the pristine shores at the bottom of the valley. When your toes finally sunk into that sand… the joy you felt at that moment was unparalleled.

The sun shone high above you in the sky and as you looked over the neverending expanse of the ocean before you, all you could do was sit and take it all in. Rays of sunlight dance across your skin and you closed your eyes in contentment, stretching out your limbs like a cat getting ready to take a nap. It was quiet, with the only sound being the waves crashing against the shore and an occasional gull cawing away as it searched for food. You felt more at peace now than you had in years.

You had no clue as to how long you stayed out there, basking in the sun’s rays and letting the waves lull you into a state of utter tranquility. You likely could have been there all day with no care for how much time had passed, not worried about anything, not thinking about anything. All that mattered was that you were on a beach in Caliacra… a place you never thought you’d see again.

You scooped some sand into the palm of your hand and let it seep through your fingers, the fine particles scattering in the wind and disappearing from your grasp in a matter of seconds. You chuckled to yourself as you kept doing this, and a small part of you wished that some things in your life could vanish just as easily.

The sound of footsteps crunching against the rocks and sand snapped you out of your trance, and when a shadow loomed over you, blocking the sun, you couldn’t believe who was standing there.

Adrian. With… a basket?

It was a little awkward, what with you on the ground staring up at him looking completely bewildered and him, merely standing there, the expression on his face looking completely unreadable. You weren’t sure exactly… what he was doing, but this bizarre stand-off was starting to get you agitated, so, you said something.

“Do… you want to sit down?”

That seemed to snap him out of it, and you picked up on a couple quick, mumbled apologies before he clumsily sat down beside you. He had his hair tied back again, with the sleeves on his dark blue shirt rolled up to his elbows. His arms rested atop his knees and the basket lay between the two of you, acting as an invisible barrier.

Neither one of you said a thing and you nervously tucked some hair behind your ear to try and not explode from how stifled you felt. Was he going to say something or not?

To your surprise, he leaned over and reached inside of the basket pulling out a sandwich, which he handed to you. “I…” he cleared his throat, his eyes darting away from your gaze. “I know this all might be a bit overwhelming, but you should still eat.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you were sure they were about as big as saucers, a shy ‘thank you’ tumbling from your lips as you took it from him and let it rest in your lap. You saw him take one out as well and bite into it, and even though you thought you were too nervous to eat, your stomach let out an obnoxious growl, proving you wrong. Sheepishly taking a few bites, the two of you ate together in silence, and even if this all still felt incredibly awkward, you were thankful that… well, he even still wanted to be around you. You’d be lying if you said you had no feelings for him but it’s not like you hadn’t made a big mess of things. Denying his feelings the way you did wasn’t exactly going to win you any favors.

You heard the clink of glass and turned to find him taking out two ceramic cups and a mason jar, pouring out a serving for each of you. “Food and a drink?” you said and took a sip. It was sweet, but besides that, it didn’t have much flavor to it. “What else is in that magic basket of yours?” you joked.

You noticed the sides of his mouth quirk up a bit as he held back a smile. “You should know by now that I lack the finesse the pull this off,” he replied and knocked back some of his drink.

“Oh? Then who do I have to thank?”

“My mother.”

“Ah,” you said and nodded your head. “Lisa always seems to be one step ahead.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “She has a way of knowing just what do to… must be that maternal instinct of hers.”

You let out a quiet chuckle. “She’s helped put me back on track--definitely more than once.”

“She was the one who sent me down here. Said she was tired of the way I had been behaving and wanted me to try and mend things,” he let out a sigh and stared straight ahead, gazing out into the vast expanse of the ocean.

You felt your throat go dry and you downed the rest of your drink in one big gulp. “Oh… oh yeah?” your voice stuttered a bit, and you started to play with the sand to try and compose yourself.

“She explained some things to me and well, I…” he cleared his throat again. “I just wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting,” he finally turned to look at you, a sad smile gracing his features when he realized you weren’t looking at him. “I should have been more understanding of the situation and I should have caught on that maybe you waking up out of a possible coma wasn’t the best place for me to start confessing my feelings.” You couldn’t help the laughter that escaped you, and your cheeks burned as you turned to face him. “I’m sorry,” you blurted out. “I’m not laughing at you-- what you said, it was--”

“It’s alright,” he said and gave you a kind smile. “I’m… I’m glad that you feel comfortable enough to even be around me. I know how much of a brat I must seem, throwing a whole tantrum and refusing to speak to you and all that.”

You scoffed. “It’s not like I was any better,” you said and gave him a playful smile. Your hand trembled a bit as you reached out and placed it on his shoulder, the action causing Adrian to nearly jump out of his skin. “I should probably apologize as well. I didn’t exactly handle things very well. I’m just…” your heart fluttered in your chest. “I’m just glad that you don��t hate me or anything.”

“Hate you?” Adrian sounded absolutely baffled. “Why would I hate you?” You cringed a bit and removed your hand from his shoulder to shrug. “I could take a few lucky guesses.”

“You know that I don’t hate you. In fact, you should know that I--” he suddenly stopped himself, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. “Ah, there I go again,” he muttered and chuckled quietly to himself.

He seemed to pull away a bit, and in your panic, you grabbed a hold of his hand. “Adrian,” you gasped, surprised at even yourself for pulling such a bold move. “I… I…” you huffed, frustrated, and looked down at your hands to try and pull yourself together. “Adrian, I care about you… a lot, it’s just… I need some time to think.”

“Think about what?”

“Let me finish,” you snapped. “I… I don’t want to hurt you, not any more than I have. So I need to come to terms with myself about a few things before anything else happens. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you…” your voice trailed off and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Or that I don’t want to see you. I… I’ve… missed you…” you mumbled, and quickly retracted your hand so that you could turn away from his intense gaze.

“What was that?” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“I said that I missed you…” you pouted, your back still to him.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.”

“I missed you, okay!” you conceded and glared at him from over your shoulder. “I’ve gotten rusty with my sword skills. I tried showing Marius what I learned the other day and nearly cut off one of my limbs.”

At the sound of his laughter, you twisted back around to lightly shove him away from you. “It’s not funny! I’m lucky he didn’t ban me from his shop!”

“I’m sure he and Diana are going to have a field day with that story,” he joked and leaned back on his palms to rest more comfortably in the sand.

“I hope they’ll be alright,” you said as you thought of Lupu and of all the villagers you’ve come to know as a second family.

“They’ll be fine. Not even a harsh Romanian winter can claim a life treated by doctor Lisa Tepes.” he joked and then gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s only a month, we’ll be back home before you know it.”

Home, you thought and looked around you. It was about time you came clean about this place, huh?

“You know this is where I’m from?” you said casually as if dropping a side comment about the nice weather.

“What?” Adrian asked completely stupefied. “You’re from Caliacra?”

You nodded your head. “Yup. This is where I’m from,” you got up from where you sat and walked a couple of inches closer so that your feet were barely in the water. “I used to spend all of my time on the beach when I was young. Well, the time that wasn’t occupied by classes, that is. I would go hunting for creatures in the tide pools,” you hummed and started to walk along the shoreline. “You never knew what you would find, be it a tiny crab or even a slippery octopus.” you stopped your quick stride and checked over your shoulder to find Adrian trailing right behind you.

“Tidepools?” he asked.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never explored low-tide!” you gaped at him. “Your father said that you tried to come here at least once a year! That is inexcusable.”

“It’s not my fault we were constantly occupied with family,” he grumbled. “It’s all about formality with us vampires.”

“That’s rough buddy,” you teased and slid out of the way of his carefully timed playful jab. “Hey! Watch it! It’s not my fault you were denied this as a child!” you laughed and started running across the shoreline. The wet sand easily sunk beneath the weight of your feet, and your jubilant laughter danced along with the wind as Adrian chased after you.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you raced each other, but you had to slow down once you had reached higher up on the bank since it started to shift from soft sand to rough sticks and stones. You panted from the exertion of such an exhilarating run and placed your hands on your knees to catch your breath. It had been quite a while since you had done something like that.

“What was all that about?” Adrian gasped as he caught up to you, and a part of you appreciated that he had actually run with you, he could have easily used his sneaky vampire speed if he had wanted.

“I…” you gasped out and looked up to face him. “I’m not sure… this,” you finally stood back up and looked around you. “I dunno there was this,” you took a couple of deep breaths and slowly found yourself facing the other direction.

A large lush forest lay just beyond the edge of the beach where the sand started to part off into soil. There was this… sense of familiarity, a feeling in the back of your mind that seemed to pull you in. You carefully made your way to the edge of the woods, heart hammering in your chest and palms beginning to sweat.

“I think… this is what called me here,” you said and gazed up at Adrian. You took a few quick glances around some of the brush and then pushed past a branch, allowing yourself to be enveloped by the thick covering of maple leaves and small aquatic plants. A thick underbrush of ferns appeared to part at your feet as you walked along the mud trails covered in thick plush moss. You weren’t exactly sure where you were going, but you had trusted your instincts this far, right?

You easily hopped over logs and skipped over withered, moss-covered branches, occasionally making a stop here and there to get a look at the many swamps that dotted the area. Occasionally you had to slow down to make sure that Adrian was able to catch up with your quick movements. Apparently, he was unaccustomed to making his way through thick vegetation.

It wasn’t until you reached a specific spot that you knew just why you had been lead here. There was a distinct feeling here, at this juncture, a sudden pressure that hits you just behind the sinus’s, one that makes you take a step back to get a second look at things. As you took another step forward the surge of magic that hit you left you a little breathless. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, but it quite literally felt as though you were having magic poured in you.

The plants, from the grass to the trees to the flowers and the tiniest leaves called out to you in a wonderous symphony; it was as if the entire forest was heralding your miraculous return.

You had finally made it back, back home.

Laughter pours out of you as you start to skip ahead, bouncing with every step and occasionally spinning around to get a good look at everyone. Ferns grabbed at your fingers and ankles, desperately trying to keep you close, with even the grass curling around your toes in affection. Large trees seemed to sing with the wind, their trunks humming a beat as their leaves chimed in a beautiful soft tune. It was simply magical.

“I can’t believe it!” you cried out and spun around with your arms outstretched. “This,” you gasped and ran over to Adrian. “This is my forest! My forest!” you shouted. “The one that surrounded my village,” you added when Adrian only looked at you as though you had gone a little mad.

He looked around, albeit a little nervously, for he sensed that he wasn’t exactly welcomed here. Perhaps it had something to do with him being a man?

“This forest protected my coven from so much, and we protected her in turn,” you said and rested a hand on a nearby tree trunk. “She was where I found refuge shortly after the attack on my village,” you said forlornly, and you felt the whole forest sag with you at the mention of that day. “This place had also been damaged by those men,” you spat. “They had burned quite a handful of very ancient trees, ones that we all still miss very dearly,” you said and brushed your fingers along a handful of honeysuckle plants.

“This is where I really learned to hone in my healing and plant magic,” you explained and walked over to where Adrian stood, listening to you with avid fascination. “It was through the teachings of the forest nymphs that I was able to harness all of this anger and resentment that I had festering inside of me and turn it into something good.” you looked all around you, a smile on your face. “I honestly don’t know if I’d be here today if it wasn’t for this place.”

“That’s…” Adrian began, but his voice failed him as he ran his fingers through his now messy bun-hair. “I never knew…” he finally said.

“It’s okay,” you said and took a hold of both his hands. “I only ever told your father about all this, but even he doesn’t know this much,” you brought up your hands and gave him a smile. “Can’t you feel it? This place is practically humming with life.”

You close your eyes for a brief moment and take a deep breath. Within a few seconds, a bright green light emanates from your palms and as it passes into Adrian’s hands, his arms jolt as a surge of pure magic seeps through his veins.

His golden eyes are blown wide in surprise and he is utterly mystified by what he just felt.

“That was…?” he asked, and you nodded your head.

“That was a portion of the magic that lies inside the very roots of these woods,” you said and smiled.

“That’s incredible,” he said in awe, curiously looking over all the trees and plants now.

You felt butterflies dance in your stomach as you watched Adrian appreciating such a sacred place to you. It felt so nice to be able to share it with someone who was a part of your new life.

The snapping of a twig from behind you caused you to whip your head in that direction and cautiously stalk towards a bush that seemed to be rumbling.

You let out a cry of surprise as five shapes leap from out of the brush and latch themselves onto you.

Adrian calls out your name and when he receives no response, he races over to where he last saw you, his magic coiling around the tips of his fingers as he readied himself to blast whatever it had decided to mess with you--

“Adrian no! It’s okay!” you gasped through a fit of laughter.

When his gaze landed on you, he discovered that you had been captured by a viciously clingy group of… forest nymphs.

They were tiny things, with big round colorful eyes and silky hair that seemed to mingle in with the rest of their body. Their hands appeared to be long strings of vines that currently had a tight grip on your arms and legs, and he noticed dozens of flowers that had sprouted on different parts of their body. When you finally corralled them off of you, they stood about knee-height to Adrian, and a few of them gave him curious glances, but most downright ignored him.

They babbled away in their high pitched voices, going on-and-on about how much they missed you and how they had so much to tell you!

“Girls,” you said, stopping all of them mid-sentence. “I’m so happy to see you as well, but you’re not just going to ignore this new guest, are you?”

They all simultaneously turned around to face Adrian, who gave them a nervous smile and an awkward wave.

“You brought a man into these woods?” one said sternly.

“Oooh, it is a man!” another one giggled.

“What’s his name? What’s his name?” another whispered urgently.

“This is Adrian,” you said as you introduced him. “He’s the son of a doctor I’ve been learning under.”

“Oh he seems more than that,” one of them teased, and when you glared down at her, she giggled and vanished into a pile of leaves.

“Ooh I see why you brought him in here now!” one of them whispered to you, then they all started to laugh and before you could even reprimand them, they would vanish from sight by turning into a plant. Mischevious little things.

You huffed as the final one sprouted up as a fresh daisy and turned to Adrian to offer your apologies.

“No, it’s alright,” he chuckled. “I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

You blew some hair out of your face and dusted off your hands that had become covered in dirt. “No, they’re just…” you frowned as you tried to find the right adjective. “Shy?” you settled for, but you knew that was about as far away from the truth as you could get.

Even if they had disappeared from sight, you could still feel them around you and every once-in-awhile you could hear them giggle and gossip to one another. They seemed to be following you, but as you neared closer and closer to a visible clearing, they slowly came to a halt. As you and Adrian exited the forest, you looked back and saw the group of them standing near the very edge of the woods, waving you goodbye.

As you two started to walk down a small hill, you took the opportunity to get a look at where it is you ended up. It was a field, a large one that spread out across a nearby coastline, the sound the ocean being a faint hum against your ears. Getting closer you were able to see what the flowers were and in that moment, time seemed to stand still.

This place… you thought. I know this place…

You walked further into the field until you were knee-deep in the tall, soft grass and surrounded by these gorgeous white flowers that looked like pearls shining in the sunshine. You felt a tug on your heart, one so powerful that it brought you to your knees, one that made everything so clear. The forest… the nymphs… the feeling of familiarity that you had once you stepped out into this place…

Hot tears streamed down your face as your vision focused on the flowers swaying in the wind around you. Poppies… they were white poppies.

Images from the vision you had of your family flashed in your mind and you remembered the white poppy you had found yourself holding after you had said goodbye. You heaved a heavy breath as you gently reached out and touched one of the flowers, practically trembling as their soft petals graced your fingertips.

You heard your name being called out, but…

You felt yourself slowly lay onto the grass, letting yourself become encompassed by these flowers as tears quietly slid down your cheeks.

It wasn’t long until Adrian found you though, the call of your name becoming filled with shock and a sense of urgency when he spotted you laying amongst the plants.

“Are you alright?”

You felt the grass around you flatten under his weight and when you opened your eyes, you saw that he had started to kneel down in front of you. Slowly getting up from your position on the ground, you give him a smile.

“Adrian,” you said, your lip trembling. “This is where my village was… this was my home.” fresh tears leaked from your eyes as you said this, and you quickly tried to wipe them away.

“Are you sure?”

You vigorously shook your head. “Yes… I can feel it,” you said and gasped as more tears fell down your face. “This place… it’s beautiful,” you whimpered and brought your hands over your eyes as you quietly sobbed.

For so long you wondered just had happened to this place. Had the forest regrown and nature reclaimed what was once hers? Or had the area suffered so much bloodshed that the very earth was contaminated?

The amount of relief that you felt seeing this… at being able to feel that their spirits were at rest… it was indescribable.

“I’m so happy,” you finally said and leaned your head on Adrian’s shoulder, a gentle breeze caressing the two of you as you sat amongst the dancing poppies. “I’m so happy they were all able to find peace.”

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foggedgrief · 5 years ago

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okay, hello, this is going to be a part one to a series of introductions ! i have already hit my five character cap because i’m a menace but that means you get more content and honestly that feels like a fair trade off. without my rambling, i give you nicky ( click here to find some quick facts about my boy ) and emi ( click here to find some quick facts about my girl ) ! wanted connections can be found here.

be warned ! before you click that handy dandy little read more, the following triggers will be discussed : death ( multiple deaths due to the fog, not explicit : both nicky and emi ), grief ( parent losing a child : emi ), religion ( turning away from : emi ) !

losing friends and family to the fog and blaming yourself for not being more vigilant, taking guardianship of your little sister and getting a second job to make sure ends meet, trying your hardest and kicking yourself for not doing better, bloodied knuckles aggravated by vodka to clean them and wrapped so tightly you fear your fingers might turn blue, anger replaced by grief replaced by the understanding she needs you and you will tear down the rest of the world to keep her safe.

nicholas adam locklear was born in inverness, scotland, and still has a scottish accent even though he’s been in the country for twenty years.

nicky and his family moved to maine a few months before his seventh birthday. they moved to maine because his mother, a once american ex pat, had a father who wanted his kids to be closer because they all seemed to have scattered to the wind. he walked into the fog a week after the locklears had unpacked their home.

the fog has always been a thing of morbid fascination from nicky and after grandpa took his walk into the woods, nicky was kept particularly far away from the forest line, fog warnings or not. on all saint’s day, the day after he turned eight, nicky found himself in the fog. and then he found himself in his bed with no explanation for either event.

he started drawing that day, intricate sigils that gave themselves meaning but no voice, so he spoke them into existence: protection from sorcery, protection from evil, wards off negative energies, heal the body and the spirit. four symbols that he couldn’t stop drawing on everything he owned. homework, notebooks, on the walls of his home in crayon ( if you look in those spots today, in the locklear family home, they’re painted now. a whole interior room covered in the sigils intended to look like an artsy photo collage wall. ).

some in town say that the locklears are cursed, that their family bears bad blood, that they owed some kind of karmic debt too large for one life. whatever the rumor, they all boil down to one thing: too many locklears have gone missing in the fog. nicky’s paid little mind to them, though there’s a voice too strange to be his but too familiar to dismiss that encourages him to go in ( to go back ).

nicky’s life revolves around his little sister, belle, who was born when he was twenty. a few months later, their mother went into the fog and their father went about an hour later to try and look for her. neither came home. though the courts tried to pass belle off to the next living relative, nicky petitioned for rights to guardianship because he lived in the home and could find a way to make ends meet for him to be belle’s caretaker. enter the diner and blue valley.

nicky’s always been a hard worker, never one to take a short cut and never one to take the easy way out. his focus has always been to take care of belle above board, so no one could have a reason to take away the last of his family. that little babe was his world and is nicky’s driving force in most things. he started working at the bar first and took on a job at the diner when he realized that tips got slow after a certain hour and what better way than to make more money by helping to sober up the people you just got drunk ?

when customers offer to buy nicky drinks, he usually puts together a couple of complimentary mixers ( cranberry juice, pineapple juice, and orange juice ) and pours in water from an old tito’s bottle to make it look like he’s adding tequila. he’ll pocket the cost of a drink as an extra tip. he never drinks on the job.

his jobs aren’t glamorous but they keep the roof over his head and belle’s. he works 14 hour days ( 9 pm to 11 am ; 9 pm - 3 am at blue valley and 3:10 to 11 am at the diner ), 6 days a week ( sundays off ), 84 hours a week and he’s damn good at what he does, and seldom calls out for anything. nicky’s the kind of guy to pound three monsters and call it a day just to keep himself going. he’s used to running on little sleep because of his paternal role with belle and wanting to keep as engaged with her as possible. he usually leaves her with the finnegans so he doesn’t have to pay any babysitting money.

the one time nicky tried, dottie looked at the bills in his hand and just hugged him tightly and said, “no child of mine is going to pay me to watch theirs.” nicky cried that day and spent ten minutes crying into her shoulder and then slept on her couch for a few hours while belle played with the finnegan twins.

nicky is a good person and he’s a really good dad. at 22 he became licensed in the state of maine to be able to foster and has fostered ten kids in the last five years. right now it’s just him and belle in the house that his parents bought that he keeps up as best as he can. the guest bathroom needed a remodel three years ago and the kitchen appliances only work when you knock on them the right way and if the wind’s blowing in the right direction, but some things are just the way that it is.

other important things that i couldn’t work in above but you should know:

nicky gives like ,,, just really comforting hugs that suggest a level of emotional intimacy that is likely to catch you pleasantly off guard.

will help you buy your groceries because he has a better chance of making fifty dollars tonight than you do.

usually sleeps on disney princess sheets because belle insisted they would look best in his room ( she was right ). his other sheets are bubblegum pink and he bought them for himself because that’s the vibe he was feeling and sometimes you just have to do what will put a smile on your face.

his little sister is seven but nicky is the only parent she’s ever known and she usually calls him dad over nicky even though she knows the difference.

nicky calls her his kid a lot. everyone in town pretty much knows the story.

steady hands and steady heart are starting to shake, pleading with officers don’t let me bury an empty casket, the table set for three but you can’t bring yourself to put the plate away, pale yellow front door once made your laugh now just makes you sad because your daughter’s sunshine still lingers, and there’s no place to put your faith, nothing so powerful would take away a little girl.

emi is considerably less fleshed out than nicky but we’re still going to do our best to give her a fair shake at an intro, so here goes !

noemi was born noemi sofia ibarra in pine haven, maine. though she’s always considered pine haven her home, she’s always desired that her upbringing was somewhere warmer.

she’s a third generation doctor at the clinic, following in the footsteps of her grandfather and mother and knew from a young age that she wanted to help people. she bounced from pine haven for a while ( from ages 18 to 28 ) and followed her dreams to go somewhere warmer and graduated from emory university’s medical school in atlanta.

she pushed through medical school immediately after graduating with her undergrad and returned to pine haven as a permanent resident when she was 29. having been home, officially, for ten years, she has found herself in the center of the community. more often than not, residents of town know they can call emi and come sit on her kitchen table if they need urgent care.

life outside of pine haven’t wasn’t all medical school, though, because she also met her the father of her daughters. at 23 emi gave birth to her elder daughter, evangeline. that sweet little girl meant the world to her and emi spent double the amount of time awake those first semesters trying to get used to having a baby and school to balance. she was the center of emi’s universe, this baby and her father.

emi’s second daughter, catalina, was born about eight years ago and is as much emi’s pride and joy as her older sister. the pair never fail to blow emi away in their creativity, kindness, and love, and she has made that known to them from the time they could open their eyes. though these times were sweet it’s time to fast forward to the current day because this is where emi shifts for the worse for as much as she doesn’t want to.

two weeks ago, during the fog warning, evangeline wasn’t home with the family. emi was at work, locked down with a few patients, and when she didn’t get a phone call from her daughter, like she asks of all her family, she started to worry. panic didn’t settle in until after the fog warning and no one had heard from evangeline. frantic, begging, trying to stave off the final moments before the inevitable declaration, emi found herself begging the officers at the station: find me something to bury before absolutely crumbling against the weight of her own fears.

prior to her daughter’s disappearance, emi had put at least some stock into god but spite consumes her whenever she thinks about him. something all loving doesn’t steal child from the arms of their mother’s and something all powerful doesn’t let whatever lives in the forest to exist after taking the first soul. this town suffers because of that fog and venom pools in her mouth waiting to spit at the first person who proclaims that god will watch over her daughter. some people turn to faith for stability. emi has turned away.

#pine haven intro #‹ ✦ ˚ nicky: headcanon. fickle hearted little boy made man with a silver tongue. ›#‹ ✦ ˚ noemi: headcanon. gone but not forgotten，she holds so many candles. ›#death tw #death mention tw #religion tw #grief tw

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xplrerdolan · 4 years ago

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74 for the ask game! if you wouldn’t mind writing about multiple friends? i think they way you write is so good!

you are SO FRICKEN SWEET thank you so much for asking this bubs, the compliment means everything to me 🥺

74. describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

a. their hair, shoulder length now, is effortlessly shiny and never out of place. the skin they’ve committed to is glowing, and their facial hair is neatly trimmed, adding to the sculpted, angular appearance of their jaw. their eyes, heavy-lidded and situated evenly beneath two thick, groomed brows, capture your own in the grips of a double take. the brown in them is misleading; look closer. there: green, flickering through the umber like sunlight between trees in an ambient forest. their lips need not pucker to seek a kiss. their voice, though bassy, is delicate, almost curved. the truest of their laughs is accompanied by a swaying of the body and subsequent flicking of the hair. their mind, sharp and clear like a quartz, is decisive; it is often jumbled, but untrained, unwelcomed eyes would never notice. beneath the calm is a storm whose lightning is overwroght and whose thunder is besetting. they demand their time goes unwasted.

b. the first thing you’ll notice is their smile. if you can be so lucky, it might be accompanied by a laugh. the smile, characterized by rounded teeth and framed by cursive lips, is incurably contagious. the laugh, though varied in size (big, small, etc.), is always genuine. their eyes are the shape of almonds and the color of roasted chestnuts; their lashes frame them like petals. above them, their eyebrows are a source of envy. their hair falls over their frame like a blanket of curls. it is bouncy and full of life. it is often adorned with elaborate clips, and sometimes it’s pulled back by a decorative scrunchie. all of this beauty radiates from below their sepia skin, it is the source of their powerful smile: sunlight. indeed, they have a soul that the gods crafted from a singular ray, an ember that burns bright enough to fill the darkness in any space. sure, sometimes they are dulled by cloudy days. but their beaming sunlight will always prevail, and anyone who basks in it is forever grateful.

c. they are such an unattainable beauty. read this carefully: they do not have unattainable beauty (though they are quite stunning, a child of venus without a doubt), they are unattainable beauty. they are coveted, and therefore, they are envied. many will try to experience them, but most of them will succumb to insecurity and end up losing them more quickly than they found them. the few who prove to be worthy will be greatly rewarded; they get past the thorns and are treated with soft, sweet petals. should you find yourself lucky enough to be a bumblebee among their petals, you will soon realize you are thus protected by their thorns. this is what makes them unattainable—only a rare few get to experience such beauty. so when in the presence of their lion’s mane hair, their smiley brown eyes, their full-lipped gift of a smile, make sure to value every second they spend with you. be humbled by their decision to love you; you could only be so fortunate.

d. there are ballads and epics written about them, i’m sure of it. they are not the hero, no—far from it. they are much greater than a mere hero. beneath their defined, delicately down-turned nose is the proof. within that charmingly crooked smile resides a trickster god, one who walks among mortals purely for the fun of it. should there be any doubt cast upon this claim, i will offer my strongest evidence: look at the corners of their mouth. watch the way their most sincere smile still taunts you. the merely aquatinted will fall victim to their powers the most: you may believe they know less. that’s where they want you, and that’s where they’ll leave you. foolish mortals would believe this person is void of cynicism, they would never suspect the divine being which breathes beneath their silky skin. i am apt to believe (perhaps displaying my own foolishness) i may be the only mortal who knows of the spirit within them. what i have done to deserve this ancient companion, i will never know, but i will thank their divine brothers and sisters for them every day.

#anon #irl friends #this was fun as fuck aaaaaa #my writing

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sicut-in-caelo-et-in-terra · 5 years ago

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Frozen II is C A T H O L I C

Frozen II spoilers below.

I saw Frozen II a few days ago, and I was very impressed. I understand why some people did not like it; the four elements theme has been done countless times before. The songs, while often musically impressive and a great way to showcase Idina’s voice, were not as poetic or thematically rich as those in the first film. The expository dialogue was also rather weak, certain things like the mothers scarf - “I know you’re stressed out because you’re wearing Mother’s scarf” - were introduced to the plot somewhat uncreatively.

That said, it was an excellent story that stood its own. Frozen II was able to be so good because it explored a separate part of the story and of the characters that was not explored in the first film. It built on the development that Elsa and Anna experienced six years prior without doing too much along the lines of retconning in some unexplored part of each character.

Also, I was very pleased that the film seems to be extremely deliberately Catholic.

Before I move into the heavy hitters, here’s a few Catholic themes I noticed:

During Kristoff’s third attempt to propose to Anna, he gets caught in his own words and keeps repeating “well, we eventually will die, we will die one day!” It was intended to be a funny bit of dialogue as he stumbles around trying to say what he truly wants to say, but I thought it was also a nice nod to the Catholic theme of memento mori, and clued me into the Catholicism throughout.

Speaking of Kristoff, his anguish surrounding his love of Anna was evocative of a lot of Catholic thought. Particularly in his song, he speaks of his fears that the two are growing apart. For me, it really displayed the philosophy of love as a choice and an active decision, rather than as a feeling that comes and goes.

Kristoff also reminds me a lot of St. Joseph. He’s the man in the little family who also happens to be the least central part of the narrative, but he loves Anna with all his heart and he loves Elsa like a sister. He is the one who loads up the cart and puts his family on the road to go a far distance for the story to begin once Elsa receives her call. He displays especially Josephan levels of virtuous trust and obedience at the very end, when Anna is being chased by the earth giants and he saves her, asking “where do you need to go?” When she tells him that they need to destroy the dam, he responds only with “You got it,” and does everything in his power to make it happen, even though he was the one to originally notice that the destruction of the dam means the destruction of Arandelle. Not only this, but he loves and trusts Anna so much that he willingly puts her into mortal danger at her request, because he believes that she knows what the right thing to do is, even if that means the sacrifice of her life for her, and the sacrifice of his beloved for Kristoff.

Olaf is a character that exhibits the childlike innocence and joy exhorted by Jesus in the gospels and illuminated by the writings of St. Therese of Lisieux. Olaf is carefree and does respect and revere adults (even wishing to have some of their wisdom and courage, as he explains in his song), but he has this littleness about him where he can just enjoy his life that he knows he has been blessed with. In both Frozen and Frozen II, despite his apparent immaturity he knows his exact place and purpose, which is to love, and he accepts his own death with such beautiful grace because he knows he has done what he was made for, and he is happy.

During Elsa’s first song, Into the Unknown, she talks consistently about this calling to adventure that she has, but an unwillingness to follow it. She, like the rich young man in the Gospels (Matthew 19:16-28, Mark 10:17-31, Luke 18:18-30), has all that she has ever wanted, and she has had her own great conversion in the past. She lives a good life, and rules her kingdom with justice and righteousness, but there is still something more, something that she was created for. A call from God that she could not reject, and it continued to call her like a voice in the night until she set off to do what she was created to do. This can also be an allegory for discernment of the priesthood.

Original Sin

“The harmony in which they had found themselves, thanks to original justice, is now destroyed: the control of the soul’s spiritual faculties over the body is shattered, the union of man and woman is subject to tensions ... Harmony with creation is broken: visible creation has become alien and hostile to man.” (CCC 400).

Much like the fall of Adam, the betrayal of Elsa’s grandfather left three major ruptures: between man and nature (now Gale, the fire salamander, the water horse, and the earth giants are at odds with the people, wreaking havoc and attacking on sight until each are subdued by Elsa), between man and woman or man and other men (the Arandellians and the northern people are at war with each other; those who are trapped in the forest together remain at war with one another through all thirty-four years, until Elsa comes to unify them), and between man and himself, causing him to die (as Grandfather was killed in the very battle he started to create the disuinity, it can also be seen as manifested by Elsa’s lack of control over her power in the first film).

Each of these ruptures had to be rectified by Elsa, the film’s Christ figure. Elsa was the only one who was able to tame the four elemental spirits. Elsa, who was fully man and fully divine, an incarnation of the fifth elemental spirit.

Elsa and the Fifth Spirit

Elsa, with her dual nature, was destined to heal the sin of her grandfather, and to bridge the gap between humans and nature. She could do so because she was a human, and could therefore represent the humans to see their sins, and she could sufficiently approach the spirit of nature because she was the incarnate form of the spirit. She had to be both, just like Jesus had to be both.

We have already known that Elsa was a Christ figure since the first film, where she ran across the water, but this film solidified it with her death and resurrection. When she went into the chamber of the fifth element (literally jumping into an abyss), she saw all of the sins of man, most principally those of her grandfather. Just as in the garden of Gethsemane Jesus experienced all sin since the sin of Adam and reversed it by giving his life, Elsa was able to enable the reversal of her grandfather’s sin only through her own death. (Her death was a participation in the same death Anna went through in the first movie, a death due to a frozen heart. This is evocative of imagery of stony hearts in Ezekiel 36:26, which God will remove and replace with natural hearts).

It is also significant that Elsa is the descendant of the man whose sin put everyone in this mess; Luke makes sure to let us know that Jesus was a descendant of Adam so that his sin could be truly reversed (Luke 3:23-38). Elsa is also the descendant of her father, the good king, destined, then, to rule Arandelle - just as Jesus was the descendant of David and destined to rule Israel, as emphasized by Matthew (Matthew 1:1-17).

Elsa is ontologically a Creator, as shown when Olaf, her creation, is clearly contingent upon her since he cannot exist in her absence.

The fifth spirit has much of the same imagery as God. It abides in a place inaccessible to man (which people attempt to reach but cannot; they instead die trying as in the Tower of Babel) but, we see during Elsa’s Show Yourself that this abode is a palace much like Elsa’s that she built for herself. This is the residence of a king, but which no human can enter, like the Holy of Holies.

In this place, Elsa’s clothing becomes bright white and she sees (and kind of converses) with her dead mother (who herself was pleasing to the Fifth Spirit after an act of love). It is reminiscent of the Transfiguration, when Jesus’s “clothes became white as the light” (Matthew 17:2) and he spoke with Moses and Elijah.

The Fifth Spirit always appears as a fractal pattern, as the centerpiece surrounded by the four spirits:

which is evocative of apocalyptic imagery of God as seen in Ezekiel 1 and Revelation 4, as He is always accompanied by the four Seraphim, the four “living creatures.”

After Elsa experiences her resurrection, she is seen by the entirety of Arandelle saving the entire kingdom from the tidal wave, dispersing the water (which is Biblically a symbol of primordial chaos), and then returning to the north, where it is said that “she belongs,” where she is in communion with the spirits from whence she came. However, she is still present to Arandelle, returning for charades, and is still their queen (although Anna has taken over the office).

So, too, did Jesus ascend into Heaven, although He remains present with us.

Anna is the Pope

The most Catholic thing of the movie after Elsa’s Christ journey is the clear imagery of the Church at the end. For most of the film, Elsa and Anna’s relationship is characterized by a sense of Anna saying “where are you going?” and Elsa saying “Where I am going, you cannot follow me now,” and Anna replying with “why can’t I follow you now? I will lay down my life for you” (these are are pretty close to the actual dialogue of the movie but these are exact quotes from John 13:36-38, an exchange between Jesus and Peter).

Additionally, at the end there is a moment where Elsa is seen riding across the water in the distance and Anna spies her and runs to meet her, you’re almost certain Anna is going to jump into the water and try to run out to her like Peter did in Matthew 14:22-33, but it cuts so that Elsa reaches the shore when Anna does.

Anna is also the first person to verbally say that Elsa is one and the same with the Fifth Spirit, just as Peter is the first to vocalize the fact that Jesus is the Son of God.

Elsa and Anna speak of this “bridge” metaphor, where “a bridge has two sides.” Elsa is the mediator between the north and Arandelle (Jesus is the mediator between God and man) but Elsa belongs in nature, and needs a representative to guide Arandelle in her name. She specifically picks Anna for this task, as Jesus specifically picks Peter as the rock upon which he builds His Church. “Pontifex,” a title for the Pope, means “bridge builder.”

Like the Church on Earth, Jesus is still present and guides the Magisterium in shepherding the flock. At the end of Frozen II, we see Anna sending messages in the wind (much like the flow of incense) to her Queen. They maintain a relationship of friendship and sisterhood, as well as deep respect.

#catholic #christian #frozen #frozen 2 #frozen 2 is catholic #movie #movie review #long post

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imaginetonyandbucky · 6 years ago

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After Afghanistan tony became a part-time grim reaper assigned to the winter soldier, since Bucky has a messed up head he can see tony.

Take My Hand (Don’t Fear the Reaper)

Archive Warning: Major Character Death (Tony dies off-screen prior to the start of the story).

Chapter 1 (On AO3)

“This is bullshit,” Tony announced, looking down at his dead body. While he watched, his would-be savior, a tall, thin, slightly familiar looking older man sat back on his heels with a sigh. He bowed his head and muttered something in a language Tony didn’t understand, probably some prayers for Tony’s newly departed soul or something. “I’m right here, though,” said the newly departed soul, sourly trying to kick a rock and failing.

NOT FOR LONG, a deep voice said, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Christ!” Tony jumped and spun at the same time, then his face went blank with disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I’M NOT, BUT I DO GET THAT A LOT. The origin of the voice was a bony figure in a black robe, carrying a no-shit scythe. Tony glanced at the man who had dragged himself to his feet and was reaching for a blanket to cover Tony’s face, but he didn’t show any sign of seeing the figure in black. Of course not, Tony thought. He’s not dead. INDEED, Death said. ARE YOU READY?

“Doesn’t it bother you to be a cliché?” Tony said, gesturing to the scythe and robe. “I mean, really?”

NO, Death said. Its shoulders may have moved in a shrug, but it was hard to say. DOES IT BOTHER YOU?

“Hey!” Tony protested. “I’m not…” But as he stared down at the blanket covered lump that used to be him, he found that he couldn’t lie, not even to himself. Spoiled rich weapons dealer who got killed with his own weapons? It was the ultimate morality tale of one's own sins coming home to roost, missing only a lost but beautiful princess and a poor but noble prince. “Well, shit,” he said finally. “Yes. It does bother me.” He scowled as he watched the man move slowly around the room, tidying the mess that had been made by Tony’s abrupt, if short, residence in – what was this place? A cave? What the hell was he doing in a cave, anyway?

THAT’S UNFORTUNATE, Death said, not unsympathetically. BUT ITS TIME TO GO.

“Is this the part where I make a deal or like challenge you to a fiddle contest or something?” Tony paced around his body, still not willing to admit that it was over. If he’d been in a hospital they could have used that shock cart or something to bring him back to life, but in this cave there was nothing so sophisticated; to Tony’s dismay, the man didn’t even have a sink to wash his hands in, he was just using the sand of the cave to dry up the blood on his hands before wiping them on a rag that wasn’t much cleaner.

CAN YOU PLAY THE FIDDLE? Death asked, sounding mildly curious.

“What? No, that was just…I mean, I can play the piano, and the violin a little. What I meant was, is there anything I can do to…” Tony started to run a hand over his face in frustration, but his hand just went right through his face without stopping. Not real, not even to himself. “I just feel like it wasn’t supposed to end like this.” He straightened as a thought occurred to him. “I have unfinished business! I can’t go into the light if I have unfinished business!”

THERE IS NO LIGHT, Death said, this time sounding irritated. YOU CAN’T STAY. I HAVE A STRICT NO GHOST POLICY. He pointed one long bony finger at a sign that appeared over his shoulder, a plain wooden thing that had “NO GHOSTS” written on it in careful, painstaking brush strokes. Underneath, in slightly sloppier writing, it said “133,590 Days Since Last Ghost.”

They stood there for a moment while Tony scowled at the sign, at Death, and at the cave where the poor man was still trying to tidy up. They stood there for long enough that Tony had a realization. “You can’t make me go, can you?” he said. “I have to make a choice.”

NO, I CAN’T MAKE YOU GO, Death admitted. Just as Tony was starting to feel victorious, the man’s movements slowed until they came to a complete halt, right in the middle of him throwing away a pile of bloody bandages. The dust floating in the air, barely noticeable, stopped its movements, and the faint buzzing of the hastily rigged lighting in the room went silent, making the room deafeningly quiet. BUT I CAN WAIT.

(More after the break!)

Tony knew himself better than to think he was going to be able to outwait Death. He was many things but patient was not one of them. “So there’s no other option?” He said, aware that he was bordering on wheedling. “Go with you or be stuck here in this moment forever?”

Death was quiet for so long that Tony was starting to think that he wasn’t going to respond when he heard a strange whistling noise. It was a sigh, somehow exhaled through a skeleton. THE ONLY OTHER OPTION IS FOR YOU TO JOIN ME. BECOME A REAPER.

“Seriously? I have to take your place? That’s a real thing?”

NO, THERE IS ONLY ONE DEATH. YOU WILL BE MY ASSISTANT.

“Oh. Like, I do what you did for me? Meet people when they die and help them move on?”

YES.

Tony thought about that for a while. It seemed a bit morbid, but still better than leaving forever and going to the terrifyingly unknown place that comes next. He didn’t know why the thought of moving on filled him with such dread and fear, but he did know he’d do anything to put it off as long as possible. “Sure, it’s a deal.”

VERY WELL. Death held out his skeletal hand and Tony shook it gently, wondering if he was supposed to feel different or look different as time resumed its course around them. YOU CAN HAVE THE PROBLEM CASES, it said as it turned away.

“So do I get my own robe and scythe, or-” With the suddenness of flipping a switch, Tony was out of the cave and standing in a ditch next to a country road, staring at a crumpled mass of a car that had just hit a tree head-on. A woman was standing next to it, looking confused.

“Hey,” Tony said as he approached, waving his hand to get the woman’s attention. “Are you okay?” he asked out of habit, then winced. Duh, she wasn’t okay, she was dead.

She turned to him and waved back at him, polite but vague, still looking confused. “What just happened?” She frowned at the car, and then at the forest around them. “I was in the car, something ran out in front of me, and then I was just standing here.”

“You had an accident,” Tony said, clearing his throat. “And you, uh, didn’t make it.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine, I’m standing right here-“ She turned to look in the car and Tony tried to grab her by the shoulders to stop her, but his hands went right through her, ending up in her chest. Tony jerked back, embarrassed, but the whole awkward interaction was enough to distract her from turning around.

“I don’t know if you should do that,” he said apologetically. He could see the woman’s body over her shoulder, and there was a lot of blood. “You should just trust me. I’m here to help you move on,” he added. “You know, take the next step.”

“So are you an angel?” She asked, looking dubious. Tony glanced down at himself and realized he was wearing the suit he’d been wearing when the convoy was attacked, so as far as outfits he would be spending eternity in, it could have been worse. He wondered if it was possible for him to change into something more casual and resolved to figure that out later.

“Uh, no, not really. I’m a, um, person, like you, that was chosen to help others cope with this…transition,” Tony offered. “But I am sure you’ll meet an angel when you move on.” He realized that that was something he really should have asked Death about, and wondered if there was a way to contact him.

That was when the woman started to cry and Tony felt himself starting to panic. He’d never been good with people crying. He couldn't pat her on the shoulder comfortingly, so he just said the kind of “there, there, it will be okay” stuff that he’d seen people do on TV, the whole time wondering if by “problem cases” Death had meant criers. Then he started tuning in to what she was saying between sobs and realized she was not sad, she was angry.

“That goddamn-“ gasp “sonofabitch” sob “is going to” gasping sob “get away with it!” Then she screeched with rage, tears still coursing down her cheeks. “He cheated on me and now he doesn’t even have to pay alimony! He gets my life insurance! My retirement money!” She screeched again and stomped on the ground. “This is such bullshit!”

“Oh man, that does suck,” Tony sympathized, taking a surreptitious step backwards

“I’m going to haunt him,” the woman swore, eyes red and wild. “I’m going to make his life miserable-“

“I’m afraid not. No ghosts allowed,” Tony said apologetically, taking another step back when she glared at him.

“That’s not fair!” But the rage that had come so quickly seemed to have burned itself out, because that wasn’t screeched at nearly the volume of her other rants.

“I know it’s not,” Tony agreed. “Both of us should have had longer lives, time to do everything we wanted, but this is just how it is. But now you get to find out what’s next, and that’s gotta be a way better use of your time than wasting it on some asshole, right?”

She sniffled and wiped at the tears on her face, jumping when her hand passed through her face just like Tony’s had. “I guess that’s true,” she said. “He’s not worth it. I hope he marries that greedy trollop, she’s going to take him for everything he’s worth.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony said wryly. “Are you ready?”

The woman turned her face to the sky, glanced around the peaceful forest for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. So what do we do?”

Hell if I know. But Tony smiled confidently. “Just come with me,” he said, and they took two steps together away from the still-ticking wreckage of the car, and then-

GOOD WORK, Death said. They were in some kind of blank, dusty plain – or maybe plane would be a better word – and Tony saw the woman disappear in a flash of light. The look on her face before she disappeared was beatific, and that made him smile, feeling gratified that he had helped her go to a better place.

“Thanks,” he said as he turned back to Death. “Are they all going to be like that? The problem cases?”

NOT ALL OF THEM, NO.

Well that was good, at least. “Hey before you go, I have some questions-“

But Tony was already in a new place, a tiny apartment where an old woman was puttering around trying to clean, apparently oblivious to the fact that her hands were going right through the knickknacks she was trying to arrange on the mantle.

“Guess I’m going to have to figure it out on my own,” he sighed, and went to go introduce himself.

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #ghost au #major character death #prompts #dracusfyre #Anonymous

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calendulatia · 5 years ago

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[ LFRP ] Canary - ( tumblr/Discord )

❝ we who are born of the earth, rooted in all things, are bound to return to it. ❞

🔓– A lock icon denotes the presence of an additional something significant to be discovered only via roleplay. The more locks there are, the more difficult it will be to learn or come by this information.

☾ General Information ––– -

Name: Canary. 🔓🔓🔓 Epithet: Lichenpeal. Gender: Nonbinary. Age: You can’t be sure, really. 🔓 Race: Nu Mou. Birthplace: Somewhere within the Rak’tika Greatwood, presumably. Current Residence: An overgrown hovel a way’s away from the settlement proper. Were it not for the stone arranged about it, you might have missed the doorway entirely, and even then the masonry has been all but reclaimed by the forest. It seems built into the earth itself, disappearing into the side of the gentle slope leading up and away into the trees... not too unlike a barrow, you realize, with the air around the entrance alive with the presence of the wood. Standing there you suddenly feel a strange tickling at the back of your neck, like a hair or thread dragging lightly across your skin. You look back up. You feel compelled to knock on the door. Relationship Status: Single. Sexual Orientation: Asexual. Occupation: Apothecary. Herbalist. Diviner. Blue Mage. 🔓

☾ Physical Appearance ––– -

Hair + Fur: Straw-colored Thick. Long. Worn loose save for a scattering of braids decorated with thread and bits of bone. The fur on their tail and arms appears crimped like a sheep’s wool and feels much like the same. It’s not unusual for both it be rather unkempt from walks through the wood; they don’t seem to mind the twigs, leaves, and clumps of dirt that cling to them long after they’re home. Eyes: Moss green... although, as you look more closely, the left eye seems lighter than the right. Height: 4 fm 9 im. Distinguishing Marks: White-tipped fingers. Claws that are kept aggressively filed down at all times. Lighter hands than is typical for Nu Mou. Common Accessories: Spools of variously colored threads. Skulls and bones from forest creatures worn on lengths of string. Mushrooms. Lichens. Gold earbands. Earrings fashioned in the style of old church bells that ring with deep, dolorous voices.

☾ Personality & Tidbits ––– -

A strange Nu Mou of indeterminate age beholden to the wood. Though they live apart from others of their kind and people in general, they receive most visitors with a smile and an invitation to share a cup of tea. Quiet and courteous, Canary seems very much the kind of host you would care to have out in the middle of the wild Rat’tika, and yet you cannot help but feel unsettled whenever you stare at them for too long -- as though discovering inconsistencies in a painting that prove it a forgery. Like a smile with too many teeth their presence fills you with the sense of the uncanny, reminding you of a delicious meal that puts you to ill hours later. Something about them seems the conversational equivalent of seeing something always just beyond your field of vision, just at your peripheral, but just as soon as you realize your uneasiness you feel yourself soothed by their comfortable, welcoming manner. After all, it feels this cup has been brewed just for you.

Talents: Tarot spreads. Tea readings. Preparation of herbal medicines. Communing with beasts. Weaknesses: Disruption of the natural order. Things that are unnatural. Voidsent. Tidiness. Virtues: Pleasant. Soft-spoken. Knowledgeable. Intriguing. A natural host. Flaws: Difficult to read. Quietly intimidating. Unmovable when they believe they are right. Perhaps too much of an enigma to be trusted. Spiritual Views: Absolute reverence for life, death, and the natural cycle of one that leads into the other and over again forever and always. They are bound to no specific deities, believing instead in the will of the wood and the inevitability of nature reclaiming that which is rightfully its own. Hobbies: Gathering. “Tending” their garden and mushroom patch. Collecting new teas and bones. Fears: Wide open spaces. Clothing without pockets. Temperament: Phlegmatic-Melancholy. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.

☾ Traits ––– -

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious / Spirited

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

☾ Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Rather often, but you’re certain what whatever it is in that pipe, it certainly isn’t tobacco. The fragrance is as uncomfortably sweet as it is spicy; the aroma makes you sick to your stomach. Drugs: The contents of all these vials and jars is a mystery. Whatever labels they once bore have long since worn away or peeled up, leaving you staring at an array of dull, clouded glass bottles haphazardly wrapped in brittle parchment. Really, anything could be inside them. Alcohol: The Nu Mou occasionally reaches for a flash tucked into the sleeve of their robe and takes a quick drink. You can’t see the liquid, but even from here the smell is pungent, and you swear you see the already crimped fur covering their body curl all the bit more with each swig.

☾ Hooks ––– -

Region-related connections.

☆ The Rat’tika Greatwood - The Nu Mou rarely strays beyond the border of the forest, and so those living under the boughs or visiting from afar might have the luck of crossing their path. They do not make it easy to find them, but they also do not make an effort to hide. If you’re meant to encounter them you surely will. After all, anything can happen in the wood...

General connections.

★ Blue Magic - Canary’s Blue Magic shares far more in common with FFXI’s iteration than FFXIV’s, most notably the ever present danger of falling prey to “the beast within” as they assimilate and make use of the essences/souls of creatures. As a result their magic is far more feral and ancient than what has been established in-game, and their combat style + weaponry also differ wildly. They will not give out this knowledge to just anyone who comes by and asks, but they are also not above it... Should someone be willing to prove themselves worthy of the art, Canary might potentially teach them. Barring this, they could be a potential connection for Blue Mages or magic-users in general. ☆ Medicines + Divinations - In need of a reading or some traditional mending? Canary peddles their strange wares out of their forest hovel for a fair price. First divinations are free -- considering it your proper meeting -- but subsequent knowledge requires something equal in exchange... ★ Friendships + Rivals + Enemies - Always open! I am interested in any and all of these as options. ☆ Have an idea for something not already here? - Please feel free to pitch it to me! I would love to hear what you have in mind!

☾ OOC Information ––– -

Genres: Character development! Platonic relationships! Business contacts! Enemies! Rivals! Spooks! I’m into lots of things with my dirty danger muppet! Playstyle: No Nu Mou in-game, so all roleplay with Canary will take place through tumblr and/or Discord. Length: I like to write one paragraph at the absolute least, tending more towards a few to several (or even pages), but I will often do my best to match my partner’s reply length unless encouraged to do otherwise. Server: N/A. Timezone: CST. Availability: Threads will be passed back and forth as our schedules/writing mojos will allow! Contact Information: You are always welcome to poke at me here or my main blog over at @sunlitpeony, be it through asks or messages! I will give my Discord out privately to interested parties.

ft. art by drowsydraws !

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #;; chants Nu Mou Nu Mou over and over again in the distance

22 notes · View notes

writerman · 6 years ago

Note

idk if u still take barduil prompts but if you do! here’s one: person A is the first person to pray to a particular god/spirit/whatever in a few hundred years, so the god/spirit(person B) shows up to personally answer the prayer and then refuses to leave until the prayer is answered in full - bonus points if person B figures out texting (A sets out an offering of wine as part of their deal with B and gets a text from an unknown # complaining about the vintage) also extra bonus for use of emojis

I AM ETERNALLY SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. IT’S JUST I GOT CARRIED AWAY AND IT GOT VEEERY LONG AND OTHER STUFF HAPPENED.

ANY WAY....

Just to confirm how long this is... It’s a 10k prompts response and I honestly hope you enjoy it.

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

Bard tossed the letter onto the countertop a sour look on his face as he did so.

He wasn’t sure if he could handle any further rejection, with the growing pile of letters from failed applications mocking him as they lay innocently on the countertop in the tiny kitchen; just what would it take to turn things around?

If it wasn’t jobs it was people, Bard couldn’t seem to catch a break when it came to dating either… though recently he hadn’t really tried. His ego could only take so much before he learned the lesson of humility and just gave up.

The cosmos was clearly working against him, and if any deities existed, well, they absolutely had it in for him.

With a bank account almost always in the red and his love life being the punchline to his joke of a life, Bard was finding it hard to get out of bed in a morning.

Thankfully, though he really did not feel good about the situation, his money woes were only something he had to contend with. His children were well taken care of with their mother, and while he would have been overjoyed to have had them live with him after the divorce, it just wasn’t feasible.

The reality was that he just could not afford to take care of the kids on the meagre salary he was on, a delivery driver for a pizza place was nothing to brag about and the majority of the time Bard found himself being the oldest one delivering pizzas, a blow to his already low self-esteem.

While he knew he could survive (just) on packet noodles, coffee and the odd free pizza here and there, he knew his children couldn’t, and while they would have thought it was fantastic, Bard could never allow it to be their reality.

With these thoughts still swirling in his mind, Bard grabbed up his keys and, with what little cash he had, left the house for the day. The sunshine beating down on the pavement lifted his spirits already and with the sound of the city as his music he headed toward the park.

Getting out would do him wonders, it was better than sitting around moping in the tiny apartment using utilities he could scarcely afford. At least out in the city he had more chances of bumping into friends or even the future Mrs Bowman… who knew?!

The city park was the perfect place to be in the summer, people spent their entire weekend there walking with their dogs, rowing on the lake or just sitting in the sun chatting idly with friends and family. It eased Bard’s worry to see the residents of the city out delighting in the summer days, it was likely they all had their own concerns- but out in the sun, the world seemed more carefree worries were pushed to the back of minds in favour of gossip and jokes.

At first, he had planned to take the route around the lake, but the sheer amount of people crowding on the banks and walkways had him take a left turn into the wooded area instead.

Bard and the kids had walked these paths many times, sometimes going off the trails in hopes of finding an undiscovered area- much to the children’s displeasure, they never found anything new. Sometimes the odd squirrel but nothing to write home about.

So engrossed in thoughts of his children and their time together it took Bard quite some time to realise he was now on a very unfamiliar trail, and for a good 30 minutes or so had not passed a single soul nor could he now hear the sounds of the park behind him.

For a moment he did consider turning back, the sun now barely filtered through the tree canopy high above his head, the shade was chilly. Logic kicked in not seconds later, and he pushed on, after all, this was just a seemingly tame adventure. He was in the park the only thing that could happen to him would be that he’d get locked in at night and sleeping in the park in summer didn’t seem all that bad.

What he stumbled upon next was startling.

The dense trees broke, and Bard stepped into the clearing before him. There stood tall and proud towering above him and past the tree line was a temple.

He couldn’t recall right then if he’d ever noticed a building in the park like this one before. Though the pristine white stone and dark curling ivy over the columns would be hard to miss.

The entire place was fascinating already from the outside! All this before he'd even stepped inside, without hesitation, he hurried up the steps to an intricately decorated archway and pushed aside the leafy tendrils of ivy over the entryway and walked in.

He was greeted with the sight of hundreds of lit white candles dotted about the room some nearly completely melted while others looked as though just freshly lit and yet, so far, there didn’t seem to be anyone else around.

His eyes roamed the room taking in more and more as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. There may have been candles but the place was so intensely dark, even the light they gave off seemed to be sucked into the darkness. There was a stone platform at the back covered in fresh cut flowers, and more candles, and as he moved toward it he noticed coins glittering under the golden light of the flames.

He faltered for a moment and wondered if he was trespassing during a sacred moment.

Nothing made a sound as Bard stood waiting and listening for any minute sound that may give away there was someone with him. After a moment or two of silence, Bard figured he was alone and proceeded to wander over to the platform.

It was set up more like a stage, there were 3 stone steps up to the platform itself and there were 4 exposed beams set up in a square above it, a golden hand censer hung above swaying lightly while incense smoke poured from it, though Bard felt inexplicable terror at the fact the thing was swinging in a non-existent breeze.

One of the steps had a brass plaque set into the stone, not unlike some points of interest that cities often had to commemorate a moment in history.

This one simply said:

State your wish.

A deep hearts desire.

Symbolise your worship.

A gift of thanks.

Pray to this God.

Or Beg.

Ominous.

Though it took no time for Bard to realise that this was all very likely a tourist trap rather than an actual temple built to praise an ancient God. Even if it was all awe-inspiring, it seemed a waste as there did not appear to be many visiting.

Still, he couldn’t deny that the place was beautiful and he surveyed the room again. It wasn’t huge, absolutely not big enough for any sort of Sunday congregation, so he assumed it was something more in line with Pagan worship. His eyes drifted up towards the ceiling, there were long thin stained glass windows high above him letting in very little light, though with what sun that managed to shine through he could see scenes depicted as just like any place of worship he had seen before- well more reminiscent of Christian places of worship but still…

Oddly enough, he didn’t recognise the scenes, nor the Gods or people immortalised in the striking colours above him- but then he wasn’t well read on any one religion, and to some, it could have been ridiculously obvious who and what this was all about.

Regardless, the glass was beautiful, and Bard found himself staring up at a blue-eyed gaze for quite some time- such an engaging face for something created out of glass and metallic salts.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to humour whoever built this and say a prayer. My life can’t get any worse.” His voice was a whisper, this whole place filled him with a trembling sort of dread as though his soul knew something he did not and a shudder shook through him.

An offering, if he wanted the God to even consider his words Bard would need to leave an offering of some sort. There were plenty of flowers already-- he didn’t really have anything that could be classed as an offering, after all, who came out for the day prepared to leave a gift to an ancient God?

Digging around in his pockets he found the spare change he’d left with that morning, it wasn’t much, but surely it was something. Something was always better than nothing… sometimes.

Without any further hesitation, Bard moved away from the steps back toward the platform itself, he dropped the coins onto the dusty stone before him.

The clattering sound of metal on stone echoed around the room. Bard jolted back at the jarring sound as it broke the reverent silence of the temple, his body tense as he waited as though the noise could wake the God and it would appear terrible and wrathful before him.

Nothing happened.

Candles flickered around him as he moved away from the offering stone, his eyes moved to the stained glass momentarily before his gaze shifted to the walls- ah! Another plaque- this one was set into the wall adjacent to the platform.

Bard navigated his way through the candles until he was close enough to read the sign.

Temple of the Forest Guardian.

Thranduil the Benevolent.

God of the Greenwood and protector of all within his realm.

The sole ruler of the vast and beautiful forest known as the Greenwood. Thranduil lived to serve and protect his people and all manner of living creatures that resided within his realm.

So well loved was he that upon his death the Gods of his people gifted him with eternal life and a magic to ease the suffering of many. When he awoke his people were overjoyed, and they lived for many years in the peaceful land.

Over time the numbers of his people dwindled this left the God to care for the forests alone with nought to speak with, only that which could not speak in return.

How many times had Bard read a story like this?

“Still a lonely life for a God- having eternal life and watching your people die from old age…” It was horrible and would drive anyone mad with grief.

It was only then that Bard realised how cold it was despite the myriad of candles that haloed him in a golden light. While shivering, Bard made the decision to offer a prayer and a wish- like his earlier thoughts, there was nothing more he could lose from trying.

Back at the platform Bard arranged the coins taking care not to touch the stone itself, he felt as though it was only polite not to touch anything that did not belong to him.

With a deep breath, he stood tall and uttered a prayer in an awe-filled whisper.

“Guardian of the forest, here my words… uh… I gave an offering so that you might not be lonely, I wish the same for myself. Help me find the right path and lead me to love and wealth. Thank you.” It was startling how right it felt to say such things, and how little embarrassment he experienced as he spoke. His wish had been for love and, but honestly, he just wanted someone there with him.

His divorce had been, thankfully, smooth and relatively pain-free aside from having to come to terms with the fact his wife wanted a quick divorce so she could marry another.

There were no ill feelings for his wife in Bard’s heart, he did not want to stand in the way of love and what they had was true love. It was just that he was now alone and at that moment he was painfully aware of it, growing up and getting married was what he wanted and not once had he ever imagined being prepared to lose that- you cannot prepare yourself for that.

He remained in the dark temple for some time lost in thought letting the incense soak into his clothes and letting the candles bathe him in their light- it was such a beautiful place, but he had to leave.

The light of the day would fade eventually and navigating through the dark woodland with only a phone light was not on his list of fun ideas for the summer. Secretly, he admitted to himself that wandering through the woods at night scared him, the sound of twigs snapping metres behind him when he had been sure he was alone just screamed horror movie.

With that thought in mind, Bard pushed himself to leave and stepped back into the clearing, the sun still fought to break through the canopy above him and Bard had to shield his eyes as he glanced up noting the sun was still high in the sky.

Birds sang from tree branches, the chorus a sweet and beautiful sound but jarring after the silence of the temple. His senses were overwhelmed by the outside world, so he took a minute to collect himself.

The rest of his day went by without incident, he headed out to his delivery job later that evening and eventually fell into bed just after midnight irritated by what life threw at him.

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

It was the smell of coffee that woke him later that morning. The alluring aroma forced him to open his eyes, he was greeted with the white ceiling of his bedroom above him.

Imaging the taste of coffee helped him fight off the last vestiges of sleep as he sat up stretching out his back to ease the ache of having a terrible and cheap mattress.

It was odd though, Bard didn’t remember buying any coffee recently- he was fresh out of cash for that luxury because like an idiot he left it at that tourist trap temple the day before.

Whoever had made coffee in his apartment- THERE WAS SOMEONE IN HIS APARTMENT!

Bard shot out of bed and bolted down the hall to the kitchen, he skidded to a halt at the threshold and stared at the stranger who was stood holding a Starbucks cup looking decidedly unimpressed by his surroundings.

In a split second their eyes were on Bard, and the cup was offered out to him.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

They didn’t speak Bard took this opportunity to try and organise his thoughts into some semblance of coherent, it wasn’t going well. A strange man was stood in his kitchen offering him coffee, a strange man with startling bright eyes and white blond hair… a strange, and handsome man.

Realising that he was staring openly at the trespasser, Bard lowered his eyes but not before he caught the blond smirking at him. Anger finally boiled up along with the courage to speak and look at the stranger, however as he opened his mouth he was instantly cut off as the home invader spoke.

“Pitiful offering for this day and age but it was enough to buy a mocha if you want it?” Bard hadn’t expected the man’s voice to be so deep and smooth. So taken aback by the sound of it he momentarily forgot his anger and stood wide-eyed and if not a little bit stirred up.

“Who the Hell are you and how did you even get in here?!” He’d found his voice again, though it was difficult not to shriek and in stifling such his words came out weirdly garbled all the while he stayed rooted to the spot by the kitchen door that led back into the hallway.

An escape route?

“They always ask how I got in and not why I came in the first place. Honestly, humans never change. I do not know why I assume they ever will…” The blond spoke quietly as though speaking to another out of view.

Bard hoped with all that he was that there was no other there and that he was not outnumbered.

The odd way he spoke, referring to people as humans- what did he mean by that?

The stranger offered out the coffee again slowly tilting from left to right as though trying to coax a small animal from a hole. Bard frowned, and yet he stepped further into the kitchen and took the still warm cup.

Every instinct within him screamed for him not to drink from the cup, his last act of self-preservation failed, and he took a sip. It was what the man had said it’d be… a mocha from Starbucks.

This seemed to please the stranger as he moved from behind the counter that had once separated them. Bard watched wearily as the last barrier between them was removed. He was approached by the blond though he didn’t appreciate having to look up a little, so they were, somewhat, eye to eye.

Bard reflexively took a step back.

“Allow me to introduce myself as you seem worryingly unaware of who I am.”

“You’re a madman that broke into my house to give me coffee.”

The snappy response from Bard left the other laughing aloud and beamed down at the burnet as though he was the sun and Bard felt a blush creep up his neck.

Beautiful laugh, beautiful hair, beautiful eyes… urgh.

Pushing aside such thoughts Bard ignored the panic rising in his chest and continued to challenge the man by looking him in the eye unflinchingly.

“Well, you were the one that invited me to help you. You invited me in and asked me to help you with your wish, did you not?”

Silence fell around them as Bard let those words sink in, oh how smug they sounded, his stomach felt like ice… was this the God he had prayed to yesterday?

“Are you…. Thranduil?” No, he couldn’t be because Gods were not real and that temple was just a joke for park-goers to enjoy ‘discovering’ while out with their kids!

“Guardian of the forest and all within it, a pleasure to meet you, Bard.” That velvety tone again- wait, how long had he been in his apartment if he had had time to snoop around and find out his name?!

If he was a God, he didn’t need to check someone’s mail to know their name. Bard felt as though his legs would give away without a seconds notice as he tried in vain to make sense of anything that was happening.

“Shall we speak on why I am here?” Thranduil asked gently he put a hand to Bard’s shoulder and steered him to a chair at the tiny dining area in his kitchen and made him sit down. “You asked me to help you, you’re looking for wealth and love- but ah, before I forget, I must thank you that regardless of your wish you included me in your thoughts. While it does feel as though your thought was born from pity, I shall not look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever the saying is…” He trailed off and watched as Bard silently assessed his situation; there was a far off look in his eyes, and Thranduil found him strangely charming.

Meanwhile, Bard was using the power of repression to stomp down the gay panic that was steadily rising every time Thranduil spoke to him. It took a lot for him to steady his racing thoughts, and for a moment Bard believed he could very well still be dreaming; if it hadn’t been for the warmth of the drink still in his hand, he could have believed he was still sleeping soundly in his awful bed.

“I-if you’re that Thranduil guy, aren’t you unable to leave the forest, how are you here?” It had just slipped out and Bard he was quite surprised at himself for remembering such a small detail.

“I appear ready to grant you your heart's desire and you come out with this?!” Thranduil sounded tired as he spoke and just a little bit unimpressed at the question, and yet, with an overly dramatic flourish the God produced a map from thin air and spread it out over the table and gestured for Bard to lean in to get a better look.

He pointed a long pale finger at a spot on the map at the edge of what should have been the city park and gave Bard a pointed look.

“My temple, you see there in that large area of greenery?” His tone sounding incredibly patronising as his finger pressed harder at the spot on the map, he was definitely a little peeved with Bard but he kind of had right too.

Bard studiously forgot that the map had literally just appeared from nothing in front of his very eyes and instead looked at the spot with a nod- he had to avoid Thranduil’s pale blue gaze… there was something so otherworldly about it as though he had seen everything and had to endure it in silence for eternity.

It was frightening and thrilling all at once. Inwardly his mind was yelling for him to leg it out of the door and not look back until he was far, far away and yet he remained in his seat.

“Great, now can you see this point on the map that is the forest, so much forest you can scarcely comprehend it, that is your house. So, now you can ask me how I am here.”

Bard had the decency to look sheepish before he spoke eyes still on the map.

“You never left the forest, even if the trees are no longer there it would still be your forest, right?” He felt awful because humans were definitely the reason the once vast forest was now stuffed into the corner of a city park and fenced in wrought iron. “Sorry…” He mumbled.

For a split second Thranduil looked genuinely touched at Bard’s apology though it didn’t last long and his expression turned grim as he turned to look back down at the map. It was a long time before he spoke again and when he did his voice was quiet and impossibly sad.

“I don’t know how you found the temple… I had thought it was hidden away well enough that humans would pass right by it and it would remain unseen, I know that defeats the object of helping others, but when those people want power, and I gave it, I found my forest getting smaller and smaller.

In the end, I sealed away the temple to save the forest, to protect it and yet… somehow you found it and, well, I am glad you did.” He said nothing more and the map faded into nothingness while Bard sipped his drink and Thranduil stared at the table top.

“You’re glad I came and dropped some pocket change in offering and asked for romance?” It truly sounded funny when put like that and Thranduil smiled to himself before he huffed out a quiet laugh.

“You��re the first person is a long time who came in gave an offering, made your wish and didn’t touch anything. You took in the room and appreciated it before leaving.”

“You like to keep things simple, I see.”

“Well, when you get to be as old as I am you enjoy things being simple, you know; quiet worship, incense… Starbucks.”

“So why did you buy me coffee, the offering was for you, this should be your drink.” Bard set the near-empty cup down on the table and watched as Thranduil gestured to a trash can, another cup lay innocently on top of a badly folded up pizza box.

“I had other stops on my way before I got to you. Plus, I thought it would help in getting you to trust me if I came bearing a gift of coffee, human’s love this stuff early in the morning and you seem to be of no exception to this observation.”

Well, that was fair, it was true. Bard craved coffee all the time it was clearly an addiction, but this one was, for some reason, socially acceptable.

He offered Thranduil a shrug as if to say ‘I don’t know what to tell you.’.

“Anyhow, we’re deviating from the actual reason I am here. As the God Thranduil, I am here to grant your wishes and your desires.” If he had been expecting whoops of adoration from someone he was in for a shock, however, Bard couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed by the man. He was also horrified at how easily he had accepted that this man was a God with just some sleight of hand magic anyone could do.

Bard found him genuinely charming, he was well spoken and transparent in his reasoning for certain actions and open about his past, there was the coffee too, that helped a lot. If this had been a first date, Bard would be smitten - a date with a woman! NOT a man… no not a man- not this man.

With a jerky motion, Bard slapped his hand to his chest over his frantically beating heart and took a deep breath hoping to calm himself down.

“So, you’re going to help me find a girlfriend?”

“Or boyfriend.” Came the pointed reply.

Bard flushed nearly scarlet. “Ah, no, just girlfriend.”

“I see, so you cannot look me in the eye because…?”

“I wished for a girlfriend, so I get a girlfriend.”

“Actually, you wished for romance. Just so you know, I cannot make people fall in love with you, I can set you up in an ideal situation to meet someone, this does not necessarily mean it would be a woman…” Thranduil offered the burnet an innocent smile and shrugged though it didn’t seem to calm the other down. “Well, this seems like a touchy subject so let us move on, and we can have a chat about wealth. This is easily done, but some specifics on how you would like it to happen would be welcome. A mysterious windfall cannot just be explained away by saying you were lucky enough to win the lottery. It also depends on how rich you want to be.”

“That’s the thing,” Bard exclaimed as he turned in his seat, so he was fully facing the God. “I don’t want to be a millionaire or anything. I want a job that pays well enough for me to get out of this apartment and enough so that the courts will allow me to see my kids for more than a few hours a week.” His emotions were seesawing from one to another, the excitement building in him was tempered by nerves and just how this man was going to help him pull this off without causing a stir.

“The thing I want more than anything is to be a teacher, to use my degree in art and history and help kids learn. I know it seems strange to say I want to teach and not be in a teaching job with all the listing- there's a bloody outcry for teachers, but I just can’t catch a break my interviews are always awful- urgh, that’s only if I actually get one!”

Thranduil was stunned at just how alive Bard became when he spoke about teaching when he spoke about living his life. This man wanted to get out of a rut and give something to the world, even if it was small he wanted to educate people and people with a good education could change the world.

This man inadvertently told him he wanted to change the world.

“I can help you with that; get you set up with a nice private school job or just any teaching job and who knows, you could end up meeting someone there.” It was easy for Bard to accept Thranduil’s words as he was saying everything he wanted to hear, that and he was happy just to have someone that wanted to help even if nothing came of it.

The phone on the countertop began ringing and Bard dove across the room grabbing the receiver from the cradle; when he looked back, Thranduil had gone leaving no sign he had ever been there besides the Starbucks cups.

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

His ex-wife had called explaining that Sigrid was unwell, too unwell to go to school and she needed someone to take care of her while everyone was out at work. Bard readily agreed and headed over as soon as the call ended.

On the drive over he had time to think on all that had happened that morning, how his life could change for the better. Also, how he had to do some soul searching and some internet research because the feelings that beautiful God stirred up could not be contained and Bard did not like it one bit.

He would leave things be for now. There were more precious issues to deal with like his sick daughter and the time he would get to spend with her that day.

Sigrid crawled into the back of the car in her pyjamas wrapped in a blanket she brought from her room. Bard felt awful for her, she was pale and sluggish barely able to keep her eyes open as she greeted him before lying over the back seat.

Driving home was slow going but when they did get to the apartment Bard set Sigrid up on the sofa and propped her up with pillows and wrapped her up in another blanket. Keeping her warm was a priority now he had to try and get her to eat.

She had already dozed off so Bard took the opportunity to pop out and grab a can of chicken noodle soup, it had always been her favourite when she was sick and he hoped it would still be her favourite so that he could entice her to eat.

When he returned to the apartment can of soup in hand he paused in the hall, there was a familiar voice coming from the lounge, a very deep and velvety voice that Bard had grown accustomed to all too quickly.

Sticking his head around the door he found Thranduil sat on the floor by the sofa reading to Sigrid, her attention solely on him as he read aloud from a book of old fairy stories Bard had kept from when she was small.

Bard knew he should have been furious that Thranduil had broken into his home again but he could see Sigrid was comforted by the story and it allowed him to make the soup without worrying she might need him for something.

Thranduil was gone when Bard returned with the soup, he didn’t mention him and he refused to address the feeling of disappointment that the God had left again without even speaking to him.

“Da, that man that was here…” Her voice was rough from all the coughing but it didn’t stop the apparent tone of curiosity coming through as she eyed him between bites of her soup, which he urged her to continue eating. If she was eating she wasn’t asking questions about Thranduil that he may not be able to answer.

“That man that was here,” Bard repeated quietly, his gaze not meeting his daughters as he studied his hands intently-- so few words from her and yet he felt he was on trial.

“I’ve never heard you speak about him before, he said you were friends, how did you meet him?” There it was, the question he had been dreading because he couldn’t lie to her because he was terrible at it, she would see right through him.

“Yeah, new friend. Nice guy, we met recently he’s doing me a huge favour.”

“What kind of favour?”

Did she have to sound so suspicious?!

“He’s helping me get a job.” It wasn’t a lie but he left it very bare of any further detail, and he hoped it was enough to sate her curiosity.

When he looked over she was already falling asleep again and he caught the empty soup bowl before it fell from her hands. Well, that was one way to avoid answering any questions.

He got up making sure to tuck Sigrid in properly before heading to the kitchen to wash up. Bard half expected Thranduil to be there when he entered the kitchen but there was no trace of him.

In fact, he didn’t see Thranduil again for three days.

Eventually, Bard became impatient and went to the temple leaving a bottle of wine he bought using tip money from his job.

Setting the bottle down on the platform Bard spoke his prayer, which was far less elegant than last time.

“So, Thranduil are you still going to help me, I really need to know if you can or not because I’m seriously concerned I just let a madman into my home and believed he could grant fantastical wishes. Anyway, enjoy the wine.” With that, he left and headed out to his delivery job- job was a job even if he wasn’t pleased about it.

Midway through his shift, his phone buzzed and several text messages came through at once.

[UNKNOWN] *green faced emoji* This wine is terrible!

[UNKNOWN] How much was this?! An awful offering you should be ashamed.

[UNKNOWN] *cry face emoji* I know I am being ungrateful but it’s so awfuuuull!!

There could be only one person texting him like this, and with a sigh, Bard began composing a reply. Before he could even start typing another set of messages came through.

[UNKNOWN] Your prayer was lacking the reverence it held the first time. Also I am absolutely offended you questioned my power.

[UNKNOWN] IN ANY CASE!!! I am helping you, things take time, Bard! *Tongue sticking out emoji*

Supposedly, he was to trust this man…

With a shrug, Bard pocketed his phone then had a near-fatal heart attack when a pale hand smacked the driver’s side window.

“I cannot believe you just ignored my messages!”

Thranduil.

Winding down the window Bard gave an apologetic smile while Thranduil huffed and puffed about being ignored for a little while longer.

“You want me to apologise for being too poor to buy you good wine?”

“...No… but a response would have been nice. No wonder you’re so unlucky in love, is this how you treat all the texts you receive?” The fact that Thranduil could and did text was far too funny to Bard and he burst into peals of laughter. Eventually, he calmed down and leaned out of the car window a little.

“You’re genuinely the first person to text me in months, sorry.”

Thranduil didn’t respond, his expression was soft now, and his eyes seemed filled with a sadness that had been harboured within him for thousands of years. For a moment Bard saw the God searching for something, perhaps words to ease the tense feeling that now surrounded them or an excuse to leave him…

“Can I get in?” The blond asks quietly, he waits for Bard to nod before walking around the car and climbing into the passenger seat having to nearly fold himself in half to seat himself properly.

Feeling generous Bard leaned over Thranduil as best he could, his chest against the other’s legs as he did so, and pulled the lever that pushed the seat back. Once it was far enough back for Thranduil to unfold himself Bard sat up and started the car.

“Let’s drive and you can tell me what you have planned for me.” He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, and his blood roaring in his ears. Nothing was alright, nothing was fine because he was very aware of how attractive he found Thranduil but he had no idea how to handle such feelings.

“Ah…” Thranduil stalled a moment and Bard was surprised to see him looking pink-cheeked and, somewhat, flustered as they slowly slid under street lamps that lined the roads into the centre of town. “Send off an application to the school of your choice, all will work out there without a hitch. Are you not more interested in finding this one true love of yours?”

That stopped Bard short. He couldn’t lie, he hadn’t thought about it since he last spoke to Thranduil; so lost in the idea of getting a job it seemed romance had fallen by the wayside.

Was he still looking for love?

When the wish was uttered he had been feeling hopeless and lonely, but with Thranduil popping up at random times he found that he was not so sad about being alone. The fact he would be getting a job soon; would he even have time for romance?

“Let’s just focus on getting me a job, you said yourself I might meet someone there.” He tried to brush the subject under the carpet as casually as he could. There had to be something else he could talk about- Thranduil.

The God probably never got to talk about himself.

“So, I know my daughter could see you but are you ever only able to be seen by the person making the wish?” Was he visible to only himself right now, was Bard driving along in his car talking to himself?

“I can’t do that invisible to everyone but one thing, I am either visible to all or I am not.”

“So you just walk around dressed like that all the time?” Bard asks gesturing to the long white robes Thranduil was currently wearing, they were beautiful but they made him stand out in a crowd. “As if you need another reason for people to be staring at you.” These words were spoken under his breath but oh Thranduil had heard them and how his face glowed and a slow smile began to form on his lips almost feline his bright eyes on Bard.

“Oh ho, what sweet words you do whisper to me, where did this bravado come from?” There was a purr in the blond’s voice, that smug purr when an ego was stroked without prompting.

Bard kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut, lips tightly sealed as he mentally scolded himself-- he had to reign himself in that comment had slipped out and for a hot second Bard wondered if it had even been him that had spoken. Of course, it had been but it had just come so naturally… flirting with this man should not have come so easily to him.

Though, he supposed it was good practise for when he met the woman that could potentially be his future wife.

If he could stomach the idea of marriage again.

It was the least appealing act he could imagine in that current point of his life, he did not want a replay of his first marriage.

It wasn’t all bad but heartache takes a long time to heal and Bard had never quite forgotten the feel of it, even if it was just the ghost of an ache in his chest now.

Bard pulled up outside of the pizza place and cut the engine, Thranduil was looking out of the passenger side window but he looked back toward Bard when he realised they’d stopped moving. Nothing was said about their conversation not minutes before, Thranduil had the good sense to drop the sound of crowing joy from his voice when he spoke again.

“The girl that works at the counter likes you… a lot.” They both looked over toward the pizza place, they could see a red-headed woman at the counter, well, she was barely in her 20’s and Bard’s insides squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of dating her.

“She’s 20 years old or something, I’m 37 that’s... Thranduil, she’s a baby.”

“Ahaha, do not get the wrong idea. I meant only that you are desirable to many, the woman at your local supermarket that works the help desk, she thinks you’re utterly fantastic. The point I am making is that- I know you are hesitant about being with another person and that you believe yourself to be the bottom of everyone’s list but you’re not.

You’re the hero of your own story and the heartthrob in someone else’s. While you see yourself as…” He pauses as though trying to find the right words, “Oh how would you put it, ah yes! While you see yourself as a dork- yes, I think that’s right, other’s see you as sophisticated and even sexy.” Bard almost choked on air when Thranduil referred to him as sexy, though a wheezing and awkward laugh followed as he tried in vain to brush the comment off as nothing.

“I need to get back to work, but you keep talking utter nonsense about me while I deliver pizzas. I am up for a laugh tonight.” He exited the car while Thranduil frowned after him though he did not move from his seat and only watched Bard hurry into work to grab a stack of pizza boxes all ready to deliver.

They spent the night together delivering pizzas, Thranduil made a habit of coming to the door with Bard so they could continue their conversations, it resulted in Bard being tipped more than usual which he was thankful for even if he was not absolutely enamoured with the fact that Thranduil so was damned smug about it.

“I’ve still got it.” The blond stretched out in the car arching his back like a cat as much as he could in the cramped space, “I mean, I there was never a time I was ever led to believe I had lost it, but still tonight proves I am eye candy to ladies and gents in this day and age.” He glanced over at Bard as he said the word ‘gents’ but Bard was too busy checking his phone for more delivery requests.

“Go home, Bard. You need sleep and don’t forget to apply for the teaching job, I can’t help you if you do not meet me halfway.”

“Fine, fine, I suppose I can call it a night. The sheer amount of tips because…” He loathed to say it but pushed through even while Thranduil smirked victoriously, “...because you were around all night means I can go home early.”

“Hmm, it sounds good to hear you admit that.”

Thranduil vanished before Bard got home which was perfectly fine with him as he hadn’t really wanted that awkward goodbye with him, how did you ask a God to leave so you could get some sleep?

Thranduil had probably just known. In any case, he had been the one that insisted he go home and sleep.

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

Bard took it easy the next week, he filled out the job application online and sent it off as soon as he could then paced his kitchen floor for an hour fretting about the whole thing nearly calling out for Thranduil.

If he called would he come?

In the event that he truly needed the man he could just text him but once he had the job of his dreams would the blond retreat back into the shadows and close himself off from the human world?

Would he remain unheard once he had gotten all he had wanted from Thranduil?

What did Thranduil want in return for offering him a new life on a plate?

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

The call regarding the teaching job came late Friday afternoon. A meeting was scheduled for Monday morning and Bard had never felt such a seesawing of emotions as he hung up the phone.

An interview.

The opportunity to teach again. It had been so long since he had stood at the front of a classroom, the thought of teaching groggy teenagers in the mornings and trying to grasp their attention, it was a thrill and a challenge Bard absolutely needed and wanted.

Maybe an offering to the God he owed this to would bring him luck.

He tapped out a text asking if Thranduil was around.

The response was immediate.

[Thran] I might be…

[Thran] What do you need?

The tone came across as cold though he may have just been busy or Bard was reading way too into the message and it actually was just neutral because most of the time texts had no tone without some emojis or text speak.

[Thran] Don’t keep a man waiting!!

[Bard] Sorry!! You don’t have to be so impatient. I was worried I was bothering you.

[Thran] *Roll eye emoji* Doing what exactly? I’ve had no friends for 300 years.

[Bard] Okaaayy. I just wanted to know if I had to leave you an offering at the temple or if you would just prefer to come pick it up?

[Thran] …

[Thran] What do you have for me?

[Bard] You only seem interested when I have something for you.

[Bard] I’m joking. I was just going to cook for you, if you'd like that?

“Well, with an offer that generous how could I stay away?” The sarcastic drawl came from a spot very close behind Bard and he clenched his hands into fists as though it would stop his heart from beating right out of his chest.

“Can’t you at least try and walk through the door like a normal person?” Bard moaned as he turned to face the God. He was greeted by the blond in a relatively modern-looking outfit, his hair was in a long thick braid over one shoulder away from his face for once.

The clothing was what caught Bard’s eye, black jeans showing just how damned long Thranduil’s legs were paired with what looked like a very soft cashmere jumper in a dark forest green.

It was then Bard had to come to terms with the fact he was ridiculously attracted to the blond, though admitting it to himself would be as far he would go… could go. It didn’t seem feasible or even remotely possible that anything would come from this attraction.

Just more questions to keep me up at night… Bard offered Thranduil a crooked smile and gestured for him to take a seat at the tiny dining table.

“You look good, you suit a more modern look, is this you trying something new to bring in potential worshippers?” Bard moved around the kitchen grabbing ingredients from the fridge and a cutting board from the cupboard, when he looked over to Thranduil for an answer he found Thranduil sat staring at the table top looking very troubled.

“Are you ok?”

“Once you get your job teaching, I think it is best I no longer visit you, Bard.” His tone was resolute and while Bard wanted to argue he resisted. If this was to be how it was who was he to argue?

Hasn't that always been the case?

He had left offerings for this God to help him and then once the job was done he would leave. The problem was that now he thought about it he didn’t really like the idea of not seeing Thranduil again.

There would be nothing you could do to convince him… just agree and let him have his own way. There was a heavy feeling of unease in his stomach but he nodded set down the knife he had been holding.

“All right, if that is how it has to be.” Being in agreement with Thranduil left a tight feeling in his chest and he found he wasn’t really hungry any more. “Kind of putting a damper on dinner though.” At his words Thranduil stood up from the table he gave Bard a curt nod.

“Yes, I shall take my leave now. I hope you have everything you want now, Bard. It has been an experience getting to know you and your life. I am… I’m going to miss you. In the short time I’ve known you I have not laughed so much. Your company has truly been appreciated. Please, promise me that no matter how much you think you need to, do not look for me.” With that he vanished leaving Bard well and truly alone for the first time in 2 weeks.

“Well, fuck.”

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

The interview was a breeze and Bard started his job the following week. He was given an office and his own classroom.

The students were a boisterous lot but Bard found them all charming and brilliant in their own ways, even the troublemakers had won him over with their inventive backtalk. All in all, he loved it-- he was in love with his job and he finally felt he was taking a step forward in life rather than treading water.

Not only was working going great, but he also had someone take an interest in him, one of the admin staff at the school had asked him for coffee, it was casual but Bard definitely got the feeling it had been considered a date.

While he was genuinely ecstatic that someone wanted to get to know him and for there to be a chance of romance something didn’t feel right. Lydia was beautiful, pretty grey eyes and golden blonde hair that hung in natural curls down to her shoulders. Her smile was as sweet as her laugh but it didn’t nothing for him.

Some nights Bard would lie in bed staring up at the ceiling as car headlights from the street below threw shadows across his room, he would grip the bed sheets with both hands and force himself to think of something… anything… memories or even the day's events, just something to plug up the emptiness he felt inside.

What was wrong with him?!

After weeks of suffering through the ache of loneliness Bard made the conscious decision to break his promise to Thranduil and he headed out to the park to find the temple. He brought no offering only a quiet sort of fury he hadn’t realised he had been holding on to.

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

The sun was already low when Bard entered the park. Most people were packing their things away to leave, and no one seemed to notice a man in a shirt and tie heading for the woodland area at the back.

The trees felt oppressively close as Bard tried to find his way through them, even on the pathway he felt as though they were closing in on him, a warning for him to turn back but the warning went unheeded and the brunet pushed on with more purpose than before.

It felt as though it took an age to find the clearing again, and when he did Bard glanced up at the tree canopy to see the sky between the branches had faded from gold and orange to lilac and blue, the inky dark of the night slowly rolling in above him with no regard to the world below it.

Without any further distractions Bard entered the temple and was confronted by a furious looking Thranduil stood among the candles, they flickered violently as Bard entered the building, but it was the look on Thranduil’s face that stilled him.

Had he made a mistake?

“I told you not to do this, why can’t you just trust me?” For all the fury on his face, Thranduil’s voice was quiet no ire in his voice only sheer exhaustion. “Why couldn’t you have just gotten on with your life instead of haunting mine?!”

The stunned silence fell over them almost immediately and for a second Bard couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat, after a moment or two the roar of blood in his ears returned and brought him back to Earth.

Gods, he hurt, more than he had expected to when coming to the temple but Thranduil had sounded wounded and scared more than angry and Bard knew he couldn’t leave until he got to the bottom of the God’s odd behaviour.

“I wanted to see you, don’t I get to ask why you suddenly cut off all communication?”

“Why would you think I would tell you anything, do you think we’re friends?” Scathing, words intended to cut deep but Bard pressed on, he wasn’t leaving until he absolute knew Thranduil wanted nothing more to do with him for the rest of eternity.

“We could be friends-- what are you afraid of?”

The temple was plunged into darkness as every candle went out leaving Bard effectively blind, there was no time for him to let his eyes adjust to the dark, trusting his sense of direction he moved forward with confident strides one hand reaching out until it connects with the soft fabric of Thranduil’s robe.

“Answer me, why can’t we be friends?”

“Don’t… Bard, please.” The blond begged desperately a warm hand covered Bard’s as he pried open the burnet’s fingers releasing the fabric. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.” His voice shook as though fighting back intense emotions but Bard didn’t move and instead he grabbed the front of Thranduil’s robe again keeping a connection while still unable to make out the other in the pitch black.

“Is it… because I’m human?” The question came out a whisper, it was entirely possible that Thranduil had tried to hurt him to spare himself the pain of losing a friend to death. It didn’t make him feel any better knowing this could be the reason.

“Oh, Bard. Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone?” A pained response though there was a tired sort of exasperation colouring his tone, “But yes, I stopped seeing you because I realised how much I enjoyed your company and I could see you were fond of me. I was frightened to continue our friendship because I knew I’d lose you sooner or later.”

If Thranduil had not mentioned friendship it would have sounded like a confession of love, maybe he did love him but not in the way Bard thought he had… not in the way Bard had wanted him to.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have come here. I’ve made a mistake.” Hurried words as Bard released Thranduil at the same time moving back creating space between them, though the black void around them revealed nothing of how much space.

“I can’t fucking see… Thranduil I have to go. I’m sorry- having a friend like would have been great… I’m so sorry.” With that he stumbled back towards what looked to be the exit, the faint light clinging to the doorway showed him back out into the clearing.

Heaving air into his lungs Bard cursed himself under the stars before breaking out into a run into the darkness of the woods, he didn’t deviate from his path and soon he was back out in the open of the manicured grass lawns that were the city park.

A night shift security guard ushered him out and Bard flopped onto a bench on the street to gather his thoughts.

One thing he was positively sure of… He was definitely falling for Thranduil and Thranduil wanted nothing to do with him.

He couldn’t blame the God, Bard would age and die, he’d be a terrible friend regardless of how much he cared for him they just weren’t compatible. They couldn’t be friends, they couldn’t be anything and right then Bard wanted nothing more than to drain a bottle of wine.

So that’s what he did, on his walk home he stopped off at the store and bought a marginally better wine than the one he had given Thranduil then headed home and drank a bottle and a half of cheap red wine.

Strangely, it didn’t make him feel any better about the situation just regretful that he hadn’t fought to convince the God that they could continue to see one another. Bard was sure he could just be friend with Thranduil, this new found bisexuality was something he still had to learn about so taking things slow seemed the right idea… until he picked up his phone and started texting Thran.

[Bard] I bought better wine.

[Bard] Incase you r might be intrestd

[Bard] moght already be durnk

The room spun in a jerking fashion and Bard gripped his phone a little tighter in his hand just in case that would help- it didn’t but it was a valiant effort on his part.

The phone buzzed in his hand and Bard looked down to see a response to his messages.

[Thran] Stop drinking you’ll hurt yourself.

[Thran] Go to bed and sleep it off.

Giddy at the fact he’d enticed out a response out of the blond Bard set to responding, or at least he tried but the code on his phone was difficult to remember and being such a lightweight he was too drunk to realise that the code was literally 0000.

Eventually, after much cursing and many threats made to the device Bard managed to unlock it.

Another text had come through in the meantime.

[Thran] I’m sorry that things ended the way they did. You might be too drunk to read this properly and take it all in but… The reason I pushed you away is because…

[Thran] I am not doing this via text. Go to bed I will speak to you in the morning!

The sun shone bright and cheery into the lounge of Bard’s apartment and directly onto a now extremely groggy and hungover educator- his mouth felt like a desert and his head pounded feeling as though an elephant had tap danced on it all night.

Groaning he sits up still in his clothes from work the day before. Thankfully it was a blessed Saturday which meant Bard could suffer the consequences of his actions in relative peace. Well, that was until he padded into the kitchen the get water and he found Thranduil stood in the exact same place he had been when the first met.

Only this time he looked grim, was dressed like a modern man and was holding a glass of water out to Bard his eyes full of disapproval and smidge of sympathy.

“I thought seeing as I may have been the reason you got wasted drunk last night… it seemed only fair that I take care of your this morning.” Bard took the water but he winced as he moved and Thranduil looked mightily concerned when Bard went a shade paler than he had been before.

“Get into bed. I cannot believe how drunk you were ls night. You are so irresponsible!”

“I know, I know… you sound like my wife.” Bard joked as he hobbled down the hall holding his delicate body rigid as though that would save him from the never-ending waves of nausea that battered his entire being.

Never had he imagined that someone could feel sick right down to their toes, and yet here he was experiencing it with the least sympathetic man in all of creation standing over his bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, well if I were you wife you’d not be in this state.” Thranduil’s retort came out harsh at first but by the end of his sentence his voice had softened and he was sitting on the edge of the bed brushing Bard’s hair, that was plastered to his forehead, off his face. “If we were married you probably wouldn’t be very happy.” There was something hesitant about the way he spoke as though he had dared to dream of something so domestic as being married to someone.

“Would I be unhappy?” The brunet questioned, he elaborated when Thranduil gave him a searching look as though trying to fathom what on earth he was talking about. “How could a man be unhappy looking at someone as beautiful as you every day knowing that he was married and that they felt the same?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bard. You don’t know what you’re saying, you must still be drunk.” The God scoffed brushing off the compliment though now his cheeks were a faint pink and he was busying himself with ensuring Bard was comfortable but somehow doing it without looking at him.

“Would it be ridiculous, if two people care for another why can’t they be together?”

“Therein lies the problem, dear Bard. Both people have to have the same feelings.” Thranduil explained simply.

Bard frowned.

“Don’t you care for me?”

“Of course I do, it’s you- oh…”

“Oh, what?” He sits up though it was a mistake to do so as the room did a lovely turn for him and his stomach flipped with appreciation, Bard enjoyed none of this. “Thranduil, oh what?”

Thranduil merely offered him a satisfied smile, he took a cleansing breath and forced Bard to lie down again all the while deftly removing the man’s tie to save him from choking while he recovered.

“Rest and get over this hangover, I will be here when you wake up.” Leaning down he pressed a soft kiss to Bard’s forehead when he didn’t get a reaction he sat up about to huff and puff that his gesture should have been a huge sign to the other man.

However, before the words could leave his mouth he noticed the other was already flat out asleep.

“You, sir, are an idiot, but stars do I love you.”

#Thranduil #Bard #Barduil #The Hobbit #Prompt #10k words #bee-king-official

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