#I think Ashe would eventually be close to him too working as a royal knight since they'd see each other all the time in Faerghus

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

LOL I can totally see Claude being embarrassed about Rodrigue's "dad behaviour" but I think he would also love to hear all the childhood anecdotes Rodi has to tell about the Faerghus Four, probably embarrassing Dimi and mortifying Felix, haha. And yes, Rodrigue would be good with Sylvain. I think he could also make Matthias realize that their sons really love each other and even though Sylvain cannot pass on his Crest this way, that it will be ok in their new future (I mean, they could still

[2] adopt kids. Honestly, Sylvain would be a cool dad. And I imagine Felix would be more openly soft with his kids than his usual snarling wildcat persona he pulls off when he likes to pretend he doesn't care xD. Dimitri would be such a good father, too. We already know from canon that he loves kids, like teaching the orphans, AM ending mural and this monk who tells Byleth he saw Dimi caring for an orphan even in his boar phase. Claude would be great, too and I see him being naturally good

[3] with kids on the surface but also a bit of insecure inside bc of his own childhood. His own parents aren't exactly good role models *cough* and though he seems not always aware of the impact their upbringing had on him, I think he would want to do better with his own children. And Rodrigue would tell the kids adventurous bedtime stories. Tbh I could even see any kid Sylvix may adopt melting "the wall of ice". Rodrigue and Matthias as great grandpa duo is a headcanon I didn't know I need lol

Oops sorry for the long ask. I got a bit carried away with my "kids/grandchildren" headcanon lol

YEAH like since Claude doesn’t know much affection from a parental figure I feel like he’d be a bit shy about it at first, but he’d also want to hear the stories about Dimi and what the group did as kids. Felix would absolutely be mortified, he’d be doing anything in his power to stop Rodrigue from continuing but Dimi and Sylvain would hold him back because if they have to suffer, Felix does too. 😤

Tbh I like the idea of Sylvain opening up to Rodrigue about his feelings about his own father and how he’d like to be closer to him but Matthias just isn’t really “hanging out with” material. Rodrigue is much more emotional and more readily available for heart to hearts, but Matthias won’t have even that much with his own kid(s). Might even be a good way to get Rodrigue to talk to Matthias about trying a bit harder since they could die at any time from something like even a Sreng invasion. Also, it might be good for Rodrigue too since he always wants to talk to Felix but Felix isn’t interested and always acts angry about literally nothing. I think he’d be happy to have someone rely on him for advice besides Dimitri who he already considers a son.

In Hopes Dimitri also mentions the power of Crest bloodlines is getting weaker anyway and they have to prepare for that. That’s in his support with Sylvain too if I’m not mistaken. It’d be interesting if Sylvain adopted a kid instead of having his own (since I imagine nobility/royalty would be pressured to have blood children bc of their bloodlines, even if they weren’t with someone they could have children with). It’d be like preparing for that by raising a child to be ready in the same way any Gautier would be, but without the bloodline or relic’s power to help.

Felix would be a good parent imo because you can tell he’s not really that aggressive with people outside of his best friends. Felix has this weird attitude where he’s nicer/more considerate with others than with his best friends, where he doesn’t hold back or play the nice guy when he has something to say. He’s nice to them when he has no reason to be angry/aggravated, like how he personally goes to Sylvain in their B support specifically to apologize, but he gets aggravated again when Sylvain says something stupid.

Specifically, his childhood friends each have reasons he’s more snappy with them (Sylvain saying dumb shit and acting like nothing matters to him including his own life, Dimitri being so violent toward enemies but being kind and polite otherwise and Felix doesn’t understand that and is somewhat afraid of him bc of that, and Ingrid is too deep into knighthood in a way that goes completely against Felix’s beliefs on knighthood and hates the extremities Ingrid takes it to).

So, like, I think he’d actually be a really good and gentle father generally, but probably be more strict just because of things like not wanting his kid to grow up to be like Ingrid, to make the mistakes Dimitri made or to be as whimsical and careless as Sylvain. Tbh I think Felix would be one of the most devastated parents ever if he lost a child. Obviously most people would be like that if they lost a kid, but I think Felix would take it a lot harder than even the expected norm.

Claude and Dimi would be amazing parents imo! Dimi is already very good with kids but I think they’d find him fun and be amazed by him. I think Claude would be the more awkward one since he grew up so isolated and didn’t have a group of friends growing up like Dimi did, so I think his understanding of how to behave in a way that a child would enjoy would need a crutch to lean on, like watching Dimi interact with them and learning from that. Since he also grew up basically being emotionally stunted and not having experience from his own life to go off of, I feel like he’d need the experience through watching others first. After that I think he’d be more confident about it and be able to handle kids better. He’d definitely be an overprotective dad when the kid was really young though imo just out of experience and instinct. I feel like Claude would be the stricter parent, not on purpose but because his mind would just always be like “YOUR KID IS ADOPTED BY TWO MEN AND ON TOP OF THAT YOU’RE BOTH ROYALS WHICH MAKES FOR A HIGH BOUNTY AND LOTS OF PPL ALREADY HATE YOU SO OFC THEY’D HATE YOUR KID TOO AND YOU CAN NEVER BE TOO TRUSTING WITH STRANGERS LEST SOMEONE KIDNAPS YOUR KID ETC ETC YOU GET IT CLAUDE”. Claude would be “be home by eight PM” parent and Dimi would be the “be home by eight PM if you’re not with a friend/have to get home by yourself, but be home by ten PM if you’re with a friend or people you trust”.

I also love this one idea/headcanon of mine that Mercedes teaches Dimi how to sew/knit and Dimi teaches Claude. I’d think Claude would know the basics of it, but since Dimi would know it beyond just basics from Mercedes’ help then I’d think he’d know more than Claude after working with her. I love the idea that Dimi and Claude would handmake lots of stuff for the orphans, so I bet they would do that for their own kid(s) too. I feel like they’d love handmaking things for their kids since they’d feel more special than things they bought!

ALSO I love the idea of Claude asking Rodrigue for advice on how to handle his kid(s) bc like sure Dimi is good with kids, but Rodrigue has had children and is a grown adult, so he’s not still learning how to raise his own kids like Dimi would be. Maybe him asking for advice would be how Rodrigue gets into telling all these stories to the kids (Dmcl and Sylvix kids both!), and Claude listens too sometimes to learn from Rodrigue!

OKAY BUT LISTEN, Sylvain bringing his first kid (adopted or not) to Matthias and Matthias actually crying about Sylvain being a dad and seeing how much of a good dad Sylvain became even despite Matthias himself not being much of a father to Sylvain... He’d be so happy to see that even though he wasn’t much of a father, Sylvain still became a great dad and he’d realize he didn’t ruin things for Sylvain’s parenthood and be so grateful. I can see him telling Rodrigue about that and being so proud of Sylvain and Rodrigue just being SO HAPPY to see Matthias being emotional because it’d been such a long, long time since he was. Maybe he’d even hug Sylvain and thank him for bringing back the old Matthias he used to know by being a good father.

No worries on getting carried away! I love hearing other people’s Dmcl/Sylvix headcanons and family headcanons! If you ever just wanna drop some in my ask box just to let them out or talk headcanons, feel free. I don’t mind how long they are! If you’re having fun talking about them then that’s good and I’m happy you’re having fun! :)

[victorsandvanquishers]

Rang de Basanti about Asta and Yuno... revolutionary gays....

Anon, please take these revolutionary gays from the perspective of their revolutionary father, one Orsi Orfai, featuring Ralph Niaflem. Enjoy! (͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°)

And as previously noted, Bollywood Prompts are now closed! Four more stories left to be posted for the year! Thank you for reading. (~˘▾˘)~

*

“I had a feeling he would grow up to become someone regardless of where he was raised,” Ralph Niaflem said softly, eyes fixed on the lukewarm tea in his lap. “Our king and queen, my father... we all put our faith in him that night. We knew that one day, he would grow up to be a hero – our hero.”

“I'm sure they did,” Orsi Orfai replied with a sad smile. Unlike the former who's eyes were still on his teacup, Orsi looked at the figure still recovering in his home, a man who claimed to be a loyal retainer of his son Yuno.

His son Yuno, who apparently had a name and a history now.

“He was destined for greatness when he came into this world,” Ralph Niaflem continued with a touch of reverence. “We built the Resistance on the hope that he would return to us one day.” The younger man sighed and rubbed one of his wet eyes. “We couldn't raise him ourselves because we were scared the Dark Triad would find out and kill him, so my father...” Ralph Niaflem's eyes suddenly shot up from his cup and looked to Orsi who was sitting on the opposite end of the small room. “You have to understand, we had no choice! My father, he-” Ralph Niaflem's words hitched in his throat and he choked back a sob. “He...”

“He did what he had to do,” Orsi finished for the younger man. Somehow, he found it in himself not to snap at the bedridden man that his Yuno, his son Yuno, was much more than the castaway of a royal family from a distant land, that he too loved and was loved, and that if the younger man's father hadn't brought Yuno to the church that freezing night, then Yuno would never have met his one great love.

Orsi found himself grinning. “I've never once regretted taking him in,” he sniffed with a wet smile. “Neither him nor Asta. They're my precious sons, and they'll always be welcome here. This village,” Orsi threw up his hands and gestured to the small room, “this church – this is their home.”

Something seemed to click in Ralph Niaflem's eyes. “Asta... was that the other child the nun was speaking of?”

“That's him!” Orsi blurted a bit too quickly, but found himself laughing heartily anyway, the tears that were just beginning to pool in his eyes already dried and forgotten. “I always assumed the same person had left the children, but judging from your stories, your father left only one baby at our doorstep.”

Ralph nodded, and the distant look in his eyes only grew heavier. “Many of the other children, sons and daughters of loyal retainers, they either fled underground or to remote regions of the nation. I and some of the others who were a bit older, we were left in the hands of the Resistance. The others...” Ralph toyed with the cup of cold tea in his hand. “... Let's just say that we have quite a few mountains the Dark Triad has yet to overcome.”

“Your land lives in perpetual winter, does it not?” Orsi asked carefully.

Ralph blinked. “Ah, yes. Snow...” Finally, a small smile began to play on the younger man's lips. “We have four different mountain ranges, and the largest of them border the sea. You've probably heard the stories...”

“The coldest sea in the world,” Orsi nodded. “Is that...” Orsi swallowed the pain in his throat. “Is that where Yuno was born?”

“No,” Ralph smiled halfheartedly. “He was born in the capital. Our city is far, far away from the sea. It's true our lands are forever trapped in snow, but there's beauty in the light after a snowstorm. It's the clearest sky you'll ever see in your life, and it's even clearer by the ocean. When Prince Yuno comes ho-”

“-Yuno's home is right where you're sitting,” Orsi interrupted abruptly.

Ralph Niaflem gaped. “I-I didn't mean...”

Orsi sighed and chuckled dryly. “I know exactly what you meant, but it would behoove you to remember that Yuno didn't join the Magic Knights to become your ruler. He became a Magic Knight...” Orsi found that he couldn't finish the sentence, when Yuno himself had never finished the sentence.

Ralph Niaflem seemed to find his composure again. “Why did Prince Yuno join your military?”

Orsi remembered a church where once upon a time, few prayed within its walls, and even fewer slept near its hearth. He remembered it before the gaggle of children who scurried from one end of the church to the other. He remembered it before it'd been painted with laughter and joy.

He remembered it before he took in two little children, freezing in the cold with no one to keep them safe.

“Out of love,” Orsi finished curtly. “He joined for love. Love of country, love of family – our Yuno, he's always been a sensible lad. Has a great sense of honor, and cares deeply for his family. He's our pride, that one. And...”

Orsi remembered those years before the rest of the children arrived, remembered watching Asta and Yuno grow together, like vines that accidentally entangled in infancy, but so reverent of each other that they found a way to grow around each other while anchoring one another. He remembered when the other children came into his arms, and when the church became a orphanage, and not just a church where an old man raised a pair of orphans. He remembered when their world blossomed around them, and love came in different forms, both through spoken word and immediate action.

“And?” Ralph Niaflem inquired from his place on the old bed.

Orsi remembered a little boy with eyes that seemed to be perpetually dipped in equal parts gold and grief. That little boy never strayed from the other little boy's side, the one that bore unruly ash grey hair and a pair of eyes that glistened like the verdant forests that surrounded their beautiful little village.

Orsi remembered a little boy who fell in love before he even knew what the word meant.

“And he has someone,” Orsi enunciated clearly. “His home is here, sir, and so is his heart.”

Ralph seemed taken aback. “He has a girlfriend?”

“N-now, wait a minute, who said anything about a girl!?” Orsi sputtered, a deep blush blooming on his face.

“Oh,” Ralph said dryly. “I see... I mean, I shouldn't be surprised. He's young, popular, it would be expected, wouldn't it? To experiment with these things.”

Orsi didn't know why, but he felt vaguely disgusted that the other man would frame it in such a way. Orsi had never expected to watch a child fall in love with his best friend, but love was love, wasn't it? He never expected to have to pretend that he didn't see Yuno's gaze follow every little step Asta took towards the future, and he never expected to be the one to say out loud what Yuno himself had never once admitted in his life.

And yet, Orsi found that he couldn't lie to the man who'd crawled out of the past to come claim one of Orsi's sons as his own. Orsi couldn't allow that, not when Yuno was Asta's other half.

“His heart is set on a particular individual,” Orsi said firmly, “and I'll have you know that I plan to invite the entire town to their wedding!”

“Oh... I see...”

“If it's a king you need, then you won't find him here,” Orsi stated, cutting to the chase. “Yuno's home is here in Hage, and so is his beloved. Those are bonds not even blood can tear apart.”

“And despite those bonds, he is Prince Yuno of House Grinberryall, heir to the Spade Kingdom's throne,” Ralph reminded him with a curt look. “He'll have to acknowledge the truth, even if he can't accept it.”

Orsi thought about the little boy who fell in love every day of his life, always with the same person, always wearing his heart on his sleeve as he followed that person all the way into the Magic Knights, a person who also grew up to be a hero of his people, a hero named Asta.

Orsi found that he couldn't stop the smile from blooming on his face. “He doesn't have to. Yuno has his heart. When it comes time for him to choose, he'll choose who he's always chosen.”

“And who is that?” Ralph challenged.

“You'll know, eventually.” Orsi Orfai retorted with a soft chuckle. “I'd like to see you try, sir. A word of advice from an old man like me? It's not worth standing in the way of true love. Only the truly blessed can experience it in their lifetime. Yuno has experienced it, and he's worked hard for it. No kingdom is worth the price of separation, I'll have you know. He couldn't even stop himself from going after the Wizard King because of that boy! What makes you think he'll leave him behind for your castle and skies? His past may have been in your hands, but his future is in another's. Don't take it to heart, sir, but that is the truth. What is a king to a mortal in love? Nothing. A king is nothing, not when one's beloved is right beside them. Just you wait, you'll know his name one day, the boy who has our Yuno's heart, and you'll understand. You'll understand.”

And Orsi knew that, that day would come soon, and that when it arrived, they'd all rejoice.

After all, what better ending could a father hope for?

*

[thespiralgrimoire]

I. NEED. TO. LEARN. MORE. ABOUT. FERRO's. UNIVERSE. Like are you kidding me? Fuego and Leo pulled a coup and killed every non-vermillion??! that's, wow, that's rich!! What's the heck is wrong with /THAT/ timeline? What about Asta's story there? the elves? the devils? Fuego really killed everyone? including NOZEL? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!

OH MY GOD ANON YOU’VE MADE MY ENTIRE DAY

HONESTLY this AU is underdeveloped because of the way it came to fruition in the first place, so nothing would make me happier but to make it a collaborative fandom project but here’s everything I’ve got on it

Under a Read More because it might get lengthy

First, a disclaimer: This AU was born out of a dream. I had a dream about a plucky teenager participating in a Magic Knight’s exam that was designed more like The Hunger Games, and when I woke up, I said to myself, I gotta get in on that. So that’s why some of the details of this AU are a little fucky. Dream logic.

Now, the inciting event for this AU is twofold: First, Acier lives. SECOND, her sister, Kirsch and Mimosa’s mother, dies giving birth to Mimosa.

Sister’s death completely breaks down any bond between the Vermillions and the Silvas. It’s just. Messy. A lot of finger pointing, a lot of people not handling things well. Because while the Silvas were taught from a young age to bottle up their feelings, Vermillions tend to use their feelings as a weapon. And relations go south fast.

Acier has still been training Meoroleona. Nozel and Fuegoleon have still been rivals. But when this happens, everyone is forced to pick a side. Acier and Meoroleona don’t end their relationship on bad terms, but they do end it. Nozel and Fuegoleon’s relationship swiftly turns hostile. In hindsight, nobody is happy about the way things went down, but at this point there’s a No Man’s Land to civility that nobody is willing to cross, and nobody will cross it.

The Vermillions have the roughest time with this, but unlike the way the Silvas handled Noelle, nobody actually blames Mimosa for her mother���s death. They turn their grief into what they see as righteous fury and determine to turn this into a “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger” situation. This takes different forms over the years, but what basically happens is that everyone internalizes these feelings so deeply that while they all grow stronger, they also sort of grow apart.

Fuegoleon and Meoroleona have a blowout that completely shakes House Vermillion, and when Meoroleona leaves, she vows to never come back. No one believes that she would actually stay away, what with how close Fuego and Meoro were as kids, but when she leaves, she leaves. They see her once a year TOPS, and it’s never for a happy reason.

Fuegoleon, who has let his anger completely isolate him from the rest of his family, throws himself into being the Crimson Lion King, and while he’s incredibly successful, he loses parts of himself along the way. His ambitions override his caring nature and his inclination to share his strengths with others, and he becomes cold and determined, with a methodical outlook on relationships.

Leopold doesn’t become so callous-- he wasn’t old enough to remember his aunt’s death, he just had to grow up in the aftermath of it --but he follows in his brother’s footsteps, and while he’s not as mean about the way he does it, he’s not afraid to make some harsh decisions if it means being the best.

Kirsch and Mimosa decide that the best way to deal with this is to keep their heads down. Kirsch is fiercely protective of his little sister, because even though nobody is blaming Mimosa, he can’t shake the feeling that she may still have a target on her back. This makes Mimosa jumpy and clingy, never really developing the confidence to be her own person. While she can’t really nail down a particular reason for it, she’s scared of Fuegoleon and doesn’t trust Leopold. She can’t help but wonder how her cousins in House Silva are doing, but knows that all hell would break loose if she actually sought them out, so she feels constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place; the living embodiment of a schism between the royal houses.

The Silvas, on the other hand, go the other direction. Acier is still here, and she’s not letting her family rip itself apart like it did in canon. She remains the captain of the Silver Eagles and well-respected. Her kids have an even easier ride to the top with her still there to pave the way. She misses Meoroleona terribly. She knows that none of this was fair to any of them, and losing her sister AND her star pupil is a lot to work through. She keeps thinking that eventually she’ll get a letter or a surprise visit from the Undefeated Lioness, but she never does.

Nozel is genuinely heartbroken to have lost his rival and best friend, and, consequently, be left in the dust when he can’t keep up with Fuegoleon’s ambition, but he’s still got his mother and three little siblings, so they become his whole life. Without Fuegoleon’s rivalry to spur him on, he becomes good but not great, and is content to coast. He’s a mama’s boy, and as long as his mother is satisfied, he’d rather read and organize missions than go on them. On the bright side, he doesn’t deal with 90% of the stress he deals with in the canon universe. He’s actually pretty happy most of the time.

Nebra ends up being the classic middle sibling. Her magic is nothing special, but she’s a Silva, so she can go with the flow and still come out looking a little better than everyone else. While Nozel would rather spend time with books and Solid and Noelle would rather spend time with each other, she’s a drifter; she can hang with any of her siblings, or her mother, but she’s no one’s first pick. It doesn’t really bother her all that much unless she feels genuinely left out, and Mom never forgets about her, so it’s all good.

Solid and Noelle are thick as thieves, and the Silver Eagles’ superstars. They bring out the worst of each other and have a great time doing it. They’re a dynamic duo on the battle field and harbor unfathomable chaotic energy off of it. Getting sucked into their gravitational pull is dangerous, so Nebra, Nozel, and Acier tread lightly, lest they get dragged into, or end up the victim of their shenanigans. Of all combinations of Silva duos, they are by far the closest. Totally ride or die. That doesn’t mean that they don’t drive each other absolutely batshit crazy, and have some HUGE blowouts that waterlog half the castle, but that’s what siblings do. The nice thing about having each other is that neither of them end up in their siblings’ or mother’s shadows. The not nice thing about that is that they’re just. Little shits. Imagine Noelle acting the way she does in the beginning of the series, but being sincere about it. Imagine Solid acting the way he does, except he’s never checking to see if he’s got his siblings’ approval. Now imagine them patting each other on the back for acting like that. Yikes.

Then Ferro comes along. He’s the result of Solid knocking up his unnamed noble girlfriend when he’s 16-17. Acier is PISSED. All the other Silvas are scandalized. Solid is in big trouble. Acier suspends him from the Silver Eagles while she does damage control. What she eventually ends up doing is paying the girl off, and when the baby is born, she takes him into House Silva to raise him in secret. Nobody outside House Silva ever knows about him. He is House Silva’s best kept secret. This is an important detail.

The coup comes together. Fuegoleon has been working on this plan for a long time. Years. Leopold is on board, because Leopold would follow him off a cliff. But he’s also scared shitless. This is a much bigger deal than stepping on a few comrades to rise through the ranks. He slips a little. Kirsch catches wind of the plan. He gets in Leo’s and Fuego’s ear to remind them, hey, we’re Vermillions, too. So we’re cool, right?

Yeah, they’re cool. All they have to do is help their cousins kill everyone whose last name isn’t Vermillion. Kirsch thinks this is a pretty good deal to save him and his sister. Mimosa will later have her doubts, but we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.

Meoroleona was invited, but never shows up.

We’re about at the beginning of the show when the coup begins. I don’t have a good reason that it goes off as smoothly as it does. But everyone in Houses Kira and Silva dies, except Acier and Ferro. Ferro, now two, manages to watch his entire family get bodied without getting a scratch on him, because no one anticipated him being there. Acier is only able to defend herself and him before sneaking away.

Acier and Ferro flee to the Forbidden Realm, to a little town in bumfuck nowhere, to hide. They are never discovered by the Vermillions.

Fuegoleon becomes the Clover King. As far as they can tell, the coup is 100% successful. But the thing about fire is that it’s super useful for making people really dead, but when people are dying in heaps and being burned to ash it’s kind of hard to count how many bodies you’ve got. They don’t realize that they’re one short. With no one to stand in their way, Fuegoleon crowns himself Clover King. He disbands the Silver Eagles, and within the next few years, will crown himself Wizard King. It actually becomes pretty easy after Julius nerfs himself, whoops.

Unfortunately, Fuegoleon is starting to unravel. He gained a LOT of enemies doing all this heinous shit, and he is not a beloved king. Leopold is now the head of the Crimson Lion Kings, and he’s reporting back a lot of hostility among the captains. Not that they didn’t expect that, but there’s no way to practice sleeping with one eye open. That’s not to mention that the people are scared and confused, and that doesn’t make for a peaceful kingdom.

Over the course of years, he puts greater and greater restrictions on magic. It starts as permits to use spells in public places and soon grows into a near-total ban on grimoires for anyone outside the magic knights. With absolute power, he can kick people out of the magic knights AND take their grimoires. These rules both ease and exacerbate his growing paranoia. Everyone is pissed, but effectively stripped of their power, there isn’t much they can do about it.

Meanwhile, Acier is raising her grandson as a peasant, but never forgets that they’re royals. She teaches Ferro all of their family history, even though they have to keep it a secret. That gets kind of tricky since Ferro has royal-level magic in the middle of a town of peasants, but, you know, who’s gonna call him on it?

When Ferro is ten, he get recruited by a mysterious hooded figure to train his magic in secret. 90% of his magic training happens in a location he is taken to by a spatial mage. He, along with about a dozen other kids, are trained by a small band of mages who claim to be the resistance. Their goal is simple: Train the next generation of mages to take out the king and restore order to the kingdom. Ferro thinks this is pretty cool, and the honor isn’t lost on him, but he’s mostly glad that he can learn to control his magic in a way that makes his grandmother proud.

By the time Ferro is 15, grimoire ceremonies have been almost completely outlawed, so it’s a big deal when the resistance throws their trainees a grimoire ceremony. Once they’ve received their grimoires, they begin the next leg of their journey: become magic knights.

The Magic Knights Entrance Exam has changed a LOT in the last 15 years. This exam is deadly. In many instances, the point is to kill or be killed. Magic knights are being trained as a military force first and foremost, and their most important feature must be that they take orders unblinkingly. This does not fly with Ferro. While he’s extremely qualified for the position in every other way, he’s too nice to let people die, let alone kill them. He fails the exam. However, some of the other kids he’s trained with make it in.

So he needs a new plan. Spurned on by his grandmother and his teachers through the resistance, he decides to travel the Clover Kingdom. In the midst of his travels, Acier dies. At 20 years old, he is now the last Silva.

This fact makes Ferro pretty fatalistic, and at this point he decides the only rational thing to do is to force an audience with King Fuegoleon. Surely this won’t end in disaster. Definitely won’t be his untimely end by flames.

--

So there are a lot of holes in this AU, because it sprang up around this one character I had a wild dream about. A few mores notes:

Noelle joined the Silver Eagles, if that wasn’t obvious

The Vermillion coup takes place 1-2 years after the start of the show, and I have no explanation for how those events could fit into this timeline. They would definitely look a LOT different, that’s for sure

My notes on this end where they do because at the point where Ferro breaks into the royal castle to force this audience with the king, he actually gets thrown out of this universe and into another. So I guess for all intents and purposes, the Silva line ends for good in this universe

I know exactly where Meoroleona is and what she’s doing

I don’t know where exactly Kirsch and Mimosa are and what they’re doing when they disappear

So that’s all I’ve got! This isn’t a super duper happy AU, and definitely not flattering for everyone, but I was forced to flesh it out because I was told, very emphatically, “Evil Vermillions sexy.” I don’t disagree.

[theatresweetheart]

Thorns and Arrows

Fandom(s): Sanders Sides, G/t

Prompt: “I’ll take real good care of you, I promise.” With prinxiety? Maybe with big Roman and tiny Virgil? — Asked by @arc852

Summary: Virgil, after narrowly escaping capture by humans who believe his witchcraft is demonic, ends up getting caught by Roman instead.

Warnings: Brief mention of Remus, brief mention of Deceit (Darien), multiple descriptions of blood, disturbing use of language, talk of death, character being treated inhumanely, fear, fainting, crying, swearing, fire. (I think that’s it, but please let me know if I missed anything!)

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Logince

Word Count: 4140 words.

A/n: So, I actually had a lot of fun writing this and getting to play around with different perspectives and such. Also, a huge thank you to the ever lovely @hiddendreamer67 for being a fantastic beta and helping me edit! 

(Also, as a side note, I decided not to add this into the ask with the prompt, only because it had gotten so long. Adding “Read More” into my asks has been problematic for now, so I might do every long story like this and the shorter ones answered in asks. That is still to be decided.)

Anyhow, enjoy! 

Taglist: @isle-of-gold  (Feel free to let me know if you ever want to be tagged in future works!) 

                                      +~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

Life is a cruel mistress, some would say.

She taunts and giggles and gifts more misfortune to the already unfortunate.

To those that had been born into a life with little to no chance of success or survival, she can be loving and kind and extend assistance and a caring hand. Or, she would sit by, watch and grin at the suffering she caused.

Virgil didn’t want to be ungrateful, but as he stumbled through the overgrown underbrush of the forest in a panicked escape from the king’s knights close behind him—with swords and shields and bows and arrows ready—he felt as though he had every right to be sour about his life.

“Halt in the name of the King, witch!”‌ One knight shouted, causing the witch himself to reel and press on forward faster. “You will cease your useless attempt and repent in the Halls of the King before the Royal Court!”

If he had wanted to repent and be dragged back to the court to either be hung or drowned, he would have already turned himself in.

The sounds of his own breathing got loud enough that it was the only thing he could focus on. The blood rushing in his ears, the adrenaline pounding through his veins.

His coven had already been ravaged by fire and death and destruction, his familiar was nowhere to be seen—which worried him greatly—and now he was running blindly through a forest he didn’t know his way out of.

He was in an area of the forest that he had never had the chance to see. A place he had never been taken to, or shown around. He was completely on his own when it came to navigating his way out.

To put it lightly, Virgil was terrified.

The sound of an arrow whizzing by his head, nearly nicking his cheek, made him recoil and duck to the other side, catapulting himself over a fallen log and continuing his sprint.

There was just so much that had gone wrong in such little time. This morning had been like any other morning, quiet, relatively peaceful. He was going to try and spend most of his day perfecting his potions, only for that to have changed within the hour.

How had the knights figured out his coven existed?‌ A false accusation by one of the paranoid townspeople, claiming they had seen another of Virgil’s coven commit a heinous act of witchcraft.

It hadn’t been hard to figure out that the townsfolk were bluffing. It also wasn’t hard to understand that the townspeople didn’t like him or his coven in the first place. They were isolated and kept to themselves a lot, only entering the town square when absolutely necessary. To an outsider, they almost did look a tad too much like witches, but they had never been accused of it before.

There had been rumors, Virgil remembered, when he was little. He remembered staying close to Darien, a hand latched onto the older witch’s jacket as they navigated the town. People would whisper to each other, point and stare, but nothing had ever come of it. It remained only as if it were a whisper on the wind.

There had always been paranoia within the town about the forest and what lurked inside of it, which was understandable.

There were terrible creatures that lurked in the night, searching and stalking for an easy meal. If you didn’t know how to fight back, it would be far too easy to lose. Sometimes, even if you did know how to defend yourself, you just weren’t strong enough.

Some of the animals that did haunt the night were wolves and bats and coyotes and such, but then there were mystical creatures as well; the fae, werewolves, and vampires, which were rare, but there. They mostly lived among the people and not so much in the heart of the woods. It was easier to feed that way.

There were even creatures that were so big they’d be able to swallow a human whole if they so desired.

Now those were the encounters that would strike fear into anyone’s being. Anyone that had a rational head on their shoulders would avoid a giant at all costs.

Then there were the so called “giant hunters”‌ who decided it would be a good idea to go after these massive beings and try to claim fame and fortune.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t likely anyone would return from such a quest.

Not that Virgil felt a shred of pity for them. They had made their choice—no matter how stupid—and it had cost them their lives. So, the only way to go about that was to learn from their mistakes and never make the same choice himself.

The twang of another arrow being loosed caught his attention, but the searing hot agonizing pain that rose from his left shoulder was the thing that shattered every coherent thought in his head. The yelp of pain that came sharply from his mouth made the knights behind him cheer in glee; they had hit their mark!‌ It was only a matter of time now before the witch stumbled and dropped.

While his vision was hazy, Virgil wasn’t letting the arrow get the better of him. He needed to get out of here. He needed to find– to find… find what exactly? What was left for him? His coven was nothing but ashes, his familiar was possibly dead and he was being hunted. It really was only a matter of time before he stumbled to his knees and let the knights have their way with him.

But there was also the sharp resilience that said this isn’t what his family would want for him. The fact that giving up meant losing immediately. The moment one gave up was the moment one lost.

Chancing a glance down at the wound, Virgil saw a steady stream of crimson blood oozing down his left arm, dripping off of his fingertips before it had the chance to dry. He needed to dislodge the arrow, find some way to heal the wound before he bled out…but without a safe place to stop and rest, it was pointless.

Without his eyes on the escape route, he had failed to notice the steep drop down the bank in front of him. Just as his foot caught on a stray root, a sharp cry was ripped from his throat and he stumbled and slid to his knees. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he collapsed to the ground and rolled onto his uninjured side just enough to see the knights approaching him quickly.

The sounds of the armour and weapons clattering got closer and closer, until Virgil could see the three knights standing over him. Looking red in the face and furious, but almost mixed with a horrible look of glee. They got to take what they wanted of him. Torture him, kill him.‌ Anything they so desired.

His chest rose in panting breaths, unsteady but in an almost recognizable pattern. Hazily, his eyes slid over each and every knight, taking in what they looked like. Burning their images into his brain as the last thing he would probably see before they ran him through. He memorized every little detail, including their unbearable grins, sneers and sharp looks that said so much more than words could.

“Absolutely pitiful,”‌ the one to his right said, voice dangerously low. He crouched down, prodding Virgil roughly in the injured shoulder and grinning as the witch hissed at the unwanted and painful touch. “A single arrow takes down the last witch of that disgusting coven. You’d think it’d have more fight. At least a will to live.”

Of course Virgil had a will to live, but surrounded like this, too weak to even try and utter a simple spell?‌ His odds weren’t looking great. But that knight could go and take what little knowledge his fat head carried and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

“I almost feel bad,”‌ a second voice piped up, cruel and unrelenting. “Get it up boys. Bring it back to the King.”

The first knight got down lower, so low that Virgil could feel his breath against his neck. It was a vulnerable section of skin for someone’s mouth to be hovering over and he was half afraid that the knight would take the advantage to sink his teeth into his jugular. Of course it wasn’t a human move, but it didn’t stop Virgil from worrying about it. He even tried to writhe away to the best of his ability but was stuck in place by the third’s heavy grasp. “The King ain’t gonna be happy with you,”‌ he snarled, “I‌ like to think that your coven got off easy.”

The thought that being burned alive in your own home was getting off easy, made Virgil feel so unbelievably sick that he felt bile rising.

There was no way that Darien and Remus had gotten off easy. Buried under rubble with heat from all sides, heat that you couldn’t escape, that you choked on and eventually made your suffering so unbearable—

Virgil coughed, blood painting his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling heat prickling the back of his eyes. The water threatened to spill, but he fought back the urge. The knights already had enough reason to mock him; he didn’t want crying in front of them to be another.

The first knight grinned wider. He pushed himself away from the curled up form on the ground and circled around to the other side of him. He grabbed Virgil under the shoulder where the arrow was still implanted into it, before seemingly like he had a better idea. “Hold the witch down,”‌ he said to the other two. “Roll it over onto its back.”

As he was pushed onto his back, Virgil’s eyes snapped back open, blurred as they were, and they locked on the first knight. They widened as he noticed the knight’s hand wrapping around the shaft of the arrow.

He’s going to pull it out. It’s going to get ripped out without care or precision.

Doing that, could ruin his shoulder for life. There was only so much healing magic could do when you weren’t skilled enough in the practice. The fact that the arrow itself was going to be ripped out the opposite way it had been shot in made his stomach churn.

“N-no!”‌ Virgil had finally found his voice, but the demand came out weaker than he had anticipated it. The three men above him didn’t seem to care about his protest as the arrow was grabbed half a moment later. “W-wait, please! Don’t— don’t do this!‌ I’ll go back willingly…ju-just leave the arrow alone!”

“So, it talks,”‌ The second knight snarked, his hands tightening on his good shoulder. Virgil’s eyes frantically searched the features above him, the world beginning to darken in his terror. “It’ll only hurt for a few days.”

“Don’t worry though,” the knight said, giving an experimental tug on the arrow shaft, watching Virgil’s pained expressions carefully. “I’m sure you won’t live that long anyhow. So, perhaps, it’ll only hurt for the rest of your miserable life.”

Virgil tried to prepare himself for the feeling of something being torn out of his body, but nothing could have prepared him for the excruciating feeling that rippled through his entirety.

The arrow head had been so far embedded into his shoulder that it had nearly been poking out the other side. It had torn through layers of skin and had caused the wound to enlarge. More blood spilled from the gash and Virgil almost felt numb. So much agony was flushing through his body that he could hardly put two and two together.

He choked on his breathing, blood made another reappearance as he coughed, gagging at the unbelievable amount of torment.

It only made the knights howl with laughter, looking down at the witch. He wasn’t a big kid, in fact Virgil was actually remarkably small for someone his age. His short stature only made it easier for the knights to keep him trapped.

Virgil gasped, trying to find a way to steady himself enough to process just what exactly was happening to him.

Die.

The word was so sudden and startling that he almost couldn’t fathom the meaning of it.

You are going to die.

Everything that had happened in his life was going to be rendered meaningless. As if he had never done anything at all. There was no one left to remember him.

They’re going to kill you right here, right now so the King will reward them as heroes.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears finally spilling over. He choked on a sob and shook his head, trying to get them off. Trying to get them to let him go. Trying to do something that could possibly save his life. Anything.

You’re going to die and there is nothing you can do about it.

His mind was alive and buzzing, but numb and everything was confusing and he couldn’t see straight, he could hardly breathe. There was so much assault happening to him that his senses couldn’t comprehend everything. From the sharp, stinging pain in his shoulder that was going to kill him if he didn’t get it treated to the electric buzzing going on inside his head from the constant movement and chatter, or even when it came to noticing the quaking in the ground that hadn’t been there before.

Wait.‌‌ What the holy hell was that?

“I didn’t think witches understood human emotions,” the first knight said, snapping the arrow between his two hands and tossing it to the side idly.

He seemed to be the only knight that hadn’t honed in on the difference in the air around them. The way the ground kept shaking in a steady and oddly familiar pattern. It was timed and paced, but shook with a passion. It felt like…like… oh.

Oh no.

No, no no no!

Virgil was too scared to open his eyes, knowing that his consciousness was just barely holding on. It was only a matter of time before it was over for all of them. Seeing through the blood loss and tears wouldn’t help either, but he knew what was coming. He knew that it was way worse than what the knights had in store for him.

“L-let me go!” He grit out, almost trying harder but with his strength failing him, he sounded pathetic.

“Now, why would we do something like that?” The knight crooned. “We caught you and now we’re going to fulfill our duty to the King.”

“No!”‌ Virgil’s voice verged on shrill. “You— you don’t get it!”

The footsteps were getting closer, more prominent. The earth shook with every footfall and the force rattled through him as he was laying flat on the ground.

It was then that the knight seemed to realize what was happening. The first knight was turning to see something he did not want to see.

“What?” The knight barked in surprise, immediately on his feet with his sword drawn. The other two followed suit leaving Virgil on his back, heaving with gasps and anguish.

Just as the knight had gotten the word out, the darkness slid over them, casting the four humans into its shadow.

Virgil knew that it wasn’t a cloud blocking the sun; it was something far worse.‌ Far more dangerous.‌ Something that made him want to be dragged away by the knights and thrown in front of the king. He’d rather that then suffer a death at the hands of a giant.

“Now isn’t this quite the sight,”‌ the rumbling voice from overhead made Virgil flinch further into himself, keeping his eyes screwed shut. He had already memorized the faces of his other tormentors, he didn’t need to see this one too. “The King’s men, supposedly meant to protect the citizens of the Kingdom, attacking one of their own.”

“A‌ witch!”‌ The knight barked, his hold on his sword wavering, terror eating away at his insides. It was obvious how frightened he was, but the stubbornness within him refused to let it show. “It is no member of our society!”

Roman scoffed, his eyes locked on the quivering little form on the ground. “I don’t want to assume, but I‌ would believe the witch would prefer to be addressed as a he not an it.”

The knight threatened to take a step towards the witch again, but Roman moved forward more, to match in confidence and challenge the knight. Giving more of a protective loom over the group of three knights.

“Witch or not, he is still a person,” The giant said, a growl just under the tone of his voice. “Or is that too hard for your bitty human brains to understand?”

The second knight reeled back from that, looking white in the face. His terror was clear to read. The third knight was harder, but the quivering of the blade showed real fear. The knight that was still talking back just seemed to be an idiot.

The first knight met the giant’s eyes, fearless and stupid. “I suppose that means monsters stick together.”

A sharper look filled Roman’s eyes, almost immediately the aura darkened, and he leaned down so much so that they were nearly at eye-level. He hovered just over them to assert his dominance in the situation. To further assert himself, he planted his hands on both sides of the group of knights—even though he was carefully aware of where the little witch was cowering, sobbing, bleeding out and shit I‌ have to deal with these fools quick.

So, he focused all of that irritation and frustration into staring, unwavering, at the knights in front of him. Their swords were nothing compared to him. Humans were absolutely nothing compared to him. “Keep using language like that and I will scrape you across the forest floor like old gum.”

Finally, that got the reaction he had been wanting. He wanted fear, and he wanted them to regret stepping into his part of the woods and torturing an innocent person—witch or not—as if they could get away with it. As unbelievably angry as he was, he knew that he would have to treat the little human and his injuries.

“I’m going to give you a single chance to leave without getting hurt,” he said, voice dangerously low. ‌A menacing snarl that reverberated through his chest and rumbled around them like a thunderstorm waiting to happen. “Get out of here. Now.”

The two other knights had no problem sticking their swords into their sheathes and bolting in the same way they came, their armour clanging together as they escaped. The first knight held his ground, but when chocolate brown eyes stayed locked on him, unrelenting and cold and unsympathetic, the knight felt his heart jump into his throat for the first time. He took an unsteady breath and his resolve shattered when he watched Roman bare his teeth in a sneer at him.

It took nothing for him to scamper off in the same direction as his colleagues.

Now, with the threats gone, he could pay some attention to the witch that was still bleeding out on the ground.

His hands moved from their defensive position, that he had been using to keep himself upright, to one that was encompassing the little human. Curled around the tiny shivering form as if to protect him and ward off any further predators that intended to harm.

“Hey,” his voice was softer, as quiet as he could get it to be without causing more alarm. Perhaps after everything though, Roman would still be registered as a threat because of what the witch had just witnessed. He watched the tiny form flinch away from the sound, one hand moving to cover the gaping wound on his shoulder. “This might not sound all that…reassuring, but you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

The witch gave the tiniest shake of his head in a clear and obvious distrusting “no,” but his eyes remained screwed shut. The human’s hands were smeared in his own blood, the ripped white shirt he was wearing had been stained crimson with the thick liquid.

Biting into his lower lip, Roman let his gaze flicker. The creature was obviously in a great amount of pain and he seemed to be losing consciousness. “I‌ know you have no reason to trust me, but would it help if you knew my name?” Without an answer, he was sure the human was starting to doze but he needed him awake. So, talking to him was the only rational thing that came to mind. “My name’s Roman. I know this is an odd way to meet someone, but it makes for an interesting origin story, don’t you think?”

The witch groaned up at him and for a moment, he thought they were actually communicating, only to be let down—unsurprisingly—when the human didn’t react anymore than that.

While he wanted to get him patched up as soon as possible without moving him, as that could agitate the wound further (or so Logan said), Roman needed to get the human back to his home. There, he had medicines and remedies that would help begin the healing process. And, if the knights were right and the human was a witch, he should know some healing spells himself, too.

Quickly making up his mind, knowing that he couldn’t leave the half-conscious human here by himself to go and retrieve medical supplies, he began to close his hands around the tiny form before pausing. The human hadn’t even looked at him once and Roman didn’t want to startle him by just suddenly grabbing him and hefting him high into the air.

“I’m gonna have to move you, alright?‌ That way I‌ can take you back to my place and my friend and I‌ can get you all fixed up,”‌ Roman chattered at him quietly, explaining his plan while also asking for permission. “That way you’ll be right as rain in a couple days. Will you let me do that?”

The witch made a small noise and Roman was ready to roll with that, when instead it opened its mouth. He held his breath, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss anything important.

“…nuh.”

It sounded like a no but even knowing that the creature didn’t want to be moved, Roman couldn’t just leave it here to die. At least, not in good conscience.

His shoulders drooped and he couldn’t do it. “Sorry little buddy,” he said quietly, the apology doubled as a warning.

It seemed the witch understood that much as the eyes fluttered open lazily. The brown eyes were glazed over, that much was obvious to tell. The little one was watching but Roman didn’t think he was actually seeing. Or if he was even able to connect what was happening right now to reality. The little thing had to be inches away from death and, if worse came to worse and Roman couldn’t save him, at least the human would be in safe company when he passed.

Refusing to let that thought rule his motivations, he carefully scooped his palms underneath the tiny being, incredibly savvy to how he cried out with such a heartbreaking noise. The little one was absolutely petrified.

Heart crawling up into his throat, Roman cupped the human between his two hands and lifted the little one off of the ground and out of its puddle of blood, into the cupped bowl of his palms.

The human groaned in agony and Roman was quick to coo to him, making small comforting noises in the back of his throat. Trying to make the awful situation better as he rose to his feet. “Shh, shh. I know, little one, I‌ know,” he soothed, “I know it hurts but I’m going to get you back home and I’m going to get you all patched up. I’m not gonna hurt you, you’ll be okay.”‌

He felt so horribly guilty that he hadn’t heard the commotion earlier. He knew it wasn’t right to blame himself for this, but he couldn’t help it. Not with how the witch was trying to focus on him, only to let his eyes slip closed.

It looked as though he was ready to accept his fate.

Roman couldn’t let him do that—not without at least trying first.

“You’re okay,”‌ he hushed the tiny human, “no one’s gonna hurt you again. You’re safe with me, I‌ swear it.”‌

Roman looked up briefly to make sure he was heading in the direction that would lead him home, before focusing back down on the form in his hands.

“I’ll take real good care of you.” His voice was nearly a whisper, a silent vow as the human began to drift off into full unconsciousness. “I‌ promise.”

[strawbebehmod]

The Golden Demon chapter 1

For the Royai week prompt of Light/Darkness

I decided to post the first chapter of my new blue exorcist/fma crossover AU where Edward takes Rin’s place in the series and Roy is a teacher and Exorcist at True Cross Academy due to the lrage amount of Royai in this first chapter. It’s a bit weird but i hope you guys like it. 

When Roy Mustang had heard about the death of the paladin Van Hohenheim, he had been shocked. He had studied under the man, and he had almost seemed untouchable. No demon could lay a finger on him. He was a master of all trades when it came to misers, although mainly stuck to his talents as an aria. However, he was still human, and no man or woman could stand up to the powers of satan. They had kept what exactly had happened classified to most, he himself only being debriefed on it as he was sent by his boss, mephisto pheles, to investigate the incident. The man’s church had burned down in literal hellfire last night with him inside. Only a few survivors remained, including two boys who were living with him as adoptive children, and a fellow exorcist that had been working under the man. Mephisto apparently was passing the orders down to him from higher up. Roy sighed as he sat in the back of the car. He didn’t know what they expected him to find. It was clear that the devil caused this, all the evidence was destroyed in the fire, and there were only a handful of  surviving witnesses of the event. Still, orders were orders, and as that scheming palm-tree bastard’s underling by employment contract, he was obligated to comply. He slumped in his seat and his eyes drifted to his companion sitting next to him. Unlike him, the blonde woman’s back was straight as she stared out the window, watching the streets roll by. The light of sunset reflected off her skin and hair slightly, causing her face to softly glow orange and her hair to shimmer like gold. He smiled as he stared up at her. She truly was beautiful like this. It almost made him forget their situation sometimes. “Quiet a lovely city, isn’t it?“he asked. She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Hardly,” she said, facing forward again. He gave her a curious look. “Then why were you staring out the window? Surely something must have caught your attention,” he asked. “I was noting all the garbage on the streets,” she said, “On the way here I saw at least twelve empty cans, four broken bottles, and six loose plastic bags.” Her attention returned to the window. “Humans wish to protect their world from demons, when they can’t even protect it from themselves,” she mused. There was sadness and disappointment in her tone. Roy frowned and sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered, “We’re quite the mess, aren’t we?” His smile then returned as he got an idea. “How about after this I take some time off and we take a little trip to Kyoto?” he asked, “Picture it: a picnic in one of the beautifully kept, clean gardens, visiting all the temples, spending the evening sampling some of the local drinks…” he smirked as he noticed her smile at that. “I’m sure Mephisto wouldn’t mind me taking a few extra days off from, and I’m sure the students would love an extra day or two away from me,” he said, “Heck, I might even be able to make an excuse that I got called out for something and get paid for the leave. So what do you say?” She shook her head, although she still smiled. “I say that’s a bad idea for a number of reasons,” she said, “After all, you know exactly what would happen if your true intentions behind such an expedition were exposed,” she said, causing him to wince, “And if Mephisto saw through your ruse, though he’d probably be willing to keep quiet, you’d be more than just a little indebted to him.” Roy shuddered at that before frowning and sitting up. “Alright,” he grumbled, “I see your point.” In his heart he knew from the beginning he would get shot down, but that didn’t stop him from trying. If only things could be less complicated… The car came to a halt and the two got out, heading into an alley. The site of the fire was a few blocks away from here, but they had decided to walk the rest of the way. Mostly it was because they didn’t want any civilians near the blockade that had been set up around the area incase there was any left over demonic forces at play, but roy had another reason too. Roy glanced over his shoulder as they were now half way down the alley. The cab driver had sped off and there was no one still around. “Alright, Riza, you’re clear,” he said. She nodded before her body was suddenly engulfed in red flames. Roy stared on casually as they encased her like a vortex before being swept away by the beating of wings from the creature inside. Once they had, there was no longer a woman standing before Roy, but a bird made of orange flames hovering in the air. She then flew over to him and perched on his shoulder. “More comfortable?” he asked. “Much,” the phoenix responded to her human companion. Roy was one of the few exorcists alive to have a phoenix for a familiar. Many hated humans for hunting them in the pursuit of the secret of eternal life. Roy had originally discovered her trapped inside a sealed urn in the attic of his old teacher’s home after the man’s death when he had just become an exorcist. Knowing how powerful phoenixes were, how strong they were against spirits, kin of rot, as well as many other kinds of demons, and how their flames could be used to purify infections and heal injuries, he immediately tried to forge a contract with her to be his familiar. When she had denied him and disappeared into the nearby forest, he had sought her out and brought offerings to her to earn her favor. He spent weeks trying to appease her. Eventually she agreed, but in forging his contract with her, he had to agree that he could only use her powers for what she deemed appropriate. He could not use it to kill or destroy as he saw fit and would have to ask for her consent before putting hers in harm’s way. If he broke these promises, he would perish by her fire on the spot. He agreed completely to these conditions, and the two had been together ever since, working side by side not as master and familiar but as partners. He saw her as his equal, if not his better. After all, without her he would not be nearly as powerful of an exorcist as he was today without her. Demons feared the name of Roy mustang, not for his skills as an Aria or a dragoon, but for his ability to merely snap his fingers and set them alight. That deadly force was because of her, not him, and the only reason why she lent him her power so easily was because of their mutual trust from the bond they had shared for years. Very few knew of the true nature of their relationship. Even though many exorcist still have demon blood running through their veins from ancestry spanning back as recently as a hundred years ago, today, even considering such a relationship with a demon could result in burning at the stake. Even one considering a demon their friend is enough to cause suspicion of an exorcist in certain circles. Currently, only a handful of close friends of Roy knew of how close the two were, those including third class doctor Kain Fury, Second class aria Vato Falman, First class aria and dragoon Heymans Breda, First class dragoon Jean Havoc, and first class knight, and his closest friend, Maes Hughes. Mephisto might have found out, but if he did he wasn’t showing that. He was probably saving such knowledge for the right moment to blackmail him. Roy frowned. As if he didn’t have enough ways to toy with him… He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that now. He had a job to do. He just had to write up his report and check for any more activity in the area. Then he could go home and relax before the next semester started in a few days. He sighed as he thought about that. The school year hadn’t even started and he was already needing a drink. He then smiled as a thought crossed his mind. “Hey Riza,” he said, “I know heading to Kyoto together may be suspicious, but sharing a "wine offering” with you tonight would be more than reasonable, don’t you think?“ The phoenix smiled. "I believe that would be perfectly acceptable,” she responded. …. The two had arrived at the scene and spent an hour Investigating. There was barely anything left of the structure. It had been burnt to the ground in the unholy blaze. There was also very little evidence From the exorcists that had come earlier to put the literal hellfires. From them they learned that the exorcist Izumi curtis was a survivor of the fire, rescuing two young boys and a handful of clergymen. They were currently all healing at the New Hope Hospital not too far from the scene of the demon attack.   “Well it appears that there isn’t any left over activity in the area…” Roy said, “So it’s clear whatever he was here for is over now.” “Could it be he was after something that Van Hohenheim owned?” Riza asked. “Maybe he had found something powerful enough to destroy him…or the key to manifesting in this world…” “Could be…” Roy said, “At least if he was trying to destroy something, anyways. Burning the whole place down would have certainly done the trick. If not, he royally screwed up and probably destroyed the thing he was looking for.” He kicked a piece of rubble and it disintegrated into ash before looking over at the flat pools of solid steel mixed with lumps of ash that had once been the support beams of the building. “Or he used the fire to cover his tracks,” Riza said, “Mephisto wouldn’t have sent us here for nothing. Even if it is Satan that attacked, if everything was said and done and the demon had acted on his own, he wouldn’t be interested.” Roy smirked. “You read my mind,” he said before frowning, “Finding out what he wanted isn’t going to be easy though…We can’t exactly bring him in for interrogation after all…and there isn’t much evidence left to draw conclusions from.” He sighed, “Our only hope is if the witnesses are in good enough condition to tell us anything about what happened…Has anyone else interviewed them yet?” The phoenix shrugged. “I don’t believe so. If you recall, one of the other exorcists said that almost all of the surviving victims were unconscious and/or seriously injured when help arrived,” she said, “they might not be awake yet.” Roy closed his note book. “Well there’s no harm in going to check,” he said, “Come on. Let’s see if we can get in during visiting hours.” As they began to walk back towards the edge of the investigation sight and lift up the police tape to exit, they noticed a young, blonde girl arguing with one of the officers blocking the site. “Please sir, you’ve got to tell me what happened!” she said, “That fire burned down my best friends’ home! They’re in the hospital right now thanks to whoever did this! I want to know everything I can about this! I want to know what kind of monster caused Father Hohenheim’s death!” There were furious and pained tears in her eyes as she spoke. Roy felt slight pity for the girl as the officer tried to persuade her to leave. He could only imagine all those who had been affected by this tragedy. There were a few other victims besides father Hohenheim, a few of his clergymen that had presumably died in the fire. They had friends and family that were surely rife with grief at this moment. And that wasn’t even considering all those who attended this church. Those that may not have been particularly close to the priest but sought guidance from him. Countless people falling into despair from this attack, as well as countless that Satan has caused suffering too.  It boiled his blood to think about especially how helpless they all were against him. There must be some way to stop that monster…or at least weaken him… He was suddenly pulled out of this train of thought by the girl running up to him. “Hey, are you a private investigator?” she asked,  grabbing him by his arm as he walked away from the scene and catching him off guard. He looked down at her  in surprise. Her eyes were focused on his face, not even glancing once at the phoenix resting on his shoulder. The pair exchanged brief looks. The girl most likely did not have a temptaint. She would have known he was an exorcist if she could see his familiar, or would have at least been slightly distracted by her wings that had fire coming off of them. “What gave you that impression?” he asked. “Well you aren’t dressed like any officer or fireman,” she said, “And they certainly aren’t letting any civilians through.” Roy shrugged. “Fair point,” he said, “you could say I’m an investigator of sorts, although I’m not working independently.” “I work for a sect of the Vatican that Father Hohenhiem had ties to,” he explained, “They sent me in here to investigate the cause of his death, what started the fire, and so on.” She blinked at him in surprise before giving him a confused look. “What are you talking about?” she questioned, “This was clearly some kind of arson case. There was no freak storm last night and I’ve over heard the cops and they say it wasn’t a gas leak.” Roy shrugged. “You may very well be right, but all accounts say that the church burned down in blue flames, which isn’t a common occurrence. Unless the building was made of sulfur, it shouldn’t have burned blue.” “I see…” the girl said, “Anyways, if you find out anything, can you let me know? My name is Winry Rockbell. I’m really close friends with the boys that lived in that church with that priest."She pulled out a slip of paper and wrote a number on it before handing it to him. "I see,” he said, getting an idea, “Alright, I will, but can you tell me one thing? Have you visited them yet? Do you know if they are awake yet? I have to interview them to see what they know.” The girl nodded and furrowed her brow. “Ed and Al aren’t awake yet,” she said, “But Ms. Curtis is.” Roy nodded. “Very well,” he said, “Thank you.” With that he turned to leave. After they had walked a small distance, roy turned into an alley and called a cab, while riza turned into her human form. “You don’t really intend on giving her any information do you? She won’t believe that Satan had anything to do with it,” she said. “Oh I do intend on giving her some,” he said calling a taxi, “But only what the other exorcists decide to release to the police.” He turned to her. “Honestly if I told her the truth, she’d think I would be making fun of her or something,” he defended, “And I couldn’t exactly walk away. She seems like the stubborn kind of person who won’t take no for an answer.” He smirked before turning to her. “Kinda like someone else I know…” he teased. “Yes… you always have been quite annoyingly persistent, Sir,” she said smirking back at him. Roy pouted at her retort before grumbling and continuing on his way to hail their cab while Riza followed behind him.

… Blue flames. They had surrounded her  as she burst through the door to the burning church.  She had left to pour holy water into the sewers as van Hohenheim had requested she do to prevent any demons sneaking in that way, and when she had come back, the whole building had been engulfed by the satanic flames. She coughed as air baked her lungs as the heat and smoke wafted through the air, looking around wildly to try to understand what had happened. How had Satan gotten in here? She thought it had been Astaroth they were fighting! However, her confusion and distress had quickly turned to horror as she saw three bodies lying on the ground. Her heart stopped and the flaming room suddenly grew cold as she recognized them: alphonse, who looked to be covered in several burns; Edward, who’s hand was gripping something and was covered in the flames himself; and not to far away from either of the was the body of Hohenheim, face covered in blood and body slowly being consumed in the blaze. Izumi Curtis gasped as she opened her eyes again, panting and clutching her chest as she did so. The other hand gripped the hospital sheets beneath it, tearing a few stitches in them as she tried to calm herself down. She glanced around at her surroundings, eyes gliding around the room at white hospital walls to remind herself of where she was. She sat up in her bed and held her head in her hands. This was the third time she had tried to sleep since coming here, but it was still unsuccessful. What had happened that night  haunted her and most likely would for as long as she lived. Although when she had first come to work under Father Hohenheim and aid him in his  work as an exorcist she had not expected him to protect the son of satan, ever since that day she had known this was coming. That Satan would come to collect. Still she had somehow been unprepared for this. She had called him crazy, and desperately tried to get him to change his mind, but he had been unwavering. She couldn’t believe him at the time. What was he thinking? Was he going to turn the boy into a weapon or something? Despite this, she had still stood by him and promised to help protect Edward. And over time, she had grown attached to the half demon and his brother, enough to where she dragged their bodies out of the burning building, despite it being clear Edward’s demon half was now unleashed. She shuddered as she remembered the moment of hesitation she had when she first saw him passed out on the ground in his new form. His ears were elongated, his fingernails too. He had long canines sticking out of his mouth and a long golden tail sprouting from his back. His human brother Alphonse a good distance away had been burned severally, there had been a wound on his neck like a large hand print gripping it as well as a large one on his chest and a few on his arm. Had edward done that? To be honest, she still didn’t know. Still, it didn’t stop the female exorcist from carrying them out. She then saved as many of the clergy as she could before collapsing on the ground. She woke up the next morning in the hospital, soon learning the church had  burned down and that Edward and Alphonse had not yet awoken. No one had gotten interviewed just yet, mostly because no one had been awake when other exorcists first came by, and for that she was relieved. She couldn’t let anyone see Edward as he was now. Speaking of, she should check on how he was doing. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed as she got up, wincing slightly as she put pressure on a burn wound on her hand. She then walked down the hall towards Room 351 where the two were. However, she froze as she came to the entrance to the room. The door was a jar and as she peered inside the room, she noticed two people standing at the foot of the boys’ beds: a black haired man and a blonde woman in exorcist uniforms.  They stared down at the boys in shock and horror, particularly Edward as they could see long ears peeking out from his hair, and a golden tail draping onto the floor from underneath the bedroom sheets. Izumi could feel her heart fill with panic. She hoped she would have more time until someone came to check up on them to come up with a plan.  At least enough to explain to the boys what had happened, anyways. But of course the universe couldn’t let that happen. She grimaced as a determined  look came to her eye. She quietly grabbed broom before lunging towards the man’s head with it. However, the woman caught her movement in the corner of her eye before swiftly stopping the pole before it could strike him. He turned to her in surprise before glowering at her. “Are you Izumi Curtis?” He demanded in a cold tone. The woman paused before glaring at him and nodding. “Good, because you have a lot of explaining to do,” he growled as he glanced back at the teenage demon lying in the bed.

[catearsandchaos]

Look at me, actually posting two things close to each other. I've just finished this thing, it's the first piece of writing I have actually finished in months. It's nice. I like this feeling, of being mildly competent and completing things. 

 Things have happened since I last posted. I got some new lovelies following me from my hugs catch up. Thank you so much for that, all of you. It's really great when I get someone new over here. I don't exactly run a conventional blog, so I'm very glad when someone decides they like me enough to follow me. And it makes a change from the 3 spam blogs a week I need to block. Real people! You're lovely.

 I also got the sweetest anon message. It's still making me smile just thinking about it. Whoever you are, thank you. I will admit to a burning curiosity to know who it was, so I can thank them properly and send them all the love they deserve, but I have no wish to pressure anyone to come forward if they do not wish to. I use the anon system a lot, I know how much easier it can be. 

 And I wrote a thing. Be proud of me. It's another word prompt from my wonderful friend across the seas, but this one may have gotten away from me a bit. It developed plot. It's kinda long, I think I broke the 3000 word mark, but I'm kinda proud of it. And on that note, if anyone finds a particularly good word they want to donate to me, I'm always happy to receive them. I love doing these prompts a lot. So this is 'Nefarious'. 

 Nefarious- (typically of an action or activity) wicked or criminal. 

 Of all the words used to describe you, that one might certainly be your favourite one so far. You curl it around your tongue slowly, trying it out. It's a good fit, you decide. It seems just right, much like dear little Goldilocks and her bowl of porridge. Such a sweet darling she was as well, all blonde curls and rosy red cheeks wrapped up under a blue cloak. It was a shame she had met such a gruesome end, but really, you can't be held accountable for the actions of wild animals, no matter how docile and domesticated they may appear. The girl should have known better than to venture that close to a cave full of bears, although you, of course, mourn a life lost too early.

 You step quietly out of the bath, dropping a robe over your shoulders and picking up the newspaper, glancing shortly at the headline which screams its accusations at you in bold print. The media and the press were always a bit of a wild card. Something you could never control, no matter how hard you tried. There were always going to be rogue publications, undercover message systems and it was far safer to allow them to continue to act where you could see them. Let them think that they have won their battle. Perhaps you should have kept a closer eye on them. 

 ‘NEFARIOUS QUEEN’S PLOT UNCOVERED!’ 

 It’s not entirely your plot. Your ministers put together most of it, you simply signed the relevant papers and smiled prettily at foreign ministers sent with varying degrees of threats and promises that they simple would not stand idly by if such events were to occur. The tricky network of spies spread across the kingdoms was known to all, but rarely mentioned. To remove one spy was to leave room for two to appear in its place and endanger your own in a far off court. An eye for an eye. A spy for a spy. 

 You chuckle lightly at your own rhyme and unfold the thick paper, scanning the article lazily. Really, they'd done their research well and must have an ally somewhere in your cabinet. Someone has broken their vows and that is treason of the highest order. It's a shame the old punishments are not still in place. You would have enjoyed hearing them scream, you think.

  There is no doubt declarations of war are currently flying in from across the kingdoms. You wonder whose will arrive first. The King of Troya is your closest neighbour, but he will be reluctant to launch a campaign against you. His army is weak and economy wrecked after a frankly ridiculous squabble with Numor. After 37 years of fighting over such a tiny principality as Chibir they are in no place to stand against your might. 

 No, the first challenge will arrive from Queen Cynthia of Nedia, who considers herself the bastion of all that is right and good in the world. It is a funny little kingdom, run by farmers and peasants alike. You wouldn't be surprised if they showed up on the battlefield with pitchforks riding their donkeys. But far before any foreign army would arrive, the castle and the kingdom would be taken by the mob that was advancing from the capital. 

 The article had ended with a rather rousing call to arms for all those close enough to reach the castle by midnight. It was cute, really, but you aren't stupid enough to dismiss the power of anger. And angry they will be. You knew when you took the throne that the rule of a tyrant was dangerous, lonely and, ultimately, short-lived. That was the risk you took. 

 You pluck at the sleeves of your robe and decide you should get changed. You would rather not face the angered mob and the end of your reign naked if you can avoid it. The floor to your bedchamber is cold, the fireplace empty, only a scattering of ashes left. The castle staff had fled when whispers first arrived about the advancing forces. You will probably see some of them again, weapons held high and the fire of vengeance in their eyes. 

 The wardrobe is well stocked and you consider your choices, but soon enough you decide that if this is indeed the end, then you will of course face it in a manner befitting an Evil Queen. The dress is difficult to lace up without help, but the blood-red gown flows gently to the ground as you inspect yourself in the mirror. It doesn't fit perhaps quite as well as it once did, since it was tailored you’ve had one too many of Cook’s sweets, but you try to ignore the tightness around your stomach. 

 You twist your hair on top of your head, shaking a few droplets free. The sweltering summer sun will dry it in no time, and you would rather avoid the tangles. It's easy enough to pin it in place with a crown. The twisted circlet of silver and iron glints as you step up to the window to track the progress of the mass of browns and blues and reds marching across the city. You estimate you have about an hour before they reach the doors and will probably double in size as they reach the dense centre where the castle lies. 

 There's not much time to do anything, but you pick up a book from your bedside table. A few chapters remain unread and you have no wish to leave things unfinished. Time passes slowly and you find it difficult to keep your attention on the book in front of you but you eventually snap it shut with a sense of satisfaction. It was a terrible ending, of course, but it is finished and that brings a certain feeling of contentment.

 It slots easily into the gap on the shelf and you wander the room straightening the bed sheets and picking up cushions from the floor. Only when the room is picture perfect do you glance outside the window. You feel almost flattered at the amount of people who have joined the march. Really, it's heartening to know you succeeded in making an enemy of so many people.

 You smooth out the creases in your dress and make your way steadily to the main hall, heels echoing through the empty stone corridors. The candles around the door have been extinguished, perhaps with the hope of convincing those outside that the castle is empty, but the stairs remain mostly lit, a few lights extinguished by the wind. It's just as you step into a stretch of shadow that the sound of cries and roars becomes almost deafening and the doors of the castle crash open, a handful of men stumbling in. 

 They pull up short at the lack of reaction to their entrance, perhaps they were expecting an onslaught of royal guards, but they still squint suspiciously into the darkness. Most of them are young men and women, all too eager to lay down their lives for the cause of justice, although there are a few older faces among them, faces battle hardened and wielding steel. 

 A party of three is shoved forward, a young girl in crudely made leather armour and a large stick held tightly in her grip, a veritable knight in shining armour, a beacon of glowing silver in the shadows, and a cloaked and hooded figure leaning heavily on a cane. It's almost adorable, the motley group sent forward to face the evil queen. 

 You step out of the shadows into the flickering candlelight as the doors slam shut behind the party, cutting them off from the rest of the group. Your presence goes unnoticed until as they scramble desperately to open the door, until the girl gives out a short scream of fear on looking over her shoulder and tugs sharply on the robes of the figure next to her. 

 “So.” Their voice is calm and steady as they address you without turning away from the door. “You’ve finally decided to show your face.” 

 “At least I have the common courtesy to show my face while in the company of others, unlike some of us, Yennan.”

 The posture is almost unmistakable. Yennan was one of your lesser advisors, an air of mystery always trailing him like a heavy fog. You feel slightly vindicated that the contempt he felt for you wasn’t imagined, but it isn’t quite enough to smother the heavy rage that threatens to build in your chest. But before you can step down to speak directly to Yennan, the young girl jumps in front of him, brandishing her stick in shaking hands. 

 “You… you shut up about Yennan! You d-don’t know anything about them! He can keep his face covered if he wants…” 

 She trails off as you give a cold laugh, before now most successfully used in persuading foreign embassies that it is in their best interests to sign the papers in front of them, but you suppose the it can learn to adapt. 

 “You silly girl. I know enough about Yennan. I know that he worked for me for 3 years, bowing and scrapping before my throne, desperate for a lick of favour. He was such a loyal dog. But it appears old dogs can learn new tricks, although I was not expecting leading a rebellion against your Queen to be among them.”

 Yennan steps forward into the faint glow of light that reaches the bottom of the staircase, cane echoing around the hall with each slow and steady step. He pushes the girl behind him, where she is yanked back into the shadows by a firm grip on her arm. It is only once they reach the very foot of the staircase that they come to a halt.

 “I spent 3 years working for my people and my kingdom. Not for you. Never for you.”

 “Oh? I was under the impression that they were my people and this was my kingdom. I am the Queen after all, am I not?” 

 You wave your hand dismissively as he begins to talk again and watch in satisfaction as his mouth clicks shut. You still hold a little power while in this palace.

 “What is it you want, Yennan? If you were after my death, then I would be bleeding out on these stones already.” 

 You ignore the darkly muttered murmur that sounds suspiciously like ‘we can arrange that easy enough’ from the girl and the chuckle from the soldier next to her and keep your attention fixed on Yennan, gazing at him expectantly.

 “We want answers. We want to know why you would do this and what we can do to stop it.”

 “You think you can stop it?” You laugh, delighted. “That is adorable. But if you insist of demanding answers then let us move to a more comfortable setting. And I would like to see the sun set one more time if this is to be my last night.”

 As you sweep down the stairs Yennan shoots out a hand to grasp your wrist. You jerk away but his grip is strong and a struggle would ultimately be futile.

 “I hardly believe you have developed a sudden appreciation for the sunset. Why do you want us outside?” 

 “Perhaps I have or perhaps I have not. I do have a heart you know, cold and shrivelled though it may be. But either way, the only way you are going to get answers out of me is letting go and moving with me to the gardens.” 

 The girl is the first to leap forward into the light, aiming her stick at your throat in a rather unthreatening manner. 

“It’s a trap.” She snarls, spittle flying across the short gap between you and landing on your face. “You can’t trust a thing that comes out of her filth lying mouth.” 

 You hear the clanks of movement before you can see the soldier step into the light, hand resting on his partly unsheathed sword as he gazes steadily at you, a menacing look in his eye, before he turns to Yennan.

 “For once, I find myself inclined to agree with Annikaa. It is most likely a trap, Yennan; you should proceed with the utmost caution.”

 Silence reigns in the entrance hall, the tension almost stifling. You gaze steadily at Yennan, watching the cogs turning behind his eyes until he comes to the only conclusion possible. He sighs heavily and drags a hand across his face, shoulders slumped. 

 “We will follow you to the gardens. You will tell us what you have done and how we can stop it. And then we will decide what to do next. You do understand you will likely die? There is a mob outside vying for your blood, they will not let you leave unharmed.” 

 You remain silent and sweep past them, down a dark corridor, the others trailing behind you like lost ducklings. The stone echoes with the click of your shoes, the clank of armour and the clack of the cane. The girl is silent. 

 The sunset streaks red and purple across the sky when you emerge outside, the air still and quiet. If you strain, you can hear the murmur of the mob, but it is dampened by the stone between you. The garden was built for solitude, to block out the hustle and bustle of the city. The paved square itself that you lead the little party to is immaculate, not a blade of grass out of place, hedges neatly trimmed. 

 There is silence. You keep your gaze on Yennan, and his remains on you, as Annikaa and the soldier gaze around the square. Eventually you sigh and drop onto a carved marble bench, gesturing to the other seats with a lazy flick of a hand. No one sits. 

 “So what is it you want to know? There is little point telling you anything you already know.” 

 “We want to know what is going on. Something is happening down at the docks, people are disappearing. A newly stationed troop of 100 royal guards tends to attract people's attention, we have known for a while. We just don't know where they have gone. There's no trace of them.” 

 “I would like to think that my guards are capable of spiriting away a few peasants competently. Otherwise it would seem I have some reappointments to make.” 

 “Where are they?” Yennan presses. “It's more than a few peasants. Hundreds of innocent people have disappeared since the beginning of your reign and thousands more lives ruined because of it. Try for some goodness once in your life. Tell us where they are.” 

 “They've been taken away to the seventh circle of hell, where they will emerge again as demons ready to do my bidding.” 

 Silence meets your proclamation and in the blink of an eye there is a sword at your chest, gleaming red in the sunset. Annikaa holds it steady and gazes at you, eyes blazing bright and fierce.

 “My parents are missing.” She snarls. “My grandparents, my aunts and uncles. My sister. She was 4 years old when your men took her. I'm the only one left and I swore that one day I'd take revenge. You have destroyed all of our lives and yet you still have the gall to spew lies, and you can't even be bothered to make them believable? How stupid do you think we are?” 

 “That depends on if you're clever enough to ask the right questions.” 

“Enough questions. This ends here and now. I don't care how long it takes us to find those people. I will search every corner of this kingdom by myself if I must. But you will pay for your crimes once and for all, your Majesty.” 

 You gasp as the blade pierces your chest and you grasp the sword and pull it away, your hand coming away blood soaked. You chuckle weakly, pushing yourself up from the bench with what little energy you have left. You can feel your life draining from you as the blood pools and spills out of the open wound.

 You lift a trembling hand to Annikaa, stood in front of you with a satisfied look on her face as Yennan and the soldier stand behind, frozen and horrified. You stroke her cheek, leaving a streak of red across her skin. 

 “You foolish girl.” You whisper. “You have no idea what you have just done.” 

 As she releases you in shock, you stumble forward, legs too weak to hold you up. Blood streaks across the paving stones, before soaking into the ground. You mumble feverishly, words tripping off your tongue in a hurried rush. And finally, you slump, ritual completed. 

 “What… what have you done?” Annikaa stumbles over her words, backing away from you, tripping over a bench and scrambling away as fast as she can.

 “It's more a case of what you have done, my dear.” You gasp, feeling a familiar dark force fill your lungs, coursing through your veins. “You really should have believed me.” 

 With a gasping rattle you lunge for her, unnaturally fast, black shadows and smoke dancing around your form, now taller, stronger, not quite human and not quite monster. You watch with satisfaction as the shadows wrap around her, smoke creating a mockery of hands encircling her neck, squeezing the breath out of her lungs.

 As she collapses, lifeless, you feel the power bubbling up inside you, sending you into a giddy reel. It only takes a flick of a hand for the two other men in the clearing to fall to the ground and you can hear faint screams of terror from the city and castle. You've imagined this day for years, so vividly that you can almost see it.

 All across the city, black shapes are rising, twisting and howling under the dark sky. It's an enchanting image, black smoke and shadows swirling along the streets, leaving destruction wherever they go. Deadly, it would only take a few seconds for limbs and organs to fail, with no hope of recovery upon contact with a demon. 

 The force isn't as strong as you wished, you had hoped for a few more years to increase your strength, but it is more than enough to achieve your immediate purpose. There will be time, later, to add to their ranks. This is only the first stage of your plan. First the city, then the kingdom. Then you can move further afield. Perhaps you will start with Nedia. Or leave her until the end. Let her see how well her ‘good will’ works when her neighbouring kingdoms were burning around her.

 As the sky darkens, you listen as the city falls quiet. No signs of life remain and as you fill your lungs to let out a great rattling cry, you can hear the echo, low but loud, across the city as they answer to your call. With ease you rise to the top of the castle, floating gently above the parapets.

 There is only darkness, as far as you can survey, the only colour the streaks of red made by the sun as it vanishes from sight under your gaze. Night falls as you survey your kingdom, peaceful and quiet and empty. You stretch out your shadowy figure, rejoicing in the power that wells up inside you.

 In the breeze, your dress flows in tatters and your crown seems to gleam with a light of its own, twisted iron twisting into your skull and around your face. You let out another cry and watch the shadows rise from the buildings, a flock of darkness swarming and dancing, mesmerising patterns in the moonlight.

 Perhaps nefarious was the right word to describe you. But in the end it does not matter. They, they are dead. And now you rule the night.