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magixfairyix · 5 months ago

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Zenothe

(Currently creating lore in my head for different universes/characters in Winx Club, so introducing the first out of three for Darcy's planet, that is not cannon but in my two fanfictions it is: Zenothe)

~Several Earth cultures have roots and influences from similar ones in the Magical Dimension, and the practice of modern-day witchcraft is one of them. In the year 58 A.D. (after the Great Dragon's descent onto the planet of Domino, therefore creating the Magic Dimension) several witches from Domino migrated to Earth to find peace, as at this time it was just found out that every witch had roots in a creature from Oscurita that had just been closed. Witches were also figuring out how to use their powers as no one knew how witch magic worked and that one must use negative emotions.

~When the Wizards of the Black Circle went to Tir Nan Og (all of the wizards were outcasted and wanted revenge on fairies) the witches left Earth, knowing that the fairies always hated them and that they didn't owe them anything.

~The witches then transported themselves to a dark planet that orbited Solaria's moon, which was uninhabited. It was dim most of the time and greyish, but still beautiful. It was completely empty and barren. One of the witches sacrificed her body for everyone else to perform a siphoning ritual that made plants begin to grow from her last life force and magic, and they have a holiday for this. (The Day of Life). The witch's name was Ruse, hence the Grimore of Ruse, where all the main laws of Zenothe are kept

~The original witches (originally from Domino) created a small altar with a dark flame, known as the lifeblood of Zenothe considering it has none as it was dead before they arrived. Domino's lifeblood is the Great Dragon, Solaria's in the three suns, etc.

~They began to build the towns there using the trees around the area and soon built a good place. Over the years to the current day, it hasn't changed much, but they've added some more technology to their lives.

~Eventually, word got out and witches who were also disliked went to Zenothe and soon the population grew. They practiced their traditions in peace and were sort of outcasted from the rest of the Magical Dimension, though trade deals are still substantial between Zenothe and Linfea.

~Zenothe is prosperous in ore, rare plants for potions and rituals, and animals for meat and whatnot (and... also rituals lol). Linfea is prosperous in plants, produce and plants that need a lot of sunlight but does not have any ore.

~Any faries or specialists who want to live there are welcome, but it is common courtesy across the Magical Dimension to respect the customs of the planets one visits. As long as you follow Zenothian customs---outlaid in the Grimore of Ruse.

~However, the Grimoire can be added to as long as it is negotiated with the citizens and the coven heads. You'll be fine and welcome if you come to Zenothe, but if you don't purposfully follow customs then expect glares. The same goes for other planets anyway

~(Population: 89% witches, 6% specialists/wizards, 5% faries)

~Grimore of Ruse: 15 Zenothian Customs, one created by each of the 15 witches that first arrived at Zenothe from Domino. But other witches came to Zenothe afterwards so no incest occurred. Also, someone from specific planets can request a Zenothian trail before the Coven Heads.

~The ones with this agreement are Linfea/Zenothe and are allowed to request trials from each other, but in the current day (after my story S.S.S. when the Shaman Witch is defeated and everyone relatively goes back to their lives) planets such as Solaria and Diamond are trying to form trade alliances.

~Solaria for rare plantlife that doesn't grow in the sun, and Diamond for the same reason and animals because they are rebuilding thier ecosystem after the fall of the Shaman Witch and while Icy is crown princess.

~Grimoire of Ruse:

(From Ruse) Always respect the resources the land gives you; the magic, the plants, the animals, and all natural resources.

2. Treat all with respect to matter the past, present, or future. (May exclude the below if the act was purposful with no sign of mental damage).

3. Those charged with acts of sexual assualt if purposful and void of mental damage will be magically and perminantly circumcised no matter the sex.

4. Welcome all to Zenothe as long as customs are followed, and one has the responsability to follow the customs of the plants they go to.

5. The people have the right to overthrow the Coven heads if they choose to ignore the wishes of the people/ignore the Grimore of Ruse and call for a re-election.

6. The people have the right to free speech, religion, and freedom of action as long as one does not abuse this right to make others feel unwelcome/un-respected (which most people do not abuse this right.)

7. No matter the act all are entitled to a trail in front of the Coven Heads (basically the main covens are the government and sub-covens can be invited/requested/can request to be a part of a trail) and the people of Zenothe.

8. If part of a designated coven one must uphold the values of said coven or else face warnings (one is entitled to three unexcused warnings) or expulsion from the coven for a maximum of two years.

9. Magea (faries, specialists, witches, wizards, undines, pixies, etc) sacrifices are illegal unless facing life or death circumstances and the act is voluntary. Creature (the word animal isn't used in the Magical Dimension) sacrifices are only legal if necessary and approved by Coven Cervus and all its members, as well as Coven Tempus. (More information about the covens is later on)

10. Complete eradication of any plant or animal species (if under one's own control) will have the individual face banishment from Zenothe for 50 consecutive years.

11. One can be a part of multiple covens, though only a maximum of two head covens/one head coven and two sub-covens. Freelance covens do not fall under this category, though freelance covens are able to name themselves as representatives should a trial occur.

12. One can gain Zenothian citizenship if in residency for two years, if five citizens of Zenothe can vouch for one's character, and if one swears to follow the Grimore of Ruse when residing in Zenothe for the Zenothian customs may not apply to other planets.

13. All are welcome upon passing (excluding those who had committed one of the unspeakable crimes under thier own control, these said crimes shown below) to have thier magical essence removed from thier body and siphoned over to a pendulum to hang from the Tree of Life all years past thier death; to non-sentiently give wisdom to the citizens of Zenothe.

14. The unspeakable crimes are as follows (if acted under one's own control of self and magic and sane train of thought): s$xual @ssault, eradication of any plant or animal species, murd$r, any sort of @buse

15. Those who had committed any of the unspeakable crimes under thier own control and sane train of thought will have thier Zenothian citizenship permanently removed and may face additional charges as decided by the Head Covens and the citizens of Zenothe.

~Zenothe, like a lot of the Magical Dimension, does not unnecessarily gender things. Even Solaria or Erakleon does not require male royalty to wear suits and female royalty to wear dresses and gowns. More so only during large celebrations out of traditions for those two planets. But Domino and Diamond says fuck it. Let the queens wear suits and let's get Oritel in a dress.

~If things are like that on other planets it is because of tradition and not because of outright hate. Such as not wanting a prince to marry another prince as the bloodline must continue. But honestly, most planets will accept two princes marrying each other if they find a doner of a royal lineage. Erakleon and Andros are more strict on that and less lenient because of tradition, but some people are just assholes it's not a planet-wide hate thing.

~As Zenothe runs on an electoral democracy (different powerful coven heads are elected and nominations for others can occur) monarchy and lineage means fuck all. Powerful witches with powerful lineages are still respected, but they have a belief that power can always be developed and that everyone is valued.

~There are five primary covens that oversee different aspects, and the coven heads receive applications for the covens and normally open any who are dedicated to putting the work into it.

Coven Viridis: Oversees the plant life of Zenothe and makes sure that no plant species are overused. Consists primarily of nature magea (mainly plant element, air element, ground element, along those lines)

2. Coven Cervus: Oversees the animal life of Zenothe, sets protections, healthy and ethical hunting. (Magea can be vegan, vegetarian, et cetera but just respect all. As long as you respect where the meat comes from). A sub-section of Coven Cervus is the Protectors (Darcy joins them later on after the events of S.S.S.) who research wildlife, new species, and dangerous species, and also stop them from getting too close to the several main settlements.

3. Coven Societas: Oversees meetings between covens/disputes that concern economics or societal structure. Makes sure the currency/pay rate is going well, watches over supply and demand and intervenes if needed.

4. Coven Homines: Oversees Coven Council meetings, Coven Head elections, how well the covens are functioning, school systems, and social programs. People stuff. Also suggestions to the Grimoire of Ruse along with the last coven.

5. Coven Tempus: Oversees the traditions/customs/events of Zenothe. Reads over the Grimore of Ruse, and suggestions to it but they can only happen if agreed by all five of the Covens and the people of Zenothe.

~One can be a part of a primary coven (or multiple but it's like a full-time job so it's not recommended, and yes, you get paid) and be part of a sub coven. Primary covens are funded by Coven Societas. Sub-covens are not named typically and are funded by grants from Coven Societas and donations, also pay a good amount but just a bit less.

~Zenothian Corpus Os (body bone, as until the trade deal with Linfea started they used bones from animals as currency) is the currency. They still use the name even though they use Linfean currency: Diya, small compressed coin-like disks of compressed plant waste/fossilized wood/other.

~The exchange rate between Diya/Corpus Os to Earth dollars is 5 U.S. dollars for every 1 Diya/Corpus Os. It has more value than the typical dollar and one can go to Coven Societas to cut some of thier Corpus Os in halves/quarters for smaller purchases.

~Primary Coven wage: 24 Corpus Os per day of satisfactory work. 9 am to 5 pm is one day of work, and one can request extra work/overtime. (Deemed satisfactory by the observer, with one in each group working within the coven.)

~Sub-Coven wage: 15 Corpus Os per day of satisfactory work. 10 am to 3 pm is one day of work, and one can request extra work/overtime up to two extra hours otherwise the sub-coven hours become primary coven hours, which have to be observed by one of the primary covens. Usually for those with two incomes/with children, which is why two combined is more than the primary coven wage because children do be expensive.

~Normal job wage: 21 Corpus Os per day (9 am to 5 pm) or 12 Corpus Os per day (10am to 3pm). It is not as organized and one can self-direct more, so it normally includes less work in a lot of cases. Normal jobs are not that common

~Since witches were too busy trying to find somewhere where they were not hated gender also means fuck all. Concepts of boys, girls, man, woman, not either, et cetera, and whatnot still exist in Zenothe but they're more of a term to express oneself instead of assigning a gender based on sex. Also, with sexual orientation people have preferences and typically you don't need a word for them, but honestly, you can have a word for it (migration between planets brings new words woohoo) or not and either way people will love you.

~Just depends on whether you want a label or not.

(Zenothe is top tier we love it.)

~So if you take someone from Zenothe, bring them to Earth, and someone rudely tells them girls must wear dresses (and that French genders literal ice cream as masculine) they'll generally be like "Why wtf?" and debunk every possible argument.

(More information regarding Zenothe and my headcanons for Winx Club hopefully will come soon)

(Genually I spent too long on this but eheh)

#winx club headcannons #winx club #trix winx #winx club “rewrite”#winx club lore #The book of lore #winx club rewrite

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1moreff-creator · 11 months ago

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Happy Birthday Nico Hakobyan!

Meow meow! (Our favorite cat person's birthday has arrived!)

Mrow. (As always, small character analysis + fun facts + songs!)

CW Transphobia, bullying, blackmail, death threats, murder attempt

-Nico is the Ultimate Pet Therapist! This is because, as they've explicitly stated, they like interacting with animals more than humans. They feel as though there are many unwritten rules of human conversation they don't fully understand, while animals are a lot simpler by comparison. Mood.

-Their secret may also play into why they prefer interaction with animals. It was "No one accepted you for your identity. You were constantly mocked by your family, your peers, and everyone else." Basically, people made fun of them because they're non-binary, to the point apparently they threw rocks and mud at them :(

-Speaking of secrets, the quote on Mai's page associated to them is "Everyone confided in her." Presumably they came out to Mai out of their own will, instead of being essentially outed by David (which is one of the many morally wrong things with David's whole "sharing secrets" operation, but this ain't about him).

-And speaking of secret quotes, the one on Nico's page's source code is "Why should I own up for the mistakes that someone else made?" A bit vague, and one which will probably only make sense with future context. Although, it may actually be referencing something we already saw.

-Time to talk about The Gym Incident.

-Ace got Nico's secret at the start of CH2, and because of his own set of issues, he decided to use this power over Nico to bully them relentlessly. Now, Nico also got Ace's secret, but for one reason or another never brought it up. Possibly because they had a "better" idea for how to stop the bullying: in the heat of the moment, Nico threatened to kill Ace. I mean, killing the guy is a lot simpler than the blackmail equivalent of mutually assured destruction, and we know how Nico feels about complicated social rules and norms.

-Thankfully Hu stepped in before things escalated further, although her method might have been, uh, flawed. Giving her friend the benefit of the doubt, she blamed Ace for everything and slapped him. Which, yes, Ace was horrible to Nico. But the death threat should probably be addressed, shouldn't it? Or should they "not be forced to apologize for someone else's mistake?"

-One thing led to another, and Nico tried to kill Ace in the gym.

-To be fair, the whole situation is still surrounded in speculation, but they have admitted to it. To be clear, I don't actually think this is the situation their secret quote refers to, since they did say "I shouldn't have done that" in the trial, so they presumably feel enough remorse to feel like maybe they should apologize, even if Ace is far from blameless. Or maybe I'm wrong and this is the situation the quote refers to, who knows.

-Additionally, they never denied stealing Rose's turpentine to pull this off, so it's very possible they did.

-Oh, yeah! Nico and Rose and friends :D (or at least they were before the turpentine thing). They shared an FTE, which only had a 0,4% chance of happening apparently :O

-It's a very sweet one, where they vibe for a few minutes without talking, then call each other cats, and talk about their issues with communicating their feelings. It's revealed Nico has a pet cat named Tractor (because he meows very loudly), which is pretty old, and that they miss other cats they knew before the killing game. Also, when Rose brings up she's scared of what she knows because of her memory, Nico drops this while thinking of the killing game:

Nico [thought]: Everyone here probably is afraid of themselves and what they might end up doing.

Foreshadowing is a narrative device-

-Their numeral in the the David MV is VIII (8), which is "even if I try to think, IDK!!!". Explained at 1:58:22 in this video, though it's not too complex.

-According to Color Theory they get light blue, with the words "cry, cry, idk!!!" I don't think I need to explain why this applies to Nico, who might actually have more crying sprites than the rest of the cast combined (I don't think that's true, but you get the idea). Mood.

-Their birthday, December 19th, lands on National Hard Candy Day, National Harry (yes the name) Day, National Oatmeal Muffin Day, and National Emo Day, among others. At this point I'm no longer surprised by these things.

Fun facts!

-They like cat-themed things and dislike bathtubs. Cat behavior.

-Like most of the cast, they're American, right-handed, their sexuality is unconfirmed and their hair color is natural.

-They don't have a favorite color, as they are not interested in such things, but their least favorite is white. They find it unsettling.

-Nico cuts their own hair, as stated in their FTE.

-Their favorite ice cream flavor is "the flavor." No elaboration. Mood.

-They smell like a kitty-cat.

-Their favorite food is unprocessed and natural food.

Songs!

(I was really tempted to give them some of Muu's songs from Milgram, but whether or not they work depends on what their secret quote actually means so :p)

+The Chattering Lack of Common Sense by Ghost & Pals

+Scapeg∞at by Ghost & Pals

+God-ish by PinnochioP

+Karma by CreepP, CircusP

+Nobody Makes Sense by PinnochioP

+Monster by KIRA (listen evil Nico lives rent free in my head ok?)

+The Spider and the Kitsune-Like Lion by MASA Works Design (So about the evil Nico thing-)

+And Happy Birthday! Sung by kitties of course.

(Wow I did not have a lot for them rip)

#drdt #nico hakobyan #character birthday #this one is probably too short T_T #sorry nico

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thescrapwitch · 6 months ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @grey-gazania and @dreamingthroughthenoise for tagging me! Sorry for the very late reply!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

Currently, I have 63 works, though a few of them are on-going multichapter ones. If I narrowed it down to only complete fics, it would be 58.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

501,530 words!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently the Silmarillion has me in a chokehold and I am having SO MUCH FUN putting tragic elves into all sorts of situations. There’s a lot of free space and flexibility in its canon which is fun to play around in, and so many AU possibilities. Before that I wrote for Linked Universe/Legend of Zelda, which had a large cast of characters whose found family/friendship dynamics had me hooked.

(we shall not speak of what I wrote during my Fanficion.net days, back when I was very small and very terrible at writing 😛)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Looking at all my fics, my Linked Universe ones have the most: Rescue Mission, Malevolence, Bad Joke, Untitled Goose Fic, and Weatherworn Heart.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! I adore comments and go back and reread them often, so I try to at least say thank you to people who’ve left one after reading my fics.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This is a tough one! I have a few Hurt/No Comfort ones (all focusing on poor Maedhros). I’ll go with Despair Like Poison, in which I find a way to make the beginning of the Silmarillion EVEN WORSE. Its based on a Tumblr post I made (which I now can't find????), and I might continue it, once I figure out exactly how dark/angsty I want it to get!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Rest for the Weary and the Damned, the final fic in the main storyline for my Maglor is an Eldritch Horror series. After many problems, everyone gets to be together and live happily ever after, including everyone’s favorite eldritch monster.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, but I don’t tend to write a lot of romance/ship-focused fics, so that could be why.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No, not my thing to write.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Crossovers aren’t really my thing to write either.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! It's always such an honor when someone asks if they can translate my fic.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, though I do get a lot of inspiration from comments and side-discussions. Untitled Goose Fic happened because of a Discord discussion, and Trial of Crablor Feanorion was written because of a commentor’s remark about animal trials.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Silvergifting can be so much fun and so messed up and I love writing it.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My poor Legend of Zelda 1920s AU fic is crying at me from the depths of my WIP pile. I am so sorry. One day, maybe, I will return to it, but I have so many other things that I want to write…

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, story structure, and weird stuff. Eldritch monsters, sentient houses that speak to you in nightmares, crabs who were once elves, dreamy-not-entirely-sane narration; those I feel like I can do well.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Description! Specifically, description used to set up a place, to make the world around the characters feel more textured and real. I am trying to get better at it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I have enough typos writing in English, I do not have the confidence to try and write in anything else. The Tolkien fandom has a lot of languages and I’m always in awe of the people who can include them so well into their work.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Megaman.EXE, way way back in the early days of Fanfiction.net, all of which has now been thankfully eaten by the internet.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I say it every time someone asks, but it has to be The Haunting of Imladris. That fic was a gift: it gave me a world to flesh out for my eldritch!Maglor series, it gave me confidence to write horror (which I’d never done before) and it gave me Lindir. I will always adore and be grateful to it.

Tagging: @camille-lachenille @thelordofgifs @searchingforserendipity25 @sallysavestheday @lordgrimwing @eilinelsghost @chthonion @gardensofthemoon and anyone else who wants to join in!

#thank you again for the tag #my writing #silmarillion #linkeduniverse

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greatwyrmgold · 1 year ago

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The Trial of Kaede Hanagata

(Spoilers for the Kemono Jihen manga up to chapter 58 or so follow.)

Kaede's trial in is kind of odd, because...I don't want to say what it's trying to do, but it feels like it's combining two potentially interesting philosophical questions in a way that invalidates both.

Dual Dilemmas

Kaede participated in an attempt to wipe the tanuki village of Yashima and its inhabitants off the map. By the end of that arc, though, both the mastermind of the attack and Yashima's chief are dead, and Kaede has been imprisoned in a magic wicker thingy that negates his powers.

On one hand, you have a classic ethical question that dates back at least to Aristotle: Do we judge those who do evil without understanding it as evil the same as we would someone who understands what they did? If not, do we judge them as better or worse?

And Kaede works pretty well for this. He has been characterized as being hedonistic, short-sighted, and above all, dim. He doesn't think about the consequences of his actions, his critical thinking skills would make it hard to recognize those skills if he did, and there are clearly a lot of things he doesn't know.

This aspect of Kaede was emphasized pretty clearly already, both through the arc where he attacked Yashima and in basically every prior appearance, but it's emphasized further in the trial. He doesn't understand what's going on, or why everyone is bummed about the old dude, or that his mastermind buddy also died.

(The buddy's name is Akagi, by the way.)

Also: The argument is directly addressed. Kabane makes an argument in Kaede's defense based around his lack of understanding, saying he can teach Kaede to be better, and Shiki responds with "Being ignorant doesn't excuse him of his crimes! He has to die!"

On the other hand, you have an even stronger conundrum: Is it right to spare a murderer's life, even if he shows no remorse for his sins? Is punishment alone enough reason to execute someone, to end a life?

And Kaede's case is a pretty ironclad case study for that question. Well, wicker-clad. Kaede would normally be dangerous, but he's trapped in a box...basket...thing made of plants whose poison negate the magic powers of people trapped inside. As long as Kaede's in the box, he can't shapeshift, escape, or set anything on fire.

(I know that being trapped in a small box made of poisonous plants sounds uncomfortable enough to bring up questions about how miserable you can make a prison before execution is more merciful, but later chapters show that Kaede is comfy in the box. The worst parts for him are that he can't eat anything that isn't right next to his head and having to pretend he's a normal dog when humans are around.) (He's fine. It's fine. He's fine.)

And Kaede doesn't show any remorse about the destruction he wrought with his own two hands. (Um, paws.) He's callous about the feelings of loss the tanuki are experiencing. Plus, Iyohime, the tanuki acting as judge, explicitly frames the trial as a matter of mercy versus vengeance. She doesn't see executing Kaede when he's no threat as "justice," and nobody really articulates a reason why it would be.

Problems

I see three problems with this setup. First, the trial takes place across about half a chapter, meaning that there isn't any time to resolve the juxtaposition of "vengeance or mercy" and "being ignorant doesn't excuse him of his crimes". And it really is just juxtaposition, rather than synthesis or even tension; the ideas just kinda lie there.

Second, the two ideas are incompatible in some key ways. For instance: Kaede might not recognize that trying to cook and eat tanuki children is evil, but he is aware enough to understand that tanuki are also people, and that being eaten isn't pleasant. The ways that Kaede is ignorant are inconsequential in the face of how remorseless he is.

At the same time, spending multiple pages questioning whether Kaede is competent to stand trial weakens the "vengeance or mercy" theme, and not just by wasting much of the trial's limited page-space. Asking whether Kaede should be considered guilty distracts from the question of how he should be treated if he is.

Third, and perhaps most importantly, Iyohime is nine, which brings a whole separate dimension to this: Whatever Kaede deserves, whatever might be just, is it ethical to make a small child complicit in someone's death?

NO! Fuck no! It's good that she was consulted, Kaede would be super dead otherwise, but that decision should never have been placed on her shoulders! She might be the beloved granddaughter of the late chief, and Yashima still has hereditary leadership like some aristocratic backwater, but she's not ready for the responsibility of leadership, especially not for executions! Even if the chief didn't have any living children (at the very least, Iyohime's dad is alive), someone else should have been appointed as acting chief!

Ultimately, this is what sways the tanuki. Not arguments about whether someone so ignorant can be considered responsible, not Iyohime flat-out calling the execution an act of vengeance, but the realization that they just asked a nine-year-old to order someone's death. That's not even subtext.

Not only are the two interesting ideas underdeveloped, not only do they conflict with each other, but they're ultimately rendered redundant by a third, much less interesting idea.

#kemono jihen #kaede hanagata #crime and punishment #themes #narrative #manga

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yourlocaltrashpandaa · 1 year ago

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Here’s a little snippet of what I wrote for my 2011 ThunderCats fic. I had many thoughts in my head about the pilot chapter and I came up with something coherent 😅 I haven’t written the entire chapter yet just the opening scene. Hope you like 😊

~***~

The sound of wires connecting was the sound of success, well to a certain young scientist and amateur inventor, Alexandra Scott or Alex for short. She was a bright young woman that was motivated by a dream or what she thought was a dream.

As a young child, no older than 10 or 12, she appeared in a world known as Third Earth, meeting cat-like beings that looked almost human yet they had claws and fur covered bodies that looked like big cats of her world. They called themselves ThunderCats, at least that what she learned from their king, Claudus.

Alex befriended them with ease, mostly due to her fast connection with the princes, Claudus’ sons, Tygra and the crowned prince, Lion-O. Lion-O was someone that made an impact on her the most, the young prince was always so bright and curious, about her and the technology her world had.

That’s why they bonded over the course of the 3-4 months she spent there. That was her reason, that was why she wanted—no need to go back. Well, there is one other reason for her research as well to prove other worlds exist.

“This has gotta work this time,” Alex mumbled to herself as she clicked in a small screen for her wrap watch as she called it. “It’s not like I haven’t been trying to get this right for 4 years anyway, almost 5 now.”

Trial and error was the name of the game when it come to inventing but she was frustrated, she was getting everything right so why has it gone wrong 57 times now. Nonetheless, she tries again. Trial Number 58.

She takes a deep breath in and lets it out as she snapped on the small watch onto her wrist. She looked at it with hope as well as fear. “Please work…” She whispered in a plead.

Alex set her cornets, like she has done 57 times before. It was like muscle memory to her at this point. She closed her eyes swiftly, she was expecting something to blow up or frizz out and smoke yet that didn’t happen instead her lab shifted as her watch called out “Third Earth” from its speaker.

‘Holy shit…’

~***~

a/n: so whatcha think? Good, bad? Honestly I feel it’s good I might tweak it for the final draft but it’s a good setup in my opinion. What do you all this?

#thundercats #thundercats fandom #thundercats 2011 #thundercats x oc #canon x oc #thundercats fanfiction #rough draft

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jtl-fics · 11 days ago

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10/23/24 WIP Wednesday - Round-up

Sorry for the delay on getting those last three out but here is everything that was requested back on 10/23/24!

Math Nerd - 10 Requests

Banquet: ( 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 )

New Kings - 10 Requests

Withdrawal: ( 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 ) Ferdinand: ( 37 - 38 - 39 - 40 - 41 )

Foxhole Bake - 3 Requests

Week 2 Signature Bake: ( 41 - 42 - 43 )

Smalls - 12 Requests

Trial: ( 58 - 59 - 60 - 61 - 62 - 63 - 64 - 65 - 66 - 67 - 68 - 69 )

TBD - 17 Requests

Chapter 3: ( 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 )

Four Horsemen - 3 Requests

Pestilence: ( 20 - 21 - 22 )

Total Requests: 55 Requests

#WIP Round-Up #10-23-24 WIP Wednesday

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grumpygreenwitch · 2 years ago

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The Fairy And The Prince #66 + #67 + #68 + #69 + #70 + #71 + #72

Part 1 - Part 2 - Parts 3 & 4 - Part 5 - Part 6, 7 & 8 - Part 9 & 10 - Part 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 & 16 - Part 17, 18, & 19 - Part 20, 21 & 22 - Part 23, 24, 25 & 26 - Part 27, 28, 29 & 30 - Part 31, 32, 33 & 34 - Part 35, 36 & 37 - Part 38, 39, 40 & 41 - Part 42 & 43 - Part 44 & 45 - Part 46 & 47 - Part 48, 49, 50 & 51 - Part, 52, 53 & 54 - Part 55 & 56 - Part 57, 58, 59 & 60 - Part 61, 62, 63, 64 & 65 - Part 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71 & 72

THIS IS IT. 103K words and I don’t even know how many months later, and it’s done. If you stuck it out with me, THANK YOU. Thank you from the bottom of my soul. If you enjoyed it, just a little, and would like to let me know, I’d appreciate it. If you hated it, I would like to know as well. When I first started writing this, I meant to go back and forth between it and Ser Lyrian’s story. I also thought it’d be a short story, a speed writing. It... is not. The size of it boggles my mind somewhat, and I’m the one who wrote it. If you came this far with me, and would like to do me a kindness, there are five questions I always ask of people who read my writing and express a willingness to go the extra mile.

1. Favorite Character? 2. Least Favorite Character? I’m interested in the character you love to hate, but if you have a character that’s just boring, I want to know about that, too. 3. Favorite Scene? 4. Least Favorite Scene? Meaning a scene that plodded on or was poorly written. 5. Anything else you liked/hated?

Adam managed. He even found the time and the energy, somehow, to scrub at his battered clothing, and to replace his missing sword with the traveling blade kept with his saddle. The peeping, chirping sparrows that made their homes in the vastness of the stables came to greet him; to them he'd always been Adam, and he always would be. They didn't care about crowns or Compacts or trials, lucky them.

He didn't meet any of the stable-hands he heard working in other parts of the vast building. He did meet some few people on the worn path going down to the stables, but sleepy and elderly and blind his horse was still a very large creature, and they scrabbled out of his way, staring in disbelief. Someone ran back up to the palace, and Adam kicked the charger into a light trot; even the jarring gait of its arthritic limbs felt good, felt real and solid against the Prince's own aches. "Trout, would you go tell them I'm coming?"

The pixie took off like a bird. He could hear the ruckus slowly growing somewhere in the depths of the castle as he rode up to the gate, frowning minutely when he realized the closer he drew, the more exhausted he felt, as if he were dragging miles of chains all unseen behind him. Had they snuck up another test on him? Were they truly cheating at the very last possible moment? He'd ride the horse to his bed if he had to, the charger seemed to have no problem carrying him.

His concerns scattered when he reached the palace gates, and a smile as sunny as the dawn broke over his face when he saw Dane standing there, tall and broad and wrapped in priest-blessed armor.

Trout flew back to Adam's shoulder and perched there. Dane caught the reins of the gelding and looked up.

"Dane," Adam greeted.

"Highness," Dane replied.

With a muffled groan Adam slid off the saddle. His ankle tried to give out on him; Dane's hand snapped out to steady him, and Adam caught onto his shoulder. They traded a very small smile, and Adam felt suddenly lighter, as if he were young again, at a time where such things as crown and loss hadn't mattered.

No one stopped them as they made their way through the palace, coming back much as they'd gone the day before, even if Adam was a little poorer in fairy gifts in his pockets, and infinitely wealthier in grime. Somewhere behind him a ruckus was growing where the impromptu messenger who'd caught sight of him on the path to the stables delivered his news.

Adam didn't care. He opened the door to his rooms.

He paused, and after a moment he had to laugh.

The same breakfast on the table, laid out exactly the same to the last plate and spoon. The same books on the desk, quill trimmings on a small bowl. A fire in the hearth. The wash basin ready, steaming faintly. Even Culli-maid's and Beli's clothing were the same, a miracle he would have never believed after seeing the state of Culli's house slippers the night before. He had the feeling that his bed would be rumpled down the same to the last wrinkle on the sheets.

Beli had been pacing restlessly, and Culli had been sitting by the fire, her basket of mending on her lap. It went flying when she sprang up to her feet. That, at least, they didn't have to change; they'd been just as anxious the day before.

"Hello, Culli," Adam greeted her.

Tears spilled down her round cheeks, and she couldn't speak for a moment. "Good morning, Highness," she managed at last.

He swept her into a hug that dislodged Trout off his shoulder, and she sobbed. "Has it killed you, not to make the bed?"

"Oh, it needs changing anyways, Highness," she protested, laughing through her tears.

Adam held her a moment longer before stalking up to Beli. "Look at me," he demanded.

"I can," Beli told him.

"Look at me!"

"I can!" Beli's smile was the brightest Adam had ever seen in the solemn young man. The pale brown of his eyes was bright through tears he refused to cry until Adam caught his face and stared at him; he caught his Prince's shoulders. "I can. I can see you. I can see you just fine."

"Beli." Adam dragged him into a hug as well.

"Don't think this will save you from doing the books with me," Beli warned him in a choked whisper. "Welcome back, Highness."

Adam stared all around them, at this tiny Court of his, his friends, half his world that he'd come so close to losing. He still felt exhausted, crushed, as if he were carrying a millstone on his back, but even that couldn't crush the simple joy of being home, being among friends, being safe.

"Adam," Dane called in warning, and the young Prince turned. There, on the doorway to his rooms, stood the Queen Dowager. She was wearing an exquisite quilted robe over her sleeping clothes, and a long, elegant shawl over it all. Her silver hair hung in a long braid at her back. Without the pomp of her rank she looked tiny and fragile, like a porcelain figurine. There was a single maid with her, likely the only one who'd been dressed and present at that early hour.

Adam left Beli and nodded to Culli, who moved over to further push the door open. The Dowager and the young Prince met by the hearth, and Adam bowed very low before her. "Majesty, good morning."

There were tears caught in the deep blue of her eyes, Adam suddenly realized, but she drew herself up proudly. "Good morning, my Heir."

Something immense snapped so loudly that Adam flinched, instinctively whirling around to cover the Queen, hand going for his sword. The Dowager cried out and staggered, and both Culli and her maid rushed over to catch her. Dane and Beli were instantly by Adam. "What's wrong, what's happened?!"

Adam tried to step back and nearly fell into the hearth. He felt light as air, light as a feather in a stiff breeze. The world, beautiful though it was, shone to his eyes with nearly blinding new colors, with light and life he'd never seen before. "Didn't you hear that, can't you see that?"

"He can't. They can't." It was the Dowager who replied, leaning on the young maid and drawing herself up carefully straight. "The Compact is fulfilled, and the seal in our bloodline's magic is broken. Now, now we are as we were always meant to be." She gestured lightly, and power gathered and spiraled around her fingertips; the smile she gave Adam was radiant. "Thank you, my Heir."

***

Life turned into a whirlwind after that.

Adam insisted on making one last visit alone. He hadn't known what to expect, but after seeing how hard it had been for everyone he'd left behind, he'd wanted to give his oldest nemesis the grace of discretion. Everidge Leminy had wept like a child at the news.

The priests of the Night-Mother and the Tree-Father had come, and before two vast audiences of worried, hand-wringing nobility, Adam had gone through all the tests. He'd been pulled this way and that, brought to far too many meetings, asked a deluge of questions though no one seemed to be listening to his answers, introduced to endless rows of people. Adam smiled and nodded and did as he was told.

He bid his time.

He still found the chance, on the early morning of the first true day of summer, to sneak out of his room and the palace altogether. He ran into the woods and to the clearing where the green pixies nested. Barefoot, in nothing but pants and a light shirt, he climbed up the linden tree and nestled in the familiar crook of a strong branch, watching the vast green sea of the woods ripple in the morning breeze. "I heard you," he murmured. "When I was lost, and I had nothing else, and I called out, I heard you. What a nanny you've been," he teased wryly. "There's not a time I can name when danger came looking for me in these woods that you weren't there to ward it off."

The tree swayed lightly in the breeze, a green, sweetly scented cloud all around him.

"Thank you," he said simply.

Stay, the tree begged in the song of the breeze.

"I can't," he replied, caught off-guard and strangled breathless by the endless well of the tree's heart, that even then would ask him to forgive. To heal.

He stayed there as long as he could, but in the end he had to go back. He was dressed in rich royal finery, fussed over, fawned over.

On that first true day of summer, Prince Adam of the Realm was named Crown Prince and Heir before the worthies of the realm. A great celebration was thrown. He smiled and greeted people and let them fuss over him and make much conversation about their daughters and nieces and sisters and cousins.

He bid his time still.

The next day, for the first time, he made his way to the Chamber of Council. During those two months between his birthday and his coronation, Adam had spent every moment he could spare with the Queen Dowager, with Master Leminy, with the Genealogist and with teachers who'd seen very little of him before. Nine years of education had taught him the theory of the laws and politics of the realm, but in truth none of the princes had any actual practice with the ruling bit of, well, ruling. None of them were firstborns, none of them were heirs to their own family holdings; Adam, himself, was the youngest of several children.

Though neither the Dowager nor the Master of Scions approved of what Adam wished to do, neither would oppose him. They had made very careful plans for that first meeting. Adam walked in to find most of the seats empty, as expected. He'd taken the throne at the vast horseshoe table and been mostly ignored, as expected. The fact he'd ousted the Earl and Duchess sitting at both his sides to allow both the Queen Dowager and Master Leminy to take their places had made them grumble, but there were so many empty seats that it seemed a non-issue.

The first issue, on fisheries and taxation, came up. It was, the Dowager had told him, an old issue. The coastal lords didn't want to pay taxes; they wanted the fisherfolk to pay them instead, leaving their coffers untouched. Adam remembered the kind, warm welcome of the folk who worked the gull-winged ships of the realm. He refused the tax. The lords threatened to override him.

He snapped his fingers and the very long and seal-laden scroll burst into flames.

The chamber went breath-takingly quiet.

"All this time," he said into the silence. "All this time you've known the price the Crown paid to keep the rest of you safe, and still into the grindstone you sent your children, just for a shot at it. And in the meantime, you schemed for power and acted as if the only reason you'd given your loyalty was fear. Fear of magic. Fear of power. If you want to be ruled by fear, I can absolutely do that. I've learned a little about fear from the Court Beyond the Woods. I'm happy to put those lessons to use with you."

"How dare you speak to us so!" One of the nobles shouted, surging to his feet and gesturing sharply at the Dowager. "Do something!"

"The Duke of Cherst misunderstands, perhaps," the Dowager replied mildly, "who answers to whom here."

"Perhaps the Duke is not aware," Adam examined some of the documents before him idly, "that people can burn just as well as parchment, provided the right amount of power is applied." He leveled a hard, dark stare on the man, who didn't need to know it had taken Adam two weeks to be able to pull off that bit of showy magic without setting on fire everything else in the vicinity. "Sit down."

When the ashen-faced Duke obeyed, he threw the list aside. "Fear is a poor way to rule," he said into the silence. "I want to rule with you, but make no mistake, mine is the crown. Mine is the right. I have bled for it, I have faced madness and darkness and death for it. I will hear your voices, and I will take your words into account, as long as you speak sense to me. But you would do well to remember that the power of our armies is meant to be used against our enemies abroad. In here, within our lands, the power is magic and the magic is mine." He stared at them all. "We're not taxing the common folk. If that's your business here today, it's concluded. The answer's 'no'."

"But, Majesty -" A woman protested.

"Your reasons better be exceptional, Duchess, because I have a full day planned ahead for us and you're already costing us lunch. Let's hear them."

She went quiet.

"Hm." Adam gestured. Leminy's secretaries began passing around scrolls. "These are the new taxes and levies; you'll find there's also -" The chamber had gone to chaos at the sound of that dreaded word, and Adam sprang up on his feet with a shout. "Enough!"

Every goblet, pitcher and inkpot shattered. Cracks appeared on several of the glass panes in the windows.

"Levies, yes. You'll find they're generous. There are also exemptions for the provinces that meet the quotas included."

"Majesty," a younger man pointed out hesitantly. "These are quotas for uncured iron and rowan wood army lengths."

"They are." Adam dipped his head politely. "There are thirteen graves behind the palace temples. There are just as many if not more scattered across the realm. That doesn't include the common folk that had the miserable luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The crown is done with the Court Beyond the Woods. We go to war." Before they could get into too much of a fit over those news, Adam pitched his voice to carry. "And because I know first-hand how fragile a matter royal inheritance can be, I will be wed before we march." He gave them all that hard, heartlessly level look. "Consider the choice of my queen a further potential exemption."

"Majesty," a stately woman with far too much make-up smiled graciously at him. "Surely this is a course of action best discussed with all of your ruling lords, not just us measly few?"

Adam popped his lips thoughtfully, as if the meeting weren't going exactly as the Queen Dowager had predicted. Well, barring the glass shattering. At least he hadn't had to escalate to kicking a chair; they were bloody solid and he wasn't sure he wouldn't have broken his foot in the doing, no matter what she said. "Exceptional wisdom, Baroness. On second thought, meeting adjourned. We meet again in one week's time. Enough time for those who wish to travel to do so."

And with that, he swept out of the chamber and left them to their panic.

***

Prince Canemore made one last trip into the hidden keep beneath the Old Place. He made it wearing traveling clothes, his very best; he had very far to go, on a trip he didn't wish to undertake, to a goal he didn't wish to reach.

He found the gateway leading into his secret garden empty, cold and dark. Rubble covered the space beneath it; though he didn't know it, it had been painstakingly carried, one piece at a time, from beneath the empty plinth where the dancing lady had once stood.

Beyond, the frozen summer garden had gone to autumn, against all his power, matched at last to the seasons above. At the center of it, in the perfect clearing, the golden, gilded cage stood, twisted and broken, bars pried apart by the force of the wild growth of the amethyst vine.

Of Linden there was no trace.

He threw the garden into winter and darkness as he left, and stalked away, never to return.

***

His books had been absolutely right, Adam found out: war is not a quick affair. He found his time full from dawn to midnight, accounting for meetings and supplies, oversight of troops and manufacturing. He never faltered when he spoke, and neither did those around him: their enemy was the Court Beyond The Woods, not the woods themselves. The Courts could be powerful allies just as they could be dire enemies; he would point at the winged, golden creature perched on his shoulder whenever the question came up. Trout had already bit someone's fingers off when they'd waggled them too angrily in Adam's face, and no one cared to find out how well it could wield those silver-tipped lacquered hair-pins.

Before he knew what had happened, autumn and winter had come and gone, and spring loomed again. His birthday, the celebration of the Compact being fulfilled, was planned to be a massive celebration, a masquerade to dwarf all others before. The entirety of the realm, it seemed, wanted to attend.

"They're dusting off every relation they can find, as long as they're young and female," Adam protested vaguely as he suffered through one more fitting. "There's girls pouring out of every cellar and cupboard."

"You can't blame them, Adam." The Dowager was directing the seamstresses and examining the Heir's costume with a stern look. "You're the one who opened that door."

"It seemed the thing to do," he admitted.

"Oh." She shooed the seamstresses away so she could speak to him so very, very quietly. "You could try for friendship, Adam. Even a broken heart can have friends."

He managed a wry smile at that. "It can. But it wouldn't be fair to her. She'd expect love. No, it's better like this. She gets a crown, I get iron. Beli, any new contenders on the guest list?"

The Dowager gestured the seamstresses back to work. From his desk in the Prince's rooms, his Seneschal answered. "Not really. It's hard to compete with the fact that Lord Bagley has both the mines and the foundries. There's just one. Their counteroffer is... clever."

He brought a set of papers for Adam to examine, and the Heir looked very surprised. "You're joking!"

"I thought it might be an issue -"

"No, no." Adam found what the letters were telling him, at the very least, amusing in the extreme. There was light and animation to him that had been missing for months. "At least I'll be able to tell her apart from the others. How goes my personal project?"

"The engineers are working the axles and wheels. Water's heavy, Adam, I didn't realize how heavy until they told me. Carrying that much water, and a person to boot? That's hard. They're thinking of sleds at this point."

"As long as they think of something," Adam winced when a pin stabbed him, and looked up swiftly when the door opened, suddenly hopeful.

Dane, just coming in, shook his head as he'd done every morning for nearly a year, and wilted to once again see hope fade from his Prince. Every morning he went into the woods to wait. Every morning he came back having met no one, not even the pixies. They'd abandoned the clearing of the linden tree, and no one could find them.

No Needlemaw.

No Boul.

Adam turned, expression gone to stone. "Well, now I just have to meet the ladies and we'll see what we'll see."

He was eventually allowed to escape the fittings, only to be snared into a few more last-minute meetings. Then it was Culli who rescued him, only to shove him into a bath, though she did manage to sneak in a meal, the first of his day, for all that it came at the price of his dignity, having to subject himself to the ignominy of being scrubbed like a toddler just so he could use his hands to eat.

Clad in his costume, the circlet on his head, an incredibly itchy domino tied to his face, he took his place at the entrance to the palace's grandest ballroom, to greet the mass of people pouring in and be introduced to all their marriageable relations. He wouldn't, couldn't, leave the party without a betrothed; a number of concessions had been granted to the Council of Nobles in exchange for that promise. No one wanted war, and no one could budge the Crown Prince from it, so they were all working as best they could to minimize any potential fallout from it.

Trout, on his shoulder, solved half the itchy part within five minutes, by biting off the domino's feathers and gleefully flailing around with them. Adam couldn't very well be stern at the pixie when the Queen Dowager herself, standing just behind him, could barely keep from laughing aloud at the fierce creature's antics.

He was introduced to the young lady Bagley, grand-daughter of the Earl of Bagley, who stammered through half her greeting and forgot the other half, overwhelmed. She winced openly when Trout spit out a feather. Adam sighed.

Behind her came the first familiar face in that sea of strangers, and the young Heir couldn't help but smile. "Prince Rickard."

Rickard flushed under his elaborate mask, all the more so when the Crown Prince offered his hand, preempting a bow. He took it, and couldn't help a little smile. "Prince Adam."

Adam grinned, the first honest gesture to cross his face since the gala had started. Rickard was costumed as a bull, in violets and reds, and the silver and gold that his family boasted were stitched on every velvet and satin seam. He'd grown into a young bull, too, though he couldn't match Dane in either height or breadth of shoulder. The hand gripping Adam's was powerful, but the callouses Rickard had earned from his years spent at the palace were fading. Still, it was the sight of the man that gladdened him. "Prince Bully," he murmured.

Rickard's discomfort vanished under a very inelegant snort of laughter. "Prince Twerp," he retaliated. "Where are the others? I know there's a few that... made it."

Adam gave him a disbelieving look. "As far away from the palace as they can be," he replied. When his one-time torturer gave him an uncomprehending look, Adam gestured all around. "Every girl of marriageable age in the realm is here, Rickard, prowling for blood. Until you got here, I was the only available bachelor." He watched understanding, horror, and panic flicker over what he could see of the young man's features and jerked him suddenly close. "No running. We die as men," he whispered, and let him go.

"Oh, gods," Rickard squeaked. In all of the ruthlessness and machinations he'd once wielded and devised, this apparently was a trap he'd not seen coming.

He was none too gently elbowed by his companion, and the Crown Prince's mouth twitched. "Duke Lagrace, won't you introduce me to your companion?"

Rickard cleared his throat and gestured to the elegant white, silver and gold doe next to him. "My sister, the lady Elizabeth Lagrace, Majesty."

Elizabeth Lagrace curtsied with great grace. "Majesty," she murmured. She was, astonishingly, built along the same powerful lines as her brother, softened by the fact she'd not spent her formative years trying to survive in a cutthroat court, or learning to fight with every weapon and tactic created by man. Adam could only see that she had her brother's eyes, but her hair was lighter, a riot of golden curls artfully oiled and pinned over her head with an exquisite silver clip.

Silver, gold and priests. The Lagraces would back the Crown Prince's war without hesitation for a shot at the crown. Adam expected nothing less than the lethal predator that her brother had once been behind the dainty doe's mask. Elizabeth Lagrace was one year older than Adam, but they'd been so sure of their offer that they'd sent none of their younger ladies.

"The lady's costume is radiant as a star." Adam took her hand and kissed the lace of her gloves. "I wager it pales before what it hides."

"The Heir's costume seems to have grown lopsided," she replied evenly. "Shall I make a note to stay only to one side of you if I wish my hair to stay of even lengths, Majesty?"

Adam barked a laugh. "They grow them merciless in Lagrace," he noted in amusement at the siblings. "I should like a dance with the lady, if I can find her in the chaos later?"

"I will be found, Majesty," she assured him, lacing her arm through her brother, who was scowling in an entirely brotherly fashion at the Crown Prince. She all but dragged him off.

"Better than Bagley," the Queen Dowager murmured.

"Perhaps a little too much," Adam agreed.

"Adam, what are you looking for? Bread in milk?"

"A queen that won't resent my absence from her life. That one has her brother's wits. If she also has his drive, she absolutely would."

But then who would be coming up to him but Arditty, and he swept her off her feet and spun her around, her lace butterfly wings fluttering with the wind of his delight. She introduced him to her flustered husband and their son, who was young enough to be shy of the firebird stranger, but old enough to do his bow without aid. Adam made her promise him one dance before the endless cavalcade resumed once again.

The first dance, however, went to the Queen Dowager. It was the one move Adam knew couldn't be ascribed to politics or diplomacy. Likely they thought it was an invitation made out of family love, but love was the one thing they knew would never grow between them; they had both done things too terrible, lost too much, to be willing to offer more than affection and loyalty and friendship. But they could indeed be friends, and hers was the wealth of knowledge and courtly savagery Adam knew he would need in the days to come. He would have asked the same of Master Leminy, but the Master of Scions had begged leave to retire, and he'd looked so worn and fragile when at last he'd known himself free of his terrible duty that Adam hadn't had the heart to refuse him.

They moved sedately to the music, the swan and the firebird, and Adam was surprised to find out he'd put on a few inches on her. When had that happened?

He danced a merry jig with Arditty, bringing her back to her husband breathless and laughing, and taking the time to tell him wicked tales of her besting the higher authorities of the palace when they'd been younger. He left them in each other's arms and went on to dance and dance and dance some more, until he found himself wishing for more conversations on supply trains and iron forging just so he could sit at a table and rest his feet. Trout brought him a handful of grapes and Adam didn't ask where the pixie had got them. A special pocket had been stitched into the costume because Adam would not have worn it without, and Trout dove into it, safely away from the noise and crowds. Adam envied him.

He danced with the lady Bagley, and managed to get a timid smile out of her. Rickard was under siege when he went to request a dance from the lady Lagrace. She took his hand with a little curtsy; the music began, and they danced in silence for a few moments before she spoke. "You really aren't here at all, are you, Majesty?"

"I beg your pardon?" Adam jerked himself sharply back to the present.

"Here, at the party," she specified, then added. "You're as far away as if you'd flown to another land."

"I am here now. The Lady Lagrace has my undivided attention."

She scoffed. "I know better, Majesty. Don't insult my intelligence and I shan't insult yours."

"Noted," Adam replied, his curiosity roused. "Is this how the lady means to draw my interest? Veiled insults?"

"Nothing I said would be new to you, Majesty. I asked Rickard to tell me all he could of your time in the palace. I wrote to any of my friends who had family here during that time. No, I shall simply be honest."

"Honest."

"Yes. And share with you my observations."

"Do." The dance spun them momentarily away from one another, then brought her back into his arms.

"You're never going to love your queen."

Adam's jaw tightened until a muscle twitched along his cheek. "The lady Lagrace is correct. 'Correct' and 'bethroted' are quickly becoming mutually exclusive."

She smiled. "Would it help if I admitted I've been mistaken for a while now, and didn't realize it until I met you?"

"Do I truly wear my heart on my sleeve like that?"

"Gods, no. You're one of the hardest men to read I've ever met."

Adam hesitated as he spun her. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome. No, you see, I thought at first you wanted a queen that would love you, even if you don't love her. But I was wrong. You know how cruel that would be -"

"Dangerous."

Her head cocked minutely.

"Cruel and dangerous. I don't need a wife that'll stray. Thrones have fallen for less."

"Ah. Cruel and dangerous, then. And you are many things, Majesty, but you're not cruel. You're simply not here at all. Whatever wife you choose will have to live with that absence. It would break Miriana's heart, you know. Lady Bagley. She might agree to a loveless marriage, but your absence would destroy her. She'd die thinking she failed in some way she can never understand."

"So I should choose you?"

"Lagrace has the best offer to your future military endeavors," she replied coyly.

"You don't strike me as the sort that would abide my not being there."

"Oh, I'm sure it would drive me mad every now and again. But I would have the crown to keep me warm in that empty bed. See, marking your absence and letting you know I do are two different things, Majesty. I'm quite sure you'd never find out how I felt about it. Until I met you I was also fairly certain I could make you happy, but now I know no one can."

The dance ended; Adam held onto her. "And why would that be?"

"Because it's not that you can't love, which is what everyone believes, what I believed until I met you. But that you already love someone, and can never have them." She shrugged gracefully in his grip. "I come into this fight knowing I'm already beat, Majesty. And I'm alright with that. How many girls here can say the same thing?"

She stepped back and Adam let her go. He danced, again and again, but it all came to him in a blur where he didn't register faces or names or music, his feet moving out of training as Elizabeth's words careened through his mind.

You already love someone, and can never have them.

For a while, caught in the whirlwind storm of preparing for war, Adam had forgotten.

Suddenly there was no hiding, and the pain was there, like a fist around his throat, like a dagger through his heart.

Linden.

"Mortal prince?"

"Adam?"

He was sitting, and there was a cup being pressed into his hands. The storm of sound and color of the party came back to him, painfully overwhelming in ways the world hadn't been since he'd learned to master his perceptions of it with his magic unchained. Trout was a warm press against his cheek, and Dane was crouched before him, splendid in the official armor of the Captain-of-the-Guard he was still years from becoming.

"What happened?" he asked hoarsely, dragging off the mask and rubbing at his face. He was sitting on the stone bench that ran along the railing of an oval balcony, one curtain drawn, the other open, and he felt cold to his soul.

"You stopped. Like a clockity-clockwork toy," Trout told him. "You said not to bite you so I called Dane."

"Ugh." Adam buried a hand in his gold-dusted hair. "Did anyone notice?"

"Only that you're tired. The Dowager is making your excuses."

Adam buried his face in his hands. "I really thought I could do this, Dane."

"You're doing fine, Adam. What happened? Trout said you were just talking, no one's come at you with a weapon. And Culli's got the kitchen locked tighter than Beli's purse-strings. It can't have been poison."

"It was words, Dane. It was just words, and suddenly I just remembered everything I'll never have anymore, and I couldn't breathe. I remembered that I miss my other friends. That I never said goodbye to Boul, that I never even saw Needle. That Linden..." He swallowed thickly and threw his head back, eyes closed and hands gone to fists.

"I'll get you out if you want, Adam. Just give the word."

"I never wanted this," Adam whispered.

"I know."

"Well, gods help me if Lady Lagrace figures it out." Adam downed the cup in one gulp. "Trout, thank you for not biting me." The pixie's wings buzzed and its slender chest puffed up proudly. "I need a favor from each of you."

"Name it," Dane said simply.

"I need you to find an alcove, close the curtains and douse the candles. Trout -"

"I'll go find them!" The pixie arrowed away.

"Adam, what are you doing?"

"Making sure I've done one thing right since I came out of the damn woods," the Crown Prince replied, rolling to his feet and tying on the domino with a gusting, weary sigh. "Go on. I suppose I can get in one more dance while you get it all set up."

He was halfway through a dance with a young girl who was giggling so hard out of nerves that Adam had yet to get her name out of her, when he caught sight of Dane waiting for him. The dance ended and she curtsied and fled, leaving him free to meet his friend. "I wonder if their parents told them I eat young marriageable girls for breakfast or something. I know I'm not that terrifying to look at."

"You aren't. The crown you're wearing is." Dane led the way.

"Ugh." Adam followed. "You'll want to wait outside, Dane."

"Adam -"

"This is stranger than Needlemaw."

Dane's jaws worked a great deal around words he would have never told Adam, but was seriously considering telling his Prince. In the end he stepped back and closed the curtains, leaving the Heir in nearly perfect darkness.

"Sluagh?" Adam asked quietly of the dark.

"Oh." Several sets of eyes suddenly filled the dark with their pale, blight-haunted light. "You did ask after us. We did not know what to think, when the pixie told us."

Adam had to laugh a little. "I did. I wanted to know... that you're alright. That you're finding the scraps and the bones left for you."

"Yes." The pairs of eyes moved through the dark. One drew close and suddenly stood up, towering over Adam. He could just make out, in the light of Sluagh's eyes, the faint upper outline of its muzzle, neither human nor animal but something more and something else. "Hunger is less now, because of you."

"You can never not be hungry, can you?"

"No," Sluagh admitted. "We are hungry to the marrow of our hollow bones, to the knots in our empty muscles. We can eat until we gorge, and gorge we have, thanks to you. But there will always be hunger to us."

"Then I'll ask something else. Are you content?"

Sluagh stared down at the Crown Prince. "This is important to you, this answer. Not because you will use it against us, not because it brings you power. But because we... matter to you."

"Yes. You've been watching people, Sluagh, you're learning how they think."

"It seemed important. You were... new to us. There have not been many new things in our lives. And you were neither enemy nor food. It is important to learn, when someone is not either of those things."

"How old are you?"

"We don't count time as you do. We have been since before the War. There was no palace. We are not certain there were any of your people on this land. There were more of us then."

"What happened to them?"

"We ate them."

"I don't know why I even asked," Adam admitted sheepishly. "And no one's tried anything against you?"

"No. The Court Beyond the Woods is quiet. Waiting. They will see what you do, first. Perhaps they will leave, and things will be as they were before. Peaceful. Small. Better."

"I would accept that," Adam said. "I would count it a victory if they left and never came back."

"Ah, there is the shadow that follows you," Sluagh breathed. "Your crown of blood and sorrow and black ice. Until now it was hard to see."

"Hatred."

Sluagh nodded. "We do not feel hatred. We see it, know it, but do not feel it. We do not think it would be a good thing, to feel it, for all its power. It wounds you in ways no one can help." They paused. "And we would help, if we could."

"To know that is almost as good as the help itself, Sluagh. Thank you. I'm sorry if I called you away from something important. This is the first time I've had time to think on all that I should have done and didn't."

"It is fine, bones do not run," Sluagh replied blithely, their head cocking. "Here comes your pixie. Let us give you a gift on this, the day of so many of your births, when you are finally many. Truly a first among your kind." The fairy threw out their spindly, long arms, and bowed with unearthly grace. "We are Sluagh. We greet the mortal king, crowned in loss and wit and heart. We pledge him our service." Sluagh straightened up and crossed their arms. "Be he fair to us, we will always be fair to him." And then the dark fairy was no longer there.

The sound of Trout's wings came, muffled, past the curtains, pausing after a moment. Adam opened the curtains to find the pixie perched on Dane's gauntleted fist.

"It's tin and paste," Dane explained at the Heir's look of disbelief. He rapped his knuckles on the shiny, shiny gauntlet.

"It's gross." Trout was rubbing its hummingbird tongue against the tiny tabard Culli had made for it.

"Trout, please don't lick Dane's armor. Words I never thought I'd say, but here we are." Adam went out to dance and converse and occasionally sneak away to scarf down whatever food and drink Trout and Dane managed to sneak him. He found himself dancing with the Dowager once again at some point close to midnight.

"Any luck?" she asked him.

"I think it might have to be Lagrace," he replied. "Bagley is apparently the sort to get attached, and hurt later from it."

"And Lagrace?"

"She's the sort to not give a damn."

"A dangerous game, Adam. If you should grow to love -"

"I won't."

"If you should grow to love Bagley," she persisted, her tone clipped, "she would at least love you back. Lagrace never will."

"If I were capable of it, I would have never survived the trials," Adam said simply, and she could give him no answer to that.

"I will speak to her father," she said resignedly at last.

The dance ended and everyone clapped. The bells of the temple, the heavy brass of the Night-Mother's and the smaller copper ones of the Tree-Father's, called out midnight.

Conversations and music and the general hum of the party petered out under that double onslaught, until there was a rare moment of silence when the bells at last stopped ringing. In it, the thump of the Seneschal's staff on the marble floor seemed as loud as if he'd cracked the stone with it. "Queen of the Courts of Spring and Summer, her Majesty, Titania."

The entire immense ballroom might as well have been a painting. Even the servants ferrying food and drink had frozen in place. No one could believe what they'd just heard.

Adam closed his eyes and felt inexplicable laughter bubbling up inside him. The year's worth of training in remaining unreadable and stone-faced was the only reason he could turn around and look towards the entrance of the ballroom without looking like a madman before the elite of the realm, drawing in a deep breath through gritted teeth. "Well." He laced his hands at his back and waited to see the shape of this new trick against him.

He faltered almost immediately. He could remember, in vivid detail, Queen Conemara. He had drawn her a few times in his journal, and though he knew he was no artist, he was also certain he'd been faithful to the blinding, painful light and brittle, icy beauty of the Queen Beyond the Woods. Conemara would have been like a clay cup before the gilded chalice that was the Sidhe woman moving through the parting crowd.

She was nearly as petite as the Queen Dowager, of a height with her and even more delicate-seeming, as if she were made of the finest gossamer. Her skin was the pale, soft color of a quail's eggshell, her features sharp and inhuman but without any of the painful starkness that made it hard to look at any of the members of the Court Beyond the Woods. There was a subtle, gentle softness to her, detracting nothing from her inhumanity but making her a flawless, enthralling beauty. Her eyes were green and violet behind the merest hint of a domino. She was dressed in a gown that put to shame the richest costumes the wealthiest nobility in the realm had been able to conjure, all the more absurd because she was a humble spring meadow, a hundred shades of green dotted freely with violets and daisies and bluebells, with larkspur and clover, with fluttering butterflies and bumbling bees. Her hair was a rich crown of vivid crimson braided in a stern, motherly fashion. Her crown was gold, and on it winked a gem of every color known to mortals, and a few they had yet to find. Her wings were a summer sky, the finest spun clouds, sunlight dappling through the trees.

She moved with gracious surety through the crowd, never hesitating as she approached Adam. Dimly the Heir noticed that Dane had rushed to his side, that the Dowager was hurrying to him. Trout clambered up on his shoulder and shifted restlessly, wings slicked flat against its body.

There were three more fairies with the Queen - no, four, Adam realized. A tiny blue pixie perched on Titania's shoulder as Trout perched on his, wings flicking idly as it peered with great interest at everything and everyone around them. He tried to look at those escorting the Sidhe Queen, but his head shied away from them; they looked human enough, and that was enough for Adam to know that they weren't, but even his magic couldn't penetrate the Queen's glamour.

"The throne of Faerie greets the Crown Prince, the Heir to the Throne of this mortal Realm," Titania's voice was a song in the stunned silence. She curtsied with grace that made the heart glad to behold.

Adam bowed with as much formality as he knew. "I am beyond honored to welcome the Queen to the palace, to this party. She honors us with her presence, and even more with her greeting. I'm not sure we can do justice to her visit, but we will surely try." She smiled at him, and Adam felt his heart trying to swell with pride, as if she were a doting mother and he a child who'd done well at a difficult task. He gritted his teeth until they ached.

Linden.

"Your welcome is gracious and warm, Prince Adam. More, because we know it's offered under dire circumstances."

"My moods do not affect my manners, Majesty. I'd be a poor excuse of a future king if I allowed them to do so."

"Ah, one could hope to find such poise and sense of station among our own," she murmured. The Dowager reached them then and, astonishingly, a sunny little smile broke across the Sidhe Queen's flawless beauty. "Charlotte."

"Titania," the Dowager replied, trying not to sound breathless.

Adam blinked at her, and all at once he felt like a fool. All those years and it had never occurred to him that 'Dowager' was her title, not her name. He felt color creeping over his face.

"It has been brought to our attention," Titania's voice suddenly rang clear and sure like a silver bell over the gathering, "that the Crowned Heir of the Realm feels Faerie has deeply slighted him." She pinned those green and violet eyes on him. "Deeply enough that he feels war is the only solution."

Adam saw the question in her eyes, felt it in her power as it reached for him, but unlike Conemara, she didn't force her way in. She waited, as courteously as a guest at the gate. Before her he set the broken half of his heart, the other half shattered and gone. "Majesty, I do," he said simply.

Her eyes went soft and bright. "Oh, your heart," she whispered. "Is peace not an option?"

"I sued for peace," he admitted. "I sued for peace twice. Before the Court Beyond the Woods, before Queen Conemara and Prince Canemore I sued for peace. I asked for one thing. They could not, or would not, give it. I will, if need be, sue for peace a third time before the Highest Queen of Faerie. But that would be a third, and I fear it might be... discourteous."

The Faerie Queen smiled wryly. "It would. Particularly when the fault for this terrible situation lies completely with the Court Beyond the Woods."

Adam recoiled minutely. The entire gathering gasped; no one had expected to hear one of the Fair Folk, particularly their Highest Queen, admit to being wrong.

"When we sent the twins here, it was our hope that being alone, forsaking the joys and merriment of the Highest Court, would teach them the... poise and sense of station that they lacked at the time. Instead it would seem their character flaws have grown into unforgivable behaviors and abhorrent mannerisms." Titania pursed her lips. "The Court Beyond the Woods is no more. They are Queen and Prince no more. They are simply Conemara and Canemore." She looked at Adam. "Would that make peace an option?"

Ah, so that was the trick, then. Adam's smile was brief, thin and bereft of humor. "Majesty, it would not."

The nobles caught their breath. Next to Adam, Dane shifted nervously.

"Hm." Titania looked unsurprised. She tapped long, shimmering nails against the rosebud of her mouth. She had better offers in mind, Adam was sure of it; she hadn't got to them yet, that was all. "Our daughter offered you her brother's life, and you refused it. We will not repeat that mistake. Does the Crowned Heir remember what else she offered? It would help us greatly."

"Knowledge, wealth, power. Majesty, I hardly know what to do with the power I already have. I want no wealth but what keeps my people and their homes safe. I want nothing that she offered."

"Well, we would offer a palace greater than this one by a hundredfold, hidden in the woods," Titania mused, and the Dowager gasped tinily. "But it is not ours to give."

"It does miss its mistress, though," Adam murmured.

"It doesn't!" The Dowager hissed.

"It does," he persisted. "I didn't tell you?"

"I didn't think to ask," she admitted.

"For twenty thousand years we have watched you mortals." The Sidhe Queen's voice filled the immense hall. "We have laughed with you and cried with you. We have raged against you, taught you, learned from you. We have shared so much with you. What we have never done, not once, is win a war against you." Her green and violet eyes passed from spring to summer and back again, spiraling slightly, and for a moment it was nearly impossible for Adam to stare at them, they were so like those many-colored, shattered eyes. His hatred, his sorrow, his rage all rose up inside him until only the force of will that had brought him to that moment kept him from screaming until he lost his voice.

"Adam." Her voice was suddenly very gentle, like rain against the black ice of his hatred. She had reached out to touch his cheek with the tips of three fingers, warm like summer sunlight.

"Please don't do that." He stepped back minutely, his voice strangled. "It hurts too much."

"Ah, it must be a family thing, to give away your heart the once, and never again," she murmured, pulling away her hand and looking knowingly at the Dowager. "Tonight, on this day of celebration for your birthday, you are seeking a consort, I'm told."

"I am." Adam shrugged minutely. "A throne without an heir makes people nervous, and wars have a habit of killing without much care as to who dies, peasant or king. It's better for the realm to have that matter settled."

"And if such a consort asked you for peace?" Titania asked, and stepped gracefully aside.

Adam felt the world tilt out from under his feet. Dimly he was aware that Dane had caught him, was holding him upright, but he couldn't understand anything beyond that.

Behind the Queen of Spring and Summer, shining like the first true kiss of dawn on a night-dark land, was Linden, his friend, his love, his heart, willowy and slender, a willow's grace, an oak's strength, a linden tree's beauty. They were wearing a gown that shimmered through every color of their shattered eyes; Titania was a spring meadow, but Linden was the summer woods, where flowers hid amidst a sea of green, where the sky shone blue and perfect, where sunsets were fire and dawn was golden treasure. They had put on a slender domino made of bark, dotted with bejeweled insects picked out with fantastic accuracy in emeralds, sapphires, rubies, obsidian.

But they were Linden. His Linden, the white fuzz of their hair very short on their head so early in the season, faint green freckles on their sharp brown cheekbones. Adam's Linden, all that was kind and joyous and fierce in the woods, perfect down to the one bark-covered hand. Linden, surrounded by a flock of green pixies, crowned with a circlet of living vines with a single stone blossom nestled between the green leaves, an amethyst heart just peeking through the gray.

"Linden," Adam heard himself say, and the black vastness of icy hatred inside him cracked, his heart struggling in a darkness that had swallowed it for far too long.

"Adam," Linden said, and there were tears ruining the elegant glitter someone had sprinkled so very carefully on their cheekbones.

Titania lifted her hand, and blew lightly, scattering a stirring of dust like golden motes in the air. The Dowager gasped. Adam wheezed for breath.

Needlemaw, the illusion that had hidden her broken, was suddenly on Adam's other side, holding him up when he would have slipped from Dane's grip and fallen. "Come, now," she urged him, "where's that muchness of ye gone that yuir knees go to jelly for naught but a wee bit of glamour!"

"Needle," Adam gasped.

"Aye."

"Needle!" Adam cried out and dragged her close, close enough to bump their foreheads together, so close that he could smell her charnel-and-soil scent, and he felt as if he could not breathe, as if he were drowning in the blackness with which he'd armored himself. He clawed at nothing, trying to escape it -

A gentle, rough hand the size of his chest caught the front of his costume and lifted him effortlessly back onto his feet. "Adam."

Dane, for whom the Queen's glamour still persisted, swore under his breath at the all-too familiar voice, the abrupt pong of a bullfrog's croak, both coarse and gentle. Adam had to laugh. "Hello, Boul," he managed, and realized he was crying. "I'm sorry. I'm being a baby and can't even greet you properly after missing you like someone cut off a limb."

"You always greet me before," the young troll said. "Now, I greet you." He offered his hand in the human fashion. "Like the first time."

Adam, surrounded by his friend both mortal and fae, fought himself to his feet and then collapsed again. "I can't breathe."

"Breathe with me." Suddenly Linden was there, and it really was Linden, kissing their prince, their Adam, sweet and sure and patient, with a love that had known itself so clearly, so certainly, that it had never doubted its time would come. Under the taste of that kiss, lemon and honey, sunlight and summer, wind and laughter, the ice of Adam's hatred didn't stand a chance. It was gone as if it had never existed, and Adam gasped in a huge breath, as if he'd been drowning for the past three years and had only reached the surface there, in that place and moment.

Linden caught Adam's face between their hands, both sun-browned, one smooth, one rough. Adam clung to those hands and brought himself to his feet. Linden laced the fingers of one hand with his, and the young Heir turned to face the Sidhe Queen. There was one more person with her, but Titania had not broken the glamour on them.

"Majesty."

"Crowned Heir," she nodded graciously.

"You asked me a question." Adam found his voice rough, and swallowed to try and keep it from breaking. "I have been asked for peace before. I would not grant it to a friend." He looked at Dane, but his childhood friend looked so profoundly happy for him that Adam knew the prospect of war was not even a thought in Dane's head. "Nor would not I grant it to family." He glanced at the Dowager, who gave him the tiniest nod, her eyes once again filled with tears she refused to shed.

He looked at Linden, who squeezed his hand, and turned to face those green and violet eyes. "But if the right consort asks for peace, I will grant it."

"I ask," Linden whispered.

"It's yours," Adam answered, and they fell in each other's arms.

***

The gala continued. No one had a single solitary clue as to how to handle what had happened, but they also knew that the Queen of the Spring and Summer Court had come expecting a party, not for all the guests to stampede in a panic at her arrival. And so the party carried on.

"Charlotte."

The Queen Dowager had retreated to a seat behind an elegant floral sculpture, where she was nursing a goblet of mulled wine. She looked up into the unchanging face of an old and dear friend, and smiled. "Larkspur," she greeted, offering her hand.

The Sidhe Queen caught that hand in both of hers and crouched before her mortal friend. "Oh, Charlie, why didn't you say something? Why didn't you call for help?"

"I honestly don't know, Larkspur," the Dowager admitted, finally allowing her tears to fall. "Pride? Grief? By the time I realized what he'd done, it was done. I couldn't figure out how to fix it on my own, and then I was too ashamed to admit to it, and you'd gone back home -"

"I would have come back for you. I would have come back for the sister of my heart, you know that."

"I know. Look, I was young, I was in love, I was heartbroken. Common sense was nowhere near my first priority."

They both laughed, sheepish and quiet. "I want to give you something, Charlie, but I won't if it will hurt you."

"What is it?"

"It's something you were promised," Titania said. "Promised, and never given. Your people taught mine the importance of keeping one's word." Without actually reaching into purse or pocket, there was suddenly a small velvet box, black and gilt in gold, in the Sidhe Queen's hand. She opened it.

The Queen Dowager went very still. After a long, long moment she drew in a deep, shaky breath, and reached out to brush her fingertips delicately against the ruby. It was a brooch, without adornment or addition, a single ruby the size and shape of a man's heart. Under her fingers it beat, harried and steady. "It's -"

"Yes," Titania confirmed. "He promised it to you, and lied. And so now he must keep his promise, whether he wants to or not. It is yours. And yours it will remain, until you feel he has earned it back."

"Is it wrong of me," the Dowager asked in a very small voice, "to be a little pleased at the shape of your justice?"

Titania laughed. "Never."

***

They sat, all of them, in an open balcony. Adam debated waking Beli, or trying to pry Culli from the kitchens, but decided against it in the end. Plenty of time in the morrow for them to gather once again and come together, at last, the two halves of his world. They shared their stories, the harrowing trials Adam had faced, the infinite patience of Linden's own escape and race to the High Court, only to be met halfway on the Winding Road by Titania. As Linden had predicted, the Queen had been more than glad to welcome the blue pixie back into her Court. She knew its worth. And its news had spurred her to action at last, to correct the unforgivable infraction her children had tendered against a Danu-child.

Boul and Needle were, in theory, there to escort the Queen, and so they'd had to leave when Titania chose to mingle, disconcerting greatly the massed nobles. But the third person stayed with Linden. She was an older woman with very dark skin and very green eyes, bundled up in simple peasant's clothing that was more cozy than elegant. She allowed them to kiss, but when the kiss lingered she cleared her throat pointedly.

Adam squinted at her. "Do I know you?"

Linden laughed. "Adam, how can you not? She didn't come here for me!"

Adam gave Linden a puzzled look, and then turned to face the stranger once more. The woman gave him a look of such profound and utter affection that the Heir found himself flushing faintly, and the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. He rushed over to hug her, and in those powerful arms he found himself made safe once again, as always he had. "Silly me," he said, feeling near tears once again at that most poignant show of loyalty. "You are wearing a costume, you're disguised as a human!"

The linden tree smiled proudly at him, and brushed back his hair. They hugged again, and when he was at last willing to let go, she turned and walked away through the crowd.

"It's hard for her to be away from her place," Linden explained. "But she really did want to come see you, make sure it was all set to rights. She wanted to know you weren't hurting anymore." When Adam looked down, they bumped him lightly. "She said you heard her."

"I did. She's the only one I hear. But if that's all I ever get, that's more than good enough." Linden beamed at him, then leaned on his shoulder with a grimace. "What, what's wrong?"

"These shoes are very pinchy."

"Kick them off? The skirt's so big, no one's going to notice."

Linden did so, and Adam shoved the delicate green slippers under a bench. "Ah!" Linden sighed in relief. "So much better."

"You still look like your head is full of plans."

"Well, not plans. I've done all the planning I can stomach already. You're the one who's good at planning, I just asked myself 'what would Adam do'. That's how I fixed everything. It's just..."

"What?"

"I don't care for the dress. It's lovely, but it's all over the place. I can't walk without crashing into someone, or something. And do I have to be a Queen? That's what Canemore called me."

"Oh, that!" Adam laughed in relief and stood up. "That's why you see all the women go around with their hands plastered down. Shoves the skirts right back out of your way."

"But what if I need my hands?"

Adam popped his mouth thoughtfully, and Linden swatted him for it, and the sheer familiarity of the gesture made him feel as if his heart might burst with joy. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be Linden. Consort's just what you call someone who marries a King, so, yes, if we marry, you're a Consort. But that won't take away from you being Linden. It's just a thing people call you."

Linden's expression brightened up like a sunny day. "Oh, it's like having all those princes running around. Prince is just something you call them. Consort... I could be that, I suppose, as long as I can still be Linden."

"You will always be Linden." Adam leaned close, and they rested against each other.

"There's lines on your forehead that weren't there before," Linden brushed the fingers of their smooth hand over those lines. "Can't I fix that?"

"I don't know. The whole point of this mess," Adam waved a hand at the vastness of the hall and the ongoing masquerade, "was to make sure there'd be an heir. A baby, at some point. I guess." He sounded about as sure of the goal as he did the process, and even less thrilled about it.

Linden brightened up. "Oh, I can do that!"

"You can?"

"Yes, of course, it's easy." Linden seemed to think. "Though we're going to need a few cabbages."

8/29/2022 7:55 PM X 1/3/2023 3:48 AM

#the fairy and the prince #linden and adam #linden the fairy #adam the prince #original writing #Fantasy Writing #boul #boul the troll #boulders-for-brains #needlemaw #needlemaw the redcap #trout the pixie

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maideninorange · 2 years ago

Note

58, your choice of characters? curious to see what youd write!

#58 "The person you knew died long ago."

Took me a moment to think of what to do for this one! I decided this ought to be a good excuse to pull one of my old KuroTsuba ideas out of storage, and had lots of fun with it. I think you'll enjoy it!

(TW: This one gets violent. Nothing too terrible, but it is about on the same level as my prior fic "Inhuman" (which had way too much fun with its minor character death, the resulting corpses, and, well, inhuman mindsets). There's also a little self-loathing and touch starvation near the end. Disturbing content ahead!)

Tsubakura skulks in the shadows, observing their prey with a prying eye. Humans don't typically come into their part of the forest, so they don't get to test their traps too often.

Making and putting them into use were one of the few forms of joy still available to them. So they are always excited to have an excuse to perform a trial run or two.

The human looks over at where they are, but it does them no good. Ink is the same pitch black as the shadows in this part of Mugenri they carved out for themself, and ink is like a second skin to them now. Swallows never liked to be seen by human eyes anyway.

They step closer. And closer. Until a light breeze would push them into the puddle of ink set up beneath their feet. They haven't had a chance to experiment with their control over pocket dimensions in a while, so they were excited to finally have something that wasn't a boring animal or another youkai they had to let go.

Now all that human has to do is fall in. They're sick of waiting around, and wanted to get to their experiment with subzero temperatures already.

A sudden spurt of blood from the wheezing human's throat, accompanied by a hoarse scream, put an end to their fantasizing. The human crumples to the ground, twitches for a moment longer, then stills, lifeless. The trap never springs.

What?! How?! They were right fucking there!!! I was so close!!!

A small shadow emerges out of the corner of their right eye. They bite back a low growl. Another youkai just stole their kill right out from under their nose!

Looks like they'll have to deal with them the hard way.

Tsubakura steps out of the shadows, steps a little shaky after resolidifying themself. They place a taloned hand over the puddle of ink and shift the portal into a longsword. They give it a practice swing (confirming it was solid as well) as they scan their surroundings.

The other youkai is gonna have to go through them if they want their kill. And no, Tsubakura didn't care if they saw their trap or not; they killed what was supposed to be their prey, and now they must deal with them if they want it. That was simply how they operate, ever since becoming a youkai and being forced to survive on their lonesome.

(They weren't always alone though. Like when they were human. They haven't seen Yabusame in decades.)

...Where did that other youkai go any-

Fwang!

Tsubakura's back lit on fire, ignited by unseen danmaku. They let out a startled cry, and then the ground tumbled towards them. On instinct, they dropped into a roll. Pain blows through their wings as they absorb the impact, breaking their fall. It felt like they tore a ligament or two on them...

Then, Tsubakura was standing again, wings flared out. The wound has already almost finished healing, nanomachines working in conjunction with their natural magic as a youkai to make a speedy process lightning fast. Besides the singes and knives sticking out of their back, they weren't even disheveled. Only their hat a little askew.

"Playing dirty already, huh?" They call out, "Scared of facin' little old me?"

Zing!

More danmaku whizzes through behind them. But this time, Tsubakura was ready. They calmly sidestepped the danmaku knife as it flies at them, frayed black hair ruffled by its motion as it slots into a tree. They will not be caught off guard by the same predictable trick twice.

Although that handle, even as it disintegrates back into mana, is eerily familiar...Where have they seen such a purple hue on one before?

(That was a century or two ago, wasn't it? Before they changed and the Tsubakura Enraku the world knew died and left their current self in their place. That felt so long ago...)

Another knife breezes by their ear. Tsubakura sneaks a glance behind themself, sword at the ready to swing down.

Nobody was behind them.

They whirl around once more, jaw starting to hurt from how hard they were gritting their teeth. Already, a new layer of danmaku was weaved, without a single spell card being declared yet. Damn it, their new opponent was good. If it weren't for their burning desire to steal back their kill, it would be almost kinda fun.

And then, the danmaku flips over, trajectory reversed. That, Tsubakura wasn't expecting.

They slash through the onslaught wildly, their nanomachines firing their signature magic ink in every which direction. But all their frenzy does is leave them wide open to a different form of attack.

The moment they turn around to better shield their face, something blunt collides with their lower jaw.

"Gah!"

Tsubakura stumbles back, dazed. They attempt to swing their sword again, but then their opponent is right behind them, their arm wretched painfully behind their back and their sword foisted from their grasp. Disarmed and helpless.

"Unfortunately for you, I prefer to play dirty tricks first," a smarmy voice sneers in their ear, "Then again, a trap like that is quite the dirty trick for your human 'prey', no?"

A very, very familiar smarmy voice in fact...

"Not the type to play fair either, huh?" Tsubakura snarks, rolling their shoulders back best they can, "That's fine. Keeps things interesting."

"Oh? And what could you ever mean by that?" They ask.

"Something like this."

Tsubakura closes their eyes, and relaxes their molecules until they were ink. They relish in how they slip through the other's fingers like grains of sand, and the stunned shout of realization after.

Then, Tsubakura retakes human shape behind them, and in a blur of movement, their opponent was pinned beneath their body weight. Their long, tapered wings cage them in, keeping the pair of small grey and brown wings they just now noticed protruding from their back still.

Finally. They think as they resummon their longsword. This oughta teach you for thinking you can steal my kills.

Their opponent tenses uncomfortably as they bring the sword closer and closer to their throat. Tsubakura gets their first good look at their face.

The world stops.

They...They know their opponent. They knew their opponent very well in fact. They may have a monocle covering a foggy eye now, but that crooked smirk is unmistakable.

"...Kuroji?"

They perk up at the name, eyes widening as they scan their face for any sign of a joke.

They recognize them.

"Tsu... Tsubakura? Is that really you?" Kuroji croaks out.

Tsubakura's grip goes slack. It was them. It was them. After so long with only themself for company, it was really them, someone they knew in a previous life.

"...Yes. Though I am not the same person you once knew."

Their longsword slides out of their grasp. They flash a wobbly smile as they stand, "The person you knew died long ago."

"Ah...You met with the same fate?" Kuroji groans as they try to sit up, their wings unfurling to match Tsubakura's body language, "That's...to be expected then. The Shitodo Kuroji you knew from before is long gone as well."

Their smile turns wry as they extend a hand, "Well duh! You'd be long dead by now if you didn't go youkai too. Human lifespans suck."

Kuroji lets out a shallow sigh, rolling their eyes as they take their hand, "Considering that you seem to have taken to youkai depravity like a fish to water, that opinion doesn't surprise me. You never did quite know how to quit when you actually started something..."

Tsubakura pulls them up onto their feet, a little off kilter due to a weird glitch in weight. They were about to jab in turn at their scoundrelry, when they suddenly noticed something out of place.

The fingers that curled around theirs were metallic. A prosthetic.

"...You must've been quite busy to have lost your arm there. What happened? Shouldn't you have regenerated it since you're a youkai too now?"

Kuroji glances down at their prosthetic arm. Their smile fades. The blending of flesh into metal was jagged and uneven, not the smooth roundedness of most robotic arms back in the Outside World. That couldn't have been done by mere disease.

"Oh...this," Their voice hardens as their hand curls into a fist at their side, "Let's just say...Adagumo no Yaorochi can be very, very creative when angered enough to decide ripping you to shreds is too light of a punishment and has a little extra...help, and leave it at that."

Translation: "I don't want to talk about this right now."

And considering the glint of serpentine fangs instead of merely sharp canines as they grit their teeth and how their tail thrashes like its prehensile instead of fanning its feathers out like their own does when anxious, Tsubakura can hazard a pretty good guess as to what happened. As well as how Kuroji became like this in the first place.

"...You know, I can always try and fix your arm up if you wanna. Just like old times?"

Kuroji looks up at the starry sky, tilting their monocle forward. The eye behind it gazes at nothing.

"...I'll be fine. It's an old injury, and a good tool for pity points when you're trying to stir the heartstrings. I'm too used to the prosthetic anyway."

Tsubakura let a small smile grace their features at that, their wings wrapping around their frame comfortably in spite of their permanent inkstains.

The Kuroji Shitodo Tsubakura knew may be long dead, but Kuroji's wicked ways clearly still live on. In a different form, perhaps, but still there. Experience must have taught them that the hard way. Brutally.

It's still probably better than what got Tsubakura like this to begin with though. Anything would be probably be better after days of continuous torture by that maniac...

(They can still hear their screams as they tore them apart like a majestic symphony. It is only marred by Yabusame's shrieking of their name.)

Their smile vanishes at the awful memories.

"...Just as awful as ever, I see."

"Kinda have to be when you need to kill to survive. At least I have the decency to not toy with my food..."

They give the forgotten corpse near their feet an accusatory look. Not directed at the taken life from the person it once was, but indirectly at Tsubakura themself.

As if subtly asking, "What lead you to making death traps for your former species? What happened to your humanity, in both senses of the word?"

And honestly, Tsubakura wasn't quite sure of the answer themself. All they knew is that this was their life now, with all its boredom punctuated by periods of misery and small bouts of excitement like this. What do a few lives lost to the occasional entertaining death trap mean in the long run?

Didn't Kuroji do the same thing? Why did they sound so...bothered by it?

Tsubakura takes a quick step back, "Oh relax. My traps don't get too many humans. More likely to catch a squirrel than a sentient being. I mostly just sleep and make sure no one comes near my main base. Going after people when I can just drink ink is too much effort."

Kuroji directs their stare at them full on now. Any brief amusement or nostalgia is long gone now, replaced with a gaze that could pierce glass. (And for all they knew, it probably could. A lot can happen to someone in a measly century, especially someone like Kuroji.)

"...So that's all you've been doing this past century then? Just... Surviving out in the woods like a perpetually bored wild animal? I thought that if I ever saw you again, you'd be doing more than just...Surviving."

Tsubakura blinks, caught off guard, "Hwah?"

They could just feel Kuroji's disappointment bleeding through their harsh tone, "I mean, after our last meeting, you just...vanished. I thought you had died. Died! And all this time, you were out here in the middle of nowhere, where no one would ever find you, and you were just... surviving by the skin of your teeth?"

"Well...I guess? I mean, what else am I supposed to do? Can't go back to the Sanctuary when Whats-Their-Name the Priest will just kill me for being a priest who became a youkai. Not to mention most people in Mugenri already hate me for being a shitty priest when I was human. So why bother being anything more than that?"

They tactically avoid bringing up Yabusame. They don't wish to talk about them, even if their absence is never unnoticed by them.

"...It seems having only yourself for company has done a number on your mind, Tsubakura," Kuroji says coldly. They cock their head, the only parts of them moving being their fanned out wings and tail.

"Let me ask you again more directly then: Where have you been all these years?! The last time I saw you was you telling me not to come looking for you because Tsurubami Senri was out for your head! That was 200 years ago! And counting! Did you think that I just forgot about you?! Because I haven't! I never have!"

It all spills out of them. Tsubakura can only listen, their face growing paler and paler as Kuroji's rant goes on.

"You haven't left my mind once you disappeared, you know? Even after I accepted you were probably dead, even after I... became what I am now, I never stopped thinking about you!"

They choke, tears gathering in their eyes, "Have you thought about me while you were out here haunting this forest? Even once? Have you?!"

Tsubakura stood, motionless. Motionless, except for the shakes and shudders that ran throughout their body.

200 years was a long, long time to reflect on one's prior actions. Especially when you didn't start life as a monster. (Because what else can you call someone like them, who felt no remorse for setting death traps on the unsuspecting, animal, human, or youkai?) And sure enough, during the long bouts of nothing happening, Tsubakura got lost in their memories.

And as memories bled into thoughts and thoughts bled into longings, Tsubakura had brainstormed many, many long excuses and explanations for what happened to them. If it wasn't to Yabusame or Shion as they haunt their dreams, it was to Kuroji. They had rehearsed countless times in both sunlight and moonlight in their more animated intervals what they might say to any of the characters they've become in their head, all while scorning the fact that they might never get the chance to.

They had forgotten that "might" did not mean the same thing as "will" until now. And now that Kuroji stood in front of them, baring the same marks of inhumanity and immortality they did, all the explanations they had committed to memory for them specifically had suddenly vanished.

In the end, as the tears began to fall from the wrong conclusion forming in their mind, all Tsubakura can do is nod, "...Yes. Countless times in fact."

"...You're probably just lying in order to spare my feelings. Or save your worthless hide. Or both. No one could ever tell with you..." Kuroji hisses, their talons flexing, wounded, at their side.

"Yes. Fuck, Kuroji, yes! I thought about you so many times it hurts...Yes...I remember you, yes..." Tsubakura mumbles, their mantra bouncing about not to convince Kuroji of their honesty (they wouldn't fight if they decided to leave or make them pay for all the needless heartache), but more to answer the question repeating on loop since Kuroji asked them it.

"Have you been thinking about me?" Yes. "Is this really all you've been doing with your immortality?" Yes. "Do you regret everything that lead you to this?" Yes. Yes. Yes!!!

Tsubakura looks down at their nails, sharpened into the claw-like talons of most youkai. They cannot go back. Once a human has taken the fatal step over the line between humanity and inhumanity, they cannot step back. Their sight blurs.

All they want to do is go back. Go back in time, to the idle days of lounging about the shrine with Yabusame, getting lectured by Jinbei, and even get their soul munched on by Shion. They'd even be willing to go further back, to the suffocating days of scientific experiments with Hoojiro where nothing mattered beyond their next paycheck and having fun with friends like Kuroji, in their own odd sense.

They cannot go back. They want to go back.

"...Tsubakura?"

"Yes...Yes..."

Kuroji grows taller. Then, they were in front of them, all accusations and anger gone. It took Tsubakura long, agonizing seconds to realize they were crying. For the first time since leaving the Sanctuary in exile, for the first time after Yabusame vanished without a trace, they were crying.

"I missed you, Kuroji. You...You may be a pain in the ass, but..."

"I missed you too, in case you haven't noticed." A bitter chuckle, and then an equally bitter long sigh, "I spent so long thinking about what I'd do if I ever saw you again that I...I lost my temper there when I realized..."

"Apology accepted. I'd be pretty pissed if I was confronted with me too."

Kuroji kneels down until they were eye level with Tsubakura. Then, their wings wrapped around them without resistance. The touch of feathers against their scales was so foreign it made them shudder, but they welcomed it all the same.

(They missed this. They missed Yabusame's big, tight, drawn out hugs. Funny how the things they found annoying as a human they now craved as a youkai...)

"You've been through a lot too, haven't you?" Their tone softens, all of the ice in it melted, "So much so that even Yabusame is no longer with you..."

"Where is Yabusame?" They ask in that cryptic language of theirs.

"I dunno...I dunno anymore..." Tsubakura sniffles, "So-Sorry for dyin' on ya...I know I'm quite pathetic..."

Translation: "I don't want to talk about this right now."

Hands cup the back of their head, leaning them against Kuroji's warm chest. Tsubakura tenses as they push their hat back, stroking their hair. They wanted to stroke Kuroji's locks as well, but their shaky hand is caught as they reach out to do just that.

"Save that and the self-deprecation for later. Just this once, I'll do this for you for free. We both need this..."

Message received.

Tsubakura didn't know how long they were in Kuroji's arms for. Just that they were crying, they were crying as well, they craved the affection so much it hurt, and that they wanted to do nothing more than curl up on their couch with a warm bowl of miso soup and debate philosophy and science with them just like they used to 200 years ago.

"I missed you so much...Tsubakura..." Kuroji murmurs against their ear. Their name rolls off their tongue like they might vanish as soon as the last syllable ends.

"...Missed ya too, hardass..."

They stayed that way for a few moments longer. When they parted, coldness seeped into the warmth that was once Kuroji against their flesh. Their mechanical arm makes a notable click as they press weight on it in order to stand up.

"We...have a lot of catching up to do."

"No kidding," Tsubakura agrees as they push themself to their feet, a few sniffles still left in their system, "You still haven't told me what you've been up to. Like, how do you even live as a youkai? Of all the people to go youkai on me, you were pretty much dead last on that list."

They turn away, "I...Have my ways."

Vague and diverting. At least Kuroji still talks like Kuroji.

"Oh come on! I just cried my eyes out to you after spilling my methods. Can't do the same for me?"

"You are the only person in this entire world who can bounce back by being a thorn in my side..."

"It's how I live with myself. I'd die if I didn't."

"Die again, you mean? You said the prior you was dead, didn't you?"

"You knew what I meant!"

Kuroji snickers, almost hiding the tremors that accompany their next words, "It's not that I don't want to. It's that I wish to show you."

They step towards the way they came in, onto the path that a single diversion from caused them to reunite. They'd laugh at the coincidence of that if they weren't so captivating by Kuroji's next words:

"Come. Come stay the night at my place."

"Just like old times?"

"Just like old times," they smile. Not smirk, but actually smile a little, "It's just that I'd rather not discuss myself in the middle of the woods with a corpse not even a meter from us."

Tsubakura glanced at the long forgotten cadaver in question, sheepish, "Oh yeah. I forgot we killed that guy for a moment there."

"I killed that guy. It was probably a better death than whatever you had in store for them anyway."

"They'd probably still be alive if they fell into my trap. At least, until I start trying to experiment with absolute zero again."

"And I see you never moved past human experimentation. The only difference becoming a youkai did to you was give you a convenient excuse and reputation to do it more."

"You know me so well! Although robbing people of all their worth and then devouring them whole isn't much better, ya know."

Kuroji falters for a flash, then rolls their eyes, "Be glad I'm not in the mood to cut out your tongue for that."

"Ooh! Brutal! I'm so scared," Tsubakura placed a melodramatic hand over their chest, "It's not like my tongue won't grow back in three days and eighteen hours if ya do or anything."

"Do I even...No, I do not." Kuroji runs a hand through their hair, "So are we sharing it or not?"

Tsubakura spares it another glance. Right now, they couldn't want anything more than for Kuroji to make a nice stew with the meat and for them to enjoy their kill together. Not exactly like old times, but not exactly unwelcome either.

They conjure up the very ink portal they wished to use as a death trap beneath the dead body. It sinks into the pocket dimension with ease.

Kuroji watches on. They seem to already know their answer as they step onto the path. It will go out of the forest and to wherever their current home is.

And that's just under the assumption they'll walk there. Tsubakura hasn't flown in a while. Their wings were aching for some time in the air.

They smile as they step onto the path besides Kuroji. It has been a couple centuries since there was a notable pep in their step. Kuroji just so happened to be on the very short list of people they want to see that.

"I would like nothing more."

#ask and you shall receive (writing requests)#len'en #len'en project #len'en fanfiction #tw violence #tw self loathing #touch starvation #disturbing themes #tsubakura enraku #kuroji shitodo #the supergenius sorta rivalry (tsubakura & kuroji)#this isn't the mugenri i know but it is still mugenri (au writing)#not a big fan of the pacing on this one #but it was soooo much fun to write #I like my monster descriptions and worldbuilding lol #though it isn't anywhere near the gratuitous worldbuilding levels in ''Inhuman''#I feel like this is the first fic I've written that could use its own director's notes #I didn't end up including some of the ideas I had here #but I still really like them #This is like a weird mesh of future fic and AU and I love it #Once I got started I just couldn't stop lol #(Still took me a few days to write though)#(because I'm a slow writer)#(Oh well)

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