#The Warlock in Spite of Himself

[judgeitbyitscover]

The Warlock in Spite of Himself (1969) by Christopher Stasheff

Cover art by Stephen Hickman

Ace Books, 1978

Skeptical, cynical Rod Gallowglass is a spacefaring man of science who does not believe in magic. He's also an operative of the agency SCENT, tasked with finding lost colony planets, then guiding them toward democracy and eventual membership in the galactic community.

But when he stumbles across the strange new planet Gramarye, he's shocked to discover a medieval society full of witches and warlocks, elves and monsters. How is it even possible? Worse, Rod's advanced technology quickly gets him labeled a warlock, despite his constant denials.

Moreover, the Kingdom is in political turmoil, with a young girl-queen on the brink of civil war with her rebellious lords. Rod slowly discovers off-world organizations are behind the unrest, trying to subtly corrupt Gramarye away from democratic rule. His mission is threatened at every turn by fascists, anarchists, and double-dealing royalists playing vicious political power games for the future of the most unique--and perhaps most important--planet in the galaxy.

Aided only by a coven of teenage witches, a ragtag army of beggars, and his epileptic robot horse Fess, Rod decides the only way to thwart these destructive influences—-both native and off-planet—-is for him to become a part of the local fabric and lead Gramarye as one of their own. But to do so, Rod Gallowglass must put aside his own convictions and beliefs, and become a warlock, in spite of himself.

[palesweetscherryblossom]

Preening

Warning: Mentions of abduction, forced marriage/affection, general angst and blackmail. Hawks is a sleazy birb. (S/c is skin color and f/s is favorite scent)

You’d grown sick of the red that blinded your every waking moment. You couldn’t decipher why at first. Most would find it silly that you had grown to loathe something so mundane like a color but you figured out why soon enough.

His wings, those freakishly beautiful wings. Hawks had proven himself an anomaly in the royal court and general society. Half man, half bird. Legends tended to cultivate from his magnificent gift.

From being cursed by his spiteful warlock of a father to being raised by birds and his wings just being a massive amount of feathers he glued to himself.

It didn’t matter, you hated them all the same. So invasive, so pushy. They were soft though, pretty too in the early hours of dawn.

“Canary~” You instantly perked up like a startled sheep at the sound of your Fiancé’s smooth, sing song voice. You weren’t even doing anything bad but you acted like you had your hand deep in the cookie jar.

Your jaw clenched, s/c fingers digging into the annoyingly soft comforters as you watched Keigo enter into your room like he was invited! Well, he kinda always had permission since it was his castle and you were his…

Your stomach churned, threatening to hack up the roasted chicken and mashed potatoes Keigo fed you. You weren’t his, you never were. It was a fleeting moment of comfort.

“Y-yes Sir Keigo?” You queried hesitantly, hating that you stammered ever so slightly. Might as well put a big old sign on your person that says ‘baby me!’

Keigo frowned, unappreciative of your formal response. No, you weren’t some member of the court or even a flunky. You were his mate, his spouse!

“Remember what we talked about, Dove?” The sickeningly sweet nickname rolled off his tongue in a way that made you wanna shove him in an oven.

“You don’t have to call me such formalities! You’re my fiancé after all.” He assured, bearing a smile but his eyes flashed with an eerie sort of primal challenge.

“What do you want?” You asked, sitting up in your bed that also became your prison. Keigo smiled happily, joining you on the bed.

Feathers fell briefly onto the fabric you rolled yourself into for any means of comfort. A gateway to dreams where you could temporarily forget your own existence were gilded cages and that stupid shade of red didn’t attempt to bother you!

You resisted the urge to swipe away the feathers.

“Did you know that birds preen each other in a means to show affection?” Keigo asked. You blinked almost dumbly.

You hadn’t read any books that detailed anything of the sort so this couldn’t be an attempt to invade your hobbies. “N-no I have not, Keigo.” You answered, Hawks smirked.

He stretched out his wings ever so slightly, rustling his soft feathers. “Since we’re to be married in a few days, I was thinking that you ought to preen my wings. They say that intimacy is one of the pillars of a relationship.”

You were almost shocked by his audacity. He wanted you to preen him after he had blackmailed your poor parents into letting him marry you?!

You wanted to shove him away, maybe bludgeon his stupid smug face in with a candlestick.

“Here, let me get us started.” Hawks summoned a few supplies for such a method. “I usually have my servants do this for me but I wanna feel you.” He admitted.

You stared down at the items then the horrifying amount of feathers. It’d take forever for him to leave! “Don’t be intimidated, canary. Do you need help?” Keigo queried, his voice soft and sweet like a serenade.

“You rub the oil on the feathers then you brush them out.” He instructed, taking the vial of sweet smelling oil and dabbed some on your hands.

“It’s f/s! Your dad told me it was one of your favorites.” He chirped, proud of himself for being so considerate. You stared down at the oil, numbly even. Your favorite scent now made you incredibly nauseous.

You hated it. Unlike King Midas who turned everything into gold, Prince Keigo turned everything you loved into a place of hate.

He might as well be the Lord of Decay after all the disintegration of all your joy. You hesitantly pressed your hands to his wings, causing Hawks to sharply gasp and his wings to puff up.

“Oh, canary, your hands feel so soft.” He purred lowly, relaxing his wings. With each rub you gave, you couldn’t help but desire to take a fat helping of wings and tear them off. No different than plucking a chicken.

“I knew I made the right decision choosing you, Birdy.” Hawks mused, relaxing into your hands. “Say, do you think our little hatchlings would inherit this ability?”

Your tears meshed with the oil

@gh0stgirl333

[calamity-talvi]

A bet made with spite

Leon and Merlin clinked their mugs and downed them in one gulp. It was their monthly gathering where they drank into the early hours and complained about this and that to get things off their chest before they festered.

Mostly it was them arguing about how often Arthur put himself into danger. In that, they frequently commiserated, and so their monthly drinking began.

“You know, he practically walked into that ar-arrow last week!” Leon bemoaned, as he poured himself another cup of ale. 

Expecting Merlin to give his usual response of how idiotic Arthur had been, Leon was rather surprised when instead Merlin looked down at his empty mug, his expression one that was far away. “It’s funny with all… all these near misses we’ve suffered. I think… I think I can’t die.” Merlin muttered mostly to himself.

“You can’t die?” Leon asked, suddenly feeling as if he had been drenched in cold water and a whole lot more sober.

“I’ve lived through things I shouldn’t have Leon.” Merlin gave a self-deprecating smile. “I wonder if anything will actually kill me at this point.”

“Meeerrrliiinnn….” Leon dragged out and wrapped an arm around Merlin. “Death comes for us all, mate. Don’t go wishing for it too early.”

“But what if it doesn’t come for me.” He asked with a tearful wobble.

Leon tightened his hold and his still drunken brain decided to try and lighten the mood. “I’m sure I’m going to outlive you Merlin, after all I’m a trained knight!”

“Wh- What if I outlive you all?!” Merlin exclaimed.

At this point they were both fairly deep into their cups, so blindly drunk mind you that more than likely they weren’t going to recall what had been said at this point. Therefore, like foolishly drunk people often do, they made a bet. Which seemed to put a stop to Merlin’s tears and soothe his fears.

The bet in question was over who would outlive the other.

Where Merlin forgot the bet, lost to the void of a dunkards actions, Leon recalled it and he was determined to put Merlin’s fear to bed and outlive the younger man. 

~oOo~

Arthur looked in disbelief as Leon sipped on a mug of coffee and had recounted this tale.

“So you made a bet with the most powerful warlock to walk the Earth about who would outlive the other?” Arthur asked, still partly thinking it had to be some sort of joke and he was imagining the whole thing.

“Pretty much.” Leon said with nonchalance. “I’m rather good at winning bets as Gwaine quickly found out and so I don’t wish to break that streak.”

“Um- uhm…” Arthur tried and failed to form words to explain what he was thinking.

Leon continued to glance back at his newspaper and up at Arthur, entirely unbothered by Arthur’s current mental breakdown. “Oh if you wouldn’t mind not telling Merlin about this. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t recall the bet and I would hate for him to think that I only stayed around for some drunken bet.”

“But you just said you did. That you spitefully kept yourself alive to outlast him!” Arthur almost shouted, his head spinning from all of this new information.

“But he doesn’t need to know that, sire.”

At that moment Merlin returned to the room with a wide grin gracing his features. “What have you guys been talking about? I was just calling work and arranging to take a few days off to get Arthur settled into the modern world.”

“Nothing!” The pair of them replied simultaneously, wordlessly vowing to never let Merlin find out the truth.

Read this on Ao3!

Made for the bonus badge for @merlinbingo & T3 "Free Square"

Also inspired by a conversation with @theroundbartable so thanks for that :)

[sky-kiss]

Hi love!

Okay so we all know I love your writing, especially for Raphael.

How about a scenario where Tav is in mortal peril and Korilla is NOT around/able to bail them out. Raphael has to do it himself. Well, he doesn't "have" to, but he will.

_________

A/N: MY QUEEN. I will do my best. Think this is the first time I've done a Tav who is DOWN BAD (in more ways than one).

_________

Korilla never failed him. 

It made it all the more shocking when the dwarf appeared at his side, stinking of sweat and brimstone. Her robe, ever flattering, was torn at the shoulder, and the slightly sweet, slightly sick, stink of burnt flesh filled the Devil’s Den. He reached out a hand on instinct, stabilizing her swaying form. The deal he’d been brokering fell by the wayside. A sinking feeling settled in his chest, all too familiar. His carefully laid plans might come apart at the seams. He felt invisible hands pulling at his stitches. 

“What is the meaning of this?” 

Korilla shook her head. “Your project…your mouse.” She winced. “Got in over her pretty head.” His warlock squeezed his wrist, “Raphael, I couldn’t…” She’d failed to protect his asset. “I kept them off her, but…”

The weight, curling, twisting; fate was determined to spite him again. And beneath that, more insidious, a second thought. Rage. Something had dared to touch her; something had maimed his pet. 

The cambion bowed to his guests, lips pursed. “My associate here, lovely as she is, shall have to entertain you for a moment. Beg pardon, my dears.” 

Raphael snapped his fingers. 

_________

Pain blossomed through her side. Tav staggered back a step, bringing her weapon up to intercept the blow. The blade doesn’t break the skin; she managed to stop that much. The impact…she’s less fortunate. Her muscles screamed, something tearing in her shoulder. 

She’d been stupid. Stupid and shortsighted…

All she’d wanted was a moment's peace. Tav had slipped from the party’s shared room at the Elfsong, determined to watch the sunset in silence. As dearly as she loved her friends, they could be loud and opinionated. After months on the road, with no privacy or distance, she figured she’d earned that much. 

Bhaal’s cultists were waiting. If it’d only been a handful, she could have handled herself. It’d been more, so many more. An inane thought chased through her head as she danced out of the way of another strike: how many changelings were left in Baldur’s Gate? How many Bhaal cultists did Orin have? It seemed excessive. 

Dozens. There were dozens of the damned creatures. For every cultist she killed, another three seemed to arise, like some hellish parody of the hydra. Tav was tired. One of them moved behind her, knife flashing in the dying light. Fresh pain as the blade tore through the muscles in her calf. She screamed. No, no, no, she had to keep moving. They couldn’t hobble her; she couldn’t…

“How dare you.” 

She barely recognized the voice. She was aware of his heat before anything else; the cambion appeared beside her in a wash of flame, catching her attacker by the throat. Panic flashed across the changeling’s face, the briefest hint of emotion before Raphael’s claws tightened their hold. A warm spray of blood coated her face as he tore its throat free, leaving it choking through the ruin of flesh. 

“Insolent creatures! You would touch what is mine?”

They tripped back, almost as one. Tav stared up at her savior, confused, vision swimming. The cambion, red, so red, fire and blood, his right-wing curled around her shoulders. Cherries and sulfur fill her nostrils, too sweet for the night air. Too soft in the face of his fury. Raphael snapped his fingers, and the air around them seemingly combusted. Hellfire consumed her would-be killers. Tendrils of shadow and flame consumed every ounce of flesh and bone, leaving nothing but a black mark on the streets. 

She blinked, staring up at him. Raphael’s eyes continued to blaze, his jaw set. He dusted a nonexistent speck of dust from his sleeve, lips curling in a sneer. “Strange, I expected the god of murder to employ hardier thralls.” 

Tav swallowed. Her throat burned. “Stealthy.” 

“Hmm?” 

She tried again, struggling to her feet. Raphael caught her elbow. Tav tried to ignore the press of his claws, itching, so full of potential, and the heat of his skin. It had to be the blood loss. His eyes glowed in the half-light. “Orin isn’t looking for hardy. They just need to be quick enough, quiet enough, to catch their victims off guard.” She frowned. “Tonight, they were.” 

“Yes.” The lowness of his voice chased along her nerves like a caress. “Are you bold or stupid, pet? The city wants you dead, and here you are.” He motioned to the darkness surrounding them, the alley nearly bereft of light. "A little mouse, alone in the dark."

She scoffed. “I needed…I wanted a moment to myself. Is that too much to ask?” His gaze flicked to the scorched flagstones, brow arched. Tav shook her head. “Regardless, thank you. It…” she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Thank you. For saving me.” 

“I sold myself as such, did I not? A friend and savior?” 

Tav smiled. “Truth be told, I didn’t believe you.” 

“And you’re more clever for it, sweetling.” 

Color flared in her cheeks. He was too close for this. Too close, too sweet-smelling, too handsome, and too much. The air in her lungs felt overheated and stagnant by comparison. The blood loss, undoubtedly. Tav chewed her lower lip. “Did you…Raphael, before the…did you call me yours?”  

His eyes narrowed. “Careful, pet.” It’s an answer in itself. Raphael extended his free hand to her. “Come. The devil shall return his erstwhile heroine to her companions.”

“I can make it back on my own.”

The severity of his expression left no room for argument. “No, you’ve lost the benefit of the doubt. I shall leave you safely in your bed. Not before.” 

She hated the flare of heat in her belly. Raphael's hand settled at the small of her back, wings curling more closely as he whispered the incantation to return them to her room. Weak as it may be, she wrapped her arms around him. 

The devil said nothing. But he bent, pressed nearer. Solid and strong, smelling of cherries and fire. Some part of her wondered what he would do if she kissed him.

Tav was saved from any potential embarrassment. Raphael left her at her bedside, bowing, smirking as if he’d followed the line of her thoughts. The damned creature took her left hand and kissed her knuckles. 

And then he was gone in a swirl of fire and ash. 

[mapetitefeedeslilas]

I love Hangster as the next person, Cylock/Warclone are my sweet babies, but hear me out I am very sleep deprived so just indulge into my madness pls

What if Cyclone despises Maverick that much because he loves Bradley with his whole heart?

Freshly out of high school, Bradley feels like he has nothing in his life after he finds himself barred from the Academy and NROTC and signs up to enlist in the Marines out of spite and as a way to prove himself that he is in fact ready. At barely eighteen Bradley graduates brilliantly from boot camp only for 9/11 to happen and he finds himself thrown into a war before he knows it.

Young Bradley that with his team helps to rescue Commander Simpson, a thirty-year-old hotshot naval aviator that got shot down and was badly injured and captured, whom he soothes on the MedEVAC talking about planes (of which he knows a lot about because he grew up listening to plane talks) to distract him from the pain. And in his beaten up and barely conscious state, all Cyclone sees is this sort of brown-eyed angel talking to him.

Months later Cyclone is out of the hospital with a depressing sentence: he is done with flying, his body cannot sustain those Gs and that pressure anymore. There he meet the brown-eyed angel again, with the side of the face scarred and a sling around his left arm, injured right before his four-years contract with the Marines was over.

They talk for a long time and they are both so gone for each other it's not even funny. But there's DADT, the decade in age difference, the issue of the ranks and neither dares to make a move, too scared of rejection and having their lives turned upside down.

Cyclone, barred from flying, dives into the 'desk job' and starts climbing the ranks fast. Bradley goes to university to get the degree he needs, then to OCS and finally he gets admitted to flight school. They stay in touch, exchange long letters and texts and postcards and they talk, often and about everything aside from their feelings, baby dumbasses and Cyclone even manages to sneak in a few times to see him flying and hell, that is exactly what Bradley is meant to do.

Rooster gets his wings and in 2013 he wins the plaque at Top Gun and after the ceremony he drives straight, still in his dress whites, to Cyclone's house near Lemoore, nine years from when they first met and just kisses the now rear admiral, who enthusiastically reciprocates because y e s, finally

They hide, because they know the relationship might be an issue with their careers, but they are so madly in love they don't care, so long as they have each other even hiding out on the couch is fine. Only Warlock (who has known Cyclone since the Academy days) and Payback (who bonded with Rooster at the OFC on the accounts of being the oldest people there who had a lot to prove and little time to do it) know. And Payback shovel-talks Cyclone very seriously dropping the 'you might outrank me, but if I bury your body at sea, the halibuts will not care about your stars', because Rooster deserves to be treated right.

Rooster finally tells Cyclone the whole story about his papers and has to physically stop Beau from hunting down Maverick; Bradley could have easily denounced Maverick, because what he did was totally illegal, but he doesn't want to risk ruining his career. He hates what he has done, but he still loves his godfather too much to do that

And then poor Cyclone is already shitting bricks because he had to put Rooster's name in the roster of the mission, because the best of the best were required and his love is the damn best and whoopsie whoops, Iceman sends Maverick his way. Which Cyclone definitely hadn't asked for.

So now he has to juggle having to potentially send Rooster to a deathly mission and trying to be cold and have an unbothered façade and resist the impulse to strangle Maverick himself every time he sees him, thinking about the many times he had to comfort Bradley, because the guy was panicking, riddled with self-doubts. But both seeing Maverick fail and watch him defy orders and succeed pain him because he knows he has to send him, he is the guy for the job, he proved it, but he also cannot trust him fully.

And then the mission arrives and Cyclone has the front seat to that shitshow and has to forcefully stop himself to just about launch half of the Pacific Fleet the the rescue, because he is still a vice admiral and he has a job to do and needs to be objective, even if his heart is shattered.

After they make it home, Beau begrudgingly accepts Maverick into their lives, making it clear to the captain he better not mess up, but he is secretly over the moon as he watches Bradley finally being truly, completely happy, with his godfather back by his side and all the reassurances he needed about his capabilities.

Somewhere in this (you can insert it wherever you fancy) they adopt a friendly giant stray dog and a feral tiny cat Bradley finds in a bush and get a cute house full of books, plants and flowers that Beau protects from Bradley's bad botanic streak and the cat's rampages, pictures and with a piano.

And they live happily ever after, of course.

[maranigai]

Do you still accept characters for that ask meme? I saw you only answered an ask about Messmer so far! How about Morgott for that ask meme? (not sure if asking DS characters counts since like 80% of info about them has to be manually hallucinated by the fan themselves, but I can if that's okay with you!)

Yep, I'm still doing character ask meme, Messmer simply was the only ask for me by now lol Also DS characters are fine too, of course they would be like 95% headcanon based, but that's why we love DS, isn't it?

But anyway, Morgott. My absolutely favourite of favourites of all ER characters...

favorite thing about them

First of all, Morgott is such a beautifully contradictory character. He's a demigod shardbearer and a cursed being, a proud monarch and a monster in his own eyes, a defender of all that is holy and a warlock shrouded in illusions. And all these things are actually logical and completely understandable given his story. Because, above everything else, Morgott is a broken creature, not as a result of his own deeds or guilts, but because of the things beyond his control, some ancient sins and crimes he's not aware of, some old vengeance that existed even before he was born. And this break, this pain, is a spiral, you know? Morgott hates his nature because he was convinced he's a monster, he supports the system that oppresses him because he believes that he's oppressed rightfully and this system is the best remaining option for the world as a whole, even if he and people like him have to suffer for it, and in doing so he causes even more harm, more oppression and misery for himself and everyone around. I love how he's a loyal, determined, faithful person, and this is exactly what makes him a villain in the story. He's an extremely tragic character, but completely consistent in his tragedy, his brokenness, and I have a deep weakness for broken things.

least favorite thing about them

I don't think there's anything I don't like about him as a character, I mean, he's certainly not flawless, but his flaws are what make him so interesting in the first place. So I say that my least favourite thing is his bossfight. Don't get me wrong, Morgott is one of my favourite FromSoft bosses in general, but I have a feeling that they made his moveset (super-complex and interesting) first, then remembered he's a mandatory mid-game boss and panicked to balance him to this level by drastically reducing his damage and hp.

favorite line

May the curse seep to thy very soul.

I just love his spiteful tone in this one, sorry.

brOTP

I could write Mohg or Godwyn here and it would be legit, but allow me to be more exotic this time and mention Malenia. They have many things in common, if you think about it: two cursed, yet somewhat noble beings, bitterly determined and endlessly loyal to their masters of choice. I can absolutely see how they can respect and understand each other, even if not sharing each other's cause. I also love the idea of a young, sick, not-yet-swordmaster Malenia and her Cool Big Brother Morgott, the only person around who takes her seriously.

OTP

Banished knight Oleg. Literally the mix of my favourite tropes of "liege and their a bit too loyal knight" and "my majestic, scheming wife and me, committing whatever crimes she wants me to commit today". Also Oleg dies before Morgott, so my inner angst enjoyer appreciates this as well.

nOTP

Mohg! I just can't see them as a pairing, their sibling relationships is everything to me. I'm also not a fan of Tarnished/Morgott, mainly because most of such arts/fics imply some level of self-indulgence and this just doesn't work for me (though I've seen several very cool works with this pairing too).

random headcanon

Three for the price of one: Morgott's hobby is creating clockwork automatons (a more detailed post about this hc); his favourite half-sibling is Malenia and this is mutual; he also shares Mohg's sense of fashion, but refuses to admit it.

unpopular opinion

While most people hc Morgott to be the elder twin, in my hcs he's the younger one (and the youngest of Godfrey's sons). Ironically enough, this isn't an important headcanon for Morgott himself, but it's an essential part of my perception of Godwyn and (especially) Mohg.

song i associate with them

Мельница - Что ты знаешь

My personal theme song for Morgott as the Veiled Monarch.

favorite picture of them

There're so many cool arts of Morgott that it's really hard to choose the most favourite one lol

So for now I pick this one by Cruentum_Noctis

[ersetu-gazette]

Celestial Warlock Zorian

My mind keeps on wandering to an idea of an au I had, not sure if this would be during specifically the time loop in MoL, or other time loops, but I love the idea of Zorian being recruited (read: extorted) by the angels to forever be an assistant to the time loops. A template is permanently created for the Sovereign gate that is created at the beginning of each loop. This is to give the main controller a friend across all loops, an advisor, and a resource to do the ethically ambiguous things that they can't do due to the contract. I'm not exactly sure how it would out, but I just really like the idea of a Zorian after being a loop copy escaping to the real world instead of circumventing punishment is forced into service by the angels, and this cynical, curious, and otherwise normal boy is forced to be the angel's lapdog. Basically a dynamic not too dissimilar from Celestial warlocks in d&d but the patrons are much more involved and controlling. In each loop Zorian is created whole cloth, with the angels visiting the real world before hand to set up ways for him to integrate into society like they prepared the Sulrothum in the book. He primarily spends a few loops getting used to the cover story and the new culture & time period he finds himself in and then approaches the main controller once they've properly adjusted to the loop. he's been giving orders to help them with everything but he has his own spite, reservations, and rebellions to this, exercising his free will whenever possible.

Zorian and the new controller getting closer together is never a question of if but how long, since they're the only two that will never lose awareness of the loops. It also is a point of tension if the controller empathizes with Zorian's permanent servitude or not. No matter what the controller will hide some of the joy and gratitude they have they'll have a permanent friend (Zorian's empathy powers make the attempts to hide useless) A couple of thoughts on how this could work: 1) Zorian is recruited after the events of Mother of Learning and is forced to be the advisor/guide/confidant of the next controller, but somehow the time loop is fucked up even more and he and the new protagonist have to scramble to fix/ survive this mess. This is with a new cast of characters in the future focusing on how the world modernizes and changes to cultural norms. 2) Zorian actually was recruited and existed before the events of MoL and inverses the dynamic of Zach and Zorian, where Zorian is the more experience time traveler of the two. Zach almost definitely harbors a puppy crush at the cool nerdy archmage in his corner and Zorian appreciates a controller that is more on his side than others. Zorian is initially suspicious of Jornak and Zach dissmisses it as jealousy. When Zorian thwarts Jornak's scheme Zach embarrassingly sits through an "I told you so lecture" (and maybe the two talk about why Zach assumed jealousy was the key motivator from Zorian). 3) Zorian's service is timeless and he's forced to be there for all loops, even in the ancient past. He has to be the assistant to Shutur-Tanara as a young person, and deals with the crisis of being there for so much ancient history. (Also in this version Shutur-Tanara is a trans woman. No reason specifically why but I think it'd be great if Zorian's main concern is trying to stop imperialism and colonization and his modern cultural norms meanwhile Shutur-Tanara's main thought's are "man I wish I was born a woman." Eventually when Zorian is educating her on modern concepts he mentions trans people and that catches Shutur's attention. ST: "Wait, that's a thing? What magic is needed to change my body?" ZK: "I will cover that later once you agree that conquering continents and colonizing other cultures are bad." ST: ". . . make me a woman and I'll try to listen with a more open mind.") Zorian also meets some of the eleven immortals and a young Quatch-Ichl who he ends up taking a partially mentor/parental role within the time loop. Idk, there's a lot in this idea that I'm really interested in and would be curious to hear everyone else's thoughts.

[morgensternauroras]

The Alec and Lucifer Theory

Alright, this has been on my mind since TLBotW (further referred to as 'White' because I am lazy), but I think Cassie's recent event convinced me. Especially after she said the thing about going back to TMI themes (more on that in the end)

So let's talk about The Svefnthorn and Alec.

In White, he stabs himself with The Svefnthron and LIVES. Which should not be possible considering the Wiki says it contains a lot of demonic power and only a warlock could survive being stabbed with it. (Link leads to the wiki page as reference) We are never actually given an explanation to how/why he manages to survive this stabbing, it is implied it has something to do with the allience rune, but we are never given the impression thay the allience rune could act in any way that would save Alec's life in this situation. If the allience rune is what saved him, we don't know how/why, and if that were the case, how come Alec was so shocked that he surprised? I don't know, the allience rune explanation doesn't sit right with me. Alec himself mentions he doesn't understand how it worked.

And then we need to talk about Sammael's reaction, he is described as confused and then he just... fucks off. Sure, it might just be a natural reaction of someone who just basically got defeated, but we'll talk about what I think it might mean SOON.

Essentially, Sammael after the thorn fails to kill Alec just leaves, no smart comebacks, no significant reaction, he just poofs. And realistically, he could have killed them all out of spite, I mean he was mad about Lilith, that was at least half the point of his story in White.

The next time we see Sammael is during the White epilogue when he calls a meeting of the Princes of Hell! All of them except Lucifer. And we're basically told this meeting is being held without Lucifer on purpose, especially after this exchange.

“Too long have we gone it alone. If we are ever to truly achieve our larger goals, we must recognize that we are more alike than we are different. We must put aside our old grievances, forget them, and work together.”

Asmodeus looked astonished. “You mean—”

“Yes,” said Sammael. “I want to talk about Lucifer.”

So we have a mention of putting aside old grievances and then a mention of banding together and having to talk about Lucifer, this happens right after Alec mysteriously survives the stabbing with the thorn.

Now, we know the thorn was tied to Sammael, and we don't know much about Lucifer, but we know he is more powerful than all the Princes. So I will ask, what if Lucifer is the reason TMI crew (especially Alec) survived White?

Think about it, it would explain why Sammael reacted the way he did to Alec's survival, why he chose now is the time to band the Princes together, presumably, against Lucifer.

And then another thing happened- well, actually, 3 things happened. For 1, Cassie said that Lucifer might surprise us. (Kill me I cannot actually find a source for this, if anyone knows where/when this was said let me know, I'll add it to the post) 2nd thing was, Cassie's tumblr post about going back to TMI motifs, (we'll get back to this, I'll share the ss of the post lower in the post. 3rd thing being the recent claim that TEC3 aka The Black Volume can't come out yet because it spoils TWP.

On a slight tangent, I don't actually know where the idea that TEC3 won't come out until TWP is over, Cassie has previously said TEC3 would come out between books 2 and 3 of TWP.

ANYWAY, back to this Lucifer thing. Cassie recently said we'll go back to TMI themes.

And I think she mentioned Paradise Lost for a very specific reason.

I recently read Paradise Lost, and there's an interesting discussion and interpretation surrounding that book. The way Satan (or Lucifer) is written in Paradise Lost makes him a protagonist, but for many he is also an anti-hero written in a sympathetic way, if not a straight up hero. While his goal is ultimately evil, he isn't written as pure evil as Lucifer often is. He also is a liberator in Milton's poem, he believes that what he is doing is ultimately good for humanity. (I am not gonna waste your time referencing academic sources and interpretation, but I do think you should look it up if any of this sounds interesting)

I think Lucifer will not be the villain we believe he is. He may be a villain, but with different plans and motivations than the rest of the Princes. I wonder if Alec will be part of that plan and if Lucifer needs some of our Shadowhunters alive, and if he might be the reason Alec survived the stabbing.

TEC was always focused on the Princes of Hell plot while TWP is actively looking like it will be dealing with the Cohort, Clave in Exile and the plots set up in TDA. It makes sense to me that the Lucifer plot would play out in TEC.

This is what I have so far. I am open to people adding stuff, I doubt I'm the first to have this idea.

[makoredeyes]

47. Osiris/Rasputin

Oooh thank you for this meal 😈

#47 - a kiss out of spite

"You kissed Saint."

Ah. So it was going to be one of those days.

Rasputin nearly got up from his station and left without even responding to Osiris.

Yes he had, and he'd liked it very much. The event was still rotating gently but persistently in the back of his mind, in fact. He had not realized he had so many tactile sensors in his face. He had not expected the sort of electrical feedback- not like Arc energy, but something softer and warmer - fuzzier- when they touched. He had not expected Saint to treat him so kindly about it. To reciprocate. To sit and talk it out with him afterwords.

It was terribly tempting to throw all of that in Osiris' face, especially his partner's enthusiastic participation, when the Warlock took such accusatory tones, but he refrained. It would be a cruel disservice to Saint to do so.

He liked Saint.

Rasputin closed his eyes, venting softly, and chose his words carefully before he responded.

"Recklessly, yes," he confessed. "I assume you take issue with this?" Would he apologize when Osiris told him he did? He wasn't sorry, and he found lying distasteful.

"No," Osiris said, almost sour at the notion. "Saint is his own man, and he may do what he wishes with whom he wishes. We have been very clear with allowing one another such liberties," Osiris said, his tone prideful. "The life of a Guardian is a long one, after all."

This gave Rasputin pause. He agreed. Monogamy was a funny human concept he had long learned to accept but hadn't quite been able to grasp. It also raised new questions.

If his coercion of Saint, unintentional though it had been, was not the issue, then what was? It was certainly something.

"Reasonable," Rasputin said, giving Osiris a scrutinizing stare. "So what is the problem, then?" He turned and rose, crossing the room to approach Osiris. The Warlock wasn't a small man on his own, but Rasputin towered over him all the same, and Osiris scowled slightly as he craned his neck to look up at Rasputin.

"No problem," Osiris said, perhaps somewhat defensively. "I was merely curious as to how you would respond."

Rasputin's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Preposterous," he said, nearly laughing. "You hate me too much to engage in such casual conversation. What is it really?" There was something hot inside of Rasputin's chest again. Not quite the jealous ache of longing, but something fiery and bitey that yearned for a reaction out of Osiris. Take the bait! Bite! Burn! He wanted to see that flame that enamored Felwinter so much, that drew Saint into a passion. Surely it was there, they couldn't both be seeing things. There had to be more to this feisty little man than meanness. "Feeling left out? Jealous?"

Osiris' eyes narrowed, and his lip curled into a little snarl, but it wasn't quite an angry thing. Replaying the moment in his head later, he would recognize the expression from Felwinter's memories. This was the expression of an Osiris dangerously glad to accept a challenge.

That was all the warning Rasputin got before Osiris had surged up and forward, throwing himself against Rasputin. He pushed him hard, putting his weight into shoving the Warmind back against a nearby bulkhead with a stout thud and crushing his mouth over Rasputin's in a searing, demanding kiss.

Rasputin froze, holding perfectly still until Osiris backed away with a mean smirk, whereupon he could only blink in shock, utterly baffled.

He'd fought Hive, Vex, predicted the Black Fleet and outsmarted the God of War. He'd stolen the keys to Time with the same blithe disregard as a kid hijacking his dad's car, and come back unscathed and fully successful, but for all his triumphs, he'd never, ever predicted THAT.

Osiris flashed him a grin.

"No, not at all," Osiris said, chipper. He turned away from Rasputin, leaving him stuck to the wall as he sauntered off. "Good luck with that. Or whatever."

Rasputin could only watch him go, those same synapses on his face singing with new heat all over again.

Good luck indeed.

[londonfog-chan]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Rite Here, Rite Now Part 1

This two shot fic is dedicated to that poor soul on TikTok getting shitty comments about a headcanon of Eddie liking Ghost. Fandom has become so damn toxic bro. Who cares about what an imaginary character likes or dislikes?? We are cringe, we are legion. We make out of pocket headcanons sometimes. Like come on, Eddie might “theoretically” dislike Mary On A Cross specifically for various reasons, but I could see him having some favorites. You can’t say he would entirely hate Ghost when fucking Year Zero and Mummy Dust exist. Or the whole of Prequelle as an album. I had to laugh at one person saying he liked Avenged Sevenfold (it didn’t exist in the 80’s and neither did Ghost like we are literally arguing about shit he wouldn’t have known about be so serious rn). But I digress. I’ve even gotten a couple hateful comments on a fun little TikTok I made and I honestly have just been deleting them and blocking. Don’t even want to deal with people’s bullshit anymore. Please enjoy this spite fic and continue writing and having fun babes. Go against the flow and make Eddie proud.

Part 1 (You are Here), Part 2

***

Every member of Corroded Coffin could tell when you arrived to a function. Eddie knew the sound of your car like a cat that knows when its owner is home, and he’d be waiting outside the school to greet you first. That and the car make and model. Someone always called it if not Eddie. He’d been off his game today though, definitely the excited nerves. Jeff called out your 1979 Volkswagen Beetle heading up the driveway by slugging Eddie hard on the bicep, Gareth and Dougie immediately following up with calling “no tag backs” as they rushed to hit each other and Eddie like a bunch of middle schoolers. Eddie almost got nailed by Dougie’s beefy fist until he nimbly dodged out of the way, cradling his prized Warlock like it was a newborn.

“God dammit, easy asshole!” Eddie laughed. “Don’t be hitting my baby! I need her intact if I’m going to impress our songstress.”

“Trust me Ed, she doesn’t need more impressing. You had her in a tizzy when you asked her to write a song for you. I wonder what she came up with.” Gareth said, leaning forward so his hands were settled on both his high and medium toms, he was watching your approach intently with a gleam in his eye. “She didn’t even make it to campaign on Friday. Must have really been in the zone.”

You parked the car against the side of the driveway, emerging looking as though you’d just swallowed a whole mouthful of cry baby sour gum. Your lips were pressed tightly together, clutching your fat Trapper Keeper to your chest as you approached the group.

“Hey sweetheart!” Eddie called, waving you over enthusiastically. “You okay?”

“Eddie… God it’s so bad… It’s worse than I thought.” You said, grimacing.

God you looked delicious. He couldn’t help himself but to stare and smile like a dope. With each step your flowing gray skirt swished enticingly side to side, and with a bit of pride Eddie noticed you were wearing the Twisted Sister shirt he’d distressed for you, looking like an adorable snack of a metalhead with your black clothes, black opaque tights and dirty Chucks.

Eddie’s smile faltered only slightly when he heard your self depreciation.

“Oh come on, can’t be that bad. Not with those grades you’ve got in English. Let me see…”

“Fuck no! No seriously… it’s worse than you think.” You insisted, shaking your head and pulling away from his outstretched hand, “It’s so… God dammit! What the hell was I thinking…?”

Gareth, Jeff and Dougie left their instruments to approach you, Eddie putting both hands on your shoulders to comfort you.

“Hey, hey… come on, don’t be like that.” He said, smile gone and a more serious look on his face. “I get it, I really do. It comes with the territory of writing your own songs. Trust me, I’ve done it for years. You won’t pick it up overnight, and whatever you think is weak we can work on it together. I’m a DM honey, I can have my pen out faster than you can blink and help redraft as many times as it takes.”

“Oh… god dammit… okay, fine…”

You reluctantly handed Eddie the trapper keeper, the velcro making a harsh rip as he pulled it open to the first page where your lyrics neatly sat waiting for him to peruse. Eddie’s eyebrow raised when he saw the title, “Square Hammer”, outlined in red ink.

“ ‘Square Hammer’? … Huh… I like it, that’s good.” Eddie nodded, and continued to read on.

The lyrics were certainly unique to say the least. It was obvious you’d tried to go with a theme based on the prompt he’d given you: something that oozes the brooding dark metal he envisioned Corroded Coffin would croon to thousands of fans. You certainly had an affinity for the macabre, and he knew he could trust you with everything he wanted in his vision. Then again you could have written the cheesiest, poppy trash in the world and he would have loved it. He was extremely biased, far too sweet on you for his own good. But these weren’t bad at all. The lyrics reminded him of old Hollywood vampire movies, echoing the work of Doctor Faustus with the thematic element in the song. The voice of the lyrics seemed to be coming from an otherworldly entity, one summoned to offer power and prestige to the listener.

And Eddie was obsessed with every word the further he read on.

“Woah, woah…”

His eyes widened with every sentence he read.

“Holy shit…”

Powers clandestine, solving a crooked rhyme… Every line, no matter how simple, packed a lot when combined in the collective.

Eddie finally looked up at you, completely bewildered.

“You wrote this by yourself?!” He croaked.

You were embarrassed to hell, curling in on yourself and looking like you wanted to die.

“Ye… yeah… I�� When you asked me to write for you, I got really stuck on what I wanted to do. But I remember you mentioned Black Sabbath was one of your first covers, and then I couldn’t get the image of the coffin out of my head because, you know, “Corroded Coffin”… and then we were reading Faustus in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class and I thought since you asked me to do you this favor and Faustus is all about favors…-“

You were rambling. Not even paying attention to Eddie’s continually growing grin. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet the longer you ranted on, until his untamable outburst silenced you.

“THIS IS AMAZING!” Eddie was screaming, scaring the shit out of everyone. “Holy fuck sweetheart! Are you bullshitting me?! This is… fuck! We’ve been stressing for new material for next month’s gig at The Hideout and you just gave it to us on a silver platter?! Jesus H.!”

“Bwha-?!”

“Check this out…!” Eddie turned away to show his friends while you quietly protested, unable to speak as he passed the paper around. The guys crowded around, each one shouting out when they saw a favorite part, “hammering the nails into the sacred coffin” quickly became a favorite, because they immediately began trying to work out how they could fit the lyrics to sound.

“All we gotta do is work out a melody and we’re in business baby!” Eddie said. “This is bitchin’!”

“But it doesn’t even make any sense!” You argued. “Like seriously? The entrance to the shrine part does not fucking fit, I only wrote it because I couldn’t come up with a better rhyme with clandestine!”

“Who cares?” Eddie cried. “It’s badass as hell! The imagery is absolutely savage… ‘Hiding from the night, sacrificing nothing’, and don’t let me forget about the little tongue in cheek line you added about hammering nails into a sacred coffin!”

“It’s fucking great!” Echoed Jeff.

“You should be proud. You managed to take our style and give it a unique spin, that’s not something anyone can do.” Eddie praised. “God dammit… I’d have been a millionaire by now if I could write like this.”

“You… you really liked those parts?” You asked cautiously.

“Of course I did sweetheart! This is real metal shit right here. And the part with the ‘crooked rhyme’? That really captured the creep factor I was looking for. Shit… what’s more metal than summoning a demon for a deal? That’s exactly what Corroded Coffin needs in its material. I love this little brain of yours!”

“Don’t forget Ed!” Dougie cut in. “ ‘Are you ready to swear right here right now before the devil’?!”

“Bitchin’! Keep this up, and I’m gonna wanna make you write all of Corroded Coffin’s songs from now on!” Eddie beamed happily.

“We gotta get the melody worked out!” Jeff said, “Any ideas? I could come up with a few…”

The boys began gabbing together, Eddie unable to help himself as he began to strum his precious 1984 BC Warlock, his black beauty. Without a doubt he could already envision how he could make his baby purr for you, impress you, take you out finally.

And then you changed his world forever.

“… I had an idea for a melody already…” you said quietly.

All eyes turned to you. The guys were thunderstruck.

“Seriously?! Lyrics and a melody?! You’re spoiling the shit out of me sweetheart! Jeff, let her borrow your…-“

“No… no I… I don’t know how to play guitar…” you said, cutting off Eddie sheepishly, “But I… I brought my Casio with me…”

“Where is it?!”

“In the trunk of my bug…”

“Well go get it! Show me whatcha got sweetheart!”

Eddie followed you to the front of the Volkswagen. Everyone always thought the front trunk was the coolest shit ever and he was no exception. The cool car only added to the many things he liked about you. You took out the obnoxiously large keyboard and the stand, fumbling to close the trunk until Eddie stepped in with an “easy… I got it”, slamming the trunk shut and helping you lift the Casio like a gentleman. You were shaking, vibrating with embarrassment so hard that Eddie had to help you plug everything in and adjust the sound, hovering and reaching over you on purpose hoping you’d notice and feel his burn for you.

“Alright sweetheart? Show us what you’ve got.”

You turned on the Casio and fingered the keys gently, warming up with a few chords as you tried to soothe the shaking in your fingers. Fiddling with the settings, you stalled as long as you could while the boys waited patiently. Once you found the setting you wanted, you went for it.

It was like a demon had possessed your body. The melody was quick, but it packed a hell of a punch. It was in the key of D minor, and you had ironically chosen what sounded like a combination of 1960’s psychedelic sticky rhodes and Transylvanian organ to achieve the effect you wanted. The sound overall was eerie, yet enchantingly fun all at the same time. And your singing! You were singing softly under your breath, rocking yourself to the melody on the tips of your worn out sneakers, and you had quite the set of pipes! Despite your shot nerves, you’d clearly come up with something truly special that no one else in the entire world could have conceived of.

It wasn’t the traditional metal Eddie had in mind, more avant-garde, theatrical even. Whereas he had expected a sound more like Black Sabbath, you played something not out of place at a theater performance of Dracula. But this sound… there was something that nagged him about it. It was a sound that Eddie could imagine playing to arenas of screaming, adoring fans.

“Gentlemen… that’s our fucking song!” Eddie cried, “That’s our song, it’s a goddamned masterpiece!”

The Casio halted, and your mouth was hanging open mid play.

“What?! How-…” you began.

“I can already hear the riff, Ed what do you think of following with standard tuning instead of going to D minor?” Jeff picked up his Gibson and began to play, mimicking what he heard on your Casio by ear. “If you move it, the sound is way off from what I’m envisioning. But if you keep it at standard you leave it easier on the fingers with the couple of open notes when you start stretching.”

“Yeah, yeah! If you tune it down it’s going to sound off with her playing when you hit the chords.” Eddie agreed, immediately looking back at you. “Play it one more time sweetheart?”

You cautiously complied, going through the melody one more time as Jeff began to follow with you. Eddie was completely absorbed in your music, listening to both you and Jeff play and following along quietly. The warlock in his hands eventually couldn’t be helped, humming to life when he started playing a chord at a time by ear. As he played, he kept you repeating the melody over and over, both Eddie and Jeff deep in concentration on the sound. It was getting almost exhausting trying to continually repeat the sound until they got it right.

“D minor.” Eddie said, playing a note.

“Then she does B flat there.” Jeff played.

“A minor.” They said in unison.

“C. And that’s what I’m thinking your rhythm guitar can do, meanwhile, I’ll keep the root of the chords for the riff so I can follow her keys.” Eddie said, and he began to perfectly copy your melody. “Okay sweetheart, just one more time… and then let’s bring everything together.”

[dimension20npcofalltime]

Round Four - Bracket One [Dimension 20 NPC of All Time]

Bill Seacaster vs Arthur Aguefort

Propaganda under the cut (Contains major spoilers for Fantasy High and/or Sophmore Year)

Bill Seacaster - He/him

Campaign: Fantasy High

Who is he?

William "Old Bill" Seacaster is a great adventurer with a great deal of fame who clearly made his wealth and his name in "heroic", while others call "nefarious", dealings. He is the father of Fabian Seacaster.

Why is he the NPC of All Time?

He’s a pirate archdevil who bought a jacket made to explode when he died and pilots a ship made from a dragon that threatened his son, named after the nickname his son’s friends gave said dragon. (Also he shot gilear twice but we’re ignoring that because he got better)

You CANNOT tell me Brennan didn’t have the time of his life playing Bill, his whole DMussy was thrown into that performance

The greatest pirate who ever lived OR died. He is a great father to his immensely silly and foppish son despite his own macho pirate-ness. He's a definitely an evil man but he's an excellent father and a horrible influence on children in the best way possible. When he is mortally wounded in his burning mansion, his son kills him for dope pirate clout and he is SO PROUD OF THIS!!!! He can be quoted saying "When I die, I shall leap into hell and kill the devil" which he ACTUALLY DOES and then he proceeds to plunder the nine hells on a pirate ship made from the damned soul of an evil dragon lord whilst at the same time running a warlock pyramid scheme/total scam in the world of the living. P.S. He also kills the man who's been bedding his wife since he died, and then shakes his hand and makes him promise to treat her right moments later. He is everything to me

He married the woman who cut his eye out. He handcuffs himself to the ceiling so he can keep fighting. So many swords up assholes. And then he becomes the fiercest pirate in hell. Icon.

Arthur Aguefort - He/him

Campaign: Fantasy High

Who is he?

Arthur Aguefort is best known as the founder and "Eternal Principal" of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy.

Why is he the NPC of All Time?

Brennan's archetypical wizard. The wizard voice. The buffoonery. He destroyed the sun out of spite. Chronomancy. Just dunking on wizards. An unserious mentor for an unserious world.

[realmoftheacornking]

THEODORE THE WARLOCK has been sending obscene pictures of himself to Kev, texting them to him on his smartphone. Kev swears there's nothing going on, and I believe him. Theodore's just weird.

Will keep an eye on things, nonetheless. In spite of everything B.A. (Before Andy), Kev has remained an innocent, and is almost-completely incapable of spotting predators.

[crossdressingdeath]

Thinking about the disappointing ending to Durge's personal quest and how they either go full villain or lose most of what makes them unique as a character and basically just become Tav, and like... since Durge's death and immediate resurrection adds nothing to the plot (and what with things like the companions not responding to it, there being no clear reason why Durge is able to do something that Withers specifically says breaks cosmology and Withers apparently being unable to resurrect Durge if they kill themself to defy Bhaal at the very end of the game for no apparent reason it actually causes a surprising number of problems in the writing), why couldn't the good ending just involve finding a way to stop Bhaal from interfering in their life rather than Bhaal killing them?

Here's one potential solution, just off the top of my head. All the other origins' personal quests have trade-offs, right? Durge is the only one with this perfect "you get everything you want with no downsides" sort of ending. So what if instead of Bhaal killing them and them immediately getting brought back, they had to make a deal with him? He sets them free, and in exchange they do something for him. I can't think of what the exact terms would be, maybe something like... I don't know, "You'll uphold the usual 'murder once a tenday' tenets of the Bhaalists and if you stop you're mine again" that wouldn't really do anything in the game itself but would become an issue afterwards (like Astarion losing the ability to walk in sunlight if he remains a spawn and Wyll losing his warlock powers if he breaks his contract)? But whatever the terms are the upshot is that Bhaal removes the Urge as a show of good faith and the party is allowed to leave freely. Maybe also add in something like Shar still harassing Shadowheart if she spares her parents, like... maybe Bhaal removing the Urge and agreeing not to force Durge into their apocalyptic destiny doesn't mean he can't try to convince them to do it of their own will, so he occasionally pops into their head and tries to push them in a more murdery direction in a less aggressive version of the Urge that can't directly take over them? Or possibly just. hurts them out of spite because as long as he doesn't do anything permanent or force them to harm anyone else he's remaining within the bounds of their agreement. And that way they remain a piece of Bhaal's divine gore with everything that entails, they're just not on Bhaal's leash anymore. And they've also agreed to do something pretty fucked up of their own (coerced) will in exchange for their freedom, so they don't retain the annoyingly spotless moral high ground of the canon end of redemption Durge's story where they selflessly die rather than become Bhaal's apocalypse-triggering Chosen again.

You could even keep that "I'd rather die than serve you" energy without actually pulling the trigger: since Durge is actually a part of Bhaal rather than just his child like other Bhaalspawn, maybe they'd have ammunition for forcing Bhaal to bargain with them that regular Bhaalspawn don't. Like, say... maybe since they're a part of Bhaal them being destroyed utterly would do a fair amount of damage to him (which may have something to do with why they can be resurrected despite that usually being impossible for Bhaalspawn), and—to keep Withers's involvement in the quest, since that's actually really fun and given his distaste for Bhaal makes sense—the death god they're palling around can help make that complete destruction happen. Under those circumstances it would be better for Bhaal to lose them as his Chosen and mess up that particular plan for total victory rather than continue to try to force them and weaken himself permanently! I think if nothing else all that wouldn't make less sense than the canon ending.

[majorasnightmare]

so @theannoyingurge is indulging my setting headcanons for office drama in the Kingdom of Death which means everyone on the dash gets to hear me ramble ☺️

the biggest change is that my setting includes yet another mortal ascended god (who ripped vecnas divine spark out of him and talked Ao into not inheriting vecnas portfolio, as the god in question hates liches) who serves as a sort of middleman between kelemvor and myrkul+bhaal, occupying the position of reaper of souls and overseeing the release of the soul from the flesh and its escort out of the material plane. theres been fewer night hag soul snatching incidents because of it!

its relevant in large part because now theres a direct superior overseeing myrkul (and bhaal) and ensuring that whatever ELSE he gets up to, he IS still making a token effort to kill people through disease and old age and the like.

so the dynamic looks something like this. kelemvor judges and processes the endless influx of souls into his domain. jergal tallies their deeds and makes note of their identity. bhaal glories in murder and sacrifice. myrkul maintains the kingdom of death itself and ensures there is still rot and decay in the material plane. jergal gets along with kelemvor, and the new guy. jergal does NOT get along with myrkul and bhaal. not to the point of unprofessionalism, but as a personal disdain. everyone has those coworkers you dont like seeing in the office.

jergal is essentially the demoted veteran whos now doing grunt work that confuses ppl as to why hes still here and not fired. myrkul gets the strong sense that despite being a vestige, everyone affords jergal the respect of someone outranking him, even though by all rights he should be doing coffee runs. and the thing is, is that jergal DOES do coffee runs sometimes. just not for him

see jergal and the new guy get on FANTASTIC. dude is lawful neutral, makes a point of doing his work efficiently and on time, but isnt such a rules stickler as to gum up the works, which kelemvor can do sometimes. the new guy got hired as myrkuls boss and that ALSO rubs myrkul the wrong way. especially because the new guy can be shady as fuck but HES the one who gets flack. because this mf is exploiting a loophole where he utilizes his recent ascension out of mortality to take followers, not as clerics, but as WARLOCKS by making arcane pacts. all because he used to be a human NECROMANCER. so when HE wants a soul returned, he just chats up jergal at his desk and a name gets discreetly erased from the list all before it even hits kelemvors desk. but if myrkul wants to rez someone its a whole fucking ordeal. jergal never gives HIM freebies. bhaal doesnt even fucking hang around the office. myrkul LIVES in the office, same as kelemvor! its blatant favoritism is what it is

in reality jergal just doesnt care for myrkuls particular brand of petty spitefulness the way you look back on younger you and cringe a little. the new guy is doin some under the table shit, but properly acknowledges exactly who jergal is AND understands why jergal is working a desk job instead of ruling the place. so when jergal hits starbucks on the way to work it isnt really that big a deal to grab an extra coffee. myrkul is too invested in making something of himself instead of taking pride in his work and jergal just doesnt have patience for that kind of power seeking anymore. its lost its appeal. kelemvor is aware theres SOMETHIN goin on behind the scenes but his job has never gone more smoothly so he isnt that inclined to rock the boat until something forces his hand. myrkul and bhaal however, seem DETERMINED to rock the boat, but now theres a direct superior they answer to INSTEAD of either kelemvor or jergal, and their ibuprofen bottles have never been fuller.

its all just petty office politics where the coworker obsessed with getting placards keeps complaining about employees not following the handbook (quotas are still being met and everythings still being done before the deadline so its literally a nonissue) and then throwing a fit when he doesnt follow the same handbook he was throwing at everyone else but he gets in trouble for it. really the biggest office troublemaker is bhaal, and myrkul is VASTLY preferred over him, but myrkul doesnt get his coffee order dropped off at his desk despite working just as hard and it grates on him. maybe if you were just more pleasant to be around in the office?

[alexanderlightweight]

I really enjoyed the one where Alec met Ragnor first. Maybe some more of that one?

here we go! ty for the prompts anon, i hope you like it

-

Ragnor sighs and manages only to not scream by sheer force of will and utter exhaustion. Cat, looking as haggard as he feels, sends a spiteful gaze to the bed Ragnor is still watching.

“I could wring his neck.” Cat mutters as she chugs an Irish coffee before she sighs and leans against him. “He knows better than to interrupt me when I’m working. And all because he wanted an answer!”

Ragnor snorts, nearly scalding himself with tea and his magic catches his cup tiredly for him. “We both know that Magnus is many things, but patient is rarely one of them.”

He and Cat share a commiserating look.

“The lad will be alright?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. It was a little touch and go with how potent the venom was, but Magnus’ magic helped fry it.”

They share another look and both sigh, in time with each other.

“He won’t be letting this one go, will he?” Cat asks, watching as Magnus fusses over a wide-eyed, endearingly deer-like Alec.

“Oh, I highly doubt it.” Ragnor agrees dryly, “my dear, if you think we’ll be doing anything without the attachment of a nephilim for a good long while. I’ll drink a coffee.”

Cat mock gasps, but the gentle nudge of her amused magic tells Ragnor all he needs to know.

“You think your guardian angel will go for it?”

“He protected me once. He’s hardly a guardian angel and I doubt Magnus would enjoy him being claimed by someone else, in any shape or form. So I’ll leave that to him.” Ragnor summons his pipe with a glower, “like I want to interfere with Magnus when he’s like this.”

This is a new face of Magnus.

A very interesting and slightly alarming side of Magnus that neither Ragnor or Cat has ever seen. It’s a mixture of Magnus from across all the years and he’s acting young in a way he hasn’t for centuries. It’s as endearing as it is alarming and Ragnor resolves to make sure Magnus has his head on right before he gets too involved too fast.

“We’ll need to make sure Magnus doesn’t go overboard.” Ragnor murmurs quietly, keeping an eye on how Magnus is using magic to gently feed Alec pieces of ice.

“Like that’s possible.” Cat mutters back but she’s also watching them, “we’ll need to run interference. You know how worked up he can get. Remind him he can have whatever he wants. To never conform.”

“Yes, yes.” Ragnor says and he summons a bit of jam and vodka for his tea. “Now the question is, should we just keep his boy here?”

Cat freezes and turns to Ragnor with a contemplative look.

“How so?”

“The lad’s got a rather bad case of demon poisoning and he’s already been demoted, from what I overheard. A few weeks of prescribed warlock healing and a lack of stress and angelic influence. Might do just the trick.”

Ragnor waggles his eyebrows and Cat smirks, something dark in her grin as she nods slightly. They’ll do whatever it takes to make Magnus happy and if that means lying to the clave and keeping a nephilim with them under false pretenses, then they’ll do so happily.

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 160- Mirror Mirror On The Wall

Summary: Josie dives deep in her thoughts and feelings for the men in her life. Lola reveals an object of interest. A King arrives in Dorwinion. Narcisse is given an unexpected ultimatum. Twin or alter? Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all? The answer shocks someone. Josie is being watched. An envious trick of spite is served ice cold. Thranduil unwinds with his go to wine and thoughts of Josephine. A vision tugs at his heart and the Elvenking disapproves.

*Chapter Warnings* language, angst, blackmail, coercion, mentions of murder, mild violence, smut, self pleasure

Chapter characters: Josie, Lola, Francis, Mary, Narcisse, Conde', Darken Rahl, Ravenna, Garrett, Kate, Thranduil

Chapter word count: 8,013

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

While Legolas had went to check on Boromir and speak with Aragorn about going to find Haldir, you stood on your balcony, wallowing in your misery over Narcisse's harsh words to you earlier. As angry as you were over it all, his words were true...and they also hurt. It was something the warlock lord was infamous for, lashing out at others when they had hurt him...and you did...you hurt him. Not intentionally, for if there was any truth to be told, it was that you did care deeply for him, the only difference was that he was in love with you and you could not say the same. Just as Legolas and Haldir loved you too, the love you felt for the two elves was merely platonic, even if you had at one time long ago been intimate with the Marchwarden and recently shared a kiss with both he and Legolas...a kiss they each initiated. Your heart belonged to another and always would. Another you could no longer have...your King Thranduil....and now...your heart lied with the greatly despised vampire...King Garrett Lee, another truth Narcisse blatantly pointed out, a truth all could see but you....until now.

Did it matter though? Stephane was also right about other things. Garrett left you yet once again, something he promised you over and over he would not do and every single time, he broke those promises for his own selfish reasons. Was it really selfish though for wanting to protect his own heart? For he believed yours did not love him and never would. Should you just continue to move on and try to forget him? Would he even let you? considering you shared his blood and he was the only one besides your late King that could sneak past your shielded mind....with the exception of when you were in a vulnerable dream state.

Stephane was there. Always had been. He risked everything bringing himself and his men to Lestat's chateau to fight YOUR battle and he continued to fight it after the fact and still does, even after you had unintentionally hurt him. He could have tossed you out to the wolves, literally, as you thought of Harker, but he didn't. Instead, he tore you apart himself with his typical words of spite.

Narcisse was different from Legolas and Haldir. Not because he wasn't an elf, but because the only connection he had to Thranduil was through their business of trade. The connection the elves had to your King was too deep. So deep that his millenniums of great friendship with Haldir, who was also Legolas' guardian, was forever scarred because of you, something you had trouble forgiving yourself for. Then there was Legolas and that was pretty clear cut. He was the King of Mirkwood's son.

And Garrett once again. His connection to Thranduil was toxic, to put it mildly. Vampires were an elves natural born enemies as it was and as Narcisse had also thrown in your face, Garrett had done hideous things to you and him, even Haldir. Although you had forgiven him for it, it didn't change the fact that he did it, nor the fact that no one else was going to forgive him or accept him in your life. Subconsciously, was it all of that, especially Thranduil's rightful loathing of him, that kept you from admitting your true feelings for the vampire? Because now...consciously, you didn't give a damn what anyone thought. You hadn't for awhile. It was your life. You didn't forgive lightly. Garrett worked hard to prove himself to you and to show his remorse over his crimes was genuine. He despised himself and what he had become. It was the human that still lived inside of him that he desperately held onto. You had seen Garrett at his most vulnerable moments through blood, sweat and tears. He shared things with you that he never spoke about to anyone or would because you and he also shared a connection. A crazy one at that, but it was real. You both came from the same worlds and time and were so much alike and he trusted you, which trust was something he had a very hard time with in his world, even in his human life as well. And you trusted Garrett too... with your life, for he certainly had saved you more times than you could count on all your fingers. He saved Legolas too, pulling his unconscious body from the icy Black Sea of death and even if he only did it for you, it scored major bonus points in your eyes, proving what you already knew, that he had good in him and you hoped that someday, maybe in a different light, Legolas would see that too and come to accept him, for he was empathetic like you were something he certainly did not inherit from Thranduil...or his mother so you assumed it came from Carandolel, his grandmother. You had noticed a slight softening in Legolas, regarding Garrett, when he returned the favor of saving the vampire from Amara's deadly kill tree, but shortly after that, the Seelie Queen's twisted kissing game may have ruined any chance of a vampire/elf reconciliation. The game that forced out your feelings for Garrett, feelings you had only admitted to one person, Selene, when she brought you Garrett's goodbye letter. You told her you would have chosen him.

As far as Haldir, that was a lost cause, end of story. His hatred of vampires stemmed clear back to Kraven who killed his father and with the things Garrett had done to you, to Thranduil, to him, he would not get past. His rescues of you and Legolas also carried no redemption in the Lorien elf's cynical eyes. Even Thranduil, if he were alive and knew Garrett saved his son, and also you...well, to put it simply, the pride of the Elvenking would never allow him in his world. Selene either, although oddly, Thranduil had seemed to accept Lestat and even vice versa, most likely over their mutual hatred of Raven and your mother. Marius and Maharet, your grandmother, also were considered to have a free pass. It was all such a complicated and selective situation, vampires and elves.

Then there was the connection you had with Narcisse. When you met him, he told you how he had waited years for your arrival, that he knew you would come, and his reaction upon seeing you and realizing who you were, proved just that. But you, you had no idea who he was other than what you had heard from Legolas, which was nothing good and you had believed the elf's words to be true at that time, especially once Stephane's true colors shot out of him like a rainbow of fireworks. Still...there was something about the warlock lord of Dorwinion that was able to keep your attention.

The physical part was obvious, for the mystical man of magic and mayhem, in and out of that form fitting Kingly attire, was of pure eye candy indeed, so far from monotonous and he knew just how to get under your skin in every single way. The man simply knew how to make you tick...from his electrifying touch that happened with no other witch but him, to his sweet words and gestures of endearment, to his intimidating, arrogant, egotistical, asshole persona he used as a shield of protection and power, right down to his softer, vulnerable, loving side underneath that barrier, his true heart, bound tightly by barbed wire that only you seemed to be able to break through to. Stephane was a warlock of light, but one should never be blinded by it, for he also had a dark side which you believed to have been brought forth by the betrayals of his past. To provoke, cross or hurt him would either be an immediate death sentence or drawn out torture as many had found out, including Catherine and Asher....even you were facing his wrath. Hell hath no fury like a warlock scorned and you knew this be to be very true after the dealings with Jareth and Harker.

So what was it that drew you to Narcisse when he was nothing but a hot mess? Well, so were you, weren't you? But you knew that was not the reason for the pull. It became quite obvious really. You had just described your King... Thranduil.

Your extensive thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of the door to your room opening, then closing and Lola coming out to the far reaching balcony to join you.

"Legolas wanted me to inform you that Bard will join Aragorn and Gimli in the search for Haldir and that he will be with Boromir if you need him."

"Oh...thank you Lola. I am so glad to hear that." you acknowledged with a desolate and bereft tone that contradicted your words as your watery eyes remained peering out into the open emptiness.

"It seems I have interrupted your thoughts. Are...you alright Josie? Do you wish me to leave?"

"No...it's alright Lola. I could actually use the distraction from the mess of my own mind."

"Maybe you just need somewhere to put all your thoughts instead of keeping them locked inside? I am a very good listener."

"I know you are. You have let me talk your ears off many times. Surely you must be bored of my problems by now."

"I would not have offered if I was. I see you as my friend and it's nice. I do not have any of those here."

"Yes you do. Me. I see you the same way Lola. One of my best ones actually and I...don't have any of those anywhere."

You briefly thought of Tauriel and her more in depth betrayal to you and Legolas that he finally admitted to you. The elleth had been your first and only friend when you arrived at Thranduil's halls and she had soon became your best friend. A part of you missed her but you knew you could never forgive her, nor trust her ever again even if you did. Sarah, your childhood bff that Harker killed, crossed your mind too. She had been your best friend in the entire world and was there for you during most of your father's poison induced sickness, and all because of you, she died. Even Selene had become your friend, but the vampiress had her one true love back, Michael, so you knew you wouldn't see much of her. The world had moved on while you would forever stand still, grieving your King.

"That is not true. You have Haldir."

"But it's not the same as having a girl bestie and... he is not here now no thanks to Stephane and...and I miss Thranduil so bad that I don't even know how I am still breathing and I miss Garrett and my dad and now they're all gone and Stephane, I've probably lost him too because I hurt him and I never meant to. He's been so good to me, so sweet and patient and now, he's so angry with me and god Lola, I am just so fucking lost and I know I have people who love me but I just feel so alone." you rambled as tears began to fall.

"I am so sorry Josie...I somewhat understand. We are just hopeless romantics wanting so badly to believe love conquers all, that there is some fairytale ending, but the world keeps disappointing us with it's brutal reality. I know Charles is smitten with me but strangely, I just do not feel the same attraction for him. So, I feel the loneliness too. I have felt all alone in this people filled castle ever since my mother died. As I mentioned, I have no friends here. No family. I am merely just a servant and midwife."

"If...I may ask...what about your father? Is he in your life at all?"

"No. I do not even know who he is..or was. He could be dead for all that I know. My mother never spoke of him. She was very private and kept to herself and well, Lord Narcisse expected his servants to be seen and not heard. He was very different back then. Like there were two of him. One sweet, one sour." Lola explained in a dispiriting tone.

"You mean just like he still is?" you scoffed. "Are you sure it wasn't his deceased twin that you remember, since you were only a small child?"

"Twin? Well, if Lord Narcisse had another brother, I certainly have never seen him."

"They didn't get along so that would make sense I suppose." you vaguely explained, not wanting to air Narcisse's dirty laundry about what his brother did to their father, since Lola didn't seem to know anything about Rahl.

"Anyways, I'm so sorry Lola. You seem to remember your mother. Hopefully you have some good memories. How...how did she pass?" you asked, although you knew exactly how that happened. Harker happened, which is how Lola ended up remaining in Stephane's castle under his wing because he felt guilty for what happened, but you still probed a little to see what she knew since Stephane said she had no memory of her abduction by your wicked warlock uncle. You were worried because the amnesia was a trauma response so you just hoped to god Lola didn't witness her mother's death or that Harker didn't do something to Lola.

"I was told that she had suddenly developed some kind of cancer in her stomach? One the healers could not cure. I...I would dream of her from time to time after she passed. The same dream. She is in the forest, frightened and calling out to me over and over, "come to mommy." I don't know why I dreamt of that."

"I know you think Lord Narcisse has only treated me as a simple servant, but he's actually been quite good to me. I've never minded earning my keep to live in such luxury."

You knew that was because he felt guilty for inviting Harker's World of Wonders into his realm. Lola deserved to know the truth but you didn't have a clue as how to tell her.

"You call luxury rooming with two other servants and having to share a bath?"

"Well I don't any more thanks to you and besides, that wasn't Lord Narcisse's doing like you think. I..I wanted to stay in it. It was the room my mother and I stayed in."

"Ohhh...I...no one told me that. Well now I just feel shitty again for getting on Stephane's case to give you better accommodations."

"He had given me enough when he did not have to or even have a reason to. Lord Narcisse, he even saved all of her things for me when I was older and gifted me this on my 16th birthday."

Lola held her hand up to show you a golden bracelet on her wrist, looking to be very real and very expensive, and it had a single fancy script letter on it. J.

"Lola...that is sooo beautiful." you gasped. "Was that..your mother's?"

"Yes. I remember her wearing it. I do not know where she got such an expensive item but lord Narcisse made sure it was given to me when he figured I was old enough not to lose it I suppose."

"That was so very kind of him. May I ask...what the J stands for?"

"I assume it was for her name. Jocelyn."

"Joc...celyn??" you sputtered, immediately thinking of Sarah's mother who went missing right after Sarah had, but before you both could continue the conversation, a sound was heard of multiple horses feet coming up the gravel entrance to the castle and the clanking of the gate opening. For that to happen, it must have been someone of importance considering Narcisse had his kingdom on lockdown and from what you could see, it appeared to be someone of high stature.

Two men on horses led a carriage, followed by at least two dozen other men on horses appearing to be guards. One of the leading men was of short ebony hair wearing a casual style cloak and the other was quite debonair, like Narcisse, that had longer strands of golden waves and curls, wearing a fancy cape with patterns that reminded you of the floor throws Stephane had laying about through his halls.

As the carriage approached the gate, you could see two women inside, dressed in attire similar to the pretty blonde man. Once they passed under the stone wall, you could see no more, but you certainly heard Stephane's voice and it did not seem to be a pleasant tone.

"Lola...who are all those people that just came in??"

"THAT...would be King Francis and his wife Mary and her snooty sister Kenna. The other man is his deputy assistant Conde'."

"A King??" you marveled and ran to the opposite side of the terrace to try and get another look at this blonde King while Lola giggled. Also, you were very curious as to why Narcisse was upset.

"Yes. He is Catherine's eldest son with the late King Henry of Esgaroth. Francis and Lord Narcisse are not friends by any means, which would explain his grievance of Francis' arrival. Francis blames Lord Narcisse for his father's death and his parent's division. I do not know all of the details but I am sure he is here for his mother."

"Hmmph. I was in Lake Town for quite some time once and I never met him, only that vile assistant deputy Alfrid who got his just deserves. Hopefully Francis is here to take the wretched witch away!" you reeled. "Where has he been all this time and why has he not come sooner?"

"I can only presume the responsibilities of Lake Town has kept him away. Even now, they are still rebuilding after the dragon attack. And as I mentioned, there is no love lost between he and Lord Narcisse. What I do know is that he and Catherine are quite close and corresponded through letters often. She does no wrong in his eyes. So I think we can all see how this visit is going to go."

You continued to watch as Francis and Stephane shared sarcastic greetings and then suddenly, the young King glanced up and locked his azure orbs into yours, but not without Narcisse noticing.

"King Francis. A word in the courtyard. Now." Stephane barked and gave you a disapproving look as he impatiently waited for Francis to exit.

"Oh yes Lord Narcisse. You and I have much to converse about." Francis snidely remarked and then went on his way, giving you another glance as he did so.

You then stood to watch the two women exit the carriage as the coachman gathered their belongings. The brunettes with long locks giggled and paid no attention to anyone, not even Francis, then strutted inside the castle as if it were theirs.

Stephane and Francis walked onto the sheltered patio of the courtyard and stopped by the burning braziers to offer some heat on the breezy December evening while both men had theirs guards chaperoning in near corners.

Narcisse approached Francis, fidgeting with the gold ring on his right hand like he would do when pressing matters were about. Sometimes it was his nerves or possibly even intimidation depending upon the threat, but in this case, it was neither, for he had no fear of Francis, no matter the vicinity they were in.

"Bard gave me word when he arrived here that you would also be arriving, but the funny thing is, I do not recall inviting you."

The golden haired King, who stood merely two inches shorter than Narcisse, glowered at him.

"I do not need an invitation where my mother is concerned. You see, she has always written to me, but when Bard began returning with no such letters, I knew something was awry, not to mention the things she previously told me only furthered my suspicions and Claude's letters only confirmed them."

"Let me remind you that, you may be a poor excuse for a King, but you are no King in my realm, just as I am not in yours. I allowed you in for one reason and one reason only. For Charles and for Claude. As far as Catherine, well, if you have come to claim her, that will not be happening, for she has committed many crimes here and must atone for them as anyone would. Besides, she will not leave Charles behind and he will not go with her, for he has come to see the monster she really is. Not to mention, it will be over my dead body before my son will leave here with either of you."

"That could be arranged." Francis warned, as he also had no fear of Stephane.

""You dare threaten me on my lands??!"

"I don't like you." Francis blatantly said.

"I don't care!" Narcisse immediately riposted.

"You need me." Narcisse snidely continued. "My lands feed your people and your words will have you sharing a dungeon cell with your malevolent mother and her rather large furry feline foe."

"And your actions will start a war right here on your grounds or did you not notice the company I have brought. Surely you did not think I would come alone to a kingdom wreaking of wretched warlocks?"

"My warlocks outnumber your small-scaled and powerless squad. Of course I knew you would not come alone. That's what cowards do. You're a disgrace to hold the stature of a ruler. Young, ignorant and very overconfident. Much like your father and look how that all ended for him."

"My father was murdered, but you knew that because I believe you were behind it. And for what, the riches my mother stood to inherit before she knew there was none??"

"Since you want to delve deep into the past, it was no secret that King Henry and I shared a mutual dislike of one another, but let me make this crystal clear. Your mother was never that special and I certainly did not nor do need more wealth. I assure you, I had no hand in his death. Now you on the other hand that we speak of, didn't like him either and you had plenty of motive to want him gone, didn't you Francis? His beddings of a different woman every week and leaving your mother penniless with only the clothes on her back when he learned Charles was not his son, then later removing her from his will all to hypocritically punish her for her infidelity, the very same thing he was guilty of and let us not forget, with him gone, you would inherit the oh so heavy crown. But, laying all that aside, a jousting tournament is hardly murder. Your father was an undefeated champion yes, but that does not make one invincible. Death is always an obvious possible outcome of the sport...that is unless someone is not in it for the sport, but solely for the intent to kill. Maybe you should be questioning his opponent...or maybe YOU were the opponent underneath that metal hood."

"I'm questioning you. And now you have recently killed my uncle in the gambling tournament of fighting to the death, who was also a reigning champion. Were that not your sole intentions??"

"It is the entire INTENT of the game for all who play it. It was a fair and square fight and being inebriated while doing so, in which he highly was, is at one's own discretion. Your uncle got exactly what he had coming to him because he killed MY father out of greed. Theodore was my good friend and he knew this castle inside and out. My father trusted him, just as I did. How simple it was for him to do and even more simple for me to figure out."

"And what motive did he possibly have to do it? Well, that's what's simple. You see, I know your dirty little secret. Theo told me all about the bribe he was offered from the man who looks exactly like you and he was quite adamant about it. Why would he say that? And why is it that you wanted him dead for doing exactly what you paid him to do? You call me a coward, yet you couldn't even do it yourself. Or did you? Theo also claimed that when he arrived, your father was already dead. It would seem if anyone is hypocritical, it is you when you speak of greed or accuse me of murdering my own father. Is that not what yours was killed for? The crown per se?"

"It was not me who conspired with Theodore to murder my father and the fact that he said it was should answer your question as to why I wanted him dead. And of course he would place the blame elsewhere and I was the perfect scapegoat and look how easily you believed his fabricated farce of a story. He was simply there to rob my father blind of his gold and got caught, so he silenced him."

"I did believe him and I still do...but with that said, he was just as guilty for accepting the baleful bribe. Now, as you said earlier, it is the past, as far as my uncle and your father are concerned anyways, but this...this is not."

Francis pulled out two worn envelopes from his surcoat and held them at waist level as he intensely stared at Narcisse, who's eyes slightly gaped from immediately recognizing the one with your name on it.

"I thought this might get your undivided attention." Francis gloated. "You see, one of these is from my mother, explaining in great detail what the other letter is and your involvement in concealing it from the one known as the Queen of Mirkwood, which I assume was the ever so lovely redhead my eyes had the privilege and pleasure of gazing upon moments ago. I can see why you would want the contents to remain unknown, for you certainly could never compete with the infamous Elvenking for the heart of his Queen and one true love."

"What do you want?" Stephane quietly stressed as his eyes cautiously scoured his surroundings for curious ears.

"I believe that is quite simple. I can make these both go away, right now by tossing them in this fire. In return, you will release my mother and allow her to roam wherever she pleases, including here if she chooses to do so, my sister too and you will no longer use Charles as a bargaining chip. Just know, I...still know what you've done if you decide to cross me. I will not hesitate to inform Josephine. And keep in mind, I am far from ignorant as you put it. I too, can play a mean game of blackmail and I know how you love games."

"Do you have any idea what your mother has done?? If anyone is murderous, it is she and I would not look so far past the fact that she may indeed be the one who had your father killed out of revenge for disowning her and to claim his fortune. Not only ignorant you indeed are, but blind and biased as well in condoning her actions. Catherine has committed a series of crimes in my kingdom. She used black magic and placed it upon me to alter my morality. She poisoned a Marchwarden of Lorien and used your sister in aiding her evil deeds. She tortured my beloved horse and made me believe she fed him to me AND she tried to have the ever so lovely redhead killed that you had the privilege and pleasure of gazing your eyes upon. Oh, and let me add that she likes to place dead rats in people's baths and has now wormed her way back into my castle and into the infirmary from self inflicted wounds. The woman is rabid. Completely mentally unstable and deranged, but it seems those words are too big for your pea sized brain to comprehend, so maybe the word crazy will suffice. You are making one deadly mistake if you force my hand in releasing her."

"No one is forcing you to do anything. But you, you are the one who forced my mother's actions by deceiving her with your infatuation of a woman you will never have. As I said, it is simple. Release her and all will be well. Don't and all hell breaks loose for you." Francis negotiated as he held the envelopes up towards the flames, waiting for Stephane's approval.

"This is in every way forcing my hand. But as I always say, I do love a good opponent. Heed my warning though. If anything happens to Josephine at Catherine's hands, you will suffer dearly. Burn it."

Francis then dropped the letters into the flaming brazier as Narcisse skeptically observed and once the incriminating words began to burn, Stephane lightly grinned as he locked eyes with a pleased Francis.

"Now that this is settled, I am going to get settled in with my wife, then see my mother and siblings. It's been a long journey here. Dinner, dancing and drinks would make for a celebratory evening yes? Considering we both got what we wanted."

Francis headed off while Narcisse glared his exit down with jungle cat eyes slitted like that of a viper as he growled through his teeth.

"I did not get all I wanted, but I will be greatly satisfied when you and your mother no longer breathe. All in due time young King."

Stephane Raged through the halls, his cape flapping about behind him as he made his way back to his chambers to numb his anxiety with some wicked Dorwinion whiskey.

Francis was cautious, glancing back at the two warlock guards watching him as he made his way to meet his Queen as she waited just around the corner of the hall.

"It is done. My mother will be freed."

Mary smiled with happiness for her King and they embraced.

"Your plan was brilliant." Francis added in his win.

"And he didn't ask to see the contents of the letters?"

"No. I burned them before he could discover the pages inside were blank."

"Since I put them in the original envelopes, well, I think you could imagine the look on his face when he saw the one with Josephine's name written on it by Thranduil." Francis gloated. "He thinks he's free now of any evidence linking him to knowing the King of the woodland realm is very much alive."

"He may not know you still have the real letters, but he knows that you know the truth Francis and although it is just your word, it is still a threat to him. He's a very dangerous man, enough to kill his own father and with what he's done to Catherine, your uncle and possibly to your father, I think it's safe to say that you're not safe and Dorwinion is our main resource of food."

"If he comes after me, it will start a war he does not want or need and he made sure he reminded me of his food supply but you know as well as I and everyone else how he feels about children. He would never deprive them. Now, I'm sure you have chosen a chamber. Come, let us settle in and prepare for this night's festivities."

On his way to his chambers, Stephane indulged in multiple goblets of his wicked whiskey as he alerted his staff to begin arranging the night's impromptu party that he was no way in any mood for and contemplated skipping all together, but he knew he couldn't, not with Catherine's presence. He had to protect you, regardless of how angry the both of you were with each other and he knew you were going to be even more angry when you saw her. How he was going to explain her release was far beneath him at the moment.

Stephane felt like he was losing control of everything, including losing you, if he hadn't already and to add insult to injury, it was all happening right there in his own castle and he was powerless to stop it. His men were being picked off one by one by the warlock wolfhound Harker with his brother Bash almost being one of the brutally murdered. Catherine was now going to be free to wreak more havoc all because he was being coerced and blackmailed by her self-satisfied son. Thranduil's letter would never have been discovered by Catherine if he had just done away with her long ago and then Francis would have no knowledge of it to hold over his head. Although the incriminating letters were destroyed, Francis still knew which made him an added liability. What the convinced King didn't know though, was the truth regarding the death of Stephane's father. Francis' theory was partially correct but of course Narcisse had denied any involvement in it. The story he had told you about it was more accurate, minus a few major details. Details he felt you would not understand and would cause you to see him as a monster and for a brief moment, he understood how Garrett felt and why he left.

Narcisse entered his chambers, mumbling bitter words under his blazing breath as he furiously freed himself of his jacket.

"You smug little weasel. You have made a very grave mistake."

As he approached his desk, Narcisse froze solid at his image in the mirror on the wall.

Stephane slowly walked up to it with his gaping blue eyes staring into those of his own, but the reflection was that of another man baring his face. A man with long chocolate locks that wore a sleeveless scarlet red robe. A man he knew as Lord Darken Rahl.

Bringing his hand up to touch his face, he watched his own lips move in sync as he whispered to the doppleganger.

"It cannot be. You're.. you're dead. I killed you."

"Guard!!" he then shouted.

The guard swiftly entered and bowed.

"Yes my Lord."

"What do you see?"

"I..I'm sorry? my Lord?"

"In the mirror. What do you see??"

"I...I see you, my Lord."

"What do I look like?"

"My lord, you...you look like...you?"

"WHAT do I LOOK like in the fucking mirror you imbecile!?? Do I have to spell it out for you?! WHAT AM I WEARING?!! WHAT DOES MY HAIR LOOK LIKE?!!" Stephane thundered as his eyes glowed of the sun.

The guard was now wondering just how much of the Dorwinion whiskey Lord Narcisse had consumed and he knew nothing good came from his raging eyes, so he quickly answered with a short but exact description.

"My lord, you are wearing the same attire you have worn all day and...your hair...is short and brown? In the mirror and as you stand before me."

Narcisse whipped his head to the guard, then immediately swung it back to the mirror with a gasp when he still saw Rahl. Was he hallucinating? Because clearly, the guard did not see what he did.

Stephane's paranoia had now turned into a paroxysm of fury. Three times he pummeled the mirror with his fist as the white tiger's roar bellowed out of him.

He now stood heavily panting through flared nostrils, glowering at Rahl's fractured face as he held his hand that dripped of blood.

"Are you alright my Lord?"

"Leave me." Narcisse grumbled. "Go and inform the Queen of this evening's dinner party and ask her to come by my chambers beforehand. It is of great urgency."

"Which Queen my Lord?"

"There is only ONE Queen in this castle!!! Now GO!" Stephane barked.

After the guard departed, Narcisse poured another glass of whiskey and reclined on his sofa to try and ease his stress and anxiety. He knew he had to tell you about Catherine before you found out some other way. He also knew that his vision, if real, was a far greater danger than Catherine and as he once tried to make you leave to protect you from her, he might possibly have to do it again to protect you from himself.

After the guard's visit to your room, you sunk into a warm bath and contemplated going to see Stephane. Not even an hour earlier, he had said all those awful but true words to you. Was he going to try and apologize? Did he really need to? Because his reaction to Haldir kissing you was as expected and validated, except for making Haldir leave. The guard had relayed to you that it was urgent, so you decided you better at least find out what he wanted.

When you finished, Lola then took Leean in for her bath and you began to prepare for this spontaneous dinner gathering. As you sat at your vanity, looking into the mirror, your thoughts once again went back to Garrett without your consent.

"Damn it Garrett. Where ARE you??" you spoke aloud in a tearful voice. "I just need to know you're alright ok? I...I miss you so much. I...I need you. Please...please come back to me."

Simultaneously, in a land far far away, Jareth's witch Queen Ravenna was anxiously pacing about in her colossal castle she had acquired for her and Jareth's only sister Freya, who had now been successfully converted to the dark side. The two blonde witches had departed the goblin King's realm long ago to track down Ravenna's and Jareth's warlock son, but without prevail, for Jace did not want to be found, especially by his parents.

Ravenna's relentless nerves had nothing to do with Jace though. She had a very big problem of her own. The very youthful and beautiful blue eyed sorceress with long wavy locks of sunshine was aging due to a curse placed on her centuries ago by her own mother-in-law, the very powerful winter witch Jadis. In order for Ravenna to maintain her youthful glow, she had to consume the souls of children. It may have sounded a simple task for a witch of magic to complete, but there were strings attached. They could be no more than 13 years of age and 3 per day, no more, no less, was required to keep the wrinkles away. The kicker was that they had to be given to her and Harker had been her go to for that, but with his time being spent in Dorwinion, Ravenna now had to rely on Freya to bring them to her, who had left hours ago and had not returned and the clock was ticking, for the children's souls had to be ingested before the strike of midnight.

Her pacing continued as her orbs of blue skies darted between the clock and the mirror at every turn of her path and it wasn't long before Ravenna began to have her own hallucinations. On the next crossing in front of the mirror, she gasped in panic to see herself as an old woman with dried out gray hair and skin of old worn and cracked leather.

"NO! It is not so! It is not me!" she cried in anger as she tightly squished her eyes shut.

With hesitation, she opened them to then find her image of beauty restored. The pacing then continued and in her desperation of needing reassurance of her beauty to calm her insecurities, Ravenna asked the mirror a question.

"Mirror mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest of them all?"

Expecting to see herself, she halted her steps and fixated her eyes on the blank reflective glass. A swirling pattern formed in the center and grew in size until the entirety of the mirror was spinning like a record and then...an image began to appear. An image that was not her own, but an image of you and she knew exactly who you were with your lustrous locks of fire and doe like eyes of the moon.

A resentful rage of seeing red filled Ravenna's gaping eyes and she rushed to the mirror to smash it on the stone floor.

"How dare you betray me like this!! LIES! It is ALL LI..." she screeched but then her words and her feet came to a skidding stop when she heard you speaking as you sat at your own mirror.

"Well now. The widow of the Elvenking desires his fiendish foe, the vampire King, Garrett Lee. You are no fairer than I little witch of loathing light. No one is! You did not earn your beauty. I will make you see that not every man desires you. By the power of three times three, make her see..."

With a wicked grin and a single twirl of her slender finger, Garrett's image appeared in your mirror and he wasn't alone.

Your heart skipped a beat when your eyes connected with his crimson hues and then fell upon a very much alive Kate wrapped in Garrett's arms whom you also locked eyes with. Gasping, you sprung to your feet.

"G..Garr...ett?? What...how..."

Ravenna began to speak through the projection of Garrett, but it was his voice you heard.

"Hello Josephine. As you can see, my Queen has returned to me and I'm going to have to ask you, no, tell you to stop contacting me. I am moving on just as you need to."

You clamped your eyes shut and rubbed them, whispering aloud that it wasn't real, that HE wasn't real.

"Oh I'm very real. How else are you able to hear and see me? You're wide awake are you not? And Kate well, I thought the same thing when I saw her too but it's all very real Josephine. Anywho...I would wish you the best but you already had that with me so now I am going to stay at the side of someone who wants to be with me and does not grovel over a dead husband that she'll never be with again. I have finally excepted that I do not belong in your life. It's time you accept it too. Welp, time to fly. It's been real. Enjoy being alone."

"No...WAIT!!!" you shouted in desperation, making Ravenna cringe as her power was weakening from the lack of youth fuel.

"I..I have been looking for you! I...I have so much I want to say to you. Please Garrett...I don't want you to go away. I miss you terribly."

Garrett's eyes rolled in sync with Ravenna's.

"Groveling again. You're too late. I don't want you any more Josephine."

Your eyes were now burning and dripping of tears.

"Why are you being so cruel?? I...I heard you...I heard you singing to me just the other day?!"

"I am a vampire Josephine! We are cruel!" he snapped. "And...I was not singing to you. I was singing to...Kate!" Ravenna stammered out because she did not know all the details of yours and Garrett's relationship.

"Liar! Why are you doing this???!! Are you trying to make me hate you???"

"YES!! because that is how I feel about you now! YOU were the cruel one. Go chase ghosts and get over yourself. You're not that special."

Kate smirked at you, then looked up at Garrett. "I love you my King."

"And I love you my Queen. Always." he replied and kissed her right in front of you.

You began to tremble like a violent earthquake.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!" you screamed as you ripped the mirror from the vanity, slammed it on the floor and began stomping on it with your 4 inch spiked heels until Garrett's face became a pile of sparkling dust, then you fell to your knees and doubled over into a blubbering bawling mess.

Thranduil floated through the magical waters of the blue lagoon within his chambers to try and relieve his own frustrations after the validation that Jareth's blood coursed through his veins. It wasn't that he wasn't enthralled with his new dark elf lord image, it was how he obtained it, for he despised the goblin King in ways he had no words for and that said a lot in itself because the Elvenking always had a colorful dictionary in his 6000 year old mind. To add to his misery, Legolas had been turning a deaf ear to his words and was also keeping his father from hearing his thoughts. If his son did not respond soon, Thranduil would have no choice but to go reclaim his daughter himself.

Once out of the pool, Thranduil relaxed in his chair, completely bare with his legs sprawled open to view his aching rock hard cock as he indulged in his wicked wine before dressing for the evening's feast to celebrate his return. The magical waters had allowed you to enter his thoughts which in turn had caused the solid throbbing mass standing before his stomach leaking droplets of precum that shimmered in the candlelight.

Cursing at his oppressing cock under his breath as he reluctantly submitted to entertaining it's demands.

As he arched his head back and closed his eyes, he firmly gripped his member and began stroking while he envisioned you upon his lap, his girth sliding in and out of you with your taut nipples being ravaged by his twirling tongue. Moans and groans escaped his parted lips as he rocked his hips up into his pumps and within seconds, his moans and groans became bellowed grunts as his essence pulsed over his chest.

As good as the release felt and was much needed, he still found himself cursing again that it had been brought on by you, the woman he now loathed.

Thranduil cleaned himself up and then began to assemble his attire upon his body. Once satisfied, he made his way to the mirror on the wall to assure his long platinum strands were in place to his satisfaction. As he brought his eyes to his reflection, satisfied was far from what he was, for he now looked into his moonstone eyes and upon his perfect porcelain skin. His dark image had returned to that of light, but his mind had not.

"Wretched water." he snarled as he side eyed the healing vat of liquid.

As he turned to walk away, your distressed cries came from the mirror, Thranduil's head whipped back with a slight gasp slipping from his mouth. There you were, in the mirror, sobbing upon the floor and even in your state of despair, to him, you looked as beautiful as ever.

Thranduil's heart palpitated and caused a single tear to fall from his eye. Feeling the wetness upon his cheek, he brought his fingers up and wiped it off. Holding his palm out before him, he gazed at the pea sized puddle on his fingertips. His hand began to tremble and his lips pursed as his nose flared from the heavy gust of breath he released in anger.

The mirror was ripped from the wall and crushed beneath the Elvenking's large leather boot, twisting and grinding it deep into the glass.

"Be gone witch. You have no power here!"

A pleased grin formed at the sound of the crunch and then the dark elf lord swiftly turned to attend his feast.