#This is how the mother prays while awaiting news of her son who's lost and in danger in the night

[kuroneko1815]

The Lady of Ghosts

This is only the temporary title but here it is, a rough draft ficlet of Penelope as a medium/psychic who is raised and taught by spirits.

Penelope was never alone. Well… physically, yes, she was. But the ghosts counted too. Penelope had long been taught how to act as though she didn’t see the ghosts. They were far too troublesome and even if, at one point, her people had once been responsible for helping these spirits move on, it had changed with the hunt of the mages.

She was the one in her family with the greatest abilities and they theorized the greatest magic. Everyone awaited her awakening. The magic largely fading from their people as they hid and begged and prayed to a goddess that had long since died. The goddess hadn’t come to save them and now Penelope was physically alone. She had lost most of her family to an attack on their caravan, then her mother had passed on a few weeks ago. Her rotting corpse still in the house, she had learned to live with the smell.

But now there was this man, this Great Lord, holding out a hand to her. Her family was quiet, waiting to see what she would choose. Death on the streets or survive in the treacherous world of the nobles? She hesitated before she finally took his hand on the promise of her mother’s burial.

Her ghosts follow her to the Duchy, to the people who look at her with anger simmering under their skin, resentment and disgust clear in their eyes. Did she make a mistake? Maybe, but now she needed to survive.

A pink haired woman wanders around the house, this ghost is sad as she trails her children. There are other ghosts too, all of them older forms of the portraits in the gallery.

She’s well fed, well dressed, and warm but she’s never felt so unhappy. She smiles and calls the Duke, father. She hopes one day she can say it with all the love and sincerity it deserves. She calls the Duke’s sons as brothers and her eyes trail to her long dead cousins, older and protective of the only girl in their generation. She thinks she understands the resentment when her gaze lands on them.

Not too long after she arrives, another ghost joins but this one is different. This little girl with pink hair who her mother sobs at, is trapped in mirrors, unable to touch one another but still able to converse. Penelope knows Yvonne Eckart is dead.

In the dead of the night, she goes to the mirror in her room and speaks to her. The resentment on the girl’s face fades away the longer they talk and she finds out that her death was unnatural. The ancient enemy stirs and now possesses her body. Yvonne cannot move on while her body still wanders.

The mother and daughter spend the rest of their days observing those they’ve left behind and Penelope is bombarded with interesting tales from the ghosts of the Duchy.

Their disgust at a commoner joining the illustrious house is gone in the face of a fascinating living who can speak with them and hear them.

They make it a bit harder to focus on the tutors her new father hires for her but it also makes the lessons more interesting and easier. She breezes through every lesson with the advices from the previous Duchesses, the lectures and history lessons from the previous Dukes, and she discovers new paths that had been unused for so long with Yvonne and her mother at her side.

Her ghosts though, they wander around, keeping an eye out for Yvonne’s body. Wants to use this chance to spy on the enemy who had never been able to see or sense the spirits. She feels lonelier with the numbers decreasing but mother is there by her side so she calms herself.

Yvonne leads her to the attic and she stays there, watching the fireworks with Yvonne in silence. Then Reynold storms in and she takes his abusive words, lets her new brother rant and rave at the unfairness of her presence. Half an ear is spent listening to Yvonne’s tale of that night.

When her brother loses steam. Her hands reach out to his and pulls him to sit by her and lets him lean on her shoulder. She wishes she could share her gift with him, just this once so that he could see Yvonne inside the pocket mirror beside him.

-

-

Her first introduction to Society is at the Palace. There are many who sneer at her when her new family isn’t looking but she pays it no mind. She sees a blonde woman glaring at the Empress. Her jewels are expensive but the style of her dress is years out of fashion. The ghost of Duchess Evelyn Eckart, her father’s late wife, approaches the woman, the former Empress and mother to the Crown Prince in polite courtesy.

The conversation flows easily and she disregards the few ghosts that have gone to attend the event. The Empress follows the Duchess to her and she gives a strained smile when the Empress introduces herself.

She hadn’t known back then that the Empress had glanced at her with a look of calm approval and beyond that, the calculating gleam of the woman that had won a reluctant prince the throne.

That was the day her lessons began in earnest and she had unknowingly allowed herself to be molded into the Empress’ revenge. Every advice given, every lecture she had received from that day on was to lead her to the Crown Prince’s path and to the Emperor’s throne with him.

But for now, she listened to the woman’s plight with understanding and pity, missing the way the ghosts around her had shared a knowing look of acceptance as they joined in on her education.

So this story is just an idea for now. I just really needed to write it down somewhere. But basically, the Empress’ revenge is the downfall of the new Empress and her son. And to place her son, her beloved child on the throne. She’s angry that her son had been a child when he was sent to the frontlines and wants to make them pay for it, for the assassination attempts as well. The other ghosts are just bored and they’ve taken a liking to Penelope who talks to them when she’s alone and who always listens to their stories so they’ve decided to help her out. The nice thing about this is that Penelope now has quite a lot of spies she can use.

[ihaveonlymydreams]

Enough fare for ten people was scattered across the Richelon family’s dining table. The array was very miscellaneous, everything an invading army of one woman could possibly forage from a kitchen after midnight when she could not rest: ends of cold meat, cheeses, fruit and dried fruit, boiled eggs, cabbage salad, nuts, fresh-baked bread and cakes, custards, jam tarts, restoring herb tea, wines and water.

“So much food,” muttered Pen. “How many people was she expecting?”

“I believe it was a prayer,” Chio murmured from his other side.

Aye, Des agreed.

- Lois McMaster Bujold, "Masquerade in Lodi"

[bridgertonbabe]

hey could you maybe write something about when Sophie gives births to violet and she nearly dies, and then everyday since then he spends more and more time with her because he doesn't want to loss her.

Ok so this is something I've considered before. Presuming Bridgerton gets greenlit for Season 5 and we get Eloise and Phillip's story, I can see their season coinciding with the late stages of Sophie's pregnancy with Violet and then her birth. 

In keeping with TSPWL, Charlie would fall ill but then with the stress of her son's sickness, Sophie's labour would be brought on earlier than expected (by a month or so). You have double the anguish for Benedict, pulled between being by Charlie's bedside and Sophie's, until Eloise suddenly appears and assures him she'll tend to her nephew. 

Benedict is holding Sophie's hand and stroking her hair as she brings their long-awaited daughter into the world. In spite of the despair caused by Charlie's illness, Benedict finds a shining beacon of light in his baby girl and is thrilled to hold her first. He is mesmerized by how little she is and how he can already see a few wisps of golden curly hair matted to her head. He already knows she's all he had hoped she'd be; the image of her mother. 

He's so taken with the little bundle in his arms that he doesn't immediately realise the chaos occurring around him, turning to see Sophie's face has blanched, she's fallen unconscious, and much to his horror there is a sea of blood drenching the bed sheets. Benedict is shaken to his core and is manhandled out of the room by the Crabtrees as the doctor and maids try to save Sophie. 

He finds himself alone on the landing cradling his newborn, frozen with fear at the prospect of not only losing his son but now also his wife. A creaking on the stairs brings his attention to his brother-in-law, Phillip Crane, who had arrived in search of his wife. The two men stare at each other and Phillip immediately knows something is wrong from the terror written on Benedict’s face. Phillip simply asks what’s happened and just like that Benedict falls to pieces, roaring with hurt and setting off the bleated cries of his tiny daughter. 

His brother-in-law, who can’t handle emotion at the best of times, somehow finds himself marching forward and drawing Benedict into his arms to hug him. Through hysterical sobs he manages to comprehend the torture Benedict is enduring and then Eloise appears, having heard the crying and being shocked to find her husband just about propping up her inconsolable brother. Mr. Crabtree then emerges from the master bedroom, informing them that they’ve stopped the bleeding but that Sophie is still critical.

For the next forty-eight hours Benedict keeps a bedside vigil, clutching Sophie’s hand between his, praying that she wakes up. Luckily Charlie has bettered himself thanks to Phillip’s remedy, though Eloise remains at his side just in case, as Benedict remains occupied with his wife. With his wife’s suggestion, Phillip brings Oliver and Amanda to the house, not only to keep Alexander and William occupied, but also to meet their new baby cousin, Violet. Though the Crabtrees help out, somehow Phillip finds himself the main carer for the newborn and he takes his new role as uncle very seriously, especially with the tiny baby being without her parents. 

Just when all hope seems lost, Sophie finally wakes up and Benedict can barely let go of her. It’s only seeing his wife in exhausted yet happy spirits (plus a remark that he could really do with a bath) that finally makes him register the relief of the ordeal he had suffered. At long last Sophie got to hold her little girl and she was surrounded by all her boys, including a freshly recovered Charlie. 

As Sophie rested up and began her own recovery, Benedict refused to leave her side and insisted on tending to her, but she ensured him she would be fine. Her husband was a stubborn man but she pleaded with him to see after their children while she recuperated. A compromise was finally reached in which Eloise would take over sitting at Sophie’s bedside while Benedict looked after the children. Phillip and the twins stayed too and the brothers-in-law bonded and properly got to know each other as the children played altogether. 

The stress of the last week meant that when night fell and Benedict joined his wife in bed, he’d collapse into sleep. He’d remain in a deep sleep throughout the night and into the morning, curled up against his wife with an arm tight around her. She’d card her hand through his hair, kissing his forehead as he slept, murmuring how lucky she was to have married a man as wonderful and devoted as he was to her. 

[anewnewcrest]

New Newcrest News - Winter 2, Part 1

New Congregants

On recommendation of the Graham family, the Evans family has joined our little church community here in Newcrest. It's quite a drive for them from San My, but we're so happy to have them and to assist them in any way they might need after they so tragically lost their father and provider!

Engagements & Weddings

Even though they are young, Priscilla Johnson and Maxwell Sawyer Jr. have promised each other their future lives, and are betrothed now. Looking forward to a beautiful spring wedding!

Babies

After a long streak of girls, the Johnson family has welcomed their second son into the world: Tucker Johnson! Mother and baby are both well, and the father barely knows what to do with two boys after waiting for one for so long!

After years of struggling with infertility, Madison and Connor Culver have finally welcomed their first child into the world. Little Connor Culver Jr. is the pride and joy of his whole family, and we couldn't be more grateful to have him!

The Sawyer family has welcomed little Henrietta Sawyer into their fold, and are delighted to raise her the way the Watcher wants to.

Jobs & Promotions

Caroline Johnson has been accepted to Britechester University for a Distinguished Degree in Fine Arts! We so proud of her and her academic accomplishments, and are asking for prayers for her continued success!

Kathryn Evans has found employment as a legal secretary, and is currently working on her certification as a paralegal. While the Watcher frowns upon women in the workforce, it is admirable of her to sacrifice her best years to make sure that her brother grows up well.

Birthdays

It was a most important occasion in the Johnson family. Garrett David Johnson is a toddler now, a charming young gentleman already who's ready to follow in his father's footsteps and become a diligent defender of the Watcher!

Both Savannah Johnson and Caroline Johnson are Young Adults now and have left high school behind. Both very sweet young ladies who are dedicated to following the Watcher, they're waiting for the ones the Watcher has for them so they can embark on their journey to being a wife and mother.

Abigail Johnson is a sweet young girl going to school now, and Tucker Johnson is a toddler! Congratulations!

Little Lincoln Evans is a teen now, still going to school, but starting to grow into the big footsteps his father has left behind. We couldn't be any more proud of him and hope that he'll take after one of the countless wonderful male role models our congregation has to offer!

Kathryn Evans has celebrated her 30th birthday. Let's pray that she'll find the one the Watcher has for her soon, if she wants to have kids!

Four birthdays in the Sawyer family! Anne and Randall are both teens now, responsible, hard-working young people who embody the ideals of the Watcher, while their two little siblings Margaret and Jasper are children, learning how to follow Him.

David and Piper Jones are also teens now.

Other News

The long-awaited autobiography Saved by the Watcher: A Candid Portrait of Church Leader David Johnson has finally hit the bookshelves! You can find this moving account of leading a Watcher-centered life despite the Enemy’s attempts at seduction in bookstores near you, in the biography or the non-fiction sections!

Prayer Requests

The Watcher encourages selflessness, meekness, and modesty in His followers, but this lady just cannot stop rubbing her good fortune in everyone's face. Let's pray that her husband puts her to rights. He is a pastor, after all. (Abilene Johnson)

Being a stay-at-home daughter is a privilege. Please pray for this young lady to understand that she is not the mistress of the house. (Savannah Johnson)

There are just not enough young men in our church. Please pray for some Watcher-following, hard-working young men to join the congregation so all the young ladies have a chance of finding their match. (Savannah Johnson, Caroline Johnson, Donna Bell, Lily Miller)

A parent's love should be equal for all his children, it should be kind and generous, and not centered on just one son. Please pray for the Watcher to widen this man's heart so all of his children can fit in it, even those born from his extramarital affair. (David Johnson)

Preying on a grieving, vulnerable young lady while your wife is big pregnant at home is a horrible thing to do, and one that no true follower of the Watcher would! (David Johnson)

Children are the Watcher's greatest gift, and being denied them is a cruel punishment for past transgressions! Lying about a thing like that is unthinkable! (Madison and Connor Culver)

While Simstagram is a valuable tool to connect with other followers of the Watcher, it should not be more important than a woman's duty at home, and should not be an idol to them. Pray for all the young ladies in the neighborhood who are infected with this terrible social media disease! (Madison Culver, Priscilla Johnson, etc.)

The Watcher says that you should not judge, lest you be judged. Please pray for this man who thinks his wife's family is beneath him. (David Johnson)

Presenting yourself as a family man and loving father while ignoring two of your children just because they were born out of wedlock is hypocrisy of the highest order, and the Watcher will judge you for eternity for it. (David Johnson)

While parental guidance is of course important for leading children to make good decisions, deciding who they're going to marry for them when they're just fifteen is too much. Please pray for these men to see their error, and for the happiness of the young people. (David Johnson and Maxwell Sawyer)

Please pray for this young man to finally see the sacrifices his family is making for him, instead of acting like he is entitled to even more than he already gets. (Lincoln Evans)

Being a church elder and being called to counsel your neighbors is not an excuse to be a bully! Please pray for this so-called man of the Watcher. (Maxwell Sawyer)

A strict father is a blessing to his children, but some men mistake their controlling nature for the Watcher-given desire to lead. This family needs all the prayers you can give them, despite their outwardly perfect appearance. (Maxwell Sawyer)

The Watcher makes our bodies change as we age, and only sluttish hussies deny that. Please pray for that lady who just can't help giving in to the sin of pride and dyed her hair back to what it once was. (Henrietta Jones)

The Watcher wants you to have as many children as He will you, and preventing children is a grievous sin. Please pray that this couple has not sinned, because I think they might have been using birth control. (Madison and Connor Culver)

[emilycollins00]

Watching over you (Sakuya centric)

I’ve been working on this for so long honestly at one point I didn’t know if it would ever see the light, but thankfully here it is! 💕

-

She believes she would recognize his smile even if she lost her sight. Even if she couldn’t touch him anymore and all she could do was listen. Because when he does it, his sounds are bubbly light and silky, tickling her skin. And when he pouts, on those rare occasions, they’re sharper and a bit of a mess, but she adores it nonetheless.

His son had his husband’s smile, that was unquestionable. She knew the moment she laid her eyes on him on that spring afternoon, cherry and chubby cheeks making way to match his hair. The first time Sakuya laughed-actually pretty soon after being born, like he’d been awaiting impatiently all those months inside her belly- she distinguished that familiar brightness and peace. It was no wonder he was a spring baby. She clutches him tightly against her chest, and wonders if she’ll ever feel sad again.

“Good sleeper as always” a man remarks, entering the living room “He gets that from you, you know”

“Let’s cross fingers he stays like this when he starts growing up too” she chuckles, and he joins, looking at his son with yearning. Sakuya might look almost like him, but from what he had learnt, he definitely takes more after his wife in terms of personality. He is curious and gentle, just like her.

He sits down on the sofa resting with them, and she leans in. Sakuya is still fast asleep, but she has this sudden, selfish wish to wake him up, just to enjoy those big crimson eyes- one of the few physical traits similar to her- again.

“Our little miracle” she hears his husband whispers. The words hit her as shaky, like a soft earthquake. She turns to look at him and finds his cheeks wet. He tries to move away so the tears don’t hit the baby, but a few still fall on her.

“He has your smile, did you notice?” she says.  

He wipes his eyes, smiling embarrassed while Sakuya squirms, curling his tiny fingers around the blanket that they picked a few weeks before he was born. 

It's not been that long since Sakuya entered in their lives. But both know him already like a part of themselves. Every strand of hair. Every like and dislike. And they’ll learn more and more about him, for the rest of their lifes, and his. Even when they are gone. That much is true.

.

Sakuya Sakuma had no real clear memory of his parents.

He could recount all he remembered of his mom on one hand, and from his dad on the other. As time passed and he grew up though, those memories became tangled, sinking deeper in his brain, the list getting shorter.

So short that at a certain point, Sakuya noticed he couldn’t remember his mother’s soft laugh or his father’s clear smile anymore. His relatives never really bothered to keep photos of them, so he desperately held onto the memories of his mother’s crimson eyes and his dad’s scratchy face by drawings and sketches he made himself.

It was one of the things he regretted most whenever he went to pray during their anniversary, not really knowing how they looked like.

“…it was really close, but Tsumugi-san and the rest of the winter troupe managed to win! So now we get to keep performing at Mankai. Here, see?” Sakuya turned to his school bag excited, taking out of it a piece of paper and placing it carefully next to the small bouquet of flowers “This is one of the tickets. I asked director for one to keep as a memory. We even made a celebration afterwards which was super fun, though Sakyo-san insisted we should all be more mindful of our still new image” he giggled, reminiscing the not too long-ago event “Ah, but I’m doing my best to balance school work of course! So you really don’t have to worry”

He hadn’t told anyone at the dorm about today. Not because he thought it was troubling, but it was something he had always done alone. It felt strange talking about it, although he was sure no one would have minded it, had he asked for company.

“Director, the spring troupe… everyday is so much fun now thanks to everyone” he lifted his head to the sky and then to the names engraved on the graves “It would have been nice if you met them”

But just as the show had to go on, life did too, Sakuya knew that more than anyone. So dusting away the dirt from his knees, he stood up. And when he arrived at the dorm, he did his best to put on the brightest smile. And if anyone noticed any change in his behaviour, no one mentioned it.

.

Now it was past midnight, and he couldn’t sleep.

It had been a while since he had a night like this. When it happens, he usually goes to Itaru’s or Azuma’s- sometimes even director’s- but this time the uneasiness was manageable, so he rose softly from the bed, shuffling around and leaving the room.

Sakuya walked carefully across the hallway to the living room and then into the kitchen, where the sound tended to distance itself from the bedrooms.

As usual, there was a plate of scones left by Omi on the cupboard, just in case someone woke up. He decided to warm a cup of milk and set some aside.

He leaned against the sink until milk was warmed up, inhaling the steam from the cup and heading towards the courtyard. After setting everything besides him on the bench, he sat and stared out into the night sky, watching stars twinkle and listening to the crickets sing.

His attention was suddenly caught by a plushie on the floor. A pink one. He grabbed it, staring at it tilting his head. He had never seen it in the dorm before.

“Sakuya?”

The male voice he heard didn’t match anyone’s in the dorm but weirdly enough, it didn’t alert him. On the contrary, it set off a strange nostalgic feeling withing him, somehow. He questioned it, of course, as he left the plushie aside and turned. And then he saw them.

It was as if every memory and repressed thought emerged all at once against his chest with blazing strength.

He stood up slowly, arms laying limply on his sides. The silence before him was deafening and Sakuya was sure his ears were ringing. His eyes definitely wide.

He felt his throat clench painfully with the force it takes to not let tears out. Because it had to be a dream, but their eyes were glistening under the stars and they felt warm.

This time, it was his mother who spoke, so sweet and softly he could have melted on the spot “You’ve grown”

At this point, he was too exhausted to think logically. His feet began moving almost at the same time as theirs did towards him. All the doubts, the regrets, the worries that’d been stealing his sleep, kept gradually letting go of him with each step he gave. He threw himself into their arms, making small, gasping noises at first, and then he was crying, sobbing in earnest, fingernails digging into his parent’s skin so hard he feared he may be hurting them. But they didn’t pull away, didn’t even consider it.

‘I miss you, I miss you so much’ he kept whispering over and over, and every time he did, they would tighten their grip ever so slightly.

Slowly, he managed to calm down and step back, but gripped both of their hands tightly, as if telling them not to let go.

“Sakuya-”

“I’m sorry” he inhaled sharply, trying to calm down. He didn’t want to sound as if he was complaining “I’m doing okay. M-Mankai has become my home, you see. They welcomed me when they didn’t have to and you- I know you would have taken care of me, if you could have so-”

Sakuya looked up, and it startled him, seeing his mother crying too “Mom…?”

She let go of his hands and pulled him against her “Oh, honey” she breathed shakily “We are so sorry for leaving you alone”

“No, please” Sakuya said, his eyes were burning. That was what he didn’t want to happen “I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t- that’s not your-”

“But your feelings are still there” she coaxed, caressing his cheek, taking away the tears from the corner of his eyes “And you’re allowed to feel them” 

“We have been watching you all this time” his father placed his hand on his back.

And Sakuya broke down again.

Because just how many times had he fervently wished for that to be true. To hear them. How many times when he was in school and saw children with their families he swallowed and smile, imagining himself in their place.

He was trembling, filled with too many things he wanted to say that he was overwhelmed where to start.

“Did- Did you see me on stage…?”

His mother cupped his face between her hands and nodded, smiling. She looked beautiful under the moonlight, Sakuya couldn’t help thinking. He wanted to stay there, enjoying her crimson eyes, just to make sure they still matched his own “You are the light and joy of our lives, honey. And that smile of yours will be the light that will guide and help others in the future, I’m sure”

“We love you, Sakuya” his father nodded, kissing the top of his head and wrapping his arms around them tightly once more. He was trembling “From the bottom of our hearts. Never forget that”

He doesn’t know how long they stood there hugging, taking in each other’s warmth, but it lasted until all of his tears had stopped and dried. And when they broke apart, this time, he managed to give them a real smile.

“I’ll do my best to make you both proud”

They showered him with a bigger one “Being who you are is enough, Sakuya. We are already proud. We always will”

“I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad... so much”

.

Next time he blinked, the wall welcomed Sakuya into his room. He was lying on the side, the clock next to his bed reading five in the morning.

He turned so that his body faced the ceiling, giving a short glance around still disoriented. He didn’t remember what he was dreaming about, memories were fazing, but his chest was about to burst with a relief he hadn’t felt in a while flooding over him.

It was so overwhelmingly cozy it made him shiver.

He looked outside the window, noticing one of the stars blinked a bit brighter than the rest. Sakuya decided to embrace himself against the pillows, placing a hand over his chest.

It was a feeling he couldn’t name, but it felt warm, and he smiled.

____________________________________________________________

I stan Sakuya x Happiness

Have a wonderful day, loves 💕

[devnicolee]

The Chosen Ones (8)

A/N: Enjoy! If you read chapter 7 like shortly after it was posted, the council scene was originally in Chapter 7 but I moved it here because that chapter was too long. So you may have already it read the first section.

This is the last chapter - I am really sad to end this series :( but I might do an epilogue or something if anyone is interested. I have been writing this for literally a year so thanks to everyone who liked and commented and read a chapter here or there. I appreciate it! 

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 6,000 words

Pairings: M’Baku x OC

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Asha fidgeted nervously, sharing anxious glances with M'Baku as they waited with bated breath for her brother to enter the council meeting. They arrived back in the Golden City with mere minutes to spare before the meeting, two herbs in her pocket and a video of the garden. Shuri chastised them for giving her an ulcer during their long absence. However, she couldn’t hide the deep sigh of relief as the pair rushed through the tall gold trimmed throne room doors with triumph and hope in their eyes. 

Asha scanned the council circle, passing by M’Baku’s reassuring eyes, to connect eyes with Elder Shani. Far from her usual contempt, her eyes were filled loathing and disgust. Instinctively, Asha felt herself starting to wilt like a dying flower. But something in her pushed back, forcing her to sit up straighter and send a pointed, cold glare back at the woman. Never again would someone else’s disdain silence her or force her to cower.

Their staring match only ended when the double doors entered. They all rose from their seats, saluting T’Challa as he walked to his seat, as cool and calm as ever. They did not have to wait long before he started speaking, getting right to the point of this meeting.

"I have called this meeting because much has changed in the last 36 hours, many things revealed about the Panther Tribe. Many have questioned my fitness to be king in light of these revelations. A lesser man would sit here and defend these lies but I cannot. They were an error in judgement, an error that was not my decision to start but could have,” he sighed, “Should have been mine to end once I became King. I did not. And for that, I am sorry. A king that cannot admit his failures is no king at all, only a tyrant. I know Elder Shani has lobbied many of you, encouraged you to demand a new challen-“ 

Elder Shani jumped up from her seat, her disrespect toward the throne on display as she cut the King short. "That is right! He is not fit to be King! Not while you and your family hid this abomination.” Her finger wagged in Asha's direction, forcing all eyes toward the young woman. She sat up a bit straighter, noting the looks of fear from some, the admiration from others. 

"You expressed no qualms with our secrets when you were blackmailing my sister into an engagement with your abusive son, when it suited your needs. I have forcibly removed you from this throne room once, do not make me do it again. Sit down," T'Challa threatened, his voice low and menacing. 

The elders of the Mining and Border Tribes shared a concerned look. They had taken the time to listen to Shani's pleads, and agreed with her in many ways. But they were quickly realizing the error in taking her words as the only truth. 

"Now. I could plead my case, preach to you all about why I am fit to wear the crown of King and hold the mantle of the Black Panther. However, this conversation is not about me or my fitness. It is about our country's distrust and hatred toward the more powerful... the chosen among us... the Wakandan like my sister." He offered Asha a small smile before continuing, "Prior to today, Wakandan's future was in a precarious state. Prior to today, the mantle of Black Panther was to die with me. And if we went through with today’s challenge, the centuries-old legacy would die today. That is just one of many reasons why Elder Shani’s desires are so short sighted. However, Bast... and Hanuman, it seems, have other plans. Asha, a powerful and chosen member of this family, and Lord M'Baku, have breathed new life into our dying future."

"What do you mean?" Elder M’Kathu inquired, leaning forward with interest. 

"I shall allow my sister to show you." T'Challa nodded at Asha, giving her the cue to pull the bright purple herbs from the pouch in her lap. They attracted everyone's eyes, captivating everyone with their glistening light. 

The throne room filled with exclamations of shock, joy and excitement. 

"How is this possible?" He asked in amazement. "N’Jadaka burned all the herbs." 

"He burned all the herbs we knew of, yes. But there is another garden hidden on the edge of Jabariland. Bast led Lord M'Baku and I there. There are enough herbs on the top of that mountain to sustain the Black Panther for hundreds of years," Asha explained. 

"Without my sister, without this gift Bast bestowed upon her, we... this country would have been lost. Without the Jabari so many of you despise, we would have been lost. Bast led the first Warrior Shaman to the herb years ago to save us from tearing ourselves apart. Today, she led Asha and a Jabari there to do the same. Together, two people, who represent what so many fear, opened a door that our failures shut forever.” 

He stood up, pacing behind his chair as he spoke. 

“That is bigger than me, it is bigger than Elder Shani, and it is bigger than our ignorance. Her campaign against me is rooted in hatred, hatred for a people who just saved our country. I ask you to vote against a new challenge, not because it suits me, but because we have the opportunity to build a new Wakanda. A Wakanda built on love and mutual respect for all of Bast's and Hanuman's people, not on the unstable foundation of distrust and prejudice.” He paused. “Now Elder Shani, I believe you have a proposal to raise for our vote. I await you all’s judgement and decision.” 

Her brother’s passionate monologue was met with silence, silence as Asha watched each person introspectively think about the future they wanted, the Wakanda they wanted. 

Elder Shani stood up once more, clearly unmoved by this new discovery or her brother’s passionate speech unlike everyone else in the room. It seemed she was committed to dying on this hill and was more than willing to do so alone. “This boy speaks of a new Wakanda, a new order. Wakanda prospered for hundreds of years before King T’Challa and it will do so after him. He does not think the way we do, he does not respect our traditions and so, he should not be King. I raise the motion to invoke a new Challenge Day, so we may have a King that will respect our traditions.” 

“The motion is on the floor. Elder Shani, how do you vote?” Asha’s heart raced, praying that her faith in Elder M’Kathu and Elder Olabisi was not misplaced, that her brother’s words had swayed them to choose progress over hate. Asha felt Shuri’s hand grab hers and squeeze it tightly as they listened. 

“Yay.” 

“Lord M’Baku?” 

“Nay.” Unlike his girlfriend, who was clearly filled with nervous energy, M’Baku seemed annoyed and bored with this whole spectacle, simply ready for this to be over so they could officially move on with their lives. 

“Elder Kwame?” 

“Nay.” Nakia’s stoic and quiet father responded swiftly with a nod to his daughter who sat beside the Queen Mother. Asha’s already racing heart seemed to beat even harder as they reached the two undecided Elders, the two that had the potential to change the fate of her family forever. 

“Elder M’Kathu?”

A beat. 

“Nay.” 

Despite wanting to jump up and praise Bast, Asha maintained her composure, they all did. T’Challa offered the older man a head nod as a silent thank you for his support before finishing the roll out of obligation. For good measure, Elder Olabisi also voted against the motion, effectively leaving Elder Shani on an island alone. 

“Thank you, thank you all. I believe together we can build a stronger Wakanda. Thank you for believing in that future as well. This meeting is now adjourned and I will see everyone at the King’s Exhibition.” 

The room stood and saluted him, all except Elder Shani and her son who swept from the room as soon as the final word left T’Challa’s mouth. 

At the official end of the meeting, Asha immediately walked to her brother and wrapped him in a tight hug. 

“I am so glad I didn’t ruin everything,” she whispered in his ear, finally letting out that sigh of relief she had been holding in. She felt as if that weight finally evaporated from her shoulders. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you,” he emphasized, pulling back to look at her. “You could never ruin us, Asha. You are the best of us. You saved us  and for that, I could never thank you enough. You both,” he motioned for Shuri to join their group hug, “are the best sisters I could ask for.”  

Asha broke apart from her siblings, giving space for others to congratulate her brother, and walked toward M’Baku. He stood, in the now-repaired window she destroyed, staring down into the heart of the Golden City, which was bustling with activity and life as everyone prepared for the coming festival. 

She stood beside him, looking out at her home with something other than envy and heartache for the first time. Hope. They stood in silence for a bit, the chatter of Asha's family fading away as they slid back into their own small world. 

"Thank you, M'Baku. T-this would not have been possible without you, without the Jabari. Thank Bast you decided to concern yourself with the drama of us lowlanders," she teased.

He chuckled, his brain conjuring that moment on the fields of the Great Mound, deciding to play along with her game. He remembered exactly how that conversation went… he would never forget it. "Well, it seems you all continue to need us to save you." 

She turned briefly and smiled at his profile, leaning against the window. "Yes... it seems we do. Wakanda is forever in your debt. Perhaps she will find a way to repay you one day." She added, stealing his line.  

A tug at her arm brought her close to him, the space between them evaporating. He cupped her face, uninhibited love and adoration passing between them. Her signature sparks immediately encircling the couple as he stared down at her, the love of his life, the woman he felt Hanuman destined for him to be with until the end of his days. 

“She led me to you and now I am forever in her debt,” he whispered as his lips captured hers, the audience of her family mere feet away from them mattered little. The two kissed deeply for a few moments before a wolf whistle caused them to break away. 

Asha laughed as she looked over and saw her entire family, minus her mother, staring at the couple with shocked and excited grins. Shuri continued to cheer loudly before her brother pinched her and ushered her out of the throne room. He winked at her before allowing the doors to slam shut and giving them some much-needed privacy. 

“Come to Jabariland.” 

“What?” 

“Later this week. I-I need to head back tonight and you should spend time with your siblings. But come to Jabariland for a few days, spend some time together where you aren’t almost dying and I am not having to save that brother of yours.” 

Asha mulled it over in her head. Though she figured her brother would be slightly annoyed at her absence from some of the festival events, she yearned for the private and uninterrupted time with M’Baku. She had not truly rested in the last 4 days, had not taken a real breath. There, they could finally do that together. 

“I would love to.” 

****

“Nakia!” Asha smiled as she threw some more clothes in a bag and beckoned her friend into her bedroom. She eyed Nakia and the medium-sized gift bag in her hand suspiciously as one of her closest friends sat down on her king-sized bed. 

“What is that?” Asha asked, gesturing toward the bag as she pulled a dress off the hanger. 

Nakia smiled slyly, “We will get to that in a second. First, I just wanted to see how you were doing. The last few days… weeks, years frankly, have been tough for you.” 

Asha smiled and reached across the bed to squeeze her future queen’s hand. Nakia was the big sister she didn’t have but always hoped for. And she knew she would be the perfect queen for them all.

“I am good, Nakia. Fantastic, actually. I got what I wanted, T’Challa’s position and title are safe. Everything is good now.” 

Nakia nodded but Asha could see the speculation in her eyes, the look that called her positive attitude into question. 

“Yes. All of that is true. But look at what it took to get there? Your father died, you watched your brother get murdered, you endured verbal abuse from all sides, you almost died… twice, according to M’Baku. I’ve seen enough of this world to know a happy ending doesn’t mean the road to them wasn’t paved with trauma and pain. It’s just… I’ve seen what happens when people don’t address what it took to get them what they wanted, what it cost them. I don’t want that for you, nor does your brother. Just, if you ever want to talk, let me know?” 

Asha bowed her head, she didn’t like to think Nakia was right. What mattered most, in her mind, was the fact that they were ok now. But she could not ignore all the tragedies littered throughout her life, the scars they left. She couldn’t pretend like those wounds of her chains healed just because she escaped them. 

“You will be my first call, I promise.” Asha came around to sit on the bed next to her. “Thank you for being here for me.” 

Nakia smiled and squeezed her hand. She pushed the bag toward the young girl. “Always. Now onto the fun part of my visit. This is for you.”

Asha grinned brightly as she excitedly tore the tissue paper out of the bag and pulled out several pieces of lingerie, her grin fading slightly with shock.

“Nakia,” she whined. “What is all this??” 

“It is for your trip. Essential wear.” 

“’Essential wear??’ N-Nakia, I d-don’t think we are going to get there yet.” She let the skimpy Burgundy lace fall back into the bag, laughing lightly. 

“Maybe you won’t, but maybe you will. Look, I see the way Lord M’Baku looks at you - he is ready to rip those clothes off your body every time you’re in the same room. He wants to show you the might of the Jabari, FIRST HAND!” Both girls laughed at her callback to M’Baku’s epic entrance at the battle on the Great Mound. “And if that is what you want, you should.” 

“I am sure my brother does not know about this part of your visit,” Asha mused. 

“No, he doesn’t,” Nakia admitted. “Because it isn’t his business, or mine, to be frank. I just wanted you to be prepared if you decide to travel down that road. Essential wear for the journey.”

She threw Asha a wink before leaving her to mull over her thoughts. Asha didn’t understand her own hesitation. Perhaps she was just overthinking it. The cave… it was spur of the moment, natural, intimate and unexpected. All their best moments were just that… unexpected. They produced magic when she didn’t have time to analyze or second guess, when she just lived in the moment with him. And here she was overanaylzing and second guessing. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of the gift bag as she thought. Nakia was right; M’Baku wanted her and she wanted him, desperately so. She pulled each piece of lingerie out, eyeing each one with speculation. They left little to the imagination but they were gorgeous. She slipped both into her suitcase. 

Just in case. 

****

“Try not to destroy the palace while I’m gone eh?” She implored as she gave Shuri a hug outside. 

Shuri, who looked like someone had just stolen her pet panther, nodded sadly. “You’ll call me tomorrow right? Make sure they haven’t turned you into an anti-vibranium fanatic?” 

Asha laughed, “Yes I will call you tomorrow, I promise. Don’t look so glum, I will be back in a few days.” 

“I know, it is just hard to say bye to you. I am usually begging for this one to get out of here.” Asha laughed as T’Challa clutched his imaginary pearls in faux offense. “But you are the constant of our triangle. It’s not the same without you.”  

Asha’s nose wrinkled, shocked to see her sister so despondent about her leaving. She glanced at T’Challa, whose face was also a bit crestfallen but he did a better job of hiding it. 

“Come on guys! I’m gonna be gone for a few days, a week tops. I have to come back… all my clothes are here,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. Her joke only earned her small chuckles much to her dismay. 

“Would you want it to be permanent, though?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Would you want to live in Jabariland? With M’Baku?” T’Challa asked, already knowing the answer even if she didn’t yet. 

“I hadn’t thought about it honestly. Maybe, one day.” Under her siblings’ knowing stares, she amended her statement. “But M’Baku and I are trying to go slow, take our time. We have been dating for two days, I doubt he is redecorating the Lodge for me yet.”

T’Challa and Shuri shared a knowing glance that didn’t go unnoticed before ushering her toward the plane, a sudden 180 turn from their original despondent looks. “What was that look for?” 

T’Challa smiled, “Nothing. We just think you are underestimating the speed of the Jabari. Have fun sister. Try not to burn Jabariland down while you are there,” he winked. 

“Too soon, brother… too soon,” she chuckled before waving them goodbye as the Talon ramp closed and the plane sped off. 

****

“M’Baku! It was foolish to think you could redecorate your quarters in three days,” N’Danna reminded him as the man rearranged furniture and put new things he got at the market out. “I thought she had been here once, I am sure she likes it just fine.” 

M’Baku scoffed, “I do not want her to like it. I want her to want to live in it. I spoke to T’Challa to learn a bit more about her, things she liked. I picked up a few things from being in her office but he gave me some other ideas. I commissioned two new paintings from her favorite artist but those won’t be here until her next visit, Olabisi was able to make her flowers again,” he pointed to the red-orange tipped roses on the bedside table, “I put them on this side of the bed because… well, does liking sunsets mean you also like the sunrise? I have only slept with her twice so who knows if she is a morning person. Oh but T’Challa said she really doesn’t need much sleep so… Oh look at these… I just got them carved.” 

He rushed to the bag by the door and pulled out a box that contained wooden panthers and rhinos. He laid them on the coffee table in his lounge area, excitedly looking from them to N’Danna like a child showing off a new toy. 

“You have been inside the mind of a woman, you think she will like them?” 

“Relax brother. She will love all of it, they are… cute.” 

M’Baku nodded, taking some of his older carvings down and sliding the animals into their place, putting one by her side of his bed. Just as he was examining the room, looking for another thing to move or switch out to expel his nervous energy, Kide popped his head in. 

“The Talon is approaching, my Lord. About 5 minutes out.” 

M’Baku nodded, rubbing his hands together nervously. He nodded at N’Danna to walk with him toward the landing outside the Lodge. 

“Oh N’Danna, I need one more favor.” 

N’Danna rolled his eyes before they bugged out of his head, his chief’s passing thoughts cueing him into the favor before the words left his mouth. “A-are you serious? M’Baku? So soon?” 

M’Baku sighed, it didn’t feel too soon to him. “I have known since the moment I first spoke to her. I do not need to see anything else. I-I do not need anymore time. And I don’t think she does either.” 

N’Danna stood and pulled the man into an embrace. “Congrats. I will get everything squared away for you. Don’t worry about a thing. Just spend time with your girl.” 

The two men shook hands before N’Danna took off in the opposite direction and M’Baku headed to greet Asha. 

This time when Asha stepped off the plane and into the fresh snow of Jabariland, it felt totally different. She was still nervous but not in the anxiety sort of way. It was nervous excitement filling her belly. She didn’t have to wait long before M’Baku rushed forward and swept her into a tight hug.  

“I have missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” she whispered, kissing his lips.  

Their hands joined, her fear of burning him long gone and almost forgotten. She felt sort of out of place as she walked, soldiers saluting her and M’Baku as they strolled through the Lodge. 

“I hope you do not mind but I was hoping you would stay in my quarters this trip. But I had your room from your last visit set up for you, should that make you more comfortable.” 

Asha smiled, appreciative of the sweet but unnecessary gesture. Where ever he was, that’s where she wanted to be. 

“Your quarters are perfect, thank you.” 

And thus started, what Asha could only describe as three magical days with the love of her life. M’Baku spent half of the day working, during which a guard would take Asha down to the market. She spent most of her time chatting with Olabisi, who told her thrilling tales of the Jabari and The Chosen, stories Asha imagined she would have read in that book, had she ever gotten past the first page. She explained all the different powers the Chosen in the tribe had now: flight, chlorokinesis, elemental control like Asha, mind reading, telepathy, invisibility… they were as diverse as they were powerful. She offered book recommendations for Asha, which she immediately went and found in the Lodge’s library. 

After, she just roamed the market, under the watchful eye of one of M’Baku’s guards. She stopped at every merchant asking them every question she could think of about their work and life in Jabariland. She sat and watched the wood makers carve Jabari wood and knobkerries. Every day she met someone new, learned something new, and basked in the beauty of Wakanda’s most plentiful resource: her people. This is what she knew she was missing her whole life. This was her freedom, to be among her people. No one was afraid of her here, no one cared about her powers. She watched all day as Chosen used their powers to help get things done faster and more efficiently, assistance that was not only accepted but appreciated. Asha thought back to her conversation with her brother, about potentially living here permanently. And she knew, in her heart, she could… that she wanted to. Jabariland was starting to feel more like home than the Golden City ever had. 

After leaving the market and shops, she would meet M’Baku for a late lunch and then he would take her to his favorite spots around the Lodge and mountains. They would hike each evening, catching the sunset at a spot, Asha giddy like a child at every single one. Her third night, he even had a picnic set up waiting for her at the end of their hike. 

“How was the market today?” M’Baku asked as they walked back to his bedroom after returning from their hike. 

“Amazing as always. I met this man, he said he has been carving Jabari wood since he was 10. He made the cutest rhino figurine for me - I am going to give it to Okoye. He was so nice and just told me about all the different things he carves and all the Jabari symbols, what they mean. Oh I met the Chief Fisherman and his husband at their shop. They were so sweet, told me all about their daughter who, apparently, wants to be an engineer like Shuri. I will have to tell her, maybe on my next visit she can come and meet her? Do you think she would like that? I think Shuri would be really excited.” 

M’Baku smiled brightly, listening to her go on and on about the Jabari, all stories he already knew as Chief but there was something about hearing her say it. The excitement and passion for the people she was meeting… she sounded like she born for the title of Queen of Jabariland.

“What? Am I rambling? I am rambling, aren’t I?” She asked as she noted the look on his face. 

“No, no not at all. I just like seeing you like this. So excited about the people here.” 

“Well, the Jabari are the first Wakandans I have had a conversation for longer than five minutes with. To be among the people, learn their names and their stories? There is nothing better. I didn’t realize how much I was missing, how much joy it brings. Thank you,” she stretched her body and kissed him gently on his lips. 

In lieu of responding, he just wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in deeper for a long, passionate kiss. After a few moments, they broke apart, Asha muttering that she wanted to take a shower after such a journey. The hikes still didn’t seem to bother M’Baku, but Asha always felt like she had endured a rigorous workout afterward.

M’Baku shook his head slightly. He understood and respected her desire to go slow. But that wasn’t making it any easier. He wanted her so badly it hurt. But he wanted her to be ready. 

After her shower, Asha stood in his mirror, giving herself a pep talk as she examined the dark red lace lingerie on her slender frame in the mirror. Though there was always something she could find wrong, aside from the blemishes she could not get rid of in 5 minutes, even she could admit that she looked good… sexy even. She whispered confident words to herself before opening the bathroom door. His back was to her as he stood, looking out his window. Her walk faltered for a minute, her confidence fading fast as she realized she would have to actually get his attention. 

He wants you. You want him. You can do this.

“M’Baku,” she whispered. He turned around slightly at the sound of his name, doing a double take as he realized what exactly covered her beautiful frame. 

“Usana,” he breathed quietly as she had literally stolen his breath and ability to speak. He had never been rendered speechless by a woman before, usually he had that effect on them. But here his goddess stood, more beautiful than anything he had seen on this Earth. His eyes studied the smooth brown skin peeking through the triangle cut outs of her bra and panty set, studied her so closely as if he had to commit her to memory.  

“You like it, my love?” She teased, his inability to form words fueling her confidence as she walked toward him, her fingers trailing up his biceps once she was in arm’s length of him. 

“Who wouldn’t? You are a vision, sithandwa sam” He whispered back before gently grabbing the back of her thighs and hoisting her up. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his midsection as he carried her to his bed. She quickly found herself laying on her back among the mountain of soft white furs covering his bed. He stared down at her for a moment, soaking in her beauty. This is how he always wanted to see her… wild and unreserved. 

He leaned over and kissed her deeply before creating a path of kisses down her body. Her body and mind knew his end destination, her quiet squirms begged him to make the journey there faster. But he didn’t care, he wanted to take his time… watch her come undone piece by piece. His mouth explored her soft, supple skin, kissing or gently biting every available and exposed inch. Soft moans escaped her lips, a sensual symphony to his ears. 

“M’Baku, please,” she begged as he placed soft kisses everywhere but where she needed it most. Asha’s eyes clenched shut in anticipation and her hands gripped the furs on his bed as his lips finally reached the promise land of her sensitive bud. Her back arched slightly as he sucked on her clit, sending shockwaves through her body. His thick finger entered her, curling immediately into her g-spot, increasing her pleasure tenfold. 

“Fuck… M’B-Baku… don’t stop, please,” she begged. Unnecessary words because stopping was the furthest thing from his mind. He was doing Hanuman’s work, pouring all the love and adoration she missed out on in her life into her, showing her what it meant to be worshipped and adored as she deserved. He had no intention of stopping that important work. Hell, he could do this all night. 

Asha’s eyes clenched shut as she rode the waves of passion and pure ecstasy his mouth and hands were providing. His eyes never left her face as he devoured what was now his favorite meal, each moan, groan, and plead for mercy or more spurring him on. Her thighs clamped around his head as he pushed her farther up the mountain of desire. He inserted a second finger in her as she grew louder, signaling that her orgasm was near. 

It didn’t take long of his expert ministrations for Asha to feel that snap that led to the most life-altering orgasm of her life, years of self-pleasure paled in comparison. She let out a continuous stream of praise and curse words as she road the waves of bliss. 

“That’s it, come for me my queen. Hanuman, you are beautiful.” 

He emerged from between her legs, immediately kissing her deeply. The smell of smoke caught both of their attention at the same time, pulling them out of their own little world of pleasure and passion to find smoke rising from the comforter. A large black patch of burnt fur now staining his white fur blanket. Asha quickly removed the smoke from the air before hitting herself in the forehead, embarrassment and frustration quickly sliding onto her face. 

“I am so sorry, M’Baku! Ugh, I h-have never done this, especially without the rings. I-I didn’t know that would-“ He captured her lips to shut her up, laughing lightly. 

“It is just a blanket, my love. I have five more just like it in the closet. And if we burn all of those, I can get fifty more made. Take a deep breath. I do not care about that.”

She nodded, laughing lightly before recapturing his lips. There he was again, pulling her back from the cliffs just as she was about to tumble down with such ease and care. Her anxieties and frustrations melted away as he kissed her, her hands drifting down toward his pants, preparing to pull them down.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to do this.” 

His breathy whispers in her ear made her want him even more, despite the content of his words. 

“I want you. I want this.” She offered him an encouraging smile before he stood up and pulled his pants and boxers off. Her voice hitched and eyes widened as she took him in. He was more than she could have ever imagined… in every way. The bed dipped as he climbed back on top of her. Every second felt like cruel and unusual punishment as she waited, every pleasure sensor in her body begging and pleading to be catered to. 

She gasped as he pushed into her, her body wholly unaccustomed to being stretched this much before. It was painful, as she expected, but she could already feel the pleasure brewing underneath… the pleasure that made getting passed this uncomfortable part worth it. He kissed her softly and whispered sweet nothings into her ears as he slowly slid into her. She was thankful he was a thoughtful and gentle lover, her mind briefing thinking about the bullet she dodged with Hasani, who wouldn’t have cared how painful the experience was for her. 

It didn’t take long for the pain to quickly fade into earth shattering, mind-blowing pleasure as M’Baku started his slow and steady strokes into her. His dick curved right into her g-spot, forcing moans and words of love and adoration at the end of every stroke.

“How does it feel, my queen?” 

“F-fuck, M’Baku,” she panted as he rocked into her, slowing picking up the pace as her moans grew louder and her orgasm approached. “Feels… so.. g-good. D-don’t stop.” 

M’Baku’s never-ending stamina meant that stopping wasn’t in the cards for him anytime soon. Through orgasm after orgasm, the couple spent the evening completely enthralled in passionate love-making. His quarters soaked up the screams and moans of the princess of Wakanda as they transitioned between positions and he took her to places she never knew possible. She lost track of the orgasms he pulled from the depths of her soul throughout the night. She was completely spent by the time M’Baku came and rolled off her. 

She shifted to her side lazily to watch him walk to the bathroom, eyes half closed. “How are you not exhausted?” 

“The might of the Jabari,” he called from the bathroom. When he returned, he sat down next to her and cleaned her up with a warm wet towel before climbing into bed. She shifted to lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as they fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

***

“My princess?” 

Asha looked up from her spot curled up in an oversized arm chair in the library to find Kide looking at her. After last night, she didn’t really have the energy to walk around the market today and M’Baku had a long day of meeting so she opted to stay in the library and snuggle up by the window to read. 

“Asha will do just fine,” she reminded the young guard as she slide her bookmark in place. 

“Asha, Lord M’Baku has asked that I escort you to your spot on the west mountains. He will meet you there. The carriage is waiting outside.” 

Asha’s nose wrinkled at the break in their tradition of hiking to the various spots together but she let go of it rather quickly. She imagined that the only reason he would break their tradition was for some sort of surprise. And while she had no earthly idea what it could be, she certainly didn’t want to ruin it by messing up his plans. 

She followed Kide outside, one foot in the carriage before an idea struck her. 

“Kide?” 

“Yes?” 

“C-could we maybe get there a different way?” 

Kide’s eyes widened before a smile graced his face. “Are you sure?” 

“Well, the last time I tried it… I almost died? So I figure I could use the practice?” 

She wasn’t sure if her black jumpsuit, while insanely cute, was functional for flying. But she decided not to let that stop her. She looked up to find Kide already circling her head, waiting for her. 

I can do this. I can do this. She chanted before pushing off of the ground. She wobbled a bit before finding her balance and propelling herself higher into the sky next to him. The cold air whipped against her face as she flew behind Kide, slightly lower than him, around the mountains. She looked down and she could see everyone walking around below them, the occasionally hand pointed up or waving at them as they flew past. 

The higher they climbed up the side of the mountain, the more her eyes watered. However, she continued to push forward. She followed close behind Kide, circling the clearing she knew too well before diving behind him to land. The first thing she heard was applause when her feet touched the white snow. She turned to find M’Baku sitting on a rock, waiting for her, a bright smile on his face. 

“Thank you, Kide.” 

“Any time, my princess.” He turned and walked back to the guards waiting on the snow-covered road by the carriage. She turned her attention to M’Baku, noting the nervous look in his eyes, the way his hands fidgeted with his fur collar. 

He didn’t say anything as he approached her, holding out his hand. She immediately placed her small one into his. They stared out at the horizon, the sky starting to fill with the oranges and yellows of sunset. 

“Asha…” 

She quickly turned her attention back to him, facing him as their fingers interlocked. 

“I-I had this whole speech written out b-but seeing you here… I just… I am in love with you, Asha Udaka. My love for you has only grown stronger and deeper since the moment you walked into my throne room filled with grief and pain. And since then, I have witnessed you step into your power, into who you are and demand acceptance from the people who would deny you with the power and grace of a Queen. I don’t know what Hanuman has for my future but I know I want you in it… I need you in it. I don’t need anymore time to know you are the love of my life. We have proven that our love can melt away even the toughest of hardships, that this… w-what we share is unlike anything else in this world. And I know you will make a beautiful and compassionate Queen. And so…”

Asha expelled a shaky breath as M’Baku spoke. She had a feeling she knew where this was heading but she wouldn’t dare let herself believe it until he said the words. She watched as he pulled two wooden bands out of his pocket. The tears streaming down her face obscured her vision slightly but she knew exactly what those meant. Her mind called back to one of the many books she had read over the last few days, one detailing the engagement tradition of the Jabari. The dark brown wooden bracelet was the standard tribe engagement band, engraved with Jabari symbols that represented the future they would build together. But the gold one, reserved only for the tribe’s chieftess, carried a small inscription chosen by M’Baku. 

“Will you marry me?” 

“Y-yes, yes! 100 times yes,” she whispered immediately. She didn’t need to think about it, didn’t need more time. Her love for M’Baku… she knew nothing like it in this world. And here he was, offering her a future she thought she would never get to have. “I love you so much.” 

Her hand shook slightly as he slid the bracelets onto her arm and wrapped his arms around her. He peppered her face with soft kisses as she laughed, pure joy radiating off them. They only stopped when Asha heard cheering from around them. 

“What is th-“ she turned to find all the important people in her life emerging from the trees. Shuri was the first to rush toward her, running into her like a small train as she always did. Her crying intensified as she hugged her sister and looked at T’Challa, Nakia, Okoye and all the Dora behind her. 

Shuri released her and T’Challa wrapped her in a tight hug, wiping away the tears that streamed down her face. 

“D-did you all k-know about this?” 

“We may have had an idea or two. Congratulations, Asha. T-this is truly amazing.” 

Asha shared hugs with everyone as they offered her congratulations, before returning to M’Baku’s side. The guards brought out rum from the carriage for the group to toast, passing cups around for each person. 

Asha felt as though her heart was so full it may burst at the seams, her happiness almost overwhelming. 

“Lord M’Baku, if I may? A toast!” T’Challa called out, raising his glass. “To my younger sister, Asha and Lord M’Baku. I don’t know if I have ever met two people more destined for each other than you. We are so happy for you, you both deserve the world and I know you have that and more here. Congratulations and here is to many more sunsets together.” 

Asha’s smile could have lit up all of Jabariland as she listened to her brother. They toasted and drank rum as they watched the sun fall below the horizon together. Asha nestled herself into her fiancé’s side as she looked around at the people she loved and who loved her immensely. Bast was right, Asha’s life was overflowing with love and her future with hope. She couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it surrounded by M’Baku, T’Challa, Shuri, Nakia and Okoye… the people she loved most in this whole world. Their journey had been long and rugged, but every step brought her to this summit. And it was worth it. 

****

Tag List: @destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @jellybean531 @skysynclair19 @ashanti-notthesinger @gloriousgam3r @archivistofwakanda @leahnicole1219 @mygirlrenee @dramaqueeenamby

[maree-ff]

Walk by Faith, Not by Sight

CAMILA

Opening the blinds to let in the slightest amount of light I glanced over my shoulder. Andre’s been out for four days since the surgery and I’m growing impatient. I’ve prayed every morning and night since the shooting with hopes that he will wake up soon. The kids have been rotating their stays here with me but I always send them home before their bedtime rolls around. I can’t fathom staying home right now so Divya is taking my place.

A soft knock on the door reverted my attention from Andre to the entrance of his room. Elaine, the night shift nurse, walked in the room with a fresh set of towels, linen, flowers and medication.

Smiling gently at her I met her halfway to take some of the items off of her hands. “Good morning and thank you for bringing these in.” I began.

“Good morning to you. Don’t mention it honey, any updates for me?” She inquired.

Inhaling soundly I shook my head and parted ways with her to put the towels aside. “I’m doing all that I can to stay positive but I’m starting to worry.” The uneasiness in my tone earned me some encouraging words from Elaine. After I adjusted the temperature in the room I took a seat, watching in silence as she finished out her shift. She prepped Andre with a new morphine bag, took his vitals and tidied up the room. As Elaine began to wrap up her work a thought came to me.

“Elaine..” I called out to her. Rising from my chair I set my journal and planner aside, walking to her side of the room. “I know your shift is pretty much over but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind praying with me? It would mean the world to me.” I twiddled my fingers awaiting her response.

Elaine’s prayer over Andre’s health, recovery and my willpower brought me to tears. I said my temporary farewell to her and did my part in Andre’s upkeep. Once I was all done I sat down beside his bed studying the monitor watching his heart beat steadily. My mind must’ve gone blank for quite some time. I found myself listening to my cell phone vibrate within my bag and the rain began to downpour.

“I remember when you came down with the flu and Zoe stayed up all night trying to take care of you. She was yawning every two minutes..” I chuckled lightly at the memory. “She kept trying to convince herself that she wasn’t tired and you were too weak to argue with her. That’s when Kenja stepped in to drag her out of our bed and into their room. I listened to them bicker for a solid twenty minutes or so about how best to care for you when they got home from school the next day.” Using my thumbs to dab underneath my eyes I made the slightest turn of my head surprised at what I’m seeing.

Andre’s eyes fluttered open and closed before settling on remaining half open.

“Andre..” I said gently. Turning around I minimized the distance between us to get a closer look at him. His gaze met mine and a very shy smile set itself up on his face. I’m bubbling over with inquisition but I can’t overwhelm him at a time like this. “Andre? Honey, if you can feel this..nod your head for me please.” Tucking my hair behind my ear I exposed one of his feet to run my fingernail along his sole.

He nodded reluctantly prompting me to keep testing his senses. We went five rounds of this, easing my nerves about serious loss of sensation. “Can you hear me okay? Am I being too loud?” I asked.

“Yes and no.” He mumbled with ease. “How long have....I been here?” He shifted around, rotating a tad on his side. A tear rolled over his right cheek as he took a deep breath in and out.

“Four days.” I sighed. “Tell me what you remember.” I pulled my chair up to his bedside, leaning forward to clutch his hands. He struggled but successfully managed to intertwine our fingers. “I’m not rushing you. Take your time, sweetie.”

“Where’s Jo? Is he hurt? Are the girls okay?” I can see the deep concern for our children in his eyes and I can feel it passing through me.

“Jo is doing just fine baby, not a hair missing or a scratch on him. The girls are alright too. You can’t get your heart rate up or you’ll go into shock. Deep breaths okay? Can you tell me what you remember?” I asked again.

“Jo and I were outside getting the mail. Next thing I know, I heard the shot. I didn’t let him go.” Caressing the back of my hand, Andre fidgeted from underneath the blankets. “He was asking for you.”

I lowered my head as my brain flooded itself with the scene I was faced with when I walked out of our front door four days ago. To see my son shielded by his unconscious father who was bleeding out on the concrete scared me nearly to death. My mother’s voice flooded my brain to advise me against killing April point blank. My lawyer told me that if I had aimed just centimeters off of where I did shoot April, she’d be dead and I would be behind bars. That’s a mighty uncanny coincidence being that if the bullet from April’s gun had ended up just centimeters from where Andre was shot, he’d be dead. I owe God my never ending faith and obedience for sparing the lives of my boys.

“Hey..” he called out to me. Andre found some strength to squeeze the fists my hands turned into. I raised my head to see him kissing my hands. He bore into my eyes to say, “my hero yet again. When do I get the chance to save you?” He smirked.

I blinked rapidly to rid my eyes of tears. “I was so scared. My mind froze and my heart was racing but my body was doing all of the work. I didn’t think to pay attention to my surroundings because I was so focused on you and Jo.” I took a moment to reign in my feelings before continuing to share my point of view. “I didn’t even blink when I fired. I shoved the gun in the back of my pants, ran over to you guys and balled my eyes out trying to get Jorden from underneath you. The look on his face is burned into memory. The girls were screaming on the phone with 911, Jorden was foaming at the mouth with questions and your mom...she was hysterical.” I explained. The last thing I want to do is freak him out or upset him but I’m confident that he wants to hear my perspective.

“Come here, lay with me..” Andre created as much space for me on the bed as he could allowing me to stretch out beside him.

“I thought you died. For eight hours my mind had convinced me that I lost you. That we lost you.” I confessed. More tears sprang forward admitting the truth. “After Jo was finished being monitored he kept asking for you. Not one answer that I gave him was good enough.” I told him.

“Camila,” Andre ushered me to look him in the eye. “Thank you for saving our son’s life and mine.  I don’t take the sacrifice you took regarding your freedom lightly.”

I nodded graciously. “How do you feel?” I quizzed.

“I’m worried about you more than myself right now. I can hold a long conversation. I’m not that weak.” Andre’s familiar snicker put a smile on my face. “Talk to me.” His hands on my face brought more tears to my eyes. “Baby, I’m okay and I’ll heal just fine. Our family is safe thanks to you. Where is my little boy?”

“He’s at home with your mom. You want me to call her and have her bring him here? It’s his day. He and the girls have been taking turns staying here with me. He needs to see you. He’s been very distant, curious and angry about what happened. He doesn’t understand why April did what she did.” I sniffled.

“Call her.” He uttered sharply. I urgently called his mom and she answered on the first round of rings.

“Camila? Is everything alright?” She panicked.

“That mommy? I wanna talk!!!” Jorden exclaimed.

“Hey mama, he’s awake.” I smiled. Divya began to cry and repeat her vocalized gratitude for Andre coming out of his four day coma. We agreed to talk later as she handed the phone to Jorden who’s still babbling with anticipation. “Jorden, baby, take a breath for mama please. Talk slow.” I advised him.

“Mommy, where’s papa? I wanna talk to him.” Jorden said boldly. Not arguing I handed Andre my phone.

“Jo?” Andre began.

Jorden went quiet on his end. “Are you okay?” He spoke up after a brief pause.

“Yeah, I’m alright. How are you feeling buddy?” Andre looked down at me, lowering his eyebrows to minimize the tension in his face.

“Sad. I want to see you papa, can I come back? Please. It’s my turn.” Jorden begged.

“Of course you can. Mama and I are waiting for you.” Andre spoke briefly to his mother agreeing that she would bring Jorden back to the hospital. In the meantime we shared our last moments alone before I had to bring the nurse and doctor in to examine Andre. They tested him to the fullest extent, talked in grave detail about the surgery and the blood transfusion. By the time they were done, I heard Jorden rambling from outside the door. I invited Jo and Divya inside, shutting the door behind them.

Jorden clung to me once he saw his father. It saddened me because I know Jorden is just confused by his dad’s current health status. He doesn’t quite understand the complexity of this matter. While I emphasize with him, I also want to comfort my little boy.

“Mommy..” Jorden pulled at my sweater, asking to be held. I hooked him on my hip holding him close. He and Andre stared at one another in silence. “Is daddy okay?” He whispered.

“Daddy’s okay. He’s been waiting to see you.” Looking down at my son I searched his eyes, confident he would settle down.  Cautiously I walked over to the bed, sat down and waited for Jorden to let go of me.

“Hey man, you’re not scared of me are you?” Andre went to stretch out his bad arm, wincing in pain.

Jorden’s face twisted up in agony watching his dad reorient himself back to comfort. “Where does it hurt, dad?” That was Jorden’s cue to play doctor and tend to his father as best he can. Stepping away to allow Andre and Jorden their long awaited reunion, Divya and I stepped into the hallway. The minute I shut the door I threw my arms around her needing a moment to be selfish. She consoled me with the utmost love and empathy. She didn’t speak either. My mother-in-law simply allowed me time to cry, count my blessings and openly praise God for saving Andre’s life.

I used another couple of minutes to finish releasing these emotions before backing up to stand on my own two feet.

“I bet you feel so much better now.” She smiled warmly. A tissue appeared and she used it to dry my teary eyes.

Nodding with a growing smile on my face I fixed my sweater. “Much. I still have more left in me but I’ll be okay for now. Has Jo been terrorizing you or the house?”

“He’s been hostile but I know it’s only because he was confused about what happened. I’m sure that not seeing Andre for days after what went down has scarred Jorden to some capacity. It has scarred the girls and I, too. How are you feeling now?” Divya was quick to stop me from going back into the room. I know why and I’m grateful that she wants to check on me. I’m grateful that she cares for how I’m feeling mentally and emotionally.

“I just feel relieved. I hope that I never again have to answer the question of “where’s daddy” or “any updates on dad” or anything close to it. I’ve been telling Andre for quite some time now that I want the drama to be over. The girls have been through enough, Andre has been through more than enough and now Jorden…” shaking my head in disbelief at the trauma this family has faced I straightened out my top. “This has to be the end of it. I can’t take any more police reports and hospital visits. I may even talk to Andre about relocating. I think it would do all of us good.”

“Moving? Where to?!” Divya’s shock ruffled my feathers. I found her concern humorous.

“Not too far away mama I promise. Besides, it’s just an idea for now. Just to a better city where no one knows us. I just want the kids to be safe. I want for all of us to feel safe and at ease.” Divya and I went back into the room to find Jorden and Andre chest to chest. They look like they're asleep but I know this is how they are all the time at home.

Andre opened his eyes to smile at us.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Divya asked. She set her purse down to go over and greet her son.

“A little out of touch with reality but having you guys here is helping a l-lot.” He stumbled over his words freaking me out to the max. With Jorden front and center I have to remain calm. Jorden picks up on the slightest adjustment in attitudes and tones.

“Dre..” I hesitated to ask because I also don’t want to freak his mother out. Andre must have caught my drift because when he met my stare he smiled again.

“I’m okay. I just got tongue tied. I promise.” His sentence was crystal clear this time around so I had no choice but to take a deep breath and enjoy this time. God has yet again shown this family never ending mercy. Now is not the time to be ungrateful for God’s effort to bring the love of my life back to me. Back to earth and this family.

[dailyaudiobible]

10/04/2021 DAB Transcript

Jeremiah 2:31-4:18, Colossians 1:1-17, Psalm 76:1-12, Proverbs 24:21-22

Today is October 4th, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible, I am Brian, it is great to be here with you today, it’s great to be with you every day. But today is today and it's great to be here with you today. As we come around the Global Campfire and let it all go, whatever that thing is that snagging at us that are those things, these pressures, these obligations and responsibilities. These fears, these uncertainties, we are allowed to carry them around as much as we want. That's not necessarily a healthy thing to do and we are also given permission to not carry them around. But let's at least give ourselves permission to not carry them around right now, like we’re around the Global Campfire now, we’re safe right now. And, what’s gonna happen now is we’re just going to read the Scriptures and let them wash into our lives and so often something that we need is there and so often when we leave this place, the things that we have to pick up and carry, they don't have the same weight. Things shift and so let’s just let it all go as we move forward in our journey and take the next step forward. Which leads us back into the book of Jeremiah, which we just began yesterday. So, we’re just getting going in Jeremiah. When we get to the New Testament, we have new territory there as well. But first Jeremiah chapter 2, verse 31 through 4, verse 18.

Introduction to the Book of Colossians:

Okay, so we concluded the letter. Paul's letter to the Philippians yesterday. Which brings us to the 12th book in the New Testament, which is another letter from the apostle Paul, this one to the Colossians and the Colossians were people who lived in the city of Colossae which was not a place unfamiliar to Paul. It’s about 100 miles from where he spent a lot of his time in Ephesus and Colossae is, I don't know that it’s an archaeological ruins or site, at this point it’s been identified, but not really excavated. It sits in modern-day Turkey. But during Paul's life, Colossae wasn't an archaeological ruin at all. It was a bustling city and it had everything that you can imagine that bustling city in the Roman Empire would have, a lot of mingling of culture, a lot of mingling of philosophical ideas, a lot of mingling of spirituality and some of this mingling had made its way into the Colossian church. And so, Paul writes this letter as a response and similar to Ephesians and Philippians, Colossians is generally considered to be a prison epistle, so another letter that Paul wrote while he was awaiting trial before the emperor and the letter generally has two sections, to two themes. The first is a doctrinal issue. There had been people coming into the church and we’ve seen this before. This is a little different though, people would come into the church, they were fellowshipping in the church, but also teaching things like Angel worship, and some just other rituals that were not part of what Paul was teaching. And so, Paul addresses this in this letter by showing us once again this high, high Christology, this awareness that Christ is supreme over all creation, over all angelic beings, over everything. He writes in his letter that the universe, the very universe is created by and through Jesus and is…is sustained through the Lordship of Christ. And then Paul also addresses something we’ve seen before this, circumcised versus uncircumcised controversy that was dominant in the early church. We’ve seen it in other letters where people come in and I like no you got obey the Jewish customs, you’ve got to essentially become Jewish, then follow the Jewish Messiah, follow those customs, which Paul was very, very much against. We've had lots of conversations about that, in Colossians Paul is still against that teaching and so we’ll once again hear him make corrections and once again we have a letter that was sent to actual people in an actual congregation giving us insight into what was happening in their congregation. And since we have a collection of letters from Paul, we see the themes, the commonalities, the different things that the early churches were facing and for that matter, their distinctions and the different cities. But we get a really good glimpse at the struggles that were going on among our brothers and sisters that are our spiritual ancestors. And as we read these letters, we find that maybe context changes a little. The cities definitely change, the regions definitely change but the things that we find ourselves wrestling with, in dealing with, within ourselves and with…with in our fellowships, within our communities of faith, we still have this kind of stuff going on and so these letters, Colossians being the one that were about to read, serve as opportunities to be corrected, to find a path again, to get our NorthStar back and walk in a direction that is profitable for the kingdom of God. And so, we begin Colossians chapter 1 verses 1 through 17 today.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for this new territory into this letter to the Colossians that we are entering into, we ask that You lead and guide our hearts and we might understand what we need to understand, plant the seeds of the Scriptures in our lives. And may they yield the fruit of the Spirit, that we may have a bountiful harvest not only for our own hearts, may it spill out into our marriages and our families, may it spill over into our faith communities, may it spill out into this world that we may be that city on a hill, that we may be a light in the darkness, that we may illuminate the narrow path that leads to life. Come, Holy Spirit into all of this we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base and that's the website, it’s where you can find out what's going on around here, how to get connected around here, how to pray for one another. I mean there's all kinds of resources in the Daily Audio Bible website. You can access all this using the Daily Audio Bible app as well. There is little drawer icon in the upper left-hand corner. So, things like the Daily Audio Bible Shop where there are resources for the journey that we find ourselves on. Now that we’re moving into the final quarter of the year there are a number of resources there in the Daily Audio Bible Shop. Also, the Community section, that is, that is how to get connected. The different social media channels that you can follow Daily Audio Bible on and that is that's, if you taking the journey, that's a good thing to do because that allows us to make announcements, etc. etc. and so check that out. The links are all in the Community section.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com too. There is a link on the homepage or if you’re using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or if you prefer the mail, the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996 Springhill, Tennessee 37174.

And as always if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, the little red button up at the top, or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Prayer and Encouragements:

Hi, Daily Audio Bible family, this is God’s Life Speaker. I am calling on behalf of my son, Joshua, who you all have prayed for, for years now. He's 21 and at graduate school and he has been in a state if not well for quite a while and last night I was talking to him and it just broke out into prayer with him and we just need whatever is taking him down, fighting for his soul, to go, to be cast as far as the east is from the west. Family, please let’s stand together for these mental health issues these young people are having in the name of Jesus. We ask that Your mighty hand come over Joshua and anyone that is in need of being delivered from this spiritual realm that is of darkness and they feel they're in a pit and cannot come above. But You’re there and we love You Lord and you're allowing this to go through Your hands. In the name of Jesus, we ask that You would deliver these people, bring them up, may they long to love You. May they overcome these things, may they be refined and may they be magnifying Your name. I ask it in Your son's precious name. Amen.

Good morning DABer family this is the Burning Bush That Will Not Be Devoured for the Glory of our God and our King. I am calling for our sister Alyssa from Montana. Sister, I am praying for you. I prayed for you when I heard your prayer request and for those that didn’t hear, she is legally blind. She had COVID recently and lost her senses of taste and smell, and that is definitely hitting her a hard. My sister, I want you to know that I prayed for you and I believe that the same God who raised the dead can restore your senses. And so, Father God, I pray Oh Lord, that you restore her senses and…and give her just divine healing of her body that she will be whole, Father. And God, I thank You Oh Lord, because you love Alyssa and I pray that you just guide her as she awaits Your miracle. Thank You God for miracle after miracle in the name of Jesus I pray, Amen. We love you, my sister. May God bless and keep you and cause His face to shine upon you and give you peace and giver you your sense of smell and give you your sense of taste. God Bless, bye.

Hello there, DAB family. I love this community. Thank you so much. This is my first time. I just wanted to reach out to my Aussie friend there, in Canada. But my Aussie friend there that just requested prayer for his, I believe it’s his brother or friend. I know about mental illness. My mother had schizophrenia so, it is very difficult to have a loved one with this illness and just pray protection over him, bring him home Lord Jesus. Bring him to his place of peace, Lord and just comfort him right now, in his grief Oh Lord. The grief, can sometimes overwhelm but you have given us peace, so bring him to that place. Lord Jesus, and I also want to pray for the mom that reached out from Wyoming. I pray for wisdom and strength for your daughter to make the right decision. That she will just know from your wisdom as a mother, that she would listen to you and open her heart to take Godly advice. I pray Father that she will make the right decision. I also would love prayer for my…my daughter in Australia and my son, who are now not talking to me. They’re just going through, they’re adult children, they’re going through hard time with this pandemic. Just please pray that God would touch their hearts and they would come back to Him. Bless you all. I love you all.

Hello Daily Audio Bible family. This is Becky in Orlando and I would like for all of our Daily Audio Bible prayer warriors to come and circle around our new sister in the Daily Audio Bible family. Her name is Myra, she’s from New Jersey and I just met her in one of our hotels. Myra has been dealing with some horrible things that have happened to her where she just got attacked while she was in New Jersey. And she’s dealing now with PTSD. And if we could just pray for Myra. Anyway, I’ll start us off, Dear God, if you could please send the Blessed Comforter, the Holy Spirit, to tend to Myra, to give her comfort that only Jesus can give to her, to mend her wounds, both psychologically and spiritually. And, we know that this can be done because You are just the most amazing God and I pray that she listens to the Daily Audio Bible everyday and that it brings her comfort. And I pray that anybody else that’s listening to this would be able to get just the word that Jesus knows and God’s knows, the Holy Spirit knows all the plans that we have that He has for our lives. Sometimes the picture, we can’t see the big picture but He has such big plans and we don’t understand what His plans are for us at the time. So, please allow God’s plans to you know to unfold in her life and I pray that she just keeps on listening. So, Myra, from New Jersey, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible family and God Bless you, my sister. Alright, thanks Daily Audio Bible prayer warriors around the world. Alright, bye.

Hello, this is Nelly. I just want to let you all know that I’m praying for you all. And it’s such an encouragement to be part of this Community. I just pray that you also pray for me as I’m struggling with very dark and depressing thoughts. It’s been such a struggle. I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m just asking for prayer, thank you. I love you all.

[limbo-limbo-limbo]

Ｃａｓｈ Ｒｕｌｅｓ

𝘼/𝙉: I hope everyone enjoys this, I enjoyed making it.

𝙏𝙖𝙜: @youbloodymadgenius

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧: Modern Ivar x Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: Angst, Cheating, Fluff, Swearing,

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨: 𝟹𝟹. ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ. & 𝟹𝟽. ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ғᴀɪʀ.

Being with Ivar was a challenge. Not because of Ivar himself, but what came with being with him. The spotlight. 

He loves it, the spotlight. It was the only time when people would give him the attention he longed for, listening to his every word, but it wasn't what he wanted. He knew they saw a cripple boy, seeking acceptance like a broken man seeking a bottle, but he didn’t care since, at the moment, all eyes were on him.

After a few years, he began dating you, an aspiring indie singer, He strolled into your job, captivated by the melodic tone of your voice on the song. You wouldn't deny he caught your eye as well. not because he was a cripple, but because he was breathtaking to look at. 

"Ivar, this is too much.” Turning at the sound of his name, he found you, wearing the most expensive evening gown that he purchased. You told him you could afford your own dress, but he couldn’t help but spoil you. He thought you deserved the finest. 

“No no it's not, you look breath-taking y/n.” walking toward you with his cane, he touches your hands, gazing into your eyes. He couldn't believe how beautiful you looked when you put a gown on. You were a fairy-tale. His Queen.

"And you look very handsome, I say we cleaned up nicely." Smiling into the kiss Ivar gave you, you couldn't help, but feel the butterflies in your stomach rise inside of you. You once told him that and he called you a lunatic, but it was true. He made you feel good about yourself.

                                    ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Arriving at the party, you tried to put on a happy face, attempting to seem interested in the ball, yet everything was so tedious. The people you talked with were only interested in your status with Ivar, you lost count of how many times someone asked invading questions about you and him. 

"Love, come with me, I want you to meet someone important." taking your hand, Ivar moved through the crowd of people, searching for whoever he desired for you to meet. The bottom of your dress was tangled in your shoes, almost tripping as he dragged you to the destination.

"Ivar, where the hell are you taking me." Then you saw her, his mother. 

"No. I can't meet her here, let me go right now, Ivar Lothbrok." He couldn't even take you seriously. You've been asking to meet his mother for quite a while, and now that the woman was before your eyes, you acted like a little child. He thought. 

"Stop acting like such a Christian, she'll love you." Turning around to look at you, the fear was evident on your face. He could feel your hands shaking, trembling as he held onto them, too afraid to let them go he edged closer to you, feeling his warm breath close to your ears.

"I am a Christian Ivar, but that's not important. What's important is I can't meet her, she'll be so disappointed once she gets one good look at me." Looking down too ashamed to look at Ivar, he quickly raised your head with the end of his fingertips, wanting you to meet him eye to eye. Those sad, yet beautiful blue eyes he had.

"Well let's disappoint everyone, I'm in love with you and no one can change my feelings for you." 

"Promise me, Ivar Lothbrok." raising your pinky up in between your very close bodies. Ivar chuckled for you always knew how to make an intimate moment childish. Yet in a good way. 

"I promise." A smile couldn't help but land on your face after that confirmation. Telling Ivar you'll meet his mother. You could sense your nerves trying to crawl their way back into your stomach and hands, clutching tightly to your dress. You hope that would be enough to get you through this moment.

"Ivar, my beautiful son, give your mother a hug." Now that you were up close, there was no denying that she was the most beautiful person you've met. Watching the beautiful moment between mother and son, you couldn't help but admire how handsome Ivar looked with his hair neatly up in a bun to the striking way his muscles flex when he would hold his mother. 

"Mother, I want you to meet the most beautiful woman in my life...besides you, y/n." Standing closer to Ivar, you could feel the judging eyes of the people watching this encounter unfold. You knew how well respected Ivar’s family were, but you weren't from here, so you didn't know the full impact till you saw your face in the newspaper enjoying a date with Ivar.

"It's nice to meet you…"

"Aslaug. And your name is?" 

"Y/n." You couldn't even look at Ivar, yet you could sense him loving every moment of this. He wouldn't tell you, but he prayed his mother approved of you too, besides his mother no one was ever on his side voluntarily, after meeting you, you had his back not when he was in the wrong, but when people doubted his ability you were very quick to praise him on his achievements. 

“I must say you’re a pretty thing y/n, tell me you are keeping Ivar alive over at his place, he used to call me all the time asking how to use a stove.” Laughing at her remark about Ivar, you could visibly see Ivar struggling to work one. The moment you two became friends, he would immediately call you asking about how to use home appliances as if it was that difficult.

“I try to, I can’t let this handsome face cause destruction around the house.” Finally getting a glance at Ivar, You could see the creases of his lips forming a smile, enjoying the little banter between his mother and you, even though it was at the expense of his inability to handle living alone. 

“Ivar I’m taking her off your hands, find your brothers for me will you.” Walking with his mother to her original spot in the corner of the ballroom, you two discussed a variety of topics. You heard the rumors from people at work about the scandal with Ragnar, Lagthera, and her, but you didn’t care for the majority. You can’t help who you fall for and if he decides to tell you the truth when first meeting you just have to live with the consequences and try to make it work. She wasn’t a bad woman just fell for the wrong man. You thought. 

“Y/n, I want you to be honest with me. I can detect a lie quickly so it would be in your best interest, to tell the truth, do you truly even see yourself with Ivar or is this just a fame scheme?” Your heart stopped for what seemed to be a long time, looking Aslaug in the eyes, you knew you were looked shocked to the eye, but she still held her gaze awaiting your answer, you knew she would ask a question like this, but so after the first meeting. You heard many women tried to slither their way into the family and she easily got rid of them, you wouldn't lie and say that didn’t terrify you a little.

“You’re one of the good ones y/n be sure to hold on to my troublemaking son.” 

"I will...for as long as I can." Asluag sadly smiled as she heard the last bit of your sentence, hoping she didn't hear what you said, you excused yourself in search of Ivar, and found him where you most certainly didn't expect him to be. The ballroom floor dancing with another woman. Cameras were on them instantly and he enjoyed it, smiling brighter than you ever saw him smile, going along with the facade he likes to put on.

She looked as though she was enjoying herself as well, her hands were firmly placed behind his head pressing herself closer to him, hoping for more physical contact. Irritation and jealousy soon appeared on your face watching as cameras and eyes were all on them, they looked like a celebrity couple, soon irritation became embarrassment as people whispered among themselves watching you in pity as you watched the man you love dance with the beautiful woman.

"That's his ex-fiancee Freydis." Looking next to yourself, Hvitserk appeared. He was the only Lothbrok you could say gave you a normal welcome when Ivar introduced you to his brothers. Ubbe was overwhelming, to say the least, asking many questions about you and your family, Sigurd was rude and flirtatious, Ivar warned you he would act that way, and Bjorn was too focused on trying to find a new woman to lay with him so he was occupied, to say the least.

"He didn't tell me anything about her, but I can see why, she's pretty." 

"She is a beautiful thing, but trust me she has nothing on you, you encourage him in the best ways."

"Thank you, Hvitserk let me get your brother before he embarrasses me further."

Gracefully walking over to Ivar, knowing eyes were on you now, you tapped his shoulder, instantly he turned around, but the look on his face, you couldn't read if it was annoyance or anger. 

"Mind if I cut in?" Smiling at Freydis, the tension was evident as you watched her mannerisms toward you. She eyed you quickly, inspecting you as if you were something that didn't deserve to be her presence.

"Of course you can...Freydis meet my girlfriend y/n." 

"Mhm...hello." you immediately wanted to break away from the conversation, anger was quickly rising back into after her response. Ivar could tell you were mad from the way your jaw was clenched, keeping your remarks in.

"Did Ivar tell you I was his ex fiancee."

"No, because you're something left in the past...it was nice meeting you, but I'm very tired, and we have to leave." Before either of you could say goodbye, you were dragging Ivar by the arm, wanting to get out this event before you made a scene, and he knew you would.

The car ride home was silent. Neither of you wanted to speak, for if you spoke you would start an argument, and if he spoke he would make the situation worse. He tried to let you know he was sorry by lightly touching, but you always flinched away from him, as if he was something disgusting. Even as you both made it back to his apartment, you remained quiet leaving a big gap between you two in bed. 

He didn't understand why you were being so dramatic, he knew he should have told you about Freydis since he knew he couldn't avoid her, yet dancing with her shouldn't have affected you so much since you know he loves you.

                                     ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

You two haven't talked in days. 6 days to be exact, Ivar was counting. Every time an opportunity came for him to talk to you, you began walking away, locking yourself in the bathroom or just leaving the apartment completely. He was getting frustrated, he missed you and you ignoring him, made him not even want to be in the space as you. 

You noticed. He would come home later than he usually would, but you never said anything even though you wanted to question him as soon as he walked through the door. You needed him back, you wanted him back, the emotional separation was taking a toll on you and you thought you would lose your sanity if you didn't make it right with Ivar. But the hurt was there. He couldn't let go of the attention he craved and you thought you gave him enough to know he didn't need everyone's eyes on him.

As you went on with your day, thoughts of him kept interrupting you, you thought of the way he would claim your lips as sanctity from the outside world, you could remember him trying to braid your hair, failing since he couldn't understand your instructions, or the time you saw him in pain because of his legs, you'll never forget the way he looked at you as you helped him through the pain.

"Gina, I'm leaving early, but I'll be back." Running out of the underground club, you began running home since Ivar didn't work today, it was the perfect time to talk to him. Getting closer to the apartment, your phone began buzzing intensely, annoying you as you ran. 

As you took your phone out, you wished you hadn't. Looking at the first news article showed him kissing her. Freydis. He did it again. Enjoying the spotlight. Without any regards of the consequences, putting the phone away your right hand began to shake as you walked back to the apartment, you could feel the tears wanting to burst out, maybe even a scream, but not in public would do it, knowing these people might have saw it, you wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you broken.

Arriving at the apartment you could feel your right hand still shaking, holding it onto your Jeans, you breathed, trying to calm yourself down if you walked through the door. 

"Calm down, calm down, calm down." You whispered. 

As you put your hand on the doorknob, Ivar instantly opened it after hearing the sound of your voice, he wasn't expecting you so early, so to see you brought happiness inside him until he saw your face. The tears began to fall as soon as you looked into those blue eyes. Walking past him you say on the couch shaking your leg.

"Baby what's wrong?" Ivar answered with concern.

"How could you."

"Excuse me?" You kept your head down, but you could feel the puzzling look on his face as he rubbed your back trying to comfort you.

"How could you do this to me, to our relationship...was anything real to you Ivar?" Getting up since you couldn't stand the mere touch of him, you watched Ivar, the realization appearing instantly on his face. He quickly tried to come near you, but you shushed him to sit back down.

"You didn't think anyone was going to see you...dancing with her at the ball wasn't enough to humiliate me?" 

"That's not even fair." Ivar said. He couldn't think. He wanted to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, but that's not good enough. 

"Nothing's fair Ivar...and I was too damn stupid to think that this thing between could be something." 

"This relationship is everything to me...I just fucked up because I got caught up in-"

"Yes you did get caught up...in the fucking spotlight, the fame baby, that's your problem you want everyone looking at you, knowing they don't give a fuck about you as I do!" Ivar stood up, walking toward you with his cane, you could see he was pissed as you watched the way his nose flared up, but you didn't care. He hurt you.

Leaning up against the wall, Ivar trapped you, you could smell his cologne, attacking your nose, you wanted desperately to kiss him and give in to him, yet your emotions cloud any sexual thought that you had.

"Don't you dare try and talk about my issue, when you just as well have a problem...I'll admit I have a problem, but your emotions are infuriating, how could you ignore for 6 days, I was trying to reconcile with you and you kept pushing me away, I was sitting here just right here thinking you were going to end it all with me."

"Because I'm hurting Ivar...I thought me being with you would suffice." 

"You do suffice I'm just an idiot to not see anything clearly...please don't give up on me." Holding your hands, Ivar kissed them, you could feel the butterflies rising, yet your tears flowed harder, wishing you could stop feeling this way for this man.

"Stop Ivar...you want to know why I think you do the things you do...I think you're just afraid to be happy because nothing you truly wanted happened for you...your father, your legs, pity surrounds you as you think….but I saw you for the broken man you are and fell in love with it and it still wasn't enough so we should just separate from each other since my emotions are too much and you need the fame constantly." 

"It's not true y/n, you are enough, I love you so much, relationships are about making mistakes and working through them building as partners, this is just our moment...please you're breaking my heart." Ivar stared deeply into your eyes as the desperation poured off his lips. Staring back you tired looking somewhere else but your vision always reverted back to him. Looking at him in this depressing state you couldn't fight the urge to kiss him. To feel him before you completely broke his heart. Pulling you closer to his body he held your face kissing you passionately, hoping you would feel all the emotions he was pouring into this kiss. And you did feel it. The pain. The love. The insecurity. But you knew what needed to be done.

Breaking away the kiss, you shoved him off trying to get yourself together, knowing you looked a crying mess. Both of you breathing heavily from the kiss, all you two did was stare at each other, the hurt was in both of your eyes and you wished you could turn back time, so you could stop yourself from this tragic end.

"We shouldn't hold on anymore longer, I know we love each other and maybe we'll get back together, I don't know what's in store for me, but we each have things to work on." 

As you walked out the door, you knew you completely broke him and he did the same to you.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 21

I’m back and the story’s back! Hope you enjoy. It’s the final countdown. Only 9 more chapters to go. Enjoy!

“I can’t believe you’re actually going through with this!” Calix hissed once his mother walked through the door.

Circe hastily finished closing the door, taking extra care to double check the locks on the marble doorway, though Calix suspected that was more for the sake of gathering her thoughts together than caution. As suspicious and paranoid villains could be, Coven members rarely tried to intrude in each other’s rooms or meddle in their business. Probably an ego thing, thinking the doings of others were beneath them.

Not that this was important to Calix right now.

They were on crunch time. In a week, less than a week considering the sun was already setting today, the Coven would invade Auradon. Wrecking long-awaited vengeance, and chaos on Auradonians. Auradonians, who, if we’re being honest, were too sheltered and pampered to know how to slap much less defend themselves. There would be blood if they didn’t stop it.

And his mom, his mom who never tried to drag people to “the other side” or cared who was the fairest, who was not vying to be the baddest of them all, was still going along with this.

“Calix, I told you, there’s no other option.” Circe faced him, elegantly strutting toward the nearest ottoman where she could talk to him face to face. Just like the old times, when she would give him romance advice or assure him he would not die from alcohol poisoning, but that’s what he got for trying to drink Bacchus under the table.

Only instead of maternal advice, the son was the one trying to steer his mother away from murder.

“Yes, there is an option.” Calix stressed the last words, mangling the velvet cushions under his grip. The only thing keeping him from taking one of the many statues of muscled Greek heroes and throwing it against the walls in frustration.

“You still have the option to do the right thing. Join us. King Ben will grant full pardon for being part of the original Coven. You’ll be considered a hero.”

“Hmph! You’re right. If I reformed, then they’ll completely forget my crimes.” Circe said sarcastically.

“Oh right, I did do that! I stopped turning men, idiots really, into animals. I found love, I raised a son, made a business and they still sent me here! I’m sorry but there’s no right option.” Circe’s face lost her bitter scowl for a moment, returning to the maternal gesture reserved for him. One that conveyed comfort but also firmness, “Not for me. Life’s just not fair.”

“But Mom….” Calix whined, cringing at how childish it was but also feeling the pit in his stomach grow. He felt helpless. He’d always been able to get his Mom to see his point of view. But that had been in small disputes like whether he should be allowed to go to Orpheus’ concert on a school night or not grounding him for fighting with one of his cousins and punching him in the face. Minor things really.

None of them dealing with Circe’s values or worldview or any of her decisions.

This time he was trying to fight her on something she actually cared about. And gods, he was losing. Or maybe his mom was as stubborn as Minos and he simply hadn’t noticed it before.

Either one boded badly for his friends.

“I’m sorry, koukla. Honestly I wished I had you before the Great Uniting. You would have been there during the fires and earthquakes and all that. The “Life’s not fair” wouldn’t be so surprising.” Circe gripped his hand, rubbing her fingers lovingly. But it was only jarring for Calix. It was like some surreal, sick joke that his Mom was acting like their disagreement was over a menial thing and not life or death. Good and Evil.

So Calix snatched his hand from his Mom’s grasp and squared his shoulders. Time to get tough because clearly he couldn’t rely on motherly love to just do what he wanted. He’d have to be rational. Play to her sense of self, and what she would get out of this.

“Athena help me.” He prayed.

“I know life is not fair already, Mom. You think I didn’t realize that when they shipped you here. Life is not fair. But what I don’t get is that you won’t consider leaving the Coven. You’re not like them, you don’t want to kill anyone.”

“No,” Circe sighed in admittence, slumping and conceding to him. A little bit but it was something. “I just want to turn King Adam into that Beast form he hates so much. Wait, no, no. A slug. If he becomes a beast, he has too much power to fight back.”

Calix stood up and began to pace around the room, tapping his chin as if in thought that he’d seen Socretes do during his lectures before zinging a student with some philosophical epiphany, “Really? You’re sticking with them, murderers and tyrannical narcissists for petty revenge.”

“Not petty! I’ve always been a reasonable person!” Circe yelled, selectively forgetitng the many exes she transformed because she got bored with them, “He is punishing me for my past mistakes. This damn Isle is “consequences for my actions.” Bastard! I’m giving him consequences for his actions, he’s going to be a slug!”

Calix nodded as if he understood how his Mom felt. Which he had at one point. But now, he was tired and slightly bruised and again, so so tired. He wanted this to be over. The mission. The spying on the Coven. This stupid repetitive fight.

“Mom, you’re not like them. We both know that. But other people don’t. Auradon will only remember you as one of the many evil Coven members. Not a reformed sorceress injustly sent here, trying to get back to her-”

His mom looked at him, a rush of emotions crossing her face in an instant. Understanding, thoughtfulness, concern, anger, resolve and firmness. “Enough, Calix, I made up my mind. I have nothing left. With the Coven, I get some sweet revenge. What do I get if I reform? A pardon while that hypocritical King Adam waits for a new mob requesting for “villains” to get shipped.”

Firmness and resolve were flush on her face. Firmness and resolve to stick with the Coven.

Calix breathed deeply, feeling an unwanted lump gather in his throat as he listened to his mom make possibly the biggest mistake of their lives.

And worse, that she felt she had to do this because she had nothing left.

Was he not there? He was something… someone who desperately wanted her back home. He wanted her so badly that his chest ached as another weight settled there. Couldn’t she see that? This mission, this seriousness and emotional honesty that he usually avoided most of his life, he was doing this because he wanted her back.

And she thought she had nothing.

He couldn’t hide the emotion in his voice  though he did his best. “You have nothing left if you choose to help the good? You’d get to live in Greece again. With me, your son. But I guess I’m not worth… I’m not-you know, since you have “nothing left.”

He turn to walk out the room, barely remembering to walk out the room was to be exposed in the hallway for any of the Coven to jeer and question him. Who already distrusted his surprise presence. So he swerved onto the right where the mosaic of Hermes’ cadacus was like an arrow to the private bathroom. Not better but he wanted to be alone.

He breathed in the faint wisp of steam that pervaded the room. His mom’s paltry attempt to make the closet-sized space echo the bathhouses at home. It had the faint hint of rotten bananas, another reminder of the poverty and dirt of the Isle that everyone wanted to get away from.

He sat on the toilet, hugging his knees to his chest like he had when he was a little and peering through the keyhole at one of his mom’s parties. It was a perfect position for how he felt, like a little boy who could do nothing to change his world. Just stare through the keyhole in relative safety and wait to see what would happen next.

He was hidden and alone.

So alone as he could hear his mom’s footsteps as she walked, he could see a pause outside the door from the shadow that peeked from the floor. But she didn’t knock. She walked away, walked away to the other door into the hallway to do who knows what with the Coven.

Damn his mom with her ideas of being a cool free range parent. For once, he actually wanted one of those Auradon helicopter moms he heard about. Like FG, constantly getting into his business and not letting arguments go.

Could his mom not see the big picture?

While she was storming King Adam’s castle for her damn revenge, the rest of the Coven would be destroying the kingdom. People wouldn’t just get transformed into animals. Hades, that would be a blessing. People would get killed.

And how could she forget him? He was willing to fight for their mission, he knew that he would have to when he agreed to join Jordan, but did his Mom not realize if the Coven took over, they’d mark him for dead. They’d go behind her back and her claims of “protection” to make sure he wouldn’t start any rebellions like he was doing now.

He glanced around the small room, desperate for something to numbly occupy his mind before he thought about something darker. His eyes landed on the cabinet.

Any Greek worth their sandals would carry some ouzo in their homes, and since he hadn’t since a wine rack in his mom’s museum-like room…...

Sweet Nike! There was a whole shelf of shot glasses with ouzo already poured into them. Circe must have needed it to deal with living in this dump and all the villains around her.

If there was anything that would help him with the awful weight on his chest, it would be this.

He lifted one shot glass to his lips and drank, relishing the sweet burning liqued that went down his throat as smoothly as a waterfall.

Then he took another glass, and he was about to reach for the third when a small, quiet voice reminded him that there was still a mission at stake. He had to report back to Uma and the others and give them the bad news that his mom would definitely not be helping them.

Normally, that reminder would have sent him to gulping down four more drinks but this time it stilled his hand.

Like he told his mother, there was a bigger picture at stake than just her revenge. There were bigger things at stake than his own feelings of sadness. He slowly closed the cabinet, leaning his head against the cool mirror. He tried to do the deep breathing and focus.

This was hard. Gods, it was hard, he had known that going in.

And okay, maybe he’d known that but hadn’t believed it until this moment.

He had thought it would be fun, just like another one of those adventures or a fairytale.

Auradon was built on fairytales and he had thought there would take the requisite two or three days, they fight a dragon or two and then they’d go home in victory and as a family.

But it’d been a month, they found out the villain’s grand plan but had no way to solve it and now, he was having personal issues with his mom.

This would be a good time for what Jordan dubbed, a deus ex machine or just in time denouncement.

“Life’s not fair.” That’s what his Mom said. Not just now, but several times. When his dad died, speared by an Arendellan fisherman’s net. Yet another thing Circe despised King Adam for, because those fishermen came from the King’s initiative for kingdoms to share their resources.

The Arendellans hadn’t been properly vetted, or simply hadn’t paid attention to the orientation that not all sirens were trying to siren-song them to their deaths. That some simply lounge around the oceans because it was literally their home.

He had learned that after he experienced his first time being dumped last year. Which honestly had been more of a shock than a devastation but still.

His mom being sent away had been the worst by far. This coming in a close second.

But in all the times, he learned that life was not fair. He also learned to deal with it and try to keep moving with his life. At one point there had been nothing he would have liked more to have stormed the castle and changed all the suspicious mobs into mice. That’s why he made friends with Morgaine Le Fey. She was the only one who understood the anger and pain he felt, and it felt good to share his revenge fantasies.

But that’s all they were. Fantasies. Rationally, he knew that would only prove their fears right.

Calix learned to adjust his attitude a bit after his mom left, trying his best to stay out of trouble now that his mother wouldn’t be able to bail him out of the dungeon. Also he was more aware of how people viewed him in light of his siren-sorcerer heritage. Where once he played up his casanova flirtatiousness, now he tried to moderate himself.

And he had been fine.

Part of his outgoingness was a purposefully middle finger to the Auradonian Magic Ban. He played up all the things the royals hated like awesome kinky sex, and lavish magic acts because what else could he do? He had no reason to go to a fancy school with the preppy royals. But he also couldn’t pursue a normal job since the magic that was part of him was forbidden.

So there was nothing to do but get into the dungeons a lot.

But in trying to curb himself into something more “acceptable,” it was annoying but also nice?

Sure, he had resented it at first, but it was also nice?

Not trying so hard to be so unflappable, to have a pick up line for every man and woman. Stop trying to hide the fact that occasionally he wanted to act like that romantic prince archtype who wrote poems and made sculptures for their beloved because sirens didn’t do that. To hide that he could be serious, that his feelings got hurt when someone, usually a satyr because satyrs are cranky assholes, crossed a line. Maybe it was adapting, maybe he was growing up?

He didn’t know, but he lifted his head from the mirror and the twitch in his hands to reach for another shotglass was gone.

It was time to man up and be serious. It sucked that his mom wasn’t going to help, but he still had a job to do to save Aurado. After all, maybe if they saved the Coven, KIng Ben would allow his mom back as a favor. Jordan was always saying he was a sweet pushover. Yeah, there was still a chance he could get his mom off the Isle. And then-

“Hey, Cal, how are you doing?” A warm breeze ruffled his hair in a show of pink smoke and there was Jordan leaning her chin in the crook of her neck like the most annoying yet heartstopping ghost ever.

Calix choked back a scream, losing his balance at the sight of another person in front of the mirror. This fall resulted in Calix hitting his head several times against the door in his ungraceful slide down the wall.

Probably looking more like a scandelized royal than a put together teenager with his hand clutching his heart, Calix gasped for his pulse to go back to normal.

“Fucking genies! Jordan, I told you, warn me before you pop up. Remember, you had that whole lesson about the importance of knocking before entering? It’s the same thing, I almost had a fucking heart attack!”

Jordan didn’t care, she simply raised an accusatory eyebrow, “Are you drinking?”

How the fuck did she always know that? Calix was sincerely starting to suspect that she planted a magic tracer on him. The number of times she popped when he was having a drink was too coincenidental. Or maybe he just drank all the time?

Whatever, it didn’t matter. He was a new, mature Calix now.

“Just a shot-” Calix held up a hand before Jordan could interrupt him, “Just a shot. But I stopped because we have bigger things to worry about like how my mom isn’t on our side.” Jordan slid down to sit next to him, “You stopped because I came in time, admit it.”

Calix rolled his eyes, “No, it wasn’t that. I stopped but I listened to the Jiminy Cricket that I finally released from the dungeons of my brain.”

Jordan put a hand on his, the serious anxious look that had become her normal expression the past month returned, “Calix, I know this thing with your mom is hard, but now is not the time to fall apart. Things will get better, I don’t know how, but I need you to promise me not to touch alcohol.”

Calix stared at Jordan, realizing that this wasn’t one of their usual banters. She really thought he was going to go on a binge, right at this moment.

Yes, Calix had done that before. The days after his father’s death for instance and his mom’s absence. But he hadn’t been on an high stakes mission then. It was just himself and his grief.

But to binge drink, when someone was depending on him. Never. She knew that. When they had a night on the town with Aziz, he had been the sober one. He refused the drinks his way because someone had to be the designated carpet flyer. And filmer of embarrassing drunken antics.

Though Jordan may have been too drunk to notice herself, his self-imposed maturity.

But did she really think that he’d fall apart at this moment when he managed to keep himself together for the past seven months. For the 4 weeks on this hellish Isle?

“Jordan, I am not on a bender.” Calix enunciated each word carefully, staring her straight in the eye so she could he was serious. A bit of an intimidating feat if Calix was being honest with himself. Not because it was Jordan, but because… well the only one he was serious or honest was with his mom. But there was a first time for everything.

“I am not drinking on this mission. The shot was a lapse but I know I’m on a bigger mission right now, so I stopped.” “But you never-”

“I used to. But I have matured. We all have matured if you haven’t noticed. The usual doesn’t apply here, so I promise you, I’m not going to drink my sorrows away. There is too much at stake.”

Jordan looked a bit freaked out by his proclamation because she was staring at him all wide-eyed, “But-are you sure? I don’t think you’re capable of-”

Calix clenched his jaw and glared. It was one thing for himself to be surprised at his maturity but it was kind of insulting that it was so hard for his best friend to comprehend. That apparently she thought he was “incapable” of change.

“Yes, I am. So are you going to insult me some more or would you like to carry on with important things like how are we going to pull this off without my mom’s extra power?”

Jordan closed her mouth, satisfactorily chastened. And then in another milestone of their first emotional talk, Jordan muttered under her breath, “Sorry.”

Eh, not really meaningful but it was enough.

“It’s fine.” Calix nudged her shoulder with his to show their was no real hard feelings.

Jordan didn’t look at him but leaned her head on his shoulder, “I’ve been messing up so much lately.”

Calix pursed his lips, not trusting himself to not say something that would send her in a mood. He’d seen her being all moody and mopy the last few days though he didn’t know the exact reason. She was probably regretting giving the leadership position to Uma (drunken decisions are rarely ones you enjoy the consequences of) but Calix thought she made a good choice. Uma was a bit stern and intimidating, but she knew she was doing and was more effective than Jordan could ever be.

He also sensed the tension between her and Aziz. Especially since that meant she was hanging around him more. Usually he wouldn’t mind that, but this was hanging out with an ulterior motive and he wasn’t going to get in the middle of whatever Agrabah sandstorm that was between them.

“Hey, you still have me. Besides, now we’re having that alone time talk that the heroes and sidekicks or the love interests have before they save the day. We can check that off our adventure list.” Jordan lifted her head from his shoulder to stare at him incredulously, “Wait whose the sidekick in the scenario?”

“You are, obviously! You’re the genie.” Calix said.

“Wha-but but-why can’t we be love interests?” Jordan protested. “We’re already friends with benefits. It’s too late for us.” Calix answered. “Well, I-”

There was a knock on the door, and a tentative, “Calix?” “I‘ll leave you to it, Uma says to report at 4 sharp.” Jordan whispered, and poofed away.

Calix opened the door, feeling more calm, “Yes, Mom?” Calix was swept into the warm arms of his mom, the smell of sea salt and roses sweeping over him as she hugged him tighter. Firm, steady, like she wasn’t going to let him go.

But she did, holding onto his shoulders, “I’m sorry, Calix. You’re right.”

“I am?” Calix asked, almost hitting himself in the head for questioning it instead of just celebrating.

“Yes, you’re right. I went to another meeting and I listened. I actually listened instead of envisioning what I would do with Beast.. And.. it’s stupid to say this. But they’re evil. Actually evil. It’s not just a “cross the border and destroy everything in sight” plan. They- they’re actually thorough. Mother Gothel and Evil Queen are using sorcery and the dwarf tunnels to get through to the castle. Nerissa and Maleficent are going to go in double dragon form and burn down the castle and corner the royal children in the basement. It’s just-I- I can’t ally myself with them.”

Circe’s eyes brimmed, “Especially when I have a son… I do want to come back to you. My revenge shouldn’t be before you.”

Calix nodded, pulling his mom in for another hug because gods knew they haven’t done this in a long time.

Now they had to report to the captain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Any idea where that wench is now?” Harry snarled, slamming down a glass of rum so roughly that CJ could hear the crack of glass as well see as the spider-cracks on its side from her position behind the window curtains.

It was a cliche spot. So obvious that no one would think to look there, and that’s why CJ chose it.

After all, a true pirate and a true villain had to keep track of her competition.

After last night’s, in CJ’s opinion, humiliating talk with the mini Ak Coven or whatever they called themselves, it was clear that Lady Caine was not going to honor her word.

Well… Lady Caine hadn’t said that they wouldn’t use her plan to take over the Jolly Roger, in fact she had asked for CJ’s plan outlines, but…

CJ bristled at the way Caine had shoved her aside and wouldn’t let her speak in front of the group. As if she was an afterthought. A kiddie tagalong.

It was too familiar a feeling. It was like she was one of the Hook siblings again. The youngest one, the baby trying to play an adult’s game.

And after all she’d done, getting to Auradon on her own before Harriet or Harry, going to Neverland to retrieve James Hook’s compass, stealing and plundering across the Seven Seas…. Everyone still didn’t see her as a pirate in her own right.

By Davy Jones’ locker that was all going to change even if that was that was the last thing she did! Screw Lady Caine, supposed mother or not, she didn’t need anyone’s assistance. She didn’t want to be part of Lady Caine’s revenge on Beast plan.

All she wanted was to be on her ship, on her own with her infamy riding the waves.

She was going to plunder the Jolly Roger by herself.

So she snuck out of Hans and Staylan’s castle… Actually, disappointingly enough to CJ’s sense of showmanship, it was more like she walked out of the castle since no one cared where she went anyway.

And now she hid out in Captain Hook’s office behind the curtains in hopes of hearing of any plans or information that would be helpful to CJ’s future theft.

Unfortunately Hook was not the one using the office. Apparently he was blacked out in his bedroom.

Harriet and Harry were the ones in charge of Hook’s office. Harriet being the heir to the Jolly Roger.

CJ grinded her teeth, a stupid childhood habit that she thought she had outgrown. Along with her more obsessive pacing, a Hook trademark with their fear of ticking crocodiles. CJ bit her lip instead trying to curb her instincts but teh word “heir” just irritated her to no end.

Why should Harriet be the heir? Seriously!?!

Her sister was tough. One of the baddest, most intimidating Vks with her scarred eye, tattered eyepatch and half shaved head. Not to mention the numerous kraken-inspired tattoos running down her arms and neck. Yeah, she looked the part of a seafaring pirate.

But she didn’t do anything worth the name of piracy.

She inherited the crew from Captain Hook, an easy feat since they were spineless swabs, brainless and obedient.

They were sidekicks whose idiocy often hindered their looting runs than helped. Much like Smee was the clueless thorn that ruined most of Hook’s plans.

Besides, everyone knew that things stolen on the Isle were useless and valueless. The biggest treasure chest that Harriet ever stole was one of Captain Hook’s old buried treasures. The coins rusted over or chewed by sea mammals.

A rotting bone would have been more bright and shiny than that treasure.

And Harry….

Harry never bothered to fight for himself. He lowered the Hook name by acting as a little enforcer and first mate to that sea witch, Uma.

CJ couldn’t believe she once idolized them.

“Dun know. Don’t care.” Harriet rasped, wiping her lips, and rolling her eyes in that bored babysitter way that CJ and Harry seen their whole lives.

Harriet was a pirate without ambition. Yet another reason why she, Calista Jane Hook, should be the famous Hook of them all.

“The welp is scheming against us, how can you not care?” Harry growled

“Because it is just another game to her. She’ll get bored with the ship and go off again. You knwo her, obsesses with one thing and moves on. It doesn’t matter.”

CJ clenched her fist, her grinding teeth sounding obnoxiously loud in her head. Another game. Moves on. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter.

She was still a kid to them. How can they not see how serious she was? Why couldn’t they once admit that she was a good pirate.

Why couldn’t they do that?

She knew they were capable of it. When they were younger, they didn’t hold to their Dad’s value that you couldnt say a nice thing about anyone but yourself. Or a particularly gorgeous jewel.

But they didn’t dismiss her like Dad. They acknowledged her quick thinking and even quicker fingers. Her strength in swinging on ropes for her piraty entrances.

Why couldn’t they do that now? It’s like they and the rest of the world grew up, but they didn’t think she did. She was still an inconsequential child. She didn’t matter.

And a thought… dark and unwelcome like the girl’s shadow creatures entered her mind.

Freddie’s warm, sultry smile and bright eyes looking at her with unbidden delight. The kind of smile that made CJ forget about the fresh sweet smell of sea kelp calling to her or golden treasures blinding her eyes. The smile that made her want to fall into Freddie’s dark spell and nimble fingers until she forgot what light was.

The same, curving lips telling her that she wasn’t worth it. That Freddie would rather stay in Auradon than sail the seas with her. That she’d rather change herself so she could be a goody goodie among the luxuries of Auradon than be with her. That’d she’d rather be like Mal and those other traitors than be with her.

Cj bit her lip harder, trying to find one thought any thought that would distract her from the memory that was threatening to make her sink to her knees.

Freddie Faciliar, for all that CJ tried to distance herself from the shadow girl, relegating her to sidekick, to simply a best friend and occasional lover… Freddie was one treasurer she had had that she loved most of all.

And even Freddie rejected her.

What was it? With all her skills and ambition that no one would take her seriously? That no one respected or wanted her enough to listen.

Freddie’s green eyes flashed once more in her mind, fading and fading much like Freddie herself from CJ’s life.

No one wanted to stay with her.

CJ grinded her teeth again, a small spark of pride and fury flaring up in her despite the limited amount of movement she could without being caught. Anger was better than weakness or sadness. She had to focus on that.

Her time would come.

The day of the invasion, when everyone was distracted, she would take her rightful place alongside Ching Shih and Captain Hook as a pirate for the history books.

She would take that sword mounted on Captain Hook’s wall and use it for herself. She’d make this brainless, spineless crew walk the plank. She’d cut the ropes and sail through the barrier.

She’d kill anyone who got in her way.

And if that person was her sibling, so be it. Then they’d take her seriously.

After all, a pirate needed to be ruthless and backstabbing to be the best.

Because that was who she was. The best pirate the Isle and Auradon had ever seen.

[chappedandfadedvds]

Dec 16th, Wednesday 18:13

„What are you doing here?

Jens almost managed to pull his head out without hitting the frame. Almost.

He had to bite his lip in order not to cry out in pain under his breath. Meanwhile his mother had the audacity to laugh at him, when he slowly got to his feet and took the gloves off. He was done anyways. At least he could rub the spot now that was asking for his attention. Fortunately it didn’t feel as if it would swell. At least something.

„I was cleaning the oven.“ He replied instead as he found his mother watching him amused from the end of the kitchen counter. She leaned against it. She also looked as if she would slump to the floor any moment from now, should she not have sufficient support to keep her upright.

„I can see that, but why?“ 

„I needed to keep myself busy.“ Jens stated truthfully. 

After he had come home from dropping off the folder filled to the brim with papers at Alexander De Wael’s office in his law firm. Since that very moment Jens had felt frustratingly restless. Lotte had rushed towards her room the second they stepped into the house and Jens had checked briefly on his mom who appeared asleep. So without any distraction and no interest to just lay on the sofa or his bed he had uncharacteristically cleaned his entire room and vaccumed all floors. To his unfortune it was only half past five, Jens noticed dissatisfied with a glance at his phone.

Therefore he had somehow proceeded to open the oven and figured that the small crusted stains probably shouldn’t be there. With a swift search through the cleaning supplies, he actually found the right bottle and got to work. That was almost fourty minutes ago and now he was done. Perhaps he could start with dinner. It shouldnt get too late for Lotte anyway.

Jens was about to open the fridge when he registered his mom moving a little closer, quite weak on her feet. 

„Are you alright?“

„You shouldn’t be up in your condition.“ He countered, knowingly ingonring his mother’s worried face. He knew that it probably wasn’t the best way to deal with emptional stress, but at least the house will be spick and span afterwards.

„I was lonely.“ His mother sighed and obviously meant it too, as her eyes lost the glimmer while the smile fell off her lips. Great now he couldn’t just send her back upstairs, could he? How unfair. She noticed it immediately, trying to get some lightness into her expression, when she pointed at one of the hanging cabinets next to Jens. The one that hold the cups and glasses.

„I actually just wanted to get something to drink.“ She smirked. „Didn’t know I’d run into the maid.“

„Ha ha, very funny.“ Jens couldn’t help but grin in return, just as amused as she seemed to be at the moment. Maid. He was definitely not a maid. 

„Okay, I concede. Will you at least take the sofa and I’ll promise to get you some water before I prepare dinner?“ He proposed, seeing his mother nod in agreement, before she let her son sneak an arm around her middle to hold her up, while the two of them made their way over. Silence settled uneasy between them and Jens couldn’t quite place where it stemmed from. He just knew he hated it. Perhaps he could just put some music on while cooking. For now though some conversation would hopefully do.

„I actually found a recipe that I wanted to try. Some kind of turkish lentil stew.“ He went on to explain to his mom what ingrediants would be used and talked her through the preperation steps, as he helped her lay down and drape the big wollen blacket over her. She had shivered lightly before, despite the thick socks, long sweats, shirt and cardigan.

Jens had spent all monday afternoon searching for new recipies, which was harder than he had expected. It needed to be something easily digestable, something that didn’t needed to be chewed. So that mainly meant soups. And to be honest, other than a pumpkin or a potato stew his repertoire was greatly limited. Until now, he hoped.

So in order not to have to eat the same two meals in alternation, alternatives were strongly needed.

„I should have let you cook way sooner.“ His mother teased, thanking Jens for the glass of water. She nipped on it, her face faintly contorted as she gulped down the liquid. She tried hard not to show it, but to no avail. Jens noticed it immediately and immediately looked away.

He found it hard to keep his eyes on her anytime she looked ill enough for him not to be able to brush her sickness aside.

„I would have only declared you insane and gone off to smoke with Moyo or something.“ Jens replied, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as he continued to brighten the mood a little. „Honestly, imagine 16 year old me spending hours in the kitchen to cook?“

Jens had tilted his head at her, expectantly awaiting her reaction. They both knew very well that that was close to inconcivable. Jens would have done anything in his might to not have to deal with every kind of housework. He was a pretty shitty son to have, now that he reminded him of his sixteen year old self. He had drank at parties til the middle of the night, smoked too much weed, sneaked out to his girllfriends, ditched way too many classes. 

Truth be told, he prayed to any god willing to hear him out that Lotte would come to be a very considered and an easy teenager to have. Because he wasn’t sure how long he could keep his cool if not. At this point in his life Jens would quite likey have kicked his own younger self’s ass, for the bullshit he had pulled.

His mother only chuckled, definitely confirming him to be right on his assesment.

„Oh you are so correct. I am very happy that you get to understand my point of view finally. Though I’d absolutely would have you checked by a doctor if I had found you cleaning the oven back than.“

„Glad to hear that you aren’t now calling for therapy.“ He laughed surprisingly content again. „I really should start on dinner though. Call me if you need something, yes?“

„Yes, son!“ She saluted him with a wink, only to lay her head back on the pillow that leaned against the sofa’s arm. His mother’s eyes fell shut, signaling Jens to better leave her to rest for another hour until they could eat together in the livingroom later that evening. The last couple of night, he only had brought her some dinner to bed, while Lotte and him ´had ate first at the table downstairs.

It would actually be a nice change for once.

Lotte would love it.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

[micahrodney]

Thread; Chapter 4 - Through The Looking Glass

The following is a commission for Matthew Caveat Zealot.   The morning of the memorial service was especially bitter and cold.  A slight drizzle had started which threatened to turn into lake-effect snow at a moment's notice. Kevin made his kids pack up everything just in case they couldn't make it back to the hotel, and the trunk had a fully stocked emergency kit. It was something of a Brown family tradition to prepare for the worst, but this quality had been more pronounced since the accident.  

“How's this?” Neil asked, fiddling with the knot on his tie.  

“I don't suppose you'd consider a clip-on?” Travis teased, moving in to correct the full-hearted but half-studied attempt at a Windsor knot.  

“Can't tie a tie, little bro,” Dawn said, waggling a mock judgmental finger. “They aren't teaching you anything at that school.”  

“You're just upset that I'm not in the psych ward,” Neil shot back, running a comb through his hair while Travis fiddled with his tie.  

“Injustice of the century,” she smirked.  

Kevin, Kim, and Rocky were already downstairs eating the continental breakfast and no doubt having “adult” conversation.  Travis was still in the kid's group but only by virtue of sharing a room with Neil.  Dawn had been dressed since 7 AM, but only because Kim woke her up by loudly dropping her make-up kit on the bathroom floor a half-hour prior.  

She looked quite nice in a simple black dress with matching leggings, though Neil wondered what their mother would have said about the heeled boots that she wore with them.  Combined with her unique hair coloration, the whole effect was very “Bride of Frankenstein”.  But then Dawn had always been avant-garde in her fashion sense.  

Travis was wearing a chocolate brown suit with a charcoal tie.  It didn't quite match but then Travis didn't own much in the way of suits.  Not that Neil could talk, he had only ever owned the black suit that his father bought for him for the funeral three years prior. Wearing it to every memorial service since probably did not help the mounting anxiety and grief.  It was as though a bubble was forming in the pit of his stomach that threatened to consume him the moment he let his guard down.  There was the choking sensation followed by the slight urge to vomit.

“There you go.  Dad will be proud,” Travis announced, completing the adjustment to Neil's tie.  

“Cool. Can you tell him I did it?” Neil joked, his stand-by for keeping the nerves in check.  

“If you think he'll believe it,” Travis replied with a weak chuckle.  

A moment followed, where the three youngest Brown children sat in uncomfortable silence. They knew what happened next and each was dealing with it in their own way.  Dawn was aloof as she always was, but she wasn't drowning her senses in her electronics. There was a stillness to her mind that was a precursor to the waves of emotion that would inevitably hit her around the halfway point of the service.  She had notably forgone mascara today, the easier to pretend she wasn't crying.  

Travis felt compelled to “big brother” more, and Neil's clumsiness with his tie was a perfect opportunity to let him express that.  He wanted to reclaim some of the control he felt he had lost in his life after their mother's death.  This was especially potent considering his past addictions. Travis had been balancing on a tightrope across a chasm of chaos for so long, and this day was the hardest one of the year for him.  

Neil was unsure how Kim was coping.  She was the oldest, he was the youngest and their age gap meant she had been out of the house for most of his life.  He had gained a portrait of his older sister in the family meetings and stories from Travis and their father.  Still, it was fascinating how incomplete these recountings were.  Humans were complicated but at least when you lived with somebody for a time you got to understand how they behaved. Without this context, everything else in their life was as shrouded in mystery as if they were a stranger, and carefully curated stories never did them justice. Sometimes it baffled him how little he really knew about somebody so close to him.  

As for Neil, jokes, pointed asides, flippancy: these were his allies.  It was not that he was going to try and avoid feeling sad.  The pain would come and he would fully experience it, making no attempt to hide his tears when the time came.  He just didn't want to cross the bridge yet. Things had to go according to a schedule.  If he could contain the emotion, then he was in control of his emotions.  Perhaps he and Travis were not so different.  

“So,” Travis said, breaking the silence.  “Breakfast?”

---

Saint Mary's was Colleen Brown's church as a child.  It was just a few blocks from the river and had a rich history to it, about which Colleen could recite paragraphs at a moment's notice.  It was founded in 1850 and much of the original foundation was still intact.  While clearly weathered, the chapel was remarkably beautiful.  

The centerpiece was, as always, Christ the Redeemer upon the cross just above the dais.  He was flanked by John the Baptist and St. Peter.  Further out on the walls adjacent to the stage were the Virgin Mother on the left and Joseph carrying a depiction of the baby Jesus on the right.  As far as Catholic churches went, it was a fairly humble affair.  There was just something inherently wholesome about the building which Neil found comforting.  

The only people in attendance at this quiet ceremony were the Brown family, Rocky, and a couple of Colleen's friends about whom Neil knew very little.  All in all, there were roughly ten people including the priest.  

Father Dwight McMahon was a person who Neil had come to know, at least somewhat. He was a family friend long before he took to the cloth.  Their mother had described him as an “inspiring young man”, though how they had initially met was unclear.  However both Kevin and Colleen had taken a liking to the young man as though he were a foster son, and he had often attended any family occasion of note, at least for the past six years. It seemed only right that he, having joined the clergy around the time Colleen passed away, preside over the ceremony.  

“Let us pray,” the Father began, as was his custom.  

The attending lowered their heads respectfully and clasped their hands together.  

“Most Holy and Gracious God.  We meet before your sight this day in remembrance of your daughter Colleen Angelica Brown, who departed three years ago.  We seek your guidance and comfort as we honor her memory and uphold the traditions of her family.  We thank you for your blessings and tender mercy, for surely you are the light and the way.  In humble gratitude, we pray.  May our lives please you, oh Lord.  Into your embrace, we offer ourselves. For what lies on the journey ahead, God only knows.  Amen.”  

Dawn swallowed hard. Travis's head was lowered.  Their father could barely keep his eyes open.  Kim was already openly weeping, and leaning on Rocky for support.  As for Neil, he just felt empty.  There was a pit where his heart should be.  It was the same as every year.  A horrible reminder of what he had lost.  Neil forced himself to look up at the Reverend, to try and connect with the man who had begun reading off the life story of his mother.

He let out an audible gasp, perhaps mistaken as a sob for how Travis put a consoling arm around him.  But it was not grief that overcame Neil, but terror.

McMahon had been wearing the standard black cassock, but now stood draped in off-color robes with a wide-brimmed hood.  In that instant, the nightmares he had forgotten about came screaming back into his mind.  The deep pit, the darkness, the pool of suffering, and the frozen temple in which gathered a black mass of robed skeletal figures.  

“We all want to go home,” McMahon said, his voice now hollow and raspy. “We can never go home.”  

“We just want to go home,” came a pale imitation of Dawn's voice from behind him.  

“End our suffering,” Travis uttered, his bony hand now clasping itself around the back of Neil's neck.  

Neil wanted to scream.  He wanted to react in some manner, but it was as though every joint in his body had locked up.  

“This is a nightmare,” Neil said to himself.  “I've fallen asleep and this is sleep paralysis. That's all it is.”  

Hail began to pelt against the windows of the chapel. A ferocious wind burst open the doors, wood crashing into brick with a loud crack.  

“You cannot go home,” came a stern and familiar voice.  “Because your home no longer exists.”  

At once, Neil stood up, suddenly free of the grasp of terror that had consumed him. He turned to the figure who now stood in the doorway; purple translucent lines containing a field of glowing stars.

“Rem,” he choked.  “Is that you?”  

“It is us,” Rem replied simply.  “The thread of this one is broken, difficult to follow.  But we have finally found you.  You must come with us. The Dreamer awaits.”

“Go where?” Neil asked, still processing the new reality. “I'm in the middle of my mother's memorial.”

“Are you?  You are here. Your body's location is ultimately irrelevant for our purposes,” Rem explained.  

“Am I... asleep?” Neil asked, desperate for more information.  

“Approximately,” Rem replied, his voice growing sterner.  “There are complications to that term, but it is perhaps the closest understanding you will grasp. At first.”  

“Go home,” the phantom priest bellowed.

“Want home!” screamed the nightmare Dawn.  

“Your thread is broken,” Rem explained again.  “But you still exist. Were you any different, you would be as they.  Lost in time and space, a shadow of your former self.”  

The shades moved closer to Rem, their movements foul mimicry. It was as though they were marionettes with a few cut strings.  

“Home!”

“Home!”

“We want to go home!”

Rem raised his hand.  “Your homes are no more.  You return to the Dreamer now.”

With a wave, the chapel and all of its inhabitants vanished.  The fabric of reality melted away, revealing a field of stars in which the two now floated. The great planet on which Neil had spent several eventful hours in the prior dreams was directly beneath them, as was the iridescent star.  

“You have seen this world as it once was.  I will show you what has become of those who once dwelt upon it.  Soon, you will understand, Neil Brown,” Rem announced.  

Without warning, Rem placed his hand on Neil's forehead, covering his eyes in bright pulsing light from the stars within.  His retinas burned, his head throbbed, and soon he felt nothing as the light overtook him.  

---

Neil shook himself awake and leaned forward, gasping in shock as the sleep paralysis wore off.  The dream had been especially vivid, and utterly horrible. But at last, it was over and Neil was in the safety of...

“Where the hell am I?” He exclaimed.

The young man was surrounded by stars, safely observed through translucent panes held in place by a silvery steel framework.  He had been lying on one of several identical beds, though he appeared to be the only occupant, each raised high off the ground the better to appreciate the cosmic light show.  The air was crisp and manufactured, the low hum of some alien technology thrummed somewhere beneath him.  

This was not a dream.  

“You are awake, Binder,” came Rem's rigid voice from just behind.  

Neil turned to greet the figure once more, though he noticed that his would-be savior was now wearing a silvery robe which seemed far more opaque than the rest of him. His footsteps were a musical chime on the metallic floor.

“What is this place?”  Neil asked, repeating his concern now that a supposedly sympathetic ear was present.

“We refer to it as The Cradle,” Rem explained. “Throne of the Dreamer and safe haven for the Somni.”

Neil tilted his head slightly.  “I mean... could you start from the beginning?”  

“Nox will give you a more thorough explanation.  I am to take this one to her,” Rem replied.  “Please accompany me.”  

Rem gestured towards the center of the room, where a railed circular platform hovered a foot or two off the ground.  Just above it was a tunnel through the ceiling which went up quite a ways.  The lift could hold perhaps three of these Somni at once, but Neil barely took up a tenth of the space.  

With a slight jolt, the lift began to rise.  Neil almost lost his footing at the sudden momentum but was able to steady himself.  After the initial shock, the rise was smooth and swift, rocketing the two of them up several hundred feet. The lift tunnel was illuminated by pure white rings of the light in even intervals.  The effect was almost hypnotic, not that Neil felt any desire to sleep.  

The lift finally reached its destination, placing the two of them on the rear wall of – there was no other term for it – a space station. The room was massive, at least ten times the circumference of the galactic dormitory they had just departed.  The silvery steel framework branched out around the room creating a dome-like structure, offering a mostly unobstructed view of the cosmos.  At ground level, a variety of holographic panels were erected, forming a semi-circle opposite the lift.  Indecipherable glyphs relayed incomprehensible data at lightning speed, observed by a host of these Somni.  

In the dead center of the room was one particularly large well-like structure, above which hovered a glowing cerulean orb, bound up in crisscrossing threads of white light.  At varying intersections of the impossibly dense thread were tiny golden spheres. A horrible sense of deja vu overtook Neil as he beheld the gentle turning of this web.

“You behold the Threads of Fate,” said Nox, moving out from behind one of the holographic terminals on Neils' left.  

She was adorned in a cerulean robe with golden pauldrons.  There was a royal aura about her, and given the uniform attire of all the other Somni in attendance, it was clear that she was the one in charge.  

“I,” Neil began, but words failed him.  So much was happening so quickly. He had no idea where he was, what he was doing there, and what his family must be going through with him suddenly gone.  

“This must be quite troubling for you,” Nox offered, grasping his shoulder in a comforting yet strangely hollow grip.  It was as though he was being touched by a ghost.  

“This is just so confusing,” Neil explained.  

“Perhaps we should start from the beginning then,” Nox said.

She gestured to Rem who busied himself at the central well.  With a few flourishes from him, the scene changed, and the cerulean gem in the center took on the appearance of a planet.  

“Millions of years ago,” Nox began. “We Somni lived as you do.  Mortals upon the blessed planet of Somnus. Ours was a paradise, and from our bountiful came a wealth of technology and hoarded knowledge.  In time, we began to become aware of not only the existence of other planets throughout the universe which sustained life but entire planes of reality apart from our own.”

The planet's image changed slowly, with a number of the continents now covered in sheets of ice, while others succumbed to wildfires and volcanic eruptions.  

“However this knowledge came at a terrible price.  We suffered calamity after calamity, which we later discovered to be deliberate attempts to destroy us.  The Somni had grown too powerful, and we were becoming a threat.”

“A threat to who?” Neil asked.  

The image shifted once more, a black cloud now consuming the entire planet.  

“We came to call it Kosmaro: the Nightmare.  It is an entity as old as time itself, in constant combat with the Dreamer.  One creates, the other destroys. As the final catastrophe rent our world asunder, the Dreamer reached out to a select few of us and granted us with these forms.”

Nox gestured to the room at large. Neil only noticed then that several of the Somni had gathered round to witness this retelling, starry gazes twinkling gently in the dim light.  

“So,” Neil interjected delicately.  “Why am I here?”

Nox let out an approving noise; a musical hum exhaled from her like a sigh.  “For you are a Binder.”

“I've heard that term a lot lately,” Neil replied. “But I have no idea what it is.”  

Nox turned her attention back to the well.  “It comes down to the Threads of Fate. The history of our universe is one full of opportunity and choice. Yet several events are preordained and must occur according to the whim of the Dreamer.  Their dream, their plan.  Yet the incidental day-to-day interactions upon which new realities may come to exist are immaterial to them.  No matter how many threads are created, all will eventually converge upon a Crossroad.”

Nox pointed to the bright golden stars floating around the threads.  Neil could now notice in greater clarity that thousands of these strands all seemed to converge around every one of these points.  

“This is a multiverse then,” Neil offered.  

“This one is familiar with the theory,” Rem said almost approvingly, before returning to his usual stoicism. “Though their kind has barely begun to scratch the surface of the implications.”  

“With a Binder in their midst, perhaps they will learn more,” Nox chastised. She then elaborated.  “You see, Neil.  Kosmaro has been attacking these Crossroads.  And when a Crossroad is destroyed...”

With a wave of her sleeved arm, a single golden star flickered out of existence.  The white strands that connected to it floated about aimlessly for a moment, connecting to nothing and seemingly adrift in the void. Another wave and a second Crossroad vanished.  Now those few threads which had been connected at both points faded from existence.  

Neil swallowed hard, as he remembered the desperate cries of those phantoms.

We want to go home.  

And what had Rem said?

You can't.  

“My family,” Neil sputtered.  “Are they dead?”

Rem, frank as ever, immediately responded.  “A few thousand variations of this one's family have been lost to the phenomena, but they number among several quintillion lives.  It is of little consequence one way or the other as far as you are concerned.”  

“Rem,” Nox warned, her tone approaching annoyed while still retaining its ethereal quality. “The thread from which you originate has not been lost. However, it and many other adjacent threads remain in jeopardy. It is fortunate that we discovered you when we did.”

The image above the well zoomed in on a small section of the web, Two Crossroads were now enlarged, with the threads between them more easily distinguishable.  What Neil had once taken for a few hundred were in fact several thousand.

“Binders are Somni who are able to traverse the Threads of Fate to repair the damage done.  Kosmaro is as old as time itself, and thus the strain on our universe is an inevitable part of it.  Some day in the future, Kosmaro shall, eventually, win the battle.  But Binders do their part to delay that unhappy hour as long as possible,” Nox explained.  

One of the golden lights dimmed into a dull grey, and the threads were once again floating about in tatters, loosely connected to the other.  It looked like a badly frayed knot.  

“And to do that, Binders must enter these Crossroads and set the actions right.  Things must play out according to the will of the Dreamer. If they are successful,” Nox touched the dimmed Crossroad once more and its light returned, setting the strands right again.  “Balance is restored.”  

Neil was doing all he could to keep his head straight.  In summary, there was a multiverse full of temporal weak points, and these strange alien beings were saying he was one of a select few capable of repairing it.  

“How?” Neil spluttered out finally.  “How am I supposed to fix those? I've never seen anything like this before.”

“It is better to show you rather than tell you,” Nox said.  “But for now, you should return to the world from whence you came.  Rem shall be in contact with you, and will come for you when the time is right.”

“Rem?” Neil asked nervously.  The stern specter had not done much in their brief interactions to inspire a sense of camaraderie in him.  “Can't it be you?”

“Nox is the Voice of the Dreamer.  She has matters well beyond the scope of managing this one,” Rem sighed.  “I shall serve as overseer and – if the need arises – protector.”  

“Take heart, Neil,” Nox said soothingly.  “It is a long road you have ahead of you, but we shall be your allies every step of the way.”  

With a popping sound, all the lights on the station dimmed.  The room slipped away to darkness, and Neil Brown felt himself falling once more into nothingness.

[deathflares]

» ffxivwrite day #06 — unspoken

g'raha centric, 1.3k words, G.

[ao3 mirror]

G’raha writes things he cannot say.

(a letter, neatly folded, placed before a headstone)

Father,

Today my work saw me admitted to the Students of Baldesion.

You used to tell me you hoped I wouldn’t let this eye of mine dictate how I would choose to live my life, so I believe that first and foremost, an apology is in order.

I am sorry I didn’t live up to your hopes. I am not, however, sorry for what I have chosen to do.

I saw the way it weighted at you, the feeling of having something you must do but never knowing what it was. I didn’t understand, as a child, how crushing it must be; but with every year that passes, the feeling grows on me as well. I dream, sometimes, about things I know are important, things that I must remember. Yet when I wake, the memories are gone, leaving only a gaping hollow in my chest that I never seem to be able to fill.

But that emptiness, that doubt—it ends with me. That I swear to you.

I hope that, on the day we meet again, you will be able to say you are proud of me.

Love, Raha

    (a piece of wrinkled parchment, broken down by the waters of lake silvertear)

My friend,

Forgive me the sentimentality of this letter. There has been a somewhat dire feeling overcoming me for a while now, and I fear this might be my last chance to convey my thoughts to you, should the worst happen once we enter the World of Darkness tomorrow.

I believe first and foremost, I owe you an apology. Not just for our less than ideal first meeting, but for my entire demeanor through the course of this expedition. Though it beggars belief, I am not oblivious to my own foolishness, as you are wont to call it, and I know my actions have, at times, been less than ideal.

All that I have done, however, I have done with the admittedly embarrassing intention to impress you. Pray do not hold this against me—before someone like you, one is inevitably inspired to better themselves, that they might one day be but a dim glow next to your blinding light.

That, perhaps, is the point I intended to convey in this missive. That to me you have been the greatest inspiration, the driving force that makes me want to be and do better—the star by which I hope to chart my course. Whatever I do tomorrow, know that I will do so with the hope that, someday, my own star will rise to meet yours, even though it will undoubtedly never shine as brilliantly.

On that day, I pray you will still find within you the kindness to grant me a place by your side.

Hopefully still your friend, by the time this reaches you, G’raha Tia

    (a torn page of a journal, lost to time)

I visited your grave today.

It’s beautiful, the view from it—though little remains of what once was Ishgard. It has been many long years, but even the most ruthless among us don’t dare disturb your place of rest. For that, I am thankful.

I left you a flower. They’re hard to come by, these days. I hope you like it.

The ones who roused me have come up with quite the ingenious plan, you see. They’re a noble bunch, the lot of them—so fearless and hopeful, even in the face of unrelenting despair. I cannot measure up to them, not in courage nor in selflessness, but I have been entrusted with their wishes nonetheless, that I may one day deliver them to you.

Hopefully, then, I’ll get the chance to say I am sorry.

    (crumpled parchment, littered in a corner of the umbilicus)

Mother,

I believe you would faint if I were to tell you in person that you now have a great-granddaughter, but it is true nonetheless. Granted, you always wanted grandchildren, but certainly you didn’t expect me to skip a step when it came to that.

That said, I believe I owe you an apology—truly, now I understand the suffering I brought upon you when I was a boy myself. I believe you should be thankful, however, that unlike Lyna, I didn’t have access to an ancient tower of gigantic proportions where I could hide myself from you for hours on end.

If only you could be here, to guide me through my clumsiness like always. Lyna would love you; as you would love her, I’m certain. And as I love you.

—I miss you, mother. Desperately and hopelessly so.

Your son, (ILLEGIBLE)

    (an envelope safely stored in a drawer, never delivered)

My friend,

If you are reading this, then, hopefully, my plan has succeeded, and my duty come to an end.

Doubtlessly you are mourning, in spite of the fact I am not worth your grief; because your kindness truly knows no bounds, and is one of the greatest reasons I would happily go through all that I have a thousand times over, as long as it meant keeping you safe and alive.

But first and foremost—I am sorry. It is too late and too little, but it is true nonetheless. Pray know that all that I said and all that I did was with the utmost conviction that there was no alternative, for I would never willingly deceive or hurt you. I am painfully aware that you have suffered far too much of both through your life.

But I digress. Pray allow me to speak plain.

Though I have told you far too many lies during our brief time together, my affections are undoubtedly true, and shall always remain so. Even if I am no longer able to stand by your side—nor do I have the right to—know that, wherever I may be, I shall watch over you, always.

I will not ask for your forgiveness. I pray only that, from now on, you may greet each coming dawn with a smile.

Yours, The Crystal Exarch

      (a letter, safely sealed. awaiting delivery.)

My dearest Lyna,

I pray this missive finds you in good health and high spirits.

It has only been a few days since I woke in this new old body, but you have not left my thoughts for a second since then—nor will you ever.

Lyna—there are no words to express how deep my sorrow and regret at not being able to tell you these words in person runs. Yet tell them I must, if you would still be willing to listen to the ramblings of an old man who is utterly undeserving of your love.

My dear, sweet Lyna. My love for you is boundless—as is my gratitude, for all that you’ve done and will do, for myself and the good people of the Crystarium. Having you in my life is a privilege I do not deserve, but that I am eternally grateful you chose to grant me nonetheless. I am, now and ever, incredibly proud of you, and though I can no longer be by your side, I shall always pray for your safety and happiness.

I am aware I have kept you in the dark about my past for far too long, and for that I am, yet again, deeply sorry. But know that, should you want to learn about it at last, you need only say the word. There shall be no more secrets between us, should that be your wish. I have asked far too much of you across the years—’tis now your turn to ask of me whatever you heart desires, and I shall answer most gladly.

The bounds of space and time may keep us apart for now, but you shall always be my dearest granddaughter.

With my deepest love and wishes for your happiness, The man once known as the Crystal Exarch

[violet-knox]

Stay

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: You stand beside Draco as you watch Voldemort ask you all to declare yourselves after he brings forth Harry’s dead body to flaunt his victory. You struggle on making a decision until you see Draco’s parents step forward summoning him. 

Warnings: feelings of loss and defeat (anxiety and a bit of depression)

Word Count: 2431

A/N: The reader is a pure blood Slytherin from Scotland who is dating Draco. I’m basing this one shot on the movie version of this scene. All dialogue (except the readers of course) comes from there. Hope you enjoy 😊

Ash swept through the air as silence fell upon the crowd gazing at the flag of victory woven by the Death Eaters who stood firmly behind their leader. It was over. You’d lost after making such an effort, going against the better judgment of your housemates, the blood of your fellow peers spilled; all gone to vain. Mistakes were always something you’d taken by the horn, tackling them until they were fixed, but this, there was nothing you could possibly do now to undo the horrid lapse you’d made when deciding to stay behind and defend your school. Regret swept through you as you watched Hagrid slowly step forward, thick tears streaming his cheeks, the sound of the chains binding his wrists stinging your ears.    

Your stomach dropped as the sick memories of all the jokes your boyfriend made, making fun of your Gamekeeper, played through your head. You’d laughed with him, even joined him. And to make matters worse, all you could think about in this moment were all the snarky remarked your boyfriend would make seeing Hagrid cry in sorrow like a lost puppy if not for the fearful sensation buzzing through each and every Hogwarts student, professor and staff members. The sudden urge to retreat back into the safety of your mother’s arm back home in Scotland had you wishing you’d listened to her plead the day you’d packed up for another year at Hogwarts. 

It’s perfectly safe mam, I’ll be fine. You’d been so sure of yourself back then. Though perhaps your judgment of the situation was truly blinded by the real reason you’d returned to Hogwarts despite the tragedy that struck the year before. You knew exactly how your parents would react if they knew you risked your own life for a boy they’d only heard you speak of. But you’d trusted him when he told you there was nothing to fear, that no matter what happened, you’d be safe so long as you were by his side. The news Professor Snape had taken over as Headmaster had you feeling all the more confident as he’d always been your favorite teacher, protecting his Slytherins, aiding them when needed. Had you been told this was how the year would have gone down in the end, you never would have left the security of your home.

You had so much you left to do, your life had only just begun. All the plans you’d dreamed of as a child, all the promises exchanged between you and your boyfriend. After meeting his parents over Christmas last year, you’d begged him to come to Scotland with you after graduation so he’d meet your family. It seemed silly now to be so excited about such a thing when you found yourself at the hilt of Death’s cruel sword. A naive child reaching for the cookie jar at the tips of her fingers, ignoring the danger of glass shattering atop her. 

It almost felt like a dream now, these last few wonderous years at Hogwarts. You’d met the person you believed to be the love of your life, your second half, your soulmate. Even when the curtain finally lifted around him, your gazing landing on the true person he’d been all along, you still couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Others would call you foolish, blinded by love, but you knew the boy you’d grown close to all these years hadn’t been a simple mask and when you saw him stay behind while the younger students were taken to safety before the battle begun, you’d hoped, prayed that his actions were a sign of his true loyalties. And in a way, you were right. You’d just made the wrong assumption as to whose side he was weighed towards. 

You were on your way to safety. If you hadn’t seen him slither past everyone, determination struck in his eyes, you never would have stepped back into the death sentence the castle offered. It wasn’t in your nature, nor was it for any student belonging to your house, which is the exact reason why you found yourself the only Slytherin standing to defend Hogwarts. 

Laughter broke out from the other side of the courtyard, your attention snapping back to peer at the commotion before you. It was quite unsettling to listen to such noises coming from those who’d slaughtered families, murdered children. Worst of all were the chuckles coming from the wizard placing himself above all others, claiming his superiority as if it was a simple birthright.  

Everyone stood there in silence, most unsure what to do next, and you were no exception. Your composure was on the break of falling apart, fear being the only thing keeping you from turning around and bolted back into the castle. Harry Potter had been the symbol of resistance, the light showing you to the end of the tunnel, your only hope at defeating the greatest threat the wizarding world had come to know. But that was all gone now. Dead along with the boy who lived.  

You watched as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named flaunted his victory, the death of a young boy praised by his followers as if a great evil had just been purged from the earth. It was an awful sight. His loved ones displaying nothing less than grief and absolute dismay. Hagrid, holding him with complete defeat in his eyes. What hope did you have of surviving if the only person who’d managed to previously defeat the dark wizard was dead. With Dumbledore gone, Harry lying motionless in the Gamekeeper's arms, there was nothing, no one left to save you. 

“And now is the time to declare yourself.” Your eyes shifted from the figure speaking to the those crowding the entrance hall and the ground. It felt oddly unsettling to stare at him, as if you were staring down the Devil himself. But you just couldn’t help your attention pull in his direction as he spoke. “Come forward and join us...” you held your breath as the smile on his face faded. “or die.”

Your lips parted ever so slightly, slowly letting out the breath you held, careful as not to bring attention to yourself. What kind of choice did you have now? Betray all you stood for, all the morals you’d been taught, or face the probable possibility of death. It was a situation you never thought yourself capable of facing, one you knew you didn’t have the courage for. But alas, here you stood in the wreckage of your school with fate facing you down, asking you to choose a path of horror or demise. You were too young to consider joining the Death Eaters. You were too young to die.  

It was a misconception to assume all pure blood Slytherins despise those of less than pure magical blood. Did you correct those who’d converse in front of you, claiming muggle-born witches and wizards carried less magical talent than others? No. Objecting to such a thing when you were outnumbered was something only a wanker would be foolish enough to do. But you were no fool. You were well aware that blood status didn’t affect one's ability. How could you when you’d seen your own classmates perform spells, brew potions and even fly a broom better than you. As for muggles, well, their ignorance was something you were sure would bring them to their own demise. Show them something like an Animagus and their brains would try and come up with some ‘rational’ explanation. Magic Tricks. How arrogantly blind muggles are. 

“Draco!” The name of Lucius’ son fumbled out of his mouth in urgency, as if the faster he spoke, the quicker he’d bring his family to safety. You watched as the man who so evidently stuck out from the crowd, his blond hair a speck in the sea of black behind him took a small step forward, his hand stretched out towards the boy standing to your left.  

You were never fond of Draco’s father. The first time you’d met, he looked down at you in judgment. That night felt more like an interrogation than the family dinner Draco had promised you. But you still put your good foot forward and did your best to impress them, show you were worthy of their son’s love. And as the night passed, you felt your nerves melting away along with your anxiety. The warmth of their open arms, welcoming you into their home settled into your chest as you sat there conversing with Draco’s Mother. She was much softer than you’d expected. Obviously proud of her only child, spending the night talking about nothing less than his ambition and successful endeavors. 

Slowly, you turned your attention to Draco, watching his lips twitch in fright, the frown on his face spoiling the perfect canvas of his features. He was afraid. Genuine fear seeped from his body which only had you quivering in your place all the more. You’d never seen him so shriveled, feeling smaller than he was before now, not even during his first Quidditch match against Potter, or during his O.W.Ls. Not even when the Death Eaters had invaded the school last year. Not once had you seen him flinch the way he did as he watched his parents stand behind He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, begging for his obedience. 

You watched his gaze drop to the ground in utter defeat and you immediately brought your attention back to his parents, wondering just how badly they wanted their son to stand by their side. How far were they willing to go for him? After all that talk about greatness and superiority, passion and devotion, you’d never once seen them defend his honor after he’d lost a Quidditch match or received a grade lower than expected. Shame was all that had awaited him from them during his time of need and you were the only one who’d provided him with the love and compassion he craved. Surely they didn’t expect him to conform now. Not after all they’ve done to him, to this school, to the innocents who suffered at their hands. 

Draco was conflicted. Even now as you stared into the eyes of desperation laying on his parents' faces, you could feel his hesitation, his fear. Could you blame him? You might not have someone on the other side begging you to step forward, but that didn’t stop you from considering it. Survivor's instinct proved to be a cruel mistress tonight, sparing no one. 

“Draco.” His mother spoke calmly, her face revealing no emotion, no sense of desperation or urgency. It was like she was calling him for dinner. “Come.” She stepped forward and mimicked her husband, stretching out a hand in trepidation. 

Your breath hitched, feeling more agitated than ever. You had to make your choice. Do it now or let it be chosen for you. You blinked rapidly, your chest heaving for air as your heart pounded against your chest. You wanted to cry, to let the tears flow down your cheeks in frustration. You wanted nothing more than to live and go back to the prodigious life you’d taken for granted. But weakness would be all that people saw if you let your shield down. You couldn’t even spare a second, a small moment to give into the emotions rushing through you. You had to stay strong. 

There was no denying your need to live overpowered the disgrace you feared if you stepped forward, surrendering your soul to the Devil. Yet your feet stayed firmly in place. You were paralyzed from where you stood, trapped by your own mind. What life would you lead if you were to join them? No, it was clear that no matter what side you picked, the life you knew, the life you loved so dearly was gone. Never to return. 

What was the point in fighting, what was the point in sacrificing so much if the end result was the same? Your soul was damned either way. Your life was over and there was no point in fantasizing otherwise.  

With a heart heavy filled with dread, you slowly reached for Draco’s hand, grasping it like the day you’d comforted him after losing the match against Gryffindor in second year, like the day Dumbledore snatched away the house cup from you, like the day you danced with him at the Yule Ball. His hand lay motionless by his side, his eyes slowly shifting toward yours. 

“Stay with me.” you whispered, each word lagging behind the other. His gaze met yours and you finally saw the stress ease off his shoulders as you offered a subtle smile. 

His lips parted, fear causing his words to retreat back down his throat. He wanted to ask how you planned to survive. Why you wanted to stay fighting for Hogwarts, but standing there, all eyes landing on him thanks to his loving parents had him feeling all the more cautious of the fear he emitted. He wanted to retreat into himself. He’d failed the Dark Lord again, just like his father. What treacherous punishment awaited him if he crossed to the other side. He’d already lost his wand and Potter was dead. There was no redemption, no remorse, no forgiveness. His father certainly received none when he’d let the prophecy slip his fingers. 

Nothing was left for him on either side. He’d betrayed those he stood amongst and he’d failed those who stood opposed. The only person he had yet to disappoint was… you. You always believed in him, even when his parents had given up hope and he’d tossed you aside thinking he belonged to some greater cause. That his duties as a Death Eater triumphed over the loyalty you had to offer. Even after all he’d done, all you the things you learned about him, here you were, by his side giving him one last chance to show compassion. One last chance at the only redemption anyone had to offer. 

Draco kept his gaze steady with yours as his fingers escaped your grasp and for a second you thought he was going to walk away, abandon you, leave you to die alone until you felt him intertwine your fingers with his own and hold you firmly in place. Neither of you going anywhere and you were glad he’d decided to take your side. Your old life might have been snatched from you by this war, but at least you had each other. And together you would face whatever was to come. Together you would step into fates warm embrace. Together, you would live.  

[vivilove-jonsa]

Snow Mountain

@jonsa-week​ Day 6 Prompts Historical & Remix of ‘Cold Mountain’ by Charles Frazier

Read on ao3 or below.  

(Mentions of wounds and the letter is heavily borrowed from the novel/film.)

***************

The Letter  

 August 1864

 Petersburg, Virginia  

Jon Snow was first aware of the sound of flies buzzing and people murmuring. They seemed eerily similar. His body ached but his leg no longer throbbed incessantly. It had been burning when the old woman had found him in the foothills where he’d stumbled away from the battle in a fog of agony and confusion.

Panic gripped him. He opened his eyes and hurriedly raised the sheet. It was still there. No one had robbed him of a limb while he was unconscious.

As the galloping of his pulse began to slow again, he observed his surroundings. He was not in a hospital tent but a house, a very grand house that was being used to treat the wounded apparently. He was surrounded by beds…and dying men.

He closed his eyes. He did not wish to see anymore just now. He could not escape the smell but he could close his eyes to it all.

After his eyes drifted shut, he dreamed.

He pictured mist hanging over the mountains on an autumn morning. He heard laughter, as lovely as any melody, and saw wisps of red hair escaping from her bonnet.

He smelled Uncle Ned’s pipe and heard the crackling of the logs in the fireplace as she sang a carol and played her mother’s piano, her hair rippling with highlights from the flames on Christmas Eve.

He smelled dew and the first spring wildflowers as she raced ahead of him, inviting him to chase her to their secret spot by the creek. Whispered promises and sweet kisses, the feel of her in his arms as they swore things to one another.

A hand shook his shoulder and the dream receded.

“You’re awake at last, I see,” an older gentleman wearing a blood-splattered apron said. He had a kind face despite the gore but his eyes looked tired. Jon opened his mouth to speak but no sound would come out. “Our patient could use some water, ma’am.”

A lady wearing an apron, though less bloody, over a black silk dress handed him a tin cup. The water was tepid but it soothed the raw desert of his throat.

“I’m Dr. Luwin. This good woman in Mrs. Hornwood and this is her home.”

“It was…it was that,” the lady said absently with her eyes cast towards the floor. “It was once a home.” Her eyes filled with tears and she begged pardon before hurrying away.

“Mrs. Hornwood’s husband and sons have died fighting for the cause,” Dr. Luwin explained.

The cause. Jon could not care less about the cause. He never had. He had only joined up because Robb and nearly every other man and boy from sixteen to sixty in their little corner of Appalachia had been joining, too.

“You have your war,” she’d said, the disdain clear in her voice that Sunday morning when word had reached Snow Mountain.

I never wanted it, he wished he’d said to her now.

Everyone had been in church when Benfred Tallhart had slunk in the back door and whispered the word to his brother who’d passed it along to Theon. Soon the hymn Jon had been singing was forgotten as some of the young men had filtered out to whoop and holler in celebration of the grand adventure that awaited them.

Reverend Chayle had labeled them all young fools as the service had quickly disbanded after that. Uncle Ned hadn’t approved either.

“What do you boys imagine you’ll be fighting for?” he’d asked him and Robb at dinner later. She had been sitting across from him, absorbed in her plate as she had been the entire meal, not looking at him once.

“The South,” Robb had answered with his easy smile.

“Last I checked, south’s just a direction,” his uncle had said.

“Summer soldiers and just as green,” Uncle Benjen had laughed.

“Why’re you so eager to die fighting so some rich man can keep his slave?” 

 “I ain’t fighting for that, Daddy. Wouldn’t bother me none if they was all freed. But we’re fighting Northern Aggression and…”

 “Lord, the things you get in your head, boy.”

Jon had heard enough. Robb had stayed to argue but Jon had made his excuses and tromped away from his elders in anger…and in guilt. He’d hoped she would follow him. She hadn’t. She’d already tried talking sense into him earlier.

 It wouldn’t have mattered. Whether you signed up right away or waited until they called you. Everyone was going. There wasn’t ever a choice really. And I couldn’t have stayed behind and let Robb go without me.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Dr. Luwin asked.

“Snow…Jon Snow,” he said disinterestedly.

“Where you from?”

“North Carolina.”

“So am I,” the doctor said with a smile. “From Raleigh. Where you hail from?”

Jon grimaced and said, “Snow Mountain.”

The doctor chuckled. “Snow Mountain? And you’re Jon Snow?”

He was humored by him sharing his last name with his little hamlet. Jon found no humor in it, the made-up name his mama had claimed was the last name of a husband everyone knew didn’t exist.

“It’s pretty country, I’ll bet. Remote though. How’d you come to…”

Jon turned his head away.

Dr. Luwin frowned at his listlessness. Jon did not care. He could go and heal men who wanted to live. Jon was done with all that. Robb had died in his arms. She hadn’t wanted either of them to go. How could he go home again without Robb? How would he ever explain it to her, to any of them?

Days passed and Jon stayed in his bed. There were bodies carried away and new corpses brought in who just didn’t know they were corpses yet.

He had to work up his courage to inspect his wound more closely, still fearing to see the maggots. They weren’t there anymore. His leg was clean, healing nicely. He wondered how it would feel to put some weight on it. He couldn’t summon the desire to try though.

He remembered the old hill woman humming, clucking at him and chomping on her pipe as he lay on the floor of her shack shivering with chills and burning with fever. She’d said she was part Cherokee and knew healing. Her place had been filled with colorful bottles and smelled funny. She had kept a croaking bullfrog as a pet. She was an oddity for certain.

The iron had been red hot when she’d removed the lead. He’d grit his teeth til he thought they’d break. She’d pinched his arm and told him to scream. He had. Then, she’d made a poultice and laughed when the maggots appeared.

“They eats up the corruption, boy. Old Maggie will save that leg yet,” she’d cackled before he’d fainted.

 I suppose you did.

If he still prayed, he might have said a prayer for her in thanks for saving him. He wondered where she was or how he got here.

Night was creeping upon them and the room grew quiet except for a few random whimpers or moans. A lantern came bobbing towards his cot. The lady in black silk with sad eyes sat it down and touched his face. His whiskers itched in the sticky August heat but her hand was cool.

“Jon Snow?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You have a letter.”

He closed his eyes and told himself it was a mistake. She would not write to him here. How would she know where he was when he wasn’t even sure how he’d ended up here?

“It’s not very recent, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Hornwood said, looking it over. “I can’t make out the signature. I’m sorry. It’s dated from January.”

She’d sent it before the battle, before Robb had died. She’d mailed it not knowing where to send it, only acting on hope and faith that it would find him. Perhaps, it was all they had left.

He found Mrs. Hornwood’s eyes locked on his, awaiting permission to read. He said nothing but nodded to her, uncertain if his heart could bear it but too eager to hear from her to decline.

   My Dear Jon,

 Since you left, time has been measured out in bitter chapters. Last fall, my poor father died. Bran enlisted right beforehand and Uncle Benjen has been missing in action for two years now. Winterfell Farm is abandoned with only Arya, Rickon and I left to work it.

 Every house in these mountains has been touched by tragedy and every day I feel the dread of learning who else has fallen. And no word from you. Are you alive? I pray to God you are.

 This war is lost on the battlefield and is being lost twice over by those that stayed behind. I’m still waiting as I promised I would, but I find myself alone and at the end of my wits, too embarrassed to keep taking from those who can least afford to give. My last thread of courage is to put my faith in you and to believe that I will see you again.

 So, I say to you now, plain as I can, if you are fighting, stop fighting. If you are marching, stop marching. Come back to me. Come back to me is my request.

 Jon’s eyes closed as silent tears of regret and anguish slid down the side of his face. He felt the letter being pressed into his hands. He grasped it tightly to his chest and heard the swish of skirts as she walked away.

“Sansa,” he murmured to the darkened room before deciding his course.

When Dr. Luwin came to check on him the next morning, he would find his bed empty.

[aion-rsa]

Why Eliza is the Real Hero of Hamilton

https://ift.tt/2ZATEMv

We can all woop King George III style now that Hamilton is now available for the world to watch on Disney+. The long awaited recording of the global sensation is 2 hours and 40 minutes of pure magic – a beautiful retelling of the life of Founding Father Alexander Hamilton. We presume the show is all about Alexander, as he is in nearly every scene. Although he played such an important role in the Revolution and in forming the nation’s government, the show’s namesake – Hamilton – also plays homage to his wife, Eliza Hamilton. 

It may take the story unfolding for us to realise that Eliza was, in fact, the real hero of Hamilton. Not only did she play a huge role in the show, but in American history. 

Eliza, then a Schuyler, is introduced with her sisters Angelica and Peggy in an early number before she takes centre stage during ‘Helpless’. Not only does she sing about how she isn’t one to ‘grab the spotlight’, but she has no concerns with the fact her fiance is penniless, and that she would be settling for far less than the high society she was born into. Her father Philip Schuyler was a Revolutionary War General, and her mother Catherine Van Rensselaer Schuyler was born into one of the richest and most influential families in New York. Whereas her Alexander was born out of wedlock to an already married woman, Rachel Faucette, and a Scotsman that abandoned the family some years later. Through the lyrical genius of Lin Manuel-Miranda, Philipa Soo explores the true selflessness of Eliza during the song. 

The next time we really see Eliza is during ‘That Would Be Enough’ where she sings to her husband upon his return from war. Pregnant, emotional and not having heard from or seen her husband in months, she still remains the rock when he breaks down. She reiterates how the only thing important to her is that he remain alive and meet their son, and talks about how amazed she is by his accomplishments thus far. During this time, the real Eliza Hamilton was also assisting her husband in his political writings – much of the information laid out in the letters that would go on to be hugely influential in American Revolutionary history, were in her writing. 

Then our hearts start to break. We begin to see the impact Alexander’s tenacious, legacy driven lifestyle is having on his family life. Remaining ever calm, Eliza pleads with her husband during ‘Take a Break’ rather than going full crazy mode on him (like we would…) for missing important milestones in his children’s lives. All she wants is some love and affection from her husband, not even half the devotion he gives to his country, but still remains happy when he refuses her proposal. 

In 1787, pregnant with their fourth child, Eliza took in Fanny Antill, the two year old daughter of Hamilton’s closest friend Colonel Edward Antill, who had recently lost her mother. She mothered 8 Hamilton children, as well as suffering a miscarriage in the wake of her youngest child falling ill. Eliza managed to do this while maintaining her household throughout multiple moves to accommodate her husband’s career (yes, really – she did maintain her own household despite living in a very sexist and classist society), being at the forefront of American society, constantly attending dinners and having little to no private life. Sounds like the dream, right? Having your every move sprawled across the national press, and being constantly watched and judged, is the modern nightmare. 

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What we don’t see in the show, is that Eliza aided Alexander hugely throughout his career. She acted as a mediator between Alexander and his publisher for The Federalist Papers, and is reported to have helped him perfect Washington’s Farewell Address in 1796. It’s perhaps surprising – this was the 18th century, and she was a woman – but it’s true. 

Here comes the real hard-hitter. In 1797, Alexander Hamilton admitted to his one year affair with the much younger Maria Reynolds that had taken place 8 years prior. In case you missed it in the show, he doesn’t just admit his infidelity to his wife, he instead published the Reynolds Pamphlet, a 95 page document detailing how he brought Mrs Reynolds into his marital bed behind his loving wife’s back. The Hamilton-Reynolds affair was one of the first sex scandals in American political history, and was just another example of how hard it was to be a powerless wife in the limelight at this time. Most of us would up and leave the sorry man that did that to us, but instead, despite being pregnant with their sixth child, Eliza composed herself and relocated to her parents house in Albany to give birth and escape the drama. 

It’s impossible not to feel your eyes flood with tears when Eliza sings ‘Burn’. Devastated when she learns about her husband’s affair through the public Reynolds Pamphlet, Eliza, like all of us would in that situation, questions whether the words he had said to her throughout their relationship had meant anything at all. She worries that her children will feel the effects of the affair, and sings with passion about her anger, shock and humiliation. For the first time, we see Eliza consciously grip control of the situation and ‘erase herself from the narrative’ in one of the show’s most powerful scenes. 

Her life continued to be marred by tragedy. Just 4 years later, her eldest son Philip Hamilton was killed at 19 in a duel after his father had encouraged him to delope (fire into the air) and throw away his first shot, counsel that would lead to his untimely death. Again, we see Eliza continue to sob her way through the next number as she prays for her son to survive during the reprise of ‘Stay Alive’. 

‘Forgiveness, can you imagine?’ Embarrassed and betrayed by her husband’s affair, and now heartbroken by the death of her son, which was influenced by the advice of his own father, broken and beaten, Eliza chooses to forgive and stand by her husband. Of course, this shouldn’t be overly celebrated, because Alexander was a total idiot in making those decisions, but choosing to stand by her husband’s side shows the compassion and love deep rooted within her. Just a few more years later, her brother and sister Peggy died unexpectedly, followed by her mother and then her husband in 1804. Although she had enormous privileges throughout her life, it was one also filled with sorrow and unrest. 

The final scene is perhaps the most important in letting us into something that may have been quite hard to identify throughout the rest of the show. Although the majority of the story is about Alexander, we learn that the storyteller, in this case Eliza, is just as important as the person that the story is about. Let’s not forget that Rob Chernow cited Eliza as being one of the most important sources when writing the biography Alexander Hamilton, which the show is based upon. This is Eliza’s story, too. Without her, we wouldn’t know as much about Alexander, or his role in the Revolution and American politics, as we do today. 

A new element of the story is introduced in the final few moments when Lin Manuel-Miranda steps outside of his character as Alexander, and into his real self. Lin then introduces Eliza to the audience, where she can see what her work has done. She gasps and grabs hold of her heart in astonishment as she sees how she has helped immortalise the story of her late husband, and of a huge chunk of American Revolutionary history. 

We don’t see much from Eliza after the death of Alexander, but we do learn about some of the things she accomplished following his death. She helped raise funds to memorialise George Washington with a statue in D.C., she spoke out against slavery, and defended her husband against his critics and dedicated the rest of her life to telling his story. But there are stories we don’t see. Eliza was so devoted to preserving his legacy that she reorganised all of his paperwork and letters along with their son John and fought relentlessly to get his biography published. With the help of his mother, John C. Hamilton would go on to publish his father’s first biography. She was known for wearing a small package around her neck that contained a sonnet which Alexander wrote for her during their early courtship. Even during her nineties, she prompted Congress to allow her to buy and publish Alexander’s works, adding them to the Library of Congress to help future historians know him. 

But what is she proudest of? She founded the Orphan Asylum Society, dedicating over 42 years of her life to caring for and educating over 700 children. Eliza is noted as being one of the first female philanthropists, and is regarded as one of the most generous Americans that reformed the nation. 

At the very end when singing with the ensemble, she asks for the first time “will they tell my story?” rather than “will they tell your story?”, showing that she remained modest and selfless to the very end. Everything was all about the greater good or her family.

She really is the ‘Best of Wives and Women’. 

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