#This mirrors Johan and Anna

[theartifxce]

Through the Eyes of a Stranger

FROM THE JUICY ANON RP PROMPT HERE: (sorry this took so long) 

The Copycat Killer

-

There was a man in the mirror - but the reflection wasn’t his; down to the hair that fell over the scar on his right temple. The pale layered blonde strands, the perfect bridge of his nose, the v-shaped structure of his face along with his sharp jawline – none of it was truly his.  

Like clockwork, he got up every morning and greeted this stranger trapped in the glass with a grimace, burning his eyes upon the reflection that was his – but wasn’t really his.

His expression was always detached and mechanical as he stared into the eyes of a stranger. A rising hostility crawled along his skin at the sight of this invader.

His name was Elias Reinhardt.

He hated him.

But he could never destroy him.

Because he was him.

But he also wasn’t really him either.

While ignoring this broad shoulders and prominent muscular form – he saw the man in the marble he was meant to become. It had been etched upon his soul for as long as he could remember, drilled into him through every burn, bruise and drop of blood.

Carving up and mutilating his body wasn’t enough.

There were minor imperfections he corrected through mediocre means; like speech therapy and language studies and philosophy.

He had to play the part, perfect his craft for when the curtains fell.

Not only for his creator – but for the world.

‘He is me and I am him.” Elias reassured, drilling and reminding the ghosts of doubt that haunted at the back of his head.

Through the cracks in the mirror, he carefully put in his bright blue eye contacts, blinking out the tears before he gleefully witnessed the parts of himself he hated were concealed with little effort. Swiftly, he lifted his eyeliner to the outer corners of his upper lash-line and gently swiped its black ink with feather strokes in order to keep the look as natural as possible.

 He took his ring finger and lightly dabbed at the darker earthly eye shadow tones and applied the shading just at the inner corner of his eyelid and outer corner of his lash line to give his eyes the appearance of depth. Finally, he dabbed some concealer to hide the beauty mark from beneath his right eye and set it with powder.

Once again he looked in the mirror and was washed with a wave of relief – it was funny how a little bit of make-up could really bring out one’s true features. He curled his lashes and applied very light mascara to bring out his boyish charm. It was only then, did he have the courage to gaze down at the photo tucked in-between the wooden frame of the mirror.

Johan Liebert.

This was the only photo he had of his graven image; the beautiful devilish angel he was meant to become from the moment he was born. Elias held it up alongside the reflection of himself, comparing every aspect of Johan’s features to his own and was soothed by the realization that he could actually pass as his twin brother. 

 But there was still a gaping hole inside of him.

He could look like the man himself – but what of his thoughts that plagued him during the night?

What song of lamentations cantillated within his heart?

It wasn’t enough to merely look the part – he had to become down to the fibers of his being.

His father’s words haunted him in the back of his mind, the constant teaching and lashings that had been scarred upon his mind and skin were now whispers that simply wouldn’t leave. He dropped the photo in a rush to place his hands over his ears, desperate to drown out his father’s unhallowed voice.

“IT’S ALL WRONG. HE SMILED – HE SMILED AND YOU’RE CRYING?!”

A child forced to kill in order to give birth to a Monster he never wanted to greet. The image gnawed at the back of his mind – the beating he had received for crying over the deaths of his friends; the heart he was forced to throw away.

 “AH!!!!!!!!” He screamed in agony as he brought his fists against the mirror, shattering the image of that stranger along with it. He panted heavily, blood and shards of glass coating his pale skin. He looked up and saw only the broken appearance through the remnants of the mirror – and it was insane how at this small angle, he truly thought he looked like him.

But it wasn’t enough.

Of course, it wasn’t enough.

Because the cruel divine angel that spawned from the Red Rose actually had someone he held dear. The media soon learned that the Monster known as “J” had a twin sister. It took some coaxing through means of torture and blackmail; but Elias learned all about her; the one Johan Liebert was lost without. 

The blind old veteran was quite the chatterbox. According to the old man, ‘the one who the little boy loved more than all – was his sister.’  It didn’t take much to bash his head in with his own kettle to cover up his trail. But the information he gave is what spawned his new obsession – Anna Liebert, or better known as, Nina Fortner.

Without his other half – he would never be complete.

That’s why he never felt comfortable in his own skin.

But there was one thing that simply did not sit right with him upon making this new discovery.

Johan Liebert was a formidable darkness in the underworld; the mere mentioning of his name would shake the most despicable criminals down to the bone. The demon with the boyish charm haunted in shadows in corners of the room he never stepped foot in.

How could such a Monster be capable of something as unreasonable as love?

She was described by others as the apple of Johan’s eye - but for what reason?

What hold did she have over him?

Elias’ father was never made aware of the existence of Johan’s younger twin sister. Johan, even at a young age, was always ten steps ahead of the world. He concealed the identity of his sister because of what she meant to him.

 But what was she to him exactly? 

Did he value her solely because she was the proof of his existence? 

Was she just the extension of his identity?

The Nameless Monster of the West?

Was that the extent of his so-called ‘love?’

Could there be any other reason?

Elias could never truly understand Johan and become him down to the fibers of his being without understanding the core of all of his evil schemes that upon closer inspection, seemed to center around his sister. But Elias needed more information to draw his conclusions; details that would never be made public due to the government’s gag order on the infamous case of “J”. 

The only one who knew Johan better than anyone - was Nina Fortner.

And so he danced along the cobblestone streets, admiring her from afar at first; the way her sun kissed hair danced along the gentle winds; her lustrous pink lips, the tenderness warmth of her voice whenever she spoke, down to the sky blues that was of her eyes – she was like an angel.

Her mere existence and presence felt magnetic, the radiance surrounding her pulling him in with the desire to get closer. He felt almost desperate to get noticed by her – to feel her soft eyes resting on him and only him. But there was another part of him that left trails of goosebumps upon his skin at the thought of what her screams sounded like. Imagining that gentle face twisting into that of bloodlust solely for him filled him with the same level of excitement.

Was it the Johan inside that stirred these emotions?

Or was it…him?

He acted as phantom, purposely meeting her eyes from a distance only to disappear before she’d approach him. Each time he did this, he placed himself closer and closer to her.  The temptation was like a drug – what started out as a hard coded plan was now more like a game he enjoyed playing. He found the patterns to her habits; her coffee was 3 sugars and equal parts milk, a morning jog and how she worked herself to sleep over her desk late at night.

He had broken into her home many times before; never leaving a trace of his presence as he observed the little things that left the imprint of herself upon her home. She had plenty of photos with her friends, her late mother and father – but none of Johan. He laid in her bed and took in her scent, resting his head on her pillow only to open his eyes and imagine drowning in her deep blues as she laid next to him.

He caught himself half into the idea and sat up, coughing up the choke that welled in his throat from the emotions that creeped in. He tugged at the soft fabric of his black turtle neck as if it was responsible for his inability to breathe normally.

Finding out the existence of Johan’s one and only weakness did not bring him the solace he thought he would have. Instead, he felt even more lost and confused. Being her shadow was not enough. He wanted to understand in its rawest form, why a man of the underworld was chained down by such a dainty and impractical woman like her.

If he found out its truth, would it set him free?

He dressed in Johan’s attire, down to the length of his dark brown coat and waited for her arrival. The door opened and shut and he felt a tinge of excitement crawl up his skin as he stood, composed with his back to her as he peered out the window with his arms wrapped behind his back.

“Hello Nina.” He spoke her name with a refined soft tongue.

“It’s been a long time.” The words fell from his pale red lips like a caress before he turned, the shadows hugging his form in order to perfectly conceal his act. He witnessed from her expression how she was shocked to see not Elias but the ghost of Johan Liebert.

@xxxangeleyesxxx​

[deiscension]

﹄ ◇ ; @dernarrleid / left a prayer — white oleander, pt. 2.

sometimes attention hurts more than it helps. (johan)

       ⌜◈⌟    ▌ ── 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, tottering in too-tall heels and focusing on not dropping the uncapped bottle of water trying its utmost to slip through her fingers. Her motivations are laughably simple: everyone was inside partying 'til they dropped, he was outside instead, and that seemed awful lonely. So with water in hand just in case he wasn't feeling well, she had slipped from the din of music and out the quiet street.

    𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫. Is he someone's friend from college or work? Childhood friend? Boyfriend? Ex? Agent? Each role feels less likely than the next. With a shrug meant more to keep her coat on than to dismiss the thought, she decides it's better to find out organically.

   𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝. Likely she's introduced herself ('Shi Qingxuan, although most people here know me by my online alias!'), promised she wasn't drunk ('Just tipsy! It takes way more than what I've had for me to get plastered.' Not drunk, just bubbly and loose and weightless, the way she wants to be now and forever), asked if he needs water or a smoke or both. If she's given him any time to answer, it's all melted into the comfortable if not disorienting warmth of insobriety pumping through her veins.

    𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, and she slips off the tightrope separating from reality. Not even all the alcohol in the world could buoy her back up to cloud nine.

    𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬���� 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞. Recollection dampened by the across her brain and eroding childhood memories, she can't quite grasp what the circumstances calling for such an ill portent had been, nor if it had been delivered to her or the parents who had failed to heed it. Maybe she's making it up. Confabulation. That's what the trauma therapist at the hospital had called it when she had insisted something (something, not someone) had caused the accident and left her alive on purpose, that it had been following her since before she could even walk, just ask my brother, he'll tell you. Funny how she's able to remember something she'd been told at fourteen while high off a cocktail of painkillers and fear and not why such a simple statement makes her feel the need to run away.

     𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧. This is now. The two events are unrelated, and he probably just wants her out of his space without having to be too mean.

    "𝐖𝐨𝐰, 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥!" she laughs, the sound as ebullient as a springtime breeze. "You can be more forward if you want me to scram. I've got thick skin." That, and she finds she's not ready to leave his company just yet. She can't put her finger on why. A silly whim, more likely than not. But if there's one thing it is, it's stubborn. So with a sigh, she makes herself comfortable on the curbside while adding, "I'm not saying you're wrong; I just think it's way too pessimisstic." She pauses to waterfall some of the now-lukewarm water into her dry mouth, then holds it up. "Want some? It's the good stuff."

[riewritten]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐀 | READ ON AO3

JOHAN LIEBERT x GENDER-NEUTRAL!READER

˚ · .─ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: A reclusive man haunted by a dark past makes a routine of settling in from one remote village to another, it is until his solitude is disrupted by a warmhearted neighbor who slowly unravels his barriers.

˚ · .─ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k

˚ · .─ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: post-canon, neighbors, developing friendship, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, romance but only if you squint, johan goes by a different name, a bit self-indulgent

The morning was quiet, the kind of quiet that wrapped itself around you like a heavy blanket. Johan—or the man who used to be Johan—stood by the edge of a small, weathered dock. The lake before him mirrored the gray sky above, its stillness a fitting companion to his isolation.

Here, in the shadow of the Austrian Alps, no one asked questions. No one looked too closely at the soft-spoken man who had arrived a year ago with little more than a duffle bag and a name scribbled on forged papers: Elias Meyer.

The locals in the nearby village whispered their theories about him. Some said he was a writer escaping the noise of the city; others believed he was a broken man fleeing a past too heavy to bear. No one dared to press him for details, not when his polite smiles came with an unshakable undercurrent of sadness.

Johan—Elias—had chosen this place for a reason. It was far enough from his past that even the most persistent ghosts couldn't follow.

One afternoon, as he carried firewood from the forest to his small cabin, he noticed a group of children playing by the lake. Their laughter echoed through the valley, sharp and carefree, a sound Johan hadn’t heard in what felt like lifetimes.

When was the last time he had heard it again?

With the question, memories of him and Anna running and laughing around the flower fields surged in his mind like a hidden plague aching to be let out. He tried to shake it off, which thankfully, did when a ball suddenly rolled towards him, coming to a stop near his boots.

One of the children, a boy no older than eight, hesitated before approaching him with wide, curious eyes, “Excuse me, Sir.”

Johan bent down, picking up the ball. For a moment, he froze, staring at the object in his hands. Memories of other children, other faces, tried to claw their way to the surface. But he pushed them back, focusing on the boy before him.

“Here,” Johan said softly, handing the ball back.

The boy smiled, and Johan felt something shift—a flicker of warmth where there had only been cold.

Weeks passed, and Johan began to notice the children more often. They waved to him from the village road, their carefree energy drawing him out of his solitude in ways he didn’t understand.

One day, the same boy from before approached him again.

“Mr. Meyer,” the boy said, using the name Johan had adopted. “Can you help us build a raft?”

Johan blinked, surprised. “A raft?”

“For the lake. We want to float it across and see who can paddle the fastest.”

Johan hesitated. He had spent so long avoiding attachments, avoiding the messiness of human connection. But something in the boy’s earnest expression made him nod.

As they worked together, something unexpected happened. Johan began to laugh—not the hollow, calculated laugh of his past, but something genuine, something that startled even himself.

Months turned into a year, and Johan—no, Elias—became a quiet but integral part of the village. He never shared much about himself, and the villagers respected his privacy. But he was always there to lend a hand, whether it was fixing a broken fence or helping the children with their schoolwork.

He didn’t try to forget his past; that would have been impossible. He didn't try to be a good person to reclaim himself either, as that would've been more impossible. Instead, he let it serve as a reminder of what needs to ponder as he lives the rest of his life in solitude.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the mountains, Johan sat by the lake with the boy who had first approached him.

“Mr. Meyer,” the boy asked, “why do you live here all alone?”

Johan smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Sometimes, people need to start over.”

“Because?”

“No reason, really. They just need to. Maybe to see the world a lot clearer than they did in their old lives…?”

The boy nodded, not fully understanding what his blonde friend was on.

Years later, Johan’s presence in the village becomes a story the locals would pass down—a kind stranger who came out of nowhere and left with no warning. No one knew where he went or why he had left in the first place.

But those who remembered him would always recall his kindness, quiet but comforting, faint but indubitably paved more warmth in their lives.

And somewhere, in places even quieter than the village he had already gone through, Johan Liebert immersed in his new name—quite surprised that monsters like him didn’t actually need to consume another’s existence just to gain one. For the first time, he was simply a man, trying to live—at least, that was the routine he had developed for years and years. Elias Meyer, a man almost unnoticeable building himself a haven from one remote town to the other. Johan had no plans of changing it. 

Even when he decided to settle in another remote village to check on an old friend (without making his old identity known, of course), he had no plans of changing it. Elias Meyer is an existence that will always be bound to leave.

The mornings in this town were colder than the last one. The frost was biting at the air before the sun had fully risen. The uncomfortable weather might’ve been too cozy for someone like him, and yet his resolve was unwavering—he is Elias Meyer, and Elias Meyer is an existence that would be always bound to leave—it is until you started appearing at his door with delectable breakfasts at hand.

You had moved to this little village years ago after graduating college, and ever since, the neighbors had perceived you as a bright newcomer with an eagerness to meet each one of them. Poor Elias, they thought to themselves humorously, because they just know his preference for solitude—even to the point of owning a cabin at the edge of town—would have no say once faced with your resolute extroversion.

You perceived Elias as that tall, blonde man whose face looked carved from stone—a beauty so ethereal it’d be a waste if he wasn’t basking in the sun for everyone to see every morning. He barely acknowledged anyone. He kept to himself, slipping into town only for essentials, his words clipped but polite. And unfortunately for you, most of the neighbors could respect his solitude.

But you couldn’t.

When you first saw him at the market buying his fair share of supplies and vegetables, he has unknowingly bewitched you. His beautiful, distant face seemed wrapped in shadows you couldn’t decipher. And perhaps you're a cat whose curiosity would someday get you killed, or perhaps a moth doomed to die by its entrancement to the fire. The neighbors were right, much to their excitement—Elias is doomed to be your project.

The first morning you knocked on his door, you had a basket in hand—freshly baked shortbread cookies, a jar of honey, and a thermos of hot tea.

When he opened the door, his expression was unreadable, pale blue eyes scanning you with a calm detachment that made your stomach flutter.

“Good morning, my new neighbor!” you chirped, holding the basket out. “I figured you might want some breakfast.”

He stared at you for a moment, his gaze cool but not unkind. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Oh, come on, you haven’t even tried it yet!” you insisted, pushing the basket forward. “I made it myself.”

There was a long pause, the kind that might have made anyone else shrink back. But not you. You smiled, unwavering, until he finally sighed and took the basket from your hands.

“Thank you,” he said again, quieter this time. Then he closed the door.

It was all it took for him to take note of your existence? Hell, he looked at you for a solid minute from head to toe, as though taking in your presence before his very eyes! You left his doorstep feeling victorious.

The next morning, you knocked again. And the morning after that.

At first, he didn’t seem to know what to do with you. He would accept the food with a quiet nod, barely saying a word before closing the door. But over time, you noticed subtle changes—with how he lingered a little longer at the threshold, and with how his eyes softened just the slightest when he saw you.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he said one morning, as you handed him a bowl of steaming soup.

“I know,” you replied with a grin, “but I want to.”

He stared at you, as though trying to puzzle you out. “Why?”

“Because you look like you could use a friend.”

The words seemed to unsettle him. He didn’t reply, but this time, he didn’t close the door right away.

Weeks passed, and your morning visits became a routine. He started inviting you inside—not for long, just enough time to sip tea or exchange a few words.

You learned his name was Elias Meyer, though something in the way he said it made you wonder if it was real. You didn’t press him for details; you could tell he valued his privacy, and you could at least respect that despite the things you couldn’t.

But little by little, you saw glimpses of the man beneath the quiet exterior. He was incredibly observant, noticing small details about you that no one else did. He rarely smiled, but when he did, it felt like the sun breaking through clouds.

One morning, you brought him a basket of wildflowers along with the usual breakfast.

“They reminded me of you,” you said, setting the basket on his table.

He gave you a strange look, his lips twitching as though he didn’t know whether to laugh or frown. “Wildflowers reminded you of me?”

“Sure,” you said brightly. “They’re quiet, but they still make the world a little more beautiful.”

Despite the amusing remark, Johan seemed to remember something from a long past, something that made him stare at the flowers way longer than intended. Then, you saw him smile—not a ghost of one, but a real, genuine smile. It was fleeting, but it made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t quite understand.

“You should smile more, Elias,” you blurted, which in turn dissipated Johan’s smile with a clear of his throat.

“Not my thing.”

But still! You quietly gushed. What a beautiful smile! You went home victorious yet again when dusk came.

One evening, as the sun set behind the mountains, you found yourself sitting on the porch of his cabin. He had made tea for the two of you, a small gesture that felt monumental considering how reluctant he’d been to accept your kindness at first.

“Why do you keep coming here?” he asked suddenly, his voice low but steady.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m not the kind of person people like you should want to be around.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “What makes you say that?”

His eyes darkened, a shadow passing over his face, and yet he stayed silent, refusing to answer. It didn't take long for you to put the pieces together. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “We all have pasts, Elias. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a future.” For a moment, he looked at you as though you were something incomprehensible, something he couldn’t quite believe was real.

The days turned into weeks, then months, and slowly, Johan—or Elias, as you knew him—began to change. He still valued his solitude, but he didn’t seem to mind sharing it with you.

He never told you the full truth about his past, not that you ever asked. You didn’t need to know who he had been to see the man he was becoming. 

Johan was getting accustomed to his new normal, but then it changed again.

It is a change that, perhaps, would require Johan to rethink the duration of his stay in your village. How strange, one might think, for Johan had developed more disdain for permanence ever since he started living like this. And he only came here to check on an old friend, wanted to see if they’re doing well and good, then he’d be quietly taking his leave again, right? Under what instances must his agenda change?

It started the first morning you didn’t knock on his door. Johan didn’t think much of it. People had lives, after all. Perhaps you’d overslept, or maybe you were busy with something else.

The second morning, however, felt different. He found himself waiting by the door longer than he cared to admit, listening for the sound of your footsteps or the soft knock he’d grown accustomed to. When it didn’t come, he stood there for several minutes before stepping back, unsettled.

By the third day, Johan’s thoughts refused to quiet. Something about your absence gnawed at him, a peculiar weight in his chest he couldn’t name. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to expect you, to rely on the brightness you brought with you each morning.

So that evening, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, Johan found himself standing in front of your small, weathered house.

The curtains were drawn, and the porch light was off, but he could see a faint glow from inside. His knuckles rapped against the door, firm and deliberate.

“Are you there?” he called, his voice steady but quieter than usual.

There was no answer, but the light inside didn’t move. He waited a moment longer before trying the handle. It turned easily, and he stepped inside, his footsteps nearly silent against the wooden floor.

You were on the couch, curled into yourself, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. The sight stopped him cold.

There he goes, his hand stops around the doorframe as he processes the sight. And, perhaps, the realization that out of everyone in this unpopulated village, he might not be the one who does best at masking his real self. You, who were always so buoyant, so irrepressibly bright, were now something else entirely—small, vulnerable, broken in a way he hadn’t seen before. You were still wearing the clothes he had last seen you with three days ago. Your hair was all greasy, and your skin was oily as it wrapped around your body. It must’ve been uncomfortable on your end. Your whole house was chaotic, too. As if it had been abandoned for weeks.

He took a careful step forward, then another, stopping just short of the couch. “You didn’t come this morning,” he said softly, as though the words themselves might shatter you further.

“Please, don’t look at me…” Slowly, you turned to look at him, your face streaked with tears as you realized that it was Elias before you, the last person you’d expect to visit you such an hour—with a face hinting concern, no less. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice raw. “I... I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” 

He crouched beside you, his expression calm but intense, his pale blue eyes fixed on yours. He didn’t move for a long moment, his mind working in ways it hadn’t in years. Comforting others was not something he was accustomed to. His presence had always been a harbinger of destruction, not solace. And yet, here you were, someone who had given him pieces of light he didn’t think he deserved, now in desperate need of something in return.

He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and gently wrapped it around you. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though trying not to startle you.

What surprised you, however, was when he sat down beside you, leaving just enough space to make his presence felt without crowding you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice low but not unkind.

You shook your head, clutching the blanket tighter. Minutes passed in silence, broken only by your uneven breaths. Johan sat perfectly still, his gaze fixed on some indeterminate point ahead. He didn’t press you, didn’t offer hollow reassurances. Instead, he stayed there, his calm presence steady against the storm inside you.

When your sobs finally quieted, he heated some tea on your countertop, paving his way onto your kitchen with all the familiar stock of food, all because these were all you’ve been bringing to his door first thing in the morning. Much to his surprise, he sees the familiar basket on the edge of your kitchen—two pieces of sourdough bread, a thermos of tea, and a jar of honey refilled. It means you had an attempt to get out of your house and go to his somehow; it’s just that you failed miserably.

Johan is then confused. What made you sink this low? What have you been amidst all the smiles you shine down upon everyone? The monster inside him spoke; poor human beings, to absolutely despise their real form so much to feign buoyancy and joy when out of their safe havens. How despicable.

This was the first time—since Johan had escaped that dreary hospital bed—that he had gotten confused about which voice he’d let take over inside his pretty little head.  

Without a word, he handed the mug of tea to you, fingers brushing yours briefly. “Drink,” he nonchalantly said. “It will help.”

You hesitated but took the cup, your hands trembling slightly as you brought it to your lips. After you’d finished, Johan stood and moved toward the kitchen again. You watched him, confused, as he opened a few cupboards and began preparing something—toast, simple and unassuming, but warm. When he returned, he set the plate in front of you without a word.

“You don’t have to eat it now,” he said, his voice softer than before. “But you should eat something.”

The care in his actions, so understated yet deliberate, brought fresh tears to your eyes. There you go again, Johan pointed out in his mind. He never thought you’d be a crybaby. As much as you’d like to disrupt his solitude in the morning, it seemed like he has also taken a liking to observing your every action. How unusual.

Johan stayed until you fell asleep, sitting quietly in the chair across from the couch. As your breathing evened out, he leaned back, his gaze lingering on your tear-streaked face.

And again, for the first time in years, he felt something unfamiliar—a desire not to fix or manipulate, but simply to be there.

As he left the house that night, locking the door behind him, he had decided that whatever it was that fractured your smile, perhaps it would be in his best interest if he didn’t let it consume you—not if he could help it.

A few days passed, and your routine of appearing before his door first thing in the morning still hadn’t gone back.

What surprised Johan instead was the soft knock on his door in the middle of the night, waking him up from a light slumber. He had mentally thanked himself and his unhealthy sleeping habits because as soon as he opened the door, he found you standing there, shivering, your face pale and your eyes wide with a mix of fear and lingering tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, clutching the edges of your cardigan. “I had... a bad dream.”

Johan studied you silently for a moment, his gaze sharp but not unkind. Without a word, he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in.

He didn’t ask what the dream was about as he could sense the weight of it in your shoulders just well—it was in the way you hugged yourself, in your trembling as if the nightmare still had its claws keeping in its wake. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. It’s just that he didn’t know what to say; it's been decades since he had comforted someone who just woke up due to their own plaguing demons—it was back in the days when his sister, Anna, could still turn to him like this whenever she dreamt of the Red Rose Mansion.

So instead of pressing you on it, he heated some chamomile tea and placed the warm mug in front of you before sitting across the table, repeating his gesture the nights prior.

“You’re safe now,” he managed after a while, voice steady and calm, as if willing you to believe it. 

“Am I?” you blankly stared down the ground, letting the smell of chamomile permeate your senses. It wasn’t long until your words sunk at you: Crap, he might think I’m being sarcastic, and so you muttered, “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you, I just... I just didn’t know where else to go.”

"Worry not, you've come to the right place." What did he mean by that? Isn't he bothered? It's three in the morning, Elias. After a few sips of tea, Johan suggested, “Stay here tonight. The dream can’t follow you here.”

You nodded, thankful, but the lurking question was still in mind: Why? Why would the dream not follow you here?

But Johan knew the veracity of his statement all too well, albeit lost at how and why he was acting so unlikely of his character. You came to the right place, indeed, for the monster won't reach you if he’s here. No monster would dare, that much he knew, as much as he had liked the intrigue of other beings becoming a master of Johan’s own game. “Want to tell me what happened?”

You shook your head, unable to form words.

He stayed silent, as though waiting for you to form your thoughts. And when you failed, he just moved to sit beside you instead, not daring to ask questions or try to pull answers from you.

His presence was quiet but steady—a calm in the storm even—that you couldn’t help yourself but rest your head against his shoulder. He didn’t move away; if he was surprised or irked, he showed no sign of it either. 

Perhaps the only lurking question in his head was that; how do people usually do this? His hand hovered for a moment before he rested it lightly against your back, his touch—perhaps—was perceived by your brain as a silent reminder: Go on, I’ll stay as long as you need.

"Thank you, Elias," you mutter. "And sorry. I'll make it up to you."

Despite Johan feeling all too unfamiliar—not only with the name but with the mere act of being thanked—he didn't show it upfront. It's as if he's a mere watcher, an observer seeing how things unfold. He's definitely not someone to be thanked, he's sure as hell you're not thanking him—as in the person that he is—but rather the person that he's showing in front of you, as Elias Meyers, as the neighbor you had quite taken a liking with.

However, he's not that kind and caring to not use it for his own gain yet. "Show yourself up on my doorstep again once you're all better, preferably with a breakfast at hand to save me the hassle of cooking for myself."

"Tch," you chuckled and rolled your eyes at how silly the payment had sounded, but you nodded anyway. You miss bugging him during the day.

For hours, the two of you sat there, the world outside forgotten. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t carrying the weight alone. You ended up falling asleep on his couch, the blanket he draped over you smelling faintly of the pinewood walls of his cabin.

TAG LIST 🏷️ @chxrry-writes @nefarra @ellabellapumela @skexxll @melonvrs

by the way, FOR MY OIL WELL FIRES LOVERS, allow me to cook... read more here ;) also saying this before anyone asks; no i don't want to continue this yet im sorry. maybe after i finish oil well fires? but if someone wants to then pls do and pamper me some johan liebert fluff :( i am so sad

@xeiin-n @s0m4-sh4rk | SUBSCRIBE/UNSUSCRIBE TO STORIES

[arendelle-archives]

Who's in the portrait from Frozen - The Broadway musical?

A quick recap: in the original Broadway production of Frozen, during "For the first time in forever", Anna is seen next to the portrait of some unknown gentleman. Who is he?

I initially thought (incorrectly) this was a portrait of a young King Karl XIV Johan who was the king of Sweden and Norway (where he was known as Karl III Johan) during the years 1818-1844, i.e. during the time Frozen takes place!

Portrait of crown prince Karl Johan by François Gérard 1811 (cropped).

It could have been a cool easter egg to have him appear in the musical but unfortunately (for me) it was not the case!

My friend @bigfrozenfan suggested (correctly) that the uniform of the man in the Frozen portrait was borrowed from a painting of the Russian prince and military commander Pyotr Mikhailovich Volkonsky (1776-1852):

Portrait by English artist George Dawe circa 1823.

Unfortunately, this only gave us half the Broadway painting. We still needed the guy's face. Browsing image results on google, this painting of Russian politician and military commander Pavel Alexandrovich Stroganov (1774-1817) popped up, and it was a perfect match!

Portrait by George Dawe from some time before 1825.

Once we mirrored the picture...

Broadway on the left and original to the right.

Now, why Pavel decided to borrow his countryman Pyotr's uniform in the Frozenverse we can only speculate. What we do know is that they were both long dead when Frozen takes place.

Why were these portraits chosen by the set designers? Why not just use one portrait and call it a day? Why mane an edit? Probably just for fun. Maybe to confuse see if someone would figure out what it was based off of! 😄

It should also be mentioned that something strange is going on with the left epaulette. Compared to the original (right below), some elements of it has been copied and pasted in the Broadway version (left below). I have no idea why. maybe to save space in the picture. Other than that, the uniform appears to be completely unaltered.

I hope you learned something! 😁

Summary:

[xxxangeleyesxxx]

“I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood

I am here now, as you run from me still

Run then, child

You can't hide from me forever” - Ptolemaea

It was always this familiar dark place she was sent to.

Anna was accustomed to this dream at this point, if you could even call it that. She once heard from someone that sleep is death playing shy, and this was fairly reminiscent of it. It’s completely pitch black dark, you couldn’t even see the tips of your fingers if you tried. No matter how far she walked, nothing blocked her from transversing further.

Disembodied hands would grab at her side and graze her cheek. She wondered if they were truly there or just her mind playing tricks on her. Still, she would swat at them. Still, she would draw back and shiver in disgust at the mild violation. Occasionally, she would hear a blood curdling scream from somewhere in the blackness. Sometimes it was far away. Others, right next to her ear. Despite mirroring their suffering and fear in this lonely place, it never made it feel any less cold and isolated.

This was hell. After reading the Bible at 12 and getting to the verse it was described, that was what she concluded. There was no demons torturing you for eternity in unspeakable ways. It was no Dante’s Inferno. It was darkness, weeping, screaming, and complete and utter despair.

The only thing missing was fire and agony, but, as Anna thought thankfully, you couldn’t feel pain in dreams. That would only wake you up.

Her only question; Why was she sent here? What had she done?

One would think after several years of experiencing this nightly torment that she would no longer be afraid of it, but no. Anna would still walk with uncertainty, her hands reaching out in front of her for something, anything to grasp onto and make the chaos make sense, but she could never find it. Even now, she still covered her ears to block out the horrible screams from countless people she had no way of saving. Her heart would still ache with the all too familiar pain of loneliness and betrayal from a source she couldn’t ascertain. It never got easier.

Tonight was different though.

There was a formless door. It opened just slightly. Precious light spilled from within onto the oak floor. Anna reached towards it.

The metallic taste of blood hit her tongue.

She hesitated. Her outstretched hand shook unsteadily. A part of her understood that what lie beyond this door was something that she did not want to see, something she was simply not ready to face. She didn’t want to enter it, but she knew she had to.

Suddenly, she was a little girl again. The delicate hands before her gave way to small, stubby ones, nail beds bitten and peeling. She carefully peered inside.

This didn’t feel like a dream anymore, it felt like reality.

And yet it just couldn’t be. The monster standing before her couldn’t be real. She had to be dreaming, cause if she wasn’t—

The beast with seven heads audibly shifted it’s haunting blue eyes to look at her. She froze, then began heaving, unable to get enough air into her lungs. She couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything to run or defend herself, though in all fairness, what could she do? There were two bodies on the floor, blood gushed out from their torn, mangled limbs. The monster’s elongated hands were drenched in blood. Gnashing teeth easily tore apart flesh from a leg. It gingerly offered her a severed arm, as if it meant nothing to indulge in the most taboo thing imaginable.

Her heart was pounding. Her mouth spilled words beyond her control.

“Johan? You- W-What have you done!?”

The most demonic, distorted version of her brother’s voice came echoed out of sync from the many heads of that creature.

“Anna, please listen to me. We have to-“

All at once Anna was in her bed again, sweating bullets, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling. She had her blanket clutched to her chest in a white-knuckled grip. She slowly adjusted to her new surroundings and sat up, scanning her room for anything out of place, glancing back every so often at an oddly placed coat and the closet. Anna was used to nightmares, but not ones of that caliber. She was admittedly shaken, and didn’t think more sleep was in the cards for tonight.

The bedside clock read 1:43am. Pictures of her, her family, and friends stared up at her with their mocking smiling faces, like she didn’t just go through hell and back. She picked the one of her and Johan at their high school graduation ceremony and smiled, feeling herself begin to calm down. Johan looked at her with such a gentle expression, while she beamed at the camera, her arms wrapped around her barely older brother in a vice grip.

It was one of her favorite pictures. It served as a reminder that no matter what happened, he would always be there for her.

She put the photo down and slipped out of bed, leaving the room.

Johan would probably be asleep by now, but you honestly never knew with him. He had quite the odd sleep schedule.

His door was just barely left opened, the plain, navy blue queen sized bed was neatly made and without its usual inhabitant. She could hear him scribbling something on a piece of paper and flipping through the pages of a book. Hopefully, she wasn’t interrupting his late night study session.

She knocked the side of the door frame.

“Johan? Is it ok if I come in?”

The writing paused and he called for her from his desk. She smiled warmly and entered the room. He swung his chair to face her, giving her that signature soft gaze he always carried.

For whatever reason, she felt herself tense in front of him. Sweaty hands clenched at her sides. Unable to meet his eyes, she glanced at a patchy spot on the carpet the landlord refused to fix.

“I um, I-I had a really bad dream.” Anna was awful at hiding her emotions, especially in front of him. She sat down on his bed and seemed to have his full attention. Opening up about things would always be difficult, but it shouldn’t be this difficult. Johan was her most trusted person. “I know that it probably sounds silly, and I know that I’m too old to be letting it affect me like this but it just felt so real.” She sucked in her lip and shyly popped the question.

“Can I sleep here for tonight?”

@theartifxce

[princessgarnetxvi]

II. Johan always knew that Anna was the one who went to the Red Rose Mansion.

I’d like to thank those who left comments and showed support on my first post. Consider this essay a part two of the original concept: Everything Johan did was for Anna.  I want to explore another notion I briefly touched upon in my first post that was requested by some and also presented to me by my own twin brother. 

The theory we are going to explore is: Was Johan aware from the beginning that Anna was the one who went to the Red Rose Mansion?

Yes.

And that brings us to another facet on what Johan’s intentions were – and that was to make sure Nina/Anna never remembered what happened to her. In reference to the Nameless Monster book, Johan consumed the other Nameless Monster who went West and was the only one left standing with no one left to call him by his name. This mirrors Johan/Anna because he left Anna with the Fortner’s under a completely different identity - a real name with real attachments as Nina Fortner knowing she would forget him. He was the ONLY one who knew his sister for who she truly was

This was his act of love

His goal was to make the world believe he was “The Chosen One” to not only lead their plans astray but to ensure that Anna would not be targeted by “The Monster.” He wanted to erase all traces of the experiment, of the horrific experiences she endured and of those who remembered them as a pair – and this also included himself.

This theory is heavily reinforced in Another Monster in this passage.

(This passage from Another Monster reinforces Johan's intention behind trying to make Nina forget her past as Anna - an act of love. Naoki made it a point to tell us "this is just like Johan.")

We will break this discussion into parts since it will be a lot of information to dissect:

I.  Peter Capek and Johan’s discussion

The one question I ALWAYS asked was why Johan left Peter Capek for Anna/Nina to kill? If we run with the consensus that Johan took on Anna’s memories of the Red Rose mansion experiment out of guilt or because of Kinderheim, why would he leave it up to Anna/Nina to kill Capek?

 Why would she feel the need to kill him?

It didn’t make any sense to me. So I revisited the episode again and it dawned on me - the meaning behind Johan’s words

“What am I? The monster inside of me isn’t inside of me, it was outside.”

He was revealing to Capek right there that he was not the “experimental monster” when asked why Johan was suddenly going against “THEIR PLANS.” Because Johan had corrupted their initial plan from the very start when he masqueraded as “The Chosen One.”  that the eugenics/red rose mansion experiments created.  (Which in its own right is deviously genius.)

it seems farfetched right?

So then, why was Capek in the next scene questioning whether he took the brother or the sister?

What made Capek question himself on something he did over 10 years prior if Johan wasn’t the one who forced him wonder?

The last person he spoke to was Johan.  And if Johan induced this thought process, then that simply means that Johan knew from the start that he was not the one who was kidnapped and brought to the Red Rose Mansion.

To put it simply, if Johan was certain that HE was taken instead of Anna, their conversation would NOT have lead Capek to wonder if he took Johan or Anna. Johan would have killed him instead.

And then Capek CONCLUDED RIGHT HERE:

Johan tells Capek where to bring Anna and this is where Johan, for the first and only time, attempts to manipulate Anna/Nina and the fragments of her memories to complete his plan on ensuring Anna did not remember what happened to her at the mansion. He tells the story as his own, using specific words on purpose: “It’s MINE to tell. My own experiences of what I endured and told YOU about.” 

Why else would he bring up this incident? It seemed so random to me at first that he started telling her his experiences about the Red Rose Mansion when they had PLENTY of other things to discuss. But he set up his plan from the moment he opened his mouth by bringing up how she welcomed him home after he returned from the Red Rose Mansion, as if that had been the ONE and only time she ever said those words to him despite living together after being adopted. He controlled the room as he had a goal he needed to achieve. 

Out of all the times Johan successfully manipulated everyone he’s met, this was the only time he did it without any malicious intent and it is also the only time he fails.

Following his extensive plan, Johan makes sure Tenma knows where to go in the event that Nina has a mental breakdown. It’s safe to assume that if Johan succeeded in concealing the truth from his sister, he was prepared to die by the hands of Nina or Tenma as well.

But that doesn’t happen. Johan’s plan fails and it’s almost as if, everything he tried to achieve was for nothing.

“He was smiling but it looked as though, he was crying too.”

I always wondered why Johan’s expressions were so different compared to all the other scenes we’ve seen him. As always, in front of Anna/Nina – Johan appeared the most human.

With his failure, all that was left to do is kill the Monster responsible for it all – and them finally, himself.

II.  The Tape Recording:

When Johan found the tape recording of his "interview" during his time at Kinderheim 511, he tells the interviewer that he was reading a picture book while waiting for Anna to come home. Johan remembered who gave him that book the moment he read it at the library and collapsed - it is what triggered the memory into finally recalling who exactly the Monster was by name and face; not just voice. If Johan truly did mixed up his memories about who went to the Red Rose, then hearing that part of the recording would have revealed to him that he was the one who welcomed Anna home, not the other way around. But this revelation doesn't hit him, because he always knew who went and who stayed at the 3 Frogs.

III.    Explaining all of Johan’s other actions.

How does the rest of Johan’s actions play a part in this grand scheme?

1.   Johan will wipe his existence, taking with him the dirty lie that he was the “Monster in the making” to lead the country:  So he kills all of his foster parents. He tells Tenma from the start: “You must never know about the twins (he doesn’t say HIM but the twins) or the murdered couples” and this says a lot. He wants to make sure there isn’t a trace of a twin to the monster he masqueraded himself to be. No ties that Anna was a sibling to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if Johan gave the Fortners the idea to rename her. After all, when they were adopted by the Lieberts they retained both of their “original names” but when the Fortners took Anna in, they changed her name entirely and then Johan left.

2.   Killing The Fortners: The author purposely shows her parents outside, talking aloud that they will tell Nina the truth – that she was adopted. Which would eventually lead Nina to question her true identity and I am sure they were aware of some parts of her origins. Anna appeared on tv with the Lieberts and their murder was a big fiasco all over the paper. (The drs also took, or tried to take a photo of the twins to put in the paper/media so I am certain they covered the twin’s story on the news after the incident.)  Johan couldn’t have that because their truth would have ignited an uncontrollable flame in Nina into finding out her past. But then the author shows the pair deciding against it in the comfort of their own home. But it was too late. They had to die. I always questioned this because why would Johan leave Nina for 10 years to heal only to throw her back into the same hell?

3.  Johan having Nina meet him at the castle: Since there were already a handful of people aware of how important Anna was to Johan, he simply wanted to take her and put her somewhere safe from those who would pursue her. The other points in this list will help reinforce who these people are. But throughout the show, Nina is constantly pursued and even held captive, despite her going to the Mansion on her own volition. The Baby revealed to Tenma that after they had no use for her they were going to dispose of her or worse. Which is why Johan takes the bait and meets with Geidlitz FINALLY, only to eliminate them all.

4.    Opening the black markets and underground banks: Money is power. Money leads you to people in power. Johan not only needed money for his plans but he also needed to draw out the dirty, corrupted party he was after. Capek and the Baby discuss Johan’s methods in cleaning up loose ends concerning the banks so it’s evident that they operated with Johan. Now Johan was conspiring with those who lead the experiments at the Red Rose Mansion, somehow making them believe he was the one created for their “master plan.” The seed had been planted.

5.    General Wulf: he was truly the catalyst to it all. Johan, instead of killing him; destroyed his credibility by taking out everyone who knew him. A man is only worth as much as his word. With everyone around Wulf who respected him and knew him dead Wulf will eventually become more of a myth than a person who actually exists. Did Johan perhaps “spare” him because he saved him and Anna’s life? Ultimately, it was General Wulf who told the others like Professor Geidlitz just how important Anna was to Johan. I don’t see how else Geidlitz, the Baby etc. got this information. Johan isn’t the type to divulge anything about himself to anyone. So, who else would have relayed this information to HIS party if not for the man who found them both on the border? I just think Wulf in general would hold a lot of merit towards Johan’s existence so he had to kill all those who knew him, so that his words became less and less of the truth.

6.  Attempting to kill Shuwald: This boils down to destroying the economy that created the Red Rose. Shuwald was the backbone of the country’s economy/power. Killing him would have plunged the country into a weakened state and ignited war. But if war was something Johan wanted to achieve, then he could have easily worked with the Right winged secret police who sought for this in the first place – and would have helped him achieve this. With Shuwald being the center of the country’s economy, then it would make sense that some of his financial activities would include funding most if not all of the country’s experiments/government operated orphanages. The Red Rose mansion experiments were continuing. Killing Shuwald would plunge his enemies and their plans into the ground. The library incident was him initially attempting to claim Germany’s economy to restructure the country to be a place safe for Anna, as potentially waging war would destroy the plan set up for Anna/Nina when she was dragged to the mansion. Meaning, if Johan took the spot as the backbone of the country, he would have completed his façade of being “the chosen one” by those who conducted the experiments, there would have no longer been a need to pursue her or the truth should it came to light. (Was he going to let Christoff take his place after he died?) But after remembering Bonaparte, he sets out to kill him instead. I also believe he spared Shuwald after hearing Carl's story but that would have to be explored in another essay.

Johan erased everyone who was aware of the twins; those who knew Anna existed. If his goal was to become a ghost, why was Hartmann left alive – a man who was rather OBSESSED with Johan?

Before arriving in Kinderheim 511, the only one who knew about the twins was General Wulf. Hartmann never mentions her and neither does Christoff. I believe Johan kept his sister a secret up until the tape recording.

I found it contradicting that Johan never bothered to kill Hartmann. He very clearly deserved to get put down after all the horrible things he did. But, Johan was not out for revenge. None of this was for him but for Anna. After all, Hartmann never once acknowledged that Johan had a sister. The tape recording was done and left in the hands of the first head administrator. And what does Johan do? Johan goes all the way to Czech and kills him because not only did he know Johan’s one weakness, but he knew about Anna’s existence.

Johan then proceeds to, for some reason, kill everyone who is trying to get the tape. Why? If they knew what was the most important to him, then it would be used against him. Johan records over the rest of the tape that perhaps showed him admitting his guilt over Anna going to the Red Rose Mansion. The start of the tape has him saying “Everyone died there.” And Johan probably told the interviewer where she was taken from. Johan finally figured out “where he needed to go.” And then he burns down the Red Rose Mansion before Anna could piece anything together.

Which brings me to my next point.

I believe after reading the Nameless Monster, a book Boneparte gave to him the day he kidnapped his mother and sister, Johan remembered the identity of “The Monster.” and his plans shifted. Yes, he killed the Lieberts because of the monster. But Johan did not SEE Boneparte that night, he only heard him. And the sound of a voice from someone you fear is more than enough to trigger a fight or flight response. Johan knew he was the monster by his voice not his face and reacted.  When he panicked and cried at the library, it was because he recalled his most painful memory, which we are shown in the final moments of the last episode. It was not Johan being dragged, but Anna being thrown away. I believe remembering that his mother was the one who made a choice AND HESITATED as well as the “Monster’s “ identity is what swayed the path of his plans.

I say this because we don’t truly know what memories were stripped from Johan after Kinderheim 511 and being shot in the head. Despite Kinderheim, Johan still retained the memories of his sister. Quite an admirable feat. We’re only assuming that Johan mixed up Anna’s story about who went to the Red Rose Mansion because Anna thinks she was responsible for making Johan who he was. Other than that, there is nothing else that points us to this concept.

( In some aspect, what she says is true*. Johan took on the role of the Monster to save her from becoming what she was tortured into being. )*

Reflecting on these points, I’d like to conclude that Johan sacrificed himself and chose Anna/Nina every single time. Every choice he made was calculated for Anna’s safety; down to killing that old couple out on the field. “I have plan.” He wanted to start over in a new country where no one would know of them. He had to kill the old couple before leaving for the border so that there wasn’t a trail for the monster; no one to tell authorities they saw a pair of beautiful blonde twins. Yet much to Johan’s shock/fear – Boneparte finds them at the Lieberts and that was the ONLY time he acted irrationality out of his own apprehension.

Was this martyrdom mentality spawned from his mother choice to throw Anna away? To the point where not even his own existence mattered? He took on the role of being her shadow, the monster in her reflection instead of allowing Anna to see herself as the beast in the mirror.

Nothing he did was ever within his own personal vendetta. 

Looking at Johan from this perspective still retains the absolute horror of his actions, but also implements a tragedy that he was self sacrificing. A quote struck me after thinking it over in this light:

"A hero would sacrifice you to save the world but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you "

[robhorninginternalexile]

2024 Book List

January

1. Trances of the Blast, Mary Ruefle

2. Falling Star, Patricia Moyes

3. Labyrinths, Jorge Luis Borges

4. Introduction to the Work of Marcel Mauss, Claude Lévi-Strauss 

5. The Sweet Dove Died, Barbara Pym

6. The Prison-House of Language, Fredric Jameson

7. The Order of Things, Michel Foucault

8. Illuminated Manuscripts, Tamara Woronowa and Andrej Sterligow

9. Structuralism, John Sturrock

February

10. Immediacy; or the Style of Too Late Capitalism, Anna Kornbluh

11. The Dark Frontier, Eric Ambler

12.  Macbeth, William Shakespeare

13. Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics, Hubert Dreyfus and Paul Rabinow

14. Don’t Look at Me Like That, Diane Athill

15. The Most of It, Mary Ruefle

16. The Archaeology of Knowledge, Michel Foucault

March

17. Henry IV Part 1, William Shakespeare

18. A Murder Is Announced, Agatha Christie

19. Shakespeare, Johan Gottfried von Herder

20. Literary Theory for Robots, Dennis Yi Tenen

21. Henry IV Part 2, William Shakespeare

22. Richard II, William Shakespeare

23. Lucy Gayheart, Willa Cather

24. Henry V, William Shakespeare

25. Mimesis, Expression, Construction, Fredric Jameson

26. Four-Legged Girl, Diane Seuss

27. Death of a Nationalist, Rebecca Pawel

28. The Flight From the Enchanter, Iris Murdoch

29. The Purloined Clinic, Janet Malcolm

April

30. King Lear, William Shakespeare

31. White Butterfly, Walter Moseley

32. Humanism and Antihumanism, Kate Soper

33. The Illusion of the End, Jean Baudrillard

34. Discourse on Method, René Descartes 

35. Meditations on First Philosophy, René Descartes

36. Cambridge Companion to Descartes, John Cottingham ed

37. The Ordinal Society, Marion Fourcade and Kieran Healy

38. Much Ado About Nothing, William Shakespeare

39. Primer, Bob Perelman

40. As You Like It, William Shakespeare

May

41. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, William Shakespeare

42. The Ballad of Peckham Rye, Muriel Spark

43. Preface to Shakespeare, Samuel Johnson

44. The Weariness of the Self, Alain Ehrenberg 

45. Harmonium, Wallace Stevens

46. Mr. Scarborough’s Family, Anthony Trollope

47. Computing Taste, Nick Seaver

48. Hamlet, William Shakespeare

June

49. On Shakespeare, Northrop Frye

50. The Taming of the Shrew, William Shakespeare

51. The Double Shift, Jason Read

52. Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare

53. La Vendée, Anthony Trollope

54. Mirror Worlds, David Gelertner

55. The Commercialization of Intimate Life, Arlie Hochschild

July

56. In Our Own Image, Fred Ritchin

57. Bending the Frame, Fred Ritchin

58. After Photography, Fred Ritchin

59. Cue the Sun!, Emily Nussbaum

60. Appointment With Death, Agatha Christie

61. The Friend, Sigrid Nunez

62. Libra, Don DeLillo

63. The Interpretation of Cultures, Clifford Geertz

64. Mimesis, Erich Auerbach

65. Julius Caesar, William Shakespeare

August

66. Antony and Cleopatra, William Shakespeare

67. Nonrequired Reading, Wisława Szymborska

68. Traveling, Ann Powers

69. Annie Bot, Sierra Greer

70. Regency Buck, Georgette Heyer

71. Coriolanus, William Shakespeare

September

72. Troilus and Cressida, William Shakespeare

73. Fools of Time, Northrop Frye

74. Bel Canto, Ann Patchett

75. Measure for Measure, William Shakespeare

76. William Shakespeare, Terry Eagleton

77. Shakespeare’s Problem Plays, E.M.W. Tillyard

78. Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare

79. The Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare

80. Othello, William Shakespeare

81. AI Snake Oil, Arvind Narayanan and Sayash Kapoor

82. Passage of Arms, Eric Ambler

October

83. All’s Well That Ends Well, William Shakespeare

84. The Book of the Courtier, Baldesare Castiglione

85. Fables of Aggression, Fredric Jameson

86. Intermezzo, Sally Rooney

87. The Pleasure of the Text, Roland Barthes

88. Liars, Sarah Manguso 

89. James, Percival Everett

November

90. Aesthetics and Politics, Bertholt Brecht, Walter Benjamin et al.

91. Protocol, Alexander Galloway

92. Sartor Resartus, Thomas Carlyle

93. The Unaccountability Machine, Dan Davies

94. Timon of Athens, William Shakespeare

95. Machines Who Think, Pamela McCorduck

December

96. Henry VI, Part 1, William Shakespeare

97. Henry VI, Part 2, William Shakespeare

98. The Triumph of Achilles, Louise Glück

99. All Shot Up, Chester Himes

100. The Saint-Fiacre Affair, Georges Simenon

101. Henry VI, Part 3, William Shakespeare

[suusoh]

Im so conflicted!!! Anna’s such a delicious concept but i’m so salty about Nina being insufficiently explored in monster and i feel guilty for enjoying Anna so much. I mean by all means Nina should’ve had plenty of her own batshit moments given her trauma and the fact that she doesn’t is a disservice to her and to us all. Ughhhhhhhhhhh

Look I love monster and naoki urusawa's writing. But if there's one thing. ONE thing I could criticize about it. It would be not expounding on Nina more. Like she honestly should have been the main character in my eyes. There were some characters who I've thought shouldn't have had screen time and it should have went to Nina instead. Like that's literally????? the other twin??????? like you're gonna drop a mirror analogy, make a theme about the effects of nature vs nurture, and then not- i don't know, SHOW MORE OF IT? OF NINA? If Johan shows the possibility of what could have happened to anna given certain circumstances, THEN NINA IS ALSO THE POSSIBILITY OF WHAT JOHAN COULD HAVE BEEN TOO. LIKE WHY DID THEY NOT PUT ATTENTION TO THAT.

Like it's fine if they don't want to make her main character, but it's a sin they didn't give her much... dare I say, depth. I feel like the fandom gives way more depth to nina than the actual source material. I know what they were trying to accomplish in that Czechoslovakia arc, but I still can't help but feel how repetitive their treatment with Nina was in making her just moan in pain and anguish over and over again. She really shined so much in that turkish district arc, that one episode dedicated to just her, and rurenheim.

I love dr tenma but I really do think that some moments of his could have easily just been given to Nina instead. And I do think some characters screen time could have easily been replaced with Nina time instead.

And to think the only glimpse we have of the monster "anna liebert" is just that one therapy session ARHGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Like it may not be a fair comparison, but sometimes I can't help but think of Vash the stampede from trigun. Vash and Nai. Like that's what could have been for Nina!!!

Her character was so under utilized that I just wanna slump into my bed and weep.

[aspoonofsugar]

This may seem like a strange question but do you think you could breakdown the intro to Monster? Or just this one scene as it seems out of place from the other images we see in the intro.

It’s of a Bedroom that takes on a dark purple hue and is empty. I have heard it’s supposed to be the bedroom of Johan and Anna that they had or could have had, as it has two beds, but I’m not sure. It could also be the empty bedroom Johan always is shown to have ( empty like him).

Thoughts? Sorry if this is confusing

Hello anon!

You meant this, right?

To me the OP seems to show Tenma looking for Johan, while running away himself. As he does so, we see several places and imagery that become important later on. For example:

The vision from the doomsday

Bonaparta's drawing of the twins

The college Johan visits

And so on. There are also some symbolic shots like Tenma looking into a shattered mirror. The image you mention is difficult to point out. Maybe if we were to reread the manga or watch the anime it would become clear. I would say it is either the twins' room when Anna shoots Johan or maybe Tenma's room himself at the beginning? All in all, I do not remember, but it is probable a place that appears in the story :)

Sorry, I was not of much help, if anybody knows feel free to share!

[vuldarian]

anna & johan liebert… james jr & barbara gordon.

the war of vaslav nijinsky, frank bidart / batman: the black mirror / naoki ursawa’s monster / after abel, dante emile / batgirl issue #49 / famous blue raincoat, leonard cohen / a brother named gethsemane, natalie diaz

[leovoid]

More I think about it, there isn't proof that Kinderheim messed Johan up. Right? Despite his fears on the tape, he never forgets Anna or the they being pursued. He never forgot the moms Betrayal (acorn game) so like why did we all think that Johan was destroyed by Kinderheim when all else proved he rose above it like an untouchable devil? Hmmm

Honestly, I think its people jumping to conclusions and the narratives execution wrapped around subtlety. Alot of what happens in Kinderheim is within smoke and mirrors, so we can only assume what has transpired and how it affected Johan, but I believe that Johan was not affected personally, he rose to the top and became its master. Most people watch it once and give out their thoughts, so its understandable that there would be inconsistencies within those thoughts. Perhaps that sounded pretentious haha I guess what I am trying to say, is that a lot of people tend to express their opinion after watching something once, and thats fair, not everyone will want to watch a series more than once unless they really like it But for a series like Monster, it HAS to be watched twice to pick up on little things that one may have missed.

[asfixiafloral]

So let's say you DO get a boyfriend?

You're a freshman in high school. How would Johan take the news?

A drabble perhaps?

(🦋WINDSWEPT AU with @theartifxce/ HIGHSCHOOL 🦋)

Johan gently knocks on her door to announce his presence, "Come in..." Anna is too busy to look up from the mirror, she doesn't want to make a mistake while applying her eyeliner, once she's done she turns her head and smiles at him "How do I look? Do you think it's too much?" Johan steps inside her bedroom and locks the door behind him, he approaches her to take a good look at her face and feels his heart do a little jump, "You look beautiful..." He glances at her desk, there's make up products scattered all around, she usually doesn't wear any of it, but seeing her right now, getting ready for a date makes the pain in his chest grow.

"Thank you..." She looks away to stare at herself in the mirror, she can't handle the sad look Johan is giving her right now, and she won't question him either, it hurts just as much to think about it. She starts to put everything away inside her drawer and grab her brush to figure out what she's going to do with her hair. Johan walks away from beside her to sit in her bed, next to the knee length dress she's planning on wearing "Are you... really going?" There it is, she really didn't want to deal with this.

"Yes, of course I am... I can't just bail out on him... he's so nice to me, it would be rude of me to-" She quickly gets interrupted though, this one is harder to answer, "Do you want to go? Be with him?" Anna takes a deep breath as she brushes her bangs, "I am going" It's all she can say. She likes the guy, but she finds it hard to find a romantic connection with him. It's possible though, if she tries hard enough.

"Anna, you don't like him" This gets her to put her brush down and spin around in her chair to face him, "If I didn't like him, I would've rejected his confession Johan, I wouldn't be wasting my time getting ready if I-"

"But you don't, Anna" Johan says calmly, but she can tell he's slowly losing his temper "You're forcing yourself into something you do not want... why?" He stands now, walking a few steps until he's towering over her "I thought you weren't interested in dating, or going out with anybody... you told me that night we-"

"Johan" It's her turn to rudely interrupt him, she stands too, and even then he's still taller than her "What do you want from me?"

Johan freezes at the question, he hesitates and remains silent for a few moments before finally opening his mouth, "Don't go" He's not ready to tell her the whole truth right now, but he'll at least try to be honest right now "Let me take you out, your time getting ready won't be wasted then," It's hard for him to say the next few words, he hates how he struggles to speak his true feelings in front of the only person he cares about in this world "I can't stand the thought of... someone else taking you out"

"That's selfish of you" Anna frowns, but the she can't hide the heat on her cheeks, "But I..." Should she reject him? She won't be able to handle the broken look on his face if she does. Does she want to go out with him? Yes, but their relationship can't go on like this. It's wrong. But it doesn't feel wrong. Nobody is able to make her feel the way he does after all.

"Can't... I'm sorry, brother" She looks away immediately, "Can you please leave my room? I need to change now, or I'll be late" She crosses her arms, staring down at her feet to avoid seeing his face.

"Fine" He says, "Call us when you're done... and, be safe Anna"

"Thank you, I will be"

OoOoO

Johan sits on his bed next to his night stand, he stares out the window as his anger and jealousy boils in his blood. He picks up his phone and makes a call, "Hello" He says coldly, and there's a determined look on his face "Yes, she is going" Silence, "Yes, you already have your instructions... yes, call me when it's done" He hangs up, and lays down on his bed, hands resting on his chest.

"I'm sorry Anna... at least, this will make your first date memorable" Johan closes his eyes and waits.

🦋

[theartifxce]

wassup akiiii, gutto morninggg

how are you doing today ? hope you had enough rest

ah, i noticed the prompt post, can i request this two ?

‘ try me. ’

‘ don’t push my buttons. ’

thank you, stay healthy akiiii

-Sincerely, dead-but-still living, Asami

OutofChara ; My insomnia's been pretty bad actually! I get a total of 3-4 hours a sleep a day. whooohooooo!!!!! Thank you for the best and thoughtful wishes!

Imma answer the first one as kid Johan cause...to be honest...he’s my favorite to write...AND I NEVER GET THE CHANCE TO WRITE HIM. If it is okay imma skip the second prompt cause I couldn’t come up with anything clever!!! 

‘ try me. ’

Anna was mad at him again. He couldn’t expect her to understand how Kinderheim 511 had changed him; how it worsened his distaste for physical touch and affection. So when he rejected her embrace without thinking, he had to pay the price for the angry tears that glossed in her beautiful marble eyes. She had given him the cold shoulder – not knowing that treating him like he did not exist was the most painful thing she could ever do. But Johan was unable to express his hurt outwardly – and that made the situation worse for him.  

When he found her sitting on the garden bench, he revealed from behind him a beautiful tulip as an apology. She was able to understand his gesture without the need for words. Her smile relieved him as she took the flower from his hand. But she still pouted when he went to sit beside her. “…Do you forgive me, Anna?” He asked softly, his eyes weighed to his hands that rested upon his knees. “Of course I do – you’re my brother! I can never stay mad at you.” She protested as she shared a glance in his direction. “But, why do you do this, Johan?” She continued and he would only freeze up as she carried on the conversation to areas he did not want to explore. 

“One moment you treat me like you hate me being around you and the next moment you’re so nice to me.” His eyebrows furrowed; because he knew the explanation would never be easy enough for her to swallow.  “I could never hate you, Anna…” His voice sounded defeated. That was when she fully turned his way and placed a soft hand on his pale one. “I know that – I want to know why you act like that sometimes.” She reassured but it did not make him feel better. 

“I don’t think you can understand, little sister.” He prompted his head and said while boldly looking into her eyes. That was when she mirrored his courage and said sternly, “Try me.”

@asfixiafloral

[sinemoras09]

His footsteps echo on the pavement as he walks, the cold night air seeping through his clothes despite his thick sweater and jacket. He puts his hands in his pockets and reflexively remembers Czechoslovakia again, Anna's cold skin and her hand in his.

It's only when he passes a storefront that he realizes he's no longer smiling. Johan stops. In the darkness, the glass shows his reflection like a mirror, and he can see his true face. Tired eyes, a mouth that's set in a tighter and tighter line. He remembers reaching out a hand to his sister only to be met with screaming. The other half of himself that's still missing.

I want to be whole again. He stares at his reflection. His eyes widen slightly as he pictures Anna's eyes in the window pane staring back at him.

“How can I rest, when my soul is split in two pieces?” He touches the glass, his fingertips sliding on the cool surface.

-Excerpt from the fic, Shatter. Monster from Johan’s POV. Gen. Johan-centric, one-sided Johan/Nina.

[wandering-bard-from-the-id]

Daughters of Arendelle - Chapter 46

Chapter 46 - Part III

Chapters 1 - 45 available at FF.net

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12222767/1/Daughters-of-Arendelle

See, I told you there was a part III. Sorry for the delay.

Chapter 46

September 15, 1840

Kai pulled back on the reins, easing the wagon to a stop. Before him a low wall of stones stretched between two boulders, blocking the path.

Birds chirped at the intruders from branches laden with autumn colored leaves.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Olsen called from the rear wagon, eying the stone barrier.

“According to the map, it is.” It should be.

“Hello! I’m Olaf!”

Several small birds startled into flight as the cheery call echoed through the trees.  

“Olaf!” Tension eased in Kai’s shoulders. The dancing little snowman had never been a more welcome sight.

Bouncing from stone to stone, said snowman landed on a rock near Kai. “Kristoff is waiting for you. Come on!” He sprang into the air, spun and landed several feet beyond the rock wall.

Kai and Olsen scrambled off the wagons. It took them a little more effort to climb over the rocks. Beyond the barrier, they found themselves in a clearing. Steam vents kept the morning chill from the air.

Blanketed men lay spread around the area, close enough to the vents to keep them warm.

“Sir!” Huddled by one of the vents, Corporal Smyth dropped a wooden spoon into the soup pot, he’d been stirring. He snapped to attention, with a sharp salute.

“At ease, Corporal.” Olsen returned the salute with a half wave. “Where is Lieutenant Nickolas?”

“Over here, Johan.” Nickolas waved from his place, propped against a boulder.

“Axel!” Rushing across the clearing, Olsen dropped to a knee at Nickolas’s side.

“It’s good to see you, Johan.” Nickolas caught an offered hand, pulling his friend in for a back slap.

“And you.” Olsen grinned from ear to ear.

Laughter, back slapping and teasing, revealed the unspoken relief they shared at finding the other alive.

Olsen pushed back to arm’s length, taking close assessment of his friend’s bloody clothes. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as it looks. The bullet passed through my thigh, missing the bone. Thanks to Smyth and the trolls, I’ll get to keep it.”

“Trolls?” Olsen’s eyes narrowed, searching Nickolas for signs of a head wound.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Nickolas said. “I know it sounds mad, but, I promise you, they’re real.”

“Kai!”

With an arm draped over Sven’s neck, Kristoff stumbled into the clearing.

The Chamberlain noted Sven was adjusting his pace to keep his friend upright. Blood stains covered the young man’s tunic. His free arm hung from a made-shift sling.

“Master Kristoff, I’m glad to see you up and about.” Kai dipped his head in greeting.

 “Is Anna alright?”

 “When I saw her last, the Princess was sleeping peacefully.”

 “When you saw her last? How long ago was that?”

 “Please, Kai, give the boy some piece of mind before he drives us all mad.” Nickolas stole a teasing wink at Olsen. “He’s been pacing like a caged wolf since the Queen’s message arrived.”

There was something in the young man’s eyes. Concern. Fear. The boy does have it bad for her. Kai tucked the thought away for later.

“She and the Queen suffered some injuries during the battle.” Kai said. No need to frighten him with details, not till he can see her for himself. “Doctor Engen believes the Princess will make a full recovery. She and the Queen were sleeping when we left.”

Kristoff allowed his weight to shift against Sven. “Okay. Good.” He looked to Kai. “That’s good, right?”

“Yes, that’s good.” Kai offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Brown eyes narrowed, as something clicked. “Wait, Elsa’s hurt too?”

“Yes,” said Olsen. “she and the prince had a go of it. After that Princess Anna carved him up like a Christmas goose.” There was a hint of amusement on his lips. “I suspect he’s wishing he’d never heard of Arendelle.” His features darkened. “Queen Elsa made short work of his navy. I’ve no doubt, she’d have taken him out sooner if not for the wounds she suffered during the ambush.”

“Ambush?” Nickolas bristled. “What ambush?”

“Tollak sent a couple of traitor scouts to murder the Queen.” Olsen said.

“That traitor, bastard!” Nickolas growled through clenched teeth. “Hanging will be to good for him.”

“Yes,” Olsen nodded in agreement. “Though I’m looking forward to seeing him and that Southern Isles dog dancing at the end of a rope.”

“Where is Hans now?” Knuckles cracked as Kristoff’s fist tightened. He straightened, swaying before reaching once more for Sven.

“Rotting in the castle dungeon.” Olsen replied. “You’ve no need to worry about him. Even if he survives till his execution, he’s in no condition to cause trouble.”

“The enemy fleet has surrendered.” Kai said. “Most of the traitors have either been killed or captured. Thanks to the Queen and Princess, Arendelle is safe.”

“How many did we lose?” Nickolas looked to Olsen.

“Too many.” Unable to meet his gaze, Olsen focused on a patch of dirt. “We don’t know the exact numbers yet.”

Silence settled over the clearing, lingering for several heartbeats.

“Master Kristoff,” Kai pulled a bundle from his jacket pocket. “I have need of your family’s assistance. I believe they may be able to identify this.” He pushed aside the cloth covering the disk.

Kristoff touched a finger to the metal, jerking it back as if burnt. “Where did you get this?”

“Prince Hans brought it to attack Queen Elsa.”

“Grand Pabbi!” Kristoff didn’t take his eyes from the disk. “I need to speak with you. Now!”

There was a pause, rocks surrounding the clearing began to shake, rolling toward them. One stopped before Kristoff, forming into a troll. The others took their true form, encircling the men.

“Sweet Mother Mary!” Olsen jumped, reaching for his sword.

Nickolas caught his arm staying it. “It’s alright Johan. You get use to them after a while.”

Olsen relaxed, keeping a weary eye on the stone creatures.

“There is strange magic in the air.” Grand Pabbi held out a hand.

Kai placed the disk in the outstretched palm.

“Do you know what it is?” Kristoff took a half step back as the red gem pulsed.

Turning the disk, Grand Pabbi studied it from all angles. Thick brows furrowed till they almost touched. “Ancient magic, from far away. It does not belong in a land of ice and snow.”

“Who created it?” Kristoff leaned in for another look, careful to keep his distance.

“One of the ancient tribes of man. They sought to harness the power of the sun. Their ways have long been lost to the world.” He draped the cloth over the stone, holding it out to Kai. “Any who wield this would be a great threat. You said, the prince attempted to harm Queen Elsa with it?”

“Yes.” Kai took the disk, wrapping the cloth tighter. “He tried several times to kill her with it.”

Grand Pabbie’s head bobbed up and down. “She is lucky not to have been struck.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but she was struck.” Kai slipped the disk into his jacket pocket.

Grand Pabbie���s head snapped up. “Was it a glancing blow?”

“No. A direct hit.”

“And she lives?” Bulda leaned in from behind Kristoff.

“Yes.” Fear flickered in Kai’s chest at the troll’s outburst. “Though we are concerned about her.”

“As you should be.” There was no comfort in the ancient troll’s words.

Olsen looked to Nicholas. “Cussed thing blasted a hole through our fleet, sending two ships to the ocean floor before they could fire a shot. It turned two men to ash with one blast.”

“Which is what it would have done to Queen Elsa, were it not for her magic.” Stone fingers rubbed at Grand Pabbie’s chin, his gaze focused on something only he could see. “That she survived is a testament to her great power. Did you notice anything strange about her magic after she was struck?”

Kai felt an uncomfortable shiver up his spine. “She was having trouble recalling her magic, though that could have been from fatigue.”

“She was hot.”

All eyes turned to Olaf. He rocked back and forth oblivious to the attention.

“What do you mean, she was hot?” Kristoff’s voice carried a touch of the dread they all felt.

“Last night, she was feeling hot. She didn’t like it.”

Concerned looks passed among the group.

“Olaf,” Kristoff paused till he had the snowman’s attention. “do you know if she’s feeling hot now?”

His head tilted to one side, dipping low enough to be comical had the situation been different. “Huh, she’s not feeling anything.” He began to hum, rocking back and forth.

Kai stepped in, taking a turn. “Olaf, is it normal for you not to be able to sense what Her Majesty is feeling?”

“No, why?”

Grand Pabbie broke the deafening silence hovering over the clearing. “It would seem her magic was strained by the attack. Perhaps even pushed to its limits.”

“Limits?” Olsen scoffed, looking over the group. “What limits? She held the entire kingdom in a three-day blizzard without breaking a sweat.”

“That was different.” Grand Pabbie brushed away the remark with a wave of his hand. “The blizzard was Elsa’s magic stretching after being held back for so long. This, was an attack. Defending against it would have pushed her magic to great limits.”

“How could it hurt her magic?” Unconvinced Olsen frowned at the troll.

“As I said, the disk draws power from the sun. One of the greatest forces in nature. Just, as a sword can strike at her flesh, the disk struck at her magic.”

“Is there anything you can do for her?” Kristoff said.

Kai noted the pleading look in the mountain man’s eyes. It mirrored his own.

“I’m sorry, Kristoff.” The old troll sighed. “This is beyond my powers. She must fight this battle alone.”

“What can we do?” Kai pushed down the dread creeping over him.

“Wait.” The simple answer solved nothing.

Few things drove Kai to anger or frustration, yet, somehow, the troll was doing just that.

“There has to be something else?” Olsen looked to the others for help.

“If you were to lose an arm or a leg, you could survive.” Grand Pabbie said. “Queen Elsa’s magic is more ingrained, it would be as if her lungs or heart were damaged.”

“Will it heal?” The weight on Kai’s shoulders grew heavier.

“Perhaps, with time.”

“And if it can’t heal?” There was an ever so slight quiver in Kristoff’s voice.

“Her magic could be lost or damaged for good.” The ancient troll looked up at him. “And if the damage is severe enough, she will leave this world for the next.”

Dread settled over the group with a crushing weight.

“I’m sorry, Kristoff.” Grand Pabbi, patted his grandson’s leg. “There is nothing I can do.”

“Thank you, for your assistance.” Kai bowed, his face betraying none of the emotions stirring beneath the surface. This will break Anna’s heart. What of Gerda? His blood ran cold at the toll such a loss would take on his wife. The weight pressed harder on his shoulders. “Gentlemen, we need to load the wounded and get back.”

No words were spoken as they set about their work.

0000

Grand Pabbie and Bulda gave a final wave to Kristoff as the wagons rumbled away.

“Have you heard of anyone surviving such an attack?” Bulda didn’t look away as the wagons disappeared into the thick woods.

“No.” Grand Pabbie didn’t face her.

“She is strong.”

“The strongest I’ve ever seen.” He said.

“Have you seen any signs?”

“Her fate is undecided.”

“Then there is hope.”

“Hope? You sound like a human, Bulda.” His brow arched as their eyes met.

She shrugged. “After a thousand years, they start to rub off on you.”

Grand Pabbie answered with a soft chuckle.

“What if she passes?”

“Then it will be another thousand years before we see her like again.” He grew solemn. “It will be a great loss for the world…and a sad day.” Not waiting for an answer, he curled into himself, rolling away.

Bulda continued to stare at the empty woods. “Not just for the world.”

0000

Checking his pocket watch against the grandfather clock across the room, Kai noted both were in perfect sync. Satisfied he clicked the watch closed, slipping it back into his vest pocket.

“Princess Anna?” There was no response. Not that one had been expected. He began arranging the serving tray, each item laid out in its proper place. Just because they had suffered a war was no reason to forgo proper manners.

“Princess Anna, it’s time to wake up.” His voice rose an octave.

She snuggled deeper into the bedding with a faint grumble.

There was a comforting sense of normality in the routine they’d shared for years. Somethings never change. His gaze caught on the blackish blue marks covering her face and neck. And yet, they have.

Thoughts of throttling Tollak and that bastard prince brought an anger he hadn’t felt in years. He shook it off. There would be time to deal with them later. For now, there were others more deserving of his attention.

“Your Highness, it’s time to eat.”

“Just…five more…min…utes…” She drooled into the pillow.

Leaning closer, he called in the booming voice usually reserved for court announcements. “It’s time to wake up, ma’am.”

Anna stirred, groaning as she rolled onto her back. One eye cracked open taking a moment to focus on him. Something akin to a grunt croaked from her lips.

“Good evening, Milady.” Kai’s warm smile widened. “It’s time to eat and take your medicine.” Dishes clinked as he arranged a cup and saucer.

“Kai?” She croaked through parched lips. “…thirsty…” Rumblings from her stomach almost drown out the request.

“Of course, ma’am.” He filled a glass from the pitcher on the nightstand.

She struggled to sit up, arms trembling under the strain. Halfway up, she yelped, collapsing onto the pillows.

“Princess Anna!” Kai sat the glass aside, easing onto the edge of the bed. “Are you alright?” He placed a hand on her arm. Muscles beneath his palm quivered with tension and pain.

“Muscles…hurt….” Eyes squeezed shut, she drew several quick, short breaths. It took a moment, for her to slow it down.

“I’m afraid you’re going to be sore for a few days. You took quite a beating.

She chuckled relaxing into the bed. “Yeah, but…you should see…the other guy.”

“I have seen him, ma’am. You were definitely on the winning side of the fight.”

Laughter filled the room.

Anna groaned, pressing a hand to her side. “Oh, don’t…make me…laugh.”

“Sorry, milady.” He patted her arm, reaching for the glass. “Here, let me help you.” Slipping a hand under her head, he raised her, pressing the cup to her lips. She looks so small, so helpless. He pushed away the thought. “Easy, don’t gulp.”

Gasping for air, she pulled away. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat the glass on the nightstand. “Cook made one of your favorites for dinner this evening.”

“I’ve already had dinner.” She rubbed sleep from her eyes, flinching in pain with the movement.

“That was last night, ma’am.” He stood, making the final arrangements on the tray. “You need to eat something today.”  

“Wait, what? How long have I been asleep?”

“Since last night. You’ve slept through most of the day.”

“I have?” Her brows arched, causing her to grimace. She reached up, gingerly touching the bandage around her head. “Kai? Why are you here?”

“I’m trying to serve you dinner, ma’am.”

“No, I mean, why are you here? Where’s Gerda?”

“Gerda is getting some much-needed rest, and Alma is watching over Queen Elsa, while she sleeps.”

“Why does Elsa need to be watched? What’s wrong with her?” Stiff, sore muscles slowed her down enough for Kai to stop her from throwing off the blankets.

With a firm, yet, gentle grip, he stayed her hand. Leaning down he held her gaze.

“They are watching over her for any signs of fever, just as I was watching over you. We thought it best to limit the number of people with access to you and the Queen, while the Admiral sorts out some security issues.”

“Security issues?” Her eyes narrowed. “Are there still traitors in the castle?”

“No, I don’t believe so.” He released her, turning once more to the tray. “With the heavy losses suffered by the Guardsmen and Queen’s Shield, the Admiral and Captain Olsen wished to have the best qualified men assigned to guard duty.”

“Heavy losses.”

Kai almost missed the whispered words. He noted the pain flash across her face. It wasn’t from her wounds.

Her eyes squeezed shut, trying to shake away some unwanted thought. The movement brought on a grimace.

“So, the Admiral is in charge?”

“Yes. He’ll be happy to hear you’re awake. I don’t think he is enjoying the task of Regent.” Kai said.

“What about the townspeople and the wounded?”

“The Admiral and Bishop Solberg have the situation well in hand. I assure you, milady, everyone is being seen to.”

“Good.” She relaxed, her eyes drifting closed.

“Let’s get you propped up, so you can eat.” Hands held out, he waited for permission to touch her.

“Okay.” She reached for him.

He eased onto the bed, letting her arms slip around him. With great care he lifted her.

“Awww!”

Kai froze. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” She managed a weak smile, leaning into him.

He eased her up.

Her head came to rest on his shoulder.

He felt her face press against his neck. There was a shudder coupled with a muffled sob.

“Your Highness?”

Slender arms tightened around him.  

“Milady?”

Tears stained his collar. It had been sometime since he’d seen her cry so. Rubbing small circles over her back, he pulled her in closer. “It’s alright, Princess.” Spoken with soft assurance, the title carried more of an endearment than a rank. “You’re safe now.”

She curled into the protective embrace, as she had done since childhood. “I’m…sorry…”

“For what?”

“Pushing…you away. Not…your fault…manacles…”

“Shhh, there’s no need to cry over that.” He cupped the back of her head, tucking her under his chin.

She shook with a sob. “Almost lost…you…and Gerda.”

“It’s alright, Anna. I’m here. The worst is over. Your sister, Master Kristoff and Gerda are safe now.” Don’t lie to her, warned a whisper. He prayed it would not become one.

“Kristoff?” She leaned back. “He’s here?” A tear streaked down her cheek.

Kai wiped it away with a gloved finger. There was still so much of the child he knew in the bright eyes staring up at him. “Yes, Captain Olsen, and I, brought him and the others back this morning.”

“He’s not in the stables, is he?” She wiped a hand over her eyes, smearing tears across flushed cheeks.

“No.” Kai chuckled, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, and handing it to her. “He’s in the guest room Queen Elsa assigned him.”

“Good. Thank you for bringing him home.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I want to see him.” Anna wiped at her eyes and cheeks.

“He’s sleeping, as is Queen Elsa. Besides, it’s time for you to eat.” He held her gaze, making it clear there would be no room for further argument.

“Fine.” Her shoulders slumped as she handed back the handkerchief. “But I want to see them, soon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He supported her with one arm as he arranged the pillows, lowering her onto the pile.

She caught his arm with both hands, holding him in place. “Kai, I…I’m glad you’re okay. I’ve missed you.”

His eyes misted at the revelation. “I’ve missed you too, milady.” Afraid his own tears would escape, Kai patted her hands, freeing himself. “You need to eat before your food gets cold.”

He stood, taking a napkin from the tray. In one fluid motion he snapped it open, draping it over Anna’s chest. While he turned to the tray, she tucked a corner of the linen cloth into her nightgown collar.

Careful of her leg, he placed the tray over her lap. He pulled away the plate cover, revealing large portions of roast beef, roasted potatoes, vegetables and fresh warm bread.

Anna’s eyes widened with delight. “That smells amazing.”

“It was one of Cook’s better efforts. The roast is quite tender.” He sat the cover aside, and poured a cup of tea, adding milk and sugar to Anna’s liking.

“I’m never going to be able to eat all of this.” Pain crossed her face as she raised a forkful of roast beef. Several pieces of it slipped from the fork, dropping onto the plate. With some effort, she managed a bite without spilling the rest on herself. She hummed through a mouthful of food. “Wonderful.”

Chuckling Kai placed the teacup on the tray. “I’ll let Cook know you are pleased.” He sat in the chair near the edge of the bed, watching her work through the meal.

Only a few pieces ended up on the napkin, fortunately, none landed on the bedding.

She drained the teacup in two large gulps.

Kai took it. He opened a bottle sitting on the nightstand and spooned in two teaspoons of amber liquid, mixing it into the tea before placing it on the tray.

Anna’s eyes narrowed. “What did you put in my tea?”

“Doctor Engen wants you to take a dose of medicine. He said, it will help with the pain.”

“Is it that horrible stuff from last night?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Hump.” She took a large bite of bread chewing on it.

Kai settled into the chair. “How is your leg?”

“It hurts. So do my ribs, both arms and my head.” Bread crumbs tumbled from her lips onto the napkin. “I think the only place that doesn’t hurt is my left pinky toe.” She paused to glare at the blankets. There was a bit of movement beneath the covers. She grimaced. “No, that hurts too.”

Relieved by her antics, Kai settled back in the chair with a hearty laugh. Watching her struggle with the fork, his humor faded. “You took a nasty fall, among other things.” He shook away the image of her falling under a hail of bullets. “I suspect you’ll be sore for some time. Tomorrow, we should get you up and moving around. It will help.”

“M’kay.” She lifted the cup to him. “Skoal.” With a deep breath, she downed it in one go. The last of it splattered over the napkin, as she broke into a coughing fit.

“Are you alright?” He leaned forward, reaching for her.

“Yes.” She managed to gasp between coughs. Winded she flopped back on the pillows, groaning at the action. “That’s stuff is awful.” She held the empty cup out to him.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to take it much longer.” Offering a sympathetic smile, he took the cup, and refilled it with tea. He placed it on the tray.

Resisting the urge to stroke her hair, he settled for a hand on her shoulder.

Cheeks stuffed with food, she managed to grin at him.

The world would be a darker place without her. Pained by the thought, he gave her shoulder a gentle pat, reassured by the warmth beneath his hand.

He settled into the chair, content to watch her work through the mound of food.

It wasn’t long before she started to show signs of slowing. Several bites later she placed the half-eaten bread on the plate, pulled the napkin free, wiping at her hands and face. “I can’t eat anymore.”

Tossing the napkin on the tray, she leaned back against the pillows. Both hands wrapped around the tea cup.

“You made a good go of it.” He removed the tray, placing it on the nightstand.

She downed the tea in several gulps, handing him an empty cup.

“Would you like to lay down?”

“I want to see Elsa and Kristoff.”

“And you shall, later, but for now, it would be best to let them sleep. The last few days have been very, taxing, for the Queen, Master Kristoff, and yourself.”

Teal eyes narrowed, amusement danced within them. “You have a gift for understatement, Kai. Okay, I’ll let her sleep, for now.” She wagged a finger at him. “But, I want to see her, soon.” Her mouth opened with a wide yawn. She made a halfhearted attempt to cover it with a hand. “And Kristoff, I want to see him too.”

“And you will, I promise.” He removed several of the pillows, easing her down.

She snuggled into the blankets. “Kai?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Are they really okay?”

Catching the pleading eyes staring up at him, his mouth snapped shut on a gentle lie. “Master Kristoff’s wound is healing well. He was up and about when we arrived at the troll’s valley. He’ll not be ice harvesting for a while, but, by the spring, he should be tossing ice blocks with ease once more.”

“Good.” Anna’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “What about Elsa?”

Another lie hung on the tip of his tongue. Years of deflecting her questions had made it all too easy to attempt to deceive her. No more lies. “She is sleeping. Dr. Engen is keeping a close watch on her. He is certain the wound in her side is not fatal.”

“But?”

“But, she hasn’t woken since she passed out last night.”

“Passed out?” Anna started to raise.

He caught her shoulders, gently pushing her down. “She was exhausted, and Dr. Engen gave her a large dose of medicine.”

Anna settled into the pillows with a heavy sigh.

He watched her fight to stay focused. The medicine’s kicking in.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

She always been more observant than people give her credit for. He felt a twinge of pride. “There is a chance, the disk caused her more harm than we realized.”

“What? No.” She fumbled with the blankets, unable to toss them aside.

“Anna.” Catching her hands, he sat on the bed. “Listen to me, there is nothing you can do for her tonight. Tomorrow, when you’re stronger, I’ll take you to see her, and Kristoff.”

“She needs me.”  

How many times had he seen that desperate look in her eyes? Heard the longing in her cries for an absent sister. More than a decade of unanswered cries. He shook off the thought.

“Yes, she does need you. Now more than ever.” He placed her hands under the blanket, pulling it up to cover her shoulders. “Which is why you need to rest. There will be much to do in the coming days. Your sister will need you to be strong.”

He felt her tense and braced himself for a struggle.

Whatever battle was raging within her surrendered to the effects of the medication. She relaxed, heavy eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open.

“Promise, you’ll take me to see her in the morning.”

He placed a palm over his heart. “You have my word, Your Highness.”

Her eyes closed. “Good.”

Slipping deeper into sleep, her head rolled to one side.

Kai watched the steady rise and fall of the blanket, each breath a reassurance she was safe. Were it not for the bandages and bruises, one would might never guess she’d been in a life or death battle. No, there were other signs. Even in sleep there was a troubled crease to her brow.

One so young should not have to carry such burdens. He thought of Elsa looking so frail when he saw her last. The troll’s words haunted him. What if we lose her?

He’d watched her suffer through her parent’s lose, the toll it had taken. He shuddered at what Elsa’s lose would do to her.

No, we wouldn’t lose her. We can’t. Placing a kiss upon two fingertips, he touched them to Anna’s temple. “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

Moving to the chair, he pulled out a handkerchief, wiping at his eyes, before tucking it back into a jacket pocket.

Across the room, the grandfather clock began to chime the hour. It would be two more before Margit relieved him. Opening the book, he settled in. His attention remained divided between reading and the soft snores coming from the bed. It was a beautiful sound.

[nanshe-of-nina]

History Articles Masterpost

I was going the files on my external hard drive today and found a bunch of journal articles and dissertations I downloaded and decided to upload them for people who are interested. They're mostly about the Middle Ages, women's history, troubadours, the Soviet Union, and/or historical figures I find interesting because ... that's just how I roll. MEDIEVAL HISTORY — GENERAL

The Armagnac Faction: New Patterns of Political Violence in Late Medieval France – Timur R. Pollack-Lagushenko

Exemplar King and Doting Parent: Examining the Role of Fatherhood in the Life of Edward III, c.  1320-1377 – Nicole Harding

Harold of England: The Romantic Revision of the Last Anglo-Saxon King – María José Gómez

Jews and Cathari in Medieval France – John M. O’Brien

King Henry III and Saint Edward the Confessor: The Origins of the Cult – D.A. Carpenter

Memory and Collective Identity in Occitanie: The Cathars in History and Popular Culture – Emily McCaffrey

Murder, Mayhem, and a Very Small Penis: Motives for Revenge in the 1375 Murder of William Cantilupe – Frederik Pedersen

The “Sale” of Carcassonne to the Counts of Barcelona (1067-1070) and the Rise of the Trencavels – Fredric L. Cheyette

Stephen of Blois, Count of Mortain and Boulogne – Edmund King

MEDIEVAL HISTORY — WOMEN

The Anglo-Norman Card of Adela of Blois – Kimberly A. LoPrete

The Campaigns of Matilda of Tuscany – Valerie Eads

“Désirant tout, envahissant tout, ne connaissant le prix de rien”: Materiality in the Queenship of Isabeau of Bavaria – Yen M. Duong

Gender and the Language of Politics in Thirteenth‐Century Queens’ Letters – Anaïs Waag

Heavy Is the Head That Wears the Crown: Contemporary Reputations and Historical Representations of Queens Regent – Jessica Donovan

Isabeau of Bavaria, Queen of France (1385-1422): The Creation of an Historical Villainess – Rachel Gibbons

Negotiating Princely Power in Late Medieval France: Jeanne de Penthièvre, Duchess of Brittany (c.1325-1384) – Erika Maëlan Graham-Goering

The Piety, Power, and Patronage of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem’s Queen Melisende – Helen A. Gaudette

The Politics of Queen Philippa’s Mottoes: Five English Words – Melissa Furrow

The Reputation of the Queen and Public Opinion: The Case of Isabeau of Bavaria – Tracy Adams and Glenn Rechtschaffen

Studies in the History of Queen Melisende of Jerusalem – Hans Eberhard Mayer

Valentina Visconti, Charles VI, and the Politics of Witchcraft – Tracy Adams

The War of the Two Jeannes: Rulership in the Fourteenth Century – Katrin Sjursen

MEDIEVAL CULTURE

The Autumn of the Middle Ages by Johan Huizinga (review) – Max Staples

The Avatars of Orable-Guibourc from French chanson de geste to Italian romanzo cavalleresco. A Persistent Multiple Alterity – Philip E. Bennett, Krupina Zarker Morgan

Critical Analysis of the Roles of Women in the Lais of Marie de France – Jeri S. Guthrie

A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century by Barbara W. Tuchman (review) – Bernard S. Bachrach

Managing Medieval Misogyny – M. Wendy Hennequin

The Minor Trobairitz: An Edition with Translation and Commentary – Deborah Perkal-Balinsky

Poetry of Exclusion: A Feminist Reading of Some Troubadour Lyrics – Simon Gaunt

Private Desire and Public Identity in Trobairitz Poetry – Laurel Amtower

Writing Beneath the Shadow of Heresy: The Historia Albigensis of Brother Pierre des Vaux-de-Cernay – Christopher M. Kurpiewski

BYZANTINE HISTORY AND RUSSIAN HISTORY — MEDIEVAL AND TSARIST

Attacking the Empire’s Achilles Heels: Railroads and Terrorism in Tsarist Russia – Frithjof Benjamin Schenk

Kinship and the Distribution of Power in Komnenian Byzantium – Peter Frankopan

Lamentation, History, and Female Authorship in Anna Komnene’s Alexiad – Leonora Neville

Muscovy and the Mongols : What's What and What's Maybe – David M. Goldfrank

The Revolutionary, His Wife, the Party, and the Sympathizer: The Role of Family Members and Party Supporters in the Release of Revolutionary Prisoners – Katy Turton

RUSSIAN HISTORY — SOVIET

Agency and Terror: Evdokimov and Mass Killing in Stalin’s Great Terror – S. Wheatcroft

Between Right and Left: G. Ia. Sokolnikov and the Development of the Soviet State, 1921-1929 – Samuel A. Oppenheim

Bukharin and the Social Study of Science – Constantine D. Skordoulis

Did Stalin Kill Kirov and Does It Matter? – Matt Lenoe

First Russian Biographies of Trotsky: A Review Article – Ian D. Thatcher

“A Grand Bloodbath”: The Western Reaction to Joseph Stalin’s 1930s Show Trials as Foreign Policy – Jeffrey L. Achterhof

The Legacy of Lunacharsky and Artistic Freedom in the USSR – Howard R. Holter

Lunacharsky, the “Poet-Commissar” – A. L. Tait

Lunacharsky and the Rescue of Soviet Theatre – John J. Von Szeliski

Maria Spiridonova’s “Last Testament” – Alexander Rabinowitch

Marketing for Socialism: Soviet Cosmetics in the 1930s – Olga Kravets and Özlem Sandikçi

On the “Letter of an Old Bolshevik” as an Historical Document – Robert C. Tucker

Patronage and Betrayal in the Post-Stalin Succession: The Case of Kruglov and Serov – Timothy K. Blauvelt

“Socialism of Science” versus “Socialism of Feelings”: Bogdanov and Lunacharsky – Georgii D. Gloveli, John Biggart

Stalin and the Politics of Kinship: Practices of Collective Punishment, 1920s-1940s – Golfo Alexopoulos

Stalin’s Falsification of History: The Case of the Brest-Litovsk Treaty – Sydney D. Bailey

The Terrorist and the Master Spy: The Political Partnership of Boris Savinkov and Sidney Reilly, 1918-25 – Richard B. Spence

Trotsky’s Interpretation of Stalin – Robert H. McNeal

Tukhachevsky in Leningrad: Military Politics and Exile, 1928-31 – David R. Stone

Zinoviev: Populist Leninist – Lars T. Lih

Zinoviev’s Revolutionary Tactics in 1917 – Myron W. Hedlin

HISTORY — MISC.

Dark Religion? Aztec Perspectives on Human Sacrifice – Ray Kerkhove

The Empress Elisabeth of Austria and Her “Untidy” Collection – Beth Muellner

Isotta Nogarola: The Beginning of Gender Equality in Europe – Luka Borsic and Ivana Skuhala Karasman

Love (and Marriage) Between Women – Alan Cameron

Pari Khan Khanum: A Masterful Safavid Princess – Shohreh Gholsorkhi