#WHY ARE THERE SO MANY EVIL WOMEN THAT CORNERED YOU IN A DARK ABANDONED ROOM IN YOUR LIFE BOOK

[evilherehotel]

guys. guys the similarities. guys listen to me

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: The Return of an Old Enemy"

Chapter 4: Into the Wolf's Den

After his encounter with Artemis and Hermes, the wolf creature shambles back to a small entrence way into Mount Parnassus. Through rock and dirt, climbing up and down a corridor of stone, he desends down deep into the earth, back to his accursed master.

As it haphazardly turns around to make full sure of himself that he wasn't followed, he faces a large cavern gate, made from wood scavenged from the surface. Symbolically guarded by two crudely made statues of snarling wolves cobbled together with bits of scraps of pottery, wood and metal.

Due to his fatal injuries, he's slowly dieing from wound. Inspite of reanimating, he doesn't have too much time until the magic that keeps him half-alive wears off. Inhaling the damp, musty cave air, he let's out a long low howl, alerting the guards at the gate. The first guard, probably on his first day on the job, pokes his head through the gate wall much like a dog would stick its head trough a hole in wall.

"YESH, PASSWORDSH?" the young gaurd in a gruff toothy voice. He looks down and sees that there was no time for passwords, the wolf at the gate was fading fast. "HEELP! WALKN DAED! He clumsily shouted.

The dieing wolf started to cough up blood and fluids. He barked in agony for assistance to come faster. As he was swaying back and forth, two other wolf-men dressed up in hoplite armor carrying a patchwork stretcher come trough a hidden door build on the left of the gate, nearly indistinguishable from the panels of wood around it. They assist the wounded wolf man on to the stretcher, hastily going through the door.

The young gaurd wolf struggled for a second to unstick his head from the hole, but successfully gets free. He scampers towards the two soldier wolves, sneaking past his boss and fellow gaurds, he avades being seen by the others as his child-like curiosity and excitement to hear news from the surface. He passes down the subterranean paths and bridges, entangling the vast width of the cave, passing by makeshift markets, mining carts, runs past other wolf-folk, squalored in the dark damp cave. After navigating the rafters of a place loving called "Lycadia", he secretly arrives to a little ledge over looking the more elaborately constructed throne room of the ruler of this dark new underworld, King Lycaon. Alas, six other equally immature wolf-folk had the same idea and took his best spot, so he tries to squeeze a little towards the floor of the ledge to get a better look at what could possibly happen.

Down in the thrown room, the two hoplite wolves present King Lycaon the dieing scout. After so many decades, time has been cruelly kind to Lycaon, he still wore the royal robes he had on that faithful day, but now....the robes adorned a man no longer, but gnarling old wolf. His eyes glowed a sickly gold, his fur was dull with age but combed and clean, inspite living the rest of his life as an animal...he certainly did not want to live the squalored life of one. Lycaon, huntched down on his throne, snarled at the sight. "Wwwhat happened?" He growled. He got up from his throne, with every step followed by a tiptap of his claws and the jangling of the stolen jewelry and gold that he adorned. "How DARE....you comeback without any new tributes from.....grrrrrrr.....the surface." Said through a snarled teeth.

One of the hoplites, sheepishly interjected considering his fallen brethren was not fully capable of speaking. "Um...your highness, he was injured in...b-bbattle." he stuttered in fear of what Lycaon would do to him for defending a lowly scout. He points to the scout's mouth and neck, where Artemis's arrow had penetrated. The scout however, was fading fast, wheezing as the dark force keeping him alive was slowly abandoning him.

Lycaon glared at the scout with daggers in his eyes, furious that he had failed his mission. "Grrrrr, figures. You should be grrrreatful that you're even here.....the prRRRrrrivilege of laying your eyes on your KING....for the last time...now...tell me....." he snarls as he takes out a tiny vile and gently drops a miniscule droplet into the scout's mouth, just to give him a little more life to relay the information he had.

The scout's mouth burned as soon as the liquid touched his tounge, at first wheezing from the hole in the back of his throat, now healing over, letting him cough and scream. This wouldn't last too long, he was dead prior to arriving, so this was just to relay information. "Master, I-I was fofofffollowing the moon goddess" he struggled to speak.

Lycaon listened carefully.

"I-I...I was clossse, to capturing herrrrr....ssssshe was so clossse....until.....the messenger came. Warrrnnnnned her." He continued.

Lycaon his snarl worsened with anger, he knew exactly whom the scout was referring to. "Go onnn...or I'll put you out of your pathetic misery....." He threatened.

The scout coughed, just as fast as the liquid restored him, he slowly fading fast. "But.....I have good news....out numbers....grow...more and more...new citizens....will join....our....ranks...the gods....are unaware.......long...live...king Lycaon.", with the scout's last words, he breathes his last. Dieing on the floor of the throne room.

Although it was not much, King Lycaon was satisfied with this...but it doesn't stop him from being unsatisfied. He dramatically turns around, "Throw his body into the consumption pit. It will keep those BEGGERS away for a bit." He coldly commanded. "How many in our army?".

The hoplite wolves immediately went into attention, "400 men and soldiers, my Lord. All varying from all across Greece, even a handful from Persia and Rome." One replied.

Lycaon, glared back at the hoplite. "Women?" He asked.

"12, your highness. 5 priestesses among them", the one replied.

A sick and perverse smile crawled across his maw, licking his lips for what the prospect of comes from taking virgin priestesses, "exccccccellent....I suppose.....the number of....'new blood'....has risen?", the tyrant king continued.

The hoplite wolf, slightly uncomfortable with having to tell this information, "um...yes my Lord...74 young children...ready for conversions." He responded.

King Lycaon, let's out a small inconsequential chuckle but slowly that chuckle grows in volume and intensity, it grew into a mad cackling. As the caves echoed with his evil laughter, howls can be heard reverberating from all corners of Lycadia, the waves vibrated and boomed throughout, as if the whole mountain would explode from the conchophony of wolves. He stops, and turns to the hoplites, "...wwwhHat are you two... STILL doing HERE! Rrrremove that pile of useless flesh from my throne room! And send some one here to cleeeean this spot....a king must be prrrresentable....to introduce....the new generation of LYCANS to Lycadia....once we our numbers grrrow....we shall convert ALL of Greece, than....hmhmhmhmhehehHAHAHAHAH!....the world...now....GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" He dramatically finished.

The two hoplites scrambled to to take the corpse and drag it to the consumption pit, where the lower caste lycans scavenge for food. The cruel king, claimed up to his throne to rest his old bones. He has been ruling Lycadia for less than two centuries, outliving any possible living decent that could even remember Lycaon. He believed, once his plan would come to fruition, he will be king of far much more than Lycadia.

The lycan youths, satisfied with the display of King Lycaon's authority, all leave the ledge to go back to whatever they were doing. The head guard was there too, tapping his foot in disapproval of the young gaurd's unprofessional behavior. All of the young welps had left....with the exception of one very young pup. Who seemed to have decided to be curious about "the surface". Unlike the other welps, he wasn't converted, he was born in Lycadia, roughly six years of age, he was rearing for a more exciting adventures. All of Lycaon's talk of this world above his stony world, had him thinking about exploring. As he scampered through out possibly the same path as the young gaurd, he sees the big wooden gate. Like an inconspicuous mouse in a vast garden, he's unnoticed by the guards, granted a good mix of them probably weren't gaurd's prior to conversions. The pup slipped through a little opening in-between to large logs, trotted off to new horizons.

After to what the little pup felt like forever in his whole, he finally catches a glimpse of the 'surface'. He sees the sunset, just slowly about to retire to leave room for moon, although he couldn't understand why the big bright thing sank into the horizon, he knew it was too bright for him to like, the little pup thought he would go blind the moment he saw the sun for the first time. However, time was on his side to give him a small taste of daylight before the night came, giving him the gift of moonlight for the little pup to explore in more suitable light. This whole new world was filled to the brim with smells and sounds the pup would have never dreamed of, he drinks in the sight of this little patch of forest, extending his little pawed hand to touch grass for the first time, feeling it's cold but pleasantly prickly blades. His tail, too small for it to be considered a tail but some older lycan's standards, wags uncontrollably, the little pup knew this bold new world was ripe for adventure. Without looking back at the cave entrence, he darted through the grass, off to an adventure.

End of chp4

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Aurora James prompt: ‘You’re the best thing that ever happened to me’ ♣️♥️♠️

Written  by @evoedbd

Aurora James usually paced when she was stressed. Specifically, she paced in the dark corner where her mini bar had sat since her first night in the Mansion. Normally, she was as tightly wound as a leopard, prowling from wall to wall with her feline sharp amber eyes glowing and metaphoric tail twitching. Normally, her sheer shirts barely clung to her tight muscles, enhancing the delicious curve of her shoulders and finely muscled biceps. Which was perhaps what made it so surprising to find the air still when Lucy entered the sapphic lion’s den. She didn’t see the prowling predator, nor the sharp alertness Aurora often had when overwhelmed. Instead, the Hustler was still, her back resting against the wall and knees lifted to her chest. The Hustler cuddled her knees, keeping her eyes squeezed wilfully shut, as if denying herself sight might allow her to resist her biggest vice.

Alcohol. Even from across the room, Lucy could smell it in the air. The open bottle mocked her, lingering out of Aurora’s reach. Despite the fact it rested out of reach, Lucy could see the way Aurora’s body leaned towards the bottle, even if only subtly. There was always that pull, an allure which mocked all of Aurora’s progress. One week. The Hustler had not touched alcohol for over a week now, and the effects were so painfully clear. She trembled often, even on the hottest days. She was irritable, a starved beast snapping at anything that dared to come close. Lucy had no such fears. Aurora could bite, she could claw and scream, yet she was incapable of driving Lucy away. Not when the Californian born girl had no intention of allowing Aurora to suffer through this alone. Lucy made no effort to disguise her intentions as she strode across the room, moving until she was sitting next to Aurora, between her and the bottle.

Aurora simply sighed and let the shadows embrace her, let the artistic naked women along the walls lead her down memory lane, trying to find those rare few moments which made her feel alive, instead of just mindless pleasure. Sometimes, if she felt generous, she would try to recall their faces. Who was the first? Who really shook her world for that delicate first time? Had she trusted them? Had she begged as she made so many do since? Or, had it been Franco’s idea? Had that last shred of innocence been traded just as the rest of her was? Had he used his tool beyond the purposes Aurora understood?

Aurora was no fool, nor was she mindless. Her memory was razor sharp, at least when it needed to be. An opponent from ten years prior could return and Aurora would remember their style. How much she had taken. How to push and play the game until she had them on the edge of their sanity. A quick glance could have her memorizing and calculating in ways that left many to shame… except the Valentine Gangs Little Lamb. That gorgeous blonde with doe eyes the colour of storm clouds, and a wit that struck like lightning. The Little Lamb had a memory like a camera. She could flick through her history like a catalog, then calculate complex sums off the top of her head. Lucy Kim was the perfection Aurora had always strove to be, yet that had its downsides too. Lucy did not have the blessing of forgetting the faces of those who hurt her, even after those men were in the grave. She recalled her moments of fear with such clarity it gave Aurora shivers. When Lucy finally spoke of her nightmares, it was cold and clinical, something so far from her usual sunny personality that is still left Aurora chilled to the core.

Her head throbbed insistently, reminding her that salvation was within reach. All she had to do was overpower the lock of her muscles, or was it release them? All she needed to do was reach for that bottle and her suffering would be abated… and Lucy would let her. Oh, she knew Lucy would let her grab that bottle, would sit there as she downed the lot. Lucy would bathe her if she puked all over herself, just as she’d tenderly tuck her into the impossibly large bed. Lucy would hold her through another round of withdrawals and denial; support her as she fell back into toxic habits. But that would absolutely break the blonde. Lucy was too kind-hearted to leave, even if Aurora’s behaviours began to destroy her. She’d never abandon the older woman, never leave, not even if she was destroyed in the process. That thought hurt Aurora more than any of her physical symptoms. How could she do that? How could she break this beautiful young woman? How could she face that disappointment? It was true, Aurora had introduced Lucy to the criminal world. She had allowed the girl to shoot guns and drive fast cars. She’d taught Lucy how to count cards and cheat almost anybody at Texas Hold ‘Em. But, in all of that, Aurora had never, ever attempted to make Lucy turn evil. She’d never wanted to destroy that light within the younger woman. No matter how much simpler it would be if she had, if she’d not been lured into actually caring.

Ugh. This was a mess.

Aurora James was the Valentine’s Hustler. She drank. She fucked. She went breaking hearts who dared wish for more. She didn’t sit around talking about her feelings. Not to her family. Not to herself. And especially not to doe eyed younger women with a smile so pure it made her believe in goodness again. Then again, she had watched so many fall victim to that smile. Chance had slowly caved, unable to keep his full glare on the adorable Little Lamb. Yoshimitsu had been instantly smitten, going out of his way to ensure her comfort. Irving had opened his intelligent mind and heart, embracing the girl as his little sister. Ash offered gentle smiles and playful gestures, appreciating her almost as much as he loved her dog. Even Mateo found it within himself to soften for her. Was it such a shock that Aurora James fell victim to the Valentine kryptonite too?

Alcohol was a comfortable familiar. An orgasm was an orgasm, and she’d fucked her way through half of LA by this point. On the one hand, she wasn’t so sure that untold number was something to brag about anymore. But on the other, over half of LA had found her attractive. No, not her, what she offered. That was a confidence booster and then some. However not a single person had graced her bed since they had taken in the Little Lamb… darn it all! Aurora hadn’t even WANTED anybody in her bed. It wasn’t like offers weren’t there, it was simply that there weren’t anymore people she could reach out to for casual sex without giving them expectations despite her clear words. Without breaking their fragile hearts. She was tired of it. Tired of pretending that she didn’t enjoy curling around her lover, inhaling the scent of their hair before she even opened her eyes. Or that she had no desires for intimacy… That she didn’t need! It had absolutely nothing to do with her being tamed. Damn it all! Was the Little Lamb taking away her sex drive? Not only her desire for drink, but her addiction to sex as well?

What the actual fuck was wrong with her?

The Little Lamb was too good, to pure for the Gangster’s hands to ruin. Aurora knew this, even as she clung that little bit tighter. Was it so wrong that she wanted something good for once? That she wanted to see that smile grow that little bit more with pride? Or see those beautiful eyes soften in that unique way? Dangerous? Absolutely. Letting somebody in this close was absolutely reckless. It was allowing someone ways to destroy her, and the Valentines. It was allowing someone the power to crush her, destroy everything she was… but was it wrong?

“I need a drink.” Aurora whispered, finally letting those devastating words through her fine lips. Every word tasted foul, worse than soured wine and off juice bubbling over her dexterous tongue. The tang was unavoidable, no matter how she moved her tongue or clamped her amber eyes shut to imagine something better. Something sweeter.

“You said need. Don’t you want to drink?” Lucy’s quiet voice was so gentle, so soothing in Aurora’s ears. The Mexican couldn’t help but sigh, allowing herself to fall into the warm, waiting body offering comfort. A hug. Who could have known that a hug could cure all ailments, even if temporarily? Falling into Lucy’s arms was almost like surrendering to the warmth of a delightful bath; allowing every muscle to relax and simply enjoy the sensation. Aurora found herself drowning in the scents of expensive lotions and shampoos. They were her products, yet somehow they just smelt better on Lucy. Sweeter. Purer. Scents Aurora used to inspire seduction gave off comfort when applied to Lucy’s pale skin… how? How could the exact same scent be so different on her? It was as if none of the scents wanted to corrupt the goodness of Lucy Kim. A sentiment Aurora indulged in.

“Not anymore. It’s just…” Aurora couldn’t finish her sentence. It was just… what? Habit? Security? A way to have the years pass in a pleasant blur? Something to soothe the agony of her sordid past? Her abandonment issues? When it came down to it, why did alcohol soothe her so? For so many years it had been the balm, the remedy. It chased traumas away and kept her feeling warm and fuzzy. It added that edge of danger to her gambling, softening her just enough that her opponents provided an entertaining challenge… or at least slightly more challenge than just handing her their cash.

“Just…” Aurora struggled to find the words. Why was its burn so ineffective now? Why did the thought of it turn her tastebuds to ash? The answer was all around her, gazing at her with those loving grey eyes that stole her breath. They were twinkling, filled with so many emotions that they made Aurora’s world spin. Surely it wasn’t her head… ok, it was definitely her head. The world hadn’t looked this clear for years, yet all she wanted to admire was Lucy.  Funny how that worked.  The first time in years she was stone cold sober and the only beauty she wanted to admire was that of a breathtaking woman… not everything to change.

“Take your time, Rory. I’m here with you.” Lucy mumbled, bending down to press her lips to the crown of Aurora’s head. Honestly, it hurt, seeing Rory reduced to this. A shaking mess, a shadow of her usual self. So small and broken in the face of a crippling addiction. Aurora was so strong, lithe muscle and feminine curves which left so many in awe, yet that strength melted the instant Lucy pulled the Mexican into her lap. This wasn’t AJ, the Valentine Hustler who had bankrupted Casinos in her boredom. This wasn’t the woman who was comfortable with weapons and martial arts. This was not AJ, the woman who broke romantic hearts with her honesty and made legends with her prowess. This was Aurora. Rory. Lucy’s Rory. This was the little girl who’d been abandoned when her family was deported. This was the woman who was broken when her father figure rejected her sentiment. Broke the illusion of affection to inform Aurora she was nothing but a tool. This was the woman who was continuously discarded and beaten down whenever she dared open her heart. Yet here she was, braving heartbreak yet again, placing herself in Lucy’s unworthy hands. For once, Aurora wasn’t the one holding her wounds together. She allowed herself to bleed in the most deviating of ways. Tears of broken frustration silently trailed down her cheeks, each more potent than a bullet to Lucy’s heart.

“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” Lucy affirmed, as she slowly began to run her delicate fingers through Aurora’s chocolate hair, her trimmed nails scratching ever so gently at Aurora’s scalp. She cradled the Hustler’s head to her chest, allowing Aurora to nestle between her breasts. There was something so inexplicably sweet about the gesture, despite how it may appear to the outside world. Some might expect Aurora to be lewd, to nip or lick at the cleavage offered so freely. To allow the filthiest things to drop from her lips in that sinfully honeyed tone. Instead, Aurora made a soft sound, one Lucy could only classify an exhausted mewl, and snuggled closer.

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Little Lamb, and I don’t want to lose any more of my life.” The muffled words came so easily once Aurora stopped fighting herself. It felt entirely too good to surrender, to close her eyes and nuzzle into the warm darkness. To feel the gentle movements against her skull. Those soft hands delicately lured Aurora from her hiding place, guiding her to gaze upwards into stormy skies. Looking into Lucy’s eyes was more blinding than gazing into the sun, even though Aurora’s vision stayed clear. She lost herself in the swirling storm of pride, filled with affection and understanding. This beautiful soul had looked into the darkness and chose to remain, illuminating shadows with a smile so gentle that Aurora felt her own eyes prickle with more unshed tears.

Lucy had been there with her through it all.  The sleepless nights, the unimaginable stomach pains and racing heart.  How fevered she’d felt, along with her increased confusion and irritability.  The terrifying hallucinations that’d had her screaming.  In that moment, Aurora swore to herself she’d never become reliant on alcohol again. No matter how many times she slipped and had to suffer through the painful process of detoxing, she planned to fight it.   Without thought, she extended her foot, allowing her toes to tap the top of the bottle.  For one terrifying moment, it tittered, almost acting as a representation of Aurora’s difficult life.  Then, it fell, crashing to the floor and spewing its poisonous contents all over the carpet.   It was freeing, even though it reeked.  She’d done it.  When faced with temptation she had found the strength to deny herself.  To turn it away.   It was a weight off her chest, even as her heart seemed to grow three sizes at the delighted laugh that escaped Lucy.   The blonde leaned down, pressing her lips to Aurora’s tear stained cheek in a loving gesture before whispering.

“I am so proud of you.”

[disenchantedhq]

The weeks since Queen Belle‘s Ball and the Princess’s Grand Fête rolled on in a dizzying splendor, April coming to a rapid close. Cool, spring weather gave way to warmer, humid temperatures, the threat of a blistering hot Summer looming on the horizon. It had come as a surprise to the citizens of Auradon that the first full month with their Shadow Realm visitors had gone by without incident. Aside from the festivities at the Queen’s Chateau (with some minor displays here and there) it appeared the season was off to a charming (and irritatingly slow) start, the printers of Lady Chattermore’s Society Papers sighing indignantly at the lack of exciting drama to report on.

While the papers spoke of a heated argument between the Young Genie and the visiting Sehzade Sultan, clandestine dances between Her Royal Highness and the Neverlandian Gentleman, a Sea Captain and his Prydanian Rumored Intended gallivanting by the garden, the Diamond of the Season poked and prodded for conversation from every angle by many a suitor, and a Shadow Realm Vagrant seen sneaking about the halls far after curfew, among other less interesting reporting, it seemed that Princess Emma’s first attempt at merging the fresh arrivals into Auradon’s high society came with little problem. The only genuine attempt at stirring up controversy being the lack of invite for the visiting Faerie Prince and his entourage the evening of the fête.

Despite this fact, all was transpiring beautifully in Auradon City as the season carried on in a satisfying slow haze.

Among those that promenaded through the Ton on a daily basis, seemingly carefree and swept up in the elegant charm of the city, was one Faerilyth Moor. Day by day, the daughter of Maleficent roamed the twisting avenues and cobbled ways, often attended by one of the readily available chaperones or her tall and intimidating brother. At first her presence caused a nervous pause in the Ton, wary glances passed her way as she meandered through the shops on Rue de Magasins, or stopped into the Benbow Inn for a meal. No one had known quite what to expect with the arrival of the Shadowborn, but there was particular nervousness where the children of the Horned Ones were involved. Though they all appeared as normal as the next passerby in Auradon, there was something about their countenance that always caused pause. But as the month strolled by with little incident, and saccharine Faerilyth made her docile self more known to the shop owners and common folk in the Districts, the lingering fear of something sinister hiding behind the charming faces of the trio became less and less a bother until it seemed that it no longer existed.

There were those among the throng, however, that knew better than to assume innocence behind those well glamoured grins. Lurking in dark alleyways, or huddled in the corners of the pubs and inns, they sat with their cloaks on tight. Some were travelers from far and wide, arrived to the big city seeking employment or to peddle their wares at the docks and markets. Others were more established members of the lower crust, shouldering the burdens of day to day life that the lofty nobles could never imagine. And some even were higher up, among those in gilded carriages and most impressive refinery. They covered all types of people one could find in the bustling streets of Auradon City, each one distinguishable from the last save for one thing which linked them.

When given the opportunity, in the presence of either Faerilyth or her companions Nikolai Chernov or Mercedes Reyes, in discreet view where no one could lay witness, they would pull back their sleeves or collars, hike up their hems or trousers just so to reveal the black smudge of ink on their skin. Most were faded after 25 years. Some bore burned marks from when officers of the law attempted to scorch them away, and a fair few were fresh obsidian upon their fleshes. The marking of the followers, an intricate tattoo, flashed swiftly to the children of their masters long gone from this realm. A call of fealty, that when the moment arose they would come marching in on their side. A promise to wreak havoc upon the polite and genteel society of Auradon.

Acknowledgement was minimal. Faerilyth had an intention — to lay low until the time was right. It was so early in their time in Auradon, she had no desire to jeopardize what was decades in the making. Patience, she preached to followers that dared come too close. Just rewards for those who waited. She kept her secrets close, not even allowing her dear Nikolai to know the extent of the plans. Not yet. Not when their positions were still so delicate. But a restlessness gripped their followers, who quickly grew tired of waiting. They demanded answers, demanded some sort of relief from their wondering. Walpurgis Night, she’d said, I will give you clarity on the Witches’ Sabbath. As the night of April 30th loomed before them, the good hearted nobles funneled into Notre Dame for mass, excited for the morning and the May Day festivities to take place in the Enchanted Park. But on the fringes of society, cloaked in shadow and smoke, those loyal followers to the dark rushed through the empty streets of Auradon City, to the docks of Low Town. Fewer guards roamed the streets that night, not privy to the men and women gathering in the shadows.

In the southwestern most point of the district, on the border of the city’s vast and sparse outskirts, lay an abandoned mansion. Decrepit and run down, with full walls blown out and large holes in the decaying roof. The front yard had a broken down gate, patches of dead grass, and a small graveyard where the forgotten family was laid to rest was left forgotten with overgrowth. No eyes were on the mansion, save the groups slowly descending upon it. They snuck in through the openings in the old stone walls, walking through the rotting house and making way to the only still intact place within — the cellar. Climbing down what felt like miles of spiraling stone steps, they eventually found themselves in a large and damp space, looking much like the chapel where the honourable now met on the opposite side of the city. The air was thick and musky with mildew and dust, moist and heavy around them. But not a single one shed their cloaks, not daring to reveal themselves beneath their hoods.

Before them all stood an altar, drenched in a rusted bronze, sitting low before an intricate dais which housed a red velvet bejeweled throne. Flanking either side of the dais stood the son of Chernabog and the daughter of the Horned King, eyes passively scanning the room as swiftly the pews were filled with seated cloaked followers. So many arrived that they filled in all the spaces surrounding, standing along the perimeter and filling in the center aisle. They were packed so close together they could no longer move, none daring to stand so close to the magnificent display at the head of the room. There was a low rumble of whispers among the throng, nervous and excited for what was to come.

At the sound of a heavy door creaking open and then slamming shut, a deaf silence fell upon the crowd, all eyes turning to the far side as a figure descended upon the chapel from a side room. There were silent gasps as the blonde maiden, so small and innocent looking, crossed the path towards the others, vivid blue eyes glowing even there in the dim underground. As she neared the front there was a buzz in the air, a magical release as slowly the glamour around her faded and her true face was revealed. White blonde locks gave way to a gray brown, pink and warm skin going colder and paler than the dead. Her cheek bones more accentuated, her ears more pointed, and curling high and away from her flat forehead were two onyx horns, glimmering in the torchlight. Her robes, flowing and black, trailed behind her as they suspected her wings would have should they not have been taken from her. With a passive face she stopped before the altar, turning her full attention to the silent crowd assembled before her.

“Greetings,” she began in a soft but commanding voice which echoed off the stone walls, “And welcome. Each of you has, over the past month, reached out to myself or my comrades, sharing symbols of fealty and devotion to our beloved parents that came before us. Those who, once upon a time, had desired to take this world, so docile and magical, and turn it on its head. To bring a change and reign in a different era for the people of Auradon. Disappointingly, their vision had never come to fruition. Their stories came to an abrupt end, and even from the redemption of the cauldron they could never see their plan through. I thank you heartily for showing yourselves in a time where our legacy, our great power, is no longer feared or respected. It is because of you that at long last we may see the day where dark overpowers light, night overturns day, and ‘evil’ may have its glory.”

A rumble of agreement, claps and shouts of joy in response to Faerilyth’s words which almost caused a smile to appear on her ruby red lips. She held out a hand, long and clawed, demanding their silence. Her eyes flashed over the crowd. “Twenty Five years ago my mother and father, and their closest comrade the Horned King, had joined their dark magicks together to create so fearsome a curse it took all the might of every noble, faerie and wizard to join together and stomp out their dreams. Their imprisonment was brought on because of an enchantment so fierce and dangerous, the nobles could not allow their resurrection to threaten it back to existence. What they didn’t count on was our parents’ cleverness. Maleficent knew that if she could not finish the task, then another would rise to her place and finally be able to bring all she designed to fruition.

“That is why I am here, why I live and breathe. My purpose is to see my mother’s genius through. To bring about the end of this ‘Happily Ever After’ which the nobles of Auradon claimed for themselves and no one else. Look at you, look at thy neighbor, and ask yourself — who prospered from the unification of this land? Who is it that reaps the spoils of ‘good deeds’? Is it you, my brethren? Or you, my sisters? Do any of you truly live in the blissful peace rewarded to the King and Queen and their coconspirators?” Waves of angry shouts and boos traveled the room, the group becoming riled up. Faerilyth spared a glance to her Nikolai and Mercedes, a delighted smirk on her face, as the throng cursed the royals and aristocracy which lived in decadence and splendor while they squabbled in the sewage. “Be merry, my friends, for the age of princesses and princes, of fairy godmothers and ‘good’, it will all come to an end soon enough and you — you my beloved friends — will finally have your time in the sun. Because I am here now to usher in the new age. The Age of No Happily Ever Afters, not lest it be for all! For those dying in the gutter! For those desperately seeking the help of these passive and kind nobles, who do nothing to end your suffering! No. I will be your champion, and I will uplift you. And my journey will begin here, with this—”

A gasp rang through the room as from within her robes Faerilyth retrieved a broken piece of wood, sawed off a spinning wheel and held aloft for all to see. In the flickering torchlight it was plain to see, the sharpened spindle imbued with dark magic held above them all. “Behold — The Cursed Spindle! The work of my mother, returned to Auradon and it’s purpose. The curse which my mother designed, remnants of its power lingers here in this land. Imbued in items held in the hands of the noble class. Small pieces of the puzzle to who I am and what I was built to do... my beloveds, it is up to us now to scavenge for these items, pillage them from the corrupt ones, and bring them together—” Her words were drowned out as a commotion rang from the front pews, a single dark figure rising to its feet and calling out angrily.

“The only corruption in this land is you, filthy creature!” A man wailed out above Farrilyth’s rambling. She stopped, shooting a hand out to pause the others which moved to silence the nay sayer. “You come here, to our splendid Auradon, and you speak poison into our ears. We, who have nothing but gratitude and thanks for our just rulers. Hard times existed back when you and your cursed lot roamed our lands freely. And now you return, daring to say that you will be our savior?” He spat onto the stone ground between them, his hood falling back to reveal the wrinkled face of an old man. A priest of her demon father, a face she and Nikolai surely recognized from beyond the mirrors when their father told them who to seek out upon their arrival. Faerilyth’s expression stayed cool and blank, not betraying emotion at the outburst, while others shouted for the man’s death. “I’ve made my peace, I’m free of you’s, but I’ll be damned if I allow you to poison more innocent souls with your empty promises and lies. Curse you, and damn you all!”

He’d brandished a silver blade, throwing himself onto the stone between the crowd and Faerilyth, Nikolai and Mercedes. Others clambered forward to grab him, to pull him away from the trio they adored. But the icy gaze of the young Horned ones caused pause. A silence fell in the room again, the only sounds being the ragged breathing of the priest. And then suddenly a melodic laughter filled the space, peeling from the stone cold faerie that had stood passively before them. The laughter rang for a moment, her hand falling dismissively at her side. “Oh, you’ll be damned you say?” She chortled, turning her gaze to Nikolai and Mercedes behind her. A silent message passed between the trio, a glint of something mischievous and sinister in their eyes. Slowly she moved forward, closing the space between herself and the old man. Her stature seemed to grow, a menacing shadow overwhelming her and making her appear almost giant in the room. An illusion, a gift from her demonic father. As her eyes flashed between blue and yellow, her features growing more demonic and frightening, she leaned over the cowering elderly man. When she spoke again, her voice had an echo of a thousand distorted voices laced with her own, as though the creatures of hell spoke simultaneously with her.

“You’ll be damned? Then so be it,” she said, and her eyes turned into endless pools of blackness, obsidian orbs glaring back at him from a white face. He was trapped by her gaze, whimpering and pleading for his life as he involuntarily stood at his full height. Gaze leveled with her demonic one, the man begged to be spared once again, a feeble effort. Faerilyth did not speak, she simply leaned her head inhumanly to the side in a swift motion. The sharp snap that echoed through the room caused a volley of startled gasps and cries, as instantly the man fell to the stone ground, blood leaking from every crevice in his face and his head seemingky unhinged from his neck in an unnatural fashion “Anyone else wish to interrupt?” She called out in that demonic voice, laced in the legions of hell. When she was met with silence, she smirked, returning to her former faerie state. “I thought so.”

Her voice returned to its saccharine state as she carried on, “As I was saying, in order for the task set by our parents to be completed we must gather these objects which are held by the noble houses and bring them together. With the magic that lives within them, myself and the two behind me will finally be able to awaken the curse our parents created. Once they are obtained, we will make a pilgrimage to the Forbidden Mountains and gather upon the summit of Bald Mountain where my father had once slumbered, and we will combine our powers to bring about the end of the nobles’ era and the dawning of our time. We have one piece of the puzzle,” she retrieved the spindle she held earlier, “already in our grasp. We need only fourteen other magically imbued relics to finish the task.”

Faerilyth motioned behind her to Nikolai and Mercedes who unraveled a long tapestry before the dais, colored with imagery depicting the spindle and fourteen other objects. The crowd instantly recognized some of the iconography. Glass Slippers. Enchanted Roses. A Magic Lamp, among many others. They began whispering amongst themselves. Who had the courage to defy not just the nobles but all law and reason to steal items such as these? It seemed an impossible feat which had many crying out in negative. “Don’t worry, my pets, though it appears a big undertaking, we will not fail to gather these items.” She moved to the tapestry and ran a finger over one of the shimmering images. “Tomorrow is May Day, the beginning to the fifth month. And all of Auradon will celebrate. And following the day time festivities there will be another event, one more elite but an opportunity nonetheless. The Faerie Prince has arrived in Auradon for the season, and he will hold a party for the society members and visiting shadowborn. And, more obviously, for his faerie companions.“ She traced the image of pixie dust weaved into the tapestry. “It is at this event that our first chance presents itself — for our first heist we will steal pixie dust, an important necessity for the curse casting. A small and simple task, easy for the unsuspecting beginning. Slowly over time we will gather all these things and hide them here until the day comes to travel north. Following tonight we will meet sparingly until we are ready to begin preparations for the journey.

“‘Tis only the beginning but know this — our plan will not fail. Unlike our fathers before us, we are suspect of nothing. And we will continue to play our parts to earn the respect of our peers.” Her glamour formed again and she stood before them all once more as a docile blonde dressed in white muslin and lace. “They will never see what is coming, and as long as you succeed in assisting us then my darlings you will be blessed in the new age. It is a promise that I make to you now, that you have my word that you will all be justly rewarded for your hard work in the coming months. Let me leave you with this: my full commitment to bring an end to your sorrowful suffering at the hand of those greedy fat cats upon their gilded thrones. You will be exemplified in my eyes. I will raise you to godhood so long as you play your part. Now carry on, my friends, discreetly return to your homes and speak none of this to anyone. Or be warned,” Faerilyth toed the corpse which still lay on the floor between her and her followers. “You will be punished accordingly.”

With that, the meeting of Walpurgis Night came to a swift close. One by one the followers fanned out from the abandoned mansion, running off to their homes in the city and storing their memories of that night away from the prying eyes of outsiders. In the cellar, the trio were cutting up the corpse, laying his remains upon the altar as an offering to Chernabog. Faerilyth silently prayed that he would feel the sacrifice made in his name from behind the mirror world and be satiated. “Listen well, my friends,” she spoke in a low voice to Nikolai and Mercedes, “We’ve secured invitations to the Faerie Prince’s gathering tomorrow evening. I suspect you two will continue to charm the masses into trusting us, but it is far more imperative that we each leave with a handful of pixie dust, concealed in these little bags.” She offered a small burlap sack to each of them. “While it is true that Neverlandian faeries secrete it more, any wing bearing fop at that engagement can give it to us. Whether it be forced or by other coerced means, you mustn’t leave until you have the pixie dust in your hand, understood?” With affirmative declaration the trio cleaned up and disbanded from there, returning undetected to their boarding homes.

A dark and grim silence fell upon the city of Auradon that night, none the wiser to what was brewing in secret, of the dark promises whispered in the night.

—

When the dewy morning had come, the dark atmosphere of the prior night‘s events dissipated, replaced with a light and exciting feeling. The Ton was of course none the wiser to any evil doing afoot and all eyes were turned towards the Enchanted Park where the May Day festivities picked up almost immediately. The manicured greens were outfitted that day with stalls and tents full of savory and sweet foods and confections, holiday themed wares and items to peddle to the attendees with coin to spare. Glittering toy wands with ribbons dangling from the tips for children to wave about, wax wrapped bouquets for gentlemen to present to their sweethearts. Boxes of carefully crafted chocolates, toffees and treats, tied with pastel ribbons, sat upon tables for families to purchase and gift to one another. And of course the May Day Pole was installed in the center of the green, colorful ribbons dancing in the morning wind alerting everyone to its installation. The faeries of Auradon sprinkled their magic in the dawn across the entire park allowing for all bushes, hedges, plants and trees to spontaneously bloom, their colorful glory adding a fresh new glow to the surroundings.

As the Auradonians awoke, they put on their springtime best and migrated to the Enchanted Hills to join in music and merriment. Carriages were deployed to take passengers on guided tours through the flowered archways in the vast park, spectator tents and shaded areas for lounging on cotton blankets and enjoying the seasonably warm weather set out across the green. A wooden plank dance floor set up at the base of a stage where the royal orchestra played merry jogs for line dancing, and stalls for the tenant farmers living on the outskirts of town or the traveled farmers from the other providences to bring their livestock to be judged by the royal family, fishermen to bring in their sea harvests. Then when the sky darkened and night fell upon them, colorful fireworks from the imperial southern lands would be released into the night sky high above the city and a bonfire in the midst of the party would be built to commemorate the end of a dark half of the year and the beginning of long sunny days ahead.

You have more than just these daytime plans lined up. As rumors have persisted, the visiting faerie dignitary has announced a soirée at the prince’s lavish mansion in the Fey Burrough. It’s a rare occasion — faerie homes are for those in need of help, not for socializing, but it appears the visiting royal is interested in partaking in the season and its traditions. And it seems only right as a visiting member to court to host an extravagant event for all to attend. The invitation quite literally flies through your window, sparkling from pixie dust left over from the winged messengers that brought it to you. The iridescent paper has bold script and gold leaf filigree which expressly invite you and your household members to attend that evening’s party at the mansion. From the prince’s back garden and courtyard, and many balconies, he promises the best views of the fire works. There will be an abundance of faerie foods as well as Auradon’s most charming confections, the sweetest wine either realm has ever tasted, and music to dance your hearts to. Every faerie from Auradon will likely be there, which means seeing some of the most dazzling creatures up close.

For reasons you don’t understand, the invitation states that formal Auradonian wear is ‘very much optional’ but the meaning becomes clearer to you when you arrive to the large mint colored mansion at the center of the Fey Burrough. Faeries do make up the majority of the crowd lounging about the lawns and exquisite rooms of the mansion, wearing light and flowing robes made of breezy fabrics you’ve never seen, crowns of ornate flowers, and glittering from the magic flowing in their blood. They look more like the Olympians depicted in paintings than like the stuffy members of society you’d spent most of the day with. It becomes apparent to you why they swapped their refinery for these robes and togas — their shimmery wings now free to stretch out behind them.

The Prince appears before you, wearing black breeches and loose fabric over his torso, his gold iridescent wings beating excitedly behind him. Upon his russet locks he wears a crown made of colorful springtime flowers and greenery, lopsided from how often he has taken it off and replaced it. He greets you with kisses upon both cheeks and shoves a glass of crimson colored wine into your hand. One sip and you swear you’ve never had anything quite as decadent and sweet. You question what it is and he simply says it’s a delicacy from his realm. You question no further. With an arm lazily draped over your shoulders he and courtiers beckon you further into the shimmering haze. You find more foods — squares of confections you’ve never seen before — and you take trepid bites. Each tastes better than the last, and your mouth bursts from the magical flavors. Above and around you lithe faeries hang in rings or suspended on curtains, spinning around and contorting their bodies into impossible knots and positions. The music is odd and different from the elegance you’re used to, played on lyres and sitars by pointy eared faeries with long smoking pipes sticking out of their mouths, a soprano accompanying them in a language you’ve never heard. It’s slow and dizzying, and you feel as though you’re drunk from the wine. But you only had one sip didn’t you?

As you dance lightly, the hot May air attacks your senses and you find yourself shedding off your overcoat and upper layers. Oddly enough you wish to be free of everything, to let the moonlight touch your bare skin. At least that’s what some of the faeries want, and if you’re not careful you may find yourself in such a predicament. Faeries are tricksters by nature and it stands to reason that some of them are planning to play with the prince’s many illustrious guests. Could you fall pray to the truth serum sprinkled in gilded goblets? Or the spelled berries and sweets which cause passionate and fleeting infatuation with the first person you lay your eyes upon? Or will you dance naked and carefree in the back gardens under the watchful eye of a moon high above you?

How magical might your May Day go?

—

And now after all of that I’m proud to announce our Second Group Wide Event: THE MAY DAY FESTIVITIES AND FAERIE BACCHANAL. As highlighted above, this dual event takes place over the course of May 1st, 1825 and in two particular settings: The Enchanted Park where a setting appropriate, charming daytime festival is being held and then at the Faerie Prince’s Mansion in the Fey Burrough, where a potentially more raucous party is to take place. You have the option to participate in either or both festivities for this event. When we get close to the start date of the event, a listing of enchanted faerie foods and beverages at the party and their unique side effects will be posted. This portion of the event is not mandatory but can be used as a fun plot device and is encouraged to generate interesting situations. The party itself is somewhat of a scandalous affair, with the odd and peculiar culture of the faerie people on display. Circus performers and musicians playing unknown instruments provide entertainment, and there’s plenty of odd things on display. While nsfw threads can be a product of the party event and the enchanted foods, please remember the rules on how to handle nsfw material on the dash. Refer to the discord if you need a reminder. Discord may be used to roleplay elements of either festivity and will be determined at a different time.

The event itself will begin Wednesday May 26th, 2021 and carry on for two weeks. We will wrap up the evening of June 9th at 11:59 PST. Shortly afterwards our first officially written Lady Chattermore’s Society Papers will go live, highlighting any dramatic mischief that may occur. If your characters end up in anything you are okay with being reported on, please submit this information to the main by June 13th so it can be accounted for.

As always, should you have any questions about the event or story depicted in this plot drop, don’t hesitate to reach out! More details regarding this event will become available over the next couple days.

Thank you guys and happy roleplaying!

[listdepot]

Top 10 Indie Games of the Decade (10 - 6)

Boy oh boy, video games sure did happen this decade, huh? A lot of stuff with a whole lot of video games and, most importantly, the independent game scene became far more pronounced, previously just confined to PC, the increasing presence of the online marketplace on consoles has greatly expanded the scope to which indie games reach players, putting these games on the same level as AAA. Anyway this is 10 of this games that I liked this year.

An honorable mention goes out to Firewatch because I still don’t know what is Firewatch.

10. Stacking

Double Fine are undoubtedly my favorite game company. Tim Schaefer’s company has not only created my favorite game of all time (Psychonauts), but all their games have such a fun creativity to them. Whether its a turn-based RPG where children fight based on their Halloween costumes or an action/strategy game set in a world based on hard rock and metal, Double Fine have proven to be such a company that embraces fun and whimsy, that Sesame Street of all people let them develop their most recent game.

Stacking, as you can tell from the screenshot, is a world populated by matroyshka stacking dolls, and you play as Charlie Blackmore, the smallest of all the stacking dolls, who sets out on an adventure to stop an evil Industrial Age baron called The Baron, who has enslaved his siblings. To do that, he stacks into other dolls, only able to go up in size one at a time. Most characters have their own unique abilities and Charlie uses those abilities to solve adventure game puzzles. And that’s where Stacking gets really cool.

Every single puzzle in the game has multiple solutions, if you can’t figure out one version of how to do it, there’s usually two more solutions. While you only HAVE to do one, the puzzles reset once you finish them, letting you take your time trying to figure the others. Its an adventure game that forgoes classic tropes of that genre, also replacing your standard point and click with the quick to pick up stacking mechanic that lets you pick and choose how you want to do things. Its a game that combines interesting ideas with an anticapitalist story and visually is both early 1900s set design while those sets are comprised of everyday household items. Its like playing a diorama from 1915. Not a lot of games are like that.

9. The Stanley Parable

The story of The Stanley Parable is simple. A narrative-driven walking simulator, you control Stanley, a boring office drone that’s tasked with monitoring data on a computer, pressing buttons and not asking questions. One day, that monitor goes blank and Stanley goes to fix it, suddenly discovering the office he works in is completely empty.

But that’s not the real story of The Stanley Parable. The narrator that describes Stanley’s actions, storybook-style, doesn’t control Stanley’s narrative. You do. And you have every opportunity, every step of the story, to go against the grain of what you’re told happens.

The Stanley Parable is a game that, as soon as you do anything it doesn’t want you to, begs you to continue following the path laid out for you then berates you for not following that path then continues to just complain to you, trying to regain control of the story. Every variation of Stanley’s story is maybe 10 - 15 minutes long but each one is a fun and weird surprise and Kevan Brighting’s soft friendly British narrator is an all time great voice acting role. One so good, Valve’s DOTA 2 MOBA game features an announcer pack that fully replaces the game’s announcer with Brighting’s narrator. DIGITAL SPORTS.

8. Observer

A digital plague called a nanophage has infected and claimed the lives of countless augmented people in this cyberpunk hellscape of Krakow, leading to war and rampant drug use. The Chiron Corporation stepped in soon after and took control, turning Poland into even more of a nightmare than it had been, condemning those on the lower rung of society to poorly kept together tenement buildings, while also creating a police force known as Observers, detectives given free reign to hack the minds of citizens. Its 2084 and you are Daniel Lazarski, an Observer who receives a message from his estranged son Adam to come to a tenement, where he discovers Adam’s body, dead from long before the call was made. And that’s when things get weird.

The more I think about it, the more I think Bloober Team’s more recent horror game, Layers of Fear 2, should take the place on the list. The only issue is I only played Layers 2 a month ago and, no matter how much I love it, my first exposure to this company was through Observer, and more than that, this was a game I did not stop thinking about for like a year and a half. While Layers 2 plays with color and black & white in a game about the early days of film, Observer is clearly influenced by classic works of cyberpunk (the most obvious being Blade Runner), the bright neon buzzing endlessly in this dark, miserable nightmare. 

Even the real stars of this game, the minds of the dead you dive into as you solve this murder mystery, embrace that look as your setting is warped around you constantly. Rooms that look normal start stretching endlessly, doors open into other memories. And as Dan gets deeper into the mystery, the line between the real of the world around him and the memories of those he’s probing begin to blend until his own memories get mixed up among them, showing what lead to the current sad life he lives. Its a game that oozes misery even as it tries to jumpscare you around every corner. And its why it still keeps showing up in my thoughts.

7. Gone Home

What exactly is a walking simulator? Dumb, that’s what. The idea that a game isn’t a game simply because it follows more of an adventure game aesthetic without any real challenges is absurd and, frankly, a childish view of what a game can be. And no game broke gamers’ brains more than the��“walking simulator” Gone Home.

In 1995, Katie Greenbriar returns from a trip overseas on a stormy night to find her family home completely abandoned, moving boxes still unpacked. The unnerving quiet of the house mixed with the constant rain and occasional thunder feels like something out of a Resident Evil game. But instead of horror, the game uses this to make you feel confused, something to make you want to solve what happened. And it turns out its not a horror story, but a love story.

As Katie progresses through her house, she finds plenty of objects she can interact with, many that often unlock other areas in this large rural Oregon home. Along with many of those unlockables comes narration from Katie’s sister Sam, who details the awkwardness of moving into this new house, frequently thought to be haunted, and her life in a new school where she can’t connect with too many other people. Until she meets Lonnie. The two young women bond and fall in love. And the more you explore the home, the more this story gets fleshed out. Gone Home is a pure delight of a video game and one that not only spawned the pejorative term of “walking simulator” but became a gold standard for them, a term that the gaming industry has since embraced. There is no shame in using interactive media to simply tell a story, and Gone Home knows it.

6. Jazzpunk

Its the late 1950s in the country of Japanada and Agent Polyblank must-  I’m going to be honest with you guys. I don’t know what Jazzpunk is. I’m not entirely sure what its about. I’ve played it multiple times and loved every moment of it but I’m not going to pretend its a game that makes any sense. And that’s just what it wants to be.

Heavily adopting the style of mid-century spy and cyberpunk fiction, Jazzpunk is a game that overly prefers making you laugh over any qualitative form of actual gameplay. Sure there are puzzles to solve to move the story along, but those puzzles task you with collecting giant spiders that are better rendered than anything else in this game, or hacking into a Soviet consulate which involves using a telephone to dial “Kremlin 2: The New Batch”. 

And the puzzles that make up the story stuff isn’t even 1/5th of the general dumb garbage you can do in this game. Jazzpunk exists for gags like the wedding cake that opens into a console that lets you play the multiplayer wedding-based FPS Wedding Qake. Jazzpunk exists to make you help a woman swat down flies in her store of very expensive vases. Jazzpunk will make you suddenly stop what you’re doing to do a first person version of the car bonus stage from Street Fighter 2, or suddenly put you into a cyberpunk heist in a Blade Runner-like city. 

Jazzpunk is Saul Bass on laughing gas. An intentionally stupid and disorienting experience purely designed to have you explore every inch of this weird world just so you can dig up weird crap on the beach with a metal detector and experience a pizza-themed Evil Dead 2 parody. Jazzpunk exists to be Jazzpunk. And in a lot of ways, it fully lives up to its nonsense name. Its a game of subversion in a way so impossibly dumb that it entirely feels improvised. That’s Jazzpunk.

[kelyon]

Golden Cuffs 46: The Town

Cover art by @paradigmparadoxical​

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

Belle learns a little of the world outside of Rumpelstiltskin’s castle

Read on AO3

Belle awoke to the sound of birdsong. The sound was so new and so unfamiliar that at first she had thought it a fragment of her dreams. How long had it been since she had heard the twittering conversations of birds? How long had it been since she had seen any animal or had any hint of the natural world?

She had missed this, while she had lived in the Dark One’s castle. She had missed the songs of birds and the chittering of squirrels. She missed the feeling of sunlight on her face and the cool, earthy smell of moss. Belle had spent the night in the hollow of a fallen chestnut tree. Though the dirt had been damp and cold, and roots and stones had bitten into her back, she still woke up more refreshed and invigorated than she had on any morning in the library. 

Stretching out, Belle sat up on the ground and began to look through her new leather bag. Rumpelstiltskin had equipped her with many things she would need for her departure. He seemed to think that her leaving was inevitable, that she would bolt as soon as there was no magic to force her to stay. In truth, Belle had left not because of the Dark One’s cruelty, but because of his indifference.         

He had turned his back on her. He had given her what she needed to survive and then he had cut her loose. Belle was put in mind of a fish that had been caught on a hook and then thrown back into the water. Why had he let her go? Had he ever really wanted her in the first place?

Belle shook her head. It didn’t matter anymore. The Dark One’s thoughts and motives were no longer her concern. If he didn’t care about her, then she would not care about him. She would content herself with the material possessions that he had given her. 

No. That wasn’t right. He had never given her anything and he would be the first to say it. Every kindness he had ever shown her was merely a means to pay her. There were no gifts with that man. Only deals. Only a mercenary fairness that was all the more heartless for its impartiality. 

The leather bag had held the cloak that she wore now, as well as a pair of walking boots and some fine leather gloves. Belle pulled back the flap to see what else there was. She pulled out a wine skin that bulged with fullness. Belle pulled the stopper and drank deeply of sweet, dark wine. When the wine hit her empty stomach, it made her aware of how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast in the library the day before. 

If there was drink in the bag, there would be food as well. Belle pulled out a cloth bundle tied into a knot. Untying the knot revealed two loaves of hearty bread and a wheel of cheese dipped in wax. The bread was still soft when Belle broke into it, and the cheese was rich and creamy.

Leaning back onto the chestnut tree, Belle sighed. What would she do now? So far, the road from the castle only went in one direction--away--and that had suited her fine. But eventually the road would end. There would be a fork or a crossroads and Belle would have to make a decision. Where would she go? Rumpelstiltskin had set her up for this journey, but she would have to decide where it would lead. 

She took another look in the bag. There was a folded piece of Rumpelstiltskin’s black parchment, sealed with golden wax. Belle tossed it back into the bag, not bothering to open it or even read the inscription. If he had something to say to her, he could have said it when she had been standing in front of him. 

There was also a cloth pouch tied with a drawstring. When Belle picked it up, it was heavy--much heavier than the bag itself was when she wore it on her back. As she pulled the pouch out of the bag, she heard the clink of metal against metal. Swallowing her cheese, Belle opened the pouch and looked down at hundreds of gold discs.  

They weren’t coins, Belle observed. There was no value marked on them. They bore no king’s seal or symbol of a great power. All of them were blank on both sides. She picked up one of the discs, flipped it in the air, and caught it in the same hand. The memory came, unbidden, of the first time she had seen the Dark One. In her father’s war room, they had tried to pay him with gold from King Midas. He had turned a coin into dust, and then the dust into gold again. 

Belle clutched the disc in her gloved hand and held it in a fist over her heart. The gold they had offered had been worthless to him. He had demanded her. Her body, her pain, her servitude. Once, she had mattered more to him than gold.

“Those days are behind me,” Belle said out loud as she stood up. “But gold is a very useful thing to those of us who don’t have magic.”

The bag of discs widened her options considerably. Once she found people, she would be able to buy more supplies--a horse or passage in a traveling wagon. As a woman alone, it might behoove her to hire a bodyguard, or see if she could join some company of travelers. Having coin would make her seem like less of a beggar. 

But before all that, she would have to find people. The road she traveled could not always be a road from. Eventually, it would have to be a road to.

But to what, Belle couldn’t imagine.

****

She walked for the rest of the day. Her boots were comfortable, but even they could not save her from the effects of two days of constant travel. Belle’s legs ached more than her feet, and she found herself stopping more and more frequently. The skin of wine never emptied, but in the heat of the day Belle yearned for the taste of cold water. By the time she stumbled upon a town, her only thought was for the public well. 

On a green patch of land in the center of a crossroads, there was a fountain. Women stood in a line by the pump with buckets to fill with water, chatting with each other as they waited. Unsure of what else to do, Belle stood at the end of the line. She took a moment to catch her breath and look around.

Three wide thoroughfares lead off in three different directions, which seemed to make up the shape of this town. Men on horseback traveled on all three roads, along with wagons and carriages and footsore walkers. The three roads were well-kept and paved with cobblestones. Belle had come into town by way of a fourth road, an abandoned dirt path from the forest. 

The fountain was in the town square. A few fine houses lined one of the roads, the rest were set up for businesses. On one corner there was a livery stable--marked by a sign with a painted horse. Next to it was a smithy. On the other side was a glassblower’s, and then a barber-surgeon with bloody rags hanging from the signpost. A travelling scribe had set up a booth where he was writing letters as customers dictated.

There were so many people and animals wandering around, going about their business. Everywhere Belle turned her head, there was something to see. A baker with his tray, offering bread and rolls to sell. A herd of sheep on the green, drinking the spilled water from the fountain. A group of children jumping rope. She was so enraptured by it all it took her some time to notice the wall of silence that had grown up around the fountain. The women had stopped talking to each other and all of them had turned to stare at her.

Belle swallowed and tried to smile at them. “Pleasant morrow, good ladies. Is this a public well? May any lonely traveler drink?” 

For a moment, the only sound was the water splashing from the fountain. All the women stared at Belle as though she were some vile creature that had just crawled out of a swamp.

Finally, a young girl spoke up. “You came down that road, didn’t you?” The girl pointed at the section of forest from which Belle had just emerged. For the first time, Belle noticed a stone marker at the border of the woods, just before the path began.

The road was marked with a skull. 

Belle’s mouth went even drier than it had been. But there was no point in denying it. “I did,” she said.

The women gasped and made signs to ward against evil. One mother hid her infant child under her shawl so Belle couldn’t even see the babe.  

An old woman broke from the crowd. “You should go to the tavern,” she said sternly. “The innkeeper knows what to do with people like you.”

“What to do with me?” Belle said out loud. They spoke of her now like she was a wandering dog, rabid and best put out of its misery.

“Go!” the old woman pointed in the direction of the tavern. “We are good people here, and we want no trouble!”

Couldn’t she at least have some water first? Belle was going to press the issue, but then she saw the expressions on these women’s faces. Only the old woman was angry. A few of them looked at her with pity. But most of them looked at her with terror.

Belle took a breath. Of course they were afraid. These people lived in the shadow of the Dark One’s castle. They lived every day in a town with a road marked by death, with no idea who or what might come down from the mountain. The only thing they knew about Belle was that she had come out of that road, that she had been in the presence of the greatest evil in the world, and that she had lived to tell the tale. 

These women were not her enemies. Indeed, they had helped her by directing her to a place where she would be more welcome. Belle squared her shoulders and nodded at them. “I thank you,” she said. And then she went to the tavern.  

****

The tavern was the closest building to the road marked with the skull. If Belle hadn’t been so focused on water, she would have noticed it when she had come out of the forest. If nothing else, she should have noticed the painted sign hanging from the door. She should have recognized the face that marked this establishment--the pointed chin and wild hair, the evil, rotted grin she had once loved. The words underneath the image read, The Devil’s Own. 

Yes, this would be a place for people like her, people who had been touched by darkness. Staring up at the painted image of Rumpelstiltskin’s face, Belle took a deep breath and went into the tavern. 

It was dark inside, but cool and quiet, a relief after the bright sun outside. An old man slept in a chair by the fireplace, and an old dog slept at his feet. Behind the bar, another man--younger, but not young--was cleaning out a tray of tankards and putting them away on a shelf.

“Ello!” he called when he saw her come in. “Can I help you, miss?”

He was a friendly-looking man, with a round, red face. Like any good innkeeper, he gave off the appearance of being honest, but not stupid. A steady man, he reminded Belle of her father.

She stepped up to the bar and took a seat on one of the high stools. “The women at the well, they said that I should come here. That you could help me.”  

He cocked his head at her. “Do you need help, miss? I mean, something more than room and board?”

“Room and board would be an excellent place to start,” Belle said with what she hoped would be an ingratiating chuckle. When the innkeeper didn’t react, she took her bag off her shoulders and pulled out one of Rumpelstiltskin’s blank discs. She set it flat on the bartop. “Can I pay you with this?”

The innkeeper inhaled sharply through his nose. He stared down at the gold, but didn’t touch it. He backed away from it slowly, backed away from Belle. His red face had gone pale, but he didn’t flinch as he looked at her. 

“So,” he said in a low voice. “That’s the road you come down, then?” The burly man swallowed. “The Dark Road.”

“Yes,” Belle matched his hushed tone. “I made a deal with R--with the Dark One.” She knew better than to say his name in a town so filled with fear. 

The innkeeper’s eyes went even wider. “What did he do to you, that he pays you in this coin?” But then he shook his head and picked up the disc with his large hand. “Nevermind,” he said. “I don’t want to know.”

That was good, because Belle had no desire to tell this honest man that she had been Rumpelstiltskin’s whore. “But will you help me?”

Ashen-faced, the innkeeper nodded. “I must, miss. That is the price I pay, the price all of my family have paid, and will pay, until that creature is no more.”

With shaking hands, the man poured Belle a mug of ale and slid it across the counter.

“So you made a deal with him too,” she said before she brought the mug to her lips.

“My grandfather made a deal with him. And even after he died, we had to honor it, for as long as he has power. We are bound to provide for those he brings in, and those he casts out, especially those who offer his coin. I and my sons and their sons will have no choice in the matter, no more than my father did. You know, that one never breaks a deal.” 

Almost never, Belle thought as she drained her ale. “But what do you get out of it? Surely he pays you.”

“We get left alone, is what we get. We’re never desperate, and none of my family has ever had to walk the road you walked, miss.”

“That is a blessing for you,” Belle muttered, but the innkeeper was too caught up in his misfortune to notice. She slid him the empty mug and he filled it up without thinking. 

“Do you want food, miss? The wife’s done up a pie--rabbit and spring onions.”

Belle nodded. “That sounds wonderful.”

With a curt nod, he went back behind the door into the kitchen.

Cradling her mug between her hands, Belle took a deep breath. So, this was where she was. This tavern would be a safe place for a while. But inns by their nature were not places where one stayed for long. Even if she stayed in the town, she would have to find more permanent lodgings. And from the way the women at the well had spoken to her, she wouldn’t be welcome anywhere respectable. Where was she supposed to go?

The innkeeper came back into the main room, carrying a plate with two large slices of the meat pie. He set the plate on the bar in front of Belle and offered her a fork. 

“What else can I do for you, miss?” There was an edge of desperation in his eyes, as though he needed her to ask him for something. 

“This smells wonderful,” Belle said as she tried to think of something he could do for her. “Give your wife my complements.”

He gave a hasty nod, but kept his eyes trained on her. The poor man looked like a dog expecting a kick. “What else, miss?” he asked. 

Belle took a bite of the pie. It tasted just as good as it smelled. “There is one thing,” she said after she swallowed.

“Anything, miss,” the innkeeper said. “For friends of the castle, anything.”

She took another forkful of pie. “Where are we?” she asked. “Where is this town? Where do the other roads lead to?”

For a moment, the innkeeper didn’t say anything, but he pointed one finger in the air as he raised his hand in a gesture for Belle to wait a moment. He bent down under the bar and came back up with a greasy deck of playing cards in his hands. He began to search through the cards.

“Most people who come from the castle didn’t get there by using a road, so I’ve gotten pretty good at explaining the geography.” He pulled out four cards and set the rest of the deck face-down in front of Belle’s plate. “That’s us,” he said. “Just a little town full of little people that happens to be located at a very important crossroads.”

He pulled out the Ace of Spades, a card Belle knew to be as much a symbol of death as a skull, and set it down on the side of the deck closest to her. “That’s the road you came down. You know what it leads to.”  

Belle nodded. The darkest, narrowest path would lead her back to the man who had never loved her and never would. 

On one side of the Ace of Spades, the innkeeper placed the King of Clubs. “Now, this is the land of King George. It’s a poor kingdom, a little grim. Most of the people are cabbage farmers, but I’ve heard that there is a fairy colony within its borders. If you find a fairy, you might get it to grant you a wish.”

Belle made a face at that notion. “I have had my fill of magic for a while.”

The innkeeper nodded. “Fair enough.” He set down the King of Diamonds. “Now, in King Midas’ land there are many large cities, each with its own university. A young woman such as yourself might find a man to marry who is both rich and clever.”

This time, Belle didn’t let her true feelings show. King Midas had been her king once. Her father was the king’s vassal, her home had been in that kingdom. What would happen if she tried to go back there? How would her family and her friends accept her as one of them again, after she had gone away with the Dark One? They would see her as tainted, ruined. 

They would never want to see her again.

“Whose is the last kingdom?” Belle asked. She picked up her mug to hide her sorrowful expression as she drank. The innkeeper held the King of Hearts in his hand, but when he went to put it down, he shook his head and picked up the rest of the deck. He searched through the cards and then pulled out the Queen of Spades.

“That had been the land of Good King Leopold, but he’s dead now and his wife, the Evil Queen, is in control.”

Belle stared down at the image of a laughing, dark-haired Queen. “Regina,” she whispered. A wave of fear washed over her, but she pushed it down. “I am well aware of what goes on in that kingdom. And I will stay far away.”

The innkeeper nodded. “Yes, more and more people are saying that. Of course, even more are going toward that land because of those same rumors. Most are going to form some kind of resistance, I hear, with the rightful princess to lead them.”

“That sounds like the makings of a civil war. All the more reason to  avoid it.” Belle sighed and pushed away her empty plate. “Once I decide where I’m going, how do you recommend I get there? Is there a reputable coachman who comes this way?”

“Oh, many, yes. They come through at different times, going to different places. The town Sheriff will know all the specifics.” He took the plate and dunked it into a pail of half-clean water.

“And where might I find the Sheriff?”

“He owns the livery stable across the green. I can take you there, if you want me to talk to him for you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Belle got up off of her stool and gathered her things. “I thank you for your help.”

“Should I ready a room for you, miss? Will you be staying the night?”

“At least this night,” Belle said. She pulled out a few more coins from the pouch and set them on the bar.

The innkeeper’s eyes bulged. “How many of those do you have?”

Belle shrugged and made her way to the door. “Hopefully, enough.”

****

The bright sunlight outside the tavern made her stop and squint. Belle took a moment to get her bearings. While she had been inside, the town had cleared out a little. The women at the fountain had gotten their water and gone home. Now a group of boys lounged around it, laughing and splashing at each other in the sun.

The late afternoon had grown hot. This was the kind of spring day that began as winter and ended as summer. Belle envied the young men putting their feet in the water. She took off her gloves and then unfastened the silver clasp at her neck and folded her cloak over her arm. Her bare arms looked so pale in the sunlight.

Her wrists looked naked without the cuffs.

Belle shook her head and moved on to her goal. According to the innkeeper’s impromptu map, the stable was on the corner where the road to King George’s kingdom met the road to Regina’s. She shuddered, when she looked down that road, shuddered at the very thought of going into that land. 

And yet, the idea had a sort of terrible fascination. What would happen if she made her way to Regina’s castle and presented herself to the Queen? What if she offered herself to her as a whore? Would Belle have any value to her, now that she no longer belonged to the Dark One?

Perhaps Maleficent would intercede. Perhaps it would amuse her to have a princess again. Even if Belle’s pain could not longer be used to hurt Rumpelstiltskin, perhaps they would still enjoy playing with her. And if she cozied up to the queens, perhaps she could find a way to undermine them. She could join the resistance as a spy. If nothing else, perhaps she could see that poor guard again, offer him a little comfort.

Perhaps she could find a way to murder Regina in her sleep. 

Belle smiled at that. Even if it cost her her life, such a pursuit would be worth it. That would be a noble end. 

Certainly more noble than any fate that awaited her back at the place where she had grown up. If she went back to her father, to her family, they would expect her to be a girl again, not a woman. They would want her to be the same Belle she had been when she’d left them, innocent and virginal. That simply couldn’t be. 

If she went home, her primary duty would be to marry. Her father wouldn’t allow her to run the castle and his lands by herself. Without a husband, Belle’s inheritance would go to her Uncle Armand, and then to his sons, her cousins. If she couldn’t marry, she would be little more than a poor relation, a spinster only allowed to live in her own home because of the charity of her male family members. 

And fallen as she was, no one respectable would marry her. What kind of man would the Dark One’s whore attract? If she went home, she would have to accept the first proposal that came her way--no matter how old or impoverished or loathsome the man. Marriage and children would be the only life allowed her there, and her affection for her husband wouldn’t be taken into consideration. Once, she had prepared herself for such a life, but she could not go back to it now.  

As much as she missed and loved her family, she didn’t want to see them again. She didn’t want them to know what had become of her--that she had not only been used and marked by the Dark One, but ultimately discarded by him. She had gone with him forever and he had tired of her in less than a year. How could she explain that to them? What would they think of her?  

Belle looked down the other road. Perhaps there would be something for her in the land of King George. The innkeeper had called it a poor kingdom, perhaps her gold would last longer there. She could buy her own house, perhaps a plot of land for food, and hire a servant for the heavy labor. Perhaps she could make money buying and selling books. She wouldn’t have to marry a man she didn’t love, or ever talk to anyone she didn’t want to.

Not that she wanted to be alone. She’d had more than enough of that in the library. Belle wanted to have friends around her, people who accepted her and understood her. She didn’t want to lie about her past or her desires. She had spent too much of her life trying to conform to a mold that had been set out for her--trying to be what other people wanted her to be. She had subdued her free spirit for her family, she had refused to admit her feelings for Rumpelstiltskin until it was too late. Moving forward, Belle resolved to live a life that was as authentic as she could make it. She didn’t want to hide herself, and she wanted to be around people she didn’t have to hide from.

Her thoughts turned to Jefferson and Leona. They would be her ideal companions. The three of them had already shared so much with each other. She could be quite happy, living with the couple and their daughter. Perhaps they would take her in as a lover, but even if all they offered her was friendship, that would be enough. Even if all they offered her was a sympathetic ear and a bowl of soup, that would be enough.

The trouble was, Belle had no idea where Jefferson and Leona were. Did they have a permanent address? Or did they travel constantly, roaming from world to world like vagabonds? How could she find them if she had no magic hat to travel with? How could she even get word to them that she needed a place to stay?

But they were not her only friends. How far was this town from the sea? Ariel had offered her a place in her kingdom under the ocean. What if Belle took her up on that offer? Or perhaps she could share a lonely cottage with the spinster that Ariel had found on that lovely, sunny day so long ago. 

There were many paths open to her. Each of them would have its trials and disadvantages, and none of them felt entirely right, but they were there. She did have options. There were places that she could go to. And whatever she decided, she would need a way to get there. 

The stables were open, but most of the hands seemed to have gone home for the evening. The place smelled as clean as a stable ever could--sawdust and fresh hay. It reminded her of being a child, hiding in the empty stalls with a book while Ermentrude ran around trying to find her and make her practice embroidery. She had found the horses comforting as a girl, and had had no fear of them when it came time for her to learn how to ride.

On a wall near the entrance, there was a printed chart, detailing which coaches went to which locations and how frequently. Belle glanced at it, and then wandered down the stalls to look at the horses. Since she had no plan for a destination, perhaps it would be better to take the reigns of her own travels. If she could buy a horse, she could go wherever the roads took her. 

Most of the mounts here seemed bred for speed, meant to go hard for twenty miles and then be switched out. Horses were rented here as much as bought. Since Belle didn’t know where she would be going, she had no guarantee that there would be another stable where she could switch horses when one began to tire. She would have to pick out a horse she could commit to, one that could be her companion for months or years.

In the last stall, she found it. He was a dray--a farm horse, strong and steady--with a mane the color of straw. He was wide about the shoulders, with powerful muscles, but something about him seemed gentle and friendly. His fur was a beautiful warm brown, like soft leather. The horse had a white stripe along his soft nose. When she petted him, he nickered at her.

“Hello there,” she said softly to the animal. “What’s your name?”

“That’s Phillippe,” a man’s voice called out from across the stable. “He’s not fast, but he won’t throw you either.”

Belle looked up from the horse and saw a man coming towards her. He had the arrogant strut of a man who always got what he wanted. A lock of hair kept falling into his face, covering one eye, but not concealing the sharp glint of his gaze. He was staring at her, and grinning.

Belle stood her ground, bracing herself against the horse’s stall.

“Are you looking for something, Miss…?” He held the word “miss” like he was expecting her to fill the empty space with her name. But Belle didn’t take the bait. 

“Yes, I’m thinking of buying this horse. Is he a gelding or a stallion?”

The man greeted her businesslike question with a sly chuckle. “That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

Belle squared her shoulders. “It’s an animal, sir. I need to know its temperament.”

“Alright.” The man smiled like he was granting her a favor. “Phillipe is a gelding. Unlike me.” He ran his tongue over his lips and held out his hand for her to take. “I’m the Sheriff of this town and the owner of this establishment.”

Instead of taking his hand, Belle gave a curtsy. But lifting her skirts suddenly reminded her of how short her dress was. She had taken off her cloak, and her arms were bare. Her neckline was not entirely modest. The Sheriff’s eyes followed the swell of her bosom as she dipped down and then rose up again.

Belle straightened up and cleared her throat. “What else can you tell me about this horse?”

The Sheriff gave her another look up and down. “Well, how about this? How about I talk the details over with your man?”

The phrase “your man” could refer to either a woman’s servant or her husband. Of course, Belle had neither, and her silence on the matter seemed to confirm that fact with the Sheriff. He grinned again and took a step closer to her. 

“He’s a good horse,” he said softly--too softly for the subject at hand. “You can ride him all night and he won’t tire. He’ll be gentle on you.”

 Belle’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t breathe. The Sheriff was close to her now, much too close. Closer than anyone had been to her in weeks. She forced herself to croak out, “How much?”

“For you, miss?” He reached out and took her hand. “Let’s call it five silver pieces.”

Belle tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. She was pressed against the stall. Phillippe snorted and huffed at the sudden invasion of his space. “I--I don’t have silver.”

“Oh, don’t you?” The Sheriff said with mock sympathy. “Well, perhaps we can work something out.” His hand still held her hand. He rubbed her wrist with his thumb. “Perhaps we can make a deal.”

At that word, something inside Belle snapped. Clutching her cloak and her bag to her chest, she bolted away from the Sheriff’s grasp and ran to the open end of the stable. 

“How dare you?” she spat out the words with all the same vitriol she had used to say the same thing to the Dark One himself. Oh, if she had the power she would rip out his tongue!

“Oh, come on,” he tried to laugh it off. “I’m only asking for a night.” Belle glared at him in stony silence and his easy smile flickered. “How about an hour?” His face fell even further. “Twenty minutes?”

Slowly, deliberately, Belle put on her cloak and slung the bag over her shoulders. She didn’t even hint at her pouch of gold or the fact that if she had wanted him, she could have pleasured him more in twenty minutes than any other woman would in a hundred years. She just looked at him in judgement, silently counting all the ways this cocky fool was lacking. She left the Sheriff with three sentences, each one from the bottom of her heart:

“I’m not for sale. Not to you. And certainly not for five fucking pieces of silver!”  

Then she turned on her heel and marched back to the inn. 

[katymacsupernatural]

A Hint of Truth

Dean Winchester x Reader

1900 Words

Written For: @spngenrebingo, @spndarkbingo

Square Filled: Witches(Genre), Distortion (Dark)

Warnings: witches, angst

“Damn witches,” Dean muttered, checking the bullets in his gun for the fifth time, his jaw narrowed in annoyance. 

Sam stood by his brother, going over his equipment once again as well. All three of you hated witches, but Dean was the most vocal about it. You just wanted to put a bullet between her eyes and head back to the Bunker. An easy hunt, then a day or two of rest before you turned around and did it all over again. 

“Sam, are we sure it’s just one?” You asked, even though the three of you had gone over all the information more than once. But something felt off, and you wanted to be sure. 

Sam nodded, brushing his unruly mahogany hair behind his ears, making sure he had extra bullets in his bag. “We’ve done our homework. One witch, who has no idea we’re in town. Dean and I will go into the store, take her out. You’ll stay out here in case she somehow makes it past us.”

You had already argued about staying behind, but Dean had been adamant. He hated the thought of witches, but the thought of losing you to one? He said that was the worst thing that could happen. So you stayed back on witch hunts, twiddling your thumbs and hoping that things went well.

You found yourself nodding off. Being lookout was the worst job. All the sitting, and waiting, usually for nothing. Cars drove by, old women staring your way, barely able to see above the steering wheel. Stay at home Mom's pushed strollers down the sidewalk, trying to hide yawns and tired eyes behind grande cups of Starbucks.

It was in the third hour that things finally started to get interesting. You caught the local firemen in your rearview mirror, watching as they washed the engine. Many were shirtless, and while you were currently in a relationship with Dean, you couldn't help but admire the muscular bodies.

Just then something slammed into the front of the Impala, pulling your gaze away from the firemen.

"Sammy?" You called out, clambering out of the car as quick as you could. Sam had a bloody gash above his left eye. His blue and gray flannel was ripped, his gun hanging loosely in one hand. "What the hell happened? Where is Dean?"

Breathing heavily, Sam turned quickly in a circle. "He's not back here?"

"No," you answered. "Sam, what's going on?"

"Damn it!" he muttered under his breath. "She had a trap for us. Got separated, was supposed to meet back here."

While Sam reached into the trunk for a rag to wipe the blood running down his face, you took out your gun. "I'll go search, you get cleaned up," you told Sam, who shook his head.

"You stay," Sam ordered. "Dean will freak if he comes here and you're gone."

Sam took off, behind the shops, leaving you to stand there, a gun in your hand as a group of women walked out of the yoga studio. Swiftly pacing it in your waistband, you waved, but they were too busy talking of weddings and babies to even notice you.

Leaning back against the Impala, you searched your surroundings, hoping that Dean was okay. A loud bang came from the right, where Sam had gone.

"Sam?" You called out, wondering if you should go check on him when Dean came running from the left at full speed. He had a bruise forming on one cheek, his flannel was missing, but he seemed otherwise okay. "Dean!" You called out.

Dean came to a sudden stop, narrowing his eyes as he stared at you. "You," he muttered, pulling his gun from his back pocket, aiming it straight at your heart.

Throwing your hands in the air, you glanced behind you, wondering if the witch was behind you. "Dean, what's going on?"

"I've been looking for you," he growled. "You know I won't let you get away with it."

"Away with what?" You asked, crying out when Dean roughly grabbed your arm, yanking it behind your back, slamming you against the Impala.

"Don't act stupid," he growled, taking off his belt and wrapping it around your wrists. "You know what you are."

"Dean," you pleaded. Ignoring you, he shoved you into the backseat, slamming the door shut.

He wasted no time turning the Impala on, flipping a u-turn with ease. You could barely see out the window, but as Dean sped down the road, Sam came running up to the road, his hands thrown up in the air.

"I can't believe you were stupid enough to show your face," Dean muttered. "After everything you've done."

"What did the witch do to you?" You asked, crying out when Dean took a corner to fast, slamming your head against the door. 

He chuckled darkly. "What witch? You're the Monster.  The Demon who tried to take Lisa and Ben from me."

"Lisa?" You whispered. "Dean, you took Lisa's memory from her years ago."

"Don't even say her name!" Dean exclaimed his furious face glaring at you through the rearview mirror.

You turned silent, trying to free yourself from the leather-wrapped tightly around your wrists. Dean muttered to himself as he took more turns, the road turning rough under the Impala. 

The Impala suddenly came to a stop, throwing you forward. Dean climbed out of the car. You didn't have time to check your surroundings before he was pulling you out of the car. With his hand wrapped tight around your arm, you struggled to stay on your feet. 

Dean had pulled over at some abandoned barn. The wood was rotting, many pieces already laying on the ground. The back of the barn had already caved in, the front looking like it could join it at any moment. “Is Sam going to meet us here?” You asked as Dean pushed through the broken door, shoving you deep inside the musty smelling room. 

Dean ignored you, shoving you against a moldy pile of hay. You laid there, watching Dean as he paced the dirt floor, pulling his gun out. “Whoa Dean, whatever this is, your gun isn’t the answer!” You exclaimed.

Dean had this wild look about him. His hair was standing on end, his pupils were blown wide with anger. His breaths were shallow and rapid, his hand shaking slightly as he raised the gun towards you. “You? You’re afraid of this gun? A little bullet won’t kill an evil Demon like yourself.”

“Demon?” You gasped. “Dean, I’m not a Demon! Do the stupid test or whatever, but stop this nonsense!”

A wooden chair was off to the side, and Dean pulled it forward, sitting down in it with the back in front of him. “You are the Demon that tried to take the love of my life away from me. You killed my brother. But I won’t let you do anything else.”

Standing up, Dean took the belt holding your hands together, attached it to the beam by your head. Without a word he left the barn, leaving you to wonder what the hell was going on.

You knew it had to be a spell by that witch. It had to be. Hopefully, Sam was figuring out where you were and what was going on because Dean seemed pretty adamant that you were an evil scum he had to rid the world of.

It hurt, you had to admit. It hurt to see the love for Lisa in his eyes. And it made you worry that it wasn’t all the spell. That he still felt something for her, maybe even loved her more than he would ever love you. 

Dean’s footsteps were quiet on the packed dirt, quickly coming back into the barn, an Angel blade weighing heavy in his hand. Your heart racing, you struggled against the belt holding you captive, praying to Cas for help. 

“You’re praying to an Angel?” Dean scoffed. “That Angel won’t come help you. No one will."

In a quick move, he had the blade placed across your neck, his jaw clenched tight with fury. "Why? Why did you try to ruin my life?"

"Dean please," you pleaded, tears streaming down your cheek. "Its the witch. She spelled you. None of this is true."

"Then why are your eyes black?" He asked, the blade nicking your skin. "I can't wait to watch the life fade from those pitch-black eyes."

"Dean!" Cas called out, appearing straight behind me. Taking stock of the situation, Cas pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead, knocking him unconcerned immediately. "Y/N, I heard your prayer. What the hell is going on?"

"Dean's been spelled," you answered as Cas undid your bindings. "We need to find Sam and get the spell reversed."

Cas carried the unconscious Dean to the Impala, setting him down in the backseat. You took the keys from his pocket, sliding behind the steering wheel. You had no idea where you were, but with a couple of wrong turns, you finally made it back into town.

Sam answered his phone immediately, already back at the hotel, ready to come to your rescue. You quickly told him what was going on, letting him know that Cas was with you. 

“I killed the witch,” Sam explained. “I thought the spell would have worn off by now.”

“He had an Angel blade against my throat. It hasn’t worn off,” you muttered just as you pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. Hanging up, you honked the horn once, and Sam came rushing out the door. 

You stayed to the back, letting Sam and Cas take Dean out of the car and into the room. Sitting on the couch you watched as they brought him back, Sam ready to tie him up the moment he started spouting nonsense. But it seemed like putting him under had cured the spell, and he just laid there, his face ashen. 

“Can you give Y/N and I a couple of minutes?” He finally asked, never moving his gaze from the ceiling. 

“Dean, are you sure you’re…,” Sam started to argue, but Dean cut him off.

“I’m sure I’m not going to try and kill her again,” Dean said softly. Sam glanced to you, and you just shrugged, not knowing what else to say. 

Sam and Cas left the room, leaving you alone with Dean. The man you had fallen in love with, but also the man who had just been spelled to kill you. “Dean, is everything okay?” You finally asked, not moving from your spot on the couch. 

“No!” He exclaimed, sitting up on the bed. “I just tried to kill you.”

You shook your head. “No, you didn’t. The witch spelled you.” 

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “Y/N, I was aware. During all of it, I knew that it wasn’t right. But all I could think of was Lisa and Ben. And revenge. I wanted to kill you so bad.”

You tried to smile, but it fell short. “But you didn’t,” you tried.

He stayed silent, his gaze refusing to meet yours, scaring you. “Dean, those feelings for Lisa. They aren’t still there, are they?” 

When seconds ticked by and he didn’t answer, you could feel a tear trickling down your cheek. “What does that mean for us?”

He finally answered, tearing your heart in two. “I don’t know.”

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278  @bebravekeeponfighting  @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215   @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk   @ria132love @ruprecht0420     @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666 

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove   @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl   @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280   @gh0stgurl @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek  @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice   @maui137 @mogaruke @musiclovinchic93  @nanie5   @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25   @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman   @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek   @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow : ch VII - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch 7 / ?? - In which there are new and powerful dynamics in play.

The first day that Emma didn't come racing back in realization of her folly, Killian did not worry. She was stubborn, plucky, and absolutely, intolerably obstinate. She would return, he was certain of it, and he stoked the fire smugly while the Darkness coiled in him, winding tighter with each tick of the clock. 

It was no mistake that the voice of the Darkness mimicked the voice of his crocodile-skinned previous master. They both delighted in feats of evil and hated to wait for anything, impatient in every dastardly moment. The days passing made the Darkness break him in ways he hadn't faced since before his imprisonment, with nothing for it to take its anger out on besides him and the body that they shared. 

On the fourth day, it shrieked non-stop with no throat to make raw or lungs that needed to draw air, just a steady shriek within his head that rarely switched octaves. When an eardrum burst, it would heal enough to warble tinny scratches before jolting back into shrieking until it burst again in a terrible cycle. Killian could no longer stoke the fire as heavy summer rain poured from the sky and rolled into his abused ears, his hair sticking to him as he sat in the deluge. 

On the sixth day it broke his fingers in sections, further mutilating his already swollen and weeping hand that had been scratched by the Dagger, the skin tearing open anew and pouring forth foul smelling gunk. He wrapped it in an old shirt padded with some herbal salve Emma had made and left behind, absently wondering if she left it on purpose for him, or had simply forgotten it. Maybe she would return for it? 

Hopeful? You're hopeful she will return? What do you not understand about how hapless and nugatory you are? How futile your stupid hope is? She is not coming back, you insignificant barnacle. This all could have been avoided if you had just listened to me, if you had taken the deal Nil gave you!  

"So what do we do?" 

The Darkness did not answer, and his head cleared to an eerily sinister silence. 

"What do I do?" 

Again, no answer came except for the wind moaning through the trees. For another three days, he suffered more of the Darkness' cruelty before he gave in and realized Emma truly was not returning. Or… 

A barely there whisper in his mind broke through, a small stab of worry in a distant corner. What if she could not return? What if something had happened, what if something was wrong? Emma had no idea about the outside world, about the customs or cultures her parents had abandoned in the creation of the United Realms. 

Moving with a manic frenzy, Killian tore down the camp with a single goal in sight. He was going to find Emma and save her, then chastise her to high hell - 

Or, at least get the Dagger piece from whoever had her in their grasp - 

And he knew where to start: tracking the two women who took her, Alice and Cheshire, from their ill-fated meeting at Never-Wonder Land. Transporting himself there took more energy than he cared for with the Darkness as loud as it was. Focusing on it not overwhelming his already muddled state of being, he pushed past the yellow tape partitions put up by mortal detectives to enter into the ruins of the club. 

"Looking for a souvenir, Killian? Maybe some recommendations on where to get a good gyro?" Tink's voice rang out from the shadows. 

"You're still here? You're free Tink, why -" 

"We may be free, but that doesn't mean we have anywhere else to go," Tink called down, a heavy sadness in her statement. There was a rumble and a low purr before he caught a shadowy glimpse of the Sphinx stretching on a broken wall out of the corner of his eye. He turned back to Tink. Tink sighed, and he could hear the shrug in her voice. "It's home."

 Killian kicked at a broken light that was covered in mirror pieces. It still glowed slightly in the dim room, shooting out shards of light. 

"The Light One is not with him." Wendy's voice echoed from behind him. "How odd. Why have you returned here, Dark One?"  

"I need to find Emma. I believe she is in trouble," Killian called into the dusty gloom. Bricks crumbled nearby, the sound catching his attention before a large paw pinned him down. 

"Half truth. There's some honesty you have left out. Puzzling." Wendy's eyes flicked with golden light, her claws digging through his shirt and trousers as she pushed down on him. Her tail flicked back and forth; Killian couldn’t reply, his lungs crushed and impossible to make noise with. Wendy's eyes widened, her pupils growing as if she could magnify her sight. "Oh. Oh, I -" 

She stepped back, staring at a space near a broken beam. Tink's voice called down to her. "What is it? What's the truth he would not say?" 

Wendy hesitated, but removed her paw. "He's scared of being alone with the thing inside his head. He's scared that it will take over or drive him mad without - " Killian protested loudly, and the Darkness giggled in a jeer he could almost see. Wendy's tail swished agitatedly. "Not important. He wants to find Alice and Robyn, but has no idea where to find them."

"Why should we trust him?" Tink asked, moving to an easier perch to spectate from. "He seems to be in terrible shape. I bet you a meat pie that the princess found a new boyfriend."

Wendy flapped once, the force of her wing beat sending him rolling and forcing his noise of disgust back down his throat. She laid her large head on Tink’s lap, making Tink look even tinier. 

"I told you, they weren't together. There was something, but it was not yet romantic. Truth. And I won't take that bet; it's most likely the truth the princess abandoned him in some capacity.” Wendy wrinkled her nose. “He reeks of Darkness. Also a truth. I say we lock him in with the Tweedles, but as a permanent snack. Delicious truth."

"Please," Killian moaned, voice more wheeze than request. His spleen reconnected and reorganized itself, his innards processing their crushing. 

Tink's eyes went wide. "What was that? Say again."

Killian licked his lips, the Darkness trying to heal him, and let out a groaned rasp. 

"Please?" 

Tink pushed off Wendy's head, and landed on the floor gracefully as Killian coughed and his ribs knitted back together. 

"The Dark One never asks for help, and never begs." The Darkness sharply jammed another rib into place in agreement. "Why did you ask us for help, and not anyone else?" 

"I was hoping our previous… experiences with each other might lend me favor." Crawling to stand and moving into Tink's space, he rocked on his heels, smiling with what he hoped was a smolder. “We could even discuss a few things like last time - " 

"Liar," Wendy purred, and Killian debated briefly if he should stuff and mount the beast. "He's seeking physical distraction from the Darkness and his fears for the Light One, but he does not really want it, even in the form of forni -" 

"I've got the idea Wendy," Tink hissed. "So you're trying to distract yourself from Emma. No way are we ever going to be - no. Just… no. You were practically possessed when we - I mean just dark and angry. I'm not that desperate anymore, and have absolutely no idea what I was thinking. It was awful. No." 

Wendy let out a snort, and a slow, mewling, "Truth."

"Wendy, for the Goddess’ sake!" Tink yelled, and the Sphinx made a hissing noise in annoyance, her tail swinging. Pointing at Killian and jabbing him roughly in the chest with her finger, Tink hissed. "Killian. Tell me the truth."

Killian paused, clenching his fist, the other too swollen to close. "I'm worried for Emma. If she's hurt, I cannot be free… And I don't want her to die." 

Tink glanced up at Wendy, who gave an affirmative nod. Leveling a gaze at him, she stepped back to put space between him and herself, smiling curtly. "Fine. We will help you. I have a few guesses where they may have gone, but the top tier - They could have gone to Ursula, but if they did there's no way we could help."

Killian wheezed harder. " The Ursula? The witch who defied her father and Triton in order to save the Selkies from -" 

"Yes," Tink said gravely. 

"But she's dead, Triton killed her. I saw it when I -" 

"She was cursed. She is still cursed. We won't be able to reach her without a guide." Tink sighed. "According to our sources, the Goblin Prince is using Triton this very instant to wreak havoc on the water, presumably looking for your princess. Ursula is hidden very well, and will have added more defenses, whether she has the princess or not."

Landing next to Tink with a thump, Wendy grimly stared Killian down, her tail curled up into a loose twitch back and forth. Tink scratched her chin affectionately as Wendy made a small chirp. "We could… We could ask Marta. I know her truth and she would -" 

"That's brilliant, yes, I'm sure she doesn't know about Triton’s capture. If she did, we would know."

Killian cleared his throat. "So, that means…?" 

Wendy smirked. "We're all going to Iceland to get Marta, who will get you in to see Ursula. This can work. It will ." 

Tink grinned her sharp toothed grin. "And if it doesn't, at least Marta can finally get closure." 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  Riding Wendy was stomach turning, even with Killian’s experiences of mishaps with gravity. Tink seemed to have the better seat in Wendy's mane of hair. This combined with the fact that she had frail wings that she would use occasionally gave her a leg up on him, and obviously allowed her to enjoy a more pleasant ride. He, on the other hand, found himself spending most of the trip wishing it was over. 

They had at least filled him in on who Marta was, and he had raised an eyebrow at that: a neutral party, one of the last  holdouts between the Merfolk and Anisapi schism that made up one part of the war. She was a mistress of Triton's who happened to be some sort of Selkie royalty, another dirty secret left buried in the old world when the Fae realms were divided. 

Ursula had taken a firm stance on the Selkies being included in the new realms, free of their lesser status and free of the degradation they received from other Fae deeming them 'animals' or Anisapi deeming them too 'Fae' or 'Hume'. The latter was practically a slur in the Anisapi culture. The loss of the Selkie colony was still a division in Mermaid culture, and the Seafolk did not associate with the Anisapi, or vice versa. 

As part of the rebellion, many Seafolk who sided with the Anisapi shed their traditional tails in favor of different choices. Ursula earned the title of Sea Witch for her skill in brewing potions to help the Seafolk do so. She herself chose the gauche form of a sleek, jet-black octopus, spitting in the face of her brother, Triton. His banishment of her, and her own magic creating her secret hideaway of Pacifica for her following, were taboo war stories that the United Realms ignored with gusto - but not Tink or Wendy. 

"When you live in the world of the left behind or exiled, the stories they ignore become your culture," Tink said with a shrug. "The royals and all those rules… I hated Pann, don't get me wrong, but I can understand how someone could go crazy. All that stuffy, pretentious bullshit. It's why people are rallying around the Goblin Prince here, even if he's lying straight to their faces - they are desperate for a change. The princess and you working together and her freeing those in Pann's clutches is giving him a run for his jewels, though. She's becoming quite the folk hero."

Killian rolled his eyes. "Both are terrible choices. Good to see that politics never seem to change."

Wendy grunted. "There is cynical truth to that. Now prepare yourselves, we are almost there."

The clouds parted, and the rocky coastline of Iceland appeared as they approached Reykjavik. 

Marta lived in a simple home in the countryside on the beach, the dark sand leading right up to her porch. Killian could see right away that she was a Selkie, even without her pelt. Silver gray hair was elegantly pulled into an arrangement over her sharp eyebrows, bright eyes, and rounded face. Her grimace made her look starkly angular, teeth far too sharp to be a human’s, fingers tightening on the black shawl she wore over a navy blue dress. 

She spoke in a gravelly and heavily accented voice as they approached, Wendy breaking away to chase the waves with the delight of a kitten. 

"What brings you to my door, Tinkerbell, part Siren of the waters near Oikos and part Fairy of the Olive Groves? What companions do you ask me to invite over my threshold? What news reaches me on this shore?" The woman's gaze was eagle-like, her dark tawny eyes lit with gold. Up close she looked regal, and far less tattered. 

"I am afraid I bring bad tidings to your door, Marta, and grim news. I wish I came with good fortune, but what I have to tell you would break your heart. It is better I tell you than leave you in ignorance."

Marta sighed, and waved a hand for them to follow her. "I'll make some coffee, and get your Sphinx a bowl of cream. Because you speak the truth, Tinkerbell, I will also give you a potion for her to look Hume if she so chooses."

"Marta," Tink let her eyes widen as they entered the shabby kitchen. "Don't use that -" 

"I've been considering reclaiming the word 'Hume' from the slur it has become; especially for those of us who are left and have faced what it means to be looked down upon one way or another. If it offends you, truly, I will refrain." Marta poured coffee into mismatched mugs, and emptied a carton of cream into a patterned bowl. She returned to the deck, setting the bowl on the edge as they sat in deck chairs. 

Killian shrugged, and Tink squirmed slightly. 

Marta turned her to intense stare at him, looking him up and down. She placed her mug on a table and steepled her fingers. "You stink of Darkness, guilt, and broken promises. What are you?" 

And you smell of old fish and briney tea, you awful - 

"I'm the Dark One, but my given name is Killian Jones. My family name is -" 

"Blackwater." Marta nodded, cocking her head in thought. "I knew your mother and father. Your father was a terrible bastard, and I am sorry for the way he must have treated you boys."

Killian tensed, and the Darkness swirled in anger and betrayal at the old memories. "That was a long time ago."

"Your feelings give you away, but that is not something I am willing to unpack - why have you come?" 

Tink gave a heaving sigh, and squared her shoulders as she put down her tea. 

"Triton has been captured. He's currently being tortured." Marta dropped her tea cup, her hands shaking. "The Goblins are using his magic to search for Ursula." 

Marta let out a noise of despair. "No. No, he - " 

"I'm sorry," Tink said quietly, gently rubbing Marta's shoulder. The Selkie looked stricken with panic. "You need to go to Ursula, and that's why I brought the Dark One. He has business with Ursula, and you know the way. Take him, and Ursula can help you both."

"That's… I can do that. He will need a tail or two, but I will do it. Goddess be good, my Triton, oh my heart. Do you believe Ursula can help free him?" Marta trailed off, clutched her chest, rubbing in small circles.

Gain their attention, vessel, we have better things to do than watch this pitiful display of emotions.  

"I'm right here, so I can hear this conversation," Killian said dryly. "I just need -" 

Tink ignored him. "That's who they pitted him against by trying to storm into Ursula's lair, which… Poor decision on their part, but that's Goblins for you."

"Alright. Are you coming?" Marta asked Tink, and Killian threw up his hands with an exasperated huff. 

Tink shook her head. "No. I need to get Wendy to her brothers, and we have a lead to where we can find work."

"You're going to leave me with - " Killian tried to interject, but both women were standing, Marta guiding Tink to the door. 

"Be safe. I will see you sooner than later, I hope? Your sisters pop by occasionally when they get a chance. Would you like me to pass on anything?" 

"No. They haven't known where I’ve been, and I can't begin that conversation right now. Especially between Roselia and Fawn. It'd be too much." Tink sighed, and Killian moved to the doorway, trying to gain their attention, but became distracted by the sight of Wendy with cream dripping down her face. The Sphinx belched, and Tink let out a laugh, mounting her back. Marta shook her head, and waved as they left, leaving Killian alone to figure out this Marta woman. 

"Well." Marta turned to him, with a look of grim determination on her face. "We should hurry, it's a long ways off to get to any of the entrances to Ursula's. You are not able to breathe underwater comfortably, yes?" 

No drowning works for you, does it? Not in rum, self hatred, pity, foolhardy attempts at destroying yourself -

Killian ignored the hiss of the Darkness, following her back into her cottage, frustrated by the entire ordeal. "No. Not particularly." 

Marta eyed him thoughtfully. Gesturing to a wall of vials and small bottles, she smiled warmly. "How do you feel about an eel tail to go with that dreadful gloom of yours? I have lovely draughts for a Muraenidae that I mixed with a Torpedo marmorata to make a real electric eel. None of those ridiculously muddy knife fish variants, along with a pinch of Myctophid for style. They give you the most lovely glow if you end up in the dark." 

"I refuse. I know the risks of messing with these potions - " 

"I forget how old and out of touch you are. The risks of these are no longer as threatening, and they really never were." Marta gritted her teeth, taking a breath. Letting it out in a heavy exhale, she traced a finger over the labels. "It was a lie by the Merfolk to keep bloodlines pure. Looking back now, it seems silly to think that these terrible risks only happened to Merfolk, Nymphs, Naiad, Sirens - never to the already mixed kin or those who chose to stay in an animal form."

"That sounds -" 

"Like something that the rulers would do? Imagine my surprise at still having to correct Merfolk, Fae, humans, and even my own kind that we don't have to wear a skin completely - that we can be partially female or male Fae. Personally, I wear my seal skin up to my breasts - not because I am modest or opposed to nudity, but because scratching your bosom on the crags is a good way to gather sharks and catch an infection. It also simply hurts like a bitch." Looking at him with humor in her smile, she gave a wink. "Not that you would know. Now, for you I think… Eel or a deep sea shark. Something murky, so you can hide in the gloom, but secretly flashy and with too much ego. I have octopus and squid, but getting the hand of, er, well, eight more hands - it’s not great for beginners. The shark tail is good for speed, but less great for tight maneuvers..."

"I really don't care, as long as it gets us there."

"Well, well, look at you. You are very worried about this princess you care nothing for." Killian froze, stiffening. Marta pressed a bottle of shimmering white liquid into his good palm, the throb under the bandage on the other hand particularly sharp. "I can smell her on your thoughts. To think, Darkness chasing Light. It's kind of romantic - " 

Disgusting. After this is over, I believe that her pelt will make nice slippers. 

"No. There's nothing like that at all, I just don't want her to be dead. She's a naive woman, with no idea how infuriating her demeanor is. It's easier having her as a Master or Mistress because she doesn't - " 

"Sure, it's fine." Marta smiled, pulling gray material up over her body, wearing it like a dress. It clung off her shoulders, but her arms and hands were free, even as she dipped a seal tail into the water where her legs had once been. "Come along, then. It's a long swim."

Killian took a deep breath through his gritted teeth, closing his eyes. Taking a small sip of the vial, the Darkness let out a purr of pleasure at the magic binding to them - not white like Emma's, but darker, almost more black than gray, old and esoteric as it forced its vessel to its knees. Killian tried to hold on, his fingernails scraping gouges into the rockscape of the coast as he changed. Shedding his clothing with quick flicks of magic, and slipping into the cool water, he felt relief finally from the potion’s effects. His long eel body felt like pure muscle, dark and striped coiling strength that propelled him with ease by just a flex in the muscles below the navel. 

"Looks good on you," Marta commented, quietly. "And, although we shouldn't, it will scare any merfolk that we come across in the opposite direction. Eel kind aren't welcome in the United Realms without surgery or magic."

"They really went all out to keep themselves as traditional merfolk. That's disgusting," Killian hissed, bubbles rising. His tail pulsed slightly with an electric charge. 

"Just another example of blood magic and strength, but in a different way. They fear that they will be lesser by diluting pure traits." Marta's smooth movements were pure grace, schools of fish scattering around her like silver coins. "They don't realize that accepting new blood, new ideas, new growth makes us stronger." 

He hummed in agreement, and they let themselves be pulled into the strong southern current, speeding down the coast. 

"Why does Nil seem to know where Ursula is if no one can get to her? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of her safety? If he can use Triton to just blow her off the map -" 

"Ursula is the only one that can let people in or out with her blessing. That's her curse, and what punishment Triton himself put upon her for her disobedience. Not only did she refuse her tail, but she married a half Fae Warlock, Merlin, who gave them both Anisapi bodies. He was a prolific brewer of potions, better even than Morgana. Ursula still blames herself for his punishment. It was far worse and more cruel than hers by far."

“Are you sure Ursula will welcome us with open, er, arms?” 

“I used to be the Selkie princess. I introduced Merlin to Morgana, and she introduced him to Ursula. I am free to come and go as I please. Especially since I visit Merlin in his prison.” 

The Darkness gave a strange quiver at the sound of the sorcerer's name. “He’s still alive?” 

“He was cursed by Snow Margueryte. ' A Mortal who wants to experience the elements they use for their own gain, straying from natural law, shall be granted their wish tenfold ,'" she recited, lazily back stroking with the current. "He is cursed to be an oak tree, his earth magic forcing him to grow roots. He used to be able to speak but his voice has been almost completely swallowed by the bark." 

How fitting of a cage, it seems we were not the only ones kept under royal lock and key.  

"Bloody hell."

"I've tried to free him, but my guess is that the curse can only be undone by either Ursula reuniting with him, or Queen Snow reversing it herself. Both are unlikely." Marta paused thoughtfully. "Do you think your Light One could help? She has powerful magic - " 

"She's not mine, and I don't know. Emma - the princess, I mean, she is too willing to help and throw herself at sympathetic tasks. While she would probably say yes, it would be reckless for her to do so. I doubt she even could."

"Well, you must have a relationship with her to be so defensive. You smell of Darkness, guilt, and this almost cloying pining - " 

"Why don't we just swim in silence, yeah? I don't need some sea mongrel telling me about the notes of my bouquet," he snapped, agitated. 

Marta looked at him curiously, but to her credit stayed mum for the remainder of their long journey. It was strange to feel muscles burn that he did not truly have and to experience the raw strength of what he could do in this form. While the eel's body was not meant for these long voyages, he could definitely see its use as they moved closer to the hidden portal that would lead them to Ursula's gates. 

Marta had broken the silence that stretched between them to warn him of the tight path they would need to take. Both of them wriggled through an impossible series of tunneling caves, sometimes against currents or in almost pitch black darkness. As far as Killian could tell, the only way Marta could find her way was as a full seal, for at some point she had slipped her cowl completely over her upper half to transform completely. Eventually, they came to a small cylindrical chamber that led down to a shimmering portal at the deep bottom, like a well. Killian went to zip downward, but Marta nipped him, slowly removing her cowl and releasing her head and arms again. 

"Stay quiet. Move slow. Just drift down gently with the current. You don't want to hit it too fast or the current on the other side will rip you to shreds…" She slowly pointed to small flickering orbs of pink that had begun to light up around the upper edges of where they had come in. "And you'll upset the Reaper Shrimp." 

Killian blinked, almost laughing at the thought but listened, staying still while letting himself float slowly downward. A rock fell from above, most likely jostled by their entrance into the space, and Killian watched it push through the on and off glow of the shrimp. The rock wasn't small, the size of a large orange when it began - it passed a few of the pink creatures and broke, the small monstrosities shearing it to dust loud enough for him to hear the grind. 

Killian could suddenly understand why Nil had not found an entry into Ursula's protected waters. 

The entry into the portal was strange, his tail hitting first and dragging him in; one minute he was in slow motion and the next was being ripped into a suction-like current, unable to see as it jettisoned him through a path lined by stalagmites. He moved slightly, and the current responded to the sudden resistance by shoving him against one, cleanly slicing the flesh of his shoulder. He hissed, but did not move again. 

After what felt like hours, the current roughly deposited them onto a sandy cave floor, a steady path that led to a cavern just visible ahead. Relaxing his tense body, he swam up for air. The water lapped at the soft rock shore, and he slid out of the water to lie on the cold stone, actually tired. There was a loud cough, and he snapped back to attention to see a large face frowning at him. 

"I'd say look what the cat dragged in, but Marty, you aren't a cat and damn it if you didn't get pulled by this bastard nine tenths of the way here."

Marta laughed, pulling herself out of the water, and towards the giant woman in front of them. "Hey, Sully."

"Mmmmhmmm. Don't you ' Hey Sully ' me when you drop this cretin in my midst. Dark One, what business do you have with me, in my realm? And remember, you're talking to Ursula the Sea Witch here. I will tear you apart just to watch you knit back together." 

Ursula had aged since he last saw her, no longer a young woman, but not old either. Her brown skin was wrinkled at the corners of her eyes, and her forehead showed a pinch where her frown pulled her brows in confusion at their arrival. Her size was still the same as it was when she had fought in battle during the war, the enchantment locking her into a gargantuan form. Tentacles colored in shades of wine, maroon, and nearly pitch black writhed from mottled skin under her navel, suction cups as large as a man's hand stretching along a length of fifteen feet. She moved gracefully around the large chamber, even at her full height that dwarfed Marta and his own many times over as she reached to add ingredients from a carved shelf to a large shell reservoir. 

The biggest change was her braids. Once a lustrous and dark shining ebony, many - if not all - were now a silvery violet or white. It made the veins from the magic in her skin that held her in the cursed form she wore stick out, lightning like, glowing dark purple that pulsed lavender over her temples and arms. 

"Marta, why have you brought this creature into my safe hold?" Ursula boomed, not looking up from her potion making to acknowledge their entrance, as they stood on the edge of the rocky outcrop. Marta slipped off her seal skin, and bowed low, but Killian spoke before she could utter a word. 

"Ursula, Mistress of the Sea and Queen of the magic that holds its secrets. It has been ages since our last meeting." He tried a low bow, but the eel tail that he wore was unstable, coiling on the ground. Marta smacked a hand over her forehead. 

Turning, Ursula lowered her gaze to stare with malevolence at Killian, her pupils a bright violet. "Yes, Dark One. That was intentional," she said dryly. 

"I have come to see if you are holding a prisoner here, one who is in grave -" 

"Oh, you dear, naive, stupid boy. You really have not changed since we last met, have you? I admit that in the past I've been nasty, but you'll find that nowadays I've mended all my ways. I've repented, seen the light, and made a switch." Ursula tutted, bringing her body completely around to face him. He could see now there were bones, shells, and bleached driftwood twisted around the ends of her braids like beads, some vaguely humanoid. Her chest was scarred and lined on both sides of her ribcage with lightning like pulses of magic. She leaned forward, laying her head on a long arm. Her head was easily the same height as his entire body as she gave him a poke with her thick, tree branch-like finger tipped with long black nails. "What is all your idle babble for? Intimidating me? You think that you can scare me here? That I'll give up a prize just because you march - or slither as it were - your cute little butt in here?" 

"I - what?" 

"I said, you haven't learned shit from when you were under the thumb of the Darkness completely, spreading its poison through my waters and killing innocent Fae. Even wrapped in this scrumptious little hors d'oeuvre of a package, you still spread death, Dark One. How hard that must be for you. Pretty face, that lays everything to waste. Even without hearing that dark leech, your body language alone speaks nothing but lies. I'm unfortunately taken, though, so a nibble is out of the question."

"I don't know what you're bloody well talking about. I'm here to find the Princess of the damned United Realms -" 

"So is the Goblin prince, his sentries, and many others who have come to my door. Yet, you're the only one who has made it past my portal, I'll admit. The person you seek may be here, or they may not. If they were, they'd be either under my protection, or my prisoner. Either way, I wouldn't let you within a tentacle’s length of them." Ursula poked hard with her nail, stabbing against his sternum. She grinned widely, teeth flashing white. "Describe her to me, and maybe I'll remember which she is, a prisoner or a political refugee. I get many Fae flocking to my cauldron. You may have heard that I know a little magic, a talent that I always have possessed. Who knows who all the Merfolk alone I've helped? Some princess is just another day on the books for me."

"No. This isn't a game and I'll - " 

"Then leave! Do you think I don't have better things to do? I'm a very busy woman and I haven't got all day! The position of annoying, death-spreading, evil, dark magic-using man-child has already been filled by Nil, who is wreaking havoc on the ecosystems with his magic. So, what the hell are you doing still standing here?" Ursula boomed, eyes flashing with a malicious gleam. A thick tentacle gripped and lifted him, making to throw him against the rocky cave current. 

"Wait!" Marta yelled, and his eel body did what it was built to do, writhing in her slipping grip as electric shock poured off him. Ursula dropped him hard to the ground, Marta wincing with a flinch. "Sorry, I should have warned you. He's an electric eel, Sully, my own formula."

"You and your gods-be-damned potions, Marta. Congrats . I should rake you across the coals for hurting my good tentacle like that," Ursula spat sarcastically, bringing the shocked tentacle up to her face to examine it. 

"You want a description of her? Alright." Killian coughed slightly, dazed as he felt the electrical current fade away like pinpricks. Marta shook her head, but he ignored her pleading for him to stop.

"She's pretty, I guess, if you like blonde and aristocracy. Classical beauty, her skin is almost all cream with a touch of sun," he began, licking his lips. His brain felt short circuited and he tried to picture her in his mind’s eye. It felt like it had been too long since he saw her, and while the Darkness was silent in its own daze, a quiet voice whispered gently that yes, it had been too long. It had been too long, and he owed her an apology - so many apologies.

"She's kind, too much for her own good really, well read, funny, bitingly sarcastic with so much wit. Brilliantly smart, but never overbearing, and where there isn't grace in her movement there is purpose instead. She's incredibly strong, so powerful. It's unbelievable that she doesn't know just how much so, or how much she affects others simply by her presence - " The Darkness roared back, and he swallowed bile that rose. "But just as with her family and so many Fae, her 'beauty' and 'purity' is as false as calling a speck of dirt a diamond - she's a vain, shrill, over glorified, annoying, whiny, preening, narcissistic, high born, undeserving, and obstinate brat worth only the crown that will grace her fat head someday. So if you do have her, regardless of whether she's a prisoner or political refugee, let's cut a deal for her to get her off each other's hands, hmm?"

Ursula shook her head, clicking her tongue, while Marta looked on with her hand over her mouth in shock. Someone had brought the Selkie a robe, and a few other women sat with her now, watching him with clear unease. 

Ursula spoke coldly. "You have no idea what a pompous, arrogant, assuming fool you look like chasing the princess down here. She's right, you are absolutely oblivious - " 

"She's - Emma's alright then? You have her? She's an absolute idiot who needs constant supervision - " 

"Says the man who is scandalizing most of my court," Ursula cackled spitefully. He looked to see that the eel potion had worn off, and he was standing nude before the Sea Witch. Against his will, he could feel his ears going red. He waved a hand and his clothes appeared back on his form, just as a chime sounded somewhere down the adjoining corridor. 

Ursula sighed, looking tired again. She leveled a harsh stare at Killian. 

"Don't you ever get tired of being the villain in these tales? Don't you think you should take a look and see if you can set the story right, especially after all this time? Or are you just a dumbass who has a nice jawline and magic that can destroy an armada?" Ursula gave him a half smirk, and flipped her braids behind her shoulders. Inwardly, Killian flinched at the accusation and how much he didn't want to remember. 

But you do remember, don't you? You remember what you did, how good it felt, and how you didn't care about ending your family name as long as you could get revenge. Every part of you that fights it is a liar. There is no happy ending for the Dark One - for you. No, that's not an option for this coward, this milk sop who can't even find a hapless princess who has run away - 

Emma's voice filled the chamber, startling him as he tried to determine if it was a trick by the Darkness itself, but no, she was real. She walked in with a red headed woman, both of them drying their hair with linen towels while they wore the standard silken robe that the Selkie seemed to prefer. When she saw him she looked as if she had been struck, rearing back. Somewhere far off, he felt his shoulders go slightly less tense, his relief a tiny sound. 

"What is he doing here?" Emma hissed, pointing at him like he was a ghost. He probably looked like some ghoul, he realized, wet hair sticking in all directions and his face unshaven. "Who brought him here?" 

"I did. I seek Triton and his freedom; the Dark One seeks his own ends," Marta said, speaking up and standing. Emma took a step back, putting herself behind one of Ursula's thick tentacles. "We both need answers - " 

The red head spoke up, in a haughty tone of voice that made Killian immediately believe she was a royal. "And who are you? You're not from this colony. What business do you have with my father?" 

Marta looked pained. "We should discuss that in private -" 

"No! What business do you have with the King of Atlantica, Selkie?" The red headed woman flushed and stomped her foot. 

"I… Oh Ariel, please. I don't want to cause you distress. Just - " 

"How do you know my name?" 

"Your father and I, we were… We were close. He and I… It's complicated. Look, I heard he was in trouble and I want to help. Please." Marta's pleading tone only further seemed to infuriate Ariel. 

"That's not a good enough answer, especially when you travel with the Dark One," Emma hissed, refusing to look at Killian, seemingly trying to compose herself. "The Dark One tried to sell me off to the Goblins, the same ones that hold Triton captive." 

"Emma, I -" Killian started, but Emma cut him off, eyes snapping up to look at his face. Her eyes were tired, but fiercely focused in her rage. She looked older, and unlike her companion, was stiffly solemn in her fury. 

"You do not have any right to address me so informally, or to speak to me at all!" she yelled. Killian startled slightly, seeing her as if she was stronger, different than when they parted. 

"So please excuse Ariel and I for not believing a lying, traitorous pig and his newfound companion,” Emma continued, the defiant coldness in her voice settling over him as he processed her change in demeanor. “Do not address me like we're friends either; that informality has died - is gone. How many days were you alone before you realized that the company you provide is toxic?" 

"Please, Swan, hear me out. I came here to -" 

"To sell me to a different bidder? Do not call me that, do not come here and act like you have any right to call me Swan. You do not have the right to grovel at my feet. How dare you. Why on earth would -" 

"To apologize!" His shouted reply rung through the caves, but Emma simply scoffed at him, looking livid. "Em - Princess, I needed to apologize for my part in the quarrel we had. I was out of line, and I am sorry. Please forgive me." 

"You're forgiven. Now, leave."

"No, Emma - That's not what I meant - please talk to me, I -" 

"There's nothing to talk about, Dark One. Begone. I don't like looking at you. I don't like hearing you, especially my name said in your voice. I don't like - no, I hate that you are here, and I don't feel safe because of your presence. I hate that you think that you have the right to just walk up to me and demand that things be like - for there to be no walls. Walls you made me build! You can't - you don't ask that of people."

"I'm sorry, but who was left in the middle of a forest without any chance of freedom? I didn't make you do anything. You built your own damned fortress because you are afraid of grief, not because - " 

"Leave. I am not afraid of grief, and the hypocrisy of that statement is… Just leave. I can't do this, and I can't stand you. I am glad I left you there. I only wish I had never met you at all." 

She stormed away. As he tried to pursue her again, the thick black and burgundy tentacle was back, gripping him tightly around the waist and throwing him to the ground away from Marta. Ursula towered above him, while Marta and Ariel glared at him from their sides of the cavern. 

"That poor girl," Marta tutted shaking her head. "I thought you said she would be happy to see you?"

"I thought she would be. She could barely manage on her own when we were last - " 

Ursula and Ariel laughed at that, a tentacle smacking him back down as he tried to stand.

"Emma can handle herself just fine, and has been. Alice and Robyn left her here because of that, and their trust in the princess speaks volumes. We have had plenty of time for her to see that she isn't some damsel like you tried to make her out to be." Ariel shrugged, her voice icy towards him. "I don't think she needs your brand of saving anymore."

Ursula chuckled lowly. "Nope. The princess is quite formidable without you. Shame that you are the last to notice. Alice even said she saved your sorry ass at Pann's club - " 

"We worked together in that instance. She - " 

"Prevented you from being dinner for a Sphinx. At least, that's how half of the Fae community is telling it. The Princess is becoming quite the rallying cry here in the realm of those left behind," Ursula drawled, the tip of a tentacle delicately lifting his chin as his jaw ticked. 

"She was popular in the United Realms too, and people still believe she will save them." Ariel chimed in. "My father and I believe it - we prayed to Poseidon to bless her. I know she'll help; she's taken to the water like a natural - " 

"Is Triton alright? Have you heard anything about his treatment, or if he's been hurt?" Marta blurted out, wringing her hands. Ariel shot her a look that was clearly full of mistrust. 

Killian glanced between the Sea Witch and Marta, unsure what to make of what was happening, even as Ursula sighed and rubbed her fingers against her temples. 

"Go on Marta. The girl deserves to know."

"I deserve to know what? We don't mix with Selkie kind. You're lazy filth who refuse to worship the gods, or serve their chosen kings. There's nothing to know."

Killian bristled, and the tentacle next to him came down in a hard smash, the boom echoing throughout the caves.

"You will not use that language in my domain, little Mermaid," Ursula gritted out, half yelling at Ariel. 

Selkies in both forms poked their heads in from smaller caves, watching with varying expressions. Many were angry, and he couldn't blame them for their derision at the Mermaid princess’ dismissal.

"Your mother was a lovely Mermaid, and truly kind,” Marta began. “I adored her and respected her for what she and Triton had. It was something I could never give him, even though we were very much in love before he was pushed into their marriage. Then she passed in that terrible accident, and all of you had been born. I could not bear to bring my desires to Triton while he mourned the loss with his children. I grieved for Calypso, for Triton to lose such a wonderful wife and friend, and for you girls to lose such a fierce mother. She loved you so very much. Your aunt Sully, er, Ursula was trapped here. No one had seen Morgana since the sword in the lake incident with Arthur and her exile North… With Poseidon gone on to follow his mother in death, Triton had no one left. No one but me. And I missed him.

"Your father and I reconnected. It was like falling back into a lazy current, right where we left off. He made promises that he would change the laws so we could be together, but he refused to let me meet any of you, refused to let me live in the United Realms with your kind, refused to understand why my kind will not worship your grandfather. Instead, he kept me hidden like an embarrassment, just like before when Poseidon forced us apart - but this time, my heart couldn't take that pain again. I told him to find someone who he didn't have to hide, and to stop lying to himself, to stop lying to me - and I swam as far as I could. I've lived with the humans in Iceland ever since. Your father never gave chase."

Ariel wrinkled her nose, looking at Marta with disgust. "But you're, you're a - he couldn't risk letting more of your kind disrupt our civilization, we are peaceful - "

"What have I done, what has my kind done, that would make us so disgusting in your eyes? What disservice have we brought you, when you, a Mermaid, love a human?" 

Ariel sputtered, her face going as red as her hair. "That is not the same in any way, shape, or form. Humans aren't Fae or privy to Fae politics -" 

Killian laughed out loud, and eyes drew to him from all corners of the cave. Rocking on his heels to regain his normal swagger, he waved a hand accusingly at Ariel. "So, because he has no idea how anything works and is ignorant to all that has happened, it's alright. Are you keeping a pet, Merprincess? Or do you actually love him?" 

"Like you know anything about love, you - " 

"He's right, Ariel. What do you love about this human?" Ursula asked, her eyes dark and dangerous. 

"Eric is kind, funny, smart - he loves animals and the sea. He isn't like other mortals, at all. He wants to be with me even though we're different, and promised me that he would bridge the gap between our worlds in anyway he could - " 

"Then he is much better than you or my idiot brother," Ursula snapped. "You treat humans better than your kin, see in them what you should see in us. Do you not know what humans do to us?" 

"Eric would never -" 

"I believe you," Marta said quietly. "And I think your Eric probably is all those things, because Triton is too. He spoke about your kindness, your love, and your passionate curiosity that drove him insane. He was always the most worried about you. I wanted to meet his wild daughter so badly. My hopes were higher for this meeting, Ariel."

Out of one of the caves, Killian saw Emma sit with two plump spotted seals, her eyes noticeably red-rimmed even at this distance as she watched Ariel.

"I just…  what could my Father like about you? You are dignified for a Selkie, and seem more intelligent, but I just don't understand why he would risk - " 

Emma booed loudly from her small cave, other Selkies following suit. Ariel shot her a glare, but Emma only shrugged with her own eyes narrowed. 

"Aren't you trying to risk everything for some human?" Killian asked, and Ursula allowed him to move closer to the Mermaid. "Why is any Fae lesser than you, especially one that your kind used to share this sea with? Is there any particular reason why you have to make yourself feel superior to them?" Killian pointed to the Selkies, who clapped and cheered their approval. He heard Emma's voice among them, and glanced at her. For a moment, he thought he caught a hint of approval in the sea glass color of her eyes. 

"I don't need a lecture from you of all people, the man who murdered his own kind so indiscriminately. Blood ran thicker in the current than water that day. I may be young, but my people tell their children tales of the nightmare you created, Dark One." Ariel jabbed a finger at him, jutting out her chin. "If I had not escaped the Goblin's clutches in Emma's palace, I would never have imagined in my wildest day dreams that you would try to convince anyone that you were sorry for your actions. I lend a command to Princess Emma, and henceforth demand that you leave."

Scrubbing his face, Killian pointed at Ariel with annoyance. "You can't 'lend a command'. That’s not how any court protocol works!" 

"Then I'm demanding you leave, you awful bully! In case you need reminding, I'm a princess, I can do as I please without protocol!" Ariel shrieked at him, and he saw Emma drop her face into her hand, most likely in embarrassment. 

"Like hell, I'm not -" Killian began to protest, but Ursula slammed a tentacle between the two of them, separating him from the Mermaid. 

"The Dark One has asked for a chance to redeem himself to Princess Emma. He has failed, but I am not in a position to grant him safe passage away from their and our mutual enemy. I will allow him to stay as long as he does not make my other guests uncomfortable or unsafe, and I will have Marta chaperone him. I ask that you, Ariel, use your abilities to follow through with our accord; bring me the shipwrecks so we may face this Goblin menace head on, so I may lend you and your beloved Human help in freeing your father. As a steward of goodwill, I will house Emma in this emergency, and Killian may take one ship once we are victorious in freeing Triton. Until then, Marta and Killian will also help you with this task. Maybe even redeeming themselves, yet."

"I need some time to process this," Ariel huffed, her nose in the air. She slunk back into the water, her tail flipping with a splash.  

"Make up your mind quick; you act as if I have all day to play royal mediator. I damn well better be freed of my curse after this!" Ursula yelled after her. 

Killian watched Emma slip on a cuff, her body partially turning to jade, silver and gold, a tail flipping below the surface almost silently. The caves dripped, and he was left to watch her leave again while Marta discussed how they would go about bringing sunken shipwrecks into the cave. Watching the water for any sign of the princess, he tried to formulate some way to get the shard. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  Emma felt like she had been slapped hard across her face, head still reeling from seeing Killian again. He had followed her, the audacity of that bastard to have found her, to try and speak with her - 

She let out another shriek into the empty water of the kelp forest, letting herself float down to the sandy bottom. Looking up, she couldn't see the surface, only the brackish depths and swaying strings of long underwater vines. Her chest ached, and she took a deep breath of the salty water, relishing the coldness of it. He had looked so disheveled, had looked at her like he was seeing a phantom too, but for an entirely different reason - 

She had changed. She wasn't the princess he knew any longer, but the beginning of something completely different - more resilient, more in control, more cold and world weary, more cautious.  Killian did not know her any longer. Alice and Robyn had bolstered her, emboldened her to be stronger than ever. Emma had learned to, as Alice put it, give no fucks . Watching Ariel and her antics just proved that. Ariel’s complaints about their hosts’ simplicity set Emma's teeth on edge, and that was only one of the more banal issues Emma took to heart. Ariel could be shallow, brash, impulsive, and petulant in ways Emma had never dreamed of being. 

Whereas Emma's parents had raised her to work hard, to be studious, well rounded, and perfect in matters of decorum, Ariel was the youngest of seven sisters. She was a gifted musician, but skipped classes, caused mischief, disrupted others, created mayhem with her magic, refused to listen to her father's reasoning, and found no joy in any of the harder aspects of ruling a kingdom. The woman all but balked at hard work, expecting to be waited on. She seemed more content to have Emma as a source of gossip than as an ally. It was clear that Ursula was frustrated with Ariel as well, even if they were both frightened for Triton. 

Ursula's idea of using the old Fae armada that currently lay in half-restored pieces near her kingdom was ingenious, as far as Emma could tell. Eric, Ariel's beau, was happily providing more ships that people were scrapping in his shipyard for the cause, and Ariel's talent of making portals through the water was working exceptionally well when they were done piecing together new parts and old like a jigsaw to make something new. Ursula had amassed three ships already that floated in a cave, waiting to be boarded. The Sea Witch had confided her hopes in Emma early on, realizing her competency. 

"If this all goes right, if we free Triton and he knows that I helped, I hope he will return me to my original form so I can beseech Queen Snow to appeal Merlin's curse. It has been too long since I have hoped for any sort of redemption, but your arrival heralds in the beginning of a new era for the forgotten that lay here in wait."

"I can't say my mother will be able to give you an audience, Ursula, but I pray to the goddess that she does."

"Thank you, Princess Emma, you are too kind." 

"I am nothing but a weary bearer of hindsight."

Ariel swam by, sighing in a whine. 

"So. What do you think of this project Ursula has me on? I can't believe I have to work with that… that Thing , and then that Selkie who believes she can chastise me - " 

"Both parts of that are worrisome but for different reasons," Emma said with her own tired sigh and a shrug that rustled the grit she lay on. "Very different reasons, actually - I am worried about you and Kil - the Dark One working together, because he's… He isn't a good person. But I'm more worried for this Marta woman, to be honest." 

Ariel scoffed. "You have to be the most bleeding heart royal I've ever met to believe her Selkie sob story. I'm surprised she's not wearing a crocodile skin with the tears she was faking over Daddy. My father would never sink as low as to encourage a Selkie’s attention, let alone dally with one." Ariel floated down to lay beside Emma, and Emma moved slightly so she could rest on her side, observing Ariel critically. 

"She was telling the truth, Ariel." Emma stated firmly, tail betraying her agitation with its quick flicks in the sand. "She seems like a very nice woman, and she would have to be to not get chewed up and spat out by the Darkness that permeates his presence."

"But Emma, didn't he - didn't you say that you remembered - " Ariel began, and Emma held up a hand with irritation written in her scowl. 

"Yes, I might have remembered that I was stupid when I was drunk, and he got us home. A lot happened after that, so that kiss was inconsequential, and a symptom of the chaos that was our narrow survival. After that, when Elsa… He showed his true colors."

"Yeah. I wish that you had someone fighting for you like I do with Eric. I can't wait to give him that cuff back, I miss him," Ariel said dreamily, dismissing the seriousness of the conversation again. "Your talk of kissing reminded me."

Emma smiled a strained but polite grimace. Squaring her shoulders, she rose up slightly to cross her arms and change her stature to reflect her annoyance. With a hand on her hip and the other extended to gesture, she spoke. 

"It's up to you, regardless, Ariel, but I will say that regardless of what you think of Marta or customs outside your own, I do not find your views befitting anyone I would have in my close confidence. You should lead by example and make your own choices from your own experiences. Talk to Marta."

Ariel stuck up her nose, sitting up with arms crossed against her chest. "By that logic, I should give the Dark One a chance as well!" she yelled as Emma turned to leave her alone to stew. 

She shrugged before disappearing into the kelp, looking at Ariel with pity. "I did, and look how that turned out." 

It wasn't a far swim back to the secret entrance to Ursula's lair, and then into the Selkie caves. The three main chambers were connected by tunnels that spread out to thousands of honeycomb style chambers, some with water flowing through them in little creeks that babbled musically into waterfalls that fell into the bottom pool. Ursula protected the first chamber, her fleet in a cave off of that and her cauldron near the center. The bottom was almost completely submerged with a proliferation of crystals and slabs of limestone, while a current swept along the floor that could take even an experienced diver by surprise. You could enter through that opening, but to leave the same way would cut you to ribbons, and Ursula guarded the other exit that lay at the edge near the other chambers, her own among them. The middle chamber was filled with rock platforms where trees and ferns took root in small gardens and a small waterfall fed a pond covered in lotus blooms. The greenery seemed to attract the nymphs, who giggled profusely at Emma walking past with no tail or pearl bead littered hair. 

The last chamber was for socializing, dotted with tables and balconies. Different flags and banners waved in beautiful fabrics. Crystals and moss grew that lit up in the evening darkness, and changed the water color to a startling bright blue. A volcanic spring heated pools on the far side for cooking and cleaning, while the cooler pools allowed for bathing and relaxation. 

Emma's room was in one of the higher areas, a small cave with a ledge for a pallet and her things. A few steps cut into the rock led down to a brook that carved its path past a slight bend and into the chamber she had met with Ursula in. A curtain covered the archway that led to where the brook turned, allowing for privacy even at this height. 

A clothesline was also provided, and Emma had used it with gusto when she first arrived. It was when she discovered that both her white gown from the failed appeal so long ago and her blue dress were covered in blood: Goblin, her own, and Elsa's… Emma was thankful that the caves were set up so that very few heard her screams when the panic sporadically struck, when all she could do was hold the fabric and weep as that night played over and over in her head. 

Occasionally she found sleep, but it was hard to get real rest. Since the attack, when she dreamed, visions of Nil all but ruined those completely. She had to stay strong and focused, but everything felt wrong. Even her movements felt delayed, but pride would not allow her to go to Ursula or Ariel with her complaints. 

Her mind fell back to Killian, and Ursula's decision for him to stay. There was no doubt that they might run into each other, but as long as she was under Ursula's protection and good graces, it was not as if she could leave the waters. He was probably already trying to locate where she was staying in the cave system. He was an even match to her stubbornness, to her great consternation. She considered having Ursula just put him out anyway, knowing the Sea Witch would do so without a thought beyond how much of a 'poor unfortunate soul' he would be on his own; however, it left her with a mouth full of ash. She would prove to be not much more than a damsel if she could not dismiss him without a mediator. 

That was one of the worst things: it felt as if she was ripping old skin away from new whenever she wanted to remember the good, and not what he was, what he did, what he said. There was no good. She had imagined it when she was drunk, high on adrenaline, confused, and exhilarated just to be alive - imagined how he felt against her like some idiot debutante that he had fled from. That in and of itself should have been enough, but he had lied about it, so blatantly even; the way he had looked at her as he acted playful in those moments before she had failed Elsa was different than before. 

That was the only regret she held, and the only unspoken matter left between the two of them that Emma was willing to issue amends for. It was her fault Elsa was dead, the guilt squarely on her shoulders no matter how she dissected those moments in her mind. Every argument that could be made started with the catalyst of her arrival, and ended with her failure to dispatch the Goblin or heal Elsa. Even though the blade had clearly hit Elsa’s lung and part of her heart, Emma couldn't understand why she froze, why she didn't try to heal her friend regardless, why she didn't exhaust herself in every attempt. It haunted her; between nightmares of Nil, panic attacks, and her lack of sleep, she wondered how anyone managed to survive. 

And while every part of her screamed to make amends like the diplomatic daughter of royalty she was, what good would it do for anyone? Emma curled further into herself, wishing she didn't feel all at once surrounded, smothered even, but still so alone. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  The morning of their mission to procure the rest of Ursula's armada was bright and serene. Marta was excited and anxious to spend time with Ariel and her human paramour. Killian focused his attention on simply hammering out the work and implementing a plan of action that would allow him to at least get Ariel to speak to Emma, potentially softening her to the idea of speaking with him. The sea princess was unlike Emma in many ways, and prone to falling for the pitfalls he set, or simply biting onto bait he placed to fish for more info. That was, until Emma herself joined their merry mission. 

If he had thought she looked tired from afar, up close she was clearly exhausted, barely functioning as she lazily swam with Ariel, who whispered to her in a concerned manner. Killian heard snippets of their conversation, the Darkness gleefully taking in the scent of Emma's weakness. 

If an accident were to happen where we could get the shard, no one would be any the wiser. Especially with how close the princess will be to a portal leading to waters outside Ursula's domain. 

A pleasurable current ran up his spine, the Darkness growing more fond of his eel form every time he donned it. Killian had caught Emma staring; and even in her practically asleep state, fascination was obvious on her face as she watched his tail cut through the water or curl in fluid motions. 

Not fascination, in disgust and horror. Don't think that she is not still scared of you just because she managed to raise her voice a few decibels. Focus.  

Ariel opened a portal easily, swimming in quick circles with a swirl of magic that opened to the true ocean. The water was dark, much colder, and much more unruly. Killian and Marta struggled through the opening, Ariel following behind as Emma gave a wan wave while holding it steady with her own magic. 

Only a few yards in, he glanced back and the small portal was barely a glow through the choppy waves. They were going to bring a boat through this? 

"I know that this looks crazy, but Eric's up top on the skipper and he'll help with the extraction. We just have to attach the chains to the hull, and pull it through."

Killian looked up; he could barely make out the shape of a large boat floating above, the rusted chains slowly grazing the sea floor and sending up clouds of murky silt. 

They pulled the chains over the hull of the first barely held together ship, its wrecked carcass shuddering through the portal with a groan. Emma looked pale from using her magic to widen the portal, but ushered them through easily. 

The next ship was buried in a deep quagmire of sand which required Ariel and Marta both to help him, along with a few other Selkie, Nymph and Naiads. Sandy clouds billowed in thick columns from where they dug, rising and falling thick enough to make them cough. They worked for what felt like hours, scooping sand, pulling, and digging out the sediment that resettled, only to repeat again and again. The water grew progressively more rough, waves rattling and jerking the chains, causing more sand to shift. Thunder cracked from above and a green bolt of lightning illuminated the water so brightly that the seafloor looked bathed in other worldly emerald sunshine. Green coated where the bolt hit, leaving a shiny residue that seemed to boil the water before fading. 

The party scattered, fleeing towards the portal desperately at the sign of magic while Ariel raced upwards towards her human lover without any worry for her own safety. 

"Ariel! Look out, stop!" Marta darted after her as sea animals in groups of unnatural and dissimilar species swam towards them from the surface of the water. Killian shot upwards, shocking with electricity several seals that circled the women while pulling another's jaws away from Marta's shoulder. Red began to rise from the wound, Marta's cry of pain barely audible over the roar of the surf while the pummeling current briefly dazed him. Ariel was tearing gulls away from her as she tried to breach the surface, a great cracking noise and thunder rattling his teeth as he fought off another onslaught of seals. 

"I thought seals liked and listened to Selkies?" he managed to yell, Marta throwing jets of scalding water at schools of what looked like jellyfish. 

"These sea creatures are poisoned or bewitched. Jellyfish usually just float - they don't hunt like this, and we do have kinship to seals - Ariel, oh Atlantis, watch out!" Marta abandoned her attempts as she pushed Ariel aside. A piece of heavy debris hit her as the ship above gave a giant metal groan. Ariel didn't even look back as she grabbed at a piece of debris, pulling out a human man who was clearly unconscious. 

"Move, we have to get him through the portal, and back to the air!" Ariel shrieked, and Killian crested the surface to look above, even as waves and birds battered him. A tall, wide, patchwork metal ship glowed green in the circle of a storm, speeding towards them. Goblins . Grabbing a floating glass jar, he dove below, opening the sealed container upside down and handing it to Ariel. 

"Go! Get him through the portal!" Killian shouted at Ariel, and she was gone in a flash. 

The water was lit again by the ghastly green lightning, and Killian searched for Marta desperately before the light gave way to murk again. She was pinned between a large metal piece, weakly fighting off fish, and he dug to free her as she whimpered. Pulling her to him, she went limp, and he sped towards the portal. Ariel was in front of him, pulling on the chains that had fallen, her brow strained as she pulled the ship they had been working on through so they could slip past. He could hear Emma’s cries from the other side of the portal ringing out as he helped push the ship through, her calling for Ariel and Marta. 

Ariel pushed Eric through the minute there was a big enough gap, straight into Emma’s arms, screaming at her to get him to air. Emma was gone in an instant as the mermaid swam in circles to keep the portal open, the ship inching along as Killian handed a Siren Marta's unconscious body through the widening gap. Ariel yelled at him, roughly elbowing him as a shark barreled towards them, its dead eyes glowing green and jaw wide with sharp teeth. Killian hit it hard with an electric charge, stunning himself with the force of the current. In the moment of dazed consciousness that came after, he heard Ariel shriek, the shark too incensed to be affected by the shock as it bit down on her tail. Killian punched it hard in the nose, willing the portal to hold, to stay open as her circles stopped. The realization dawned on him of what he'd have to do, and he braced himself. 

Don't you fucking dare you - 

  Before the Darkness could seize up his muscles, he shoved Ariel roughly through the portal against the ship's backside, watching her wide eyed stare as it blinked into nothingness before him. The shark circled back, along with more seals, more fish, and a swarm of jellyfish. Fighting what he could, he was shocked to feel a warm hand yanking him backwards, the portal going closed in front of his eyes as he was dragged through. 

He turned to see Emma, who let go of him as if she'd been burned. Red hung in the clear waters, her face pale and cast in a greenish tone. Emma panted, her eyes closed as she let her chest heave. 

"Emma, are you al-" 

Emma shot away from him, fleeing through the gathering crowd. The injured were being pulled back into the cove and into the caves where they presumably could be treated. 

The princess is weak, now is your chance, we can break her -  

He swam into the caves, only to be greeted to the sight of Marta being bandaged in fish scales, gauze, and kelp. Robes lay in piles by the upward slope, and he wrapped one around himself as he willed the magic controlling his eel form away to transform back. There was no sign of Emma, although Ursula was moving all her tentacles at once, handing out towels, gauze, fish skin bandages, poultices, potions, salves, and lotions. Ariel sat near Marta, still with a tail, cupping her humans face as he worried about the bite on her thigh and applied pressure with a cloth. The sounds of moaning and whimpering filled the cave coming from all over and echoed through the halls. The Darkness purred at the sound and his stomach turned over in disgust. 

"Killian, oh Goddess' I thought -" Marta started, as she began to tear up, before suddenly wrapping him in a tight hug. He froze, awkwardly trying to pull away as she cried. "You saved us, you saved Ariel and Eric, and we left you -" 

"If there's one thing I am good at, it is surviving." Freeing himself from her hold, he kicked a rock with his bare foot, and muttered under his breath, "I always survive."

Ariel looked up at him with a strange look of appraisal. "I owe you - we owe you our lives. Eric wouldn't have made it without that air, and you pushed me through while that shark -" 

"Yes, I was there. I don't need to relive the buggering memory." He gritted out. "I need -" 

"Name it, and I'll make it happen if I can," Ariel said, wincing slightly as she adjusted her position. 

"Where's Emma?" 

Ariel winced again, this time from his question. "Except for that. Leave her alone, she's - " 

"Help me get back into her graces. That's my request for the debt you owe me for saving you." Killian crossed his arms, watching the flustered mermaid princess weigh her options. Pointing to her grim-faced mortal paramour, he offered his good hand. "For saving both of you. Shake on it."

"Emma does not want to see you, she's made that clear even to me," Eric began, and Killian glared at him with a crazed half smile. 

"I wasn't aware that I asked you, mortal. If you're speaking for your woman, you may want to first discuss her opinions about you being an inferior species to her. In many of our views, a pet or play thing." Ariel looked horrified as the man looked at her with hurt. 

"Ariel, what does he mean?" Eric asked, and Killian chuckled softly. 

"Should I elucidate on who exactly deserves rights in your opinion, darling?" Killian smirked, and Ariel glared at him. 

"She's in the upper east part of the caves. Follow the green turtle carvings. Please just let her be."

"Killian -" Marta began, but he shook a finger. The Darkness rose proudly in his chest. 

"Oh no no no no, I'll do without the suggestions. You three owe me a debt, which I fully intend to collect. I'll expect your cooperation from now on, as I could have easily let all of you be chum. Start thinking of ideas to get Emma to trust me again while I do some work of my own."

"You're a bastard," Marta spat. 

Killian laughed, turning on his heels as he magicked his clothing back on. Shooting her a cocky wink, he called over his shoulder, "And don't you forget it, love." 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Emma was sure she was breaking, her body too hot and breathing ragged as if she had eaten glass. The red in the water, the cries of pain, the portal closing around Ariel as Killian’s hands disappeared back into the dirty dark water as a shark flashed by… The stab of panic and despair made her swallow bile. She could not lose another, not another, not even if she hated him - 

Opening the portal she grabbed blindly, gripping his shoulder, the feeling of a harsh electrical charge making her fingers numb. She curled them through it, wrenching him back as the shark shot towards them, dead eyes and teeth all she could see as the portal closed. 

She let go of him as soon as possible, clutching her hand as it regained feeling. The world was spinning, the single minded focus of saving him giving way to realization of what she had done, to the sounds, the taste and smell of the blood in the water in her mouth. Nausea hit her roughly, a metal ball churning in her stomach, forcing her to close her eyes and steady her breathing. There was so much red, too much red -  

"Emma, are you al-" 

Her body reacted for her, choosing flight instead of fight. Pushing past the onslaught of Fae that were swimming out of the cave towards the sounds, Emma ripped off her cuff and threw on a robe as she ran. Twisting through tunnels and chambers, she found a path that led downwards, stumbling onto the beach's multicolored sand. Light flooded from a hole high above, tinting the still waters with the different colors of crystals that lay at the bottom. 

Falling to her knees, Emma let out the first sob, digging her hands in the sand as it echoed around her.

Sbe hated this. It was weakness, her emotions in the way of her duties. She should be healing, should be composed - she needed to prove that she was no damsel in need of rescue. This wasn't resilience, this wasn't control, and this was nowhere near strength. She was failing, failing in every aspect of her change for the better. How could she ever prove to be a leader like this? Another cry shook her, her hands shaking even as she dug them further into the shore. Why? Why couldn't she control this, push it away, push it down and lay a smile over it?

Emma thought of her mom, the tired smile she gave that her eyes did not reflect. Emma had only seen her give it when she was upset or something was amiss, and she wondered if it was the same smile she gave delivering news about deaths in the same bloody water, the same red-tinged depths. 

Her stomach heaved, the taste of copper on her tongue making her retch. There was nothing in her stomach apart from a few mint leaves she had chewed, her appetite far diminished, but her body tried to push anything out of her throat. Footsteps from the corridor surprised her, and she dreaded being found, curling herself into a ball. There was no one she wanted to see her like this, her old flaws laid out like a spill of ink into clear water. Peeking out as the footsteps stopped, she saw black boots against the rock hewn floor, just before the sand. There was quiet for a moment and she shut her eyes tight. Not him. Anyone else but him. 

Footsteps started away from her and her stomach violently lurched with panic, even as she was glad her hands were buried so she could not reach for him. Flashes of Elsa's hand going limp mad her lungs tighten, images coming unbidden, fast and without stop. Her body and mind weren't her own anymore, these reactions getting worse, like a flood that could not be contained. Her heart beat out of her chest, and she flopped on her back shivering. This was a terrible way to suffer. Her father's bleeding skull in her mother's lap was in sudden focus as a sharp whine took over the noise around her. 

She couldn't breathe, everything crushing at once, but then she was being sat up by soft hands - 

"Emma. Emma it's okay, take a breath for me and focus on my voice." 

Emma whined in response, opening her eyes to see a worried Robyn examining her. Alice stood behind her, moving from foot to foot, and wringing her hands. 

"She's having a panic attack. He said that she hadn't looked well and fled here," Robyn commented, placing a cool rag on Emma's forehead. Emma sighed in slight relief, still shaking and numb in her fingers, toes, and legs. "Emma, have you eaten much today?" 

"Nuffin'." Emma bit out, teeth chattering. Robyn's face fell, her eyebrows knitting together. 

Alice knelt by her side, holding her hand. "He said she looked tired, too… Emma, babe, are you not sleeping? Are you not eating?" 

Emma looked away, unwilling to meet Alice's eyes with her own. She attempted to curl her body away, but Robyn held her firm. 

"You have to take care of yourself, too," Robyn said slowly, wiping at Emma's brow. "You can't keep every emotion inside and bottle everything up. You can't just ignore the pain and hope things get better, you need to talk about it, to take care of yourself and let people know if it's too much - " 

"I'm scared to," Emma admitted, crying harder. Alice hugged her tightly, and they sat together as Emma lost herself in her grief. After some time, a strange catharsis set in, and they sat back together in soft conversation. 

"Why are you both back? I thought you were going to Merlin to see if my magic could free him?" Emma murmured, her voice hoarse. 

"Well…" Alice began, exchanging a glance with Robyn. 

"He wasn't there," Robyn said slowly, with a sigh. "The tree stump is, as if it was cut down, but there's no indication of when, or by who, and if they cut it down we have no idea if he's alive or - " 

Alice lightly touched Robyn on the shoulder, and she stopped. Emma nodded, chewing her lip hard enough to hurt. Another person her parents had probably destroyed. 

"That's not what brought us here, though. Tink and Wendy are looking for more on Merlin, covering leads and rumors, because we - Well, someone needed us here," Alice said, her voice strange. 

"Me." Emma sighed, her resignation and frustration flaring. 

The two exchanged glances again, Robyn nervously adjusting her glasses while Alice twirled a blonde strand of her wildly curled hair. 

"No, actually," Robyn mumbled. 

Alice took Emma's hand again, examining her palm with interest. "You know, I can read palms right? Look at that love line, so rocky at first, and there's a little chip out of your li - " 

"Who was it then?" Emma asked, making Alice tense. 

Robyn looked Emma dead on, her face serious. "What is your relationship with the Dark One?" 

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Not All Bad

Characters: Dean Winchester x Serial Killer!Reader, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2,356

Warnings: fluff, mentions of rape, reader being a badass

Summary: You have two jobs in life: killing supernatural monsters and human monsters. Dean doesn’t really know the difference of both.

Squared Filled: Hunt Gone Wrong

Author’s Note: This now completes my @spngenrebingo bingo card with the square above! This is also for Chrissy’s @crispychrissy Gif It To Me Challenge with the gif she gave me used below! She is so lovely that she is letting me have my story be at 2300 words instead of her limit of 1000 so go give her a follow and show her some love. I also pulled inspiration from @spn-imagines-nation imagine! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

The man kicked you in the stomach in order to get away from you. He shoved you into his dresser before getting up and limping out of the room as fast as he could. The only reason why he was in your home was to rape you. This man was known all across the seaboard for breaking into a woman's home and raping them. He would always play it safe until he tried to do the same to you. He didn’t know who you were which is why you were able to fight back. Everyone knew who you were, or every police department.

Your picture was strung up on every WANTED poster in almost every station because you, too, were a killer. The only people you kill were bad men which is why the man inside your home was trying to get away from you. You were woken up in the middle of the night by him trying to tie you down. Since you usually did the tying, you were able to escape before grabbing the knife under your pillow and stabbing him in the leg.

He stumbled back and you jumped on his back to get a better grip when he kicked you in the stomach. Pushing the pain away, you grabbed the throwing knife you had strapped underneath your desk before running after the man. He managed to get to your stairs before tumbling down them in a heap of anxiety and an injured leg. Smirking, you held up your knife before throwing it at him, watching as it stuck in the side of his neck.

“Bitch,” he choked as he slumped to the floor. Smirking, you took the steps one at a time before reaching him at the bottom. Opening his eyelid, you made sure he was dead before yanking out your knife.

“No, you’re the fucking bitch for doing this to women. I hope you rot in hell,” you scoffed as you cleaned your blood on his shirt. Usually, you hunted the men, but this one was delivered to your doorstep like a package from the post office. When you weren't out killing bad men, you were hunting terrifying monsters, the one that did things out of pure evil. Comparing your two targets, they weren't that much different. The only thing that was is the fact that one kind was supernatural and the other was human.

There was a pack of Rugarus very close to where you were, and it was your job to kill them before they eat any more people. There were other hunters in the area, but none of them were available to take the kill. Not that you talked to them, you had a friend who told you these things. You like to keep quiet, only interacting with other hunters when you absolutely needed to.

Now that you were up, you had only two things to do: get rid of the body on your floor, and kill some evil bitches.

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

Creaking the door to the abandoned school open, you knew a group of Rugarus was nesting in here somewhere. Looking around, you kept your homemade flamethrower in front of you at all times. In your other hand was your flashlight because this place was dark even in the day time. The best thing to do was find a corner, sit in it, and call them to you. That way nothing could sneak up behind you and get you.

Once you found the perfect corner to nest in, you started whistling loudly to make them aware of your presence. After singing your tune, you stayed quiet with your eyes and ear open. Looking around the place, the door to the room slammed open and two rugarus came rushing in with snarls on their faces. Pressing the trigger, you set the two monsters in flames. They screamed in terror as they burned, and when you knew they were dead, you left your corner to go find the others.

There was five total that you knew of, and since you just killed two, then you knew there were only three left. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to leave your corner, but the other must have heard their friend’s screams of pain and knew it wouldn’t be smart to head in that direction. Racing down the hallway, you pointed your flashlight everywhere so you didn’t miss a single thing on your hunt.

Rounding a corner, you noticed something hunched over a figure on the ground. Upon getting closer to it, you figured out it was one of your monsters chomping on a victim they snatched before you could get here.

“Hey!” you yelled, causing the monster to look up at you with blood all over its mouth. He abandoned his dinner, thinking that you were a fresher meal that he might be able to enjoy. He started running at you, but you didn’t think about what could be behind you as you aimed your flamethrower at the man. As soon as you lifted your arm, someone from behind you grabbed it and took a huge bite out of it.

Screaming out in pain, you realized you needed to get out of there quickly if you were going to survive. Elbowing the rugaru in the face, you shove the flamethrower in its face before pulling the trigger. The other one who was running at you got scared when it saw the flames and began running in the opposite direction.

The one in front of you began flailing all around before slumping to the ground as he died. Your arm throbbed in pain as blood squirted out of it, but you could no longer fight. It was either kill them or your life, and you made the best decision. Turning around, you ran out of the place so that you could take care of you first before you can try and find them again.

In all your years of doing this, you have never had a hunt go wrong, so why was this one going to shit?

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

With no luck in trying to find the two rugarus that escaped, you knew you had to call in a favor from your only friend. Jody Mills was on your ass for a long time, determined to bring you in for the many crimes you committed. When she finally did get her claws into you, a vampire had attacked her out of nowhere. There wasn’t a nest around, so you didn’t know where this one came from. After saving her life from it, you began to tell her of what you do; how you kill human monsters and supernatural monsters.

With her friends being hunters, she let you go and pretended that she never saw you in the first place. She knew all of the hunters, so you knew she would be able to get you the best help in capturing these rugarus.

Picking up the phone, you dialed her number and waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jody, it’s Y/N.”

“I haven’t heard from you in a while. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” she chuckled. Gripping your injured arm tightly, you managed to speak through the pain.

“Listen, I need a favor. You know anyone in the Kansas area that might be able to help me catch some Rugarus? I got bit by one and two escaped. I can’t seem to find them anywhere,” you sighed.

“Isn’t that a bad thing? If you get bit by one of these things?”

“No, it’s not a virus. It’s a genetic thing. I won’t be affected except for some blood loss. I thought I had them all, but I guess not. Do you have anyone?”

“Yeah, there are two guys who are the best of the best. Think of yourself, but the monster world.”

“Really? That good?” you asked in shock. Before killing bad people, you were a trained assassin who was very good at her job. There wasn’t a target you couldn’t miss no matter how much they were moving or how fast. The fact that these two men were like you but in the supernatural world, it gave you a jolt of excitement for the fact that you might be working with them.

“Oh yeah. And very handsome too,” she laughed.

“Okay, where do they live?”

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

Taking a deep breath, you pulled your jacket tighter to your body as you knocked on the huge metal door. It was kind of cold out, but not too cold where you needed pants for Kansas, so you wore a long sleeve yellow sundress decked with a cute belt with combat boots. On top of that, you wore a denim jacket that you loved too much to throw away.

After a few moments of waiting, the door opened to reveal a very handsome man with the brightest green eyes you’ve ever seen.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked with hostility.

“Well, it’s nice to see you too,” you scoffed.

“You are a wanted woman. Who the hell sent you?”

“Jody Mills, if you must know. She sent me here because I need you and your brother’s help.”

“With what?”

“Two of the rugarus I was hunting escaped when I got bit by one of them. I need your help finding them.”

“Dean? Who is that?” Sam asked from below.

“A serial killer,” Dean glared, but let you in anyway. Rolling your eyes, you walked into the Bunker before descending down the metal staircase.

“I’ve seen your face before,” Sam started to say.

“Yeah, I’m a wanted woman. A serial killer as your brother puts it.”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but that’s beside the point. I’m also a hunter, a very skilled one, but you two are better. Jody likes to compare your work in the Supernatural world to that of mine in the human world which is why I’m here.”

“No, wait,” Dean commented as he walked up next to his brother, “we are nothing like you. We don’t kill humans for fun. We save them.”

“I save victims from monsters who like to torture for pleasure. The men and women I kill are equivalent to your precious monsters. They’re just humans. Not all of us are so pure and innocent. The last man I killed was a serial rapist who tried to do the same thing to me as he did to 50 other women. Now, tell me, Dean Winchester, would you save him if you had the chance?” you asked as you crossed your arms. Dean stared at you in shocked silence before his brother took over the questions.

“What do you need from us?”

“I was hunting 5 rugarus that liked to hunt together but only killed three of them. One of them bit me,” you rolled up your sleeve to show the bandage on your tattoo-covered arm, “and that is when I chose my life over theirs. They fucked up my tattoos, but I’d figure I thank them by killing them when you two help me find them.”

“No way,” Dean was about to say when his brother interrupted him.

“Of course we’ll help you. Anyone a friend of Jody’s is a friend of ours,” Sam chuckled.

“Good. Because I’ve encountered at least 2 werewolves and 6 demons on the way up here. So, when we’re done with my hunt, I say we kill those sons of bitches,” you grinned. Dean decided to challenge your supposed skills and took out his gun from behind his pants and slammed it on the table. His brother sighed in annoyance, but let Dean do his thing.

“Can you even shoot a gun?” he asked. Before the words were even out of his mouth, you grabbed his gun and aimed it for the table lamp in the next room over. Without breaking eye contact, you shot the bulb which exploded on contact. Both brothers jumped in shock when they heard the noise, and they stared at you in shock. Neither of them could do what you did, and they’ve been hunting for their whole lives.

“Well,” Dean cleared his throat as you set his gun down, “impressive, but you’re going to need a lot more than a gun if you want to kill 2 rugarus, 2 werewolves, and 6 demons.”

“You’re right,” you nodded before you started pulling weapons that you had hidden on your person. With being a serial killer, you always had to be prepared for anything. Starting from the bottom, you unsheathed four throwing knives that you kept hidden in your shoes. Pulling up your sundress, you unhooked the two guns from your thigh-holsters. Contained behind your belt, you took out yet another one of your sharper knives, and two more knives were concealed in your sleeves that were hooked onto arm holsters. Shedding your jacket, you released another gun from your shoulder straps, taking out a knife you had stored in your necktie holster that laid against your shoulder blades, and reached behind you and under your dress to take the gun you had stored in your spanks. Laying them all out on the table, you looked at the brothers dead in the eyes.

“I think I got that covered. Oh, and I can also carry tasers and pepper spray virtually anywhere else.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Sam muttered while his brother started stuttering.

“Good,” he managed to get out, tilting his head slightly in an awkward manner before looking at his brother and widening his eyes.

“So, will you help me?”

“Yeah, I think we can do that,” Dean nodded as he grabbed his gun while you started putting away your weapons. “You really don’t kill innocent people?”

“Why would I do that? I’m saving the world of evil just like you two. The only difference is mine is human which is honestly worse,” you sighed. Dean stared at you as his opinion changed. He saw your posters everywhere he went, and he always thought you were a sick bastard for killing people, but now he isn't so sure you were all that bad.

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[hannahmcne]

Her Royal Highness - Chapter 25

Audrey wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to be feeling.

Her ex-boyfriend's wife who happened to be her mother's enemy's daughter had invited her into her group. Mal had literally tossed her a sword and said she'd need her. Now Audrey had no idea why. It was quite clear as soon as she joined the rest of the group that they were far, far different from her. They were mostly men who had been on various fencing teams and whose dads or uncles or grandfathers had taught them to spar at a young age. There were a couple of girls, like Lonnie, but all things accounted for, they were about seventy-percent men.

There was black upper-body armor for their use, though Audrey wasn't quite sure where they'd gotten it. It was placed alongside the walls of the utopia for everyone who would be entering the outside. The soldiers already had theirs strapped to their bodies.

It hadn't exactly occurred to Audrey that she might be doing dangerous things when she'd come. Truth-be-told, she'd heard Ben would be there and thought it'd be a great chance to hook up with her old boyfriend. Unfortunately, he and Mal seemed to be getting closer, and Audrey was beginning to wonder if maybe this wasn't just a bad-girl-infatuation after all. What were the chances that Ben might actually be in love with Mal, a villainess?

Audrey stood in line with everyone else, holding a sword in her hand that felt - oddly - one with her arm, even though she'd never held a sword before. She carefully observed her comrades and mirrored the way they held their weapons as they stood in unorganized ranks, awaiting the Queen of the Isle.

Mal had dressed for the occasion. She had on a sleeveless leather jacket made of a variety of purple and green shades, zippers, and other metal appliques. Attachable sleeves were currently stuffed into Mal's pockets at the shoulders. Long pants with the hems covered by her combat boots protected her legs from the sun. Her hair was down, and Audrey could see that the back of her neck was wet with sweat. Still, the area was protected from the sun. A large part of Audrey thought: 'How could Ben allow someone so closely associated with him to dress in such a fashion?' The other part of her felt silly and preppy. She pulled the armor on, which would cover her chest, back, and arms, and picked at her shorts where she'd cut off her jeans with intentions to show off as much as possible. Now, she wished she'd kept them longer so that she could pretend that fabric would protect her.

"Alright." Mal snapped to attention. Audrey looked up instinctively. A tall woman with grey hair had approached Mal and held out a large tablet. Mal took it with a smile. She turned it around to show the twenty-ish people who had chosen to join ranks in group one. On the screen was a map of the Isle. Mal pointed to a point on a pier closely surrounded by water. "These are the piers." She explained. "I know for a fact people are gathered there, but Isle rebels could be scattered all over the place, all on the villain's team." Mal pointed as she spoke. "People who waited to see if they wanted to come into the Utopia were taken captive by Maleficent and are now being held hostage. They're either subdued, held captive, or too ill to move. My goal is to bring everyone in unless they specifically tell you otherwise or try to hurt you. So, here's how this will work." Mal handed the tablet back and dug her sword into the ground in front of her.

Audrey tuned out most of what Mal was saying. Mostly, she was giving out tips for moving stealthily and keeping quiet. She carefully moved her sword from hand to hand as she evaluated Mal's stance and composure. Everything about Ben's wife was guarded, from the straight-mouthed expression frozen on her face to the way the muscles in her arms moved in the sunlight. Audrey was trying to figure out what seemed so ethereal and unreal about her until she realized that the small hairs on her arms were purple with the rest of her head. When she stood in the sunlight, she looked like she was glowing a slightly different shade.

Audrey looked down at her own arms. Small brown hairs were scattered amidst freckles, and her arms looked much less muscular than the Queen's. Probably from climbing the palace over and over. Audrey remembered what she had said almost a year ago: "Stuff like that helps me stay fit."

Climbing the palace walls, and probably running across her mom's forfeited kingdom had kept her in shape. Audrey had to bite down the bile rising in her throat.

How could Ben like her? How could Ben want her? Didn't he see all the awful things she was going to do to the kingdom?

"Alright, let's break!" Mal declared. Her eyes fell on Audrey and Audrey felt ice creep down her spine. "Audrey." Mal raised an arm and waved Audrey towards her. "You're with me."

Audrey looked left, and right, and stayed where she was. Instead, Mal came towards her with her sword slung over her shoulder. "I'll keep you safe." She promised. She turned to others in the group. "Lonnie, watch Carlos's back. Marin, you bring up the tail."

Audrey hadn't noticed before, but Islanders were beginning to mix with their groups. Marin, who was a large, imposing, dark-skinned man with tattoos and an upper ear piercing, moved to the back of the group under Mal's command. Other similar men and women were beginning to mix.

"Let's move!" Mal barked. She pressed a small hand to Audrey's back, in between her shoulder blades, and lead her in front of the group to the entrance of the Isle. Group two was following behind them. Audrey began to panic, but she kept her mouth shut as they moved towards the gates into the city. Mal readied her sword, and they flooded through, out of the city.

The air was disgusting. Audrey smelled things rotting; like the time she'd peeled an orange in her garbage and then not taken it out quick enough, resulting in a rancid smell that had filled her room for an entire day, but much, much worse. The city had been built in the middle of an uninhabited forest, where small, scraggly trees grew among large, towering trunks with knotted, uneven bark. The dirt was mottled black and grey with occasional piles of sawdust from where the builders had left it. As they continued, Audrey saw small, scorched places in the earth where fires had been lit. While the barrier appeared purple from inside the city, it now disappeared behind them, as if it wasn't there at all. Pollution and clouds had become trapped inside the barrier, resulting in an awful smog that clouded the sky from view entirely. The entire environment was made up of grey, brown, black and dirty blue.

Someone shouted in the trees "it's the queen!" and Mal raised a hand. The tips of her fingers were alight with green magic. There was a snap, and a shadow fell through the twigs and branches about twenty yards away. Audrey yelped as they thudded towards the ground. The other rebels who had been hiding in the bushes squealed and screamed, and footsteps thundered through the woods as people rushed to get away. Mal moved to stop only two more, and then continued marching her small force through the Isle of the Lost.

Her blood felt like ice and fire underneath her skin as she followed Mal onto the Isle. The group spread out and became sparsely thin. The purple-haired fae remained beside her, gently pressing her onward whenever Audrey slowed.

The forest gave way to a ditch with rotting, muddy water inside. Audrey saw defected frogs whose legs were splayed at awful angles, either from cruel Isle kids hurting them or birth defects and mutations caused by the dangerous chemicals Auradon sometimes sent with their trash. One small monster leaped past her foot with mottled purplish-green skin, a multitude of eyes spread across a sagging face, and warts bigger than her fingernails. There were no fish, and no birds flying anywhere.

A single bridge stretched across the ditch. Mal fingered the railing as she began to cross and stopped midway across to peer down through the cracks as if she were looking for anything down below. Audrey followed her and tried to ignore the cold settling into her bones and the imposing creaking of the bridge.

Across the bridge was a small collection of crumbling buildings with many different levels. Most were made of bricks with plywood roofs and tarps covering broken sides. Graffiti ran rampant. Audrey gaped at the intense slang splattered at great heights on the side of the buildings. Many of them appeared to have been done by the same hand, as they were all themed similarly. Audrey flinched when she spotted a mural of Maleficent, Mal's mom. It was beautiful, very intricate, and featured the infamous fae with her hands outstretched and bright green magic in her hands. The inscription 'Long Live Evil' was featured behind the fae woman. underneath the entire painting was the slogan 'There are so many ways to be wicked."

Ways to be Wicked. Audrey had to scoff to hide the pain in the irony of that statement. Two generations of wicked women ruining her family in two very different ways. One who cursed her kingdom, put her family to sleep, cursed her mom to a nearly-incurable fate, and the other who stole an entire country, her boyfriend, and her future.

Group one began to dissipate into the city. Mal and Audrey held their swords aloft as about four other people crept behind them. She peered behind corners as they walked, and carefully observed all her surroundings as they changed. For Audrey, it was all she could do to tear her eyes off of the buildings, where abandoned and trashed shops lined the alleyways. Audrey stepped over a dirty stuffed dog missing its left arm and leg with a large wooden stake driven through its neck.

As they rounded a corner, Audrey caught a whiff of something horrible. They'd stepped into a small square with uneven cobbling. Next to her was a shop that read: "Lady Tremaine's Curl Up and Dye" with a large pair of scissors for a logo. Hanging from the scissors was the body of a real dog, swinging back and forth. It was missing all its paws and its snout was tied closed as the poor thing swung back and forth. Mal stared at it for a few seconds.

"Cruella." She said after a few seconds. "Someone strung it up for Cruella. Probably a common villain trying to get into her graces." Mal shook her head a few times. "It's been a while since I've seen a statement like that." She muttered.

"Should we cut it down?" Someone asked.

"I don't want to waste time." Mal contemplated as she bit her tongue. "And it's probably been a few days since that thing was killed. It probably has maggots and lots of dangerous bugs. We shouldn't touch it without protection."

An Auradon man prodded the dog's side carefully with the hilt of his sword. Its entire side gave way like poking clay with your finger. Audrey gagged. "This is awful!" She hissed.

"Happens all the time, princess." A small boy in an isle vest drawled. He held two swords in his small hands. "People get strung up too." He added.

"This is barbarous!" Audrey protested. She whirled on Mal. "You're going to get us killed!" She accused.

Mal rolled her eyes. "Yes." She agreed sarcastically. "And I with you." She hefted her sword and cut the rope stringing the dog up. The body fell to the ground like a sack of cloth or cotton. Bugs flew up from where they'd nested into the body, and the fur split apart to reveal parts that were held together – not by skin, but by maggots and bacteria. An awful smell washed over them, and Audrey felt her breakfast coming up fast. She gagged again and turned to throw up her stomach.

When she came back up, the same short Isle kid rolled his eyes and said: "Nice," though the other Auradon volunteers also looked a bit green.

"Oh my gosh." Audrey began to shake. She turned to Mal. "I'm not comfortable with this. I want to go back. I want to be with group three. I don't like the Isle." She pleaded

Mal opened her mouth, and from the west came a sizzling sound of electricity, and a strangled yell. Audrey jumped. Mal closed her mouth. "Tranquilizer gun." She announced to her small group. "Team two must have found a scout." She nodded to Audrey. "Give it a few minutes. If you're still unsure, I'll find someone to take you back."

Mal's eyes suddenly focused on something behind Audrey. "Duck." She commanded and pushed Audrey's shoulders down as the group dropped to the ground. A gunshot echoed off the walls as a bullet ricocheted off Lady Tremaine's wall. Audrey screamed. She was going to die, she was going to die. She'd only come to show Ben how supportive she was of the crown, maybe sway him to at least unblock her on social media, and now she was going to die.

Mal jumped up and brought her sword up to guard herself. Audrey glimpsed the look of intense concentration on her face as she planted her feet, readied her legs, and leaped clear over Audrey's head. She whirled around as Mal rushed towards their assailant. A second bullet whizzed through Mal's hair and hit the building again. The shooter cursed.

The Isle boy behind her jumped up. "Give me a boost." He commanded Audrey and another Auradon man. They quickly got to their feet and grabbed the boys' legs as they carried him into the air. "Over there!" He pointing to Lady Tremaine's sign. The top of the rope was still coiled around one of the scissor's shears. Audrey held her breath as they carried him over the dog and towards the sign. The young man worked quickly as Mal parried their attacker, who had dropped his gun for a steel bar that had been leaning against a building. He loosened the rope around the sign and then looked down at them. "Pull away!" He commanded. Audrey and the Auradonian man quickly obeyed and put him back down a few feet away as Mal pivoted in an alleyway and began to force their attacker – a thin, bony man with tanned skin clothed in a thin, black, long-sleeved shirt – into the square. He fought valiantly, but Mal was just too quick for him to catch her. It almost reminded Audrey of when Ben had been Captain of the Swords and Sheilds team at Auradon Prep. No one had been able to catch him either.

The boy took the bar and blew it into the side of Mal's head a fraction of a second before she could lean away. It knocked her head back but hadn't caught her at an angle to do much harm - only hitting her cheek and nose a little. Still, she looked immediately offended. With a mighty swing, she knocked the bar out of this hand and quickly kicked him in the chest to send him to the ground.

The Isle boy threw an end of the rope to the man who had helped Audrey lift him, and together they rushed at the man, wrapping the rope around his arms and legs as he shouted and struggled. A small gash was in his cheek from where Mal had hit him, and his rifle was lying abandoned in the alleyway. Someone else in their group carefully walked forward and picked it up. "It's discharged." She announced. "The safety is broken on it."

"The question is where he got a gun," Mal said calmly. "Auradon is usually very careful not to send them over."

"It's not of your business!" The man howled on the ground. "We'll get you, Queen Maleficent!" He tried to spit at Mal but missed entirely.

"Mal." Mal corrected him calmly. "Maleficent is my mom."

"Do I hear a damsel in distress?" Someone chuckled from an alleyway. Audrey jumped and whirled around. King Ben – handsome as ever – was walking out of an opposing alley with a bright smile that somehow managed to make it seem like the sun was coming through. She felt an intense sense of relief to see something so normal and comforting. His collar was folded down and his clothes were clean and even on the Isle, he looked so... kingly. Audrey felt like melting into her shoes. The sword he was holding made him look even more the part of her knight. Behind him was a group of four others, including Mal's friends; the daughter of the Evil Queen and the son of Jafar.

"No distress here," Mal responded with a smirk. "But look, twenty minutes in and we've already caught our first crook." She prodded the screaming man with her shoe. "Care to assist him?" She asked sweetly.

Ben turned green. "No thanks." He said, shaking his head.

Evie rolled her eyes at him and stepped forward. "With pleasure." She purred, leveling her tranquilizer. She pulled the trigger, and bright blue electricity raced out of the barrel. Audrey felt her hairs rise up on end as every nerve ending in her body screamed: "Danger!"

It only lasted a second, and the man didn't even look harmed. Instead, he looked as if he'd suddenly fallen asleep. Evie blew off the tip of the barrel for dramatic effect, even though it wasn't smoking. "If only we'd had these to protect us before you were queen." She mourned. "Think of how we could have ruled the Isle."

All of the villain kids, including Mal, laughed. "Yeah." Mal snorted. "I wouldn't have even become queen. Auradon wouldn't have even been able to pull me off."

Audrey tensed. This was something she'd never heard before. Auradon had pulled Mal off the Island? Why? Perhaps there was truth to her rumors after all.

Ben glanced at the dog under Lady Tremaine's sign and at the man on the ground. He put an arm around Mal and used a hand at her hip to pull her towards him. "Looks like you had a party."

"Not even." Mal rolled her eyes as she put her arms around Ben's neck briefly and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Tonight, when we get back, we need to have a real party. With strawberries and everything." She kissed Ben's cheek. Audrey felt sick. She and Ben had never done that together.

Ben laughed. "Can't have a party without strawberries, huh?" He asked.

"Nope!" Mal declared. "Oh!" She gave Ben a wicked smile. "We could totally break out Auradon's 'grown-up drinks' and get drunk together." She winked at him as everyone exchanged looks at her light-hearted, sarcastic attitude.

Ben snorted. "Sorry Mal, you're still not of the age of consent yet." He told her with raised eyebrows.

Everyone in their little circle laughed. Mal rolled her eyes. "By Auradon's standard, maybe, but on the Isle, I can do whatever I want." She spread her hands wide to accentuate her point.

"Don't even give me that crap." Ben cut her off with a roll of his eyes. "I'd be willing to place money on the fact you've never had a stronger drink than orange juice in your life."

Jay and Carlos began to chuckle and elbow each other as Mal glared. "What are you doing here, again?" She snapped.

"Heard trouble," Jay answered as he composed himself. "What should we do with the people we knock out?" He gestured at the sleeping man on the ground.

"Leave them," Mal said, bending down to untie the attacker. "I don't want any of them in the city. After we get the rest of the innocents out, I'm closing borders. The original evil villains and anyone who gets kicked out of the city will have to survive out here. The blast will keep them out until tomorrow morning, at which time we'll be done."

"I like these things, but they're really noisy and they don't shoot very fast," Jay remarked as he studied his tranquilizer.

"They do their job." Mal shrugged. "Okay, we better keep going." Her eyes landed on Audrey. "Audrey, are you still interested in going back? If you go with group two, you can return to the city as soon as they find someone who needs to go back. I'm going to keep pushing through."

Ben frowned. "Back already? We just started." He asked.

Audrey glanced between Mal and Ben, and then straightened her shoulders. "I think I'm okay." She lied. "I was just a little thrown off by that dog, is all."

Ben nodded in agreement, looking a little green. "Yeah, that thing is nasty." He agreed and shuddered. "You're good to stay here, then?" He asked, holding out his fist for her to tap.

Audrey forced a smile as she fist-bumped him. "Yeah." She nodded. "Let's keep moving." She felt like she had a year ago, walking out the front door after being broken up with and sworn to secrecy by Ben.

"Bye Babe." Mal blew an air kiss to Ben as she picked up her sword from where it had been abandoned on the ground. Ben immediately tugged her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Audrey heard him whisper: "Bye sweetheart," before group two divided from group one and began to walk down the alleyway their crook had come from. Evie and Jay high-fived Mal as they walked past, and Audrey watched the man she loved, the most important person to her, walk away with an irremovable ring on his finger and a new name on his lips. And at that moment, she'd never hated Mal more.

When they were gone, the Isle queen prodded the man on the ground with her foot.

"Do you know him?" One of the Auradonian recruits asked.

"Clay Clayton," Mal answered. "Strange to see him so angry like this. We used to go to school together. Got paired together for our Evil Schemes final in Year Nine." She shrugged. "Oh well. Let's move on."

Audrey lagged behind for a few minutes to examine Clay. He was actually quite handsome, with a square face and curly dark hair. He couldn't have been more than a bit older or younger than her. In another time, she might have dated him.

It was hard to imagine a younger Mal on the Isle of the Lost, teaming up with him to complete a school project. Audrey wasn't sure what to do with the information Mal had just given her. She swallowed, bent down, and moved Clay's head so he wouldn't get a crick in his neck. Then she picked up her sword, which was forgotten over by the dog, and continued on.

The Isle chill was starting to feel familiar to Audrey. She still couldn't get used to the way every breath felt like she was heaving as her lungs struggled to find the oxygen in the polluted air though. Her leg brushed against something sticking out of the side of a collapsed wall and when Audrey leaned down to wipe away any grudge that had come off onto her leg, she discovered that the bar or beam or whatever it was had actually wiped away a layer of grudge that was coating her skin. She had had no idea her legs were suddenly so dirty. It was the air, she realized. The pollution was so heavy that some things would solidify when your body heat came near, causing thin layers of... gunk to freeze onto your bare skin. It was... horrible. She didn't understand how anyone, villain or not, could live in an environment like this.

Mal stepped over a grate and down a narrow passageway, and some disembodied voice called out: "Queen Mal?"

A hand appeared out of a small hole near the base of the building, dirty and grimy. The skin on the person's fingernails was shredded with small, pointed rocks like splinters sticking out. "Help!" They cried, and more voice cried out from... inside the wall? "Help! Help! Help us, please!"

Mal crouched down and took the person's hand. "How many are you?" She asked in a hollow tone.

"Twenty-four," The first person replied in a wavering tone. "The entrance has collapsed and we're trapped. The villains left us because they didn't want to bring the entire place down."

"Left you?" Mal asked. "Left for where?"

"The piers," The person explained. "Everyone deserted when your armies appeared last night. They're holding everyone around the Jolly Roger and in Ursula's shop. The only people they didn't take were people who couldn't move, like us."

"Left for dead," Mal exhaled. "I'm going to get you out of there." She took her hand back from the person and examined the building. It was one that Auradon had left for the villains thirty years ago, and black mold stretched up the sides of it. Relatively tall, and about to crumble. She exhaled. "We'll have to work fast," She decided, tossing her sword to the ground. Several Auradon folks followed her example, but the Islanders frowned and exchanged uneasy looks.

"Mal," One of the Islanders frowned. "We can't do anything. If we try and make an opening, the building will come down on their heads. There's nothing we can do to help them."

Mal leveled her gaze. It was clear she knew this, and she was doubtful, but she still had to try. Audrey swallowed. "Can we find where the entrance collapsed and try to clear it from there? The stones will be looser."

"It'll be unstable there," the same Islander protested. "Where one collapse happened, another can occur."

Mal chewed on her cheek and considered both ideas. Then she jerked her head to the side and mumbled: "Audrey, come with me." Mal got back to her feet and began to walk around the perimeter of the building. Audrey hesitated, then followed carefully. They turned the corner and discovered a mostly intact wall, and then, on the opposite side, a pile of rubble. Mal crossed her arms and exhaled. "They're at the back of the building. We could clear the rubble, but we'd be here all day. And they're right, the more we clear... some of this mess could be keeping the rest from falling. We could be crushed if we move it."

Audrey examined the awful spread of rock and beam. She swallowed. "Are you just going to... leave them?" She whispered.

Mal shook her head. "I can't do that," She whispered. "There's got to be something... something magic."

Magic. Audrey's blood felt like ice. Mal exhaled and rubbed her fingers together. "Let's walk back," She mumbled. "I'll think of something... a rhyme." She turned and began to walk back the way she'd come. Audrey stayed in place, examining the wreckage with a thumping heart. She turned to follow Mal, and then something wooden stuck out to her.

"Mal?" She called, and then stepped into the mess. She heard Mal take a quick gasp and began hurrying back, and so she clambered over another, larger rock before the Isle Queen could pull her back.

"Audrey, that's unstable!" Mal gasped. Audrey furrowed her brow and pointed. "There's something wooden. Right there, see? I think it might be a door."

Mal paused and then carefully stepped atop a rock to see where Audrey was pointing. She shook her head. "It's covered by boulders, Audrey. We have the same problem as before. If we move too much, the rest of the building will crumble."

Audrey balled her fists up. There were people stuck down there in that horrible air who would die if they left them behind. She had to try something. "You can use your magic to hold it together," She declared, continuing her trek through the crumbling rocks. Black mold and a thick, oily layer of grime stuck to her hands and legs. She tossed her sword to the side and then used both hands to navigate around a portion of rectangular rock that was twice the size of her entire body. Her foot slipped and the ground gave way underneath her. She yelped as she felt her entire leg fall into a mini sinkhole and clamped her mouth shut to keep from screaming as she felt something slithering.

A wave of green magic washed over all of the rocks and the entire building as if the entire premises had suddenly been covered in glowing green plastic. Audrey looked back to Mal. Her eyes were lit up and her hands were outstretched as she worked to hold the entire building together. Shouts came from the other side. "Hurry!" Mal urged through gritted teeth. "I'm going to try and hold it all together."

Audrey pulled her leg back up. A small, bloody gash had formed underneath her kneecap, but she was otherwise unharmed. She got to her feet and hurried over to the door as voices came around the side of the building. The rest of their group appeared. Audrey watched Mal's Isle friend, Carlos, take in the situation and began clambering over rocks to help her.

Audrey reached the door and brushed the pebbles away. She pulled a rather sizable stone away from the edge of the frame and peered underneath. The door had fallen on top of a staircase going down, effectively protecting it from being covered with rubble. "There's an entrance here!" She announced and began trying to lug boulders off of the edge of the frame so that she could try to get inside. Carlos jumped over a large stone and, squeezing his frame in-between two large stones on top of the door, used his feet to push them off. He forced his fingers underneath the splintered frame and pulled up, creating about a foot's worth of space that Audrey added to by shuffling around the small pebbled on the ground to create a depression big enough for someone to be lifted through.

Carlos huffed with the effort of keeping the door lifted and turned to Audrey. "They're probably locked in a room down there. Maybe the villains left the key. You need to slip down and see if you can find them."

"Go... down there?" Audrey gasped, staring down into the depths of the dark staircase. There could be all sorts of spiders and bugs and... things. Climbing rocks was one thing - she'd gone hiking with her mom before(Hated it, but she'd done it) - but exploring the scary staircase? "Why can't you go?"

"You can't hold up the door and I can't fit through that hole." Carlos rolled his eyes. "Go on, hurry!"

Audrey looked down at the hole and swallowed. She carefully put her feet in and shimmied forward. Her feet found a solid step and she carefully maneuvered her body until her head went under and the world became very, very dark. The air became infinitely harder to breathe. Audrey tried to inhale and abruptly began hacking so hard she had to sit down. The air pollution combined with the musty underground air made for a deadly combination.

"Is there enough light for you to see?" Carlos called down from above.

Audrey couldn't respond as she looked all around. Barely, was the answer. She could see the faint outlines of the steps and the walls, but almost nothing else. She used the wall to stand back up, still coughing, and began the trek down the stairs. The hallway was fairly narrow and with the ceilings stopping about ten inches above her head. She hit the base of the staircase with a stumble and then began feeling the walls for a door. "Hello?" She managed to choke out. "Marco?"

"Hello!" Someone called. "Hello, hello?"

"I'm coming!" Audrey called, hurrying a little through the hallway until her fingers found the rough pattern of a thick, wooden door. She felt around for a handle and, as Carlos had predicted, it was locked. She rammed her shoulder into it experimentally, and her entire side went numb. "I'll be right back!" She called, and then hurried back to the staircase, narrowly avoiding tripping and busting up her hurt knee again. "Carlos!" She yelled. "I need something to pry the door open!"

There was a hesitation, and then Carlos called back: "Can you do that?"

'We're about to find out.' Audrey thought. She climbed up the staircase and shoved her hand up through the hole. "Hand me a sword!" She demanded. After another brief pause, she felt someone put a leather guard in her hand. Immediately, she turned and felt her way back down the stairs. She found the door again, felt for the handle, and then carefully used the tips of her fingers to feel the blade on the sword. The first thing she realized was that it was backwards, so she had to hold it the correct way. The second thing she figured out was that the very tip was sharper than the blade itself. "Keep away from the door!" She called to the people on the other side before feeling for where the door latched and then sliding her sword into the place where the door and the frame latched. She pushed, hard, and heard something crack, but then the blade stuck fast. She jangled the door handle and found it was loose, but she hadn't broken the handle yet.

"Audrey!" Carlos yelled from up above. "Mal says she can't hold the building together forever. Can you get them out or not?"

Audrey turned to cough into her shoulder from exertion and then put her back against one wall and her feet up on the other. Calling on every ounce of strength she had, she forced the blade into the doorframe. Something snapped, and the door slumped awkwardly to one side. Audrey dropped back to the ground and then carefully pulled the handle. The door swung open on one rusty hinge, revealing a small room packed full of people. She huffed in surprise and leaned against the wall. She'd done it. For several seconds, no one spoke. Audrey was puffing too hard, and the Islanders were so shocked by her appearance they couldn't say anything. She watched their eyes skim her bare legs and her long hair in surprise. It was clear they'd never seen a girl like her before.

"Can you walk?" Audrey finally gasped. "Mal says she can't hold up the building for much longer." At her words, the ceiling rumbled. Everyone jumped into action, pulling each other up. Those who could walk helped those who couldn't and Audrey stayed out of the way as the prisoners walked out. Then, when there were only a few people left, she stepped inside.

The room was smaller than her closet at home. Audrey couldn't understand how they'd fit twenty-four people in here, even though she'd seen them all with her own two eyes. It smelled horrible and the only light came from two or three small holes in the wall. Deep depressions were in the rock where the prisoners had been trying to escape, and there were dark stains on the floor that Audrey didn't really want to think about.

"Maren?" a woman called, leaning down by a small girl who was curled up in a corner of the room. "Can you walk? I can carry you."

There was no answer. Audrey suddenly felt a pit of dread open up in her stomach as she and two other people stepped forward to examine the small child.

"Maren?" The woman asked, confusion lacing her tone as she pulled the girl's head up, only for it to flop there uselessly. A man reached forward and felt along the little girl's neck before taking the woman by the shoulders and pulling her away.

"She's gone, Carol. She's been gone for a while. We have to leave her. The building could come down soon." He told her, pulling her towards the door. "We have to go, now."

Audrey watched the scene, feeling like a knife had been put through her chest. She stared at the little girl in the corner and swallowed as tears filled her eyes. She hadn't been quick enough. They hadn't been quick enough.

The last of the survivors left the room and Audrey brought up the tail, guiding everyone down the hall and up the stairs. Carlos and another Isle boy held the door open while Auradon volunteers helped pull people up to safety, one by one. Last of all was Audrey herself, who handed Carlos his sword and then kept a blank expression as they guided everyone off the rocks and rubble. Mal was shaking from the exertion of holding up the building as they hurried to bring everyone to a safe distance from the pile. Then, she counted backwards. "Three... two... one." She released the magic keeping the building up, and the rocks around the doorframe slid and plummeted into the ground. Like a chain reaction, the walls around the area crumbled to the ground. A wave of dust kicked up and Audrey heard everyone around her taking deep breaths before the dust hit them like a wall. She squeezed her eyes shut as the sounds of the crumbling building echoed around them.

When all was quiet, Audrey forced herself the open her eyes. The dust was still settling. The building was gone and a giant heap of rubble was in its place. Carlos took a few steps forward to head the group. "Mal?" He called.

Audrey watched a figure rise up from the ground and turn around, and she exhaled in relief. Mal's purple hair shone through the dust and her skin gave off a soft, milky glow as she examined the group with a tactful eye. "How many?" She asked. "All twenty-four?"

"Twenty-three," Audrey announced in a hollow tone. "One casualty. She was dead when I got down there."

Mal's face twisted a little in pain, but she nodded. "We need to take them to the city. Who can do that?" She examined the group. Audrey considered going back to the city, but the thought of Ben's expression came to mind. 'Already'? She kept her hand down as other people raising their hands and volunteered to take people back. Mal picked people out and organized groups, and when all was said and done their group was down to less than twenty. Those headed back to the city departed, and Mal's squadron continued in the opposite direction.

They stalked inwards. It wasn't long before Audrey could hear water. They came to a place where the uneven cobbled streets ended and were suddenly facing some old wood planks. Mal tested one skeptically.

"Should be safe to walk." She announced. "Uma and her crew usually do a good job keeping the wharf safe." She looked around. "I wasn't supposed to come down here much." She admitted. "Uma and I had a fight when we were younger and banned each other from our turfs." She stepped onto the boards and began to walk away. Audrey took her first few steps and quickly realized that the planks were actually bridges, and they were floating. Looking over the sides, she realized that the water was so black and polluted, it didn't reflect anymore. It looked like dark ground from a distance. She leaned out a little, and one of the Isle boys pulled her back.

"If you fall in, it'll be one of the last things you do," he warned. The warning made Audrey's skin cold.

They took a few turns and began to walk past a cluster of holes in a rock face that the bridge stretched in front of. As they passed, they heard a low voice singing: "Tick-tock, tick-tock."

Mal stopped. She was already at the front of the group, but she and Carlos moved so that they were guarding the rest of the group behind them. "Tick-tock, tick-tock." Mal slurred. "I haven't got all day."

There was a shadow, and then a pirate with black charcoal around his eyes appeared. He was wearing a ripped white shirt and a long red overcoat. Clutched in his hand was a curved hook.

Mal tilted her head and ran a nail over her lip. Audrey was amazed by how nonchalant she could look despite obviously guarding the Auradonians behind her. "Still running errands and delivering messages for Uma, Harry?" She asked. "Or, do you actually get to call your own shots now?"

The pirate blinked slowly at her. "Well, well, well." He said in a husky tone. "Look wha' the tide pulled in." He smiled. Bits of black lined his gums like he had brushed his teeth with charcoal. His hair looked like it hadn't been washed in days. He walked towards Mal until he was so close, they were almost breathing the same air and Mal was looking up. "Jus' wait till Uma hears you finally wandered in!" He smiled. "We were beginning to wonder if yer king was gonna let his trophy go wandering." He smirked at Mal, and his eyes roamed her body in a way that made Audrey shrivel just imagining his stare on her. He was like a predator planning to ravage her. Carlos stiffened beside Mal and carefully placed himself to run Harry through with his sword if he tried anything. Despite all this, Mal didn't seem to care that he was acting like he was about to force him on her. She was putting out a toxic force all her own as she guarded her squad against his poisonous gaze. "You know she'll never let you have yer old turf back." Harry slurred like a drunken man. "Queen'er no queen."

Mal blinked as if the idea genuinely surprised her. "Oh!" She said, eyeing the hook as if its presence was offending her. "Well, that's okay." She shrugged. "Because I will be taking it."

For a few seconds, the air intensified as Harry and Mal stared at each other. Then, Harry moved his hand and hooked a long lock of her thick hair. "I could hurt you." He threatened in a low tone. Carlos grew tense, and for a second Audrey was sure he would attack, but then Mal's hand jumped to action and seized Harry's wrist underneath the hook quicker than Audrey could follow.

Mal tilted her head and blinked innocently. "Not without her permission, I bet." She said, staring unblinkingly at him.

Harry blinked his charcoal-rimmed eyes at her. "You better watch your step." He warned, gesturing at the planks below their feet. "Maybe I can't hurt you on… trophy terms, but you've got a lovely little gang behind you." His eyes flickered upward and began to skim Audrey's body like he had Mal's. Audrey shivered, and Harry smiled. "I could always take advantage of yer untrained mates." He threatened

Mal hummed. "Well." She said tersely. "I'll give you a message to take back to Uma since you sound so desperate for one." She hooked her fingers around his hook. Her eyes lit up with a scary green tone that gave Audrey PTSD to when she'd had that stare fixed on her at Beast's Castle. "You lay a hand on any of my mates, especially in any sort of perverted, provocative way-" Mal set an arm on Harry's shoulder and leaned in. He began to lean away with his eyes growing wide. "And I will turn you into a clock." Mal finished. She withdrew from Harry, who took a half-step back, gasping for breath.

Harry snickered. "Is that all you've got?" He asked in a raspy tone. "You don't scare me, Daughter of Maleficent." Though his actions certainly didn't mirror his words.

"Well, you don't have to be scared if you keep your hands to yourself," Mal replied. "You've been warned."

Harry chuckled, but he sounded like he'd been forced into a higher octave. He walked backwards into the rock face and vanished.

After several seconds, Mal turned to face her group. "We need to move quicker now." She announced. "He knows these places better than I do."

Everyone nodded, and they began again at a fast pace along the wharf. After a while, they came to several dirt paths that stretched along the edge of the waters. Mal took them up onto the land and they began to make their way to the head of the pier. Around them were buildings, but these were not the buildings of stone like in Mal's turf. These were made of wood and were slowly falling apart from termite damage and wood rot. Audrey had never seen places like this in her life and she couldn't deny that it was fascinating.

As they skirted through buildings, they heard a sudden crash from about forty yards away. Three more subsequently followed. Mal, Carlos, and the other boy from the Isle exchanged looks. "We need to split up and check that out," Carlos whispered.

"It may be a trap," Mal warned.

"It'll become an ambush if we don't." The last boy decided.

"Kay." Mal nodded. She examined everyone. "You three with him, you two with me, and you and Audrey with Carlos." She decided, pointing to different people as she spoke. She patted Carlos on the shoulder. "Take care of them." She told Carlos. Audrey was sure that Mal meant: 'take care of Audrey, who did not dress for the occasion and who may lose her stomach again.' "Try and head to Uma's ship as soon as you're done," Mal commanded.

They divided, going down three separate paths and soon Mal was out of sight and out of earshot.

"So," Carlos started. There was one other Auradon boy in their group. "You're Aurora's kid, right?" Carlos prodded Audrey lightly.

Audrey swallowed. "Yeah, I am." She would have curtseyed, but she was too busy walking. "Princess Audrey."

Carlos nodded. "Mal's mentioned you." He whispered. "Ben's old girlfriend?"

Audrey's shoulders slumped. What an awful title. "Yeah." She admitted. "He broke up with me when they brought Mal over."

"That must have been hard." Carlos nodded. "I'm not sure what to think of Ben." He admitted. His voice had a sudden guard in it, as if he was talking, but wasn't sure if he should be. "We were all convinced she was being tortured and taken advantage of over here."

"Tortured?" Audrey blinked. The Auradon boy behind them seemed equally surprised at that revelation. "Auradon doesn't torture people."

Carlos laughed. He turned and stared at her incredulously. "Auradon doesn't- yeah, good one." They continued walking as Carlos chuckled.

"What?" Audrey asked, cross. "They don't."

Carlos gestured to their surroundings. "And what do you call this?" He asked.

Audrey was taken so off guard she slipped in her flip flops and slid on her butt. Her sword clattered to the ground. She had no answer. Carlos grew cross.

"Yeah." He snapped. "Auradon definitely doesn't torture people. They definitely don't lock kids away all their lives and starve them for the crimes of their parents. God forbid they send ordinary criminals to fend their way with the villains! And they'd never send people actual trash to live off of!" Carlos drove his sword firmly into the ground at Audrey's feet. "Auradon is full of liars and people who will only take advantage of you! They discriminate against anyone they don't like and push people to villainy only to-"

An arrow whizzed over Carlos's head, nicking his scalp. Everyone's attention shot to where an archer in black stood on top of a crumbling dwelling.

Audrey scrambled to her feet and picked up her sword. Carlos tried to yank his blade out of the earth, but it had stuck. He paled. "Oh no." He whispered.

"It's an ambush!" The Auradonian boy yelled. Seconds later, a second arrow was loosed and went straight through his calf. He fell with a yell.

People appeared from the shadows of the crumbling buildings as Carlos tugged at his sword with a renewed fury. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as he yanked to no avail. Audrey watched in growing horror as she slowly recognized the people appearing. A tall man with a feathered hat and a curly beard… Captain Hook. A dark-skinned shadow player… Dr. Facilier. And a large, imposing man with more muscles than she could count. Gaston.

Audrey screamed, fumbled her sword, and dropped it.

"Oh, for god's sake, woman!" Carlos yelled at her. He gave up trying to yank his own sword and seized hers off the ground. He gave it a wide test swing as Captain Hook unsheathed his own gleaming weapon. He readied his sword, and Carlos rushed him. It was a quick battle. The Captain and Carlos locked swords for a few seconds before the Captain's strength forced Carlos to give in. He tried to swing for Hook, but Hook caught his sword mid-swing with his own, and the weapon flew out of reach. Meanwhile, Gaston and Facilier were approaching Audrey with menacing smiles on their faces.

Audrey let loose a cry of despair and leaped out of their reach. She heard footsteps following her, and Carlos swearing like he was the sailor instead of Hook. She dashed down the wharf and towards the water. Gaston and Facilier remained hot on her heels as she turned a corner and sprinted desperately for where she'd last seen Mal. If she could make it there, Mal had another group. She'd protect her.

Unfortunately, she'd never reach Mal. She felt Gaston reach for the nape of her neck, could feel his breath behind her when suddenly something pale and blue appeared on the left side of her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking it was Facilier, and something with the force of a speeding bull slammed into her shoulder. She was shoved clear off her path, out of Gaston's hands, and off her feet.

Audrey rolled in between two buildings and underneath a small cardboard lean-to, which shuddered and shook above her: Gaston, who was thrown off by the new arrival, tripped and skidded face-first into the dirt. Facilier slipped in the dirt beside him and tumbled to the side of the road.

Audrey watched the newcomer brace himself for an attack. He was tall, dressed in dark blue, and holding one of Mal's Isle swords with a trained, precise hand. His face and head were covered by a black knit scarf. He looked as strong and imposing as all the knights in her dreams or any of the Auradon Knights. She watched him brace his feet and her heart fluttered - just a little bit. She could see the outlines of his jaw through the scarf as he held his sword aloft and watched Gaston get to his feet. Neither Gaston nor Facilier had a sword, but Gaston growled as he wretched a wooden beam support right out from underneath the awning of one of the surrounding establishments. This he readied in his hands.

The masked man attacked. He brought a swift blow down on Gaston's head and immediately took a chunk of wood out of the beam. He used his arm to force the beam - and Gaston's arm - to the ground and then jabbed at the older man's arm. Gaston barely got away with a deep slice stretching across his bicep. The masked man continued, forcing Gaston back onto his knees and then his back. The older man was forced to use the beam primarily for defense. Facilier couldn't get close enough to help as the flash of the sword swinging came down over and over, taking chunks and leaving divots in the large beam. Audrey was in awe. The only person she'd ever seen fight remotely similar to this Isle warrior was Ben in his Auradon Prep days, but even his best fighting couldn't hold a candle to what she was seeing now. There was a snap, and the beam split into two above Gaston's head. The splinters flew into the villain's face, and Gaston abruptly kicked out, trying to take out the man's legs. A sword came down in his path, and Gaston's boot was cut open.

Audrey carefully tried to move and flee. In the event Gaston looked around, it was entirely possible he'd see her where she'd fallen. The lean-to structure above her head shuddered and promptly collapsed on top of her head, effectively shielding her from view and filling her vision with stars. Before Gaston or Facilier could ever look over to the crash, the masked man dropped his sword grabbed Facilier and flung him down a small slope. He reached down to snatch his sword back up, but Gaston has used the distraction with Facilier to seize the hero's weapon and now jumped to his feet and held the sword to the man's throat. Facilier scrambled to his feet and balled his fists up as the masked man tried to retreat a few steps.

Audrey watched in horror as the two villains forced him to his knees and Gaston seized the man's hat and flung it aside. He seized the man's sandy blonde hair and wrenched his head back. The man's disguise was jostled aside. Audrey had to clamp a hand over her mouth.

It was Ben

Gaston stamped on Ben's legs to keep him from moving. Ben's face twisted in pain, but he refused to call out. "You son of a Beast!" Gaston yelled in his face, spit flying everywhere as Ben leaned away. "How dare you –"

"Gaston." Facilier purred, drawing the older man's temper away as he held Ben's shoulders and pinned Ben's knees under his feet. Ben groaned as his head arched back and his knees were driven into the ground at uncomfortable angles.

Gaston calmed down enough to see who he'd caught. There were several long seconds where there was nothing except Audrey praying that they wouldn't recognize him.

No chance.

"Son of a Beast." Gaston purred, hoisting Ben to his feet and wrapping a hand around his throat. "Son of a Beast." He began to laugh.

They were distracted. If Audrey hurried, she could use the same scare tactic Ben had used and push Ben out of their grasp. Ben might lose a bit of hair, but he'd be free and alive.

Then Facilier joined in, laughing with Gaston, and Audrey shrank. What could she do? She was a small, tired, useless girl with no previous Isle experience. It took all of her strength to hold back a few heartbroken sobs as the two villains hauled Ben away, heading to the end of the wharf. She buried her face in her hands and broke into silent sobs.

[delicrieux]

-- valar dohaeris

                                         + all men must serve +                                                       chapter 2

pairing: jon snow x reader x various

summary: Sansa Stark finally reunites with her brother

warnings: mentions of blood

words: 2.1k

author’s note: i love this. i love different POVs. i love strange characters with questionable intentions. i love--

tagging: @emmaamalie

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

masterlist | ch.1 | v. d. masterlist | buy me coffee☕

MELISANDRE

Melisandre is not one to doubt her God, yet the traitorous thoughts had plagued her since Stannis came to be not the Promised One. She felt ashamed; shunned; a disgrace to the Red Priests, to the God of Light and Fire, to herself. A century of living and for the first time since the early start her vision was unclear. Was bringing (Name) here the right choice? Was (Name)’s council needed when her magic abandoned her? Was she blinded by evil? Fed to sinister illusions? She feared to speak High Valerian again after her abysmal failure.

But the Jon Snow rose from the dead, from the ashes, from the frosty snow. Life blooms within him now, and he is unchanged: still perpetually frowning and still loyal to his core. He is the Promised One, she has no qualms about this. Her God has returned to her. And all of her worries had melted into distant memory.

Her heart swells in her chest and she can hardly contain her smile. Castle Black drowns in shadows, and she hides in one of them, watching as (Name) and Jon sit together, share whispers: he, donned in his Commander clothes, and her, dripping in deep red satin. The Hall is otherwise empty of spectators, only the flickering flame illuminating their silhouettes twirls and watches in the fireplace. She gently takes his hand, turns it, and pulls the sleeve all the way to his forearm. Jon, pensive, observes her elegant movements with morbid interest. (Name)’s fingers trail down from his elbow to his wrist, touch no lighter than a feather, hiss like whispers falling from her lips. The fire behind them rages and jumps, golden-orange and angry; in its brilliance glimmers one of the rings on her finger, one made of Valerian Steel and oily black stone.

Melisandre’s gaze shift to the ring, enraptured with its power. Its glittery surface reminds her of Asshai and its castles and homes, all infused with ancient magic. Perhaps that is why she took (Name) with her; perhaps she reminds her of home. But Melisandre hardly cares for such human values as home or family. She lives to serve, to fulfil a prophecy.

She does not recall the exact date of when (Name) first stepped foot on Asshai, but she knows it was dusk, and the night had been dark and misty. The sun was barely breaking the horizon, purple and blue from clouds and smoke. Then came whispers to her, mutters spoken in many languages, some of which even she did not recognise. They told of a child, no older than three, left by the peer, whose cries echoed with the crashing waves like thunder. In the dancing flames she saw an ashen face and eyes so piercing it struck her deeply, taking her breath away. Orders barked, people rushed, the babe was brought into the temple and candles lit up as the women in red walked over. Around the child’s throat hung the ring. She saw herself in its reflection.

Melisandre had watched (Name) grow in the glooms of Asshai; watched her eyes spark with wonder and lust for knowledge; watched her breathe freely in the labyrinth-esque library; watched her recite spells over and over and scry into fire and perform rituals of blood and bone. But (Name)’s birth remained a mystery – she, when confronted, did not know, and Melisandre, inquisitive, could not see it in the light. What she managed to find out, however, was a small secret, tailed by doubt: (Name) hails from Yeen.

Yet if she truly did, she would be dead.

And there is only but one explanation, one which reassures her that everything is connected. (Name) had been brought to Asshai by the Lord of Light for Melisandre to teach, and she had brought (Name) to Westeros because she saw strands of her hair dancing in the northern wind of a vision.

Slowly, she sinks back into the shadows and leaves the hall, missing the suspicious glance (Name) had thrown the corner she had been standing in.

THE RED WOMAN FROM ASSHAI

 His arm quivers under your touch; his skin is hot against it. His gaze jumps from your lips to your eyes and then to anywhere but you before the cycle continues. You find it somewhat amusing, and your lips quirk with a half-smile, your concentration breaking as enchantments burn in memory. You sigh and let go, make distance between the two of you and he breathes with relief, “If you keep staring at me, I will have trouble focusing.”

“Can’t I…uh…Can’t the Maester just have a look at me?”

You raise a brow, indifferent once more, “Did the Maester bring you back to life?” He lowers his head, “But, no matter now. You are fine. You shall live. There is nothing amiss.”

“That’s…good, I suppose.”

His face slips into a frown and you almost see his mind bend and boil with difficult thoughts. His gaze, distant and sombre, bores into the specs on the wooden table, and you sense he is no longer with you, rather lost somewhere. You turn to the fire: its warm glow kisses your face; the scent of burning wood reminds you of home. Your hands fidget with the ring absentmindedly. Images of today play in the flames: The Hanging, Jon’s desire to leave, and you, eventually, stopping him.

“What troubles you, Jon Snow?” You ask him softly. His jaw tenses, eyes closing painfully.

“You know what.”

“They were good men.”

You attention returns to him with curiosity, your words intentionally provocative and harsh. You wonder what shall he say, how shall he explain himself, what sort of twisted sense of justice he has. They stabbed me, is the first thing that comes to mind. You tilt your head and watch him mull it all over; the painful blink of his lashes; the tightly shut lips; the tense shoulders that heave with contained breaths. They betrayed me, is the second thing. You expect he shall give one of these answer. Then again, he might not grace you with an answer at all.

“They were.” He finally says, his voice low, barely a whisper. Your gazes meet and once again your heart jumps to your throat – within their gentle depths resides a fire, traces of ancient magic, ancient blood – and you feel a shiver crawl up your spine. “They did what they thought was right.” He continues, turning away “And I killed them for it.”

“All men must die.” You say, “But before that… All men must serve.” You add after a thoughtful pause. He nods hollowly, not entirely listening. “Those who fall out of line must be guided back. Or face the consequences of their actions…Would you have them betray you again?”

“I would rather not have any of this happen at all.”

“What is done cannot be undone.”

“Not even with magic?” He asks, voice shimmering with amusement.

“No. It would be unwise even to try.” You glance at the fire, it now subdued to but a glow, “The outcome could be…Haunting.”

His eyes squint, “Have you…ever tried?”

Jon’s question takes you back into Asshai, into a dark room lit by candles and a flag of a red heart hung above the bed. The moon is in full bloom, its magnetic radiance illuminating the tombs spilled with blood, the silver blade laying forgotten on the pillow, and the ring dotted in maroon spots.

You return to reality with a deep inhale and sit up straight, “No.” Is all that falls from your lips, too quick to be the truth, too quick to have any real meaning. You clear your throat and your hand grasps his wrist, startling him. His pulse drums against your skin, erratic, “Someone’s coming to see you.” You announce, eyes not leaving his strained veins, “Be ready.” You finish and let go just as harshly as you had grabbed him.

You leave him stunned and confused, exiting the Hall and meeting the bleak day. Crows fly around in circles. Their croaks warn of a visitor.

 SANSA STARK

It was an emotional reunion, and Sansa’s bones nearly cracked from the fierceness of Jon’s hold, strong and protective, and she had cried into his shoulder in silent, happy tears. It came in waves, that terrible relief and sadness: she could breathe again knowing there is no safer place on Earth than by his side, yet she was devastated because it had taken so long to reach him. The adrenaline that had been fuelling her died down in his arms, and she was suddenly exhausted, too frail to stand, yet too fearful to let go. Eventually she did, after muffled words exchanged between them, and she wiped away her tears hurriedly. Red from crying and puffy, her eyes glistered like emeralds against the snow. Alas, with the promise of reuniting once more at supper, she was escorted to a temporary chamber. As climbed up the creaky, uneven stairs, and listened to the harsh wind whipping against the small windows, she almost fell into tears again.

But when she entered her room she was not alone. The small space contained a bed, a single window, a chair, and a fireplace spilling with hot flames, they casting strange shapes on the pale, dirty walls. On the chair sits a woman clad in red, hair hidden behind a satin hood, her expression tranquil and pleasant, fingers working quick on embroidery. Sansa halts by the door, startled. A soft hum slips past the shut lips of the stranger, before she finally lifts her eyes and greets her, “Hello, Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell. You seem tired. You should rest.”

It struck Sansa there and then that she is no one ordinary, no chamber maid, no lady. The delirious, sing-song tone of her voice, foreign features belonging neither to North or South, the air of absolute secret…It struck Sansa that she is the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, and she had witnessed many Queens in their silk dresses, ladies with their charming rose-bud smiles, maids in blushed timid faces. Yet never had she found them all that appealing, though now she reconsiders and her heartbeat quickens if a bit. But it is silent here, she realises; no whips of wind, simply the fire cracks and jumps in the fireplace.

“Who are you?” Sansa asks, cautious and untrusting, unmoving by the door. The woman in red sets down her embroidery, regarding it with a bored glance.

“I am (Name) of Asshai.” She introduces in the same lovely tone.

“Asshai?” Sansa frowns, the name familiar yet unplaced.

The woman, now dubbed as (Name), nods, “East most and South most of Essos, at the end of the known world.” She explains, “The land of arcane arts.”

“You’re a witch?” Sansa questions doubtfully, voice riddled with mirth and disbelieve.

(Name) leans out of her chair, her face glowing pretty in the firelight, “I am. Does that frighten you?”

“Should it?”

“Well, you have not moved yet. I promise I mean no harm. I am here because your brother asked me to be. He does not trust the men working here. And for good reason, might I add.”

(Name) told about the death and resurrection, the tale so outlandish Sansa would have trouble believing it if she did not know for fact that it was true. She eased eventually, the mysterious figure of the Red Woman appeared less menacing and more child-like with a curious disposition. (Name) explained that she had never been to the North, and that her skin had burned from the cold and her throat was sore immediately within but a few breaths. She also admitted that she did not like the North, her gaze wandered to the window, to the Wall moulded from snow and magic. She mentioned a great evil restlessly drifting beyond it. But Sansa, finally in bed, her body covered in mountains of blankets and fur, hardly listened to words spoken in common tongue. She frowned softly when the tone shifted so something ululating and low. She blinked owlishly, presented with a gift – (Name) offered the embroidery with a wolf woven out of silver thread. Sleepily Sansa accepted, running her fingers along the neat lines.

“Your brother said you loved sewing.” (Name) admitted, “I thought this would make you feel more at home.” She added, the first notes of tenderness blooming in her voice. Yet she did not stick around for long, and with a smile, genuine or not Sansa could not tell, she slunk back to the door, and silently shut it behind her. The fire died down. The room went dark.

And it is as if everything that had happened up until this point faded in memory, and overcome with drowsiness Sansa fell asleep, the gift still tangled in her fingers.

thank you for reading! xx

[shadesmaclean]

Tradewinds 21 CH 04

At first, Shades told himself that going around the side of the mansion wouldn’t be so bad. He quietly hoped that this Melissa would be unable to find a way in, but between the vibes he was getting from this place, combined with how long she had already been gone thus far, he was already sure that was just wishful thinking on his part. Sure enough, he found a wrought-iron gate set in a second, inner fence hanging open on one rusty hinge, leading into the rear grounds behind that wing. At first he thought it wouldn’t be so bad, after making it past the outer gate, but he was wrong. Even just peering in the front window a couple minutes ago made him feel like a child himself. How an actual child could hold up in the face of this place’s atmosphere left him wondering if it wasn’t an unhealthy side-effect of growing up next-door to an eldritch location like the Woods. The vines along the walls back here were even more rife, as if the growth out front was just a preview. Vineholdt… Found himself pondering why rich people so often felt the need to name their houses. As if they were a separate country or something. This was worse than being in another country. This was like being on another planet. The knowledge that the outside world was so close at hand only made it worse; at least when he wandered off into the Sixth Dimension one dark and stormy night, he had no idea how far away from his own world he really was. The fact that he even thought of this estate as being somehow apart from the surrounding world only served to remind him of what this place was. Though the idea existed in his mind, he had no name for it, no proper words to describe it. In his travels, he had encountered a couple places that were sort of like this, but not exactly; whatever all haunted those Woods outside of town was largely overshadowed by whatever evil resided in here. Along the way, he encountered a fountain built into a niche in the mansion wall, of an ornate floral motif. Its waist-high basin full almost to the brim with blackish, brackish water he could fairly smell even several yards away. A horrifying thought crossed his mind, and he took a couple steps forward before he caught himself, breathing a sigh of relief as he observed that the foul water and the basin ledge were completely undisturbed. Wondering why such a grim thought even came to mind, it finally dawned on him just what it was he so instinctively disliked about it. The water itself. Not merely its toxic appearance, but the realization that it hadn’t rained around Pickford in at least two or three days. Even in the shade, the water shouldn’t be nearly as full after that much evaporation. Though there was still something else about the fountain he didn’t trust, could’ve sworn he heard something plink and splash, but when he looked back, that black water stood perfectly still. Moving on, around the corner, he found a little-used side door. Gaping wide open, yawning into darkness. Shades couldn’t help but groan as he looked upon it. “She didn’t…” Or course, he already knew she went inside. After all, that was exactly what the House wanted. Wasn’t sure just how he knew, but he was more certain of that than he was about much of anything else going on around here. The dusty footprints just inside the threshold, too small to belong to an adult, merely confirmed his suspicions. “These people have suffered more than enough because of you…” Shades glared back at all those unwelcoming windows with more conviction than he actually thought he could muster. “You won’t have her, too.” Still, he hesitated in the doorway, reaching into one of his many pockets and producing a compact flashlight. Switching it on, he tested it, finding the beam strong, if narrow. Moira had warned them of rare, but potentially dangerous, blackouts that happened around town once in a blue moon, and even though he was only out by day, their past misadventures had taught him how many different situations a flashlight made for an adventurer’s best friend. Ordinarily, he took comfort in how the power cells and bulbs designed in this world tended to last a lot longer than batteries, especially, from his own, but now he found shame in wishing they’d failed. And after making such bold declarations. Yet he found he was less ashamed of showing fear in front of those kids than he was at the thought of coming back without so much as a clue about what happened to their friend, so he put one cold foot forward. The house seemed to push back with waves of stuffy air, but it mostly just invoked his own stubborn streak as he strode forward. Pressing on, he swept his light around to reveal a small foyer full of shelves of garden supplies, as well as the long-withered remains of what was once fresh produce, the shriveled husks of herbs and vegetables, surely the source of most of what he was smelling. Through the next door was a large kitchen, equipped with a mix of old-fashioned-looking equipment, and electric appliances of outland make that would look right at home in Moira’s kitchen back at the Pines, or even his own mom’s, if not for the mix of peculiar brand names. Off to his left was another door, to a flight of stairs leading down. He looked down those steps into some sort of cellar. His flashlight illuminated part of an old furnace, with a row of circular ducts branching out from it like tentacles, and a faint updraft fed him a whiff of coal and soot. Shook his head, just couldn’t imagine her going down there for anything. And could all too easily imagine those rickety steps collapsing under him right on cue. Didn’t care to get caught down there with anything that made itself at home in a place like this, his inner Admiral Ackbar being particularly vocal about that view. Reminded himself that abandoned buildings could host their own share of mundane hazards an unwary explorer might fall prey to. Resigned himself to the possibility that he just might have to search every room of this warped place. Deciding that he would only risk coming back here if his search of less obviously dangerous, and far more likely, places proved fruitless. As he turned for the only other door, he found himself wondering why he hadn’t tried calling out to her. After all, he was all but certain whatever haunted these halls was already well aware of his presence anyway. That rescuing her from this place wasn’t really going to be a stealth operation anyhow. Starting with the cellar door, he called out: “Hello! Melissa! I’m here to help you!…” And the house answered him with ominous silence. Not even the building settling, nor any other sound. Just the creepy sense of anticipation, as if the entire house was waiting for something. Concluding that she must not be in this area anymore, he moved on to the next door, which led into a dining room. As he skirted around the long table that occupied most of the room, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the child’s boldness— or at least sufficient preoccupation to not notice those cellar stairs— as he was fairly sure she actually went this way. To the side were a couple smaller doors that looked like closets to him, and another door at the far end of the room. Beyond was a cavernous chamber he could barely discern through the faint gloom of cob-webbed curtains and dusty windows. Sweeping his light around, he took in an ornately furnished great hall of high ceilings, sporting a large crystal chandelier, and hardwood floors appointed with carefully arranged rugs. To his right was a pair of double doors, matching the front entrance outside, with a decorative glass fan window above, designed with a peacock motif, and on the far side was another door, leading into the other wing. To his left was a grand staircase, forming a t-joint about halfway up, branching off into both wings. Wondering if she really would go any deeper into this spooky place, he went over and poked his light into the next room. Sure enough, there was the ball, still lying on the floor, untouched, leaving him with the dread certainty that she must have gone upstairs for some unfathomable reason. Taking a deep breath, he plunged even deeper into the mansion, starting up the stairs. Even through the stiff carpet runner, he could hear some steps creak, but still held firm, so he continued up. At the first landing, there was a door hanging partway open, so he checked it out. Inside was what looked to him like some sort of playroom. Scattered toys, stuffed animals, and an old-fashioned rocking horse. As well as scattered dead bugs, peeling wallpaper, and an antique-looking device that reminded Shades of an old phonograph, just sitting on the floor in the corner, looking every bit as forlorn as the rest of the room. Shutting the door on this vista, which set a most unsettling tone, he turned back and looked out across the great hall. “Taking a child…” he said aloud, no longer able to contain his own disgust at this place. “You really do have no shame, do you?” Much like before, he expected no response, so it made him jump in unabashed startlement when a grandfather clock started tolling out of nowhere, reverberating off all the walls. He nearly tripped on the stairs as he wheeled about the landing, seeking for a threat that failed to materialize. His free hand having already drawn one stun-stick, even as his mind pivoted just as much as his feet, uncertain if his weapon would avail him against anything in here. The door behind him remained closed, and nothing seemed to be approaching from any stairway, even as the deep chiming of an unknown hour died away. It was only in the midst of regaining his wits that he noticed the spectral spectacle unfolding in the great hall below, that he was missing the show. Around the center of the hall, six shimmering women garbed in hooded ceremonial robes surrounded a seventh. Each of them clasped their hands together in various ritual gestures, the others’ heads bowed as the one in the center spoke. Shades was eerily certain she had been chanting all along, but the fading echo of the clock chime left him feeling as if he just tuned in to a new radio station between gulfs of static. “…stand upon the unshakeable Foundations of the Earth under our feet, that we might stand unmoved in our conviction.” “In Her name, so let it be,” the others answered. “In the name of the Goddess, we call upon the Fire of Purity to burn away your corruption.” “In Her name, so let it be.” “In the name of the Goddess, we call upon the Free Air, that your ashes may be blown away upon the Winds of Time.” “In Her name, so let it be.” “In the name of the Goddess, we call upon the Waters of Life to wash away your filth that defiles this place of the living.” “In Her name, so let it be.” “In the name of the Goddess, Mother of All Things, we cast you out of the place.” “In Her name, so let it be.” “In the name of the Goddess, who gave birth to all life, we call upon all human spirits found herein, and grant license to quit this place… that you might return to the Source, the womb from whence all souls enter this world…” “In Her name, so let it be.” “In the name of the Goddess, who guards her children with righteous fury, we cast out all… foul things… without soul… to return to the Void from whence…” Though she started out strong, her voice was becoming increasingly strained with each line of the ritual, her words were coming out increasingly desperate. Her last incantation cut off by a strangled gasp as she was lifted bodily off the floor by an unseen force. Head thrown back, hands fumbling frantically at thin air in front of her neck. At this horrifying sight, the others looked up from their concentration as their sister struggled. And their prayers were answered with silence. “In the name… of the Goddess…” she choked out, feet thrashing over a foot off the ground, head snapping from side to side in a vain effort to break that terrible grip. “The… Void… take thee!…” As if on cue, her neck gave a loud, chicken-bone crack, her whole body spasming, then going limp as the others cried out in abject horror and anguish. “LETA!” Her body flung at one of the sisters as the others scattered. Their screams faded even as their ghostly forms dissolved, leaving Shades standing alone on the stair landing, overlooking an empty hall. Then, for good measure, that massive chandelier came crashing down, right on top of the faint outlines of an old six-point ritual circle, spraying crystal all over the floor. Heart lodged solidly in his throat, gasping reflexively at the sensation. Certain that grim replay truly had happened. Quite certain that display was meant to scare him. Okay, it worked… Shades admitted to himself, feeling his blood run cold. Felt an unseasonable chill in the great hall as he found his feet taking him down the steps. Energy blade fired up to slice the locks right off the front door when he got there. It was only with great effort that he pulled the reins on them in mid step, his feet halting in indecision as he reminded himself what was at stake here. Quite sure that he was out of his depth, out of his league against whatever was at work here, yet that Missing Child picture of Kelly Edwards stared at his mind’s eye, pleading. Begging the question of whether Melissa would also become another chapter of this place’s horrific history. Even as he tried to tell himself the kids outside wouldn’t think any less of him for being defeated by something that had beaten everything else that ever challenged it, the thought of facing Melissa’s parents without doing everything he could for her, that thought brought his retreat to a grinding halt. Little Kelly had met her end years before any of them knew the Woods even existed, let alone ever set foot there, while this was happening right here and now. Half expecting invisible hands to seize his own throat, or perhaps push him down the stairs, he strode back up, deciding to search the upper level of the wing he started with first. As he reached the center landing, he tripped on a slight curl in the rug, catching himself against the playroom doorframe. At first gasping and sweeping his energy blade around in an attempt to engage a nonexistent foe. Then breathed a sigh of relief and laughed at himself as he realized what just happened, and he wondered if the sound of laughter was as foreign to this place back then as it was now as he continued on his way.

[openupblackwidow]

Before the Sunrise Ch. 1

Fandom: EXO Characters: OC/Reader & EXO OT12 & Other Original Characters Genre: Fantasy Rating: E for everyone Length: 2454 Words Summary:   You have no idea how you got here, or where here even is, but when you wake to find yourself in another world, you never imagined what it would mean for your fate. Is this your destiny or just a coincidence? Maybe it’s all just an elaborate dream! Regardless, the fate of a world rests in your hands. Author’s Notes: This fic has been abandoned for a variety of reasons. It’s possible it could be revisited in the future. Prologue

The sheets around my body rustled as I stirred from slumber. I could feel the sunlight trickling in through the windows as I rolled over and stretched. It had to have been a dream. The pink smoke, the woman with green skin, the angel in the white that saved me, all just a figment of my vulnerable state of mind. It would make for a great story, sure, but it was nothing more than that. Putting to rest the events of my sleeping state, I sat up and ran a hand through my mess of tangled hair with a yawn. I felt so rested, so relaxed. It was the best sleep I’d had in some time and for that I was thankful. I had too much going on in the next few days to worry about lack of sleep and tiredness.

My feet touched the floor and something soft and furry tickled between my toes. “Hmm?” I hummed, glancing down at what I’d put my feet on. The white fur rug cozied up to my skin as my toes dug into the softness. My gaze drifted up, looking around me, realizing this was definitely not my bedroom. A window sat open, letting in warm rays of sunlight as a gentle breeze blew the canopy around the four poster bed I sat upon. The room was decorated in lavish whites and golds, the walls glistened from the metallic wallpaper and a golden chandelier hung unlit above from the ceiling.

I pulled myself away from the bed, realizing my clothes had been changed and I’d been put into a simple white lace gown. My fingers ran along the fabric, soaking it in before my attention once again returned to the open window. My feet padded over to it as my hands rested against the sill. Carefully, I poked my head out, drinking in the sunlight as I looked left and right, listening as a bird chirped nearby. The landscape outside was beautiful, a garden bloomed below near a courtyard that was met by the brick walls of… was this a castle? The building seemed to go on forever as I looked from one end to the other, then back out to the scenery. A forest stretched beyond what looked like a small village of sorts, reaching as far as the eye could see. What stopped my wandering gaze, was the sight of pink smoke rising up above the tree tops.

A lump formed in my throat that I couldn’t quite swallow down as I stepped inside and pulled the window shut. I backed into a wall as I remembered the events from before I passed out. My fingers rushed to my head, brushing the skin, looking for any signs of the injury, but they found nothing. I still had no idea where I was, and though the land outside seemed beautiful, I knew that evil could hide even in the most beautiful of places.

Trying to stuff down an anxiety attack, I rushed to the door and slowly, carefully pulled it open, listening for any signs of someone nearby, but all I could hear were distant voices. Taking in a deep breath, I slipped out and down the hall, peeking around corners, occasionally looking up into the faces of people with colorful hair, both men and women, looking strong and bold, most standing before different settings in paintings. I never stopped though. I needed to get answers, needed to find my way home. I had a life, a family, though one who didn’t seem overly concerned about me these days. I couldn’t just take a vacation without telling anyone.

As I moved, the voices grew louder and I realized they were arguing. I neared the open door they were drifting through and stopped, quietly peeking an eye around the corner to take in the scene. Twelve men sat around a table, and with them was the beautiful angel in white. Her fingers were laced together and pressed against her lips as she looked between two men.

“We should send her back to her world. She doesn’t belong here!” one of them snapped. His dark hair was matched by equally dark eyes and he didn’t look too pleased to be sitting there.

“She’s here for a reason, Kyungsoo! We can’t ignore this! We can’t ignore her!” another dark haired man across the table argued back. As he spoke, an electricity seemed to fill the air, the room growing more tense than when I’d first peeked in.  

“She should go back. I don’t trust her, and since she’s arrived they’re crossing the border more frequently. She’s nothing but trouble and—”

“Enough!” A louder voice rose above the others and a man with golden hair in a blue shirt stood up from his seat. His face was kind, but his posture seemed to indicate that he meant business. “Yixing, what do you think?”

A young man in round spectacles sighed into his clasped hands as he looked from the woman, to the man named Kyungsoo, then back to the one who’d ended the fighting. “Regardless of what we decide, she needs rest. I say we give it a few days. Let her stay here in Central City. Take care of her and see that she gets better. The rest of us can go home, sleep on it, think on it, talk to leaders. Our votes can be collected in a few days and we go from there. But, in my professional opinion, she needs time to finish healing, and once she finds out what’s going on, she’ll struggle.”

The golden haired man still standing nodded. “Right. Then it’s settled. We’ll do as Yixing suggested. Regardless of her status, regardless of whatever danger her presence has put us in, she’s still a person.”

“Shh,” the angel cut in after sitting in silence. She stood from her seat as all eyes found her curiously, her hand raised. “She’s here,” I heard her whisper. All at once, every pair of eyes in the room turned to the door, staring angrily, curiously, affectionately in my direction.

I caught my breath in my throat and froze for a moment before coming to my senses and running. I didn’t know where I was going, but I ran down hall after hall, turning corners, flying down stairs. I finally came to a pair of doors and threw them open, running into the sunlight, hoping I would managed to find my way home, but I knew it was useless.

“Let me just freeze time! We can strap her down or—”

“Are you crazy? Don’t answer that. Catalina, allow me. I can have her back in a snap. I think she’d be less afraid with me than she would with Tao.”

The redheaded woman looked between the two men she considered friends with a kind smile on her face as she shook her head. “Thank you both, but I’m afraid if either of you approach her right now, she’ll run further. Let me handle this.”

She retrieved her cloak from a nearby coat rack and looked to the twelve men still gathered around the table. Her eyes locked with those of the golden haired man and as if they shared unspoken words, he nodded at her. “Right, the rest of us, let’s collect our things and return to our homes. Kai,” he turned to the man who’d offered his help moments before. “In three days, would you please be so kind as to gather everyone’s answers regarding the situation and bring them to me?”

The dark haired man nodded quietly in the direction of the other before he pulled his coat over his arms. “C’mon, Kyungsoo. I’ll take you home. Yixing?”

The spectacled man raised his hand and shook his head. “I have some business to finish in the city, but thank you for the offer. Safe travels, you two.”

With a final nod to everyone, the pair vanished within thin air. The others began to excuse themselves until only the man who’d clearly established himself as a leader and Catalina remained.

“Take care of her, Cat. I don’t know who she is, or why she’s here, but it could be the time has come earlier than we all expected. She could be the one. I’ll be in touch in three days via Kai.” He placed his hand on her shoulder as she gave him a nod and the two departed down the stairs.

The scent of the freshly bloomed flowers tickled my senses as I moved from hedge to hedge in the sort of maze I’d found myself in. Eventually, my lungs screamed and my legs wobbled until I collapsed in a corner of the garden. My chest heaved as I gasped for air and tried to calm myself. As my heart slowed back to its normal pace, my fingers reached above my head toward one of the flowers on a vine. I fingered the petals carefully with a heavy sigh. “I just want to go home,” I whispered.

“You must be confused and scared,” a gentle, yet familiar voice danced into my ears.

My gaze drifted up to find the angel who’d saved me before, cloaked in white, carrying a beautiful, purple velvet cloak that she extended to me. I watched her carefully, but she made no movement to harm me. Up to this point, she’d done nothing but help me, even though she hadn’t taken me home, she’d somehow saved me. I knew she held answers to my burning questions, like where I was, how I got here, how my wound was mysteriously gone, and who that woman I had met before was.

With a deep breath, I found my feet and took the cloak from her hands, draping it over my shoulders and realizing that I had been cold without it. “Thank you,” I mumbled as my fingers clung to the soft fabric. I studied her again as we stood in silence. A smile stretched her lips and I had to wonder why.

“I’m sure you have many questions. I can answer some, but not all. I’m afraid there are… choices that have to be made before you can know everything. How about we sit and talk, and after, we can go inside for something to eat, okay?”

The offer seemed genuine and she still hadn’t moved, hadn’t shown herself to be a threat. I nodded, though a little hesitantly, and followed as she wove around some of the hedges until we were upon a bench. Together we sat, and I watched as she turned her gaze to me. It was then, I realized her eyes were a beautiful green, like the leaves of the plants surrounding us.

“Where would you like to start?” she asked, snapping me from my daze.

“I… Er… Where am I? How did I get here? What happened to the cut on my head?” the questions tumbled one after the other from my lips.

A soft chuckle escaped her as she laced her hands together in her lap. “You’re in Central City within the kingdom of Uliaver. This is my home.”

My brows furrowed in confusion. I could recall the name Central City being used before during the secret meeting I’d happened upon, but another thought struck my mind. “Central City? You mean, like the city from The Flash?”

This time, it was the woman’s turn to look confused as she shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of this… Flash you speak of. We are Central City because we sit in the center of the kingdom.”

Listening to her speak only brought on more questions. Kingdom? Did that mean there were other places that were ruled over here? Who was the supposed ruler of this kingdom? Now wasn’t the time, though. I still had more pressing questions that needed answers.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you how you arrived here, not yet. There will be a time and a place for the answers to that, but it’s not now. Forgive me. As for your wound, we have a fantastic healer, Yixing. I’m sure you heard his name mentioned when you slipped in on the conversation,” she softly worded with a kind smile.

A blush tinted my cheeks as I remembered the way thirteen pairs of eyes stared at me in the doorway. They were all so handsome, but oh so frightening as they gazed upon my half concealed face. “S-sorry,” I mumbled in something of shame. “I heard the voices down the hall and… But wait, how did you know I was there?”

She was quiet, her gaze looked away at the flowers nearby. I could tell she was thinking, perhaps deciding whether that was a question she could answer, since she’d said not all could be revealed, whatever that was supposed to mean. “I’m what we call a huntress. People like me, in my position, we can sense others who don’t belong within our world. Since you’re not from here, I can sense your presence more easily than anyone who lives here. It’s how I found you,” she calmly answered.

My mind was already reeling with thoughts and more questions. I was supposed to just believe that I was magically transported to another world? Curiosity still coursed through my veins, as I looked at her yet again. “And the other woman? The one with the green skin? Is she a huntress too?”

Her lips puckered in what I presumed to be a way to keep herself from talking as she shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that question right now either.” As she finished speaking, a bell rung from somewhere on the other side of the vast castle that stretched out before us. As the world fell quiet again, she sighed and smiled at me. “How about we go in for a bite to eat, yeah?” She stood and offered a hand to help me up.

I took it and stretched my legs. “I… Never got your name.”

“Catalina. And you?”

I hesitated. I wasn’t comfortable giving strangers my names, but at this point, I had convinced myself all of this was just a dream. After all, there was no way I could be in a world that wasn’t my own. This was all in my head and soon, I would wake up from it and write it all out into a fantastical story. “You can call me ___,” I finally answered. With introductions complete, I allowed Catalina to guide me back into the castle so the two of us could satisfy our hunger and, hopefully, I could get more answers to questions.

[adriennescomingbacktolife]

Chaos 96: Boiling Point

OOC: Written by Knox, Thor, Mac Bane, and myself.

Knox watches as Poppy, AFH and Kyuubi head up the ramp. He goes to the corner and demands a microphone. He snatches it once it’s offered and raises it to his lips Matt Knox: whoa whoa whoa, Hey. Stick around you three. I might just be able to educate you. Terra Skye: Knox seems to have something to say Johnny Vegas: He’s gonna get his ass kicked. He works to slow his breathing down as the fans cheer. At the top of the ramp, Insidious have halted their exit and turned to face Matt Knox, who is leaning on the top rope staring them down. He lifts the mic back to his lips Matt Knox: Now...I’ve been pretty mum on why I want a piece of Insidious. I mean, if i’m honest, it started out simple enough. Beat the last guy who beat me. Which was Sah’ta Thor, in a match that I don’t remember because, frankly, I was stoned and drunk out of my mind. Shit happens. Knox paces the ring, eyes cast at his feet. He reaches a hand up and slicks back his hair, wiping away some of his face paint as he does so Matt Knox: But then, at Chaos 93, when I come out here to make my introduction and to make my challenge official to him..I’m met by the family I.. He pauses, stopping his pacing and staring at his feet. With a deep breath and a quick exhale, he continues Matt Knox: I abandoned. It’s true, I own it. I left Astryd, pregnant raising a kid I had adopted. Never bothered to file divorce papers. Spent more than a decade in a big, empty house getting shit faced, selling things to get another hit...I’m lucky to be alive..But I couldn’t kill me. And now, standing here...rambling.. Johnny Vegas: And there he is! He admits it! Insidious are VINDICATED Terra Skye: SHUT UP JOHNNY He cracks a smile, before walking to the ropes and motioning to Insidious Matt Knox: I’m clearer than I’ve ever been, better than ever, and ready to make this as personal as their boss-daddy-leader has made it. You say I’m the one with the problem, Thor? Yeah. I fucking am. I have a huge problem. With you, your whole set up. Then, Now, and Beyond. You brainwash people with your bullshit, bring them into your fold. Not just men, and women. Children. Fucking Children, man Johnny Vegas: Oh, now he cares about kids.. He pauses, sneering before continuing. His voice getting lower, more dangerous Matt Knox: My. Children. And them? That’s my fault. I left them there to be brainwashed like they are. Hell, you got my daughters wrestling for the entertainment of god knows who. You got Hope justifying it to me in the back...and bringing her here, bringing them all here that’s...that’s just a picnic right, no mind games there, right? Hey, I got a question man. And I want you all, the legion to really stew on this one. You got So. Many. God. Damn. Kids...why, in the time that I was there, in the time that I was even mailing my children gifts so they’d remember I existed...Why haven’t I met any of their moms? Pretty suspicious, man. Johnny Vegas: That’s no one’s business! Terra Skye: He’s unloading a decade of luggage right now Johnny, give the man a break. The three members of Insidious look absolutely furious at the top of the ramp, but Knox just smiles and wags a finger, before raising a hand and waving the question away. Matt Knox: But enough of the tin foil. I’ll cut to the quick, and i’m sure Thor, if you’re not receiving some million dollar treatment to get through another match, you’ll be out here soon enough. Ready to sick your dogs on me. So here it is. Empire of Blood, Insidious. It’s what’s wrong with the world. One man who has so much, but clings on to little man syndrome still. Still need to be the biggest, baddest thing in the room. Offering Carnage financial support. You’re full of shit, you’re cruel for the sake of being cruel, and flat out I don’t like you. Terra Skye: In the plainest words possible, Johnny Johnny Vegas: He cries about as much as a guy in makeup should As Matt continues to rant Thor comes from the back and stands at the top of the ramp joining the other three members of Insidious. In his hand is a microphone that he had grabbed on his way from the back. Terra Skye: Here we go. Face to face two weeks in a row. Johnny Vegas: and it’s gonna end just the same. Insidious leaving bloody, broken people in the ring. Sah'ta Thor: Well, well, well. Here you are painting me as the bad guy. The ultimate evil in your world view. Yet, like you said you become a self admitted recluse for the last decade. A decade in which I was still wrestling for most of it. You keep accusing me of things that I had no part in. Or your accusations are about matters you would know full well about if you hadn't fell off the face of the earth. Hell if you actually paid attention some of your accusations were actually answered after Chaos 92 when I did that online interview. Johnny Vegas: You tell him, future investor and boss! Thor falls silent for a moment as he waits for Knox to cut in with a retort. Matthew taps the microphone on the top rope a few times. The echo is appropriately obnoxious, before he lifts the mic back to his lips Matt Knox: I saw your interview. I saw you do what you always do. Control the narrative, talk out the side of your mouth. If i’m honest, I couldn’t get through the whole thing. Turned the stomach sour, you know? But, let me clarify and maybe even...maybe even get a little redundant. You aren’t the ultimate evil to me, Thor. You are a NECESSARY evil. As in NECESSARY that I be the one to bury you. Before whatever else is trying to kill you does Johnny Vegas: Jesus..that’s fucked Terra Skye: This is getting dark. He falls silent, staring up at Thor then. He awaits the retort, tapping the microphone rhythmically upon the top rope as he does so. Sah'ta Thor: There it is isn't it Matt? You think that everything I do has some major evil purpose behind it. You have it in your head that I am the one who set up that Chaos 93 reunion as a means to play some mind game with you. Tell me something, how would I have known BEFOREHAND that you were going to be there? Even after I have told you several times now that I had nothing to do with it you keep on insisting I set the whole thing up. Thor falls silent for a moment as he takes a breath while he looks around the arena while he gives Knox a chance to respond. Knox, meanwhile, has taken to pacing the ring again. He stops with his back to Insidious as Thor finishes, he shakes his head, and turns back to them. He steps out of the ring and starts up the ramp at a relaxed pace Terra Skye: Don’t do it, Matt. There’s four of them Johnny Vegas: No, fuck that. Run to them! Matt Knox: Lets say, that was Astryd. All Astryd. Then she’s as garbage as her father for dragging our kids into this publicly. But, that’s a discussion for another time. You might remember, at 93, at the end of that promo...I called for you to come out. Again. And...AGAIN. You didn’t show yourself. And moving PAST Astryd, Past 93, Past all the bullshit… Sah'ta Thor: "You do realize that I was preparing for my match against Eli Goode. Matt Knox: SHUT. UP. You don’t get to control this.. I don't give a shit about that match, I don’t give a shit about Eli Goode… Knox stopped a few feet from the group, planting his feet. He smiles, staring straight at Thor as if Kyuubi, Aaron, and Poppy weren’t there ready to tear him apart. Matt Knox: What I DO give a shit about...Is the last time we got this close. You were alone. And you looked more confident. Terra Skye: This isn’t going to end well Johnny Vegas: For the bird Matt drops the mic then, and shifts his eyes to each member awaiting any sort of response. The fans began cheering as the tension reached a fever pitch in the Carnage arena. Matt stands still as stone, staring down the group. Sah'ta Thor: Ahh, the match that you don't remember. Matt, seriously I have every intention of getting into the ring with you again. As I said in response to your initial challenge I want you to be at your best when that match happens. Unlike many in Carnage I know what you can do inside a wrestling ring. I know what you can do when you are on fire and have your head in the game. Or have you forgotten that I was there with you in FWF to see your battles there. You stood toe to toe with the likes of Pain, Don Lepore, and the Darkhorse Jackson. That is the Knox I want to face when we get in the ring. Knox seems to be taking the words in, eyes averted to his boots. Suddenly he charges forth, going to spear Thor but is cut off by AFH who catches him along with Kyuubi. Knox begins trading blows with the two members, trying to get to Thor. Terra Skye: Knox going for Thor! But Insidious are there to cut him off Johnny Vegas: We can start calling these shows “Matt Knox gets beat up 96” and so on Sah'ta Thor: There it is Knox. I can see and feel just how much you want to get your hands on me. Yet, as you are well enough aware my dance card is full until after We Are Relentless. We will see how things go then and let management decide when we face off. As Kyuubi and Aaron hold Knox back Thor grins handing his microphone to Poppy. He then pulls back his arm before delivering a punch to Knox's exposed gut. With a savage smile Thor begins to use Knox's torso as a punching bag. After a minute of this Thor stops and then delivers a back fist to the side of Knox's jaw before stepping back. He takes back the microphone to speak again. Sah'ta Thor: You think I was evil back in FWF and PWE you have no idea what extremes I have had to go to over the last decade. You have only seen the tip of what I am willing to do. Terra Skye: Jesus Christ, someone needs to stop this With that Thor drops the microphone and signals to Aaron and Kyuubi. The pair let go of Knox and step back. There is a brief second before Thor runs forward and delivers a running knee to Knox's face. The momentum of the move sends the pair falling back to the ramp where Thor begins to pummel Knox with punches. Meanwhile, the rest of Insidious moves down towards the ring. Terra Skye: This might be it for Knox! He Picked the fight, but still I’m getting tired of seeing these gang muggings! Johnny Vegas: I fully endorse them. Kick his ass! You know, I always supported Insidious, Skye. Suddenly, Adrienne charges down the ramp holding a steel chair. She tosses Kyuubi with the chair and then knocks the chair back in his face with a dropkick. She ducks a clothesline from Poppy and sends her flying with a dropkick, too. Terra Skye: It’s Levi! Knox’s partner at WAR! She’s not going to let another beating go down here! Johnny Vegas: No, she’s going to be the victim of another Aaron swung Levi around by the shoulder, having recovered the chair for his own vile intentions but she rips it away from his hands and tosses it aside. Levi goes toe to toe with Aaron with forearm shots and wild punches. Johnny Vegas: Someone help him!! Kyuubi and Poppy go to move in and take Levi out but Mac Bane, The Baltimore City Champion comes storming down from the back and takes the two down with a double clothesline. He lifts Poppy and nails her with a spinebuster. As he gets up, Kyuubi nails him in the back of the head with a leaping dropkick. She gets to her feet quickly and the two also begin to brawl. Poppy takes the moment of reprieve to catch her breath before getting up and making her way toward the ring In the ring, the ruckus has caused Thor to relent and be distracted long enough for Knox to nail a retaliatory shot to the face that gets Thor off of him. The two get to their feet quickly and Knox goes in and begins trading blows with Thor. Knox ducks under a leaping superman punch by Thor and nails him with a superkick. The fans cheer loudly as Knox moves in to do more damage but Poppy has gotten into the ring and nails Knox in the back of the head. Terra Skye: Poppy saving her leader from Knox who was starting to get it rolling! She goes to nail him with “Closing Time” but Knox slides out and hits Poppy with the Downfall! On the outside, Adrienne has been knocked off her feet but is able to retrieve the chair once more and as Aaron lifts her she nails him in the midsection with her forearm, doubling him over. She then sets the chair down in the middle of the ring, using it as an impromptu step to launch herself into Aaron with an abrupt Tornado DDT! The fans are going wild as in the ring, Thor and Poppy both roll out. Terra Skye: I don’t believe it, Insidious is retreating!Levi slides into the ring with Knox, chasing after Thor and Poppy and tossing the chair but missing Poppy’s head by an inch as Insidious regroups, helping Kyuubi to her feet. Mac Bane has moved down the ramp and slides into the ring with the other two. The two groups share an intense staredown as the feed cuts to a commercial.

[insearchofsublimity-blog]

There is No Evil Angel but Love

England, 1896.

Amitiel rather hated his life. But it wasn't a sharp, searing, overwhelming hate like what he felt for Tara's murderers. No, it could be more accurately likened to a dejected, dull, throbbing hatred. Similar to what he felt toward cats. He hated them, but wasn't necessarily inclined to do anything about it.

Currently, one of the only things that gave him genuine joy was torturing Tara's killers. That was enjoyable. That was fun. That gave him purpose. But it could also get old after a while. It'd been a little over twenty years since he'd began his seventy-five-year-long torture escapade, but he was already running out of ideas--which is what brought him to the tavern he sat in now, in the middle of smelly, smoggy London. Maybe if he were drunk he'd be able to be more creative.

It was at times like these that Amitiel remembered how he fell. Love: the greatest evil of all. He'd been a faithful, loyal angel. He'd carried out his duties at the command of his superiors without question, and without error. And yet here he was: stuck on Earth, alone, forever. Just because he fell in love with a human. Love ruined him, and in a way, (although he’d never admit it) Tara ruined him. There was no angel or demon of love, as far as he could remember, but perhaps that was because love was too powerful and corrupt for either.

Amitiel was just about to shout one of the tavern workers for a new mug of ale when the door to the establishment flew open and a dark-haired woman walked in. The moment she set foot in the building, the entire room fell near silent. It was eerie, the silence that she brought with her. Amitiel wasn't sure if it was a silence of fear or of wonder, though he could understand both. It wasn't hard to see why everyone was so fascinated by the new comer. She was nothing like any of the other women in England.

The strange woman was essentially the exact opposite of the ordinary Englishwoman. Her silky hair was such a dark shade of brown that it was nearly black and her skin color was of a radiant gold, a sharp contrast to the almost sickly pale of the every day lady. Her features were defined and she lacked the plump physique of other women of her age--or at the very least the age of which Amitiel assumed her to be by her physical appearance: twenty-five. Furthermore, the woman was dressed like a crazy person. She wore no corset, no bustle--and was clad completely, from head to toe, in furs! Her hair spilled wildly over her shoulders and down her back instead of being respectably tied up. Who was this wild woman?

Whoever she was, she was used to this kind of attention, and that much was clear. The silence and stares that followed her every move seemed to go unnoticed by the perplexing creature--but Amitiel did not. The woman floated straight to the bar, spoke a simple word to the bartender, and then turned, her dark gaze fixing straight on to the fallen angel sitting in the corner all alone. People were beginning to tentatively start up hushed conversations once more, but most were about the strange woman anyway. Amitiel felt a harsh slap on his shoulder and distantly heard some drunken soul slur, "Oi, mate, I think she likes ye," but he didn't pay them any attention. He was maintaining eye contact with the weird woman who was now waltzing toward him, whiskey in a thin hand and a mug of ale in the other.

The closer she got, Amitiel could feel the hair standing up on the back of his neck. As she gracefully seated herself beside him, she smiled and held out the mug of ale for him to take. It was a nice smile, a friendly one, but it made him feel uncomfortable nonetheless. He understood why: she was a demon. Well, half, actually. But still, he could sense it the moment he laid eyes on her. It wasn't so long ago that he had been an angel, and despite being fallen he still very much believed in the mission of God and his Angels. Sure, his life was horrible now, but it was he who did it to himself. He broke the rules, now he had to pay. So yes, being near the spawn of a demon made him incredibly on edge. She was rather beautiful, though. His gaze shifted suspiciously between her and the drink she'd brought him before he slowly reached out to accept the gift.

"There aren't many of your kind around here," she mused. She had a strange accent. Old English, perhaps? Yes, that sounded about right. Amitiel had visited Earth on many occasions during the time of Old English. She must have been at least 800 years old then. "What did you do?" Her brown, almost black, eyes gazed at him with such an intense curiosity it was almost unnerving.

"Pardon?" He wasn't quite sure what she was getting at, but he didn't think he liked it. She was asking questions, and that wasn't good. He knew demons could be very tricky and if he wasn't careful, she could find out he was unable to lie. Nothing good could possibly come from that.

The woman smiled, friendly and inviting as ever. "Why did you fall? Obviously you must've done something to piss off that dear old daddy of yours." That kind smile suddenly took on a sharp edge. "So tell me, fallen one, what did you do?"

Amitiel simply sat there, staring blankly at her gorgeous face. She was very forthright and to the point, which a part of him couldn’t help but admire. However, another, much larger, part of him felt terror grip his heart. Amitiel was once the angel of truth, and although he fell, he kept his gifts in his new life. He could tell when others were lying, but the downside was that he himself could never lie. He was literally incapable, so when a beautiful woman with a sharp tongue and lots of questioned started targeting him, it was only normal for him to begin to feel uncomfortable--especially considering she was in some capacity of demon blood.

The half-demon eyed him, annoyance clearly displayed on her face, but decided it best to move on. "You're a man of few words, aren't you?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "I'm Elora, by the way. Elora Dragov. What do I call you?"

Amitiel's response to her new question was very similar to that of her last one. He simply stared at her, feeling a scalding sense of discomfort and reluctance. He refused to tell her his angel name. That was too personal, too intimate. But he couldn't lie to her. He had to come up with something--and quick. Those seductive dark eyes were probing him, expectantly.

He thought about it for a moment and what came to mind almost immediately was the three fallen angels locked in a giant steel cage and drugged with demon's blood--all at the hand of Amitiel, of course. One of the fallen could see auras, and to remind Amitiel of his pain, the fallen often called him Grey, as was the color of his aura. The moniker was meant to be an insult, an incessant taunt, but now it seemed it could be a new beginning. "Grey," he responded with a slight nod.

Elora eyed him, expressionless. "I believe I once heard angels' names were supposed to be...refined, if you will," she commented. However, she then continued, saying with a shrug, "Then again, angels are also supposed to be incorruptible righteous beings." She let out a short-lived laugh. "You're living proof that's not true."

She wasn't wrong. And she wasn't lying. In fact, since the moment she'd walked into the tavern, she hadn't lied once. It was quite fascinating, actually. For a born sinner, she didn't seem to sin all that much. In fact, she seemed more curious than anything. But then again, Amitiel had witnessed curiosity become dangerous without warning in the past. "You ask too many questions, Elora." The fallen angel finally spoke, unprovoked. A plethora of emotions played across Elora's fine features: excitement, fascination, confusion, pride, and others. She'd gotten him to speak to her.

Elora grinned and gave him her best faux innocent facial expression. "Why, Grey, I have not the slightest inkling of what you're implying." But she did. Of course she did. She was quite intelligent--much more so than any of the men in that tavern. Except for, perhaps, Amitiel. "All I did was ask for your name."

"A name is a powerful thing," he chided with a wag of his index finger. Yes, indeed, the alcohol was beginning to loosen him up--for better or worse. He was a sort of comical drunk, the philosophical type, if you will. Somehow he always ended up trying to teach people about the world when he got a little alcohol in his system.

The mysterious brunette woman nodded thoughtfully and looked away for the first time, seeming to take his comment into deep consideration. Her dark brows even furrowed for a moment before she came to whatever conclusion it was she made. Grey would never know what that conclusion was, however, since she quickly changed the subject. "What brings you here, Grey? I've never once seen you wandering about this part of London--much less this tavern--so why now?"

This woman asked the strangest of questions. A part of him wanted to keep the three murderers he kept locked up in cages in an abandoned factory a secret. The other part of him realized this newfangled acquaintance was part demon and could, if not help him herself, refer him to someone that could help him come up with new ways of torturing his captives. Even then, he could always just use her blood to help keep the fallen subdued. At that thought, the latter part of his conscious won.

The tall empty shell of a fallen angel smiled, although 'smile' was a generous description of the expression. His beautiful, full lips twisted into a sneer. "Inspiration," he spat ironically and downed the rest of his mug of ale. Elora waved her slim hand in the air for more drinks without moving her gaze away from the broken man before her. Amitiel's gaze slowly but surely found its way back to hers, the emptiness now apparent.

Looking at the gorgeous exotic creature before him, he felt thick for his previous reluctance to enjoy her company. Since their interaction had began, she'd been more truthful to him than any angel he'd ever spoken to. Perhaps demonic spawn were not as horrible as he'd once been led to believe. Or perhaps the truth wasn't as black and white as he'd always thought.

A small man with a patchy beard scuttled over then, placing new drinks on the table before scampering away from the engrossed duo. Amitiel watched the man, but Elora was watching Amitiel, brows furrowed and mouth pursed in thought. "I don't suppose I could be of any assistance...?" she offered, voice quiet with caution. She wasn't quite sure what she was getting herself into, but she figured, whatever it was, it would definitely be interesting.

She was part demon, surely she could help him torture fallen angels. Hell, she may even be better than he was. Demons had a natural affinity for such things, did they not? "How do you feel about torture?" he asked with a cautionary glance about the tavern. The last thing he needed was the whole city of London knowing a fallen angel was keeping three others locked up as his personal punching bags.

Elora's regal face crumpled in confused awe. A perfectly shaped eyebrow twitched as she tried to figure out if Grey was serious or not. It only took her a moment to see he was. The pure, unadulterated hatred that burned in those otherwise emotionless grey eyes was enough to jumpstart Elora's pulse and send it into overdrive. She hadn't felt such joy in centuries.

A slow smile grew on Lora's face, emanating malice. Her eyes lit up with a threatening gleam. It seemed the very thought of violence or evil made the woman want to jump up and do a little happy dance. "I thought you'd never ask." It was clear Elora would be an asset simply from her excitement alone. Anyone that enthusiastic about anything was bound to put in valuable work.

Something of a smile tugged on the corner of Grey's mouth. This would be a nice change: having a companion of sorts. He'd been alone in torturing these abominations for so long. The presence of a woman such as Elora would be refreshing, indeed. Grey stood then, tossing golden coins onto the underwhelming rotten wooden box that had acted as a table for the pair and restoring his hat atop his head, where it belonged. He motioned toward the lopsided open door of the pub with a gloved hand, suggesting their departure into the desolate darkness that awaited them. "This way, Miss Dragov."

[nightmareonfilmstreet]

[Review] GHOST STORIES: Terror From Stage To Screen

Andy Nyman and Jeremy Dyson’s Ghost Stories is almost the scariest movies you will ever see. I watched it alone one night, sleeping girlfriend on my right and (thankfully sleeping) infant son on my left, and it nearly drove me insane with fear. I kept pausing and switching over to an episode of The Office, only to come back and watch a few more minutes. My notes were profanity-laden outbursts of existential dread that bordered on hysteria. Why did this film scare me so badly in the first two acts, yet left others completely unimpressed? I attribute it to two different things.

First of all, the film is based on the stage play of the same name, which was also written and directed by Nyman and Dyson. It follows Nyman, who plays paranormal debunker Professor Goodman, as he is brought to the trailer of his childhood hero and fellow debunker Charles Cameron. In his decrepit trailer, Cameron gives Goodman three cases that he was unable to disprove. He begs Goodman to prove him wrong because, apparently, death is coming and he wants to know that there is nothing on the other side waiting for him. This set up drives Goodman forward to meet the night watchman Tony Matthews (Paul Whitehouse), a terrified teen named Simon Rifkind (Alex Lawther) and Mike Priddle (Martin Freeman), a powerful businessman. Each has their own horrifying story to tell Goodman, and he tries his best to debunk each of them, even as he begins to become unraveled himself.

  “Because I have come to one inescapable conclusion, and that is the supernatural, the unseen forces that surround us, everything that you and I have spent a lifetime trying to debunk and disprove, it’s all true.

Every last bit of it”- Charles Cameron

  This structure is very stage-like and lends itself nicely to this anthology format. The stories are all separate, yet they have interlocking themes that are tied together in the third act. The viewer has no time to relax, because not only are we following these characters into the hell they each experienced, but Goodman begins to see apparitions in between the tellings. Each story is fresh and filled with both jump-scares and atmospheric dread, and this dread can be directly attributed to the claustrophobic feel of the settings. It’s true that these stories sometimes feel too staged, like they are being acted out on the West End in London, but I love the feel that it lent the film. This is especially true with the first tale of the nightwatchman Tony as he stands guard in an abandoned women’s mental hospital. We are stuck in those dark, dank hallways as something toys with the poor man, almost begging him to come investigate.

Even when we are out in the gorgeous Yorkshire countryside, the film feels claustrophobic. We know what the structure is before we even start the movie, and it doesn’t deviate until its final 15 minutes. We are prisoners to this three-story plan, and it propels us forward, whether we want it to or not. Some critics have found fault in this part of the film, and their points are valid. Sometimes it does feel like we are watching a play, but for me, it worked to add a sense of claustrophobic dread that would have been difficult to attain otherwise.

    The second reason that I think Ghost Stories was so effective is because each story overflows with not only the paranormal, but also family drama. Tony’s story centers around his inability to see his daughter who is in hospital with Locked-in Syndrome. He hasn’t been to see her in five years, which makes the “dada” the spirit utters in the dark sanitarium even more powerful. The young Mr. Rifkind’s story is the silliest of the three, following his exploits after running over some sort of devil in his car. The true horror from that section of the film comes from the behavior of his parents. They are the scariest aspects of the tale, and you never even see their faces. Mystery and devils surround Simon in his sweltering room, and we are stuck in there with him. Mike’s tale is filled with baby-dread, as well, as his nursery is plagued by the spirit of his wife as she dies giving birth to a monstrosity that only eats wet cat food. As the diapers fly and the bottles begin to stack themselves, you almost giggle at the absurdity. Until the cries begin, and the mobile turns, and the crib begins to creak.

  “Do you believe in evil, Professor? I didn’t. Not until that night.”- Mike Priddle 

  The only downfall in this film is the final 15 minutes where everything is brought together and tied into a tidy little package. Many critics really like the twist that comes, but to me it felt like something that I have seen before. It is definitely done well, it is beautiful and has a few cringe-worthy moments, but it was a let down compared to the three stories that the rest of the film is based on. It isn’t enough to keep me away from watching the film again, however, and the change of pace, while a bit of a letdown, was refreshing after the anxiety-inducing first two acts.

Maybe being a new father has made me weak, but the normal, every day non-ghostly dangers that surround my son terrify me. There is so much out there in this world that seems heel-bent to knife its way into my family and tear it apart. These Ghost Stories take that fear and turn it up to eleven. Even when you have all of your bases covered, even when you have everything figured out, there are still things out there scratching to get in. The darkness that fills the screen for each of these tales is the darkness that we see every day out of the corner of our eye. It’s the gaping black hole of the kitchen window as you come down for a drink of water in the middle of the night. We survive by not looking directly at the darkness. We survive by pretending it isn’t there. Ghost Stories uses its structure and drama to force us to look into the darkness, where we finally can see the things looking back at us.

3/4 Eberts

Ghost Stories is available everywhere on VOD Friday, April 20th. Do yourself a favor and check this one out. It is not the scariest film you will ever see, but it will make you feel some of the dread that you try to ignore in your real life. Be sure to follow Nightmare on Film Street on all of our social media platforms and by joining our Facebook Group, Horror Fiends of Nightmare on Film Street. Head over there after you see Ghost Stories and let us know what you think!

    The post [Review] GHOST STORIES: Terror From Stage To Screen appeared first on Nightmare on Film Street - Horror Movie Podcast, News and Reviews.

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