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bigfrozenfan-fanfics · 3 years ago

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Chapter 07 - Mattias and Halima

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday on (link)

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks. It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting.

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It was just before sunset when they reached Arendelle. Mattias' timing had been correct. They rode right through the upper rock gate and all the splendour of their homeland opened before them. When they left two days ago they still had the journey ahead of them and did not look back. But now they had Arendelle in front of them and the view from up here was overwhelming. The fields on the mountain slopes glowed in intense colours, from the gold of the wheat, through rich green and yellow of different crops for humans and animals, to a bright mixture of colours from the many fields of flowers used for decoration and for sale in shops and at the market. In the harbour the ships and boats rocked in the soft, warm breeze and behind the majestic castle of the royal family, bathed in the orange light of the setting sun, the calm waters of the Arenfjord glittered.

Mattias could not tear himself away from the sight and gently brought his horse to a halt. Halima did the same and looked over to him. He had a dreamy expression on his face and she had to smile. She could understand his feelings, as harvest time was approaching and his homeland showed itself to him in all its beauty and fertility. She was looking forward to the harvest festival. This time they would celebrate it together.

Finally they rode up slowly and they heard the bell at the clock tower in the distance strike seven times. On the way down they passed Halima's cozy little cottage and they reined the horses. Mattias jumped boldly out of the saddle and walked around the horse to help Halima get off.

“Mattias! You jump off your horse as if you were still the lieutenant from back then. Remember that you are not young anymore. You could easily sprain your ankle,” she said laughing and shook her head over his exuberance.

He grinned and helped her dismount. “Don't worry, dearest, I'm not that old.” They held each other in their arms and looked at one another in love. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Then he kissed her tenderly and she lifted one foot in rapture.

When they separated again he gave her a last short kiss on her cheek as a farewell. “I have to ride to the castle now to take care of everything before nightfall. I will see you later. I'll pick you up for dinner.”

“All right, darling. I'll just go down to the library and drop off some books. I'd forgotten to bring them back before we left. I hope it's still open. I'll see you later.”

He got back on his horse, put the other one on a leash and waved to her as he rode off. She waved back and gazed after him till he vanished behind the next corner of the houses. Then she went inside to get the books.

~~~

As he had passed through the castle gate, he handed the horses over to a stable boy who was just passing by, and was about to go through the front door of the castle when the captain of the guard approached him.

“General Mattias. May I have a word, please?” He saluted him and Mattias nodded.

“What's it, Captain Einar?”

“Well, I ... am a little confused. I see you, but where are the queen and her fiancé? Has something happened?” His gaze showed a mixture of amazement and concern, but Mattias also noticed a slight hint of anger on his face.

“You have nothing to worry about. She is well and she is still with her sister, Elsa. She'll be back in two days.”

“With all due respect, Sir, but you left without any protection from her guards and now you're returning alone? That's-“

“Irresponsible, you mean?” Mattias gruffly interrupted the young, overzealous captain of the royal guard. But he looked at him favorably. “She is in the best of hands with Elsa, no bodyguard in the world could protect her better than she. Have you forgotten what she did last autumn to save us all from the flood? Well ...?” He looked at him, waiting.

The captain became a little pale around the nose and stuttered, unsure what to answer, “Um ... yes, well ... in that sense, of course, you're right, Sir, I just thought I ... I mean ...”

“That's all right, Captain Einar. You're just doing your duty and being very observant, that's fine. Keep up the good work. But if you'll excuse me now, I have important business to attend to.” Mattias turned and left the captain stood speechless.

~~~

Of course, it had only been half the truth and he had to lie partly; Mattias thought, but in this situation it was necessary not to tell the captain everything.

In the following hour he called together some of the older councillors who were still faithfully carrying out their duties in Queen Elsa's time and informed them of the precarious situation. He instructed everyone to keep it under wraps and to treat the matter as confidential. Everyone agreed without reservation. On most faces there was great concern and some asked about the condition of their Queen Anna. He answered their questions in concise words, but made it clear to them that a lengthy discussion would have to wait until their return.

He then went to the royal physician and asked him to prepare everything necessary and to look for answers for Elsa's condition. He did not need to tell a doctor about his duty of confidentiality. The physician nodded and hurried away to look for precedents in his textbooks.

Finally, only one thing remained to be done. He had to find two reliable people to accompany him and he already knew who.

When he stepped outside again it had already become dark and the courtyard was bathed in the flickering light of the fire bowls and some big torches. He had fresh horses brought and rode to his home. However, on the way he stopped briefly to visit two of his old comrades who were locked up with him in the Enchanted Forest. He could trust them absolutely. Among them was a woman who was supposed to take care of suitable camouflage clothes for Elsa. He gave the man the order to get an inconspicuous wagon, some ranged weapons, food and everything else for such an action. Both of them did not ask any questions and immediately took care of this responsible task, with the intention not to arouse any suspicion.

Arriving at home, he threw on fresh clothes suitable for a dinner. After his return last autumn he had to take care of a completely new wardrobe, because he simply did not fit into the old clothes anymore. He always took care of a tidy appearance, especially now, because of Halima. He took one last look in the mirror before leaving the house again.

~~~

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The host cleared away the leftovers of their dinner while they leaned back contentedly. He enquired how it had tasted to them.

“That was delicious,” enthused Halima, smiling at the host and wiped the corner of her mouth with the tip of a napkin. “Compliments to the cook,” she added as he left. Her eyes lit up at Mattias, who rubbed his belly with satiation.

“I must have overdone it a bit with the portion,” he giggled and reached for his glass of red wine. “To your health, Halima.”

“To us, Mattias,” she said as she lifted her glass, toasting with him, while they looked each other in the eyes.

A short time later, they went for their walk, as previously planned. It was a starry night and Arenfjord glittered silvery in the bright moonlight. Down in the village all the lanterns were lit and from up here you could see that the taverns were very busy, now and then even the laughter of some guests came up here.

“How did it go at the castle?” Halima asked abruptly.

“Good. Everything is arranged and prepared. All is according to plan.”

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Before sunrise. On the one hand, we gain some time, because of the vehicle and on the other hand, there is hardly anyone on the streets and we will probably come out unnoticed.” He paused. “How was it with you? Was the library still open?”

“Yes, barely. Mr. Oddvar was just about to close, but I was able to return the books.”

They sat down in the grass and Mattias put an arm around her. Halima looked at him and then rested her head on his shoulder. They both remained silent and enjoyed their romantic evening on the hill above Arendelle for a long time.

~~~

Kristoff had woken up in the middle of the night because Anna was snoring loudly. It was still dark so he closed his eyes again. How would it be once they were married and he would have to sleep in their bed from now on; he thought. Then he grinned. He hadn't known that about Anna yet.

He recalled last night before his inner eyes. They had talked for a long time about what Anna had seen, and he had tried to convince her that what she had observed did not necessarily have to be true. Perhaps this impression was troubling. At some point she had calmed down again and he went out to get them both a warm dinner, which they then consumed silently inside the hut.

Afterwards she had prepared herself for the night while he turned his back on her for decency. She did not want to sleep alone and asked him to lie beside her. Inside the kota it was quite warm and so he asked if she would mind if he took off his thick leather tunic. She grinned at him and shook her head. It hadn't taken long then and she snuggled up comfortably against him. Through her thin nightdress he felt her warmth on his naked upper body, his hand lay light and tenderly above her waist. He enjoyed feeling her closeness in this way. Her slender, warm body seemed so fragile at this moment, but he knew that it was not so. If she wanted to, she could unleash an unimagined strength, not to mention her willpower and her sometimes almost unbearable pig-headedness. But at the moment all he felt was her softness and warm breath on his chest, her gentle hand on his back and her hair tickling his cheek. Sometimes she hummed softly and contentedly when she moved.

Finally her breath became more regular and she fell asleep. This night could last forever if he had his way; he thought, if only there wasn't this little thing that she snores such like she does now. But at some point he got so tired that it didn't bother him anymore and he fell back asleep with a broad smile on his face.

~~~

It was already after midnight when Honeymaren stepped out of Elsa's kota and almost silently closed the flap behind her. Elsa had fallen asleep at some point and she didn't want to wake her up.

She looked up and watched the twinkling stars in the cloudless night sky. The moon had already set and so she was now standing there in deep black darkness. “Crap,” she whispered softly to herself and turned towards her own kota by feeling. She knew that she would also find the way blindly and it was not far away. Nevertheless, she moved forward very carefully, one arm stretched out in front of her, to notice trees or a hut in time.

She finally reached the kota and listened. An unmistakable snoring told her that she was standing in front of the right hut. Her parents had certainly wondered where she was again, but it was extremely rare that she was so late. Silently she opened the flap and crept in. She groped her way to her sleeping place, unbuckled her belt and pulled the tunic over her head. Then she lay down, sighed quietly and soon fell into sleep like a rock.

~~~

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At sunrise Yelana left the camp and made a long walk to a kota far away. She hadn't been here for a long time and when she finally stood in front of the hut, it immediately struck her that it had seen better days before. The wood was heavily weathered and there were open gaps between the boards in some places. Nobody had repaired or renewed anything here for a long time. She opened the flap and stepped in. In the middle of the kota sat an elderly woman who was busy with a handicraft.

“Hello, Gyda.”

“Don't call me that, Yelana. You know very well I hate that nickname.” She did not even look up when she answered in a dark and powerful voice, but continued to care for her traditional duodji. She just made one of the belts as they all wore it over the tunic here in camp. However, certain details onto it told Yelana that this belt was meant for an unmarried Northuldra.

“Well, Gyríðr, but don't you think we're both a bit old for this kind of subtlety?”

Gyda looked up briefly, swung her head back and forth in a judgmental manner and then continued with the work indifferent. Yelana took a look around the dwelling. It was full of old traditional items, including a richly decorated rare gievriej, a very old sacred shaman drum, as the noaidi used to use it for their rituals. This was long before the People of the Sun moved here near by Ahtohallan and the fifth Spirit was chosen among them. All that remained of the old tradition was the soul song of her tribe. But this one here must have been made by Gyda.

Yelana looked at her again. She had become a very old woman, the deep wrinkles in her face showed her long life experience as wife of the fifth spirit. But it was also evident that she was still troubled by the fact that he had rejected her at that time and that she was losing her high position in the tribe on those days. At some point she retreated to this place and since then she had lived as a hermit. Afterwards she only had contact to the tribe through the few Northuldra that brought her food to survive. In return, she voluntarily made traditional clothing and therefore was provided with leather, fabric and all the other things that were necessary.

Yelana didn't know everything that was going on that time then, but she needed to know if Gyda had a child with him and could somehow hide it. She cleared her throat distinctly. “There have been disturbing events and I have an important inquiry.”

Gyda didn't respond.

“Please!”

The elder woman paused and finally put her tools aside.

“Ask.”

“Had the fifth spirit begotten a progeny with you?”

Gyda gave a short, dry laugh. “Are you out of your mind? Have you forgotten what happened back then?”

Yelana tightened her eyebrows. “No, of course not. But you've been living so far out here for so long that nobody notices anything, even if you're pregnant, if you know how to hide it. I need to know, and also who helped you.”

“Even if it were, what do you care?” Gyda picked up her tools again.

“Wait. Please listen to me.” Yelana sat down and told her everything, including her suspicion that Gyda's child might be responsible. Gyda listened to her attentively and asked no questions, only her gaze grew increasingly darkened. At the end she nodded and after a little while of consideration she finally answered quietly.

“Yes, I had a child with him, a boy. I gave him the name Kolgrimr.” She hesitated, but then continued, “I was already pregnant when he abandoned me because I was no longer good enough for him and could no longer perform my duties as he expected of me to. You surely remember what he was like, how ruthless and pressing. But I wanted to protect my unborn child.” She interrupted herself and took a deep breath. “I gave birth to the child some time later and Jonna helped me with. Then this king came from the south and all these strangers started to build this dam and ...,” she faltered and looked sadly to the ground. “Sometime after the completion of this stony monster, he finally came back to me and told me something about a fraud and that the land was dying and the reindeer were suffering. He was so excited and angry, I can still remember it like it was yesterday.”

“What happened next?” asked Yelana when Gyda lost herself in memories and did not continue speaking immediately.

“He took Kolgrimr from me. Said he had to make sure that his descendant would take over when he himself was no longer around. I didn't know what he meant then and I tried to stop him, but without success. I never saw him again and later heard that he was killed in his human form. Shortly afterwards the sun darkened and this fog came. You know the rest of the story.”

“Yes, and Jonna also died fighting with the men of this dreadful king. I knew her quite well. I just don't understand why she never told me about it.”

“Because she had to promise to me not to tell anybody.”

Yelana understood and nodded. She felt pity for her, grabbed Gyda by the arm and said, “I'm very sorry for you, Gy- ... Gyríðr. No one knew about your child, and none of us wanted you living here alone. None of us ever really got it right.”

“It's not our folks' fault, I know. It was my own decision and I had my reasons.”

“Have you ever seen your son again?”

Gyda looked up. Then she slowly and sadly shook her head, “No. He's probably long dead, too.”

When Yelana later returned to the camp, she first went to her kota and thought things over thoroughly. One thing led to another and slowly a picture formed itself in her mind. It was time to make a decision, one that was very tough for her. And so she got up and walked out.

~~~

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I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know.

Tagging: @karma26 @whether-near-to-me-or-far @annaofthenorthernlights @igotelsapregnanthelp

#frozen #frozen2 #frozen3 #fanfic #epic novel #the broken bridge #chapter 07 #bigfrozenfan

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nomadinia · 3 years ago

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Chronicles of an unfortunate athlete (part 1)

I waited a long time to write this review because I wanted to make sure I had all the facts. I was originally going to give CareAxis a 1 star rating, but the physiotherapist I met with was beyond amazing, hence the only reason for my 2 star rating. Note, this review is more about my experience as an athlete with one of the doctors running this program than the program itself.

There is so much to say that I don't really know where to begin, but let me start by saying that dealing with the CareAxis neurosurgeon's office was one of the most frustrating medical experiences I have ever had. Since my situation is quite peculiar, I have dealt with my fair share of unhelpful doctors, but this neurosurgeon in particular is the epitome of medical nonchalance in my eyes.

This has been a 5 years odyssey, so I’ll try to be as concise as I can throughout this review.

I am a former competitive varsity athlete and some of my teammates have gone on to become Olympians. Needless to say, my body has endured some grueling training. I trained at a competitive level from the age of 18 to 23, and one thing about grueling training is that it makes one very attuned to their body, so I’ve always known automatically when something was up with mine. I always wanted to continue my competitive career at a professional level, but unfortunately due to debilitating back and shin pain and incontinence (keep that in mind), I had to retire from competitive athletics at 24. Fitness and competitive athletics were everything to me, I had a fitness blog with over 62,000 followers, I was about to start a fitness channel, and I was putting in the hard work towards becoming a professional runner.

My deteriorating physical health took a huge toll on me mentally, but despite my early retirement, I still clung to my dreams of returning to competitive athletics. So for 3 years, I had endless appointments with my family doctor to try to find the cause of my symptoms. However, at 27, I was tired of getting nowhere, so I started pushing for diagnostic tests. I am fortunate to have a family doctor who understands my drive and doesn't mind sending me for diagnostic tests as long as I pay for them.

In June 2020, I had a full body MRI and that's when we discovered that I had moderate to severe congenital lumbar spinal stenosis (L4-L5-S1). Thinking it was the source of my ailments, my doctor and I were ecstatic. I was even more ecstatic knowing that there were still hopes of qualifying for Boston 2022 if I could get surgery in 2020. Since I knew how ridiculously long the wait time for a neurosurgeon is in Quebec, I searched the Internet for private neurosurgeons in Quebec. I was very happy to CareAxis initiative and thought it was really great after reading about it. Besides, because the program included an orthopedic surgeon, I was even more excited, thinking, "let's kill two birds with one stone - we can find a solution to my back pain and also to my shin pain”. All in all, I had so much high hopes.

One thing leading to another, I self-referred myself to the program, met with a physiotherapist (to whom I gave a copy of my MRI report and a flash drive containing the images thinking that would be sent to the neurosurgeon (keep that in mind). I have to commend CareAxis because I was contacted fairly quickly after my assessment with the physiotherapist (2-3 days). Unfortunately, I couldn't make it to the appointment because I live 2 hours away from Montreal and I'm a public servant, so I can't just give a 2 day notice to my manager. I opted for a phone consultation.

Now that's where the whole debacle begins...

1) At our first consultation, the neurosurgeon did not have my MRI report or MRI imaging study. I was baffled because (a) this information had been provided to the physiotherapist, and (b) I distinctly remember leaving a voicemail for one of his receptionists with the information of the clinic where I had my MRI.

I was so excited for our first phone consultation, but it really turned out to be unfruitful. Side note, he is very punctual in terms of his phone consultations. I was very disappointed though since our first consultation lasted less than 15 min if I remember correctly. Although disappointed, I was not mad because it was more of an administrative error. I couldn't really blame the neurosurgeon, but it should have been a red flag call to the many communication flaws in this program. Before ending our phone call, he asked me to send him a copy of the MRI images and the report and I did so promptly.

2) Since the clinic where I had my MRI did not provide me with a CD, as patients have access to an online portal, I downloaded the images onto a flash drive and sent it to the neurosurgeon. On our first phone call, I mentioned this and made sure that sending the flash drive was okay. He confirmed that it was ok. Everything was sent by express mail, so I knew he would receive it within a week.

I waited a whole week and no phone call.... Knowing how busy neurosurgeons are, I let the time pass (a WHOLE month) because I figured he had a lot to do. Besides, no one likes to be seen as a clingy patient... Of course, after a whole month of no response, I finally called his clinic and to my surprise, his secretary informed me that he had not been able to open the USB drive... Internally, I was very annoyed because this meant that if I hadn't called his clinic, no one would have informed me of the problem. Once again, I brushed off the issue and told his secretary that I would contact the Vancouver clinic to have the CD sent to them.

3) I contacted the Vancouver clinic and had the CD sent to the neurosurgeon’s office. I think it was sent to him fairly quickly. Unfortunately, he was once again unable to see my images as his clinic did not have the necessary technology and once again nobody informed me of the problem. Again, I wasn't really mad because the technology used in Vancouver to perform my MRI required a specific type of software (DICOM).

I found it strange though that a hospital could not open a DICOM file given that (a) I was able to see the images on my computer after downloading a DICOM software and (b) other clinics were also able to open the images. Anyhow, I was not too bothered by this problem, what irritated me was once again the lack of communication from neurosurgeon’s office.

4) Since the neurosurgeon could not open my MRI images, he scheduled me for an MRI and, yes, you guessed it, again, no one called to inform me. It was a total shock to me when on Christmas Eve (December 24) I received a letter in the mail informing me of an MRI scheduled for December 26. I live in the National Capital Region, which meant a two-hour drive that I didn't mind, but for God's sake, it was the holidays and people make plans at this time of year. Of course, when I tried to call the radiology division to tell them I couldn't make it, I was greeted with an auto message saying they were closed, so of course I couldn't talk to anyone. That's when I started to get more than a little annoyed.

Fast forward, I ended up getting the MRI he ordered. While I really despise many aspects of his program, I have to give credit where it is due – the MRI rescheduling was done pretty quickly (February 2021). Now we are getting to the part that really was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Because of all the shenanigan going on, it took the neurosurgeon about six months to tell me that it was not my spinal stenosis that was causing my shin pain and incontinence. I don't mind him not knowing what was causing my shin pain and incontinence, but the fact that the whole process took six months is unacceptable!

From the time I referred myself to CareAxis (September 2020) to the time the neurosurgeon was finally able to get an MRI of my spine (February 2021), six months elapsed. For many people, 6 months may not seem like much, but for a high-performance athlete who wants to return to their sport, it's half a year. In the world of sports, especially high performance sports, so much can be accomplished in six months, especially in terms of training or rehabilitation... Keep in mind that since I was out of my sport for such a long period of time, I could have really used some of that time to reacclimate my body to a high and demanding level of physical training. Those six months of shenanigans really could have been cut in half if only there had been ongoing communication with the patient (i.e., myself). I could have been proactive on so many aspects throughout the process.

Since the neurosurgeon was quite baffled by my situation, he decided to make an appointment for an in-person consultation to better evaluate me (in May 2021). However, I remember having a strange feeling during our last phone call - as I explained my symptoms to him, I could sense the disinterest in his voice. At that point, I realized that he is the type of doctor who won't do much to help an athlete get back into their sport.

After our last phone conversation, I fell into a depression because I was disappointed that my spinal stenosis wasn't the cause of my shin pain and incontinence. I was really at my wits end with all the diagnostic tests and medical appointments. Eventually, I picked myself back up and, because I didn't want my judgment to be clouded, I cancelled the in-person consultation with the neurosurgeon and decided it would be best if I did some research on my own. I also asked my doctor at the time to refer me to a sports medicine doctor.

Long story short, after doing extensive research, I felt confident enough to meet with the neurosurgeon. So I called his clinic to make an appointment - his office never returned my call (it's been 7 months now). Dr. Santaguida never sent notes to my doctor either and didn't even try to refer me to anyone else. He simply forgot about me. Fortunately, I was always proactive, and during those 7 months, I had asked my doctor for a referral to another neurosurgeon, but more importantly, I sought recommendations from experts. I contacted a Norwegian MSK rehabilitation and injuries specialist who reviewed my MRI images and recommended the right spine surgery. Furthermore, I obtained a second opinion from Sandford University, Jefferson University, UC San Diego, and the Global neurosciences institute. And we were able to shed some light on the incontinence.

With a proper physical exam and detailed sports history, we could have easily shed light on most of my ailments. Moreover, I could have had the necessary additional tests quickly and been on my way back to a very physical lifestyle. It turned out that in addition to spinal stenosis, I have chronic exertional compartment syndrome – CECS (shin pain) and a sports hernia (Gilmore's groin, athletic pubalgia, whatever you want to call it) in my right groin that causes the urological symptoms (incontinence). And to top it all off, I have PCOS.

Imagine having PCOS along with moderate to severe spinal stenosis, CECS and a sports hernia that irritates the bladder. Life was certainly not joyful... While the chances of the CareAxis neurosurgeon suspecting CECS and athletic pubalgia would have been very slim, he worked with an orthopedic surgeon who could have given him excellent advice on how to manage a former athlete... This neurosurgeon could have even referred me or suggested that I see a sport doctor. I went through many extra hurdles that could have been avoided.

While I can't fault the neurosurgeon for not knowing about CECS and sports hernias, as these are occult sports injuries that only a sports physician or team of experts would suspect, I am definitely irritated that I had to endure unnecessary pain and that proper treatment was delayed.

#me

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suwya · 4 years ago

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Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 6

Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

Rating: M

Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3

A/N: Sorry for the waiting, but real life came along and I had to stop writing for a couple of weeks. Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this. Happy Labour Day!

Chapter 6 . .

Be not inhospitable to strangers,

lest they be angels in disguise.

(W. B. Yeats)

When Killian regained consciousness he found himself in what reminded him of a military hospital. There were thin white curtains around his bed, but through them he could spot other beds like his, most of them empty. The room seemed large and dimly lit.

He closed his eyes and remembered the crash landing, the unknown desert planet, the great rock that was about to crush Henry, and that feeling of unease and imminent danger he had felt just before the impact. Where was he? And above all what kind of situation was he in, a good or a bad one? He opened his eyes again, and noticed he wasn’t alone. A woman was checking his IV, and a nearby monitor was beeping intermittently.

Killian tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his lungs made him desist immediately. He groaned loudly.

“Look who’s awake.” Said the woman, who was now staring at him. “Hello, handsome.” She added cheerfully.

Killian had found himself dealing with uncharted waters several times in his life. He decided to play the waiting game. “This is usually my line, well, more or less.”

“Really? In this case, I'll warn my husband not to approach you.”

“Don’t worry I'm not into men, not recently at least.” He smirked.

“Oh, but my husband is quite the charming one.”

“I still prefer the company of a fair lady, if I could choose.” He winked and chuckled, and a dull pain made him gasp.

“Take it easy.” She immediately shifted her attitude from playful to worried. “How do you feel?”

“As if I've been hit by a rocket.”

“Not a rocket, but yes, you’ve been hit hard. You’ve suffered two broken ribs. And believe me, you were lucky, it could have been worse. Do you mind if I run some tests and see how you react?”

“No problem.”

While the woman was busy measuring his temperature, making him follow a small blue LED light with his gaze, and extracting some blood to examine later, he took advantage of the opportunity to observe her more closely. She had short black hair and green eyes, bright and lively in contrast to her very delicate skin. Killian found himself thinking of another pair of green eyes, which had been filling his thoughts frequently lately. The memory brought him back to reality quickly.

“What is this place?” He inquired, eager to know what had happened while he was unconscious.

“Welcome to Vernal-Den.” She answered smiling.

Killian tried to remember if he had ever read about this planet. “Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, we’re not very popular.”

Was she too concentrated on checking-in his vitals, or was she being too concise on purpose? He didn’t know, but he intended to keep an eye on her. “How long was I out?”

“A while.” Another elusive answer.

He decided to test the waters. “Were there ….other injured people with me?”

“If you’re referring to Henry and Emma, they are perfectly fine.” She seemed sincere. “They are staying at our place. Henry has visited you every day since you came in.”

“And Emma?”

“Well, she can’t come in. She’s not a relative of yours. But she has spent long hours sitting just outside that door.” She said pointing towards the exit. “I had to order her to go home and get some rest.”

After that she excused herself, saying that she had to attend to other patients.

He realized she hadn’t even told him her name. He didn’t know if he could trust her or not. The fact that she had avoided some of his questions sent chills down his spine. And most of all there was the Emma problem.

Why couldn’t she visit him? Was it true that it was only a matter of rules? Or was she in some kind of peril? He needed to know what was happening behind those doors that separated him from the woman that had been pestering his dreams in the last ten years of his life. He had to know that she was alright. To hell with rules! He thought. And by the way, when was the last time he followed one. He had to get out of this place. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his lungs was so strong that his vision started to blur and cold sweat formed on his temples. He lay back down on the bed, aware that in his conditions he couldn’t have gone far before collapsing unconscious on the floor. He promised himself to solve the problem as soon as he had enough strengths, but he couldn't dwell too much on that thought, because sleep was reclaiming his mind again.

~·~·~·~

Time passed very slowly, or so it seemed, but maybe it was simply the fact that every day looked the same. Killian was mostly asleep, probably due to the painkillers introduced through the IV, and when he woke up he couldn't tell how long he had been out, he couldn't even tell if it was day or night. There were no windows in that room.

During one of the moments when his mind regained consciousness, he felt the mattress drop slightly to one side and he slowly opened his eyes.

“You are awake! How do you feel? Can you breathe? Of course you can, you would be dead otherwise! Does it hurt?” Henry was sitting at the end of the bed, and he was asking a lot of questions, as usual. “Sorry.” He suddenly looked contrite. “I should let you rest, but…”

“It’s ok, lad.” Killian cut him off. “I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece.”

The boy greeted him with a wide grin.

Killian remembered the last moments before getting injured, and he was relieved to know that he had been able to prevent that rock from hitting Henry. But other worries crowded his mind. “How about your mom?”

“She’s fine. She’s outside. They won’t let her in. You know, only relatives and all that stuff.” He explained.

“I see. And why are you…?”

Henry didn’t let him finish the question. “I told them I’m your son.” He whispered with a conspiratory smile.

“Clever boy.” Killian’s chuckle turned soon into a cough due to the pain.

“Does it hurt?” The boy asked, frowning.

The man dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t want the lad to feel responsible for his well-being. “How many days have passed since we landed here?” He asked, changing the subject.

“I don't know exactly.” And at Killian’s questioning look, he added, “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“People live underground here,” The boy started to explain, “With no opportunity to look outside. And there are no clocks. My watch had probably broken when we arrived, it doesn’t work anymore.”

The man hummed, he was starting to understand. The lack of windows, the elusive answer he had received from the dark-haired nurse… everything was beginning to tally in Killian’s head. “I want you to think carefully about everything you saw outside this room. Did you feel something was wrong?”

The boy shrugged. “I don't know.” He seemed to ponder. “This place is strange. Lots of corridors and passages underground. We are not allowed to go out into the open. They say it’s dangerous. But I never felt a threat or something. I would rather say it’s boring.”

“Why boring?”

Henry was trying to find the right words to explain it. “All the days are the same, people repeat the same actions every day. They say it’s useful to maintain a routine. But I don’t think Mary Margaret and David are bad people.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Killian asked.

“Oh, yeah, Mary Margaret, she is your nurse. We’re staying at her home. She is very nice. And David is her husband. He showed me the greenhouse. It’s awesome and huge, you should see it! But I don’t think he works there. I don’t know what his job is.”

Routine? New people? A greenhouse? Well, that was a lot of information to process. But Killian felt sleep calling him back. Next time I see that lady Margaret, I’m going to ask her not to put more painkillers in my IV. He thought. “Thank you, Henry, for everything. But I may need to rest for a while now.” He managed to say before falling asleep again.

~·~·~·~

Emma knew Killian was feeling better, Henry had told her about their short chat, and some of her child's enthusiasm had even infected her positively, but she continued to feel restless, she wanted to make herself useful. Most of all, she wanted to see Killian again.

All this absurd situation was her fault. And no, she was not thinking about the fact that Killian was lying on a hospital bed because of some bad decisions she had made lately. No. She was not going down that path again. She had already spent a lot of hours regretting many choices done in the last month.

But this was nonsensical, why couldn’t she visit a friend that was hurt and maybe in need of some company? She had actually had a chance to say that she was his wife; after all in the eyes of her guests, she and Killian had a son together, so why not lie a bit more and make Mary Margaret believe that she and Killian were married. But the thought of a possible long time spent together on this planet feigning to be a happily married couple scared her, and she couldn’t go on with the lie.

So there she was, sitting on a very uncomfortable metal chair in the waiting room. She had spent more hours there than she could count.

David had passed by to greet his wife, and he had offered to take Henry with him, on the way back home. So she was left alone with her thoughts.

Mary Margaret peeked out the door with a steaming mug in her hand. “Take this. It will help.”

She agreed with a nod. “Thank you.” She sipped some of the hot liquid and it felt like her nerves were starting to relax a little.

“You should go home and rest. It's late.” The woman said.

“Mary Margaret let me enter.” Emma pleaded for the umpteenth time.

“We have already talked about it. You know I can’t do that. There are strict rules down here, and the best way for us to survive is to follow them.”

“This is insane. I’m not a dangerous criminal or someone who is plotting to destroy this planet. I just want to see him. Please.” She begged.

The dark-haired woman seemed to be pondering all the possible consequences. “All right.” She sighed. “Let’s just say that I’m going inside and leave the door ajar, by mistake, of course. I have to check some very important documents, so I’ll be busy and concentrated. I’m not going to ask you what you’re going to do in the next... fifteen minutes or so. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Emma handed her the cup back, rising from her chair. “You won’t regret it.”

After Mary Margaret disappeared behind the door, Emma waited some minutes before going after her. The room was large and there were many beds, she had no idea where Killian was, but after a quick look at the surroundings, she discovered that only a couple of all the beds were occupied.

She approached one of those and gently opened the curtain trying not to disturb the patient lying inside.

Killian seemed asleep. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. She could only imagine the pain he was going through. She had her heart in her throat because she felt responsible for the situation. If they hadn't taken a detour because she had requested it, they'd probably all be home safe and sound by now.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted her with a painful grin.

Immersed as she was in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that he had woken up. She smiled, trying to be strong and not show her inner turmoil. “Do they treat you well here?”

“I'm not complaining. The nurse is kind and the food is edible.” He tried to downplay the situation. “Although I would prefer the care and attention of a certain blonde.” He winked.

Emma chuckled. Then she went closer to him and sat down on the side of his bed, trying not to cause him any more pain. She looked him straight in the eye, and then, gently, she took his hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with his. She saw him swallow hard, and the beeping of his heartbeat accelerated on the monitor. She smiled softly again. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”

She saw how he wet his lips before answering as if his mouth had been suddenly dry. “It was the right thing to do.” Was his answer, but his voice came out slightly choked.

Emma looked back, checking if any hospital employee was nearby, “I shouldn’t be here, and unfortunately my time is running out. But I wanted to see you... needed to see with my own eyes that you are ok... well, more or less.” She whispered, with her gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact. The physical connection of their joined hands was already arousing too many contradictory emotions inside her.

“Aye. I know the feeling.” He replied, letting her know that he had been eager to establish contact with her throughout his stay in the hospital.

At those words, she stared at him again. “Get well soon.” She bent down and dropped a mild kiss at the corner of his lips. “We need you.”

~·~·~·~

Killian was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. This time there was no way he would fall asleep again. Every time he thought about what had just happened his beeping monitor sped up. He blushed. It had been just a chaste kiss, nothing compared to the hot and breathtaking one they had shared a few days before. But she had said it had been a one-time thing and he had promised himself not to indulge in those lustful thoughts anymore. Yet, this last kiss had seemed much more real, and meaningful... it had left him with a feeling of hope.

Hope and distress. Emma was such a strong and beautiful woman, a marvelous creature, as he liked to describe her in his mind, and a princess even. And what was he? A rebel, and a scoundrel. Or a rapscallion... whatever. Okay, maybe not anymore, but he had been in the past, for many years. He had been trying to redeem himself lately. But was he worth enough of her? That was the million dollar question.

He was still ruminating on it when the known brunette peeked out the curtains. “Hello. How are you today?” She greeted him with a bright smile, as usual.

“Better.” He hoped the monitor on his right wasn’t showing his state of mind.

She came closer. “Do you mind if I check your ribs? It's time to change the dressing.” After a short pause, she added, “I'm sorry, but we don't have the best equipment to assist our patients. We have to work with what we have available on this planet.” She said pointing to the bands that covered his chest.

Killian nodded, and Mary Margaret started to untie the bandages. She seemed concentrated on her task, probably she was trying to avoid causing him any pain. It was only when she started to apply an ointment on the bruises, that she spoke again. “You love her.” It was just a whisper, and Killian doubted if he had heard correctly. But then she added “Emma.”

It wasn’t a question, and he pondered what was the correct answer, or if she was expecting one. “I'd go to the end of the world for her… Or the multiverse.” He said eventually.

“And she for you, I take it?”

Killian chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What’s the problem?” She looked at him surprised. Then took some clean gauzes and started to wrap them on him.

“She's bloody brilliant, an amazing woman. She fights for her son and always does what’s right.” Killian’s voice was so full of admiration.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Mary Margaret inquired.

Killian shook his head again. “She raised the bar very high. The fact is, I don't think I measure up.”

The woman folded the old bandages and took the ointment bottle, then she stood up, she was making an exit when she stopped short. “Since you came here I've been watching you.”

“I don't know if I should be flattered or scared.” The man tried to ease the tension of the moment.

“We don’t have many foreigners on this planet, but believe me, you're not one of the bad guys. You sacrificed yourself for the sake of a young boy. There's good in your heart.” She smiled at him softly. “I’m going to look for the doctor; I bet you’ll be leaving this room soon.”

~·~·~·~

The following day started the same as the previous ones. But during the first hours of the evening a man in a white coat came to visit Killian. He explained the medications and precautions to be taken to him, some movements that he should avoid for a while, and other tips for a speedy recovery. Then he handed over some papers for the patient to sign to be discharged. Finally some good news.

After a while redressing and packing up his few belongings in his satchel Killian went to the door. Walking hurt a bit but nothing he couldn’t bear.

Mary Margaret was already waiting for him, and a tall blonde guy was with her. “You must be Jones.” He said. When they shook hands, Killian learned his name was David Nolan, and he remembered Henry had mentioned him in his conversations. “I’m going to take you to our humble abode.”

Nolan's house was in fact modest. A loft with a large dining room, a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a small bathroom on one corner, all open, without doors, except for the bathroom. There was a raised bedroom opposite it, whose access was a metal stair.

Dinner was good, if a little awkward. Emma didn't interact much, and Killian wanted to ask if something was troubling her, but he preferred to wait for a better time, perhaps a less crowded one. Henry entertained them with what he had done throughout the day and kept repeating how glad he was that Killian was back with them.

But the man was still a bit cautious with those new people around him. He didn’t know them, especially the Nolan guy, who had been silent for most of the dinner, glancing sidelong at him as if he wanted to study him thoroughly before making a personal judgment. The feeling was mutual, Killian thought.

Just after dessert, David started to speak. “What will you need to restore your ship?” He asked.

“Uh… a new stabilizer, I think, and some parts of the propulsion engine for sure. But I’ll have to look closely at the damages to be sure there’s nothing else broken.”

The blond man nodded. “Not many ships come and go from here. But I hope we can find all the pieces you need.”

“Thank you, mate.”

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the hangar where your ship is. We’ll have a look at it.” He seemed sincere in his generosity.

“May I help?” Henry barged in.

A chorus of “No!” echoed the room.

“I appreciate the support, but it could be dangerous.” Killian explained.

“I hate being here. I feel trapped.” The boy complained.

Mary Margaret sighed. “This is a feeling that will vanish with time.”

The woman was no doubt trying to instill some optimism, but Killian didn't like the idea of staying in that place longer than necessary. “Well, then, let’s hope we could leave this planet before the feeling has entirely vanished.” He made a grin and passed his hand on his side.

“Time for resting.” The brunette stated although it sounded more like an order. “But before that, we should change those bandages. Emma, would you like to help me?”

“Me?” Emma, who had been silent and a bit on the sidelines all evening, seemed to re-emerge from wherever she’d gone.

“He won’t be able to do it by himself when you won’t live here anymore. It’s better if you learn how to help him.” Mary Margaret clarified.

Emma looked like she was going to object, but in the end, she asserted. “Sure.”

~·~·~·~

If a certain nervousness had taken hold of Emma as she climbed to the upstairs room, it disappeared the instant Mary Margaret helped Killian get rid of his shirt. That wasn’t a thorax, it was a nautical chart. Most of it was covered by gauze, but she could still spot many marks and scars.

There was a tattoo, two of them to be exact, but Emma saw just one at first. It was on his right forearm; it was a big red heart with a dagger running through and the name “Milah” across it. Emma made a mental note to ask him later who she was.

Mary Margaret showed her how to unfasten the bandages, and then she ordered her to stand behind him, to help better in removing them all.

On his back, Emma saw the second tattoo, on his right shoulder. It was an old nautical instrument she had read about in a book when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember the exact name. The drawing was beautifully detailed, even if it had faded, it was probably older than the other one, she thought.

And when all the gauze was out of the way, she saw them: tiny, blurred, old scars that studded most of his back. Emma wondered what kind of life he had to endure when he was very young.

Mary Margaret asked her to help with the ointment. She had already opened the bottle and was showing the blonde woman how much cream to use. But Emma wasn't listening, standing now in front of the man, her attention was caught by the glorious chest hair that was covering most of his torso.

Okay, there was also a big, horrible bruise on his right ribs, but Mary Margaret was saying that it seemed on the way to a fast recovery, if the yellow and purple veining was some indication.

Emma was ogling and she wasn’t ashamed of it either. The amount of hair decreased in the lower part of his chest, leaving a black trail that disappeared under the hem of his pants.

"See something you like?" Emma was abruptly taken back to reality by a smug Killian that was smirking at her while arching an eyebrow. She blushed. She was caught red-handed, but she couldn’t let him win. She took advantage of the fact that Mary Margaret was looking for something in a nearby drawer, to get closer to him. She looked at him lasciviously from under her lashes. “Maybe?” She purred.

Now it was his time to blush, he looked intently at his feet, but she found the bright red that appeared on his ears extremely endearing. Point for Emma.

Mary Margaret taught the other woman how to fix the bandages, and Emma had to use some tiny hooks to hold them together. She did not miss the opportunity to casually slide her fingers over a part of his chest hair that came out of the bandages.

“Bloody Hell!” Killian muttered.

Emma retreated her hand immediately. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” Worries that she had done something wrong clouded her gaze.

“Apologies.” Killian was scratching behind his ear, in evident embarrassment. “While I do enjoy two lovely ladies attending to my needs, I'm not used to someone taking care of me…” He smiled and brought his mouth close to Emma’s ear: “I’m usually the one who devotes full attention to a woman’s needs.” He whispered, but clearly not as quietly as he would have liked, because Mary Margaret's answer - “Well, you will have to put that off for a while” - made him blush again like a schoolboy scolded by his teacher.

~·~·~·~

Suddenly it was bedtime. Everyone was busy making preparations and taking shifts for the bathroom to change for the night. Killian was upstairs, staring at the bed he knew he had to share with Emma, who was arranging a pillow on the nearby sofa. He passed a hand through his hair and then scratched a spot behind his right ear. “I'll crash on that couch.” He stated as if it was the most logical conclusion to a battle he was fighting inside.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “It's barely long enough for Henry. Plus, you’re still recovering, you absolutely need to rest.”

He didn't seem very convinced. “Emma, I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

“And why is that?” Was her exasperated reply, turning towards him with her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Seduce me with a couple of broken ribs and a ten-year-old boy sleeping next to us?”

He lifted his arms and surrendered. “Fair point.” He conceded.

In no time they were all ready for the night and Henry was snoring softly on the sofa. Killian was supine, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the events of the day. In any case, sleep had no intention of coming, but he tried not to move. He didn’t want to wake up his roommates. Emma was lying close with her back to him and he didn’t know if she was already in the arms of Morpheus.

He turned his head to observe how her upper body moved with the rhythm of her breathing, blond curls covering her shoulders. Killian had to repress the urge to touch them. And as if responding to his call, she stirred and turned to face him.

Her eyes opened lazily. “Still awake?” She murmured.

“I have the feeling that I’ve slept enough for the rest of my life.” He whispered. “But you can’t rest either, I see.”

She didn’t answer.

Perhaps it was the closeness, perhaps it was the fact that they had spent the last few days apart. Killian didn't know how he found the courage, but he lifted his left arm as an invitation. “Come here,” he said.

She seemed to ponder the situation, chewing her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He decided not to think about all the possible implications of that sentence. He was falling in love with her, he was aware of it. Probably the simple doubt that she might not reciprocate was already hurting him, but he knew that at that moment she was referring only to his physical bruises. “You won’t.”

She slipped under the sheets towards him, resting her head gently on his left shoulder and placing a hand on his chest, avoiding the bruised part. Not many minutes passed before her lids grew heavy and she dozed off to the rhythm of his heartbeats. Killian placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

#cs ff #cs au #Till the Stars Had Run Away #alternative universe #science fiction #space au #my writing

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dahlia-coccinea · 3 years ago

Text

Wuthering Heights - Chapter 3

This is a somewhat difficult chapter to discuss fully in a single post. It introduces so many important themes and has the first glimpse of the story of the earlier inhabitants of the Heights. Sorry if this is too long - I've tried to keep my comments concise. It is difficult for me to not mention every tiny detail I like lol

We learn that Zillah has worked at the house a year or two and is aware that Catherine’s old room is off-limits but seems to know little else. It shows that despite the emotional unloading that Heathcliff does to Nelly he is very reserved about all that has happened in the past.

It seems the house has been ruled by chaos for years and there is an instinctual need for the inhabits to defend themselves against it. We see this when Lockwood first climbs into the box bed and closes the doors he says he “felt secure against the vigilance of Heathcliff, and every one else.” The need to shut out the world and crawling into small spaces is repeated later in this chapter with Catherine's diary details how, with Heathcliff, in an attempt to avoid the cruelty of Hindley and Frances “made ourselves as snug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser,” and closed off the world by fastening their pinafores together.

We get some other interesting glimpses of Catherine and Heathcliff early friendship. It is quite popular to say that Heathcliff is Catherine’s whip and he is a blank slate for her, but I think this diary entry is another example of their oddly egalitarian relationship. First, we have this scene of Catherine lashing out against their ill-treatment:

I took my dingy volume by the scroop, and hurled it into the dog-kennel, vowing I hated a good book. Heathcliff kicked his to the same place. Then there was a hubbub!

That Heathcliff swiftly follows her lead certainly shows a reciprocation of the other’s attitude and worldview - or simply that if one is going to get in trouble then the other will follow suit. Still, I do hold that he doesn’t just mimic her or do as she wishes. We get a number of examples that show neither play a clear leader in their antics with one happening shortly after this incident. Catherine's diary continues:

I have got the time on with writing for twenty minutes; but my companion is impatient, and proposes that we should appropriate the dairywoman’s cloak, and have a scamper on the moors, under its shelter. A pleasant suggestion—and then, if the surly old man come in, he may believe his prophecy verified—we cannot be damper, or colder, in the rain than we are here.

Here Heathcliff takes the lead in coming up with more plans to get further into trouble and it seems Catherine is more than pleased to go along with it.

There are other, now iconic, details of Catherine’s character in this chapter. Such as this description of the box bed from Lockwood:

The ledge, where I placed my candle, had a few mildewed books piled up in one corner; and it was covered with writing scratched on the paint. This writing, however, was nothing but a name repeated in all kinds of characters, large and small—Catherine Earnshaw, here and there varied to Catherine Heathcliff, and then again to Catherine Linton.

And later:

Catherine’s library was select, and its state of dilapidation proved it to have been well used, though not altogether for a legitimate purpose: scarcely one chapter had escaped a pen-and-ink commentary—at least the appearance of one—covering every morsel of blank that the printer had left. Some were detached sentences; other parts took the form of a regular diary, scrawled in an unformed, childish hand. At the top of an extra page (quite a treasure, probably, when first lighted on) I was greatly amused to behold an excellent caricature of my friend Joseph,—rudely, yet powerfully sketched. An immediate interest kindled within me for the unknown Catherine, and I began forthwith to decipher her faded hieroglyphics.

Catherine holed up in the box bed and writing on every spare bit of paper she can get her hands on and scratching her name in the paint, tell of someone who has no one to talk to. She’s alone and is compelled to at least make sense of herself with ink and paper. Nelly does say later on that “there was not a soul else that she might fashion into an adviser” beside Nelly herself. Which is a poor adviser, considering how Nelly disliked her throughout her childhood.

Adding to Catherine’s loneliness is the endless abuse of Heathcliff and herself, at the hands of seemingly everyone in the house. In this short excerpt from her diary, we are told Hindley’s treatment of Heathcliff is “atrocious,” and that now he is the new master they are no longer allowed to play, and “a mere titter is sufficient to send us into corners.” Heathcliff has his hair pulled by Frances, Catherine’s ears are boxed by Joseph and they’re both berated and verbally punished by him. Finally Hindley “seizing one of us by the collar, and the other by the arm, hurled both into the back-kitchen” where she says that outside on the moors “cannot be damper, or colder.” Upon their return and proceeding punishment she says she’s cried until her head ached. Consistent with what we later hear her tell Nelly, that Heathcliff’s miseries are her own, it is not her punishment or ill-treatment that makes her so upset but the casting out of Heathcliff. She writes:

“Poor Heathcliff! Hindley calls him a vagabond, and won’t let him sit with us, nor eat with us any more; and, he says, he and I must not play together, and threatens to turn him out of the house if we break his orders. He has been blaming our father (how dared he?) for treating H. too liberally; and swears he will reduce him to his right place—”

Critics that suggest Catherine is glassy-eyed and naive idealist really gloss over these excerpts in my opinion. There is a constant downplaying of her abuse compared to the other characters among those that seemingly think she’s the only character with moral agency and therefore the cause of all problems in the story.

I love how strange the encounter that Lockwood has with the book “Seventy Times Seven, and the First of the Seventy-First,” and the following dream is when first reading Wuthering Heights. Hardly anything in WH is superfluous and when rereading it this makes much more sense. This is quite an interesting segue into meeting Catherine’s ghost, and later learning more of her life. Forgiveness is such an important aspect in the book and will come up many times. Notably, while on her deathbed, Catherine tells Heathcliff she has forgiven him and that he should forgive her.

I think it is amusing and also very interesting how in Lockwood’s dream he’s walking with Joseph (in itself is very metaphorical) and Joseph tells him he should have brought a “pilgrim’s staff” and that Joseph’s staff is really just a “heavy-headed cudgel.”

It’s unsurprising the appearance of Catherine’s ghost is so iconic. It’s impossible to discern if it is merely Lockwood’s dream or him actually encountering her spirit. There are details about her that Lockwood, at this point, does not yet know. Still, he does make many attempts to logically explain what happens. Either way, the imagery of the scene is both frightening and tragic.

We get some really interesting glimpses of Heathcliff’s character in this scene. Normally he is very collected and if his emotions are out of control they tend towards anger, but here we see him truly terrified and unable to maintain composure after finding Lockwood in the room.

Heathcliff stood near the entrance, in his shirt and trousers; with a candle dripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall behind him. The first creak of the oak startled him like an electric shock: the light leaped from his hold to a distance of some feet, and his agitation was so extreme, that he could hardly pick it up.

Even after Lockwood identifies himself Heathcliff is said to have found it “impossible to hold it [the candle] steady” and was “crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding his teeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions.” It is interesting that Heathcliff doesn’t become so angry that he throws Lockwood out. It’s another oddly humanizing moment for him. An overly dramatic author would likely have him behave like a complete monster, but he instead tells him to finish the night there and not to scream like that again. This is a scene that I wish we could have some perspective from Heathcliff. Not only is he startled by a noise coming from Catherine’s old room but then Lockwood adds to his distress by rambling about Catherine saying:

And that minx, Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw, or however she was called—she must have been a changeling—wicked little soul! She told me she had been walking the earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal transgressions, I’ve no doubt!

This and Lockwood’s further talk which makes it apparent he has snooped and glimpsed a little bit of Catherine’s and Heathcliff’s past, does set Heathcliff off:

“What can you mean by talking in this way to me!” thundered Heathcliff with savage vehemence. “How—how dare you, under my roof?—God! he’s mad to speak so!” And he struck his forehead with rage.

Lockwood doesn’t quite understand this reaction saying:

I did not know whether to resent this language or pursue my explanation; but he seemed so powerfully affected that I took pity and proceeded with my dreams; affirming I had never heard the appellation of “Catherine Linton” before, but reading it often over produced an impression which personified itself when I had no longer my imagination under control. Heathcliff gradually fell back into the shelter of the bed, as I spoke; finally sitting down almost concealed behind it. I guessed, however, by his irregular and intercepted breathing, that he struggled to vanquish an excess of violent emotion.

And later when watching Heathcliff call for Cathy through the window:

There was such anguish in the gush of grief that accompanied this raving, that my compassion made me overlook its folly, and I drew off, half angry to have listened at all, and vexed at having related my ridiculous nightmare, since it produced that agony; though why was beyond my comprehension.

At one point Lockwood also believes Heathcliff to be “dashing a tear from his eyes” during their conversation. Of course, he is confused because he doesn’t know that one of Heathcliff’s few fixations has been looking for signs of Catherine for the last 17ish years.

I’ve mentioned this before, but something that doesn’t happen in the book because Heathcliff never narrates it, but I think if someone retold the story or made a film adaptation it could be interesting to explore, is how Heathcliff came to find Catherine’s writing on the wall. She must have written it shortly before she talks to Nelly since she’s already considering marrying Linton, and Heathcliff must still be living at the Heights since his name is there also. When Heathcliff returns three years later we know that he takes over Catherine’s old room so really he should have discovered it the first night there, probably after having visited the Grange.

@astrangechoiceoffavourites has mentioned this in one their posts, but another great aspect of the book is the background happenings that are very realistic for the time and particularly farm life. Cats and dogs roam about, Heathcliff mentions that the house goes to bed at “nine in winter, and rise at four,” and there are mentions of chores, etc. The details create a realistic backdrop and ground the characters in reality. I feel like the novel is never overly sentimental because of this and it really strengthens it.

After Heathcliff comes down to the kitchen where the household is starting their day, we are instantly reminded how terrible Heathcliff can be when he swears at and threatens to hit Cathy for not making herself useful and working for her keep. Ironically, he tells her, “You shall pay me for the plague of having you eternally in my sight,” when, as I’ve mentioned before he has her sit at the dining table with everyone else. He also could just send her away if he despises her so much.

I see a lot of similarity between the glimpse we get of Catherine Earnshaw from her diary and the current situation Cathy Heathcliff is in. Their situations are certainly different but both are in a similar state of abuse and neglect and both are quite self-possessed and antagonistic towards those that try to control them. They also are associated with books (Catherine filling them up with writing and Cathy reading) and have an affinity for animals. In this chapter it is mentioned that while Cathy is reading she has “to push away a dog, now and then, that snoozled its nose overforwardly into her face.” There are other similar encounters, such as when the dogs at the Heights come to greet Catherine Earnshaw upon her return from the Lintons.

I’m sure I’m forgetting points I want to make in these posts. I’ll probably to a larger summary after I complete the book and try to tie together some of the ideas I’ve mentioned. Its also difficult because I keep wanting to bring up things that happen later in the book and I want to make a note of it now - but I’m also trying to reread as impartially as possible. Which is really an impossible task lol.

@astrangechoiceoffavourites

#wuthering heights #wh reread 2021 #wh reread #emily brontë #chapter 3 #tw abuse #omg i did it

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oss-crime · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 2-Project “Ma” –Eve–; Scene 4

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 37-48

Seth’s wound wasn’t too bad, but for safety’s sake he wound up receiving treatment at a hospital in the Twelve Royal Capitals.

He got on one of the huge automated carriages of the security force and went back with the soldier driving it.

Adam wound up staying in the village of Nemu for a time along with his bodyguard, Gammon.

Naturally their goal was to search for the “Witch of the Forest”.

And Eve…she served as their guide when the two headed out to the Forest of Held, as well as their driver for the carriage.

The fee they paid her for this service had far greater profit to her than her income selling ingredients from the forest, so she had no reason to refuse.

Eve knew of several of the villages where the people of the forest lived, and so she first took the two of them to those.

And then they tried going around to the places where the witch was rumored to be, or just moved through aimlessly.

But the days passed without achieving any particular result.

That day as well the three of them had been advancing along a forest path with the automated carriage.

The sky was overcast with thick clouds. When Eve suggested that it might rain, Adam replied that they perhaps ought to end things early today.

“That aside, you’re quite skilled with driving the automated carriage, Eve,” Adam complimented. “You must be, to move so smoothly through such narrow pathways.”

“It’s no big deal if you’re used to it. But as you’d expect you can’t get to the deeper parts of the forest with a carriage.”

“Still, people would seldom be going in such places. So they’re not likely to be targets of the tribesmen, and thus there’s a low chance of the witch showing up there.”

Putting together the information that Adam and Gammon had been able to obtain up until now, the Witch of the Forest would apparently make her appearances in public to rescue people attacked by the white army.

But strangely, none of the people who had been rescued by her could remember what this witch looked like.

“She has green hair, is a woman, fires lightning from a blue spoon…And that’s all they can remember, oddly enough.”

“They’re all probably in a state of shock from being attacked by the white army, so that’s understandable isn’t it?”

“I wonder. Maybe…this witch can use a spell that manipulates people’s minds.”

Upon hearing that, Eve’s eyes widened for a moment. Then she quickly chuckled. “That’d be pretty convenient, if there really were such a spell. I’d control all the big-wigs into making me the queen.”

“Haha, I guess so. You could have all the wealth and influence you want…Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“I’ve been raised in a village of sorcerers for over twenty years, but not once, no. Do you know of anything, Adam? You’re seem pretty well educated.”

“I’ve hardly done any studies on magic.”

“Huh…That’s a bit surprising. Don’t you have all this magical potential?”

“I only learned that relatively recently.”

As the two of them talked, Gammon simply looked around at their surroundings without showing the least amount of interest in their conversation.

Over these past few days Eve had been able to learn quite well that taken favorably he was a man who was very dedicated to his work, but taken unfavorably he was a very strait-laced person with little flexibility.

Adam was also a bit too serious, but he at least was easy to get along with.

Among the people who had come over from the capital there were some every now and then who would look down upon a country bumpkin like Eve. But Adam never showed any sign of such behavior.

From what she’d heard, while he was currently living in the Twelve Royal Capitals, originally he had been raised on the coast west from there.

“Just like you…I was an orphan.”

Apparently when he was a child he had been able to make a living and fend off starvation by hunting fish in the sea.

“One day a man suddenly appeared before me. He took me back to his home in the royal capital, and adopted me as his son. Even now I’m not sure why he did that. After that I received an education as a student under my adoptive father—Horus Solntse.”

“Did you…not have any parental figures until then?”

At Eve’s question, Adam responded without hesitation, “I did have a mother. …Though she was a whale.”

“Eh?”

“Ever since I can remember, that white whale had always been by my side. She watched over me…Or so I always thought. Though she never did anything to actually help me, ha ha.”

“…”

“Do you think my story is strange?”

“Mm, nooo…” Eve shook her head, and then replied earnestly, “I’m positive that whale must have been the manifestation of a spirit.”

“A spirit?”

“There are a lot of them in this forest; spirits that take the form of animals. Robins, chipmunks…I can’t talk to them, but I know of them.”

“I see…”

Adam listened in to Eve’s story, offering neither affirmations or denial.

“I too…had times when I was a child where I felt unbearably lonely. My adoptive mother and father were very kind people. But of course they weren’t my real parents…I couldn’t stand that.”

“…I understand that feeling.”

“In the middle of the night I ran out of the village and into the forest. But it was pitch-black, and I couldn’t tell my left from my right…I sat down alone and started crying. And then…it appeared.”

Eve’s shoulders faintly shook.

A drop of water fell from the sky and hit her face.

It had started to rain. There was no roof on this carriage.

Eve stopped the carriage under the shade of a large tree to keep from getting soaked.

“It?” Adam asked.

“A bear. A frightening bear…Here, look.”

Eve suddenly rolled up her skirt.

Adam unthinkingly moved to avert his eyes at catching sight of her bare skin.

But when he noticed the large scar on her thigh, he regained his composure.

“It bit you?”

“Because it was hungry. A little bit longer and I would have ended my life inside that bear’s stomach. But at that moment—the animals of the forest all attacked the bear at once. And they saved me.”

“And so they…were spirits of the forest.”

“I never saw a bear in this forest again. The spirits might have gotten rid of them, or else directed me so that I never got close to one…In any case, the spirits are my friends, and I owe them my life.”

Eve had never really told that story to anyone.

That was because anyone who didn’t know much about the forest in particular would likely think it was just a silly tall tale.

But in that drizzling rain Adam listened to her speak with a serious countenance. Conversely, Eve started to regret having told him.

Thinking on his goals…It would be only natural for him to start to hold some doubts towards Eve, upon hearing that story.

“Eve. So you really are—"

Before Adam could continue speaking, they could suddenly hear a loud explosion from far off.

“--!?”

They all turned over there at once.

…There was smoke coming from the direction of Nemu village.

“—What’s happened!?” Gammon shouted as he whipped out the sword at his hip.

What came to Eve’s mind was the white army.

They had never once attacked the village directly…And yet, she couldn’t think of anything else it could be.

As though in support of that, several tribesmen wielding weapons appeared from the shadows of the trees and circled the carriage.

“Oh, we’re not letting you get back to the village,” said a woman standing in the center of the tribesmen, glowering at Eve and the others.

Gammon had swiftly leapt down from the carriage, and shifted his piercing gaze to the woman.

“You must be the commander of the white army…The ‘White Fiend of Jakoku’.”

“Oh my. How impressive, that you know of my illustrious title…Your henchmen serve you well, it seems.” Gammon asked her if she had come here as payback for what happened on the plains, but Raisa shook her head. “Though there is a little of that, yes. This is more—a test.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I…Or rather, all of us, are planning to let loose much bigger fireworks after this.”

Giving no indication that she would explain any further, Raisa and her cohorts started to steadily draw closer to the carriage, weapons at the ready.

“You louts, tread cautiously! This military bastard looks pretty tough. Not to mention—” Raisa glared at Eve. “—He’s traveling with the ‘Witch of the Forest’, too.”

As though in response to those words, Eve got down from the carriage and stood next to Gammon.

“…You seem to be under a misunderstanding. I’m not a witch.”

Eve maintained a calm demeanor, but in response to that Raisa laid bare her anger.

“Don’t bullshit me! Countless of my people have been reduced to ashes by you!”

The moment she spoke, Raisa ran towards Eve.

Pale fire curled around the long and thin weapon she held in both hands.

These flames were not put out by the rain; they were likely some type of magic, or else produced by a unique power she had.

“…”

Eve glanced briefly at Adam, still inside the carriage.

He looked like he had something he wanted to say to Eve.

She didn’t have time to hesitate now.

First…she would need to do something about the enemy in front of her.

And she was worried about the village, too.

--Eve took out the spoon she’d kept hidden on her person.

A blue spoon. The item that was publicly referred to as the wand of the Witch of the Forest. For Eve it was a memento that she’d received from her adoptive mother.

She turned it toward Raisa, who was still heading towards her.

And then—expressionlessly, and concisely, she chanted a short spell phrase.

“Medvedi ubit!”

And it was all over.

It was a lightning spell she had been taught by her adoptive father.

A large bolt of lightning shot from the spoon, and then Raisa and her underlings in their entirety were swallowed up in a flash of light.

--The lightning strike that had engulfed the area had no effect on the trees of the forest or the animals.

It was the same with Adam and Gammon who were nearby Eve.

The lightning spell could only burn up that which it had been fired at. And after the flash of light went away, all of the tribesmen that had been surrounding the carriage had been reduced to charred corpses.

…No, there was one exception.

Raisa must have taken the direct brunt of the lightning, and yet despite her body having sustained massive burns she was still clinging to life.

“Wow…I’m surprised. That’s the first time anyone’s taken that shot and lived.” Eve looked down on Raisa with a cold expression.

“Y…you bitch…”

Gammon pressed down on Raisa’s body as she tried to crawl into the forest to escape.

“What an unexpected bounty, to be able to capture the head of the white army. For now let’s get her to the village—”

As he turned his face to the village, Gammon stopped speaking.

There was still smoke rising from that direction.

Eve quickly got back into the carriage and put her hand on the control crystal.

But Adam gripped her thin arm.

“The village will be dangerous. The bulk of the white army is probably attacking it now.”

“That’s why we have to go help my father and the others!”

Gammon tossed something at the carriage as it started to move.

Adam caught the weapon.

“This is…”

It was the peculiarly shaped sword that Raisa had been carrying.

“Take it! It should serve as some protection,” Gammon shouted to Adam. “I can’t let Raisa get away. You’ll have to go on your own!”

His words were in a sense an abandonment of his responsibilities as bodyguard, but under the circumstances he must have judged there was nothing more he could do.

Or maybe he was dazzled by the potential for glory that had fallen before him.

Eve didn’t care which it was.

Whatever the case, she was focused on the situation in the village now.

Though I can’t imagine my father would be done in by the white army so easily…

The residents of the village of Nemu were a band of once famous sorcerers.

Even so, Eve couldn’t help the unease in her chest.

The carriage started to race, Adam sitting beside her.

And in this way they advanced at full speed along the forest path, headed for the village.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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lastluvbug · 4 years ago

Note

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DOING MY REQUEST since love it so much, I'm asking another one! This time it's gonna be full on angst but there will be happy ending so let's get started! =D can you do a request with a mc who had a terrible back story of abuse? She ended up losing her eye when she was four years old because her father threw a wine bottle at her and age blames herself because he killed her late older sibling and mom when she tried to cheer him up by playing a mini harp? Can be with anyone.

Very angsty, I’ll see what I can do!

Warnings: Mentioned/referenced abuse, mentioned self harm, drinking, and langauge. If sensitive, please do not read!

A Sweet Melody

Once upon a time, music had been so precious to Yuu. It had been her world, her rock, her solace when she couldn’t sleep at night.

She’d pull out her harp, and hum a tune in sync with her elegant plucking. She remembered those nights, dreamt of how free and pure the sound was, how calm she felt as the tension was poured into her song.

She remembered how much her mother and sister loved to listen—after a stressful day, before school, a nighttime lullaby.

All of it seemed so distant, like a fragmented dream that only appeared in flashes, gone so quick the only trace left was the bitterly addictive flavor of nostalgia on her tongue.

Music now was nothing more than a hatred whorled spit in her face. Music had been the thing to lead her younger sister and mother into their coffins six feet below ground. Music had driven her father insane.

It started when she was just barely out of her toddler years, when Yuu was first gifted the stringed instrument. While it overjoyed her to have something so beautiful, her father was nearly steaming with rage.

Yuu’s family was the farthest thing from rich. Her parents worked two, three jobs at a time, hardly creating a stable income as her father squandered his opportunities again and again. Over the course of her short life, Yuu often found herself to be at the receiving end of his fury, whether that mean harsh chastisment scented of alcohol on the smallest of mistakes, or a plain backhand across the cheek.

The day before, Yuu’s father had wasted yet another night at the bar, filling himself the disgustingly thin liquid until he couldn’t walk, nor speak.

“You bitch! How did you afford that? You doin’ something behind my back? Is that it?” He bellowed at her mother, Yuu standing in front of her one year old sister defensively as he stood from the rugged couch, stumbling over to the cluttered counter.

“Dear, please. It was just a gift!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me! How did you afford it?!” He grabbed her mother’s arm roughly, twisting it with his superior strength as she bit back a wince too late.

“Daddy! Don’t hurt her! She just wanted to do something nice!” Yuu interjected, latching onto his free hand.

“Get off me, brat. If it weren’t for little money suckers like you, we would’ve been dining like kings!” He slapped Yuu away, the short girl tripping over her feet and landing on her side.

From across the room, her sister began to wail, clutching her hand-me-down stuffed pet and wiping away fat tears. Yuu noticed how her father whipped his head to the child, eyes ablaze with a plan to shut her up. Acting quickly, Yuu rushed to her baby sister, pulling her out of the kitchen and up to her bed, where she tucked her in.

“Don’t get violent! Not on our daughter’s birthday!” Her mother shrieked as Yuu tramped back into the kitchen, freezing as her father slapped her mother.

“Shut up! You don’t understand what you’ve done, woman!” Just as her father raised his hand to strike her mother yet again, Yuu threw herself into him, temporarily knocking him off balance.

“No, Daddy! Leave Mom alone!” She stood in front of her mother, who fell to the ground on her knees, her arm out beside her as she tried to protect her despite only having just turned four.

A black rage darker than Yuu had ever seen laced every muscle and tendon in her father’s face, fear spiking through her heart and crumbling her resolve as the man recovered from his shock, standing to his full height. “So you think you’re better than me now? You think you can stand up to me? You’re father?” His hand trailed across the counter, searching.

“Dad...?” Yuu began trembling.

“I’ll teach you...” he mumbled, towering above his daughter, “I’ll teach you to stand up to me!”

He raised his hand, and in that split moment, his eyes were clearer than Yuu had ever seen before. He moved with such swiftness, it made her wonder why he’d never invested such concise movements into playing with her or her sister, why he sat drinking his life away on the couch instead of helping her mother work.

That was the last thought she had, before her world was sliced in two.

First, it was the immobilizing pain that made her drop to the floor. Her bones groaned in response to being dropped so unceremoniously on the tile, but was little heeded as her head blew up in flame, her scalp stinging like a thousand wasp penetrations as something warm and sticky dripped down her tear streaked cheeks.

She hardly recognized the scream that pierced the air as she looked around, hand wandering to her eye as she realized... it wasn’t working. She could only see out of her right, and the left was pure, black darkness, not even the silhouette of the room appearing in the emptiness. Yuu stared at the floor, at the blood falling from her face and onto the glass shatterer before her, encircling her like a broken cage.

Her ears rung, and she couldn’t process what happened next. Briefly, she recalled being carried, the sound of her irregular heartbeat, and the flooding of throbbing lights as she faded in and out of consciousness.

Yuu had her father’s words left in her head, imprinted in her brain like a branded cow. “Next time, learn to hold your tongue, bitch.”

All her life she carried the reminder of that day, marred upon her skin and forever labeling her as the “Outcast.” She never saw herself as beautiful from that time forward, and after the death of her mother and sister a mere two years later, never spoke unless spoken to.

<————>

Yuu awoke with a start, being shaken by someone rather roughly.

“Yuu? Wake up, class ended.”

The girl looked to the source of the sound, meeting the wide eyed and worried face of her only friend in all of Night Raven. “...My apologies, Epel...” She mumbled, lifting herself from her crossed arms.

“It’s alright, just... what was your dream about?” Epel asked, standing beside her.

“Nothing i-important, why?”

“You’ve been crying.”

“Hm?” She reach up to her cheeks, her fingers wiping something wet streaked down the plains of her face. “Ah... It really was nothing.” She waved off his inquiry, as well as her tears with her sleeve, seeing that Grim had already long since left her behind.

“If you say so... hey! Since it seems yer—ahem, you’re, not busy, did you want to come with me back to Pomefiore? All this time, and you’ve never been, right?” Epel prompted, making Yuu look up at him from her seat.

“Go with you to Pomefiore? A-Are you sure that would be fine? You guys are known for your beauty, I don’t think I would be very welcome...” Yuu shyly said, ghosting over her scarred eye.

“With the way Vil primps himself daily, I doubt anyone would notice you. Not to mention Rook—the guy’s lost one too many of his screws. He’ll probably be kissing up to our marvelous dorm head, so I’ll be off the hook.”

“What would... what would we even do?”

“We could study? I know I’ve been failing pretty terribly in some of my classes. Or... oh! Come with me!” Epel took Yuu’s hand, dragging her fragile figure down the hallways.

“What? What’re we doing?” Yuu asked, jogging to keep up with the boy.

“We’re going to the kitchens!” Epel laughed, sparking the girl’s confusion.

It was a bumpy run, the two weaving between students rather easily thanks to their short statures, and rounding corner after corner until they approached the gran cafeteria. Following their beelines, they pushed through the rows of starving students, barreling into the back kitchens pleasantly smelling of a mix of foods.

Yuu kept her mouth shut, following timidly behind Epel as she subconsciously covered her eye with a hand, glancing around nervously. Only a handful of people looked her way, that she could tell, and either smiled or laughed, both reactions causing her ears to redden.

“Okay, do me a favor, would you?” Epel broke the tension, turning to Yuu.

“S-Sure.” She answered, biting her tongue for stuttering.

“Grab the peeler and a few of the carving knives. I’ll get the stuff from the fridge!” He gestured towards the row of drawers, Yuu simply nodding.

She watched as Epel bounced to the largely oversized refrigerators, refusing conversation but smiling to himself. She’d never say, her voice hushed from years of humiliation, but she loved the way his soft purple locks fell over his shoulders, or the way his powdery blue eyes sparkled every time he laughed.

It took all of her will power to keep herself from tearing up, that light he shone reminding her too much of her forever dimmed sister’s.

Turning back to her own job, she searched through the drawers, pulling out her materials, nicking her finger on the peeler. Staring at the glimmery bead as it snaked its way down her hand, her body briefly remembered the feeling of metal slicing through her skin, long since healed over her wrists, but recorded upon it nevertheless.

Once upon a time, she’d been so broken that the only sort of release she could find was through blades. The one who’d helped her through those seemingly endless hours of struggle was none other than Epel Felmier.

When Yuu first met Epel, she was a stuttering, anxious mess, tripping over her words and avoiding eye contact like it was the plague. Epel was no better himself, holding his tongue and only making the smallest of conversations. If it weren’t for the one day he caught her stained in her own blood and sobbing in a restroom stall, Yuu believed without a doubt that there’d be no one by her side.

“Yuu! Ready to go?” Epel tore the meddling girl from her mind, who wiped the bead on her pants and carefully arranged the blades in her arms.

“Yes, let’s go.” Yuu nodded, supprssing her inner turmoil.

She’d put that behind her, and had long since forgotten her practices of old.

Epel gave her a soft smile, a bag of scarlet apples dangling from his hand as he encouraged her to go forward.

<————>

“Yuu, quick! Hide over there!”

The girl leapt back, disguising herself behind the curtains draped over a window as Epel stood in front of it, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, you runaway fiend! The great trouble you cause dear Vil! He wishes for your presence in the ballroom immediately.” An extravagantly dramatic voice cooed, and from her spot behind the curtain, Yuu could just barely make out the sight of blonde hair covered by a rather stylish hunting hat.

“Rook-san...! Lovely to see you as well. Actually, I can’t join you today, I’ve uh—I’ve come down with a terrible headache. Send Vil my apologies!” Epel not so cleverly lied.

“Is that so? Would those be get-well fruits then?”

“H-huh? Oh these? These are... well, Crowley gave them to me, said they were a gift from my hometown! I figured I’da bring ‘em to my room, y’know, n’ keep ‘em safe!” Yuu cringed to herself, knowing all too well that Epel was not selling his act.

“Oh my, Epel-kun, please. You may return to your quarters, but do something about that distasteful chatter of yours.” Rook croned, tipping his hat and heading off.

“Tch, “distasteful chatter”? Stupid beauty, what do they know anyway?” Epel grumbled, stepping away from the curtain as Rook’s figure faded away. He pried it open, the sudden flush of light causing Yuu to wince. “We’re alone, you can come out now.”

“Why don’t they like your accent, Epel? Aren’t they beauty enthusiasts?” Yuu asked, stepping into the open hall.

“Hell if I know. They only care about your face, not whatever you are on the inside. It reminds me of the poison apple the legends talk about; gorgeous to the eye, death to the soul.” Epel frowned, slinging his sack over his shoulder.

Yuu deflated, taking the words to heart. If that was true, then she was most surely not welcome in a dorm as proper as Pomefiore. “In any case, let’s just hurry to my room. They usually don’t bother me there.” Epel continued, storming down the corridor.

“Right...” Yuu followed, suddenly feeling unbearably self conscious.

Much to her surprise, the dorm looked empty as Ramshackle, not a single person lounging around or even passing by as they walked. “Where is everyone?” She thought, readjusting the dangerous items as Epel kicked a door open, allowing Yuu inside, almost gasping as she stood at the doorway.

The room was wide and quaint, with a large bay window, an intricately designed table, and a four poster bed that instantly made Yuu jealous. “Impressive, right? I honestly think it’s too much, even tried to convince Vil to give me something smaller.”

“I-I can’t believe this is your room... it’s so pretty...” Yuu marveled, setting her instruments on the table.

“Take a seat, we’re going to be here a while.” Epel instructed, laying his bag down and grinning impishly.

<————>

“I’m done! I’m done—I did it! Look Epel, look!” Yuu burst what seemed like hours later, hands flying to her mouth after she realized how loud she’d been.

“It’s a little lopsided, and it’s not symmetrical, but it looks great! Almost subpar for a rookie!” Epel clapped, looking up from his own work.

Yuu squinted, holding up what she thought was her masterpiece. The apples that Epel had brought were used to teach her how to carve delicate pictures and designs into their flawless flesh, some of which were horribly mutilated in the process, but in the end led to the beautiful fruity art before her. “I don’t see anything wrong with it... you’re such a difficult person to impress, Epel.” Yuu whined, comparing her apple to his.

“Ah relax! I’m just messin’ around!” He joked, waving his hand. He laughed at her dumbfounded face, ruffling her hair in an older-sibling like way, and for once, Yuu found herself smirking, if only in the slightest way.

“Epel Felmier! Do my ears deceive me or are you really—pardon?” Both teens froze in place as Epel’s door flew open, welcoming in a tall boy dressed in Pomefiore’s overly pompous uniform, head adorned with the same hat Yuu saw behind the curtain.

She flinched as his gaze settled on her, and she instinctually pressed a hand over her eye, concealing the horror that further proved the loss of her vision. “Rook, get out! Who do you think you are, barging in like that?” Epel complained, rushing over to the senior and attempting to push him away.

He was abrubtly dropped on the floor as Rook swerved around the boy, stalking closer to Yuu like a predator. “What have we here? Who might you be?” He asked, scrutinizing her face.

“Rook, leave her alone!” Epel demanded, pushing himself from the floor.

Too easily, the blonde pried her hand away, observing the story written in scars over the left side of her complexion. “Oh my...” Rook stared and stared, unexpressive and too close for comfort.

Tears started to brim in Yuu’s eyes, and using what little strength she had compared to the taller boy’s, she ripped herself away, running out of the room and down the hall.

Her heart raced in her veins, in her ears, as she flew down the forever twisting and turning passages, this time crowded with people. She could only dodge and weave between them, with their questioning gazes burning holes into her skull as tears dripped onto the flooring.

Yuu couldn’t seem to escape, the walls wanted to enclose around her, stretching and warping as the path swayed beneath her feet. She could do nothing but dizzily run away, mind lost in her own abyss as she leapt into a dark room, only ignited by the light from outside.

Collapsing in a heap on the hardwood floor, she wearily recognized where she was, or at least the type of place she’d ended up. On one wall, a slenderly long window stretched high above her reach, the opposite completely covered by a mirror. It was a dance room.

Sitting on her knees in front of the mirrored wall, Yuu stared at her pitiful self, tears breaking free of the dam they’d been collecting behind for days. Her hair was messy, falling around her shoulders and sticking to the sides of her face, dampened by the salty liquid. Her cheeks were rosy, nose carrying the same color.

And... her eyes.

One of them, the functional one, was puffy and tear clouded, and the other—the other was gorgeously ruined. A jagged, cracked scar trailed from her forehead to mid cheek, splitting her eyebrow and so thick that it spanned the length of her eye. The iris had lost its color and gone a milky white, the tears almost unrecognizable over the glazed sheen that glimmered over the orb.

Laying a hand on the mirror, Yuu stared into the mutilated gateway, seeing a story that had been left untold for far too long. She saw the death of her family, the heartache they bore through, her failure to preserve the things she loved most.

“Sorry—I’m sorry! I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry I look like this... I can’t breathe without hurting someone!” She curled her hand over the mirror, slamming her fist over it as she rested her head on the cool surface, her tears rolling down and leaving streak marks on the pristine aluminum paint.

Much to her surprise, the lights flicked on, though she did a fine job camouflaging it beneath a mask of melancholy. “So my potatoes were telling the truth. There really is a lost little sprite in my ballroom.” A new voice clucked.

Yuu ignored him, turning around and pulling her knees to her chest, burying herself in her arms. She didn’t want to be ridiculed anymore—didn’t want anyone else to resent her simply because they lacked the patience to break down her defenses.

The click of his shoes against the too cold floor reverberated off the walls, piercing her ears as they came closer, eventually stopping right in front of her.

“Look at me.” He commanded, the girl refusing with a shake, “Why not?”

“Because...I’m ugly, and everyone here is jaw droppingly gorgeous. I don’t belong here, I don’t belong anywhere...” she whispered, almost inaudibly.

“Nonsense. Look at me.” He commanded, this time not giving her an option. Tenderly prying her arms open, the mystery boy lifted her face up with the back of his hand.

Reluctantly, Yuu made eye contact with the person who struck fear into her heart like no other, either for his esteemed position in the school, or his famous physical beauty and harsh words. She stared into the amethyst eyes of Vil Schoenheit, who reflected her terrified and crippled visage in the hues of his irises.

Pushing his arms away, Yuu began weeping again, wiping the forsaken water roughly with her hands. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry for intruding. I-I’ll go.” She sniffled, in the midst of standing when Vil placed his hands over hers, plush and soft.

“Stay. Whatever would you have to be sorry for, dear?” He asked, urging her to sit.

“B-Because—Because I...I...!” Yuu’s voice became strained as she struggled to release the words that so desperately clawed at the knot in her throat. And then—

Vil opened his arms. Inviting, warm, unjudgemental.

“V-Vil...!” She dove into them, wrapping her arms around his middle as she did her best to stiffle her cries. Vil stroked her hair, his eyebrows raising in awe at how silky it was. “I-It’s my f-fault... all of it is my fault! I could’ve s-saved them, b-but I was just so scared!” She lamented, spilling the secrets that should’ve long ago been honored.

For once, Vil didn’t spit out any harsh criticisms, he just sat there silently, awaiting the end of Yuu’s bottled up pain brought to life. When it came, the girl released the boy who embodied beauty, trying to hide her swollen and scarred face. “I’m so sorry for using your time, Vil-san...” Yuu apologized, voice cracking.

“The least you could do is look at me when you speak, darling. Please, look here.” Yuu obeyed, eyes widening in confusion as her chin was rather roughly pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

Vil uncapped the top to his specially created lip gloss, “Hold still.” He said, applying the makeup over her thin lips, “There. See? You’re beautiful, we just... need a little concealer, and some contacts, and you’ll be good as new—partially.” Vil gave her a genuine smile, fooling Yuu into believing that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t going to judge her like everyone else.

“Yuu?!! Yuu?”

The two whipped to the doorway, and were greeted by a familiar lilac-haired first year, who skidded to a halt before Yuu and dropped to his knees, holding onto her shoulders. “I looked everywhere for ya, but this place is just so goddamn huge, it was like weavin’ through a maze! Rook had me runnin’ ‘round the halls like a chicken with its head cut off! Ain’t nothin’ hurt, o-or bleedin’, right?” Epel fast-talked, country accent in full affect as he tripped over his words.

“I’m fine, Epel. All good, see?” Yuu held out her arms, displaying her unharmed frame.

“A-ah, now that’s a breath’a fresh air! I see you been talkin’ with—dorm head Vil!” Epel gasped, face blanching as he sweat dropped.

“Epel. Felmier. What a pleasant surprise.” Vil growled through his teeth, bearing a deceiving smile. “Recovered from your headache, mister?”

“W-well, ya see here, I just—“

“Silence, I’ll not be listening to your excuses. And for the love of the Queen, get rid of that horrid native tongue of yours!” Vil demanded, berating Epel.

“...Yes, Vil. My humblest apologies.”

“Much better. Now! Would you like to explain our little visitor, and why she is here unannounced?”

After a long and tedious process of introducing and expounding her life, Yuu and Epel sat in edgy silence as Vil digested the information, going through a myriad of emotions as the air buzzed with electricity.

Yuu had her fingers crossed that she wouldn’t be sent away, as she’d been so used to.

“It’s decided then. Yuu, dear, follow me, and be hasty.” Vil nodded to himself, standing to his proud height enchanced by his heels as he flipped his hair, clicking off.

“I wish you the best of luck, my friend. You’ll most certainly need it.” Epel sniggered behind his hand, Yuu sending him a withering glare from over her shoulder.

“Oh just you watch. I’m about to sparkle like a million fireflies.”

<————>

Sparkle was a disgusting understatement for the transformation Vil put the poor girl through.

Though it was getting late outside, he still gave her a luxury treatment, which ultimately meant minutes upon minutes of face moisturizers, skin creams, scar healing oinments, and anything in between. Her face was stiff from all the rubbing, almost simulating numbness.

Once that had been finished, Vil wasted absolutely no time before pouncing onto makeup, his specialty. Concealers, eye accentuates, lip plumpers, blush, it made Yuu dizzy with the sheer amount of items the world of cosmetics had to offer.

It felt strange to be touched in such gentle ways, to receive the soft stroke of a brush to her eyelids instead of a slap, or to feel the way the concealer was mixed into the darkly scarred skin of her left side instead of the shattered glass tearing through flesh.

By the end of it all, Yuu didn’t sparkle, she emanated the radiance of a thousand suns, and even though she could only see half of her complexion, she knew beyond a doubt that she was more gorgeous than ever.

“There we are, darling.” Vil clapped, spinning her chair so that she could look at herself in the vanity.

Yuu’s jaw dropped to the ground, her breath hitching as she resisted the urge to cry.

Her scar was no longer visible on her face, the ugly line replaced instead by smooth, seemingly unmarked tan. The bags under her eyes were gone, making her seem at least a year younger, and a pretty blush was blended into her rather squishy cheeks, dusting over her nose. A flawless cut crease was executed over her orbs, the shimmery silver gradient backing to her elongated lashes making her eye pop.

But truly, the most spectacular of all what was lay within. Her irises were both... colored. What was once damaged and ruined was semi-fixed, a contact that matched the color of her functional eye creating the appearance that both were natural.

“V-Vil! Y-You... this...!” Yuu folded her hands in her lap, rendered wordless.

“A simple thank you will suffice, dear.” Vil chuckled, but nearly fell over when he was suffocated in a bear hug.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you so much, Vil!” She bubbled, letting go after said blonde pushed her away.

“You’re welcome—just be careful! You’ll mess up one of our faces!” Vil snapped, rearranging his hair.

Yuu giggled, still staring at herself in the mirror, when a knock broke the calm partial quiet. “Come in!” Vil articulated, welcoming in two people, Rook Hunt and Epel.

“Yuu?!” Epel stood slack jawed, eyes nearly bursting out of his skull with how wide they were. “You’re so different, it’s amazing. You look amazing!”

“Indeed, madmoiselle! Delicate like the petals of a rose, and crystal clear as the water that rains from the sky! You are truly the sight to behold.” Rook added, earning an elbow to his side.

“Thank you, so much. I just—never thought I would look so whole again, especially after what happened to...” she trailed off, twiddling her thumbs.

“Nonsense, don’t let anyone lie to you. Never take criticism from someone you didn’t ask it from, alright?” Vil instructed, taking her by the hand.

“...Of course, Vil-san.” Yuu answered, for the first time in a long, long while settling into a comfortable laugh.

She’d been broken, far too many times to count. Torn down, crushed beneath the foot of life itself.

But, perhaps with the help of the people she used to shake in her shoes merely thinking about, perhaps she could turn that rubble into a cairn of her success. She’d have to fall to reach her peak, sometimes more than once, and sometimes she’d have to hit the bottom.

Right now, she was inching towards grabbing that first stone, that first layer to her cairn.

Soon, she just might reclaim that sweet melody lost to the tomes of time.

This took a little longer than I expected... I had to rewrite it because my first draft would... probably have gotten me flagged.

I want to say that you. Are. Beautiful. It doesn’t matter if you’re giant or mini, scarred or clean, because you. Are. Beautiful.

On that note, thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed!

Stay lovely!

#twisted wonderland #twst #epel felmier #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #angst #yuu/mc

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

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Respectable

Logan was a respectable boyfriend. Really, he was. He had a tie, after all. And the fact that he was wearing his boyfriend’s jacket and shifting through the contents of its pockets? Well... he had a reason for that. Totally.

Pairing: Romantic losleep Content warnings: They kiss once, food mentions Author’s note: Shout-out to the ever-lovely and amazing @blinksinbewilderment who inspired all of this with one (1) headcanon/idea and accidentally threw my muse into overdrive

Logan was a respectable boyfriend. He tried to avoid being overly affectionate in public. He made dinners on the nights he was supposed to, and sometimes on others when Remy seemed particularly stressed. He massaged Remy’s back when it was hurting worse than usual (which was nearly every night, but Logan didn’t mind, because within ten minutes Remy always melted back onto Logan and remained aggressively cuddly for the rest of the night, something Logan considered to be a definite positive). He wore a tie. He was respectable.

His explanation for the fact that he was currently pulling Remy’s slightly too big leather jacket as close around himself as he could? Well… it was comfortable. And it looked nice on him. And it smelled of coffee and cinnamon and, maybe, just a little bit like… Remy.

…

It wasn’t like anyone could see him, for Einstein’s sake! Remy was out of the house! He was still respectable, damnit.

That’s what Logan told himself, anyways, as he sunk further into the couch and wrapped his arms around himself and pretended it was Remy hugging him and not just himself. He had been telling it to himself for a while, actually, but he was struggling with the ‘believing it’ part.

Logan sighed and let go of himself, already feeling much too silly as is, even if the only person around to judge him was himself. Instead, he tucked his hands into the jacket’s pockets. At least he could keep his hands warm-

Wait. Logan wiggling his fingers within the pockets, crinkling noises bringing a small smile to his face. He should’ve known Remy would have stuff in his pockets.

With a quick, guilty glance around- as if he might be caught- Logan grabbed at the various items, pulling them out and piling them in his lap. A few of them were just wrappers from some candies. With a frown, Logan pushed them off to the side. He’d really have to talk to Remy about his cleanliness later.

Next up was a crumpled ball of receipts. Logan unfurled them, unsurprised to find them all from Remy’s favorite coffee shop. He didn’t even need to read the order on them to know what it was- a mocha with one to three shots of espresso, depending on how tired Remy was. Logan smiled softly as he checked and found himself, as always, perfectly on-point. He moved the receipts to the trash pile. Remy would have an identical bunch of them within a week.

Logan’s smile widened as he picked up the next thing- it was a piece of paper, torn off of a notebook or something similar. It was folded over, but on the outside was written in Remy’s lazy scrawl, “reasons why I have the best boyfriend in the world- suck it everyone else you’re stuck with b-grade bois.” He unfolded it, still smiling as he read through the listed reasons:

Reason one: He’s Logan. Need I say more

Reason two: He’s super smart. Like, SUPER smart. Beat-a-super-computer smart

Reason three: He has THE most kissable face in the entire universe

Reason four: If I tell him I love him he says it back??? Insane???

Reason five: Gives quality massages, ten out of ten, would recommend, except I don’t, because he’s MINE and as such I am the only person allowed to get his massages, deal with it

Reason six: Soft warm cuddly warm VERY warm soft softie

Reason seven: He’s going to look even better when he’s my husband, which I almost didn’t think was possible but I just feel like… like it’ll be different when I’ve got his name or he’s got mine. Just a feeling. But a good one

Reason eight: Hands down the LOVELIEST blush

Reason nine: A somehow even BETTER smile

There were more reasons on the list, but Logan only got so much further before his brain ran into a metaphorical wall, his eyes scrambling back up to re-read reason seven. And then re-re-read it. And again and again and again for about two minutes before it finally, completely sunk in.

But it couldn’t- it didn’t really- no it- Remy couldn’t- it wasn’t-

Slowly, Logan folded the paper back up, slipping the list back into the jacket’s pocket. He could ask Remy about what it meant exactly later. He was already blushing enough right then and there.

Luckily, there was only one scrap of trash left- another receipt. Logan assumed it was for the coffee shop again, though he still unfolded it, surprised that it had fallen out of the ball from earlier. As he flattened out the creases in it, however, he realized the formatting of it was different from the cafe’s. It looked more… professional?

Frowning in confusion, Logan read it over.

Gentleman’s- Charms, rings, and classy things

Date: 01-21-XXXX

Cashier: Miranda

Transaction #: 552943

Item(s): Ring, model 9277 [special order]

-Size seven

-Titanium, black

-Star sapphire, blue, primary

-Silver flecking [custom done, see record 329943]

-Engraving [custom phrase, see record 329943]

Pricing: Fluctuates on customization. For exact cost, collect receipt upon actual purchase and pick-up of item(s) purchased.

Logan felt his breath catch in his throat. This was… this was a receipt. A jewelry store receipt. A jewelry store receipt for a… A jewelry store receipt for a…

For a ring. For a custom made, carefully designed, clearly tailored for him, ring.

And Logan knows in this economy, with how much Remy makes, there is only one reason he’d spend as much money as a ring like this must cost. And that reason paired very, very well with reason seven of “reasons why I have the best boyfriend in the world- suck it everyone else you’re stuck with b-grade bois.”

Logan… didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to react to this? He knew, of course, how he’d react if (when) Remy told (asked) him about it, but how was he supposed to react now, with the receipt in hand, saying everything Remy was planning to in much more concise, and much less romantic, terms?

Apparently the correct answer to his question was simply not, since all Logan did after that was… sit. Sit there, staring almost unseeingly at the paper, taking in the words again and again. He felt slightly breathless, which may have come from the fact that he stopped breathing a minute ago.

He was shaken from his stupor by the need to breathe, his lungs forcing in a breath and startling Logan out of his state. He looked the receipt over once more before he stuffed it in his pocket- not the jacket pocket, but his own.

Logan wasn’t entirely sure what he would’ve done next were it not for his phone suddenly ringing. He jerked his head to look at it a little too fast, but that was alright, all things considered. He quickly scooped it up, checking the caller and, unsurprisingly, finding it to be Remy. He took a deep breath and took the call.

“Hello, this is Logan.”

“Hiya babes. How’s my boo?”

Logan glanced down at the jacket he was wearing, thinking about all the secrets within. “Oh… fine. A little tired.”

He could almost hear Remy frown. “Tired? Didn’t you have work off today?”

“I did, yes, I just… didn’t sleep great last night, I guess.”

“Aw, hun.” Remy tutted sympathetically. “You should have told me. I could’ve stayed home and aggressively cuddled you into napping.”

Logan quirked his lips into a small smile. “It’s perfectly alright. I got in a short nap after lunch.” He said, which wasn’t a lie. He had napped.

He had also been napping in Remy’s jacket but that wasn’t something he was going to mention.

“Yeah, but we could’ve napped together.” Remy whined, and Logan chuckled.

“We can nap together soon enough.” Logan pointed out, waiting half a beat before he added, likely sounding a touch whiny himself, “Speaking of, how soon will you be returning home?

Remy laughed, and Logan knew his neediness hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Awww, miss me much?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Logan said. Remy didn’t respond, however, and eventually Logan sighed and slumped further back against the couch. “Alright, perhaps I have missed you. Just a bit.”

“That’s my truth-telling nerd.” Remy said cheerily. Logan rolled his eyes, though he knew Remy couldn’t see him. “And pretty soon. I’mma stop and pick up some Chinese since it sounds like you’re not gonna want to make dinner, and I certainly don’t. And after we eat we can sleep the entire rest of the evening away, yeah?”

“I don’t know, love, that sounds horribly unproductive…” Logan trailed off, not even sounding convincing to himself.

“I promise to cuddle you the entire time.”

Logan let a moment pass before he answered, trying to downplay the fact that he had been ready to enthusiastically agree the second Remy said that. “I suppose that would be alright, yes.”

He didn’t need to see his boyfriend to know Remy was fistpumping in victory. “Yet another win for the gays!” He exclaimed. “I’m going to go get some quality fast food to celebrate this momentous occasion. See you in a few, alright?”

“Got it.” Logan confirmed. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Remy said, the pet-name sincere, before he hung up. Logan did after, putting his phone back down on the table. He didn’t move for another minute, still enjoying the warmth and familiarity of Remy’s jacket.

The minute ended soon enough, however, and Logan sighed as he reluctantly stood up and shed the garment. He put it back where he had found it- tossed over the back of the couch, clearly left there on accident by a Remy who had slept in a bit too late and had rushed to get out of the house and to work.

He then pulled himself towards the kitchen, pulling out plates and silverware to set the table. He knew they could just plop on the couch, attempting to use their equally poor chopstick skills to eat out of the containers, but the last time they did that they had stained the couch. Badly. And they could only use the ‘flip the couch cushion over’ trick once.

By the time everything was laid out, Logan heard the door opening. Remy was pushing it open with a greasy paper bag in one hand. He smiled brightly as he spotted Logan, quickly closing the door so he could hurry over. He more or less flung the bag onto the table before he latched onto Logan, wrapping his arms around Logan’s back and squeezing him close.

“Missed you!” Remy said energetically. “You and your warmth!”

Logan chuckled as he hugged Remy back. He was just in a t-shirt, and his exposed arms were cold. “Forgot your jacket?” He asked, tone lightly teasing.

“Only a little bit.” Remy responded. Logan didn’t respond outside of another quiet chuckle, running his hands up and down Remy’s back to help warm him up before he released his boyfriend.

“Come on, the food will go cold.” Logan said as Remy grabbed his wrist and refused to completely let him go.

“But can’t we eat and snuggle on the couch?”

“You know what happened the last time we did that.” Logan responded. Remy pouted, but he still let go of Logan, sadly sinking into his seat across the table from Logan. He kept the pout up the entire time they served themselves, it only going away when he finally started eating.

“I love when I’m cold and food is warm.” Remy said simply as he shoveled more rice into his mouth than Logan really thought was healthy. Logan ate slower, not in the mood to choke today, the conversation remaining nonexistent until Remy, finally, took a break from eating to prompt some small talk.

“So, how was today?” He asked casually as he wiped off the mess of grease around his mouth. He then smirked. “Aside from being so sad and empty without me in it?”

Logan scoffed and rolled his eyes, though the gestures were fond. “It was fine.” He returned simply. “I mostly just read. The silence was a nice change of pace from your constant rowdy clamour.”

Remy raised a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “I’m pained you describe my natural noise levels as such! I prefer the term wild. Rowdy’s too undignified.”

“Yes, and you have no dignity.” Logan pointed out.

“I am aware, but we can at least pretend I do.” Remy said, slumping down in his chair dramatically. “Gosh, it’s almost like you love having a chaotic mess as a boyfriend.”

“I do.” Logan said, voice quieting a bit as he added, impulsively, without a first thought and much less a second one, “I’d love it even more if I was married to one.”

Remy raised an eyebrow, tilting his sunglasses down so he could look at Logan better. “Whatcha’ say, darling?” He asked, sounding confused and maybe just a little bit hopeful.

Logan didn’t answer him at first, his thoughts and rationality finally catching up to him and demanding answers from him as to why he had done this. But they were still behind his mouth, which once more started moving without his permission, saying, “I said, I’d love it even more if I was married to one.”

Remy pulled his sunglasses off at that, dropping them on the table, allowing Logan to see now that his emotions had shifted into a mess of confusion, hope, and the tiniest bit of upset. “You gonna propose to me, babes?” He asked, words light though his tone was practically awed.

“No.” Logan answered, watching as Remy grew even more confused. His heart started to hammer in his chest as he reached into his pocket, fingers crumpling around the receipt he shouldn’t have seen but currently didn’t regret finding. He flattened it out before he pushed it towards Remy, watching as his boyfriend’s eyes grew as large as saucers as he recognized it. “I’m going to propose that you propose to me. Preferably sooner rather than later. Or right now. Right now works too.”

“I- you-” Remy pressed his lips together, stopping the stammered words from slipping out as he continued to stare at the receipt. Finally, he pressed his eyes shut too, letting out a shaky laugh. “Damnit Lo.”

“I-I beg your pardon?” Logan asked, feeling relatively shaky himself by now. He was relatively sure he hadn’t always been able to hear his pulse in his ears.

Remy laughed a bit louder, opening his eyes and lifting his gaze back to Logan. Logan gasped a little as he realized that tears had formed at the corners of Remy’s eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind, smiling as he said, “I had it all planned out. Meteor shower in two weeks. I was going to drag you out to the park for a midnight picnic to watch. It was going to be great. I was going to compliment you until you were so flustered you were refusing to look at me, get you distracted by some scientific ramblings long enough for me to get the box open and I- and then I was going to-”

Without even realizing it, Logan was suddenly standing, pushing his chair back so quick he was surprised it didn’t topple over as he moved around the table, Remy standing up just in time to catch him as he flung himself at Remy.

Remy caught him with ease, pulling him so close Logan could have sworn Remy could feel his heartbeat against Remy’s chest. Remy buried his face into Logan’s hair and Logan did the same into the side of Remy’s neck. Distantly, he realized that he had started crying too. Which was ridiculous, of course, given it wasn’t like Remy had even really proposed to him yet.

But he was, he was going to, in two weeks time, during a meteor shower, filling the time with compliments and space facts and ranting and everything all leading up to one thing-

“Yes.” Remy said, his voice only slightly muffled by Logan’s hair.

“Yes?” Logan repeated, torn out of his thoughts and confused. “Yes what?”

Remy laughed again, and it was a beautiful sound, even if it was a little congested sounding at the moment. “Yes, I agree to your proposal to propose to you.”

“Oh.” Logan said dumbly, before the words truly registered and he said, again, “Oh.” He pulled his head from where it had been slotted against Remy’s neck, looking up his face. “When?”

“Well, uh… you said now was good, right?”

Logan smiled. “I did, yes.”

Remy nodded at that, more to himself than Logan. A sheepish smile slipped onto his face as he gently pulled away from Logan. “One moment.” He said before he turned and rushed down the hallway, likely to their bedroom.

Logan made good use of the short time he had to collect himself by shoving his fist into his mouth and squealing into it. Not that he’d ever admit to ‘squealing’ per say. Just… a yell. That happened to be very excited and very high pitched.

He didn’t have much time to contemplate that he was quickly losing the title of ‘respectable’ before Remy was back, a grey box clasped in his hands. He was fiddling with it between his fingers, clearly nervous. He came to stand in front of Logan, fidgeting in place, looking between Logan and the ground.

“You know, I think you’re supposed to get down on one knee.” Logan suggested as Remy didn’t do anything, seemingly stuck in place, stuck in the moment. Logan didn’t blame him.

“I know, I know, I just…” Remy paused, hesitating for a second before he quickly moved forward, kissing Logan on the lips. Logan didn’t react immediately, startled, but he quickly wrapped his arms around the back of Remy’s neck, pulling him close and returning the affection. By the time Remy pulled away, Logan was breathless.

“Wh- What was that for?” He mumbled. Remy laughed, shifting the ring box to one hand as he cupped one of Logan’s cheeks with the other, bringing Logan to the realization that his cheeks were ‘suddenly’ startlingly warm.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re flustered. I don’t even remember why I was so nervous.” Remy murmured in response, making Logan only flush harder as Remy fully pulled away. He dropped to one knee, holding the ring box in front of him.

“Logan Dearest Darling Sanders,” Remy said, smirking just the slightest, though the majority of his smile was still caring, still adoring, still loving, “will you do me the highest honor and allow me to call you mine, legally?”

“And you say I’m the dork-” Logan started, though he didn’t get that far, considering Remy chose that moment to open the ring box. True to the receipt, it was jet black, and a midnight-blue star sapphire was set in the middle of it.

The custom silver job that the receipt had mentioned but not described was also there, however, and that’s what caught Logan- because on each side of the star stone, flecks of silver were placed extremely carefully, in patterns that were more than familiar to him.

“Ursula major and aquila.” Remy said, softly. “Your-”

“My first constellation and my favorite.” Logan finished for him, tone wonderstruck. “You remembered.”

“I’d wouldn’t dare forget.” Remy replied feverently. “There’s an engraving, too, but you don’t earn the right to know about that unless you say yes.”

“I wouldn’t dare say no.” Logan said, smiling and feeling more than a little silly at the echo, but not minding it much as Remy broke out in a grin and reached forward, grabbing Logan’s hand and pulling it closer. Logan knew he was probably going to slip the ring on, to make it official, but Logan let himself completely move with the motion instead, lightly falling to his knees so that he was on level with Remy. He reached forward and grabbed Remy’s wrists, pulling him closer so that he could lean his forehead against Remy’s, because it only felt right to be close in that moment, felt right to leave as little space as possible between them.

“What does the engraving say?” He asked, still sounding breathless, likely because he still was breathless for more reasons than he could be bothered to count.

Remy grinned, not removing his forehead from Logan’s as he pulled the ring out of its box, letting the box fall without a second care. He lifted it up so that Logan could see it, tilting it around so that the light caught on the engraved words. They were tiny, just barely able to fit on, but they did.

I bet you could sometimes find all the secrets of the universe in someone’s hand.

“And I know I can.” Remy said softly as Logan looked away from the engraving, Remy taking the moment to slip the ring onto Logan’s finger. It fit perfectly. “Because I found all of them and more in yours.”

Logan let out a little laugh, breathy and airy and light and not humorous at all but happy, oh so very happy. “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.”

“The engravement, yes.” Remy admitted. “The second part? That’s just me being a sap.”

“I think that’s generally allowed in moments like this.” Logan replied, and he laughed, laughed even as more tears fell down his face. “Oh- I- I’m crying again.”

“Y’know what?” Remy said as he lifted up Logan’s newly adorned hand, entwining their fingers, the ring shining like the night sky against his hand. He tilted his head up just the tiniest bit, enough to meet Logan’s eyes more directly, his own shining with joy like Logan had never seen before and he was almost certain he would never see again (except perhaps one more time, one more time in a future that was far away and yet so close, one more time with more joy and love and each other). “I think that’s generally allowed in moments like this.”

Logan was a respectable boyfriend fiancé. It was not very respectable to topple into your fiancé’s arms, crying, and insistently pull them closer to you while they hold you as tightly as they possibly could, also crying as they press kisses into your hair.

But then again, it also wasn’t very respectable to steal your fiancé’s jacket to sleep in, or to rummage through its pockets, or to spoil his proposal surprise to propose that he propose to you because you’re too impatient to wait.

So, yeah. Maybe Logan wasn’t exactly a ‘respectable’ fiancé. But he was a very happy one. And, really, that’s all he cared about.

#don't y'all love what my muse will and will not do for me sdbcshjbcsd #anyways #have this #and btw #there's a lot more going on in this story than the summary says ;)))#losleep #ts remy #ts sleep #ts logan #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #the cryptid speaks #blink

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bigfrozenfan · 4 years ago

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Frozen III fanfic - Part 7

The Secret of the Northuldra

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six.

It was just before sunset when they reached Arendelle, Mattias' timing had been correct. They rode right through the upper rock gate and all the splendour of their homeland opened before them. When they left two days ago they still had the journey ahead of them and did not look back. But now they had Arendelle in front of them and the view from up here was overwhelming. The fields on the mountain slopes glowed in intense colours, from the gold of the wheat, through rich green and yellow of different crops for humans and animals, to a bright mixture of colours from the many fields of flowers used for decoration and for sale in shops and at the market of Arendelle. In the harbour the ships and boats rocked in the soft, warm breeze and behind the majestic castle of the royal family, bathed in the orange light of the setting sun, the calm waters of the Arenfjord glittered.

Mattias could not tear himself away from the sight and gently brought his horse to a halt. Halima did the same and looked over to him. He had a dreamy expression on his face. She had to smile. She could understand his feelings, as harvest time was approaching and his homeland showed itself to him in all its beauty and fertility. She was looking forward to the harvest festival. This time they would celebrate it together.

Finally they rode slowly and they heard the bell at the clock tower in the distance strike seven times. On the way down they passed Halima's cozy little cottage and they reined the horses. Mattias jumped boldly out of the saddle and walked around the horse to help Halima get off.

"Mattias! You jump off your horse as if you were still the lieutenant from back then. Remember that you are not young anymore. You could easily sprain your ankle," she said laughing and shook her head over his exuberance.

He grinned and helped her dismount. "Don't worry, dearest, I'm not that old." They held each other in their arms and looked at each other in love. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Then he kissed her tenderly and she lifted one foot in rapture.

When they separated again he gave her a last short kiss on her cheek as a farewell. "I must ride to the castle now to take care of everything before nightfall. I will see you later. I'll pick you up for dinner."

"All right, darling. I'll just go down to the library and drop off some books. I'd forgotten to bring them back before we left. I hope it's still open. I'll see you later."

***

"General Mattias. May I have a word, please?" He saluted him and Mattias nodded.

"What's it, Captain?"

"Well, I... am a little confused. I see you, but where are the queen and her fiancé? Has something happened?" His gaze showed a mixture of amazement and concern, but Mattias also noticed a slight hint of anger on his face.

"You have nothing to worry about. She is well and she is still with her sister Elsa. She'll be back in two days."

"With all due respect, Sir, but you left without any protection from her guards and now you're returning alone? That's-"

"Irresponsible, you mean?" Mattias gruffly interrupted the young, overzealous captain of the guard. But he looked at him favorably. "She is in the best of hands with Elsa, no bodyguard in the world could protect her better than she. Have you forgotten what she did last autumn to save us all from the flood? Well...?"

The captain became a little pale around the nose and stuttered, unsure what to answer, "Um... yes, well... in that sense, of course, you're right, Sir, I just thought I... I mean..."

"That's all right, Captain. You're just doing your duty and being very observant, that's fine. Keep up the good work. But if you'll excuse me now, i have important business to attend to." Mattias turned and left the captain stood speechless.

***

Of course, it had only been half the truth and he had to lie partly; Mattias thought, but in this situation it was necessary not to tell the captain everything.

Finally, only one thing remained to be done. He had to find two reliable people to accompany him. He already knew who.

When he stepped outside again it had already become dark and the courtyard was bathed in the flickering light of the fire bowls and some big torches. He had fresh horses brought and rode to his home. On the way, however, he stopped briefly to visit two of his old comrades who were locked up with him in the Enchanted Forest. He could trust them absolutely. Among them was a woman who was supposed to take care of suitable camouflage clothes for Elsa. The man was supposed to get an inconspicuous wagon, some long weapons, food and everything else for such an action. Both of them did not ask any questions and immediately took care of this responsible task, with the intention not to arouse suspicion.

***

The host cleared away the leftovers of their dinner while they leaned back contentedly. He enquired how it had tasted to them.

"That was delicious," Halima said, smiling at the host and wiping the corner of a napkin over the corners of her mouth. "Compliments to the cook," she added as he left. Her eyes lit up at Mattias, who rubbed his belly with satiation.

"I must have overdone it a bit with the portion," he giggled and reached for his glass of red wine. "To your health, Halima."

"To us, Mattias," she said as she lifted her glass, toasting with him, while they looked each other in the eyes.

"How did it go at the castle?" Halima asked abruptly.

"Good. Everything is arranged and prepared. Everything is going according to plan."

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Before sunrise. On the one hand, we gain some time, because of the vehicle and on the other hand, there is hardly anyone on the streets and we will probably come out unnoticed. He paused. "How was it with you? Was the library still open?"

"Yes, barely. Mr. Oddvar was just about to close, but I was able to return the books."

***

Finally her breath became more regular and she fell asleep. This night could last forever if he had his way; he thought, if only there wasn't this little thing that she snores such like she does now. But at some point he got so tired that it didn't bother him any more and he fell asleep again, with a broad smile on his face.

***

It was already after midnight when Honeymaren stepped out of Elsa's kota and almost silently closed the flap behind her. Elsa had fallen asleep at some point and she didn't want to wake her up.

She looked up and watched the twinkling stars in the cloudless night sky. The moon had already set and so she was now standing there in deep black darkness. "Crap," she whispered softly to herself and turned towards her own Kota by feeling. She knew that she would also find the way blindly and it was not far away. Nevertheless, she moved forward very carefully, one arm stretched out in front of her, to notice trees or a hut in time.

***

"Hello, Gyda."

"Don't call me that, Yelana. You know very well I hate that nickname." She did not even look up when she answered in a dark and powerful voice, but continued to care for her traditional duodji. She just made one of the belts as they all wore it over the tunic here in camp. However, certain details onto it told Yelana that this belt was meant for an unmarried Northuldra.

"Well, Gyríðr, but don't you think we're both a bit old for this kind of subtlety?"

Gyda looked up briefly, swung her head back and forth in a judgmental manner and then continued with the work indifferent. Yelana took a look around the dwelling. It was full of old traditional items, including a richly decorated rare gievriej, a very old sacred troll drum, as the noajde used to use it for their rituals. This was long before the People of the Sun moved here near by Ahtohallan and the fifth Spirit was chosen among them. All that remained of the old tradition was the soul song of her tribe. But this one here must have been made by Gyda.

Yelana didn't know everything that was going on that time then, but she needed to know if Gyda had a child with him and could somehow hide it. She cleared her throat distinctly. "There have been disturbing events and I have an important inquiry."

Gyda didn't respond.

"Please!"

The elder woman paused and finally put her tools aside.

"Ask."

"Had the fifth spirit begotten a progeny with you?"

Gyda gave a short, dry laugh. "Are you out of your mind? Have you forgotten what happened back then?"

Yelana tightened her eyebrows. "No, of course not. But you've been living so far out here for so long that nobody notices anything, even if you're pregnant, if you know how to hide it. I need to know, and also who helped you."

"Even if it were, what do you care?" Gyda picked up her tools again.

"Wait. Please listen to me." Yelana sat down and told her everything, including her suspicion that Gyda's child might be responsible. Gyda listened to her attentively and asked no questions, only her gaze grew increasingly darkened. At the end she nodded and after a little while of consideration she finally answered quietly.

"Yes, I had a child with him, a boy. I gave him the name Kolgrimr." She hesitated, but then continued, "I was already pregnant when he abandoned me because I was no longer good enough for him and could no longer perform my duties as he expected of me to. You surely remember what he was like, how ruthless and pressing. But I wanted to protect my unborn child." She interrupted herself and took a deep breath. "I gave birth to the child some time later and Jonna helped me with. Then this king came from the south and all these strangers started to build this dam and ...," she faltered and looked sadly to the ground. "Sometime after the completion of this stony monster, he finally came back to me and told me something about a fraud and that the land was dying and the reindeer were suffering. He was so excited and angry, I can still remember it like it was yesterday."

"What happened next?" asked Yelana when Gyda lost herself in memories and did not continue speaking immediately.

"He took Kolgrimr from me. Said he had to make sure that his descendant would take over when he himself was no longer around. I didn't know what he meant then and I tried to stop him, but without success. I never saw him again and later heard that he was killed in his human form. Shortly afterwards the sun darkened and this fog came. You know the rest of the story."

"Yes, and Jonna also died fighting with the men of this dreadful king. I knew her quite well. I just don't understand why she never told me about it."

"Because she had to promise to me not to tell anybody."

Yelana understood and nodded. She felt pity for her, grabbed Gyda by the arm and said, "I'm very sorry for you, Gy-...Gyríðr. No one knew about your child, and none of us wanted you living here alone. None of us ever really got it right."

"It's not our folks' fault, I know. It was my own decision and I had my reasons."

"Have you ever seen your son again?"

Gyda looked up. Then she slowly and sadly shook her head, "No."

***

#frozen2 #f3 #plot idea #frozen 3 #frozen au #fanfic #part 7 #mine

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syilcawrites · 4 years ago

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a/n: hello earth and fe3h fandom, I wrote something for sylvgridbigbang (twitter) and had the pleasure to collab with artist Bringmemisery (twitter), so make sure to go check out their wonderful art!! It’s my first time writing this ship but I hope you enjoy it hoho!!

summary: Sylvain is reckless, and Ingrid isn’t okay with that

tags: hurt/comfort, post-timeskip, post war, angst with a happy ending

ao3

daffodils

Ingrid had never been outside by the pond at night. Despite the lack of presence at the Monastery for the past five years, she could still spot some fishes swimming about, gathering around her as if they were waiting for her to drop food.

She hummed as she eyed a dead daffodil floating across the surface of the pond water toward her, and as it grew closer, the little fishes tried to nip at it.

"Hm, did a bandit actually feed you this entire time or something?" she murmured curiously as she dropped bits and pieces of bread into the water. Her lips tilted up into a lopsided smile as she watched them greedily snap up at the surface to get the crumbs.

Ingrid chewed absentmindedly at the rest of her meal, as she let out a small sigh. It was the last night before they left the Monastery to march toward Enbarr, to end the war once and for all.

Once and for all…

She stared down at her plate of food, stopping mid-chew. It was one of her favorites—pheasant roast with berry sauce—and even though she had it several times over the past five years, she missed eating it here, at the Monastery.

Five years.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled and exhaled slowly—the crisp night air cooled down the panic that had sprung in her chest.

Five years since she died and was reborn anew—if she could meet herself from five years ago, what would she tell herself?

Her eyes flit over to the window, where she could see the shadows of her laughing friends inside the Mess Hall—she caught a glimpse of the Professor passing by the door, whispering to someone that Ingrid couldn't see.

Among the chaos and dissent in Faerghus, she had only seen her classmates in whispers: in glimpses of broken windows, in the imprint of footsteps against the soft snow, in the memories of flickering candlelights.

Her eyes misted over, but she blinked it away as she stared back down at the fishes.

"We'll be fine," she whispered to herself, grabbing a pheasant leg. She ripped a hefty piece out of it with her teeth. She needed to eat, she needed energy, if she was going to protect them. She'll make up for all those lost lives, and this time… this time no one else will die.

"If you eat that fast you're gonna choke, you know."

Ingrid jumped at his voice, almost dropping the leg into the pond water.

She glared at him.

"Sylvain," she grumbled, promptly dropping it back onto the plate as she reached for her napkin. "You know you shouldn't sneak up on me while I'm eating."

He laughed heartily as he took a seat next to her, his smile reaching from ear to ear. "I forgot how engrossed you get when you're eating."

She clicked her tongue in feigned annoyance as she wiped her hands. "Why are you out here?"

"Why arent you inside with everyone else?" He replied back without missing a beat. Typical—answering her question with another question. "The Professor has been shooting worried glances at you ever since the start of dinner." He pat his stomach in satisfaction with such a comfortable, content smile that Ingrid wanted to siphon some of his relaxed, carefree aura to herself too.

Because with each passing second the knot in her gut had been tightening, ever since this morning.

"I just needed some fresh air," Ingrid said simply. She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the stars. It would've been comfortable, if she didn't feel his undivided attention on her. He made no effort to hide that he was actively staring at her.

"What is it?" Ingrid glanced at him. He's been like this a lot, ever since they reunited. He just… stared at her for minutes without saying anything sometimes. And when she would point it out, he would blink and that weird, far-off gaze of his would disappear. She always wondered how the inner cogs in his head worked, and at some point, she thought she had figured it out. And then her effort went down the drain along with those five years apart.

"It's just nice that we can talk like this again," he said with a shrug.

Their last moments together were still fresh in her mind—being torn apart from one another by the onslaught of Imperial troops. She had never seen his brown eyes, usually filled with laughter, look so dark and desperate as his hand lost grip on her arm. She knew he had always held his grief in a locked box, but in that moment, it had spilled out for her to see in full view, and she could do nothing.

After the Battle of Garreg Mach, she came back to the Monastery at night, and cried in relief when she couldn't find his body—and none of her other classmate's bodies—amongst the corpses that lay rotting.

"If you look at me with such wistful eyes I might bite you."

Ingrid blinked, unfazed. "Are you really trying to practice your flirting techniques on me right now? Don't tell me you're going to try to flirt your way through Enbarr?" she scoffed, punching his arm. "You really have gotten weirder over the past five years."

"Hm," he said, tilting his head at her as if he was in deep thought. "Really?"

"I would've thought your flirting skills would've improved after all this time, but when you asked me about my make-up—"

"Okay, okay, I've heard enough!" Sylvain chanted as he placed a hand over her mouth. "It's been a long time since I last saw you!"

Ingrid laughed as she pulled his hand away. "That explains nothing—"

"I just wanted to know if the guy you liked deserved your—"

"You're deluding yourself if you think I'm wearing make-up for some man," Ingrid scoffed, looking at his hand. The closest thing she had to a romantic partner was her lance, which was dutifully by her side every day for as long as she could remember.

Since Glenn.

Ingrid tightened her hold on Sylvain's hand.

"Don't be careless tomorrow," Ingrid demanded quietly, her eyebrows knitting together as she brushed her thumbs over the callouses dotting his skin. There were a lot more than she remembered.

"You should worry about yourself."

"I appreciate the concern," she said, raising her eyes to meet his gaze. "But you and I both know that I'm more than capable of taking care of myself."

He frowned at her.

"I don't intend to drop dead tomorrow," she said with an easy smile, releasing a hand to reach for her cup of wine. When she raised it to offer some to him, he was still frowning. "I can protect myself, and I will protect you too." She thought her words would've reassured him, but instead, it seemed to… do the exact opposite. He looked away from her.

"You've always been like that Ingrid," he muttered with a twinge of annoyance. "Always thinking about others. Haven't you learned to take care of yourself these past five years?" His words were sharp—she knew him well enough that his words bore no ill intention toward her, but it bothered her all the same.

"Of course I have." Ingrid dropped his hand and pressed her palm against her chest. "I always have. Why do you think I've always trained relentlessly for?" She always put herself first so that… so that she could protect everyone. Protect him.

He didn't look at her, and simply glared at the fishes swimming around them as if it was their fault.

She didn't want to see another familiar face in the aftermath of destruction—no, she couldn't. She would never let that happen, never let that future ever come into the light.

"Then for my sake, stay where I can see you tomorrow." His hand hovered over her cheek, but instead, he placed it on her shoulder instead, squeezing. "When we reach Enbarr, stick by me. Please."

The light from the Mess Hall flickered against the side of his face as he stared at her.

"Okay," she whispered, nodding. "I will."

——————————————————————

The tip of the lance hissed passed her head, grazing her ear, as she ducked just mere seconds before it swiped the spot where she had just been. She swung the butt of her own lance toward the solider, causing him to rear back just enough for Sylvain to swoop in. He knocked the mounted soldier off his horse with the Lance of Ruin, the blade piercing through the cavalier as he fell. Sylvain's shoulders heaved up and down, with blood dripping down his armor, splattering the silver a dull red.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath coming out short and fast.

Ingrid gave a stiff nod, exhaling as she regained her position. "Thanks," she said breathily, shaking her head. She had to focus.

She knew it would be bad in Enbarr, especially breaking into the heart of it, but the amount of enemies spilling toward them seemed endless.

The Professor stood close by them, swinging her sword smoothly, as if it were an extension of her own arm. But despite her natural talent, Ingrid could spot beads of sweat rolling down her skin—a sight she had never witnessed before, not until now. The Imperial Army had begun slowly closing in on them, spilling from an entrance across the throne, advancing at a pace that was hard to keep up with.

"Everyone, stay close!" The Professor's strong voice cut clear through the cries and shouts of the battle. A surge of energy bloomed inside Ingrid—she would fight until the very end, alongside everyone.

"They keep coming from underground—someone needs to hold off the area or else well be pinned over here until they finally wipe us out," Dimitri grunted, sending another ten soldiers flying through the air with the might of his lance.

They needed to be quick, concise. Ingrid knew they wouldn't hold out for long, not like this.

"Watch my back!" Ingrid launched toward the opening on her wyvern without a moment's hesitation. It was a simple solution—she could get there quicker than the others, and could dodge the fastest among them.

"Ingrid!"

Before she could fly away though, a hand roughly grabbed her shoulder, whipping her back. The wyvern halted as Ingrid tightened her grip on the strap of the harness before she could fall off the sadle.

"You can't just charge in there!" Sylvain said, his voice hoarse and dry. "We stick together."

Ingrid tensed, guilt bloomed inside her like an ugly disease.

"There's too many in the path, you'll be—"

"If there's one thing I'm confident in, it's protecting you." Despite the blood running down his cheek, the fatigue that ran through his veins, he still offered her that familiar sweet, reassuring smile of his.

"Do not act rashly! Felix and I will take the rear—Dedue, lead the front. Sylvain and Ingrid, make sure you defend the blindsides!" the Professor shouted, slicing her way toward them. "The rest of you must try to take out the black mage to the right, and stay close to one another!"

The Blue Lions shouted in unison, a battle cry loud enough to shake the roots of Enbarr itself, as they spilled into position.

Ingrid had stopped keeping track of how many men and women had fallen from them—one thought surged her forward and kept the bloodlust boiling within her from running thin: to keep the ones dear to her safe. She would not let any one of their blood run dry, no matter what.

The one to break her from her fervent stupor were the cries from Edelgard—the closer they got to her, the more Ingrid could make out the anguished desperation of her large, mishappen figure. Pain tinged at her heart to see one of her former peers turn into something so grotesque.

Edelgard's black eyes pierced straight at them, cracking the courage that Ingrid had felt was indomitable mere seconds ago.

"Something is coming toward us!" Dedue bellowed, straining his shield up from the onslaught of enemies.

The Professor slew down the last enemy who had lingered behind them and flitted her head toward the direction Dedue was pointed at—her normally blank eyes steeled at the sight of Edelgard extending her elongated arm hurling forward.

Ingrid grit her teeth as she halted her wyvern—

Before any of them had time to register what Edelgard was doing, she had swung her dark arm forward—it sped toward them faster than they could blink.

Unable to track its path, Dedue braced himself, but it whizzed past the top of his head, in direct line of—

Ingrid's breath hitched in her throat as she leaned back instinctively, seeing the dark, condensed orb aimed directly at her.

The air around her sparked, as if electricity had filled the air, and the ends of her hair stood as a shout of despair bubbled from her throat. She lifted her hand to her face in a vain attempt to block it, biting down hard enough for her lips to bleed as her body tensed.

In a flash, the darkness was replaced by a fiery orange all too familiar, Sylvain—

The orb collided with him, flinging him off his horse. He barreled straight into Ingrid as she tumbled off her wyvern from the impact. She instinctively wrapped her arms around him, breaking his fall as they plummeted toward the ground.

Her breath knocked out of her as her back slammed against the marble floor, her mind swimming, unable to register what had just happened. Her blood rushed toward her ears—roaring, muting whatever the Professor was shouting about.

She gasped as she realized her arms were still tightly wrapped around Sylvain's' limp body, heavy against her own. She was half expecting him to suddenly sit up, to smile at her as he made some ludicrous joke about being on top of her, but he didn't.

Ingrid grunted as she rolled over, switching positions. Her hand was placed on either side of his face as she stared down at him, fear running through her veins as she helplessly watched the blood drip down his face.

Her mouth moved, but she couldn't hear her voice. Dark spots swam in her vision as she shook him again and again, screaming until her voice bled his name.

——————————————————————

Daffodils remind Ingrid of the sun—bright and hard to stare at for too long. It was perfect for Sylvain. She grabbed a handful that was scattered around the field, dutifully blowing away the dirt from the bright yellow petals.

"Need help?"

Ingrid turned around to see the Professor holding out her hand, staring at Ingrid with those bright green eyes. Ever since the Professor came back, she was different in various ways that Ingrid couldn't put into words, but her attentiveness to her student's well-being hadn't changed.

"Ah, Professor…" Ingrid shuffled nervously on her feet. "Um—" Before Ingrid could finish, she took the flowers out of her hand.

"You should be resting," she said, her voice almost chiding. She flicked away the specks of dirt with focused precision. "You're not fully healed yet either."

"This is nothing." Ingrid raised her cast up briefly, sighing as she glanced down at it. It was more bothersome than anything. A broken arm shouldn't be something she should take lightly, but... staying outside proved better for her mental state.

"Ingrid," the Professor said softly, catching her attention. Ingrid looked up at her, startled by how focused the Professor was on her. "You shouldn't hold it in."

"I'm not holding anything in," Ingrid said with a stiff smile, keeping her voice light. "I'm just… I think he'll like these flowers." Maybe it'll wake him up. He hates the color yellow, so he'll wake up and tell her how awful she was at choosing which flowers to give to him.

"Come on." The Professor handed the daffodils back to her. "He'll want to see you when he wakes up."

Ingrid cracked a smile.

As they trailed down the hill, she stared down at the face of the daffodils—they seemed to be smiling back at her, swaying softly in the light breeze. Ingrid lifted her gaze to the far-off castle. Even from the distance, it stood proud and tall. It was weird, setting foot in the same space where the four of them—Ingrid, Sylvain, Dimitri, Felix—once chased one another. She always wondered if those days would come back; carefree and content.

She tightened her grip on the stem of the daffodils, clutching on to it as if it were her own lifeline.

"Will you eat with us for dinner tonight?" the Professor asked hopefully as they neared the entrance to the castle.

Ingrid nodded, already heading for the direction to Sylvain's room. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Ever since Sylvain had fallen into a coma, she spent most of her time next to him. "I'll come this time, after I give him the flowers." Ingrid cast one last smile over to her before she disappeared, taking long strides to the infirmary room.

She opened the door.

Dark and silent.

Quiet.

His soft breathing was almost inaudible, even when she stood still and tried to concentrate on it.

Before Ingrid sat on the chair next to his bed—which was practically her own bed at that point—she lit the candle on the table and grabbed the ribbon that she had left lying on the table next to her. She pursed her lips as she tried to wrap it around the stem of the daffodils—it wasn't the first time she'd done this, but for some reason, her fingers kept fumbling.

"Twist… one loop… flip…" Ingrid murmured to herself, recounting what Annette had told her. "Hm." She lifted the bundle of flowers up, frowning at how deformed the bow looked.

"It looks awful," a hoarse voice next to her whispered.

"As if you can do any better," Ingrid muttered back, glancing at the bed with a glare. She placed it back down on her lap and began undoing the ribbon.

"Give it to me." A hand weakly tapped on her arm, prompting her.

"I—" Ingrid paused, staring down at his hands.

She blinked once, twice, before locking eyes with him.

He looked terrible—as pale as snow, lips chapped, purple under his eyes—and his full concentration was trained on the daffodils in her hands.

"You're awake—" Ingrid swallowed, her voice shaking. "You're awake?" She stood up so fast the chair clattered to the ground, along with the daffodils.

"Hey—those are my favorite flowers!" He attempted to sit up, but groaned instead.

"Sylvain!" Ingrid scolded, helping him sit up. He smiled cheekily at her, and it was so full of fatigue that she almost burst into tears.

"I thought you hated yellow," Ingrid choked out, her hands trembling as she brushed his disheveled bangs from his eyes.

He hummed as he thought—he reached out to her, brushing the ends of her hair with the tip of his fingers. "No, it's been my favorite color for a while now."

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #sylvgrid #sylvain x ingrid #my fanfics #wow i wrote something other than zelink ashoudsf #sylvgrid big bang #anyway not betad so :~)#i first wrote it back in like sept #so to say the least when i was editing i changed like 99% of what was going on cause my writing had changed so much uahefbfksd #i didn't know how to add to collection on ao3 so i reposted husafhui

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everlastingcaptainswan · 5 years ago

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Contractual Attraction (6/?)

Enchanted Forest AU

Summary: The war had raged on for many years, the people of Misthaven would say too many, and there was only one way to end it, only one way to quiet talks of rebellion. Princess Emma of Misthaven would have to marry the enemy, Prince Killian of Montave.

Notes: Hi! *wades through a heavy work load, new semester, and recent breakup* woo okay I’m still here! Still have chapters for you guys! I’ve had some hectic weeks, but this story and I aren’t going anywhere! Hope you guys like it.

Ao3 FF

Chapter Six: The Unsaid Things

The Snowbell it seems could not catch a break on their journey home. They ran into yet another storm, but having seen one already the crew was more prepared for this one. Killian was once again on deck and wearing his long black leather jacket to protect him from the elements, Emma couldn’t deny he looked rather handsome in it. Rather than feeling useless Emma tended to the injured the best she could. Many men had severe injuries and Emma wasn’t sure if a few of them would make it through the night. Near dawn Killian came down to the crew quarters to draw Emma away.

“Princess, you need sleep,” he said gently.

“So do these men, but they need to live in order to do that,” she whispered back, not looking at him. Instead she focused on the man in front of her, placing a cool cloth over his forehead in order to break his fever. After she could no longer fight in battle and once her anger and grief over losing her magic subsided, she returned to the battlefield this time as a medic for those injured. She was never one to sit idle and she wasn’t about to be sidelined in the war. It made her feel useful and it didn’t hurt that it made her people grateful towards her.

“You can’t tend to them if you run yourself ragged. They’ll be here in a few hours,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him and they both knew that some of these men wouldn’t be here, but the exhaustion was starting to weigh on her and she couldn’t save them all.

“Fine, I’ll come to bed,” she sighed before leaving instructions with a young crewman. Killian practically had to drag her out of there. When they got back to the cabin Emma noticed that Killian is sweating, not just damp from the storm. Not caring for what was right and proper Emma began to feel his face.

“Emma, what the hell?” he asked her shivering.

“You idiot you have a fever. Strip out of those wet clothes instantly,” she ordered him. He looked offended for about a minute before grumbling and stripping his clothes. She averted her eyes while he changed into dry night clothes shivering all the while. Emma gathered some more cloth and water for him. She forced him into bed and began applying the cool, damp cloth to his face.

“I was panicked when you weren’t here. I thought something had happened to you,” he stuttered. Emma shook her head, while forcing him to drink water.

“I couldn’t sit here idle, it’s never been my strong suit, you should get used to it. I was safe the entire time,” she practically scolded him.

“I’ll make a note of that, I didn’t drag you here to nurse me you should rest. Please get some sleep this bed can fit both of us,” he tried to convince her.

“I’ll rest when you’re better, just sleep. Don’t worry about me,” she shook her head, before sitting in the chair at the small desk in the room. This would have to be good enough for now. It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep, but he kept muttering throughout the early morning hours. Mostly calling for Liam, a few were for his mother, but the one that surprised her the most was when he moaned her name.

“Emma, don’t go,” he groaned. Emma stood from her chair and took his hand in hers. With her other hand she placed a fresh washcloth on his head.

“Killian, I’m here,” she attempted to reassure him.

“Don’t go, don’t do this. I’m falling in love with you,” he muttered, never opening his eyes. Emma hoped this is the worst of the fever that he’ll be out of it soon. He couldn’t possibly be talking about her, could he? No, he felt nothing, but content for her that much was obvious. He ran so hot and cold with her; he couldn’t be falling for her.

“Killian,” she said a little louder, “You’re okay, nothing is going to happen to you. I’m here.” He tossed and turned for a few minutes more, before settling. If the fever didn’t break soon, he would be doomed and so would the damn treaty. Emma twisted the sapphire engagement ring around her finger, worry and dread filling her gut.

Emma was called to check on the men in the crew’s quarters, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Killian. He had only slightly improved over the last hour alone. August offered to stay with him while she is gone.

“You would?” Emma asked, surprised.

“Of course, I’ll keep an eye on him. I’m no nurse, but he won’t be alone. We can’t let a fever bring down everything we’ve worked for, everything you’ve sacrificed,” August reassured her. Emma nodded slowly. Of course, August was doing this for the good Misthaven, for her. Not everyone cared about the Montave Prince, but not everyone had to marry the Prince either. She saw another side of Killian. One that had been exposed through their nights together in this cabin, in this bed.

“Force him to drink some broth if he wakes. I’ll be back soon.” August simply nodded before Emma stalked out, intent on completing her task, on getting back to Killian.

The men had improved over the last few hours except for one who passed in the early morning hours. It doesn’t take long to change a few dressings and check on the condition of a couple. Just before Emma was ready to leave the Captain grabbed her attention.

“The storm knocked us more off course than expected, Prince Killian said he would be available to help with navigation is he awake yet?” The Captain asked her urgently.

“Not quite, why don’t we take this to your cabin?” Emma whispered quietly. Captain Oliver nodded and led the way. Both of them were silent for the duration of their short trip to his cabin. The door shut and he offered her some tea.

“How far off course are we?” Emma asked, no time for pleasantries.

“Far, it will take a day to get back where we were,” Captain Oliver sighed. This trip home could put Emma off traveling by ship for many years.

“Now, what’s wrong with the Prince?” he asked her bluntly, tired from the storm. He doesn’t seem to have gotten any sleep either.

“He has a fever; it hasn’t broken yet. I need to get back to him. I’m afraid you’ll have to sort out the navigation on your own for a while,” she told him, her throat becoming tight.

“That I shall Princess, well I’ll let you tend to him. Let me know if you need anything,” Captain Oliver said shortly.

“Of course, any damage to the ship?” she asked, hoping nothing else would delay their trip home. Emma wanted off this damn ship. Captain Oliver shook his head and Emma left.

When Emma returned to their cabin Killian was still asleep, but not quite as feverish, it must have finally broken. August nodded to her before leaving. She placed another damp washcloth on his forehead. Hopefully he’d wake soon. Emma sighed and sat in the chair, exhaustion coming over her in waves. She fell asleep with her head leaned against the wall.

Sometime later she woke up to find Killian out of bed, shaking her shoulder.

“Come on, love to bed.” Emma blinked a few times, before feeling his face.

“Your fever is gone. How are you feeling?” she asked, ignoring his command.

“All the thanks to you and a little weak, but nothing a hot meal won’t cure. Now, I will not ask again get in bed,” he said sternly. Emma rolled her eyes.

“I am not even that tired, there is still plenty to be done,” she wobbled slightly on her feet as she stood. Killian steadied her.

“As you were saying?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

“Fine, I’ll sleep, but only for an hour or two,” she bargained.

“I’ll take that. Any damage to the ship?” He asked as she climbed into bed.

“No, but we are off course. Captain Oliver was asking for you earlier I told him he’d have to wait,” Emma told him as her eyelids drifted shut. She could’ve sworn his hand drift across her cheek before he left.

Killian prayed they didn’t hit any more storms on the way back to Misthaven, he wasn’t sure the ship would make through another one. They had known that the journey would be a difficult one at this time of year, but not this difficult. Luckily there is clear skies today, but knowing the fickle mistress the sea is he knows that could change at a moment’s notice. The captain was correct they were very off course. It would take them another two days to get back on course and after that another two to get to Misthaven.

The weather seemed to have cleared the following day and gave them a day of sunshine despite the harsh winter wind. Emma was not about to turn down sunshine after all the storms even if that meant she had to add another layer to protect herself from the wind. She was enjoying the sun on her face when Graham strode to her side. Emma stiffened slightly at his approach. They had not spoken privately since the ball.

“It is a beautiful day out,” Graham commented.

“Yes, it is. Finally,” she sighed, choosing not to look at him. They stand there in silence for a few long minutes. Graham cleared his throat before speaking, “I wanted to apologize for my behavior at the ball it was truly terrible. I never should have said those things.” Her head snapped to him.

“Then why did you?”

“I was angry.” He said concisely. Emma shook her head.

“Of all the people to be angry about the situation I hardly think you’re the one who should be,” she scoffed.

“Why not?” Emma can hear his irritation and anger rising in his voice.

“You’re not the one who has to get married! You’re a loyal friend, but this is one battle you can’t fight for me.” She drags her gaze away from him.

“That’s not what I am angry about,” Graham said rather unconvincingly. Emma just glared at him.

“I-” he tried to start, but then faltered, “I thought it would always be you and I.” He doesn’t have to say anything else Emma knew what he is talking about.

“I don’t know what gave you that impression when you never said a damn word to me,” Emma said, her own anger rising.

“I couldn’t, you’re the Princess! Next in line to take the throne.” Graham said exasperated.

“Yes, you could’ve! Before anything else I’m Emma, your friend. The crown isn’t everything about me, you know that!”

“It doesn’t really matter now does it?” Graham snapped, his eyes darting down to her ring.

“I guess not,” she turned on her foot walking away, furious. She heard a loud snap and a lot of shouting. Confused she looked around and the wind was knocked out of her as she fell onto the hard deck. It took her a minute to regain her breath. Emma found that Killian was on top of her.

“What the hell?” Emma snapped, not in the mood for whatever he wanted right now.

“That chain almost crushed you. I wasn’t going to let you die, sorry that meant pushing you to the ground,” Killian explained while pointing to a chain a few feet from them. Emma blinked a few times before looking into his deep blue eyes.

“No, thank you. You can push me to the ground anytime,” Emma said, after clearing her throat. Killian quickly realized their rather compromising position and sprang up. Killian offered her his hand which she accepted, rather sore from the fall.

“Are you alright?” Graham asked appearing at her side, before Killian could say anything.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Emma said, not making eye contact with him.

“Are you sure?” Killian asked her, his eyes roaming up and down her body, assessing for injuries.

“Yes, a little sore, but perfectly fine.” Emma held Killian’s gaze for a moment before wiping some dust off her skirt.

“Good, now I have to have a word with that crewman. That was clumsy and reckless,” Killian said, releasing Emma’s hand. Emma watched him stomp over to a disgruntled and rather ashamed looking crew member. Graham captured her attention by placing a hand on her shoulder. Her gaze snapped back to him.

“Let me help you back to your cabin.” Emma stepped out of his reach.

“No, I’m perfectly capable of walking, thank you. I’m not an invalid,” she snapped before walking away from him. Emma stayed in the cabin the rest of the day and Killian found her before dinner.

“Ah here you are, love. Ready for dinner with the crew?”

“Almost, how much trouble did that crew member get in?” Emma asked while braiding her hair. Killian’s jaw twitched at this; Emma saw it in her small mirror sitting on the desk.

“Quite a bit, he should be more careful,” Killian practically snarled.

“Of course, but he shouldn’t be reprimanded-” Emma started.

“Don’t finish that sentence! You’re the Crown Princess. Your safety is important. Hell, this voyage has been dangerous enough without carelessness.” A vein was throbbing in Killian’s forehead.

“I know that! If you remember I nursed you from a fever. This has been voyage from hell and I can’t wait to be off this damn ship. There is no need to interrupt me and yell,” Emma said sternly. Killian quickly went from anger to ashamed very quickly.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.” Killian agreed not making eye contact with her. Emma finished her braid and stood, slowly still stiff from earlier.

“Are you alright?” Killian asked rather concerned.

“Yes, there is just a lovely bruise forming I’m sure. Just stiff, Your Highness. Now, dinner?” Killian opened the door and lead the way. Dinner was a simple affair as always, but the crew seemed somber tonight. Graham kept trying to get Emma’s attention, but she ignored him. Emma excused herself from dinner early, claiming to be tired from the day. Killian followed her back to their cabin not long after her departure.

When he got back Emma was getting ready for bed, already changed into her thing white nightgown, that might just be the death of him. Killian couldn’t help but ask, “What were you and Graham discussing today on deck? Is everything alright?” Emma froze at this statement, not sure what to say to him.

“Yeah everything is fine. It wasn’t important anyway, not really.” Emma shook her head before climbing into the small buck.

“If you say so, Your Highness,” Killian said, unsure, “You don’t have to lie to me you know. If you wish to pursue needs outside our marriage, I would be okay with that.” How Killian managed to get the words out without it killing him he had no idea. It might just kill him if Emma sought out someone else. Emma’s head snapped toward him, lightning quick, her hair whipping behind her.

“Excuse me?!”

“Ours is a political marriage, I would never assume we would have to share a bed. There are needs-” he started, and she cut him off with a look.

“I am well aware of those needs. We have enough to worry about with this damn treaty, I don’t think seeking other pleasures will do any good for either kingdom,” she said a blush raising in her cheeks, “You’re wrong you know; we do have to share a bed.” Killian hadn’t been thinking of that damn treaty, but she was right it would jeopardize everything if someone found out either one of them had been unfaithful.

“No, Emma we don’t,” he told her harshly, no matter what situation they were in he wouldn’t bed her if she didn’t want it, want him.

“Killian, the treaty stated we have to produce heirs within the first three years of marriage and that won’t happen without sharing a bed,” she reminded him before turning away. He strode to her side at the little desk she had made her vanity. Killian placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Damn the treaty for one moment. You and I are going to be partners for the rest of our lives. You spoke of having a love marriage and I would never suggest that you love me, but please trust me. Trust me when I say we won’t share a bed until you want it. One day we will produce an heir, but when we are ready. Damn the treaty I mean it.” His piercing blue eyes never leave her jade green ones. His intensity shook her, but his grip on her never tightened, never changed. His touch gentle the whole time. She placed a hand over his.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” his hand slipped away, and Killian moved away from her once more. The warmth his touch brought left with him and she hated how much she wanted it back. She couldn’t deny how much it hurt her to hear him suggest they look outside their marriage for other pleasures, not that she thought he would ever want her like that. This wasn’t a love marriage, but the suggestion was still a blow to Emma. After a few minutes of silence something struck Emma as she brushed her hair.

“What you were saying about other needs, is that what you want?” she asked him, red in the face. Killian thanked his lucky stars his back was to her at this current moment in time. He wouldn’t want her to see every emotion that was written on his face, the agony and despair. How could she possibly think he would want anyone else?

“No, it isn’t. Besides the point it would ruin the treaty, ruin the kingdom.” He commented quietly, hiding behind the crown. It was cowardly, but he couldn’t tell her how he felt, not now.

“No, I know, but you do have needs and well I mean- I wouldn’t want to get in-well damn you know what I am trying to say,” she sighed. Killian sighed too, she doesn’t know that the only woman he wants is a few feet from him and she doesn’t want him. He doubted he’ll want anyone else as long as he lives. She intrigued him from the start and it’s only gotten worse with time. He’ll only want her, and he’s convinced no one else will do.

“I do and while I appreciate the thought in offering me an out, but knowing where we’re going, I don’t think a single woman will want me,” he said before climbing into bed without her.

“Oh, I understand,” she said in a sad, deflated voice. It broke her a little that he thought that, that no one would care for him in what was soon to be his own kingdom, that he didn’t think that maybe she could ever possibly want him. Emma sat the brush down, blew out the candle lighting the room, and climbed into bed with him. Killian might have imagined it, but he could’ve sworn that Emma slept closer to him that night. The truth was she did, despite hating Montave and him initially. The prince had grown on her and of all the people she could’ve been forced to marry it really could’ve been much worse than to have a kind man like him. Elsa was right he was a good man.

#cs #cs au ff #cs au fic #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #enchanted forest #Enchanted Forest AU #cs royalty #royalty au #emma swan #Princess!Emma #killian jones #Prince!Killian #enemies to lovers #I hate you but I have to marry you

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spookyjiimfanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter One

Tear in my Heart | Series Masterlist

Warnings: Some angst. Word Count: 2730 Author’s Note: We hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

July 2012 - Before the Regional at Best Tour

Your finger hovered over the bright blue submit button that sat at the bottom of the web page. You puffed your cheeks and slowly exhaled, trying to build up the small bit of courage that you needed to actually press it. It was only an application, there was no attached guarantee of a job. Or them even looking over your resume, for that matter.

You were about to bite the bullet and press it when you hesitated. What would Beau think when he found out you were going to be a manager for some small town band? The thought of his reaction was enough to make your stomach churn as echoes of things he had told you in the past rang in your ears.

Your fingers ran along the edge of the laptop, ready to close it and forget that you had ever considered this possibility. There would be plenty of other opportunities for you, ones that didn’t involve people Beau wouldn’t like - if that was even possible -, ones that didn’t involve traveling all over the country, hell, even ones that didn’t involve you managing people.

Then again, it was only an application. Being a band manager sounded more appealing than half the flyers Beau brought home from his own job, covered in promises of “good pay” and “flexible hours”. You didn’t need flexible hours and good pay, you needed excitement. Besides, what did Beau know about your capabilities? He wasn’t here to stop you, was he?

Before you had a chance to reconsider, you opened your laptop back up and hit submit.

The rush that you felt in that moment was enough to become intoxicated, but you knew that it was a one in a million shot. Moving your hand, you closed your laptop and placed it in its normal location on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, hopping up off of the couch to go and make some dinner for yourself and Beau before he got off of work.

* * *

Three Days Later...

Music blasted near your head, as an indication from your phone that someone was trying to call you. Lifting your head from the pillow, you sat up and threw your legs over the side of the bed as you reached forward to grab hold of your phone. Looking down to the screen, the number that appeared wasn't one that you were familiar with... and yet, you felt as though you should pick it up. Something about that number really stuck with you. Using your thumb, you accepted the call and brought the device up to your ear. "Hello?" You tried to answer with confidence, but slightly fell short.

"Is this Y/N?"

"This is she."

"Hi, my name is Tom Hammond and I'm a representative of Twenty One Pilots..." Your heart nearly stopped beating the moment that he mentioned the band. "...and we actually were going over your resume recently. We were hoping that you still had an interest in joining the boys as their band manager, because I'm calling to offer you a job."

It actually happened. Something actually went right for you.

“A job?” you repeated, hardly able to get the words out of your mouth. “You want to offer me a job?”

You didn’t even care if you were making a fool of yourself in front of this representative. Your hands were shaking so bad from disbelief and excitement that you could feel your phone tapping incessantly against your ear.

“If you feel so inclined to take it, then yes.”

“Um, yes, of course. I accept.” You stumbled over your words. “What do I need to do?”

“We’ll inform Tyler and Josh that you’ve accepted the position and pass your information along to them. They should be in contact with you shortly to let you know what they would like to do with you from here on out. I just have a few questions to ask you before we let you go.”

You listened carefully as Tom asked you a series of questions, mostly confirming contact information and addresses, all the while giving your answers as clearly and concisely as you could. The excitement was overwhelming, nearly making you forget phone numbers that were practically second nature to you any other time.

“We look forward to working with you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You wracked your brain for the advice Beau had given you about phone interviews.

“Thank you for this opportunity.”

“Goodbye.”

Tom ended the phone call before you had a chance to get another word out. You sighed and set your phone down on the couch, temporarily forgetting that eventually you would have to tell Beau all about this new job you had. He wasn’t going to be happy, and when the thought of his reaction first made its way into your mind, you shuddered.

At least that was a problem for a different time.

* * *

The text came the next evening, right in the middle of the nice meal that you were sharing with Beau. He watched you carefully as you slipped your phone out of your pocket and scanned the screen. You weren’t normally one to check your phone in the middle of a meal, but the expectation of a message from the boys had made you set aside your typical rules.

The sight of a message from an unknown number was enough to put a smile on your face, even before you had read the actual text. This, of course, was also enough to make Beau start questioning you.

“Who is that?” he asked. The grip he had on his fork grew a little tighter.

As Beau's voice appeared, your eyes instantly looked up to his with dread and you locked your phone up to put back into your pocket. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a friend." You mumbled to him, before grabbing hold of your fork once again and trying to focus on your food. But, you didn't eat another bite after that as you were too busy thinking about the text that you never got to open - silently thanking whatever god there was for him not bringing it back up. You weren't ready for that conversation yet. After dinner, you watched as Beau sulked off to your bedroom to start prepping for his next work day as you finished up the dishes from dinner. Peeking to make sure that he wasn't coming back in, you quickly pulled out your cell phone and opened up the text that you had received earlier that night.

Unknown Number: Hey, I hope that this is the right number. This is Tyler. Are you free to discuss a meet up?

A smile splaying across your lips, you instantly decide to text him back before it got to be too late. Your thumbs moving as quick as lightning, your response was short, sweet and to the point.

Y/N: This is Y/N. You're safe. Name the time and place!

Slipping your phone back into your pocket, after hearing Beau yell at you from the other room to hurry up, you cringed slightly and started up the dishwasher. You quickly turned off all of the lights on the way, hurrying to his side. He knew that he had control over you and it made him mad with power.

* * *

Two Days Later…

After a short phone conversation - which you struggled to keep a straight face through, even with Beau’s careful eyes watching you - the three of you decided on the local Taco Bell for your meetup. You were almost glad that they chose such a casual place, it made convincing Beau that you were simply meeting a friend a whole lot easier.

One stern warning and a gentle kiss on the cheek later, you were in your car speeding down the freeway. Your music was blasting, subduing any nervous thoughts that were trying to make you turn your car around. What if one of Beau’s friends happened to see you at Taco Bell with these two strange men? Not that they were actually strange, but anybody that wasn’t familiar was a threat in Beau’s eyes.

Two guys were standing outside Taco Bell as you pulled into the parking lot, looking equal parts out of place and completely at ease. The taller of the two eyed your car as you shifted into park, your music no doubt audible from outside the car. At least you hadn’t been blasting their music, that would take a bit of explaining.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” one of them asked before you had even made it out of the car completely. His voice was familiar to you, meaning that it was probably Tyler, the one you had spoken with on the phone.

“That’s me,” you smiled, reaching back in your car for a moment to grab your bag. “You must be Josh and Tyler.”

“That’s us,” the other one - Josh - smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

You finally got a good look at them as you stepped up onto the sidewalk. Tyler was wearing a plain t-shirt that was half tucked into his dark jeans, making the bright buckle of his belt visible. His olive colored skin contrasted nicely with the pale fabric of the shirt. He reached an arm towards you for a handshake.

“You too,” you smiled, firmly shaking his hand.

You studied Josh more closely as you shook his hand. His dark hair was a bit shaggy on his head, especially where it curled near the ends. Crinkles formed around his brown eyes when he smiled - a seemingly perfect smile, you might add. Your breath hitched a little when you locked eyes, unable to pull your gaze away from him for a moment.

You finally came to your senses and dropped Josh’s hand, returning it to your side. Your cheeks felt hot.

“You have really pretty eyes, you know,” Josh said.

He said it so nonchalantly that you almost didn’t register that he was talking to you. The corner of your mouth twitched for a moment, wanting to curl up into a smile, but thoughts of Beau wiped the expression from your face in an instant. Tyler was looking at Josh with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Um, thank you.” You swallowed hard, angry that you even had to say any of this in the first place. “But I, um, I have a boyfriend. Just so, like, yeah. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

Josh’s ears flushed bright red. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like - I just noticed and thought I should tell you. I’m not like trying to, you know,” Josh waved his hands idly in the air.

“No, I know,” you exhaled. “I just thought I should put it out there.”

“Right.”

“Alright, you two,” Tyler finally interjected. You were glad for it. “Let’s get some tacos before you forget how to talk at all.”

All agreeing to Tyler's mention of food, you and the boys finally headed for the front door; Josh moving ahead of the both of you to open the door. You figured that he was just trying to be kind and gentlemanly, which you were perfectly fine with, so you thanked him with a smile and made your way inside. The familiar Taco Bell smell hit your nostrils as soon as you stepped foot in the store, instantly moving to stand in front of the menu to see what you wanted. Josh and Tyler wasted no time and bee-lined straight for the register, where a waitress stood waiting for them. They both put in their orders and then, as if on cue, looked over their shoulders to you. Tyler motioned for you to come over to them with his hand with a straight face, not messing around when it came to his food.

"Come on and get what you want Y/N. This is a serious matter and very urgent," he spoke, which caused Josh to grin before scooting out of the way for you and crossing his arms... which you had noticed earlier were very toned. You knew perfectly well that you would be trying to not look at them the whole meeting.

Once you placed your order, Tyler paid for everyone and then you all took a seat at a booth - Tyler and Josh sitting beside each other on one side and then you on the other. How awkward would it be to have two handsome men staring at you from across the table while you're stuffing your face with a taco? You were about to find out. Once Josh came back with your cups from filling drink orders, the real fun began: the interview.

"So, Y/N, who's your favorite band?" Tyler asked.

"Um, well, I really like Y/F/B."

"Wrong answer. It's Twenty One Pilots now."

A feeling of sheer dread flooded over you at his response. Was he being serious? You couldn't tell with how straight his face always was. Josh laughed at his friend and then rolled his eyes, before looking over at you with a goofy smile on his lips. "Don't listen to him. He's just messing with you."

A sigh of relief left your lips. "Whew. I thought that I was fired already," you said with a chuckle, looking between the boys before catching Josh staring at you.

He raised his eyebrows slightly as you looked at him, making the all too familiar heat return to your cheeks. You broke eye contact and focused on the receipt that was sitting in front of you. It crinkled as you pressed it between your thumb and forefinger.

“So, Y/N, have you ever managed a band before?” Tyler asked.

“No,” you laughed quietly. “I pretty much submitted my application on a whim. I have a degree in business management, as I’m sure you know from my resume, but I haven’t really had a chance to use it yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out the ropes no problem,” Josh reassured you. He had leaned forward onto the table, making his arms impossible to ignore. “We’re a pretty easy band to manage, aside from Tyler here.”

Josh nudged his friend in the side, making Tyler roll his eyes.

“Speak for yourself.”

You were about to ask Tyler a question when his number was called. He quickly pushed past Josh and wandered up to the counter to collect his tacos, leaving you and Josh alone together at the table.

“Listen, about earlier-,” he started to say, but you cut him off.

“Josh, no, it’s ok. I really didn’t mean to make it weird. It’s just my boyfriend is kind of… insecure at times,” you said, casting a quick glance around the room. “And I really didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea. I’m just here to work.”

“Work, right,” he nodded. “Well, hopefully we can make it a little more exciting than ‘just work’.”

You smiled at him right as his number was called, glad that he didn’t press the topic of Beau any further. That was an issue that you still needed to work out yourself before dragging anybody else into it.

“I hope Josh didn’t bother you too much,” Tyler said, dropping his tray onto the table with a resounding smack. “He’s a nice guy, I swear.”

“Seems like it,” you said as you looked over the variety of hot sauces that Tyler had collected next to his food.

Tyler leaned forward, holding one of his tacos in his right hand. You noticed that he was waving it around as he spoke, occasionally throwing bits of lettuce onto the table.

“I know this all seems informal right now - I mean, we’re in the middle of a Taco Bell - but I swear you’re not getting yourself into some mess. We’ll get you an official tour schedule and a list of responsibilities in no time.”

You barely had any time to let the words “tour schedule” sink in before you were walking up to the counter to collect your own assortment of tacos. Josh smiled as he passed you with his tray, also covered in a mosaic of tiny hot sauce packets. Part of you was still in disbelief that you were standing in the middle of a Columbus Taco Bell, chatting with two strangers about the tour that you were about to leave on.

Beau definitely wasn’t going to like that idea.

Taglist:

@topownsmyheart @faceofcontvsions @ohprettyweeper @tylersheavydirtysoul @svintsandghosts @wearebxnditos @breadbinishigh @patdsinner33 @leam-2001 Photo Credit.

#josh dun #josh dun x reader #josh dun fanfiction #twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots fanfiction #tear in my heart fanfic #timh #blurry-fics #spookyjiimfanfiction

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i-prefer-the-term-antihero · 5 years ago

Note

Your favourite Pandora Hearts character and why? Mine is Jack, because he’s interesting.

(AHHHHH I took forever to respond to you, I’m so so very sorry!! ...Actually it was partially because I really loved your question or took me so long to answer…Also I uh, wanted to take the time to edit my message and explain this concisely…and I failed)

Thank you so very much for you question anon!! I don’t get a lot of asks so it made me overjoyed to get one.

My favorite ph character is Break!! Actually he’s become my all-time-favorite character!!

As for why, well…I don’t think you were looking for a long response, but I’m a very longwinded person so I couldn’t help it…sorry in advance for all the detail XD

There are far too many reasons I could go into for why I like him, but I think probably the main one is that he is a very specific type of redemptive villain that is difficult to find in most stories.

If you’ve read my blog description you know I like villainous characters with redemptive qualities. I find them much more relatable and interesting than main characters who find being selfless and good easy. Plus I’m here for the angst. I especially like when I myself find these characters creepy or unlikable at first and learn to love them later—(which, because I’m prone to look for the good in villains, is tough to do)—because it means my enjoyment and love for the character in the end feels more real (ie it wasn’t just because I found them attractive, or read into something what wasn’t really there).

One of the many reasons I love Pandora Hearts is that it is littered with these types of characters. These types of characters are difficult to write, so most authors only have one or two in their stories, and often even those who do try to write these characters are unable to do so well. But Mochizuki has written more than I’ve ever seen one author write. Not only that, they are all unique and not just carbon copies of each other, and they are all well written, interesting, unique, and relatable. (I mean, even the main characters in her stories struggle with good and evil, and it makes them interesting and likable too).

Break is a specific brand of this character category that I’ve never seen before or since. He’s almost like the reverse: a redeemed person with villainous qualities. He’s...the next step.

See Kevin is your usual character in this category: he’s killed a bunch of people (villain) but he did it to save his family (redemptive quality). He was very easy for me to like.

But Break is different. I haaated Break when I first started watching the anime (before I read the manga). He was creepy, he was manipulative, he was condescending, and he didn’t seem to care about anyone but himself. Learning about Kevin began to change my heart, but it was what he says in the carriage ride home from the opera house that made me fall in love with him. How all the jokes, the teasing, the condescension was stripped away in that moment, and he was completely honest and vulnerable with them, revealing his true character.

He basically explained then...what’s the next step? What happens if and when a redemptive villain like Kevin gets what they want? Will it be the redemption they hope for?

Seeing a villain get what they want, what they think will redeem them...but finding that it isn’t what they want at all, nor a redemption for them…seeing how that completely dismantles everything they knew…everything they are, seeing them change, seeing them learn to live with the villainous things they did, to try to make up for those things, and find redemption in other ways, thereafter...that’s powerful. And that’s real.

The ways in which Break is villainous are realistic. I haven’t met any murderers (to my knowledge...), nor have I killed anyone, but I have met people who are condescending and manipulative, and I have been condescending and manipulative myself. Kevin is easier to like because his brand of villainy is removed from what feels real to me. And Break is easier to hate when you don’t know him because his villainy is the kind we all face on a daily basis.

But that also means that his redemptive qualities are the ones we face on a daily basis too. I haven’t killed anyone to save my family, nor have I met anyone that’s done so, but I have done things I regret, and that I want some sort of penance for. I have thought certain things would “save” me, in a way, and found it wasn’t what I thought it would be for me at all. I have had suicidal thoughts (“so...you want to die?”) and I have tried to do things myself without asking for help when I really should have relied on my friends…and the list goes on.

Everyone is both a hero and a villain inside, but our villainy and heroism is much subtler. It’s hard to get this right within a story. It’s easy to just paint a fictional world in black and white, and have good win, and not really work at the characters and story until you can see why the villains think they’re right, and how the heroes can be wrong. But I am so happy Mochizuki painted her world in grey; that no one is fully a villain or fully a hero, there’re all very human.

As a fantasy lover and writer I’m always trying to thread the line of how far fantasy should go, and where reality should seep in. There are fantasy stories in which you lose touch with reality so much it feels almost soulless. But I still want to travel to fantastical worlds and fight demons and dragons with heroes. To me Mochizuki hits the nail on the head. She definitely takes me to worlds that are delightfully fantastical, and builds her world so well, with its own quirks, and rules, demons and gods, but her characters, and the messages they provide us with are so real.

Break is a prime example of this. He can be the worst of villains and the best of heroes. And the messages that surround him (”You’re much much stronger than you think you are” ”no, you simply want to save yourself” “we can never know what would have happened” etc.) are so real I often think about in everyday life.

Despite being young I am often more drawn to adult characters than kids/teens. Which means I am often very fond of mentor characters. But one of the ways in which these characters fall short is that most of the time their character arc is kind of over; they don’t really grow, learn, or need advice throughout the story. They simply give it. They probably did some bad things in their past but they’ve learned from it and they’re done now. And that’s great!! But is isn’t as interesting or relatable as someone who is still struggling themselves.

Break is a very rare type of mentor character. So much so that I don’t think a lot of people would even call him a mentor character. But he does mentor Oz. And he does give advice. But unlike most of these types of characters he isn’t just done, just a good person now. He’s a hero in his own way, but he’s still very much messed up, and he needs to take others advice as much as he can give it—just like us in real life. In fact, one of the most wonderful pieces of advice he gets is from the very person he mentors, which is absolutely amazing, and rare within this type of relationship.

Like I said, there’s a lot more I could say, expanding on these ideas, I could go on about other things like how fun and funny he is…but I’ve said too much as it is XD In the end he’s just this very unique type of character you don’t get to see very often.

And, I won’t go as in-depth on this, but since you mentioned him, my second favorite character is Jack!! I also find him very interesting.

He’s another unique villain-with-redemptive qualities. There aren’t many characters who almost every word out of their mouth for half the series is a lie, or twisted truth, who aren’t completely hateable.

The moment you learn he lied you also get to learn his backstory, and why he lied, and why he thought what he was doing was right, how broken he is too.

I just love that twist. I’m usually good at predicting things, and earlier in the series I even thought “wouldn’t it be crazy if Jack was the villain?” and then I was like “Nahh he’s too sweet.” But then he was!! It was so unexpected and cool that he was the antagonist after all.

Again, that goes back into what I was saying earlier. In a lot of series the way Jack and Glen are painted in the first half would be all there was to it; there’s a wonderful hero and a terrible villain, nothing more. Or, if there was the twist, it would then be the opposite, that who you thought was the terrible villain is the wonderful hero and vice versa, and again, that’s all. But then when the truth comes out you find that they are neither, that they are both people. And they’ve done heroic things and they’ve done villainous things, and they will continue to do both as the series goes on, but that does make either of them completely good or completely bad.

In a weird way I think Jack is the best of all these different worlds. At the beginning of the series I was like “he’s like a sweet little puppy I love him so much” and at the middle I was like “ahh he’s so evil I love him so much” and by the end I was like “aww he’s so broken I love him so much” XD He has all those qualities within him, that sweetness is still a part of himself and his personality, he did do some genuinely villainous things, and he is very broken.

Again, I’ll stop there for now XD

Thanks again!! And again, feel free to direct message me!!

Can I also turn this into a tag game? @song-of-amethyst, @maddyisenough, @sanhatipal, @nozominohana, @emily-cheshire, @the-twisted-otaku, @tabinotochuu...and @ anyone else who sees this post and would like to engage, Who are your favorite ph characters and can I get your longwinded explanations for why you love them?

#pandora hearts #pandora hearts fandom #xerxes break #jack vessalius #antihero asks #ph #ph fandom #favorite characters #favorite ph characters #favorite pandora hearts characters #tag game #anonymous ask #friends

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jonsafan-blog · 6 years ago

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How Leaks Work

Most highly paid professionals would never leak the ending of a show anonymously. The main cast, the most important part of production... just not happening. They have too many legal risks to do so.

That’s why the majority of leaks have occurred in two waves:

First Wave - Before the episode is sent out to television networks to be closed captioned and prepared for their servers, leaks seem to only occur when a lot of lowly paid people are involved with the scene. The reason we knew so many details about 8x05 is because it took place almost entirely outdoors with a lot of extras and a lot of special effects. Scenes that are filmed indoors without special effects (like Daenerys mourning over Missandei and Varys sending letters) don’t make these early leaks most of the time.

Second Wave - About 1-3 weeks before an episode airs we start getting really accurate leaks, and this occurs primarily because non-studio people all over the world become involved with subtitling and closed-captioning the episode. It takes a lot of people to get these done, and since they are not immediately in the general circle of the showrunners it is difficult to determine who leaked and prosecute them over other borders. This is why most second wave leakers actually tend to be non-English speakers. They can get away with it better. However, many of these leakers wait until the last possible moment to share... likely because it lowers the risk of their managers choosing to punish them. That’s why we only see leaks that take place between a handful of top actors on a closed set the day of or the day before (solar scene and sex scenes).

So what about the leaks going forward?

Here’s what we know.

Jon snow finally sees Arya after they reach the Irone Throne in King's Landing. (I think this means that he hasn't seen her since she left Winterfell ahead of him) Dany starts executing everyone in Kings landing (Tyrion and Jon are upset) Dany has Tyrion arrested for freeing his brother. (his trial is supposed to have neither Dany or Jon present) Tyrion tries to convince Jon to turn on Dany. His family will never be safe because it threatens Dany's legitimacy. Jon is horrified by what Dany has done to King's Landing, and she gives speeches about how she'll keep doing it to free slaves from their chains. He's also convinced by Tyrion that his family will never be safe because he presents a threat to her rule. Jon tries to talk to Dany but she ignores him thinking she is justified. Jon pledges himself to Dany, then stabs her, and surrenders himself. Very traumatic for Jon because he does love her. Drogon should melt the Iron Throne after her death.

All these leaks require a lot of extras to be present or some level of special effects.

However, given the rather concise but comprehensive narrative... I think it likely plays out rather sequentially above, though I think it is going to be prefaced with some sort of Arya telling Jon Dany needs to die and it being reinforced by Tyrion’s public arrest. I also suspect a Jon and Davos conservation before he meets Arya or directly afterward. Those scenes would likely have been private without special effects, so filmed separately from extras without a large production crew involved.

I also believe that Daenerys will be killed with Arya’s dagger. It’s the only way I can imagine Jon getting close enough without raising the suspicion of her men.

There are also three possible endings:

Ending 1

King's Council: A council gets formed to decide who the King should be. Tyrion gives a speech and everyone votes on Bran to become King. The end. In the Epilogue, Jon takes the black again for killing Dany. (I think this is penance for regicide and guilt. People take the black to avoid the death penalty and he would be the 1,000th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch) Arya leaves. (she told Clegane she would) Sansa rules the North. When they're deciding who to elect as king, Sam suggests holding a democratic election and the other nobles laugh at him. That's before they vote on Bran. Bran oversees his council of Tyrion, Davos, Sam, and Bronn. The Unsullied leave to cross the sea and start liberating slave cities on their own, because that's Dany's plan before Jon kills her -- she has this big speech scene, after sacking King's Landing, where she's talking about wrecking the world, liberating all of the slaves from their masters

Tyrion's fate after the beginning of the episode is uncertain, but I think it is confirmed his trial does not happen before Dany's death. Ending 1 does not address Tyrion's trial, but it does have multiple scenes which would have required a lot of extras to achieve, though no special effects:

The council would be formed with numerous bit actors and extras serving as guards. An easy enough leak to imagine. That said, there does seem to be a rather large public vote on Bran becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms, so I think this is pretty much confirmed. Sam also clearly says a lot of lines to confirm this to the extras. Tyrion is also present for this council... likely representing the Westerlands, and Bronn probably does actually get Highgarden.

However, Jon taking the black and there being no trial suggests that Jon simply chooses to leave King's Landing and is not forced to. He likely tells his family on or off screen and then Jon is in the North for a lineless "ending" in which he is reunited with Wildlings and Night's Watch. Extras involved in filming probably were led to believe this was his final ending, and once Daenerys’s death was leaked, him “taking the black” was assumed.

Arya leaving can be a rather private scene as would her saying she is leaving, but likely assumed because she clearly survives the ending but is not present in anyone else's storyline. That is probably the last time we see her in the show.

Sansa rules the North... this leak happens in three ways. The first is that Sansa is simply referred to as the Lady of Winterfell or the Lady of the North or something like that. Extras could easily assume she rules the North even if she doesn't in this circumstance.

However, she could also be "ruling the north" if production saw her on the battlements. If she has a scene in the Great Hall, that would confirm it, but only if her vassals declare her as Lady of the North.

The Unsullied also set sail. We likely see Grey Worm talking to someone before he leaves among a lot of extras or even it just being mentioned in the council. It's possible Jon taking the black is mentioned in the castle, but I doubt it.

My theory for how these leaks came to be is that it was a combination of two factors:

The council with a lot of extras... and production special effects tying together a bunch of mostly dialogue-free shots of Westeros after the council.

Ending 2

Tyrion's Trial: Tyrion's trial in the dragonpit is a major scene and has no Jon, Dany, or dragons. Sir Davos is present not wearing the Hand of the King pin (he wasn't in 8x04 either) along with all 3 stark children. Samwell Tarly, Brienne, Robyn Aryn, Grey Worm, an unknown man wearing golden clothes (likely Dornish), and another unidentified man (an older short bearded one dressed in green) will be there as well. Bran will flash back to season 1 where Tyrion Lannister told Catelyn Stark, "I never bet against my family". Tyrion is filled with anger and resentment against the people of Kings Landing because he saved them against Stannis and they still turned on him. Thinks people of King's Landing deserved it. He saved them and were ungrateful (trial of Joffrey's murder) Will fall to his knees in the middle of the speech dragged down by the weight of his actions. His death was filmed in studio so not sure how he dies.

Tyrion's trial has a lot of extras... that's clear. A trial would need a lot of people present. I think it takes place before the council, and I think he ends up being declared innocent of the charges, but this, like so much of the season, happens off-screen.

I think it was written so that all the charges are laid against him and his jury are present to question him... but after the charges are given and Tyrion gives his public tirade, the director likely told the extras that the death would be filmed in studio. In reality, the ambiguous ending actually transitions to the council and we see Tyrion has been spared. I'm willing to bet his tirade about the city being ungrateful ends up being what saves him - he may have done what he did to save his family, but he tried to do it to save the city too.

Ending 3

Both Endings Combined: King's Council seems most likely as multiple scenes can be cheaply shot however few will have graphic effects or sound added. Friki's leaks were from the 7 months ago when they were filming. Friki is doubling down that it is a trial and because Tyrion's death isn't filmed, it may be both. Tyrion will have a trial, give a speech, and ultimately be spared and raised to the King's Council. On the other hand, if he is killed, it doesn't change the ending too much so it should be interesting.

The person compiling the leaks on freefolk seem to think that one of the endings could be wrong (probably Tyrion’s trial) though I think it’s right to create a third ending in which both events happen... because they clearly do.

Tyrion is eventually vindicated offscreen and receives the Westerlands.

So How Does the Next Episode Go?

We only know about the scenes film with a lot of extras or that have some level of special effects. Any scenes which would be between two people in an ordinary room (like Jon and Sansa’s scene in the solar) would not have been included in the leak. I also suspect Bran is narrating over a montage of scenes.

So unless the entire scene is special effects or has a lot of extras... we have a number of missing scenes. Here is the likely order of events and my speculation on what is missing.

Exposition - establishing the episode’s “normal world”

Tyrion walks through the destruction of the city.

Jon and Davos approach the Red Keep as Daenerys prepares to give her victory speech. They have a tense conversation about the horrors they witnessed.

Arya and Tyrion approach the army as they congregate for Daenerys’s speech.

Inciting Incident - very first conflict that occurs in the plot

Daenerys declares her victory. The Dothraki and Unsullied go wild when she says she is going to keep conquering cities and liberating the people, and it is clear the speech isn’t meant for the people of Westeros she had “liberated” but her two armies - the Dothraki who want to pillage, and the Unsullied who want to end slavery.

We see the reactions of Jon, Davos, Arya, and Tyrion. None of them are happy. It’s clear that Arya has made a decision.

Rising Action - 3 major events leading to the climax

Tyrion is publically arrested and tells Jon that his family will never be safe if Daenerys is Queen.

WINTERFELL/DAENERYS SCENE - Daenerys sends a letter demanding Sansa come to King’s Landing or we see her preparing to deal with Sansa herself. Both scenes wouldn’t need a lot of people and likely be done lowkey in private rooms. However, the audience also needs to know the stakes of what Tyrion said, so there must be another scene involved not yet leaked.

Jon finally sees Arya. She gives him his dagger and confirms what Jon already knows what he must do - kill Daenerys. However, he’s not sure he can and it is uncertain to the audience if he will do it or not. As an audience, we still aren’t certain if Jon is going to just go along with Daenerys or not - though we suspect and hope he will take Arya’s dagger.

Climax - Most suspenseful part of the plot. The turning point for the main character.

Jon confronts Daenerys either because he goes there of his own free will or is summoned to her court in the destroyed throne room. He tries to convince Daenerys not to do what she plans on doing. It could be referring to continuing her war across the world or even just calling Sansa to answer for her crimes.

Clearly Jon says something for Daenerys to believe he is on her side, likely pledge himself to her cause... or maybe agree to Sansa’s execution. Something where the audience isn’t sure if Jon is really going to go through with what Arya asked him to do.

Daenerys believes Jon really is in love with her, and she gets close to him - and that is when he stabs her. It’s clear Jon is choosing his family/realm over Daenerys.

Jon is devastated over his action, and surrenders himself immediately. Grey Worm is likely the person to encounter him first, but hell breaks loose because Drogon likely senses Daenerys is dead/dying and incinerates the room itself, going crazy. It’s possibly Drogon is killed in this moment, and it may result in Grey Worm realizing what cause he nearly pledged himself to - he does seem to make it to end of the show, so I assume he isn’t killed in battle.

Falling Action - 3 events or less that unravel the conflict between the protagonist and the antagonist to lead to the resolution.

Daenerys dying is clearly the climax... so what is Jon’s obstacle after her death? I think it’s going to be the guilt over killing her and everything that led up to that moment that Jon was involved in. He doesn’t think he is a good person. That means we have changed from Jon vs. the Night King and Jon. vs Daenerys to it really being Jon vs. himself - and the one thing he won’t accept about himself is being king... hmm...

The council is called to order from around Westeros, and we see Sansa, Arya, and Bran reunited. Arya probably tells Sansa that Jon has gone to the Wall to take the black... even though there is no more Night’s Watch. Sansa is probably devastated by this news. And also very confused... reminding her family and the audience that he should be King now.

We see Tyrion being put on trial, having been found imprisoned. It is used not to punish Tyrion, but as the final nail in the coffin to Dany’s madness when Tyrion goes into his tirade about trying to save the city. It’s left ambiguous as to what his sentence is.

Change to the council. Sam gives a speech about democracy, and the lords vote Bran in as the King of the Seven Kingdoms (or something like it) because he is memory or something? I think it’s going to be because Jon is supposed to be King, but he left, and now the lords of Westeros wonder what is going to happen to the leadership.

Either way, Sam probably gives a convincing argument. Tyrion is there as Lord of Casterly Rock. Bran gives a final speech, and we see a montage of everyone around Westeros rebuilding or leaving - The Unsullied go east (hopefully with the Dothraki!), and Arya leaves too. We see Sansa in the North. However, there is something clearly missing with this arrangement as Bran being King of the Seven Kingdoms and that doesn’t make much sense.

Let me ask you... has Jon’s final antagonist (himself) been addressed? Nope.

Resolution - The conflict is resolved and we see if the protagonist achieved his goal or not.

We see Jon at the Wall, but he’s not happy. He’s not fulfilled. He’s never accepted that Westeros needs a king like him, but something causes him to go back - probably Tormund.

Jon makes a decision to accept who he is and leaves the Wall because Westeros needs him. I think there is going to be some promise of another threat to Westeros, but I don’t know what it is yet.

Denoument - The tying of loose ends.

Jon still needs to become King. And a King needs a Queen.

Jon returns to Winterfell on his way south. He reunites with Sansa because she needs to reunite with someone to begin pledging his own cause as king... and who better than the woman who tried to make him king?

Jon is crowned in Winterfell alongside Sansa.

Perhaps a letter stating about him ascending to become King of the Seven Kingdoms is sent out, with Sansa as his queen.

I believe we may have a Jonsa ending because of what Sophie was given and has said about what she has given.

Sophie was gifted two items from the last episode: a scroll, and her storyboard. The scroll says something important, and the scroll looks like something banal or something that appears to have happened before.

However, Sophie also stated that it was a scene which resulted in every story arc coming to a really good close. While I may have some bones to pick with that, I really think she is referencing the endings to major characters and specifically what happens to the characters involved in her final scene. Jon has no closure unless he becomes King, and Sansa marrying him just makes a lot of sense.

#jonsa

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captainmazzic · 6 years ago

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So every now and again I get a message in my inbox asking about what I thought about such-and-such a thing in new canon, or if I’m intending on writing any meta or analysis on a particular subject in Star Wars. And sometimes I keep those messages sitting in my inbox for months (one has been sitting there for a little over a year), because I think, maybe I will feel comfortable doing in-depth meta again and I’ll wish I’d remembered what this message had asked. But as time goes by I don’t think that’s going to happen.

Okay. Real talk for a minute here. Bear with me as I’m long-winded and I don’t really have a concise way of communicating this. Potential political views and personal opinions on certain points in cinematic history below.

Short backstory first. I’m an older Star Wars fan. I was a tiny child when the last of the original trilogy came out, and both my parents are sci-fi nerds so I was practically raised on Star Wars. They are also tabletop RPG nerds so I was also raised on D&D and the like. So naturally when Star Wars tabletop RPGs were floating around I snapped them up and consumed them like candy. The novels were a natural extension of the RPGs, and I consumed those just as enthusiastically. The Expanded Universe was my bread and butter, and to this day I’m very nostalgic and fond of it even if most of it is quite laughably terrible.

Where am I going with this? Everything is a product of their time. The original trilogy was created when George Lucas was a young liberal-minded fresh-faced director looking to change the world and make his mark. This was the 70s, war was awful, the government was evil, hippies and protests were everywhere, and the only thing that seemed to have any hope of changing the world were small bands of spunky misfits with a mission and a message. And that mentality is one that shows, in the original Star Wars films. Lucas designed the Empire as a representation of the United States circa the Vietnam War, just dressed up in the fashion and ceremony of Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union. (Sources: Chris Taylor, How Star Wars Conquered the Universe, Pp. 87-88; Michael Ondaatje, The Conversations: Walter Murch and the Art of Editing Film, p.70) The message of the original trilogy boiled down to “the ability of a small group of people to defeat a gigantic power simply by the force of their convictions… no matter how small you are, you can defeat the overwhelmingly big power.” (quote: Walter Murch). He really struggled to get Star Wars onto the big screen, with a lot of setbacks and rejections, and many times when he thought it would never happen. But it did, and it was wildly successful. And I think in part it was because that message really spoke to people, and it didn’t hurt that it was wrapped up in a package with cool laser swords and explosions and space battles.

But then the 80s happened. And the 90s happened. And through that, what happened to Lucas is what happens to many people as they gain success, wealth, and fame as they grow older. The system started to work for him instead of against him. Suddenly the Powers That Be weren’t trying to suppress his ideas from getting to an audience; suddenly all those organizations that seemed so hell-bent on keeping him out were now enabling him to get and stay in, to conserve and gain influence; suddenly his opinion counted for so much it almost seemed god-like, especially in this galaxy far, far away that was unflowering under his direction and all-seeing eye. I guess the system isn’t so bad after all, eh?

And thus we have the Prequels. They can be a rollicking good time, but their message is muddled. Before them the books and the RPGs seemed to try as best they could to hold on to that earlier message of underdog vs. the powers-that-be (with the RPGs succeeding more often, imho), but they couldn’t continue in the face of their Ultimate Creator coming back in to make more SW movies. With the Prequels, suddenly the Old Republic is portrayed as noble and struggling instead of corrupt and dying, with a lot of hand-waving and “something something well actually” in regards to the role of the Jedi, the nature of the Senate, etc. There’s mixed messages where sometimes we get the old Star Wars back, with energetic groups of activists and freedom fighters trying to bring down the oppressors, but there’s also a lot of storytelling awkwardness where the audience is implored to trust the authorities and rely on the judgment of those with power over you within the same breath. This trend continues throughout the Clone Wars animation, and it is there that it becomes often so cognitively dissonant one wonders how you don’t get whiplash trying to follow whatever garbled message they think they’re communicating. And I think that’s where the Star Wars franchise really began to become a monster in its own right. Big businesses are hulking entities unto themselves, functioning like capitalist plutocracies within their host nations, and the Star Wars franchise is no exception. Whatever garbled message Lucas tried to send out with the Prequels grew amplified and even more confused with the Clone Wars, spread into the video games and the books, and continued to infect Star Wars as the franchise was turned over to the quintessential mega-plutocratic-empire, The Walt Disney Company.

And here we have the Sequel movies, the New Canon, and all of the disasters that come with them.

Disney walks a fine line between well-meaning family-friendly sugar and spice, and ruthless all-consuming hypercontroller of everything from arts and entertainment to food and clothes and government lobbying. Their bottom line is the dollar and the influence on – and power over – people’s lives that the dollar brings with it. Handing them a story whose original message was about people resisting the very kind of mammoth force that Disney embodies, and hoping that they will try to stay true to said original message, is hopeless and foolish at best and utterly disastrous at worst.

With the Sequels and subsequent movies, Disney pays good overt lip service to the original trilogy with things like Rogue One and the Rebels animation, which on the surface certainly do look like the same sort of message as the original trilogy. But scratch just below that surface and Disney is all about communicating that submitting to the authority of, say, higher Rebel command and following their orders even when it goes against your gut feeling (ex. Ezra Bridger in the Rebels animation), or that rebelling against an unjust government is only valid if it is done according to a strict but nebulous set of arbitrary rules and only if it is done in the service of a different unjust government that just happens to be slightly less evil than the one you’re trying to overthrow (ex. any iteration of the Old Republic ever, but I’m especially and particularly looking at you, Sequel-era Republic/Resistance and SWTOR Jedi/Republic).

And here is where I balk about ever doing meta on Star Wars again. I hate that this is the direction Star Wars is taking. I hate that New Canon feels like propaganda to me. I hate that I can’t enjoy any of this stuff if I take it for what it presents itself to be. I hate that the only way I truly can enjoy Star Wars now is by cherry-picking all of the tiny bits of window dressing that was pretty enough or interesting enough for me to want to look at it again, and very deliberately and consciously throwing out all the rest.

The experience of Star Wars that I create for myself is escapist and isolating, because it is so very tailor-made to what I can enjoy out of it now. When I go see a new Star Wars film or play a Star Wars game, I don’t actually see whatever story the franchise is trying to actually tell. I see bits and pieces that I can put together into something I can cope with better, something I can actually enjoy.

Examples include:

In Rebels, when the official franchise’s story killed off Maul. I cannot and will not acknowledge that, or function as though it happened. And I can’t really give my opinion on how not having Maul around will affect the future story, because I very literally do not care at all about any Star Wars where he is not in it.

In The Clone Wars, there are so many instances of Anakin Skywalker having agency and making decisions independent of the Jedi Council or without having their insipid code squarely in mind, where if he had made those decisions in a more realistic setting they would have turned out quite well, but what we get on screen is ominous background music and FoReShAdOwInG.

In The Last Jedi, I cannot fathom any reason why Yoda would be given the role that he was given, and find it a complete affront to Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker, who had every motivation, every reason, every right to have that role instead. So I can’t see that scene without him in it. I just… I don’t see it. It didn’t happen that way, and I find I cannot discuss it as it’s presented on-screen. I have nothing to say.

In the Sequel media, both books and movies, Supreme Leader Snoke is portrayed as a one-dimensional Saturday morning cartoon villain whose intended role in the story is blurred as the story progresses, and his death is completely nonsensical in regards to the buildup of information that we as an audience have gleaned about him. We see pieces of evidence that he could have actually cared about Kylo Ren that go nowhere in the actual story, and he ends up just being a scapegoat that gets thrown away halfway through the second sequel movie. I choose to see more in his character than what we were given in Actual Canon™, and thus see him very differently than what common discourse would allow. Because of this, if I discuss Snoke in mixed company I know that I will be called out as someone who advocates for only the limited cardboard-character that is portrayed on screen, instead of for the internalized view that I have personally built for him.

I know everyone’s personal view of a character or characters is different, because we all have different points of view. But there is often some sort of vague common ground in their portrayal that the author or storyteller was originally going for, that most people usually pick up on and base their opinions around. But what if some of the key characteristics that make up a character are just… things you choose not to see or are incapable of seeing, and your own personal view of that character becomes almost entirely different from the “original”? Probably the most benign example I can think of is Hera Syndulla. If I take what I see of her in canon, she infuriates me with how she treats her crew. But if I just decide that such-and-such a conversation never happened, or her decisions on such-and-such a mission were different than the on-screen one, she essentially becomes an alternate-universe version of herself. Only that this version is one that I can tolerate, and it is the only version I see anymore.

How does one communicate that my entire experience of Star Wars is as an AU?

And on and on it goes. Discussing meta and Actual Canon Events™ as portrayed on screen and on printed page has become nothing but a migraine headache to me. I cannot engage in discourse, because I am very much not seeing what everyone else is seeing and talking about, nor do I care to. I just… I can’t keep talking about the same stupid things over and over again. I can’t keep screaming into the void about the unsustainability of the Sith or the Jedi, about the complete inequality and corruption that would have to be absolutely omnipresent in the Republic for it to even be remotely realistic even by cartoon standards, about the inevitability of the Republic turning into an Empire, about the weird dissonance given to the concept of the Force that would end up making both the Jedi and the Sith’s case baseless and weak, etc. etc. ETC. It’s exhausting, it’s stressful, and for something that I’m here to try to enjoy, it’s not even remotely enjoyable.

The very core of the matter is that I love the Star Wars universe. I love the worlds, I love the aliens, I love the ships and the droids and the technology and the concept of the Force. I love the characters. I love all of these things, and sometimes I even love the plots and stories (thank you Chuck Wendig and Timothy Zahn). But I just can’t enjoy digging into the meta of it anymore.

So if you like what I post of my own personal Star Wars-brand AU, by all means dig right in. But I don’t think I can do anymore general meta or discourse. I’m sticking with fanart and fanfic.

#sarc speaks #long post #text post #sarc talks about star wars #star wars meta #kind of #this thing is extremely unpolished and I'm not communicating what I want very clearly #but this is the best i can do

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