#ambrose arendsen

[itlurkswithin]

"I trusted you."

@notsolittleruby

[notsolittleruby]

itlurkswithin​:

A17 years since Alexis remembered who he was — 17 years, and many, many more before that, he had been lost to her. She had been all alone in a strange land when the curse broke with nothing but a young boy, her son, by her side. No family, no friends. Not that she ever really had them back home anyway, but nonetheless she at least had connections there. Waiting tables, bar tending, dancing; Alexis done what she could to get by.

Her son had grown up always hearing about his Father; Alexis had nothing to hide. Ethan often heard tales of the short life the pair had together, if you could call it a life. It wasn’t the typical parent dynamic people often heard of — their life together wasn’t exactly together, in the romantic partnership sense of the word anyway. Their bond transcended a typical friendship. There was romantic-styled affection, sexual attention, and deep-rooted love for the other — though all were platonic. They could have grown old together, Ethan’s parents, and raised the child in some strange romantically tinged platonic dynamic, but some people were fated for others.

Finally she had come across this little town. Alexis had managed to track down blind spots in the country where magic from the Enchanted Forest was often held. Some were nothing, just strange energies that lingered in deserts or mountains, or an odd shack that lay abandoned in the trees. Storybrooke was the first populated place she had encountered so far and that was enough to spark hope within her.

There had been talk of a man that fit her description as she approached random passerby’s on the street — Alexis was not afraid of embarrassment, usually neither was her son but this was enough to make him retreat within himself. “Mom, please stop. I don’t think we’re going to find anything.” Ethan groaned, “You haven’t even seen the man in decades. You have no idea if how you’re describing him is even right — he could be an asshole.”

Alexis only chirped, “Well I’m sure we’ll find out, won’t we?” Paying him no mind she continued  to march down the street.

Ethan could hardly understand why she was so adamant in finding his Father. Though she had told him time and time again he chose to ignore it. You need help. He will be good for you. You deserve to know who he is — for him to know who you are. By this point Ethan had gone beyond holding out hope that his Father would be found. He was happy enough with what he had, and besides he didn’t need help.

Alexis looked up from the torn paper, scanning the house numbers before she caught her match, the scrawled number staring back at her. “This is it! Ok,” Straightening herself out quickly her hand swiped away any stray hairs that fell upon her face. “How do I look? Ready?”

“Perfect, yeah.” His eyes rolled as Alexis took to swiping his jacket clean.

A solid knock sounded through the street. Barely a moment passed before Alexis tried again —noticing the car in the drive way she wasn’t backing down this time.

“Mom, give them a—“

Can I help?

A slender dark haired woman appeared in the door way, an air of shiftiness hanging from her as she peered out at the Mother and Son.

Alexis wasn’t naive. She hadn’t assumed it would be that easy to find him. There was still work to be done. A purposefully sweet smile plastered across her face in an attempt at friendliness.

“Hi! So sorry to disturb you but do you happen to know of a man named Ambrose Arendsen? He’s about yeigh high, slim build, slightly dark blonde-ish hair?” It would have been easier for her to point to Ethan to explain his Father’s appearance; the pair looked near identical.  Instead her eyes flitted to her son, smiling reassuringly, only to be met with an uncomfortable look in return.

The few seconds that fell after the woman had spoke seemed to last an eternity. She felt as if some practical joke was being played on her. Opening her mouth to speak, nothing but a sharp inhale of breath seemed to take the form of words. Ruby’s eyes must have darted between the pair a thousand times before the smile returned to her face. “I-” a quick cough followed her words, placing the letter opener in her back pocket. “Sorry you just-”

Just breath Ruby.

Her gaze had now been set upon the boy, searching his features for a clue as to why they were there. With each blink Nikolai seemed to take his place, panic taking place in her mind. This boy looked all too familiar to her. The same boyish charm Sam held, but with a more distinguished air of Ambrose. Who could this be?

Ruby was not ready for another family member to come crashing through the door, she toyed with the idea of closing the door on them and bolting it shut. Running away from anymore problems that could arise in this situation. But her ill fated nature to help people had proved too strong to ignore. Perhaps this one wouldn’t be a homicidal maniac.

Placing a hand back on the door, she began to draw it ever so slightly closed, leaning on the door frame as she looked between the two once more. Ruby’s eyes finally settled on the woman before her, hoping she would not spot the family photo that had resided behind the door. “Yes,” finally words exited her mouth. “As a matter of fact I do.” The confidence had returned to her form, she could not sense anything out of the ordinary with this woman. The boy however...

“Has he done something wrong?” A polite smile crept back onto her face, her eyes bright with wonder. “I can pass on a message for you if you would like?” Ruby had become all too familiar with strangers knocking on the door for her family, whether it be someone who wished to take Poppy on a date or a girl asking after Sam.

Ambrose, however, had been the only one to ever bring trouble to the door. Or created trouble at the door. Grilling the boy that stepped so sheepishly onto the porch, asking politely for their daughter, shouting at Doctor Whale when he came asking for Ruby. Nikolai. It seemed to be a never ending train of bad luck.  Noah seemed to be the only one to keep trouble wherever it landed; Away from the house.

Ruby’s mind began to search the air for answers, what was it about this boy that made her uneasy. He was no child of the moon, she would have caught onto his scent, instead he smelt almost salty. Nothing like she was used to, the essence of the city seemed to linger on them both more than anything.

Eyes once again settled on the boy, unable to shake the feeling of familiarity towards him. Ruby felt herself in awe of the resemblance, eyes scanning his body for something to throw her away from her realisation. Eventually, her smile curled into a smirk, a small chuff of a laugh exiting her body. “Oh dear,” she whispered, a hand reaching up to cover her mouth. Her usual routine would require her to offer them shelter and perhaps a drink, keep her dirty laundry from the yard. Yet now she stood her ground, guarding her home from any possible intruders. “You look just like him.”

[itlurkswithin]

Ambrose Arendsen

Ambrose Arendsen was brought into the world with one purpose and one purpose only — to be his Father’s monster. But for the kind son of Emilia Arendsen, being a monster was not his destiny. Much to Nikolai’s dismay.

The young Siren grew up never having known his Mother, the memories that he may have once had wiped clean from his mind like a blank slate. Only one, however, remained. One that sometimes made the boy wonder if it was ever really real at all. A part of him hoping, perhaps, that it was just a nightmare.

Much of Ambrose’s teenage years were on auto-pilot, following the beck and call of his Father. Doing his bidding, quenching both their thirsts with the unfortunate women that crossed their paths. It wasn’t until he came upon another Siren that the course of his life changed.

Gwenivere Cross’ appearance created a ripple affect of change; soon after the wolf pack appeared and nothing would ever be the same.

After facing the unfortunate deaths of two of the biggest catalysts in his life (one of them being committed by himself), Ambrose was heartbroken and grief-stricken. Unable to face himself and what he was the Siren starved himself of contact, of life, from all beings until finally his Father had enough.

A night of truth and betrayal came to a head, leaving Ambrose at the receiving end of Nikolai’s wrath. And just as Ambrose thought his life was coming to an end, it was his Father who fell before him. Unknown to Ambrose were the mysterious forces that had shared that night with the two Arendsen men — that had saved his life that night.

Rebirth was on the horizon, but first Ambrose had to suffer greatly. Even when he thought he could suffer no more. Escaping into the mountains Ambrose came across a cave in the thick of the woodland. His body was weak — his skin drawn tightly across his skull, so tight one would expect a cheekbone to come piercing through. As he fell to the damp floor of the cave Ambrose gave in to the earth. He allowed it to consume him, he wanted it to consume him. This was his end. He would not hurt anyone any longer; he would not hurt any longer. It was over at last.

But the firefly sprites native to the cave would not let him go. One by one their light appeared, illuminating the mouth of the cave until there was darkness no more. In his delirium Ambrose could not wonder, nor could he fight them, as they came to his aide. Instead Ambrose was consumed by their luminous rays, nourished by the sap of the glowing fungi that sprouted from the stone walls.

Ambrose couldn’t be sure how long he spent in that cave but when he did leave it was the beginning of a new life for the Siren.

One filled with lust, love, and fate.

[itlurkswithin]

@notsolittleruby

[itlurkswithin]

Abs ft. The Arendsen’s 

[itlurkswithin]

The First Sons

[itlurkswithin]

Gwenivere Cross

The Siren with a thirst that was very rarely quenched — that would be Gwenivere Cross. Never stopping long enough to call somewhere home, Gwen was known as the wayward Siren. Known only in passing by her fellow kind and not an inch more. Hard to pinpoint and even harder to trace; it came as no surprise when nobody noticed her absence from the Water-Tribe’s territories.

Following the little information she’d discovered about the few Siren’s before her that transitioned to land, Gwen set out onto the Mainland with a vision in mind.

Though she respected the traditions of her kind, Gwenivere was a progressive Siren (well, as progressive as a traditional Siren could be). Sensing the possibilities and expansion her kind could be awarded from mingling with mortals, the Siren lust for life knew no bounds.

Gwen searched every corner of the land for a possible mate, from the mountaintops to the seasides, leaving the husks of men and women alike in her wake. With a high level of determination that was only ever matched by her unwillingness to settle, the Siren found it easy to acquire a person — keeping them alive, however, was another story.

It wasn’t until she caught eyes with a handsome blond across the tavern that Gwen finally settled. Which is not to say it was quite that easy at first. Glances were exchanged throughout the night as the pair more or less sat alone. It wasn’t until the Tavern turned everyone out that they finally crossed paths.

The air was brisk, a chilling wind biting at Gwen’s skin in the insidiously darkened lane. The sensation of his gaze still prickling her skin though it had been minutes since she had caught it. There was no doubt in Gwen’s mind that the young man’s eyes were still placed on her.

“I know you’re there.” She spoke coolly, and through the silent street her words clung to the stone walls.

The man came to an abrupt stop, his eye’s narrowing as he mulled over the situation. There was a full street between them yet she felt his presence as if he were at her heel.

Gwen stood with her back to him for a moment, revelling in her power. When she did turn, he was there. In a blink the world had gone silent, in a blink he was mere inches from her; no wind, nor the hammering of a heartbeat pounded in their ears.

There was a sliver of fear in him, she felt, as her hand reached up to rest upon his jaw. There was no mistaking the veins that had appeared like crow’s feet from her eyes, and none so from the blackness that creeped its way to colour his.

Arendsen, she was later told. Ambrose Arendsen.

And Gwen had known that name before — had not forgotten that name that had rippled through the waters of the territories on one fateful night.

And she would not forget that name. Not even in death.

[itlurkswithin]

Visions of Iron & Wine

An Ethan Porter-Arendsen Short 

Dreams didn’t seem to be much of an occurrence for Ethan Porter-Arendsen, infact he didn’t tend to sleep much at all. If he did, at least, the numbers on his alarm clock greeted him with each hour he woke. One night as Ethan had drifted off to sleep, alone in his studio apartment, he had an experience like never before — A dream that pushed the boundaries into reality a little too well.

The smell of dampness hung in the air of what appeared to be a dingy cellar. Exposed stone made up the floor beneath him with barrels and shelves lining the walls that glistened with moisture. Ethan’s arms crossed over his chest, hugging his torso tightly as he shivered. Never had he felt cold quite like this; the chill seemed to penetrate down to the core of his bones. Breath escaped him in a fog that hung in the air as he observed his peculiar surroundings.

Soon after the dampness came the familiar scent of wine and ale, that which had been spilled across the floor leaving darkened patches in its wake. Lingering beneath it was an odd smell, one that caused Ethan’s nostrils to flare and twitch as it filled his lungs. Metallic, almost like iron — What was this smell? Something within forced him to move forward; the room was empty yet he felt a presence. A few feet away on the ground was a darkened shape that held depth. It hadn’t been there a moment ago, at least that’s what Ethan believed.

An oil lamp was all that illuminated the room, the light from it hanging low. Ethan forced his stiff body towards its direction, there was a sense of dread; this dream had already lasted too long.

As his arm reached out to grasp it Ethan recoiled in pain, knocking the lamp from its post and sending it crashing to the ground. Clutching his chest he cried out. From the shadows behind him a man of almost mirroring features appeared — Dad. Much like a parent to their new born child, Ambrose heard his son’s cry. Ethan’s chest felt like a bed of needles being relentlessly thrust upon him, the force causing him to double over into his father’s arms.

But Ambrose said nothing, his mouth seemed unable to form words, yet his face said enough — a look of utter sadness and despair. All his father could do was support him as Ethan gripped his form for support.

Ethan could breath, he was breathing, yet still he gasped and thrashed around like a fish out of water. He felt an inconceivable pain but nothing was wrong with him, no blood nor sign of injury. Tumbling backwards, Ethan sent them both to the floor as his Father tried his best to support his distressed boy, cradling him tightly through Ethan’s desperate tugging of his shirt.

There was an overwhelming need for help, help, help — It was all that seemed to run through Ethan’s mind as he spiralled further into this blind panic.

“Dad—“ He gasped, “Dad!”

Ethan woke with a start — his chest aching with a pounding heart that’s vibrations would have surely sent a house quaking. The room had returned to what would be expected, his small apartment. Barely a minute was all Ethan allowed himself to breathe for, as he readjusted to normality, before he reached for his phone. But as he dialled his Mother’s number he quickly realised — it was no use; he couldn’t call her anyway.

With a slam the phone hit the bedside table as Ethan finally reclined back, regaining his breath.

What was that?

It was a dream like no other, almost like a warning — but of what? Ethan couldn’t be sure, and as he lay there stumped, recalling the events he seemed to have lived out only moments ago, he realised there was nothing he could do about it. In any case Alexis wouldn’t be back for at least another couple weeks. Whatever it was, whatever it meant, would have to wait until then.

Being so spooked by a dream, it almost felt ridiculous to him. As he made his way to the bathroom Ethan’s chest twinged with each overextension of his torso. 

He whipped cold water onto his face and, through blurry eyes, inspected the area the pain seemed to radiate from, wiping the mirror clean of its smudges — but one smudge declined to fade. Ethan frowned, wiping it again, but still it did not clean. It wasn’t until he traced his eyes down his chest that he saw it: the lone red droplet that clung to his skin.

It was just a dream.

[notsolittleruby]

Eyes quickly travelled the room, she was alone. The wolf was alone with him. Her mind raced with all the possibilities of what she could do. She could become the horror story people made her out to be, destroy the man in front of her. One chomp of her jaws and his head would be cleared of his shoulders; she would personally escort him back to the gates of hell.

If a wolf could laugh, it would be now she would interject it into his speech. Calling her a lost pup, a little dog. How dare he treat her like this. Nikolais words sounded like music to her ears, something she had guessed to be a Sirens trait. Yet something about it made her feel uneasy, as if she had eaten something her human stomach couldn’t handle.

The more he spoke, the more confused the wolf became. Had he got back into her head? Did he want her to do his bidding? She would not let him in, not again. Who knows what he had in plan this time. Would he make her fight her husband? Would he make her harm her children? She would not let him in.

The wolf snarled the more Nikolai spoke, she hated to admit it, but she did not give him the credit he deserved. Nikolai had one hell of a way with words. Her whole body shook with anger, shifting her entire body's weight onto her right paw, the paw she had placed on the man’s chest earlier. The blood seeped down the side of the wound, glistening in the dimly lit room. He was right, she did want to taste his blood. But Ruby was no Beast.

Snout practically touching his nose, she took one last look at him. Pathetic, clinging onto life. He wanted so much for his plan to work out, he would sacrifice himself. Just to be met by his son in the afterlife, so the torture would continue.

A quick bark left her form, echoing in the room around them. The sound seemed to bounce off every surface. Every shard of broken glass screaming back into her ears. Her claws dug deeper into his wounds, listening to the man’s life leave his body was one of the greatest pleasures she had ever had the chance to experience. Or so she thought.

The man’s eyes had dropped close, his body feeling limp beneath her. Finally. The wolf bounced, taking a few steps back before waiting in silence for any signs of life. She knew he was a smart man and would play any card to ensure he got what he wanted, but not this time. No heartbeat.

The commotion outside caused her ears to twitch. Noah and Poppy’s breathing barely made it outside before she noticed them . They were safe at least.

Paws carried her silently through the halls, watching each step she took for the broken glass that had scattered the floors. Gods the mess.

A slight grumble left her lips as she got closer to her two youngest, letting them know she was safe. The three stood in the doorway, the wolf's paw raised in anticipation to move forward, and bring themselves into the eye line of their relatives. Something held her back, the saltiness of tears in the air. Looking at her children, they looked back at her, horror in their eyes. But no tears.

“She left me.”

The world seemed to collapse around Ruby. Was he talking about her? A single tear formed in her eye, falling down her face as she blinked them from her eyes. Only now did she curse the wolf for not having the ability to wipe them away.

Poppy stepped forward, placing a single hand on her mother’s shoulder. “It’s okay. He doesn’t mean it, you know that.”

Shaking off her daughter, her ears pinned flat to her head. Stepping into the moonlight, she looked over at her family quarrelling before her. A low growl emitted from her, letting Sam know she was there. Poppy and Noah had followed closely. Poppy seemed ready for the fight, ensuring Noah could stand alone before stepping away.

Sams quick actions stopped his sister from jumping in just yet, he had waited for Ambrose to attack, yet it had not come yet. He stood glaring at him, each of the Lucas-Arendsens waiting for him to make a move — to stop him from whatever he had thought to do.

@notsolittleruby

Nikolai. Ambrose tried not to think of the name often. It was more familiar to him than the term Father, at least. So much so that when the latter was used in conversation nothing sprung to mind. Like a blank canvas his thoughts lacked shape or form. It proved difficult to completely wipe Nikolai from his memory, however. The once scorched skin that had healed over many years before was the final, and sole, reminder of his Father’s existence. A three-pronged spear of the god Poseidon — a Trident. The Siren’s mark. Avoiding mirrors at all costs only done so much. The slight brush against his scar when his wife touched his chest, the glances and questions from his children (namely a certain daughter of his) — it was hard for Ambrose not to regard it. The scar was placed perfectly over his heart, and that had been no mistake.

It had been given to him as a result of the worst night of his life, or perhaps it had been the opposite. Ambrose was a Siren unleashed upon the world for the first year of his adult life, and with that came silent and ravaging devastation in the shadows of his town. His thirst for energy, life, had grown more and more and though Ambrose had been the highly perceptive type (even more so than other Siren’s) he was bound to run into trouble sooner or later. The addiction to this ecstasy caused him to drop his guard for the smallest of moments. A screaming child, when met with the sight of their dying mother being feasted upon, broke the crazed Siren’s hold and humanity (that which would later be criticised as his Mother’s genetics) seeped it’s way into the boy’s darkened heart. Horrified with himself he fled. His very essence was covered in guilt, his body quickly turning gaunt from his new-found lack of appetite. It didn’t take long for Nikolai to catch on and when he did chaos ensued.

Confronted with his Father’s forceful and overly traditional Sirenic beliefs, Ambrose experienced his old reality breaking away — one he could now hardly understand, much less comprehend. To his Father’s utter disgust, his son vehemently denied to partake in their way of life from then on. It was at that moment he lunged at his boy, pinning Ambrose to the floor  and — with much struggle — seared the sigil from his signet ring onto his son’s chest. Ambrose could never deny his lineage now, and though he screamed in pain Nikolai had not finished with him yet. As a result of a Siren’s bloodthirsty rage his eyes turned black, the veins dark and creeping from his eyes. His hand pressed firmly to Ambrose’s skin as he attempted to leech life from him. How could he insult his Father like this? After all he had taught him. Nikolai’s frustration grew as his son clung on to life. The gasps escaping his mouth had been quickly choked out by his Father’s persistent hand as it clutched around his throat. In a final effort Ambrose tried with all his might to bat off Nikolai’s energy as it attempted to consume him, and as he finally let go the light from his redeeming heart was no match for his dark and hollowed Father’s. When Nikolai’s drained body fell against him all Ambrose could do was weep.

As he went about his life from then on he couldn’t help but remember the feeling of, what some would call, his Father trying to kill him. A confusing concoction of ease and guilt arose in him all too often — the regret of what he had done to these women, the relief of breaking free from his father, the difficult feelings of murdering him. And it was the same that morning as it always had been. Looking into the mirror and seeing his scar.

[notsolittleruby]

Mood Board : Ambrose Arendsen 

@itlurkswithin

[notsolittleruby]

itlurkswithin​:

Ambrose wanted nothing more than to embrace his children right now, apologise for what he had done. As his memories had been mostly restored, his true inner voice came back to him.

Noah. The boy was already sensitive, he had always feared his Siren abilities; What would this have done to him? Much like Ambrose’s worst fear having been lived out, the same could be said for Noah — He looked into the face of the man he trusted most in the world, the man that had always protected him and reassured him, and was met with his own living nightmare. The thought haunted Ambrose as he clung to his wife.

Now restored to her human form Ambrose welcomed Ruby’s touch, leaning into the hands that cradled his face ever-so gently. His eyes were sunken, skin scuffed and bruised; his clothes tattered and bloody. The adrenaline rush that had accompanied his manic, fiendish, compulsion had since faded, only to be replaced by an emotional comedown. Ambrose hadn’t known it till now, but he had longed for her loving gaze — ached for a glimpse of the natural comfort she instilled just by simply interacting with him. Ambrose wanted to hold her in his arms and never let go, to have the kids huddle around the pair and lay that way forever. Instead he found himself being the one that was held but just as he had hoped his children soon followed. The boys were stiff, doing their best to keep the groans of pain within them so not to upset their Father more.  Poppy seemed to move as fast as she could manage on her knees. Arms wrapped fully around her parents, the tightest embrace one could ever feel. Practically choking the life out the pair, she squished her face between them.

Although Noah felt like his top half may part ways with the bottom at any given moment he still relished in the relief and contentment of seeing his parents together again — no more fighting, just love. Before their embrace he and Sam had been admiring their Mum and Dad’s reconciliation, huddled together on the grass as they recuperated. It wasn’t often that children could honestly say their parents loved one another, or that they even understood each other, but the Lucas-Arendsen’s were lucky and for that Noah was thankful.

As much as he wanted to release all his worries as the family embraced, Noah could not shake the feeling that continued to linger deep within him. The feeling that caused his stomach to sink every so often, with a jump and skip of his heart beat to follow. The same feeling he had that morning; something was wrong.

Ambrose cut Ruby off, “No…no, please Ruby. None of this was your fault,” The pair were like lovers that had gone too far in a heated argument, immediately regretting their choices and insisting that they themselves were to blame. Both hands reached out to cup his wife’s cheeks, a kiss quickly placed to her forehead, “I didn’t mean what I said. It wasn’t you, it was Nikolai. You didn’t know what you were doing. I should have known better, I should have been better at handling him.” Seeing Ruby cry had always hurt Ambrose’s heart. It was an immediate reaction for him to want to fix whatever was upsetting her, do anything he could to ease her — this was how it had always been.

He had gotten himself back, perhaps not fully yet but in this moment he wanted to be the Father he should have been: the protector, the carer. Ambrose wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, soaking the material, and finally looked to his children. Retrieving his hands from his wife Ambrose pulled his arms back to embrace the triplets. “I’m sorry, kids. I’m so sorry.” His words were sincere, and a kiss on each of their heads accompanied them. Once again salted tears began to drip silently down his cheeks.

Ambrose had assumed Ruby’s next words were to only be apologies. He had thought nothing more in that moment till he felt the unease within his youngest. The same unease that had tortured the boy earlier. The question that had rung in Ambrose’s mind earlier now resurfaced. Before the words could begin to form in his mouth their much needed family reunion was rudely interrupted.

“Well, well…isn’t this touching?” Nikolai stood in the entrance way to the house looking more dead than alive. Blood had coated his stolen shirt, the wolf’s claw marks clearly visibly from the large tears in the fabric. Pain was quite clearly worn on his face as he slowly hobbled down the steps to the garden. Perhaps his time with the living was beginning to run out. “You thought I was dead? Like you could kill the likes of me, you mutt.” Nikolai’s tactics of sly mind games had clearly not worked out the way he had planned them to, and for that the Siren was visibly agitated.

The sudden absence of their son felt all too familiar. Noah had always struggled to be apart of a family that held so many secrets and abilities between them. Perhaps even the world’s strongest family. Ruby had only glanced away from the door for a second to check on her son before she noticed the dread within his eyes. 

Worry covered her features as the faint wisp of a pained breath met her ears. One she had not initially recognised, or perhaps even wished not to recognised. The stench of salt filled the air once more, heavily mixed with the blood of a non beating heart. How could this be? Ruby was so sure she had watched the life drain from him. 

That was it. There was no life to drain, this man was already dead and had lopped Ruby into another one of his mind games. she was so concerned for her husband and children’s wellbeing she did not notice the moving body as she stepped away from the room. His scent had even placed itself on her cape and she had not noticed. The stupidity that fell from her today almost embarrassed her. Regina was right, Love is Weakness. 

Nikolai’s words rang through the air, the pain clearly visible within each syllable he spoke.  Shivers raced across her body once more, this time they held no familiarity, no love. Only vengeance. 

You mutt. 

Ruby had rose from her position, standing over her family in an attempt to protect them. It was her duty to ensure nothing more was to happen to them. She glanced over to her children, hoping they had shielded themselves away from him. Instead they too stood behind her, hovering over their father. He did not deserve anymore pain today. 

A shaky breath left her form once Noah had finally stood behind her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She wished she could tell them all to leave, this was her fight. Yet she knew it would not work. Ambrose was too headstrong to let a man like this take over their family so easily. He hated Nikolai more than she could ever imagine, and being here would only make that emotion stronger. 

The triplets also held their own vengeance, Poppy raring to go. She had been lucky on one hand, she must have been stronger than the rest in this moment. Even Ruby had sensed the blood that had began to fall from her neck. Nikolai had dug in too hard for her to handle, yet still she stood, ready to attack. 

“Mutt?” she spat, fists clenching at her sides. “Only a fool would taint such creatures.” A large gulp followed her words, lifting her head in a way she could look down to him now. “Look at yourself Nikolai. Its over, you lose. You have lost everything. Ambrose is not yours to control. He is his own, he is free.” Raw emotion must have been visible on her face, she had never felt such passion towards protecting a group of people more than now. “Why can’t you just be happy for the man he has become? He is more than you will ever be, he is strong and caring and a loving father. What happened to you?” 

Ruby had not wished to taint him, instead she wished to understand why he was like this. He held no control, no higher ground to them. Outnumbered and outplanned. The only emotion she conveyed towards him was empathy and sorrow. 

[notsolittleruby]

itlurkswithin​:

The Arendsen’s grappled each other, slamming against the walls of the narrow hall. Picture frames that held sweeter memories crashed to the floor leaving glass shards in its wake. They didn’t always move fast. It was as if they both held random pockets of energy that would release in a flash; quick movements followed by a still struggle. The one thing that stayed constant was their strength. Wood splintered off the door frame as a body crashed past it; chips of paint and plaster from the walls littered the men’s shirt, the fine particles lingering to dust the air.  

Finally they fell through the kitchen door. With Ambrose scrambling to gain the upper hand, he pressed a knee to Nikolai’s chest, “Why— Why couldn’t you have just left us alone?” A hard crack sounded as Ambrose’s fist met his father’s cheek. “You ruined me. You ruined my beginning — and I thought I was finally getting it, the life I deserved, and now you’re turning it against me.” Another punch landed. This time blood began to pour from his Father’s nose. Suspiciously, Nikolai didn’t struggle beneath his son— instead he lay there, taking the punches — though with Ambrose being too wrapped up in his emotions, he hadn’t seemed to notice.

It was a process of letting go. Each time his fist landed another punch, each time a sentence left his now raw throat, Ambrose was letting go. His composure. His peace. His control. And this was not the freeing kind, it was the damaging one. The kind where a man could lose himself in the darkness.

With hands wrapped tightly around his Father’s neck, the white of Ambrose’s knuckles began to show. The bones appeared desperate to tear through the skin. Rage dripped from the man as sweat began to form upon his brow. He was doing it. He was killing his Father once more — but this time he had chose to.

This feeling that had once been familiar felt like a stranger to him now — wanting to kill, needing to kill — and although Ambrose knew what needed to be done the innate knowing he shared for his old, savage ways disrupted him. Tears began to form as his angst had reached its boiling point. Why had his Father brought him into this world? He didn’t want a son, he wanted a soldier. Nikolai wanted to be a King.

Ambrose could see now the man had barely struggled. Nikolai wanted Ambrose to do it again. He wanted him to feel this way once more. All he had done was play his Father’s game once again.

With a slam Nikolai’s body ricocheted off the hard kitchen floor, leaving a twisting crack upon it.

Exhausted Ambrose rose, hunching over the kitchen counter. His mind had started to lose its grip on reality. The past he had feared creeping its way back to torment him. Now bloodied, his hands thrashed wildly against the cupboard beneath him, leaving red smears to follow. Loud groans of frustration escaped his mouth as he wept.

Out of nowhere Ambrose felt his Father’s strong grip twist his body. A forceful knee to the gut followed by a sharp elbow sent Ambrose to the floor where Nikolai had lay moments before.

“Look at you. You’re a terrible excuse for a son. A terrible excuse for a Siren. You weep like a child.” Spit hit Ambrose’s face with each word he shouted, “You want to know why I killed Gwenivere? She was a distraction. A worthless woman. You were mine. You done my bidding. No one else’s.” Ambrose struggled beneath his grip, reaching for the man’s throat, his eyes — anything to make this moment stop. “And what you saw of her body is how you are going to leave your wife. Your children. They’re going to leave you anyway Ambrose. In fact, that’s probably why Ruby left — to take them away from you. The monster that murdered her Father.” The word “no” fell from Ambrose’s lips continuously as he failed to drown out Nikolai’s words. “You’re a killer. It’s what you were born to be — and you will fulfil that destiny.”

Poppy placed both hands on her mother’s arms, staring deeply into her eyes. For now, Ruby had stopped fighting, instead her vision raced between the triplets as they stood before her. Ambrose had taught the children many ways to disarm a compulsion; Memories. 

“Would you like the long version or the short version?” Noah stood beside his brother, laughing gently at him with each word he spoke. “The dead are popping up around the town, mum is under our grandfathers contro-” 

Sam had been abrupt with his words. “Our Grandfather?” Brow furrowed, he looked between his siblings, “As in, Dads Dad?” Of course it would be, as far as he was aware his mother’s father was only a werewolf. There had been no trace of siren heritage on her side. 

“Well,” Noah smiled sheepishly at his brother. “He’s kind of a dick and-”

“Kind of!” Poppy shot a look of despair at the two. “The man outright called our father a murderer, compulsed mum to do- I don’t even know what but she keeps humming that song she used to sign to us when we were little. The one she still sings to you when you’ve had a bad day.” Poppy huffed, blowing away the few strands of hair that had fallen into her face.

“Where’s dad?” Sam stopped, dropping his belongings on the floor. “Where is dad?” His voice rose, glaring at Poppy. “You left him!?” Eyebrows raised, he stepped closer to his sister. “We do not know the power that man holds in this world, or even if dad can fight him off and both of you came after mum!” A loud sigh escaped his mouth. “Oh my gods.” 

“Dad told us too.” Poppy had released their mother, who now stood between the three more puzzled than before. “She doesn’t even know who we are.” 

“I do, I just-” Ruby struggled with the words, “I don’t know why i’m here.” Shaking her head, she glanced over at the strangers who had now come a little closer to inspect the situation. 

“The song,” Noah braced himself, expecting to be interrupted. “I can do this.” Reaching out for his mothers hand, his shoulders dropped, the weight of the world had been lifted. “Dad always told us that memories, fond memories, where the best way to break the trance - she’s thinking about us when we were little, doing things she used to comfort us, I can do this.” A sweet smile appeared on his face, “Mum, why don’t we sit down, and you can tell me the story of how you met dad. It’s one of our favourites.” Noah had began leading his mother towards one of the benches. It was clear Ruby had some thought in her mind of a siren, bringing her to the docks, looking over to where her husband had once worked. The place they managed to refresh their happy ending. “Go get dad, let me know if anything changes. We’ll be there as soon as possible. Go.”  Noah had only said the words once before the pair bolted off back towards the house. Although he was not the strongest of the three, he was the most compassionate. 

Confusion and fear seemed to be the only emotion his mother was able to convey. “I remember when we were younger, you would sneak us snacks granny had made into our rooms at night, and how happy you looked when we all offered to share.” A small smile had resided on Ruby’s lips. “And the way you would look at dad when you told us stories of your past, especially the ones that involved violence.” A giggle had been shared by the two before Ruby’s gaze had adjusted itself to her son. “Or how you help me during wolfstime when im-”

“Too scared to do it, so I give you my red cape and tell you to stay with your father.” Tears had emerged in Ruby’s eyes, gripping onto her sons hand tightly. “I remember.” A small shudder danced across her frame, shaking her head at the fuzzy feeling that had resided in her head. “What happened? Where is Poppy?” A nonchalant feeling had washed over her, quickly to be replaced by panic as she released her sons hand. “Where is your father?”