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suchalonelysunflower · 3 years ago

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The Siren’s Song (c.h)

Where The Storm Gathers - Chapter 3

Pairing: Stable Lad! Calum Hood x Princess! Reader

Summary: A glance of hope stands in the distance as Y/N and Calum set sails to see some old friends, but the waters are not as calm as they seem.

Warnings: Mentions of murder; Torture; Violence; Blood; Abuse; Sickness; Manipulation; Language; Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 7.5 K

Author’s Note: Had to divide the chapter into two, you’ll understand why next week ;) This is the last boring chapter, I promise. Remember that Reblogs, Feedback, Comments and Likes help a lot (please help out of this ban!) 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My Materialist // tag list on bio!

Book 2 Materialist || Prologue || Chapter one || Chapter two

Ashton could hear the distant sound of thunder rumbling all over the kingdom. He thought that if he could hear that, then maybe the storm was closer than anyone could anticipate. He hasn’t seen the rain in months, let alone the sun.

He got himself into this mess, he thought. He should’ve fought harder and stopped being so naive in regards to his father.

Ever since Y/N left, he made sure to let everyone know exactly the type of person the King of RoseWood was. Letters were sent and crows were removed from their positions in different courts. Ashton would look for allies to his cause; allies that could potentially help him to take the power from his father once and for all.

It was not Ashton’s plan to take the crown at such a young age, he never asked for this even though it was bestowed upon him since birth. But he would do whatever it takes to keep his family, loved ones, and people safe; and it was more than clear that his father could not provide that same kind of security and comfort.

After the failed attempt to get his daughter married to the King of the Vail and take control of their army, King Richard went into what villagers called “a madman serenade” If the rumors said that he had lost his mind and his thirst for blood was as strong as ever, he would make sure to comply.

Richard brought the kingdom ruin, taking men out of their homes and putting them into training fields. He recruited the most fearless, sadistic men of the crow’s army and put them in charge of his new order. He lost his mind to the delusion that he will run all the kingdoms and turn them into an empire. And Ashton was almost about to uncover his plan when he was suddenly taken in the middle of the night and thrown in the dungeons like a dog.

Accused of treason and deprived of any contact with the outside and its people, Ashton swore he would not let his father win. He endured the tortures with a straight face, not saying a word to anyone that tried to pull something out of him. He spent countless nights without sleep, weeks without food, and days without water, all so that the cause and his sister could be safe.

He knew they would come for her eventually, he just hoped they had more time. Maybe he could’ve escaped by now and warned her, to make sure she and Calum are safe from the deathly grip of their father...

But instead, he was sitting in his cell once again, eyes fixed on the same spot on the wall as his lips were dry and sealed, even when the pain of the iron chains that rounded his ankles made him want to chop his limbs off. Feeling like a failure as he awaited his death. He has failed as a brother and as future King, and right now there was nothing he could do about it except listening to the thunder and the moaning of the other prisoners.

It was the dangling of the keys that caught his attention as it mixed with the sound of the heavy rain. He wondered if he was dreaming every time someone would come into the cell, hoping to wake up from the nightmare he was in, but they all made sure he lived through it. Never too much to kill him, but cruel enough to make him endure it.

“Diner,” The guard said in a monotonous tone and Ashton thought it was weird.

This guard never talked to him in a tone that held anything but pity and desperation, trying hard to win at least some kind of good reactions out of him even when the young Prince would lash out at him. Did he give up too?

Rian Dawson put the tray of food on the floor in front of the Prince. He was fidgeting with his hands, looking nervously at the door, almost as if he was afraid someone might come in at any minute, and Ashton noticed it but didn’t say a word.

“Eat!” Dawson demanded a bit too loud, but he wasn’t looking at Ashton, instead, his gaze moved nervously through the door and the tray.

Still, firm and stubborn as always, Ashton did not move or say anything, not wanting to give the guards the satisfaction of seeing him weak. But at the same time, he knew that the moment he put that piece of bread in his mouth, he might not be able to hold it after so many days without eating properly.

“Your Grace…” The guard then whispered, looking at Ash with a pleading gaze “Please…”

Ashton furrowed his brows. It was not normal for a guard or a crow to be this nervous around him anymore, and he did not trust it. After all, this was the same guard that would come every now and then to change his chains; heal the wounds just enough so that they don’t get an infection; and take him to his next torture. Why did he seem so desperate now?

“Please, I beg of you, Your Highness. Just-” He continued to whisper, but got cut short when a new set of dangling keys could be heard along the hallway “Shit”

“Dawson! What the hell are you doing?!” The Commander asked, standing right outside the Prince’s cell, and, once again, Ashton did not move a muscle to acknowledge him.

“They ordered me to get the traitor dinner, My Lord!” Rian said loudly, standing tall and ignoring Ashton altogether “But it seems like he would rather starve than be useful for once!”

His tone did not convince Ashton in the slightest since he could see through the lie. But it must’ve not been the same for the Commander who started to laugh.

“Let him starve, then!” He said “Before he dies we would have to feed him forcefully until the King says enough. Then he could rot all he wants. Come, Dawson! You are needed on the training field”

And with that, the Commander walked away, but Rian only allowed himself to breathe once the sound of the keys could not be heard over the thunder.

“Your Highness,” He said calmly as before, still keeping his eyes on the door as he started to walk out “Please, please eat. For RoseWood”

Ashton heard the cell door close again and the heavy footsteps disappear in the hallway. Then, his hazel eyes shifted to the tray that contained a piece of old bread and a cup of water. His narrowing gaze suddenly became wide open as his head snapped towards the direction of the door, waiting for any sounds besides the thunder that could indicate someone’s coming.

His heart was beating loudly inside his chest as he leaned forward, placing one hand on the dusty, musky floor, trying to see if he could support himself with his arms without making too much noise with the shackles that imprisoned him.

Slowly, Ashton started to crawl, biting on his tongue to not let out any noise as the pain of his wounded wrist shook through his whole body with every little step he made with his hands until finally, he reached the tray.

With shaky hands, the Prince of Roses opened the bread in half; eyes immediately watering as he had to prevent himself from letting out a cheerful and hopeful sob when he saw the piece of parchment hidden in the crumbs.

“Help is on the way. Let the true ruler of RoseWood be seen again - The Knights of Roses”

Y/N fell to her knees, hiding her face on a bucket as Calum held her hair place soothing movements onto her back with the palm of his hand. It was the third time today, the movement of the waves and the worry set on the pit of her stomach made everything fuzzy and revolving, making her throw up on an empty stomach.

“Love?” Calum asked, wincing as she started to cough through the tears “Y/N, it’s okay”

“It’s not okay, it’s disgusting” She cried, wiping her face with a cloth.

They were kneeling on the floor of their cabin on the Kaleidoscope, the same one they got when they were just arriving at the Crimson Islands. But what once was an exciting, frightening, and adventurous trip, has now turned mournful and dreadful as they made their way to The Vail’s coast.

Two days ago King Alex received a letter addressed to the Princess of Roses, sent by none other than King Luke Hemmings from The Vail, claiming that her brother had been captured and imprisoned by their father, who was now starting to prepare for a war to reclaim all Kingdoms to himself.

Y/N and Calum stood there in shock and tears as they read the letter over and over again, desperately wanting to make all of this just another bad dream. But the nightmare was not over, in fact, it seemed like it was just barely getting started.

King Alex gathered a small crew and together with the couple from RoseWood, wasted no time in preparing a trip to meet with the King of the Vail and his advisor, Sir Michael.

“We cannot let that madman win,” The King said “Say the word, Princess Y/N, and we’ll fight by your side. Anything you two may need, I will gladly provide. I am at your service, Your Highness”

And with that, the Princess and the Stable Lad ended up on the Kaleidoscope again with Captain Merrick; his crew; a few other soldiers; and a few volunteers. Ready to sail and get to The Vail where other rulers are gathering to decipher a plan of attack if Richard won’t back down.

But all this stress; worry; fear and sorrow was too much of a shock for Y/N and Calum even though they tried to hide it from each other. This was not a simple game of sneaking around in the woods, this was a life or death situation with Ashton’s life hanging on a thread if they don’t hurry, that is, if he’s still alive.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Calum asked once her breathing had calmed down, softly rubbing her back.

“A glass of scotch could be nice” She grumbled, getting up with Calum’s help as she sat back on the bed.

“Are you sure you’re allowed to drink?” Her husband asked carefully, sitting beside her as he held her hand.

Y/N furrowed her brows at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind the gleam in his eyes until it finally hit her.

“I’m not with child, Calum”

“How do you know?” He shrugged, placing a hand on Y/N’s stomach “You were not sick on our first trip to the Isles. And the Maester said-”

“The Maester doesn’t have a uterus,” She shook her head with a glimpse of a smile drawing in her lips “And even so, I know my body. It is not time yet, love. And, dare I say, if my father manages to win… it might never be”

Calum pressed his lips in a thin line, nodding at her words as he moved his hand from her stomach to cradle her hand once more.

“The time will come,” He smiled softly at her “Whenever you’re ready, and probably in years to come, it will be perfect. But, as of right now, my rose, I don’t think a glass of scotch is going to do you any favors”

She rolled her eyes lovingly at him, smiling as she said “How do you know? You’re not a healer”

“Nope, but I’m a guy whose friends would drink themselves to death and ended up exactly where you are right now” He chuckled, getting up from the bed and placing a soft kiss on her forehead “And I’m a husband who wants to take care of his wife, not make her sicker”

“Sometimes I hate that you’re a good husband” She pouted

“I can live with that,” He smiled, caressing her face with the back of his hand. “I’ll get you a beverage, though. I know Zach keeps some for the crew that get seasick”

“I love you,” She said through a sigh “Wish I could kiss you”

“Well…”

“Don’t even think about it, Hood. Get me the beverage and some mint leaves with lemon first”

Calum chuckled, “As you wish”

The stable lad exited the room with a faint smile that quickly disappeared when he closed the door. He hated seeing Y/N sick and he knew that the waves were just an added factor to all the turmoil she must be going through. He knows his wife; he knows she’s hiding all the pain she’s not allowing herself to feel. And he also knows that the stubbornness of his princess is strong and she would never admit it.

It’s all his fault, he thought as he walked towards the main cabin. He couldn't help but feel that he took part in sealing Ashton’s fate even though there was nothing they could’ve done at the moment. They needed to keep Y/N safe, no matter the cost. But why should Ashton pay for the crimes Calum committed by loving her? It should’ve been him the one sitting in the cell, not the only family Y/N has left; not the only family that loved her.

She’s already lost so much; her homeland, her mother, and now Ashton… She didn’t deserve any of it and Calum was more than determined to help her bring him back, no matter what it takes. They will not let Richard win.

He walked up to the deck, already making plans inside his head to let the guilt die down for a second as he concentrated on getting Y/N’s health back to normal when his pace was cut short by someone who purposely stood in front of him.

“Good morning, my Lord. Won’t you say we’re having such a splendid morning, today?”

There was something on Jack’s smile that made Calum want to punch it, something mocking yet sinister that hid something that he just couldn’t figure out.

At first, they couldn’t believe he volunteered for the trip, having just got to the Isles and finding a role in the court. He seemed too eager to go back to the Vail and help them defeat the King of RoseWood, saying it would be an honor to serve the Princess on whatever she would need. And even Y/N had to admit that was a bit off, but they needed all the help they could get.

Still, Calum did not trust him. And after he told Y/N about what happened back on the training grounds of the palace, she also started to distrust the man going by Jefferson. So his presence here brought more questions than reassurances.

“How’s the Princess doing?” Jack, also known as Sir Jefferson, asked; leaning over one of the masts with a glint in his eyes as he looked up and down Calum’s body.

Calum didn’t even try to hide his feelings towards him anymore as his hard, brown eyes stared at him with annoyance.

“My wife’s health is none of your business, Sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me”

But at the same time he took a step forward, so did Jack.

“Ouch,” He said ironically, “Thought you would be more thankful, my Lord. After all, isn’t your brother-in-law we are talking about here?”

Calum bluntly ignored him as he walked past the crow, bumping his shoulders as he did. Jack smirk, for his plan of railing up the stable lad, was working and he was also having fun with it, making it a personal challenge so for when the time comes to let all the truth come to shove, at least the fighting will be interesting. So he followed him.

“Who would’ve thought it would come to this?” He said, walking alongside Calum “A mad King, a Prince held hostage… Only, that’s all we know. Maybe things at RoseWood are more interesting”

Calum ignored him, pushing through the crowded deck to get to the Captain’s cabin. Jack’s voice became white noise as he tried to get the medicine he needed and then go back to his wife waiting for him at the other side of the ship. But then…

“Think of how this would’ve never happened if you never left. Or maybe things are finally working out for you”

Jack smirked at the way the stable lad stopped in the middle of his tracks, but quickly hid it the moment he turned around as the crow greeted him with a faux-innocent look of concern.

“Is everything alri-”

“What did you just say?”

Calum was fuming. The hair on the back of his neck rose in anger as a chill ran down his back when he heard those words. His fists were clenched to the sides, knuckles turning white from the grip as he dug his nails into his palms, reminding him to not lose his temper as they stood right at the entrance of the cabin’s hallway.

A shadow hid most of Jack’s face and Calum could swear he saw him smile for even just a second before his voice became soft as he said:

“I’m just saying that if you had stayed in RoseWood then maybe the Prince would not be in the dungeons, am I wrong for assuming that?” He said, furrowing his brows almost as if he didn’t understand why Calum could be mad about it “Royals can be tough, but you knew that before getting involved with the Princess, I assume. And then running away with her… Seemed like a poorly executed plan that started in chaos and, like most things, would probably end in chaos. Unless that’s the plan all along”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Jack gasped, placing a hand over his heart as he blinked at Calum “That language, my Lord, very aggressive”

Calum grabbed the crow by the lapels of his clothing, pushing him against the wall.

“Cmon,” Calum said with his face only inches away from Jack’s “Say what you must, if you dare”

The crow let out a small, sarcastic laugh “Oh, my lord. Was I wrong to assume how this could benefit you? Don’t you think is a little suspicious? Father gets mad, you marry the daughter and then suddenly the prince disappears… Who gets the throne once it’s all said and done? Now that’s a story worth telling, don’t you think?”

Calum’s eyes filled with rage as he banged Jack’s head against the wooden walls, knowing that people might be watching. But he could not let go of that offense as if it was nothing. How could he think that he could do that to Ash? To Y/N?!

“You don’t know shit of what happened,” He said through gritted teeth “You don’t know what we went through, what she went through. You don’t know our story so don’t pretend like you do and start assuming on other people’s lives”

“Calm down, my friend,” Jack said, trying to defuse the tension. “Maybe I’m mistaken but I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking already”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, too? What does Y/N say about it?”

“What are you talking about?!” Calum demanded in hushed tones, gripping tightly onto Jack’s lapels and making him hit his head on the wooden wall behind him again, but the crow didn’t even flinch as a glimmer set in his eyes, sending chills down Calum’s spine.

“Oh, may the gods bless your foolish heart, Calum” The crow sympathized. “I knew Y/N would be too kind to let you borrow some of her burdens, but for you to be so clueless… Must be a blessing to walk around like that”

“Like what?” Calum was getting impatient.

“Like you didn’t cause all of this”

“My Lords? Is everything alright?” Captain Merrick’s voice came from the end of the hallway as he walked up to them.

Calum let go of Jack in an instant, too shocked by his words to say anything else as he looked at him with wide eyes and an expression that hid too many fears inside of it.

Jack, on the other hand, just smiled at the Captain “Everything’s fine, Captain. We were just having a friendly conversation, isn’t that right, Cal?” He patted Calum on the shoulder and walked away without saying anything else.

“My Lord?”

“I-I’m fine, Captain,” Calum said, blinking a couple of times to clear his thoughts “My- uh, My wife is feeling a little bit seasick, I was wondering if you could help me get her something to ease her stomach”

Zach smiled “Of course, my Lord! Come, I have exactly what she needs in my cabin”

Calum nodded, “Oh, and Zach?”

“Yes?”

“If you can,” He said, looking toward where the crow just disappeared “Don’t let that man go near our cabin nor near Y/N if I’m not there to stop him”

An echo passed through her ears as she stood in the empty hallway. How she got there, she didn’t know; but it all seemed so familiar, almost like a dream. Only she didn’t know if it was a nightmare.

The clanking of the chains could be faintly heard from miles away as the hallway seemed to have no end, blending into the darkness.

Y/N took in her surroundings, looking from left to right and finding not a soul that could tell her what was going on. The humidity of the walls started to cling to her skin, making it seem like her gown was becoming heavier and heavier the more time she spent standing on the cobblestoned floor.

Then, a small, faint light came from one of the rooms hidden in the hallway. A candlelight gleam illuminated her path of darkness as she felt compelled to it, feeling the need to follow it. So she did.

The closer she got to the light the more real things started to become. Y/N was starting to feel as if this was not a dream anymore, a memory perhaps? She could feel the warmth of the light gracing her cheeks with every step she could, and, if she paid enough attention, even the sound of laughter would brush her ears.

The laughs were heavy, grave and she guessed it must come from a group of men. They were laughing at something, yet she couldn’t see what just yet nor she could hear anything besides the laugh and a faint sound of a whip, thinking that maybe they were just messing with the horse’s equipment as the drunk guards used to do back at RoseWood; Calum always hated that but they were always nice enough to pay back whatever they might’ve broken.

Could she be back at the stables? Was her mind playing with a forgotten memory?

Still, the crackling of the whip grew louder and louder as well as the laughs that couldn’t hide it anymore. But that's all it was. A whip and laughter, nothing else. So why did her heart beat faster as she approached the slightly ajar door?

From the small crack, she witnessed a group of men dressed in black, a red rose embroidered in their chests as they carried the RoseWood symbol with pride. They were drunkenly laughing at something -or rather someone - that Y/N couldn’t see just yet. She examined the men’s faces and couldn’t recognize them as his father’s guards, they weren’t the guards from the woods nor any that you’ve met before.

Yet, they seemed to be having the time of their lives as one of them grabbed the leathered whip from the other’s hand, laughing as he swung it over his head until it crashed with a surface while the others started to count.

Trying to get a better view - or at least an idea of what was happening - Y/N pushed the door open just a crack, hoping none of the men realized as the wooden door squeaked against the cobblestone, luckily they were still entertained with what was happening at the other corner.

The first thing the Princess noticed once she got a clearer view was the blood. So much blood scattered around the room in little splashes, pooling down in the middle. She felt her whole body tremble, feeling sick just looking at it, remembering the last time she saw so much red when Calum was captured.

Still, she couldn’t look away. It was almost as if her eyes were glued to the gruesome scene, following a trail until it landed on a target.

Her eyes widened and filled with tears; a scream threatened to escape her throat as she covered her mouth with both her hands to silence it. Her knees started to buckle and she felt as if she could throw up all over again, completely horrified at what was in front of her.

With a manacle on each wrist, each hanging from opposite wooden pillars and keeping his arms open wide, unable to sit or to let his body fall from the physical trauma, stood Ashton with his back completely open and bloody.

In front of him stood a small, dirty mirror where Y/N could see how he could barely keep his eyes open anymore; biting on his lip with each crack of the whip, making him lean forward and letting the manacles cut his wrist when he did so. Still, he didn’t say a word as the guards kept counting and Y/N didn’t want to know how many rounds they got before she got there.

Ashton’s hair fell in front of his face, stuck in sweat and blood to his forehead as his face changed with every hit of pain, only adding to his anger.

“C’mon, lads!” One of the guards laughed “Gotta be a lot proper with the royals now, don’t we? Start the count again, and this time do it more… gently”

The guard stood up and handed his friend another leathered whip, the only difference was that this one held spikes at the end, making sure to cut through the skin at just a simple touch.

Y/N watched in horror at how her brother’s back arched as he bit down his tongue, barely even opening his eyes to glance at the small mirror hanging in front of him, and she could swear that just for a moment, his eyes met hers before receiving another blow.

Unable to stand it any longer, Y/N barged into the room, making all of the men stop what they were doing as they stared down at her with eyes filled with fear as the man threw the whip on the floor.

Without wasting a breath, she ran to Ashton’s side and stood in front of him, trying to wipe some of the blood out of his face. But before she could say anything, she noticed how her brother’s eyes changed and were now filled with rage directed at her.

“You did this,” He said through gritted teeth, spitting blood at Y/N’s cheek.

Shocked and scared, Y/N looked around the room and found it empty.

“What?” She asked out loud, looking over at Ashton who also disappeared in thin air.

Her breathing became elaborated as she searched the room, trying to find any evidence that someone was there. Yet, when she turned around all she could find was the mirror and a different set of eyes looking straight at her.

For in that moment, her reflection wasn’t hers; it was her father, looking back with a proud smirk at the monster she thought she was.

The sudden shake of the ship made her jolt awake, taking in her surroundings with wide-open eyes as she tried to remember the dream she just had.

Her mother used to say that dreams are made of people’s greatest desires and fears; they could come from a memory or a premonition of the future and should never be taken lightly, for a dream was just as important as a thought. Dreams are the thoughts we don’t dare to say out loud.

A chill ran down her spine as her father‘s eyes were engraved in her memory; so cruel, so proud… Was she like him in a way when she ran away, leaving the ones she loved behind? Taking the easy way out, would he have done the same?

The simple thought of that made her blood run cold. She was not cruel; she was not a monster. She did what she needed to do to survive and make sure that Calum was safe. She made the only choice she could make but, would everyone understand that? Or would they just see her as her father’s daughter?

The sheets shifted slightly as Y/N’s eyes finally landed on Calum, the only comfort she had. She ran a hand delicately through his shaved curls, thanking the gods that they allowed him to sleep peacefully at least for one night and that she didn’t wake him up with her nightmare. He’s been so restless lately, she just wished to share some of his grief with him. She already put him through a lot, he deserved some peace of mind and she wants nothing more than to be able to provide that for him; let them be just themselves like they were in the woods, away from all fears and terrors and villains… just two kids playing around with fairytales and horse rides, so in love and with nothing to fear.

After a while, it became obvious that Y/N couldn’t go back to sleep so easily. With a sigh, she got off the bed, kissed Calum’s temple as he started to lightly snore, and wrapped herself with her robe as she exited the cabin; looking for a distraction in the middle of the star-filled sea.

Y/N closed her eyes when the cold night breeze graced her face, making her hair fly as she walked barefoot through the deck. All members of the crew and the volunteers were sound asleep.

She got closer to the board, looking straight ahead at the vast sea as her fingers grip the wood of the rails. They were still a few days away from getting to The Vail and once they get there, they have to start their strategies, plan the trips, know how many people to take, embark on the journey… who know how long it’ll be till they reach RoseWood again, but they were determined to do so. She knows Luke and Michael won’t let her down and they’ll do everything they can to get Ashton back and her father out of the throne; she knows she could trust them.

“Can’t sleep, Your Highness?”

Y/N jumped at the sound of a voice coming from the shadows of the quarterdeck, placing a hand over her heart as she watched Sir Jefferson emerge from the dark corner, smiling kindly at her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Princess” He apologized, raising his hands in defense.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about it before talking from the shadows” Y/N sighed, looking back at the sea “We never know if the person hiding there is a friend or a foe, Sir Jefferson”

“And where would you place me, Your Highness?” He asked, taking a step closer to her “Friend or foe?”

“Am I talking to the same man that hurt my husband in training? Then, I’m not sure”

“It was a friendly match,” Jack said, leaning over the board and placing his elbows on the wooden planks as he looked at the sea as well.

“A match is still a match. You were lucky it wasn’t a duel” Y/N rolled her eyes “Either way, I don’t particularly understand the need men have for violence. For practice and self-defense, I get it. But to draw blood from innocent people… Seems barbaric”

“It’s in our system,” He shrugged. “Men search for violence even when they claim peace. We all know our nature and how far we can go, trying to push it beyond those limits until we reach the glory at the end. Even the most compassionate of men could tell you about the temptations of power and blood, maybe by doing things they know it’s wrong just to have a little taste of what it feels like”

Y/N’s mind couldn’t help to wander over to Ashton again, on how he played a part in scattering crows around the kingdoms in order to favor their father. He said he didn’t know why, but he still went ahead and did it; and even though she believed him, she also wonders if he ever at least had a slight idea of what he was doing.

“And once a man gets a taste….” Jack continued, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched Y/N’s clouded eyes “It becomes part of him”

“That’s awful”

“But it’s true. We cannot escape who we are, no matter how much we try to run away from it. If it’s in our blood, then it’s fate’s design to follow it”

The crow noticed how, suddenly, Y/N’s eyes started to water as she hugged herself even tighter. And for a moment, just a slight moment as the moonlight graced her face, he felt pity for her.

“The sea is quiet tonight,” He said, changing the topic to spare the little Princess, at least for tonight.

“I don’t suppose it makes much noise anyway” She answered, quickly brushing away a stray tear that escaped her eye “It’s just water”

“Careful with your words, Princess” Jack smirked “Or they might hear”

“Who?”

“The mermaids”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows “That’s a fairytale, Sir Jefferson”

“Only to those who refused to believe in them,” He said “My mother used to tell me these stories, about pirates and adventures, but her favorites were always about the women who hide in the deep ends of the ocean. The mermaids are the protectors of the seas. Some legends say that mermaids are women who’ve been thrown out of their ships as a sacrifice to the gods; others, that the creatures were created by the gods themselves as a punishment for those who wander without the purest of hearts. They seek vengeance and justice, luring people of all around the world with their voices and deceiving them as they make them fall in love with fake promises and lust, sinking them into the sea with them. And, once they’ve realized they can’t breathe anymore, that’s when they show their true form. It’s a lesson, I suppose”

“Of what?”

“Never trust the beauty unless you can see the soul behind the eyes,” Jack said seriously, looking at Y/N “There are horrible people out there, Princess, hiding in their pretty clothes and all their riches, thinking they know it all just because they have it all. But no one is sinless, they know what they did”

The wind blew strangely, whistling through the sails as Y/N took in his words. No one is pure of sins, but could they ever repent them? She wrapped herself tighter in her robe, watching the crow’s back attentively as his eyes wandered over to the water, humming to himself an old siren’s song.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold”

His voice was deep and rough as he sunk into a memory, thinking about his mother and all that was taken from him for people like the King; they always have it all yet they don’t care about their people, going on about their lives celebrating meaningless accomplishments as their people die on the streets. If he could get some of that power; if he could make them pay… And he will, by the gods he will.

Jack became no one of many names throughout his life, fighting to be the best in everything he does so when the moment comes, everyone will scream out his name in glory and gore.

“It’s getting late, Princess,” He said after a while, turning his head toward her “You should go back to bed”

Y/N’s lips parted as she stared at him; his eyes held something deeper than just a memory, they were cold and somewhat cruel as he looked at her, but only for a second as his signature smile was back on his face in the blink of an eye, making her wonder if she’d just imagined the familiarity of that glare.

“We still have a long way to The Vail, and around this time of year their days tend to be longer, so there won’t be much resting once we get there” He smiled.

Y/N nodded “You seem to know a lot about The Vail, Sir Jefferson. Have you ever been there before?”

Jack nodded with a sigh as he pointed to the scar on his left eye “Fearless warriors, they say. I have to admit they were right”

“They are a peaceful Kingdom and have been for decades” The Princess questioned him “Their King is one of the kindest souls I know, and to my knowledge, they only use violence for training and nothing more since the wars are over. I still don’t understand how you managed to get that scar on a Kingdom with people like that”

“Well, appearances can be deceiving, Your Highness. You just never know who to trust” Jack said gravely, gracing his eyes to the floor before looking up at her again “But that might be a story for another day, you should get some sleep”

“I don’t think I can, really,” Said the Princess “But that shouldn’t keep you up, my Lord. I’ll be fine”

Truth was, Y/N was still pretty shaken from her nightmare and the words from Sir Jefferson, feeling a sense of warning running through her mind. For some reason, she didn’t feel safe and was relieved when Jack seemed to understand and nod.

“Perhaps I have something that could help you, Princess,” He said, reaching into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulling out a folded handkerchief “I always carry some with me, just in case”

Jack opened the small piece of fabric revealing a couple of dry leaves on it.

“It helps you sleep,” He said with a smile “You just have to put them in water, cold or hot, and drink it after ten minutes. Works like a charm, or at least that’s what my mother used to say and I never found any fails to that logic”

Y/N smiled kindly, taking a couple of leaves in her hands as she looked at them, furrowing her brows just slightly.

“Are you certain this would help?”

“Extremely”

She nodded, “Thank you, Bernard”

He smiled at her one last time before she turned around and hurried to her cabin once again, speeding up the pace once she was out of sight from the decks, opening up the heavy wooden door and locking it instantly as her breathing became heavy and beams of sweat started to cover her face.

With heavy hands, she went to the small desk in the room, sitting in the chair and lighting up the candle; wasting no time in grabbing a leaf and burning it.

From the moment she saw them she knew what they were, she remembers seeing them in one of the Maester’s lessons.

“This is called La Torture De Méduse, an ancient poisonous leaf that causes a complete body paralysis, starting from the legs, then the torso and the arms, and lastly, the brain and the rest of the organs. All without the victim knowing since it makes the poor soul who ingested it fall into a deep slumber as their bodies die slowly. One can literally become stone, hence the name of this vile creation of the gods. Luckily, it is easy to identify if you notice the little green dots on the petiole and midrib. Do not ever go near them and if you do…”

Destroy them.

And that’s exactly what Y/N was doing as she watched the second leaf burn into ashes. Her mind was running a thousand kilometers per hour, trying to find an excuse for Sir Jefferson who so kindly and so naively, gave the leaves to her. He said that it helped him sleep, but these could not be the same leaves he talked about. If he ever drank the beverage created with them, then he should be dead already.

Unless he knew exactly what he did by giving her the leaves, expecting to receive the news of her untimely death the next morning when Calum finds her cold next to him. But why would he do that to her? They barely know one another and she has done nothing to wrong him. Nothing made any sense...

“Rose?” Calum’s voice alerted Y/N as she pulled the leaf away from the fire, letting it fall with the remaining others onto the desk “What are you doing, my love?”

She hesitated to answer. She couldn’t lie to him, but at the same time, she didn’t want to accuse an innocent until she got further proof of his wrongdoings, afraid she’ll become like her father.

If she tells Calum about the leaves and what they do, he will kill Jack with no hesitation and he’ll be sent to trial again, only this time he might serve time for real or worse: he’d be sentenced for murder. The law does not care if it was in self-defense, as far as the court will know, Jack never intended to hurt the Princess and it might’ve been just an honest mistake. And Y/N was not ready to lose Calum again.

“I couldn’t sleep,” She tells him a half-truth, leaving what happened with Jack aside “Thought I could use some air and then I came back here”

Calum rolled to his side, watching her with sad, understanding eyes “I know how difficult this must be for you, my rose. And I wish I could take some of that pain away from your eyes and hide it somewhere where you’ll never see or feel it again in your life. But all I can offer you is the promise that I’ll be here through it all with you, my love, we’ll be home soon”

“You’re my home, Cal,” She said “You’ve always been my home”

“Then come back to bed and let me hold you,” He said softly “Let us fight these nights together and share our mornings hand in hand. You’re not alone in this, my rose”

“And neither are you”

He beckoned her with his head and she smiled softly at him, turning around to blow out the candle and hide the remaining leaves on the pocket of her stash without him noticing it, promising herself to get to the bottom of it soon.

Calum wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her close, kissing her forehead as she laid on his chest with her head tucked under his chin.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Y/N” He whispered against her hair as his fingers drew figures on her back.

“Only because I have you with me,” She answered, kissing the side of his neck “I love you, Cal. Please, never leave me”

“Not in this life or the next, my love” He replied, drifting to sleep again with her chest pressed against his “Not in this life or the next”

Still, with Calum fast asleep next to her, Y/N could not phantom getting back to her dreams as she watched the moon disappear into the sea through their small porthole, hoping that the sirens would hear her pray and lure her to sleep in the midst of a dreamless sea.

tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @conversecake @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @1980holland @wiiildflowerrr @hoplessromantic727 @fivesecondsofonedirection @another-lonely-heart @aabc5sauce @dudethisiswhyyoudonthavefriends @fakebetch9694 @5sos-imagine @SunflowerAngel2123 @perfectnouis @in-superbloom @lukeisstillapenguin @sadcupofcoffee @superstarmarvel @personalmuyverypersonal @cnco.angels @vtte @as-hs-blog @himbohood @sofiaaraee @irwindoll @lolzkye @weasleytwinscumslut @ashtonsunflower @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @the-ghost-of-ash @alltimepogue @wontlastimokwiththat t @ttinahood @lukespitinmymouth @perfectnouis @cncoangelss @darrensos @whywontyoulovemecami @itwouldburnupintheatmosphere @yeah-and69 @fckingpernico @multistann @averageantichrist @a-darneddarling @tpwkcth @f-mu @kindahumanbutalsoinsane @floweronyourskin @ihavenoideawhattodowithyou @bittersweetb4by @aria-grace-scott @thestarsandtheircoffee @bvbygxrl @luisa180206 @xxxlaura @iamdayanaz

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canisvesperus · 3 years ago

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hey, just wanted to let you know someones been sending a lot of really inflammatory, spammy anons with your url attached. from what i can tell, you dont really seem like the type whod go around sending stuff like that to random transformers blogs (i got one on my sideblog and a few mutuals did as well)? just wanted to make sure you were aware, i don't want people to be coming up to you to start shit if you had nothing to do with it! have a nice day

Hey, woah, thanks for letting me know! That’s… well, that’s certainly some unexpected news. I sure hope it’s evident enough by syntax and use of language alone that those anons obviously aren’t me. That, and the fact that they’re anons… signed with a name. Hello? Just send off anon if you don’t want to be anonymous? Oh wait. Yep. That’s more than enough of a red flag, though again I feel as if I am stating the obvious.

For anyone else in the dark, this is what I found from searching recent posts with my url:

Damn though, that’s one shitty impersonation attempt. Anyone who understands the first thing about my politics would know I never talk about “rights”, and I never really use that term in my rhetoric (because rights are something withheld and granted by an authority, and ideally I don’t want such an authority making those decisions, but that’s a whole different topic).

Second, when speaking specifically about animal liberation and human supremacy, it wouldn’t be very accurate to colloquially refer to non-human animals as simply “animals”. That simply would not be logistically accurate language in terms of the actual critical analysis of species relations.

Also, “shitlibs”? Jesus, grow up.

The vast majority of debates, particularly internet debates, are a waste of time and energy. When I turned 16, I was already going through some major activist burnout, and it was also then when I stopped calling myself an activist. I promised I wouldn’t engage in debates unless someone was coming to me with with the genuine desire to hear my thoughts. I’m disabled. I’m a spoonie. I simply cannot run my nerves like that for no reason. There IS no point when you pick a losing fight. Who on earth expects to change somebody’s perspective when you’re acting hostile and yelling at them? If there’s even a “cause” to be had, you’re giving it a bad name. Log off. Go do something meaningful. Clean up the beach, work a zine stand, or volunteer at Food Not Bombs, anything but insulting random strangers online. That being said, self-care is an act of rebellion too. (This is all rhetorical; I’m not speaking to anyone in particular, but young politically involved folks, this might be useful advice.)

New tumblr milestone y’all… I managed to make somebody angry and obsessed enough to attempt some The Room (2003) levels of performance all over Just Some Guy on the Internet (yours truly). Was it the TERF from a month or two ago, or was it that ship hate blog? Maybe even somebody I banned off of Discord? Place your bets. 🤷

#ven talks #what the heck #some of y’all have way too much time to waste #asks #frankensteinery #the sussy imposter saga

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demivampirew · 4 years ago

Text

I would give up everything for you.

A Charles Brandon x Mary Tudor (written as reader) (Henry’s sister) one shot

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

Warnings: Death, heartbreak, crying, unwanted arranged marriage (and talking about being consummated).

Summary: Shortly after becoming a widow, Henry summons you back to England for he has arranged a new marriage for you.

A/N (Important to understand the story): For those who don’t know, in the show they’d merged both Henry’s sisters into one: Margaret. In reality, he had two sisters, the one mentioned who ended up marrying the King of Scotland, James IV, becoming the Queen consort of said country (and after the death of her husband, Queen regent in name of her son for two years). Mary, the other sister, was married to the King of France, Louis XII for a few months, until his death and soon he was succeeded by his son-in-law Francis I -the King of France from the show, and his daughter Claude as Queen Consort- she couldn’t reign for the law forbid a woman to rule the country back at that time. Shortly after the death of the King, Charles was in charge of bringing Mary safe back to England, but in reality that was a secret plan for them to marry in secret in France, as Mary confessed to King Francis. It isn’t known when and how exactly they fell in love but it surely was before her marriage to the late King of France. They married in secret but then they had a public wedding because they suspected Mary to be pregnant and they wanted their kid to be legitimate.

For my story, I mixed a bit of the show’s plot with actual events. The main characters are the same from the show, except from Mary, written from a perspective of reader, who wasn’t on the show (Margaret’s story in this one-shot is the same from history and not the one from the series). I used the arranged marriage with the King of Portugal’s plot from drama purposes (this never happened in reality, because like I’ve said, Mary married Charles before going back to London, and she had married the King of France with the promise that she would marry who she wanted after that or she would become a nun - which Henry did not want because he would lose the Dowager’s money if she did that. -although in this story she doesn’t threaten him with becoming a nun.)

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language and write in another period of time can be a bit difficult. I tried my best, so I apologize if I made mistakes.

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @whyyoudothistomecavill @thetaoofzoe @thereisa8ella

"The Queen of France, Your Majesty" announced one of the guards as you enter the room. Henry was sitting on the throne. There were a few guards there as well as Charles and William Compton, who were standing next to the door. - Dear sister! - your brother exclaimed as he stood up and approached you, grabbing your arms and placing a kiss on your cheek. - My poor sister, I'm terribly sorry for the lost of your dear husband.- "dear husband"? It felt as if he was mocking you, after all the only reason you married the late King of France, Louis XII was because he forced you to for that marriage forced an alliance between the two countries.

Being married to an old man was not a pretty thing. Being forced to consummate that marriage and with a crowd of people to witness it. Luckily, it didn't last for long because not long after your coronation as the new Queen, on Christmas' eve your husband died for an illness. After his death, his son-in-law, Francis I, inherit the throne with his daughter, Claude as Queen Consort. Even though your marriage was short, you were a loved Queen and you could have stayed in France if you desire it, but your brother had other plans for you. For you to agree to marry the late French King, he promised you that you were going to be able to marry whom you choose after his death, but sadly for you, he had no plans to keep his word. He ordered the Duke of Suffolk to escort you safely back to England. Charles was a loyal friend to Henry, but you succeeded to confess your brother's intentions for your return to England - you knew that if he wanted you back so quickly was not because he missed his beloved sister, but because there was something he needed from you. "He wants you to marry the King of Portugal" he confessed finally succumbing to pressure. After finding out that your worse nightmare was a reality, you ordered everyone on the ship to leave you alone and you cried on the way back.

- As sorry as I am for your loss, I must admit sister that I would need you to put aside your grief and take the King of Portugal as your new husband. With the rise of power of the Holy Roman Emperor, we need new alliances and he is more than pleased to become out ally if you marry him. He's seen your portrait and is enchanted by your beauty.- he informed you with a smirk. You remained silent and made no gestures. - So, my dear sister, would you consent to marry the King? - My consent is not needed, Your Majesty, for the King always does what he wants.- you finally said, your voice emotionless. There he was, your older brother. He could be charming for a moment and a second later be the devil himself if you crossed him. He didn't like when anyone defied him, especially women. His face showed no signs of rejoicing anymore, just contained anger. - We are at war, my dear sister.- he explained angrily. - We could face an invasion from Spain and if that would happen, we will need soldiers and money and he could provide that to us. - You are at war, brother. This is all because of you. If the Holy Roman Emperor is planning to attack England, it is because you broke your promise, like you always do, and set aside his aunt, humiliating her all. And that's because you had fallen in love with another woman. In your eyes, dear brother, you are the only one allowed to marry for love and you do not care who has to pay for your desires.- you replied bitterly. -If you want me to marry that old man, breaking the promise you once made me, at least you could have avoided me the displeasure of seeing your face and should have asked the Duke of Suffolk to escort me directly to Portugal since you know that no matter what are my choices, at the end I must be a loyal subject and obey you or I'll suffer the traitor's faith.

His hands were closed forming fists; he was containing his rage. If there was something Henry hated more than anything else was being defied. If it was not for the fact that he needed your Queen Dowager's money and the perks that your new marriage would bring to him, he would have you banned from court.

- Charles, take her to her chambers immediately.- he ordered and walked away, returning to his throne.

You bowed to him and allowed Charles to escort you back to your bedchambers. Once in the room, he closed the door to be sure no one would hear you speak.

- The Queen would be wise not to cross her brother.- he advised you. He spoke softly, surely it was because he did not want to be heard, but there was another thing in his voice: worry. - Why not?- you asked; it was a sarcastic question, you knew exactly why you should no speak to Henry that way for he was a King before your blood. - He could vanish you from court or worse.- he explained. - Great! I would rather be banned from court or dying to have to marry another old King.- you admitted, sighing bitterly. - You should not say that Your Majesty.- he pleaded. - Charles, would you stop calling me Your Majesty? I have known you my entire life. I'm still the same Mary I have always been, just less trusting and much more unhappy.- you confessed. - But now you are the King of France, Your Majesty. I should treat you with nothing but the proper respect. - I am Queen Dowager, I don't have the same importance that an actual queen has. - You are soon to be Queen again.- he reminded you and a tear fell from your eye; you wiped it away quickly. He stared at you with sadness on his eyes. He was probably hurt that you had to go through that again. - I rather die.- you repeated and look to the floor -You are lucky Charles, you could marry whom you choose.- you sighed. - I cannot.- he said with sadness. - Who is that you want and can't have, Charles? -you asked sarcastically.

The Duke of Suffolk looked you directly into your eyes, giving you the answer to your question without even saying a word.

Before leaving England, the two of you were close. He was this ladies' man and you were the King's little sister, but you started to see him differently in the year previous to your marriage. He was sweet, funny and protective. It was clear that you were not a just his friend's sister anymore, but a smart, funny and delightful woman. You had long talks while you played with carts and spent a lot of time together before your departure.

Charles excused himself and was about to leave. You called his name and when he turned to face you, you ran into his arms and kissed him. He pulled you closer to him as he stopped fighting his conscience. He probably felt that it was wrong, but he couldn't keep denying his feelings. After the long and awaited kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours and sighed.

- Escape with me.- you pleaded. - What? -he asked confused. - We could go to France. Francis is not a fan of my brother and he had nothing but sweet thoughts about me. He will be delighted to have me back there and surely he will support us and protect us if Henry decides to seek vengeance. - you assured him.- Please, Charles. - I... I cannot do that, I am sorry.- he said avoiding to look at you. - I will not betray my King. - Is it because he is your childhood friend or because you do not want to lose your lands and titles, Duke of Suffolk? - you questioned bitterly. He did not say a word, but it was not necessary; his shameful look said it all. Your poor heart broke into a million pieces. Not only you would have to marry an old man once more, but the man you loved preferred his nobility and money over you and your happiness. No matter what the future had set for you, it surely would not be a happy one.

A month passed before you were set to leave for Portugal. As you demanded, Charles stood away from you. The days passed and all you could do was crying about your cruel destiny. If at least you could have the luck that your sister Margaret had of marrying a young King whom she fell in love with, but no, that was not your fate. You were meant to be unhappy for the rest of your days.

Charles' eyes met yours. You could feel his pain but you could not be sorry for him, after all, he could have had you if he would have been brave enough to fight for you and, surely soon he would forget all about you and find solace in another woman's arms while you had to be with a man much older than you whom you didn't know. You quickly look to other side making sure he noticed that you were ignoring him and stood there, waiting in the room full of people for your brother to show up to say goodbye.

Henry appeared shortly with Cardinal Wolsey by his side. He approached you a kissed you " My dear sister. Fare you well on your journey. Remember the King of Portugal, your future husband, loves you and respects you. You must love him in return." - he said faking affection when in reality it was a command and a warning. He looked into your shiny, watery eyes but that didn't seem to have any effects on him. After crossing him the day of your return to England, he must be more than happy to see you gone.

The King was about to leave the place when the Duke of Suffolk called his attention.

- Your Majesty, I would like to have a word" - Charles pleaded. Henry looked at him with confusion but gestured him to speak. He walked a few steps forward and got on his knee in front of his best friend. - My heart forces me to beg you to save your sister from this marriage for that would make her unhappy.- he said firmly. There were gasps among the people present. You were breathless and your heart was beating an at exhilarating speed. Henry stared at him, his eyes showed both shock and anger. - As a sign of gratitude for your kindness towards the Queen of France, I will resign to my title, renounced to my lands and accept to be banned from court and any other punishment Your Grace sees suitable for my outrageous request.

For the first time since your mother's death, you saw tears fell from your brother's eyes. It didn't come as such as a surprise to you, you might be his sister by blood, but Charles was his brother by choice; they grew up together and he was his most faithful companion and now he put him in a position Henry must have surely hated. If he agreed to let you escape from this marriage, he would have to punish Charles from defying him in front of people from court. If he rejected his plead, people would know that he forced you into a marriage you didn't want to and he would further loss the affection of his subjects, who were already unhappy about his decision of leaving the beloved Queen Catherine for Anne Boleyn. Whatever decision Harry took, surely it would not have a happy ending for Charles. You knew you were right at the moment your brother stormed out of the room without saying a word.

Anthony Knivert, one of your brother's closest friends, walked you back to your chambers after Cardinal Wolsey ordered him to do so. The trip to Portugal has been postponed until after the King came with a resolution about the matter. As impossible as it seemed, you were even more heartbroken than before. There was no way Charles could cross your brother like that and no get punished and all because of your fault. If you just accepted your destiny quietly and had not made him feel guilty for choosing lands and his noble title over you, this would not have happened. Now, because of your stubbornness, he could face death.

It was around midnight when you heard someone knocking at your door. After permitting to enter your bedchambers, Charles walked in. You got up quickly from your bed and ran into him. He hugged you tightly for a moment and then softly pressed his head against yours. You could feel his warm breath. His hands grabbing your face provoked you chills. - Charles, you should not have done that.- you regretted. - I should have done it before, but it is ok. I would do it again if necessary.- he assured you and tears rolled down your cheeks. His thumbs clean the tears and then he kissed you. - You are not only the Queen Dowager of France but also the Queen of my heart, Mary.- he confessed. You smiled at him and your lips met his again.

After a knock, the door opened and Will Compton warned Charles to hurry for someone was coming. He kissed you once more and disappeared.

The King summoned you a few days after. There were some noble people present, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk among others. Charles was already there waiting. About half an hour later Henry appeared with Wolsey and sat on the throne. He remained silent for a moment, as he inspected you. He knew; he knew his friend loved you and his love was reciprocated.

- Dear sister, I would like to apologize to you, for I did not know you were unhappy with the marriage proposal.- he said with conviction as if that would make it true- I desire nothing more than happiness for you, my beloved Mary. So I have decided that it should be you the one to decide who your future husband will be. You have my word and my blessing. Of course, he would make it seem as if you pact before marrying King Louis XII was his idea, but you did not care, as long as he granted you that you were not mad about him credit it to himself. - As for Your Grace.- he said looking at Charles- Your title and lands were given to you as a reward for bravely fighting by my side to defend your country and should remain at your disposal. Furthermore, as a sign of gratitude for enlightened me about my sister's displeasure for her now announced marriage, I would like to grant you my blessing to marry her, if that is her heart's desire and I hope you live the happy quiet life you desire away from court.

There it was, your punishment was being banned from court, but it was a slight price to pay for all the great things you had achieved. You were now allowed to marry Charles and live happily with him.

Maybe it was the fear that Henry would change his mind that made you marry that same day. In a private ceremony, with a few maids and his friends Will and Anthony to witness it, you promised to love each other forever.

You had the opportunity to have another wedding since you have not bled and you were sure with child, you had a public wedding to show the legitimacy of your future child. This time, you had it at court. Henry was a proud man, but even if Charles did what no other man would have dared unless they wanted to lose their heads, your brother loved him too much and trust no other like he trusted your husband.

Henry Brandon. That's the name Charles choose for your newborn. He was the living image of his father.

Not everything in your remaining life was happiness. Even though you had been blessed with another two children, Frances and Eleanor, by God's will your little Henry died when he was six years old. A year after that, another baby joined your family, honouring his late brother by carrying his name.

Charles was nothing but a loving husband to you. He stood by your side when tragedy hit your family and later when you got ill. You survived the sweating sickness but never fully recovered from it, and five years later you meet again with your loving son. It must have hurt your love, who never left your side until your heart stopped beating. He loved you much and would be sad for losing you, but you were glad he had your loving daughters and son to keep him company and help him move on.

#charles brandon #charles brandon fanfic #charles brandon fanfiction #charles brandon one shot #the tudors #the tudors fanfiction #henry tudor #henry VIII #mary tudor #mary queen of france #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #charles brandon x reader #charles brandon x mary tudor #demivampirew

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thedistantdusk · 4 years ago

Text

Private

Thanks to @floreatcastellumposts for Brit-picking and @el-eye-zee-aye for organizing the Harry/Ginny Discord birthday challenge! This was a lot of fun! T for language/mild sexual humor.

On AO3

________________________

Being the significant other of the most desirable wizard in Britain doesn’t come without drawbacks. Ginny knew that from the off. Even the earliest days of their raw, rekindled relationship were marked with requests for interviews, a trend that continued throughout the summer of 1998. When she returned to Hogwarts that September, reporters took it upon themselves to sneak onto the platform, capture her and Harry’s final, departing snog… and then reprint it, absolutely everywhere. Without their consent.

Her decision to pursue professional quidditch after Hogwarts made the situation both better and worse. On one hand, the publicity became less random. Less speculative. As soon as she signed with the Harpies, her privacy was protected — at least to some degree. Press events were soon planned and targeted instead of the sporadic, anxiety-inducing sneaks attacks to which she’d become accustomed.

The trade-off, of course, is that when press events do happen, they’re dreadful.

Utterly, completely dreadful.

Ginny sits in the enormous purple armchair and bites the inside of her cheek. She hates interviews like these… ones of the aforementioned dreadful variety. This one is with Sandra Richardson of Witch Weekly, a woman known for her propensity towards twisting words and taking statements out of context. But it’s part of the job, Ginny reminds herself for the thousandth time that morning. She must sit through six of these per year, each before a match. She must be generally pleasant and polite. She must represent her team well.

And above all else, she must not lose her temper. Right.

“Don’t be nervous, dear,” croons a dripping, saccharine voice. Oh. Ginny swallows. Sandra Richardson, here for the interview.

Sandra places the tray on the table between them and shoots Ginny a wink as she begins pouring tea for each of them. A younger, more naive Ginny might have trusted Sandra from her appearance alone. Her gold jewelry and buttoned blouse make her seem more matronly than predatory. But just as she plops down in her armchair, brushing a lock of her coiffed blonde hair from her forehead, Ginny catches a look in her eyes that she’s all too familiar with.

Ambition… red-hot, glowing ambition. The type she’ll chase with everything she has.

Yes. Ginny sits up a bit straighter. The interview hasn’t started, but she already sees it for what it is. The whole thing now reminds of scoldings in Umbridge’s office.

“Sugar?” Sandra gestures towards a polka-dotted dish in front of them.

Ginny forces a smile. “No thanks.” Merlin knows she won’t be drinking it. This is what they do, these reporters; they lull you into a false sense of security with their tea and their biscuits and their grins. Once upon a time, Ginny was thick enough to fall for that — for the manipulation disguised as courtesy. Now, she’s a bit wiser.

“Interesting,” says Sandra, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh?” Ginny can’t fathom why, but she has a feeling she’s about to find out anyway.

Sandra slowly sips her tea before she lifts her quill and notebook. “Are you abstaining from sugar for… any particular health reason?” she asks, her lips curled in a coy smirk.

Ginny gets the unnerving sensation that the interview started long ago. She refuses to give Sandra the satisfaction of a true reply.

“Nope,” she replies brightly, clasping her hands in her lap. “Just not my prefere—

“—Mm,” interrupts Sandra. “Because I hear that sugar and caffeine often trigger morning sickness. Did you know that, Ginny?”

Ginny’s forced smile remains in place. In truth, she’d expected something like this. Their wedding is soon — very soon. People have been pestering them about their reproductive plans for months. Sandra certainly isn’t above the masses.

“I didn’t,” Ginny says smoothly. “But let’s discuss quidditch. It’s why I’m here, after all!” She shoots Sandra a knowing wink and hopes that conveys when she can’t say: mind your fucking business, you cow.

Unfortunately, Sandra doesn’t take the hint. “It’s now 6th August, Ginny. Officially in between the birthdays of you and your Chosen One.”

“Well spotted,” Ginny notes, still grinning. “Who needs calendars when we have you?”

There’s a beat.

For just a second, Ginny thinks she’s gone too far… but she soon realizes that with Sandra, there’s no such thing as a boundary.

“We’ve all swooned over those photos of him holding your niece — oh, what’s her name…” Sandra taps her teeth, pretending like she doesn’t know the answer; Ginny’s blood rises to a low simmer. “Victoria?”

“Victoire,” Ginny grits. Little gets her back up faster than bringing oblivious children into things. Especially when they’re used for manipulation tactics.

“Oh yes, that’s right,” Sandra croons. “Victoire!” She places a hand over her heart as if reliving a poignant memory… as if she’s had any bloody involvement in Vic’s life. “She’s such a gorgeous baby, isn’t she?”

Ginny forces a laugh. “You’d know, I reckon, since you’ve seen her! Now.” She clears her throat. “I’ve a game in two weeks against the Falcons. Let’s discuss—”

“In time,” Sandra says, waving a manicured hand. To her left, a fluttering of movement catches Ginny’s eye. Shit. The white feathered end of a Quick Quotes Quill furiously darts through the air as the tip scribbles on a notepad. When did Sandra take that out? She thought for certain that Hermione banned them…

“But for now, let’s focus a bit on you, eh?” Sandra presses, her cloud of blonde hair brushing against her shoulders as she cocks her head. “I’m sure readers would be titillated to hear about how your fiance has been in quarantine for over a month. What’s that been like?”

Ginny snorts. Oh, for the love of -- that’s what she’s getting at?! The complete non-story of Harry being quarantined?

“That’s… not very exciting,” Ginny replies. Because it isn’t. With a bored voice, she begins the thousandth recollection of exactly how and why her fiance hasn’t been able to leave the house for two weeks. “Harry was raised by muggles and wasn’t exposed to Dragon Pox as a child. With the latest outbreak in London, the Auror Department wanted to keep him home until they’re finished with the latest preventative potion.” Ginny picks at a piece of lint on the velvet couch. “It’s quite dull.”

Just like this interview.

The remainder of the sentence remains unspoken in the air, but Ginny hears it resonating in her head so loudly she almost jumps.

Sandra just gives her a knowing smirk; Ginny feels a rush of relief that the woman isn’t a Legilimens. “I don’t know. Sounds like fun, having a man all wrapped up for you, 24/7?”

Ha! This time, Ginny really does laugh. Seriously, what is the media obsession with constant sex? She’s about to launch into an explanation about how it’s thoroughly possible to be too bored to shag, but Sandra cuts her off with an even more horrendous question.

“Remind me,” says Sandra, leaning in close. “How old were your in-laws when their Chosen One was born?”

Oh, for the love of—

Ginny bats her eyelashes fiercely. “I’m sure you know,” she says through gritted teeth, “since you’re asking this question. But seeing as how we can’t bloody ask them, I don’t find it appropriate to—“

“Lily Potter was nineteen when she fell pregnant,” Sandra says through a stage whisper. She claps her hands together as if she finds this a truly revealing statement. As if anyone isn’t capable of reading the bloody gravestones and doing the math.

Ginny clears her throat. “Good to know. So the Harpies only have one more match this year, and—“

“You’re 19,” Sandra adds, continuing the conversation she’s only been having with herself. “The rumors around London are that the quarantine is bogus. Has Harry already quit his job to be a stay at home dad? He’d love to have his own Chosen Ones, Miss Weasley.”

In retrospect, Ginny will realize that this comment is the final fucking straw. She could handle the false flattery. She could see through the batted eyelashes and the singsong lulling into complacency. But she cannot — will not — stand for this complete cow spreading rumors about Harry.

But instead of handling any of it maturely, she rises to her feet, glares at Sandra, and provides a retort so lewd, so scathing, that it rocks the tabloids for months.

And with a triumphant quirk of her eyebrow, Ginny turns on the spot and disapparates, leaving Sandra’s dropped jaw to tremble as the Quick Quotes Quill continues scribbling so fast it scratches the parchment.

Even before her feet touch down, she regrets the whole ordeal.

She doesn’t regret telling Sandra off, mind — but with a wince, Ginny accepts that yes, she does regret how she did it. She regrets that she’s just given the cow enough ammunition to paint her as a true villain. She regrets that she involved Harry and—

Harry.

Ginny shudders. Harry, who values his privacy above everything else. Harry, who won’t discuss anything about her in interviews, but still gets this adorably lovesick grin whenever her name comes up. Harry, who loves her. And trusted her.

Fuck.

Ginny pinches the bridge of her nose, her stomach sinking, and wonders how in hell she’s going to talk her way out of this one.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t have long to ponder how she’ll break the news. In the blink of an eye, Harry’s coming around the corner. Poor bloke. It’s not like he’s got much else to do but await her return. This whole quarantine experience is uncomfortably reminiscent of Sirius' last months of life. She can't ignore the ghostly memory of Dumbledore’s gentle chiding that energetic young men (and women, she supposes) don’t do well cooped up, cut off from the outside world...

“Hey!” says the man in question, flashing her a smile. “That was a quick one! Thought I heard you, but you’re—“

“I fucked up.”

Her whisper echoes in the flat. She stares at her trainers, her face burning.

She blinks up as Harry shifts in place; his smile is nowhere to be seen, replaced with the look she knows and hates. Harry’s jaw is set, his eyes narrowed in concern. He’s doing the whole I’m-strong-for-you-but-I’m-afraid.

“Erm. Ok?” he asks, gesturing towards the couch. “Would you like to...?”

“I’ve said something during the interview I shouldn’t,” Ginny adds, biting the inside of her cheek. “Something I definitely, definitely shouldn’t.”

There’s another pause. Ginny worries, just for a second, that she’s scared him or that he’s somehow already heard.

But she should’ve known him better. Because in a split-second, Harry both senses exactly what she needs... and acts on it.

He wraps her in his arms and rests his chin on the crown of her head. He presses her face to his chest and guides them both to the couch and makes soothing murmurs and brushes the hair away from her jaw.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says gently. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you claim, but—”

“It is,” Ginny whispers, miserable.

Harry shrugs. “Well, I can’t possibly know until you tell me, so—”

“She— she mentioned your mother.”

Harry’s chest stiffens as he draws a sharp breath; she gets the impression he’s trying very hard to wait until she’s done to interject with words of support.

“She... Sandra... she mentioned that I’m nearly 19, your mother was 19 when she fell pregnant, and—”

Harry cuts her off with a snort. “And does she think that was on purpose? I mean I’m happy I’m here, but yeah...” He shifts her in his arms, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t seem entirely intentional, given the circumstances.”

“Well, babies have a tendency of showing up like that,” Ginny replies dryly. “Sandra did raise a good point about making sure we’re... being careful.” She grazes a fingernail up his arm and relishes when his skin erupts in gooseflesh.

For a fleeting, victorious second, Ginny thinks she’s distracted him. She thinks she’s achieved her ultimate goal of turning his attention to the 24/7 sex they’re alleged to be having.

But she should know better, really, that Harry would ever be fooled when it comes to her.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Harry rumbles, his voice gentle but firm. “Not like I’ve got anywhere else to go, after all. We can sit here for the next few weeks if—”

“She asked when we’re having kids. And not just in passing,” Ginny adds, raising a pointer finger. “No, Harry, she pushed. Over and over. She suggested I was already pregnant, she brought up your mother, she asked when I’d function as the vessel for the Chosen One’s offspring…” She trails off with a sigh. “So. Finally, I snapped.”

He takes her still-extended pointer finger and gently pushes it into a fist. “What did you tell her?” he asks, kissing her knuckles. “Because from what I’m hearing, it sounds like she deserves it. Honestly I’m surprised you didn’t—”

“Isaidwhenyoustopfinishingonmytits!”

There’s another pause. “Erm, sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite—”

“I said,” Ginny repeats, her voice strained, “that we’ll have a baby when you stop finishing on my tits!”

Fuck.

She groans, sliding her hands over her face. Recapping this is somehow worse than living it the first time. Speaking it to Harry changes the stakes. It turns the situation from hypothetical to absolute. It solidifies that she fucked up... she really, really fucked up.

And she’s so lost in humiliation, so buzzing with horror, that it takes her a second to realize that Harry isn’t buzzing for the same reasons. Although he’s certainly shaking, isn’t he?

A second later, she dares to peer at him through her fingers. To her delight, Harry’s not furious — he’s laughing!

And when they make eye contact, his silent shaking transforms into full-body laughter. The type that sends tears to his eyes. The type that’s infectious, contagious. The type that makes her want to laugh, too.

“So I take it you’re not… angry?”

Harry wipes his eyes. “Ginny,” he says weakly, “I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe! Did you actually think I’d be angry over that?” He snorts, pressing her against his chest again. “No. For once and for all, no. She crossed a line, and she got what was coming.”

“But you hate attention,” Ginny moans into his shoulder. “You hate big displays and personal things being public and—”

“But I love you,” he says softly, kissing her temple. He gives a dry chuckle that sends tingled through her body. “And to be honest, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t go off on people. Especially when they deserve it.”

She sighs, pulling back. She has to see his face to confirm. To reassure herself. As she’d suspected, Harry’s just giving her a wry smirk. His green eyes are flooded with warmth as he peers back at her. Even after all this time, he still looks at her like he can’t believe she’s there. Like he can’t believe she’s his. His smirk grows to a full-on grin, and Ginny bites her lip; she thinks he’s about to provide some sappy, lovesick rebuttal.

Instead, he replies with something that’s simultaneously the absolute best — and the absolute worst.

“Besides,” Harry says casually. “Joke’s on them. We both know I’d never have the self-control or coordination to finish on your tits.”

With that, she laughs... really, truly laughs. She relaxes against his side, letting the soothing rhythm of his voice wash over her. He laces his fingers through hers. He plays with the strands of her hands.

And by the end of the night, she’s thankful for exactly two things: her fiancé in quarantine, and the contraception that will keep them from enacting Sandra’s plan for a long, long time.

#harry/ginny fanfic #harry/ginny discord #ginny's birthday #harry/ginny

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 4 years ago

Text

Of Ice and Blood

Part 5

Look who's back with a 5k+ word count chapter?! Me!

I was planning on posting 1k+ at a time but stuff happened and I'm posting it all at once!

Enjoy and I'd appreciate it dearly if you reblog! Thank you!

Edit: Reached the 250 block limit so... The inevitable decision had to be made! Part 5 has a total of 3.42k words! The rest will be in a separate post <3

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, brief mentions of blood and injury.

Overall SFW (but 16+ for language)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 Part 6

The walk back to the school building was quiet.

Or so I thought.

Because it wasn't. At all.

Whispers, mutterings, echoed from the rooms as we passed by.

Are they doing it on purpose, or is my hearing sharper than usual?

"Hey look it's that girl."

"You mean the freak who sat beside the orc—"

"First day of school and someone already got killed. Should've expected him to be a savage."

"You think she wears a mask to hide her identity? Maybe she's a criminal-"

Probably the latter.

I shrugged. There stood a decent amount of distance between us anyway. So it's likely my hearing.

Students were watching us with weird suspecting eyes from a distance behind the windows. Sensing apprehension and outward hate when they saw Tai'chi next to me, his face in a neutral expression. But with my nose at this proximity, he smells pretty annoyed.

Just— why are there so many people,— humans–garnering these feelings towards someone they don't even know! And to even mock him like that! How dare —

"Pearl," Tai'chi called. His rich voice resonating, making the gossips of the students stop for a brief moment before they continued. Most likely slandering my name now. I didn't know I was standing still. Looking up, Tai'chi was a decent 9 meters away, with the staff members further ahead of him. He gave me a wondering look, worry along with his natural fragrance, drifted through me, carried by air.

I straightened up and took long strides, Tai'chi beside me, to catch up with them.

"Yeah, just thinking. I'm okay." Replying, not looking up to him. He didn't ask, but I felt like he would.

************short pov shift************

He was a bit bothered by the change in your scent and looked back when he noticed you weren't beside him anymore. There you were, standing in the middle of the wide hallway, brows scrunched up in aggravation.

He called out to you, probably a little louder than he meant to, but you looked up and hastily made your way beside him, both of you catching up to the rest towards the dean's office. He didn't ask, but you answered, only making him worry even more.

**********first person pov**************

As soon as we entered the main office of the center building, we were greeted with the sight of the dean and David, together with Miss Holson. He was a white fat man, though a bit taller than me, wearing a light grey suit with a few buttons open revealing a white undershirt, and a silly yellow, violet polka dot tie. I barely held back from snorting at the sight.

Mr. Silverstone was fussing over his son, his voice raised in slight panic was heard by everyone.

They went ahead of us then.

"My son! My dear, dear David! Who did this to you?!" he cried out. Once David, that son of a bitch, spotted me, he flashed me that blasted grin of his. He was acting, pretending to be hurt.

I hardly even left a scratch on him for fuck's sake. How I regret not punching him straight in the face.

Reverting to his fake, frightened, and miserable state, he pointed at me. "I-I-It's her father! She is the one who attacked me! Along with that thing with her."

Thing?! That sick bastard!

The dean whipped his head in my direction, eyes scanning me up and down before he diverted them to Tai'chi.

Well, it seems I'll ve packing up sooner than I thought.

My shoulders sagged.

Some professors were alarmed by this, frantically pushing forward to grab his attention.

"Mr. Silverstone, we still do not know what's for certain. We must interrogate them properly and listen to each of their sides before we make a decision." Mr. Dulrik asserted, his voice strained and close to animosity. He was not pleased with what the student had said.

The elder professor from earlier followed up.

"Listen to Mr. Dulrik, sir. We cannot take any risks and ju—"

"Silence!" the dean shouted. "I will not hear your reasoning. My son has told me everything I need to know. Miss Holson supported his claims and that's enough to decide what to do with these criminals."

Criminals?!

"The girl and that orc shall be expelled from this institution immediately. We do not need any murderers or barbarians here. I have always suspected why that Ernestine brat even allowed these monstrosities to be with us. To breathe the same air and walk the same land as we do, endangering our safety no less! A pathetic excuse of a founder she is! If it were me I would've—"

"You would've what?" Words came out before I stopped myself, my voice low, but it was heard still, drawing their attention to me.

"What did you just say?" He demanded, his anger slipping out more. The room was silent, except for the subtle ticking of the wall clock behind me, and the movement of air around us.

I lifted my head and looked at him dead in the eye. "You would've what?" This time, I replied, louder.

Before he could retort I went on, emotion fueling my words as I advanced with every question asked.

"Would've banned every single, non-human race from the university?

"Would've taught every human that they are greater beings and the ones that were different were meant to be stepped on?

"Would've ordered and tolerated bullying on anyone who was unnatural and weird looking?

"Would've put them in their place?

Isolate them? Degrade them? Despise them for being alive?" No-one stopped me as I approached him, the teachers separating and making way. Even Mr. Dulrik was regarding me curiously.

I scoffed. " 'If it were me' you said. You think I wouldn't notice how everyone else, that isn't human, was oppressed and treated like shit in this school? It seems to me that you already did what you would've done, didn't you? You are no dean, you are a clown, a pillock, a dumbass, and you call yourself human? You are more monster than any of us in this room."

I breathed heavily as I stood a couple of feet in front of him. His face grew to a crimson hue, my ears catching the sound of smoke seething out of him. At the back, David and Miss Holson were dumbfounded, shocked into place, shaken like ugly statues.

Finally, the dean spoke, his fists clenching hard as he faced me, almost drawing blood.

I am so gonna beat him up. Hell yeah, I will.

"Keep out of trouble if you can." Well, shit happened Mama, forgive me.

"How dare you speak to me like that! I, a pure-blood Silverstone, a line of royalty! If we were still at war I would've had you executed from where you stand—"

"How about you do it yourself then, oh mighty Silverstone jerk?" I mocked and gave a toothy smile, then I remembered he wouldn't see it. That was all it took to have him launching himself at me, the professors running to the sides to avoid his wrath.

His hands were balled tight, a fist aiming for my face, eyes filled with deadly intent.

Oh, he really wants to kill me.

Before it connected, I sidestepped, causing him to stumble forward. Even so, he immediately regained his balance and reached to grab my hoodie. I didn't dodge this time, but before he touched me, I used my right hand to slap it away. With my other hand, fitted with my crimson knuckle dusters, I met his fist with mine. Almost instantly, he stumbled back and crouched down, his left hand holding his bloodied one.

"You bitch!!!" he screamed in agony.

I think I broke his hand.

I glanced to my brass knuckles, some of the blood covering them, merely visible because of its color.

Shattered it perhaps.

"I will have you killed you insolent brat! I'll kill you!" he cursed.

"Now, now, Silverstone, you will do no such thing." A feminine voice cut through the large room. We all turned to the door to see a slim, tall, tanned woman who seemed to be in her 40s, her slightly wrinkled face showing it. She was wearing a black high-waist pencil skirt paired with a black one-button suit and a baby blue undershirt. The lady also wore classic white loafers and white hand gloves made of leather, with her ebony hair tied up in a bun.

Everything about her screams 'important'. I scented an intimidating yet reassuring aura around her.

I met her eyes and a sense of familiarity fell upon me. I know her and I've seen her before.

Wait. Could it be— she's—

"Madame Ernestine!" A professor exclaimed.

That means she's, "The founder," I said out loud.

She began sauntering in my direction, each step clicking on the floor, carrying herself with grace.

"M-Ma-Madame Ernestine!" The dean, shrieked as he stood up, shaking, his busted hand in his chest, his back facing me. "I didn't expect you to visit this year! We could've prepared for your arrival—"

"You shut your mouth now Welmir." She spoke out, her voice firm and borderline hostile. "I've had enough of your blabbering mug. I made it so that my arrival is unexpected. Leaving my outside duties rather early and rushed this year when news got to me that you, the dean, were neglecting your duties, or so, doing it wrong. Not to mention I had my assistant install extra cameras in... certain places last year and because of that, I saw what you did in the shadows. Maybe not all, but it confirmed my suspicions of you, and so," She clapped her together, "I decided to visit you today. And what a surprise it was to see you get beaten up by this lovely young lady behind you."

Me?! Lovely—

My face warmed from her comment.

"Listen here, brat." he regarded the founder. The founder. "I do not know what you are talking about. I have done my duties and more for this university. I made it so that everyone here is safe and this girl,"— he spat— "harmed me, my precious son, and his friends!"

"And all of you deserved it, severely," she responded flatly. "You put my dear students at risk and antagonized them with your schemes, tolerating the behavior of treating other races like animals, disrespecting even the professors who are different in kind," she glanced at Mr. Dulrik and the others. "You even forced a minotaur, an elf, and a dwarven student to act the part of being in a student council, hoping people wouldn't notice the crimes you did behind our backs. Did you expect me to turn blind eye to this?"

It was all pretend?!

The mere thought of what he did to threaten them to it makes me wanna puke.

"I am furious, Welmir Silverstone. To think I believed you'd change your ways after my father's death with the renovation of the institute. Trusted you to do your job as dean and make the students comfortable, welcomed. But, no. You chose to follow his footsteps, became selfish, blinded by greed and pointless hate. You are a disappointment to all of us."

I smelled her rage under that near non-expressive facade of hers. It was spicy, like fire having an odor of its own.

"You are but a child! You know nothing of this world! This world of ours needs to be purged off of those rats. You cannot tell me what to do!" He yelled as he brought up his uninjured hand to hit her. I was about to step in when Madame Ernestine grabbed his arm and threw a right uppercut, blood spilling out of his jaw. The punch sent him a few steps back, he would have landed on me if I didn't move out of the way before he collapsed on the floor groaning and holding his mouth.

Ooh she's strong! Nice! I grinned.

"You are hereby stripped off of your job as dean along with all of your titles, properties, and henceforth banished from these grounds, together with your son and Emma Holson, whom I found out laid with him, and the abusive acts they had engaged in." Her words laced with poison, disgust and anger as she gave the final judgement.

"Never show yourselves. Ever. Again," she spat. "Take them away."

Out of nowhere, men in black suits came in and apprehended the young instructor, who twisted her heel trying to escape. She yelled at them to let her go, saying she has done nothing wrong. David, the bastard, was held in place by one of them as he struggled in their grasp. The dean— or should I say, Mr. Silverstone, in pain and bleeding, was dragged up by two others and headed straight out of the door. He shouted ;

"Mark my words, brat! I will—"

And the door slammed close.

With my gaze following them, my eyes landed on Tai'chi. I took off my dusters and waved, tucking them back up my sleeve.

He is smiling! And oh wow he's damn gorgeous— wait what?

My attention was drawn away to the lady in front of me. I got distracted by Tai'chi that I almost forgot about her.

"Oh my God I uhm— hello Madame Ernestine." I took one step back before bowing. "It's an honor to meet you. I—"

"Oh dear, please raise your head. No need for such formal gestures. I am Valerie Ernestine, founder of the new Ernestine State University." She stated as she beamed at me.

"I uh- Yes ma'am I know of you. I'm quite a fan actually— I mean! My name is Pearl Blackbell, ma'am."

Oh God, that sounded so stupid.

Then she hugged me.

"Ma'am?!" I squeaked. My arms went stiff, nervous to even touch her. Before I could, she pulled back, a gentle expression on her face.

"Nice to meet you, Pearl Blackbell."

"I- nice to meet you too Ma'am Ernestine!" I stammered, praying my face and ears isn't as red as I feel them to be.

"Please, call me Valerie."

"Ma'am Valerie."

"Just Valerie, dear."

"I'm so sorry ma'am but I can't— my mother will hit me in the head with a frying pan if I forget my manners."

"Very well, then. It brings me joy that you were raised properly by your parents."

"Thank you ma'am, I really am happy to have them, and I only hope for them to be proud of me— oh wait. Uh, ma'am Valerie?"

"Yes?"

"Am I gonna get punished or expelled?" I shrunk, expecting the worst.

"Why ever did you think of that?"

"W-Well you see, I did harm uh, students and they're probably in the infirmary right now and—"

"Oh, Pearl, no." She let out a light chuckle. "You won't be punished or even expelled for that! In fact, I saw how you defended yourself and your friend from them. They did attack you first, sweetie. And what you did was impressive!" She clapped her hands. As I stood there in relief, I couldn't help but shot up when the words sank in.

"Oh, thank you. But how...?"

"Apparently, I had my assistant install some cameras in the forest area for particular reasons. I watched you from the monitor as I made my way here," she replied.

"Oh. Oh, wow. That's actually pretty awesome," I sighed.

"Indeed, it is," she smiled. "Excuse me for a bit."

******pov shift to 2nd person (two characters)*****

Madame Ernestine turned and walked towards the remaining teachers to talk about important matters at hand.

"Greetings, my friends." She beamed at the staff and looked at Professor Dulrik and the woman who supported him earlier. "Hello, Roldo and Amila. I have missed you dearly." She bent down to hug the two of them before she went on. "I apologize for not taking action immediately. To think he did this to all of you right under my nose! Why didn't you contact me Roldo?"

"My apologies, Madame Ernestine. I didn't have any proof to show his plot against you and the others. He was very elusive and kept us very busy in our own offices for the past year with you away. That was until today, with the young lady over there standing up against his son, he snapped."

"It really is a good thing she came here, didn't she?" she whispered.

"Indeed, Madame," Amila replied.

There was a brief silence, before Valerie spoke up again. Her gaze locked at the dwarven professor.

"Roldo, my old friend, I want you to take your place as the new dean of this university. I trust you to do your duty a hundred percent better than that impudent man ever did. Will you accept this responsibility?"

"I- Valerie this is-"

"Roldo, you are wise and have seen things most of us here have not. I will not force you on something you do not want, but I put my faith in you, to help me, along with the rest of the staff, to teach everyone here that all of us stand in equal ground, and that we must respect and acknowledge each individual, regardless of their kind. No one, no student, should ever feel uncomfortable in this haven of mine."

"I understand, Valerie." The dwarf took a deep breath and vowed;

"I, Roldo Dulrik, son of Grol II, son of Frerin, accept the responsibilities given to me as dean of Ernestine State University. I will do my duty to the best of my abilities, and remain loyal to you and to this institution." He responded as he thumped his right fist against his chest.

"I know you will, my friend." Valerie grinned at him, her eyes full of trust and hope.

While they were occupied with discussing certain issues, you tried to sneak away, only to be called back by Madame Ernestine.

"Pearl, my dear."

"Yes ma'am?"

"Thank you."

She had a soft smile, emotions clear on her face, directed at you. The founder, Valerie was thanking you for your bravery, kindness and overall honesty. You simply nodded and grinned from ear to ear behind your mask. You were, however, suddenly nervous when Valerie and the two professors approached you. No, actually, all of them were, but the others are heading out of the office, perhaps to go back to their respective classrooms and start working, they gave their thanks as they went out.

"Pearl Blackbell, a wonderful name!" Professor Dulrik remarked. "May the Gods bless you and shine upon you in all your days," he grinned. Before you could reply, Professor Amila hugged you and whispered. "Thank you, for beating up those idiots," —which made you giggle— "It was the right thing to do, and also I had to defend myself. and thank you, Professor Dulrik."

"Nonsense, call me Professor Roldo, lass." He patted your shoulder as he went past you and out of the office, but not before he slapped Tai'chi's forearm.

"You best protect her if you can, lad. Even so, it is obvious she won't need protecting!" He laughed, and went on, quietly, as if whispering. "...Be her friend, my boy. Her eyes...they show the pain she had gone through. You saw that in her, didn't you?"

Tai'chi simply nodded in response. He knew what he meant.

"Then do what you must. If word ever comes to me that you hurt her, I will hunt you down with me battle axe hidden in my office, you hear?"

This time, he chuckled. "I hear you, Professor. I won't. I swear on the the name of my clan, no harm will befall on her." He told him, his voice firm and true.

"That's what I'm talking about, lad!" He replied as he finally exited the room.

Tai'chi shifted his gaze to you. You and the dean were still talking so he stood there, patiently.

"We best be on our way. We still have a number of things to set straight. We will see you around, Miss Blackbell. Don't get into trouble now." The founder giggled.

"I will try my best, ma'am."

"Oh sure you will, sweetie. Goodluck. And oh, the two of you should start going back. It's past lunchbreak afterall." She said as the two ladies sauntered past you and went out.

"Thank you, we will." You said, mostly to yourself.

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

Part 6 will be posted shortly! Like, shortly shortly. Like, an hour or so shortly. Stay tuned! Thank you for reaching this point uwu✨

Tags: @crackinanutshell @kokokatsworld @mitchiesdungeon <3

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yourbooksname · 4 years ago

Text

Batfam disney film headcanons

Normal Disney

The Little Mermaid

- Damian finds Eric ‘likeable’ - its because Eric is practically Dick Grayson

- Bruce accidentally reveals that young Dick had a crush on Ariel and the others tease him mercilessly

- “Seriously, Dickhead, every redhead you’ve ever seen?”

- Dick grumbles but has a gleam in his eyes as he stares at the screen during part of your world

- “Is she serious? Surely one who has studied this much knows what feet are-”

- “Demon, shut up”

- They say Grimsby is a knock off alfred

- “Oh, please, knock-off means it bears some resemblance. I surely hope other than the accent you all see no relation of him to me.”

- They all kinda love Ursula, in their own special way

- Steph is dancing around, if you could call it dancing, dragging cass with her (who is smiling the whole time) during under the sea

- Jason leans back and, with a cruel smile on his face, exclaimes that “this is the best song” during les poissons

- Which causes an uproar from most of the others

Aladdin

- Everyone tiptoes around it, and then steph makes one joke and suddenly its constant jason jokes

- “Is crime alley this musical?”

- “Would you all shut up? *mumbling* I didn’t even have a monkey”

- “Who’s your Jasmine, aladdin?”

- “Tt, statistically speaking based on time spent together, it’s that buffoon Harper”

- Jason is an inch from killing them but none of them really care at this point

- Once they caught him humming one jump ahead while cooking and they will never ever let him live it down

- “steph I swear if you keep playing the Gilbert Gottfried version of WAP over iago-”

- Rajah appears, and it’s too late for them to turn the movie off before

- “Father, I would like a bengal tiger.”

- Most of them are clearly having a great time during friend like me

- Jason brings up the talent of Robin williams

- and damian says “who”

- Jason turns, bewildered, and decides he’s going to force him to watch every single robin williams movie until he finds one he likes (It’s Jumanji, surprisingly. Dick likes Mrs. Doubtfire, Tim loves Good Will Hunting, Jason loves Dead Poets Society, Bruce is partial to Good Morning Vietnam, Steph loves Aladdin, Cass loves Hook)

- They have a moment of silence at the end for robin williams

Lilo and Stitch

- The family likes to joke Damien is stitch

- “A violent” “but loveable” “little gremlin...”

- “Tt, if we’re assigning roles, then Drake is that contemptuous redheaded girl”

- ‘Listen brat-”

- Duke shuts them up by saying that “this is the most ohana family i’ve ever seen in my life”

- Cass wants to learn how to spit fire

- Steph is fully on board, and so is Jason

- Damian wants to watch

- Alfred is about to have a heart attack

- But Damian does enjoy the movie, as it reminds him of his acceptance among the bats - not that he’d tell them

- Surprisingly, this movie also means a lot to Jason and Dick

- even if they don’t say it out loud

- they watched it together when Jason was young; and the sibling relationship in the movie moves ‘em both - and Jason can enjoy some quality Elvis

- However awkward, they’re nicer to each other after each viewing, and on a bad day they both get emotional during the movie (one more than the other, openly anyway)

- That cannot and will not stop Jason from messing with the bats/breaking the rules the next day on Patrol, and when Dick or Bruce confronts him, yelling “Ohana, bitch” and jumping off the building

A goofy movie

- Similar to Lilo and Stitch in terms of bonding, it brings Bruce closer to the boys

- but especially Jason, because Jason

- is Jason

- and would def. be the one to object the most to a road trip

- They make an uneasy but loving eye contact during ‘Nobody else but you’

- Dick LOVES powerline, tell me i’m wrong; this bitch knows all the dance moves to both Stand Out and Eye to Eye (and the perfect catch, technically)

- Tim thinks the movie is worth watching just for Bobby (”you would, nerd”)

- Steph insists it has the best looking Pizza in any movie ever

“LOOK AT IT”

“We’re looking steph”

“LOOK HARDER”

Pixar lightning round

- Toy Story

- It’s been banned at Wayne Manor

- Not because they don’t like it

- But because Jason objects to Randy Newman

- And Dick attempts even MORE death-defying stunts on Patrol, claiming he’s “falling with style”

- A bug’s life

- Dick likes it, it reminds him of the circus,

- but other than that none of them really care too much about it

- Toy Story 2

- Often referenced whenever a family member breaks their arm (”NOW I CAN’T GO TO COWBOY CAMP”

- Jason says “Hey look, it’s bruce” every time zurg is on screen and Bruce is sick of it

- Once, an argument broke out during ‘When she loved me’

- “Oh, Sarah McLachlan”

- “Who?”

- “The one singing - she does those stupid ASPCA commercials”

- “Stupid? It is advertising to aid animals subjected to cruelty. You’re the stupid one.”

- “Brat, shut up, it’s a commercial.”

- “Do you support animal cruelty?”

- “What?! I-”

- “Go ahead, take it out on me. I am glad Alfred and Titus are not here as I know they would be your primary target, monster.”

- So they’ve stopped watching the movie

- Monsters inc.

- Jason always wants to watch it

- he used to love watching it with Roy (who, unbeknownst to anyone except Jason and Kori) would cry at the ending thinking of Lian

- It’s also just hilarious

- Finding Nemo

- They think it’ll teach Bruce to be less overprotective

- They were wrong

- He hovers even more

- Which prompts steph to walk up to a warehouse on a mission yelling “look at me, i’m gonna go touch the butt”

- when Gil came on screen someone said “look, it’s deathstroke” which prompted a chuckle out of everyone

-The Incredibles;

-They all recognize the irony of a superhero family movie, but enjoy it nonetheless

- Once, Jason pointed out how similar Syndrome’s origin story was to Tim

- everyone was a little rattled, and were grateful Tim decided to persist to good

-Cars

- “Wow”

- “WOW”

- “wow”

-Ratatouille

- Tim and Barbara both love it

- They admire the work being done almost methodically

- Jason and Alfred enjoy the cooking in the movie, as they are both avid chefs

- Damian also admires the film, though he called the plot “ludicrous” he likes the music

- They have to force Dick out of the destroyed kitchen as he yells “anyone can cook!” the next day

- Wall-E

- Cass loves this one - especially as it’s mostly told through body language

-It inspires Tim to start a new ‘Go green’ wayne manor initiative

- Damian will watch the first half but insists the movie loses its quality when the humans arrive

- Up

- Damian wants a talking dog

- Dick’s favorite pixar movie, probably

- He loves the beginning, and the soundtrack, and the house flying, and Ellie

- Once Tim got him a grape soda pin and he wore it for weeks

- Brave;

-They tease Dick more (redhead)

- The girls love it

- At least one person tries to do a scottish accent with every viewing

- Inside Out

- Dick was sobbing by the end

- Cause this mans does nothing but bottle up all emotions other than joy

- For the people around him

- He gets the support from his family that Riley gets and suddenly everyone’s emotional (as emotional as Bats can be, I suppose)

- Coco

- Jason sings remember me in spanish often when he thinks no one is around

- They watch it on Halloween and Jason laments how young him probably would have gone as Miguel for halloween with the hoodie his mom gave him; however it wouldn’t fit now

- throwing him a Dia De los Muertos celebration (yes Jason is latino fight me)

- He appreciates it, begrudgingly, but gets emotional when he finds a new red hoodie up in his room, not knowing who its from

- It becomes his new favorite pixar movie

______ If you have more movie ideas please let me know because i’m loving doing this

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theassthatquits · 4 years ago

Text

Blupjeans Week Day 2 - Ghost

Lup Taaco founded the premier science camp for teens - Camp Rocks! - this side of Faerun almost a decade ago. She did it by herself (mostly) and has the awards, articles, and accolades to prove that it’s a success.

So where does Davenport, her investor, get off going behind her back and hiring someone new without consulting her? Sure, enrollment has plateaued in the last couple of years, the main complaint being that they needed to shake up their staffing and curriculum, but she had it handled. She could take care of it herself, this was just a bump in the road. She didn’t need the help of some fancy doctor, this ‘Dr. Hallwinter’ that Davenport worked with at the university.

Lup scoffed while thumbing through his resume and cover letter. Top of his undergrad at Neverwinter U, a triple major in chemistry, astronomy, and physics. A brief stint working at a funeral home - a little weird, but everyone goes through a quarter life crisis, right? Returning to school a couple years later to get his masters and PhD and now taught at the same university while simultaneously doing interplanar research with Davenport. At the bottom of his resume with “related skills” he put ‘huge nerd’, as if that wasn’t obvious enough.

“Well, at least he knows what he’s talking about,” she muttered to herself as she threw the papers aside. There was no use fighting it now, she had spent weeks arguing and it wasn’t getting her anywhere. And it wasn’t like this was a bad idea, it just wasn’t her idea. This was her camp, after all.

---

Okay, maybe this Dr. Hallwinter guy wasn’t such a bad fit. They got off on the wrong foot, having a couple of heated discussions (fights) about things that she could barely remember. But now, she was standing in the corner of the pavilion, watching him give a very animated lecture on stars and planets. Angus McDonald, one of their first campers and the only one who came every single year, kept raising his hand to ask new questions and Hallwinter loved it. The two of them could go back and forth for hours, talking about theories and experiments and life itself. Angus had signed himself up for all of Dr. Hallwinter’s classes for the summer and loved every minute.

And he wasn’t so bad to look at, she supposed.

Lup was snapped out of her reverie by the class laughing very loudly at some Fortnite reference he made. Without realizing it, she smiled too. Dr. Hallwinter looked up at that moment to see her and his grin grew even bigger. With their eyes locked together, he dabbed and the class lost it all over again. When she giggled at that, she could have sworn he was blushing.

---

Every year towards the end of the summer the staff throws a “spooky soiree” to celebrate the end of camp. Everyone dresses up in a science-themed costume, they use the different things they have learned to create gruesome and cool decorations and effects, and they end the night with a ghost story bonfire. It’s easily Lup’s favorite night of camp. She loves amazing all of the younger kids with the cauldrons of “witches brew” (just dry ice in some punch) and grossing them out with the “eyeballs” (peeled grapes). This year she sewed some LEDs into her black vest, creating stars and constellations. Lup glowed in the dark and she fucking loved it.

She was in the middle of a (spooky) explanation of the witch's brew when she caught sight of Dr. Hallwinter walking up to the party. He was wearing a white shirt with lines drawn across it like a measuring cup and a long red robe over it. She was pretty sure he was wearing a graduation cap, too, which would mean…

“Holy shit you’re a graduated cylinder!” Lup shouted at him from across the way.

Immediately squeals of “language, Miss Lup!” began in front of her and she apologized to them as Dr. Hallwinter walked over with a smile on his face.

“Sure, am! This is pretty much my only Halloween costume, but I do love it.”

“Well, it certainly works for you, Dr. Hallwinter.”

He blushed before saying, “Lup, please just call me Barry. We’ve been having this discussion all summer. The only other person who calls me Dr. Hallwinter is Angus.”

As if to prove his point, Taako swooped in at that moment in a chef’s costume with the letters “FE” written on his shirt and yelled, “Excellent costume, Barold! You look even more like a nerd than usual and that’s saying something.”

Barry laughed. “Thank you, Taako, or should I say Iron Chef?”

Taako bowed deeply. “At your service, sir.”

“Dr. Hallwinter, sir!” They saw smoke before they saw Angus and Lup was a little alarmed before she realized that it was part of his costume. The boy had dressed up like a volcano with fake lava and smoke coming out of the top of it. “Look, it works!”

“All right, buddy!” The pair high fived and a weird fuzzy feeling struck Lup while watching the two of them.

“I think they’re about to start the scary stories over by the bonfire, are you coming, sir?”

“Pshh am I coming? Miss Lup asked me if I could host the festivities. Now you go get a good seat and I’ll be right over to start us off.”

Angus saluted him and ran off, eager for the frights ahead.

“Hosting the ghost stories, that’s a big deal Barold. Lup has hosted the bonfire herself for the last - oh, I don’t know, 2 decades?”

Barry turned to Lup, confused. “Is that true? I don’t want to impose or ruin any traditions.”

She waved him off. “Nah, it’s fine. We got off on the wrong foot, think of it as a peace offering.” Stepping closer to him and putting a hand on his shoulder, her voice got quiet. “You’re a member of this family, Barry.”

It was a good thing it was so dark, otherwise she would have seen his face turn a deep red. “You said my name.”

“Yeah, yeah, go get ready to spook some kids, Bluejeans.”

“Bluejeans?”

“You’ve worn the same blue jeans every single day since you started, even when we do activities by the lake. I’m absolutely convinced that you only packed that one pair for the entire summer.”

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong.”

“Barold. My dude. You only packed one pair of jeans, no shorts, no swim trunks, for an entire summer at a camp?”

“There might have been a slight mishap on the way here in which I lost my shorts, swim trunks, and half of my underwear.”

No one moved or said anything for a second before Taako finally said, “Barry, you know we go into town once a week to get food for the camp, right?”

Barry just stared into space, regretting all of his life choices that led up to this moment. Lup busted up laughing, harder than anyone had seen her laugh all summer. As she wiped a tear from her eye, she patted his shoulder and said, “Well, I guess you know for next year, right?”

He raised an eyebrow playfully. “Next year, huh?”

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t make any promises until I see how well you do at our bonfire fright fest. Speaking of which, we should definitely be heading over there. I am a little nervous to see how Magnus has been keeping the kids occupied.”

---

Lup stood in the back of the crowd, letting Barry take over the hosting responsibilities of the bonfire. It was one of her favorite parts of camp, but it felt right to let him do it. He was doing really well, enhancing his performance with shadow puppets from the fire and interspersing the scary parts with science puns to ease the nerves of the younger kids. She found it absolutely adorable.

“I think Barold is giving you a run for your money, Lulu.”

“He’s better than I expected, that’s for sure.”

“I’m glad you gave the guy a chance. He’s a good dude.”

She smiled. ��He is, isn’t he?”

Taako took a moment, watching his sister watch Barry. “You have the hots for him, don’t you? Jeezy creezy, I should have seen this coming. Those arguments you two had at the beginning were spicy.”

“What?!” Lup said, a little too loudly, face flushing. “I do not have the hots for Dr. Bluejeans. He’s just funny and good with the kids and very smart and looks good in jeans and oh my god I have the hots for Dr. Bluejeans.” Her eyes got wide and she clutched Taako’s arms. “Taako what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Lulu, I say this with all the love in my heart: don’t follow your instincts. Right now, your instincts are telling you to let him walk away tomorrow and not say anything, and they are dead wrong.”

“Ughhh but what if he doesn’t feel the same? It ruins the professional relationship we have and then I have to ban him from the camp and then Angus will hate me and we will lose our best customer.”

“Something tells me he also feels the same way.”

“But how do you know that?”

30 minutes earlier

Lup went ahead before the boys to make sure that Magnus hadn’t started a revolution of sorts and that left Barry and Taako to quickly clean up the food before following. Barry’s eyes lingered a little too long on Lup as she was walking away.

“Barold. Are you checking out my sister?”

“What?! No, what makes you think that?”

“I rolled a Nat 20 on perception, Barold. Legally you cannot lie to me. Now tell me: do you have the hots for my sister?”

Barry covered his face with his hands. “Maybe? Yes. Absolutely. Completely. As soon as she called me a poorly-dressed poser on my first day I was done for.”

“Rad. You should do something about that.” Taako started walking towards the bonfire, witch’s brew in hand.

“What, like tell her?”

“Tell her, kiss her, fight her, just something so I get to stop looking at you two making eyes at one another,” Taako yelled back without stopping.

“What - we don’t make eyes at one another, that’s not…she makes eyes at me?”

“Yeah, I think you’re good, my dude.”

The kids started clapping, signaling the end of the story that Magnus was telling.

“All right, thank you Magnus. Very scary, that story about zombie dogs. I think next up we have everyone’s favorite camp director, Miss Lup!”

The kids cheered and Lup had to pull herself together to nail this story that she was definitely going to pull out of her ass because she most certainly hadn't prepared anything.

“Are you kids ready to get the pants scared off of you?”

They screamed enthusiastically.

“All right, this story is about our very own Lake Igneous here at Camp Rocks. Legend has it that there was a woman who used to live in these woods by herself, not letting anyone else get near her. She refused help from anyone that came by, wanting to do everything alone and remain independent. The campers nearby could hear her blowing shit up in the woods and they knew to steer clear. One day, a man stumbled into her home, lost and confused. She lit off several explosions in an attempt to scare him off but he didn’t want to leave.”

As she talked, her eyes found Barry’s.

“He saw how lonely she was and helped her blow shit up. Eventually she grew to really like the man and really enjoyed blowing things up with him.” Barry laughed at that. Lup, suddenly remembering that this was supposed to be a scary story, abruptly tore her eyes away from his.

“They thought it would be a good idea to light some fireworks on the lake, so they took a boat out to the center and created the biggest and most beautiful explosion known to man, taking both of them out. They sacrificed their lives for the dopest light show, and sometimes, on a very clear and quiet night, you can see them in the lake, hand in hand.”

Lup bowed to signal that the story was over and she took her place back next to Taako.

“Lup, that was...pretty rough, not going to lie. Not your best work, that’s for sure.”

“I just got so distracted looking at his dumb face.”

“Yeah, that whole story was glaringly obvious.” She glared at him.

“I just need to get through this night without further making an ass of myself.”

He snorted. “Good luck.”

After the bonfire had wrapped up and all the kids were sent to bed, Lup sat at her favorite spot down by the lake to stare at the stars. She always sat here on the final night, reminiscing over the summer.

“Mind if I join you?” Barry’s voice came out of nowhere, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t expect it. Lup didn’t respond, just patted on the ground next to her. “So, your story was -”

“It’s okay, you can say it was shit, because it was. I definitely did not prepare this year like I usually do.”

“-good. I really liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Especially the part where they die a fiery but beautiful death.”

She snorted and he took the opportunity to move closer to her, their shoulders touching.

“Thank you for letting me join the team this summer.”

“I would say you’re welcome, but I honestly didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“I know. Thank you for giving me a shot.”

“Again, not much choice in the matter.” He laughed. “You turned out alright. Better than I was expecting.”

“High praise from Miss Camp Director.”

“Would you be interested in coming back next year?”

“Absolutely. Pretty sure Angus would boycott if I didn’t show up.”

“He would just show up on your doorstep. Expect a lot of emails this year. So I’ll see you next summer, then?” He hesitated. “Unless you already have other commitments, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Lup, I’ll definitely be here next summer. I was just hoping that maybe we could see each other a little sooner than that. Like maybe this Saturday, dinner?”

She smirked. “A little forward, aren’t we, Dr. Bluejeans?” His face dropped.

“Oh, God. Did I totally misread this situation? Fuck, I am so sorry, I am going to just walk into this lake and never come back -” Barry started to get up, mortified.

“Barry, stop.” He looked at her, eyes wide in embarrassment. She shifted so her face was directly in front of his. “You didn’t misread this situation.” And then she kissed him.

@blupjeansweek2021

#blupjeansweek2021 #barry bluejeans #lup #taz balance #this is definitely the camp rock au i posted about ages ago #i might expand on this later

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swsh-sorts · 4 years ago

Note

So how would everyone react if they see someone makes bede cry in front of them ?

Angels Among Others - Part One

MILO:

Bede was never bad in Milo’s eyes— just misunderstood. He knows that sometimes Bede may come off as snobbish or spoilt, but Milo would notice how Bede was self conscious and sensitive, simply looking for approval. So having Bede cry because of harsh and unnecessary actions makes Milo’s blood boil.

Very rarely was the gentle giant angry, but when he was, it was frightening. Milo wouldn’t hesitate a second before intervening, keeping calm and keeping Bede away from the one who had made the boy cry, leading him far elsewhere. He’d talk to Bede, make sure that he calms down, and makes him something to eat. Possibly offer a cuddle Wooloo.

“You’re alright Bede, don’t cry! That man/woman held no words nor actions that could bring down a strong guy such as yourself.”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Milo’s intervention, that would be brave, yet stupid. They’d get an earful from the farmer, who’d quickly lose patience with someone who made a child cry. They’d proceed to be kindly [read: menacingly] told to never bother Bede again.

NESSA:

Nessa didn’t quite like Bede at first. Uptight was the boy who had first entered her stadium, and filled with toxic pride as he had left victorious. But that small spark of innocence was there, shrouded in clusters of lies and misleading promises. So it didn’t surprise her when she saw Bede crying over the booming mockery of another voice.

Nessa would run up to Bede and the perpetrator and run her mouth off for thinking they could just hurt the emotions of what is still a child. Volatile words thrown over as Nessa defends Bede with everything she can. Afterwards, she’d take him for a walk and make sure Bede calmed his tears.

“Come on buddy, are you really just gonna let him/her treat you in that way? Hold up your pride, because no ludicrous words should bring that down!”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Nessa’s intervention, she would by no means have no trouble getting authorities involved. No one messes with her, and no one especially messes with Bede and any other of the gym trainers.

KABU:

Kabu finds Bede as a boy with potential. Despite his attitude, Kabu admired Bede’s determined outlook on life and goals. So it really rustled his jimmies bothered Kabu seeing another person run down Bede through the dirt, hitting clear sensitive topics for the boy. But he’d remain calm and professional.

He’d confront both Bede and the perpetrator, and ask calmly what had happened. A half-drawled excuse [Kabu could sense the lies already] and poor sorry sobs were all that met his ears. With a firm voice, Kabu tells the man/woman to leave as he takes Bede for a nice calming walk and a jog.

“Stay strong. So long as you believe in yourself, others’ words cannot stand in your way.”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Kabu’s intervention, then Kabu would have no hesitance in talking absolute smack to them, in formal language too. Because to him, petty actions such as initiating an argument with him because of a boy was a biiiiiig no-no.

BEA:

A fair mind for all that took her challenge, Bea had no opinion of Bede at first. But she had to admit, even to herself, that the boy had great prowess. And in no such way under her code of honour should anyone bring a young boy to tears for selfish and petty reasons.

Bea would wordlessly pull Bede out of that situation, and would get his formal recount on the events that lead up to her intervention. Bea’s a good listener, and despite through quiet tears, she understood Bede completely. Slowly, she’d even see Bede try to pick up the remaining pieces of his pride.

“A fighter may not always win their fights, Bede. But it’s their resilience and determination to move forward that leads them to a victory.”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Bea’s intervention, she try to remain composed, but would most likely ban them from the premises or disqualify them for conducting immature behaviour.

ALLISTER:

Allister hadn’t taken a liking to Bede. They were polar opposites— him being quiet, and Bede being obnoxiously prideful. And although Allister felt little remorse in seeing Bede cry, the situation had reminded him of himself, and decided to assist. But confrontations were never his thing. But Bede was crying—

So Allister talked to his ghostly pokemon, which resulted into a plan, which resulted into scaring the living bejeezus out of the person who dared to bully another kid. It scared them off long enough for Allister to drag Bede into a small safe haven, where he waited until Bede looked a little more composed.

“... take your time.”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Allister’s intervention... well... they can’t. Or wouldn’t. With all the ghost pokemon around, a curse or a hex wouldn’t be difficult to obtain— and Allister himself would be staying far away from any social confrontation.

OPAL:

“Who’s messing with my adopted grand-son??” — Fairy lady had immediately taken a liking to Bede. Despite the obvious colour choices, within him she saw something no one else had— elegance. A flair for everything he does. And no one— no one messes with Opal’s students.

Opal would call her entourage of ladies and beat the person who brought her student to tears, hiccuping and doubting himself— oh hoh hoh this would not do. A cane beating for the evil doer? A cane beating for the evil doer! A fondness she held for no one else came to light.

“My boy, do not cry. Crying is weakness to those who seek your vulnerability. But if you do, break their nose so they cry too.”

If the perpetrator decides to confront Opal’s intervention, they’d get the absolute ham beaten out of them. So it’s just best if they don’t mess with Bede again. Ever.

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ocegion · 4 years ago

Note

For the character meme, obviously: Nicky & Joe 😘

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!! thanks so much for the ask I immensely appreciate it!!!! <3<3<3<3<3<3

(also I went FAR OVERBOARD with this, I speak far too much when given the chance. Sorryyyyyyyyyy)

Joe:

First impression: Well, if it isn’t hot-but-dull Jafar. I know he’s gay in this one so that’s a plus point, but I’m not holding out much hope. He looks extra cute and fuzzy here though, that’s neat. (I want to clarify that I formally apologize to Mr Marwan Kenzari for having ever thought he couldn’t act, shame on me).

Impression now: *sobbing* He’s so GOOD and he’s so SOFT. He’s so full of love and passion and he can barely keep it inside and I’m honestly overwhelmed by how much I love this guy. Like, he’s so full of emotion and it’s so clear in his face at any given moment and that’s no weakness, that’s his strength and I just. Ugh. It’s so refreshing and great. Love is stored in the Joe. I wish real life had people like him.

Favorite moment: okay so it’s hard to decide because all his moments are great, but I’m going to go with the moment in which he waits for Nicky to wake up after Keane shoots him. You can see how he can barely keep inside the fear and panic he has when Nicky isn’t waking up, and then, when he does, Joe takes a moment to look aside and exhale before grasping him. Like he physically needed to let it out. I’m not sure if I’m explaining myself properly, but those couple seconds of body language fascinate me.

Unpopular opinion: It is entirely possible that it shows up in some secondary material that I just haven’t seen, in which case I’m dumb and I’m sorry for this, but I don’t think Joe is necessarily a poet? Like don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the idea of poet Joe and I do think he probably has an easier time around words than the rest of the Guard, but I’m not too sure where the idea came from? I think his speech in the ban comes out of the pure, raw love he has for Nicky more than any formal education he might have had about any of it. He’s just that passionate. I mean, not that I think it’s wrong of anything. I just think canon doesn’t give any indication at all about it. (plus comic Joe said something along the lines of ‘brewing the stew of love’ which is the most hilariously unpoetical thing ever lmao).

Favorite relationship: uuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh is it cheating to say Nicky? I’m gonna go with Nicky. I could go on for quite a while about his relationship with Nicky and I’m gonna spare us all having to go through that but I will say that as long as Joe and Nicky are alive the concept of romance just simply cannot die. They singlehandedly keep it alive and flourishing. 100000/10 best love story ever, I accept no criticism.

Favorite headcanon: Joe is a man who is, at any given moment, 110% in control of his own emotions. Like, he’s a emotionally driven man, no doubt about that, but he’s not impulsive in the least. When he was shouting at Booker, it wasn’t impulsive, he was angry as hell and decided to let him know. Then during the escape he shut it off and didn’t let it get in the way of cooperation, then let it out again. It’s like he has a valve on his own emotions that he willingly manipitales when he deems it right. He is very aware of his own emotions and just refuses to repress it for things like, pretending that what Booker did wasn’t that big of a deal, dude knows he’s entitled to be upset about it. Most emotionally mature and stable man on Earth.

Nicky:

First impression: I thought he looked soft and also sort of awkward-looking, but in a good way if that makes sense? tbh I expected him to be a nice character that didn’t get that much depth because he’d stay in the sidelines and only have a handful surface traits.

Impression now: I LOVE how hard it is to pin Nicky down as just this or that part of his personality, the way fandom usually does with characters. He’s soft and kind, but he will stay his ground and not let anyone walk over him. He believes in doing good as the purpose of his life, but he won’t hesitate to commit murder (Gotta wonder how exactly his moral code works). He’s warm and welcoming, but also sort of reserved and not saying much about himself. If you try to shove Nicky into any of the usual fandom archetypes, you’re missing at least half of his character.

Favorite moment: As with Joe, I have a hard time picking up just one single moment, bit I’ll go with the moment he brings up Malta. His whole demeanor while in the lab is fascinating, but I think it’s that particular moment that probably defines Nicky best. They’re in a very though and uncertain situation, and he brings up a fond memory to raise spirits, his own but mostly Joe’s. Idk, I feel like it shows that a) he’s very aware of how other people are feeling/thinking and wants to make it better, and b) he has, at his core, hope (in this specific situation, hope that they’ll make it out, but it relates to his belief that they have a purpose).

Unpopular opinion: I tbh don’t think that time in Malta was a sex thing at all. I in general don’t read them as a particularly sexual couple, but even if they were, I doubt a sex vacation, of any kind, would be something that stands out that much in a relationship this long. Whatever Malta was, it’s a secret between them and I honestly like that.

Favorite relationship: See, this is why I felt like saying Joe’s favorite relationship was Nicky felt like cheating. Because I’m going to answer the exact same thing. I mean, is there any other option, really. Really. The answer is no and we all know it. Anyway. Joe and Nicky lucked out in Immortal roulette and tbh who can blame Booker for being a little bit bitter about it. Anyone would be jealous of such PERFECTION.

Favorite headcanon: Nicky is the most spiritual member of the Guard (Nile is probably on par with him or even more, but she probably has a few years of faith crisis ahead of her). He has a solid belief in purpose and goodness which is much more firm than his original sense of faith, after centuries of questioning it. I also think that while he probably still maintains a somewhat christian view on faith, the years have eroded away specific religions from it. He’s sort of agnostic, but not in a ‘I don’t know if there’s a higher power’ way, but in a ‘I know there’s a higher power, but I don’t care what name it has’ way.

Both

Idea for a story: Okay I’m doing this one like this because it’s literally the same answer for both lmao. Excluding pieces of character exploration and missing scenes and stuff, I’ve got a fic (on semi-hiatus until I finish my exams) about ‘what if instead of speedrun enemy to lovers, they were DUMB and spent like 400 years pining for each other and not seeing the other is in love too’. I’m also lowkey thinking up a Dragon Age AU, which is more of an entire-cast thing that just these two, but of course their storylines in it go inherently together. It’s probably too big a project for me actually carry out lmao. But it’s there in my mind, I have backstories and character classes and everything in the works. Maybe someday.

#kikibluemay #jesus i speak a lot im SORRY #but really thanks so so much for the ask <333333 Im so happy to have a reason to talk about them #Yusuf al Kaysani #Nicolo di Genova #Kaysanova

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bronte-deserves-better · 4 years ago

Text

What is UP, fuckers? Today I present to you: 12.5k words of pure self-indulgence by Auriel, posted by request of my discord friends who i've been bothering about this fic for like a week. Massive shoutout to y'all for tolerating me i have NO idea how you do it.

Title: Can’t find my way home (but it’s through you)

Wordcount: 12834

Warnings: flashbacks, panic attack (neither of those are from the POV character though), misgendering, injury, kidnapping, not too-graphic torture, brief mention of hospitals, mentioned abuse, annnnnd I think that's all.

I’ll link the AO3 in a reblog, but since I know AO3 is blocked for some people I’m also putting it here.

"How are we supposed to get to him?" Gisela was practically snarling in frustration as she paced. "Bronte is a cornerstone of the Council- and seemingly as unbreakable as one!"

"You're the people person, not me," Vespera reminded dryly. "I'm not the master of manipulation. Experimentation is my field."

"Well, fuck." Gisela flopped in a chair next to the other. "I was so certain Fintan was what would cause him to fall apart. Fintan turning against him, Fintan's supposed 'death', and then of course that dramatic reveal at the announcement."

"Fintan does have style, I must admit."

"He does. But even he hasn't been able to touch Bronte. Bronte barely even hesitated to speak against Fintan!"

Vespera sighed. "Gisela, I have no idea why you're telling all this to me."

"I'm brainstorming. Shut up."

"Brainstorm away, then."

"Right." Gisela resumed her pacing. "We had a weakness- we had his brother. But Fintan's starting to lose the will to fight him any longer, which is a dangerous liability. Not to mention that Fintan doesn't seem to be able to hurt him."

"I don't see why we can't just torture him," Vespera said, sounding bored.

Gisela glared at her. "In order to torture him, we'd have to kidnap him, Vespera."

"That can be arranged, you know."

"I know. But it's easier to break him from a distance. Or to..." She trailed off.

"To what?"

"Oralie!"

Vespera frowned. "What about Councillor Oralie?"

"Oralie is how we get to Bronte. You see, Vespera, from what Fintan has told me, I've been able to discern that Bronte fancies himself a protector. You can see it in his votes on the Council, too, always out to protect as many people as he can. Now what better way to crush his spirit than make him very aware of the fact that he cannot protect one of the people he cares about most?"

“Clever. And cruel. I like it.”

The announcement had come without warning, the elves of the Lost Cities assembling in Eternalia to hear some sort of Council plan to do something or other with the registry. Sophie hadn’t really been listening, and now she kinda regretted that since she was staring off into space when the first black-cloaked Neverseen members glittered into view.

“Shit,” Grady hissed.

“Language,” Edaline hissed.

Sophie stared at the Neverseen members. “Fuck.”

Everyone seemed to move at once, rushing to confront them. Even the Council made a move, Bronte raising his hands in a familiar gesture that Sophie knew meant he was preparing his inflicting, while some of the others rushed forward. And when all the chaos cleared, the duo of Neverseen members were levitating in the air, holding Oralie between them. Sophie watched as one of them shook back her hood, revealing Lady Gisela.

“Good evening, Councillors.”

Bronte, unsurprisingly, was the first to act, surging forward with a call of "Oralie!"

"Take a step closer and she dies," Gisela hissed, digging the knife she was holding a little further into Oralie's neck. "We wouldn't want that to happen, now would we, Miss Pyren?"

"My name is Bronte," Bronte spat, but he took a step back.

"Good."

"What do you want with Oralie?" Emery demanded.

"She's the kindest of us," Bronte agreed with a glare that could shatter steel. "Leave her alone."

Gisela threw back her head and laughed. "You want to know what I want with your pretty colleague here? Well, Pyren, I want to show you how absolutely and utterly powerless you are. Look at you. You're an ancient, a wielder of one of the most dangerous abilities in our world, and a Councillor for so long most people can't even remember when you were appointed. And yet you can do nothing to save your very best friend."

"Don't listen to her," Oralie pleaded. Sophie was close enough to discern genuine terror on her face. "She's just trying to get in your head."

"Silence!" Gisela slashed the knife lightly down the side of Oralie's throat, and Sophie watched blood begin to bead there. "You will say nothing, you pathetic excuse for a Councillor."

Oralie went silent at that, but her eyes blazed with defiance.

"You see?" Gisela directed a smirk at Bronte. "This is what happens when you're not careful enough with the people you love...people will take them away from you, Miss Pyren."

Sophie watched Bronte's hands clench and unclench helplessly. "Don't call me that."

"What, your last name? You want to keep your heritage a secret? You always said you were proud to be a Pyren, even when pyrokinesis was banned."

"No-"

Gisela smirked again and slashed a second line on Oralie's throat, causing the empath to hiss in pain. "I don't suppose anyone else feels like being stupid and trying to stand against me? You say this ancient is the strongest of you...but she can't even save her best friend."

"Stop calling him tha-" Oralie was cut off by a slap across the face from the other hooded figure, who Sophie recognized as Vespera.

"Stop your uppity commentary. Gisela and I will be leaving shortly, seeing as none of you have anything interesting to say."

Sophie could see a few tears forming in Oralie's eyes as she silently raised a hand to the red mark on her cheek.

"My associate is correct." Gisela's voice was triumphant. "It is time we leave- and show all of you just how weak your Councillors truly are."

Vespera raised a crystal to the light. The elves of the plaza scattered. Gisela stepped into the beam with Oralie. The Council and bodyguards rushed to try and stop her. Sophie stood paralyzed. And above it all, a single, desperate scream rose.

"Oralie!"

The silence left in its wake was devastating, broken only by a soft, shuddering sob. Sophie turned to see Bronte's face crumple, tears dripping down his cheeks. Meanwhile, the rest of the Council just stood and stared awkwardly.

Sophie was about to go running on stage herself when Emery quietly stepped out of the line, extending an arm and pulling Bronte into an embrace. To everyone's surprise, the ancient Councillor put up no resistance, instead burying his face in Emery's shoulder as his small frame shook.

"We will find Councillor Oralie, and we will bring everyone responsible for this to justice," Emery addressed the crowd. "The Neverseen will not get away with this. In the meantime, we ask that everyone return home and remain calm, and the eleven of us will rule provisionally."

"What does that mean?" Sophie whispered to Grady.

"Technically, the Council isn't allowed to act on anything without all twelve of them," Grady whispered back. "It's called provisional rule when an incomplete Council takes action in urgent situations."

"Oh."

Elves were starting to leave, murmurs abounding as people reached for home crystals or pathfinders. Sophie decided not to follow the rest, instead grabbing her parent's hands and dragging them through the crowd towards the Council. All eleven remaining Councillors had now broken rank, the rest surrounding Bronte and Emery with varying levels of helpfulness.

"There there," She heard Clarette say as they got closer. "We'll do perfectly fine at hunting those motherfucking orc-faced sons of dipshits down."

"What did you just say?" Alina demanded.

Clarette repeated the sentence, and Sophie realized she had been speaking in dwarven before as the rest of the Council sputtered. Bronte was the only one who didn't react at all, completely motionless in Emery's arms.

"Hey," Terik said quietly, and it took a moment for Sophie to realize he was talking to her.

She waved awkwardly. "Hi, I guess."

"Did you need something?"

“I- no, I just wanted to...” Sophie trailed off. What did she want? “I wanted to talk about what just happened and check on the Council.”

“Well, we’re-“ Terik shot a glance over his shoulder to where Clarette seemed to be violently cussing out the Neverseen in multiple languages as Liora patted Bronte on the shoulder. “Well, arguably not fine, but we’ll solve it.”

“The Council will find the kidnappers and bring them to justice,” Emery agreed. Both of his arms were now wrapped around Bronte, who was still silent.

“Yeah, I mean, but I can help, right? I’m the leader of Team Valiant.”

“This is a matter for the Council.”

Sophie refused to give up so easily. “Well I also wanted to check on Bronte. He’s my inflicting mentor, and one of my points of contact on the Council.”

“I’m sure Bronte will be fine,” Terik said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

His words were made even less reassuring by the fact that the short Councillor was shaking and didn’t bother to make his own statement.

“Bronte?” Sophie asked.

Nothing.

“Bronte?”

He didn’t even look over at her.

“Bronte,” she tried one more time.

Bronte was still silent, and Emery sighed softly. “He’ll be okay, Sophie. We’ll get Oralie back, and in the meantime, we can certainly rely on his stubbornness.”

“Promise me you won’t let anything bad happen?” Sophie was aware she sounded childish, but some things were more important than her pride.

“Promise,” Emery told her, and she wanted to believe him. “Bronte‘s more than capable of physically defending himself, and as for the rest...well, Councillors support each other.”

"No we don't," Ramira muttered.

"Ramira!" The rest said in unison.

"I think we're going to leave you guys," Grady decided. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go home."

Sophie didn't have the energy to protest.

Meanwhile, in the Neverseen hideout, Oralie, Gisela, and Vespera had just shimmered into view, only to be met with a furious Fintan.

He stalked towards them with murderous intent on his face, and Oralie flinched back.

"GISELA-"

"Fintan, what in the world are you so worked up about?"

"You kidnapped Oralie? Without TELLING me??" Fintan was practically snarling. "You fucking idiots! What the fuck do you expect kidnapping Oralie to get you?!?"

"You see, my dear Fintan, there is such a thing as 'using others to strike at your true target'," Gisela sighed.

"And who the fuck are you trying to strike at? Sophie Foster? There are far more effective ways to do that!"

Gisela rolled her eyes. "Why would we kidnap Oralie to get at Sophie? No, we're trying to get at your sister."

"I don't have a sister."

"You know who I meant."

Oralie felt like throwing up at the misgendering, but she didn't dare say anything with the knife at her throat.

Fintan's expression didn't change, but Oralie thought she caught a hint of disgust in his voice as he spoke again. "You two have the planning skills of a carrot, collectively. My brother wouldn't give a fuck about some quiet empath. Besides, look at her now! She's bleeding and hurt. What do you expect that to get you? It certainly isn't going to win you the sympathy of the elven world."

Gisela opened her mouth, but Fintan cut her off, stepping closer. "Listen, Gisela, Vespera. You've made plots work before. But when it comes to the Council, you need to listen to me." He reached out an arm, tugging Oralie to his side with surprising strength. "Now I'm going to go fix up her wounds before these get infected and we lose our only valuable prisoner."

"As you see fit," Gisela muttered bitterly.

Oralie tried to pull away as Fintan tugged her down the hall, but the diminutive ancient was remarkably strong, and she was forced to remain by his side.

"What do you want with me?" She hissed, trying to ignore the pain in her neck.

"Shut up," Fintan hissed back.

"No."

"Shush!"

Tugged close to his side as she was, Oralie could feel that he was truly angry, red-hot rage on the surface of his emotions, but below that was...fear? No, that wasn't quite right. Focusing in on the emotion, Oralie realized that Fintan was worried. Concerned, even. Startled by that, she was quiet all the way to their seeming destination, an unmarked door.

Fintan turned the knob and then kicked the door open, revealing what looked like a crude medical bay. "Come on."

Oralie winced as he yanked her inside none-too gently. "What do you want?"

"I want to fix those damn slashes." Fintan pointed at one of the cots. "Sit, let me find the cream we have for this."

She obliged, wary of what Fintan might do if she didn't.

To her surprise, he did precisely what he had said he was doing, retrieving some nasty-smelling ointment. "This hurts like a bitch, but it will disinfect those."

Fintan reached for her, and Oralie flinched away, remembering how he had looked the day Kenric died. "Don't touch me."

"But-" Fintan sighed. "Here. Put this on your neck, please, and a bandage too."

Too startled by the fact that Fintan Pyren had just uttered the word 'please' to disobey, Oralie did so. He hadn't been lying; it did hurt quite a bit, but she could feel the sting fade after a moment. "Why are you being kind to me?"

Fintan wouldn't meet her eyes. "Bronte cares about you."

"I didn't realize you cared so much about him still."

"I don't!"

It didn't take her ability to know that was a lie. "Then why would you help me?"

He sighed, seemingly realizing the corner he had talked himself into. "Fine. I care about Bronte far more than I should, and he cares for you in turn. I helped you out of love for my brother. Nothing more."

"You sound just like Bronte when he's trying not to care," Oralie mused quietly.

Fintan's expression shuttered. "My brother and I are nothing alike. I'm a killer, he's a Councillor."

"You were a Councillor," she pointed out.

"That was a long time ago." Fintan shoved a tin of something in her face. "Here. Bruise stuff for that slap on your face."

Oralie recognized the deflection, and let it slide. "How do you know so much about wound care?"

"The Neverseen aren't exactly careful with themselves."

That didn't quite answer her question, but she let that slide too, applying the bruise cream. "What do you plan to do with me?"

"I don't know, Gisela doesn't tell me shit. We'll probably hold you hostage or something."

"If you plan on interrogating me, you should know that I won't break," Oralie murmured.

"Anyone breaks with enough pressure," Fintan said, but he didn't seem like he meant it. "Come on, let's get you to a cell before Gisela gets on my ass about 'security'."

His flippant tone reminded Oralie of the Fintan she had known before the pyrokinesis ban, but she was wise enough not to say that as Fintan dragged her through the halls of the hideout.

The cell Oralie was placed in was freezing cold, and she was already shivering as Fintan locked the door. His gaze was apologetic, but he said nothing as he turned and left.

Knowing she needed to keep as much of her skin off the cold metal floor as possible, Oralie stripped off her thin Councillor's cloak and set it down as a barrier. She took off her circlet too, not wanting cold metal on her head, and tucked it into her dress. Then, she shed her heeled shoes, in case she needed to run, and tucked her feet under her dress in a futile attempt to keep warm, shivering all the while.

After that, there was nothing to do but wait and try to keep warm. By the time she guessed it was nine pm or so, she was curled up as tightly as she could manage. And by an hour after that, she had given up on sleeping at all that night.

Just when her tired eyes were finally starting to close, the cold seeping into her bones, she heard the door of the cell click open and light footsteps move across the floor. Deciding it was best to remain still, Oralie kept quiet as she felt a heavy, warm piece of fabric settle onto her. Through her half-closed eyes, she could see wavy, ice-blond hair fall into her vision when the person bent down to lay whatever it was over her.

The footsteps retreated, and the cell door closed. Only then did Oralie dare sit up and see what the person had left her; it was a Neverseen cloak, warm and smelling vaguely like wildfires and the serums from the medical bay. She recoiled at the smoke smell, but ultimately her need for warmth overcame any disgust. Laying back down, she found that the cloak was a little shorter than she really needed. It was warm, though, and if she curled up she could fit under it well enough.

With the added warmth of the cloak, she was asleep within minutes.

In the Lost Cities, Emery and the other Councillors had long since given up on getting anything productive done that night and were collectively having a variety of arguments that ranged from how to best rescue Oralie to what the hell a 'clam chowder' was.

Personally, Emery was well aware of what clam chowder was, but he had bigger concerns than watching Zarina and Clarette debate it. Namely, Bronte, who was sitting next to him and staring off into space.

"Bronte," Emery tried one more time. "Bronte, please."

He said nothing, so Emery turned to Liora. "What the fuck are we going to do?"

"Why would I know?" The conjurer didn't wait for an answer. "Let's take him back to one of our castles. Bully him into getting some food and sleep, and in the morning we'll try to handle the rest."

"We can go to mine," Emery decided. "Bronte, is that okay with you?"

Bronte continued to stare past Emery's head, but he nodded slowly, and Emery counted that as a victory.

"Right." Emery stood up, making his voice louder to address the rest of the Council. "Bronte, Liora, and I are heading out for the night. We're getting nothing done, and we all need to sleep or we'll get nothing done tomorrow as well. I know it's tempting for us to spend all night on the search for our colleague, but we need to rest or we won't be ready to continue tomorrow."

"I agree with Emery," Noland signed from the corner, shooting Emery a tiny smile. "We need to rest."

"Emery is right," Clarette agreed. "Let's go."

The Council split off, leaving the room in groups of one or two. It was both heartbreakingly familiar and heartbreakingly different from how the usual routine went; it was almost always that Councillors walked back to the castles in groups, discussing with their political allies or friends, but with Oralie gone, those groups had already shifted. Usually, Terik walked back alone, but today he was signing back and forth with Noland. Derek, who usually walked with Noland, looked rather put out by this, and had chosen to team up with Alina. Meanwhile, Clarette, Velia, Ramira and Zarina were all walking together in a tight-knit little clump, which wasn't too unusual; usually those four stuck together and left in some configuration, sometimes duos or trios.

Usually, Emery walked with whoever he wanted to talk to that day, having no defined group. For the past few months, he had made a point to walk back with Alina so she would feel welcome on the Council. But Alina and Bronte despised each other, and today Bronte needed Emery more. So Emery had fallen into step with Liora and him, heading back to Emery's castle.

Liora reached the door first, and pushed it open without even asking Emery. "Well, your front room is...ostentatious."

Emery sighed and decided it wasn't worth fighting with Liora over interior design today. "I know."

He almost wished Bronte would make a blunt comment about it, as would be typical for him, but the other was silent as he stepped inside.

"Food first," Liora said, and Emery nodded along as she wandered into his kitchen and started banging around.

"Liora is a shit cook."

Emery whipped his head around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, finding Bronte hadn't changed posture or expression at all. "What did you say?"

"Liora is a shit cook," Bronte repeated. His voice was hoarse, quiet, but Emery had never been so relieved to hear an insult in his life.

"I am not," Liora called from the kitchen.

Bronte just snorted quietly.

Liora did turn out to be fairly awful at cooking, but they all ate it anyways. Afterwards, Emery found spare rooms for the other two, down the hall from his, and settled down to sleep.

He woke up again at maybe one am to a near-scream from down the hall, leaping out of bed and immediately hurrying to see what was going on. Liora's door remained shut, and she was still somehow asleep when he peeked in, so he hurried to Bronte's room and pushed open the door.

"Bronte?"

The other scrambled backward, pressing against the headboard of the bed. "Don't- stay away."

Emery flinched back from the words. "Are you okay?"

Bronte didn't answer him, instead pleading under his breath for something Emery couldn't hear.

Emery took a step forward. "It's okay. It's just- it's just me."

Bronte didn't reply once again, but he didn't flinch when Emery stepped forward again. So Emery started talking again, quietly, offering up whatever reassurances he could manage as he slowly made his way across the room. Talking had always been his skill, ever since he was in Foxfire and talking his mentors into teaching him more advanced subjects. Always speaking, always deflecting and lying and persuading, never part of the action. Opposite from Bronte, he guessed. Now he was grateful for all that, though, his words allowing him to reach the other.

"You're safe," he told Bronte quietly.

Bronte's gaze was still filled with terror when he looked up at Emery, fear mingling with sorrow and guilt. "They- they tried to hurt Fintan. They tried to get him but I got in their way and I tried to get them to stop and-" he choked on a sob. "And I lied to my inflicting mentor when she asked about the bruise, I said that- I said that we were playing tackle bramble even though I've never played tackle bramble, but- but they hurt him. They hurt Fintan."

For once, Emery's voice failed him. "Who?"

"Mother and father," Bronte choked out. "Don't let them hurt you, don't let me hurt you."

Emery still didn't know what was going on, but his heart was breaking for the other when he knelt by Bronte. "Shh. It's okay. No one's going to hurt me, and no one's going to hurt you. I promise."

"I promised too, you know." The older Councillor laughed bitterly, and his voice was lighter, younger, when he spoke again. "I promise, Fintan, I'll never let anyone hurt you." He dropped the tone. "But they did."

"I'm sorry," Emery murmured. "I'm sorry."

Bronte's laughter turned into sobs, and before Emery had time to comprehend what the fuck was going on, he was holding a sobbing Bronte for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. At this point, it wasn't even close to the worst thing that had happened this week. So Emery knelt on the hardwood floor- why oh why had he never gotten a carpet for this room- and let Bronte cling until the other had gone quiet.

"I'm sorry," Bronte said finally. His voice was still rough.

"For what?"

He didn't answer. "Go back to bed."

"Okay, but are you sure you're okay?"

"Go back to bed, Emery."

Worried and a little hurt, Emery had no choice but to retreat to his own room.

The next morning, Emery and Liora found that Bronte was gone, a note left on the kitchen table that said "Thank you for the hospitality. You were very kind. I will see you at the Council meeting today." It was signed with a scribbled "Bronte.".

Emery and Liora glanced at each other.

"That's abrupt," Emery said, although he suspected he knew why Bronte had left.

"Typical of him, really," Liora remarked.

"How much do you know about Bronte?" So Emery was curious, sue him.

"We don't get along very well. But we have worked together for a very long time." Liora frowned, stepping over the doorstep. "'Don't get along' might be an overstatement. It would be more accurate to say that Bronte is deeply guarded, and I am deeply introverted, and as thus we simply never got to know each other."

"That makes sense. You're rarely one to speak to the others outside of our work." Liora was one of the few who always walked back to her castle alone.

"Indeed. But I have known Bronte for long enough that he is not such an enigma to me."

Emery started towards the Councillor's meeting building. "What do you know of him?"

"I know he is grumpy, introverted, and guarded. I know he has resisted any and all efforts for anyone to get to know him, but he loves his brother and his best friend more than anything in the world. He would kill and die for Oralie without hesitation.”

“We all know that one,” Emery muttered.

Liora laughed quietly. “True. You see, Oralie was appointed not long after I was, and Kenric at the same time. But Oralie and Kenric were much, much younger than I. Besides even the commonalities that Bronte and Oralie shared, it was natural for him to take on an older sibling role to the two of them. Meanwhile, I was quite independent when I started on the Council, and the only person I asked for advice was Carsil- I believe you met them? While Oralie instantly bonded with the Pyrens, I have always been more reclusive.”

Emery nodded, pausing at the door. “From what I know of Oralie, Kenric, and Bronte, that seems right. Do you know why Bronte is so...reluctant to make friends?”

“I have no idea. But I would expect his ability and his past have something to do with it.”

Don't let them hurt you, don't let me hurt you.

Emery stepped into the building after Liora.

Oralie woke up the next day half-wondering if the cloak laid over her had been a dream, since she was shivering slightly, but when she sat up, the Neverseen cloak fell to the floor.

“Not a dream, then,” Oralie murmured to herself.

Her next move was searching for weaknesses in her cell, which there appeared to be none of, followed by pacing futilely and trying to think. That was followed by sitting hopelessly on her cape thinking about Bronte’s face when Gisela had leapt her away, which turned into thinking about Kenric, which turned into thinking about Sophie.

Sophie. Oralie had never before wished to be a telepath, but now she would have chosen abilities as strong as her daughter’s if it meant being able to contact her friends- her family- even one last time.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Gisela arrived in time to pull Oralie out of her depressing thoughts spiral. Most certainly unfortunately, she proceeded to drag Oralie through the halls, tie her to a chair, and begin asking a ridiculous amount of questions.

“No. No, I don’t know. Why would I know who Sophie’s biological parents are? I’m not a member of the Black Swan.” Technically, that was the truth, so Oralie stuck to that story. Thankfully, she had long practice at lying and getting away with it, despite the weakness all Empaths shared. Much as that had made Sophie hate her, it came in handy when being tortured by the Neverseen. So Oralie lied and lied and deflected and refused to answer, and Gisela got steadily madder and madder.

“Is there nothing that will phase you?”

Oralie stared up at her calmly, trying to ignore all the cuts and bruises that were now scattered across her body. “Nothing.”

Gisela smirked. “Is that so? Well I know your looks matter to you, so…” She flicked open her knife again, slashing it across one of Oralie’s cheeks and then the other. Slash slash. Two agonizing cuts, two streams of blood dripping down Oralie’s face.

Silence.

Oralie broke the quiet, taking all of the pain she had been repressing and letting it go, letting the cry trapped in her throat and the tears in her eyes go free.

Gisela looked startled. “Pathetic. So easily broken.”

Oralie let out her most pathetic sob in response.

“Honestly. So weak,” the polyglot sniffed. “Now tell me what you know.”

Instead of obeying, Oralie started crying even harder, feeling tears sting the cuts on her cheeks.

“Stop that! You’re supposed to be a Councillor, not a pathetic mess.”

“I- I-” She shuddered weakly, unable to muster the energy to respond even if she had wanted to tell Gisela anything.

“Stop your crying!”

The snap reminded Oralie distinctly of some less than lovely people she knew, and she took that emotion and turned it into even more tears. Fragile, she might be. Easily broken, she might be. But shards of glass were even more dangerous than the whole they once had been, and Oralie had learned to take her brokenness and make it a weapon.

So even as Gisela kept asking questions, Oralie just cried and cried until the other finally gave up and dragged her back to her cell.

“Sit here and think about your pathetic life, Councillor crybaby,” the other hissed.

Oralie just shuddered again, letting a sob shake her entire body.

Gisela stomped away in a huff, and Oralie gave herself two more minutes to cry before she wiped her tears, got up, and started trying to figure out how to stop her face from bleeding. She could still hardly believe that had worked, but she would take whatever scraps of time to herself she got.

Her solution to her face ended up being pressing the Neverseen cloak to her cheeks until the bleeding had mainly stopped. And while she did that, she tried to brainstorm ways to get out. Sophie. Sophie! Knowing Sophie was the only telepath powerful enough to reach her, she tried calling out with her mind, to be met with only silence. It seemed that Sophie wasn’t listening- or hadn’t found her. Defeated, Oralie sat back on the floor and started trying to break her circlet to turn into a lockpick or make-shift weapon. Every part of her body ached, but if she could focus on survival it became easier to ignore that.

In Eternalia, Emery watched something new in Bronte’s expression break each day, the circles under his eyes getting steadily darker and the pain in them persisting. The Council’s search for Oralie had been mainly futile, as it seemed the Neverseen had somehow disabled the tracking device in her cloak. And even Alina, who had never liked Oralie, was feeling the pressure. Oralie was beloved by so many, and to have her gone was a devastating blow. Especially to Bronte.

The Senior Councillor had been especially distant from Emery ever since the day of the kidnapping, when he had completely broken down in Emery’s arms. Emery half-suspected he was embarrassed, but it hurt anyways when Bronte snapped at him.

Despite their distance, it ended up being Emery who found Bronte crying in the Councillors’ meeting room a good hour after the rest had gone home. Emery had lingered in the building, checking on one or two last things, and when he wandered back into the meeting room to grab his stuff, he found the other sitting there.

Despite his usual eloquence, the first thing he could think of to say was “Well, this is awkward.”

“Fuck off,” Bronte snarled, but he looked too much of a mess for the words to really be impactful.

“It’s not the end of the world if I see you upset.”

“I know. But I refuse to let you get hurt.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?”

“I’m an inflictor. Put the fucking pieces together, Emery.”

“You’re scared of...hurting me?” Emery was strangely touched, despite the other’s harsh words.

“Yes. Now leave me alone.”

“No.”

Bronte stared at him. “What?”

“I said no.” Emery took a breath, steeling himself. “Listen, I know you care about Oralie most. Everyone knows she’s the only one you’ll ever talk to. But Oralie isn’t fucking here right now. We might be working on getting her back, but that doesn’t mean you get to just- just push everyone away and refuse any help in the meantime. And I know you’re scared of hurting me, or scared of vulnerability, or whatever the fuck it is, but please just let me fucking help, Bronte.” He was startled when his voice broke on the last sentence, words coming out all jagged and torn-up.

Bronte’s expression hadn’t changed much, but Emery thought he caught shock on the other’s face. “You actually care?”

“Of course I do! Isn’t it obvious?” Emery found himself rubbing at his eyes to keep from tearing up. “I was fucking worried, and you just up and left and- and stayed away. Because you’re scared or whatever.”

“I was just being cautiou-”

“Well fuck that! You’re the elf who goes charging headfirst into danger and didn’t even falter when King Dimitar threatened to rip your head off that one time. And somehow you’re too afraid to let anyone help you? You’re a coward, Bronte.”

For a second, Emery thought he was going to get absolutely destroyed, but Bronte’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Emery.”

“It’s fine,” Emery whispered, turning his head away.

“No, it was shitty.” Bronte stood, holding his arms out awkwardly, and Emery took the embrace. Bronte might have been a full head shorter, but Emery felt very small compared to the other’s ancient presence. Emery was made of gold, soft and malleable but loved and charming. Bronte was made of steel, sharp and unflinching and plain. Which one of those was better, Emery couldn’t say. But, for just a moment, he allowed himself to be soft, leaning on Bronte’s steely presence.

Meanwhile, in the Neverseen hideout, it had been a full week since Oralie’s capture. Every day, one of the Neverseen members had taken a turn trying to interrogate her. Giesla had given up after the second day. Fintan had asked some questions and done a little half-hearted threatening, but Oralie could tell he wasn’t actually prepared to follow through on his threats. So she had told him nothing. Vespera had been the worst, cruel and calculating, but Oralie had kept her mouth shut. Somehow. And now she was back in her cell in a haze of exhaustion and pain, staring blankly at the corridor Vespera had left via.

Finally, her blank stare landed on a set of keys that had fallen from Vespera’s belt, and that was enough to break through her numb tiredness. Keys! To her cell! She reached through the bars, finding the keys only inches from her fingertips, and swore under her breath. The keys glittered just out of her reach, taunting her.

Oralie rummaged around in her dress, retrieving her circlet, and slammed it against the floor.

Once.

It didn’t break.

There was something symbolic, maybe, about Oralie not being able to break the object that was a physical representation of her responsibilities. The embodiment of her duty to the Lost Cities, encased in a circle of metal that was heavier than it looked.

Twice.

The circlet began to crack.

But she was more than her responsibilities. She had gone beyond the Council seat she held. She was not just Councillor Oralie, she was something beyond the title that so often preceded her name.

Thrice.

The metal snapped entirely.

Oralie wasted no time into bending it into a straight line with a slight hook on the end, reaching out again and snagging the keys.

From there, it was fairly simple to reach around and unlock her cell. Oralie tucked the keys into a pocket of her dress, and bundled up her Councillor’s cloak into a small enough ball to fit in another pocket. The Neverseen cloak, she donned, and the broken circlet went into her right hand, ready to fight if need be. She left her heeled shoes behind in the cell, knowing they would be of no use in a fight, and slipped into the hallways of the hideout.

Oralie realized fairly quickly that she now had no shoes, no idea where she was going, and an entire hideout of Neverseen members to evade. Nevertheless, she refused to squander her chance at freedom. So she crept along, making her way towards the healing wing she and Fintan had been in earlier. Thankfully, she arrived there without incident, pushing open the doors and shutting them with a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, Fintan happened to be in the healing wing currently, bandaging his hand.

Oralie froze, hoping he hadn’t seen her.

Fintan turned at the noise of doors shutting, and gaped at her. “Oralie?”

“Fintan,” Oralie said quietly.

“How did you get in here?”

Oralie shrugged apologetically and tried to look innocent.

Fintan wasn’t buying it. “You escaped your cell somehow, and somehow managed to navigate to this wing.”

“I remembered the way.”

“Clever.” Fintan’s smirk seemed almost impressed. “As a leader of the Neverseen, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to escape, however.”

Oralie’s heart clenched in fear, but she refused to let it show on her face. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Well, I’m obligated to tell you that you should absolutely not go into the storeroom of this wing. That would be a terrible idea. And you should definitely not kick open the panel behind the burn cream boxes. That would hurt. And definitely not help you escape.”

“I will definitely not do that,” Oralie told him. She would have been smiling if she was any less exhausted.

“Good, good.”

“Thank you for the cloak, by the way.” She held it out. “You can have this back, sorry for bleeding on it.”

“No, no, keep it. But remember, you should definitely not be wary of the ways it might be similar to your Council one.”

Ways it might be similar...ways it might be similar...trackers! Oralie nodded. “Thank you, Fintan.”

“Don’t mention it.” He stepped aside to let her pass. “Oh, and…tell Bronte I said hello, will you?”

“I will. He misses you,” Oralie added impulsively.

“I’m afraid he’ll have to continue missing me.” Fintan’s sorrow was genuine, and Oralie didn’t need to brush her hand against his as she passed to know that.

She did anyways, needing to know if Fintan genuinely cared about helping her. She found nothing but mild concern, sorrow, and a hint of fear at what the other Neverseen members might do, which was more than enough proof that he cared. Much like Bronte, Fintan was not as subtle as he thought he was.

So Oralie headed into the storeroom, looking around for the box of burn cream. It appeared to be near the back wall, and when she scooted it aside, she found a loose panel in the wall. So she followed Fintan’s advice and kicked it as hard as she could, hissing an “Ouch!” under her breath as her bare foot made contact. The panel fell outward, though, and Oralie was able to crawl outside. The dirt felt wonderful after a week of cold metal floors on her bare feet, and she allowed herself a moment to breathe before putting the panel back in place and running from the hideout.

The Neverseen base had appeared to be in a deciduous forest, as the tree leaves were currently red, orange and yellow, and it was populated by what Oralie guessed were birches and maples. The setting didn’t really matter, though, only getting away from her captors. So she ran until she was out of sight of the building, and only then allowed herself to flop onto the ground.

Remembering Fintan’s words, she took her broken circlet and used it to cut open the seams of the cloak, looking for trackers. She found a little disk fairly similar to the ones in her Councillor’s cloak, and set it on the ground. Over that, she put her Councillor’s cloak, and took a moment to breathe and brace herself for what she was about to do.

Shing! The broken circlet slashed through the soft skin on her left index finger, and Oralie sprinkled the blood all over her discarded cloak. There. That should throw them off her trail.

She wiped her bloody finger on Fintan’s cloak, got up, and started walking.

Her walk turned out to be a very long one, stumbling over seemingly endless tree roots and pushing through seemingly endless bushes. Even as night fell, Oralie forced herself to keep moving. She couldn’t afford to be caught. She couldn’t afford to be caught. That was the chant that kept her on her feet, even as her entire body ached. Her legs and feet ached from walking, her arms and hands ached from what Vespera had dealt, and her face ached from the slashes Gisela had given her. Still, she staggered onward until it was nearly dawn and she was able to see a little settlement on the horizon.

As she got closer, she could tell that it was clearly a human town, with quaint architecture and a few humans bustling about. Still, if she concentrated, she could read the signposts, which were in one of few human languages she knew. The one Sophie spoke. Well, Sophie spoke all the languages. But the one Sophie had grown up with. English! That was the word. Language? Noun? Oralie shook her head, trying to clear it, but it only made her more dizzy. Blood loss and sleep deprivation probably had something to do with that, she reflected, which was evidence that she had been friends with Bronte too long. Only Bronte would be so clinical about something like this. Fuck, she missed him. And he was probably worried about her, seeing as she had gotten kidnapped. Sure, Oralie had bigger problems than Bronte’s worry, but it was easier to think about her best friend than the fact that she had staggered into the human town and humans were staring, or the fact that she felt like passing out.

Which was what she proceeded to do, right on the doorstep of one of the houses.

Around that time, Sophie was getting a hail from Bronte. It might have been the middle of her Elven History session, but Sophie picked up the imparter anyways, ignoring her mentor’s indigent sputtering.

“Miss Foster, history is a very important subject!”

Sophie rolled her eyes to herself. “Bronte? What is it? Is there word of Oralie?”

“Slow down, Miss Foster,” Bronte grumped. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, which were rimmed with red, but his grumpy voice was as steady and familiar as ever. “We do not have word of Oralie, but I am hailing about her.”

“Are you- are you talking to a Councillor?” Sophie’s mentor sputtered.

“Yes, I am, so please let me talk!” Normally, Sophie would never be so rude, but this was not a normal time. “What about Oralie?”

“We need your help. Emery has an idea.”

“And you’re agreeing with Emery?” Sophie couldn’t help but ask.

Bronte sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “In this case, his idea isn’t completely idiotic.”

“I heard that, Bronte!” Emery hollered from offscreen.

“Fuck you, Emery!”

“We’re Councillors!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Bronte huffed another sigh. “Anyways. Please come to Eternalia as soon as possible. You can tell your mentor- who sounds rather disgruntled- that this is extraordinarily important Council business. I’ll send you a signed note or something if you need.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Sophie turned to her mentor. “Excuse me, sir, but I have to go. Extremely important Council business.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Bronte called from Sophie’s imparter. “Trust me, the Council knows the importance of education. But this is more important.”

“Oh- oh okay, then. See you next week,” He said, but Sophie was already grabbing her bag and running for the Leapmaster.

“Bronte, where do I go when I get to Eternalia?”

“The Council secret meeting building- I’ll give you directions.”

She barely even thought to concentrate as she threw herself into the beam of light, re-forming near the Councillors’ castles in Eternalia. “Where now?”

“To your right,” Bronte directed. “That plain building about fifty feet from the end of the row of castles.”

Sophie hurried over there, forced to stop running by the stitch in her side, and banged on the door.

Bronte opened it mere seconds later, gesturing at her to come inside. He looked even worse in real life than over the imparter, short hair sticking every which way and tunic wrinkled, but his strides were determined when he led Sophie down the hall.

The rest of the Councillors looked only somewhat less frazzled as Bronte pushed open the door to their meeting room. Even Alina’s hair was out of place. But the determination in Bronte’s strides was mirrored in all of their eyes, and for the first time, Sophie could see how they were truly leaders.

“So, what’s Emery’s idea?” She asked, wandering inside as Bronte shut the door.

“Well,” Emery started, “You remember how you’ve been able to use telepathy to call for help? Oralie isn’t a telepath, but if we can reach her, we might be able to figure out where she is and coordinate rescue efforts.”

“Okay, but...we don’t know where in the world she is,” Sophie argued. “I don’t know her mind well enough to reach her from a huge distance, not like Keefe.”

“And that’s where I come in. You see, I’ve been the spokesperson for well over five hundred years,” Emery explained.

“And he gets to poke around in everyone’s heads because of it,” Zarina contributed.

“Exactly. I know my fellow Councillors’ minds as well as I know my own. But I’m not strong enough to reach all the way across the world.”

Sophie was starting to see his strategy. “So if we worked together, I might be able to help you reach Oralie, and you could help me find her mind?”

“Precisely.” Emery’s gaze was piercing. “I haven’t been kind to you in the past, and it might be difficult to trust me. But I’m hoping you’ll try.”

The hope in the Council’s gazes was almost disquieting.

“For Oralie’s sake,” Sophie told him. “But I want my cognate here.”

“Very well,” Emery said before anyone else could say anything. “Bronte, could you hail him?”

“Why is it always me?” Bronte didn’t wait for a response before he pulled out his imparter again and set about hailing Fitz.

Fitz arrived ten minutes later, rather out of breath. “What’s going on?”

Emery gave him a quick rundown.

“That’s insane,” Fitz informed him. “But...Sophie is pretty amazing. So I guess it’s worth a try.”

Oralie drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing worried voices around her but not having the presence of mind to translate their words. She felt hands lift her, people moving her from the ground to something else, then to a place that smelled sterile. After that, she was conscious for only brief snatches, sometimes feeling hands on her injuries or needles prick her skin.

“Bronte,” she tried to cry, not knowing what was happening only that she needed her friend. “Bronte!”

He didn’t come.

In her most blurred moments, Oralie found the name on her lips was “Kenric!”, but by the time she was completely unconscious, she remembered his death.

She woke up fully to sunlight streaming in the window of a room she didn’t recognize, falling across the comforters of a bed she didn’t recognize. “What...what happened?”

No one responded, and Oralie realized she was entirely alone. Naturally, she scanned the room to try and discern where she was. Floral wallpaper, stained. Hardwood floor, somewhat old and warped. Lacy curtains, very dusty. It was clear that this was not the Lost Cities, nor any of the lands of the intelligent species. Which left only one place: the Forbidden Cities.

Oralie blinked, and her memory of last night- last morning, really- came flooding back. Right. She had escaped and walked to the human town. Which meant one of the humans had picked her up and brought her here.

Just as Oralie was wondering where that human might be now, the door swung open to reveal a rather elderly human woman with smile lines around her mouth and eyes, and hair streaked through with silver. She bustled over to fuss with the comforters, and then startled.

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Oralie tried to summon up the correct English words, cursing herself for not practicing enough. “I am.”

The human smiled and said something about eyesight and leaving that Oralie didn’t quite catch. “Anyways. What’s your name?”

“I am Oralie. What is yours?” Oralie knew her speech was probably a little stilted, but she cut herself a little slack, given what she had just been through.

“Brenda,” the human- Brenda- answered. “How are you feeling?”

“A little… fuck,” Oralie muttered under her breath. “Tired? English is not my first language.”

“Ah, that’s okay, dearie. Now, the doctor said you should have some food and water.” She said something else that Oralie didn’t catch and hurried out the door.

When Brenda returned, she was carrying a tray of some human food, and there was another human with her. “This is my wife, Susan,” she explained to Oralie.

Oralie nodded, grateful for Brenda’s clear and slow speech allowing her to catch the words.

“Have some food,” Susan told her, and despite the unfamiliarity of the food, Oralie was happy to obey.

The duo stayed in the room while she was eating, chattering to each other in English too fast for Oralie to catch. The food itself was not bad, but Oralie would have eaten it even if it was. Finally, she was finished, and Brenda grabbed the tray and hurried off.

Susan turned to Oralie, and Oralie could feel pity and concern radiating off her. Still, Susan’s voice was steady and gentle when she spoke. “Brenda and I did not go to the police. We took you to the hospital, and told the doctors we did not know how you got injured.”

Despite not knowing what ‘hospital’ or ‘police’ meant in the Enlightened Language, Oralie understood enough to know that there was a ‘but’ coming.

“But,” Susan added, “your wounds look deliberate.”

“Deliberate?” Oralie asked slowly, trying to get the English syllables through her mouth.

“Done on purpose,” Susan told her. “We were hoping you would tell us who hurt you, so we can make sure you’re safe.”

Oralie took a moment to process the sentence, and then another moment to come up with a lie. “My- my boyfriend. I...ran from his house.” She let the memory of Vespera’s tormenting turn her eyes tearful, selling the lie.

“I’m so sorry. Brenda and I will make sure he never hurts you again, okay?”

Oralie nodded.

“Can you answer two more questions for me?” Susan asked.

Oralie nodded again.

“Who is ‘Bronte’? You were calling for him.”

She didn’t have to think much this time. “My older brother.”

“And ‘Kenric’?”

“My…former boyfriend. Not the bad one. He....” Oralie hesitated, trying to remember all the polite human euphemisms for death. “He passed away.”

“I am sorry for your loss.” Susan stood. “Brenda and I can let you stay here for a bit. Until you’re back on your feet.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Back in Eternalia, Sophie was nervously linking hands with Fitz and Emery, hoping it would work.

Hello? Fitz’s voice asked in her head. I’m past your blocking, and I think I’m past Emery’s too.

He is, Emery’s mind murmured.

Hi, Sophie said to both of them.

Fitz sent her an image of him waving, and she smiled.

Emery offered a polite mental hello.

Right, so, should we get started? Fitz asked.

We need Sophie to do that, Emery told him.

Sophie’s stomach knotted with nerves. Right. Yeah. Okay. I’m going to reach out. If you guys could like, guide me and send mental energy, that would be great.

Fitz sent her a thumbs up.

Emery nodded mentally, somehow.

Sophie’s first try was utterly overwhelming, humans’ and elves’ thoughts pouring into her brain and any sign of Oralie lost amongst the chaos. She lost contact with Emery maybe five seconds in, and Fitz had to reel her mind back in.

“Ow,” he said out loud. “That was overwhelming.”

Emery was frowning. “I think we lost touch.”

“We’ll try again,” Sophie told the other telepaths.

Thankfully, they both nodded.

Two tries later, they had established that the problem seemed to be that Sophie simply couldn’t keep touch with Emery’s mind.

“Aren’t there any other telepaths that know Oralie’s mind well enough?” Sophie groaned in frustration, and then winced as Emery looked offended.

“The ideal choice would be Kenric,” Bronte told her. “But…”

“That’s not an option,” Emery finished. “And I doubt any other living telepath has read Oralie’s mind as many times as I have, at least of the ones you’ve worked with.”

“Don’t you lot do like, trust exercises?” Zarina asked. Her feet were propped on the Council’s meeting table, earning her glares from everyone else.

“I mean…” Fitz glanced at Sophie. “Worth a shot. Although I don’t know how much I trust Emery to catch me falling off a table.”

“I’ve caught Bronte falling off a cabinet,” Emery argued.

“Yeah, but Bronte’s like, four feet tall,” Sophie told him. “Wait, you’ve caught Bronte falling off a cabinet?”

Bronte glared at Emery. “Fuck all of you.”

“Maybe you could try some ones that don’t involve tables,” Terik suggested. He looked faintly amused.

“Only if they involve hearing the story of Bronte falling off a cabinet,” Sophie joked.

Emery shrugged. “I mean, that story does involve one of my secrets. But it wouldn’t be fair to Bronte.”

So five minutes later, they were back to trying trust-falls. So far, Fitz and Emery had both caught Sophie, and Sophie had caught Fitz and then proceeded to fall on her ass.

“I think this is a really bad idea,” Emery informed her, but he toppled off the chair anyways.

To her own surprise, Sophie didn’t immediately drop him, although she did lower him to the floor very quickly.

The rest of the Council seemed greatly amused by all this. At least, until they took the exercises back to being mental.

Okay, so we’re all telling each other one non-illegal secret? Fitz asked.

Emphasis on the non-illegal, Emery told him.

Right. Gotcha.

There was a moment of mental silence, and then, I’ll go first.

Sophie silently thanked Emery for that as he went on. You all know about the miniature ball at the end of the Elite Towers, yes? I went with someone not on my match list.

Fitz audibly gasped. That’s like, a huge scandal.

I know. Nothing bad ever became of it, obviously, but...it was a big deal to the few people who knew about it then.

Why? Sophie asked him mentally.

It was a big deal because I went with another aspiring regent, who- well, I won’t tell you his name, but at the time it was quite the scandal for a young and promising Foxfire graduate to be going out with another man.

Sophie didn’t know the elves had homophobia. That’s iconic, honestly.

I wish I could say it was, but only a few people even knew we were together. Emery’s mental voice sounded pensive. And, of course, it’s been a very long time since I last saw him.

Well I was going to say that one time I put fart a la carte in Biana’s breakfast so she would be gassy for the opening ceremonies, but now I feel kinda silly, Fitz told them. Um. Wait. If we’re being gay….

Sophie tried for a joking tone. Don’t tell me you’re actually gay and not into me.

No, but Keefe was my first kiss.

...Do I have permission to tease him about that?

Ask him, not me.

Emery sounded like he was smiling mentally. That’s sweet, actually.

And I have a lot of questions, Sophie added. But I guess I should say my secret now.

Probably.

Right. Uh. Keeping with the theme, I’m just going to come out now and say that I’m bi.

Whoa, Fitz said, but he didn’t seem like he thought that was a bad thing.

Right, Emery told them both. Now that we all understand each other a little bit better, should we try again?

This time, Sophie felt both of the others’ minds right alongside hers as she searched. Fitz was mainly there for support, but Emery’s mind guided her strength across the world until they brushed against a mind that felt both soft like silk and hard like glass.

This is Oralie, Emery’s mind whispered. His mental voice was faint, stretched over the massive distance.

Sophie made the extra leap to touch Oralie’s mind. Oralie. Oralie!

Silence. And then, a faint, almost disbelieving Sophie?

Susan had left the room a few moments before, after Oralie had asked which town she had made it to (some small town that Oralie didn’t recognize, but she memorized the name of just in case). And so Oralie was once again alone with her thoughts, which once again turned to the people she had left behind in the Lost Cities. Sophie, Bronte, even Emery. And of course Kenric. Even now, he never seemed far from her thoughts, although her emotions had become a little more mixed and muddled as the initial surge of grief faded. Still, Oralie supposed she would be missing him forever. Which was a rather depressing thought. While she was making herself sad, she might as well think about Sophie and the hatred radiating from her daughter when they spoke. Oralie had been an empath long enough to know that rage most often stemmed from hurt- but the fact that she had hurt Sophie did not wound her any less than the thought that Sophie hated her. Maybe she would ask Bronte for advice on how to fix this whole damn mess.

Bronte. It had been so natural to say he was her brother, beyond even needing to lie to these humans. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t close enough to qualify, a brother in everything but blood, but Oralie had no idea how he’d feel about having another blonde disaster of a younger sibling.

The first time a familiar voice entered her head, Oralie thought she had imagined it. She had clearly just been thinking about Sophie too much.

But the second time, she couldn’t ignore the desperation behind the call. Sophie?

Oralie! There was genuine relief in Sophie’s transmission. Where are you? Are you safe?

I’m safe, for now. I’m in a little town called Wetherby- it’s a human settlement, but it was the closest place to go when I escaped the Neverseen, since I didn’t have a leaping crystal.

You can get by in a human town?

I speak a little English, Oralie explained. And the people who helped me are very kind- they’re a human couple who lives here. I told them English was my second language and they didn’t question it.

Okay, hang on. I’m transmitting all this info back to Emery. We’ll come get you, Sophie said, and Oralie had never felt more reassured by a sentence from a much younger elf in her life.

Thank you.

Of fucking course. It’s not like we’d leave you there. I mean, for one thing, Bronte would kill me.

Is he okay?

Depends on how you define okay. Sophie sounded like she was choosing her words carefully. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week but he’ll probably be fine once you get back.

Thank you, Oralie thought again.

I mean, you’re welcome. I’m going to go update everyone else and look for the town you told us, and then we’ll update you again.

Okay. Tell Bronte and the rest that I said hello?

I will.

Sophie blinked her eyes open in time to see Emery face plant onto the table.

“Ow. Fuck.” He sat up, rubbing his head. “That hurt even more than having these idiots scream in my head. Is this what it’s like for you all the time?”

Sophie shook her head. Sure, she had a bit of a headache, but that was more from hearing humans' thoughts while looking for Oralie than anything. “When it’s someone that I know well, it’s not bad.”

“Then I admire the strength of your telepathy.” Emery ground his palms into his eyes for a moment, looking pained, and then straightened up fully. “But! We know where Oralie is.”

“Where is she?” Bronte demanded.

“Some human town in Britain,” Fitz told him. “She escaped from the Neverseen and somehow made her way there.”

Bronte looked almost proud. “That sounds like Oralie. Anyways, how are we going to get her back?”

The rest of the evening was spent finding human maps, researching human clothing, and getting a leaping crystal to the exact coordinates made. Sophie, as primary human expert, had to be present, and the rest of Team Valiant was summoned as well. So while Dex, Fitz, and Biana went to the Forbidden Cities for human clothes and Wylie and Stina pored over the map, Sophie was charged with checking in on Oralie one more time. This time, she didn’t need Emery to guide her as she reached for the other’s mind again.

Hey.

Hi, Sophie, Oralie offered. Any word?

Bronte says ‘you’re a damn idiot and I’m going to fight anyone who hurt you’, and we’ve got a plan to get you home.

That sounds like Bronte. And what would the plan be?

Well, we’re working on a leaping crystal to where you are, Sophie explained. I’ll go into the city itself to find you, if you describe the house you’re in.

That sounds smart, with one caveat: why would a teenager be picking up a fully grown adult?

I don’t know, I’m your daughter or something. She almost regretted that when she felt Oralie’s mind flinch.

How do you feel about being a niece? It’s... a long story, but people have been asking questions and my current story is that I ran from my boyfriend- you’ll see why when you get here. But I haven’t mentioned any children.

And you have mentioned a sibling?

I may have had to lie and say that Bronte was my brother.

Sophie sent a mental groan across the connection. I don’t want to be his kid.

Oralie’s mental voice was too amused for her liking. I know, but you don’t look exceedingly different, and we need a story.

Fine.

Okay. I’ll tell Susan and Brenda- the human couple- that I’ll be going to live with my brother and his kid.

Gotcha. We’ll be there tomorrow morning at nine.

Sophie’s voice faded from Oralie’s head, and Oralie stared at the fluffy comforters, trying not to think about the words ‘I don’t know, I’m your daughter or something’. Rather unsuccessfully.

Thankfully for her, Brenda came bustling back in. “Hey there! Susan and I are going to eat dinner, do you want to eat with us?”

Oralie considered for a moment and then nodded.

“Great! Let’s go on down.”

So Oralie sat with the human couple, trying the human food cautiously. Brenda seemed happy to carry the conversation with occasional input from Susan or Oralie, which she was grateful for. Even if she didn’t quite catch some of what the human said, she could nod along.

Eventually, the conversation came around to Oralie’s situation. “I was able to...call? My brother,” Oralie told them. “He says that it is okay for me to live with him and his daughter.”

“Oh, excellent!” Brenda beamed at her. “When will you move in with them? No pressure to leave, of course.”

“He said he would be here tomorrow at nine.”

“That soon! Well, we’ll have to get you some better clothes than that hospital gown.”

Oralie glanced down at the thin fabric and nodded. “Thank you very much, I owe you a lot.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. The bill from the doctor is the worst of it. You’re not covered by our insurance.”

“How much do I owe you for that?”

Brenda radiated worry, biting her lip anxiously. “Worry about that when you’ve got a stable place to live.”

Oralie made a mental note to tell Sophie to pay these two back with a ridiculous sum of human money. “Okay.”

The next morning, she woke up early to golden sunlight falling across her bed. For a second, she almost thought she was back in Eternalia, since her room there was always lit by dawn, but the stained floral wallpaper soon dispelled that notion.

Susan came in perhaps a half hour later, setting some human clothes on the bed. “Here you go. These used to be mine, but I think they should fit you okay.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. There’s a shower in the bathroom at the end of the hall, the one with a blue door, if you want.”

Oralie nodded and got out of bed slowly. Her legs still ached from all the walking, and the rest of her body wasn’t in much better shape, but she was determined to take a shower and stop smelling like the Neverseen hideout and the human medicines.

That turned out to be easier said than done, but if she avoided the largest wounds, she could get mostly clean. And it helped that Susan’s old clothes smelled mainly like dust.

Oralie turned and glanced in the mirror, and she hardly recognized herself. Even after only a week with the Neverseen, her face had become leaner. Tougher. There were bruises scattered across every visible section of skin, and several gashes. Her cheeks were bandaged with large bandages, and her hair was wet and tangled. In the human clothes, she looked almost human, but she could also see why Brenda and Susan glanced at her with such worry radiating from them.

Snapping herself out of her reflection, Oralie borrowed the hairbrush on the bathroom counter to try and de-tangle her hair, which was easier said than done. She mainly managed it, though, with a lot of wincing. At least it didn’t seem like such a rat’s nest.

Once she was done with that, there was nothing to do but wait for Bronte and Sophie to arrive.

Bronte and Sophie were currently having a muttered argument over having to pretend to be father and daughter.

“Well it's not like I really strongly desire to be your kid,” Sophie muttered to him as she fumbled through the pile of human clothing the others had brought.

“And it’s not like I have a strong desire to have you as a child,” Bronte muttered back, but he didn’t seem actually that grumpy.

“What about ‘I’d be proud of you if you were my daughter’?”

“I’m just saying that you’ve accomplished incredible things.”

“That sounds pretty fucking kind to me.”

Bronte huffed. “I am not kind, I am very mean. But...I would be very proud of you.”

Sophie tossed a t-shirt at him. “Here, you can wear this. My human dad had a literally identical one. Plus, can’t you be a proud mentor already?”

“Well yes, I am a proud mentor. Now shush, stop making me look nice in front of the rest.”

“Ha, I’ll ruin your evil reputation.”

“Everyone knows I’m the Councillor not to fuck with,” Bronte grumbled as he took the jeans Sophie was handing him.

“Haha no. That’s like, Emery.”

“Emery has the backbone of a chocolate eclair.”

“I heard that!” Emery shouted from the background.

“Good!” Bronte shouted back.

Sophie, meanwhile, was picking up a beanie. “Here, you can use this to hide your ears.”

“I hate modern human fashion,” Bronte grumbled, but he left to get into the clothes anyways. He looked very strange in jeans and a t-shirt, the bright orange beanie hiding his pointed ears and the casual human clothing greatly reducing how intimidating he was.

“Hi, temporary dad,” Sophie told him. She had gotten into her old human clothes before even coming to Eternalia, and was surprised at how strange the jeans felt after years of elven clothing.

Bronte just sighed. “How am I doing at the whole ‘looking human’ thing?”

“You gotta slouch a little more. And stop glaring at everyone. You’re a chill dad.”

“I am not,” Bronte muttered, but he softened his stare and posture a little bit.

“Great!” Sophie told him. “Let’s leap there, shall we?”

“Let’s go.”

It was almost ten minutes after nine when a knock sounded from the front door.

Brenda went hurrying over to open it, shooting Oralie a smile as she did. “Oh, hello! Would you be Oralie’s brother and niece?”

“That’s us,” Oralie heard Sophie say in flawless English. “I’m Sophie, and this is my dad, Bronte. He doesn’t speak English super well- we’re an immigrant family.”

“Ah, and you’ve lived in the UK most of your life, Sophie? That makes sense. Anyways, I’m sure Oralie is eager to see you.” Brenda turned back to Oralie. “Your family is here!”

Oralie stood up, giving Brenda her best reassuring smile as she hurried over to the front door. “Sophie! Bronte!” The others may have been dressed in strange human clothes, worry on their faces and tension in their stances, but they were here. They were here.

To her surprise, Bronte rushed forward and threw his arms around her tightly, solidifying for Oralie that he really was real and here.

“Bronte!” Oralie hugged him back just as tightly, letting herself relax for the first time since Gisela had grabbed her that day.

“I was so fucking worried,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry-”

“Why would you fucking apologize for being kidnapped by the Neverseen?” Bronte pulled back, and Oralie noted the tears glimmering in his eyes. “It’s not your fucking fault and it’s never been your fucking fault. I am going to hurt every one of those dipshits, though.”

“It’s okay, Bronte. I’m okay.”

“Your face is covered in bruises.”

She winced. “Yeah.”

“I’m still going to hurt them.”

“Okay.”

“And you’re going to be okay,” Bronte added quietly. “I’ll make sure none of them lay a hand on you ever again.”

Oralie could feel herself tearing up a little at that, so she pulled him into a hug again. Bronte didn’t protest, only hugged her tightly and let her fall apart for a minute.

Meanwhile, Sophie was having an awkward conversation with an older human couple. “Yeah, we were really worried about my auntie Oralie.”

“Her injuries were pretty bad,” agreed the small, round-faced one who had introduced herself as Brena. “I do hope you’ll bring her ex to justice.”

“We will,” Sophie assured them. “Br- Dad will make sure of that.”

“He sounds like a sweet brother,” the other, Susan, said.

“Yeah, he and my aunt are really close. We don’t really talk much with grandma and grandpa because they live so far away.” “Do you just live with your dad?” “Just the two of us,” Sophie agreed. “It’ll be nice to have my aunt around.”

“I can imagine.” Brenda smiled fondly.

Sophie glanced over at Oralie, who was absolutely covered in bandages. “Are we going to have to pay you for medical bills?” “Well, they put her down as Jane Doe. And we offered to pay the initial fees, but they’ll probably bill you for the rest once they figure out who you are.”

“Gotcha. I’ll tell Dad, we’ll see if Auntie is covered by our insurance. We can pay you back for the initial stuff too-”

“Don’t worry about it, hon,” Brenda told her. “We’re happy to help, and it’s a good thing that Oralie is safe now.”

“Thank you so much.” Sophie made a mental note to have the elves help these two out in some way.

“Of course, dearie.”

Susan handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s my phone number, contact the two of us if you need any extra help.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said again.

“Sophie!” Oralie’s voice called. “We are heading home!”

“I better go, but thank you again and I’ll keep in touch,” Sophie promised.

Susan and Brenda waved as she hurried away.

The trio arrived back in Eternalia to a lot of commotion and excitement.

First, Oralie got swarmed by the other Councillors, who she was surprised to realize were genuinely glad to have her home. They looked in varying states of frazzled, ranging from Alina (perfectly groomed as ever) to Terik (whose hair was sticking straight up). And they greeted her with maybe less dignity than was generally required from the Council.

“Oralie!” Clarette called. “You absolute fucker!”

Oralie knew that was her way of showing worry. “Hello, Clarette.”

“Thank goodness you’re back,” Terik said.

“We were all incredibly worried,” Emery agreed. “Especially Bronte.”

“Shut up, Emery,” Bronte grumbled from next to her.

“I’m not wrong, and you know it.”

Even Liora waved hello, and Noland signed enthusiastically to her about how good it was to see her safe.

Finally, Elwin cut through the commotion, shoving through the Council very politely. “Excuse me, excuse me, but if Councillor Oralie is hurt than you’re going to need a doctor!”

Oralie smiled over at him. “Elwin!”

“Oralie!” He pushed past Emery, looking her up and down. “Oh dear, oh dear. Did they take you to a human hospital?”

“Yes, they did.”

“Right, well I’ll have to start undoing some of that damage, then.”

So Oralie sat on the grass outside of the castles in human clothes as Elwin gave her what felt like a million different elixirs. “Sophie, is this what it’s like to be you?”

“All the time,” Sophie told her with a laugh.

“This is probably my comeuppance for the time I laughed at Bronte after he got stabbed on accident during a diplomatic mission to the goblins and had to drink some truly disgusting sludge,” Oralie mused.

“I’m still mad about that, you know,” Bronte huffed.

“I know, you hold a grudge.”

“With good reason.”

“I only laughed a little bit,” Oralie protested. “And only after I was certain you were going to be okay. His face at the medicine was so funny, you should have seen it,” she added to Sophie.

“Oh, I bet.”

Bronte threw his arms up with a huff. “None of you respect me.”

“Nope!” Elwin said cheerfully. “Plus, you turned down an emotional support stuffed animal.”

Oralie made a shocked face, causing Sophie to giggle. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can.”

“Hmm. Well I’ll just have to get you one and sneak it into your castle.”

Bronte grumbled under his breath. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you the key!”

Oralie couldn’t help but smile at the familiar grumbling. “Too bad, you did.”

“I’m happy to provide the stuffed animal,” Elwin told her. “I have an alicorn named Mr. Sparkfluff if you want him.”

“That sounds perfect, actually.”

“I should warn you, he’s sparkly.” Elwin handed her a very sparkly stuffed alicorn, and Oralie giggled.

“He certainly looks it! Alright, Bronte, am I sneaking in at 3 am to leave him on your sofa, or are you just taking him home?”

“It’s not like you won’t show up at 3 am if I don’t,” Bronte grumbled, but he reluctantly took the alicorn. “Does his name really have to be Mr. Sparklefluff?”

“Yes,” Oralie, Elwin, and Sophie all said in unison.

“I guess this is just my life now. Do remember to knock if you come over at some ridiculous hour of the night. Sometimes I’m even asleep.”

“Rarely,” Oralie murmured to herself. She tried to smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll knock when I come bother you about whatever paperwork we’re doing this week.”

“Lovely. If it’s more about ogre-troll relations, I vote we give it to Emery.”

“Is it going to be?”

“Probably.”

“Just going to betray me like that, Bronte?” Emery asked as he wandered over.

“Yes.”

Emery sighed and turned to Oralie, shaking his head in mock-sorrow. “It’s a cruel world out there. Betrayal by your own friends.”

“Cruel indeed.” She laughed, finding it easier to forget the darkness of her Neverseen cell in the bright sunlight of Eternalia.

After a minute, Elwin and Sophie joined in, and Emery chuckled. Even Bronte smiled. It wasn’t really that funny, but they were all here and alive and somewhere near okay, and that was reason enough to be happy right now.

#Councillor Bronte #semp writes #councillor Oralie #sophie foster #caps tw #keeper of the lost cities #councillor Emery #Fintan pyren

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