#and finishing with baby daughter sage I cannot

[yes-asil]

Eggman keeps adding to his tiny robot family, it’s adorable.

[fandomflail]

title: Recognition (8/9)

rating: M

summary: Soulmate trope AU. Set in a world where humans and elves coexist.

a/n: i should be wary of promising exact dates as I have a habit of running the edit brush over and over again until i finally reach a point where i can edit no more. and still, the length of this chapter is monstrous. there will be another chapter, as giving myself an additional chapter before the end has allowed me to share more of the world with you. i hope you dont hate me for it. 

also on AO3

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CHAPTER 8: Reveal

Killian kissed Emma fiercely, before he, Liam and Elsa sped off. Killian had left Emma with the keys to his home, and it had been hours now since they’d left. She had little word from him and was doing her best to not worry.

Jefferson had regressed, and was now quietly speaking on the communicator to someone she couldn’t see. Belle had taken the opportunity to tutor the kids in History, walking them through the royal lineage.

Emma joined them after she had cleaned the penthouse, thankful for the sore in her muscles as a lot of the anxious energy had been burned off. Despite the fact that Henry kept interrupting Belle with questions, the Head of the B.E.A.S.T was patient and kind in answering them.

She faltered however, when Gracie suddenly asked, “All the kings and queens mentioned have had long lives. And the ones who have died early, like King Brennan, has been a result of foul play. Was he assassinated?”

Belle looked uncomfortable, tossing a glance at Jefferson who paid them no mind. “Well, it’s too early to say, isn’t it? And that’s a rather… well, it could have been mind maladies, an accident, anything. We can’t know for sure. Why jump to that as the first explanation?”

The girl pursed her lips. Emma watched her, the look on her face was so like her father’s it was uncanny. “Papa may have…” her eyes darted to her father who was still in conversation, “he may have alluded that the Queen…” she trailed off, losing her nerve.

“But why?” Emma asked, jumping into the conversation. Her one and only interaction with the Queen Consort had been highly unpleasant, to say the least, but she stood to gain nothing from a dead king, “Liam’s next in line.”

Gracie, Henry and Belle shook their heads in tandem. “That’s not how it works.”

“But he’s the first born son!” She defended.

Her outburst must have caught Jefferson’s attention, because he interjected, “The way the rule works is that, the next ruler must be chosen by the previous.” He clicked off the communicator, joining their side of the room, “Now of course, Kings have long since just ‘chosen�� their children, thus making it a blood lineage, but it doesn’t have to be.”

“That’s right, and precedence was set thousand of years before the Landing of the First Men, during the rule of King Sanfant, who died young and childless. Queen Elligent became the automatic ruler, and re-married. Her daughter would inherit the throne.” Belle recited, as if she could see the book in front of her. “I think there was opposition to automatic inheritance, which led to the formation of the 13,” Belle finished, her tone unsure as she looked to Jefferson, who nodded to confirm her statement.

“But if the ruler was assassinated or died without naming a successor…” Jefferson said, his tone flat, “then the Council would be forced to ascend from their lofty abodes in Irska and decide. Of the 13, most favor Prince William as he spent a long time in Irska. He would most likely take the throne given that he is well liked and has been cultivated as a ruler since he was knee high. However, that appointment won’t come without politics.”  

“You seemed to know this with a certainty…” Emma remarked, watching Jefferson closely. It was imperceptible, but she saw that slight change of expression that told her he hadn’t meant to reveal his depth of knowledge on the matter. Emma realized then that she didn’t actually know what Jefferson did. He kept a remarkably low profile, had little relationships with other elves that she knew of (courtesy of Henry through Gracie) and was really more secretive than was warranted.

Jefferson seemed rigid as he shrugged his shoulder in nonchalance. Emma caught Gracie watching her father critically, validating Emma’s thoughts. “It’s common knowledge,” he said, “just like how one of the barriers for Prince William’s appointment will be whether or not he intends to pass the line to Prince Killian or his own children.”

It may have been an attempt to distract her, but Emma couldn’t help the question, “Why wouldn’t they want Killian to take the throne?”

“I don’t think they like him, mum,” Henry said with an expression that said he severely disagreed with that.

“But why?”

Jefferson sighed, rubbing his neck. “You do remember what I told you all those months ago at the Open Court? That he had eschewed his elven responsibilities and all but left to be human?”

She nodded. Killian had shared with her why he had left, and what he had done in that time.

“It’s a great insult,” Gracie said, nodding sagely.

“There’s 3 books about the incident,” Belle said, squinting her eyes like she was looking through book catalogues in her memory.

“It was big, when it happened. Mostly because of how he did it.The insult to pride has not abated, no matter how nice they play now. I can almost guarantee that one of the conditions of Prince William’s ascension will be that the line will never pass through Prince Killian or any of his progeny.”

Emma felt a wave of rage at the injustice of that, despite the fact that they had not discussed children. Heck, they hadn’t even really discussed their own future! She was also pretty sure Killian had no desire to rule. It was just… the principle of it.

“And Liam will agree to that condition?”

Jefferson scoffed. “Easily. He would not take likely to anyone insulting his family’s honor, but even he would easily agree to such a term. That’s not what will tip the scales.”

“What, then?” Belle asked.

Jefferson sighed, his eyes glancing at them and around the room, as if deciding how much to tell them, and what. His eyes landed on the closed doors, on the eagerly awaiting faces, and when his eyes caught Emma’s, he sighed.

“Understand,” he said in a voice lower than usual, “that what you’re about to hear would be… problematic, to say the least, if repeated elsewhere. Consider perhaps, that some may be hearsay, or completely invalidated.”

“We understand the disclaimer, Papa” Gracie said, sounding impatient.

He sighed again. Emma too, was feeling impatient.

And then, it was like a damn burst.

“The Queen has a rather interesting history, one surprisingly that even escaped the Sukrasa. She’s reinvented herself of sorts. It’s a long story, but she’s from a kingdom far, far, far away. There’s rumored to be a band of elves in the vast desert systems of the Orken, and as no one really knows how to find them or has had much contact with them over literal millennia; most people consider them mythical.”

“They are real?” Belle asks, sounding like someone just told her she’d won a million Glyd. Emma’s sort of glad to see that Henry and Gracie both look as confused as she personally feels.

“It appears so. Her Highness Coraline, though she was nothing but a maiden named Kara then, was… exiled. She was no older than 14 I hear, though I cannot be certain of her age when it happened. It seems she murdered someone, again unverified, or at the least, benefited from the death of some high ranking person in their society. In any case, they sent her to live in a cavern below their systems. Intel implies a deeper level of cave system. In any case, she must have escaped sometime later, though she did so with a baby in her belly.”

“Wait, what? What does this have to do with Liam? How do you know this?” Emma interrupted, incredulous.  

Jefferson held up a hand, as if to say, be patient. He eyed Henry and Gracie, as if regretting that they were hearing this, but must have surmised it was too late now, as he continued, “She made her way to a settlement somewhere on the borders of Snoland and Nysno, where it was said the child passed during birth - that a decision had to be made so she chose to live. Fashioned a completely new identity there, became a key strategist in Snoland, was recommended to serve in Irska, where she met the widowed King Brennan, and is now as we know, Queen Coraline.”

Emma had more questions than ever.

“The child, didn’t in fact pass. In fact, the child has grown up to be a very powerful alchemist. Unfortunately, she has taken after her mother in both ambition and ruthlessness. You see, two months ago, my network, don’t ask who or how, received intel about this elf, about 350 years in age, who had set sights on Irska. Not uncommon, to be fair, except that her brand of alchemy dealt strongly in dangerous arts, poisons and services of revenge, both petty and malicious. This was all hush hush. On the surface, she did plenty of healing art too. But then one of the agents had a hunch, and a good thing too, for he tracked her, got close to her, and found out all that I’ve relayed to you now. Her name is Zelena, beautiful, red haired, and fair skin. She’s already in Irska, and she knows whose daughter she is. What we don’t know is if she’s confronted her mother, or worst, is scheming with Coraline to ingratiate herself for the crown. She’s first born. Then of course, you have Coraline’s own child, Princess Regina, who the crown would most certainly pass to if The 13 instate the Queen as Regent.”

“Oh shit,” said Henry. 

“Henry, language!”

“So if I understand,” Belle said haltingly, “if King Brennan didn’t bequeath the crown to Prince Liam, then The Council of Elders will be called to decide if the crown goes to him or Queen Coraline. If the crown goes to Queen Coraline, then she will later give it to Princess Regina, provided her alleged first born Zelena, doesn’t come in to demand her rights. Did I get it right?”

“Does Regina know about her sister? Or Coraline know about her daughter?”

“Yes,” said Jefferson pointing to Belle, and “No, I don’t think so, and not sure, we don’t know if she’s confronted her,” he said, answering Emma’s questions.

“This is ludicrous, Papa. Is this true?”

“If Zelena is to be believed. But regardless of whether or not Coraline’s past is true - perhaps she herself made up the rumor about Orken for intrigue -  the present remains that the King was, most likely, intentionally disposed. And if so, then it must be because the stars have aligned themselves for some nefarious plan that one, or both of them, are cooking up.”

“Then Killian is in danger. And Liam, and Elsa.” Emma breathed out. “Wait, why the hell haven’t you told anyone this?!?” She demanded, rounding on Jefferson.

He gave her a long hard look. “The ones who have needed to be informed have been. But clearly, they have failed. I don’t know who has been compromised.”

“The Sukrasa?” Belle asked.

“Were aware. It remains to be seen if they failed or were… compromised.”

“But they have a code,” Emma said unthinkingly, remembering that night at the ball.

“Yes, a code,” Jefferson said impatiently, “but morality is separate. It would not be disloyal to follow Queen Coraline’s orders, especially if they didn’t—-“

He stopped, looking like he had just figured something out.

“What?” Emma asked.

“Papa, you’ve lost colour.”

“Belle, I need you to stay here, lock the doors, and keep the children safe. Can I count on you?”

“What is it?” Emma pressed, but he wasn’t looking at her at all.

Henry and Gracie protested immediately, but Belle’s voice was the firmest Emma had ever heard it. “Yes, we won’t move. They will be safe.”

Jefferson turned to her, something blazing in his eyes. “We need to go, now.”

Emma had a million questions, but there was something there that told her she could ask it on the way. She trusted Jefferson, despite the evidence suggesting she shouldn’t. She nodded, and went to Henry, hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this drama, kid,” she whispered into his hair.

He laughed, despite the worry she felt radiating from him. “Are you kidding, I’m living in a movie. Just,” he inhaled sharply, “just be safe, mum, please.”

“Of course. I love you,” she said, feeling warm when he responded in kind.

She kissed him on the forehead, touched Gracie’s forearm gently, thanked Belle who waved her off, and went with Jefferson.

The dizzying emotions kept her quiet as she warred with the side of her that screamed I told you so!, I told you he’d be nothing but bad news, which she knew objectively was untrue, but also sort of true - getting mixed up in whatever political intrigue was happening was way above Emma’s comprehension and interest. But she also knew that she’d go to the fiery pits of Anbar for him; she loved him, whether or not she was ready to say it.

She had so many questions that figuring what to ask first kept her quiet, and the urge to just show up to the palace and … punch, or kick or just slap the Queen was making her skin itch. This inaction was making her antsy.

Jefferson too, seemed preoccupied. He was fiddling with his communicator, clearly processing a million different things at once. It wasn’t until they were safely tucked in his pod and their harnesses buckled did Emma speak. So did Jefferson.

“I know you must be wondering—“

“What the hell is going on—“

The pod was moving at full speed; Jefferson was masterfully guiding the craft towards the borders of Alamané on the other side of the river.

“There’s too much to tell you, so here’s what you must know. If, if the Sukrasa are executing orders from the Queen, it means that her actions or promised outcomes are likely to be for the better of the realm.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Maybe so… but she’s smart, and plays the game of politics for more masterfully than the King, or the two princes. One King dying of young age is suspect enough, but two princes? No, they are not in immediate danger - unless they threaten to expose her. How likely is that?”

“If Killian or Liam thinks their father has been murdered—“

“Exactly. Until this moment, the Zelena connection has been tenuous at best. Despite the intel, there was no actual proof, no evidence to suggest the entire story was true. I’ve met both Zelena and Regina; very similar in temperament, both… unpleasant, but  smart. Also quick to anger, and impatient. Where Coraline would play games for centuries, Zelena finds waiting to be strenuous. About 7 minutes ago, confirmation has come through that the King was indeed poisoned.”

“Fuck them,” Emma said, hating the she-elves the more she learned about them. “Of the three, who do we need to worry more about now?”

“Coraline, Zelena, Regina, in that order,” he said, without a moment of hesitation.

“Oh shit,” Jefferson exclaimed suddenly.

“What? What?”

“We’re almost at the border into the Ekilon Forest, where the first checkpoint is.”

Emma had never been there, but she understood.

“Oh,” she said, heat rising to her cheeks unbidden, “I actually… I have right of way.”

“What? How?”

Emma pulled out the chain she never took off, the one that kept Killian’s ring by her skin at all times. She dangled the ring, and the pod swerved slightly to the right as Jefferson reacted to the sight.

The ring Killian had given her was no mere ring. It was delicately crafted, and the official signet ring of Killian Aearinön. At the time, she hadn’t understood the full significance of the gesture, as he’d merely told her that it would allow her to find him, always. Only later had he explained that someone who carried that ring could march right up to the throne room in Irska itself and not be stopped, for it was their right and honor. Each royal had only one to give away, and she had his.

She had wondered if anyone would actually believe that it was a real signet ring. He had licked her cheek, making her laugh and smack him in protest. Then he told her lovingly, that it was made from pure Innenfra which had made her gasp into silence. It was a type of metal that when worn for long periods of time, made elf blood sing, providing harmony to the body. Most elves wore some type of Innenfra, mostly just as a small earring like Jefferson did, as it was rare and terribly expensive. A whole ring was royal indeed.

“Wow,” Jefferson said, “well, that solves one problem at least. Though perhaps not as inconspicuous as I hoped.”

They arrived at the checkpoint, and Emma gave her name, doing her best to remain plain even as she showed them the signet ring. She could see the arch of brow at that, but they did not question her further, allowing their pod to pass through unencumbered. Their mood was not sombre as she thought it would be, they seemed  to be mostly unaffected, as if they hadn’t heard about the death of their king.

“Are these elves loyal to Killian’s family? They don’t seem like they’re mourning.”

“Mourning is what we reserve for the tragic loss, like that of a child. A mother’s death is a warrior’s mourn, for she died in the most noble of battles. And as for King Brennan… no one knows about the murder yet. For that, there shall be anger, and a swift retribution.  But common deaths? Oh, we celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“We live longer lives than you, ah I mean to say, humans, and so we do not fear death as much as humans, only a life left unfulfilled.”

“So, Cora?”

“There’s more questions than answers. But I have a theory if you will, and it goes as follows. Once the King is disposed, the sons must be discredited. Of the two, Prince Killian would be the easiest to lay blame on. If he is found somehow responsible for the death of his father, that casts aspersions to the whole lot of them. Prince William will be expected to sentence Prince Killian to death, which he would not do, mostly because he will not believe his brother to be conspirator, no matter who accuses Killian as the mastermind. Queen Coraline however, as broken hearted as she will appear to be, will of course avenge her husband. Once her mother is in position, Zelena will appear suddenly, taking credit for setting the whole thing up, if she hasn’t already.”

A sudden, sinking feeling settled in Emma stomach. One that had been building since  earlier that day, one that had been growing in the pit of her stomach but she had ignored in favor of other pressing matters.

“This is your best theory?”

They were speeding through Ekilon; she could see the next checkpoint into Irska itself, with its glittering castle not too far in the distance. She needed to play this right.

“I told you, I’ve met Zelena. And Regina.”

“Very well met then, to make such accurate predictions?” She asked more sharply than intended. Cool down, Emma, almost there.

She was looking straight ahead, but she could feel the weight of his stare on her as he glanced her way.

“Enough to know that this is the play she’d make, rather than attack directly.”

“How do you suppose she’s getting information?”

She was watching him out of the corner of her eye, his face remained impassive, though his left hand twitched imperceptibly on the control - she would have missed it if she had blinked.

“Her mother, most likely. Otherwise, I don’t know.”

“Right.”

Clearly, she was terrible at subtlety, because Jefferson, for the first time since she’d known him, growled irritated.

“What are you insinuating?”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You’re not being subtle, Emma!”

“Fine! Are you working for the Queen? Zelena? Or Regina?”

“You have a lot of nerve asking that,” Jefferson said, voice turning dangerous. Emma balled her fists, ready to swing if it came to that.

“Answer the question.”

He huffed, and the pod jerked, accelerating forward faster. He swerved off the main path into a smaller one off to the right, and stopped suddenly at an alcove.

“Jefferson!” Her hand jumped to the handle.

“For fuck’s sake,” he said angrily, “I’m not working for them… anymore.”

“WHAT?”

He had his hands in his hair, gripping it tightly. He looked absolutely mad. Emma had no idea how everything had unravelled so quickly, but she had her balisong in her left hand, ready to be flipped out to become a dangerous blade if needed.

“Look, we really don’t have time for this. But here’s the short of it. I worked for Zelena, before I knew all of her connections. I’m the one who basically… connected the dots of her family line, led her to her mother, so to speak.”

“You said you only found out about her a month ago!”

“I didn’t lie, though there might have been omission,” he admitted.

Emma cursed at him, but he ignored her and went on, “I worked with her on something, unrelated, and we found out her heritage almost by chance. In any case, she wanted me to do…more, threatening Gracie, who was a mere babe at the time; I refused. Needless to say, I disappeared, moved to Alamané. When we found out about an unknown alchemist, and Gr—my partner did digging into it. It’s when pieces started to fall into place. My partner has been very close to Zelena, and we’ve had nothing further to act on since then.”

“Jævla deg,” she cursed at him.

Despite looking frazzled, he laughed. “Prince Killian is teaching you the good stuff, I see.”

“Jefferson, I thought we were…” she faltered, the word friend dying on her lips because they weren’t quite that.

“I mean you no harm, Emma. Truly. But we need to get to the place now. One, to make sure in anger that neither prince jeopardizes their claim to the throne by unwise actions, and two, Zelena is on her way to the castle. She knows something, she had some kind of leverage, and my partner believes he knows what it is.”

“Which is?”

With a deep breath, as if he too were wishing this was true, “The last letter of King Brennan Blåoyne, which states indubitably that he intends for the crown to pass to Prince William. It’s not quite the official bequeathing ceremony per say, but it should be enough to convince The 13 of the will of the king. They would lose face and cast aspersions to their character if they went with Queen Coraline after that, unless of course her reward was more enticing than we could imagine.” He begin moving the pod back in the proper direction of Irska.

“I can imagine an awful lot,” Emma said, annoyed.

“Yes,”  Jefferson agreed, saying nothing more.

The rest of the ride was in silence, as Emma, despite her anxiety, irritation and feelings of betrayal, could not help but be awed as the pod moved into Irska. The forest gave way to a valley, with a clear river flowing off to their right. It was the same side where a tall mountain cliff stood strong, and a thick jet of water sprung from its top, rushing down to the river below.

The architecture was so very different from the clean industrial designs of Alamané. Irska was a city built into nature, with buildings carved into the mountain side, wood, stone and marble; and roads paved to curve around the trees. The energy was ancient, and it showed in the intricacies of design; elves of old had plenty of time to dedicate their lives to a small area of mastery, and so the attention to detail was magnificent, even from the little that she could see.

Damn, Emma thought, no wonder elves are so uptight about preserving this.

Ruby would have been pissed to hear her thoughts, but Emma wasn’t thinking of that.

* * *

The security around the castle was heightened, but The Sukrasa gave her no resistance as she showed Killian’s ring. It wasn’t until she was at the front doors itself was her movement given pause.

The tall elf standing straight near the doors wore a bright white uniform, his skin sun-kissed and his arms muscled. He was a person of authority, and wasn’t used to having it questioned.

“You’re the Lady Emma?” The elf asked. He wasn’t eyeing her with distaste, exactly, but it wasn’t friendly either.

“I don’t know about Lady…but I’m Emma, yes.”

“Vi må se prinsen, voktere,” Jefferson said, giving the elf a short bow.

The elf answered in their language, clearly giving Jefferson a set of strict directions. Emma opened her mouth to ask, but the elf turned to her. “My name is Robin, Kjærlighet.”

“Char-lie-et?”

“It’s the title of royal paramours.”

Emma felt her face heating - being labelled a paramour seemed so clandestine.

“His Highness, Prince Killian has been alerted of your presence. He awaits you. Adel Jefferson, you may —“

“I will accompany Kjærlighet Emma.”

Robin’s face soured. He gave Jefferson a severe look before he said, “If she would allow it.”

“Uh,” Emma said, taken off guard. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him exactly. He couldn’t be trusted for one, especially since he seemed to be keeping everyone on an information diet. But she could often tell when someone was lying, and he wasn’t… she didn’t think he was being malicious. But she wasn’t sure, either.

“Okay, yeah, he can come.”

“As you wish,” Robin said, turning heel with the air of someone who expected they would follow.

So they did.

* * *

When she saw him, she rushed into his arms without even thinking about it.

“Killian!”

“Emma,” Killian laughed in surprise, “it’s only been a couple of hours.”

“A hell couple of hours,” she muttered, to which he agreed by kissing her on the side of her head.

“Highness,” Jefferson said, his tone indicating whatever he had to say was going to be about the matter at hand, “I have some news. Is this a safe place to talk?”

“Is anywhere in this place safe from prying ears? But I reckon Liam is going to want to hear whatever you have to say,” Killian said, his body straightening against hers as if preparing to fight.

They gathered in a small room, with Liam looking troubled and Elsa with a frown marring her features.

“You seem to be a little too informed, lytting” Liam said, watching Jefferson suspiciously after the elf had told them what he had told Emma in the pod. Killian had only just avoided decking him in the face.

Jefferson shrugged, “In any case, that’s the start of it. There were traces of Marjaga in his late highness’ blood.”

A sharp intake was heard, and Liam slammed his hand on the table. The name Jefferson mentioned niggled at a memory, but she couldn’t place it. More importantly, it seemed that they hadn’t known about the king’s cause of death.

“I knew it,” Killian hissed. “Damn snake.” He increased his pacing, looking like a scorpion ready to sting. Emma remained perched where she was, looking away from him as his pacing made her queasy.

Elsa stood up suddenly. “I’ve seen her. I’ve seen her.”

“Who? Zelena?”

“Yes! She’s the healer they sent for Voktere Walsh when he was injured from his fall a few weeks ago. Beautiful redhead, he seemed to forget his pain when she was tending to him.”

“Whose security detail is Voktere Walsh on?” Jefferson asked.

Elsa shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I only saw everything from a distance.” She turned to her husband, asking without words if he did. Liam shook his head.

“Okay, so she’s in the palace. A Sukrara may have a a soft spot for her, making him easily manipulatable. By the time the royal coroner gets the full test, the Marjaga might be undetectable. The 13 should be arriving within the hour to convene.”

“Why should we trust you?” Liam interrupted, his body language reminding Emma of a wild animal about to spring.

“Because I have information, and you have whatever they tell you. And because, it is in my best interests that the throne does not pass to the Queen or her brats.”

Killian and Liam had been looking at each other every time Jefferson let loose another nugget of information, glancing at one another as if able to communicate by eyes alone. Maybe it was a sibling thing.

“I would like to skin her alive. And I’m surprised Killian has shown restraint thus far in not rushing out. But we must not loose our heads or our upper hand. Your partner,” Liam said, getting up and walking to Jefferson, “is he still in position?”

“Yes,” Jefferson confirmed, “though if we want him to… incapacitate Zelena, we would have one shot of it.”

“And what about dear stepmum?” Killian asked, every syllable dripping with venom.

For the first time since Liam had hugged her hello, he smiled. “I took care of that actually. We didn’t want her to be… distraught, see, so I gently suggested to her maiden that she be given strong dose of a magnolia bark, valerian and blue skullcap mixture.”

“What do those do?” Emma asked.

It was Elsa who answered. “Put one in a deep, deep, deep sleep. Oh, and I might have suggested a bit of chloroformius orchids, just to make sure she stays really relaxed.”

Emma stared in Elsa in surprise while Killian let out a whoop and clap. “Well done!”

“So that leaves Zelena and Regina.”

“Regina just left the palace in Snoland about an hour ago, it will take her at least two days to get here.”

“How do you know these things?!” Killian asked Jefferson.

“Can’t you trust that I do?”

“No,” Emma snapped.

“Fine. Your accusation was right, Highness,” he said looking at Liam, “I’m a lytting, though I’m sure when you called me that it was an insult. I served as the second in command to the Master of Whispers in Snoland, before the Snowdrop Wars, under the command of Queen Eva. The networks I built there reached Irska, and many of those relationships are active, even though I no longer serve the house that sits there. As you know, Princess Regina married King Leopold and she’s not who I wished to serve. If she succeeds in bearing him a blood heir since his first daughter’s family was killed in the Snowdrop Wars, and her mother bequeaths her Irska, then they become a powerful line indeed. And I’m not ready for the abuse of power that would follow. There, you now know my motivations, is this enough?”

* * *

As Emma walked to the dais where the dead king lay, she took a moment to reflect the insanity her life had become. She was now dressed in a dark blue dress of Elsa’s that was suitable for the occasion; it was a party after all. Elves left and right were high in spirits, regaling tales of the late king, surely embellishing details about how big the monster was, or how clever the foe.

It seemed Liam and Killian were showing the kind of restraint and strategy she thought went against their very nature, two whirlwinds of emotions now having to temper their anger for the bigger picture. There was a greater plot at play, and Emma wasn’t sure if she wanted to know it all. The Sukrasa Jefferson had warned, the informant in the palace, was no where to be found, suggesting another brand of foul play that may have resulted in the death of the king.

They had sent a trusted maiden to collect all of the Queen’s notes from her study, anything to link her to a plot. Jefferson’s partner was busy collecting and recording indisputable evidence that Zelena was part of it too. Liam had been summoned to The 13’s chambers. It seemed like a great wheel was spinning and the pieces would soon fall, once the blue smoke rose from The 13’s fire which would indicate a chosen ruler.

Emma reached the top of the dais, Killian holding her waist gently.

She stared down at the face of King Brennan, whose face had sunken in from the water loss. He didn’t look like he was sleeping. He looked like he was dead.

“I’m sorry you’ve lost your father,” she said finally.

“I’m more sorry that Liam has to take his throne this way.”

“Killian…”

“He wasn’t much of a father, to be honest. Vengeance will be mine, on his behalf, but I’m more sorry for all the trouble this is causing than anything else. I’m tired, Emma. It’s why I left. The title of a prince means little. We honor it and traditions because without it, elves are little else. Stuck in the past, averse to change. For what? So we can delude ourselves with grandeur and importance? I’ve paid my respects, let’s just go.”

He turned, but Emma stopped. She had just realized something.

“Killian, there’s ink on his hands.”

“What?” He turned back. “That’s not possible, they clean and dress bodies to ensure they keep for the Death Day Celebration.”

“Well, yes, but look at his fingernails. Look at the pad of that finger there.”

King Brennan’s nail bed had ink on them. Dark blue ink that could easily be mistaken as discoloration. There was a tinge of Aurum ink on his right index finger, and on his signet ring. Barely there, but now that she was looking, she could see it.

“You think he was writing the document Jefferson mentioned? The bequeathing letter? A bit much as coincidences go, don’t you think?”

There were whispering to each other, but Emma felt the hair of her neck stand at the implications of this discovery. “But what if it wasn’t? What if that’s the reason he was poisoned?”

“We’ve got to go find Liam and search father’s study, let’s go.”

* * *

Their search turned up nothing, but the whole thing was for naught. Because, too quickly, though a day had since passed, a blue fire rose into the night sky.

It happened just as Emma shut off the communicator, having been assured that Henry and Gracie were fine.

Jefferson moved to stand next to her, as Killian gripped her waist. The late king was to be interred in a few hours. Hhe had professed to her that he wished to just go home after that and lay in bed with her and forget the world for a while. Perhaps his father’s death and the plots surrounding it had affected him more than he care to let on, but he wasn’t talking to Emma about it, and as much as she wanted him to, she knew she had to give him space.

After all, she was aware enough to know that she’d have demanded the same.

The elves of court moved into the hall, with Liam and Elsa leading the front. The air was markedly more solemn than it had been earlier where King Brennan lay, but Emma had since given up understanding elven culture. She’d leave that to Henry.

An ancient elf stood; he looked like he had been left in the sun too long. His skin was weathered, voice deep and coarse. He might have been the oldest elf she’d ever seen.

“Sem Artur Pendrégon in sluzim Svetu starejsih. Var første og helligste plikt er abeskytte alvene, alvenes frihet og var guddommelighet. Felly mae wedi bod. Ac felly y bydd.”

“Felly mae wedi bod. Ac felly y bydd,” the elves repeated.

She looked up at Killian inquiringly. He was holding her so close to his body that every exhalation blew her hair to her cheek.

When he whispered the translation, her body reacted, suddenly very aware of the close proximity of her… of him.

“I am Arthurus Pendrégon, and I serve the Council of Elders. Our first and most sacred duty is to protect the way of life of elves, the liberty of elves, and our divinity. So it has been. And so it will be.”

But Arthurus was already speaking.

“Danes ne bomo stali na hitro ali slovesno. Razmislili smo, kaj je najboljše za irsko kraljestvo in kraljestvo vilinov, kot ga imamo vedno. Krona ni narejena samo iz dragocenih draguljev in kamnov, niti iz auruma in srebra. Krona je narejena iz discipline, pravičnosti, poguma in hrabrosti. Kraljeve linije so izbrane tako, da služijo ljudem, in tega ne smejo pozabiti nikoli tisti, ki služijo, in tisti, ki jim je služeno. Svet starejših se spominja in ohranja tradicije vilinov že od nekdaj, in to bomo storili, dokler ne bo stal zadnji vilin. In zato smo danes sklicali sem, da bi izbrali naslednjo Irska krono.”

“We will not stand on prompt nor ceremony for today. We have considered what is best for the kingdom of Irska, and the realm of elves, as we always have. A crown is not made of just precious gems and stones, nor of aurum and silver. A crown is made of  discipline, justice, courage and valor. The royal lines are chosen to serve the people,    and this should never be forgotten by those who serve and those who are served. The Council of Elders remembers and conserves the elven traditions from time immemorial, and we shall do so until the last elf stands. And for this, today, we have convened here to choose the next crown of Irska,” Killian said, translating to his best ability as Arthurus spoke. The words spoken were solemn, and they made Emma feel like she was now apart of something bigger. It was silly, but the atmosphere in the room of the noble elves, the grandeur of the hall and the way Arthurus voice reverberated made her forget she ever lived on the streets as an unwensket.

“Vi har ogsa mottatt det siste skrevne ordet om Hans Oppstegne Højhet, King Brennan, som overlot sin krone til et valgt individ.”

Killian stiffened, as did Jefferson beside her.

“What?” She asked.

“My father must have… I don’t know how, but they got it. The letter.”

“She’s here,” Jefferson hissed.

“What? Who?”

“Zelena is here, corner of the room to your left, in the dark green hood.”

Arthurus’s voice increased in volume. “Vi fant ingen alver mer egnet for dette. Vi fant ingen alver som ville hedre kronen like mye som Prins William Beriothien. Mine edle alver, jeg presenterer deg, din neste kral, Kral William Beriothien.”

Emma didn’t need a translation for that last bit.

“They chose him! Their plots were in vain!” Jefferson uttered, looking as though someone had slapped him.

Killian let out a giant breath of relief, as Liam, walked up to Arthurus, looking perfectly poised. Emma could see it, the way his eyes scanned the elves in attendance, the fire in his eyes that many would mistake for relief or joy. There would be retribution, but it would come so fast and swift his enemies would have no way to escape it. He was reciting some words of acceptance, looking very kingly indeed, but Emma’s attention was focused on Zelena.

Underneath the green hood there was a shock of red hair, and beside her, a tall elf which chiseled features spoke quietly into her ear. Emma guessed that to be Jefferson’s partner. Before Killian, he’d be exactly her type. His hair was reddish brown and curly. He had broad shoulders and wore a light brown tunic that highlighted it well. He must have felt her gaze, for as he turned to look at her questioningly, his curiosity blossomed into a smirk. Emma looked away quickly, embarrassed at being distracted, and fervently hoping Killian hadn’t noticed.

“That’s Graham,” Jefferson said suddenly, giving her a fright. He was speaking very softly, and while Killian’s attention was devoted to his brother, she knew he was listening.

“The partner?”

“The partner. I’m not sure what happened today. Truly. But perhaps, the His Ascended Highness was more crafty than we thought, more prepared than we anticipated. Perhaps we should never discount basic preparation compared to complicated plots.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh no. Definitely not. But with King William at the helm now, the Queen now Dowager, with significantly less hold, it will be easy to usher her away to Snoland, where she can be their problem. And Zelena will likely follow. And in the mean time, a way for justice to be served can be found.”

“And it will be,” Killian said, though his eyes were still on his brother. His hands however, were secure around her, and his heart in tandem with hers. It was time to go home.  

[atlaswilliams]

A Williams’ family gathering would never offer anything good. If he and Rion weren’t arguing, then something else was happening instead. This dinner was spent without Franny, which meant his parents weren’t on their best behavior.  Instead, they were dancing around his shortcomings and commenting on the fact he’d fallen behind on his share of the office work. Rion can’t do it all, they’d said. Of course he couldn’t do it all, but Atlas couldn’t fix every fence post on his own either. “I know,” he hummed,” hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. They hadn’t even made it to dinner yet and they were already commenting on the shit he could do better. “I’ve been staying late to work on the back fence line. Guess the snow we got ended up weighing down a few of the lines, which screwed up the posts. Between that and some trees that needed trimming, I’ve been a little occupied. Besides, he likes that paperwork crap.” That paperwork crap was how they kept the business running in the first place, but Atlas couldn’t have cared less about that.

“Look, if you want to be pissed about something, we should talk.” He’d been wanting to tell them about Sage and about the four year old girl that walked around Providence Peak that just so happened to be their granddaughter. For once, Rion was right. He couldn’t wait any longer to tell them the truth. “I have a daughter,” he admitted weakly, the sheer look of confusion settling on both of their faces. Where the hell was his brother when he needed him? “She’s four. Long story short, that girl I was seeing at the time ended up pregnant. She didn’t reach out because I came back here and she was there.” A roll of his mother’s eyes let him know exactly what was about to come. 

“Atlas James Williams. We have a granddaughter and you never told us? How long have you known? Are you sure this little girl is even your child? Four years is a long time, son. Are you sure she isn’t coming for the rescue? Has she mentioned wanting money? Perhaps we should look into hiring a lawyer. We will not allow one your conquests to take everything we’ve worked so hard for. I cannot believe this.”

Of course. It was all about saving the rescue, wasn’t it? “C’mon, mom. Do you really think I’d let her take the rescue? The kid is mine. She has my smile. She doesn’t want money. She doesn’t want us to give her anything. She just wants our kid to have a chance to know her family. Rion knows and he thinks it’s a good thing.”

A sarcastic scoff fell from his mother’s lips, his father still stoic as he stood by his mother’s side. “Orion knew and you didn’t tell us? We are your parents, Atlas. We are supposed to support you, but it’s hard to support you when you can’t be honest with us. I still believe that hiring an attorney is for the best. Just because she isn’t coming for the rescue right now doesn’t mean she won’t change her mind. What does Francesca think about this? That poor girl doesn’t deserve this.”

Atlas swallowed down harsh words, ones that he would later regret if they fell from his trembling lips. “I needed time. Franny knows too and she’s cool with it. Everyone is cool with it, mom. Her name is Alexandria,” he continued, feeling a small ping of pride thumping in his chest at the mention of his daughter. “She’s smart. A hell of a lot smarter than I was at that age and she’s a good kid who wants to know her family. It doesn’t matter what anyone else deserves. She deserves to know her grandparents.”

Being met with silence wasn’t exactly how Atlas had planned for the confession to go, but there was more that his parents needed to know. “Sage is pregnant,” he finally hummed, voice low as he saw the tears form in his mother’s eyes. “I don’t know if you know her or not, but she gave me a copy of the ultrasound and I can show you if you,” he trailed off, stopped by his mother’s voice.

“Get out. I am going to call your brother and tell him that our dinner is cancelled. I can’t look at either of you right now. All we ever wanted for you boys was the best, but you have shown us that we failed. A four year old daughter and a baby on the way by two different women and you’re with another? This is unacceptable. We want to meet out granddaughter, but right now I can’t continue this conversation. Your father and I will look into that fence line on Monday, so please take the day to think about everything you’ve just told us.”

Wanting to speak, Atlas was yet again cut off by his father. “We’re disappointed, son. We’ve always known you liked trouble, but this isn’t how we wanted grandchildren.” Before his father could even finish, his mother had hurried out of the room. “She will come around, Atlas. She loves you. We both do. You made mistakes. Take the day off tomorrow. I think we all need a little time to cool off.”

“Kids aren’t a mistake. Maybe you two think that because you weren’t ready for me, but hey, at least you got it right with Rion,” he returned, backing out of the kitchen ass he heard his name being called out by his father. So much for a family dinner, right?

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Starved

WARNING: So this is a very angsty hurt comfort, Estoma fic of which I totally blame reading Empire of Ashes again. Anyway, this has mentions of rape/miscarriage/grief/death. If you don’t like reading or getting triggered by this, DO NOT read. The lovely @pizzansunshine helped to edit this and make it flow better but any grammar mistakes are my own. 

The putrid stench of dirt, blood and beer filled her nose matching the enduring stain on her legs like an invading rainstorm. Heavy, unmovable and filled with moisture that seemed to seep into every orifice it could find, diminishing any chance for fresh air to come through. It felt like she was drowning in air. Yet while her nose was clogged, her stomach was hollow.

Well not completely empty. The scratching against the sides of her stomach was constant as if the hunger was trying to tear itself out.

It wouldn’t stop, it commanded attention with its short pierced stabs in her sides and long agonizing scratches up her throat.

Her throat felt like it could be a bloody mess based on the pain the hunger wrought as it clawed yet she knew it was parched because of how it hurt when she tried to gulp a breath of fresh air that wasn’t available.

She tried to take in a deep breath but her throat constricted tightly as her stomach stabbed once more. She wanted food.

She panted, wondering how on earth she would get that food. Her mind tried to think but it was numb, the only time it broke from the fog was to register the stabbing pain. Her eyes tried to see but bleary darkness was all that came through.

As Doña tried to sit up, the smooth silk under her fingers felt out of place, unreal. She rubbed the silk roughly, waiting for it to tear like cheap cotton. When it didn’t, she forced her to open and focus. Focus until the black dots faded from her vision and she saw the silk.

The silk from her bedsheets in her opulent guest room of someone else’s palace.

Doña almost fell back onto the soft pillows with happiness that this was her reality. She was rich, she was safe.

The smell dissipated and the feeling of blood trailing down her legs faded. Her stomach still ached but her absolute relief made the pain bearable. She reached over to her left side for her bowl of berries that she took from the dining room to put on the night drawer right next to her. The berries’ sweet liquid flowed down her throat, easing the scratches of the monster hunger, soothing the angry throbbing. A material proof that she was secure in status and money and those evils could never touch her.

The phantom pain was all just a nightmare. Well a memory of her nightmarish past. But one that would never happen again.

She finished the bowl, stopping short of licking it and relaxed into a sitting position, letting her breath start to lull her back to sleep.

Then she noticed the emptiness still quivering in her stomach. She waited, expecting it to fade but it stayed. She could never quite describe the old hunger pangs from years and years ago. Her chest grew tight, a sharp contrast to the hollowed lightness of her stomach as she shut her eyes tight, hoping that the hunger pangs would fade on their own, but she knew from experience that it wouldn’t happen.

This wasn’t her home, she couldn’t just go to the kitchen to get a midnight snack, she had to just wait until morning when the king ordered all the ambassadors to breakfast.

Then her stomach clenched.

Whether it clenched from fear or hunger, she didn’t know but it scared her enough to make her gasp. It clenched again and a strangled sob choked out. Her mind flashbacked to the previous periods of intense hunger pains. They always started out with just one or two stabs but then it would become relentless. Stabbing at every second of the day with unbearable degrees of affliction. Her body would grow weak and useless while the hunger remained strong.

The faint stabbing could have been conjured from her memory but the fear of not knowing whether it was real or not just made the faint cramps feel worse. A sampling of what was to come.

As if she didn’t already know.

In a burst of anxious desperation, she lunged for the bowl again, hoping for one more scrap but the quick movement sent it shattering to the floor.

She hugged her knees to the chest as if to make hold back the hunger. That her body could be a prison to keep it from growing but she knew it was worthless. She could not control the hunger, it was a commanding force that dominated everything. She held tight, digging her nails into her skin in an effort to concentrate on any pain but the one inside.

Just stay that way until morning.

Her mind started plaguing that thought with how naive that idea was. What if the king decided not to give them breakfast? What if they gave small portions? What if she wasn’t able to make until morning? It had happened before, she underestimated how long she could last and ended up fainting in the middle of the crowded floor. Then the nightmare would begin all over again. What if...

“Halt! I have a weapon.” A male voice hissed menacingly from behind the doorway. With a sudden bang, the mysterious kicked the door open, wielding a fire-poker.  

Doña stared shocked at the figure, but as he came closer she realized it was merely her partner on the trip, Chancellor Esteban. She turned on the lamp on her nightdesk, bringing the wary shadows to a blinding light glinting off the gilded edges of the furniture.

“I heard a crash through the wall so I came.” Esteban said sternly, still holding the fire-poker in a tight grip. It would have been a threatening sight if his crown printed boxers couldn’t be seen peeking from underneath his long nightshirt.

“I knocked something over while I was sleeping.” Doña managed to push past the lump in her throat to speak softly, “I’m fine. Go back to bed.”

“You’re crying.” Esteban stated a matter of factly.

Doña touched her eyes, confirming that they were indeed wet. She hadn’t noticed herself tearing up, she assumed she was past that point of fear.

“Nightmare.” Doña cleared her throat, “Perfectly natural thing. Good night.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Esteban lowered the fire-poker, closing the door behind him.

Doña sighed. She wished that she knew someone else beside the Chancellor. It felt so unprofessional to confide her fears to someone she worked with. Another barrier was the fact that he was a royal, he would never understand. But she had already broke down to him that her family was dead last Dia de Los Muertos. 

Sure, she lied. Everything he thought he knew about her was a lie. She had said was born and raised in Nueva Vista. That she was the daughter of wealthy merchants. After university, her parents sent her to Avalor City to learn the value of money. Her family died from the plague that hit Nueva Vista while she was away. But either way, she told him the truth of how depressed she was. He told her of his family so she supposed any sense of professionalism in knowing personal history was disposed of.

“I’ve had this nightmare before I’m used to it.” Doña tried one more to dissuade him to leave but he just stood there waiting patiently. “It was about starvation.”

“Ah,” an understanding look dawned on Esteban’s face and he came to sit on the bed next to her. “The hunger pains. I remember them. After that...that dark time when Shuriki took the throne and deposed my family. I couldn’t bring myself to eat. Starved for at least two weeks.”

Doña looked at him incredulously as he sadly accounted those dark weeks of Shuriki’s beginning reign where he felt hunger claw at his stomach.

“That is hardly starvation.” Doña sneered. Her chest tightened again in agreement with her anger at his “hunger.”

“What? I didn’t have food for days. I started getting dizzy..” Esteban explained confusedly

“Oh sure that’s starvation setting in. Fine, yes. But it’s not the same. You chose not to eat because you were upset. I had no choice. I didn’t know when the starvation was going to end. You’re not scared of starving. I’m petrified of it.” She snapped, each sentence punctuated by an ache to make her point.

“Oh.” Esteban closed his mouth looking uncomfortable, “I suppose I was wro- I was presumptuous. Some people don’t want to die by fire, you don’t want to die by starving.”

Doña looked at him, shaking her head, “It’s not dying as so much as the starving itself that scares me.”

The room was still and neither one of them moved. Doña stared at her hands noticing how pale they looked. Once decades ago, they were a dark tan from the sun, at one point they had been so pale they looked like they would disappear into the bone.

“I already told you my family died from it or from sickness.” She had seen two of her brothers die from starvation before I left home. Not that he knew that. “My brothers. Benito was the baby, so of course he was too weak to survive anything. That was sad because..well he was a baby. Babies shouldn’t die.

“It was my older brother that was worse. Sebastian was the firstborn. Firstborns are special and he was...he was amazing. He had it all. Strength, charisma, bossy he was also a pain in the ass with those same traits. He was just so alive. Then he was.. I saw how, I mean their letters said that he gave up. He didn’t want to move or try to survive. Sebastian said there was no point to it. He used to be the rock and joy of our family. The protector and then.... You cannot live off love alone.”

She looked up again to see Esteban nodded sagely, staring past of her at the painting on the wall. No doubt imagining his family that he couldn’t help.

“When I came to the city, that’s when I really start to feel the starvation. They hadn’t given me money and I had thought it’d be easy to get a job that would pay enough. But it turns out there’s a choice between paying rent and paying for food. I’m sure you at least know that no part of starving is good. It all feels equally painful. But the pain it brings is awful for its consistency. It gives no reprieves until you eat enough. Let me tell you, when you’re working 14 hours a day. You don’t get the buffet your stomach wants you to have. At some points I just want to turn my insides out to just get rid of it. But that’s what makes it worse, you can’t get rid of it. You can’t throw up and be done with it. You can’t be done with it’s because all you can think about. All the time.”

She paused to see how Esteban was digesting the information. He was no longer staring at the painting, but listening intently. She couldn’t discern what he was thinking though, but decided to plow on. 

“What I loathe most is how helpless the hunger makes you, your body fails you. Everything feels heavy, the ground always tilted and the dizziness. You can’t trust what’s in front of you. I saw these dark spots and blurriness and cruel hallucinations of food that wasn’t there. It was enough to drive you insane. I didn’t know when it was ever going to end and I couldn’t stop it. Then I fainted,”

Doña paused, shaking slightly and wondered if she should continue. She never confided the following events to anyone. Moreover, would sharing it be inappropriate? Would Esteban even want to know such personal information?  

“You fainted?” Esteban prompted softly.

Doña took a deep breath and cringed as her stomach clenched. She could say it. It happened years ago, she was past it. Worst case scenario would be he would awkwardly move past the subject or dismiss it. She could deal with it. 

“I fainted while I was..” Waitressing. She had been waitressing but he didn’t know that. She had told him she had been a salesperson until she became magister. 

“Walking” she lied. She had usually ate the leftovers from the plates at waitressing but that day...

“I guess I didn’t eat too much... I fainted. When I woke up in this back room I—” Doña’ s body tensed, swallowing hard against the lump lodged in her throat, “There was a man inside..on top of me—H-He had carried me away from the floor and so, my hero decided to reward himself.” Doña’s eyes glazed over with a faraway look at the ceiling, “I think I went unconscious a couple of times during it. I don’t know. I just remember the ceiling. I didn't look at him; I didn’t want to remember his face. It’s enough that I can remember his hands feeling my body.”

Roaming, grabbing any piece of bare skin he could touch. She had stared at that ceiling praying for him to be satisfied or that when she black out again, he’d be gone. Her mother’s voice echoing how special her first time would be. It would hurt at first, the first time always hurt, but it was something you’d always remember. 

It had been awful. She felt like the whore people always said she was meant to be. Not good enough to be married, not worth enough to be even paid for a bed like a prostitute. Ferdinand was right. She was stupid to think she could save herself for marriage, she wasn’t rich, she wasn’t special, why should anyone care about saving her virginity. She was just a whore.  “It’s almost fitting that,” Doña choked back her tears, “Th-that second time I fainted and woke up bleeding was three months later. The nurse said I had a miscarriage.”

Esteban squeezed her shoulder and whispered, “I’m sorry.” A small comfort that kept her from thinking too much about that awful day.

“It’s better probably. I wouldn’t have been able to be a good mother. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until i-it happen, that’s hardly a good indicator of my maternal abilities.” Doña muttered bitterly as a wave of sadness washed over her. She had been stupid and naive. Only the rich get to have adoring husbands with kids not born out of wedlock. The rich never get denied what they want. 

She had only been a uneducated village girl, no one needed to respect her. She cringed to remember what her employer had said after demanding an explanation for her fainting spell and subsequent disappearance, “Please don’t tell me your one of those stupid villagers that thinks he needs to marry you for taking your virginity?” With the horrified “no,” the woman rolled her eyes. She exasperated let scolded her, “Do I look like your mother, why are you telling me this? I don’t care! Village girls get raped all the time. You’re not special, get over it. I’m paying you to do your job, not break my plates and come to me for sympathy for your our sob story. Like that will make me pass over your total incompetence! I don’t work that way. Get out there and pay me back.” The nurse had said a similar thing, it didn’t matter. “Be strong, don’t let one night ruin the rest of your life.” 

It was then she realized that her feelings, her wants didn’t matter. Not to her family who had far greater troubles on their mind or anyone else. After all, it only mattered to her that she been raped. Only she cared that she had miscarriage. Only she felt lonely. It only mattered to her that she wanted to be comforted.

She had learned never to expect that comfort from others, not unless it directly benefited them or directly manipulated her. It was hard, but it was life. 

But that was fine. She was rich now. No one knew the truth. No one thought she was uneducated and stupid. People would defend her. She could pay them to care. She was too powerful to be messed with. 

She didn’t notice that Esteban had smoothed his face to a neutral expression that wouldn't betray the twisted churning in his stomach from hearing these horrific events. He felt like he should say something but it seemed awkward to do so knowing how she disliked showing weakness to people, especially him.

“Did you tell anyone?” Esteban asked sounding uncharacteristically worried for her.

“I told the nurse who cleaned me up and I wrote to my family afterwards. I knew that they couldn’t do anything about it but, but I asked if I can come home for a little bit. I missed them and I really really didn’t want to be alone. I begged and begged to come home.” Doña shook her head remembering how desperate she had been. She had even wrote a whole paragraph of just the word “please” as if that patheticness would drive her point.

All she wanted was to be with the people she knew, and trusted. She wanted that stable familiar love and comfort only family could give and be held while curled up in a fetal position.  

“But they said no.” 

They depended on her to get money so they could survive. No time to waste on sadness. They were hungry. She could get through it. She could take care of it like everything else. They had faith in her. 

“They didn’t want me to come back. I’m the capable one. I could survive this..” Doña continued, in trying to hold the dry sobs that she wanted to let out, her voice was more worn out then she had meant to sound, “I didn’t bother telling them about the miscarriage.”

That’s how the letters home usually went. Everytime she requested -pleaded- to come home, the answer was always “no.” Telling her to stay concentrated at work. They needed the money more than a family reunion. Once she made enough then they could be together.

She knew it was practical. Food and survival were far more important than emotional support. She knew that. 

But sometimes she would stare at those letters and feel worse, an irrational sense of abandonment. There were no words of encouragement. Just requests for money. She would wonder whether they still thought of her as part of the family. They all had each other if needed. She was so far away and alone. She wished that they had asked how she was, how they wanted her back too. 

She didn’t want to be their provider, she wanted to be their daughter!

Maybe that’s why she had been so eager to go back to Ferdinand’s arms. 

It had been a few months into her new job as Magister, just closed up shop for the night when a knock came at the door. As annoying as it was to see late customers, they were still customers and they brought the money.  But it was him.

Esteban must have noticed her grimace as she remembered the shock of seeing him after almost 10 years, “Is there something else?” 

Oh there was. Bitten lips, pulled hair, being so painfully conscious the whole time.. But she couldn’t, there were no excuses... that night had been all her fault. 

Ferdinand had entered the store. The same knowing look, some pride in his eyes, surprise at her new appearance but more that than, he looked like a man on a mission. She was pulled in by his casual manner, shared reminisces of the past, of the people they knew, the things they had done. And maybe she had been a bit proud too. She was rich now, and one of the most important people in all of Avalor. They were on the same level. He would respect her. He was so friendly, it almost seemed inappropriate to bring up past of how he abandoned her when she needed him most, how he did nothing to defend her from his parents, that he didn’t even have the decency to help her family with food. Not as fiancé but as human being to another human being. 

Maybe she was still a little mad, but he was here and she needed to know something. How did they did? Did they hate her? “Why would they hate you?” 

The whole story came out in uncontrolled sobs, the departure, the years alone at work, the first assault, the election, finding out the news. The first time she spilled of her convoluted feelings and emotions instead of being the strong one. Why bother? There was no one to be strong for. 

Ferdinand listened silently until she repeated her question, “Do you think they hated me for failing?” 

“Why.. it would be unfair of them to. I mean, they brought it on themselves. Depending on you to make all the money and not doing anything themselves.”  At that her tears disappeared and the fires of anger that had been missing for years came back.

"Do not speak ill of the dead." Hortensia snapped.

“I'm just saying, it's wrong to send a child to be expected to be the provider." Ferdinand said disdainfully. 

"Oh please. That's just from your point of view. You damn pampered highborns are too sheltered so you think working as a teenager is child abuse. It's not. We have responsibilities to the family. We grow faster." Hortensia retorted coldly, making a point to sniff disdainfully at the family crest on his jacket. 

Ferdinand didn't change his stance, "Doesn't matter how mature you are. You were still just 17. You were as sheltered as me, you never left the village. You shouldn't have been trusted with that much." 

"It was complicated. My brother was dead and the others were actual children that couldn't go to work, they needed our parents with them so I was the logical choice. I was-" Hortensia defended.

“So you didn't feel abandoned at all, not even once? Did they ever reach out after your rape? Did they-"

"They couldn't have. My father was sick and my mom died like a week after. We didn't have money, they couldn't waste it on me. There are more important things than me." 

"Why that doesn't sound like abandonment at all. You're in denial." Ferdinand said sternly. What was worse was his patronizing tone but his eyes, cold and almost disbelief at her denial. As if he expected her to be better. Hortensia's face burned, at being underestimated, that he thought she was so stupid that she didn't recognize the obvious.  She knew what she felt, abandonment had been one of them, but she hadn't allowed herself to admit. It would be too distracting to wallow in her feelings. But the way he looked at her.... he had to understand even if she did feel abandoned, it was not her parent's fault. The circumstances were stacked up against them, he had to see that. 

"Yes, I felt abandoned, and hated being the provider but.. what else could be done? Everything was- there was no way to.." 

"Your parents made a mistake. I mean maybe one of them could have gone to the city. Maybe he or she would have made more money and things would have turned out better for you. But who knows, maybe it would have been the same outcome as this. " Ferdinand said, his voice lost its steel edge, becoming something akin to comfort, "But don't you see, admitting that it wasn't entirely your fault didn't make the world explode." Hortensia tried to protest but he held a finger to her lips and drew her to his arms, "Not that it was their fault either. Like you said, they loved you. They're not bad people for pressuring you and abandoning you. It was an awful circumstance. A lose-lose situation all around." 

Hortensia relaxed into his chest, feeling exhausted from the emotions that she usually repressed. Relief that he did not blame her parents as she feared. Feeling lulled by the sympathy he was showing. The first taste of sympathy in what felt like forever. 

Hortensia coughed, trying her best to clear the lump in her throat but only managed to croak out, "I-I know it's not only my fault but it's easier. I just- I know that they didn't mean to, and I forgive them. I don't blame them at all for it but I- I don't want to think of it that way. That it's partly their fault when they can't explain themselves. It's not fair. It's not the dead's fault that they're dead."

Even though it wasn't only her fault, it was mostly her fault. she could have done so much more, Hortensia thought to herself. Maybe she wouldn't have gotten all the money, but she could have worked more, worked faster. Take triple shifts. Instead of crying over her tiredness and in grief of everyone she was missing.  She looked up and saw Ferdinand’s face. His sweet, understanding eyes. His forehead creased with concern and Hortensia felt her stomach sink as he shifted uneasily, holding her tighter in his arms. Like he was trying to shield her for a fatal attack. “As for dying in hatred.. I can’t say for sure since I had left for the city here but.....logically speaking, I would think they did.”  Which she promptly burst into tears again. “I’m sorry, Hortensia, but think about it. Think logically. You thought it was your responsibility, they thought it was your responsibility, and if I was your..hmmm one of your siblings perhaps living in the squalor, I would be pretty resentful too. Especially with the slow death of starvation, gnawing at my stomach. While you flitted away, knowing that I was waiting for you, and your hard earned money. You should have worked faster.” 

Then his voice became softer, “Let it out. It’s good. You needed closure. And you know, while I’m here, maybe we should get closure. We did part so abruptly.” 

He, as he reminded her, knew her so well. He knew who she really was. He knew she was worthless. A magister of trade who was uneducated, peasant-born, greedy, alone. So alone. She had no family left. Which was her fault. She was a failure as a daughter. He knew the truth. And he wasn’t afraid to make her face it. 

He had loved her once despite that flaws. That’s what love is after all. What they had wasn’t love. From the little she told her ex-boyfriend of Ferdinand, he explained that what he had done was abuse. Emotional abuse. Apparently that was a thing. Your SO shouldn’t call you worthless. You shouldn’t believe it. What they had was not love. 

So just say yes. Say yes. He could make her feel so good. It would be like old times again. They could have that marital night, they had planned for. Say yes. She wasn’t saving herself for marriage. She didn’t have any virginity. Yes, she lost it from rape, surprising really. He had thought she would have tried a lot harder to close her legs. She certainly fought  him and he had been her fiancé!  She would have fought him. She had been unconscious when it happened. She didn’t just allow to get raped. 

But... he had told her that it might happen. Her virginity wasn’t special. No one would respect it. She should have given herself to him like he told her to. He could have given her a good first time. Like tonight, he could show her how it should have been. This was her one chance. It’s not like she was surrounded by people. Not ones who would care about her if they knew the truth. He was here. Her family was dead. He could help her forget for a night. He could make her feel loved again. How long had it been since then? Wouldn't she rather be with him then stay here with only her thoughts for company. They died hating her. Her family died hating her. 

The decision was obvious. She wouldn’t be so stupid as to let a petty grudge keep herself from her true feelings. He hadn’t wanted to leave her. He had done it for his parents. She knew the feeling after all. Family was most important. Listen to the parents. That’s what she did..well, she didn’t do so well since they were dead and all but she understood the principle of the thing. They had something together. He was here, after all these years. They had to have closure. He needed it. He would come back. Everyday if he must. She knew he would. He was always so persistent. He just wore her down. 

Closure is important. Just say-

“Yes.” Anything...anything to make him stop talking. Anything to get him to leave. 

She couldn’t listen to anymore especially as the grief of hearing her family’s disdain for her made his words slur and mumble together in a pounding migraine.  

That one yes was enough. It was consent despite all the “No”s and “stops” that came after. 

“You’re the magister of trade, you know you can’t just back out of a deal.” He hissed, pinning her arm behind. It was too much. 

“It’s too similar.” “It’s not like that. We can’t just stop. You agreed to this!” She knew that. She wasn’t trying to back out. She just couldn’t breath. If he could just stop for a moment. She would still do it, she just wanted a minute to compose herself. She was going to throw up. She was going to faint. She couldn’t faint. It’d be too similar to before. She wanted to breath.

“Stop crying. Focus on me. Stop thinking about the past.” She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop seeing her family’s face. Her dead family in the dirt. 

“It’s only painful because you’re so uptight. It wouldn’t hurt so much if you stopped fighting me. Just stop it!” 

She did eventually. She was exhausted. He was right, as usual, once she stopped fighting, it was easier. She could let go of the emotional pain of the past and focus on the agonizing present physical pain. There were harsh spank that she had always hated, the brief feelings of pleasure, he had always know to use those fingers, but also a numbness. She didn’t care anymore. 

She just had to hold on until the closure was over. And when it was, he left. 

He informed her it couldn’t happen again. He was getting married non two days. To a proper girl. A high countess, that his parents loved. One that he respected and admired since she was the same class. He could hold conversations with her because she was on his level. But he was grateful for this night for the closure. To let off steam. Especially since his parents said a bachelor party was vulgar. No brothels. No prostitutes. 

She had never felt so much like a whore.  She told Ferdinand everything and it hadn’t mattered. It was like she hadn’t even said anything at all. Only she cared.   

She suppose this is was what her parents had meant by when you grow up, all you wanted was to be a child again. She wanted that, she had wanted them to be the ones to fix things and be responsible. She wanted them to listen and to care about her feelings. 

She knew that it was selfish. They had other priorities besides her. The money was the most important. They trusted her to be able to get that money on time. She may have been 17 but that was practically an adulthood in their village. She was responsible, she was capable. The fact that she failed. Well that was her own fault. 

But despite all those feelings of loneliness and isolation, knowing that her family was there gave her a reason to keep moving forward. She knew she wasn’t alone.

“That is why I’m scared of starving. It’s the debilitating pain that affects everything you do or see. I’m scared of being that helpless again. I'm scared because my family was the only reason I fought through it. And now they’re gone. And I’m scared that if I ever end up starving, I’m going to have to go through all that anguish again. Esteban, I don’t want to die but my family was behind me at least and now, they’re dead. I don’t think I have the strength or energy to fight at all.” Doña’s voice finally cracked and all the sobs she thought her dry throat wouldn’t emit, came out.

“It’s okay, Doña. It’s fine. It won’t ever happen again. I’m sure of it.” Esteban patted her back awkwardly as she cried into his hands. “I won’t let it happen to you.”

“That’s nice. But telling me what I want to hear just to make me feel better is basically a white lie. Don’t bother.” Doña managed to say, angrily swiping at the tears covering her vision.

She heard it all before. “I can handle anything you throw at me” boasted men offering to keep her bed warm to “It’s fine. Your word is law. I’m okay with what you want” from spineless employees who didn’t want to argue with her. It was always the same, all talk, no results.

Irritated and exhausted by this pity inducing story that was not going to bring back what she had lost—Doña rose from the bed and opened her door, trying not to grimace at the stabbing pain in her stomach. She had forgotten about the pain in her distraction with telling her story, but it clearly had no intention of disappearing for long.

“So that was nightmare,” she gestured for him to take his leave.“Thank you for caring enough to stop by. Now we really should sleep because we have business tomorrow.”

“But I was-” Esteban protested looking at her with what Doña considered one of the worst expressions—pity. She didn’t need pity. Not from herself. Not from anyone else. And certainly not from him. 

It took years for her to master the art of pretending that she had always lived in the lap of luxury, that she had always been sophisticated and elegant and in the know. A beautiful, smart merchant that humbly gave her service to others by working as the Magister of Trade.

How would people look at her if they knew the truth? A village girl, dropped out of school after her quinceñera who hadn’t even known the difference between hot pink and fuscia until 14 years ago. Who had failed to help the people she loved. Someone that would be so easy to manipulate instead of the reputation she had built to appear aloof, hardened. It was the only way to be taken seriously in business. 

Any sort of weakness would be used against you and despite the fact that they worked together, Doña knew Esteban would rather get his way. What better excuse than firing her from a project for being too much of an emotional mess.

“It’s fine, you wanted to make me feel better I know.” Doña held up her hand for silence, “But it’s one thing to make someone feel better, it’s another to actually be depended upon to follow through on fixing the problem and care about something that has no bearing on you.

Isn’t that sort of why we miss our families so much? They’re the only ones who cares for us, unconditionally. They care about your problems. About you. And they’re the only ones who’ll do that because no one else will. No one else wants to.”

Unless your family is so poor that they can only care about the money for necessities so all other problems fall to the wayside. So poor that they depend on their daughter to be the provider and not let her come home until all the money came through. Which never happened.

“You expect so little from people. That’s sad,” Esteban commented.

It could have happened, a nagging voice reminded her, if only you worked harder and put more effort. If only you were less selfish. If only you sent more money home. You could have had that family reunion you wanted. You only have yourself to blame. Only you and you alone. Always alone. 

“I expect nothing from people. That’s life,” Doña corrected crisply, trying to force her mind not to wander off, to stay focused on the present. 

But her mind refused to listen to her wants. She was hit by another wave of helplessness and agony. Her family probably hadn’t wanted her back anyway. After all that she failed to do. She had wasted time, wanting for a reunion and wanting to feel loved as they were dying. They would have hated her for acting all high and mighty like the rich people they used to insult. They died hating her for her slowness, for prolonging their starvation and suffering by not getting the money on time. It was only logical for them to feel that way. 

They died hating her. 

That was far worse than the starvation itself. 

Doña gasped, trying to hold back the wail that was threatening to rise up. Clenching her fist, she gripped her dress and focused on Esteban as he walked to the door, turned and firmly held her shoulder, speaking in a low voice. His eyes echoed the seriousness in his tone with a hint of earnestness. Hope that she would believe his words. 

“There are some things only familia can do.” He agreed, “But I wasn’t lying to make you feel better. While I think that it is very unlikely that you will to lose this job even if you did I won’t let you go through that starving period again. No one should have to survive that twice. If that ever happened I’ll help you find a job. I’ll deliver the food if you request it. I promise I will take care of you.”

Doña hesitated on whether to shrug off his touch. If she accepted it, it would only lead to more pain. She had used to long for any touch of affection but after a while she began to hate the gnawing pain that plagued her whenever someone who once held her tenderly, rejected her when she requested another touch. 

Like whenever she asked her family if she could go home. It was always a no. That rejection always stung more than any physical pain. Rejection always hurt more when it came from someone you loved.  She was fine with being alone. She really really was. Okay, maybe not, who would be? But it was beginning to feel normal so she had to guard against futile  connections offering comfort with no follow through. 

And that is exactly what she was going to avoid from Esteban. Especially Esteban. He was so easily consumed by work and Shuriki, he’d forget. Then where would she be? 

They had been perfectly professional until now. Adding affection was just a slippery slope and she knew she would inevitably, despite any oaths she made, she would eventually come to care for him too. 

She wanted to roll her eyes instead at his gesture. Dismiss this pledge as a moment of he playing the benevolent royal combined with a shining knight complex that would be forgotten once his life got occupied again by Shuriki and he realized he had no real obligation to fulfill his promise. Another predictable rejection in her life she could see coming. 

They weren't relatives nor lovers. They were simply business partners who have shared a common goal to better the kingdom despite arguing over how to do that and occasionally bear witness to a more human side. Independent but together.

But she would be lying if she said that she didn’t want to trust him to play the role of benevolent provider. 

As if sensing her disbelief, Esteban repeated, “I’m not lying.”

Doña looked at his eyes and was stunned by the intensity of his gaze. His dark brown eyes had a steady determination about them mixed with- she realized it was not pity exactly but— Assurance? Commitment?

The same look he had whenever he spoke of bettering the kingdom. The same look of when he mentioned that he wished he told his family of his love for them. He truly meant what he said.

An overwhelming feeling of relief hit her. A different kind. This kind relaxed her body knowing that she would be safe. Filled her with a thankfulness knowing that she wouldn’t be entirely alone and dissolved the hunger pains that had been taunting her for decades.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” Doña impulsively hugged him, mumbling the words into his shoulder.

“No one has ever offered to” -take care of me? Comfort me? Provide for me?- “do this for me.” she managed to say.

There was so much more she wanted to say but no words to describe how much this promise meant to her. She could only repeat “Thank you” over and over.

“It is nothing.” Esteban said, awkwardly patting her on the back, “We are fri-companions and with that comes the fact that for the last few years we have been working with each other, and looking out for each other to an extent. This is the same.”

Doña pulled back from the hug, and smoothed her face to one that would not show the childlike happiness she felt by his gesture. She sensed their moment of emotional divulgence had ended and it was time to revert back to their normal cool detachment, but the emotions she felt inside were all other than focused on professionalism.

“And I will do the same for you.” Doña said softly, nodding in his direction as he closed the door.

“It goes without saying.” Esteban murmured and the door closed with a click. 

Doña gave in to the urge to do a brief twirl before falling into the bed, revealing in the new feeling of lightness.

They were never going to discuss what had happened tonight but this new agreement between them was enough for her to feel safe, like having a home again. Almost like having a family again. Bound to care for each other despite their arguments or how much they pretended that they didn’t.

Almost family....she could settle for that.

[alwaysthesideofwonder]

I really do wonder what sort of conversations Arjuro and Lirah must have had on the nights they weren’t sneaking into the palace. Just an unfortunately not so little head canon on what might have been...

The first time, the sun is creeping towards the evening and Lirah is settling on where to plant the newest seedlings that, technically, were a gift from the palace to the priestling. Arjuro’s sole contribution was to comment about what herbs he would have preferred to have gotten and and harrumphed at the handful that seemed to have the sole purpose of looking pretty. It was only as she had decided on where to plant the sage that Arjuro bothered to question her on why that spot.

“Because Froi said to.”

It was an odd thing for her to say. There were plenty of other reasons for why she wanted to plant the sage there: the lighting, the soil, the surrounding plants. There was no reason to say that, even if it did come up in passing while they were traversing the wasteland that was now Serker back then. Lirah is a practical woman. She had suffered too much to not be. And so it made perfect sense for her to never say that name, to keep it tucked away in the bottom of her heart where the little Serker girl who liked to skip and giggle was hidden away, along with the hope that Gargarin might be on to something to bring him back.

Arjuro simply nods at this.

It’s late into the night, after they had done their evening greeting over the gravina with the palace, when Arjuro is busy translating texts and muttering under his breath about some ancient prophet and she is reading over a set of poems Gargarin has lent her that she hears him sigh and then take in a deep breath, preparing himself for something she can’t understand.

“He was brilliant as a baby. Understood everything that I ever told him.”

Lirah is uncertain why they are discussing Gargarin’s brilliance. Last she checked 18 years of civil strife in Charyn was over the battle to possess the two brothers of Abroi but if Arjuro wanted to ramble about his brother so be it.

“When I was taking him to Sarnak I would show him all the plants along the way and what they were used for. He always had this look of understanding while I told him. No wonder he has a knack for farming,” he ends wistfully. He never looks at her while he says this and quickly goes off to bed. She sits there in the quiet, the candle having burnt out, swallowing down this new knowledge, allowing herself the briefest moment to envision what her son had been like as a child, that twinkle in his eye that Arjuro had seen, before tamping down those unspoken dreams that plagued her since the day of weeping.

The next time, it is after they had visited little King Tariq at the palace. He had gotten to the point of being able to tug on things and had an unfortunate incident with a mug of lukewarm goat milk. For a child who had gotten quite used to infrequent bathing, he made very clear his distress at being near the goat’s milk and even Quintana was chuckling as she and Lirah washed the child, though never loosening her grip. The general consensus is that the child musn’t like goat milk, poor thing, with Quintana wondering how that could be possible since she had no issue with it and had been drinking it while he was still breastfeeding.

It’s another of the quiet nights and the answer to the question in her mind seems to arrive unbidden.

“Had to feed the little brat goat’s milk for part of the journey. Treated it like the greatest injustice in the world. Wrinkled his nose anytime I brought it near and I swear he purposely was dirtying his diaper more than he usually was as revenge. No appreciation for his goatherding heritage, that Dafur.”

The monologue is over and yet again, she is sitting with her thoughts. It’s harder to suppress them this time as she remembers those days of sitting with her breasts leaking milk, her body innately aware that she is feeding the wrong child, even if it is one in need, wishing her child was alive, that she could feed him, hold him, rock him to sleep. Did he know how much she wanted him, dreamt of him, during those days?

The pair continue like this for weeks, Arjuro quietly sharing those precious memories, the one thing he has that she thinks she will envy him till the day she dies for, even as they assuage the ache that comes every time she see Quintana and the little king.

It’s one of those days when everyone is frustrated though they cannot say why in public at least. All Gargarin says is that he has not heard from Lumatere and then comments that they will need to select Quintana’s husband soon, everyone avoiding looking at the woman in question, though Phaedra moves to the queen mother’s side at the news. Quintana mutters some comments about the bitch queen of Lumatere (even if she did protect and feed her son), that Lirah internally echoes, though she also never says Froi’s name, referring to the father of her child simply as him when she can bear to voice her wonderings about him. In that way, Lirah and Quintana are mother and daughter, too practical to dwell on the many ways the world tries to hurt them.

Both of their movements are rougher that evening; she even accidentally pulls out her poor rosemary while weeding, while Arjuro must have knocked over three stacks of books by dinner and is gruffer than usual to the pregnant women in the godshouse. The wicked thought that the boy wants to stay there looms heavily in her mind and will not disappear in a polite fashion for her to attempt to objectively ignore. The silence between the pair is heavy that night, rather than the comfortable one between two people who prefer to ration their words for only what is necessary. Arjuro has almost completed yet another bottle of wine and is well on his way to a drunken stupor before he lets the words tumble from his mouth.

“He would never sleep until he had seen the Citavita. Or at least in the direction of it. I could walk anywhere with him but we always had to turn to look there and only after that would he finally be quiet. Had this uncanny sense of where it was. Maybe...maybe always a sense of where they were...”

A snore finishes the thought for him. Lirah closes her eyes at this, at this unbidden hope that Arjuro has voiced. That secret part of her hopes that it was not just Quintana’s song that he heard all those years ago that would make him search for that place from which he was taken. That night she dreams that he heard his mother’s heart calling for him to come home.

[edales-drabbles]

The Hunt’s Witchling

Summary: Isidora is a witch. She served the wild hunt before leaving after being hurt by the man she loved. Never intending on returning, she falls in love, settles down, has a son. Then the village is attacked and the hunt finds her and his family. The future onwards is more uncertain. Especially as she learns just what her husbands connection to the wild hunt is. 

Trigger Warnings: Miscarriage

“Circle,” Isidora yelled, grabbing the man and yanking him back inside. Black fire burned through the streets and the children were screaming. Demons were taunting them from the other side, the one who had almost succeeded howling in anger. “They can’t pass the circle,” She hissed, looking at his eyes. “We’re safe here.”

“You’re…” he whispered.

Isidora winced, seeing it plain as day in his face. The dark mark had covered her eyes again. “Risking the life of my unborn child to keep you safe. Please don’t ask for more. The hunt is near,” Isidora murmured, the howls of horns sounded in the distance.

“In our village,” Old Edith murmured, the elderly lady aware as any others in the area of the old tales. “The wild hunt.”

“Who else to deal with demons?” She pointed out, collapsing on the floor cradling her stomach. “Please, little one. Hold on,” Isidora begged softly to her unborn daughter. Her legs were weak. It had been too long since she had used her powers. Four years or so. An older lady in the village put a blanket over her shoulders. She realised she was crying. Tears at the moment were pouring down her face and the women of the village were around her. The men looked at the demons with their crude weapons still in hand.

“What about anyone out of the circle?” Another man asked, Damian, her husband’s closest friend in the village. “Your boys…”

“Jaye will protect our son. His weapons are light kissed. They are made to fight these things, intentionally or not. Our house is well equipped for this,” She said confidently. That much she knew for certain. Her boys would be safe. Her husband was like her, one who had left the hunt. They knew how to deal with these things.

“Can we help?” Someone asked.

“Stay in the circle. Iron and salt hold them off. Ash stops the magic. If people leave, I have to use magic. Defeating them is not an option. The hunt will deal with this,” Isidora murmured, eyes close. She found herself leaning on Ashleigh. The neighbours oldest who had a touch of power about her. She was safe for the moment, but not for long.

There was a flash of white as a demon tried to enter the circle but was held off. The sound of the wind howling surrounded them and the women gathered tight. Clinging to children and babies as the cold tried to pull them apart. The doors had opened to an ice hell it seemed.

The horn sounded closer.

The people hissed in surprise as the first horse appeared, crying out with a warrior cry. More joined. Some familiar, others not as they began to slaughter the demons. The whisper of magic floated through the air. Their witch was nearby. She hid her face in Ashleigh’s cloak, just focusing on breathing and keeping her baby alive. It’s heart was still beating. The magic hadn’t harmed it yet. If the hunt succeed, her daughter would live.

How long it took wasn’t clear. It was cold, despite the multiples of bodies surrounding her, protecting her from the storm. Magic bombarded the circle, the demons desperately trying to claw their way in. She bit her lip and blood began to roll down her cheek.

A curse murmured around the villagers. She looked up in time to see an elder demon attempting the break through into their reality. Nightmare in real life. Ice forming on the ground, black fire burning in the fields.

“Maple,” she whispered in horror as she watched the demon reach out to snuff the life of the hunt’s witch. She reached out and yanked them back. A magical lasso that worked mostly out of surprise. The demon’s eyes flickered to hers. As did the witch’s. Maple rolled out of the way as the men of the hunt attacked.

Maple moved over, half crawling, half scrambling the circle. Her fingers scrapped, covered with blood and bruises. She crossed it easily. She hadn’t turned. She was still completely human for the moment. The men didn’t know what to do as the hunt witch moved through their number. One reached out to her but Maple paid no mind, too busy falling at her knees in front of Ashleigh and the other women protecting her.

“Isidora,” Maple breathed, exhausted but in that moment so relieved to see her alive. “You are… pregnant,” she finished, the relieve turning to horror as her eyes looked at the size of her stomach.

“Would be an issue,” Isidora chuckled darkly, tears still on her face. “I can’t. She’s seven months. It’s too close,” she whispered, knowing what Maple needed from her. The backup of an older witch. Maple was not a high ranking, or hadn’t been. Isidora was.

“A daughter,” Maple murmured looking at Isidora’s pregnant belly. “Isidora, I can’t alone,” Maple said desperately, hands running up into her hair. “The others are too far off and that,” she gestured towards the demon still trying to break though. “Cannot be allowed to pass though.”

“Her father is looking forward to meeting her,” Isidora tried not to sob. “Her brother is expecting to meet his sister.”

“Isidora,” Maple bowed her head.

“Is there no other way?” Ashleigh asked, her arms still around Isidora tight. “Must the child die to stop the monster?”

“The magic required will kill her,” Maple admitted sadly.

The monster roared behind them. A crash as one of the men were sent flying into a house. The men yelled in surprise, still holding those crude weapons. A few had blocked ice balls as they flew at them.

“That may kill us all,” Danki said sagely.

“It is Isidora’s decision,” Ashleigh stated.

“We will mourn her,” Maple promised, crawling closer and cupping Isidora’s face.“Your daughter will not be forgotten. She was a child of the hunt.”

“Forget you. We will mourn her,” Danki hissed. “This was a child for this village. A daughter of Fairside.”

“She was to be both,” Isidora stated darkly before wiping her face down and nodded. “I guess she was never meant to be at all,” she murmured. She stood, Ashleigh and Maple helping her up. The women let her go, the blanket pulled from her shoulders and the men parted to let her though. Maple followed close, Ashleigh by her side. Damian placed a hand on her shoulder as she passed. The weight of the village on her, Isidora stepped out of the circle and into hell.

“Isidora,” croaked a voice nearby.

She didn’t look. Her steps stopped and she summoned her staff for the first time since she had left the hunt. It rose from the ground, wood and bone melted together. The darklord’s mark on her skin burning as he laughed. She grasped it and let the magic surround her, rising like black smoke.

“Time to return home demon,” she intoned, her voice echoing with power. Maple’s magic behind her too, the ritual was like clockwork. As the doors to the hells closed, she felt the clutch of life in her die, floating away. Darkness took her, strong arms caught her and the last image she saw was of a familiar face cradling him. He was going to complicate matters.

[akshada11chavan]

A mother’s mythological nightmare

Telling stories is a sweet way to wind down before bedtime and can be a sanity-saving diversion if the granny takes over offering you ‘Me time’.

I have been reading to my daughter but gradually started narrating my own stories with morals and values.We too were raised like this. Every time a festival comes her grandmother takes the charge to narrate the story behind it. Though I felt probably she might not retain everything but whatever she does will be good.

Ganesh Chaturthi was around the corner so my five years old asked me to narrate Lord Ganesha’s story...Not well versed with mythology, but decided to take the plunge. We entered the room and I comforted her in the quilt and it began like this...

“Mamma Ganesha’s story today.” as she pleasingly held my hand.

“Yeah ...I will”

“Yayyy..tell me first, why does Lord Ganesha look like an elephant. Is he a God to animals.”

“No baby.. You are too young to understand but I shall try!”

“You always say so... too young to understand.”

“Oh! You are my big girl. I will (not knowing I was digging my own grave). So here it goes. One day Goddess Parvati decided to take bath and she asked Ganesha to guard the house.”

“Why house? Bathroom right??”

“No baby she was taking bath in a kund... kind of a pool.”

“Wow ma, they had a personal pool.. !!When are we having one?”

“Hai... pool in the flat? You have one in the society.. right?”

“But my personal pool.”

“Ask your father... how do I know? and be quiet and listen. Ganesha was an obedient son. So, while he guarded he saw his father, Lord Shiva return.

“But ma, granny told me the other day that his name is Shanker..is it his nickname? Or have you forgotten??”

“Hmm..he has many names.”

“Ah..like daddy..granny calls him Beta, you call him honey I call him dadda..his friends call him ...!!”

“Will you be quiet or should I leave??”I grumbled.

“Sorry .. so, what happened?”

“When Ganesha saw him he said Sir, you cannot go inside.. my mother has asked me not to let anyone in. Shiva said this is my house and I have the right to come inside. Many Shiva-devotees, sages, and Gods requested Ganesha to let Shiva in; but Ganesha did not budge from His stand. Moreover, He challenged them to wage a war with Him. In fact, Ganesha forced the others to fight with Him; He tied up Deities, harassed sages and seers; and didn’t listen to anyone. Deity Shiva, therefore, came again and tried to reason with Ganesha; but Ganesha misbehaved. Ganesha was adamant and Shiva lost his temper. He slapped Ganesha so hard that his head fell off ...from his body!”

“What a horrible father he is !!”Anger was fuming from her eyes. “He should learn from daddy he doesn’t even shout!”

“But darling he didn’t know that Ganesha was his son. Also, he misbehaved, fought was extremely adamant. You should always be polite and respectful to your elders”.

“What kind of God he is.. doesn’t even know his son. Aren’t, Gods suppose to know everything? After all, he was following his mother’s instructions.”

“Well, he was born when he was away!”

“So what ma..how long was he away?? You say God is always watching us and he didn’t see his own son! Now don’t ever say anything to me if I don’t obey you!"

“Wait! This is all getting foozled...leave it, honey.. I will continue tomorrow.”I wanted to leave before becoming Shiva myself!!

“No ma finish it.”

I thought it’s better not dwell into further details. “Keep it minimalist” my wisdom warned me!

“There was a loud thud! Parvati ma came running and began to weep and told Shiva that Ganesha was following her instructions. Shiva was shocked and decided to save him. He ran to the forest and saw an elephant( I didn’t want to tell her that he killed it...no controversy!) There was an elephant which itself obliged Shiva by offering his head. So lord Shiva came back performed the surgery, therefore, giving Ganesha head of an elephant. Also, Shiva apologized... and adorned him with the title God of wisdom !” At one stretch I finished.. phew!! Thinking I had won!!..

But wait...,

“Ma, how did he know the elephant was a male?”

“Ah..hai...!!”I nearly fainted.

“Was he a doctor that he performed surgery?”

“He is a God .. he knew it!”

“He didn’t know his son and for his own good he bribed him with the title!”

“See, he loved his son.. his love was true.. it was just circumstances that all this happened. Even God’s life is not perfect.”

“So, why do we worship them? Tell me...you kill your kid and fit an elephant head and you say the love is true.. would you love me if I do the same with you?”

“Spare me Raavi and sleep!” I left the room.

But heard her murmur “she says to use your brain when I do she snaps..and these Gods... God only knows them.”

I banged the door followed by the hysterical laughter of her granny and daddy who were witnessing the theatrics from behind the door.

“She’s Just like you..inquisitive! You were just five and while watching Krishna, called the voice ‘stupid’ who did celestial announcement( aakashwani) informing Kansa about the future.” said granny!

My husband was rolling “like mother... like daughter”!

But the moral is...

Keep it minimalist and make umpteen modifications before narrating any mythological stories you aren’t fully aware of. Be well-read otherwise it can invite trouble.

Always try and answer their inquisitiveness because a mind that thinks will develop logic and reasoning.

Never leave them unattended! I too after ten minutes went back and cuddled and pacified her. I told her that all of her questions will be answered in the morning. Knowing, probably inviting more trouble but as I always say ‘There is no such thing as perfect parenting. All that I try is to give my best!’

[networkingdefinition]

Hamsters Quotes

Official Website: Hamsters Quotes

• A squat cannot be performed on a Smith machine any more than it can be performed in a small closet with a hamster. – Mark Rippetoe • Adrenaline kicks you in when you’re starving. That’s what nobody understands. Except for being hungry and cold, most of the time I feel like I can do anything. It gives me superhuman powers of smell and hearing. I can see what people are thinking, stay two steps ahead of them. I do enough homework to stay off the radar. Every night I climb thousands of steps into the sky to make me so exhausted that when I fall into bed, I don’t notice Cassie. Then suddenly it’s morning and I leap on the hamster wheel and it starts all over again. – Laurie Halse Anderson • And then the turbines generate electricity that goes into the whole town.” “You mean they aren’t powered by giant hamsters on wheels? I was misinformed. – Michael Grant • At school, our classroom had a small rodent zoo consisting of two rabbits, three hamsters, a litter of baby gerbils and a guinea pig. At first, I’d thought the teacher was raising snack food, which impressed me, being the first sign of intelligence she’d shown. Soon, though, I’d figured out the animals’ true purpose and left them alone, though I would never understand the appeal of petting and coddling perfectly good food. – Kelley Armstrong

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• But I just felt at one point that I was on a hamster wheel, you know? Just doing movie after movie and thinking so much about career related things and I think missing out on hanging with my friends and family as much I needed to. – Woody Harrelson • DNS is kind of the hamster under the hood that drives the Internet. – David Ulevitch • Even as a child I was fascinated by death, not in a spiritual sense, but in an aesthetic one. A hamster or guinea pig would pass away, and, after burying the body, I’d dig it back up: over and over, until all that remained was a shoddy pelt. It earned me a certain reputation, especially when I moved on to other people’s pets. “Igor,” they called me. “Wicked, spooky.” But I think my interest was actually fairly common, at least among adolescent boys. At that age, death is something that happens only to animals and grandparents, and studying it is like a science project. – David Sedaris • Girls were nice to me in the same way that they would be nice to a hamster. I fantasized about wild encounters with females but knew they’d never happen unless my own involvement could somehow go undetected. – Joel Achenbach • Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup-they all die. So do we. – Robert Fulghum • Have you noticed how the Republicans and Democrats try to copy each other at their conventions. Like at the Democratic convention John Kerry’s daughter told a story about how he once gave CPR to her hamster. At the Republican convention the Bush girls are going to tell a story about how when their hamster was bad, their dad built them a little electric chair. – Jay Leno • Haven’t had your fill of interesting events?” “Never. They are the spice of life.” She held up her half-finished hat. “How do you like it?” “It’s nice. The blue is pretty. But what do the runes say?” “Raxacori-Oh, never mind. It wouldn’t mean a thing to you anyway. Safe travels to you and Saphira, Eragon. And remember to watch out for earwigs and wild hamsters. Ferocious things, wild hamsters.” – Christopher Paolini • He was not used to the smell of dragon breath, which is best described as a combination of the stench of burning rubber and the stink of old socks, with overtones of a hamster cage in dire need of a cleaning. – Angie Sage • I always find cardio the most monotonous. Running on a treadmill shows me why hamsters are so crazy. – Luke Evans • I always see to the dogs first and leave the cats and the occasional birds and rabbits and hamsters for later. It isn’t that I play favorites, it’s just that dogs are needier than other pets. Leave a dog alone for very long and it’ll start going a little nuts. Cats, on the other hand, try to give you the impression that they didn’t even notice you were gone. Oh, were you out? they’ll say, I didn’t notice. Then they’ll raise their tails to show you their little puckered anuses and walk away.- Blaize Clement • I can’t shut my brain off. It’s like a hamster wheel.” ~ Justin – Richelle Mead • I could keep trying to do the same kind of comedies. You know how it’s going to go, and you can get an audience with it, but then I feel like a hamster on a wheel. – Vince Vaughn • I do not mean to be the slightest bit critical of TV newspeople, who do a superb job, considering that they operate under severe time constraints and have the intellectual depth of hamsters. But TV news can only present the “bare bones” of a story; it takes a newspaper, with its capability to present vast amounts of information, to render the story truly boring. – Dave Barry • I don’t believe in happy endings. Children have got to face death sooner or later. Granny and Grandpa die, dogs die, cats die, gerbils and those frightful things – what are they called? – hamsters: all die like flies. So there’s no point avoiding it. – Raymond Briggs • I don’t believe in reincarnation, and I didn’t believe in it when I was a hamster. – Shane Richie • I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries. – Graham Chapman • I feel so agitated all the time, like a hamster in search of a wheel. – Carrie Fisher • I got ham but I’m not a Hamster – Bill Bailey • I know what the intimidation level of high school is. You’re on a hamster wheel, running, running, running, trying so hard to fit in. It’s all about how you deal with what you’re given, feeling OK with being the odd man out before you’re finally successful. – Drew Barrymore • I love running cross-country…You come up a hill and see two deer going, ‘What the hell is he doing?’ On a track I feel like a hamster. – Robin Williams • I love watching him think,” Maeve told Lily. “You can almost hear that poor little hamster running and running on its wheel. – Jim Butcher • I voted against Gerald Nabarro in my first general election, but my defiance made no difference. If you had put a Conservative rosette on a mustachioed hamster, it would have been elected. – Jeremy Paxman • If anybody felt worse than I did, it was Amos. I had just enough magic to turn myself into a falcon and him into a hamster (hey, I was rushed!) – Rick Riordan • If the sun were made of hamsters, the earth would be incinerated. – Michael Schumacher • I’m done with men. I have a hamster. That’s all I need. – Janet Evanovich • It’s fine to be on the hamster wheel, running and running, trying to grab the brass ring or whatever you define as success, but your relationships, that’s really all that matters when it’s all said and done. – Katie Couric • It’s for the hamster that I’m gonna buy! This is so perfect! (after opening a hamster wheel at Christmas) – Gerard Way • I’ve lived here … my whole life. It’s where I lost all my baby teeth. Where tiny hamster, gerbil, and bird skeletons lie in rotted-out cardboard coffins beneath the oak tree in our backyard. Also where, if some future archaeologist goes digging, they’ll find the remains of a plush toy: a gray terrier named Toto I buried after the accident. – Jennifer McMahon • Lissa knelt down, compassion on her face. I wasn’t surprised, since she’d always had a thing for animals. She’d lectured me for days after I’d instigated the infamous hamster-and-hermit-crab fight. I’d viewed the fight as a testing of worthy opponents. She’d seen it as animal cruelty. – Richelle Mead • Most of us are animal lovers. We insist that we love all animals equally – the hamster, the weasel, and the zebra – but if pressed, we will admit to being either a cat person or a dog person. – Nicole Hollander • New Rule: Gay marriage won’t lead to dog marriage. It is not a slippery slope to rampant inter-species coupling. When women got the right to vote, it didn’t lead to hamsters voting. No court has extended the equal protection clause to salmon. And for the record, all marriages are “same sex” marriages. You get married, and every night, it’s the same sex. – Bill Maher • No matter if you’re a man, woman, cat, hamster, you will get lost in Matt Bomer’s eyes. I don’t know what they are made of outside of dreams and rainbows and amazingness but it truly doesn’t matter. And when he sings. It’s like God gave with both hands and then grew a third hand and graced him with more. – Channing Tatum • One of my producers said this business is like a hamster on that little wheel thing that goes around and around. You may have a great day and get great ratings, but then you’ve got another show to do – whatever moment of success or happiness you have you’ve got to keep grinding it out for the next day. – Sean Hannity • Privately, I consider religion to be a load of bollocks, but when you have a sobbing five year old wanting to know what happened to her hamster, you develop an instant belief in anything that dissolves some of the heartbreak off her face. – Tana French • Some of my best friends are Venture Capitalists, but let’s face it, a hamster with Alzheimer’s could make those kind of numbers. It’s great work if you can get it. – Scott Adams • Some Poor grad student pressing on the flanks of a hamster and out comes a doctorate on the other side – Robert M. Sapolsky • Sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree, But it was eaten by a newt, And now I have no cuddly fruit, O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree! – Clive Barker • The hamster called. He wants his home back. – James Patterson • The Hamsters really kick ass – Slim is one of your greatest guitar players – Walter Trout • The kid makes you sick. He looks the part, he walks the part, he is the part. He’s six-foot something, fit as a flea, good-looking – he’s got to have something wrong with him….Hopefully he’s hung like a hamster! That would make us all feel better! – Cristiano Ronaldo • The real slums are another matter. The bad parts of Tondo are as bad as any place I’ve seen, ancient, filthy houses swarmed with the poor and stinking of sewage and trash. But there are worse parts – squatter areas where people live under cardboard, in shipping crates, behind tacked-up newspapers. Dad would march you straight to the basement with a hairbrush in his hand if he caught you keeping your hamster cage like this. – P. J. O’Rourke • The thing is, we have to let go of all blame, all attacking, all judging, to free our inner selves to attract what we say we want. Until we do, we are hamsters in a cage chasing our own tails and wondering why we aren’t getting the results we seek. – Joe Vitale • The wheels are turning, but the hamsters are all dead. Make it idiot-proof and someone will make a better idiot. I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig, you get dirty; and besides, the pig likes it. – George Bernard Shaw • The world’s tragedy is that men love women, women love children, and children love hamsters. – Joanna Trollope • We sometimes feel like hamsters on a wheel, covering the same musical ground we did 20 or more years ago. – Bent Saether • Well, I’m an uncle now … don’t know if I’m a good one. My nephew asked me the difference between a hamster and a gerbil and I told him I thought there was more dark meat on a gerbil. – Bobcat Goldthwait • What if hamsters fought in the American Revolution? – Colin Mochrie • While I liked hamsters, too, the Habitrail cage was expensive. Even I could see that the interconnecting boxes, tubes, and spheres could easily bankrupt a family and lead to addiction later in life. Because, how would you know when to stop? How could you stop? An entire city could be built with a Habitrail. – Augusten Burroughs • Why shouldn’t it be that way for the rest of us? Why not just go with it? Just walk the dog and send the tweets and eat the scones and play with the hamsters and ride the bicycles and watch the sunsets and stream the movies and never worry about any of it? I didn’t know it could be that easy. I didn’t know that until just now. That sounds good to me. – Joshua Ferris • With boys you always know where you stand. Right in the path of a hurricane. It’s all there. The fruit flies hovering over their waste can, the hamster trying to escape to cleaner air, the bedrooms decorated in Early Bus Station Restroom. – Erma Bombeck • Wondering where Ranger was now, when I needed him. Why wasn’t he here, insisting on locking me up in a safe house? Now that my hamster’s cage was clean, I’d be happy to oblige. – Janet Evanovich • Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. I’ve never met a Daimon yet I couldn’t take. (Wulf) Guess again, little brother. You just met one, and trust me, he’s not like any you’ve ever met before. He makes Desiderius look like a pet hamster. (Acheron) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You ignorant little slug!” the Trunchbull bellowed. “You witless weed! You empty-headed hamster! You stupid glob of glue! – Roald Dahl • Your Mother was A Hamster and you Father Smelled of elder berries. – John Cleese

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[equitiesstocks]

Hamsters Quotes

Official Website: Hamsters Quotes

• A squat cannot be performed on a Smith machine any more than it can be performed in a small closet with a hamster. – Mark Rippetoe • Adrenaline kicks you in when you’re starving. That’s what nobody understands. Except for being hungry and cold, most of the time I feel like I can do anything. It gives me superhuman powers of smell and hearing. I can see what people are thinking, stay two steps ahead of them. I do enough homework to stay off the radar. Every night I climb thousands of steps into the sky to make me so exhausted that when I fall into bed, I don’t notice Cassie. Then suddenly it’s morning and I leap on the hamster wheel and it starts all over again. – Laurie Halse Anderson • And then the turbines generate electricity that goes into the whole town.” “You mean they aren’t powered by giant hamsters on wheels? I was misinformed. – Michael Grant • At school, our classroom had a small rodent zoo consisting of two rabbits, three hamsters, a litter of baby gerbils and a guinea pig. At first, I’d thought the teacher was raising snack food, which impressed me, being the first sign of intelligence she’d shown. Soon, though, I’d figured out the animals’ true purpose and left them alone, though I would never understand the appeal of petting and coddling perfectly good food. – Kelley Armstrong

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• But I just felt at one point that I was on a hamster wheel, you know? Just doing movie after movie and thinking so much about career related things and I think missing out on hanging with my friends and family as much I needed to. – Woody Harrelson • DNS is kind of the hamster under the hood that drives the Internet. – David Ulevitch • Even as a child I was fascinated by death, not in a spiritual sense, but in an aesthetic one. A hamster or guinea pig would pass away, and, after burying the body, I’d dig it back up: over and over, until all that remained was a shoddy pelt. It earned me a certain reputation, especially when I moved on to other people’s pets. “Igor,” they called me. “Wicked, spooky.” But I think my interest was actually fairly common, at least among adolescent boys. At that age, death is something that happens only to animals and grandparents, and studying it is like a science project. – David Sedaris • Girls were nice to me in the same way that they would be nice to a hamster. I fantasized about wild encounters with females but knew they’d never happen unless my own involvement could somehow go undetected. – Joel Achenbach • Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup-they all die. So do we. – Robert Fulghum • Have you noticed how the Republicans and Democrats try to copy each other at their conventions. Like at the Democratic convention John Kerry’s daughter told a story about how he once gave CPR to her hamster. At the Republican convention the Bush girls are going to tell a story about how when their hamster was bad, their dad built them a little electric chair. – Jay Leno • Haven’t had your fill of interesting events?” “Never. They are the spice of life.” She held up her half-finished hat. “How do you like it?” “It’s nice. The blue is pretty. But what do the runes say?” “Raxacori-Oh, never mind. It wouldn’t mean a thing to you anyway. Safe travels to you and Saphira, Eragon. And remember to watch out for earwigs and wild hamsters. Ferocious things, wild hamsters.” – Christopher Paolini • He was not used to the smell of dragon breath, which is best described as a combination of the stench of burning rubber and the stink of old socks, with overtones of a hamster cage in dire need of a cleaning. – Angie Sage • I always find cardio the most monotonous. Running on a treadmill shows me why hamsters are so crazy. – Luke Evans • I always see to the dogs first and leave the cats and the occasional birds and rabbits and hamsters for later. It isn’t that I play favorites, it’s just that dogs are needier than other pets. Leave a dog alone for very long and it’ll start going a little nuts. Cats, on the other hand, try to give you the impression that they didn’t even notice you were gone. Oh, were you out? they’ll say, I didn’t notice. Then they’ll raise their tails to show you their little puckered anuses and walk away.- Blaize Clement • I can’t shut my brain off. It’s like a hamster wheel.” ~ Justin – Richelle Mead • I could keep trying to do the same kind of comedies. You know how it’s going to go, and you can get an audience with it, but then I feel like a hamster on a wheel. – Vince Vaughn • I do not mean to be the slightest bit critical of TV newspeople, who do a superb job, considering that they operate under severe time constraints and have the intellectual depth of hamsters. But TV news can only present the “bare bones” of a story; it takes a newspaper, with its capability to present vast amounts of information, to render the story truly boring. – Dave Barry • I don’t believe in happy endings. Children have got to face death sooner or later. Granny and Grandpa die, dogs die, cats die, gerbils and those frightful things – what are they called? – hamsters: all die like flies. So there’s no point avoiding it. – Raymond Briggs • I don’t believe in reincarnation, and I didn’t believe in it when I was a hamster. – Shane Richie • I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries. – Graham Chapman • I feel so agitated all the time, like a hamster in search of a wheel. – Carrie Fisher • I got ham but I’m not a Hamster – Bill Bailey • I know what the intimidation level of high school is. You’re on a hamster wheel, running, running, running, trying so hard to fit in. It’s all about how you deal with what you’re given, feeling OK with being the odd man out before you’re finally successful. – Drew Barrymore • I love running cross-country…You come up a hill and see two deer going, ‘What the hell is he doing?’ On a track I feel like a hamster. – Robin Williams • I love watching him think,” Maeve told Lily. “You can almost hear that poor little hamster running and running on its wheel. – Jim Butcher • I voted against Gerald Nabarro in my first general election, but my defiance made no difference. If you had put a Conservative rosette on a mustachioed hamster, it would have been elected. – Jeremy Paxman • If anybody felt worse than I did, it was Amos. I had just enough magic to turn myself into a falcon and him into a hamster (hey, I was rushed!) – Rick Riordan • If the sun were made of hamsters, the earth would be incinerated. – Michael Schumacher • I’m done with men. I have a hamster. That’s all I need. – Janet Evanovich • It’s fine to be on the hamster wheel, running and running, trying to grab the brass ring or whatever you define as success, but your relationships, that’s really all that matters when it’s all said and done. – Katie Couric • It’s for the hamster that I’m gonna buy! This is so perfect! (after opening a hamster wheel at Christmas) – Gerard Way • I’ve lived here … my whole life. It’s where I lost all my baby teeth. Where tiny hamster, gerbil, and bird skeletons lie in rotted-out cardboard coffins beneath the oak tree in our backyard. Also where, if some future archaeologist goes digging, they’ll find the remains of a plush toy: a gray terrier named Toto I buried after the accident. – Jennifer McMahon • Lissa knelt down, compassion on her face. I wasn’t surprised, since she’d always had a thing for animals. She’d lectured me for days after I’d instigated the infamous hamster-and-hermit-crab fight. I’d viewed the fight as a testing of worthy opponents. She’d seen it as animal cruelty. – Richelle Mead • Most of us are animal lovers. We insist that we love all animals equally – the hamster, the weasel, and the zebra – but if pressed, we will admit to being either a cat person or a dog person. – Nicole Hollander • New Rule: Gay marriage won’t lead to dog marriage. It is not a slippery slope to rampant inter-species coupling. When women got the right to vote, it didn’t lead to hamsters voting. No court has extended the equal protection clause to salmon. And for the record, all marriages are “same sex” marriages. You get married, and every night, it’s the same sex. – Bill Maher • No matter if you’re a man, woman, cat, hamster, you will get lost in Matt Bomer’s eyes. I don’t know what they are made of outside of dreams and rainbows and amazingness but it truly doesn’t matter. And when he sings. It’s like God gave with both hands and then grew a third hand and graced him with more. – Channing Tatum • One of my producers said this business is like a hamster on that little wheel thing that goes around and around. You may have a great day and get great ratings, but then you’ve got another show to do – whatever moment of success or happiness you have you’ve got to keep grinding it out for the next day. – Sean Hannity • Privately, I consider religion to be a load of bollocks, but when you have a sobbing five year old wanting to know what happened to her hamster, you develop an instant belief in anything that dissolves some of the heartbreak off her face. – Tana French • Some of my best friends are Venture Capitalists, but let’s face it, a hamster with Alzheimer’s could make those kind of numbers. It’s great work if you can get it. – Scott Adams • Some Poor grad student pressing on the flanks of a hamster and out comes a doctorate on the other side – Robert M. Sapolsky • Sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree, But it was eaten by a newt, And now I have no cuddly fruit, O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree! – Clive Barker • The hamster called. He wants his home back. – James Patterson • The Hamsters really kick ass – Slim is one of your greatest guitar players – Walter Trout • The kid makes you sick. He looks the part, he walks the part, he is the part. He’s six-foot something, fit as a flea, good-looking – he’s got to have something wrong with him….Hopefully he’s hung like a hamster! That would make us all feel better! – Cristiano Ronaldo • The real slums are another matter. The bad parts of Tondo are as bad as any place I’ve seen, ancient, filthy houses swarmed with the poor and stinking of sewage and trash. But there are worse parts – squatter areas where people live under cardboard, in shipping crates, behind tacked-up newspapers. Dad would march you straight to the basement with a hairbrush in his hand if he caught you keeping your hamster cage like this. – P. J. O’Rourke • The thing is, we have to let go of all blame, all attacking, all judging, to free our inner selves to attract what we say we want. Until we do, we are hamsters in a cage chasing our own tails and wondering why we aren’t getting the results we seek. – Joe Vitale • The wheels are turning, but the hamsters are all dead. Make it idiot-proof and someone will make a better idiot. I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig, you get dirty; and besides, the pig likes it. – George Bernard Shaw • The world’s tragedy is that men love women, women love children, and children love hamsters. – Joanna Trollope • We sometimes feel like hamsters on a wheel, covering the same musical ground we did 20 or more years ago. – Bent Saether • Well, I’m an uncle now … don’t know if I’m a good one. My nephew asked me the difference between a hamster and a gerbil and I told him I thought there was more dark meat on a gerbil. – Bobcat Goldthwait • What if hamsters fought in the American Revolution? – Colin Mochrie • While I liked hamsters, too, the Habitrail cage was expensive. Even I could see that the interconnecting boxes, tubes, and spheres could easily bankrupt a family and lead to addiction later in life. Because, how would you know when to stop? How could you stop? An entire city could be built with a Habitrail. – Augusten Burroughs • Why shouldn’t it be that way for the rest of us? Why not just go with it? Just walk the dog and send the tweets and eat the scones and play with the hamsters and ride the bicycles and watch the sunsets and stream the movies and never worry about any of it? I didn’t know it could be that easy. I didn’t know that until just now. That sounds good to me. – Joshua Ferris • With boys you always know where you stand. Right in the path of a hurricane. It’s all there. The fruit flies hovering over their waste can, the hamster trying to escape to cleaner air, the bedrooms decorated in Early Bus Station Restroom. – Erma Bombeck • Wondering where Ranger was now, when I needed him. Why wasn’t he here, insisting on locking me up in a safe house? Now that my hamster’s cage was clean, I’d be happy to oblige. – Janet Evanovich • Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. I’ve never met a Daimon yet I couldn’t take. (Wulf) Guess again, little brother. You just met one, and trust me, he’s not like any you’ve ever met before. He makes Desiderius look like a pet hamster. (Acheron) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You ignorant little slug!” the Trunchbull bellowed. “You witless weed! You empty-headed hamster! You stupid glob of glue! – Roald Dahl • Your Mother was A Hamster and you Father Smelled of elder berries. – John Cleese

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