#cause she's a princess and often very composed in most of the memories she's having to sort of suppress a lot of her emotions

[rotisseries]

i don't read enough loz fic to know what the popular fanon is so maybe this already exists but there should be a revali and zelda besties agenda i think it would be good for them

[differenceonlyyoucanmake]

12 Dancing Princesses Thoughts/ Headcanons/ Assorted Stuff that Came to Me in a Dream

I’m kind of tired, so this may be incomplete. I wanted to put it out there, though. My dreams have mostly been from Courtney’s perspective, not an omniscient one. Because of this, there may be some gaps.

Ashlyn:

- Deserved so much better

- It actually makes me upset. I woke up from one of my 12dp dreams in TEARS because she deserved so much better.

- After Isabella passed, Ashlyn took on the role of being a maternal presence to her sisters. She did this extremely well, but it’s also heartbreaking how she pushed herself to grow up.

- Randolph was not a capable father during the lowest periods of his grief, and Ashlyn definitely had to compensate for this.

- Randolph... could have been kinder to her, especially after the queen died. He couldn’t look Ashlyn in the eyes. She reminded him too much of his late wife.

- Isabella wanted Ashlyn to inherit her belongings and position, but Randolph had his own favorites (I promise I don’t think he was an evil person, but he could have done better).

- I think Ashlyn would identify as bisexual.

- She knew several instruments, but was most attached to the flute. Her most treasured memories involved Isabella giving her flute lessons.

- She was expected to be the mature one all the time, so she repressed a lot of her own frustrations in favor of caring for others.

- She was closest to Blair and Courtney.

- She was a little soft spoken, and one of the most “ladylike”; Ashlyn was one of the sisters who struggled least with Rowena’s lessons.

- The younger sisters had a hard time remembering that she was a person capable of all sorts of feelings. They expected parental behavior from her, and got really confused when she expressed negative emotions.

- Some of the sisters assumed Ashlyn didn’t care for sweets, because she would offer hers to the others whenever they got any. In reality, she thought this was kind behavior. She showed sacrifice in several, seemingly inconsequential, ways.

- Despite seeming so mature, she always felt as if she stopped growing up after her mother passed.

- As the sisters grew up, Ashlyn really struggled with finding her purpose. She didn’t get the power her mother promised her. She put her own ideas and prospects aside to care for her sisters. She ended up floating from kingdom to kingdom, with varying success in several different courts. She eventually came  to live with the other eldest sisters.

- Despite being (in my view) cheated out of her kingdom, Ashlyn seldom expressed frustration or resentment. She adopted the attitude of a retired noble early in life, spending a lot of time on composing music and serene hobbies.

Blair

- horse.... horses..... sleeping in the stables...... with the horses

- I’m kidding! Mostly!

- Blair was bold and opinionated. She also loved witty conversation and comedy.

- What else did she love? Horses.

- She would sneak out all the time to ride.

- Her favorite horse was black and very tall.

- She was closest to Ashlyn and Courtney.

- Blair was sick in childhood.

- Though the older sisters were known for being more refined and elegant, Blair pushed this notion plenty.

- She loved adventure.

- All of the sisters missed the golden pavilion, but Blair struggled with this a lot.

- She didn’t have as many problems with Randolph, but sometimes she would CAUSE problems on purpose (mostly defending Ashlyn and calling out his favoritism).

- She turned her own estate later in life into a close replica of the pavilion. The grounds were massive.

- She was intelligent, but struggled with many academic tasks. If she needed to read something that was challenging, she would often hand it to Courtney for help. She would only have motivation to read if it was about subjects she loved.

- This is ironic, because she later came to be a published writer. I believe these were short works, similar to pamphlets.

- Blair enjoyed throwing and attending large balls and gatherings. She was still chasing the thrill of the magical visits she’d make with her sisters.

- Blair was considered extremely beautiful, and drew admirers wherever she went. She accumulated many pieces of ruby jewelry this way.

- She also liked wearing capes and cloaks.

Courtney

- Generally shy, Courtney made an exception when she stood up for Ashlyn.

- Courtney longed to travel, and books provided her with a form of escapism until she was able to.

- She had a health scare after the events of the movie, and this somehow tarnished her standing in society??

- She wasn’t straight, probably a lesbian.

- She was well read on political matters and the history of their kingdom, and would often be the first one to noticed Randolph’s incompetence in certain areas.

- She was a young teen when she first started rewriting her father’s treaties in her spare time. She learned after the first time not to bring her drafts to him.

- When Ashlyn and Blair left home, she grew closer with Fallon. Both had a streak of wanderlust, and gravitated towards the romantic.

- Courtney published poetry under a pseudonym starting at a young age. This probably helped her somewhat. As she grew up, her poems grew in notoriety, and many debated who their true writer was. A significant portion focused on love between women and feeling trapped.

- I think she had been to Apollonia (Antonio’s kingdom in Island Princess) several times, and knew both Luciana and Antonio from an early age. I think this was the case for many of the older sisters.

- After their mother died, the girls traveled less, and met less new people. Courtney was bothered by this.

- She was generally thought of as calm and quiet, but she felt emotions deeply ( even if she didn’t always express them).

Delia

- Athletic and spunky

- Delia enjoyed more structured sports.

- She was prone to sunburns.

- Delia was enamored with the sun and light. She would hang prisms next to her windows to watch the light refract.

- She was closest with her twin, Edeline. They enjoyed playing croquet together and (though it was usually harmless) gossiping.

- Delia had a temper. She would deal with guilt afterwards if she lashed out at someone.

- Her emotional regulation issues came to light after her mother died.

- Delia dealt with a lot of guilt in general. She didn’t feel as put-together as her older sisters, or as carefree as the younger ones. She felt guilty for not fitting in, and expressed feeling like an inconvenience to those around her.

- Outsiders thought she was dim-witted, and she internalized this.

- Delia often had a problem of interrupting people or speaking loudly, so it was advised that she stay quiet when visitors came. This really hurt her self esteem, since she was always happy to make new friends.

- Rowena had offended her when she was a young girl, and Delia never forgot this.

- Delia liked birds, and hummingbirds fascinated her.

- She had to learn to accept herself later in life. 

- She discovered people who appreciated her for who she was, and finally left her inhibitions behind. 

- After that, she became known for her charisma and charm.

Edeline:

- Edeline shared a lot of interests with her twin, such as sports and outdoor activities.

- She enjoyed making others laugh.

- Once Genevieve married Derek, Edeline took it as her cue to BULLY that poor man.

- Seriously, it probably warded off suitors for her other sisters.

- It was usually in good fun, though.

- Edeline disliked rules and structure.

- She was closest with Delia.

- She often stood up for her twin.

- Edeline had a good ear for gossip, and had her own methods of fact checking stories she’d heard.

- Something happened with her at Genevieve’s wedding?? Maybe she broke something??

- Edeline traveled some, but found her way back home eventually.

- She DESPISED Rowena. None of the sisters liked her, but Edeline couldn’t stand her from the beginning.

- Edeline would have loved to know about the concept of roast humor.

- She liked to have sleepover-like setups in their bedroom. She would build forts and encourage the others to come tell ghost stories. When the memories of her mother came to her, she felt the need to DO something, even if the action wasn’t necessarily related.

- She became known for her humor.

Fallon

- Fallon was pretty much independent, until she and Courtney bonded.

- Fallon always wanted pets, and was jealous that only Genevieve was allowed to have one (besides....bugs and the horses, who were kept outside).

- She would try to befriend wild animals, and nursed some injured animals back to health.

- I don’t think Fallon was straight.

- Fallon was sensitive, and had a hard time dealing with Rowena’s harsh treatment.

- Fallon had nightmares, and would often go to her older sisters for comfort.

- She enjoyed the company of others. She would spend time with servants and other people considered to be below her station.

- Fallon played the harp.

- She loved the softer aspects of life. 

- She devoted time to charitable causes.

- I just know that she did that classic princess trope of posing as a commoner. That’s such a her thing to do.

- She gained a reputation for being eccentrically kind. She had a large family of animals, who she took EXCELLENT care of.

Genevieve

- You may have noticed that the older sisters were generally closer with each other. Well, Genevieve wasn’t, and she made it that way.

- She.... liked to act like she was in charge. She often undermined Ashlyn’s efforts.

- She was Randolph’s favorite.

- Genevieve got along better with the younger sisters, especially Lacey.

- She probably did have leadership skills, but a lot of them came from acting like she did.

- Like I’ve implied above, she got a lot of power after she married, instead of Ashlyn.

- Derek wasn’t a bad person, but he was a COBBLER. How did she get more political power by marrying a COBBLER?

- She butted heads with Blair and Courtney quite often after the events of the movie.

- Basically, she had Main Character Disease dsfghjk

- She traveled less than the other older sisters.

- Admittedly, she wasn’t a poor leader.

- I have a feeling she adopted a lot of children later in life.

- She and Derek had a pretty long transitional period after they married, meaning they spent more time really figuring out who they were as a couple rather than jumping into their duties right away.

- Genevieve kind of symbolized the cutoff for the sisters who had lots of solid memories about their mother and those who didn’t.

- She was one of the best dancers out of the sisters.

- She was brave and self-assured.

- She knew what she wanted, and she would get it.

- After Twyla, she got some other cats. They were mostly orange and/or long haired.

- She never quite shook her habit of being late.

Hadley

- Hadley was closest to their twin, Isla.

- As Hadley grew up, they became more comfortable being gender nonconforming. They may have been trans, but I don’t remember.

- Hadley enjoyed fencing.

- Stilts were Hadley’s first love, and led to appreciation for other daring activities.

- Hadley also loved the ocean. Many of their adventures involved being at sea. They spent years sailing longside their twin on a ship Genevieve gifted them.

- Rumors swirled that they were a pirate. Though these weren’t true, Hadley didn’t mind.

- Hadley was energetic and intuitive.

- Hadley was an athletic risk-taker. They enjoyed acrobatics and other feats of the human body.

- Hadley became known for their adventurous exploits and fencing prowess.

- Though Hadley initially idolized Genevieve, she eventually sided with Ashlyn and the other older sisters once she learned the whole story.

- Hadley stayed with the older sisters after whatever scary thing happened with Courtney.

- Hadley mentored people, and may have been a teacher.

- She really missed the times when all of their sisters got along.

- There were rumors that Hadley was affiliated with darker forces, when in reality Hadley was one of the most well-adjusted.

Isla

- Isla was closest to Hadley.

- Isla liked adventure, but she was less daring than Hadley.

- Isla stayed our of most business involving the older sisters, preferring to spend time with her twin.

- She loved swimming.

- Isla had a collection of maps.

- She was known for being easy going. 

- She sometimes had to bring Hadley down from an idea that seemed too dangerous.

- Isla was the voice of reason in some situations.

- She never lost her passion for dance, and learned new styles through their travels.

- Isla had pet birds.

- She was admired for her grace and acrobatic talent.

- Isla enjoyed circus-like acts.

- She was more bothered by the pirate rumors than Hadley.

- Isla enjoyed researching magic, and trying to find a way back to the magic pavilion. 

- Isla was non-confrontational.

- She tried many forms of artistic expression, from writing to painting.

- Isla was loyal to Hadley, and would be there for her twin no matter what.

Janessa

- Janessa maintained her love of insects.

- Since they were so young when it happened, none of the triplets remember details of the magic pavilion. If their sisters weren’t there to confirm their memories, they would have thought it was a dream.

- Janessa grew up to be very interested in science.

- Janessa found the proper way to care for insects, and took pride in how well she did it.

- She was prone to worrying.

- She often lamented the fact that she was so young when they visited the pavilion.

- Janessa was considered obedient and passive.

- Janessa heard how much she looked like her mother (though not as much as Ashlyn). She had mixed feelings about this, because she couldn’t really remember what her mother looked like.

- Janessa was closest to Kathleen.

- She became close with Edeline and Delia when she got older.

- Janessa knew she wasn’t Randolph’s favorite, and took this personally. She tried, especially in her youth, to gain his approval.

- She also knew that Genevieve preferred Lacey, even though all the triplets looked up to Genevieve.

- Janessa balanced her love for science with her royal duties, and used what power she had to provide exposure and resources to research institutes.

Kathleen

- Kathleen was creative and unconventional.

- She was closest with Janessa, and became close with Isla later in life.

- Kathleen was known for her paintings.

- She started out painting things like landscapes, then moved into less traditional subjects.

- Her royal portraits were renowned in particular. They captured royalty doing activities that were important to them, or in significant fantasy settings.

- She painted portraits of her siblings and father. These became their favorites. She captured: a relaxed Ashlyn writing music, Blair on horseback in mid-air, Courtney in her library, Delia in the sunlight, Edeline in a fantastical outdoor scene, Fallon with her animals, Genevieve dancing, Hadley fencing, Isla swimming, Janessa surrounded by flying insects in the sky, and Lacey at work.

- Though she tried many times, Kathleen was not satisfied with her attempts of painting her mother. She felt like she was simply copying pre-existing portraits.

- The only painting of her mother she was somewhat pleased with was one of Queen Isabella walking away, her back to the viewer as she walked into a golden pavilion.

- Kathleen tried to paint the magic pavilion, and these painting had a fuzzy, dream-like quality.

- Her art gained a significant following.

Lacey

- She was Randolph’s second favorite.

-Lacey was unshakably loyal to Genevieve. She didn’t understand why the older sisters were upset about her being given power and land.

- Lacey struggled with illness as a child. She was inspired by the healing water at the pavilion to study medicine.

- Lacey struggled with muscle strength and coordination well into adulthood.

- Despite this, she continued dancing.

- She looked very similar to Randolph’s relatives.

- She felt the need to defend Genevieve, and would often challenge her older sisters because of this.

- Although Ashlyn never challenged her, Lacey harbored resentment towards her. She blamed Ashlyn for the fact that Genevieve’s approval wasn’t universal.

- Lacey was interested in scientifically based medicine, as well as magical remedies.

- Lacey was always closest with Genevieve, and lived with her for a long time.

- Lacey idolized Genevieve and Derek’s relationship, often heralding it as the pinnacle of romance.

- She searched for a way back to the magical world, believing it contained the key to eternal youth and immortality.

- Lacey didn’t care for travel as much as some of her sisters, but she usually enjoyed when she did leave her own kingdom.

- She grew up to be Genevieve’s closest adviser, and an accomplished healer.

Canon Noncompliant Things

- The sisters left the pavilion by dancing in birth order. Although Derek did leave by dancing with Genevieve, they weren’t responsible for leaving in the first place. Once again, Ashlyn doesn’t get the credit she deserves dfghjk

- Genevieve had an actual wedding, not whatever that was that was shown at the end of the movie. It was smaller than a lot of royal weddings (because Derek didn’t have many connections or people to invite), but it was a serious affair. 

[masterhandss]

Hamefura Idol AU!

No one on tumblr really knows it but... I love idols, like idol animes and games are my childhood and has eaten away at my very soul. I like drawing and imagining idol aus for pretty much any show I get into, and sadly hamefura isn’t gonna be an exception to that :P

(i’ve yet to draw for my dumb au so have a placeholder image from an upcoming anthology by @/relaxmakoto)

Instead of being isekai-ed to a bootleg PS4 otome game, our monkey girl gets reincarnated into “Fortune Lover: Cinderella Idol!”, an idol-production rhythm game (help me i’m bad a choosing names).

(Long post, I’m basically gonna retell the entire game in an idol setting lol. I only wanted to draw for this au, but thinking about plot and gameplay was too fun so I wanted to share it)

The Game

The original game’s story follows Maria Campbell, the main character of the game who applied for a job in Sorcier Productions after seeing a wanted ad online. By some luck, she gets hired as a temp-producer for the famous male idol group “Fortuna”. After a few hours of gameplay involving producing the male idols (Gerald, Keith, Alan and Nicol) through the game’s tutorial (introducing various aspects of the gameplay like “Choosing your Idol”, “Getting Relationship Points”, “Rhythm Game Concert Mode”, “Idol Produce Mode”, “TV Drama Mode” etc), the game reveals the plot twist of the game: Not just the male idols, but you get to also idol-produce yourself!

By the outcome of various events, Maria ends up performing in the stead of another idol during a mini concert that she escorts the boys with, and immediately stole the hearts of the audience by her beauty and hidden talents! M.C. is actually the first idol in the “Self-Produced Idol” project, one that aims to determine and bring out the full talents of an idol by exposing them to all the in outs of the idol world. Maria ends up becoming quite known very quickly, being rumored as a “Cinderella” of the idol world (In sports, the term Cinderella is used to refer to situations in which competitors achieve far greater success than would reasonably have been expected, rather than the typical meaning of Cinderella which means “damsel”). This rumor leads her to the anti-hero rivals for Maria (who ends up joining you in the game as idols you can produce), the perfect idol Mary Hunt and the “rarely appears publicly despite her talents” Sophia Ascart.

They start out as rivals for the game but ends up becoming friends with you and becoming produce-able idols like the 4 boys. You can even form a trio unit with the girls if you have enough relationship points (when your trio unit “Amour” is unlocked, you get more events, songs and outfits for you and the two girls!). But the true antagonist of the game is Katarina Claes, a boastful and prideful newbie idol who joined a few months before Maria, who earned a fan base thanks to her confidence and mature style. She doesn’t have the best voiced or is very skilled at dancing, but her confidence and ideals draws people to love her for her unique character. Katarina lacks self-awareness though, and thinks that she is the jack of all trades when it comes to being an idol, thus leading her to have an unbelievable amount of self confidence when it comes to her popularity and skills. She despises Maria Campbell because of how much the articles praise her for her charm and adorable singing, as she thinks that Maria is nothing more than a wannabe that doesn’t know the harsh reality of the idol world (the irony of that is an important aspect of the game’s story, since Katarina is overly reliant on her producer Anne, and Maria is the one who works both as an idol and as a producer).

Maria doesn’t really play much into the “self-insert” protagonist, more like an involved protagonist like Izumi from A3 that plays an important role into the story. The player does get to choose Maria’s (and everyone else’s) songs, schedules, outfits etc. by the guise that you are Maria, working as both an idol and as a producer.

The game does have a “relationship points” system, which means you can actually date one of the boys form Fortuna (secretly). Even if you don’t intentionally date anyone, the game already does play the “you, the main character, are so important and they wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t here” agenda that most games have, so the game already makes all the love interests seem interested with you regardless of whether you actively target Gerald, Keith, Alan or Nicol.

Katarina’s Bad End

(Rather than the life threatening doom flags of FL) In the game, Katarina Claes constantly sabotages Maria’s events and performances, creating the conflict in the “story mode” and the “events” of the game. Near the end of the game, the character who has the highest relationship points with Maria will reveal Katarina’s awful treatment of Maria in public, ruining Katarina’s reputation and causing her to lose public opinion and fans

Sabotaging fellow idols is actually quite common in idol stories, but the extent that Katarina goes for her bullying is terrible, which shocks the public because that side of the idol world had never been put into the forefront before. While Katarina does have an arrogant and prideful personality, learning that she, who didn’t have the cleanest reputation in the first place, has been harassing the darling of the idol world, meant that shows, programs, radios and events didn’t hire or invite Katarina anymore in fear of loss in sales or public outrage, leading to her eventual downfall.

The final event of the game, the Idol Queen Tournament, Katarina performs despite her ruined reputation, and was met with almost no response from the audience. Realizing that her life as an entertainer is ruined, she quits and vanishes from the public eye.

It is said in the epilogue that she moved into the country side, by a small farming field, shunned by her parents and the public for her embarrassing behavior, in order to repent and look back on her actions, much to her anger and disapproval.

The degree of Katarina appearances and story events differ depending on which male idol love interest Maria has the highest points in. Katarina is most active if you are closer to Gerald, as she is madly inlove with him and only became an idol to be by his side (as Gerald won as the “Idol King” of that year, and Katarina aimed to be his “queen”). Katarina is also frequently present in Keith’s events and interactions, as she makes fun of the both of you for being a disgrace as idols. She also appears on Alan and Nicole, but not as much.

“Fortuna” and “Amour”

Fortuna, the most popular male idol group during that time, and Amour the all-new girls idol unit, are the “produced” characters of the game

(i’m bad at thinking at idol group names so those are placeholders lol)

Gerald Stuart is a child actor known for being a perfectionist. Even as a child, he had a good face, pose, fashion sense, perfect memory, amazing acting talent and charisma to carry himself infront of a crowd. He became an idol in hopes of escaping the endless sea of acting offers he gets, and to just starve off a bit of his boredom and free time. He ends up becoming interest in their new producer Maria, due to her unique circumstance and how hard working and earnest she is. Idols are known for being prohibited from dating, but in the Gerald Ending Epilogue, he proudly announces Maria as the woman of his affections and deeply apologizes to all his rabid fans and supporters, and hopes to gain their support for his feelings for her. The two are crowned the “Prince and Princess” of the idol world for that decade.

Keith Claes is an adopted son of the Claes Household. He was bullied by his sister and mother, making him feel alone and isolated as a child. In his teens, he became a handsome playboy that easily caught the hearts of a female crowd, leading him to be scouted by someone in Sorcier Productions. He accepted, wanting to use the love of a huge fanbase to drown himself with praise and adoration and to fill the hole in his heart from years of trauma and loneliness.

Keith attempted to flirt with his new young producer, but gets constantly rejected due to the idea that idols can’t date (and bc Maria is just so busy), making him crave Maria’s attention even more. He ends up respecting her diligence, intelligence, beauty and honesty, making him slowly fall inlove with her. In the Keith Ending Epilogue, Keith confesses to Maria and wants to date her, but knows that he can’t just let go of the fans that he gained from his playboy persona, so instead he gives her a promise ring, telling Maria that when their whole “idol” thing is over with and pass them, he hopes to be able to date her (and even marry her) for real one day without a fanbase that might attempt to seperate them.

Alan Stuart is the twin brother of Gerald, who is often compared to his twin brother due to his lack of acting and entertainment skills. Alan does however, have a deep love for music. He might not be as good with instruments as his brother, but unlike Gerald, he truly loves composing and performing music and finds solace in the melodies that he can convey. Alan ends up becoming an idol due to his love for music, with the desire to one day use the connections he can make as an idol to become a full-time composer and song writer (as well as to generally learn how to sing bc he secretly likes that too). Alan also wanted to be an idol as a way to compete with his brother in an area that he is more knowledgeable on.

Throughout Alan’s encounters with Maria, he ends up rejecting Maria’s friendship and praises due to his inferiority with his brother. Through time, Maria’s constant praises of Alan’s music and singing ends up resonating with him, leading up to her telling him that he shouldn’t compare himself to his twin brother and there are only things that he is good at, like his music. Maybe a line like “Not even Gerald can recreate the melodies that you write and compose, Alan! These scores are very Alan-like, and there’s nothing I’d rather listen to; nothing that warms my heart more. This is something only you can do, as Alan and no one else” does him in.

In the Alan Ending Epilogue, he admits that his heart isn’t ready for a relationship yet, but declares that he wants to be with Maria forever and that from the moment Maria started to make an impact in his life, she had become the “Aria” of his music, and that he wants her to know that he will always write his music with his love for her in mind. He wants to be able to convey his love for her through song one day, and he hopes that she will continue to love him until he finds the right words to sing.

Mary Hunt is the daughter to a famous businessman and politician, who has connections to the Stuart Family. She met Alan by accident, during the dinner party in her house for his father’s birthday. Mary was hiding in her beloved garden, and had encountered Alan who had done the same, before she could retreat to her safe haven. She was in awe as she watched Alan play and sing a song in his small guitar, almost thinking that the song was for her. They ended up singing in a duet, with Alan complimenting her voice, saying that she should develop it. Mary instantly fell inlove with Alan, and had trained herself in the same musical arts that Alan loved, especially the voiced that he had complimented, in order to one day become worthy of performing by his side. She had originally assumed that Alan wanted to perform for an opera or musical, but when she found out that Alan wanted to become an idol, she auditioned to Sorcier Pro. as fast as she could.

In Alan’s ending, Mary was very heartbroken to know that she could not be the one to stay by her beloved Alan’s side, but silently thanked Maria for breaking Alan free from the inner turmoils that Mary knew was an impossible job for her. Despite her feelings, she still wanted to sing by Maria’s side and congratulates the two with all of her heart.

Nicol Ascart is the son to the esteemed Ascart Family, owner of the Ascart Inc., one of the major sponsors for Sorcier Productions. Nicol has been a child model and was popular since childhood because of his beautiful face. He doesn’t talk much, so when someone has filmed him singing to himself in the hallways in highschool, it immediately went viral, causing various scouts to offer him a role as an idol. Nicol had only accepted his request due to the circumstances of his little sister, Sophia.

Sophia Ascart is born with unique features, leading to her being bullied and made fun of in public due to her stage appearance. Sophia has always loved idols, being envious of their ability to enchant a crowd and sing songs about their feelings out loud. She had a sweet voice and an adorable face, but her hair and eyes caused people to think of her as a freak. She wanted to become one, but knew it would impossible for her. Nicol decided to use his popularity to jump-start Sophia’s possible idol career, by trying to brainwash/persuade his fans to also love Sophia (when she first joined and started as an idol). It didn’t work on everyone, but he was determined to help his sister.

When Maria befriends and even starts a unit with Sophia, Nicol eventually fell for the woman who made both his and Sophia’s wish come true. There’s also the fact that as their producer, Maria became a true friend of Nicol’s, one that didn’t look at him with obsessive desire and only wanted nothing more than to be a friend and an ally.

In the Nicol Ending Epilogue, he quits being an idol due to his desire to eventually join his father in the family business, much to the disappointment of his fans, but promises to always watch Maria from the side lines. He would always send bouquets almost everyday, with small cards giving the declarations of love that he normally wouldn’t be able to vocalize. He thanks her for supporting both him and his little sister, and promises to jump to her side once she is done being an idol.

Bakarina

As usual, Katarina ends up remembering her future as an 8 year old kid, and plans to prepare for her future “banishment” and humiliation. She learns to farm in order to provide for herself once she gets shunned and retreats to the countryside, and (unknowingly) meets all the characters in the game and gains their good favor before the events of the game begins

I’ll write the rest of the plot involving reincarnated!Katarina next time lol :P

This au is obviously heavily influenced by a lot of the Idolmaster console and mobile games, Ensemble Stars, A3, Vocaloid Project Diva games, Aikatsu etc lol. Thanks to anyone who gets to read till the end. Feedback (and name suggestions) are very appreciated! Hamefura is still a small fandom so idk if i’d write for this au, but it’s a good enough excuse to draw the girls in cute idol clothes so i’ll take it XD)

[mangataonegdaj]

blessed sapphire , hallowed rainbow : princesses of the cretan federal monarchy

a long night of labor for dragoslava oxendine allowed her to greet the dawn of december 3, 1893 with two beautiful baby girls in her arms . as queen consort to the king of one of creta’s most notable tribes &. a member of creta’s royal court ( the central government ) , matvey oxendine , the tribe who followed him &. those tribes with whom matvey had made or maintained peace had anxiously awaited for news of the new royals’ birth .

in light of twins born to their tribe &. nation , the subjects celebrated unabashedly . those associated with the church would readily state it as as though higher powers smiled upon them , blessing the allied tribes with future rulers to a sensible , level - headed king &. his insightful , though ambitious , wife . it seemed the tribes would fall into steady , well - raised hands , &. perhaps that ultimately could turn the tide of their federation as a whole .

though babies of creta often were born with blue eyes , &. the twins were no exception , there was something markedly different about each of the eyes which saw the light of creta’s dawn that chilly morning. one babe -- the younger -- had dark blue irises that presented a clear color , uninterrupted by any others ; the elder , on the other hand , had eyes aqua in color much like that of her father , yet twilight seemed to be captured within her irises as flecks of violet surrounded her pupils .

-- thus they were named for what their parents saw in their eyes as infants -- the elder whose eyes held the clearest sky fading into night was named iris , for the rainbow both within her eyes &. her parents hoped her heart . her twin , born nine minutes later , whose eyes were a shade of blue so pure it was breathtaking &. comparable to the gems upon her father’s crown was given the name sapphira .

praised &. loved by the subjects they would one day inherit the safekeeping , governing , and loyalty of , the girls were formally introduced to the public thirty - two days after their birth as her royal highness , iris , duchess of the southern province &. her royal highness , sapphira , duchess of the western province .

upon their father’s ascension to the position of creta’s high king in their sixth year of life , iris &. sapphira were re - introduced to the public ( this time , the entirety of the cretan federation ) as her royal highness , iris , princess of the cretan commonwealth &. her royal highness , sapphira , princess of the four realms .

mirror - image twins

sapphira ( felicyta brandt - nowak ) &. iris oxendine . present age : 25 years old .

as they aged , it became clear that the girls were " mirror image twins “ -- though it is not a classification of twinning all on its own , mirror image twins are a subtype of identical twinning . identical twins occur when the blastocyst splits into two zygotes nine to 12 days after fertilization thus resulting in two embryos with identical genetic information . mirror image twins are the result of identical twins displaying reversed asymmetry , &. can only be determined by observation of both twins &. seeing how the twins “ reflect ” one another .

sapphira &. iris’ reversed asymmetry was displayed as follows ...          * both girls have a faiut café au lait spot on their back ; sapphira’s is over her 10th rib on the left of her spine , iris’ is over her 10th rib on the right of her spine         * the overall shape of their eyes is almond , though sapphira’s left eye has a very slight ( insignificant , cannot be spotted unless it is distinctly being looked for ) upturn ; iris’ right eye demonstrates the same         * sapphira’s hair whorls to the left , iris’ whorls to the right         * sapphira was right - handed ; iris is left - handed         * sapphira’s teeth started coming in on the right side of her mouth first ; iris’ came in on the left         * sapphira typically crossed her left leg over her right ; iris crossed right over left

the sisters also displayed internal mirroring as well , though it is unknown to all , &. will remain such until an event would require a comparison of their insides side - by - side ...         * sapphira’s internal anatomy is textbook average ; iris has idiopathic situs inversus , meaning her major visceral organs are reversed / mirrored from their normal positions with no known apparent cause .

together from birth &. always by one another’s side , the oxendine girls seemed to embody being one another’s “ mirror - image ” in as many respects of the word could be feasibly managed by young girls who knew little more than that they were twins , and one another’s best friends . it is unfortunate to say their harmony was shattered one night shortly after the celebration of their eighth birthday , when iris left their bed to use the restroom in the middle of the night ... only to return &. find their bed empty , sapphira nowhere to be found .

unbreakable connection

following the alarm &. thrill of fear which surged through her small body upon discovering sapphira missing , a heart - shattering sadness &. void - like emptiness took root within iris’ being . days turned into weeks of search &. investigative efforts ; weeks bled into months . it was only after the six month reached its midway passing in time that matvey at last halted the efforts in place to find some indication of what fate had befallen his daughter at the price of at last allowing his own heart to break in light of what seemed like energy , effort , &. hope poured into a fruitless effort . the high king’s bowing to label his daughter’s fate as unknown shook the queen consort &. princess to their core , pulling them both along -- they’d tried to halt their flow of time around the family , preserve the present in an unchanging state . they’d tried to deny the future which ever comes , in hopes they may share it with sapphira once she was found .

it was only after accepting their daughter’s fate as unknown , presumed dead , that the ruling family held a memorial service for sapphira -- well - liked by just over a majority of the tribes which composed creta’s provinces , the memorial service ( featuring a speech &. final plea from iris ) was broadcast over radios throughout the entire country . all citizens were invited to listen in on the service , look to the future of creta in the wake of such a tragedy , &. pray for their lost princess .

as years passed , iris embraced a path in life which would allow her to become an effective &. unrelenting ruler when her father eventually passes on -- she received only the best scholastic education the country could offer before enlisting as a member of the cretan armed forces &. working her way up through the military ( presently a lieutenant colonel ) in order to make herself a peerless candidate to be nominated by the royal court as creta’s next queen . not only is her academic &. military knowledge impressive , but she is an unmatched physical combatant within the armed forces who uses her lithe build &. small size to her advantage in quick , acrobatic movements . doing so allows her to control not only the battle , but the battlefield itself via use of her alchemy .

her method of alchemy was inherited from matvey himself , while her mother personally oversaw her acrobatics training from a young age &. onward .

in spite of allowing herself to move on in life , iris has never once stopped missing the dear sister she feels partially responsible for the loss of . she knows sapphira is alive somewhere because she can feel it in her heart . it is a feeling nothing ever compares to , save for a time ten years prior the feeling of sapphira’s existence seemed to weaken for approximately three weeks without explanation . in light of “ losing touch ” with the knowing , iris found herself physically ill as a result .

even all these years later -- seventeen without laying eyes upon her sister -- iris would recognize sapphira in a heartbeat , &.she would do ( quite literally ) anything to find her twin once more . though she would be understandably wounded when she finds sapphira ( now understanding herself to be “ felicyta ” ) bears no present recollection or recognition of her , it would not shake the love she’s contained within her broken heart for all these years .

[itsoktheyowedmemoney]

Marinette March Day 15: Support

A/N: A mini crossover with Doctor Who. This idea has been swimming in my mind since last week and I thought it could work for one of this month’s submissions. Takes place post-ML Chameleon and post-DW Resolution.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marinette did not feel the cool spring breeze prickle her face as she headed out the school doors, her arms loaded with textbooks. It had been another draining day that left her numb to her surroundings. Despite all her efforts in taking the high road as Adrien advised, Lila’s manipulative habits exponentially grew. Every day she would spew out a dozen or so lies that elicited sympathy or admiration from the class. Marinette wound up as a frequent target where Lila painted herself as the victim of her jealous attacks. As if on cue, the students would rush to console the scheming liar while shooting glares at Marinette and shunning her to her corner seat in the back.

It got to the point where she would often wake up on school mornings filled with dread, like someone placed a heavy object on her chest and pressed down, down, down, squeezing every bit of confidence from her spirit. Tikki was a source of comfort that she could turn too, but there was hardly much the Kwami could do for her in the classroom.

She was tired. She was disheartened. She never felt so alone despite being surrounded by the classmates she once called her friends.

And right now, she just wanted to get back home and finish her assignments, then work on her fashion designs. Or maybe play some Ultimate Mecha Strike IV.

At least she managed to avoid Chloe’s hostility today-

The ground beneath her feet vanished as she stumbled on the edge of a step and sent herself  flying down the stairs. The books she held spilled out of her arms and onto the sidewalk, one which happened to be her sketchpad –Marinette swore she put it in her backpack, just her luck – landed on the shoes of a very haughty blonde teen.

“Watch it Dupain-Cheng!”

Speak of the devil. The universe was truly conspiring against her.

Chloe snatched the sketchbook from the ground before Marinette could reach out for it.

“Still clumsy as ever, there's really no hope for you,” she said mockingly. “It’s a wonder that you can cross the streets in time before the cars run you over.”

“Give that back Chloe!”

Maybe it was because she found out her favorite makeup brand was discontinuing the mascara she always used. Or maybe it was because the newspapers published a detailed article covering an embezzlement scheme that linked André Bourgeois to a handful of top political officials two weeks ahead of the municipal elections. Whatever the cause was, her merciless behavior worsened the past several days.

“Don't tell me what to do! Or have you forgotten you're rightful place?” She opened the sketchpad and flipped through the pages.

“Oh look Sabrina,” she said as she threw a casual smirk at the red-headed girl standing beside her, “Lots of blank pages. Maybe the clumsiness infected her mind and hands too.”

Marinette felt her insides curl up. The stress of Lila’s torment hindered much of her creativity. She only managed to fully finish a few designs when inspiration struck, which nowadays came few and far in between.

Chloe stopped at a page “This one looks nice. The final work should belong to only the best.” She began pulling the edge of the sheet.

“Oi! What do you think you're doing?!”

Marinette looked to her right. A young woman in dark blue jeans and a grey sweater which was covered by a leather brown jacket approached them with an air of authority. She looked to be of South Asian descent and around Nora’s age, perhaps slightly younger. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders, with two bunches tied up in buns that perched on the sides of her head. She stopped in front of them, briefly hesitating as her eyes swept the scene, before steeling herself.

“What's going on here?” she asked calmly, but firmly.

Judging by her accent, she was not a local. The Dupain-Cheng bakery received plenty of visitors near and far for Marinette to gain a general idea of where a person was from based on the language as well as the way they spoke it.

In this woman’s case, definitely British, but unlikely from London.

“Why do you care?” Chloe sneered at her. “You're don't even go to this school, so it's none of your business.”

The older girl remained unfazed by the vitriol, taking a step to position herself between the two at an angle that shielded Marinette from Chloe’s scorching glare.

“I might not be a student, but we’re not on school grounds right now.” She quickly glanced down at Marinette in concern before returning her gaze on Chloe. “That means I have a right to ask. You’re Chloe, aren't you?”

Chloe seemed taken aback for half a second, only to immediately shrug it off.

“Obviously,” she said with a smug upwards tilt of her chin. “It's about time somebody recognizes my importance as the Princess of Paris, unlike some worthless people. They don't deserve to even hear the name Bourgeois grace upon their ears.”

“Everyone is important Chloe. And what you do isn't about what others deserve, it's what you choose to be. So as the mayor’s daughter, why not choose to be kind right now? Can you do that?”

Chloe paused in bewilderment, then threw out a snide laugh.“Ha, as if I’d take orders from someone like you!” she scoffed, “And what sort of nonsense speech was that? Only losers like you and her would waste time believing that type of garbage.”

The woman merely raised her eyebrows a bit. “If that’s your opinion, then I’m sure you would prefer to get on with the rest of your day away from some so-called loser like me.” She flashed a disarming smile that did not reach her eyes. “You two ladies must have something much more productive already planned on a nice Friday afternoon like this.”

Sabrina peeked from behind her friends shoulder “Yeah Chloe,” she chimed in. “We’re going to be late for you manicure appoint-“

“Oh zip it Sabrina!” the blonde snapped. She narrowed her eyes at the other girl, who remained composed, her face a mask of complete neutrality. A moment passed. Finally, Chloe rolled her eyes and released a huff.

“Whatever, it's not like I was going to stay around any longer.” She turned to leave.

The woman cleared her throat loudly and put out an open hand. “I believe you have something that should be returned to its rightful owner.”

Chloe let out a derisive snort and shoved the sketchpad into her hand.

“Ughh, both of you are utterly ridiculous. Come on Sabrina!”

The girl watched the pair go before turning to Marinette, her expression softening.

“Are you all right?”

Marinette nodded. “I-I’m okay.” She was still trying to process what just occurred. No one in recent memory had the guts to stand up to Chloe in that manner. Most confrontations with the mayor’s daughter ended in tears, frustration, or simmering rage. Her defender on the other hand not only got Chloe to back down, but managed to completely draw the ire away from her original intended mark.

The girl kneeled down to her level. Marinette studied her carefully. She had a calm yet steady demeanor, with deep brown eyes that exuded warmth. Marinette wondered if the girl dealt with these sorts of conflicts often. She certainly seemed experienced in facing a bully like Chloe. Perhaps she too was once a victim of one.

“That Chloe has no idea what she’s talking about,” the girl said gently, “You're not worthless or a loser. She puts people down to make herself feel better. You know that, right?

“Of course,” Marinette stammered with a little laugh. “That's Chloe acting like her usual self as expected.”

The girl frowned a bit, her brows knitted together. “Has she always treated you like that?”

“Yeah, but not just me. She acts that way with pretty much everyone. Don't worry, we're used to it.”

“I see...” Her fingers delicately brushed the surface of the opened sketchpad. “Did you draw these? They're beautiful.”

“Y-yeah, thanks.”

“You have a real talent for fashion you know. I believe you’re going be a great designer someday.”

Marinette felt her cheeks redden slightly. “Really? You think so?”

“I’m positive.” She closed and handed the sketchbook back, her dark eyes twinkling like they held some mysterious secret.

“My name’s Yasmin.” The edge of her lips curved upwards into a smile. “But you can call me Yaz.”

“I'm Marinette. Thanks for helping me out back there.”

“Anytime.” She joined her in gathering up the scattered textbooks, then helped her up. “Do you want me to walk you home? I can carry these books for you if you like. They're not too heavy for me.”

Marinette felt a smile grow on her face to match Yaz’s. “Uh, sure!” She pointed to the direction of the patisserie. “It’s that way.”

She hoped Yaz was in no hurry to go somewhere. Papa should hopefully have a fresh batch of cookies straight out of the oven that they could share together.

As they walked side by side towards the bakery, Marinette felt her heart lighten for the first time in a long while.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Balance on the Head of a Pin

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Loki Odinson x OFC  |  Word Count: 5608 Warnings: none

Lauren twisted her fingers together, her stomach a mess of churning acid kicked up by the wings of the butterflies dancing in her belly. She hated being on stage. It brought back memories of pageants and recitals when she hadn’t won or been good enough. When her mother’s presence had caused her fingers to fumble or her feet to trip.

Sweat broke out along her spine. Nausea took over for the butterflies, and she wondered if she’d be sick when the presence at her back, cool like an ocean breeze pressed against her. She could see Loki just past the curtain, green bright and shining in his eyes as the spectre behind her wrapped her in arms of air.

He’d returned her phantom lover to her to offer comfort while he had to be down there in the overly large crowd, and it made her smile, his constant care and attentiveness.

Bucky stood on one side of him, Steve to the other. Thor had collected her grandmother and the boy Lauren had yet to meet and taken them away to sit with Pepper and Tony. Even now she could hear the peels of laughter from her grandmother as they floated to her from across the lawn. Evidently, Ellie was having a great time. Unlike Lauren.

She closed her eyes, leaned into the cold embrace, and breathed out the anxiety. Soon it would be all over. She could get off this stage and stop feeling like some prize pumpkin everyone had come to gawk at.

“Lu?”

She opened her eyes and offered Sadie a wan smile. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry to put you through this.” The brunette bit her lip. “It’s just… what with your friends and all, the opportunity was too good to pass up and…”

Worry coated the woman’s face, and Lauren swiftly reached for her hands. “It’s okay, Sadie. I understand.”

She squeezed Lauren’s fingers. “I know how much you hate this. You’re first. Loki made me promise.”

Lauren threw a glance his way and offered him a sweet smile. “He’s always lookin’ out for me.”

“That man adores you. It would be sickenin’ if it weren’t so sweet,” Sadie teased before giving her a final squeeze and hurrying away.

A gaggle of giggling women tramped their way up the stairs at the back of the stage, drawing Lauren’s attention. Most looked at her curiously, likely wondering what twist of fate had thrust her into the company of people like the Avengers. When three of them broke from the others to saunter their way over, Lauren did her best to retain her sigh of resignation.

“Lauren,” Lisset simpered in her high, childlike voice.

Lauren pasted on a smile. “Barb. Missy. Lisset. How nice to see you again.”

The three women had been a clique for as long as Lauren had known them. While Marabeth and her group of cronies had been the Queen bee and her court, her sister had been older than Lauren by a few years. Lisset and her entourage were the same age as Lauren, and when Marabeth had left the school, these three were quick to take over as the big dogs in their small playground.

Lisset had been the quintessential cheerleader; team Captain of course. She’d dated the Quarterback, Tommy Diffler, married him shortly after they’d graduated, had his three children, and when she found him with his secretary bent over his desk, she’d taken him for everything he was worth in the divorce and now lived in his house… without him.  

Year after year Lisset’s basket had been the biggest draw of the fair. Everyone raved over her famous Cherry Jubilee Pie, and the bidding was often fierce for the “honour” of picnicking with the PTA princess. Add in the fact she was ridiculously beautiful, had legs for days, and was lusted after by every male with a pulse between the ages of twelve and a hundred, and Lauren used to feel frumpy just being in the same room.

Today, however, the pinched look on her face said Lisset was well aware of just what was about to occur. For the first time in years, she was not the main attraction.

“How are your little ones?” Lauren asked politely.

“Not so little anymore.” She smiled sharply. “Still single?”

“Engaged, actually, but I’m sure y’all already know that seein’ as how the Mayor made such a fuss this mornin’.” Unlike with her sister, Lauren had never had an issue standing up to Lisset and her crew of hags.

“Right,” Barb chimed in, her smile mean. “To the one who destroyed half of New York.”

Lauren turned her head and gave the woman the smile she’d picked up from Loki. “Barb, sweety. You’re gonna want to be real careful what y’all say about a Prince of Asgard and an Avenger. Kipling Scott already got an earful from Captain Rogers. And Quinn found out just how fast Thor will come to his defence only yesterday.”

To Lauren’s surprise, Missy stepped forward, her smile far kinder than either of her friends. “You look so good, Lauren. New York seems to agree with you.”

“Thanks, Missy.” She smiled and took the woman’s offered hand. “I do love the city.”

“My that is quite the necklace,” Missy continued as Lisset and Barb looked on. “A gift from your beau, no doubt.”

The pinched lips of Lisset made Lauren grin a little wider. “He does have a tendency to spoil me. Asgardians are anythin’ but subtle.”

A microphone crackled in the background, announcing the start of Sadie’s auction.

“Good luck today, Lauren,” Missy said as she turned away. “I hope you have a pleasant lunch.”

“Yes. It would be a shame if your… fiancé couldn’t claim your basket,” Lisset muttered as she walked away. “C’mon, Missy!”

“She’s a bit put out, knowin’ it’s you everyone’s here for. You’re gonna make Sadie quite some money,” Missy whispered, gave a wink, and hurried off, the skirt of her pink dress flicking around her calves. 

Watching them go, Lauren felt the phantom arms tighten ever so gently and glanced toward Loki. He arched a brow curiously.

“Maybe one of the three actually grew up some since high school,” Lauren murmured, knowing he would hear her. 

A mischievous smirk curled his lips.

“Just what are y’all up to?” she asked him, but he only gave a minute shrug.

Sadie’s voice kept her from asking any more questions of the god with the superpowered hearing. “Hey, y’all! How’s everyone enjoyin’ this here fine Fourth so far?” Loud cheering erupted and made Sadie giggle.

It made the butterflies in Lauren’s belly return with a vengeance.

“That’s so great! I want to thank y’all for comin’ out to support our foundation. We all know it’s been a tough few years for folk, but your continued generosity and support is appreciated.” More cheering and polite applause sounded, and Sadie dropped a little curtsey. “Too kind, all of y’all.” She waited for the noise to die down before beginning again. “Now, I know most of you are here for a reason other than supportin’ the foundation what with the Avengers in town!” Her voice was drowned out for the fourth time, and she held up her hand for silence. “Had I known a might earlier, I would have done my best to get a couple of these fine gentlemen up on stage. Or perhaps Miss Romanoff or Miss Potts, but as it is, I was able to stron’ arm my very best friend into helpin’ out. While I can’t guarantee y’all will get a chance to eat with one of her friends, I can at the very least give y’all an opportunity to try. With our first basket up for auction, Lauren Annandale!”

Sadie turned her way with an outstretched hand, and Lauren forced her legs to work, taking her out of the phantom arms as she forced a smile. Walking toward the woman was an act of will, and when Marcus appeared with her basket, she gratefully accepted his arm.

“I know how hard this is for you, Lu. You’re a saint for givin’ into Sadie, and I’m sorry about Kip,” Marcus whispered in her ear.

“S’okay. Just let me cling, and we’ll call it even,” she whispered back.

“Most of y’all don’t know it, but our Lauren is quite the fine cook, ain’t that right, Lu?” Sadie asked, grinning at her.

Lauren blushed. “If you say so, Sadie.”

“I say so!” shouted Bucky, making the people nearest him chuckle.

“Shush your yap, James,” Lauren grumbled, causing more laughter to erupt.

Sadie was practically bursting with excitement at how things were ramping up, Lauren could see it in the gleam of her eyes. “So, Lu? What’s on offer for these fine folk?”

Lauren forced her smile not to waver and leaned towards the mic. “The usual picnic fare. Fried chicken, potato salad, a few finger foods, a Hummin’bird Cake for dessert, and Loki was kind enough to include a fine bottle of Asgardian wine.”

That caused a stir to ripple through the crowd. Lauren took note of Kipling standing at the opposite corner of the stage, away from Loki. Bill Dalton lurked with Maryann closer to the middle. The Mayor was off to the side, and a few other people she could just tell were itching for the bidding to start scattered throughout the crowd. 

But when she looked at Loki, he remained relaxed, confident, and composed, waiting only a few feet away. His eyes held a wealth of appreciation and understanding, helping her retain her nerves for these next few minutes.

“Ooh! Sounds delicious!” Sadie giggled and turned back to the crowd. “Don’t it folks? Who’s got an openin’ bid for me? Remember now, it’s for a terrific cause! So if you can open those wallets, open ‘em wide!”

“Three hundred dollars.”

Lauren tried not to blanch when Bill Dalton got things underway.

“Four.”

Jasper Rubin. It didn’t surprise her, but it wasn’t welcome.

“Five!” shouted the Mayor.

“Six!”

“Seven!”

“Seven fifty!”

“Eight!”

The bidding went so fast, Lauren was hard pressed to keep up.

“Oh, come on!” Tony shouted from the back of the crowd. “I’ve had Asgardian wine. Make it worth her while, people. Five thousand dollars!”

Lauren grabbed hold of Sadie’s mic. “Tony Stark! Sit your behind down!”

Everyone laughed when Tony pouted.

“We’ve got five thousand, do I hear another bid?” Sadie called out once she stopped laughing.

“Ten thousand.”

Everyone gasped and looked at Kipling. This time, Lauren knew she’d gone white. What the hell was he playing at? Hard eyes and a face which gave nothing away stared back at her.

“Fifteen thousand.”

Her head snapped around to stare wide-eyed at Davis Montgomery. Where the hell had he come from?

“Twenty thousand!” Tony barked.

“Anthony Stark! I will so quit!” Lauren yelled without the microphone.

“No you won’t!” he bellowed his grin wide.

“Twenty-five thousand!” Kipling barked.

He was going to get himself killed. Already Bucky and Steve were eyeing him like a bug needing to be squashed. And if they didn’t squash him, Loki would. The flash of sharp green from behind his narrowed eyes was full of annoyance.

“Thirty!” Bill Dalton cried, earning a sharp smack from his wife.

“Y’all never paid that kind of money for one of my baskets!” Maryann shrieked.

“Thirty-five thousand,” Davis groundout.

Spots danced in Lauren’s vision. This was getting out of hand. The most anyone had ever sold a basket for was five thousand dollars. Thirty-five thousand was outrageous!

“Forty thousand,” Kipling countered.

Lauren had no idea what he was playing at. What could he possibly want from her that he was willing to face not only Loki’s wrath but the entire team’s anger?

“Fifty thousand.”

“Bucky!” she gasped. Her neck cracked when she whipped her head down to glare at the smirking face.

“What?” He shrugged. “Not like I need it, doll. Might as well put it to good use.”

Before she could scold him for spending his money on something so frivolous as a picnic basket worth at most thirty dollars, the voice she’d been waiting for rippled cool and calm over the crowd.

“Five hundred thousand dollars.”

Lauren damn near choked on air she inhaled so hard.

***

As she looked about to faint, Loki made his way to the front of the stage where he walked casually up the stairs to take his love from the arm of Marcus, while Lauren stared at him in horror. “Breathe, pet,” he whispered against her cheek,  pressing a kiss there, staking his claim. “And before someone can be foolish enough to counter my offer,” he cast a warning glare toward Scott and the rest of the bidders, “I shall sweeten the deal, Sadie dear.”

“Oh? Do tell?”

The woman appeared fit to burst she was so excited. “Just what price would you put on my assistance with your… Haunted House?”

Sadie’s jaw dropped, as did her husbands. “That would be… it would… priceless!” she finally gasped.

“Consider it included.”

“Sold!” Marcus barked, handing over the basket.

“Excellent. The funds will be transferred once I have your information.” He gave the pair of them a nod as he led Lauren from the stage with nothing but shocked faces all around. “Shall we dine with your Gran, darling?” he asked, heading that way when Lauren’s voice remained absent.

As he led her through the sea of people parting before him, Barnes fell in on one side, Rogers the other, and he assisted his evidently mute wife to a space beneath the trees where her gleeful Gran sat.

“You… you… you…” Lauren stuttered.

“Yes, dear?” he chuckled as he magicked a blanket and seated her on it. Behind them, Sadie had regained her faculties enough to call up the next basket for auction and continue on, her voice and that of the crowd becoming a pleasing drone.

Lauren slapped weakly at his chest, her knees buckled, and he lowered her to sit beside her Gran. “Why would you… that was too much… how could you spend… what the hell, Loki!?” she finally barked when her senses returned. She closed her hands in his shirt and jerked him down until they were nose to nose. “Why would you ever spend that kind of money on me!?”

“Darling,” he growled, biting her tempting pout. “I would spend ten times that amount if it were necessary.”

“But… all your money on somethin’ so trivial?”

His brow arched with his amusement. “Oh, my heart. That is hardly all my money. Your Earthly currency had been accumulating nicely since I diversified my stock portfolio.”

“Huh?” She blinked up at him.

“You didn’t think all I did was watch daytime television, did you?” he grinned.

Her head fell to his shoulder, and a loud groan could be heard by all.

Chuckling, Loki settled at her side and drew the bottle of wine from the basket. Pepper’s smirk when she caught his eye was wicked, but he only smiled back. She had been the one to pique his interest in certain things and then assist him in his choices when he’d asked her opinion.

“Have a drink, love. You’ll feel better,” he offered, removing the cork from the bottle and pouring her a glass.

“While not the battles we are used to, brother, this was certainly an entertaining one,” Thor snickered.

“What the heck were you thinkin’, Tony? Jumpin’ the bid to five thousand?”Lauren huffed.

Stark rolled his eyes. “Oh, please! I was just weeding out the competition for the horned wonder.”

“Besides,” chuckled Ellie, her eyes full of laughter. “It all goes to a worthy cause. Spread the wealth! Live a little. Your youn’ man kept his word, and here you sit. Stop fussin’ at him, child!”

Lauren shook her head and began pulling containers from within the basket, adding them to the ones already set out. “I know it was a good cause, but still. Half a million dollars!”

Loki wrapped his fingers around the back of Lauren’s neck and drew her toward him. “Like I said, my love. I would have paid ten times as much. More even, to have you.”

Big jade eyes stared up at him, disbelief still filling their depths. “Foolish, but I’m sure Sadie will appreciate it.”

Loki frowned and cupped her cheek when she tried to pull away. Aware of the audience they had, he ignored each and every one to hold her close, lay a tender kiss upon her lips, and murmur, “There is nothing I would not give to have you with me. Little I would not sacrifice to keep you there. And no one would ever stop me from coming for you.”

“Loki,” she sighed and melted into him.

“You are worth every penny, every dime, and every ounce of gold in Asgard to me,” he whispered, nuzzling against her cheek.

“Stop with the sap, already,” Stark grumbled, but he was grinning when Loki looked up to find them all smirking at them in some way, shape, or form.  

“Shall we eat?” Loki asked, by way of a subject change and watched them all dig in.        

No one mentioned the other bidders, nor whatever Kipling Scott and Davis Montgomery had been up to trying to win Lauren’s basket.

***

Hours later, when the day was growing languid in the heat of the hot July sun, Loki again found himself settled beneath the branches of a stately Ash tree. Lauren was curled against his chest, Benny his thigh, and Sara was wedged in what little space remained between his hip and Lauren’s, while Usun sprawled on his side at Loki’s feet.

Both children were fast asleep. Lauren had dozed off a while ago. His Frost Giant nature a boon for once when the heat had made the children cranky. Now, everyone was napping after the excitement of the day.

More games had been played and won. Stark had excelled at the darts game where he destroyed balloons to win the lovely Pepper a smart green toad in a top hat.

Natasha had sauntered up to a man who swore he could guess anyone's weight, but when he’d leered at the redhead, she’d turned around and pointed at Bucky. The sergeant, currently wearing a shirt with long sleeves and a glove on his left hand, had crossed his arms and smirked at the man. The owner of the game had gaped for a moment but shrugged and given an answer which, had Bucky been an ordinary man, would have been relatively close. However, given his supersoldier nature, the excessive amount of muscle he carried, and the vibranium arm, and the man was so far off, Natasha had her pick of whichever animal she wished.

A purple hippo had joined Sara’s pony in the little girl’s arms.

Then, Thor had taken it upon himself to try his hand at the strongman contest. A hammer against a lever to raise a stone and ring a bell. Lauren had been the one to grab Thor’s arm when the hammer he’d tried to use was Mjolnir. He’d won rather soundly, nearly breaking the game anyway, adding a black and white puppy to Benny’s substantial menagerie.

The town had tried to coerce the Captain into judging the Miss Greenville contest, but he had declined, stating it was against policy for him to be involved in such things. Natasha had quietly coughed bullshit, but no one had noticed besides Loki who’d thrown her a small smirk.

The others had wandered off to find drinks and snacks, the lovely Ellie and young Svengil choosing to return to her home as she was plum tuckered out, but the children who were also tired and overly hot had been moments away from a full meltdown when Lauren had looked at him with eyes full of pleading. He’d swept Benny up in one arm, Sara the other, and headed off to find a worthwhile place to rest.

Both children had burrowed closer when the coolness of his body had registered, Sara going so far as to giggle and bury her face in his neck. He magicked a quick blanket, a few pillows, and settled the bunch of them quickly. Lauren had dropped down with them with a relieved sigh and a little shudder when she came in contact with his cold skin as well.

She’d murmured something about the barbeque and dance starting up in an hour or so, and how she’d just shut her eyes for a moment. A moment which had now lasted long enough for each of the team to wander by and smirk at him.

Currently, Thor was crouched down grinning at him and scratching Usun’s belly.  “Natalia is threatening to post the image she took of “Loki’s little family” on the Instagram thing. Whatever that means.”

Loki rolled his eyes and stroked Lauren’s hand, resting on his chest while threading the fingers of his opposite hand through Benny’s hair. “Like it matters.”

Thor settled to his hip, then sprawled out in the grass. “Perhaps she should.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Maybe it is time the world sees a different side of you. The side of you I remember growing up.”

Arching a brow, Loki gave him a condescending glare. “Because that would change popular opinion so drastically.”

Thor shrugged. “You never know. A softer side of the God of Mischief? It might go a long way.”

“You are mistaken.” It was highly unlikely anyone’s opinion of him would be adjusted due to a photograph of him with Lauren and the children. It may, in fact, only cause unrest among the people. The... butcher of New York living a happy life when so many others... weren’t.

“I don’t know. You make a rather adorable family.” Thor grinned broadly. “Let me know when I can bless the mother-to-be.”

“The mother-to-be is in no rush. Neither am I,” Loki huffed, rubbing the silky strands of Benny’s hair.

“You could have fooled me.”

His hand stilled in Benny’s hair as he lifted his eyes to Thor’s. “I will admit to finding this… ready-made family… pleasing.”

Thor huffed out a chuckle. “You can dance around the truth all you like, but I know you, brother. God of Mischief, God of Lies. What about the God of Revelry? Or has that part of you disappeared over these last harsh years?”

“You know nothing,” Loki scoffed.

“I remember well the man who used to invent games for the children who followed him in the streets. Or who sat and told tales of adventure and wicked imagination.”

“I seem to recall you and the others mocking me for my foolishness.”

Thor’s amusement vanished. “I was young, brother, and quite foolish myself. I did you a disservice all those years ago. My view of things was narrow and nearsighted. I was wrong. Our differences are what makes us unique, strong, and the Gods we are meant to be for our people. I was blind to this, and I am sorry for it.”

“Not all of us are built to be Odin,” Loki murmured.

“No. Not even I am built to be Odin,” Thor agreed.

Nodding slowly, Loki tilted his head to rub his cheek gently on Lauren’s hair. “One day, brother, I shall bring you such news, and you can extend your blessing if Lauren agrees.”

“And why wouldn’t she?” he sputtered.

“For one, you most vigorously kissed her best friend in front of her husband!”

“Bah! How else am I to bless such a gorgeous woman?” Thor smirked.

Loki scowled. “You may keep your lips to yourself when it comes to my wife, Thor.”

“So territorial. It has only been a day.”

“A day millennium in the making. Do not make me stab you, brother. I will. King of Asgard or not.”

“What are y’all fightin’ about now?” Lauren sighed, her lashes fluttering open as she lifted her head from his chest.

“Nothing important, my sweet. Thor is simply being obstinate. As per usual.”

“Your husband is most territorial,” Thor grumbled.

Lauren’s smile was full but sleepy yet when she turned it on Thor. “He is, isn’t he?”

Musicians began to tune their instruments not far away. Setting up on the stage Lauren had walked a few hours ago and drew her attention.

“Looks like things are gettin’ started,” Lauren said, sitting up to have a look around. A smile nearly bigger than she was split her lips when she caught sight of someone through the crowd. “Oh! He did it!”

Loki looked away and chuckled, finding the weathered visage of Teddy leading an equally weathered woman - the Miss Swan of his past conversation with Lauren - around on his arm. “It appears he took your advice, darling.”

“Good. Those two have been dancin’ around each other for as long as I can remember,” Lauren snickered. “And you, Thor? You ready to eat some of the best barbeque you’ve ever tasted?”

“Little sister, I am always ready to eat,” Thor chuckled.

She opened her mouth to say more, only to have all the blood rush from her face. “What…?”

Across the way, Loki spied the smug visage of Marabeth striding toward them, but it was Agent Hill who walked along at her side which caused a tremor of concern to skate Loki’s spine. Marabeth looked far too pleased with herself, and it gave him pause.

The children stirred, waking in time to witness the arrival of their mother. “Get up. We’re leavin’.”

“Mama?” whispered Sara.

“Maria?” Lauren asked Agent Hill in confusion.

“I’m sorry, Lauren. Samuel Avirett has turned state’s evidence. He’s willing to testify in the case against the Bianci’s. He and his entire family have to be put in witness protection.”

Maria’s face was pinched hard, and Loki could tell she was not at all pleased by this turn of events.

“Yes, Lauren. Thanks to you and your meddlin’, Samuel is now goin’ to be a wanted man, and after I was finally told about what almost happened to my children last night, it was for our own good and protection we go into hiddin’. Which means no contact with our family until after the trial. It could be years until that happens.”

Horror filled her, Loki could feel it crawl through his veins like acid, and Lauren whimpered, “You’re takin’ the babies?”

“Oh, for Christ sake, Lauren! They ain’t babies and their not yours to cry over!” She reached for Benny only to have Usun snap at her. “And you can keep that filthy mongrel!”

“No!” Benny cried, lunging to wrap his arms around Usun. “He’s mine, mama! He’s mine!”

“Agent Hill,” Thor got swiftly to his feet, followed only slightly slower by Loki as he helped Lauren to hers. “The hound is the children’s protector. Surely SHIELD can make concessions for his inclusion.”

“Of course they can,” Maria agreed without a qualm.

“I don’t want him!” Marabeth shrilled.

“Too bad,” Loki snarled, causing her to take a step back. “The hound has been gifted. He cannot be returned. No one will lay a finger on the children as long as he lives!”

“Please,” Lauren whispered, staring at her sister. “Please don’t take them away!”

Marabeth smiled, and it was nasty. “Can’t be helped. The Bianci’s will use them against Samuel if they can. What? You expect me to abandon my children? What kind of mother do you think I am, Lauren?”

“Maria?” Lauren turned her focus back to Fury’s right-hand woman.

Hill only shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lauren. Once Avirett offered to testify… it was out of my hands.”

“You have them all in custody?” Loki snapped, and Hill nodded. “Then what is the point? Jail them! Let this be done. Is not there enough evidence to see this finished without Avirett’s testimony?”

“Clearly, you know little of our judicial system,” Marabeth sneered.

“I will follow through on my promise, woman!” Loki hissed, stepping forward. “Leave the children with us. Lauren can see to them, and I can protect them. No one could do a better job.”

Marabeth gasped and brought a hand to her chest. “How dare you, sir! Insinuatin’ I would leave my children behind in the arms of some… stranger?”

Tears had begun to roll down Lauren’s cheeks. “Since when am I a stranger? Please, Marabeth! They’ll be safe and happy!”

She reached out to her sister who slapped her hands away. “No! They go with us. Their actual parents.”

“Why are you doin’ this?” Lauren pleaded, both children clinging to her legs.

“Because,” Marabeth sneered. “I can.”

Loki saw red, but a small hand slipped into his, and he looked down to find Sara staring up at him in fear. “Oh, my precious dove.” Kneeling swiftly, he scooped her up and held her tightly to him.

“You promised!” she whispered. “You promised you’d never go away!”

“I’m not, precious. I won’t.”

“Come along, Sara! We have to pack your things and be gone.” Marabeth snapped out her hand.

He was a moment away from spiriting the children to Asgard when Lauren’s hand came down on his shoulder. Her eyes pleaded with him to hold his temper, to keep calm while she did her best to hold herself together.

“It’s… it’s okay, peaches.” She knelt down with him and drew Benny in. “You two have to go on a little trip with the nice people from SHIELD, but you’ll be safe with Usun.” Lauren was hanging on by a thread, but she pasted on a smile and cupped Sara’s cheeks when the girl sobbed. “Now, now, sugar cube. None of that. It’s only for a little while.” She turned to Benny and hugged the little boy to her when he broke down in tears.

“Sara, darling,” Loki whispered, keeping his voice purposefully soft so it remained only between them and brushed her hair from her face. “I need you to listen to me, little dove.”

She nodded, her ocean eyes drowning in tears.

“I’m going to give you something very special. It is just for you, and you must never take it off. Do you promise?”

“Yes… Loki.”

“Excellent,” he rushed, knowing the heinous woman could snatch them away at any moment. He produced the pendant out of thin air, much like he had Lauren’s, and placed it around her neck. Small and discrete, the green stone was wrapped by a golden serpent and hung on a delicate but unbreakable chain. “This is a special necklace. If you are ever scared, you wrap your fist around it and call to me. I will come for you wherever you are. Do you understand?”

She nodded solemnly. “You promise?”

“With everything I am, darling, but this is for emergencies only, my little dove. For dire times. It must not be used on a whim, alright?” he cautioned. She was brilliant little Sara, and he trusted her to use it wisely.

“I love you, Loki,” she whispered, breaking his heart as she threw her arms around his neck.

Rising with her, he handed the new stuffed toys to Hill. “Do not endanger these children, Maria.”

“We’ll keep them safe, Loki,” she managed to say after finding her voice, his actions counter to what people knew of him. “I promise.”

“You’d better.” There was no room for error in his voice.

The impatience of Marabeth was growing, evident in the tapping foot and crossed arms. “We haven’t got forever!” she huffed.

“We have as long as I say!” Maria barked, glaring at Marabeth.

Placing a kiss on Sara’s hair, he set her down and Lauren swept her up. Benny looked up at him, and Loki picked him up to hold close and whispered in his ear. “You look after your sister and trust Usun. He’ll protect you both.”

“I will,” the boy whispered back, tears dripping off his chin.

“It won’t be forever,” Loki promised. “You’re a good boy, Benny. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

“Do we have to go?” he whispered, tearing a hole in Loki’s heart he wasn’t sure would ever heal.

“I’m afraid so, young Ben.” He hugged the boy a little tighter, then handed him to Hill before he changed his mind and simply took them both. It would be exceptionally hard to convince people he hadn’t kidnapped two young children if there were witnesses.

“I’ll miss you,” Sara whispered, burying her fingers in Usun’s coat.

“We ain’t takin’ that dog, Sara!” Marabeth barked.

“Yes, we are,” Maria stated.

“It would not matter if you left him behind. He is a dyrehund. He could find them across oceans if such was required. He is their guardian from all who would harm them. You can not get rid of him so accept it, woman!” Thor bellowed, clearly having had enough. “Agent Hill. Usun will require fresh meat. I trust whatever agents you will have guarding this family will see to his proper nutrition as well?”

“I will make sure they know, Thor.” Maria nodded. “Lauren…”

Lauren only turned her face into Loki’s shoulder.

“Just go,” Loki murmured, wrapping his arms around his destroyed wife.

Maria carried Benny away, Sara sticking to her side as far from Marabeth as possible. Marabeth threw a triumphant smirk over her shoulder, Lauren’s pain all she could hope for.

He’d never wanted to kill someone so badly in his entire life.

Only once the children were away did Lauren let the heart-rending sob explode from her throat. Her knees gave out and she collapsed into Loki’s chest.

Next Chapter

[xnadercrownboiofnorhb]

Of Knights and Dragons: Chapter Two, Compromise

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The second chapter in my nameless FE anthology.

As always, thank you for taking the time to read this! I hope you enjoy it!

Much Love 

Compromise (Part Two)

            Perfection. The delicate porcelain was truly a sight to behold, a picturesque display of colorful, dainty pastries upon pastel china. Accompanied by the fragrant floral aroma of lavender tea gently emitting from the plump kettle in the center of the silver serving tray. Sparkling silverware thoughtfully arranged to gently rest on top of elegant doilies accented with carefully sprinkled lavender buds. Simply beautiful.

            “Jakob you have absolutely outdone yourself.” The handsome young butler mused to himself after finally creating an ensemble that properly captured the masterpiece he envisioned. It was not that his other his other creations weren’t magnificent, no, Jakob knew everything he poured himself into never fell short of phenomenal. However, this arrangement needed to be particularly perfect.

            Jakob served the fair Nohrian Princess, Lady Corrin, for the vast majority of his life. He committed each of her preferences, habits, and routines to memory. As Corrin’s personal manservant, tending to her needs, down to the most minute detail, was expected of him. A requirement he prided himself in. Consequently, Jakob was the first to notice that something was wrong.

The change was subtle, it always was. Corrin had a habit of masking her troubles, locking her grief within herself and presenting her outward image with a smile. She was a compassionate liege and she treated her retainers as friends, as equals. She valued them. She felt their service to her, to Nohrian royalty, was demanding enough without her piling her personal burdens upon them.

Yet Jakob could see right through her polite facade. He saw the quiver in the small corners of her faltering smile, the absent laughter she offered to others in well-intentioned courtesy, felt the vacancy within her distant stare as her focus floated off to a distant place. He initially assumed it was due to the ongoing war. The war had taken a toll on everyone. This melancholy was different. It stalked his sweet-tempered master like a shadow and lingered as an uninvited guest. What Jakob found so strange about Corrin’s apparent distress was how sudden it was.

Try as he may to pinpoint a particular event or interaction that may have caused this degradation in her happiness, and oh did he try, he simply couldn’t place it. There was no evidence to be found in his examinations of the troops and nobility alike. No fruitful information spreading through the grapevine of the castle or mobile infantry camps. It was so frustrating for Jakob to watch Corrin interact with others so compassionately,all the while her own aching so invisible to all of them. Dare he bring up the matter with his liege directly, it was always the same: I am perfectly fine, Jakob. Truly.

Composing himself and collecting the shining tray in his hands with his typical impeccable posture, Jakob hummed happily to himself as he turned to leave the servants quarters. He shared in her distress in his own way; Corrin was, quite literally, his world. An extension of himself, his reason for facing each day with a sense of purpose. Watching her held captive by this concealed grief, unable to relieve her of it... Jakob felt helpless. He lovingly observed the precious display in his hands and felt reassurance.  He may not be capable of easing the sadness that haunted his esteemed Lady, as much as it pained him, but he would do everything within his power to bring her a little happiness.

Corrin hadn’t been sleeping well lately. She stood before the vanity mirror in her simple lounging clothes, examining the dark, puffy crescents laying below her tired eyes. Her short, dark hair was tousled, lazily held back by a lone black band. For a Nohrian princess, she certainly didn’t look the part. A basic white blouse with a single waterfall of ruffles pouring down from the throat, baggy sleeves shoved up to the elbows, all tucked into high-waisted brown trousers. Oh her siblings would keel over seeing her in this state. Nohrian royalty and their fascination with exuberant presentation. With all of the traveling she had been doing, she didn’t have much for extravagant outfits. With her armor in with the smithy for reinforcement, and her torn dueling attire being repaired in the hands of Flora… oh that was fun to try to explain, this attire was all she had just short of her nightgown.

She looked much older, hell, she felt much older than she was these days. The strain of this violent war had added half a decade onto all of the lives it affected. Suffocating in that isolated tower all of her childhood and most of her adolescent years, Corrin remembered aching for a taste of freedom. She would stare out from the high barred windows of her bedroom and dream of getting lost in golden wheat fields, traversing opalescent mountains, and experiencing the salty bite of the sea. Yet when the time came and she was finally released from that dark cage, she was greeted with only injustice, destruction, and war.

Ever the optimist, she found reasons to persevere. The people she served alongside brought her such happiness and hope. So many colorful personalities, each with their own compelling stories and experiences. She was always eager to listen, alway willing to extend a helping hand. Anything to nurture what hope remained in the grave reality they endured.

However important each unit was to her, she especially revered her retainers. Those vigilant few who were always there for her. Even beneath the tyrannical rule of King Garon, these servants always found methods within their stations to make her feel less alone. That loneliness was something she knew very intimately, it was nearly as much a part of her as her skin or her eye color. Had it not been for Jakob, Felicia, Flora, and… and…

Corrin’s exhausted eyes fell to the small scabs that dotted her forearms and she felt an intense wave of embarrassment weigh her down. The sour burn of anxiety had taken up residency in the pit of her stomach since that damned stint in the courtyard nearly a week ago. While most of the abrasions had healed up nicely, the tenderness of her skin served as a nagging reminder of her foolishness. Her selfish behavior had compromised the relationship she held most dear to her heart. She had only seen Gunter once since that evening, he was running a group of troops through a series of demanding drills one early morning. He seemed unchanged, and that bothered her. Commanding in his classical stern, unfeeling way. He didn’t seem to notice her that day and even if he did, he showed no indication. Despite her hurt, Corrin felt that it was for the best. For the first time she was grateful for the chaotic state of the kingdom that drove the two in opposite directions.

Still, Corrin stepped away from the vanity and leaned against her regal oak bedpost with a heavy heart. It was agony to always have him just beyond her fingertips, but that pain was nothing compared to the anguish of his indifferent absence. Driven by her fantasies, she had taken a risk and reached for him. She reached out and finally made contact, but she was reckless and so she fell. In her carelessness she shattered something so fragile, cutting herself on the shards on the way down.   

Hot, fat tears formed in the corners of her eyes, a physical response she often denied herself for fear of weakness. She let them fall freely, warm wet streaks forging their way down her pale cheeks. Her tears were generous and plentiful, perhaps the result of her futile attempts to banish and conceal her misery deep down in the depths of her core. It was all spilling over now, pouring out of her seams. Saturated in her raw emotion, she was oblivious to the gentle footsteps approaching her.

“My Lady...”

Corrin shrank into herself, her eyes timidly seeking a path to the source of the tender voice. How could she let someone find her in such a state? Wiping her eyes she squinted at the figure before her. She did not immediately recognize the man outside of his signature armor.

“I would have knocked, but…”

Gunter stood before her, his kind eyes shining with concern. It was simply uncanny to see him in something other than his battle dress or combat fatigues. Instead, he was adorned in embellished uniform quite similar to that of any other castle servant. He exuded an approachable warmth in this humble, unobstructed form. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and he sacrificed none of his bulk in the absence of chainmail or armor. He looked so refined, so handsome.

“What are you doing here?” Corrin squawked at him, the words expelled from her mouth faster than she could process them and her broken voice led her to sound much more abrasive than intended, but the Knight before her was unphased.

“I have taken time to reflect and have decided we need to talk.” He spoke slowly and softly, the way he always did when she required his reassurance. He caught Corrin in a turbulent whirlwind of feeling. Before she could rationalize any mindful, appropriate reaction - she was overcome with irrational anger.

“I want you to leave.” An unconvincing lie, they both knew that. She couldn’t counteract the combustion of conflicting energies in her head, more tears fell from her eyes.

“Your majesty… I-” Gunter attempted to draw closer to her, offering his hands to her.

“Just go!” Corrin lashed against him, pushing him away. “Leave me, Goddammit!”

Gunter didn’t so much as flinch in the wake of her outburst.

“Corrin.” His voice was calm but firm as he stripped away the formal titles and addressed the young woman directly, cutting into her. He gently lifted her face and held it in his hands, collecting tears with his fingers.

She was shaking in his palms, her breathing fast and erratic. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes. He hushed her softly and drew her into his arms; her face pressed against the base of his neck. Corrin was in a state of shock in the wake of this otherworldly interaction. For even in his softest moments, this sort of physical tenderness was uncharacteristic of the brutal veteran Knight she thought she knew. It was effective though, as in a mere matter of seconds, Corrin remembered herself. Her breathing became slow and intentional. She could feel her heartbeat slow from its thunderous tyraid.

“Damn you...” Her quiet, fractured voice was muffled in the creases of the finely tailored vest adorning his sturdy frame. For the first time she could really feel him. Not the cold, rigid metal that always separated him from the rest of the world. Him. His body was warm, and when he moved back Corrin didn’t want to let go. Her reluctance was obvious as they parted.

“I need you to understand something.” Gunter spoke plainly, but there was a degree of reassurance in his voice that differentiated this tone from his typical apathetic way of speaking.

“Corrin. I care you. I care so deeply for you.” He lifted a hand to her cheek, coarse from years of labor and battle. It felt pleasant against the softness of her face.

“Then why did you leave?” Corrin asked. She knew the answer. She wasn’t sure if she truly wanted to hear what Gunter had to say next.

Despite her efforts, she couldn’t stop herself from admiring him as he internally mulled over his response. His face was a marvel to the Nohrian Princess; always finding something new to appreciate each time she looked at him. His features were strong and mature, a wide-set jaw with high, gaunt cheeks, and a sharp nose. A narrow scar ran in a diagonal cut across his face, splitting through the center of his left eyebrow, over the bridge of his nose, and down to the corner of his lips. Fine lines decorated his face a representation of his hard life in Nohrian servitude. There was a raw, masculine energy about him that few men possessed.

He watched her as her gaze fixed on to his lips he shifted with discomfort. He couldn’t allow his resolve to diminish any further, it was already compromised the moment her held Corrin in his arms. Biting at the line of his lower lip, Gunter finally spoke.

“These are uncertain times, Corrin. This war is barbaric and unforgiving.” He turned from her to face the towering arched window overlooking the bleak countryside surrounding the castle. “Nohr demands everything we have to offer should we ever wish to see peace return to this land.”

The stoic, towering Knight seemed to shrink ever so slightly as he cast his eyes to his hands. His fingers rubbing against his palms nervously as he carefully chose his next words, “We must be entirely free of distractions. We simply cannot allow personal desires to interfere with our obligations to this kingdom. This is no time for romance” His head lowered as an unexpected flush spread across his face, “regardless of how badly we may want it.”

It wasn’t Gunter himself speaking these words, but the disciplined, resolute persona he had carved out for himself over the years he spent clawing his way up the ranks of the Nohrian Army. Corrin could sense frailties in his delivery of his words, a resistance to his own logic. She knew he didn’t wish to share these words any more than she wanted to receive them. It was a matter of seeking out the flaws in his defenses and breaching the impenetrable walls he had carefully built around himself.

“I disagree, Gunter.” The tears had dried on her face as she prepared herself for the assault against his resolution. “These are uncertain times, and that’s all the more reason to pursue... this.” Corrin’s voice had regained its stability and she delivered each word with truth and confidence.

“Our days are unforeseeable, Gunter. If I am fated to perish in the heat of battle... I would prefer to do so having known the depths of your heart.”

Gunter was touched, but he was prepared. He came to her quarters picturing her rebuttals of youthful idealism. He came here expecting he would most likely have to leave her in heartache.

“Corrin, even if we weren’t at war…” Gunter turned to face her once more, looking into her eyes. Her gaze burned further into him than he had anticipated, but he continued on, “This could never be. As my liege, as a princess of Nohr, associating with me would bring you only shame and dishonor. Do you understand the disruption this would bring to your units? Think of your siblings… Of King Garon.”

“Gunter,” Corrin closed into him and brought her hands to the sides of his face, her thumbs affectionately tracing his cheeks. “I don’t care about status or the opinions of aristocrats. What has being a noble truly meant to me? When I was locked away from the rest of the world?”

“Corrin…” He could feel his guard slowly dissolving in her gentle hands. He so desperately ached for her to talk this sense into him. He needed her to take his hand and lead him away from his internalized code of honor.

“We wouldn’t have to disrupt anyone.” Her hands fell to take his, her thumbs tracing over his palms and fingers. “No one would need to know.”

Gunter swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, he knew engaging any further in this behavior would put both of them at risk. The thought of Corrin being reprimanded and punished for engaging in something so scandalous disturbed him. In addition, if he was going to court the princess, he would want to do so properly. He would like to take this slow, showering her with the respect and adoration she deserved. Yet, he couldn't ignore the risque excitement that accompanied the flirtation of a secret affair.

“We could make this work.” She whispered to him.

He had so many questions for her. Why? Why was she interested in him, in the presence of more youthful, appropriate suitors? When had she started to feel this way? What exactly were her feelings towards him? What did she hope to gain from this? What did this mean?

Amidst his anxiety, he knew one thing to be true; the kiss they had shared hidden in the courtyard. That kiss stirred a very powerful, very raw passion in Gunter that he long thought was dead and buried. Whatever these feelings were, they were real.

He decided against speaking at all and presented his submission to Corrin in the form of a soft, lingering kiss. Just as before, this harmonious connection released a humming warmth that spread throughout their bodies. Maybe this truly could work. Maybe this hidden romance could give him a genuine reason to look with hope towards the future.

Instinctively, Corrin fell back onto the soft velvet of her bed, pulling Gunter down upon her. His body hovered over hers, their faces bright with a blissful smiles. He brushed her hair away and traced along her face, his thumb stopping just below her bottom lip to guide her into a deep, fulfilling kiss.

All at once thunderous crash followed by the sound of shattering glass erupted from the far side of the room.

Startled, Corrin shot her face towards the open doorway of her quarters. There stood a traumatized Jakob, his mouth agape in shock. He didn’t so much as glance at the mess of porcelain shards and broken pastries strewn about the bedroom floor in a soggy, steaming heap. Some sort of indistinguishable cry of despair expelled from the back of the butler’s throat before he recklessly escaped the scene.

Gunter groaned, his face in his hands as he rolled over from Corrin. The two laid side by side in an uncomfortable silence. Both staring at the ceiling unable to find words that would, in any way, make this situation less dreadful.

Well, shit.

[rorywinslow]

here i’m, once again... bringing you my second child that i immediately took up because self restraint isn’t in my vocabulary. never was lbr. btw if anybody ever feels like ranting about a tv show i watch all kinds of shit and like... come to me, my sweet children. BUT ENOUGH TALK NOW.. lemme introduce: aurora “rory” winslow. 

[ classified ] : subject ( 6003 ), more commonly known as ( aurora ‘rory’ winslow). the ( female ) bears a striking resemblance to ( lily collins ). given the power of ( hydrokinesis) and have ( moderate ) control over it. the now ( twentysix) year old seems to be ( unsupportive ) of the experiment’s renewal. subject will be assessed again in seven days for any changes in how ( she ) has progressed. ( daisy / she/her / 20 / gmt ) 

up to the age of 8 aurora kathleen winslow lived the perfect life, the life any little girl could only dream of. she had a mom and a dad who both loved her more than anything and would do anything for her, they had money and they took their time to spend it with their daughter.

the fact that rory’s father was a senator and her mother a highly successful lawyer didn’t stop them from taking time out of work for their “princess”, as they’d liked calling her. she was the child they never thought they were going to be able to have, their miracle. while their lifes had always been semi public she still grew up very sheltered, her parents trying to give her the life both of them had dreamed of having. 

the only downside to all the love was the pressure. sure, they did mean very well and rory knew that but she was also very aware that greatness was expected of her. mediocracy was for the others, for people who didn’t have every possible option in life, who didn’t have all the doors held open for them.  

things changed when the discussion about the experiments taking place started. both of her parents agreed they weren’t going to give their daughter away to the government, even though her own father was instructed to advertise the measures. the longer things were going on the higher the pressure got on their family, the eyes of every parent who considered taking the step laying on her own parents. if they didn’t trust the government to take care of their beloved daughter, why should they? 

her father was too scared to actually risk rory being taken away but he couldn’t just keep her away from it all any longer anymore either. so he arranged something with one of the scientists who were going to conduct the tests. they were supposed to make sure that rory would fail, that she would be declared unfitting for the cause. there was no reason to leave things up to fate when you could just as well take things into your own hands. so one day she was brought to one of the tests and something went terribly wrong when instead of being declared a miss her test results actually showed her to be highly compatible. in lights of the test results her parents weren’t able to back out anymore, things had already gone public and it was too late now. Rory was taken to the facillities.

even before she actually got there rory knew she was going to hate it. she was going to hate any place that wasn’t her home, any place that was that far away from the loving embrace of her parents. she knew they hadn’t wanted to let her go, knew that even though he said otherwise publicly her father didn’t trust whatever was going on here. she wasn’t going to make this easy on the people who took her, she wouldn’t play nice with the other kids or do her best to develop her abilities to full extension. 

the first time her powers really showed she was suprised. for some reason she had expected something devastating, nothing as beautiful as this. forming water with the pure force of her mind, telling it exactly where to go, it was beautiful. she always held back during training though, not willing to support the organization by really learning how to master her skills. they were beautiful and they were all her’s, nothing for them to take away from her. 

the other kids hated rory since pretty early on but she didn’t mind, honestly she encouraged it. walking through the halls, head held high and and her eyebrows always raised in disdain, making it clear that she was better than them, that she was above them. not that she really believed that but she was not going to make herself feel at home here, with all these brainwashed children whose parents didn’t even love them enough to keep them save. not like her parents, her parents who actually did everything in their power to try and keep her from harm. her parents who were out there, probably trying to find a way to get her back. and while they were working on the outside she would be working from the institude.

most of the time you would have been able to catch rory in the library. books were her only friends for quite a long time and learning was never a mistake. knowledge was power, she was more than aware of that, especially at a place like this. whenever nobody was watching she’d train to use her powers, making tiny animals appear out of water, making them swirling around in the air. it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

when rory got 18 she went out of the institute for the first time after ten years. she couldn’t believe they would let her but she was free, if only for a short period of time. the temptation to just run for the hills and hope she’d be able to get away was quite present, however she knew that couldn’t be the way to got, it couldn’t be that easy. so that night she obediently returned to her bad in the institute and while she was falling asleep she tried to come up with a plan. she was going to need to find out more about the experiments and she’d somehow need to contact her parents. surely they’d be able to help. 

the reason that aurora never got to expert label when it comes to her powers is that she deliberately holds back during training and while she does train on her own it’s not as effective as what the institute would offer. however the brunette is too careful, she won’t end up being a weapon. 

character wise she’s a bit of a difficult person as in she puts up a facade, has been putting it up for nearly 20 years now so it’s one that has long since become part of her. to the outside she always seems calm and composed, poise seeping from every movement, chin held high and shoulders drawn back, always perfectly dressed. rory doesn’t do friends, if you talk to her she’d be cold and distanced. she doesn’t trust anybody in the institute and she’s not about to break those rules she made herself. while she therefore mostly just seems loike the ice queen in person and people often call her “princess” behind her back she does have a temper. it rarely shows but if it does it’s impressive. 

inside she’s honestly just lonely, i think. she has been holding on to the memory of her family for so long, with all of her strength, however the voices and faces of her parents had started fading long ago and everything that was left of them for her to hold on to was a vague concept. she however still strongly believes that this concept is worth everything, that it’s the only thing she wants and that she’d do anything to attain it. not letting anybody close is a difficult thing for a little girl to do but it got much easier when she got older and now she wouldn’t even know how to do it anymore.  

so yeah that is about everything i have for now and honestly it’s already long enough, rip. hmu or like this and i will hit you up!! <3 

[lykegenia]

The Things We Hide Ch. 9

The Southern Water Tribe stood for a hundred years against the Fire Nation, indomitable until Sozin’s Comet tipped the balance in Fire Lord Ozai’s favour. Now, as planned, the South is decimated, Chief Hakoda is a puppet on his throne, and Princess Katara is a political prisoner held in the Fire Nation capital to ensure his good behaviour. But Ozai has little time to gloat. A vigilante masquerading as the Blue Spirit is causing unrest among the people, rebel ships still hound his navy, and right under his nose the South’s most powerful waterbender waits with the patience of ice to strike at the very heart of his empire and bring it crashing down.

Chapter 1 on AO3 Masterpost here

Words: 4388 Pairing: Zuko x Katara Chapter Summary: The Fire lord’s garden party goes exactly how Katara thinks it will - until it doesn’t.

Read it on AO3

Katara –

It’s official, we’re taking a break. The fishing fleet got caught in a storm and luckily we found shelter. The people here are fishermen too, so it’s almost like being at home, only with less snow. All their fishermen are women, though. You’d like their chief. When we first landed, I may have accidentally suggested to her that we were better at fishing because we have bigger boats – don’t laugh, Katara, I know you’re laughing – but she kicked my ass like five seconds later, so she’s now teaching me some of their methods for fishing while our ships finish repairs. You should meet her. You’d like her. Although I don’t know how that would end for me.

Did you know they have a sea serpent here? I’ve only seen the fin, but it’s huge.

Anyway, there’s another reason I’m writing. I know you’ll understand this, you always do. I miss my little sister. You remember her, right? Always helping people, always exploring where she wasn’t allowed. We never could keep her out of the caves on the side of that stupid mountain behind our house, because someone told her that if she looked hard enough she’d find the hidden people and they’d tell her where to find the best treasure. She’s all grown up now, and Dad always told her to be careful, but I wonder sometimes if she still does things like that. She’s doing a great job with the polar bear-dogs, by the way. I hear they’re nearly eating out of her hand.

And one last thing – please don’t send me any more of those Fire Nation recipes with all those weird spices and complicated fiddly buts. It’s giving Nanak ideas and we all have to suffer through them, and what happens after. There’s nothing wrong with sea prunes, you know.

Mimi

--

The letter was crumpled, the ink smudged from so many readings. Even after going through it multiple times, parts of the code were indecipherable. When they had decided on disguising their notes like this, back before Sozin’s Comet, they had decided the need for secrecy was too great to risk anyone being able to find patterns in the smokescreen of friendly correspondence. Katara and Mimi both mixed banal details about their lives with the more important facts, hiding them beneath the surface like the deep ocean currents that brought the bow whales in spring. They relied on their shared memories and in-jokes to communicate, and relied on Nila’s skill at getting information to fill in any gaps.

Not that there was usually much they could do to help, Katara groused, as she sat under the lantern tree in the garden and reread the letter again for the dozenth time. They had worked out that the mention of the ‘hidden people’ was really about Nila’s spies, who had missed their previous three report windows, but the rest of it was still gibberish. And instead of being able to go out and look for them, she and her entourage were stuck in the compound, still under house arrest, with nothing more strenuous to occupy them than garden parties and the ridiculous intricacies of court life. Sometimes she just wanted to forget the plan entirely and swamp the palace in a deluge, but this far into the dry season there wasn’t nearly enough water for that, if she even had the power to move it anyway.

No, for now she was stuck playing the role of subjugated princess, smiling from behind a paper fan in a pretty dress and dreaming of the day she would be free to cast off the layers of Fire Nation silk and daub her face with warrior’s paint as she had on the night when she crushed the three transports against the breakwater. Soon enough, she would teach them the oldest lesson of the Water Tribes: the sea is patient, and powerful, and cannot be conquered.

In the meantime, perhaps she could pry some information out of one of the more loose-lipped nobles, and if that failed, her alter ego might find something. She smirked to think about the growing rumours of spirits in the city, murmurs in the marketplace of a shadowy figure that cloaked itself in mist and slinked through the streets after dark. Ozai had reacted to these rumours with predictable force, but the extra patrols assigned to the wards were reluctant to risk the ire of the people – or the spirits – by going after another preternatural vigilante. It helped, of course, that Katara could pass her waterbending skills off as magic, and she took vindictive pleasure in knowing how easy it was to bring the dissatisfaction of the Fire Nation’s citizens to the surface.

Like drawing out an infection, she thought. All they needed was the right tonic.

She wondered about the Blue Spirit. Since the first night they spent running through the Caldera, she hadn’t seen him. If nothing else, his knowledge of the city would make her own reconnaissance go that much quicker, but despite Hama’s insistence to the contrary, Katara was not reckless enough jeopardise their plan in order to seek him out. Whoever he was, he clearly held no love for those who abused their power, but here in the capital, that didn’t narrow down the field. Maybe he was the son of a disenfranchised noble house, out to seek revenge by stirring up the common folk against their masters; or maybe he was an artisan with a stall in the market, no longer able to tolerate the injustices he saw every day. It was a mystery she would be unlikely to solve with the limited time she had.

“Lady Katara,” Attuk said, making her jump. “Prince Zuko is here.”

She ignored the excited little skip her heart made against her ribs. No matter how charming or earnest he seemed, he was still the enemy, and any attraction he might feel should be cultivated as an extra tool, or as a weakness if it could not be used to serve her purpose. That’s what Hama would, anyway, and if Katara’s thoughts wandered a bit too often too how he had warned her about Azula, or how he had returned her father’s hunting kit without thought of reward, she ignored that, too.

She checked her appearance in the mirror. Today she wore scarlet, following the tradition of the Fire Nation court, but her seamstress had been clever with the cut of the fabric. The layers of silk mimicked the light camel-wool cloth worn during polar summers, the traditional fur linings substituted for intricate golden embroidery. She knew few of the nobles were familiar enough with Water Tribe fashion to notice her quiet rebellion, but it was a comfort nonetheless.

“I’m ready,” she said.

Zuko looked happy to see her. At his side, a servant held an armful of scrolls she recognised as the Southern sagas she sent him a few days before, because it had seemed the best way to thank him for returning her father’s affects.

“You didn’t like them?” she asked, frowning, once the pleasantries were out of the way.

Zuko’s eyes widened. “No! I mean, I did like them,” he stumbled. “I couldn’t put them down, actually.”

“Really?” There was that flutter in her chest again.

“It’s so different to what the masters here think of as poetry. Uh, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he added, inching one hand up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s just that, I’ve always thought poetry was kind of hopeless, you know? Blossom always fades, animals die, and we’re all caught up in the wheel of the universe, unable to change things. Your sagas are just so… so vibrant, like it’s celebrating change rather than just letting it happen, like you can do something and it will matter. If you see what I mean.” He ducked his head with a bashful smile. “There were probably a lot of references I missed, and the stories were a bit more complex than what I’m used to, but I did enjoy them.”

Seeing him so animated about her culture brought an unexpected flush of happiness that tingled along Katara’s limbs, and she answered his smile with one of her own. “If you want to keep them a little bit longer to copy them, I wouldn’t mind,” she offered, without really thinking.

“Are you sure?” Zuko checked.

She shrugged. “We’re allies, aren’t we?”

“We are,” he agreed, the smile spreading to light up his whole face. “If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind, then I’ll have a scribe make a duplicate. They can be a present for my mother,” he added, as the thought came to him. “I’m sure she’d appreciate them. Maybe you could clarify a few things for me, in case there are problems with translations?”

“I’ll answer what I can,” she replied. “What do you want to know?”

Zuko’s smile faltered at a subtle gesture from his valet, and Katara realised their shared excitement had carried them into their own little world. Together, they were chivvied across to the palanquin, with a hurried but half-hearted lecture from the servant about the impropriety of keeping one’s guests waiting, though Katara suspected the real reason for the sudden rush was a fear that they would arrive after the Fire Lord. From what she knew of Fire Nation protocol, the higher ranking nobles got to arrive at social events later, so that they could appear fresh and composed next to those of lower rank who had already spent hours enduring the heat and boredom that inevitably came with these sorts of parties.

As he handed her into the palanquin, Zuko smiled sheepishly at her, and she found herself returning it. Hama would disapprove. She set about arranging her skirts in a fan to avoid crushing the silk beneath her weight, pleased that Zuko had remembered to draw up the blinds without her even having to ask.

“There’s more of a breeze today, don’t you think?” she said, when the silence between them grew brittle.

Zuko nodded. “It’s coming off the sea. Li and Lo say the monsoon is finally here, and they’re never wrong – but I hope the rain stays away for the rest of the evening.”

Katara smiled and nodded. She didn’t tell him she could feel the sea in her bones, churning up a storm that would snap the dry crackle in the air like a strand of spider silk. She ignored the feeling, for the most part, but the weather-change left her fretful, distracted. She had come very close to making up some excuse to cancel the party and stay in the inner courtyard of the house, where she could bend away her agitation without fear of being seen.

“The thunderstorms at this time of year are amazing,” Zuko was telling her. “So much raw power, and after so long without water, the countryside just bursts into life. We have a special pavilion at the palace just for listening to the sound the rain makes on the roof tiles. The storms won’t be better until later in the season, but if you would like to see it…”

“I’d love to,” Katara said, thinking about how she might be able to sneak away and find the Fire Lord’s office. “It sounds wonderful.”

“I suppose you have storms in the South?” he asked.

“Not quite like here,” she admitted. “We have blizzards, and there’s thunder and lightning in those, but often the wind is so loud and the storm so thick you can’t tell. Sometimes it’s dangerous to go outside because the snow turns you around and you end up lost within a few steps of your doorway.” She shuddered. “I think I still prefer it to this heat, though – at least when it’s cold you can put another parka on.”

“I’ve never seen snow. I know what it looks like, from reading, and that it’s frozen water, but… what’s it like?”

Katara was thrown by the wistful tone of the question. She didn’t know how to answer – how could she, when the snow and ice of the South had been as constant and natural to her as the water? And in a land of such heat, what was there to compare it to?

“I never really thought about it,” she said. “I’ve never had to think snow was like anything, it just is.”

Zuko looked thoughtful, digesting her answer. ���What’s a sea wolf?”

“What?”

“One of the sagas mentioned them.”

“Oh.” Katara relaxed slightly. For a second, she had thought he meant to trap her, but the expression on his face was open, the bright gold of his eyes slanted in expectation of her answer. Something uneasy stirred across the skin at the back of her neck, but what could it hurt to tell him about sea wolves? They came to the South in the spring, Tui’s demon aspect chasing tiger seals through the streams of melting ice, their black fins stretching taller than a man above the water. They were respected, Katara explained, because they hunted as a group like humans did, and were cunning, and generous, and vengeful in defence of their families.

“I think I know what you’re talking about. We call them Shachi.”

Katara tried the word; it tangled on her tongue and made her giggle. By this time, they were passing along a broad avenue lined with mangingko trees, their bright yellow leaves fluttering in the wind coming off the sea.

“In some of the stuff I read,” Zuko ventured after a moment of silence, “there was a character called ‘sea wolf’. It was used like a title.” He seemed to be choosing his words, glancing at her sidelong and picking at a stray thread in the silk cushions. “I… I hope this isn’t rude, it just caught my eye and, um… it’s alright if you don’t want to answer, but it seemed like a pretty big deal.”

Katara felt tension creep back into her limbs. The storm air was getting to her, but worse than that was the sudden, choking fear that she had been found out. How much did he know? Did the royal guard escorting them draw closer?

No, she decided. If Zuko had any idea who she really was, he would have brought more soldiers with him. And if this was a test, then surely it was better to control the information he got rather than to arouse his suspicions further.

Be calm. Be still. Adapt to the flow around you.

“There was an old tradition,” she said, trying not to sound like she was working out how to lie. “‘Sea Wolf’ was an honour given to the most powerful waterbender in the South, carried until they could no longer carry out their duty.”

“And what was their duty?” Zuko asked.

“They were the people’s champion. When they died or wished to retire, they would choose their successor.” She smiled. “It’s all in the past, especially now that the Fire Nation are our allies. What need do we have of such things?”

Zuko frowned, as if puzzling something out. “If it’s all in the past, what happened to the last Sea Wolf?”

Katara froze at the question. Fire and screaming flashed in her memory, the heat and the guilt of seeing her people destroyed and being able to do nothing to stop it. Her fingers reached for the familiar comfort of the necklace at her throat.

“She died.”

--

Katara was surprised by the number of guests in green and yellow as Zuko led her through the grand moon arch and into the Fire Lord’s public garden. The Earth Kingdom nobles flittered through the Fire Nation court like hummingbirds around flowers, keeping up a sycophantic bubble of conversation over their glasses of chilled fruit punch. The sight of which had Katara clenching her fists inside her sleeves. How many Earth Kingdom citizens had died trying to fight the Fire Nation, only for the self-interested aristocracy to pander to the enemy in order to protect their own interests? With great effort, she smoothed her face into a smile, and allowed Zuko to lead her through the crowd and offer introductions.

“Oh, so you’re the little thing Her Grace has taken such a shine to. The Fire Lord is quite generous to keep you as he does, you know.”

“Is it true the Water Tribes still wear animal skins and live in huts?”

“How brave of you to wear such colours, with your skin tone. And those beads – how quaint!”

Katara replied to all the backhanded sniping with good humour, but only because it was fun to guess whether they would be more shocked or scandalized when Zuko came to her defence. While he lacked the delicate wit to ever really be a proper politician, he made up for it with dry sarcasm and a disdainful stare, made all the more effective because, as the Crown Prince, nobody could afford to insult him. She watched as one particularly pushy matron, no doubt hinting at a match between Zuko and her rather mousy daughter, tripped over and over herself trying to clarify a remark about Katara’s hair.

“Lady Katara,” Zuko interrupted smoothly. “I hope you will forgive my rudeness. I got so absorbed in presenting you to so many lovely people that I forgot you haven’t even got a drink yet. Will you accompany me?”

Katara took his offered arm and all but purred at the way the matron’s jaw dropped open. “Of course, Your Highness. I admit, my throat is quite dry after all this delightful conversation. I don’t think I’ve ever tried fruit punch before.”

“Then I’m glad I have the pleasure of introducing it to you,” he replied, and led her to a quiet corner of the garden shaded by a thick stand of bamboo. “I’m sorry for all of this,” he murmured when he was sure nobody would overhear. “I know they can be rather… not nice.”

“I can handle them,” Katara told him with a shrug. “Is something else bothering you?”

“What?”

She frowned at him. “You’re scanning the crowd like you’re expecting something to happen. Am I keeping you from meeting someone special?” she teased, unsure why she wanted to catch him off-guard.

“What?” he cried, colouring. “No! I’m just…” He sighed. “It’s Azula. She’s late.”

“And that’s unusual for her?” Katara asked.

“She’s up to something,” he growled.

“Maybe you can find out if anyone else knows where she is,” she suggested.

Zuko’s eyes widened. “You believe me?”

She shrugged. “You do remember I met your sister, right? No offence.”

“None taken,” he replied, with a slowly spreading grin. “Wait, I almost forgot – drinks! Will you wait here for me?”

Katara hummed. “If I stay here all by myself it’ll look suspiciously like I’m not enjoying the company, but if I go out there,” she gestured vaguely, “then I’ll be roasted alive.”

“By the sun or by the company?” Zuko joked.

“Take a wild guess.” She shook her head. “I’ll mingle. I still have to find Bato, anyway. I haven’t seen much of him recently.”

Zuko bit his lip, the way he did whenever she brought up any reminder that she was still under house arrest, or that she and the rest of her entourage were watched, but he nodded and promised to come find her later with drinks.

Good, let him feel guilty, Katara thought as she ventured back into the sea of nobles. It means he won’t look so hard at what we’re doing.

She didn’t get far before she felt somebody slink up behind her. Instinctively, she took hold of the water in the nearby pond, but before she could do any more, a tall, pale young woman stepped out in front of her. Everything about her was made up of precise, straight angles, from the severe line of her fringe across her high forehead to the crease where her sleeves folded at the elbow, to the lazy slant of her kohl-rimmed eyes. She held herself with the kind of poise Katara knew from experience could drop into a fighting stance at the slightest provocation – something everyone else must have noticed, too, because the majority of the nobles who looked at her deflected their attention quickly away.

“You don’t have to pretend to like them, you know,” the strange woman said.

Katara gave her a quizzical smile. “I’m sorry?”

“Those Earth Kingdom ninnies,” came the drawled reply. “They probably wouldn’t notice if you were mean since they’re trained not to make a fuss. One of the only fun things to do around here is to see how far you can push them before they resort to having a tantrum.”

“We haven’t met before, have we?” Katara replied, hoping to at least get a name from her new acquaintance.

“Azula told me about you,” the stranger said. “The Water Tribe Princess. I thought you’d be taller.”

“My name’s Katara.” And yours is…?

“I know. Azula was impressed with you, you know, even if she’d refuse to admit it.” The thin face split into a smirk like a shark’s. “You should have heard her. It got so boring, listening to her go on and on about how rude you were to her.”

“I’m sorry I inconvenienced you,” Katara replied, not sure what else to say.

A shrug. “You should take that as a compliment, actually. Being ‘rude’ to Azula simply means not being scared stiff of her. Anyway, my parents would be horrified to find me not circulating. These parties are always so dull.” She turned with a dismissive wave of her hand. “If you ever need a friend, my name is Mai.”

Relieved to be out of dangerous waters, Katara offered a polite nod of her head and made her way over to where Bato was standing with his attendants. They all wore Fire Nation uniforms and stern expressions, telling her in no uncertain terms that every word she shared with her father’s ambassador would be reported to Ozai or his agents. In a way, she was grateful, because it meant he wouldn’t have the opportunity to chastise her for being reckless – because she could tell by the deep furrow of his brow that he knew exactly how she had been spending her evenings.

“Having fun?” she asked.

“I’m looking forward to the play they’re putting on for us, but it’s too hot,” he replied, smiling. “Not that there’s much to be done about that.”

“I’ve been told the rains will come soon.”

“Oh, and will they?”

She nodded. “Soon enough.”

“I see.” Bato sucked in his cheeks, glancing at their escort. “How are things with you, day-to-day?”

“I had a letter from Mimi yesterday,” she told him. “Something about –”

A fanfare interrupted her. The Fire Lord had arrived. Ozai appeared at the top of the steps to the private wing of the palace with Ursa’s hand placed delicately on top of his, fantastically arrayed in layered scarlet and burgundy that glittered with golden thread. On anyone less sure of their own power, such a display might seem ridiculous, but the thought did nothing to stop the cold shiver that ran down Katara’s spine. The last time she had seen the Fire Lord, he had been hidden behind a wall of flame.

He spotted them and came over. She was glad for the steadying hand Bato laid on her shoulder.

“Our most honoured guests,” Ozai said silkily. “We are so glad you could join in the festivities.”

“We are pleased to be here, your Majesty,” Katara replied, with a bow. “The entertainment promises to be enjoyable.”

“My son, no doubt, has told you about it,” replied the Fire Lord, with only the smallest hint of a sneer. “He would do better to spend his time bringing to justice the perpetrator of the recent destruction in the harbour.”

Bato’s grip tightened on Katara’s shoulder. “As I have told you before, Your Majesty,” he said, “the Southern Water Tribe will do all in its power to assist our allies with the capture of those responsible.”

“Can’t such serious talk be left until after the party is over?” Ursa interjected. “This celebration is supposed to be a happy occasion, after all.”

“My wife, the peacemaker,” Ozai chuckled. Katara noticed how his grip tightened on Ursa’s fingers. “Very well. We will take our seats and see what the Ember Island Players have for us this year.”

“Lady Katara, would you sit with me?” Ursa asked.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

As a group, the Water Tribe ambassadors and the royal entourage of the Fire Nation made their way to a small stone courtyard beyond the garden, where a small stage had been set up in front of rows of cushioned wooden benches. For a moment Katara paused, waiting to see whether Zuko would appear as he had promised. When her hesitation threatened to grow conspicuous, she sat down between Ursa and Bato, leaving enough space that she could shift up if she needed to.

On the stage, a man dressed in fiery orange tassels spread his arms.

“That’s Agni,” Ursa explained to Katara. “The god of fire. He narrates the story because his omniscience allows him to take events and show humanity the lessons embedded in them.”

“… a tale of how two threads of Destiny were ripped in twain…”

“I see neither of my children deigned to honour their father by showing up,” Ozai growled. “How disappointing.”

“Your Majesty, Zuko is here,” Katara protested. “Somewhere. He escorted me to the party.”

“… and, once known to each other, how they – what is the meaning of this?”

Ozai’s sneering retort faltered as he looked to the stage, where Azula stood with a blue fireball on each open palm, towering over the man dressed as Agni.

“I’m afraid tonight’s show has been postponed,” she trilled. “What a shame. I do so enjoy Love Amongst the Dragons. How fortunate that I’ve come prepared with an alternative form of entertainment.”

The audience watched, transfixed, as four royal guards armed with poleaxes marched onto the stage, dragging an unconscious figure between them.

“Noble guests, honoured Father, the time for fear is over,” she announced. “I have caught the saboteur. May I presents the Blue Spirit.”

[eurusholmmes]

Where My Heart Used To Be// Sherlock Holmes

This prompt is super sad, and I used to be so good at angst but I’m not sure if this’ll justify my previous talents. I hope you all enjoy! Anything in Italics is the mother (which is also you) and in the flashback with the child birth, Mary and John are not married yet. 

Requested by @foureyedsiopao: Being Sherlock Holmes daughter is one of the most tragic parts of your story. You never knew what happened to your mother but be it as it were, Mary and John Watson have adopted you as their own daughter. But every night you woke up having the same dream... A dream that includes the man who left you behind. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

  “Sherlock, take a look at me and use your deduction skills. What do you see?” 

Sherlock looked up from his laptop to his wife standing in the kitchen, wearing one of his dress shirts and low hanging sweat pants. Her face was clear of makeup and her fingers were wrapped around the rim of her favorite tea cup. “I see that you’re breath taking.” He said lowly, wrapping his fingers around your hips. “And you’re not drinking your normal coffee. Your clothes are baggy and low hanging-” 

A soft smile spread across your face as you set your cup down on the table in the center of the room, cupping his cheek in your small hands. Hands that had memorized his body through the darkest hours of the night, hands that had held him as he cried over the uncertainty of his their future. “You’re getting warmer, Detective.” You whispered. “Lower your hands.” 

His hands fell to your stomach, and in that moment, it seemed to click all at once. “You-Are you pregnant?” Sherlock murmured in disbelief, his smile widening as you nodded eagerly. “We’re going to be parents.” 

  “You’re going to be a father, Sherlock Holmes!” 

You woke up in a cold sweat, your y/h/c plastered to your cheeks as you slowly began to control your frantic breathing. The air in your room was chilled from the open window, the only source of light coming from the hallway where Mary normally left the light on at night. “Y/n, sweetheart? Are you alright?” 

Mary Watson stepped into your bedroom dressed in her nightgown, tying her red robe around her body. You lifted your head from in between your knees and tilted your head, studying her up and down. It was quite obvious you weren’t her biological child, but she and John had passed you off to be their own and it was exactly what you needed. 

  “I keep having this dream about the same man and woman. I’m not sure why..” You rested your hand over your heart and sighed deeply. “It’s like they’re engraved into my heart, and they simply won’t leave.” 

Sherlock redistributed his weight between his knees as John watched him pace the length of the waiting room. He’d caused enough ruckus in the delivery room that they had kicked him out just as you had begun to push. “I’m sure she’s alright, Sherlock. It’s normal for women to scream during birth. Take it from a doctor who knows.” 

He opened his mouth to respond when the screaming suddenly ceased and was replaced with the cries of an infant. Both men lifted their heads to the door where the nurse stood. “Mr Holmes? Would you like to meet your daughter?” 

It was the first time Sherlock cried in front of John. And it was also the first time John Watson witnessed Sherlock fall head over heels in love in just a second when his daughters fingers wrapped around his own. 

You had always been good at observing, but the older you got, the better you were. It wasn’t until your three year anniversary of being in the Watsons care that you finally began to question just who the man and woman constantly haunting your dreams were. 

  “What aren’t you telling me dad?” You cried, drawing Johns attention away from Mary and to you standing in the doorway. “Why do I keep having these dreams?! I know I’m obviously not your child judging from the observation that I obviously don’t look like you or Mum. The man and woman in my dreams.. I look exactly like them.” Tears ran down your face as you pounded at your chest and slowly sank to your knees. “Why do these people keep hurting me?” 

  “Oh y/n, you truly do have the mind of a Holmes.” 

Sherlock had the nagging fear of imminent loss in the back of his mind for months, but he had never expected it to come this far. You were forced on your knees in front of him, a gun pressed to the back of your head. The cool metal was taunting against your clammy skin, but you could never take your eyes off your husband. He would save you. He always did. 

  “You didn’t follow the rules of the game Sherlock.” Jim taunted, dancing around your hunched over form as your fingers dug into the dirt. “I’ve been thinking about how to punish you for months, and then it came to me!” He clucked his tongue and you let out a whimper as he slid the slide back on his handgun. “Why not use your gorgeous, clever wife? It’s sure to break you more then me taking your perfect daughter. But how to do it?” 

You weren’t afraid of dying. Dying was the easy part; it was the life Sherlock would have to live with your daughter once you were gone that terrified you. Your daughter was nearly ten years old now, but you had made sure she was unaware of the level of crimes that Sherlock often found himself involved in. She called him her superhero. 

  “I vote we just take one for the team!” Moriarty taunted. “You have any final words to rectify your mistake Sherlock? I mean, it’s not like you’re going to see your wife again.” 

Sherlock lifted his head and locked eyes with you, his cupids bow lips pressed against together as he thought of what to say. “Tick tock, tick tock Sherlock Holmes!” 

  “Y/n... I love you.” 

The last memory of you that would be engraved into his brain was your fingers stretched out towards him as the bullet pierced your skull, your once bright y/e/c eyes staring blankly into space. 

You hadn’t even gotten to say your goodbye. But your hands.. those hands he loved, they had reached for him. Because he was supposed to save you, and he didn’t.

You curled up in Johns arms, your legs stretched out over Marys lap as John explained your dreams to you. “The man you keep seeing in your dream, do you look like him?” He murmured softly, running his fingers through your hair. You closed your eyes and in a moment, your mind palace was in front of your eyes. 

A younger version of yourself was standing in a scruffy flat, most of the furniture spread out over an area rug that occupied most of the room. There was a weathered skull on top of endless amounts of papers on the mantle piece. There was a homely smell in the flat that made your insides warm. 

The flat made you happy. It reminded you of something you never thought you’d have- your own home. 

An older man with raven curls stood by the window, an violin poised in his hands as he composed a somber sounding piece. His blue eyes nearly mirrored your own- haunted and broken but resilient and daring. You walked circles around him, studying his tall form and chiseled features.

  “Yes. The man looks like like me. Everything about him looks like me.” 

John inhaled sharply as he suddenly realized what you were actually doing, going through your mind palace. Unlike Sherlock, your mind palace happened to be one of the places that meant the most to you. 221B. “Your father is a dangerous man who has interacted with equally dangerous people in the past. There was one man above all who was criminally insane, and the man who murdered your mother. Your father... He couldn’t deal with the loss of your mother, so he entrusted you to us and we took you in as our daughter. You were old enough to retain memories, but we didn’t talk about your family and you were soon under the impression that we were actually your parents. But we can’t keep a Holmes mind asleep for long. Seems you figured it out.”

You screwed your eyes tightly shut as you struggled to comprehend the fact that the man who had literally helped to create you was the same man who had willingly given you up. “I want to meet him. I want him to know that you and Mum fill the space where my heart used to be. He deserves to know the pain he caused.” 

(AN: this is now about his daughter)

One of the most painful things Sherlock Holmes ever had to do was give you up. His blood daughter, his princess, the one person who still had some inkling of faith left in him. 

Sherlock knelt down in front of you and gripped your tiny hands in his own, kissing the back of your knuckles as John and Mary left the living room to gather your things. “Y/n my love, you’re going to go away for a little while. But I want you to know that everything is going to be okay, alright?”

Your lips quivered as tears ran down your face, your arms wrapped around his neck as he stood to his feet. “When is Mummy coming home?” You cried, burying your face as deep in his neck as you could. Sherlock repressed the urge to sob at the mention of his passed wife, whose funeral he had deliberately scheduled for tomorrow after you left. “I don’t want to go Daddy! I’m supposed to be your sidekick!” 

  “Every sidekick has to have a day off, just like a superhero.” Sherlock kissed your cheek and managed a strong smile despite the pain rocketing through his soul, his heart, his very being. “I love you y/n. Can you be a good girl for me?” 

You nodded weakly and glanced behind you where Mary and John were waiting. “I’ll be back soon, okay? Don’t fight crime without me Daddy!” 

You had been so naive, so clueless, and so horribly wrong. Despite the abiding pain in his heart, Sherlock Holmes was a man who needed his daughter to come home. 

Sherlock had been getting ready to leave the flat to go to Scotland Yard when he came face to face with John and Mary right outside Speedys Cafe. They had given no warning that they were coming, but the moment the two of them parted, he felt his heart stop. “John? What are you doing here?” 

John glanced at Mary through his peripheral vision and slowly exhaled, parting the wall to reveal your form standing behind them. You’d matured so much in the few years they’d kept Sherlock away from you. “I kept wondering who the man and woman in my dreams were. They looked so happy and so in love that it was almost painful to watch. There was screaming, so much screaming and so much pain that I could feel your despair. Your suffering.” Sherlocks eyes never left yours as you now stood inches away from him, your hand stretched outward to rest on top of his heart. “It took me a while, but I put it together.” Tears filled his eyes as you lifted your head (he was still so much taller then you) and smiled widely. “Hello Daddy. Did you miss me?”

Sherlock gasped so loudly as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck as the two of you stumbled on the sidewalk together. It had been a long time since he’d felt whole. “I did miss you love.” He murmured, burying his face in your neck as you mussed with his hair. “You look so much like your mum.. It’s remarkable.” 

He set you down on the sidewalk and followed your gaze up to the main window in 221B. “Can we go back to fighting crime now?” You puffed out your chest and gripped your hips, just like the superheroes did in all the movies. 

Sherlock grinned widely as he hopped up onto the stoop and threw open the door. “After you, my dear!” 

Dear Daddy,

No matter where I go or who I love, you will always be the man who holds my heart. And I will always be the one who helps carry your cape. Fighting crimes to the ends of the Earth forever.

Always yours, y/n Holmes 

Tag List

@charlottemalfoy @foureyedsiopao

[salmonthestoryteller]

Directly in Front

A Three Musketeers Fanfic

There was a quote, he was certain he’d heard it before.  Probably from Aramis, though it might have been Athos.  D'Artagnan, being too new still to their company, was eliminated from the possible quoters.  Because, Porthos was fairly certain anyhow, it hadn’t been their own words but a quote from someone else.  It really rather was likely it was Aramis, as he was the one forever reading and writing and speaking of verses and thesis.  Athos, though, seemed to have a quote or history to mention - and all quite suddenly - a time or three.  So he still could have been the one to say it.

The truth was, Porthos had not committed the full quote itself to memory, so it was not surprising he had not committed the quoter to memory either.  But something in it had caught his ear, and so he still retained the gist of it, if not the fullness.

The best place to hide was directly in front.

Taken at face value, the quote was absurd, but upon reflection, he understood the gist.  For the most part, he was not one for reflection. However, in this case, the quote had been cause for it as it seemed to strike quite close to home, as one might say.

He had, by no means, the intelligence of his companions.  If asked, in order, he would most likely have said that D'Artagnan was highest, though Athos a close second, and Aramis third, despite his love of books and verses.  There were some, though few ever repeated the remark after he gave them a sound thrashing for it, who even called him stupid.  He maintained that it was false, for though he didn’t have the mind for intrigues of D'Artagnan, the mind for strategy of Athos, or the mind of verses and sonnets of Aramis, there was a difference between being not the best at a thing and being the worst.

And though his friends often said they saw through his dissembling with ease, there were plenty of others who did not.  And his friends were deceived in some ways, though through lies of omission more often than outright lies, or through refusing to ask questions, as Athos did out of feigned disinterest and Aramis for politeness. D'Artagnan might have been a concern, but he was convinced of his openness in all manners not concerning vanity, and that was a quit to his worry on that account.  In truth, D'Artagnan seemed least interested in him, and most interested in Athos, and if he hadn’t laid that ax to rest a long time ago, he might have felt a slight prejudice for the fact.

And he supposed it was a matter of vanity, in the end.  A matter of discretion as well, though his friends would be fast to claim he had none.  And in some ways they were right.  But in a couple matters they were wrong.  For though he’d declared to them before that he had come from a poor background, they had never once asked the questions one might expect from such a declaration.  Such as where a boy of such poor background got ahold of a sword and learned swordplay, or who had recommended him to M d. Treville. And most of all, never once did they ask, where he went after having lost in betting; where he went to gain the money to pay back his debts.  Or why he seemed a bit the worst for it, even though he returned with coins in his pocket.

But, then, Porthos supposed, he’d never asked himself if the lack of such questions meant they were worse friends for it or better.  Perhaps both.

“Handsome Porthos, a pity you aren’t here so often anymore.”  The lips that brushed his neck were rough and whiskered.  The bag of money on the table was the same color as any other money, be it from stipend or mistress.

He did not watch the man leave, but washed and dressed stiffly, until a knock came at the door.  His countenance until that moment might have shocked his friends in it’s seriousness.  The knock seemed to reignite some of his spirits.  "Come.“

The woman who entered was older than he, but younger than several of his lovers - including his duchess.  His newly appeared smile disappeared when he saw her frown.  "Zounds, you’ve come to lecture me.”

Closing the door, the woman sat on the bed occupied mere minutes before by he and the man now departed.  "My dear Pathos, you eat from two messes, and that will backfire if you don’t ware.“

"I had need of money, and my mistress is not always agreeable.”

“You have more than one mistress.”

“But less than I can claim.”

‘Are they all so stingy?“

"They’re all quite jealous.”

“Ah, that is a folly of lovers.”

“You would not know.”

“Not so, in the past I’ve suffered the strikes of many a woman who realized their lovers and husbands came to them from my doorstep.”

“You lecture me, yet you don’t hesitate to find me agreeable evening company who are lonely and loose of coin.”

“I am a hypocrite in all things, as you are well acquainted.  But I did not gain a recommendation so you could return to my service when your pocket is light.  Especially when your closet is full.”  So saying she eyed the clothing he wore.

“You wound me.  What clothes I no longer need I give to Mousqueton,”

“We admittedly have different opinions of what is needed.”

“And you a woman?  For shame.”

“…I failed your mother for certain.”

“Not at all.”

“I promised her son would not sell himself as she was forced to after your father’s death.”

“And how is seducing a benefactor any different than selling an evening?”

“To me?  Only that the former is supposed to ensure the lack of need of the latter.”

“Were it but so.”

“You have yourself to blame!”

“The devil you say!”

“You could seduce a princess, yet covet a duchess.”

“I covet her coffer.”

“The princess has a larger coffer.”

“You taught me yourself that the higher the lover, the bigger the demands.  And, more often, the less the reward.”

“I?”

“Indeed, and though I often not commit lines to memory, hark that I have heard you well, for here is the long and short of it.”  Composing his thoughts for a moment, Porthos quoted slowly and deliberately, “The great need not prove they are great, and instead desire a lover to prove they are worthy.  It is those below that stature that aspire to it that go out of their way to gain handsomer lovers and expend their coins more easily to keep them from straying.”

The woman on the bed sat very still, her face somewhat troubled after he’d finished. “Yes, in truth, it was my advice.  You weren’t suppose to listen so well.”

“Therefore the princess is not good except for a mere flirtation.”

“Flirt with the princess, then, but zounds, stop asking me to sell you cheaply.  I beg your mother’s forgiveness every time.”

“She would be a hypocrite to condemn me.”

“Not so, for a mother always wants a better life for her son than she had herself.”

“You would not know that either.”

“It’s true you are not young enough to be my son, but having had a hand in raising you, I can’t help but feel some matronly feelings.”

“My lover is older than you, and she has no such feelings.”

“You’re lover had no hand in raising you, or she would feel differently.  Worry me no more on this matter.  You are my one matter of conscious.”

“You had me trained in seduction right along with swordplay, yet you lecture me about conscious?”

“You return my motherly concerns with accusations?”

“Not so, I owe my current position to your wisdom.  All the same, until my fortune is made I must make what fortune I must.”

“Which means you will not desist of participating in my service house until you have gained glory or a wife.”

“Only as I need, dear Mistress, only as I need.  Besides, it’s the most discreet service house in Paris.”

“You’ll ruin us both if you’re caught!”

“My exploits as a lover are well noted.  I may be teased for buying one for an evening, but never will my compatriots suppose I was bought.”

“You have equipped yourself an admirable alibi then.  I suppose in that I must take comfort.”  Rising from the bed, she opened her arms, and with a bright grin, Porthos bounded over to lift her into his arms, swinging in a circle gaily.

“When that coffer is mine, will you quit your service house and be my head maid?”

“By God, as if I could! I’m far too infamous.  Send your sons to make use of my services instead.  Then I will know you’ve truly made your fortune.”

“Who says I’ll have sons?”  And the usually boisterous man reddened a little as he set her down.

The Mistress arced a fine eyebrow.  "The way you go at it, you’ll probably have ten before you’ve gained coffer or glory.“

Porthos rumbled a laugh then, though his look as he took the bag of money awaiting him on the bedside table was still a tad wane.  "I’m off to rejoin my company then.”

“With such a face you only make me feel the more guilty…was it for the company choice?”

“Relax on that matter.  You know I am gay and careless in the choosing of temporary partners.”

“That is true, for I know from my own sources that while publically it is whispered you are quite intimate with a certain countess, it is her son who favors you more.”

“Then be at ease.”

“How can I when you make such a long face?  Tell me, is it the matter of selling an evening, rather than romancing it?”

“It is rather like a feast without the trimmings, and even perhaps wine.  It sustains but does not satisfy.”

“And is that all?  Speak truth, you do find shame in it, and hence your unhappiness.”

Porthos tugged at his clothing in irritation.  "Let us part on good terms.“  Was all he said.

The Mistress sighed, and nodded, hugging the giant man again.  "I’d loan to you, if you let me.”

“Never.  My debt to you is too high already.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“I owe you everything.”

“Silly boy.”  Kissing his cheek, she backed away.  "Off you go, then, only…“  And to his amusement her own face grew pink.  "Give my regards to Treville.”

“Haha!  The infamous Mistress still carries a fancy of her own, does she?”

“Off with you, if you insist on being cheeky!” She swatted at his backside, and Porthos hurried from the room laughing.

When he reached the bottom floor, he called over the young boy who was dusting the parlor.  He switched only a small portion of the payment he carried into his own wallet, before handing the money to the boy.  "Split this between the house’s women and boys, and don’t forget your own share.“  He instructed.

The boy nodded.  "As alway!”  He promised.  "Sir…Mistress was up all night while you were upstairs.  She was terribly morbid.  I thought I even spied her in prayer, but she quickly feigned otherwise when she spotted me.“

"You?  Spotted?”

“Mistress says I’m shooting up like a bean, and in truth, I seem to be too big for my old hiding places.”

“You are growing quite tall at that!  How old are you?”

“Fourteen now and all!”

“What will you be doing when you reach of age?”

“Oh, Mistress has arranged me to join the service.  She said something about if only women could enter, her work would be halved.”

“Our Mistress is the strangest of women, to be sure.  And that’s saying much.”

“Oh, indeed!”

“Keep an eye on Mistress, and send for me if she is distressed at all.”

“Yes, sir.”

The first place Porthos headed after he left the house was a restaurant, for he had not dined at all during his stay at the Mistress’s house - and, as always, was quite hungry.  To his delight, he found his friends already there, and they greeted him with their usual teasing and camaraderie.

“I do believe I hear the sound of gold in your purse.”  D'Artagnan mentioned.

“You do have extraordinary hearing, friend D'Artagnan!  But I confess to the truth of it.”  Porthos said as they resituated themselves to make room for him.  "Yet, who has bought this spread?“

"Aramis, for Athos lost again last night.”

“Again?  In truth, friend, your luck is most wondrously bad!”

“Yours is no better.”  Athos shrugged at the words.

“Ah, not in gambling, but if the rouge on his cheek is to go by, in other matters most certainly.”  Aramis commented.

“Why, and I quite missed that!” D'Artagnan cried.

Porthos seemed confused for a moment while his friends laughed, until he recalled his Mistress’s farewell kiss to his cheek.  'She secretly gives me double the alibi.  She is too good to me.’  He thought.  "Ah, have I missed some sign, then?  Tell me, which cheek?“

"The left!”

“The right!”

“No fair, to tease me!  I’ll look for a mirror.  If Mousqueton was here, the matter would be cleared up instantly, but it is his appointed day and hour for his own time.”

“Oh, rub them both and stay and tell us of your latest conquest.”  D'Artagnan told him.

“Oh, don’t encourage him, we’ll never hear the end of it!”  Athos said sourly, as ever when it came women and romance.

“A hint at least.  Was it the princess?”  Aramis put in.

“Not you as well, Aramis. Is this what our breakfast conversation will consist of?” Athos complained again.

“Ah, I have not been so lucky yet.  It was a woman of business only, but most handsome.”  Porthos replied with complete honesty.

“A poor shop girl who’s no doubt given you all her wages!  You are truly a fiend sometimes, Porthos!” D'Artagnan cried.

“Not at all!  She runs the business, and afforded me quite well.”

“She didn’t feed you well.”  Athos said, his eye astute as ever.

Porthos hesitated, for they rarely remarked on the changes to his mean after his stays at Mistress’s, and for a moment he wasn’t quite certain what to say, and looked down at himself as if to see if Athos spoke the truth.  But, while he had not - as previously stated - a mind for intrigues, strategy, or verses, he excelled in one thing the others didn’t - and that was conversation.  His tongue did not long leave him without excuse.  "Ah, is ever with women who take to business - her cooking is most wanting!  But let me tell you the good thing, and that’s that while their hands, far from idle, are certainly not soft, they are quite strong, and that is almost as good when-!“

"Enough!  You’ll ruin my breakfast.”  Athos broke in.

“Ah, Athos, sometimes you worry me!”  Porthos sighed.

“I don’t disappear for days, only an evening.”

“Ah!  By saying so you admit to worrying for me!  How delightful!”

“I said no such thing!”

“In truth, he was, and only yesterday asked Treville if you’d taken leave.”  Aramis whispered quite loud enough for the whole table to hear.

Athos colored at his words, and sent a scowl his way.  "Oh, indeed, but that may just be because you suggested it!“

"It does a heart good to have such dear friends!”  Porthos cried out.

“Well, we shall not seek you next time for I, at least, have no desire to hear more on the matter of the hands of business women!” Athos declared.

Porthos only laughed at his outburst, and when Aramis and D'Artagnan joined in, Athos himself could not help but give a rare smile at the jest.  The matter quickly turned to what he’d missed while away, his absence dismissed and soon forgotten.

Later that evening, changed into new attire, and giving the clothes he’d worn to Mistress’s to his tailor to alter for Mousqueton, he thought again of that quote he couldn’t quite remember the whole of.

Ever placing himself in the front; loudly spoken and just as loudly dressed, everyone took for granted they knew his secrets, or lack thereof, and therefore looked for none.  Truly the quote was his life personified.

The best place to hide was directly in front.

2013

For some reason, from the first description of Porthos disappearing and returning with money and how he was paler and lost weight, I couldn’t help but think that he was probably whoring himself.  I know, I know - wtf Salmon.  Still, I maintain the clues point to it.

Porthos is said to be without fortune or family.  He’s very strong, and is even called a giant on occasion, but is the most dandy of them all.  If he was doing manual labor, he wouldn’t be paler.  He must have been avoiding food during his time away to be thinner.  And as they go into detail of his exploits with the duchess to get his equipment, I find it strange that they don’t simply say he got coins from seduction if that’s the case.

Though the author keeps saying he’s the most open, the least deceitful, and will tell you his whole life - they don’t explain that said life. We’re explained how every other character would have a sword, and learn fighting. If Porthos truly had nothing then where would he get the money to even have that?  I think the author quite glossed over that point.

While Porthos is proud of his seductions, I think he would hide from them if he occasionally gave sex for money - regardless of whether it was to a man or to a woman.  I make his companion a man because it would most likely have been.  Most women of means at that time would not often have frequented a place like Mistress, they would have kept a lover - as the book plainly says most do.  Therefore, the women who would frequent a place like Mistress would do so in order to have a less…vanilla affair.  In truth, having it simply be a male lover was probably the most innocent of rendezvous he’d have working at a place like Mistress’s.

So, yes, she’s selling people, and even probably very kinky sex, but is a philanthropist.  She regards Porthos as a son, but will still sell him if he asks her, but wants better for him. Hey, I have her say she’s a hypocrite, and Porthos say she’s the strangest of women!  I’m marvelously fond of my creation in her, actually.

Back to Porthos, who’s my favorite musketeer if you couldn’t tell, he is said to not be extremely intelligent, and is occasionally even naive.  So I couldn’t have him being really intelligent and secretive about his history, or how he hid his whoring himself.  So instead he hides right in front, as the quote says.  Because he’s spoken so honestly about his history and so freely about his love live, everybody figures they know everything and don’t dig deeper.  But he could easily have spoken honestly, and still lied in omission.  He has no fortune, he has no family, he received recommendation due to his connection with a woman.  Ect.

I attempted to write it in a style comparable to the style of the original.  Which was actually a very fun exercise.