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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

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tapestry 👑 XXV

Warnings: dark elements, dubcon (oral)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The wedding day arrives.

Note: Okay, okay. It’s the wedding and I know y’all are thirsty wenches. I’m gonna keep writing however I want in this series because you know what, it’s fun and whatever happens happens. This is an adventure and we’re taking it. So without further ado.

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

The two weeks spent at Heron's Ford were both the longest and shortest of your life. You were reluctant to leave behind the crystal lake and the wading birds for which the castle was named. With your mother as your only companion, you whiled away the days and nights in a tenuous state of anxiety. The days ticked off until your inevitable doom.

Two nights before your return to the capital, a physician arrived to examine you. The ritual was sterile and awkward. He knelt between your legs and scribbled upon a parchment thereafter. Your mother saw him off and returned to comfort you. It was over and better that it was.

You arrived at the royal abode the night before the wedding. You were spirited into the Fort where every queen had spent the eve of the marriage. Both Sarah and Eleanor had done so, though your mind lingered on the latter. She had returned the Fort in a vicious twist and she left it without her head.

Your mother asked if you should like to walk the grounds but you remained in your chamber for fear of stumbling upon the green. You could think of nothing but the blood dripping into the grass; the queen’s head upon the frozen ground. The memory kept you awake. You expected many brides spent the night restless but likely upon much different woes.

You rose before the sun. Your mother had little trouble sleeping upon your shared mattress and you did not disturb her as you stood and crossed to the vanity. You sat and looked into the square mirror. The darkness cast shadows across your face, an eerie line along your throat that had your hand reaching for it.

“Dear,” Your mother’s voice was thick with sleep. You saw her sit up behind your reflection and shimmy across the bed. “Is it time already?”

“The sun will be upon us soon,” You answered as you turned away from the mirror. “We should send for water.”

“And food.” Your mother suggested.

“I have little appetite,” You said as you touched your stomach.

“Even so, you should eat. It will be a long day.” She advised as she rose and searched for her robe along the far wall. “My dear, do not trouble yourself so. It will go to plan.”

You hung your head and didn’t tell her how little you cared of whether it went to plan. Of the real troubles that stirred within. You nodded and stood to fetch your own robe and wrapped yourself up in it as you neared the window. The tower faced the castle and you looked down upon the spring dew through the fog. The sun would clear the mist though the light could offer little guidance.

👑

You were taken to the See at the centre of the city in a covered carriage. The streets were full of people enraptured by the festivities. A year before, none had expected to witness a royal wedding so soon; if at all in their lives. You glanced out the slit of the window shade as your leg shook uncontrollably beneath your skirts.

You were alone. Your mother had left you as you were led into the carriage. She would reach the See before you and join those gathered for the occasion. The voices without were raucous and filled your chest with sparks. The common folk cared little for courtly drama but were most agreed to the tables provided by the king in tents along the streets. Platters and cups would be sated on the royal coppers.

When at last the wheels ground to a halt, you waited in the vehicle and pulled the thin veil over your face. The thin coronet held it in place as you listened for the signal to emerge. A gentle tape came and the door opened. You stood and bent through the low door as a step was set out for you. You were offered a hand from a servant and took it as your vision was shrouded by your headdress.

The cobbled walkway that led to the holy edifice was lined with onlookers. Guards held them back as they reached to touch your silken skirts and grab at your veil. You carried on if only to avoid their grasp. The tall doors were open atop the wide stairs and you ascended with the help of the servant, several others tended to your skirts and kept them from snagging.

At the top of the steps, the crowd within added to the buzz of voices. A sudden burst of horns echoed along the tall ceilings and were mimicked by those without, announcing the arrival of the bride. The guests quieted and the high vaults were deathly and still. You peered down the aisle between the rows of people and your eyes found the distant figure at the front of the hall.

The king stood in beside the bishop. His golden brocade contrasted the dark smock of the minister sharply. You gulped as the servant wrestled his hand from yours. You were left to stand upon your own and it felt as if time had stopped. The horns were joined by the plucking of harps. For a moment, you didn’t move as you forgot to breathe.

At last, you took your first step forward. The second one was heavier, and the third. And then it became habit. On foot in front of the other as you waded through the sea of skirts and doubt. You kept your head forward, afraid that if you saw a familiar face you might turn back to hide.

As you reached the altar, another servant stepped forward and helped you up onto the low platform. You braced yourself before you proceed to the men stood patiently at the centre. The bishop was a thin man with thick black hair and a crooked nose. His long fingers were woven together across his front. The king looked younger and for a moment, unfamiliar. He had shaved his thick beard and resembled the old portrait that had formerly hung over your hearth. You gasped quietly.

You turned to face your betrothed as the bishop nodded to both of you. The music faded and the paralyzing silence returned. You folded one hand over the other and held your head up as best you could. The coronet felt heavier than before. The veil seemed thinner and you felt entirely bare.

The bishop cleared his throat and began.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of the lord to join together this Man and this Woman in sacred matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of our creator, and into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”

The bishop paused and looked around the room. Skirts ruffled and benches creaked but no voice rose. No protest was spoken.

“I require and charge you both that if either of you know any impediment, why you may not be lawfully joined together that you confess it. For those who shall be coupled together otherwise than by the lord’s word are not joined together by Him; neither is their union lawful.”

The bishop paused again, this time for effect. He peered between you again before he focused on the king.

“Will you have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after the lord’s ordinance in the holy estate of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as you shall live?”

Steven stood straighter as your eyes widened. You were thankful for the shield of your headdress. He spoke loudly and his voice bounced from the rafters. “I will. With all my being, I swear it.”

The bishop turned then to you.

“Will you have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after the lord’s ordinance in the holy estate of marriage? Will you obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as you shall live?”

Your legs wobbled but you kept yourself upright. You inhaled deeply and forced your voice from the depth of your stomach. You dug your nails into your other hand and declared, “I will.”

“And do you,” The bishop looked to Steven, “Present your ring to this woman as a symbol of your devotion; of your loyalty; of your love?”

“I do,” Steven replied as he reached into his jacket and pulled forth a golden band with a sapphire upon its face. He held out his hand as you tore yours apart and forced your palm against his. You wondered if he could feel you quaking as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

“And do you,” The bishop turned again. “Present your ring to this man as a symbol of your devotion; of your loyalty; of your love?”

“I…” You fumbled in the pocket sewn along your belt and fished the thick golden band from within. Along the inside was inscribed the words, my king. “Do.” Steven turned his hand so that you could place the ring on his thick finger. When you finished, he grabbed your hand and held it firmly as the bishop proceeded.

“We call upon the blessing of the creator, that this marriage shall be fruitful, peaceful, and loving. We thank the lord for this union and that it should come to be. We do ordain this marriage as holy and binding before his eye and upon his word. I do declare, by his decree, this marriage to be true and legal. To be sacred and unbreakable. Praise.”

“Praise,” The crowd returned in unison and your lips barely moved as you stood with your hand in the king’s vice-like fingers.

“King Steven, I do call upon you to present this woman as your new wife.” The bishop said. “To unveil her to these witnesses and the world as your one and consecrated only.”

“Thank you, your holiness,” The king released you and turned to you.

He smiled as he reached to the hem of your veil and lifted it slowly but determinedly. As he uncovered your face, you forced a smile of your own. You felt as if you would choke. He let the thin fabric fall back over your hair and took your hand once more. He pulled you to face the crowd with him.

“I do declare you to be husband and wife,” The bishop called as the king raised your hand in his. “May your lives together be most blessed.”

The crowd erupted in cheers as you stood in shock. You could barely believe it had happened so swiftly. Your eyes searched the room but with the king’s hand upon yours, there was no escape to be had. Your mother dabbed away tears as she clung to your father and the dowager watched with her implacable gaze. Lord Barnes didn’t look and examined the ceiling instead.

Steven lowered your hand and leaned down to speak in your ear. You could barely hear him above the din. “My wife,” He preened. “All mine.”

👑

You barely recalled your walk back down the aisle. You felt detached; as if the person you were when you arrived remained at the altar. If it hadn’t been for the king dragging you from the See, you suspected you would have stayed there for as long as you could. The streets were lively yet and the guards struggled to keep your path clear. The carriage door shielded you from the droves.

Steven fell against the seat and pulled you down beside him. He removed his crown and set it aside with a sigh. You exhaled and let your shoulders droop as you leaned your head back. His hand clung to yours as your skin stung with shock. This couldn’t be. It was a dream. A nightmare.

His fingers moved as he loosened his grip. He caressed the back of your hand and touched your pale skirts. He played with the fabric as you lifted your head to look at him. He turned and leaned in as he bent to kiss you. The carriage jolted and the horses hooves set off down the road.

“My wife,” He drew away. “My wife, my wife…” He repeated over and over. “And I am your husband,” He cradled your face with his hand. “Say it.”

“My husband,” You uttered as he dragged his thumb below your lips.

“Our union has been blessed and we are ordained.” His hand fell and glossed over your chest. You went rigid as he continued his path and bunched you skirts in his hand. “It is our duty as husband and wife to consummate our marriage.”

“My king, should we not...wait?” You gulped.

“We’ve waited a very long time already,” He purred as he rubbed his nose against your temple and continued to tug your skirts upward. “A very.” His hand pushed beneath the silk and struggled with your shift. “Very,” He slipped past the bottom layer and tickled your thigh, “Long,” He crawled along your skin and you closed your legs around his hand. “Time.”

“We have the feast,” You squeezed his hand between your thighs as he wiggled it. “We are not far from the castle.”

“The people can wait upon us,” He insisted as he dug his nails into your flesh and you were forced to part your legs. “A taste…” He sat back and slid off the seat onto his knees. “That’s all.” He moved in front of you and his fingers grazed your most sensitive part as his other hand gripped your knee. “Did you not vow to be obedient?”

“I did, I did,” You flinched as he pressed deeper and his fingertip sent a spark through you. He repeated the motion as he flicked the bud nestled there. You squeaked as he held his finger firm and toyed with you.

“And I did vow to comfort you.” He grinned as he pushed between your legs. “And so I shall.”

His eyes drifted down and watched his hand. You couldn’t bear to follow his gaze as the warmth seeped from his touch. He bent his head and you watched his golden hair as he leaned in. You were mortified as you felt his warm breath along your vee and his finger grazed along your folds.

His tongue met your clit as it resumed the work of his finger. He spread his hand over his thigh as his other went over your dress and held your hip. Your breath hitched as he worked his tongue and his lips circled your bud as he suckled at it. He varied between the two; lapping and sucking as the tendrils coiled around you.

You planted your hands on the seat as you tried to withhold the moans that filled your chest. You’d never felt anything so peculiar. Anything so tingly. So wonderful. It chased away the dread that clouded your mind and you forgot that the man between your thighs was the same who created the storm.

Your legs bent as you pointed your toes in your slippers. You didn’t think as you arched your back. You could not censor the mewls that rose from you and interrupted the sloppy sound of his tongue. You gulped at the air that whisked from your lungs faster and faster and your voice could not be stifled.

He reached up and took your hand from the seat. He pulled it blindly to the back of his head and pressed it there. He hummed as he buried himself deeper and pushed his tongue down along your folds before flitting it back up. You closed your eyes as you felt every muscle tense in longing; for more, for him.

You didn’t know what he was doing but he must’ve been doing it right. You couldn’t deny that you liked it. You couldn’t say you wanted him to stop. You wanted him to carry on forever. Your fingers molded to the shape of his crown as you urged him on. You murmured hazily as your head lolled back and forth.

You were panting madly. Like an animal. You knew, beneath the fog, that you should be ashamed but it felt too good to be ashamed. He brought your legs up over his shoulders as he tilted your pelvis against him. You held him between your knees as your other hand found his head and you kneaded his golden hair.

You babbled as your blood boiled over and your body seized in sheer pleasure. His tongue swirled around and around. All restraint was lost. Every bond, every rule, every little barrier fell away and you were free. Your voice piqued as your body did too and you writhed against the king.

You’d never felt anything so delightful. So raw. So delicious. If this was sin, it was worth the eternal cost. He did not stop until you were breathless. Until the strength left you entirely and your hands slipped away from his head and your legs hung limply over him.

Slowly, he raised his head and looked up at you. His lips shone as he smirked and ran his finger along your delicate bud. You were delirious. It had been but a lapse in your sanity as the glow faded. You looked down at your stockinged legs; exposed and trembling.

The king climbed up next to you and pulled your skirts down to cover you. To replace the modesty you’d so easily forgotten. You closed your eyes and turned away from him. He caught your chin and pulled you back to face him. He pushed his lips to yours and shoved his tongue in your mouth. He tasted sweeter than before.

“Oh, we will wait,” He pulled away and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Though I do not think I will be the one so impatient.”

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #medieval au #series #au #fic #mcu #marvel #dark!fic #dark fic #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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dreamcatcherjiah · 4 years ago

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Until we meet again. JK x reader

Part 1

A/N: @mabel-k3 sent these my way and I had a fantastic idea so I asked her and she allowed me to combine both!! What beautiful requests, these have unleashed my creativity big time!! Thank you for requesting, Momo!!

Also thanks to my lovie @lysjeon because she hyped me up so much after reading it and what can I say? THANK YOU TO YOU BOTH 🥺🥺🥺

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (Jungkook has different names throughout his different lives, but they’re easy to spot ;))

Genre: ANGST, fluff, Reincarnation fic

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: graphic violence, weapons, mentions of death, mentions of war, assassination, main character death (repeatedly), (and I think that’s it. If you find something triggering that I haven't listed, please let me know!! Enjoy!!)

Kingdom of Great Joseon, Hanseong. Year 1398.

Voices carried through the garden. Some of the guards were posted at the doors to prevent the peasants from entering the palace. Or to stop someone from getting out. The tumult and noise wouldn’t stop, carried by gossipy maids and new, inexperienced soldiers. They would learn, either one way or another. The Palace had been in an uproar since the King started thinking about abdicating, the Princes feeling uneasy, waiting to see which one of them would wear the crown next. Having listened to your fair share of courtly gossip, as the first assistant to the royal doctor, you knew there was actually no love lost between the Princes. Their attitudes were haughty at best and most of them were more concerned with their whimsy pursues than the good of such an incipient kingdom as Joseon was. King Taejo was a good monarch; he made peace with China and the Ashikaga Shogunate, bringing peace to his country after many years of war and uncertainty, yet it seemed his problems laid closer to Hanseong than he would have hoped.

His advisors had been the most loyal to him until the moment came when they had to pick a side to place their loyalty. Only one of his eight sons would become King and with him would come new favours to those who supported him and punishment for those who went against him in the battle for the throne. Word at court was that one of Taejo’s advisers, Prime Minister Jeong Do-jeon, was siding towards the two sons Queen Sindeok had borne the king. He had managed to place Prince Uian as the main heir to his father a few years back, but the opinion of most of the advisors was leaning towards the opposite direction; Crown Prince Uian and his brother Prince Muan may have been the most beloved by the King, but it was clear they were not what the kingdom needed of a monarch.

“Word has it in the King’s chamber that he will heed Jeong Do-jeon’s advice and do away with the Fifth Prince once and for all,” said one of the Queen Shinui’s chambermaids. The Fifth Prince, Prince Jeongan, was the favoured alternative at court. He was everything his half-brothers weren’t, intelligent, determined, and good for the kingdom. Naturally, he was a threat to Do-jeon and his cohort. “I hope Crown Prince Uian does become king,” she said, a dreamy cadence to her voice, “I may think about asking my father to introduce me as a possible consort.”

They were so enthralled in their conversation that they did not notice how they were directly in your path and neither did you, carrying boxes of supplies definitely too heavy for you. The inevitable crash echoed through the place as an explosion, glass vases and tonic bottles breaking, the minuscule shards of crystal flying in every direction leaving you, sitting ungracefully at its centre looking bewildered and quite a bit furious.

“What in the world do you think you were doing, gossiping like that?” you asked them. Your authority in the palace giving you quite the leverage to properly chastise these two silly girls. “What would have happened if it had been a higher official you had crashed into? Or, God forbid, one of the Princes or someone from the royal family?”

That last remark made them both drop to their knees and start profusely apologising. The prospect of losing their heads was a tad bit more fear-inducing than crashing into the Doctor’s apprentice and doing away with their supplies. As they scurried away and you picked up what you could salvage from the floor, you thought how convenient it was for them, here in the palace; their fathers trusted advisors to the King, with significant names backing them with years of honour and courageous deeds for the advancement of the monarchy. They would have everything they asked for at their feet if they so much as muttered they found themselves wanting it.

Passing through one of the storage rooms by the Doctor’s quarters, a hand emerged out of nowhere and you found yourself losing your balance and the grip you had on the glass of herbal poultice you rescued from the wreckage in the garden, which crashed on the straw floor with a muted thud.

“What you did back there to the daughter of Nam Eun could as well cost you your head,” said a voice you could recognise in a crowd. The soft chuckle that accompanied the threat and the sweet of his breath against the shell of your ear calmed your anxious thoughts and gave freedom to your heart to beat its way out of your chest. Strong, calloused hands circled your waist and you found yourself leaning against a firm chest that vibrated with his laughter and got closer and closer to you with every breath he took. “But I won’t tell on you, my dear.”

Turning around, you laid your eyes in the weathered and dirty face of the person you held most dear in this world. Oh Jookee was the captain of the Palace Regiment assigned to the protection of the Crown Prince and he had just arrived from accompanying him on a stakeout, preparing for the hunting season. His brown eyes held yours tenderly and his whole face morphed as he tried to contain a smile from overtaking his features. His pink lips finally gave way to that beautiful smile, his eyes turning into crescents and his cheeks becoming flush with happiness.

“My love, how did you manage to come back so… untidy?” you asked, pushing back some stray hairs that had escaped his manggeon. His hair was curling at his temples having escaped from the confines of the leather binding in at the top of his head. The accessory was a bit crooked and you could see the sweat beads along the black cloth. He gave you the image of how he must have been when he was younger and played on the dirt with his brothers. “I thought the Crown Prince just wanted to breathe some fresh air and prepare for tomorrow’s outing?”

Jookee nuzzled his nose along the column of your neck, causing that welcomed current from the tip of your toes to the end of the longest hair on your head. You hadn’t seen each other in months, and this meeting, while short-lived and clandestine, would be what would carry you through the months before you could ask the king permission to marry.

“We encountered some trouble on the way back and thought it prudent to bring the Princes back earlier. They are in Prince Muan’s chambers as we speak and I am required to join them presently.” He said. Even though he was young to be in such a powerful position, he took his duty to heart and he would never disobey an order, which made you question what he was doing hiding with you in the supply cupboard, and so you made him aware of your worry.

“You know Crown Prince Uian,” he answered, a sardonic smile spreading his lips after he managed to steal a kiss from yours, “he enjoys beauty and pristineness. In my present state I am still beautiful, but much less than pristine,” he joked. “I was sent away with the mission to do myself up with clothes fitting for a general, my dear.”

“Why, General Oh, I am afraid you will find yourself quite a long way away from your quarters,” you flirted. “How will you go back to the Prince in time, and all decent, if you don’t leave me now?”

Laughing at your poor attempt at jesting, he hugged you close to his chest, releasing a sigh when he couldn’t get his body any closer to yours. The happiness you felt in these kinds of moments was matchless to anything you had ever felt before meeting him, and nothing you would feel in your life together from then on.

“I must change my clothes, I am afraid,” he said, separating himself from you, slowly as if it was costing him an immense effort to do so, “go back to your master and be careful today, my flower,” he frowned. “The slight inconvenience I mentioned before is not yet taken care of, please watch yourself.”

Knowing he wouldn’t play you with something he didn’t consider serious, you promised to be more mindful of your surroundings and watched him go, with happiness in your heart and that already familiar sensation in your whole being, that sensation you felt every time you were forced to part.

It was nearly dusk when you were called to what used to be Queen Sindeok’s chambers before she died. A normal occurrence, it made you be just that bit more careful today. Even though Jookee’s warning managed to keep you on your toes through the day, there was no harm in being reasonably suspicious. After all, you were living in court.

Princess Gyeongsun, regal and poised, was sitting at a low desk in the middle of the room, flanked on both sides by her brothers, Crown Prince Uian and Prince Muan. Giving a quick overview of the room before being granted access, you located Jookee easily, a very imposing presence by Crown Prince Uian’s elbow. He looked completely different, wearing dark clothing beneath his shining armour and a concentrated scowl distorting his handsome features. He was the living, breathing image of a hero. His eyes drifted to yours for a brief second and you noticed how his mouth set in a thin line and a crease of worry settled between his brows.

With a twist of her wrist, the Princess called you over, and you busied yourself with serving her special tea blend, infused to perfection, just the way she enjoyed it. The Princes were bickering, back and forth, about some unbelievable treason they had not expected, how it completely changed the power game between the walls of the palace. Having been living this power struggle since you arrived at the palace five years prior, you were quite accustomed to the tension and the fear of betrayal that so delicately held the equilibrium of life in court; that being said, there was a seriousness to Crown Prince Uian’s tone that you had never heard before. He was the youngest of the princes, carefree and with a happy disposition, so to say that the frown adorning his features was disturbing was quite an understatement.

Chancing a look at Jookee’s face, you noticed his eyes moving nervously from the windows on the sides of the room, flanked by armed soldiers of the Crown Prince’s guard, to the door equally heavily guarded. Something was seriously amiss, but you needn’t have wondered any longer, as there was a commotion by the door and Jookee along with some of his soldiers moved in unison, blocking the Princess and Princes, and subsequently you, from whatever it was that waiting on the other side of the door. After a few minutes, silence took over and the tension escalated. Prince Muan was whispering furiously to his brother, his face red and distressed.

“We should have fled the palace,” he was saying, “as soon as we found out Do-jeon was murdered!” When those words left the Prince’s lips you knew how serious the situation was. The delicate equilibrium of power had just been altered with the death of the most powerful pawn at the hands of a very powerful enemy. “We should have never trusted him, he played you brother—”

Jookee made a curt but powerful hissing sound that managed to shut the Prince’s mouth in an instant. In any other circumstances, that would have gotten him the most severe of punishments, but as things stood, Jookee and his men were the only thing standing between certain death and the royals, and both princes knew that.

The doors imploded and in flooded many soldiers led by a very tall imposing man: Grand Prince Jeongan, the Fifth Prince. His face was impassive and his clothes were covered in dry blood. He didn’t seem at all bothered by this fact, as he wasn’t at all worried that the blood of the people he had murdered at the door was reaching his shoes. He straightened his shoulders and marched on forward, standing eye to eye with Jookee.

Your blood turned to ice. Jookee was the Captain of Prince Uian’s guard. If this was an attempt on his life, he would be the first one to fight. He could keep up in a fight, you had been witness to his quick strength and cold strategy when he trained on the palace grounds, grace and sheer power emanating through every pore of his body. But still, he was a guard sworn to protect the royal family, what was his fate when faced with such a decision as to protect one brother from the other? He would be seen as a traitor if he did so much as to grace Prince Jeongan with his sword, but if he resisted and didn’t raise his weapon, he would be seen as a traitor either way and executed for it. Your heart was trying to beat its way out of you, this time out of utter terror for what was about to happen. Your thoughts were your own, and so you allowed yourself to pray for him, to pray for the brightest star in the universe, the reason you drew breath every morning, you prayed for him to know his duty but also to know the value of his own life in a world that valued it so little in comparison to the people he was sworn to protect.

Time seemed to be at a stand-still, Prince Jeongan and Jookee face to face, looking each other in the eye, not a word being uttered. The Prince was a few years older than Jookee and much older than his brothers by Queen Sindeok, the youngest of them having barely turned sixteen last spring. There had been a time when the brothers played together and there was deep respect from the younger ones to the older, and a deep sense of responsibility and desire to protect the younger ones from the older princes. Now there was only betrayal in the eyes of the Fifth Prince and utter fear in the eyes of his younger siblings.

“You have no authority to stand on the way of a Prince, General. Move aside while I feel benevolent,” Prince Jeongan’s voice was deep and imposing, the voice of a person who was used to having his will fulfilled and his detractors beheaded. Turning your head, you saw Jookee’s shoulders take an even more determined stand and he stood, taller, determined, while more soldiers filled in the room.

Prince Muan, taking advantage of the distracted state of his older brother, had moved slightly to his right, so he was partially hidden behind Princess Gyeongsun. In the meanwhile, his younger brother, Crown Prince Uian had shifted in his sitting position and was sitting facing forward, towards the soldiers, with an impassive frown and a set sneer. In your opinion, neither one of them was fit to be king of Joseon, but you knew now who was the best of the two; at least the King had managed to marginally avoid putting a gutless puppet on the throne.

“If I move aside you may do something you will regret, my Prince,” answered Jookee, his voice calm and levelled. His words were not betraying the tumult that he was sure to be feeling inside. In a subtle movement, while he was still watching the Fifth Prince carefully, his eyes turned to you and you wanted nothing more than to tell him not to worry for you, to keep his head where it should be. “If you are here to talk to your brothers, allow the Princess and the servant to leave, they shouldn’t hear what will be said here tonight.”

You had no time to wonder what that was, for the prince had already drawn his sword and was pointing it towards Jookee’s throat, making thick droplets of sweat appear on your temples.

“And allow them to go warn my dear father’s guards of my presence here?” Jeongan chuckled and pressed forward, his sword drawing blood from Jookee’s skin. “I don’t believe so. It is, however, such a pity that you should find yourself here, General Oh, on the night I have come to kill my brothers.”

Those words made the night turn into chaos. With a swiftness you didn’t think him capable of, Prince Muan raised his sister from her cushion and moved with her towards one of the windows. The Princess, scared, reached for you and dragged you along behind her coward of a brother. When you were close to the window, you realised there was a shadow moving behind it. What a terrible mistake to leave the windows unattended when the prince entered. With a crashing certainty you knew now there was going to be a bloodbath tonight and there was nothing you could do to either flee the scene with Jookee unscathed or having him leaving with you willingly. What a horrible night for all the intrigues in the palace to come to fruition.

The soldiers charged forward and Jookee finally drew his sword to fight off the Prince, his movements fast and certain to try to defuse the sheer rage with which Prince Jeongan was pushing him backwards. The closer the squabble got to the Crown Prince, the harder he fought, and the harder Prince Muan pushed his sister to get to the window. Reacting just in time, you pulled the Princess backwards in the same second the window burst open and an arrow pierced the Prince’s chest. Incredulous, he dropped his eyes down in time to see a crimson stain spread over his blue silk-covered chest. Mere seconds after his eyes rolled back into his skull and his body dropped to the floor as if he had been nothing more than a marionette whose strings had been severed. Princess Gyeongsun, to her credit, kept a stoic and quiet calm even while life escaped her brother and got a hold of your hand. The both of you retreated to the furthest corner of the room while the fight to get to Crown Prince Uian was still ongoing and the bodies were dropping to the floor at an alarming rate. Jookee, now fighting the Fifth prince tooth and nail, kept his place close to the door, mindful of his surroundings in case he had to intervene if one of the soldiers got too close to his charge. More soldiers were entering through the now open window and now there was the added issue of arrows flying in all directions through the narrow window, taking down both friend and foe.

One of the Fifth Prince’s soldiers got rid of the guard fighting him off and advanced on the Crown Prince. Jookee, seeing this, turned his back on Jeongan and dispatched him before he could reach his target. In the few seconds that passed between the soldier falling and him looking at you, the dimension of his faux pas dawned on you. With his back unprotected and his eyes fixed on you to make sure no wounds were visible, he didn’t see Prince Jeongan raise his sword over his head and drop it in a powerful arch that cut deep wounds onto Jookee’s legs. The momentum propelled him forward, landing on his knees with a deep grimace of pain distorting his features.

You were frozen, pushing your body against the Princess’ so that she would come to no harm, but your whole world was leaning out of its axis. Your breath caught in your throat and all you could do was watch helplessly as the Fifth Prince walked by Jookee as if he was nothing more than an insect and approach his brother, who remained imperturbable and unmovable at the table. Looking up at his older brother, his frown still set, he straightened his shoulders and adopted a regal pose he rarely displayed.

“What are you doing here, brother?” he asked, knowing perfectly well the circumstances of his brother arriving at the palace in the middle of the night, and still enquired.

“You know perfectly well why I have come, little one,” he answered, sneering down at the young prince. “There was an attempt on my life not two days ago by that rat, the Prime Minister! And you and your filthy family were all behind it!” his voice was rising with each word, ending on a terrible scream that made the paper lamps hanging from the columns tremble.

Jookee was still kneeling, two soldiers standing rock-still next to him, one sword at his throat, the other at the nape of his neck. His eyes kept moving from where you were standing at the back of the room, to the quarrelling brothers, not knowing what to do, whom to help. He looked utterly helpless, his shoulders slumping and his trousers absorbing the spilt blood of his men. When you caught his eye, you saw the intense desperation that his eyes were hiding. You were aching to run to him, to tell him everything would be all right, but with the corpse of Prince Muan at your feet, you felt that the circumstances wouldn’t actually improve.

“That conspiration you are mentioning, brother, was staged by my mother Queen Sindeok and the Prime Minister as you so eloquently put,” spoke then the Crown Prince, “At present, I believe neither of them is a threat to you; the Queen died two years ago and I believe you did away with Do-jeon’s head not so long ago.”

“YOU ARE A THREAT TO ME!” Jeongan shouted. “Don’t you see? Had you not blindly followed your mother schemes; you wouldn’t have to die!”

The princes faced each other now, Jeongan in his thirties and Uian barely a teenager, both standing their ground. You could see their younger versions, the siblings everyone saw when the Fifth Prince would come back from a campaign in the name of his father and his siblings would be waiting for him in the palace, waiting for him to tell them the stories of his exploits and missions. What a fanciful far away dream that was.

With a snap of his wrists, one of his soldiers zeroed in on you and the Princess, who stood her ground with a presence few were able to muster in such circumstances. The man didn’t immediately make any move to grab any of you but his menacing eyes were set and his mouth contorted on a wicked rictus. He was the kind of soldier who thoroughly enjoyed his job; they were rare, those who instead of the honour of serving the royals sought only the power and the bloodbath, but they did exist. Jookee noticed him approaching from his position on the floor behind the princes and your hopes of leaving the room alive flew out of the window upon seeing his ashen face turn even whiter. You tried to convey how much you loved him with one look but the brute got in between and you could only see the soldiers pointing their swords at your lover’s throat.

“You have always sneered down at me knowing you would be sitting on the throne, safely away from me, when I realised how deeply treachery ran in your blood,” someone was saying. Your ability to concentrate on anything happening around you was slipping away from you, a blindly, white panic taking its place. “You shielded yourself with all the glamour and fanfare while your family were busy scheming, even your dear siblings conspired against you.”

As if some silent signal had been given, the Princess was taken from your side and made to kneel next to her brothers. She was still impassive, but now that façade wasn’t so much bravery in the face of danger, but actual knowledge of what was going to happen in the room and certainty that it wouldn’t affect her.

“You see, out of all our sisters, this one here has proven herself quite useful,” Jeongan droned on, unbothered by nothing while the future of a kingdom hung on the tip of his sword. “I was told ambition is not an appreciated trait on a woman, but I’m inclined to disagree. You can leave the room now, sister,” he said while she rose to her feet. She was nearly out of his reach when he reached out with his hand and caught her arm just above the elbow. “I don’t need to tell you that your presence here and what has happened tonight is not for public ears, now do I?” She shook her head and scurried out of the room faster than lightning.

If his sister’s betrayal did something to the Crown Prince, he didn’t show it. His face remained unreadable, his eyes fixated on the Fifth Prince as he pranced around him, comfortable in his victory. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Jeongan faced Crown Prince Uian for the final time and raised his sword in a silver, lethal arch. Aside from a minuscule flinch, the younger prince didn’t betray any reaction to the crimson stain spreading over his silk garments, nor to the metallic smell that seemed to penetrate the pores of every person in the room.

“I could let you live,” said Jeongan, “if you begged for your pathetic life on your knees. You have no supporters and you have proven to be the coward every single one of your detractors thought you were.”

Jookee was vibrating with rage behind the Princes. His eyes were thin slits that promised murder. In all the years you had known him, he had never looked as lethal and dangerous as he did now. He had been tasked with protecting the Crown Prince when he was no more than a boy himself and he had told you many stories about who Uian really was behind his mother and the minister’s plans. Granted, Jookee was as exasperated with the younger man’s excessive knack towards frivolity as everyone at court, but he also admired the Prince’s tenacity and courage. Growing up in the shadows of bigger people has taught him how to stand out, and yet remain unseen, he had told you one day, while the two of you returned to the palace from a festival in the city. He was relaxed back then, the Queen was still alive and, even though Minister Do-jeon was meddling on the King’s affairs more than recommended, the air of the palace wasn’t stale with tension and the expectation of tragedy, at least not for a few more years. It was around that time when he took you to his hometown and introduced you to his family; his mother, who shed tears as soon as her son told her his intentions on marrying you, his father, a stern man but who had warm eyes and very pleasant disposition; and his older brother, a high ranking officer in the King’s personal guard. You had spent the week helping his mother with anything she needed, tending to visitors and sharing private smiles with him. Happiness filled you back then.

“You came here to kill me,” answered Crown Prince Uian, bringing you back to a much darker present, “so go ahead and do it. I will not be considered some lesser being and be reduced to begging for my life.”

Upon seeing the older Prince raise his sword you started struggling against the thug keeping you in place. To impede you from reaching the royals, the soldier threw any decency to the wind and, taking advantage of his position, groped you all over. You hardly noticed as Crown Prince Uian straightened his shoulders and faced his brother head-on, for you were trying your hardest to escape the ruffian and get closer to them, perhaps if you could get rid of him and run fast enough you would be able to get in between the sword, avoid more years of chaos and instability. A double assassination could throw the kingdom into war and that could not happen.

“That’s it, you little bitch, you asked for it,” growled the man, and seconds later pain exploded from just below your ribcage, ripping through you until you felt the skin of your back breaking apart. There was a moment of blissful nothing until the sword was hastily jerked from your body and your body broke into violent spasms, your knees giving away and collapsing on the floor with an audible thud.

“NO!” you heard Jookee scream, an agonising growl, almost animalistic, as if it had been ripped from the deepest part of his soul. You heard him from a distance as if your head was submerged in water. The black edges of your vision made it difficult to see through the haze setting in; there was movement and a good amount of noise, of which you couldn’t make any sense, as the room tilted and you felt your temple hit the ground. In comparison with the flaming hot agony you felt around your mid-section, this injury felt ridiculously insignificant.

“Restrain him!” was saying the Fifth Prince, but Jookee was putting up an impressive fight. Not minding the swords at his throat, he rose to his feet and charged forward, swinging his sword at anything on his way to you. Rotten luck his was, as one of the things keeping him away from you was Prince Jeongan, who narrowly missed one of Jookee’s swings by a mere breath, jumping aside and seizing him by the hair at the back of his head. The crazed look on your boy’s face slipped away for a second and you could see the determined captain fighting against his better judgement and thinking if whether or not it would be worth it to raise his sword against the Prince. “You fool,” the Prince droned on, a dangerous glint in his eyes, “do you even know what you could have done? Had you left a scar in my body, I wouldn’t have been able to become king and all these assassinations would have been fruitless! I see you care more about some servant than the people you’re tasked to protect, do you not? If I recall correctly, the punishment for high treason is death.”

If you weren’t already trembling and cold, the ice that covered your heart at the Prince’s threat would have had you an incoherent mess in the floor in seconds. Your throat produced a drawn-out wheezing sound, but no one paid any mind to the agonising woman on the floor, not even your murderer, who had gone back to his position behind Jeongan.

Restrained from moving by the strong hand yanking his head back by the hair, Jookee moved his eyes to look at you and you could see through them how much it was breaking him to see you on the floor, away from him, and not being able, if not to take the pain away, to be next to you. He turned his gaze to the Prince and, with a voice clearer and steadier than you expected, giving that he was trembling out of rage, defied him one last time.

“I won’t protect a King whose throne is cemented over the blood of his own kin,” he said, poised and authoritative, even in this situation.

Not even deigning to give words back, Jeongan took the sword with which the soldier had run you through and impaled Jookee with it. For an instant, your vision cleared through your panicked tears and you could see the placid smile on your Jookee’s face, as a small spring of blood run from the corner of his mouth down his chin.

“If you care so much for this woman, over your own Prince, you might as well die by the same steel that killed her,” said the Fifth Prince before pulling out the sword and pushing Jookee’s head forward by the neck so that he fell on his side, a bit closer to you.

Whatever happened from the moment he collided with the floor onwards was lost to you. The sole focus of your drifting attention was focused on how Jookee was pulling himself by sheer force of will away from the royals, leaving a crimson trail behind him, toward where you lay, tears leaving his eyes from the pain, but certain and determined.

Lifting his head, his eyes locked with you as he grunted and you could see a thousand moments in one second; when the Court Doctor had introduced you to a scrawny lithe fifteen-year-old boy from the provinces, that seemed so long ago and yet you lived it as if it had been that same morning. When the bickering of childhood had turned into a beautiful friendship over the years, with him visiting you every time he was stationed at the palace, going on walks together, patching him up when he got rough with another soldier during training. The day he told you about his feelings it had been raining. Both of you had gone fishing to the river and when the sky broke it rained down with a vengeance. Your clothes soaked through so fast you’d had no time to seek shelter, and so it made no difference if you walked leisurely back to the palace or run your way there. Laughing as his hair stuck to his forehead and got tangled on the hilt of the sword strapped to his back, you didn’t notice how he was looking at you, with the softest smile on his lips, and reached a hand out to grab yours.

“I love how you laugh with your whole body,” he whispered. You shouldn’t have been able to hear him over the thundering rain, but you did. “I was meaning to tell you something as soon as we left the palace, but I just seemed to be missing the right moment.”

Tell me, you had whispered, as he drew you closer by the hand, moving a lock of wet hair away from your cheek with his thumb and leaving his hand there, caressing your face. You felt your heart on your throat and your eyes wandered around Jookee’s face, committing every second, every movement of his face to memory: the little scar under his left eye that he had gotten playing with his brother when they were children, the little dimples that showed on his upper lip when he tried to stop himself from laughing, everything.

“I know I am just a simple soldier and you could do much better than me, but I can’t live another day without telling you how you make my heart beat harder and are there every waking moment, in my mind and in my thoughts,” he said, quick and without drawing breath, giving away his nervousness. “We have grown old together. I can’t exactly tell you when my feelings for you changed, but I can just hope that yours did too and I am not overstepping your boundaries. I very much adore you and would be the happiest man on this earth if you loved me back just half as I love you.”

You couldn’t remember if you said something, or just jump into his arms, yours around his neck, and hugged him for the longest time. By the time you got to the palace, soaked through, you were a giddy happy couple who had planned, in such a short little time, what your life would be like when you got married.

It is incredible what the mind remembers in the most inopportune moments. We have grown old together, he had said and damn destiny, you wouldn’t get to grow any older. He was still painstakingly dragging his body to you, your vision blacker as the seconds went by, his face ashen but set. You knew he would reach you even if it cost him the last breath of life he had in his body. You wanted nothing more than be close to him until the end.

When he did reach you, he manoeuvred his body so that both his arms were encircling you, your face set against his chest which was shaking with shivers as violent as the ones you were suffering. Lifting your head with his bloody hand, he angled his so that you could look him in the eye. There, behind all the pain and the sadness at having both your lives cut short, was your boy, your Jookee, the one who had kissed you under rain and sun, over snow and with joyous passion, now dimmed as his consciousness began to slip away as fast as yours was. His lashes were wet with tears as he smiled at you, his teeth tinted with blood. You wanted to scream at the unfairness of today. What were the chances that you had to be here, the both of you, when a power-hungry Prince and a Princess too ambitious for her own good, decided to go around killing their siblings for the throne? Your life was fantastic, you were to be married to Jookee, a loving, caring and sensitive man, who would, no doubt, make your days beautiful and worth living if only to see the smile on his face when he came home.

“I love you,” he whispered, a tear escaping his eye and running down his temple. Your hand, resting on his chest, felt the erratic thump of his heart, trying to pump the little blood he had left to the rest of his body. Numbness had finally taken a hold of your body and you could feel nothing except from an overpowering sadness and helplessness.

“I don’t want you to die,” you sobbed. The hiccup caused by your cries did no good to your tired lungs, that tried to bring back the air you had expelled but were failing miserably. “Why did you… why would you act… so rashly? You… could have lived! You… have so much… to live for.”

“I have nothing to live for without you,” he whispered back, a wheezing sound leaving his body with every word he spoke, “I have no regrets if we leave together, we’ll die as we wanted to live. Holding each other.”

You could no longer keep your head upright, unable to kiss him one last time as you desperately wanted to do. Looking him straight in the eyes, as you heart broke into a million pieces, you whispered to him as your vision blackened completely. His sparkling eyes were the last thing you ever saw.

“I love you,” you told him, feeling your eyes close.

“If there is a life after this, let me find you again,” he said and those were the last words you heard as his body stopped moving and you slipped into unconsciousness.

You were walking along a river, barefooted. You felt as the warm, dark sand caressed your feet as you trod along, tirelessly. You knew you were looking for something, but couldn’t know what. Your mind was foggy and you couldn’t make sense of the flashes of thought that pierced through the milky white sheet. So, you kept on walking, maybe someday you would reach that place. What place? Days turned into months, or did months turn into days? Each hour passed swiftly and each second seemed to last a millennium. The shadows around the transparent willow trees grew closer to you the brighter the sun shined and the meadows were the most brilliant when the moon made its course across the sky. At some point between arriving at the river and then, you had stopped looking at how the sand engulfed your feet and lifted your head to look upon the thousands upon thousands of multicoloured stars that seemed to go on forever and whose light took residence in the most hidden corners of your soul. Silence surrounded you, incredibly noisy, even your footsteps on the sand were silenced. Weren’t you walking along a river? Shouldn’t the stream make some noise and silence your thoughts? You were meant to be someone else, somewhere else, and this unknown guilt was eating away at you. Yes, the night was silent, until it wasn’t anymore. The sound made you drop your head and you saw. The lonely figure walking along the same riverbank, only in the opposite direction. It was getting closer and closer as the years ticked by and you could almost distinguish the dark hair and the strong complexion that made him unforgettable to who you used to be. He was walking towards a bridge, standing proud atop the calm waters of the stream, red and powerful in a land where the dullest of colours were the brightest and the stars shone purple and green. His eyes and expression were covered in shadows and his gait stood out brilliant against the dark colour of the sand. You spent months walking towards him as he kept his steady pace towards you and, even though he was close enough to touch him, you never stopped walking but never could meet him in the bridge standing between the two of you. You were losing hope of ever this familiar stranger, what with having walked what felt like the longitude of the world twice for centuries. He was surely meant to stay there, the focus of your vision, and yet out of reach. Without knowing why that fact struck you as highly unfair. What had you done while living that the person you wanted to hold the most would forever stay strange to your touch? The stars faced and died and still there you were, walking to him, arms wide open and eyes brimming with tears, whispering over and over strange sounds that seemed to form words. Unknown words to you but familiar to him as he started to run. The seconds seemed to tick as if you were now walking through treacle instead of sand and you reached the bridge. Your body collided with his and intense happiness filled your whole being. Keeping him at arm’s length you were finally able to see his features, similar to the ones you remembered but not quite the same; brilliant eyes that seemed to reflect the galaxy over your heads, the scar was still there, but his hair was shorter, trimmed at the nape of his neck. His smile was still the same, blindingly shiny and unchanged.

“I’ll see you on the other side, my love,” he whispered and everything around you dissolved into nothingness.

Pink Hibiscus Cottage, Dartmoor, England. Spring 1922.

Watering the plants in your little cottage, you waited for the people to arrive. After a couple of quiet days, the cottage was going to be full of people and noise again. It had been so long that you could barely remember a time before your husband and you were the only occupants in the small wood house, close to Plymouth in Devon County.

Putting down the hose with some difficulty, you painstakingly made your way back inside and busied yourself with making tea. Once the kettle was hovering over the fire stove, you set aside two teacups and a little saucer with scones. It wasn’t likely that your husband would have enough appetite to munch on some sugary treat, but you were still trying to convince him to drink some tea. He was so quiet these days, so subdued. Up until a couple of months ago, he had still been his mischievous, playful self. His eyes always smiling at you, even when you bickered over small things; where did you put the stamps again?, he would ask you, exasperated that he seemed to forget all the time or, We should invite the children over more often, Christopher feels intimidated when we are alone and it is incredibly entertaining to watch. Christopher was your youngest son-in-law and your husband still teased him about the first time they met and the poor boy had tried his hand at introducing himself in Korean. His wife, your eldest daughter, had inherited a knack for pranking her husband, back then fiancé, more often than not using elements from her father’s Korean heritage that obviously went over the young man’s understanding.

The kettle whistled and you put everything on a tray to take it to your bedroom. It was a very sunlit room, the most luminous of the cottage, with windows lining the south-east part of the property. The wallpaper was a lively yellow flowery print, worn in certain places from the sun and bright and striking on some others. An armchair was put against the furthest wall, memories of rocking your children to sleep coming to mind the second you saw it, next to a massive oak shelf filled to the brim with books, both in English and Korean. If there was something your husband wouldn’t stand for as your children grew up was them not knowing where they came from and the riches of the country of their ancestors. Only your daughter Areum had been to what used to be the Kingdom of Late Joseon up until ten or so years ago, but even you, having been born in Plymouth, felt somehow part of that distant country. The centre of the room was dominated by a massive bed, the headboard and intricate pattern of forged iron, soft pillows supporting your husband’s body while he rested a few moments. Both of you knew those few moments were getting longer and longer, but no one mentioned it.

“I brought you tea, dear,” you said, leaving the tray on the nightstand and sitting on the bed. You leaned closer to your husband’s prone form, moving a few strands of grey hair away from his forehead. You found it funny, how after so many years, his hair refused to let go of the black colour it used to be, settling in a stubborn dark grey when he was fifty and never changing to white. He had also refused to cut it a while ago, and now it was getting closer and closer to the collar of his shirts. “Wake up a short while, my love. You need to be awake when the children get here.”

Groaning a bit, he opened his eyes and looked at you. As soon as he did, his face turned from a sombre and pained expression to the smile he always greeted you with.

“You know, Y/N,” he said and cleared his throat right away, straightening himself against the headboard, leaving a space for you to sit next to him. “had you not woken me up, I would have continued dreaming about the day we met happily.”

“I’m sorry I disturbed you, love. That was such a long time ago, do you still remember?”

“How can I not? I was the best day of my life.”

My father and I were set to arrive at Plymouth by mid-April, given that we had had to make a little detour to Massachusetts, but we didn’t expect to arrive at the beginning of May. Your father sent a letter telling us not to worry about our arrival, as he lived close to the harbour and would have no problem picking us up whenever he saw our boat beginning to dock. I still remember how nervous I was, coming to England and not speaking anything close to basic English, I was afraid I would be carnage to the old dogs of the docks, no matter what a big merchant my father was. After crossing the Atlantic, we arrived and just from the deck, my father pointed to where you and your father were standing.

You were so short, standing next to your father and not reaching his shoulder yet, and yet you were looking up at the boat, listening intently to how he explained something to you. And then you looked at me. I still don’t know what happened that day but it felt ethereal as if I already knew you and I was already madly, deeply in love with you. I could see your smile from the boat and my father would never stop reminding me in the following years how the first thing I said in English soil was “Have I seen an angel?”. You were so friendly from the first time we spoke to each other and even came to see me to our little room by the harbour with your books and your little sketches. Plymouth became a home to me thanks to you, you made a new country feel just like I felt in Joseon before we left.

“Oh, but I remember that day differently,” quietly, you interrupted him. He smiled tiredly and threaded a hand through your greying hair. You loved the feeling of him being caring and close to you. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you stuttered and were so shy I even thought you disliked me from the beginning.”

He chuckled as he tried to make himself a bit more comfortable in the bed, his back cracking and his lungs overworking themselves from the effort. Even if he was feeling bad, the second he turned to look at you, his eyes regained their spark and he kissed your forehead, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder.

“Why, I thought you were the finest woman I had ever seen. I even heard bells when you kissed my cheek later that week.”

“You Casanova,” you laughed, “I was already madly in love with you back then, I had to show everyone you were mine.”

He turned quiet, remembering those early days of your relationship, how you had been always together, when he would accompany you everywhere, under the pretence that his father had tasked him with keeping you company while the adults worked. You had been keeping correspondence while he studied English back home and him, being the strong-headed man he was, refused to return to England until he could properly talk to you. He would say back then that English didn’t make his native Korean any justice to tell you what he wanted to tell you.

“I proposed to you after that man insulted you for associating with me, remember?” he asked you.

“Kwangsu, please,” you saying his name was something rare. He was so fond using pet names and terms of endearment with you and your children your names were rarely called in the house, only when someone was in trouble or seriousness was needed, were those names called.

“No, I know you don’t like to talk about this because you think it upsets me, but I want to tell you, once again, how proud I was that day of calling you my friend. If I had any doubt that you were the bravest woman I knew, it was obliterated that day. I knew marrying you was the best decision I would ever make, and I am still amazed to this day.”

You had been waiting for Kwangsu to arrive back to your house from the harbour. Your father had been overjoyed when you told him your intentions of starting a courtship with him and so had been mister Yi. The two of you had been closer than blood since you had met two years prior and no one could doubt how strongly you felt for one another.

Someone had knocked at your door shortly after noon and thinking it was Kwangsu, you had run down the stairs and was unpleasantly surprised when Jack Richmond walked through the door, cane and walking coat in perfect condition and blond hair slicked back. He used to be your friend back when you were children until he had developed an attitude not many could stand. He seemed to think that only because his father owned the biggest training company in the city everything was his and everyone in town owed him respect. This attitude translated into his uncomfortable obsession with you, not so much unpleasant as it was unwelcomed. He would drop by unannounced, demand that you accompany him on one of his many strolls through Hoe Park, take you back to his immense house for tea with his mother and many other things that were not entirely tiresome if they weren’t coming from Richmond. Today, of all days, his presence was particularly tiresome and you itched with the want to run out of the door and go find Kwangsu. As soon as you saw Jack’s face, though, your every thought dissolved into weariness. He seemed angry and unsettled, twisting his neck in every direction, in search of something that obviously wasn’t there. If you hadn’t been starting to worry, you would have laughed at the perfect ostrich impression he was gifting you with.

“Where is that yellow friend of yours?” he asked, foregoing all courtesy and jumping straight to the reason for his impromptu visit. Which made you incredibly angry.

“What did you just say?” you demanded, livid on behalf of Kwangsu. How dare he, from his high and fragile pedestal, to speak such ill words of the person you held most dear?

“Ah!” he ignored you, looking over your head as the sound of the main door closing reached you across the parlour. “It seems I needn’t had worried, your shadow just arrived! It’s my lucky day!”

He brushed past you, making you lose your footing and grab for dear life at the bannister ascending to the second floor for balance. Jack was tall, slim and sharp and yet, he didn’t reach Kwangsu’s jaw when he tried to face him head-on. He was at an obvious disadvantage and he didn’t seem pleased when he realised it was so, his nostrils flaring and his brow creasing past the point of possibility. His shoulders straightened and his breathing became shorter and swallow.

Kwangsu, on the contrary, was calm and collected. He didn’t seem faced at all, his posture relaxed as he took on the other man’s stand. His feet moved a mere millimetre, slightly separated and firmly planted on the floor, making you remember that time he had told you how he had been taught martial arts since he could walk. In the event that a fight broke out, you were sure which of the two would end up fairing worse.

“What, you think you can just arrive from wherever you crawled out and take our women?” Jack was livid without reason. What did he care what the relationship between Kwangsu and you was? Apart from it being none of his business, he had managed to anger you past the point of reason.

You marched and walked in between the two men, your back to Kwangsu’s chest. If you stepped on Jack’s foot with excessive impetus, you would never recognise it.

“And according to you, whose property am I?” you asked, leaning back into Kwangsu and glaring at Jack through your lashes. If he thought he had the right to barge into your house and through ridiculous accusations left and right and lay a claim to you, he was sorely mistaken. “I must have lost the telegram telling me we were engaged to be married, Jack. Or is it that you are a long-lost member of my family to have a say in who I spend time with?”

His mouth turned into a deep frown and he screwed up his face in disgust. You could see the cogs inside of his head turning to figure out an appropriate comeback and coming back empty-handed.

“You are a good Englishwoman, Y/N,” he finally said, nothing better to voice. “I don’t know why you are wasting your time with this – this foreigner when you could be making connections for a good marriage.”

“Shove that good marriage of yours where the sun doesn’t shine, for all I care!” you retorted, as you saw your parents descend the staircase down to the parlour, surprised faces showing their confusion, but still they frowned and shot suspicious looks at Jack when they felt the tense atmosphere in the room. “Kwangsu is a thousand times the man that you are and if you insist to continue spewing your disrespectful propaganda, I am in the obligation of telling you that our association has finished today.”

Kwangsu took one of your hands in his and squeezed as your father shoed the dandy out of the door and your mother hugged you. None of you had ever cared highly for the Richmonds and thanks to what you did that day, you wouldn’t be forced to stand their company anymore.

“I didn’t last the week without asking you to marry me, did I?” said now your husband, hugging you tight to his chest.

“Oh no, you didn’t. and if you had I would have done something very indecorous and proposed myself,” you answered back with the same retort you did whenever you talked about that time. He loved how you weren’t the type to sit back and let things happen to them, much preferring to take the reins and make those things happen.

You lapsed into silence again as the shadows flickered around the room, highlighting parts of the wallpaper with brighter patches of light. Little by little the both of you drifted off to sleep and dreamed of the life you’d had. He woke you up with a coughing fit a couple of hours later and you painstakingly cleaned the beads of sweat from his forehead. He then asked you to help him change his sleeping shirt and trousers so that he could hug your grandchildren when they arrived. With a little too much effort on your part, he changed and settled back into the pillows, looking at you with guilty eyes. He had always been a very independent and dependable man, who would rather take care of everyone around him than being taken care of. As fate had it, he was destined to depend on you now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you admonished him sweetly. “For every time you’ve depended on me, you’ve taken care of me a thousand.”

“I just find it difficult to make you worry so much,” he whispered, taking an iron hold of your hand. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Guilt is eating away at me because I am leaving you behind, my love. I swore a long time ago that we would be forever.”

With a tired smile, you got closer to him and kiss his forehead. You had never had this conversation before, but you had known it was coming. He started looking at you with that guilty look the second the doctor had said there was nothing else to do except wait for the inevitable. He had been set on being as careful around you as he could be, not wanting you to exert yourself on his behalf.

“We both know forever is just a fancy young people tell each other, Kwangsu,” you smiled. If these were to be your husband’s last memories of you, you would make sure he remembered you smiling, if not happy. “We’ve had a great life together. Three wonderful children and so much love. I don’t regret anything.”

“Still,” he stubbornly retorted. It would be easier to sway a mountain than this man’s will. “I don’t like leaving you here in this house alone. We built it together and I thought we would have more time to share it. Why must I leave you when I would like to share a thousand more years with you?”

“Do you remember what I told you the day Soyeon was born? If you don’t remember that is the day in both our lives I depended the most on you.”

Frowning he nodded. You knew he remembered. As the years passed, he may have forgotten many things, but never that day.

“I nearly lost you both. I don’t think I’ll be able to forget it.” His face had turned ashen as the memories flooded him and it made you feel a little guilty at having provoked such reaction. Your intention was giving him fond memories to distract him while your children got to the cottage, but his mood had changed so suddenly you hadn’t thought it through.

“That day we got our Soyeonie, we became a family Kwangsu. I had never seen you so happy as the moment I woke up and you were holding her.” His eyes were now looking at you but he was very far away, maybe that day forty years ago when you had welcomed your first child into your hearts. “I still remember clearly how terrified you were when she fell off the tree in the garden one summer and she came back skipping, her mouth bleeding and her baby tooth held proudly on her fist.”

“That one was a calamity!” he said, letting go a strong laugh, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “It is one of the biggest mysteries of humanity how we survived her childhood. She was always bleeding and giving us a heart arrest after another.”

“Yun wasn’t so bad, he was just happy following her around,” you remembered, seeing in your mind a pair of small children. A dark-haired girl with a sweet pink dress stained with mud and her hair going in every direction, and a baby boy waddling behind her, trying to keep up and getting dirt all over his short trousers in the process.”

“Yet neither of them gave us as many headaches as Areum did fifteen years ago,” he sighed, even if those days were a fond memory now, at the time it had seemed terrible and dangerous. “To fall in love with Yun’s friend and go back to Joseon when the situation was as bad as it was.”

Your youngest daughter, Areum was eighteen when she met Hongjoong, your son’s friend. He had been living in Joseon up until he turned sixteen and was sent by his father to help manage the branch of their trading company in England. Yun and Hongjoong had hit it off instantly and Areum had been captivated the second she saw the young boy. She would be found sighing in corners, looking out of windows when the boys arrived at the cottage from Plymouth in summer. The young man was bound to notice and it happened the year he decided to go back to his home country and help his father with their boat company seeing the Japanese threat getting closer and closer. In a fit of what she labelled courage and you labelled stupidity, Areum had left with him without telling you and had married when they arrived at Joseon. After that little stunt had followed many letters, getting scarcer and more worrisome as the years went by. It was early 1910 when they had arrived out of nowhere, with their son on tow, telling the news of how the Japanese had taken over and they had decided that returning to you was the best option for their family.

“Grandpa!” screamed a little voice, followed by the slam of a door and many adult voices admonishing the younger ones.

A huge smile illuminated your husband’s face and he sat upright in the bed with more energy than he had displayed in the last months. He was brimming with happiness at the mere laughter of your youngest grandson who, at six, was the biggest calamity the walls of the cottage had seen. Knowing how much you’d had to deal with his mother and her siblings, you weren’t really in agreement with how much Kwangsu validated the child, but you wouldn’t say anything. The door to the bedroom opened and in poured many dark heads and some slightly lighter. Your grandchildren all approached the bed and smothered their grandfather in love while your children stayed standing by the door, shocked to see their father is such a state. They must have remembered him as the energetic, happy and generous father they had last seen at Christmas, not this weathered and tired old man, laying on the bed, his face ashen and his bones noticeable through his skin.

Your eldest daughter, Soyeon, approached you, setting a hand on your shoulder and smiling wearingly at you. That gesture was enough to tell you how much they had missed you both and how much they were hurting too.

“Mother wants me to study so much!” was saying Yun’s daughter. At fifteen, she was an exact copy of her aunt Soyeon, a little explosive body and a personality to match. If it were up to her, she would be out of the house exploring everything she could find, including the harbour and the docks, which was no place for a young lady her age, according to her mother.

“Your mother wants you to be a learned young lady, don’t you want to be able to outwit your cousins?” asked Kwangsu, knowing exactly what needed to be said, as always. She was your only granddaughter and she would do anything to get ahead of her cousins and prove to them “what a girl could do”. Usually what a girl could do included swimming, playing polo and any other sporting activity they told her she couldn’t participate in, but it seemed that now that would also include studying, judging from the determinate frown on her face.

The hours after the arrival of your children passed happily. All your grandchildren had something to tell you, their parents complaining about their choice of spouse in the case of the older ones as your husband had done with your sons-in-law when he had been in their place. At some point, between laughter and witty remarks, the younger ones had drifted off to the garden to catch insects while their parents and older siblings went around bringing out chairs to take the evening tea in the sunlight. Kwangsu had asked you to open the curtains a bit wider so he could see your family enjoying themselves in the garden and you had, joining him on the bed again after and laying against the headboard while he settled against the pillows.

“I know now what you meant before,” his whispered, his eyes looking at you, reflecting the young boy you met in the docks all those years ago. “They make everything worth it. I have no regrets.”

His eyes gave a last determinate glint, memorising every corner of your face and he kissed the hand caressing his cheek. He relaxed, his body a dull weight against your side and the both of you listened to the laughter of your family as the shadows were growing and the light turned dimer.

“I love you,” he whispered and when you looked down his chest had stopped moving.

Keeping the tears at bay and through the unbearable knot on your chest, you tried to breathe in deeply and that air escaped your lungs in a strangled sob. His face was relaxed and he looked at peace. How were you going to live your life without him?

“Wait for me,” you whispered back and stood up to search for your children.

He had been waiting for a while, sitting at the bottom of the imposing bridge. He didn’t remember much but the place was oddly familiar and he just knew he mustn’t cross the bridge. He had seen how the trees moved to the soundless music of the river, how the dark sand had been covered by snow and turned even warmer. He had tried to see his reflection in the waters of the river but had never gotten close enough. There was always something that caught his fancy and took his attention away from the water. One day, the stars had started a dance overhead that kept him mesmerised for what only looked like a second. He had dropped his head after and realised the trees had withered. Or was it only an illusion, for it seemed that nothing withered in this land. Time was also a strange concept. He felt like he had been walking for an eternity when he reached the bridge and the time he had been here having passed fleeting and short. The days and nights succeeded each other faster than they should have, had he been still living. Even if the red construction promised oblivion and a cease of this boredom, he still sat upon the wooden steps. It was night, and the stars shined brighter than the brightest sun in multicoloured patterns, so close to him he could feel their coldness in his whole being. And then, in between the stars appeared another figure, clear and almost ethereal. Her hair flying around her body in swift breaths and he stood up. He knew her, he had been waiting for her. No words were needed, he wasn’t even sure if words were possible here. He just hugged her to him with the strength of all those centuries he had spent without her. And together, they crossed the bridge.

to be continued x

#bangtanarmynet #mabel-k3 #jeon jungkook #jungkook reincarnation #bts reincarnation #bts reincarnation fic #bts fic #jungkook #requests open #open requests #jiah:r.txt #dreamcatcherjiah

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drkcnry67 · 4 years ago

Text

Sleeping beauty: a twisted supernatural fairytale

A/n: this is for 4 different bingo challenges... hope people like this one! Show it some love if you loved it.

Title: sleeping beauty: a twisted supernatural fairytale

Pairing: dean x reader

Spn Dark sq: free space (shadow/fear demon)

Share the love bingo sq: sleeping beauty

Fluff sq: soulmate AU

H&H sq: Gabriel

Rating: pg-13

summery: not telling

created for @spnfluffbingo @spndarkbingo @heavenandhellbingo @thisismysecrethappyplace

Once upon a time in a kingdom oh so far away lived a king & his fair queen. for many years they had longed for a child & finally their wish was granted.

a daughter born to them whom they called YN. for they named her after the dawn for she filled their hearts with sunshine. a great holiday planned to honor the princess for the entire kingdom rejoiced at her birth.

as more people graced the party, the party got stronger. amongst those to arrive were King John & his son Prince Dean. fondly had these monarchs dreamed that one day their kingdoms unite.

thus that day they announced Dean, John’s son and Heir to Castiel’s daughter be betrothed. so to her his gift he brought as he looked unkowing on his future bride.

Page: their most honored and exalted excellencies, the 3 good fairies. Mistress Claire, Mistress Jo & mistress Alex...

the 3 fairies approached, now addressing Castiel and his queen.

Fairies: your majesties!

in courtly fashion they all curtsied.

Claire: each of us the child may bless with a single gift, no more no less.

claire approached the craddle, with a wave of her wand she spoke these words.

Claire: little princess, my gift shall be the gift of beauty...

~one gift, beauty rare. full of sunshine in her hair. lips that shame the red red rose. she’ll wake with springtime wherever she goes.~

Jo was next to approach the craddle, with a wave of her wand she spoke these words.

Jo: tiny princess, my gift shall be the gift of song.

~one gift, the gift of song. melody her whole life long. the nightingale’s her troubadour. bringing her sweet serenade to her door.~

Alex stepped up to the craddle, she walked and raised her want tostart her speech but something soon would disrupt her wish.

Alex: “sweet princess, my gift shall be...

a gust of wind blows blazing through the castle doors, they swing wide open. with wind and thunder crashing through, in a blaze of fire in the middle of the crowd appeared Rowena.

Claire, jo and Alex all in states of shock at the sight of Rowena who speaks now.

Rowena: well quite the glittering assemblage King Castiel. Royalty, nobility, the gentry and how quaint even the rebel.

alex tries to fly towards Rowena but is held back by Claire.

Rowena: i really felt quite distressed at not recieving an invitation

Alex now more than a little peaved speaks.

Alex: you weren’t wanted.

Rowena: not wa...? oh dear, what an awkward situation. i had hoped it was merely due to some oversight. well in that event i’d best be on my way.

queen: and your not offended your excellency?

Rowena: why no your majesty. and to show i bear no ill will i too shall bestwo a gift on the child.

the fairies back up to protect the craddle.

rowena: listen well all of you! the princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know her. but, before the sun sets on her 16th birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel & die.

queen: oh no!

queen takes her child in her arms as rowena maniacly laughing...

castiel: seize that creature!

rowena: stand back you fools!

in a flash of fire and lightning as well as laughter rowena disappeared!

Claire: dont despair your majesties, Alex still has her gift to give.

Castiel: then she can undo this fearful curse?

Alex: oh no sire.

Jo: Rowena’s powers are far too great.

Claire: but she can help.

Alex: but...

Jo: just do your best dear!

Claire: yes...

Alex rolls up her sleeves and proceeds to speak her part.

Alex: sweet princess, if through this wicked witches trick a spindle should your finger prick, a ray of hope there still maybe in this, the gift i give to thee. not in death, but just in sleep the fateful prophecy shall keep, and from thy slumber thee shall wake when true loves kiss the spell shall break.

~for true love conquers all~

but castiel still fearful of his daughter’s life, did then and there decre that every spinning wheel on that very day be burnt. so it was done!

~this is the first jump out of fairytale reality and into our own reality where dean is picking up watching this classic fairytale & trying to get some shudeye.~

dean: if i have one more flippin’ dream about this movie im gonna kill someone.

sam: dont worry about it Dean, its not gonna get better with you yelling & screamin’... now try to get some sleep! we have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow!

Dean: yeah your right.

Dean throws his headphones on again trying to coax himself into a relaxing sleep. which Gabriel had set so Dean would not wake from his sleep till the story would finish, then his destined quest would begin.

Gabriel: sweet dreams Dean. you have a really rude awakening ahead of you... everything you know is about to change...

gabriel casts his curse & leaves dean to his tormented slumber that which awaits him.

~jump back into the story, where we find the 3 fairies talking with Castiel and the queen~

Claire: your majesty please consider this a kind of protection detail, this will allow your sweet YN to grow up in peace without the worry of her pricking her finger when her 16th birthday hath fully passed your sweet YN will be returned to you. to ensure the curse does not come true.

queen: you 3 have always been here even when we havent always honored it, we do so appreciate your loyalty and protection. this has surely been a trying day for us and we are honored to have you 3 commited to helping us protect our daughter.

Castiel: and it is on our honor that, you 3 shall go with our blessing. please be careful & guard our child well...

many hours later after dark, the king and his queen watched with heavy hearts as thier most precious possesssion their only child disappeared into the night..

many sad and lonely years passed for King Castiel and his peopple. but as the time for the pincess’ 16th birthday drew near, the entire kingdom began to rejoice. for everyone knew that as long as rowena’s domain, the forbidden mountains, thundered with her wrath and frustration her evil prophecy had not yet been fullfilled.

rowena yells at her incompetant servents, they encur her wrath. rowena sends out her own raven to search for the princess.

and so for 16 long years, dean had been learning how to live life as a prince. while the wereabouts of the princess remained a secret, the faires carried out their long laid planes living like mortals.

the fairies send Yn to collect some berries while they argue about the kind of last birrthday party they wish to give her, the dress color the cake and the cleaning something extra special for their last night as her guardians.

YN decides to stop in the glen... she feels like something is wrong thats when your real self breaks through...

YN: omg what am i doing in here?

as you keep singing you try to remember wht happened to put you in here. sure was your fave movie but it was not how you wanted to live.

Dean was riding Chuck the horse, the scene still happens the singing in the glade, dean hearing your singing following the animals that are stealing his cape, boots and hat.

your still singing by yourself but now kinda talking to the animals. after that kind of normal conversation you notice that some of your animal friends have come back dressed as a prince. you started singing and continued to dance with your animal friends, but thats when Dean had snuck up and hid in the bush, he waited for his oportune moment.

YN: but if i know you, i know what you’ll do, you’ll love me at once... the way you did...

thats when your vocals were interrupted by another voice to complete your song.

Dean: once upon a dream.

though it wasnt exactly ideal, your hands interacting, it felt more real than you had this entire time. waltzing through the glade by the lake, made your real self shine through. Dean could feel his real self shine through as well.

Dean: are you real?

that question made you look at him instantly. another person whose not really the character he is pretending to be.

YN: you’re real... your an actual person, not just a fairytale character?

Dean: yes, i’m real, what’s your name?

YN: YN, outside this ever turning story book fairytale movie thing im a hunter.... this story just keeps repeating itself everytime someone watches this movie. i have no idea what the hell put me into this neverending storybook. im annoyed greatly but strange thing is i can’t feel any connection right now to my actual body...

Dean: im a hunter as well. my name is Dean. i hunt everything that goes bump in the night from ghosts to demons and everything in between. i am also not sure how i got in here.

YN: your a hunter as well... i thought i was the only one.

Dean: whats the last thing you can remember before waking up here in the story?

YN: i was on a strange case, one thing made me think it was a werewolf. one thing made me think it was a ghost. one thing made me think it was a poltergeist. i remember walking out of my hotel room and that is it. nothing else after that. it sends shivers down my spine when i think of what may be going on with my actual body. how did you end up in here?

Dean: last thing i rememebr is turning on the movie to watch/listen too while i try to sleep. thats it... i have no fucking idea how i ended up in here. as to you saying that you can feel no connection to your physical body, something magical must be blocking the connection, but non-the-less i want to help you. i will finish the story so i can get out of here and find you. i will slay whatever i have to in order to free you, in the story and in reality. i will not rest till i rescue you.

you both continued on in the story, as they say it must continue or the end will not come. but it was nice for both of you to know that neither of you were alone.

the 3 fairies gave you your birthday surprise and told you of your true heritage then whisked you away to the castle where they hid you; dean showed up at the cottage where Rowena prince-napped him; you are led away by rowena’s curse to prick your finger in a hidden tower room the 3 fairies find you laying you down in “your” room; then they put the kingdom to sleep till someone can wake their sweet YN.

~meanwhile outside the story Sam is working with other people to figure out what happened to dean. Ellen, Jo and Bobby all were doing everything they could to help Sam figure out what happened to Dean.~

Back in the story: many sleeping people but the fairies were trying to find out who the handsome stranger was that their sweet Yn had been talking about. they figured he might be their key to saving her.

but soon it was claire who had been doing a round to make sure all of her section was asleep but it was John’s voice that caught her ear for he started talking about how he had spoken to Dean who had been raving about some pesent girl and how Dean had said he was gonna marry her and such.

claire managed to suss out that it was Dean that Yn had met in the forest. the words she had heard from John that had firmed her suspicions were Peasent girl & once upon a dream...

claire flies back to Jo and Alex and speaks in raced tones of panic.

Claire: the young man that YN was talking about is Prince Dean. come on girls we have to get back to the cottage.

as fast as their wings could carry them, they rushed back to the cotage but alas were too late for all they found was Dean’s hat no Dean. they conclude that it must have been Rowena who has dean trapped in her forbiiden palace. their minds made up immediately, they had to go there.

Dean, the only one true person who is able to awaken their Sweet YN... they had to find him to save her. off they went no plan in hand just ‘winging’ it as they went, weaving their way through the grounds passed the guards...

Rowena was in her throne room watching her lackys celebrate. to her raven she speaks.

Rowena: what a pitty prince Dean cant be here to enjoy the celebration. come my pet let us go to the dungeon and cheer him up...

the raven she was just talking too cawed at her as she got up and started walking towards the dungeon where she had been keeping dean.

~*reality jump!!! Dean is still unconcious while Sam is runnning around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to figure out what the hell happened to his brother*~

Sam: i don’t want lecutures. i want to know what happened to Dean.

Bobby: dont worry boy, dean is strong, he will pull through whatever is happening to him. do you have any theories?

Sam: im thinking maybe some sort of curse or something but no signs of any hex bags or nothing surrounding dean. there has to be something we are overlooking. some angle that we have missed.

~*back in the story, dean is stuck in the dungeon not even phased when rowena walks in the door.*~

Rowena: oh come now prince dean why so mellon colly. a wondrous future awaits you. you the destined hero of a charming fairytale come true.

the fairies arrive in the window hiding from the raven and rowena but witness what rowena depicts to Dean through her Staff.

Rowena: behold, king castiel’s castle &and in yonder top most tower, dreaming of her true love, the princess YN. but see the gracious whim of fate. why tis the same said peasent maid who won the heart of our noble prince the other day. she is indeed most wondrous fair. gold of sunshine in her hair, lips that shame the red red rose. in ageless sleep she finds repose. the years roll by, but a hundred years to a stead fast hear are ‘bout a day. and now, the gates of the dungeon part and our prince is free to go his way. off he rides on his noble steed. a valiant figure, straight & tall to wake his love with love’s first kiss & prove that true love conquers all...

Dean struggles against his chains, alex starts towards rowena but is held back by Claire as rowena brings her raven back onto her shoulder as they prepare to exit the dungeon she says one final thing in Deans presense.

Rowena: ah my pet let us leave our noble prince with these happy thoughts.

she exits the dungeon leaving Dean struggling against his bonds. the 3 fairies enter the cell using their magic to release dean from the chains and unlock the door. Dean starts towards the door but is stopped by Claire who proceeds to speak.

Claire: wait prince Dean, the road to true love may yet still be barred by much more dangers, which you alone shall have to face. so arm thyself with this enchanted shield of virtue, and this mighty sword of truth. for these weapons of righteousness shall triumph over evil. now come we must hurry.

out of the dungeon they went but rowena’s raven had stayed behind after rowena and the raven exited the dungeon. he started cawing at them, Dean was thinking this would be easy escape. but he was wrong. the raven was bringing an army of lackies downt he stairs to them. dean begins to fight them off.

Claire: quick Dean jump out the window.

Dean jumps out the same window as the fairies, but some rocks start falling towards Dean. Claire notices and speaks quickly.

Claire: Dean watch out!

Claire turns the rocks into bubbles. then a wall of arrows quickly turned into a wall of flying flowers, alex went down to free chuck. dean rides off on chuck towards the gate where hot oil is thrown, claire turns it into a rainbow.

the chase of a lifetime made alex proud as she chased that raven to the top of rowena’s tower & turned it to stone. this made rowena emerge, freshly woken from her sleep she goes to yell at her raven but discovers that her pet has been turned into stone.

she watches from her balcony as the drawbridge is being raised, dean and the fairies are heading straight for it, the fairies help him make the jump. chuck keeps running, carrying Dean as quick possible, dodging rowena’s two spells that she has cast causing them to fail.

in straight eye sight for Dean and the fairies is the castle, but before they can reach it Rowena makes her second last attempt to stop them.

Rowena: a forest of thorns shall be his tomb. born from the skies in a fog of doom. now go with a curse and serve me well. round Castiel’s castle cast my spell.

a black cloud appears over the castle, lightning striking the grounds around, thus causes icky thicky black thorns to grow in large bushes between Dean and the castle.

Dean stops before them, drawing his sword he fights his way through the thorns this let him out just before the bridge to the castle. rowena seeing this appears before Dean in a firey blaze for her final attempt to stop them.

Rowena: now shall ye deal with me oh prince & all the powers of hell!

Dean and the fairies watch as Rowena using every ounce of power she had left to transform herself into a huge fire spying dragon. Dean begins what turns into a short-ish fight but retreats hastly reaching a wall he climbs high.

our prince is now trapped on a cliff, another blaze of fire this causes Dean to loose his shield off the side of the cliff. Claire jo & alex bring their collective magic together near the prince they cast this on the sword.

Claire: now sword of truth fly swift and sure, that evil die & good endure.

dean throws the sword at the dragon piercing its heart. rowena lunges one final time but falls off a cliff to her downfall. dean is then lead down the cliff and to the castle, up to the tower where you lay in slumber waiting for this moment. Dean kneeling by your sleeping form placed a light kiss to your lips.

you wake up just as time freezes. Dean helps you stand up. both of you looking around. yes the entire movie was frozen. puzzled you both stand in front of eachother.

Dean: now whats happening.

you went to open your hand to grab Dean’s but something fell to the floor. Dean reached down to pick it up. he unfolded it and proceeded to read what was upon it.

Dean (reading note): congratulations! Defeating that witch takes care of one of my issues, that was of course the easy part. your next task Dean is to find your destiny, yes your destiny lies within the form of this girl. you must go back to reality and find her body and wake her up once you do everything and i do mean EVERYTHING will become clear. want a clue? here it is: “in a place of myth & legend where the balance of nature is true, this place you know it all too well. what you believe isnt real is, everything you know shall change forever. the ways of old shall guide you by, this far side of _________ in the final resting place of _________...” i look forward to seeing you very very soon. try to hurry i hear there is trouble on your horizons.

now you both were very very very confused. this is what caused you to pop up and say..

YN: what the hell kind of clue was that? any idea what he is talking about? wait does that mean im not in my hotel room anymore. that someone or something moved my body?

Dean: that is exactly what it means and i will do everything in my capable power to find you. hopefully when i get back to reality this paper goes with me...

just as he finished speaking a portal opens, visions of dean’s unconcious body appear along with Sam and others going frantic over what happened to Dean.

Dean: Yn, i give you my solem oath that i will not rest till you are safe by my side, i will fight whoever, go wherever, do whatever i have to in order to save you. dont give up hope and pray that this loop does not repeat for you. pray this time freeze does not disappear when i walk through that portal.

YN: i have faith in you Dean please hurry. i look forward to never leaving your side.

Dean placed a chaste kiss to your forehead before he walked through the portal. you sat on the bed and watched as Time remained frozen but you were once again alone.

Dean arrived back in his own body, he sat straight up and scared the living daylights out of his brother, bobby and several others all of whom embraced Dean.

Dean then went to where Sam’s laptop was and began searching the lore, the myths and legends specifically. when Sam approached him about what he was doing, Dean presented sam with that note. suddenly it made mroe sense to Sam, who left Dean in the charge of Jo while he, bobby and ellen all went to grab food and booze.

Jo: what happened to you?

Dean: one minute i was in that bed trying to fall asleep using a disney movie & the next thing i know im inside the movie. im telling you i would have preferred Hell. but i wasnt the only person from reality stuck in the movie. there was a girl, she said she is a hunter too she was on a strange case when she found herself in the movie. she has no idea of how long she has been in there. she also thinks her body has been moved. this piece of paper proves that someone or something is holding her body somewhere and its up to me to find this girl. at this point nothing else matters. i made her a promise now i have to keep it.

Jo: let me see the paper again...

Dean hands Jo the paper and after a few moments of staring at it she takes a pen and fills in the blanks... thats when the paper glowed... and revealed a magical map...

Dean: how did you do that?

Jo just smiled and laughed...

Jo: im really good at fill in the blanks. its a natural talent i get it from mom... your clue should have finished like this: “in a place of myth & legend where the balance of nature is true, this place you know it all too well. what you believe isnt real is, everything you know shall change forever. the ways of old shall guide you by, this far side of Romania in the final resting place of Dracula...”

Dean hugged her, he knew where he had to go now but how the hell was he gonna get there. it was then that Dean went to load several of his handhelds and load onto his back a machete load up some ammo clips.

he didnt know what to expect but he was certain that being cautious was better than being stupid. he was not gonna walk in there half assed. he needed to be as prepared as could be. however thats when bobby, sam and ellen walked back into the room.

Sam: Dean what are you doing?

Dean: im getting ready before i call cas for transport. this will allow me to not get dinged by airport security and not to become sea sick either. but i hope honestly that this mission im about to embark on is gonna be beneficial.

Bobby: what the hell do you think your doing? never mind that where are you going?

Dean: romania, Jo has the knowledge on why i am going to romania, she will fill you guys in... ill take my burger to go. put my pie in the fridge.

once Dean is ready to go, he stands in the center of the room and smiles back at the others but then Jo pipes up and goes to stand beside Dean with a backpack on her back...

Dean: Jo what...

Jo: im not letting you walk into your destiny alone. do not for one second think im not gonna jump at this opportunity to hunt with you, to help you to find your destiny. you helped me once to know what my destiny was, now its my turn to repay the favor.

Dean takes Jo by the hand as he in a stern voice he speaks the following words.

Dean: Castiel get your oh holy feathery ass down here i need a lift and your my ticket to my next destination.

cas comes to the hotel room and approaches Dean & Jo.

Castiel: where am i taking you and your friend here...

Dean: transylvania and dude once we land you cant be there... it will not be helpful for you to be there. this is a mission i have to do alone. me and my friend here go through the rest of the process alone.

Cas only nods completely understanding on what his friend has asked of him. he takes Dean and Jo to Transylvania. then once they are safe on the ground again cas leaves.

Dean: okay now to look at this magic map and figure out where we are and where the resting place of Dracula is...

Jo: well lets first of all make sure we are prepared before we go into town. i did a bit of research apparently they dont trust strangers here. we need to show them that we mean no harm. or just keep our noses down and pass through without being detected.

Dean: well lets see what the map says.

Jo leads Dean to a rock as she lays out the map...

Jo: these 2 dots over here are us... but what is that red dot over yoner on this map... look there is a multicolored one too....

Dean: the multicolored one is my destiny, the red one has to be what is holding her captive.

jo notices some writing appearing on the map after a few moments.

Jo: whats that say...

Dean: it says, “inside the castle you face your fears, beat them out till you cant no more. fears and demons go hand in hand but if you beat them in order to save your destiny. this is to be your greatest reward.” what the hell does that mean...

Jo: it means no matter what we need to get to that castle.

hand in hand they get their tracks moving towards the path...

Jo: i really hope the story of transylvania is fake...

Dean: you mean the fact that as soon as the sun goes down werewolves and vampires come out to play... you and me both but hey if they do we are fully prepared. this place is on top of a supernatural time bomb. everything that goes bump in the night comes out after sunset.

both dean and jo look up into the sky the last bit of light leaves the tree line.

Dean: have your silver bullets and machete ready just in case... we are not taking any chances. we have to get to that castle.

Jo: dont worry we will...

Dean smiles as both of them continue making their way through the forst, a little quicker than normal pace. the sun had now fully set, the light that had been guiding them was gone.

Jo: just follow the path the map says this will lead us to the castle where your destiny awaits you. Dean are you sure we...

thats when she stopped speaking... her words cut out... Dean pulled out his machete and quickly brought it to face the enemy that now held his best friend back.

Shadow entity: ah so the prodigal has come for his prize.. well i think ill take a constitution to ensure that you follow the rules, to ensure the balance is complete, to ensure that we are all in clarity to our debts. to this i have something to say this to you: you are part of the same card, the girl i have sleeping right now is not going to wake up without her other half. you have not done anything to earn her freedom, so i take your friend as kind of a wake up call to the horrors that which wait you inside. this castle has its own story but to unlock its secrets you must face your fears. face them down Dean, only then will you have earned her freedom. see you real soon.

the shadow figure disappears with Jo... Dean picks up her bag and keeps his machete on hand as he continues walking. following the map as he heard the soft crunching of his boots under the snow. winter sure is warmish in whats supposed to be the coldest part of romania.

Dean (to self): i have no idea what the hell is going on but i now have 2 bright lights to save i am just hoping i can conquer whatever appears before me... Jo for your courage please be my light. guide me to where you are... my dear sister.

meanwhile Jo has been placed in a room, where you lay in wait for your destiny. Jo takes one look at you and she smiles. she knows that you are definately dean’s destiny and then she speaks the following words.

Jo: in all my years i had never thought Dean would find his destiny, never after he helped me find mine i swore i would help him find his, now Dear Brother please follow my light...

Dean stops a quick moment to catch his breath and look at the map... he then sees Jo’s dot on the map glow brighter... it acts as a flashlight lighting up the path he must walk.

after several more steps and following his light he arrives at the castle.

Dean: here i com ladies... dont loose hope.

Dean holding his machete walked inside the castle.. the first thing he saw was the vision of himself as a demon tellig hm that he was gonna die alone and that he would become that... he told that vision that he would always have a family beside him even if they werent around that cared for him that would never abandon him.

that he went on his way still fllowing the light o the ground he comes accross the first blade which tells him that he fears being back in hell torturing souls and how good it made him feel. dean tells it that he will never and shall never go back to hell and never will he torutue those who dont deserve it again.

a few more fears tried to get dean to turn away from this quest, tried to get him to fail but nothing worked. the last area on the map was a long corridor it looked as thought there was a figure about mid way down.

the map let off a warning flash meaning there was danger approaching. Dean speaks once more to whatever is trying to face him down.

Dean: i address the entity in front of me. who are you? why have you brought me to this awful place?

Shadow: i am the demonic shadow of Count Dracula and I have brought you here so you can face me in the ultimate battle. Either I will be finally put to rest or I will be made whole again. do you accept my challenge?

Dean drops the bags and keeps both his guns and his machete as he speaks.

Dean: look dumn ass, i dont know who your the spirit or entitiy of but this is not how things are run in my world. in my world the good guys win and the bad guys loose. now if you stand aside and let me wake my destiny and save my sister then you might just get to be put back to sleep again. or ill succeed and kill you right now. your choice, i’m good either way.

Shadow: you dare to think you stand a chance against me, how cute. very well, if its death you choose then allow me to help you with that.

Dean moved out of the way as the shadow lunged toward him, missed and just landed again.. Dean then shot out 6 rounds of dead mans blood rounds all aimed at shadow-Dracula, he dodged those.

shadow: tell you what, ill make you a deal if you surrender now ill give you ten long years to spend with your so called “destiny” in exchange for you letting me out of here with my life.

Dean: how bout not a prayer. eat bullets instead.

Dean unloads the rest of the bullets in a circular form at the ground around shadow-dracula. completing the devils trap...

Dean: oh wait you dont need to eat the bullets cause your history pal...

Shadow-dracula looked down and around himself, the look that he now sported was one of fear. he was the one that now was terrified.

Shadow: this is impossible no one imprisons the great Dracula.

Dean: oh buddy im gonna do alot more than that, time for you to go back to where you came from.

Dean stands up tall as he then speaks the same words he had spoken previously hundreds upon hundreds of times.

Dean: Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte, ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audios bitch!

that was all Dean had to say the shadow of Dracula was no more. he went back to grab the bags and continued forward... he shot the lock on the doors and kicked them open.

Jo: Dean you found us... i believe you know what to do romeo... put everything down ill prepare to treat any wounds and such that show themselves once you wake her.

Dean: Jo it was dracula, the shadow outside the door was dracula’s shadow. i cant believe his shadow was so hostile. i mean if i hadnt wasted 2 clips of amo drawing out a devils trap i would have lost the fight.

Jo: ya ya ya okay dude, you have an overdue appointment with destiny over on that bed, now drop the bags and go.

Dean knew jo would have kicked his ass if he didnt listen. he did as told, he dropped the bags and walked over to kneel beside you. he brushed some hair from your forehead..

Dean: together now and always i have always been your once upon a dream.

his lips met yours in a gentle kiss. he pulled back after a few seconds and waited to see if it workd. a while later you open your eyes and touch Dean’s cheek.

YN: you found me?

Dean: did you doubt i would? i said i would and i keep my promises. this girl over here is my sister Jo. she is gonna give you the once over and then ill call for our ride out of here once she has you in a clean set of clothes. im gonna make sure we are still safe... i will call cas once we are all ready.

Dean leaves you in the hands of Jo who hands you some clothes and assesses you making sure you are not hurt. Dean comes back a few moments later and calls cas to come bring you all home.

Cas came brought you, dean and Jo back to the hotel. you and dean were gonna take some time to figure out what everything meant. this was when a bright light came upon the entire room.

Dean: whats going on?

thats when Gabriel appeared in the room. everyone had hand guns on him immediately. but he speaks not with hostility but with normality.

Gabriel: ah winchesters and friends. do not be alarmed for YN and Dean have been written in the stars since the beginning of time. Dean and Yn im sorry for trapping you both in that sleeeping curse it was the only way to get you both to listen to reason. to listen to your hearts. i was only trying to get you both to follow the rules that destiny had for you.

Dean: then why show up and tell us about it now...

Gabriel: cause i knew if i didnt it would have been alot worse later on.

Dean: what happens now?

Gabriel: well with your permission i could marry you and Yn right here right now... if you both agree.

you and Dean exchange looks before smiling.

Dean: when do we begin?

Gabriel snapped his fingers and the room transformed into a garden glade type thing. before you and Dean could say anything else you were taken from grungy hotel room to garden glade.

Gabriel: we are gathered here today to join Dean and YN in the ever holy bonds of Matrimony. this holy bond is a sacred gift, that deserves to be protected cherish it now and always. now i am assuming that there are no objections to this holy union.

the room was silent as Gabriel held his hand out and 2 silver bands appeared clearly made for you and Dean.

Gabriel: vows or no vows.

Dean: what more needs to be said, we already said everything we needed to... we know what we are. we have our feelings, we need no words for them.

Gabriel: very well, Dean take the band and tell Yn what you think should go with this ring!

Dean takes the ring and slowly slides it on your finger as he reveals whats in his heart.

Dean: YN after the movie and what i had to do to rescue you. i have to say that im 100% positive about you being the single most best thing that has ever stepped into my path of life. i promise now and always to honor, love cherish and whatever else goes with that... i love you Yn your the best part of me now.

you take the ring and you do the same thing.

YN: Dean, when i met you in the movie i was unsure of your intentions. then it was your beautiful green eyes that made me swoon. now i stand here to say i too now and forever more will honor, love, cherish and everything else that goes with it for the rest of my life. you are an amazing man Dean Winchester i love you so much and i cant wait to be your wife and have your last name.

Gabriel: by the powers and laws bestowed on me by Heaven, i now am honored to pronounce you husband and wife. Dean you may now kiss your beautiful wife.

Dean kisses you with so much passion. there was nothing to do for everyone else except cheer and clap.

everyone lived happily ever after. well at least once upon a dream!

#thisismysecrethappyplacesharethelove #spndarkbingo #spnfluffbingo #heaven and hell bingo

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taliawells · 5 years ago

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Flash Points

this got long, so grab a seahorse and saddle up

what are some of your favorite tropes?

It is such a cliche, but I really enjoy the fake married trope. It’s so goofy, especially when they go to great lengths to prove how ~~in love!!~~ they are. Bonus points if they are very grudging about this, but end up becoming a little bit soft and closer together. I love a found family moment, and arguably they can be deeper and just as, if not more important as other familial connections. It was a choice, and that can make all the difference. Another that gets me every dang time is when a pair always call the other by their last name only. In an emotional moment when one is injured or in dire peril, when the other just cracks and uses their first name while pleading with them to hang on just OOFs right to my heart.

do you have a favorite character you’ve written, in or outside of shiver? if so, what makes them your fave?

I really enjoy playing Talia, simply because she’s different from the types I’ve played most recently. Talia is dauntless and ruthless, but there’s a vague nervous energy deep down and she just shrouds herself in apathy and indifference. Internally there is so much more going on. She is strong and would happily throw down if the situation would call for it, but she clings to an icy poise that’s called from her for all of the different roles she has to play. She has never felt more vulnerable and yet, more like herself on land since she’s been able to take a step back and reevaluate. She’s strong and seems unwavering, but Talia is really figuring out who she is and what she wants currently, happily putting royal duties on the backburner for now... especially when a familiar face popped back up that doesn’t have her wanting to go back to the sea quite yet.

The character I played before Talia was Stella Rosenthal. She stuck with me through five iterations, and seems much more fragile than she is. She is an entirely soft human that aims to be a bright spot in a darkening world. Her strength is in her softness, and it’s almost unexpected with how gentle she is. Talia seems unbreakable, but she’s more vulnerable and guarded. Stella was a museum curator + conservator and really, really cared about inclusiveness and accessibility throughout all facets of her life. She aimed to be a walking safe space but really struggled with her own mental health at times. Stella tried to surround herself in layers and layers of light, but she struggled in immense darkness and some trauma until she started working through it. She’s deaf in one ear and her other isn’t the greatest, and I had 8 ear surgeries of my own growing up so she’s near to my heart. She was a ray of sunshine and Talia is a ball of fire. Stella is the type to Rick Roll her beloved in sign language on their wedding day, while Talia will flip the general public the bird and elope.

do you prefer writing with small casts of characters or large ones? what are some of the pros and cons?

I think I tend to like things somewhere in the middle! Of the two, I would say that I tend to gravitate towards things on the slightly smaller scale. I love a good small group where you really feel included and integral to the plot, where all of the characters and layers of the bigger story intertwine and intermingle. I tend to like that as a more casual environment with friends I’ve written with before or friends of friends. I truly love getting to know people and their characters, but I’ve been incredibly picky about truly small groups. I’ve had to miss out on one due to real life issues, and it was rough having everything move forward and then those connections carried over into future projects with the same people. If not done right, it can end up being very cliquey and that’s not a good time for anyone. I’ve been burned by that before. Some roleplays are truly massive, and that can be so great for a busy time of the year where you don’t feel like you’re holding everything up if you can’t get online for hours and hours. I was advanced literate elite on a different website back in the day (I am so freaking old) but it was just deluded pretentiousness disguised labeled good writing -- it wasn’t. Bigger ones tend to move more quickly which can be exciting, but it is so so easy to fall between the cracks and hard to feel heard. I really dig the size of Shiver and the different areas of play.

what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done in the name of outlining/worldbuilding (timelines, research, maps, spreadsheets, etc.)?

There was a time where I really got stuck in a rut writing bios, and I was creating yet another dark academia/murder roleplay back in the day. I had a cast of 15 characters and ended up settling on a skeleton roleplay but I wanted to come up with a fun little twist. I wanted to leave things incredibly open and let the writers sink their teeth in and really breath life into the characters. The roles were all named after flowers/plants (big shocker, bless you Jess for putting up with weekly Plant Rants with Rian™) but there were strong hints of digging a little deeper than that. Be it the symbolism of the flower, some pulled from the Victorian language of flowers, the colors, the locations. Basically, there was a lot more to the label should the writer want to dig in, or it was just simply taken at face value. It was fun seeing how it was interpreted!

The skeletons themselves were about a thick paragraph, with the bulk of things being presented in Two Truths & a Lie and a playlist for each character. What was true and what was false was left up to the writer, with the option of swapping out two of the three for a different interpretation. Three songs were to be added to the five given, but more could be subbed out. Snippets of the lyrics for each could be pulled for that section, or a quick few sentences about what the songs (and even a few classical pieces chosen by the writers) either meant to the character (a memory, etc) or what they said about them.

It was just a different way of presenting starting points for characters and a lot of fun trying to figure out what were the truths and lies throughout the game.

share the last paragraph you wrote you’re most proud of.

I can’t decide between these two so yikes

The ocean could be cold, so terribly frigid in the concealed, inky depths. How many placid surfaces disguised stormier waters that hid debris pulled to a final slumber upon a sea bed? There were wrecks, warnings. Something had happened here. Good, bad. Wrought upon nature by mercurial seas or upon souls by its inhabitants. There were distinct memories of explorations of such ruins, and the most vivid cast itself upon Talia’s eyelids when she closed them. Spires of shrapnel, warped wood of vengeance that had been wreaked. They were almost skeletal, and she had so curiously flit between the carved curves. The mast had toppled and bent at unnatural angles, and she figured her own rib cage looked as such currently. An irregular thud was beating so fervently against that cage in an internal collision that threatened to sink her very being. Would the bones break in the newly found fragility of a human body, or would the heart beat itself to a mangled pulp in a valiant ploy for release? Would the state it was in even matter, as Talia never intended to offer it up for the taking? One day she would love her kingdom and she would be loved in return. That would be enough.

Her heart had slumbered in darkness. A place as cool, calm, dark, as unyielding and eternal as the saltwater they were pulled from. It could be as serene or tumultuous as a rolling storm – ready to pull down and trap anyone that dove too deep into those depths. One person had learned the angles of a sole beam of light and learned how to reflect it just so. One person emanated light into her dark so thoroughly and Talia held it as close as she could without immolation. She was but a jealous moon. A detached, mysterious beauty that pulled beings to her like the tide before sending them ebbing away. The hand she held was warmer than hers, and Evikaia would always hold that sentiment. Before her was a radiant beauty, though dimmed by something she couldn’t place, but Talia would turn her face towards her own personal sun until she went blind. She wanted to observe and absorb every shred of warmth he had offered until her bones were drenched in his rays and sun-bleached; washed ashore and finally free of the seaside sepulchre.

describe your current muse’s physical appearance using only one, over the top sentence.

She’s got electric boots, a mohair suit, you know I read it in a magazine.

A crepuscular girl with a crescent smile, a moon’s pull to your demise under inky waves, waves & waves & waves of dark and auburn — a red sky warning daring you to step closer.

if you had to write a novel about one of the characters in or outside of shiver, which character would you choose and why?

I would have to go with the meyrs! I’m so excited that we have some more in these waters, but I’m so excited to see how everything plays out in the group. The group, and different writers and perspectives, would just add more nuance and ideas than I could ever do justice solely. I think it would be so exciting to explore the different kingdoms and how different people cope with courtly life. The plot of the Amethyst leaving and all of the regents pulled from the deep to unite on one task (with their own motivations or lack thereof [[Talia]]) just offer so much to explore. I think this is much better suited for a group dynamic and I’m thrilled to be a part of it.

Writing one for Talia would be rather interesting as well. She has a lot of conflicting emotions about her role as Regent and the royal court. She could have had an easy, glamorous life with Vik at her side as her betrothed, but she felt she had too much potential and the opportunity for power was far more enthralling than a vapid existence. The trials were such an extended period of heightened emotions as she laid claim to what she wanted, or thought she wanted. It’s so starkly juxtaposed to her own time on land in the 1970s, and she still has a bit of flair for that era. She had never, and has never felt as free and happy since but duty called and she was bound to answer. I’d probably have to choose writing Talia living her best life while exploring her dynamic with Vik.

#shiver.gang #––– like wildfire or a summer storm swept in ; muse.❜#I originally typed 'seahaw' but stopped myself #you're welcome

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lizartgurl · 6 years ago

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Jaina Solo as Anastasia

So I was listening to the Anastasia soundtrack as I did my Jaina doodles and so enjoy this bullet-pointed AU with Jaina Solo as the Princess Anastasia, based on the Don Bluth Movie.

(I am so sorry this got so freaking long)

The Amidala family has ruled the planet of Naboo for a hundred years or so, the most recent being Padme Amidala, who married Anakin Skywalker and had two children, the twins Leia and Luke

Padme abdicated after her husband died, bestowing her grand kingdom to her daughter, the Princess Leia, who married General Han Solo and had three children, Anakin, the youngest, Jacen, and his twin, Jaina Solo, the oldest and designated heir.

Padme dotes on her only granddaughter, helping prepare the wild girl for ruling the planet one day.

During Padme’s reign with Anakin, they relied heavily on the advice of their counselor, Shiv Palpatine, who had mentored them both

Once Leia took the throne, she discovered that Palpatine had a hand in the death of her father, and would have executed him had he not escaped.

The Amidalas forget him, dedicating their efforts to improving their kingdom and trying to repair any damage that Palpatine had done to their people.

Jaina and her brothers grow up in the lap of luxury and want for nothing. Jaina learns to ride Fathiers and fly speeders like her father. Jacen is better with the Fatheirs than she is and she’s jealous of that fact because Jacen gets along great with ALL animals, and Fathiers are her favorite

All three children are strong in the force, like the rest of their family, and their Master Uncle Luke trains them to protect their friends and to fight for justice for their people.

One of the servants is the orphan boy Zekk, who often escapes from the palace with the Amidala children, searching for adventure. As much as they try to be friends, there is an entire world separating their very different lives.

Padme lives on the planet of Naboo, very similar to Alderaan, and all her grandchildren hate how far away she lives.

She returns to Alderaan for the Anniversary ball to celebrate the Hundredth year of the Amidala reign, with special gifts for all of her grandchildren to remember her by.

Jacen receives a rare Crystal Snake, Anakin gets a puzzle to test his wits, but Jaina’s is the most special. A tiny music box that she can tinker with so that it plays their favorite Alderaanian lullaby.

The night of the Ball, Palpatine returns, revealing his true form of Darth Sidious. He curses the Amidala family with death and unhappiness, and uses his newly found dark powers to stir the peace-loving people of Alderaan to violence against their beloved rulers.

The planet is racked with war, tearing at its seams. The Amidalas try to stay as long as they can, insisting that they can stop the violence in some way.

They cannot, and they must escape as a deadly weapon orchestrated by Darth Sidious aims for the planet’s core.

Desperate to keep a hold on her precious music box, Jaina is separated from her family in the spaceport, but is aided by Zekk, who directs her to a ship full of orphan children.

The two are cornered by Sidious himself, though Jaina drives him back with her wild powers, just barely defeating him.

This leaves her without her memories, but she is preserved somehow and stowed onboard the ship, but separated from Zekk, who now has Jaina’s beloved music box in his possession.

Alderaan is destroyed by Sidious’s hatred, its people scattered throughout the galaxy.

Much of the diaspora is concentrated in the capital of the galaxy, Coruscaunt, including Jaina, Zekk, and Lando Calrissian, a conman by nature and an old friend of Han Solo.

Having lost their daughter, Han, Leia, and Padme refuse to believe that she died with Alderaan, and offer a reward for anyone who can produce the heir of the Alderaanian throne, or any information leading to her.

Jaina has grown to adulthood being called “Jaya” by the other orphan children, no memory of the esteemed life she once led. She leaves the orphanage, to find work, wandering across the planet as a mechanic.

Lando has somewhat adopted Zekk the street rat, and they think they know how to get the reward money for the location of Jaina Solo.

They hold auditions for someone to pose as the lost heir, who they will teach the ways of courtly life, specifically the life of Jaina Solo.

Jaya is called in to fix their ship, and she is amazed by the familiarity of Alderaanian tech, and the lullaby Zekk is humming as he plays with the silent music box hanging around his neck.

Lando is struck with a brilliant idea, scruffy-looking mechanic Jaya will pose as the wild Jaina Solo Amidala, giving him and Zekk a shot at the reward money and Jaya a chance to leave Coruscaunt for once in her life and see the galaxy.

Their ship is attacked by Sidious’s demons, forcing them to take a public cruiser to Naboo, where the Amidalas now live.

Jaya is getting increasingly frustrated with the courtly rules and the fancy clothes Lando tries to make her dress up in. Zekk is getting just as frustrated with trying to teach her, and can’t help but feel like he’s missing something, and Lando keeps insisting that Jaya can pull it off perfectly, all with a winning smile.

While transferring between ships, Lando decides to teach Jaya to ride a fathier, as Jaina was so fond of doing

Suddenly it just clicks.

Jaya is sprinting ahead of Zekk and Lando, and remembering just about everything they’ve taught her. She carries herself like a princess, and discusses Alderaanian history with Lando, bringing up some points Zekk is very certain they’ve never taught her.

Finally it comes time to teach Jaya the Alderaanian waltz.

Lando tries first, but Jaya’s too stiff and awkward, so he makes Zekk do it.

Jaya doesn’t even question it but she is comfortable with Zekk. She trusts him, somehow, and hopes that he trusts her in return.

Zekk’s stomach aches as the though flits across his mind that maybe this is Jaina, his old friend, the princess of the Alderaanian Empire. If it’s true, she will find her family, and he will be happy for her, but it also means he will never see the princess again. He is a simply a common man, they cannot be.

Jaya doesn’t understand why Zekk is suddenly not talking to her.

Then she has a nightmare. Brothers, parents, family she does not recognize, all turn to demons before her eyes and try to pull her in with them, she is pulled through the ship as she sleepwalks, unable to awaken.

(another of sidious’s ploys to tear the amidalas apart)

Zekk awakens her as she is about to throw herself into the ship’s core, banishing the demons, how he doesn’t know.

He refuses to leave her side for the rest of the night.

Jaya doesn’t mind.

They arrive at Naboo, and Lando takes them to the estate of Master Skywalker, his former lover, and sister to Queen Leia Amidala. All attempting to prove themselves the Princess Jaina must speak to him before the Queen and her mother.

Jaya’s presence is dim in the force, almost severed somehow. Luke cannot get a reading on her, but she answers all his questions with sincere honesty.

Then she is asked to relay the story of her escape from Alderaan.

Her memory is fuzzy, but it’s been returning since her lessons.

She mentions the servant boy with emerald eyes and a sad sort of smile, how he pulled her by the hand through a crowd, and then he was gone.

Zekk is astonished. He has to leave the room. He has never told anyone of this, not even Lando. He wanted to forget his life on Alderaan until Lando concocted his get-rich-quick-slash-reunite-with-his-ex-boyfriend scheme.

Luke determines to take a chance on Jaya, inviting her to the Calamari opera Padme Amidala will be attending with him that evening. He takes them on a shopping spree around Naboo for fancy new clothes.

Zekk is even more in love with her than before, though he knows he shouldn’t. Jaya can’t understand why Zekk seems so upset when they are having so much fun.

They arrive at the opera, Zekk is still debating whether or not to tell Lando. Jaya dons an elegantly simple suit, rather than a dress, and follows Lando’s style with a flashy cape, and Zekk is speechless as he guides her into the opera.

At the end, they make their way to the Amidala’s private box.

Zekk tries to introduce Jaya as the Princess Jaina, but Padme will not have it. She is tired of girls trying to claim her money and legacy and break her heart as she searches for her family.

Zekk insists, he has to get Jaina back to her family.

Padme’s guard recognizes him as one whom they heard organizing auditions for a Jaina look-alike. Padme has him thrown out. Jaya overhears.

She leaves in tears, refusing to speak to Zekk or Lando.

Lando is just about to give up when Zekk tells him the truth, and makes one more attempt to reunite the Amidalas.

An expert pilot, he steals Padme Amidala away in her cruiser before her driver can get in, and shows her the music box Jaina dropped with him on the night the planet was destroyed.

Padme agrees to meet Jaya just once, in return for the music box.

Jaya is just leaving with her meager bag when Padme intercepts her, looking the girl up and down. The girl looks remarkably similar to herself and her daughter and grandson. Then again, so did many other girls.

She notices the key hanging around Jaina’s necklace, and asks what it’s for.

Jaya doesn’t know, it’s the only thing she’s always had, her only connection to her past life.

Padme looks again at the music box. It is definitely the one she gave Jaina, but a small lock is fastened on the side. A amateur’s handiwork, but a dedicated amateur.

Curious, she asks Jaya to humor an old woman, and Jaya holds the music box she thought was Zekk’s. Her key twists inside the lock, plinking out a gentle melody.

It isn’t until she hears the old Queen’s voice singing that she realizes she is singing with the music too.

Her memories accompany the words of the lullaby, and Padme embraces her. Jaina reunites with her parents, brothers, and meets Jacen’s golden-haired fiancee within an hour.

Lando settles in with Luke again, and so Padme tries to offer the reward to Zekk, who refuses. He is simply happy to see Jaina with her family.

A ball is organized to celebrate the return of the Princess.

Jaina is fitted for a dress, to her mother’s delight, and it isn’t so bad. It feels more like a cloud than yards and yards of ridiculous fabric. Jacen himself even says he can’t find anything to tease her about.

At the ball, Jaian tries to deny that she’s looking for Zekk but her grandmother knows her too well, even after all these years.

Jaina goes to the gardens to think, away from the parties and celebrations that are far too foreign to her now.

Sidious appears and attacks. Taken by surprise, Jaina is barely able to hold him off.

Zekk tries to leave and go back to Coruscaunt, but the bad feeling in his stomach won’t go away. He runs back to the palace just in time to distract Sidious.

Jaina snatches Sidious’s reliquary, the source of his power, and smashes it on the ground.

Sidious’s body disintegrates, left without a soul, and his curse upon the Amidalas does too.

Jaina returns to her family with her childhood friend, where he is welcomed into the family with open arms, by Jacen especially.

They know too well what it is like to live without an important part of their family.

It is far better to add more family members than to reject them.

Jacen marries the Princess of the Hapan Empire, and Zekk feels a lot of pressure, but Jaina reminds him that her title is simply honorary, because Alderaan no longer exists.

And they all live happily ever after on Naboo.

The end.

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missmarquin · 6 years ago

Link

Prologue

The dancers were painfully boring and quite frankly, nothing that she hadn't seen before in her long and privileged life. She had seen contortionists from the mainland, elephants from far West... there was nothing remotely unique about these too-thin children, twirling around painfully on their toes.

“Merchant,” the Lady Linfey said, thrusting as much boredom that she possibly could into voice, “I tire of this game that you insist on playing. If you have nothing decent to show, then don't show at all.” Her mother had always taught her to keep her cards close to her chest and never reveal herself, but what was the point of being an Empress if she didn't use her title to her advantage?

The Merchant bowed nervously and fretted about, scratching at his balding head as he wrung his colorful hat between his fingers. “Many apologies, your Majesty,” he sputtered. “Truly, one hundred thousand apologies. I just thought that these dancers--”

“Once you have seen one, you have seen them all,” Empress Linfey replied dryly.

The Merchant froze, perhaps fearing for his life. Her eyes glinted dangerously as she regarded him carefully. He fussed about and sputtered again, his face turning red as he tried to salvage the situation. She rolled her eyes at this, pausing to glance at her son standing to her right. It was odd that he was willingly in here presence, but perhaps that was a good thing. It had been over five decades since they had had a civil conversation.

But, like his father, he wasn't one for courtly drama. He would sooner wander the lands and search for strength, than bother with these petty political affairs— or in this case, frivolous shows of wealth. His regal air and ethereal looks added to their overall intimidation, making them quite the pair.

“Oh son, what do we do?” The question was more rhetorical than anything, which caused Sesshoumaru's lips to quirk into an annoyed frown. “Do we let him carry on, or shall we kick him out?” Truth be told, she wondered why he even bothered to hawk his wares to the Imperial Family.

“Leave me out of your trifling matters, mother.”

“But son,” she pouted, “I fear that I am weary from the display.”

At this, the Merchant begged for mercy. Honestly, she had no intention on killing the man, perhaps just a slight maiming instead. Those tended to brighten her mood. She smirked mercilessly as she raised her hand, displaying her sharp and lethal claws--

“Wait!” the Merchant cried. She paused, watching the man carefully, her eyes narrowed in slight interest. She wasn't above allowing the man his last words. “Your Majesty,” he added for good measure. Her lips twisted into a malicious smile. Surely this man didn't think that propriety would easy her mood. “There...” he started, but then hesitated. The moment her lips drooped into an unamused frown, he broke into a stutter once more. “T-t-there is something else!” he squeaked.

“Explain.”

He swept his hand to the side, motioning for the dancers to leave the floor. His business partner gave him a curious glance from his spot against the wall, seemingly unsure as to what the Merchant was referring too. “Something beautiful and serene! Something with the grace and poise of a butterfly, and the voice of a Goddess. Truly, she is my greatest treasure, but I am willing to offer a sample of her skills.”

Linfey's eyes flashed at his words-- if anyone was a Goddess, it was she. Still... curiosity poked at her. She loved things that were unique.

The Merchant waved towards his partner, motioning towards the entrance to the grand hall. “Your Majesty,” his partner said, his soft voice composed. “I will require the help of a few of your guards.” Clearly he didn't fear her, something she might have to change.

The Empress lowered her claws, only to rest her chin upon her hand impatiently. She waved her other hand towards two of her soldiers, standing attention at the walls. They bowed quickly and followed the man out. She trained her gaze back on the Merchant once more, her eyebrows drawn up in curiosity and annoyance.

Soon enough, there was the sound of heavy footsteps across the marble. Her men carried a large birdcage to the dais and set it down on the floor before her. The thing was gilded in gold, but it showed age, tarnished in a few spots and in desperate need of polishing. There was a lump inside the bars, breathing gently as it rested.

If this was the Merchant's bid to save his life, he wasn't off to a good start. She was silent as he stepped over to it hastily, unlocking the intricate mechanism and letting the door swing open.

“Songbird,” he crooned into the cage, his voice slick with forced sweetness. The thing in the cage shifted slightly and the Empress leaned forward in interest.

The Merchant reached into the cage and pulled out a chain, the links cast iron, thick and heavy. The lump moved with sleepy effort, slowly unfolding itself. He shook the chains slightly, pulling at them. “Songbird,” he repeated, “Come.”

A leg emerged from the cage, long and slender, the flesh pale as moonlight. Linfey's eyes widened slightly as the other followed suit. But the creature paused, causing the Merchant to huff, tugging at the chains harder. He was met with resistance. He yanked far harder and the creature tumbled from the cage, crumpling onto the floor, covered in rich fabrics of all colors and sheen. Her long, raven hair was loosed, piling around her, and she smelled--

The Lady's nose flared as she stood abruptly, her eyes bleeding red as rage filled her. “You!” she screamed to the merchant. “You dare bring a human into this place? Into my presence? Have you no self preservation? I should—”

“Mercy!” the Merchant pleaded hysterically. “Mercy, I plead, Imperial Highness! If you would just hear her sing--”

“Sing?” she queried, a nasty sneer settling across her face. “This thing sings?”

The man nodded enthusiastically, barely breathing in his nervousness. “Yes, oh yes! Her voice is like the smoothest of silks. You must listen and you will see, why I have brought such a thing into your presence.”

The Lady regarded the human on the floor for a moment, before her gaze shifted to her son. His face was stony and uninterested, but she saw the tightness of his lips, resisting the urge to curl into a disgusted scowl. Her husband would have welcomed such a pitiful creature into their home with little question, but his soft heart is the reason that he wasn't there anymore. She looked towards the Merchant again, not bothering to hide her contempt.

“I beg you,” he said, shriveling into a low bow. “Give the girl a chance.”

“Girl,” she repeated flatly, as though the idea repulsed her. Finally, she waved her hand towards them.

The Merchant bent down, reaching into the curtain of hair. He grasped at her cheek, forcing it towards the Empress without resistance. Slowly the girl stood at his direction, turning to face the dais. She wasn't tall, shorter than the Merchant, who wasn't tall himself. Her hair was as black as the night sky and glossy, falling around her in waves. Her face was heart shaped, her almond shaped eyes wide set around her petite nose. A thick iron cuff wrapped around her neck, attached to the chain.

Very striking, as far as humans went, the Lady supposed. Even though the girl was skinny and swam in her fanciful outfit, she couldn't deny that she had the grace the Merchant had promised. But anger bristled through her. The girl reminded her of that woman, the one who will not be named.

Her husband would have loved this girl instantly, were he still alive. Disgusting.

“Songbird,” the Merchant crooned softly, grasping her hand lightly, “Sing.” Then he stepped back, letting go of her hand, waving his other one in a flourish of presentation.

She stood tall, gazing serenely at the Empress, her dark eyes penetrating. Calculating, thinking. Her eyes swept the room, from the Lady Linfey, to her son, to the ceiling and then back. Finally, she opened her mouth and held her arms out, taking a breath and--

It was the most beautiful sound that she had ever heard.

It was a language that she didn't know, the syllables of the words rising and falling with the melody. Her tone was clear as the most polished crystal, filling the space robustly. Her arms spread out before her, swelling with the tune as her eyes closed, and she lost herself in her music.

The Empress was enraptured and the Merchant smirked.

The Songbird's voice warbled on the last note before dying off, leaving the hall in silence. Her son shifted uncomfortably at her side. Finally, the Lady Linfey looked to the Merchant.

“Name your price,” she said to him. “I must have her.”

“She is truly priceless,” he responded. “I acquired her from a circus years ago, but her history before that is a mystery to me. She hails from the East though, that I am sure.”

The Empress detected no lies in his words, and the girl did have the coloring and slight stature of an Eastern lady. The man believed his words to be true and it was likely that it didn't even matter. The history of a slave was a small detail.

“Nothing is priceless,” she scoffed. “Tell me what it is that you want.”

“Your Imperial Grace,” he started, “I would be reluctant to let her go—”

“Five hundred thousand gold crowns.”

The Merchant fell silent, gaping at her. It was more than she knew he could possibly make in a lifetime, even selling the high-quality goods that he did. It would be more than enough to ensure he lived the rest of his days in comfort and luxury... even for a youkai, such as himself.

“Five hundred thousand,” he repeated.

“Did I stutter? Was I unclear? Five hundred thousand gold crowns, if you leave me this... human.” The word tasted ill on her tongue. Truth be told, she didn't want a human lurking anywhere near her home, not after what happened to her beloved husband, but--

“Mother!” her son hissed, glaring at her with eyes that were red with rage.

“Son,” she said, her tone cool. A clear warning.

One that he didn't listen to. “You dare buy this thing?”

“This thing is truly unique. You know of my weakness for one-of-a-kind things.”

“You will dishonor Father if you do this. Gave you forgotten--”

“Sesshoumaru!” she snapped. He stopped short, nostrils flaring and eyes burning red, like a child knee-deep in a tantrum. She resisted the urge to grab him by the scruff; he son was still so young. “Do not dare presume that I have forgotten the fate of my husband. I swear to you, I can neverforget, nor will I ever forgive.” Despite her harsh words, she paused bowed her head in respect for her husband. Her son was angry, seething really, but he did not respond. She turned her gaze back to the Merchant. “Do we have a deal, Merchant?”

“Five hundred thousand crowns, for the Songbird.” It was like he couldn't comprehend basic words.

“That is the offer.”

“Then I accept.” He stuck his hands into his sleeves and bowed deeply in reverence. “I leave to you the child, and her cage.”

“My adviser will see to it that you get paid. Good day, Merchant.”

He bowed once more, before turning to take his leave, his business partners and the rest of his wares following close behind.

“Son,” she started, but when she looked to her side, she found that her son was already gone. She let out a small sigh, before she turned her attention back to the child. Slowly, she stood from her throne, climbing slowly off of the dais and down the steps. Reaching out, she grasped the girl by the chin, forcing her to look up.

“Do you know who I am, girl?” She did not answer. Her eyes watched the Empress, expressive but wary. The Lady squeezed her her jaw tighter, her nails just barely digging into her skin. It would be easy to snap the bone between her fingertips like it was nothing.

But still, the girl said nothing. “Do you not speak?”

There were no words, but her eyes spoke volumes. She was scared, even if she didn't shake like a leaf in her grip. The girl understood the threat. The Lady's lips twisted into a smug smirk, satisfied. She would allow this... thing within her home, but at a price.

“I do not like humans,” she told the Songbird. “In fact, I detest your kind. You however... you are special, something truly unique. A treasure. I collect treasures, and so now, you are mine. You will have your health as long as you mind your place.” She motioned to the cage. “So, do as I say.”

The regarded her silently for a moment before she stepped towards the cage, her feet padding delicately along the floor. She folded herself into the cage, pulling and coiling the chain after her in a practiced motion. The Lady shut the door tightly behind her.

“Take her to the Gallery,” she said, waving to a few of her guards. “I'm sure that you can find a place to put her.”

The men nodded, hefting the gilded cage as if it weighed nothing. The Lady watched as the girl gazed at her solemnly through the bars. If she had had a heart, perhaps she would have felt guilt, or even pity for the child who had been bought like a a pet. But she had no heart and she did not care for anything, other than the twisted sense of irony that flooded her chest

She smiled sweetly at the girl child, forcing her lips into a charming quirk that dripped poison and malice, and said, “Welcome to the Western Palace, my little Songbird.”

I’ve hit six chapters, in addition to this prologue on Songbird, and honestly I’m really proud. I have a tendency to start a project... and then restart a project because I’m not happy with it. For the first time, I like something that I’ve written, I have a clear plan and plot, and I’m just plowing forth. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and supported my work, in their spare time!

#sesshoumaru and rin #sesshoumaru #sesshomaru #Rin #inuyasha #Fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction

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trinuviel · 7 years ago

Text

Winterfell’s Daughter. On Sansa Stark (part 2)

This is the second part of my analysis of the character of Sansa Stark on Game of Thrones. Part 1 can be found here.

THE ROMANTIC ILLUSION UNDERMINED

Sansa approaches her betrothal with Joffrey as a fantasy come true – she is now the heroine in a “romance”, just like in the stories she loves so much. However, this illusion is quickly undermined by Joffrey himself when he gets into a conflict with Arya on the road back to King’s Landing.

This is the first time that Sansa gets to witness Joffrey’s sadistic nature. It all starts so well. Sansa is out walking in the camp.

She meets the creepy Illyn Payne and is frightened, then the Hound whom she also finds intimidating. At this point Joffrey inserts himself into the conversation and “saves” Sansa from the scary men.

He employs the conventions of Courtly Love; flatteringly calling her his lady and caressing her face. They go walking and he plies her with wine as if it is a grand gesture. Sansa is essentially living out her little fairy tale. Then they come across Arya and Mycha (the butcher’s boy) playing at swords. Because he’s a sadistic little shit, Joffrey seizes the moment to torment Mycha, knowing that he can get away with it because he’s the Crown Prince and Mycha is lowborn. It is, however, worth noting that once again Joffrey employs the conventions of Chivalric Romance, casting himself as Arya’s “rescuer” like he did with Sansa’s encounter with Illyn Payn and the Hound.

Joffrey: That’s my lady’s sister you were hitting. Do you know that?

Language like this is probably figures in the songs and stories that Sansa loves so much, where the knight/hero intervenes to defend a helpless maid. Joffrey, of course, doesn’t care about Arya – he just wants to do some bullying. This is where the whole situation turns into a twisted version of the narrative pattern that Joffrey is trying to appropriate. As the situation plays out, Joffrey isn’t the knight – he’s the villain. Mycha is the helpless person and Arya intervenes as the knightly rescuer.

This incident is not one of Sansa’s finest moments. She stands passively in the background as Joffrey hurts Mycha and as he argues with Arya. When Arya attacks Joffrey, Sansa starts yelling:

Sansa: No, no, stop it, both of you. You’re spoiling it. You’re spoiling everything!

Interestingly enough, Sansa berates both Arya and Joffrey. They are spoiling her lovely little fantasy. After Arya has left Joffrey cowering on the ground, Sansa quickly reverts to the script of Courtly Love and both laments Joffrey’s injuries and offers to get help - probably because she has no idea of to react otherwise:

Sansa: My prince, my poor prince, look at what they did to you.

She fusses over him like a lady would fuss over her wounded knight in one of her stories. Joffrey, however, doesn’t revert back to script but instead hisses at her not to touch him. He’s angry and humiliated and lashes out at her. This is probably the reason why Joffrey comes to hate Sansa so much. She witnessed his cowardice and weakness – and he never forgives her for it.

The conflict between the children is followed by a confrontation before King Robert. Arya is dragged in front of the king to where Cersei offers up a complete fabrication about how Joffrey was attacked unprovoked by Arya and Mycha. It devolves into a “he said, she said” scenario and Robert is visibly frustrated. He wants this resolved.

Robert: Where’s your other daughter, Ned?

Ned: In bed, asleep.

Cersei: She’s not. Sansa, come here, darling.

Then Sansa comes before Robert. There’s an important detail here that it is easy to overlook: Sansa is escorted into the presence of the king by a Lannister guard in full armour! [video, timestamp: 1:49]

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Let’s ponder this for a moment. While Ned was out searching for Arya, Cersei had Sansa isolated and put under armed guard! That must have been quite an intimidating experience for Sansa and I don’t think that it is far-fetched that Sansa may have been pressured to present Cersei’s version of events. It is quite clear that Cersei expects Sansa to confirm Joffrey’s story. It isn’t stated outright but there is a subtext at play that indicates that Cersei has put pressure on Sansa when she was isolated and vulnerable.

This is another of Sansa’s less than stellar moments. However, I also think that she is often judged more harshly than she deserves. She is put in quite a bind. Cersei wants her to lie to the king – the same king who tells her that it is a great crime to lie to a king.

Robert: Now child, tell me what happened. Tell it all and tell it true. It is a great crime to lie to a king.

Sansa does lie to Robert but she doesn’t tell the lie that Cersei has been pushing. She doesn’t want to incriminate Arya but neither does she want to take sides against the boy she’ll be bound to for the rest of her life. So she tells another lie: that she doesn’t remember – and alienates both of them in the process.

The whole situation is a mess and neither Sansa nor Arya are equipped to handle this – and Ned is utterly useless. Neither Sansa nor Arya is to blame why this situation ends in such a nasty way. They are children who are completely unequipped to handle a pair of vicious persons who are acting in bad faith. The people to blame are the adults – primarily Cersei and Robert. Interestingly enough, this scenario is a notable deviation from the book, probably because Ned really does not acquits himself very well in the book. It is Ned who calls Sansa before the king. He knows the truth (because Sansa told him everything) but puts his daughter in a difficult situation where he expects her to testify against the boy who she’s to marry. He throws his eldest daughter to the lions without giving her any kind of support. The show, however, rewrites the incident to gloss over Ned’s failure as a parent.

Did Sansa do wrong here? Yes and no. It was wrong of her not to support her sister but, on the other hand, Arya did in fact commit a crime by attacking a member of the royal family. The punishment for this is very harsh. Sansa’s lie keeps the conflict at the “he said, she said” level and the only reason why Lady was killed was because Cersei was vindictive and Robert didn’t want to fight with her anymore. Sansa is generally judged very hard by the audience and that isn’t quite fair because the feudal world of Westeros doesn’t operate in the same way as our modern, democratic world. Yes, Sansa acted cowardly but her actions also prevented the situation from escalating if she had told the truth. Sansa is put between a rock and a hard place – and she was always going to be the loser in this scenario. If she had taken sides, she’d either betrayed Arya by confirming Joffrey’s lie or she’d have incriminated her sister, which could have had severe consequences for Arya. Then there’s the fact that she’s betrothed to Joffrey and a woman publically going against her betrothed/husband was not done. Ned actually explains this to Arya later (ep03).

The real tragedy is Mycha’s death – and the sad part is that he was already dead when Arya and Sansa was dragged before King Robert. Even if Sansa had told the truth, Mycha would still have been dead because the common born almost always loose when the rich and powerful clash - that is one of the overriding themes of the books.

DEATH OF A DIREWOLF

Lady’s death can be seen as a narrative punishment for Sansa lying about the incident at the Trident but that is, imo, a simplistic way to approach this. Lady dies because Cersei is a petty, vindictive woman and because Robert doesn’t want to argue anymore. Even Ned doesn’t press the issue beyond saying: “Is this your command, Your Grace?” In Sansa’s eyes, his lack of defense for Lady can certainly be construed as him failing her as a parent – the fact that he himself kills Lady can not be easy to Sansa to accept (Ned might think he’s doing the wolf a mercy but in his daughter’s eyes, he’ll always be the one that killed her beloved pet. I doubt Sansa can distinguish between the two in her anguish. Dead is dead and it was her father who wielded the blade). Lady is just another innocent victim in all this.

Within the fandom there’s been a lot of theories about what Lady’s death signifies – if it even signifies anything special at all. Many readers take her death to be a foreshadowing of Sansa dying, probably because the direwolves’ dead mother (killed by a stag) can be interpreted as a death omen for Ned: killed by a “Baratheon” king whose sigil is a stag. However, when reading a text symbolically, context is key and I’d like to advance another interpretation. Let’s have a look at what the text says about Ned killing Lady:

He left the room with his eyes burning and his daughter’s wails echoing in his ears, and found the direwolf pup where they chained her. Ned sat beside her for a while. “Lady”, he said, tasting the name. He had never paid much attention to the names the children had picked, but looking at her now he knew that Sansa had chosen well. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur. Shortly, Jory brought him Ice. (A Game of Thrones, Eddard III)

Trust and the betrayal of trust is such a huge part of Sansa’s narrative arc, so I think that it is no coincidence that Lady is described as the most trusting of the wolves. If we read the text metaphorically, then Ned’s killing of Lady can be interpreted as the first blow against Sansa’s innocent and trusting nature. Thus, Ned kills a little bit of Sansa’s trust in him when he executes Lady, which is just so incredibly sad. I’ve always thought that her going to Cersei, begging to be allowed to stay in King’s Landing (thus unwittingly betraying her father’s plan) wasn’t just a matter of Sansa being a selfish, spoiled child, but also that she no longer completely trusted that her father had her best interests in mind. I know it is easy to say that his hand was forced - and it was - but for a child it is difficult to see past the hand that wielded the blade. However, that one rebellious action on Sansa’s part actually lead to an even greater betrayal of her trust by Cersei.

Interestingly enough, the show makes a direct connection between Lady’s death and Bran waking up from his long coma through the editing. In the books, the chapter where Bran wakes up (after a tense vision/dream sequence where he’s close to crashing into spires of ice and thus dying) follows the chapter where Ned kills Lady. In the show, Lady’s death is closely intercut with the scene where Bran wakes up – not just once but several times. [Video, timestamp: 5:00]

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Thus Lady’s death whimper (off-screen) is immediately followed by Bran opening his eyes, which is the last shot of the episode. What does this mean? Well, it strongly suggests that Lady’s death pays for Bran’s life! It is her death that releases him from his coma.

#game of thrones #sansa stark #character analysis #winterfell's daughter

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aldmerii-blog · 7 years ago

Note

hey guess what do all of the numbers for the most recent one you reblogged w best girl ily thank you for humoring me all the time

wtf thank u for letting me ramble about my beloved girl all the time,,

1. Their physical weak spots

a.all of em? she’s not very strong or hearty or anything. i was thinking of playing some kind of nightblade when i made her so she’s got good dex, but boy is that it. she’s a regular wet noodle.

2. Their emotional/moral weak spots

her family, mostly. i don’t... like, she doesn’t really love her parents but she does have a duty to them and would do anything for them. she also really feels for children, like she has to protect them from the bad in the world.

3. Scars or painful spots

she has some sort of discolored, rippled skin on her left hand/wrist/forearm from a burn she sustained there. it has faded with time and careful healing magic but it’s definitely still there.

also i don’t remember how the zombies knocked her unconscious in the first adventure we had but i’m going to make it up and say they snapped a few of her ribs and even though it’s healed over it still hurts sometimes if she breathes too hard and twists wrong.

4. Best places to kiss on their body

heh. heh heh. uhhhh. hands and shoulders are always good. also tiddies she got nice tiddies.

5. Guilty pleasures

high/courtly romance stories and the kind of cake the cook always made her for her birthday (a very very light white cake with frosting made from fresh strawberries)

6. Their vices (physical or emotional)

she isn’t an addict but she very easily could be -- it runs in her family. i imagine it would also be very easy to make her jealous.

7. Their tickle spots

ribs/hips!!

8. Bad memories/experiences

that time she misinterpreted an arcana check and got a kid killed

uhhh her first time having sex sucked and she probably cried during/after

again, she did get her brother arrested and sentenced to life in prison

her worst fight with her father, when there was a plague in one of the lower districts and he planned to urge the queen to just quarantine the place and let people die and she threatened to get word out before the edict could be passed, so he put her under house arrest.

9. Humiliating memories

being a pre-teen half-elf in an elf boarding school ain’t easy, lemme tell ya.

the other girls on her floor used to be so fascinated with her body and how she was shaped different -- look at her thighs! look at her shoulders! why does she have hair there? it was never done explicitly to make fun of her but there was always the undercurrent of her body being wrong.

10. Fears/phobias

zombies and failure, man. zombies and failure.

11. Bad or petty habits

she’s kind of just a judgy person. anything outside her realm of experience is worthy of extreme scrutiny. so she’s shitty to oisin and borem at first, what with their MORALLY DEGENERATE lifestyles,, drinking and gambling and whatnot.

12. Grudges and vendettas

she just. she hate humans. she thinks they’re brash and unrefined and boorish and she doesn’t like them one bit.

she doesn’t take betrayal lightly and she does not forgive or forget. but no one who has betrayed her is alive for her to be angry at.

13. What gets them flustered

praise/compliments sometimes. in equal measure being corrected or insulted.

14. Ingrained habits/forces of habit

she’s very prim and clean. she carries perfume with her and reapplies it almost like clockwork. if she can’t put on her moisturizer at night she has trouble sleeping. dirt under her nails? torture.

15. What it takes to make them cry

not much! she’s pretty bad at articulating emotions and gets overwhelmed easily, and when she gets overwhelmed she cries. so she cries a lot. she’s a big crybaby.

16. Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

sundemar, kind of? he’s more or less not allowed to tell anyone his surname because it would shame the family if people knew who he was.

17. Regrets

at this point, she regrets her relationship w/ her shithead boyf. she regrets not taking her mentor up on his offer to leave the city with him, because she wouldn’t have to deal with everything currently going on.

18. Things they’ll never admit

smaller things, like having failed exams. bigger things, like how she got the burns on her wrist. i don’t feel like she goes into great detail about most things in her life.

19. People they’ve hurt or indirectly killed, and how it affected them

ahHAH listen shaelle is basically catholic with the amount of guilt she feels over just about everything, ever. her whole ass family. every mean thing she’s ever said to her friends. she probably like counts them as she’s trying to go to sleep and wonders why anyone still talks to her.

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines

what if sylvar had gotten out of his sentence? what if she’d never said anything at all? she’d have left the city to study magic elsewhere. in her head she’d have married some other scholar and they’d be traveling the world together. and her parents would send her money and she’d never have to worry about anything.

21. Turning points in their life

when her parents legally recognized her as heir, i guess. that’s when things set in, when the weight of her family’s name and reputation and survival was placed on her shoulders. she’s was about seventeen.

22. People who’ve influenced them greatly

her mother, when she was younger. she wanted to be just like her -- look like her, talk like her, act like her. a few professors at school, including the man who would become her mentor. i think the slorp party has had an influence on her, too.

#my best girl....my beloved....my special angel......#carly tells tales #carly's ocs #oc: shaelle #aggressivelyqueerdisaster

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carlottastudios · 7 years ago

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My To Belong characters

For those of you haven't heard of To Belong, it is a project made by one Tumblr and YouTube creator known as The Nameless Doll which tells the story of three orphans trying to find a place where they might belong. The twist (and fun part): it takes place in a world where all humans have an animal form and all animals (save for fish and insects) have human forms. Naturally, once I got really into it, I decided to make my own OCs for this world. There's also a story connecting them all. Can you guess it from these bios? And if not, don't worry, I plan to write a bit of said story a little later. Enjoy! By the way, all of these pictures were made thanks to the Manga Creator: Vampire Hunter dress up games by Rinmaru (pages 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7 and 8. THEY WERE NOT DRAWN BY ME.

1. Emilin Silverwing

Age: 18

Gender: female

Orientation: heterosexual

Appearance (human): olive-toned skin, sapphire blue eyes, long dark brown hair most often worn in a braid (and made very wavy as a result), curvy figure, slightly-shorter-than-average height, rather uncaring of what she wears

Appearance (animal): brown tabby cat, short-haired, only slightly smaller and lighter than average, a white muzzle and cheeks, white stomach and white paws

Relationships: Dillon Silverwing (older brother), Ari Luain (future sister-in-law), John Luain (childhood friend/crush/love of her life), Olin (current best friend)

Bio: As the only Silverwing ever to have a cat form instead of a barn owl, Emilin is often the recipient of muffled snickers, hidden smirks and general amusement among the nobility. She thus prefers the company of orphans, thieves and other such outcasts, and will often sneak off to have fun with them rather than attend a social function. She tends not to look before she leaps and will sooner maim you than look at you if you're threatening her loved ones.

2. John Luain

Age: 18

Gender: male

Orientation: pansexual

Appearance (human): caucasian skin, bright green eyes, shoulder-length dark blond hair, lithe and gracefully slim, average height, rarely wears vests or jackets, often wears gloves (usually black), very good-looking

Appearance (animal): all-black timber wolf (fur slightly ticked with brownish-silver), very sleek and handsome

Relationships: Ari Luain (older sister), Dillon Silverwing (future brother-in-law), Emilin Silverwing (childhood best friend/crush/(as he will discover later) love of his life), Olin (romantic rival/eventual friend), Lord Byron and Sol and Ethel (would-be-kidnappers), many unknown ex-boyfriends (seriously, there are quite a few)

Bio: John is almost the perfect gentleman, if you ignore his utter lack of courtly manners, and has a carefree boyish charm that draws many to him. Despite being such an attractive companion, he is infamous for being unable to keep a steady relationship, having over a dozen ex-boyfriends and many more fleeting friendships. One of the only long-standing bonds he has is his friendship with Emilin Silverwing, whom he has known since childhood. However, even that relationship has become more distant since he went abroad as his father's apprentice in trade. John does want to be a successful and adventurous merchant like his father, but not at the cost of the only friend he has.

3. Dillon Silverwing

Age: 28

Gender: male

Orientation: demisexual

Appearance (human): olive-tonned skin, dark brown eyes, silver glasses, long dark brown hair worn in a ponytail, is most often wearing several layers of weather-beaten clothing as a result of his near-constant travelling, taller-than-average height, looks of average weight but actually very muscular under all his layers of clothing, looks older than he appears

Appearance (animal): handsome-looking barn owl, wears his glasses and betrothal chain in animal form whenever he can

Relationships: Emilin Silverwing (younger sister), Ari Luain (true love/betrothed/future wife), John Luain (future brother-in-law), Elias O Carra (friend/colleague), Olin (eventual student), Princess Lela Aragain (eventual student)

Bio: Dillon is the well-educated, very well-traveled and exceedingly well-mannered heir of the Silverwing family, despite being a male unable to carry on the traditional barn owl form. He's spent most of his life all around the world, soaking up knowledge like a sponge from either books or training, as well as getting into more adventures than most people, including himself, could ever want. He is now happily retired from the adventurer's life in favour of peace and quiet, and plans to use his world-wide experiences, and amassed wealth, to open a public school and library so he might share his own wisdom to others. His greatest wish, however, is to transfer his great knowledge in etiquette to uncivilized brutes such as his little sister Emilin and future brother-in-law John.

4. Olin

Age: 18

Gender: male

Orientation: bisexual

Appearance (human): caucasian pale skin, freckles, short ruffled orange-red hair, forest green eyes, average height

Appearance (animal): a swift fox, so reddish-orange fur with large patches of speckled silver-grey, fur rather ruffled like his hair in human form

Relationships: Emilin Silverwing (best friend/former crush), John Luain (eventual friend), Princess Lela Aragain (eventual friend/co-student), Dillon Silverwing (eventual teacher)

Bio: Olin is one of Emilin's new friends, and he's been keeping her company in Dillon's absence. He is one of many homeless orphans on the street, but has so far managed to avoid starving by hunting/fishing/gathering most of his food. Despite having a degree in street-smarts, he's never been properly educated and is fascinated by Dillon's project of a public school and library accessible to all, at least from everything Emilin has told him. Olin doesn't care at all about reputation or what others think of him, and has a huge sweet-tooth. In fact, whenever he's being angrily chased by someone, more than half the time it's a cook or baker he's nicked a few deserts from.

5. Ari Luain

Age: 26

Gender: female

Orientation: bisexual

Appearance (human): caucasian skin, piercing aqua-coloured eyes, short light blond hair, dresses most often in dark blue, taller than average, very athletic physique

Appearance (animal): silver-white gryfalcon with dark grey markings, unusually well-groomed feathers and very impressive wings

Relationships: John Luain (younger brother), Dillon Silverwing (true love/betrothed/future husband), Emilin Silverwing (future sister-in-law), Elias O Carra (former client), Lela Aragain (former client), unnamed ex-girlfriend

Bio: Before the Luains made their fortune and attained their high status in society, Ari was a bodyguard for hire. Her clients tended to be either fabulously wealthy or very famous, because who wouldn't want to be protected, even for a brief time, by a tall attractive woman with the most beautiful gryfalcon form anyone has ever seen? However, Ari's pretty looks hide a core of pure steel. One doesn't become a professional bodyguard without acquiring an air of responsibility and duty. Authoritative and stern, even with her loved ones, she seems to soften only around Dillon, whom she met while rescuing her then-client Elias O Carra from brigands.

6. Elias O Carra

Age: 30

Gender: male

Orientation: heterosexual

Appearance (human): dark brown brown, bald, always wears a snow-white wig, dark amber eyes, particularly tall, not exactly chubby but not at all muscular either, a bit of belly-flab from past obesity, nearly always impeccably and fashionably dressed

Appearance (animal): particularly enormous mammoth, small bald spot on his forehead (but not very noticeable)

Relationships: two unnamed older sisters, Mary O Carra (wife), Dillon Silverwing (friend/colleague), Ari Luain (former bodyguard), Lord Byron (former rival)

Bio: To look at Mr. O Carra, you would never guess that he had a rough childhood. But if you were to meet his sisters, you wouldn't be as surprised. Elias isn't strong and charismatic, rather he's soft-spoken, meek and rather squeamish. Not exactly the ideal son in his mother's eyes. However, he found happiness once he left home (with a massive inheritance) and settled down for a life of comfort. Nowadays, though, he's cut back on the excess in favour of dotting upon his wife.

7. Mary O Carra

Age: 23

Gender: female

Orientation: heterosexual

Appearance (human): slightly tanned skin, almond-shaped dark grey eyes, long and straight inky black hair, slim figure, not very curvy or particularly pretty (save in the eyes of her husband), rarely well-dressed or groomed, hair is slightly greasy from lack of washing

Appearance (animal): slightly haggard-looking wolverine, slightly greasy fur due to infrequent bathing

Relationships: Elias O Carra (husband), completely unknown family and past relationships

Bio: No one even knows quite how Elias met Mary or exactly how he became so infatuated with her. Her past is entirely unknown and, really, all anyone knows for sure is that they got married about a year after their meeting and that Mary is mute. She is capable of speech, or at least she once was. However, not long after their marriage, Mary stopped speaking, even to her beloved Elias. Worse, she would shut herself in her room and rarely slept. Now, Mary is seemingly afraid of everything, as though she is anxiously waiting for some dreadful event to occur. The world at large thinks she's starting to go mad, and Elias is desperate to help soothe her fears. But because Mary can't speak, or refuses to, he can't know what her fears are or how to dispel them.

8. Sol

Age: 25

Gender: male

Orientation: homosexual

Appearance (human): caucasian skin, brown eyes, short and spiky sandy-coloured hair, broken nose (broken more than once), slightly shorter than average, formerly underweight and skinny but now muscular, still rather lithe and slim, used to wear rags, now dresses in simple yet fine and handsome clothes, slightly greasy and stinky from infrequent bathing

Appearance (animal): snow leopard, formerly underweight but now muscular and powerful, fur appears slightly spiky in places like his hairstyle in human form, fur is almost always a bit greasy and/or dirty from infrequent bathing

Relationships: Ethel (younger sister), unknown deceased parents, Lord Byron (lover/love of his life (though he finds it hard to admit)), Cecelia (eventual adopted daughter)

Bio: Sol had a hard life before. He saw his parents die and was forced out onto the streets when he was but a child and his sister Ethel a month-old infant. You had to be tough to survive in circumstances like this, and so that's what Sol became. He fed himself and his sister by any means necessary. Yet it was never enough. He and Ethel might've starved (or finally succumbed to cannibalism) had Sol not met Lord Byron. Now, at long last, they live in comfort and ease, thanks to Byron's love and generosity, and so Sol will do anything for Byron, without question, in gratitude for saving them.

9. Ethel

Age: 19

Gender: female

Orientation: heterosexual

Appearance (human): caucasian skin, brown eyes, short and curly auburn hair, near-permanent scowl, scar between her eyes across the bridge of her nose, shorter than average (shorter than Emilin), almost always wears at least one piece of black clothing, used to wear rags, formerly underweight and skinny but now has a bit of muscle (but not nearly as much as Sol)

Appearance (animal): smaller-than-average raccoon, fur used to be perpetually dirty, now decently-groomed, black markings are particularly large, claws kept sharp

Relationships: Sol (older brother), unknown deceased parents, Lord Byron (brother's lover), unnamed boyfriend (the only person she tolerates enough to smile in front of)

Bio: If you thought Sol became a fighter after their hard life, you haven't met Ethel yet. A childhood of fighting for even the barest scraps of food has made her ruthless and quick to violence. Yet, she still has a moral compass. Ethel does believe in strength, and is quick to lash out, but only so that others don't have to. She, like Sol, is ferocious in her protection of Cecelia, despite being, in her words, "terrible with kids". Ethel isn't the best fighter in the world, especially in animal form, but she is the fiercest you'll ever meet.

10. Princess Lela Aragain

Age: 17

Gender: female

Orientation: heterosexual

Appearance (human): chocolate-coloured skin, eyes so dark they appear black, short straight brown hair coloured light purple with powder, of average height and weight (same weight as Emilin), somewhat average figure (wider hips and smaller chest than average), has a beauty mark on her left shoulder, most often wears pretty dresses as befitting her princess title

Appearance (animal): cream-coloured mourning dove, often has a pale purple patch on her head from the powder for her hair, but the powder doesn't stick well to her feathers

Relationships: at least five siblings, Ari Luain (former bodyguard), Dillon Silverwing (eventual teacher), Olin (eventual friend/co-student/crush), Lord Byron (former kidnapper), un unknown amount of ex-boyfriends

Bio: Lela leads a charmed life, in everything except the relationship department. She has flocks of admirers cuing up to date her, but mostly, if not only, for her royal status, and all of her relationships have ended badly as a result of this. Lela now believes that her princess title is the one thing desirable about her and wants to avoid falling in love again. She has many hobbies, but prefers reading and studying above all else, and was one of the first to invest in Dillon Silverwing's project when he announced it to the public.

11. Lord Byron

Age: 25

Gender: male

Orientation: homosexual

Appearance (human): long straight ink-black hair, pale caucasian skin, red eyes (from contact lenses he developed thanks to his ludicrous fortune) (his real eye colour is yellow-gold), slightly-taller-than-average height, lithe and beautiful physique like a dancer, dresses (almost) exclusively in black and red, extremely fine and elegant clothes

Appearance (animal): rather handsome and regal-looking wild goat, black well-groomed fur, long almost-black horns that curl impressively out to the side and back towards his face, slight mane of black fur on his neck

Relationships: unknown family, Cecelia (adopted daughter), Sol (lover/love of his life (he's not shy about saying it)), Ethel (eventual sister-in-law), Elias O Carra (former rival), Princess Lela Aragain (former "guest" AKA hostage), John Luain (would-be-"guest")

Bio: Although his past is largely unknown, Lord Byron is one of the more obscure celebrities, choosing to stay out of the limelight and gaining a rather mysterious and vaguely sinister reputation as a result. Reputations, however, can be deceiving, as he's actually proven himself to be a rather caring man, doting on his adoptive daughter Cecelia, his future sister-in-law Ethel and his lover Sol. However, he is now remerging from the shadows with the single-minded goal to find a cure for Cecelia's blindness.

12. Cecelia

Age: 6

Gender: female

Orientation: unknown (too young to tell)

Appearance (human): albino, white-blond hair, pale skin, milky-white blind eyes (formerly rosy-red in colour), average height and weight for her age, always wears fine black and red clothes

Appearance (animal): albino-white rabbit, not as fluffy and round as most rabbits her age but particularly soft fur

Relationships: Lord Byron (adoptive father), Sol (considered her second adoptive father), Ethel (considered adopted aunt (though Ethel disagrees, mostly))

Bio: Cecelia was adopted by Lord Byron when she was two years old. Before that, she'd been abandoned by her parents, who were frightened at having an albino child. Luckily, Cecelia isn't scarred by this. Lord Byron's fatherly love more than compensates for the lack of her parents' attention. Unfortunately, about a year ago, Cecelia survived a terrible accident which led to the loss of her sight. No one is sure what this accident was, but her father Lord Byron is determined to undo the damage it made on Cecelia's life.

#Behold My Beautiful Little Brain Child (my original post)#Something Great On The Horizon (to belong)#My Feisty Cat Daughter (TB: OC: emilin)#My Charming Wolf Son (TB: OC: john)#My Traveling Owl Son (TB: OC: dillon)#My Ruffled Fox (TB: OC: olin)#My Beautiful Falcon Daughter (TB: OC: ari)#My Soft Mammoth Son (TB: OC: mr. o carra)#My Poor Wolverine Daughter (TB: OC: mrs. o carra)#My Edgelord Cat Son (TB: OC: sol)#My Nasty Raccoon Daughter (TB : OC : ethel)#My Sad Dove Daughter (TB: OC: princess lela)#My Sinister Goat Son (TB: OC: lord byron)#My Precious Bunny Daughter (TB: OC: cecelia)

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ruleandruinevents · 7 years ago

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DATE: December 21st, Year 1 LOCATION: The Grand Palace Ballroom TIME: 11:30 P.M.

One by one, as if they were born for it and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, they slip away: those donning violet to their posts, those dripping red to the shadows, and those draped in blue to the light, to the raised dais the royals themselves had stood upon mere hours before—a pedestal, a stage. And the ordinary ones, the otkazat’sya—the lucky and abandoned—are none the wiser, for men and women who have never known fear nor hunger needn’t worry over every passing figure, every fleeting face.

It could be dangerous, this show, and perhaps in a way it is, letting the kingdom’s most powerful Grisha have their way with the elements in such a sprawling, enclosed space like the Grand Palace—like training wild animals to do tricks and trusting they’ll be docile enough not to keep any up their sleeves. But they are, at least for the night—obedient and deadly and bored, and it makes for quite the attraction.

Let it be known that men are, at their very cores, peculiar; they delight in that which is dangerous, fear that which they do not understand, and love, above all else, what will inevitably be the end of them. In this, the Winter Showcase does not disappoint; in this, it never will, not as long as there lies a difference between the chosen and the others, the poor and the rich.

One day, it may even be something more than a waste of talent eternal, but today is not that day. Instead, it is as it always has been, and despite the protests of those performing—each with their own varying intensities, there’s a sort of magic to be found in that. The Corporalki watch from the darker corners with eyes narrowed, rendered acutely less intriguing than those they see as inferior to them for one torturous night; the Materialki linger behind the fruits of their handiwork, the unsung mechanics of a show too perfect to be natural; and the Etherealki move into view, silk blue keftas—crafted specifically for this night, no less—glimmering in the chandelier light.

And then, as if on an ancient whim, it begins. A squaller wind whisks the flames of the ballroom candles away, sweeps the hems of ladies’ ballgowns up in an embrace and waltzes them into awe, into delighted gasps, and inferni fire rises to the challenge, painting the tapestries and those who paused to admire them mere hours before in a brilliant orange glow. A chorus of ooh’s and ah’s go up from the crowd, but these sights are but child’s play for the men and women pulling their strings, a game they’d mastered and grown bored of sometime between the weighty realization that they were unlike the melancholy masses, living from ration to ration, and the somber acceptance that even gods hungered for more than they’d been given, more than they could ever have.

Tidemaker mist meets the flames midair and steam blooms from their union—plays tricks on the eyes of those watching in ways to number the stars. Some see the living; some see the dead; some see things only their own minds have ever known. But none see the man and woman in black take to the stage, and though the mist is partially to blame, there’s something else at work, too—something darker, intangible, raw.

And it is beautiful, so beautiful, but in the way of a wild thing caged.

They appear as if out of thin air, and when one takes into account the sheer impossibility of the goings-on around them, the idea that they may have seems almost likely, but the crowd hardly has time to consider the odds before they’re plunged into darkness with a boom like rolling thunder, and the ballroom falls deathly silent; such is the way of children raised to be afraid of the dark.

And then it cuts through the black like a blade through water: light, first blinding white and then gentle gold, painting a portrait of a summer morning in a ballroom consumed by winter’s night, and the crowd erupts—some into gasps, some into gleeful shouts, some in thanksgiving. It’s all the same, really, but make no mistake: the coming of the Sun Summoner is not a quiet one; a sankt’s arrival rarely is.

TIME: 11:50 P.M.

The performance is over, and all that lingers is hope and the faint smell of smoke, both of which cling to the audience like a burr caught in their best coats.

The Grisha descend from the dais to applause, each taking a small bow—first the tidemakers, then the squallers, and lastly the inferni, before they’re joined by their sovereign and their guest, both dressed in black and one accented with gold. Some reverently reach out to touch the hem of her kefta as she passes; others clap their countrymen—Grisha or otherwise—on the backs in celebration.

The war will soon be over, my prevaliruyem. My prevaliruyem, it will be as it once was. No one in the room—save for one soul, unbeknownst to the rest—knows what it feels like to live in a Ravka not ruled by the dark, but it seems they’re the chosen ones, the first to see the sun.

The divide between the nobles and the Second Army has fallen away, abolished by well-executed winds and the taste of impending victory and peace on the tips of their tongues. Grisha dance with dukes, and generals exchange war stories with the strange soldiers not under their command for what may be the very first time.

Princess Anastasia finds a worthy companion in Katya Aristov, but the squaller finds the royal utterly pathetic, and she puts forth no particular effort to hide that sentiment, but ruled by the etiquette of an event like this, they look to be exchanging friendly small talk from afar, the cruel twist of the Grisha’s lips the only indication that anything is amiss.

Inessa Razin and Druvik Jadeja discuss the brutal beauty of a mounted sword, Druvik’s eyes alight at the sheer artistry and Inessa’s voice dripping with condescension; she’s mildly intrigued, to be sure, but she’d much prefer to see the blade driven through her companion than admire it from its pedestal.

Shona Yul-Jun and Lei Yul-Keung escape the crowd and lament their mandatory presence at the Fete, bonding over their passionate desires not to dance with glossy-eyed nobles or to drink their fill of champagne, but to be anywhere else, doing anything else; even gods grow bored.

Oyun Kir-Naran approaches Sergei Valke as he watches the goings-on from the outskirts of the crowd and wastes no time in making him acutely uncomfortable, although for a man like him in a position like his, being bothersome is hardly a feat. He does his best to drive her off, but she stubbornly remains, intent on poking holes in his facade.

A certain Luka Mravkinsky loses sight of his so-proclaimed bratvas in the throng of people and strikes up a conversation with Stasya Belov to pass the time. They’re quiet, soft-spoken—hardly a proper replacement of the fiery friends he’s misplaced, but they’ll do for now. Even a soft breeze can stoke a fire.

Overcome with joy, Darya Voronov begins searching for the Crown Prince out of what can only be called habit, but she instead happens upon Svetlana Gavrikova, who is looking for her own sovereign. Uninterested in courtly small talk but having heard of the common lady-in-waiting, the oprichnik bides her time by making her feel just inferior enough for her words to carry a bit of sting. It’s nothing personal—with her, it seldom is; some people were just born to be victims.

Dmitri Alekseev prowls the floor in search of a victim and finds another, familiar predator: Adrik Vahkrov. Never one to shy away from an opportunity, the heartrender quickens the guard’s pulse as he approaches and taunts him accordingly, only to be struck in retaliation by a few biting barbs himself. The oprichnik may be deadly, but he’s not deaf; he’s well-aware of Dmitri’s fall from grace.

Arisha Kovrov is approached by Aarvas Rai, who speaks of the salvation the Sun Summoner’s arrival must herald. The royal adviser is uninterested in their preaching, but intent on remaining more or less unnoticed so that she can keep an inconspicuous eye on the Crown Prince, she allows them to remain at her side.

Valeriya Vasnev spots her fiancé in the crowd and begins making her way over, pausing only long enough to soak up the adoration and praise of any who care to give it, only to be intercepted by his cousin, Tatiana Lantsov. The latter duchess is doubly jealous, both of the attention the Vasnev woman is receiving and the title of princess she’ll soon be bestowed with, and she ceremoniously pours a glass of red wine down the front of the other woman’s dress. Chaos ensues.

Fyodor Drugov approaches the younger prince in the crowd, making a half-hearted attempt at a joke that they’d much rather be kicking his ass, for a lack of more eloquent wording, than sharing a drink with him. Viktor Lantsov responds in kind, clinking his glass against that of his sparring partner’s and jovially offering to take them up on such an offer later—but with a drastically different outcome.

Valerian Petrov and Ira Sorokin meet for a drink in the shadows, both out of coincidence and a mild desire for companionship that neither is quick to claim nor deny. The latter scoffs at the pretenses of propriety and laments how warm it is in the ballroom, to which Valerian responds by toying with a flame in his free palm. She doesn’t bother to hide her annoyance.

Farid Tereshkin, ever a great conversationalist, asks Feliks Bazin if there’s any truth to be found in the rumors that he was killed and brought back to life on the battlefield. The oprichnik coldly suggests that he mind the skeletons in his own chambers, mentioning details of the count’s affair with a squaller with equal shame—none. The count takes it in stride, however, aware—if not proud—of his conquest; his smile never falters.

The Darkling, largely left alone out of fear (all children are afraid of the dark, and even once they’re older, a man who can practically become it is terrifying in his own right), is keeping a close eye on the Sun Summoner when he’s boldly approached by Margarete Starikov, an unremarkable young girl in healer colors. She tries to make conversation, but he largely shrugs her off, uninterested in a woman who can scarcely reach his shoulder’s small talk. Her cheeks burn red, but she’s not wearing any of Rita’s blush.

Rita Jakov is conversing with an older noblewoman about her crow’s feet—it’s intriguing, really, and utterly crucial—when Arsen Tarasov interrupts, making a show of clearing his throat and asking to borrow the tailor for a dance. Conscious of making a poor impression on her companion, she accepts, only to be taunted mere moments after he has her alone—silly, silly girl.

General Mironov finds himself conversing with Vera Nikolaev, and though he finds her rather intriguing in the way she carries herself—wise, despite her inferior status and age, he can’t help but regard her warily; even hope can’t weed out something as deeply rooted as prejudice. Yet she works with Margarete Starikov, the she-witch he’s watching from afar with a gaze to cut, and he can’t help but pry a bit. Is it true that she often struggles to save her patients? How often does she lose them?

Neysa Rai, who has noticed Maksim Kaev watching the princess dance and converse with nobles and Grisha alike, decides not to chide him about it, instead sparking a conversation about the war, something she’s certain they’ve both got in common. And how is the war going? Not well, but then again, it seldom is; if he picks up on her discomfort, he allows her the same reprieve she did him.

Arina Zahkarov lingers on the outskirts of the crowd, curious enough not to turn away—though the people have nothing to do with it—but disinterested enough not to venture in any further. Recognizing her as an alkemi by her colors, Ilya Tsarov inquires about blasting powders, seemingly having forgotten—or perhaps not laying claim to—the prejudice many of his brothers in arms hold toward her kind. She eagerly engages, taking full advantage of the opportunity to talk about what she knows with someone at least half as knowledgeable.

Vasily Baranov spots the Sun Summoner alone in the crowd for a fleeting moment and seizes the chance to speak to her for himself, greeting her with a bow—strange, a noble bowing to one of them, but perhaps it’s habitual—and asking her to dance. Gemma Pavlova obliges, and the two talk about their upbringings, finding they have a bit more in common than they might’ve imagined.

Altan Yul-Suhe congratulates Rhea Tereshkin on her recent marriage and slyly apologizes for not having offered his congratulations sooner, deliberately making it evident that he can’t be bothered with the affairs of the otkazat’sya. The countess has been striking out a bit more on her own lately, and he commends her for that, as well; ambition recognizes ambition.

Iskra Raevsky seeks out the Crown Prince, a feat accomplished relatively quickly, considering she’s been watching him like a hawk since the night began—and even before that. Anton Lantsov is happy to see her, glad to have an anchor in a sea of faces he must remember and hearts he must win. The two share a brief moment together before he returns to his charming work, and she trails him at a distance once more.

Then, as if to disturb the champagne-glass peace the Sun Summoner’s arrival has brought, the double doors swing open, and through them slips the winter chill and a man, wild-eyed and bloodied, with a tattered First Army uniform clinging to his frame. The more sensitive of the nobility gasp at the mere sight of him, hunger-driven and half-dead, but his appearance, it seems, is the least of their worries. His entrance is that of a survivor; his message is that of a prophet. The silence in the room is pulled so taut it might snap.

“The Shu!” He screams, voice ragged and rough, and every individual who’s ever laid claim to Shu lineage stands at attention, stock-still and waiting for what’s certain to be a madman’s accusation. “Fifteen men, fifteen good men—dead, all because of you!” The soldier picks out the Shu diplomat with remarkable ease, a calloused and dirtied finger jabbed in her direction. A royal guard steps forward to seize him, but he lunges forward, grimy fingers nearly grazing the Crown Prince’s coat; he’s beaten back by a certain pyro but his tirade, it seems, has only just begun.

“What is the meaning of this?” The king grounds out, eyes narrowed, but the general, who seems to have guessed what the man might intend, cleared his throat.

“The border, is it?”

“No.” The man is nearly in hysterics now, arms spread apart as if to embrace the room one final time. “Closer.”

“What happened?” Ivan presses on, impatience bleeding into his words like scarlet into the man’s dull brown trousers.

“Grisha hunting, what else? The Shu came looking for our Second Soldiers and took ‘em all, like they tend to do—” He spits in Oyun Kir-Naran’s direction, having left his shame somewhere on a battlefield in the South, “and killed the ones they couldn’t use, filthy bastards. And you—” Those nearest him shrink away from the sheer vulgarity of him, but he sees only her: the living, breathing representation of the enemy, even as several other Shu Grisha mill about, “—you conniving, no good bitch—”

“That’s enough!” The king roars, and the people around him seem to agree, their unease evident in the way they shift and whisper, a tide of fear reignited.

“Nonsense,” comes the diplomat’s reply, eloquent and cold. “He lies. We’ve been trapped.”

The soldier laughs a hyena laugh, but no one moves to quiet him, so transfixed by the story he tells that his sandpaper manners hardly matter. “No, spy, we have.”

“And we will continue to be, because this has been going on for months! Months! First the border, and then a bit farther inland, and now here, a few days’ ride.” He straightens up now, fingers raised to his forehead in a backhanded sort of salute. “Your men are dying, tsar, and still you dance.”

Another gasp ripples through the crowd, and when a guard steps forward and draws his sword, the king raises his hand. “He lives.” The officers each pick their way to the eye of the chaos, and once they’ve all gathered around, he clears his throat, deathly calm. “The war room—now.” And then they’re gone, falling into an organized line leading out of the corridor with the war-struck man in tow behind them.

“Take her for questioning.” He dismisses the Shu diplomat with a wave of his hand, seemingly already having condemned her in his mind.

But if he hasn’t, the court certainly has. Even the Grisha unfortunate enough to have once called themselves Shu are shunned as they regroup into their respective Orders, shouldered aside and ignored. Your countrymen did this, they seem to say.

Tonight, they are not all Ravkan; the lines are no longer blurred.

The nobles slowly gather their bearings, some retreating to their quarters and others quietly slipping out the way they came, until none remain but five: the king, his sons, their general, and his hesitant ally—the heads of two armies and the blue blood that commands them.

And together, they must decide how to win a war when it knocks on their door invited. My prevaliruyem.

Or will we?

OVERVIEW: And that concludes our very first Rule & Ruin plot drop! We hope you enjoyed it as much as we did creating it, and we’re eager to see where else the story will go from this point forward—it’s only just begun.

The interactions described above may be played out on the dash, in chatzys (please post them once you’re finished!), or plotted out in private. However, these were certainly not the only interactions to have taken place after the performance; they were merely the most notable. Feel free to write or headcanon as you please!

You may date your post-event threads from December 21st (Year 1) to January 4th (Year 2). News of Shu attacks drawing closer and fear of a possible invasion has spread, inciting a sort of hysteria among the nobles and renewed determination within both armies. Oyun is currently being kept under surveillance, but has evaded any concrete punishment for lack of certain evidence—but not for a lack of trying. Anyone known to have Shu blood is feeling the sting of the hostile power’s actions, despite their personal lack of responsibility.

No canon characters or their immediate relatives were killed in the attack.

#rarevent #rarfete #plot drop

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