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frostsinth · 4 years ago

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Royal Flush - Pt. 3

Prologue - Part 1|2 - Grier Art - MasterList

GAAAAAAAAH!! This part had me near screaming while I wrote it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m changing the tag from ‘slow burn’ to ‘angst’ I think, though I don’t doubt that both are rather fitting.

Thanks to everyone for all your support thus far! I love getting all the nice messages, comments, and reblogs. I re-read them when I need inspiration. Feel free to check out my MasterList above if you haven’t already, and BuyMeACoffee while you’re there if you want.

As always, shoot me a comment, ask, or DM if you have any questions. ENJOY!

The knock at the door didn’t surprise me. I had been expecting it, ever since the greys of the room had faded and the sunlight had crested the horizon. I didn’t know I could miss a window quite so much, and turned slightly to consider it as I sat up and slid my feet out of the bed. For at least now the passage of time could be as marked as my suffering. It had been a long, restless night. Every time I felt sleep brushing at the edges of my consciousness, a pair of scarlet eyes had filled it and startled me back awake. I dreaded facing those eyes now, and slowly pulled a tunic over my head. Leery of a repeat of the previous morning.

The new bedroom was larger than the guest quarters of the night before, and blessedly bare. The only furniture was the four poster bed, and a short, dark oak table set before a plush crimson cushioned couch. Hibik had scowled deeply at the “sorry state” of the room when he had brought me up the night before, but I had quickly assured him it was better this way. He had been saved only by the suggestion that I meet with the designer later and decorate the room to my own preferences (it had been his suggestion, but I had politely agreed).

I hoped the sleepless night wouldn’t show too heavily in my face, and ran my palm quickly over the top of my head to hopefully smooth the worst of my morning frizz. I didn’t linger long, as the second thunderous knock made me grit my teeth at the impatience of goblins. Honestly, you would think creatures so small would be used to having to take extra time to do things. Yet it seemed like they were more impatient to be finished with one task and move on to the next.

I moved from the bedchambers to the small foyer before the door to the rest of the castle. There were more rooms beyond the sleeping quarters, but I had not yet explored them fully. Now, it seemed I would be leaving them without the chance. Of course, I reminded myself somewhat bitterly, they were mine for the foreseeable future… Taking a deep, steadying breath, I straightened my shoulders and set my face into its stoney fixture. I took one last moment to brace myself with my fingers wrapped around the door handle before dropping it down to tug the door open.

My head dropped back as I looked not down (as I had set my gaze), but up. And up a little more. I couldn’t quite catch my eyes in time before they widened slightly, and scrambled to recover with a soft clearing of my throat.

It was not the goblin King who stood outside my door, nor Hibik or another goblin attendant. Instead, it seemed to be… well, I was pretty sure it was a goblin, based upon the long pointed nose, grey-green skin, and huge ears. But it, or more “he”, was taller than even I was! At least a head, with beady yellow eyes that filled with his toothy grin as we took each other in. He was leaning against one lean, muscular arm propped against the door frame, and his ears flopped as he titled his head to the side when I opened the door.

“Good morning, Your Highness!” He exclaimed, thick brow knitting slightly and one raising up in a quizzical expression. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. Did I wake you?”

“Erm, not at all, My Lord…?” I recovered from my shock quickly, and left the end of my greeting hanging to allow for introductions. I certainly hoped I wasn’t supposed to know this man already.

He gave a snort, waving his hand through the air. “No ‘Lord’, Your Highness.” I almost gritted my teeth at the lack of proper titles in use at this castle. “I am Damjan. General of His Majesty’s Armies.”

I tried not to stiffen visibly at that. A thousand thoughts quickly raced through my head, most prominently the one wondering what the man likely most responsible for the untold losses of my Kingdom would be doing standing at my door. I felt a stab of resentment at the sight of him, remembering the scent of stale blood and soft wails of anguish from the last time I had visited the frontlines. Was this the ploy? I felt anger bubbling in my stomach. Set me off balance, push me to the very edges of my emotions and let me have a sleepless night. Then have the General of their Armed Forces interrogate me. Ply me for secrets. My jaw tightened. They would get nothing from me, of that I was quite determined.

I wasn’t sure if his friendly smile was more aggravating or comforting with such thoughts and memories rattling around in my brain. I offered the older man a curt nod, working extra hard to keep my voice flat.

“A pleasure to meet you, General Damjan. To what do I owe this honor?”

If he noticed that I spoke at him through my teeth, he didn’t show it. He dropped his arm from the door frame, his athletic body moving with a military grace I found myself pleasantly familiar with. He cupped his hands in the small of his back, presenting himself with his feet shoulder width apart.

“I have been asked to escort you to the training cliffs,” He informed me, his professional expression breaking slightly to let the edge of a smirk cuff his thin lips, “As of today, I will be your personal instructor.”

“By whose authority-” I started, my voice growing a sharp edge.

“Come along, Your Highness,” He interrupted, turning and marching down the hall, “Let’s get a taste of what you know.”

Put off my guard, I stifled a sigh. Just a breath’s delay more, and I stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind me. I had to lengthen my stride to catch up to him, but soon fell into step at his side down the obnoxiously loud and cluttered hallways.

I couldn’t help staring at him out of the corner of my eye. Wondering what freak genetic mix-up had placed the disproportionate, lanky goblin frame in such a huge body. I quickly darted my eyes forward as I saw his flick to the corner to consider me as well.

“Something I can help you with, Your Highness?” He asked lightly, sounding amused.

I shook my head, tucking my hands behind my back as we marched along. “Apologies, I forget myself.” I replied, fully expecting a barrage of insults or a reprimanding for my insubordination.

He chuckled instead, and I glanced at him again out the corner of my eye. “I can understand your confusion. But I assure you, I am a goblin.” He cocked his head to the side, and a mischievous smirk twisted the corners of his lips. “Half, at least.”

I managed to keep my stoney face in place, but nodded politely. “I beg your forgiveness for my slight. I did not mean to intrude upon your personal life.”

He gave another soft chuckle. “A glance is hardly an intrusion!” He exclaimed, turning and leading me down a separate hall. I noticed the torches seemed to be lit on our path, whereas other hallways remained dark. “And I am proud of my heritage. My mother was an orc, you see,” He continued, bypassing a dark hallway for a lit passage again, “And my father was… well… he was ambitious.”

I barely managed to stifle the laugh that formed in my nose. Ambitious indeed! I could almost picture it, a sprightly little goblin trying to romance a behemoth orc. I pursed my lips to keep from smiling. But the humor quickly faded as I remembered just exactly who this half-goblin was.

“I have never met an orc,” I intoned dryly, “I imagine their prowess as warriors has served you well, General Damjan.”

He seemed to sense the rising tension, and shrugged it away. “I was raised beneath this very mountain, so I imagine I wouldn’t know.” He paused at a darkened intersection, turning his head to consider me properly. “But I do not share their views on war, and am more than happy to retire at a young age. Relatively speaking.”

That stopped me in my tracks, and I met his gaze with steel as I turned to face him as well. The unspoken words on my lips in my eyes. What about all those men who would not get to retire? What of all the soldiers who never saw an age beyond “too young”? We squared each other up, soldier to soldier. I had seen a few battles, and he had seen a few too many. But the history of the last decade aside… The fact that a human and goblin soldier could stand across from each other in the same hallway? Without drawing swords or exchanging blows? Ten years ago it wouldn’t have even been imaginable. Five years ago it would’ve been our worst nightmare. As we eyed each other, we both came to the same quiet acknowledgement, and I felt a strange contentment wash over me. He offered me a stiff, respectful nod, and I returned it graciously. Honestly. And that was that.

It was a good reminder of what once was and what was to come, and I felt suddenly glad that I was going to be a part of it. In whatever capacity. This new peace… it was for the better. For both Kingdoms. I studied his face briefly as he snapped his heels together to lead the way back down the hallway once more. The exchange having succeeded in loosening the unspoken tension between us, a familiar goblin grin returned to his face.

“Now, let’s see what you’ve already got, Your Highness.” His grin grew a little. “And what you’ve got left to give.”

…...….

I sensed more than saw the set of eyes on me. As I dodged and ducked under another fast paced swing from the half-goblin’s meaty fist, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. But if Damjan noticed our new observer, he gave no sign. If anything, his attacks became even faster. I moved my feet quickly, tightening my core and flexing my thighs to bound back and forth out of the way. I saw his feint for what it was and spun easily on the ball of my foot, jabbing my elbow towards him.

He grunted as the blow landed against his raised defense, yet was not so easily defeated. His hand caught the back of my neck, and his own elbow shot towards my face. I twisted from his grasp, forcing my shoulder into his chin then sliding my foot out as he fell off balance. Sweeping him off his feet.

General Damjan landed heavily with an even louder grunt than before. I drew in a sharp breath, looking down at him with my fists still balled, instantly regretting my brashness. I had gone too far, knocking him off his feet. I fully expected him to be angry with me for besting him, my host and senior. Not to mention our tentative peace; would he take this slight as a personal insult? Had I taken the spar too seriously? I took a few steps back, panting slightly as the sweat dripped over my shoulders. Already planning out my apology and preparing for the worst.

But the big green fellow suddenly laughed, and I looked at him with surprise. Wiping the back of one over sized hand across his forehead, he rolled back to his feet.

“Good match!” He exclaimed and I almost winced as he reached out. For of course there would be repercussions for having embarrassed my new instructor. But his heavy hand simply clapped me on the shoulder proudly. “You’re stronger than you look!”

I glanced up at him, beaming down at me with his pointed teeth. “...Thank you.” I replied finally, slowly loosening my stance as I realized this was no feint. “I found our spar quite… educational, General.”

He laughed again, dropping his hand and stretching. “Let’s do it again, Your Highness. You’ll keep me in my fighting prime.” He winced slightly, running his hand over the grey streaks in his short cropped hair. “My old age prime.” Then he cocked his head to the side, big ears flopping. “Tomorrow morning sound good?”

I offered him a curt nod, straightening back into my square shouldered formality. “I look forward to it.”

The half-goblin grinned again, bumping my shoulder companionably with his as he strode past me. I turned with the force of the gesture, absorbing the blow and spinning lightly on my heels with it, watching him head over to the ring wall where we had left our towels.

I stiffened at the sight of the goblin King leaning against it, an equally toothy grin on his own face. Luckily, my face was already flushed from the heat of the day and the strenuous activity. I was sure he wouldn’t notice it had darkened a few more shades. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. Who else would make the hairs on the back of my neck rise quite like that? Still, it was the first time I had seen him since… the embarrassing misconduct.

Damjan gave the King a respectful half-bow, and I used their temporary distraction to consider my options. But there was no avoiding him, though I glanced out the corner of my eye to absolutely assure myself of that. The memory of the previous night had me hotter at the collar than the sparring match, and I steeled my gaze and my nerve as I slowly paced over to the wall.

“... Your Majesty,” I almost mumbled, nodding to him respectfully.

He held out my towel to me, still grinning like a fool. “You’re a good fighter.” He said as I gingerly took the cloth from his outstretched hand. “I am glad Damjan was available today.”

“You sent him.” I concluded. As I had expected, though no one would confirm it for me.

Grier cocked his head to the side. “You said you enjoyed training and sparring. I figured most of our soldiers would be no match for you, simply on account of their size, but the General might be more your level.”

“Yes, I found him a challenging opponent.” I replied formally, glancing down at the towel in my hands and resisting the urge to shift on my feet again.

“Perhaps we can spar sometime,” The King offered eagerly, “I would love to see if I might be an equally worthy challenge.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, and said nothing for a long moment. “...As you wish.”

I felt his scarlet eyes running over me, and was careful to keep my facade of stoicism uncracked in the face of his scrutiny. His smile returned, and he leaned down on his elbows over the wall. He was outlandishly dressed again, his tight shirt a faded orange pinstripe with a collar almost down to his navel and washed-out, billowing black pants with green embroidery. I wondered briefly if he owned a single article of clothing even mildly subdued in nature.

I wrung the towel in my hands, feeling very self-conscious standing before the goblin bare chested again. Though this time I was also coated in sweat and dust from the dirt ring. I rubbed one foot into the ground, longing to look away from those bright beady eyes. Struggling to find some words to say but finding everything wholly inadequate. The hot sun beat down on my bare shoulders, and I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. I began wiping down my arms with the rough cloth as an excuse to break our eyes apart.

“... Come, I am sure you would like to wash up. ” He exclaimed, straightening once more. “And the day is early yet, perhaps you would like some breakfast? Some tea perhaps?”

I hesitated again, chancing a glance up at him through my dark lashes. He had already begun to make his way back between the walls of the barracks, and paused, looking over his shoulder at me. He gathered my boots and shirt from where I had left them while he waited. I sighed internally, then placed one hand on the low wall of the ring. Hoping over it as easily as opening a door. I saw his scarlet eyes watching me intently as I did, and thought I saw his lips twitch slightly. He tossed me my things as I got closer. I dropped my gaze with the pretense of pulling on my boots, following after him as he finally turned and led the way back into the castle proper.

Once again, each windowless hallway we passed down had torches lit while others we passed by were so dark they appeared to be walls of black to my weak human eyes. I noticed Grier shooting a glance over his shoulder at me as we passed another such intersection, his red eyes glinting in the firelight.

“What are your feelings on magic?” He asked, his tone light.

“In what regards, Your Majesty?” I returned warily, following into a small side room which was still shrouded in mostly darkness.

I blinked a few times to clear my vision as he lit a few lanterns about the room. It appeared to be a small washroom, set with basins of clear water. I looked around carefully, considering the decadent mirrors that framed my sweat and dirt caked form now edged with the soft yellow glow. The basins flowed like small fountains, with fresh water pouring from intricately carved patterns in the walls. The water pooled in deep stone basins, then trickled over the edges into the pitted floor below before descending into some unseen place. I walked over to one curiously, as Grier gathered up a clean towel from a stack of linens in the corner.

“Goblins are quite practiced in magic,” He replied, wandering back over with a vivid red towel in hand, “It is integrated heavily into our days. Small magic for that, granted. Little charms and enchantments mostly. I do not believe it to be as common in human culture.”

I dipped my hands experimentally in the basin that stood at my waist. The water was cool and refreshing to the touch, and I cupped a small amount in my palms. It glistened beautifully in the lantern light, almost unnaturally. I brought my face down to splash it over my cheeks experimentally. It felt somehow crisper than normal water, and I watched the drops from my face shoot ripples across the surface below. A distorted reflection of my face peered back at me, and I ran my hand back through the water again to break my own gaze. I was very consciously aware of the watching eyes as I brought my wet hands over the back of my neck.

“I have little experience with it,” I said stiffly, “Except for-”

I stopped short, hesitating. I slowly ran water up my arms and shoulders, swallowing and half-hoping he wouldn’t notice the slip. I saw him tilt his head to the side in the mirror above the basin. I almost sighed. No such luck then.

“Except for?” He prompted, taking a few steps closer with a small smirk dancing on his lips.

I didn’t answer for a moment, dropping my gaze down to the surface of the water again. “... Except for the magic used against us on the battlefront.”

“Ah... yes,” I heard him shuffle, then give a nervous laugh, “I would apologize for that, but it seems tasteless to do so…” I glanced over at him as he came around to stand facing me, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. “... I am pleased that I can assure you that our magic will only be a boon to your people now,” He cocked his head to the side slightly, holding out the towel to me, “And it gives me no small amount of relief to be able put this war behind us.”

I took the towel gingerly, making a point not to meet his eyes. I felt his fingers brush mine and tried not to stiffen noticeably. Unfortunately, I had never managed to master a flushing face. I prayed he wouldn’t notice the subtle darkening of my skin, and if he did, would choose not to comment.

“I was not, however, asking simply for the conversational effect,” He continued as I patted at my face with the surprisingly soft towel, “But to gauge your willingness to be charmed.”

I froze, looking up at him with the towel pressed against the lower half of my face. I had managed to keep the worse of my surprise from my eyes, yet judging from the twitch at the corners of his mouth, I hadn’t managed to completely hide it.

“I am afraid I don’t know what you mean, Your Majesty.” I breathed after a moment, composing myself.

He waved one three fingered hand in the air, smiling brightly. “Well, I am quite the charmer myself, if you don’t mind me saying. I would certainly be willing to put a spell on you.”

I turned away, clearing my throat and twisting the towel in my hands. So it was finally time for the conversation I had dreaded. My ears felt like they were on fire, and I cleared my throat.

“I beg your forgiveness for my rude behavior-” I started quickly, spilling out the words I had been practicing all night.

“Rude behavior?” He interjected, sounding surprised.

“My actions were improper.” I continued, trying to remember the rest of the rehearsed speech. Though his interruption had been unplanned, and let me a little lost. “I acted brashly, and hope you will not take them the wrong way.”

His silence sent a tingling spark down my spine, and raised the hairs on my arms. I gathered up my shirt, pulling it over my head with my back still to him. When he still didn’t answer, I slowly turned, carefully to keep my face expressionless as I tucked the edges of the tunic into my pants. I wasn’t sure if he had ever gone so long without speaking, at least not in my experience.

Scarlet eyes were waiting for me when I turned, and perhaps it was my imagination, but he seemed a little paler than usual. He managed a small, crooked grin that didn’t reach his eyes, and a chill rattled through me.

“... I was talking about casting a charm on your eyes. So you can see in the dark as we do…” He clarified quietly, then his eyes dropped. “But I don’t believe that’s what you are talking about.”

I blanched, my stomach turning over in somersaults. I very much wished at that moment to turn and bolt. Back out to the training cliffs perhaps, to have Damjan crack his fist into my face. Or to the empty tower bedroom, to throw myself out the window. Anywhere but in that small washroom across from the goblin King.

By some small miracle, I managed to keep my composure. I tucked my hands behind my back and squared my shoulders. Denying even to myself the absolute chaos that reigned in my head at that moment.

“My apologies, Your Majesty-”

“Grier.” He interrupted, perhaps a bit too harshly. The goblin stopped short, seeming to catch himself in surprise at his own tone. I saw him chew at his own cheek. “...You were talking about our kiss.”

I didn’t answer, my tongue feeling heavy and dry in my mouth. Maintaining my stony composure even as he began fiddling with the collar of his shirt. As per usual, I found myself without words. I scrambled, thinking over everything else we had talked about.

“I… I would want to know more about the magic,” I started, deciding ignoring the conversational switch had ever happened was the most polite thing to do, “Before I agreed to it. I do not have any charm experience.”

“Obviously.” The King snorted, and I felt my spine twitch at that.

I kept my gaze level though as he turned his attention back to me. In his eyes, something flickered; not quite anger, nor sadness. Something somewhere in the middle. Finally, he waved his hand in the air again, brushing aside the strained silence.

“But we have business to attend to, Prince Nikostratus.” He stated, then with lithe grace pushed himself off the wall with his shoulders and strode to the door. “I sent for Hibik to bring over the Treaty for our final review.” His usually languid stride was quicker, and I had to lengthen my own to keep up. “I thought it might be most poetic to sign them in the War Room, if you are in agreement.”

His voice was light and airy. As if whatever tension from just moments before had never happened in the first place. But as he continued on, babbling some nonsense about converting the War Room to some other purpose, I noticed it was distinctly too light. Too airy. His laughter was flat, and his toothy grin didn’t reach his eyes. I wondered if he was perhaps more insulted than I had initially thought; perhaps in goblin culture I had offered him some slight. I racked my brain over the memory of the previous evening, trying to pinpoint exactly where I had insulted him. If I didn’t know, then I could certainly never be sure I wouldn’t accidentally do it again.

I barely noticed as he led us into the large room, centered around a huge oval table with the world mapped out in intricate detail. Like all the other rooms, it was cluttered, though less with fabrics and mirrors. Instead, there were bits and pieces of armor, as well as swords and maces and pikes and numerous other weapons. They were… displayed, for the most part. Though a fair few looked as though they had been taken from their place, fiddled with, then never quite put back. I made my way over to the table, studying the intricate carved mountains and painstaking details of the plains and forests. It was actually quite beautiful, and I reached out to delicately stroke the polished edge.

I realized a silence had settled, and turned to find Grier watching me, his own hands clasped behind his back. I belatedly came to the conclusion that I had completely zoned out and stopped listening to whatever he had been saying. I removed my hand from the table like a child who had been caught at the sugar jar and cleared my throat. I noticed the corners of his mouth twitch, though somehow those deep red eyes managed to look a bit sadder.

I dropped my own eyes, and shuffled slightly. “Your Maj… King Grier,” I started, and the words felt heavy in my mouth. I felt my composure waver slightly, and tried not to let my guard down as I turned to face him properly. “I feel I should… “

“You have nothing to explain.” He assured me, his voice strangely thin. “I meant what I said last night.” I winced slightly, and he sighed heavily at that, sounding resigned and more than a little disappointed. “I will never ask more than you are willing to give.”

I was saved from having to scramble for some form of answer for him yet again by the sound of the door opening and the appearance of Hibik, arms overflowing with parchment. A step behind him was Damjan, who gave me a hearty grin when my eyes settled on him. And behind him… was Gareth.

I felt my back tighten at the sight of my guard, whom I had hardly expected to see here. I had thought him long gone from the region. His lips were tight, his eyes dark. There was an unkept scruff on his chin and cheeks that suggested he had not had the most relaxing two days. I squared my shoulders again, meeting his gaze with as much unwavering confidence as I could muster. Raising back up the walls I had foolishly allowed lowered just moments before. He offered me an overly formal and polite bow. Hibik’s ears bounced as he too bowed to me, handing me a copy of the Treaty, then bustled over to hand another to the King. Damjan dropped his heavy hand on my shoulder, and I jerked a little under the weight.

“ A historic day indeed, Prince Nikostratus.” The General exclaimed, still grinning. “And an early retirement for me!”

I offered him a polite nod, listening with half an ear as Hibik explained something about the need for witnesses. I watched Gareth out of the corner of my eye, but my old guard seemed to be making a point not to look at me. The goblins, varied in shape and size as the three of them were, seemed so very animated compared to the two of us. In fact, their chatter and gestures made me feel like a statue, and I clenched my teeth a little tighter for the fact of it. I couldn’t see the words on the page before me, but moved my eyes as if I was reading them anyways. Wave of emotion after emotion hit me, so fast and powerful I couldn’t even begin to register them before the next one rushed through.

Here was my mentor, a man who once had been one of the few people I would call my friend. He had also been a childhood friend of my mother’s and my only connection to her once she passed. There had been many years I had looked up to Gareth, and many spent training in his direct shadow. I had become a soldier because of him; and now I knew, above all else, that I had committed a crime barely shy of treason in his eyes. The distant way he addressed me, the cold anger that even now I could feel bleeding from him. I felt my own temper flare. What else could he have expected from me?? Allow my sister to be wed in my place? Allow my kingdom to fall to ruin?

I was glad we had spent so much time discussing and debating the previous day. It meant I didn’t have to worry that I absorbed none of the words my eyes ran over. Of course, that also meant I trusted Hibik, and in turn, Grier, to have transposed our agreements honestly and without malintent. I wondered briefly if they had guessed the effect Gareth’s presence would have on me, and had planned this moment. But one last glance at the edge of my vision, where the man stood with a chiseled expression that just barely held his rage, and I decided I would much rather trust my life to the goblins.

“If you are ready, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” Hibik intoned.

Grier nodded, and I thought him overly subdued despite himself. I didn’t have time to linger on it though. My heart raced and my head swirled as the parchments were placed on the notary stand and an inkwell was brought forth. Grier signed first, and I saw his mouth set in a tight line as he did. I felt equal measures of guilt and pain at the sight, which was quickly replaced by a heavy weight that settled on my squared shoulders as Hibik passed the pen to me. I tried not to hesitate. Tried to move with a befitting grace and poise. But my hand shook a little as I brought the quill back from the inkwell. Luckily, Grier would be the only one who would be able to see that. And I hoped he would not begrudge me the fear that drowned out all the sounds of the room as I brought the tip to the page.

I felt numb as I stepped back from the notary stand, passing the quill back to Hibik. I saw Gareth and Damjan exchanging looks that looked more akin to threats than peace, and could feel the tension in the air as palpably as if someone had filled the room with water. Hibik was dutiful and meticulous, however, and quickly sanded both signatures. He delicately rolled one copy, sealing it with wax and the Royal Goblin Crest before passing it to me.

Gareth stepped over, a lingering distrust in his eyes as he considered not only Damnjan, but even tiny little Hibik. I tensed as he squared up to me, bowing ever so slightly. The rest of the room forgotten.

“Your Highness.”

“Sir Gareth,” I greeted him formally, trying not to spit the words, “I trust you are well.”

“As well as can be expected, given the circumstances.” He replied, his tone so cold it burned. I felt his disapproval like a knife in my chest, and tried to stand a little taller in the face of it. He bowed his head slightly again. “... Your Highness.”

The way he added my title almost as if an afterthought might as well have been a slap to the face. And the malice in his eyes… I felt my pulse falter at it. But there was no going back now, and despite his disapproval… I knew this was for the best. I had to believe that.

“Your sister sends word,” He interjected, even as I opened my mouth to speak again, “She believes you have been held against your will.” I saw his eyes flicker over my shoulder ever so briefly as my retort died in my throat at the mention of my sister. “... It is not an uncommon belief.” My free hand clenched into a fist, so tight the knuckles turned near white.

I steeled my jaw, knowing his intent to cause me as much anguish as he could. “Assure her I am well, and enter into this Treaty of my own free will.”

His sneer was hardly perceptible to the less trained eye, as his fixed features barely shifted. But I knew him too well. “Your Highness speaks of the Marriage Contract, I believe?” Again, he didn’t give me time to respond. “... She wants to see you.”

My heart sank in my chest and I almost broke. The numbness in my breast had spread, and I could hardly believe I was still standing. I tucked my fisted hand behind my back. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing it shake.

“No.”

Gareth’s head cocked to the side. “Surely Your Highness has not forgotten the Princess’ tenacity already?” I wanted nothing more to punch the arrogance right off his face, and felt my eyes narrow slightly. “If you try to deny her, she will still find a way.” His face softened slightly for fondness of her. “Regardless of any attempts to detain her.”

I knew he was right. My sister was nothing if not intelligent, perceptive, and endlessly persistent. A drive that got her into trouble almost as much as it got her out of trouble. But the thought of her coming here? I almost shuddered. As though seeing her might remind the goblins of their initial marriage arrangement plan. And Morgana knew me far too well; I would never be able to convince her I was safe and happy if I brought her here. To the castle that made my head pound with the disorder and chaos.

“Your sister is welcome here.” Came a light voice from my shoulder.

I didn’t look at Grier, I didn’t need to, and felt the hairs on the back of my neck quiver as he moved to stand at my side, considering the guard before me. His scarlet eyes were filled with an unfamiliar chill. His disdain for the man hardly hidden.

“No.” I repeated firmly, my own anger barely kept in check and bleeding ever so slightly into my voice. “...Not here.”

“The border then.” Gareth decided, and I could have slapped him for his insubordination. I saw the glint in his eye daring me to. Proving to him what he had already decided.

Thankfully, Grier stepped in before I decided if I would, slipping the sealed Treaty from my clenched fist at my side. Physically putting his smaller form between the two of us. Forcing the soldier’s eyes to focus on him.

“Two days time, at the Northern Border. Noon, and no later.” He ordered him, then held out the treaty. “I trust you will be able to handle the safe delivery of this to your King?” One slender brow twitched. “Or shall I send an escort?”

The authority of his tone was undeniable, and again I found myself impressed with the strength of his execution. Despite being a foot shorter than both of us, his presence was powerful, and demanded respect. No quarters were given, no room for argument.

Gareth was forced to take a step backwards to keep the ample space required for royalty at the goblin King’s intrusion. I delighted in his outrage at having to do so, but knew he was far too wary of his tense standing with the goblins to act in any way that might be even remotely disrespectful. I saw him grit his teeth, then dip into a bow at the waist.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He took the parchment as graciously as he could, his voice hard.

“You are dismissed.” Grier ordered, even as the guard opened his mouth to speak further.

I wished I could somehow record the moment. The way his eyes flashed, the way his open mouth stayed that way, shock in every corner and crack of his stoic mask. I would have enjoyed revisiting it on future days. He cast me a final, borderline treasonous look, then straightened. Spinning on heel and marching out.

“All of you,” Grier waved his hand indistinctly after the man had made his exit, “Out.” I started to follow Hibik and Damjan, but was stopped in my tracks as the King quickly added. “Not you.”

I paused, glancing after the other goblins as they slowly closed the door behind them. My pulse raced, and I was hardly in the best place to keep my guard up. I struggled to keep my lingering anger in check, turning to face Grier with my hands clasped behind my back. I built the mask back up, piece by piece, soldering each into place. Leaving nothing but a cold stone statue to face the goblin King.

He took a long, slow breath, standing by the notary table, looking down at the parchment there. As he let it out through his teeth, I felt my own breath hitch in my mouth.

“So it is done.” He said finally, then reached out to trace the edge of the contract lightly with one finger. “For better or for worse.”

Most definitely worse, I thought quietly to myself. But said nothing. The numbness was returning. The weight of the rest of my life laying itself one brick at a time before my eyes. My breathing was shallow and thin, and I felt light headed. Yet still I stood, in silence. Staring down the man that was soon to be my husband.

“It has been a long day,” He continued, then chuckled softly, “And it is not even noon.” Scarlet eyes swept over to me. “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head, hardly feeling the motion. “No, Your Majesty.” My voice sounded distant, even to my ears, and painfully cold.

He sighed again, shaking his head and placing his hands on his hips. “I’ll take you to your rooms then.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t give an answer, stepping to the side to allow him to lead the way out of the chamber. I felt my eyes dart a final time to the Treaty on the stand, felt the lump forming in my throat. I didn’t linger long, and was soon following the King down the hallways.

I didn’t bother to try and keep stock of our path. I walked through a fog of my own design, each step heavier than the last. Each thought more painful than the one before. I wondered in that moment if I would ever see my Kingdom again. If I would ever see the castle where I was born, or walk among my people. I was a pariah now, an outcast. In signing the Treaty that sealed their peace, I had also signed my death to them. I would never be accepted at court, most especially after we held an official ceremony. Least of all was the fact that I knew my father would disown me in whatever way he could without completely nullifying the Treaty. But for all that… I had brought peace. I had saved lives. Even as I tallied my losses and as visions of my dreary future paraded before me, I could hold that close to my heart. Like a balm to soothe the other pains.

I nearly ran into Grier as we reached the door to my quarters in the high tower. So lost was I in my thoughts. He shouldered open the door, gesturing for me to enter before lingering for a moment in the doorway. I would have groaned, had I less restraint. He had something more to say. And I wasn’t sure I had the strength to take one more beating that day.

“... Prince Nikostratus,” He began finally, seeming to carefully pick his words even as he spoke them, “I cannot begin to fathom what you are… feeling… or thinking…” He straightened, running one three fingered hand over the stone doorframe. “But I… I can not press enough that you never need to do anything you are uncomfortable with. And…” He took a deep breath, “And I apologize that I cannot just pretend it never happened as you do, but if last night… if that was the only kiss I shall ever receive from you… Then...” He hesitated, dropping his eyes, “Then... I will treasure it... For it is not your fault you are marrying a fool…” He shifted again, unable to stand still. “I just had to let you know that. And to know that you owe me nothing. Ever. You have already given more than enough in the service of your people.”

I faltered at his words, my heart racing at an alarming pace in my breast. The anger bubbled up in me, and my hands purled back into fists behind my back. Was this to be my life? Endless back and forth emotional assaults? Would I ever be given more than a sleepless night to just-

I grabbed the door in my hand as he moved to close it, and his eyes widened in surprise. I watched them look me up and down briefly, and took a step back, gesturing with my free hand. His pronounced brow jumped up at that, and I saw him draw in a sharp breath. But then he stepped into the foyer. I closed the door behind him, facing it for a moment while I composed myself. And tried to figure out what the hell I was doing anyway. I berated myself for my brash impulsiveness. Tried to sort through my spinning thoughts.

I turned back to him, standing with a very puzzled look on his face. I opened my mouth, but realized… I still hadn’t decided what I wanted to say. So I was forced to shut it again.

“... You owe me no explanation,” He offered, raising his palms as if to show me he was unarmed, “I need no apology. It was not my intent to make you feel guilty, or trapped.”

“Your Majesty-”

“I just needed to tell you. I am not like you; I wear my emotions on my sleeves,” He offered a light laugh as the words seemed to gush out of him, “Honestly, I found I am beginning to wonder if humans even have emotions. Or maybe it is just Royals. I have little experience with either you see.”

“I-”

“I mean no insult,” He said quickly, interrupting me again, “It will just be an adjustment. Or, or I suppose we can just keep it to the basics, yes?” He tapped his chin, “Some sort of schedule or routine. Whatever you are comfortable with. Limited to whatever capacity you want.”

“Your Majesty-”

“I mean professionally, of course!” He rushed to add, “I understand if our… private arrangements are to remain separate. I am sure that we can come to something comfortable for you, I mean, and you just need to tell me what that is. I don’t want to assume and therefore end up in an uncomfortable situation. Because honestly, I-”

“Oh, would you just, SHUT! UP!” I snapped finally, “Just shut up! SHUT UP! For two, goddamn, bloody seconds. Just-”

I cut myself off, realizing not only had I spoken out loud, my voice had risen to an almost disturbing volume. That, and the fact that the goblin King was staring at me with eyes the size of dish saucers. I stared back at him for a long moment. Then I felt myself crack, and shook my head. It was too late now. I’d already yelled at the King... Might as well let it all out.

“I just… By the Gods you are so absolutely…” I started, then dropped off again. I began to pace, from one side of the room to the other. I felt like with each step, a little bit more of my composure dropped away. “Do you realize how ridiculous… You think that just because I don’t spew my emotions everywhere every time I speak I don’t have any??” I managed to control my volume a bit better, but the tone was still harsh. “I just. Want. Two. GODDAMN SECONDS. Just let me breathe! Please, for the sake of the Gods and all that is…” I jerked to a halt, glaring at him, clenching and unclenching my fists. “You just make me so… I just… GAH!” I threw up my hands, pacing back and forth again.

For his part, Grier watched my track, following me with his scarlet eyes. He remained frozen in place, a million things flashing across his face as he stared. But I didn’t have the patience to try and sort them out. I was exhausted, worn out, and sick of it all. I stopped in front of him again, throwing up my hands one last time before crossing them over my chest.

“So there!” I snapped. “You broke me. Congratulations. You see the cogs behind the, what, let’s call it ‘seriousness’, shall we?” I clenched my jaw to keep it from shaking. “How surprising that the human statue has feelings.” I waited barely a breath, but when he didn’t answer, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well?? You’ve really nothing to say now?”

To my surprise, a small, coy smile played across his thin lips. He offered his hands, palms up again, giving a small shrug. “You told me to, what was it? ‘Just shut up’... Remember?”

I almost laughed at that, but instead heaved the heftiest of sighs, lifting my hand up and pinching the bridge of my nose between two fingers. I felt my anger starting to ebb away, and regret was quickly taking its place.

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” I breathed, “I am… very tired… And that was incredibly rude of me.” I winced, my face falling, “I would beg your forgiveness, and will throw myself at your mercy.”

He did laugh, loud enough for the both of us, and it made me jump slightly. “At my mercy? Good lord, where do you humans come up with these things?” He shook his head, wild hair dancing about his shoulders. “It is I who should apologize, my young Prince. I should not have pushed you. Which is ironic, as I was trying to do exactly the opposite…” He sighed as well, though lightly, shaking his head again, “I just thought that… well, I know what humans think of my kind, and last night when you…” He cleared his throat, looking down at his feet and shuffling them. “It confused me, but you have certainly set me straight, and I assure you it will not-”

“That’s not what I meant.” I interrupted, then flinched. Even going so far as to take a step back as if the King might strike out at me. But he merely looked up at me curiously. “... What I said earlier… My apology.” I swallowed hard. “It was not… ah…”

I dropped off, flustered, and rubbed at the back of my neck. Why was this so damn hard? It was like every word I knew had fled from my mind. And each strange thought and emotion this man caused to rise up inside me had no name, no label. No way for me to describe it to myself, let alone to him. He waved his hand errantly, as if he was detached from the situation. Though I didn’t believe it for a second. There was too much eagerness at the edges of his voice when he spoke next.

“Please, spare my feelings and speak honestly, my young Prince.”

I swallowed hard again, dropping my gaze politely. “I… I simply meant that it was improper of me to…” I cleared my throat, unable to say the word, “It was… unwarranted and impolite. I was certain you would take it as an insult, to be… assaulted in such a manner.”

“Assaulted?” He echoed, his lips curling back into the toothy smile. “I would hardly call a kiss an assault,” He cocked his head to the side, his grin becoming arrogant, “Especially when I already had my hand on your knee, as I recall.”

I felt my face growing hot at his words, and the memory they recalled, but buried my embarrassment and attempted to return my face and tone to be as flat as possible. “Such a thing, in any circumstances, is simply not done.”

“But you are my fiance,” he scoffed, “Surely you humans are not so uptight that kissing your intended is considered abuse?”

I had to purse my lips to keep them from quivering. “It is not common practice, to my knowledge.”

“Well then, I hope your knowledge on the matter is limited.” He laughed again, and moved a few steps closer. “So… You did not mistakenly kiss me?”

I took a step back, nearly stumbling. He paused, considering this, then fixed me with a new smile. I wasn’t sure I liked it. It made my heart rate erratic and brought more of those nameless emotions to my chest. I swallowed hard again.

“... No…” I admitted softly, and felt the same stabbing guilt at the confession as I had when I had admitted to him my preference in partners.

His grin grew to be almost unbearable, and I dropped my eyes. Then rubbed at the back of my neck. I saw him take a tiny step closer out of the corner of my eye.

“... Would it be too bold, then, to invite my betrothed to dinner?”

I stammered through a few useless phrases, and felt my face darken several more shades. Honestly, I was surprised the top of my head didn’t catch fire from the heat. My ears were painfully hot, and I rubbed at one as I tried to compose myself. I could see the goblin out of the corner of my eye, and couldn’t help but notice he seemed to be enjoying himself.

“I… ah…” I mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.

“To give you a few hours for your own company,” He offered, “Or to rest, if you wish.” I started putting the mask back up, forcing myself to meet his gaze and opening my mouth once more. “Don’t.”

He closed the distance between us in a final stride, craning his head to look up at me and efficiently halting whatever false politeness or proper response I had planned.

“You don’t need to… hide behind… all that.” He gestured to my face, and then laughed at his own ridiculousness. “You can be yourself around me… if you want, of course. If you prefer to keep up your.. Let’s call it ‘seriousness’, shall we?” He smirked, and I managed to close my mouth. “If it makes you more comfortable, then by all means. But maybe I can see a little more of who you really are…”

I hilted a sigh, glancing off to the side. “...I don’t know who that is.” I confessed, my voice thin and weak.

I started slightly at the feeling of his hand brushing my jaw. I looked down at him, meeting his scarlet red eyes as his hand slid to cup my cheek

“Perhaps I can make a suggestion then?”

He had to stand on his tiptoes to brush his lips against mine. Instinctively, I started to pull back. His hand was light against me, and he let me retreat. But I paused, a hair’s breadth from his mouth, his breath on my face. Hesitating. Because, perhaps... that hadn’t been all that bad.

He waited a moment, likely to see if I would prefer he cease and desist. Giving me the opportunity to break away. When instead a quivering breath chased out from between my lips, he chased after them. Kissing me more sincerely. I hesitated again, feeling my eyes and heart flutter. He ran his fingers along my jaw, tracing up to nestle the tips behind my ear. Stretching up to me and kissing me so gently it made my head spin.

I lost myself in the sweet taste of his mouth. My arm came up, wrapping about his waist. Pulling him closer to me. Pressing his torso against mine. I curled down, letting him rock back onto the balls of his feet. I could taste his smile then, and felt our kiss deepen.

I jerked back after a moment, and quickly dropped my hands, staggering back a step.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize,” He ordered me, “Never apologize for actually taking something you want for once. For enjoying yourself for half a second.” His grin returned. “Especially when I enjoyed it too.”

I shook my head, unsure what else to do. He sauntered closer a step, but his proximity unsettled me again, and I matched it with a step back.

“In goblin culture,” he mused, staying a few paces away now, “It is quite expected for an intended couple to be physically affectionate towards each other.” He cocked his head to the side. “... Can I try again to tempt you with dinner?”

My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears, I almost didn’t hear his request. Finally, I nodded, if belatedly, and swallowed a lump in my throat.

“As you wish, Your-”

“If you say ‘Your Majesty’, I am going to scream.” He warned, flexing one elongated digit at me.

I pursed my lips, swallowing at the lump again. “... As you wish… Grier…”

His toothy smile returned quickly, and he beamed up at me like a fool. “Then I look forward to it.”

...

UPDATE: Part Four HERE

#goblin x human #goblin romance #goblin king #goblin lover #goblin husband #mlm #monster romance #monster lover #monster boyfriend #angst #slow burn #Royal Flush #royal marriage #monster marriage #terato #exophilia

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

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Soulbonds and Fairy Dust

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 27/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in. Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name. Also on AO3 here

Loki pulled his horse to a stop and Sigyn was forced to follow suit. The two of them were at the back of the group, so it took Thor and his idiot friends a few paces to realize they’d stopped. They slowed their horses, to wait for Sig and Loki to catch up. Somehow the morons seemed to realize that they were in the middle of an important conversation and didn’t come interrupt or eavesdrop. Which was frankly amazing.

Loki had a serious look on his face when he turned to Sig. “Explain,” he ordered her firmly, his voice nearly icy. He softened a little when he added “Please.” He did try to remember that he was talking with his soulmate.

Sig didn’t quickly know what explanation he was asking for, but she started talking anyway. She didn’t want to upset him, and he really did deserve the truth. “I told you the Gray Lords are the most powerful of the fae. I have the magical power and physical fighting ability to qualify. I was ‘awarded’ the title when I came of age…” she was leaving a lot out, but that was the bare bones of it. Loki reevaluated the scars she hadn’t been coherent enough to hide back behind her illusions after closing the doorway. She wondered what he was looking at and blushed when she saw her arms and realized her scars were visible. She quickly threw her illusions back into place. She looked exactly the same, but minus the old battle scars from her fighting for her life for her entire life.

Loki didn’t comment, though she knew he’d question her about the scars later. Instead he asked: “So you technically have a noble standing among the fae?” he was trying to get his head around what a Gray Lord was.

She nodded her agreement. “I do. I was the first new Gray Lord in at least 500 years,” she added as if that mattered.

Loki looked impressed anyway, though he didn’t really understand. He considered more implications of Sig being among the Gray Lords. “Will they try and bring you back to Underhill?” he asked. That was the biggest concern at the moment.

Sig considered, then nodded again. “It looks really bad on the court that one of the Gray Lords abandoned Underhill in preference of the mortal realms…” she explained. It really did look bad on them that she’d left. They’d been searching for her since she had, which is why she’d had to hide on Midgard. The court also wanted her powers and skills for themselves. They weren’t going to let her stay free easily.

“When, in reality, they know you aren’t truly fae? That you were born an Asgardian goddess?”

“I don’t think they realized that I’m an Asgardian goddess. They don’t know much about Asgard. And probably assumed only the royal family receives godhead,” she explained with a shrug. She hadn’t known until Odin had announced hers that she was a goddess. She owed Loki another explanation, though. “Also the Gray Lords are higher ranked than simple nobility,” she told him. “We’re the princes and princesses of the fae, at least in terms as you would understand them,”

Loki nodded, accepting her explanation. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Probably a lot of things, but none urgent,” she replied with a smirk. Of course there were tons more things he probably needed to know. She just couldn’t think what they were at the moment.

“Will you tell me when we get back to the palace?” he asked, misunderstanding what she meant.

“I just meant that I’m sure there are things I’m not thinking of that you ought to know or would want to know. I’ll tell you if or when they become important or come to me,” she told him warmly.

“Alright. I can agree to that,”

“Did she just say she’s a fairy princess?” Fandral demanded loudly. Apparently they’d wandered back close enough to eavesdrop. Sig blushed and got shy again, curling in on herself.

Loki glared at Fandral. “Would you shut up, you imbecile?” he snarled, jumping to defend his soulbond.

“But she’s a fairy princess!!” Fandral protested loudly as if it really mattered what her rank was. Or that she was half fae.

“She is of nobility in two different realms. What of it?” he asked Fandral as if Fandral was stupid. He was correct of course. Thor’s moronic friends were morons. Fandral most especially.

Sig groaned since she saw the childlike glee on Fandral’s face. He was annoying and obsessed with the fact that he thought this was some kind of fairy tale. “The courts of the fae are nothing like the fairy stories we were told as children, you moron,” she glared at him. She had to get this point across to him now before he did something stupid. “Do you really think I would have gone through so much to escape if they were? Now kindly shut up about it before I let Loki stab you,” she growled. She was uncomfortable drawing so much attention or being so firm, but he had to know. It was important.

Loki smirked, looking proud of Sig. “You should listen to her, Fandral. I’m about ready to stab you anyway,” he added the last nonchalantly. He was just so casual about the prospect of stabbing his brother’s moronic friend. Sig didn’t blame him. At all.

Fandral wisely shut up.

The group rode for awhile longer and reached the area of the fourth gate midmorning. Sig put her book away as she got near, since she could sense potential danger from the fae better than any of the others. She noted that Loki was sticking close to her. He was worried after the previous day and how drained she’d been after the last gate.

“There’s nothing waiting for us,” she told the party as they approached. She was still nervous. She didn’t trust the apparent safety of this gate. After the last two were so well protected, it seemed strange that this one was unguarded. Just because Tilly was allowing her to close the gates, it didn’t mean she was going to be making it easy on Sig. That wasn’t how Tilly did things. It also didn’t mean the fae were going to let her, or would make it easy on her if they did.

Loki noticed her nerves and gave her a reassuring smile. “We will remain on guard, don’t worry, Sig,”

“I don’t like this, not after the last two doorways being so well guarded,” she confessed as she dismounted. They were close enough to the doorway that she needed to walk the rest of the way. The group dismounted to walk with her.

Loki stuck close to her side. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time,” he promised. Sig could tell that he understood her worry. He would do anything and everything to keep her safe while she dealt with the doorways.

The whole group stood around her and the doorway, weapons drawn and alert for danger as she sliced her palm open, summoning the power she needed to close the doorway. She spread her blood across both of her palms and gripped the edges of the doorway and tried to pull it closed. It wouldn’t budge no matter how much she tugged on it. She cursed loudly and in multiple languages as she let the power fade. It wouldn’t close and wasting power wouldn’t fix anything.

She turned to the group. “I have to go through. There’s something on the other side holding the door open,” she told them while they were all staring in awe at her ability to curse like a sailor. That wasn’t something typical of Asgardian ladies.

Loki looked nervous. He did not want her going into Underhill when the fae were desperate to get her back to rule in the seelie court. “Can anyone go with you?” he asked her gently. He wouldn’t let she face the danger along, not if there was anything he could do about it.

Sig considered that and finally nodded. “I can take two through with me safely,” she told Loki. She also knew that he needed to determine who was coming with her. “Whoever trusts me the most, or whoever you want to come with us, Trickster,” she told Loki. He would feel better being able to choose who came with the pair of them. Of course, he was going to be one of the two she brought through with her. Thor would be the other one he trusted.

They were also much too close to Underhill and the creatures living on the other side to use his name or any variation of it. Or any of their names.

Loki nodded and didn’t even consider before he turned to Thor. “Brother, would you be willing to come with us?” he trusted Thor with his life, and more importantly, with Sig’s and her safety. He had fought side by side with Thor for centuries and while they didn’t always get along, the two fought well together.

Thor nodded immediately. “Of course,” he replied automatically. He seemed offended that Loki had even thought he had to ask. Thor looked to his friends. “Guard the gate on this end,” he told them firmly as he gripped Mjolnir more securely in his hand.

Sig looked them both over. She hesitated a moment for what she needed to do next to protect the three of them, but she steeled herself to get it done. “I don’t know what’s waiting for us on the other side. I can give us some additional safeguards, if you trust me,” she told them both. She turned her attention to Loki “and if you don’t mind if I borrow a little power,” she could use Asgardian magic for what she needed to and she knew Loki would rather she use his magic than drain herself more trying to use her own.

Loki offered her his hand without any hesitation. “Take what you need,” he seemed relieved to be able to help her in any way, shape, or form.

She took his hand and after a small nod of thanks, used his power to cast illusions on the boys. It took a surprisingly little amount of power, mostly due to her own skill and experience. She lengthened their hair braided down past their shoulders, pointed their ears, changed their eye colors to tri-colored. She let the feel of fae magic surround them, disguising them as fae. “That should help at least until we know what we’re dealing with,” she told them. She couldn’t help appreciate how handsome they looked, disguised as fae. She was so used to being surrounded by handsome fae men and this felt familiar to her. “Remember, don’t use any of our names while we’re there. Not even nicknames. It’s too dangerous when they’re looking for me,” she reminded them firmly. When they nodded their agreement, she took Thor’s hand too. She had to have physical contact with them to escort them safely through the doorway. “Ready?” she asked them. They both nodded and let her take the lead.

Sig kept a firm grip on both of their hands to lead them through the doorway. She couldn’t let them go until they were all safely through. Time and locations could get a little wibbly-wobbly when non-fae traveled through the doorways. It was best to have a fae escort.

Sig hoped whatever was waiting for them on the other side wasn’t too awful for the three of she to handle and was beyond grateful that she didn’t have to face this challenge alone.

She never had to be alone anymore.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #Soulbonds and Fairy Dust #chapter 27 #rewrite #nekoamamori

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peeves-a-legend · 4 years ago

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Maximum Entropy

Original Fem!Elementalist x Wizarding World

A.N. ~ Sooo... I made a new account finally!! And I wanted to restart my page with this piece that I had started a while ago. I hadn’t gotten around to finishing it, but I couldn’t let this idea slip through my fingers with the potential that it has (at least in theory lol). As of right now, the main love interest is undecided; I’m just going to let that unfold as a write.

Summary ~ Beatrice Drayton is a fourth year at Arctosov Academy for Elementalists when a stranger comes searching for an alliance. Despite centuries of turmoil between hands and wands, she finds herself across the world, willing to work with the folk that bare wands. Harry isn’t the only one with a prophecy, and it just so happens that Drayton’s destiny relies on the success of Potter’s. End of HP book 4 and onward.

Warning ~ Language and probable violence (eventually)

Word Count ~ 4k

Chapter One

There are only a few days left of this term. Only a handful of classes left to study and then I’m free of academic duties for the summer. The bitter Canadian frost had finally submitted to the heat that the lengthened days brought, allowing the vast Boreal to bloom lush with green. Up until now, the school grounds remained in a turbulent state of snow, slush, and mud. Spring was honestly my least favourite time of the year. Maybe if the school was farther South I’d appreciate the season for what it’s worth, but sleet storms and the rapid amplification of mosquito swarms were all too common in the Northwest Territories prior to the sun and shine of the summer months.

I ran through the sun-lit halls of Arctosov Academy in a desperate attempt to get to class on time. It’s moments like this where I’m grateful for the sleek material of the uniform that hugs tight to my limbs and torso. When I was given the purple and black spandex in first year I complained about the tight-fit jumpsuit till I was blue in the face. It’s so itchy. I’ll freeze come wintertime in this cloth. It’s too tight. Blah, blah, blah. Little did I know that I would eventually praise the aerodynamic nature of it when gliding through the crowded corridors.

The halls of the school were simple, straight passageways that stacked 13 floors high, etched into the side of one of the many mountains that framed the expansive waters of Great Bear Lake. The walls that continued with the face of the mountain were made of tall, clear diamond windows. The bottom of the diamond glass meets a white marble floor while the top of the smooth surface contrasts sharply against the jagged ceiling made of mountain rock. The wall opposite to the lake view was different on all 13 floors. For example, the 9th floor hall (the one that I am currently sprinting down) has a wall made of solid gold. It looks quite gaudy if you ask me. I much prefer the wall made of pure orange flames on the 4th floor. Along each of the distinctive corridors are doors that lead to different rooms that lay in the belly of the mountain. Classrooms, dorms, restrooms, the gym, the dining hall, the kitchen, the library, multiple training rooms, and so on. The only routes that connect each parallel floor to each other are the stairwells that resided at either end of the halls.

As I dodge through bodies, I can’t help but curse my luck. Not even a time-turner could spare me a few moments of peace between classes that I have back to back and over each other. My brothers and my friends tell me I’m just being dramatic, but it’s not like they would actually know the stress of going through the amount of training that I’m subjected to. To think that I’m only in fourth year!

I reach the last door on the opposite side of the hall that I entered from and swiftly glide through the misty veil that floats where a door would be placed anywhere else in the world. Arctosov is all about the dramatics when it comes to decor. As soon as the frothy air clears I’m met head on with a group of fifteen or so third, fourth, and fifth year students standing in a large circle. My brother Zaidyn notices me first, taking a step over to make room for me in the ring. I mouth a silent thanks and he offers a small smile in return.

Our attention is quickly turned to the tall and slender man that paces in the center of the group. At least he had stopped publicly addressing my tardiness every time I showed up to his class a little more than five minutes late.

‘…We will be spending a great deal of time in today’s lesson harnessing the energy in the room in combination with the particles that occupy this space,’ thin lips stated as narrowed eyes observed the group of students. ‘We will be conjuring vortex winds; a tornado if you will. But the key is to keep it controlled and clean. If I witness any funnels produced above the hip,’ Professor Turcoff said, addressing a poor third year directly now, ‘consider your Friday evening booked with a detention.’

‘Well he seems to be in a stellar mood today, don’t you think?’ Zaidyn huffed quietly enough so that only I could hear.

‘Absolutely.’

‘Want to work together?’

I nodded in response as the circle separated off into smaller groups setting to work. We found a less crowded area off towards the edge of the large circular room. All the training rooms are circular in shape with high steel walls, a steel floor, and a steel ceiling. It’s like being trapped in a tin can and we’re the beans. Cool beans, might I add.

‘Now I want you all to focus,’ Turcoff said firmly over the mild chattering that circulated in the room. ‘I don’t just want you to start pushing the molecules around in your vicinity. I want you to feel them. Connect with them. Turn the gases into a fifth limb. Then, and only then, will you have total control.’

With that, I closed my eyes and opened my palms at my side. This was always my favorite part of conjuring magic. To just feel the vibrations of the atoms that are at my mercy for manipulation. The fluid motion of the air as it swirls around each finger, catching ever so slightly on the craters of my fingerprints. The fuzzy, almost ticklish sensation when my skin radiates deep crimson and ripe orange flames. When I suck the moisture from the air that is plentiful, turning the vapours into a blanket of water that obeys at my command. The deep and gyrating rumble that surfaces from all four sides of the room that I’m standing in, mountain rock waiting to collapse if I let it.

But the others wouldn’t understand, you see. For the individuals that attend this very class with me cannot feel the lick of a flame. They cannot consume the hydrogen and oxygen in the atmosphere that is necessary for the flickering lattice of its corresponding liquid. They cannot part the earth at its surprisingly brittle seams, only to allow greenery of sorts to erupt from deep within those cervices. They can only control the air that streams gently over the purple fabric of our jumpsuits. Of course, there are other things that all benders are capable of, but the limit of those abilities is always an arm’s reach away.

All because of one silly chromosome.

Now’s a great time to mention that I’m the only girl in a school full of boys. Why? Because I’m the first female bender that had been born in over 4000 years. The third one ever, to be exact. For whatever rhyme or reason it is extremely rare for a female bender to be conceived, to the point where it is literally unheard of. At least until my existence, that is.

All male benders pass down their elemental ability to the children they procreate. If a son is born, he will take after his father’s magic. So will his sons, and his sons’ sons. But if a daughter is born… it’s a slightly different story.

Female benders harness power differently than their male counterparts. They are able to tap into magical stores that allow access to all areas of elemental manipulation, rather than a single vault. We assume it has to do with the fact that the first bender was a woman herself. Born from the earth and nurtured by the universe, or however that story goes.

But why are female benders so scarce? Nobody really knows. I personally think it’s a method to mediate power. I could not even begin to imagine a world filled with all-powerful women with a temperament like mine. The globe would combust in a matter of seconds. Nuclear, man.

I open my eyes and witness a knee-height funnel of air directly in front of me, swirling gently in a clockwise coil. With a slight curl of my fingers, the twister begins to steadily grow till it’s at the height of my belly button.

‘That’s tall enough, Ms. Drayton.’ But I wasn’t going to feed it any more than I already had. I am in control. The particles will not control me. I look to my brother who has also mastered the task at hand, posture poised with a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. The rest of the room seemed quite confident as well, mind a few individuals who had let the wind get away on them.

The rest of class seemed to be swept away and before long I’m reaching into the skin-hugging collar of my jumpsuit to retrieve the time-turner from around my neck. Four down, only eight more classes to go till dinner. Kill me now.

When I started school in first year, I was beyond excited to learn how to let my powers flourish. But if somebody would have told me that I would be taking four times the amount of school work as every other student at Arctosov, I think it’s fair to say that my enthusiasm wouldn’t have peaked so high. It is partially my fault though. I had been advised to extend my school years to double the standard duration. Unfortunately, fourteen years fell onto deaf ears.

Finding shortcuts is my specialty.

At least some classes are mandatory for all students, like elemental and magical history, calculus, magical and muggle variations of physics and chemistry, and other basic level classes that focus on universal bender abilities. I guess that knocks a couple extra classes off my horrendously long list of academic requirements. Unfortunately, that still leaves quite a hefty load of ability-specific classes on my plate.

The day couldn’t have gone any slower. I mean, it was all fine and dandy until some imbecile pissed off Professor Yawny in Flora Manipulation. The idiot conjured a garden of nettle and didn’t know how to retract the growth, which ultimately led to the suffering of some unsuspecting bystanders. Got a hive or two myself, but nothing compared to the group of students that took the brunt of it on the front line. This little stunt earned the class a ten-page essay on retracting plant growth and the dangers of uncontrolled herbage. Honestly, just what I needed.

As soon as the last period bell chimed (for the third time today), I quickly chucked my notebook and ballpoint into my bag and hurried out of Atomic Theory. I always change out of my jumpsuit before dinner. I hate eating in clothes that expose my well-fed stomach.

I make my way up to the thirteenth floor to access my dorm. The thirteenth floor is by far the coziest of them all. Instead of cleared and pristine halls, upon entering the corridor one is met with a scattered array of sofas, tables littered with magical and muggle games, bookshelves cluttered with various paperback and hardcover copies, and the single Jadeite wall lined with primarily hockey and quidditch posters. A stereo plays some top muggle hits; the audio competes for volume with the crackling sounds that emit from the large pit in the centre of the hall where a seven-foot high flame resides. There are only two doors carved into the green wall: the girl’s and the boy’s dorms.

The boy’s dorm is essentially a revolving door. People are always filing in and out of the community space. The girl’s dorm on the other hand was simply built out of respect. They never expected anybody to occupy the space, but knew that even though the chances were slim, a female student might enrol one day or another. Thank God for those engineers’ prognostic train of thought, otherwise I’d be either bunking in the fifth-floor supply closet or with a bunch of dudes.

Weaving my way around a collection of occupied ping-pong and pool tables, I move quickly not to interfere with the final plays of said matches. These boys tend to get cranky with hunger and exhaustion during the final countdown before supper. The steady sound of the hall dies as I pass through the veil that mists over the entrance to the girl’s dorm. It’s a plain space, but what can I say, I’m the only chick to enter this part of the underground school. I’ve managed to liven the place up with some creeping vines and flowers along the tall, straight marble walls that lead to several bedrooms and baths. Even though the hall is meant to appear light and spacious, the lack of fellow roommates makes this place feel more than empty. Like a blank sheet of lined paper, everything here remains untouched and waiting for scuffs and scrapes of wear, something to push its clean order into the hands of disorder.

Chaos theory loves to make a mess of things.

I swing through the eighth door on the right into the space that I had claimed as mine. I got rid of the other three unoccupied beds and transformed the room into one that I could proudly call my home away from home. Just like every other room in the school, the dorm is circular, so placing furniture in a way that I didn’t hate turned out to be a real pain in my ass. It took me all of first year to decide where I wanted to place my bed, my desk, and my wardrobe in relation to the door. Once I figured that out, the rest was quite fun. Potted plants invade any and all counter space available in the room, while little knick knacks can also be spotted within the jungle. The skylight ceiling illuminates the white brick walls, casting an intense glare to any prying eyes above the diamond-glass. I think it’s chic.

I rummaged through my wardrobe for a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and my royal purple Arctosov crested pullover. One look in the full-length mirror, quickly fixing my hair to get it up and out of my face, and I set off towards the dining hall. I was at the top of the thirteen flights of stairs when a hand closed around my shoulder, slowing my quick pace.

‘In a rush are we, ‘B’?’ Jaxon. The only person in this school foolish enough to get between me and my awaiting meal. I sped up, forcing the gangly fourth year to keep stride.

‘You try tack on eight extra classes to your schedule. See how you fair come dinner time.’

‘I think you’re just complaining for pity,’ he teased, meeting my rib with his elbow. ‘“Look at me, the most powerful being alive. Tired, stressed, and hungry! You have no idea what it’s like to be so damn awesome all the time! It’s exhausting! I –”’ My hand shot out to push Jaxon off balance, nearly sending him down the last couple stairs in the flight we were walking down.

‘Your impression of me is beyond inaccurate.’

‘And your muscles are beyond underestimated,’ Jaxon shot back with a smirk, rubbing his arm where I contacted him with the blow. ‘Didn’t know you possessed the power of super-strength as well.’

‘Like you said, I’m just so damn awesome.’ Our grins mirrored each other as we bounded down the rest of the steps to the first-floor dining hall. This is how our banter went most of the time. It was quick, it was witty, it was smooth. He always knows just how far to push to elicit a shove back, and I always shove back. But he also knows when he’s about to push too far. Rarely ever had we actually fought with one another. In the last four years of school, we’ve only actually fought once, and that’s a story nobody talks about anymore. It was stupid, but it was explosive, and I mean literally explosive. Jaxon is a fire bender, so I’m lucky that I have the ability to take the heat. The library shelves that surrounded us during the dispute… well, they didn’t survive.

Jaxon was my best friend. A brother. Nothing more, nothing less. In my eyes at least.

Like cattle, students were milling into and about the dining hall trying to find a place to sit at the single spiral table that coiled into the center of the round room. Purple banners bearing our school crest hung from the high rock ceiling, flashing the menacing stare of the Kodiak that was featured in the heart of the emblem. The student body had encountered a few of the rather large bears during my years at the academy. I never thought I’d ever get the chance to witness such fear amongst a group of insufferably cocky teenage boys, and I loved every second of it. Bunch of pansies.

‘B!’ My attention is quickly captured by my two brothers sitting in the middle of the spiral of students. Jaxon and I walk down the winding aisle to sit in front of Zaidyn and Treston, who have also changed out of their uniforms. It is only when we take our seats that I realize that something is definitely not right.

‘Hey guys, why the long faces?’ I ask, hesitation evident in my wavering tone. If Treston looks startled, then something big must have happened. This sixth year is not easily phased.

A couple of our other friends join the group, sitting on either side of Zaidyn and myself. They also become attentive to the tension held within the conversation. Bret and Oscar share a look between themselves then with me, silently looking for an explanation. I simply shrug my shoulders.

This is weird.

Treston is the first to speak. ‘Didn’t you hear?’

‘Hear what?’ Jaxon and I replied in unison.

‘One of them is here,’ Zaidyn continued. ‘Apparently wants to give a speech or something after supper. Not sure what about though.’

‘What do you mean here?’ snaps Jaxon. ‘I thought that they weren’t allowed on our turf?’

‘Yeah, I’m sure they wouldn’t appreciate it if someone of our kind went poking a nose over the fence,’ Oscar added. Zaidyn simply shook his head in shock. ‘I mean, legally they can’t be here, right? Documentation exists for a reason –’

‘Documentation is nothing but a piece of paper and a couple of lousy signatures. Words mean nothing to them. They’ve always turned their backs on allies and their own. Don’t you ever pay attention in Magical History?’ It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but I can still see how my sharp words stung Oscar. He’s always had too much pride for his own good, especially when it comes to his grades in school. His glare notified me that I’d hit a weak spot.

‘Alright ladies, claws away,’ Bret chimed in. Always there to referee, but it’s usually Jaxon and I that he tries to simmer down. ‘I know it’s news that none of us want to hear, but if it’s true then we have to keep our heads on our shoulders and on a swivel. I can’t see anything good coming out of this, and I know neither can any of you,’ he said addressing the quiet group.

‘All I’m saying is that agreements were made for a reason. If they hadn’t been made, then the magical world would be in a completely different state as of right now. They should be considering themselves lucky that they aren’t extinct,’ Oscar sighed. I had to agree with him there. ‘Our ancestors were patient and wise, which is why we lost so much blood to the wands. But too much animosity had festered for far too long, and quite frankly I don’t consider myself patient or wise. You can’t tell me today’s generation would be so kind as to forgive and forget.’

Oscar was right and we all knew it. Everybody in the hall knew it, too. We may have forgiven them, but we sure as hell have not forgotten. We are reminded every day we walk through these halls – the only halls on the planet that houses students of our kind. The number of benders left was a thought to make my blood run cold. Although, we are making a comeback; slowly but surely. I gave Oscar a small half-understanding, half-apologetic smile.

Before I could add anything further to Oscar’s words of truth, a lavish dinner appeared on the table below our chins. Elk roast, wild salmon, kale salad, stuffed mushrooms, and more. I prayed that saskatoon pie was being served for dessert later in the evening. The apprehensive atmosphere quickly dissipated as we dug into our grub. Frowns were replaced with filled-cheek smiles, and the uneasy silence was enveloped in hearty laughter. Talk of the latest playoff news and summer plans seemed to entertain the table enough to keep the conversation going. It was interesting being a part of the guy’s gossip sessions during meals. Not that I would actually call it gossip; maybe more along the lines of petty pissing contests. Wouldn’t be the first time I sat through a mine’s bigger than yours argument.

It was when our Headmaster stood up from the semi-circle teacher’s table at the back of the hall that the reality of the situation set in once again. Professor Fobert never has to gather the attention of the many eyes leering in anticipation, for their focus was already on him. Fobert’s aura demanded one’s gaze, it did not ask. He was tall, sternly featured, and looked tough as nails. His black-scaled tunic wrapped snugly around his torso, making the greying man look ready for battle at a moment’s notice. When the hall’s sound died down, all that could be heard was the vibrations from deep within the mountain’s abdomen, rock waiting to respond to our Headmaster’s request.

‘Good evening, students. I shall speak frankly and I shall speak clearly, that way you will not misunderstand what I am about to tell you.’

Well that’s a new introduction.

‘I have never assumed any of you as naive, therefore I refuse to start now.’

A very new introduction.

‘Most of you are aware that we have a guest joining us this evening. A guest that has come from overseas to speak to you all.’ It seemed as though our Headmaster couldn’t speak quickly enough. Every student in the room was now perched on the edge of their seat, listening intently for the next words to leave Fobert’s mouth. We knew where this was going, but nobody wanted to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Fobert opened his mouth to speak again, but words never escaped. Instead, a toothy grin tightened the flesh around his chin, and his eyes looked over the heads of the students sitting before him. Naturally, we all turned our heads in the direction of our superior’s gaze towards the entrance to the hall.

If the hall was quiet a moment ago, it sure as shit wasn’t anymore. We didn’t even need a second take to confirm our suspicion.

The man was about the same height as Professor Fobert, but the age difference was quite notable. Where Fobert was steeled with sharp middle-aged wear, the other man appeared worn with the drooping and sagging lines of old-age. He did not wear a tunic and pants, but a floor-length grey robe that matched the colour of his long, neatly kept beard. The cuffs on his sleeves tapered off in the shape of a bell at the knuckles of his boney fingers.

Only people of wizarding blood dressed like that.

‘Albus!’

#harrypotter #hogwarts #wizardingworld #ronweasley #hermionegranger #albusdumbledore #elementalist #voldemort #fredweasley #georgeweasley #ginnyweasley #nevillelongbottom #lunalovegood #ofc

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lokis-daughter-fic · 5 years ago

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Loki’s Daughter Chapter 1: Saved

Originally written for imagine-loki, link to imagine below.

Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around.

In his efforts to learn more about the tesseract and keep it away from prying hands, Loki keeps in constant movement; never staying in one place for too long. So, they travel to new worlds far beyond the Nine Realms. The young girl is in awe at the beauty of the universe and thrives with Loki. Through a series of events, the two grow closer and Loki begins to feel what he would assume is affection for the little girl.

TITLE: Loki’s Daughter CHAPTER/ONE SHOT:

Chapter One: Saved AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around.

AO3 LINK: Loki’s Daughter RATING: Mature for possible triggering content NOTES/WARNINGS:

Trigger warnings:

-Child slavery (this topic is being explored throughout the story)

Nota bene: I promise I’m not making Loki enslave any children, that’s not our guy

-Mental illness including mentions of schizophrenia, depression, and anxiety

-Mentions of past torture and abuse: physical, emotional, and mental

Notes:

I know these are strong triggers for some people and I fully respect you. There will also be lots of fluff and love and happiness in this story but as I say, these more difficult and triggering topics are being explored.

With the hype for the Loki series starting to build, I’m feeling inspired. So, I’m going to give it a go.

Also I’m not new to Tumblr by any means but I’m not super active in posting or reblogging even on my own account and I don’t know all the ins and outs of primary vs secondary blogs and blah, blah, blah… I mostly just lurk about in your likes and look at beautiful pictures of Tom/Loki on here… but I made a secondary blog for this fic where I’ll also be posting the chapters, in addition to here, and may start to open up some discussion if it gains any traction. So feel free to visit https://lokis-daughter-fic.tumblr.com/ and give it a like or follow or whatever. God, I feel old. I really need to just read up on this shit. There’s also an AO3 for the fic too if you prefer reading it on there.

Okay, I think that’s everything. Anyways, if you read through my rambling notes: thanks, otherwise, enjoy what I hope will be a very lengthy, multi-chapter fic! I have lots of adventures in store for Loki and my little OC, Kuna.

Chapter 1: Saved

Loki walked through the giant forest. These were some of the tallest trees he had ever seen, reaching hundreds of feet into the sky. The canopy seemed distant but its thick leaves blocked out most of the sunlight to the ground. Occasionally, he would hear the sound of some creature calling out in the branches high above him. The canopy dampened the sound all around, making the animal calls sound further off than they truly were.

He stopped, now and then, to admire the massive trunks of the reddish brown trees. Some of them would likely take a whole minute to walk around. Their roots, as thick as normal sized trees, dug deep beneath him. He wondered how deep they would have to go to hold up such large trees. He thought the planet’s crust must be made up of hundreds of thousands of miles of tree roots.

A light breeze made it’s way through the forest, shaking the leaves on the branches of the trees. Loki imagined you could cover an entire Asgardian skiff with one leaf. He imagined what would happen if one fell on him, and quickly continued walking. Indeed, the forest floor was littered with gigantic leaves and debris from the canopy world above. He thought this is what an ant must feel like, so small in a world far too big.

Wanting a better vantage point, he used the tesseract’s energy to transport himself to a branch high above. He materialized on the branch but quickly dropped to his knees. Up here, he could feel the tree gently swaying. But a gentle sway to behemoth tree was a dizzying ride to a tiny ant. He sat there a moment, trying to acclimate himself to the new altitude and his tree legs. Before long, he shook his head in disbelief at his dizziness and stood. Feeling slightly more stable, he walked out on the branch, testing his fate. He blinked lazily.

“Not so bad,” he mused. Afterall, even if he did fall, he could simply use the tesseract’s energy to teleport himself safely to the ground or wherever he wanted. In fact, the thought made him wonder what more he could do with this energy here.

He took off in a fast sprint down the branch at full speed. As the branch began to thin, he leapt with all his strength into the air. In a flash of blue, he disappeared, reappearing again mid-air but hundreds of feet in front of where he had been, landing gracefully on the branch of the next tree over. He laughed, looking back at the tree he had just leapt from. Amused by his maneuver, he took out the tesseract from his pocket and flipped the cube in his hand.

“Not bad at all,” he said. “I think I’ll use that.”

Suddenly, the tree shook violently. Loki lost his balance and fell. The tesseract took two light bounces on the branch before falling towards the ground far, far below.

“Ah!” Loki screamed and leapt of the branch after it in an instant.

The wind whipped through his hair and made his eyes water, the ground flying up at him. Through the tears, he nearly lost the little blue spec of the cube falling below him. He reached out and caught it, instantly teleporting himself at a far safer speed to the ground. He fell only a foot onto the forest floor and let out a tremendous sigh of relief. He held up the glowing cube in front of his face.

“We are not doing that again,” he panted.

Suddenly, a horrendous howl wrenched him up from his place on the ground. A massive beast roared at him from the trunk of the tree. It was hunched over, putting its weight onto its knuckles. Sharp claws as long as Loki’s leg, curled upwards from its paws. Its back was covered in a light brown fur cast with gray stripes while its belly lay bare, a dark shade of brown. The head of the beast was encased in a thick, brown armor, reminiscent of a horn but the shape of a battering ram that protruded from its skull.

Loki made a quick glance up at the tree and let out a sharp breath. There was a massive divot in the tree’s trunk. Splinters hung all about the outsides of the hollow dent. Dark sap had begun to ooze from the center of the wound.

“Oh,” Loki whispered, letting out an exasperated laugh at the creature. “So, you caused the treequake, then?”

The monster roared in response and lunged for him. Loki scrambled to his feet, tesseract in hand, dirt and debris flying up from the ground as he regained himself. He tore off, away from the beast as fast as he could. Still out of breath from the fall, his head felt like it was spinning. He could hear the creature pounding towards him. It was massive, there was no way he could outrun it.

He looked up quickly and saw he was fast approaching a massive tree root that stood nearly twenty feet above his head. He groaned and made a sharp turn, following the root’s path. The beast behind him slammed into the tree root. The noise sounded like an explosion, echoing through the forest. The beast quickly regained itself, shaking its head for a moment, before chargeing towards Loki again. Frantic as he ran, Loki looked for a way out. The light glinted off the cube still in his hand and if he wasn’t running for his life, he would have smacked himself.

“What am I doing?” he exclaimed.

In front of him, he spotted a large arch formed by another tree root dipping back into the ground. He lengthened his stride. He could practically feel the beast’s breath on his back. Using the tesseract’s energy, he teleported through the arch and safely on to the other side.

The beast lowered its head and slammed into the archway at full tilt. The ground shook under Loki’s feet as another thunderous explosion rang out around the forest. Only the head and shoulders of the beast had made it through the other side of the archway. It tried to stand up again but was firmly stuck between the root and the ground. Loki laughed, surprised but relieved that it had worked.

“I’m just going to leave you there,” he said. The creature’s nostrils flared and it let out another deafening roar. Loki winced at the sound. “Yes, you’re very loud,” he told it. “I’m sure that will help you out of there. Just keep trying,” he mocked it as he teleported a distance away.

Leaving the monster safely behind him, he looked down at the tesseract again. He liked the way it shimmered in his hand. He quickly made it disappear again into his pocket before anything else bad happened to him or it.

He looked up at the trees again and thought of what he had been trying before he was rudely interrupted by the beast. He summoned the tesseract’s energy and leapt far up onto the side of a tree. He caught himself with his dagger, digging it in deep into the bark. After steadying himself a moment, he located another tree about a hundred yards off. He focused on it and pushed off the tree he hung from, disappearing a moment before reappearing a few feet beside the other tree, midair. He dug his dagger in hard on the bark and slid a few feet down. Amused by this game, he continued jumping between the trees using the energy of the space stone.

As he played this fun game, he thought he heard a sound in the distance. He stopped, clinging onto the side of one of the trees. He found a good foothold and listened, trying to locate the direction of the sound. He truly hoped that thing from before could not track him.

A child’s scream rang out to Loki’s left. He sighed in relief at the sound. At least it wasn’t the monster. Slightly intrigued and growing bored and tired of his game, he teleported in the direction of the screams. Where before, the ground and large trunks of the trees had dampened the noise within the forest, now he could hear the child’s screaming echoing for what sounded like miles.

The ground beneath his feet gave way from dirt, moss, and decaying giant leaves, to compact clay and stone. He pushed aside a the fronds of a large bush and stepped out into a clearing. Or at least, what he thought was a clearing. Upon further examination, the sudden lack of trees was caused by a large, rocky ravine. He looked one way down the gorge and then the other. It seemed to stretch for miles in both directions. On the other side, the trees started up once more, rising high into the sky. Another scream rang out. It sounded like it was coming from inside the ravine at the far end to his left.

Loki followed the sound of the screams along the edge of the gorge. Once in a while, he would lean out over the edge to peer down to the bottom. Vines covered in thick moss had somehow found their way to good grips on the other side of the gorge. They crisscrossed up and down the ravine. The bottom was quite dark. It probably rarely saw any sunlight what with the canopy still covering a majority of the sky above. At some places, the ravine narrowed to a length Loki could easily jump across if he wanted. At others, the cliff faces pulled away from each other leaving close a hundred meters between them.

As he walked he began to feel a slight vibration in his own aura. He stopped in his tracks. There was another magical being nearby. A rather powerful magical being by the shimmering sensation he felt in his aura.

He had become adept in sensing the magic of others. Frigga had taught him to develop these senses until they were highly acute. He stood for a moment, focusing on this sensation. The vibration was quickly followed by a severe disturbance, like static electricity. He shook his head, alarmed by the feeling. He had never felt anything in his aura like this before.

He started off again, his interest piqued. He was getting closer to the screams, now. He was also approaching what he assumed was the end of the gorge from the wall of trees looming before him. He returned to the underbrush and crouched low. Two more voices sounded down the ravine. Loki could not make out what they were saying but he could tell there were at least two men and a child at the end of the ravine. He crept closer, silently making his way through the brush, when he spotted a rather peculiar scene.

Two men stood either side of a small crane-like mechanism hanging out over the edge of the ravine. A long chain swung down out of Loki’s view. A child screamed from below the ledge. They had built a rough camp with debris from the forest floor. A small cart held a few crates and barrels. A ramshackle shelter was propped up with a large bit of bark from one of the giant trees. An extinguished firepit with an old spit lay a few feet away.

One man braced himself on the crane and kicked the chain with his boot, making it swing. “Scream louder, girly,” he shouted down. “I don’t think they can hear you!”

In his hand, the man held aloft a long necked, primitive-looking gun. He and his companion laughed as the chain swayed back and forth and even louder screams rang up from below. Loki was about to stand when he heard a far more chilling sound. Somewhere at the bottom of the gorge, a guttural roar rose up and then another. Two creatures. Loki lowered himself back down. They weren’t the monster from before but they surely sounded monstrous.

“Ha!” the other man exclaimed. “Keep doing that, girl. They like it when you wriggle around like that.”

“Hear they come,” the first man said.

His friend picked up his gun which had been leaning up against the crane. They aimed over the side of the cliff. The girl was still screaming from the end of the chain. The two men took their time to find the right sight down to their prey.

Two loud bangs echoed down through the ravine along with the terrified shriek of the girl below. The two men looked down the gorge, following the echo that seemed to go on for miles. The whole forest seemed to have fallen silent. The pair looked back at each other and high fived.

“Oh, that was a good one!” the man said, appearing to rejoice in the disruption they’d caused to the balance.

They both looked down over the edge again.

“Did you get hit, girly?” one asked.

Silence but the girl must have made some sort of indication as the man quickly followed up with a grunt: “Good.”

The other man took hold of a large push crank on the crane and began to turn it, hoisting up the chain. A small girl, no more than five, appeared above the ledge, wrapped in tight chains. The man grabbed the chain and pulled it in. It still extended below and, from the tension, Loki could see there was still something heavy at the bottom. He unhooked the girl from the larger chain and she fell onto the ground in heap, her restraints clanging against each other. Her chest was heaving with effort. Her legs and feet kicked, treading ground and pushing her a bit further from the ledge. She came to rest at the base of the crane but went no further. Her body trembled and she cried quietly.

The man continued to crank the chain upwards. Loki could then see their haul. In a massive net made of metal, two large beasts lay tangled up with one another. The two men heaved against the crane, turning it to pull the net over the ledge. One kicked the crank and the net fell onto the ground, splaying open. They separated the two creatures; large cat-like animals with deadly looking fangs and claws.

Loki chose this moment to emerge from the undergrowth. “What an ingenious set up you’ve got here,” Loki said, startling the men from their work.

“What in the hells? Where’d you come from?” the one man asked, whipping around.

“They like live bait, do they?” Loki gestured towards the girl, ignoring the man’s question.

The men laughed, happy to oblige the stranger’s requests if it meant harassing the girl more.

“Little girl’s their favorite thing to eat!” the other said, kicking the scared child in the stomach. She coughed and slumped over againi, sobbing.

“You’ll have to excuse my ignorance - I’m not from around here – but what are these creatures?” Loki continued, pointing at the two beasts they’d killed.

“You ain’t never seen kapka before?” the first man exclaimed.

“Oh, they’re vicious beasts, aren’t they?” the other began. He turned towards the little girl, nudging her with the barrel of his weapon, teasing her. “They move like giant cats but got the scales of dragons! See them claws, they can rip you to shreds in seconds. But that’s not how they like to kill.”

"No?” Loki asked, sensing this was the response he wanted.

“Nah. They’re evil bastards, they are. Instead, they’ll tear you down and sink those big ol’ fangs into ya! That way, they inject their toxic poison–”

“Venom…” Loki corrected him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Please, continue.”

The man’s eyes narrowed on the stranger but he went on, “They inject their - venom - into ya and that paralyzes your whole body. You’d think they’d kill ya then, right?”

“I assume the answer’s no?”

“Wrong! What, wait. No! Right! They don’t eat you right away! Instead they tear off bits and pieces of you. Not enough to bleed you out and kill you but enough to feel all that pain. ‘Cause on top of that para-lie-sis–”

“Paralysis…” Loki corrected him, again.

“What?”

“Nothing. Please, do go on.”

“On top of that - paralysis, that venom makes your bleeding stop quick too,” the man continued.

"Really? How interesting.”

“It’s the worst way to die in all the worlds. Perfect for this little shit right here, that’s for sure!” the other man said, giving the girl another sharp kick, that sent her onto her back.

“I’d treat your bait better if you want it to stay alive,” Loki said.

"What? Her? She was made for this, weren’t ya?” the man said, grabbing her chain and yanking on it. The little girl nodded frantically, willing to answer any question that would make him stop.

“Oh, so she’s your daughter, then?” Loki asked.

“Hells no! She’s a slave, you moron.”

“Is that right?”

“It’s plain easy to get them,” the other interjected.

"Hmm. And so, what is it that you do with these creatures? Certainly not eat them?” Loki continued.

"Hells no! You can’t eat them. They’d be all tough and chewy anyways, not to mention the - venom.”

“No instead, we sell them for their - venom. You make good darts from it,” the other continued.

“The blood’s valuable too. The best makers can turn it into powerful healing potions!”

“Extraordinary,” Loki mused.

"You can practically use the whole beast! Those scales can make good armors–”

“And them fangs make deadly daggers,” the first man said.

"Oh, I’m very interested. Please, go on.”

“The claws can be useful too. They’ll cut through just about anything but they can be crushed up into a powder also to cure all kinds of illments.”

“Ailments. Or illnesses. One or the other.” Loki corrected him once more.

“Well, you are a learned one, aren’t you,” the man said, now annoyed with the stranger’s quips. “Where you say you were from, again?”

"I didn’t. Oh, but look, I think more of your prey is arriving,” Loki said, pointing to the far end of the rocky ravine.

Three more scaly kapka were stalking down the ravine, drawn either by the scent of their fallen brethren or the now silenced screams of the girl.

"Ha! Time to get back to work, you!” the man shouted at the girl.

He grabbed her and quickly hooked her back on to the line. They both heaved the net over the edge. The metal rods seemed to snap together, straightening out to help the net fall flat onto the rocks below. The chain was quickly flying over the ledge. The girl gasped and hopped about on the spot.

“You know it’s easier if you jump,” one man said to her, amused. She shook her head, madly, not wanting to jump. Before the chain could rip her off the edge, the man gave her a hard kick, square in the chest. She screamed. Her fall was cut harshly short about a quarter of the way down the cliff face. Her head snapped painfully downwards at the sharp stop as the chain came taught.

It was wrapped tightly several times around her middle, trapping her arms to her sides. The strong hook attached to the chains at her back kept her face down towards the raging monsters. She screamed in terror.

Upon seeing the bait, the kapka charged down the ravine. Their claws made deep cuts in the dirt beneath their paws. They stopped abruptly, necks craned upwards to see their dangling prey. Guttural roars and growls rose up from the bottom of the cliff face. The girl cried out and kicked, swinging back and forth on her chain.

The movement clearly enticed the kapka even more as they began to leap up at her, swiping with their giant paws at her kicking legs. One leapt up the rock wall with powerful hind legs. It pushed off a small ledge and leapt, swinging it’s paw towards her. It came dangerously close to hitting her but fell just short, landing gracefully on its feet back at the bottom. The others were clawing at the wall, hungrily trying to find traction.

The girl’s arms were stuck tight to her sides from the chains but she still pulled and tugged at the restraints. Loki watched her movements, closely. He thought for a moment, he caught a quick flash of light from her hands as she struggled. She shrieked as if she had been caught by one of the beasts but none had touched her. He felt another strong disturbance in his aura, like electricity, nearly to the point of physical pain. Something strange was going on with this girl.

“Oh, you’re in luck, then, stranger, you’ll get to see the show,” they laughed.

"I can’t wait,” Loki said coolly, stepping forward. The hunters leaned over the edge to get a better line of sight at their prey. Loki took another step forward, firmly placing both hands on the backs of the men and shoved hard. The two men hurtled over the edge into the ravine, falling past the screaming girl, and into the awaiting jaws of the kapka.

The girl turned her head back up towards the ledge, straining to see what had happened and why her former masters were now being paralyzed for dinner down below. The stranger peered over the edge at her and slowly began hoisting her up by the chain. She no longer struggled nor screamed but her chest heaved at the thought of what he might do to her now.

Once she was back at the level of the ledge, Loki turned the crane-like mechanism around and lowered her onto the ground. She was breathing hard, soft whimpers escaping her lips. She had a thick, metal collar around her neck and shackles on her wrists and ankles. Judging from the thick bands of scars beneath the manacles, she had probably had them on for a very long time.

Loki turned back to look over the edge again. The kapka tore into the men with their massive fangs. Loki watched as the venom worked its way through them. Their screams slowly stopped as their bodies went limp but their eyes still twitched about in horror.

The first kapka struck, tearing an arm off one of the men and swallowing it whole. The next kapka ripped off a leg and in two big gulps, it was gone. The third tore away another leg and swung it about wildly, beating it on the ground before lazily turning onto its side and eating the leg whole.

“Well, that’s not at all what I was expecting.” Loki said, looking down at the horrified little girl. “I thought they’d at least torture them a little longer. What was all that about bits and pieces? He just tore off his whole leg!”

The girl whimpered at the stranger’s feet horrified at the scene below them. She turned her head away, not wanting to watch anymore.

Loki marveled at the sheer lack of blood the scene produced. Perhaps these morons knew a bit of what they were talking about after all. He watched for a moment longer before turning to the dead kapka behind him. He stooped, conjuring several jars and vials from his pocket in a smooth motion with his hands, and began extracting venom and blood from the creatures.

The girl watched him. Could he be a maker? What awful things was he going to do with that venom? She struggled, trying to free herself before the scary man could push her over the edge too.

Loki carefully filled each vial and jar before cutting away eight large fangs from the jaws of just one kapka. He was sure to take all the claws as well. He thought a few specimen of the scales would be useful too, for study, since the rest of the kapka had such alchemical properties. He already had the best armor any money could buy after all.

He revealed his sharpest knife to cut away at the tough skin. The glint of the blade sent the little girl into a frenzy.

“No! No! Please! Don’t hurt me, sir! Please!” she exclaimed.

“Calm down, it’s not for you. I’ll get to you in a minute.”

This was not at all calming for the girl, who only struggled more. Loki didn’t bother looking up. He could hear her chains clanking together as she desperately tried to free herself. He focused his attention on his work.

The scales were difficult to remove, indeed. Eventually, he was able to lift the edge of one gnarled, greenish-black scales and dig in at the slightly softer skin below. He carved out a large swath of the creature’s skin about as long as his arm and folded it neatly before making it disappear back into his pocket.

He studied the creature’s musculature beneath the skin he had removed. Intrigued and already covered in blood, he made another long cut down the beast’s belly, cutting through skin and muscle before he felt the grate of his knife against bone. He dug his hands into the beast’s chest cavity. He placed one foot firmly on one side of the rib cage and hooked his arm under the other side. He pushed upwards, expecting the bones to break easily but was met with tremendous resistance. Determined, he took a deeper breath and heaved his shoulder against the ribs of the animal.

Sickening cracks rang out in the forest that made the girl jump. Loki didn’t notice, he was too interested in what he was seeing. The internal structure of the beast was quite similar to that of a large cat but the bones were black as night. He extracted several rib bones from the beast as well as its heart and a few other organs, placing them again in conjured jars and boxes that vanished as quickly as they had appeared. Taking a look around the men’s small camp at the edge of the ravine, Loki located a large water skin. He poured some out into a bowl and crouched as he washed away the blood and bits of broken black bone and tissue from his hands. He looked up at the girl as he rubbed his hands together.

She opened her mouth to scream again, frightened senseless by the man covered in kapka gore. In an instant, the stranger appeared in front of her, clapping a hand over her mouth.

“If you want to stay alive, I wouldn’t be screaming and calling those things - or anything else around - to us,” he said in an even tone. “I’ll get to you in a minute. Just be patient.”

She nodded vigorously, tears flooding down her cheeks. He straightened up and walked back to the bowl of water he had poured. She watched him. She wanted that water so badly. Her throat was dry and scratchy, her lips chapped and cracked. The stranger looked up at her again, having finished cleaning off his arms and armor. She looked away sharply, finding a sprig of grass to look at instead.

She heard him stand up. Her breath came faster. His feet barely made a sound as they strode across the ground in her direction. She closed her eyes and tucked her chin to her chest. Her whole body trembled as his feet came to rest beside her. She braced herself for a kick but it never came.

Loki examined the chains. They were thick and old. Probably not made for the purpose of dangling a toddler over a cliff for evil beasties. They’d clearly been on her for a while too. They had left deep purple bruises in bands across her arms. He removed the large hook from the back of the chains. The sudden touch made the girl practically jump out of her skin. She began to weep again.

Loki rolled his eyes and continued examining the chains. He found a padlock resting on the girl’s shoulder blade. He looked up and around the camp again. Hopefully, the key wasn’t now inside the belly of a beast down below. He stood and began searching anyway. His eyes came to rest on a tough leather bag. He stood and grabbed it, turning over the flap and finding a small ring of keys.

“Ha, morons,” he muttered. “Just leaving the keys laying around.” He took the keys back over to the girl and tested each one in the lock.

“Ugh, you know, it’s always the last one you try,” he said out loud, inserting the last key into the lock. It clicked and the padlock opened. The girl flinched at the loud sound the lock made. Loki turned the lock over. It was old and rusty, grinding against itself. Unhooking the lock from the chains, he set it down beside him. The chains loosened around the girl’s morbidly thin frame. Loki was surprised that the weight of the chains had not crushed the tiny girl.

“There,” he said, finally freeing her. “I bet that feels a little better.”

She sniffled. She did not dare make eye contact, not even with her savior. She swallowed hard and nodded weakly. She did not dare to run either. This stranger would surely catch her and who knows what awful things he could do then.

He stood slowly and walked back towards the water skin. She slowly sat up, following him with her gaze, his back now turned to her. He was tall and lean with long black hair. A tattered green cape hung from his shoulders, falling just below his knees. He stooped to pick up the water skin and glanced over his shoulder at her. She quickly averted her eyes again, looking for anything else on the ground to stare at. He walked back over to her and crouched.

Loki could see how terrified the little girl was of him. Deep down he felt a pang of guilt for eliciting such a reaction from something so small but he quickly batted the sentiment away. He offered her the mouth of the water skin. She turned just a bit further away.

“Come on,” he said. “You clearly need it.”

She turned back towards him, her gaze rose to the water skin. Loki noticed her eyes were the same vibrant shade of green as the plants around them. Dark circles around her eyes, caused by exhaustion, only accentuated the color more. Her face was pale and streaked with dirt and tear trails. She sniffled again. Leaning forward towards the mouth of the water skin. Loki gently edged the skin closer for her. Her eyes flinched at the movement, her lips just centimeters from the skin. She turned her head away sharply as if expecting a blow.

Loki sighed pityingly. “Come on,” he urged her, moving the water skin a bit closer to her. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She hesitated a moment before turning her head back again. Loki nodded, reassuringly. Slowly, she lifted her hand to brace the skin and put her lips around the opening. Loki gently tilted the skin upwards. As the water flowed into her mouth, she grabbed the skin with her other hand, overwhelmed by the first taste of water she had had in days. Loki let her finish it off before lowering it again.

She wiped her mouth and then licked the back of her hand, not wanting to waste a single drop. He let out a sigh. What a wretched creature. She dropped her hands in front of her, folding them in her lap and lowering her head.

“Do you have a family,” he asked.

She shook her head no, still staring at the ground.

“What happened to them?”

She took a shuddering breath. “They didn’t want me anymore.”

Loki shook his head, glancing away from her.

“Is this your home-world?” he asked.

She shook her head again.

“Where are you from? Do you know?”

She looked about on the ground for a moment, searching for a stone or a blade of grass that would give her the answer. She swallowed hard and shook her head again, dejected.

“I suppose even if you did, you wouldn’t want to go back,” he said. He nudged his foot at the chains absentmindedly, then remembered something.

“Why have you not used your magic to escape?” he asked.

Her breath caught in her throat. Chills crept up her body. Her chest began to heave. She looked up, only raising her eyes to the man’s armored chest, shaking her head frantically.

“I – I – I don’t have no magic, sir,” she choked.

He cocked his head to one side. “Really? Well, it certainly felt like you did.” He knew she was hiding something but she was far too scared to tell.

As he stood there, trying to figure out what to do with the child, her head suddenly snapped around, looking in the opposite direction. He turned round to see what she was looking at. She gasped and her hands went to her mouth, remembering what happened the last time she had tried to scream in front of the man.

At first, Loki could not figure out what the girl was hearing or seeing but the pounding footsteps that were growing ever-louder and ever-closer answered is questions.

“Oh no,” Loki said. His shoulders fell.

The monster that had knocked him out of the tree was crashing through the underbrush. He could just make out its stiff mane above the leaves of the brush. The girl scrambled to her feet and tried to run. She tripped over her self and the chains at her feet and crumpled into a ball.

“No, don’t do that!” Loki exclaimed, hauling her up by the arm. “We need to leave now!”

He ran into the trees behind them, practically dragging the girl along with him. The monster tore through the camp behind them. They could hear the sounds of wrenching metal and the breaking of wood as they ran away. The girl cried out at the noise.

“Ugh,” Loki groaned. “I don’t have time for this! I need a drink!”

He summoned the tesseract’s energy once again. A jump like what he was planning would take some serious concentration; concentration that a mad beast chasing them was disrupting. He ran, eyes half closed, hauling the girl alongside him.

“No! No!” she cried.

He could feel her pulling away from him. He looked up and saw that they were running straight for the trunk of a great tree. Groaning with the effort it took to focus the tesseract’s energy with his magic, he finally felt the vapors envelope around them. They disappeared moments before they would have collided into the tree, leaving the beast behind them careening into its base.

They both collapsed onto the ground on the other side of the portal. The girl covered her head with her hands, waiting to be trampled by the gigagrunt behind them. When she did not feel the pain of certain death, she sat up and looked around. They were in a wide meadow nowhere close to the dominating trees of the forest with no gigagrunt in sight. The sky above her was clear but two suns shined down on her face.

She blinked rapidly and shook her head but both suns were still up there. The man sat up and shook his head.

“That planet was insane!” he exclaimed. “Will not be going back there anytime soon.”

She stared at him. That was magic that he used. It made sense now. Even though his cape was torn up, his armor was accented with gold and silver all over. And he talked nice. Only rich people talked like that.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

She looked around, startled by his question. Realizing that they were completely alone and that his question truly was directed at her, she nodded.

“Yes, sir,” she said, softly, looking down at her hands.

“Good,” he replied. He stood and brushed himself off. He walked past her. She followed him with her eyes. He put his hands on his hips and looked around, then up in the sky at the double suns above them.

“I have no idea where we are,” he admitted, dropping his head. He turned back towards her. “Sometimes that happens. To be fair, we were being chased by a vicious monster so the fact we ended up on solid ground and not somewhere in the vacuum of space is rather impressive.” He stopped in front of her. “And on top of that, it’s a planet we can both breathe on! I’d say that’s pretty good for teleporting on the run.”

“Y – Yes, sir?” she said. She was not entirely sure if he was speaking to her still. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She swallowed hard. There was little sustenance in her stomach to begin with, save for maybe what was left of the water she’d drank, but it very much wanted out of her mouth. Her head began to spin and she pitched forward.

“Oh, yes, sorry,” the man said, crouching down to catch her before she fell flat on her face. “That’s pretty normal after a big jump.”

She flinched at his touch. He gently turned her onto her back. She closed her eyes, trying to make the ground stop spinning. She blanched and felt a hot flush race over her face, traveling down her neck to her chest.

Loki watched her. Her chest still rose and fell. At least she wasn’t dead. He knew that could sometimes happen too. Not to him, of course. He knew what he was doing. But this girl did not. She was small and small things sometimes have a hard time fully materializing on the other side of portals. He examined her body. Despite the obvious lack of food and water and the cuts, bruises, and scars that covered her bare skin, she seemed to be all there. She opened her eyes again.

“Am I dying, sir?” she asked, meekly.

“You don’t appear to be,” Loki replied. This seemed to calm the girl for a moment before her eyes widened in fear.

“Is this one of the hells?” she asked.

Loki wondered what sort of religion had such beautiful hells but reassured her with a smirk, “I doubt it.”

Her face twisted with fear and she asked, “Are you a demon?”

Loki smiled and hesitated a moment before answering, “Some people probably think I am -including myself occasionally- but no, I am not.”

She sighed, relieved. She blinked a few times, still trying to make the two suns turn back into one. Seeing that her blinks had failed, she began to sit up slowly.

“Welcome back,” the man said, smiling wryly. “Better?”

She nodded and then looked down seemingly disappointed in herself. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“My name is Loki,” he told her. “What’s your name?”

For the first time, her eyes met his. She seemed confused by the question at first. Loki nodded, prompting her again. She quickly looked down at her hands before looking back up at him.

“My – My name is Kuna,” she said, holding his gaze for a moment before submissively adding, “Sir.”

She wondered if he would hit her for telling him. No master ever asked her name and certainly no rich person. All the slaves she had ever seen tell a master their name were beaten so senseless. She would have forgotten hers a long time ago from disuse, if she hadn’t carved it into her wrist with a rusty nail in the stockyard.

Loki nodded. “Kuna,” he said, testing the name aloud. She dropped her head, anticipating a smack at the very least but it didn’t come. “That’s a beautiful name,” he said.

Her eyes widened at the ground below her. This must be some trick. He was not possibly being… nice to her. He stood up again and looked around. “Well, it looks to me like those suns are setting,” he observed. “We should make a camp before it gets dark.”

This was definitely the strangest rich person Kuna had ever met.

#loki #avengers: endgame #Loki series #OC #tesseract #infinity stones #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #marvel cinematic universe #loki daughter #fanfic

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kpop-forwhaat · 5 years ago

Text

how you met series

seokjin yoongi hoseok namjoon jimin taehyung jungkook

The pet store that you worked at believed in letting loose some of the animals during the day. What did that mean for you? Chaos.

Every day there’s always a cat fight, or dogs that will casually shit on the floor. It wouldn’t be too bad if there was more than one person scheduled at a time, but no. There’s not today. Because the owners, your parents, believed that you could handle it on your own for hours on end before scheduling help to cut back on costs.

What could go wrong?

A lot, that’s the answer.

“I just don’t understand why they think you can handle all of those animals, plus the reptiles in the next room by yourself?” Your best friend asks over the phone while you feed the guinea pigs.

“I don’t know, don’t get me wrong, I love my job. But sometimes, it would be nice to have someone else here, you know?” You close the guinea pig enclosure and move on to the hamsters, but not without tripping over one of the clingy cats that’s demanding your attention.

“Has anyone come into the shop today?” Her phone rings out now that she’s on speakerphone so you can add clean shavings to the hamster cage.

“No, just a few vendors picking up bags of feed for livestock and horses.” You wipe your hands on your dirty apron, moving on to the next enclosure.

In this one, the rats are. You coo at them when they run in circles, excited to be fed next. You don’t make them wait long, handing them their pellets as well as a few treats of your lunch before leaving back to the cash register where you log the feedings.

“Okay, well I have to go. I can’t be on the phone for my entire shift. But we’re still on next week for drinks, yeah?” You ask. After a quick confirmation from your friend, the call ends.

You sit there for the next hour, petting the cats, playing with the puppies, and rearranging the feeds to match the species.

The bell above the door rings in announcing a new customer entering the shop. You stand up and turn around suddenly, popping your head above a shelf. “Hello!-”

A prompt shout cuts you off, making you shout. In the doorway stands a tall man with broad shoulders. His eyes are wide as saucers, with thick lips and dark hair.

The man starts laughing after seeing you scared, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scream. You came out of no where and scared me!” He puts his hand over his heart and watches you walk around from behind the shelf where you were stocking dog shampoos.

Once your heart begins to calm down, you put down the bottles of shampoo you had almost thrown and walk towards him, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans.

He takes that moment to look at you. You’re much shorter than him, and you have an aura of shyness. The way you avoid eye contact while walking over to him makes him smile, he finds you absolutely adorable. His eyes brush over your curves as your skinny jeans hug your hips and thighs, showing a thickness that he would love to run his hands over. He bets the skin underneath the material is soft.

Your tight uniform shirt is tucked into your jeans, and it shows off your torso that you’ve been working on with your best friend. He sees the dip of your hips and feels compelled to place his hands there.

Your eyelashes flutter when you realize he’s slowly checking you out, and you flush. A man this handsome was checking you out, did he maybe see something worthwhile?

“Is there anything that I can help you with?” You cough, managing to plaster a customer service smile.

He focuses on your lips, a slight frown developing on his when he sees how fake it is. “I was hoping to find this brand of sugar glider food? I heard it’s the best and I only want the best.” He hands you a slip of paper with the printed bag of red sugar glider food.

Your eyebrows scrunch together in thought while you rack through the brands of food set on display towards the back of the store. “I believe we do have this,” you walk towards the presumed isle with him following closely behind.

Jin takes this time to think while staring at your ass. You haven’t seemed to show any recognition to who he was, any indication that you knew he was the eldest of BTS. As cute as you are, he can’t risk his career over a scandal, he has to be quite about anything he does. And a fan bragging about Jin in bed wasn’t exactly going to go over well with his managers.

You were quite shorter than him, and he found that adorable. He wanted to squish you and tell you how cute you are. You didn’t look too much younger than him, and he didn’t see a ring on your finger. He watched you look on the top shelf to locate the brand of food he was looking for, and she caught his eye.

Your cheeks heat when you realize he’s been staring at you the entire time. “Here’s the brand, but you still have to pick out a formula and flavor to really decide which you would prefer. There are also different sizing options, how many sugar gliders do you have?” Your voice is surprisingly clear and concise despite feeling flustered under his warm gaze.

His eyes shift to look at the feed, mulling his choices over. You take this split second to study him in return, finally. His features were pleasantly soft, and free of any acne. He’s wearing a black Nike cap on his dark hair, while wearing a comfortable hoodie and sweatpants combination. “I have 2, Odeng and Eomuk. They’re quite hyper when let out,” he licks his pillow soft lips, his eyes grazing back and forth over the colorful words on the packages. A cat rubs up against your leg before standing on his back legs and reaching his paws up your leg, asking for attention with a soft mewl. Your hand begins to scratch at the top of the orange tabby’s head without thought.

You blink at his deep voice. “I don’t know much about sugar gliders, but I think that’s a normal characteristic, right? But based on these formulas, from what little you’ve told me, I’d suggest this formula and because there are two I’d suggest this size.” You go into full customer service mode, a small smile on your lips.

Seokjin pays attention well to what you’re saying, genuinely interested in you and anything you have to say. He examines the choices once more before turning to you, he wanted to continue the conversation, he wanted to know more about you.

“So do you have any pets?” He pretends to mull over his options more to lengthen his time talking to you.

“Oh, only a cat, she’s my sweetheart.” You pull out your phone and immediately go to the folder in your camera roll reserved for your special animal. “She’s a tuxedo cat, and she loves belly rubs.” You stand there and show him your only child, and he takes everything in with wide curious eyes, indirectly falling in love with your baby girl as well.

You hear the front door open again, and you pop your head around to see the shift change. You quickly hide your phone and send Jin a look, nodding with your head for him to follow you. He picks up the bag he chose and follows closely after you, continuing the conversation. “I’d love to meet her, I’m not a big fan of cats but your cat just seems irresistable.”

You send a grin over your should. You’re surprised that you’re not completely opposed to introducing the closest thing to your heart to him. From what little you’ve observed, he’s charming and kind.

He places the feed on the counter as you walk behind to the register, sending a tight-lipped smile at the next employee as she hangs her jacket up on the coat rack behind the counter.

You scan the bag of food, the air between you and Jin is tense now. Neither of you know how to continue the conversation, the fact that a new set of ears nearby brings a stop to Jin’s plans to ask you for coffee.

After scanning the bag of food, you hit enter “your total is 22,500 won, sir”

“Oh, my name is Seokjin, call me Jin” he shoots finger guns at you with one hand while the other reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet.

You shift from one foot to the other, taking a side glance at your co-worker who is standing there waiting for you to clock out so she can clock in. You clear your throat and look at him, “my name is y/n”

Seokjin mumbles your name as he hands you the correct amount. “That’s a pretty name” he lets his fingertips graze your hand as yours close around the currency. You gulp and look into his warm eyes.

He opens his mouth to blurt out an invitation to dinner when your co-worker butts in “can you guys flirt after you clock out?”

You jump away from each other at her words, and you hurriedly finish the transaction. As you’re handing back his receipt, you make sure to catch his eyes as you do.

At first, Seokjin thought you were going to say your goodbyes and never see each other again. But he noticed a spark in your eye and a smile on your pretty lips. You began, “i just need to clock out and grab my jacket. Would you meet me outside?”

He’s nodding and grabbing the food before he can think, the prospect of seeing you for even a few more minutes sets his stomach into a frenzy and his heart on double time.

As he stands outside waiting for you, bag of feed already loaded into his car, he slides his mask back over his face to hide his identity to anyone on the streets that could possibly recognize him. BTS has began to really grow in popularity and he decided he didn’t need any body guards with him today, he didn’t plan on staying out long; until he met you.

He didn’t know what it was. There was something about you that drew him to you. He wanted to know more about you.

The ding of the door to the shop alerts Jin of your departure from work. You have on a large hoodie over your work shirt and a small bag on your shoulder. Seokjin spots your coworker behind you with a smirk on her lips, watching you approach him with a blazing blush across your cheeks.

You tuck your hair behind your ear, trying to forget the sex positions your coworker had told you to try out on Seokjin. You were absolutely mortified when the words poured out of her lips, the suggestions lewd and kinky, but you couldn’t deny they weren’t hot. But you literally just met the guy, and as attractive he is, especially his shoulder to waist ratio that almost had you drooling that you noticed when he turned to walk out the door.

“Hey”

“Hi”

More awkward silence.

Seokjin wants to kick himself. He thought thoroughly as to what to say when you walked out, but now he sees you here, every thought he had flew out the window. Seokjin is in the middle of trying to come up with something when something is suddenly in his line of vision.

“W-would you like to go out for lunch at this doggy cafe across town sometime? If you put your phone number in, I-I can text you a time and day...” you were so nervous that you rushed your words so fast that your syllables blurred together and your outstretched hands started to slightly shake, therefor shaking the phone that you held up to him that had a fresh contact open for his convinence.

He instantly deflates with a smile on his lips and a fond look in his eye. He decided that he wanted you. You made yourself look so small with the way you avoided looking at him that made him silently coo. He slides his hands under yours to support the phone, and chuckles.

“y/n”

Your eyes snap to meet his at the soft tone. He looks back at you and pouts his kissable lips “you’re literally so cute, how could i say no?”

#bts jin #bts #bts au #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #bts seokjin #seokjin #jin #odeng #eomuk #fanficfion #bts imagines #bts scenario #bts idol #bts fic

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 6 years ago

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Wait... WHAT? (Richie) (Part 7)

A/n: Second to last part- we’re almost there.

Word Count: 1527

Anon: Pidge

On our way to see meet the Losers per request of Bill for an emergency meeting, Bev leaned forward. “So you love Bill?”

I smiled. She was on the back of my bike as usual and we hadn’t talked about Bill or me since the day we’d broken into a fight after Eddie had been carted away by his psychotic mother. There were problems so much bigger than our love lives going on. Beverly leaving. I was still living under a bridge. We didn’t know if It was really gone. ur families were fucked up beyond healthy and we were all traumatized and deranged because of it...

“No,” I called over my shoulder. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I ever did. I loved the ice of him, you know?” I shrugged. “I didn’t know him. Now he’s like basically my older brother... even though we’re the same age.” I laughed. “He’s all yours.”

I knew she was blushing without looking, and when we stopped and Mae our way through the grass to the other Losers, I grinned at her when the sight fo the fading red confirmed it. She glared at me playfully.

The mood shifted when Bill asked us all to recount everything we could remember. Bev had the most to say, talking about the future and things that she thought were going to happen. “I don’t remember a lot but... I saw us, here. But older. And we were terrified.”

Well that didn’t bode well.

Bill stood, grabbing a piece of glass from the ground. “Promise me,” he urged, looking each and every Loser straight in the eyes. “Promise me, if It comes back, we will too.” Each of the Losers stood - Bev first, urging the rest of us to follow. As per usual. Bill cut himself first, drawing the glass across the palm of his hand. Then Richie, onto Eddie, then Ben, Mike, and Stan. He paused at me, meeting my eyes and offering a smile, nodding. I smiled back, giving my palm in response. He cut it and I hissed, wincing hard. When Bev’s turn came, he didn’t hesitate but I could tell he was different with her than with the rest of us. The way his hand held hers, readying it. She graced herself, making no noice or even blinking- only giving the slightest of winces. Her strength was ever present and annoying. She was so good for him I couldn’t imagine I had ever had a chance if they didn’t fall for each other. I could never be her, and she was what he needed.

Once he was done, Bill took his place back in the circle and we all held hands, sealing our blood vow. After a while, we dropped hands.

Stan was the firs to leave. “I hate you guys,” he told us before going, without much hate in his voice and a smile on his face. And then he left. Eddie was next, and then Ben and then Mike.

I made eye contact with Beverly and then smiled, turning and leaving. I snagged Richie, dragging him with me. He didn’t complain out loud, despite a small huff. As we walked though, he lengthened his strides so he was pulling me, shifting the hold so that we were holding hands, fingers interlaced. I watched our hands until we reached our bikes. We both paused, our eyes meeting.

“Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me something. No blood oath, just a regular old promise.”

He chuckled, but nodded. “Whatever you need I will give to you.” He winked and I didn’t even rolled my eyes because I enjoyed it so much that I couldn’t pretend not to enjoy it.

After a second’s pause, I took a deep breath. “I’m not... good. At communicating. Especially when it comes to feelings.” I rubbed the back of my neck with my free hand. “Just... look, don’t forget me okay Trashmouth? We have to stay together forever.”

I winced at how it sounded but Richie grinned. “I’m okay with that,” he mused. “I got plans, though.”

My grin shown brightly. “I’m willing to be apart of those plans, if they’re open.

“For you?” He winked. “They’re 24/7 for you, babe.” I did blush at that, but I didn’t mind. I liked his jokes and his nicknames and his stupid habits and his voice. I liked his presence and how he never failed to make me laugh. I liked his outrageous style of shorts and Hawaiian shirts and how it matched his personality. I liked how his hand felt in mine and the way the idea of kissing him felt so perfectly right in every way. I liked how he was so easy to follow, jumping around as much as I did, just at my speed. I liked how he always made time for food and how he put on this grand show, but in the little moments, he could be gentle, caring, observant, and supportive. I liked his loyalty and braver that wasn’t loud or dramatic like Bill’s but was wrong and selective and forever. I liked his curly, dark hair that made me want to run my hands through it and the way he laughed too loud and thought he was funny even in the moments she he really wasn’t. I liked how he didn’t stop talking and being himself even when everyone else was annoyed because they had no tolerance at the ripe age of thirteen.

Overall, I... I liked Richie Tozier. I had a crush on the Trashmouth, A big one. A real one. One that put my little idealistic nothings towards Bill to absolute shame.

We got on our bikes, racing to the arcade, my laughter and his innuendos echoing through the town- both of us were being too loud this time...

His hair was pulled by the breeze and his grin was so wide it hurt and his eyes sparkled in the most adorable, gorgeous way. And I watched him. I watched him ride and then I watched him play games at the arcade afterwards because I was too bad at gaming to waste my money trying. And I watched him from the corner we parted ways, when I headed towards the woods and he headed to his house. I watched the sun disappear in the sky from my little place under the Kissing Bridge and I thought about bringing Richie here. Kissing him.

I realized I would watch him to just about anything, as long as I could do it by his side.

- Time skip-

“That sounds amazing Bev,” I mused, grinning from ear to ear. It was her last day in Derry, only a few days before school started again and the Losers were chucked into high school. “I’m glad you got that kiss with him.”

She giggled, singing and running a hand through her hair. She was blushing and flustered and seeing her so happy was bittersweet because I knew that the people who made her that happy were in Derry and she was leaving. Her eyes met mine and she seemed to read my mind. “I’m going to miss you,” she whispered. The tone grew sad and I pulled her close, the both of us hugging as tightly as possible. “I love you,” he whispered. “You’re my sister, not just my best friend.”

I smiled. “I love you too, Bev. If I have to have a sister, I’m glad it’s you.” We parted, both smiling with tears eyes. “Oh don’t cry you’ll make me cry.” We both laughed and she leaned close, kissing me gently on the forehead.

“Call me once a week MINIMUM,” she reminded.

“I know,” I sighed.

Her frown came back. “Your grandma reason won’t let you get a house phone?”

Internally I winced but on the outside I just shrugged. “She’s REALLY old school, prefers pen and paper. The ringing gives her anxiety anyway.” She nodded. “But we’ll write letters and I’ll call you from payphones once a week like we planned.”

We were quiet for a long time. It was only but by someone yelling her name. She was leaving and this was our goodbye moment. Oh no... The other boys had already said their goodbyes leaving the two of us alone- just as we began. She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Good,” he sighed. “I’ll want an update on how you and that boy of yours are doing.” She stood, moving towards the car that would take her to the plane that would take her far, far away.

I stood as well, calling, “What? I don’t have a boy!”

She laughed, walking backwards to say the last thing she would say to me for the next 27 years. “Say hi to Richie for me!”

As she got in the car and it pulled way, I blushed. Was I that obvious? Geez if Beverly could see it in the short time she’d seen me and Richie together since we’d made the oath and I’d realized I liked him, then there couldn’t be much longer before everyone else knew too.

Man, I really had my work cut out for me.

#richie tozier #finn wolfhard #it #2017 #movie #imagine #imagines #I’ve been up too log writng ths god #fluff #just fluff bc I’m tied lf horror and angst ugh

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lokeanrampant · 6 years ago

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Anders & Mental Illness

Cause someone kinda spurred this Wall of Text.

You want unpopular opinion time? Here ya go: Anders is NOT mentally ill.

So what are the symptoms that people are seeing that make them see mental illness, which, for the purposes of this post, will be a medical diagnosis concerned with neural biochemistry that can never be cured, but can be managed with the assistance of medication to help correct the body’s own imbalance.

Anders DEFINITELY has post-traumatic stress disorder. Please note, this is not considered a mental illness by way of biochemistry. It is a learned behavior and associated response, an extreme form of Pavlov’s conditioning, that can be treated through cognitive therapy, medication, and time. Why does he have PTSD? Let’s go down the list:

Because he’s been trained to hate himself since he manifested magic. Not because he did something wrong, but because of how he was born. Yay, let’s teach people to hate themselves for being born.

Because he’s been taught he’s a walking weapon.

Because his own family went from being as much a family as any other (with good and bad points) to essentially calling him a monster and throwing him out like so much garbage.

Feelings of persecution because, well, he is taken from his family, called a monster, and then locked into a tower/prison to experience little to no privacy and under constant guard where any small movement, action, or thought could be met with abuse, torture, or death.

Solitary confinement – MULTIPLE TIMES. Please note, while there is not much in canon about the type of solitary confinement used, it is generally a small cell (60-80sq ft, or a 6-8’x10’ cell). This is where everything is done – eating, drinking, sleeping, reliving oneself. For Solitary Confinement:

There may be extreme sensory deprivation – there may or may not be light, sounds may be constant or none at all or that idle drip-drip-drip of condensation on stone. There is no actual human contact.

As if mages are dehumanized already, the combination of isolation and sensory deprivation furthers this dehumanization in that you will eventually start to question reality itself. Once you leave this sort of confinement, readjusting to the sights, sounds, and textures of the real world is a major hardship. Everything is too loud, too bright, too textured, too everything – it’s a total body sensory overload.

For someone so steadfastly opposed to being confined, who has escaped multiple times simply to be free? Solitary confinement is the WORST type of abuse. It’s throwing an arachnaphobic into a room full of spiders, or a claustrophobic in a tiny box, or an agoraphobic into an open field. It is their worst nightmare come to life. Short-term, it would excruciating, but multiple times with ever-lengthening terms? That creates a desperation that will lead to severe risk-taking, extreme levels of anxiety, a desperate need-to-please to avoid that situation again (very Stockholm Syndrome), and suicidality. But of course, the institution that does all this doesn’t care. One less mage to worry about.

From an RL-perspective, the United Nations has classified anything over 15days in solitary confinement “constitutes cruel, degrading and inhumane treatment, or torture.” For someone who is mentally ill already (again, see above), the pressures exerted on the human psyche for such extended periods of time would resolve into a complete psychological break.

Based on all of that? It’s a wonder Anders is functional at all, though we know people who have survived such things and live with PTSD and can be function. It shows a pure strength of self and major resilience. THAT we do see in Anders.

So now we’re going to look at the why so many see the shift between DAA and DA2 Anders as absolutely signs of mental illness. So DA2 was a rushed mess with a seriously unreliable narrator and essentially decided to disregard almost everything from DAA. Remarkable storytelling, there, BioWare. Good on ya. *rolls eyes*

DAA Anders. Ah, yes, the sassy, snark-driven flirt that everyone adores. It’s called OVERCOMPENSATION. Anders knows full well if this last escape attempt doesn’t work, he is, quite literally, a dead man. While he has no fucks left to give on many levels, he will fight that one tooth and nail. He would rather die than go back to solitary or be given a lobotomy. He will rail against authority, but anyone who gives him an ounce of positive reinforcement, an ounce of kindness, that is something to which he will cling with desperation and do anything to keep that positivity occurring. Especially if it can in some way prevent what he fears the most. So he flirts, is charming, is sassy, is snarky, and is HELPFUL. He may have a mouth on him, but he IS helpful. He wants to ingratiate himself. It’s also a self-defense mechanism where if he can deflect everything with wit and sass, no one will actually know what terrifies him the most and give them leverage over him. He can’t afford that vulnerability.

But he cannot hide the anger – that is there, in spades and then some. He remembers enough of his life before the Circle to know there is a better life. He is angry for everything he has felt in the Circle, for all the people who were hurt there, for how he was hurt there, for how anything resembling any sort of goodness was stripped away, beaten out, abused, or killed. They were not allowed anything truly good in their lives and he had had that, tasted it, wanted it. Knew it was there. So he is angry, furious, fighting so hard to be free and be allowed to breathe and just be him, not some monster they kept telling him he was. He didn’t feel like a monster, he didn’t want to be a monster, but he was still terrified he was one.

And so he becomes a Warden – mostly because he can and as yet another last-ditch effort (he has a lot of those) to break free from the tyranny of the Circles and his impending death sentence at the hands of the templars. The Wardens should be his escape. They are an organization beholden to NONE. Their backgrounds effectively cease to exist, for the most part. It doesn’t matter if they are rogue, warrior, thief, murderer, or mage – once they are joined, they are Wardens. And if it weren’t for the continued persecution of the templars who simply cannot stop being assholes, who knows what might have happened. He did already exhibit traits of fighting for freedom, his own if no one else’s, at this point. Justice helped him see that there were more people oppressed and made him start thinking about that.

For all the extra time he had before being taken to the Circle, Anders is still young. Though there are no canonical ages mentioned, general thought is that DAA Anders is early-20s. And the Circles are geared toward keeping mages naïve and helpless, to keep them like young children so they are, by necessity, required to rely upon their captors for survival. Anders has a bit more independence going into that environment than many, which is how he continued to fight and get himself in trouble. He’s very strong-willed with a drive for independence, but he’s still effectively in the mindset of a troubled teen.

Yet with all of that, there really isn’t any mental illness. There is the PTSD, the anxiety and paranoia, the overcompensation, all from truly legitimate and horrifying experiences that would leave multiple symptoms of lasting impact in varying extremes. Again, PTSD is a learned response to stimuli. He is reacting based on previous experiences and results. And it absolutely influences day-to-day interactions even if the experience is in the past, because the key part of PTSD is that the past is NOT the past, it is still actively influencing the present, even if those stimuli are not actively in the present.

So let’s talk DA2 Anders. This is actually my preferred Anders. Why? Because he has grown up. He’s been given the TIME to actually figure himself out to a degree outside the confines of the Circle. And do you know what he found? That is has mountains of strength and compassion to give to others. That he can say NO to some things. Do you have any idea how difficult is to say NO when you’ve been indoctrinated like that? It’s one of the hardest things in the world to do and even when you learn it and can say it, it can still be such a struggle to fight to listen to yourself and your feelings and not fall prey to that belief that it would simply be better for everyone if you said yes, no matter how horrible it may be for you to do so.

Anders in DA2 is a semi-to-mostly-functioning adult, as any adult would be after going through his life experiences, but all in all, he’s actually doing okay for himself. He’s managing. Sometimes, that is the absolute best we can manage. We find out that he merged with Justice from DAA. A lot of people will claim this, in and of itself, makes him bipolar or, at the very least, the outdated Multiple Personality Disorder (now Dissociative identity disorder), wherein there are a minimum of two distinctly separate identities that persist. On the outside? Eh, I can sorta see it…EXCEPT. Justice isn’t Anders splitting his psyche into multiple pieces. Justice is JUSTICE, a Spirit of the Fade. A personality in and of itself/himself (and this particular personification of Justice chooses to be male, so male pronouns from here on out). Justice isn’t a fragment of Anders’ personality. He is a spirit who inhabits a living form that already has a soul. YOU LITERALLY HAVE TWO SOULS IN ONE BODY. This is not a mental illness, this is spirit possession. So DID can go straight out the window on this one.

And then there’s that whole spirit/demon thing. Justice IS NOT a demon. He’s one hell of a hard ideal, in spirit form. I have an entire essay written about Fade Entities, but that’s another topic. Needless to say, Justice isn’t some cute lil cricket on Anders’ shoulder. Justice is a burning ideal in a world full of injustices. And Justice, as we can see in DAA, is actively learning about the world around him. He becomes, essentially, a very protective elder brother to Anders as you can see Justice only really breaks out and takes control in DA2 when Anders is clearly at breaking point and under severe emotional distress. Imagine Hawke going to bat for their younger sibling in times of distress and you have Justice, wielding the blue fire and lighting of the Fade. Justice allows Anders to know there is someone always looking out for him, who always has his back. He allows Anders to feel a modicum of safety and gives him that push to allow him to be who he is. He is, in a word, family. Not easy, not kind, not always loving, but he is the chosen family – the blood of the covenant, not of the womb – and that much stronger for it.

Justice gave Anders a type of companionship after years of solitary confinement that no one else could. Justice helped anchor Anders, even though he pushes him hard. Spirits can learn (Justice does, Cole does, even Wynne’s Spirit of Faith does) and they learn their environments and hosts if need be. But inhabiting the living body of someone who has experienced everything Anders has? It makes Justice very protective and very angry, but that doesn’t make him a demon. It actually makes him more human. He feels righteous fury at those who hurt his friend and continue to hurt him and others like him. He feels insulted and personally attacked whenever he is called demon because he knows Anders’ fears about himself and Justice and their merging and he would never want anything like that to hurt his friend or for he, himself, to fall to that. But he hasn’t. Justice is still Justice and still that same ideal. To warp Justice into a demon would require Justice brutalizing everything he is and warping the ideal of justice into something else entirely. And vengeance doesn’t count here – they are two sides of the same coin, which is why you often see vengeance called vigilante justice. If the order of the world dictates that those in power do not provide justice, then vigilantism is the justice they receive. I’m not even entirely sure what Justice could become if he was able to be warped enough into a demon, actually, no, I take that back, he would become Zealotry – the brute enforcement of an ideal, fanatical enforcement of an idea with no regard anything but that. And that is NOT Justice. There are much better examples of zealotry in Thedas.

Does Anders have aggressive self-defense mechanisms? Oh hell yes. He actually aggressively overacts to quite a few things to the point Hawke really should have smacked him upside the head a few times. But it goes back to that old saying where it’s not paranoia if they’re actually out to get you. And yes, they are actively and actually out to get Anders. Yet for all of this? For all that he remains hunted, for all that his very existence is hated and persecuted and reviled? He starts up a free clinic. He uses his magic to heal people without asking for anything in return, except maybe to be left alone and maybe, just maybe get a warning if the templars are too close. He has so much compassion, even after everything he has experienced. He cares enough to not want others to experience what he has experienced.

So let’s get back to mental illness. I see a lot of references to manic episodes. Now, I know that everyone who is diagnosed with BPD, I or II, experiences their own form. It’s different for everyone. I have BPD II and have only experienced medication-induced manic episodes and YIKES – I don’t know how anyone deals with those on a regular basis at all. I get the funzies of depressive episodes, sometimes so badly they will pull me under. Sometimes, so badly that yes, suicide is at the forefront of my thoughts. A lot of that has to the with the diagnosed PTSD and self-hatred that I have been trained to have. Indoctrination is a bitch. Therapy is helping, but it took years to get this shit diagnosed even after years ago, I had done enough research to kind of diagnose myself. But no one wanted to believe me when I brought it up as a possibility. People see other people functioning, to the most basic appearances, normally, and they hand-wave away the idea that there might be a problem. So that said, let’s take a look at manic episodes.

I’m going with a firm NO on this one. The closest thing I can see to manic episodes are when Anders is working almost feverishly on his manifesto. No abject risk-taking that was any more prevalent than his multiple escape attempts. The closest thing we have to that is him running a free clinic and the mage underground in Kirkwall. Hell, him breathing in Kirkwall is risk-taking. But the manifesto nights? It’s less manic and more avoidance, in my mind. I’ve done it. It’s keeping so busy that you don’t have time to think about the bad things that are constantly in your head. Keep busy, keep healing, keep writing, keep fighting and for the love of all that is good, DON’T SLEEP. Don’t let the dreams in, don’t be helpless and vulnerable. Work until you’re so exhausted and you don’t dream, then wake exhausted again and do it again. This is PTSD-anxiety at work combined with night terrors. He is terrified of going to sleep, of being vulnerable to attack, of the nightmares of not just the taint, but of dark spaces and helplessness and the Fade and memories of failures, all those he couldn’t protect. He drives himself so hard so he doesn’t have to think of those things. It’s a defense mechanism. It’s mostly utilized for anxiety and depression when dealing with PTSD or with basic extreme stress/duress and grief, and his history clearly can point to when those started.

Oh, wait, I mentioned depression up there, didn’t I? Hey, that’s a mental illness! Yes, it is. Absolutely. But you can be depressed without having the mental illness/biochemistry maladaptation. Damned genetics. ANYWAY. PTSD causes extreme reactions, stress and duress, anxiety, and yes, depression. You can’t escape the anxiety, the fear responses, the need to either work yourself to the bone or sleep away the pain. In Anders’ case, it’s working himself so he doesn’t dream. Guess what happens when you do that to yourself over and over and over again? The body isn’t designed to go without sleep and proper rest. Those of us with sleep disorders will tell you (and it’s in the medical literature if you care to research it) that that degree of sleep deprivation will cause depression. It’s not necessarily a matter of biochemistry, but that of situational body adaptations to not being able to recuperate.

So there it is in a very large nutshell – my thoughts on why Anders is NOT mentally ill. I get that some people want to see themselves in their favorite characters. I relate to Anders on many levels, but I cannot put my diagnoses on him.

#dragon age #anders #justice #daa #da2 #ptsd #ptsd vs mental illness due to biochemistry #wall of text #anders - mental health

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

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Loki's Daughter Trigger warnings - Child slavery, mental illness and past abuse.

TITLE: Loki’s Daughter CHAPTER/ONE SHOT: Chapter One: Saved

AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around.