#for a very very long time children would automatically belong to the father in a divorce or separation

[strawberryteabunny]

I do really agree with Austen about a better marriage with someone of good, steadfast character who can respect and treat you well, rather than someone you might have a passionate connection with but don’t actually know how they’ll treat you years or decades down the line. Like okay, I do find Mr. Collins a horrific bore, but we don’t ever get the sense from him that he’d be cruel to his wife- which in that time period when divorce was so inaccessible and women’s rights so few is incredibly important. Wickham? Idk. We know he lies, gambles, and has a habit of seducing young girls- I don’t have much hope for how he’ll treat Lydia as she gets older or if their finances take a hit.

I will say though that it could have been possible for the Bennet girls to become governesses- 1813 is a little early but just a decade or so later governesses would start to become increasingly popular and not much care was taken about their education, just their class. I can’t say how the Bennets specifically would fare because they also might not have been of good enough character (Lydia’s scandal would have hurt them a lot in that case too) but it was starting to become more of an option.

In the Victorian era as the idea took shape that a lady cannot do any kind of work, governessing became the only possible occupation for high-class women that lost their fathers (or husbands) and had no other way to support themselves. From everything I’ve read though it was still a very miserable way to live, because you weren’t one of the servants in the house but you also weren’t part of the family- so you were just alone, and with almost no marriage prospects, because a gentleman had better options and a working-class man would want a wife that was actually useful to him, not someone who was just preparing for marriage to a gentleman. (Successive finishing schools and governesses just churning out more Mrs.Bennet-types…)

The state of womens’ education was abysmal at this time, since again the upper class (and now, upper middle and middle class as they imitated the rich and fashionable) wanted their women to be purely decorative, so women would learn to speak a bit of some foreign languages, an instrument, a bit of painting and fancy needlework- but any practical skills that could potentially be put to use to work were forbidden. These same women, when they became governesses, were equally useless at teaching other girls- because you can’t educate your daughters to be good teachers at things like history, mathematics, geography, cooking, sewing, etc. or you’re implying you expect them to have to become governesses!* It’s an endless cycle of women receiving and perpetuating terrible educations. And once a governess gets too old, she has no marriage prospects and few skills, and they often died in poverty at that point. (In earlier centuries, a governess was only for the very wealthy, so they were paid well, well-educated, and could count on receiving support even after ‘retirement’ or being kept on for multiple generations, and sometimes even became friends with their pupils or were considered family, but that’s not how an upper-middle class Victorian family saw their household staff)

*the exception was usually daughters of clergy, who were in a weird limbo of being considered well-bred but also grew up expecting to work, so they usually received a bit better education as children themselves. But most women suddenly finding themselves needing to work as governesses had generally gone to finishing schools instead, which taught “ladylike” skills on the assumption that you would never need to work or support yourself financially. (Even with the reality that there weren’t nearly enough eligible bachelors wealthy enough to support all these girls and their social-ladder-climbing ambitions… yikes.)

If none of them married, how desperate would the Bennett girls actually have been?

Well the only dowry they have is £50 apiece from their mother’s small inheritance, per year; so that’s a total of £250 generated by Mrs. Bennet’s inherited investments per annum.

The Dashwoods (four women) are living on £500 a year when they are forced to live in Barton Cottage (with good-will making the rent presumably ridiculously low thanks to Sir John Middleton’s good nature, to say nothing of all the dinners and outings he invites the ladies to, which will help them economize on housekeeping costs for heavier meals.)

So there would be six Bennet women left to live on half as much as the Dashwoods are barely scraping by on. £250 is roughly considered enough to keep ONE gentleman at a barely-genteel level of leisure (presuming he does not keep a horse or estate or have any major expenses beyond securing his own lodgings/clothes/meals at a level becoming of a gentleman.)

None of the Bennet girls have been educated well enough for them to be governesses to support themselves, so…yes, their situation would heavily rely on mega-charity from others to just help them survive, much less maintain them in the lifestyle they’ve been accustomed to. The Dashwood women have NO social life beyond the outings provided by Sir John and the offer of Mrs. Jennings to host the older girls in London–otherwise they’d be stuck in their cottage, meeting absolutely no eligible men, creating a cycle of being poor and unmarried and too poor to meet anyone with money they could marry.

If the Bennet girls don’t at least have ONE of them marry well enough to help the rest before their father dies, they are really, truly, deeply fucked.

They may joke about beautiful Jane being the saviour of the family, but…it’s true. Mr. Bennet failed his daughters several times over in A) presuming he’d have a son, B) not saving money independently from his income to support his family after his death when it became clear he wasn’t going to have a son, C) not educating them well enough to enable them to support themselves in even in the disagreeable way of being a governess, D) not making any effort to escort his daughters to London or even local assemblies to help their matrimonial chances because he just doesn’t feel like it, E) throwing up his hands and shrugging when faced with the crises of Mr. Collins and Wickham.

Much as we are relieved on a romantic level that Mr. Bennet’s support of Elizabeth saves her from parental pressure to accept Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet is NOT A DICK for pushing for the match, because on a material level it very much means they get to KEEP THEIR HOUSE and gain a connection to the powerful patron Lady Catherine de Bourgh, which could be VERY advantageous for the other unmarried girls.

And the scandal of Wickham very nearly scuppers the chances of ANY of the other girls, and Wickham is a further DRAIN on the family finances, not a man who is going to substantially be able to support them. It is SUCH a disaster, and of course there’s not much Mr. Bennet can do until they are found, but he’s away in London and doing…what, exactly? Mr. Gardiner takes over and manages everything and Mr. Bennet seems happy to just let him.

Mr. Bennet does the ABSOLUTE LEAST, and actively damages his children’s futures by his inaction AND by his one action to support Lizzie’s individual needs being prioritized over the collective gain, which…I mean, Lizzie is going to be JUST as homeless and destitute as her sisters when he dies, so much good being Dad’s Favourite is going to do her. :/

[thedeafprophet]

Character Summary: The Malignant Assassin

Aurora 'Rory' Winn

Pronouns: She/they

Ambition: Bag A Legend

Profession: Licentiate

Main Skills: Dangerous, Shadowy, Monstrous Anatomy

Main Quirks: Ruthless, Heartless, Forceful

They say…

Whispers in the night speak of an assassin who will find you no matter where you hide. If she meets your eyes be mindful - you may already be doomed.

Further Write Up Under The Cut

(Warnings for some period typical sexism/expectations, murder, and some spoilers for Bag A Legend ambition)

Backstory

Though she'd be hardpressed to remember the location of such, Aurora was born on February 2nd, 1874. Aurora's birth parents cared deeply for their daughter, but care does not automatically equal abilitiy. Like many children of the time, her parents were unable to afford to take care of her, and at the age of 4, 1878, Aurora was surrendered to an orphange. Her parents always intended to come back for her once they had the means too, but that was not to be.

Aurora was 6 years old when Arthur Winn, a weapon's manufacturer stationed in Birmingham, and his wife Lenora came to the orphanage. The two had been unable to have biological children of their own, and, with Lenora's great desire to be a mother, the path lead them here, and to Aurora.

Aurora's relationship to her parents was... strenuous, to say the least. A couple on shakey terms, trying to follow closely on societies terms, with no prior knowledge on raising a child couldnt have led to anything else. Lenora was overbearing, Arthur often distant and aloof, and Aurora was caught in between, complicated, and confused. Aurora was brought up in a way to fit the demands of a proper lady, yet no matter how she tried to fit herself within the mold, one cannot meld themself into a shape they do not belong in.

Sometime in her teens, Aurora first was introduced to fencing - her mother was against the prospect, but somehow her father was encouraging, and thus the tutorage began. Aurora took to fencing immediatly, an outlet for the budding rage and anger that was beginning to boil inside her, practicing form and poise as she pracitced with her blade. She attended any competition she was allowed in, though even still, there was limits due to her very nature of birth.

Perhaps it was this budding rage and violence brewing within that led to a chance encounter on the surface, or perhaps it was simply concidence. (surface veils fic by R)

Regardless, there was incidents, places of sharp blades being where they shouldnt have. Of course. no word of this would ever trace back to Aurora, her parents would ensure that.

Things came to a head within her family at last when Aurora was in her 20s - many years of refusing suitors and marriage could only be put off for so long, and her mother was at her wits end. Aurora's cousin would be the one set to inheiret from her father, and without ensuring a proper match for Aurora, Lenora could do nothing to ensure the future of her daughter. She won't be around to cover for Aurora forever, and auroras getting older now too-

Aurora tried, she truly did. But she just couldnt bring herself to go through with it. Before she could be wed to anyone, Aurora fled without word to her family, disapearing off into the night, following a call of wherever her feet would take her.

Aurora came to the neath in 1899, at 25 years old.

Game Timeline

Rory's introduction to the neath was... interesting. On her own for the first time, truly without limits or guidance... well, she didnt quite know what she was doing. It wasn't long before she found an outlet for her rage, from fighting and duels to hunting and killing.

From being a hired enforcer to becoming a murderer, it was only a matter of time before Rory truly became a bringer of death. The licentiate's path, a killer for hire, spoke to her in a specific way. Once blood began to spill, she couldn't see it stopping, a red path at her heels marking her very nature.

Her aim to hunt the vake came between all that - or did it inspire it? Either way, that path had been set. A true testement to her abilities that would be, to kill what no one else had managed

The first loss had dealt a brutal hit to her ego, but fueled her only more with spite.

It was during this that Rory met April, a companion and true help in her aim to kill the vake. It was more then that though, that made Rory so fascinated by April - someone so smart, so interesting, so passionate, so moved... Rory didnt know what to do with these feelings. She didnt even know what they were. But they were strong nonetheless, and only led Rory to a greater want to be near April, to let her tend to her wounds.

To have someone she promised she would return to. That she wouldnt be another one lost in the mission of the hunt.

As the hunting progressed, Rory lost more and more of herself into that rage, into that calling, the urge to kill and maim and destory only fueled by the blood she had ingested. Her nails were claws, her teeth sharp points, sense honed to keen levels, always on the prowl.

Even when the vake lay dead at her feet, all pieces hunted, stalked, severed; Even then, the urge called to Rory.

But with nothing left to hunt, no further worthy adversary, what more was there to do?

Lost adrift within the bounds of urge, Rory only worked further into assassinations, that perhaps if she spilled enough blood, that would be enough. It never was.She remianed lost in the call of the hunt and the violence, no further adversaries left her to chase, alone in her monstrous nature, forgetting anything else she could have ever been.

If one becomes a monster in order to kill the monster, how much of the person remains? When does the line between the self and the call severe, where does on start and the other begin?

Perhaps, in time, something of the human could be saved.

[annievvv7]

Ahh, thank you for the quick answer! This is why you are the author and not me, your reasoning is so much better. Yes, now I can see why they wouldn't be afraid of him especially that I also headcanon he was always present in his kids dreams as a form of imaginary friend almost all kids have at some point in their lives. And about the claiming; yes, I also think he put up a kind of automatic claiming spell to be able to claim his kids the moment they arrived. Because I have this theory, he doesn't expect his kids to do some big wonderful stuff like the other Gods. He is proud of them even if they never do anything useful or heroic. Most of the other Gods only have claimed their kids when they proved themselves to be worthy. And this is where another theory of mine comes into the picture; that how slowly the Gods can change and incorporate modern parenting strategies:

What they are doing; this whole, kids have to prove themselves was very much the running parental style in ancient times even amongst the mortals. I mean in the times of Athen and especially Sparta, kids were not loved in the moder sense they were born to be useful and help their parents. I mean

According to an Open University online course, "The first century CE writer Plutarch explains that Sparta had a ritual by which newborn babies were judged by the elders and those thought unfit to be allowed to live were left at the foot of Mount Taygetus. However, no other source tells us this about Spartan practices, and no infant remains have been found at this site." While bones have been found at the site, a study determined they all belonged to adolescents and adults. - Wikipedia

So, whatever happened or not happened with the babies the fact remains: all children of ancient times had a rough childhood where they were brought up to be soldiers from age 6 is exactly the same what the Gods expect from their modern children, basically to be their soldiers and servants. It is normal to them and they don't care enough to research about children's mental health issues and how harmful were the old, toxic and abusive ways. However, Apollo, as the God of Knowledge and Healing also the Protector of youth who generally loves children easily picked up and understood the results of new researches and tried to incorporate them into his parental style as best he could and as best he could get away with Zeus. And even in ancient times, he was way better than the others.

Also, if we assume the Taygetus thing was real, I have this headcanon that he tried to save those abandoned mortal kids by bringing them to his sacred places and giving them to his nymphs to be raised as temple servants or priest/priestess. He did this with his own son Anius and made him his priest but I can see he would do this for any children. This is why no one has found children bones at Taygetus and this is where his epithet of protector of youth originates. Those children were not weak in his eyes just not soldiers but perfect artists/performers.

Sorry for the long post; I am just so excited to find people equally eager to love and discuss Apollo.

I even could see this in your fics; the way you write him being understanding and kind to his kids always listens to them and encourages them to express their feelings and tell him their real opinions. He doesn't indoctrinate them the way Athena does. He always wants them to talk out their problems and to call on him if they need his help. Also, I noticed he never really expects anything from his kids; he solves his own problems and never orders his kids to do him favors. He does not oblige them to do anything. He is trying to be a good modern father who puts his children before his own needs whereas the other Gods just want kids to have more servants to order around and most of them keeping them in fear. They cannot even complain about minimal things or they risk to be hurt or even killed. Some of the Gods maybe are exceptions; especially Hermes who is at least trying to be more modern in this front but still, Apollo is way ahead of everyone else.

Okay, this is long sorry about that...

One more thing: thank you for all of your beautiful fics especially for Eclipse bc after reading the Sun and Star book I was so disappointed and you have save my feelings with that better more heart-warming story.

@tsarinatorment thanks 💛💛💛🥰🥰🥰🤗🤗

Hi, Tsari! I am quite new to the Trials of Apollo fandom and new to the whole Percy Jackson Universe in general. I have already read some of your fics and they are all so beautifully written with the perfect wording and eloquence. All those heart-warming scenes that totally could fit in the actual books always warm my heart. Thank you.

I have a question though. Sorry if you've already answered something similar.

So, I'm thinking a lot about that scene where Apollo admits he forgot Yan, Gracie and Jerry's existence and I think that's only because of the whole mortal brain is so weak thing. He cares about his children even before they would arrive at Camp. As the God of Knowledge, he must remember everything especially people he loves. So, do you think would he feel embarrassment or guilt after ascending into Godhood again?

I think he would definitely apologize to them and basically re-introduce himself and would tell them he loves them no matter what happens and he is so proud of them how they handled themselves at Nero's tower. I just imagine a cute scene with lots of tears from the kids as well as from him. Also, first his kids would be definitely worried why a powerful God would want to talk to them. They don't know Apollo yet and Will or any other of their older siblings one day would just nonchalantly drop the bomb that they should go to the cabin bc Apollo is waiting for them to talk about something. They would definitely be terrified even if they got some stories about how Apollo is a chill, lay back father. But knowing something and experiencing something is two different things.

Oh, the angst, can you imagine? Poor Apollo is already on the edge blaming himself for his stupid mistake thinking he would never be able to repair their relationship and the first thing he notices that his kids are afraid of him. And then throughout the scene everything resolves and the kids understand that they are allowed and encouraged to express their real feelings and opinions even if that is not so flattening or respectful towards their father. And now they know what their older siblings mean when they say their father is different from the other Gods. So, happy end. Sorry for the long ask.

So, the actual ask is that do you think would he apologize and if yes, how would he do?

I don't know I just love that 3 new kids and there are so little stories about them. I just need them be cute with Apollo. Apollo is a good father and he cares about all of his children.

Hello! Welcome to the fandom, and I'm glad you're enjoying my stuff (I've spotted your name in my emails quite a lot recently; very much appreciated :D)

The TON Trio, as they're usually nicknamed, are fascinating on several levels, because of how they appear and what Apollo says about them, and while it's not something you mentiooned specifically in your ask, the first big question that always crops up with me about them is - how were they claimed?

Like, clearly they are - they're in Cabin Seven, no-one has any doubts that they're his kids - but also, they arrived while he was a mortal. Apollo himself couldn't have claimed them, but if they were still unclaimed they'd be in Cabin Eleven, even if they knew in advance that they were Apollo kids, because camp can't run the risk of putting kids in gods' cabins on their own word because what if the kid is lying? You'll have offended gods left, right and centre and that's not a good thing.

Apollo, ofc, we know would be delighted to let any kids stay in his cabin if he could, but camp politics (or more likely, Zeus' paranoia) has said no, and that still doesn't equate for the slighted gods whose offspring they actually were, etc... But I digress a bit here.

So: Apollo is mortal, Apollo cannot claim his kids, but his kids have still been claimed. This is where my various thoughts about Apollo being the patron of the camp etc. come into play, but specifically the headcanon I have that none of his kids have ever spent a night unclaimed in the camp - the theory that makes the most sense to me, personally, about how the TON trio were claimed, is that Apollo, when first setting the camp's protective borders up (because he was clearly involved with that), built in some sort of catch-all, where the camp can claim his kids on his behalf if he doesn't do it by sundown etc. Given he's the camp's founder, I don't think it's unrealistic to assume that would have been possible to set up, and it also explains how the TON trio are claimed without his personal intervention.

Why did Apollo set something like that up? Because he is, honestly, a good father (by god standards - he is, of course, a terribly neglectful one by mortal standards, but he's very clearly the best of the godly parents, as evidenced by how his kids act around him compared to what we see with other godly parent-demigod child relationships, yes, even Percy and Poseidon, but that is an essay for another time I see that ask in my inbox about their relationship, person who asked; I will get there eventually). His kids adore him, Will is not afraid to call him out on things, Will is not afraid to call out people trying to claim Apollo wants them all dead (see: BOO) even when his dad's been silent for months...

And this all suggests that Apollo is very present in his kids lives (again, by god standards). Will points out that Apollo not answering prayers for a month is weird enough that it worries the cabin, and I don't see why Apollo's dream visits needed to start when they arrived at camp.

So this is a headcanon of mine, admittedly, but I think Apollo lingers in his kid's dreams periodically their entire lives. They just don't know it's Apollo that happens to be the reoccurring figure in their dreams until they get to camp and he can finally introduce himself.

Where does this fit in with the TON trio? Well, this headcanon of mine means that Apollo's been in contact with them since they were very young, too. They don't know it was him, they don't know their absent father is a god, but the contact is there - and then it stops, but it's just dreams so maybe they grew out of that particular dream?

But then they get to camp, they're claimed as Apollo's kids and told by Will, Austin and Kayla about what's happening to their dad at the time. They learn second-hand about the figure in their dreams, and maybe they're disappointed or even resentful that they didn't hear it first-hand, like their siblings did, but they learn.

Then Apollo gets to camp, and he doesn't really recognise them but they don't recognise him, either. This isn't the sunshine goof in their dreams, this is some average-looking teenager with a broken nose that they first saw passed out like a loser in their cabin. It's awkward all around.

Apollo even comments on that, that none of them really react to him, either as their father or as a god. It's all a bit awkward and stilted between them and it's not the meeting any of them, TON trio or Apollo, were hoping for.

So yes, I do think that after this is all over, he spent time with them, back in the form they were familiar with (while this was never mentioned in the epilogue, he definitely spent time with all his kids, not just Will, so it would've happened them). Introduced himself properly, with all the recollections of them back in his mind, possibly even re-claimed them, so they knew that they were, without any doubt, both his and loved.

I don't think they were ever scared of him, though. It's a little hard to be scared of someone you've always known, even if you didn't know it at the time, and also of someone you've seen so low in their own life, especially when your siblings are so comfortable and happy with them.

Not the arrival at camp they deserved, or that Apollo wanted for them, or that in hindsight they wanted, either. But in the end, a little bit out of order, it would have happened.

[intercoursefluids]

You Lied to Me?

The Wayne Enterprises building was the most beautiful building Marinette had ever seen. The tour guide was a very sweet man and he loved telling jokes to try to get the class to laugh.

Unfortunately, Lila was on a roll today, lying about knowing the Waynes and growing up with the youngest son, and finding out that they were true mates.

Even if she was claiming that her true mate was Prince Ali a week before the trip was announced, god forbid Marinette points that out and makes Lila shed her crocodile tears.

Even Adrien, her own mate, took Lilas's side and yelled at her for pointing out her lies when she should just stay quiet.

It ended up leading into a huge argument between them that Marinette had to apologize for to get him to talk to her after 3 long weeks of him ignoring her existence.

“Bruce Wayne funds multiple charities around the world in honor of his late parents, he has several adoptive children and a single blood son. Bruce typically keeps his children out of the spotlight and most Gothamites are very good about keeping pictures with them off of the internet.”

As the tour guide talks, Marinette reaches out her hand for Adrien's just for him to brush her off and step away from her.

Wrapping her arms around herself she leaves his side to stand next to the tour guide. At least he tells jokes and tries to make this interesting.

Damian's POV:

“Master Damian, you should start heading to the office if you want to catch Master Dick before his lunch break is over.”

Running his hands over his face he thanks Alfred before grabbing his jacket and starting his car up.

He needed Dick to sign off on his trip to Paris, France since he was his temporary guardian until Father got back from his honeymoon with Selina.

Pulling up to the building he stops. Not because of the bright yellow bus sitting in the parking lot, no, it's because of the intoxicating scent of baked goods, plants, and rain wafting through the air.

Following the smell leads him to the tour group Grayson is leading into the cafeteria.

Walking to Grayson's side he passes him the permission slip, trying to understand why he wants to be near the Blue haired angel getting a lunch tray.

“Grayson, how can you tell if you’ve found your true mate?”

Grayson startles looking up from signing the papers.

“Well, their scent is one way, they will smell like absolute heaven to you and you can’t help but follow it. Another way is that when you see them you want to touch them so you can get your scent on them as well, and when you do touch them, it's electrifying. Literally and figuratively. Do you think you found them?”

Damian nods, his eyes following his mate as she looks for a table to sit at.

“She’s right there. The one with the blue hair.”

Grayson smiles, clapping Damian on the shoulder.

“She’s pretty.”

Damian snorts responding without even thinking.

“She’s beautiful, Grayson. ‘Pretty’ doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

Grayson coos at Damian, being thoroughly ignored.

Damian starts walking towards her, intent on introducing himself when he catches another scent just beneath hers.

Another male’s scent.

He freezes in place making Grayson stop his cooing to instead question him.

“What's wrong? Is it not her?”

Damian watches as she walks to a seat at an empty table away from the rest of her group.

“She-”

Damian cuts off as he watches someone stick out their foot and trip her. Her lunch spills everywhere as she falls to the floor.

Not thinking twice he rushes over to her, holding out his hand and helping her up.

Just like Grayson said little shocks travel up and down his arm and he finds himself never wanting to let go.

She has the most beautiful blue eyes he's ever seen and the most angelic voice he's eve- Oh wait she's talking.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped, I’m so sorry!”

Damian just shakes his head, motioning for one of the janitors to come over and clean up the mess.

When he arrives she automatically drops down beside him to help pick up the mess muttering apologize the entire time.

Damian shifts his hand to her shoulder, subconsciously marking her with his scent and trying to overpower the other males.

“It’s fine honey, this stuff happens all the time. Why don’t you go hop back in line and get another tray? We wouldn’t want you to go hungry now.”

With the janitor's gentle prodding she finally stands up and gets another tray.

On her way back, Damian makes sure to keep an eye out for anyone else who wants to trip her.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly as she takes a seat at the table she was heading to and Damian watches her from his spot next to his brother.

Everything goes fine until they are about to finish the tour. A guy with blonde hair roughly grabs the girl with blue hair pulling her off to the side.

“Ow! Adrien, what’s wrong?”

Damian watches from Grayson's side, wanting to go help but certain she can handle herself.

“You know exactly what you did, Marinette. Don’t play stupid.”

A low growl leaves his chest as his mate is insulted.

“Adrien, you’re not making any sense. What did I do?”

He grabs both her wrists, shaking her violently.

“You belong to me! You are mine Marinette! Trying to get me jealous by flirting with that other guy? Really?! How low can you sink?! It's pathetic!”

She pushes away from him, rubbing at her wrists with the start of a bruise forming.

Damian starts to make his way over, a low, vicious rumbling in the back of his throat.

Grayson, seeing how mad Damian follows him.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I wasn’t flirting with anyone! I fell because Lila stuck her foot out and tripped me! It wasn’t my fault!”

Their argument starts to attract the attention of the other workers, a few running to find security.

Damian starts running as he watches the guy's hand clench before raising it.

He strikes her. Hard.

‘Marinette’ being caught off guard, loses her balance and falls to the ground, turning to look at him before he roughly grabs her by one of her pigtails and pulls her up to his face, and screams at her.

“Don’t talk back to me! I own you and you will do as I say! Do you understand?!”

She pushes him away.

“Whoever decided that you were my true mate was wrong. Dead wrong!”

He snarls, pulling his fist back to strike her.

Damian gets there first.

The next thing everyone knows is Damian Wayne is standing protectively in front of the girl and the guy is several feet away clutching his cheek and groaning.

Grayson kneels next to Marinette, helping her to her feet and taking Damian’s coat from his outstretched hand to wrap around her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

She nods as he pulls her closer to him away from the fight that is likely to break out before a loud screeching voice cuts through the air.

“True mates? With him? Please Marinette, I knew you were ignorant but I didn’t think you were stupid. I am Adriens true mate. Not you.”

Damian stands up making his way to Marinette, taking her in his arms as she starts to shake.

“What are you talking about Lila? Adrien was there on my birthday, he said we were mates!”

‘Lila’ cackles as other people gasp, some with their phones out recording the entire thing.

“Oh please, did you just take his word for it? Why didn’t you just check his scent? That’s always been the easiest way to tell. Go ahead, I won’t even mess with you.”

She stays frozen looking straight at the boy claiming to be her mate.

“I can’t. I lost my sense of smell when I was a kid. I couldn’t check even if I wanted to.”

Lila looks surprised now, before looking on sadly.

“You really had no idea he was lying, did you?”

She starts shaking, taking a hesitant step towards Adrien.

“Adrien? W-what's she talking about? It’s not true. Is it?”

Her voice ends in a broken whisper, eyes tearing up as he slowly stands up and walks to her.

“You are mine, Marinette. You were mine the moment you put on those earrings. I mean seriously if I don’t take you who will?”

She flinches as he steps closer, his voice getting louder with hysteria.

“Nobody likes you, Mari! I am all you have left now! You want to leave me? HA! I’d like to see you try it.”

At the end of his ‘speech’ he roughly grabs her arm pulling a whimper from her and a very, VERY dangerous sounding snarl from Damian.

Ripping Adrien's hand from her arm while being as gentle as possible to not hurt her he pulls her behind him handing her off to his brothers entrusting them to take care of her.

“Who do you think you are grabbing her like that?”

The words are accentuated with the deep growl rumbling from his chest.

“I don’t see how it's any of your business, what I do with MY personal belongings.”

Damian picks Adrien up by his neck slamming him against the nearest wall.

“Don’t talk about her like she's an object.”

Adrien, being the Buffon with no sense of self-preservation he is, laughs.

“Oh yeah? What's it to you how I treat her? Not like you would want her for anything other than her body anyway.”

Adrien sneers down at Damian, even as he slowly starts to turn purple in the face from his grip on his neck.

Slowly tightening his grip even more he watches as the blonde idiot starts to flail from the lack of breathing. Fighting to get a single breath of air.

“Do not act as if I would ever treat my mate in such a way.”

His voice is deadly, sending shivers down even the security guards spines.

Everyone watches on, some with their phones recording, certain that they are about to see Damian Wayne, their bosses son, about to commit a murder in the lobby.

And no one is even going to try and stop him.

That is until a small pale hand lands on his arm, shooting sparks all the way to his heart.

“Is it true? Are you really my true mate?”

Damian nods ever so slowly, never taking his eyes off the blonde who is slowly losing consciousness.

Two thin, lethal arms wrap around his waist from behind.

“Please stop. I just want to leave right now. Will you take me?”

Without another word Damian drops the barely conscious man, taking his coat off and wrapping it around Marinette's shoulders, tucking her into his side as he swiftly walks her out of the building.

Adrien slowly gets up, trying to chase after them only to be cut short by the three eldest Wayne brothers.

All armed with glares that could kill.

Behind them stands all of the Wayne enterprises employees, making a human barrier between the newly found mates and Adrien.

The brother with the white piece of hair steps forward pushing Adrien back down to the ground.

“I think we need to have a little talk.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Targets - ao3

- Chapter 3 -

Meng Yao wasn’t supposed to be for sale.

His mother had worked hard her whole life to make sure of it, refusing every offer for him no matter how tempting or how desperate their situation. He was a cultivator’s son, she told him, a sect leader’s; one day, he would return to his father’s side, and if he was going to do that, he couldn’t have his past be marred with scandal. He couldn’t have a slave contract, and he couldn’t have done any work as a whore – it was one thing to do odd jobs in a brothel, but another thing entirely to actually work on your back, and somehow, somehow, someone would find out, and he’d be ruined. They would know.

The only way for him to really make it is if he never did anything like that at all.

So when the cultivator – a real cultivator, from the looks of him, not one of the fakers they often got – walked into their brothel and asked for Meng Yao, his mother said no.

The man frowned, then turned to the owner of the brothel who shrugged, indicating that he was helpless. “The boy doesn’t belong to this establishment,” he said apologetically. “But if the venerated Immortal would prefer something more boyish, I can direct you to some of our more masculine girls, or to a neighboring establishment…”

His voice trailed off when the cultivator pulled out a large chunk of gold, about half the size of Meng Yao’s thumb.

“You can keep it all – if I get the boy, a room, and your word to tell no one else that either of us are here,” the man said.

“No!” Meng Shi exclaimed, but Meng Yao knew from the look on the brothel owner’s eyes that it was too late. This wasn’t a good brothel like the one they’d been in before – the one that had kicked them out when they decided his mother was too old and her health too poor – but a lower tier one, less rich and more desperate. A piece of gold like that was more money than all the girls put together would make in a year.

If they continued to refuse, the owner of the brothel would use force. There were the bully boys at the door – they would grab his mother and drag her away, grab him and throw him into the room, maybe tie him down, rob him of any ability to defend himself…

So Meng Yao put his hand on his mother’s arm. “It’s fine, Mother,” he said to her, hoping to offer comfort where there was none to be had, and then forced himself to smile at the cultivator. “How can this humble one best please the venerated Immortal?”

The man’s eyes flickered between them, and his frown deepened.

“The woman comes with us, same deal,” he told the owner, who nodded, eyes fixed on the gold, and never mind that both Meng Yao and his mother had now frozen in horror. There were women in the brothel who sometimes pretended to be sisters and might even be, it was a popular request by clients, but – his mother… “All right, where’s the room?”

“I’ll give you the best one in the house,” the owner said, tone fawning, and showed them the way.

By the time they were upstairs, Meng Yao was shaking like a leaf and his mother looked on the verge of weeping.

The moment the cultivator closed the door behind them, shooing the owner away, she threw herself onto the floor in front of him. “Venerated Immortal,” she said, begging, and Meng Yao averted his eyes, feeling rage build in the pit of his stomach. “Spare my son, please. I will do anything you wish –”

“You misunderstand,” the cultivator said stiffly. “Your son is safe – as are you. I’m not here for that sort of thing…boy, get her off the floor and seated somewhere, get her something to drink to calm her.”

Meng Yao got his mother into a chair, pressing some wine usually reserved for clients into her hand. By the time he was done with that, he was more puzzled than anything else, even the rage at his mother’s mistreatment fading away into confusion. “What does the venerated Immortal want?” he asked delicately, and the cultivator shrugged.

“I actually have no idea what I’m doing here,” he said frankly. “I received a message from my sect leader that told me to find and secure a ‘Meng Yao, son of Meng Shi’ from Yunping City, and when I asked around it led me to you. I was hoping you could tell me the reason.”

“Your sect leader asked for me?” Meng Yao asked blankly. “By name?”

Could it be – his mother had always said –

“You’re not from Lanling,” his mother said, wiping her eyes, expression back to fierce and calculating. “My boy is the son of the sect leader of Lanling Jin, not…”

She trailed off deliberately.

“Qinghe Nie,” the cultivator said automatically, and even folded his hands in front of him to salute – perfunctorily, but still more than most would bother with for a whore. “The message said only that you were in danger, and that I was to hide you until the sect leader could come pick you up himself.”

So it wasn’t his father, Meng Yao thought, disappointed, but still – a sect leader of a cultivation sect, knowing him by name? Sending a message from far away?

He had no idea what to think of it.

And so they waited, each one sitting awkwardly in their own place, as several shichen passed. It was already evening when there was a knock – at the window.

The window on the third floor.

The cultivator got up and opened it, and a large fierce-looking man carrying three children – one on each hip with an arm around them, and another seated on his shoulders, clutching to his hair like reins – wiggled his way through, shaking all the children off as if his arms were hurting the second his feet were on the ground.

“Is that him?” he asked, nodding at Meng Yao, and the cultivator nodded. “He’s young.”

“Thirteen,” Meng Yao said, and noted that it was probably older than any of the three children who were looking at him in fascination.

“One of Sect Leader Jin’s bastards, Sect Leader,” the cultivator reported, and Meng Yao felt something fall in the pit of his belly at the term one of. There were many like him, then – perhaps his mother’s optimism regarding his reception in Lanling City was as misplaced as her optimism in buying all those pointless cultivation manuals that he slaved over and which accomplished nothing.

“Well, that can’t be the reason, then, or the list would be thrice as long,” the sect leader said, frowning. “I’d even started wondering…no, it still makes no sense. Regardless, no point in waiting around here any longer – I saw two Wen patrols making their way through the city as I flew in, and I have no doubt they’ll find this place soon. We should be gone before they do.”

“If this humble one can ask, what is the honorable Sect Leader’s plans for my son?” Meng Shi asked, ducking her head demurely and looking up at him flirtatiously through her eyelashes, even as she leaned forward a little in a way that set off her shape to its best advantage.

“Oh no,” the sect leader said, and took two full steps backwards. Without the fierce expression on his face, he looked much younger – in fact, Meng Yao thought with wonder and maybe even a little disbelieving amusement, it seemed like this sect leader was most certainly still a teenager, and awkward with it, too. “No, I – I don’t – Gao Jianguo, do something!”

“She’s a whore, Sect Leader,” the cultivator said, rolling his eyes. “They flirt. It happens.”

The sect leader was bright red. The children were all giggling.

“Madame,” he said, bowing to her – an actual bow, respectful, not even the perfunctory dip the cultivator had given earlier, and he didn’t have to call her Madame, either. “Forgive me, I’m not…I don’t have much experience with women. My name is Nie Mingjue, sect leader of Qinghe Nie. I have reason to believe your son is in terrible danger if he remains here, and I intend to take him with me to a safe location.”

“What assurances do I have of his safety?” Meng Shi asked, and Meng Yao knew then that she intended to send him whether he wanted to go or not.

Not that he didn’t intend to go. Such an earnest sect leader, this ‘Nie Mingjue’…even if it was all a mistake or misunderstanding, which had to be what had happened, there were benefits that could be gotten here. If Meng Yao could become a servant there, learn cultivation, he could maybe save up enough to later go to his father’s side – no matter what they asked of him, it would be better than a brothel, especially one where the owner had already seen an indication of Meng Yao’s worth as chattel.

And yet…

“You have my word,” Nie Mingjue assured her.

“I won’t leave without her,” Meng Yao suddenly spoke up, and ignored his mother’s glare. He didn’t want to leave her here. He wouldn’t, not unless he was forced, which seemed likely, but he had to try his best. “If I’m in danger, then so is she. They might want to use her to lure me in.”

“That’s a good point,” Nie Mingjue said, which Meng Yao wasn’t expecting. He even nodded in approval at Meng Yao. “Very well, we’ll take you both with us. Gao Jianguo –”

“The amount I’ve already paid would be sufficient to cover any slave bond,” the cultivator said. His frown suggested he wasn’t happy about his sect leader’s actions. “There will be paperwork –”

“Only for me,” Meng Shi said quickly. “My son is free, and always has been.”

Nie Mingjue looked out the window, clearly calculating – two patrols, Meng Yao thought, this sect leader thought someone was hunting him down for some unknown reason – and then glanced at the two of them. He sighed a little, almost imperceptibly, before firming up his expression once more.

“Take Meng Shi and buy her bond,” he instructed the cultivator. “Collect anything she wants to take with her and take her back to Qinghe through safe routes. I’ll take Meng Yao with me and we’ll meet there.”

“What should I do with the ownership papers? There’s a tax for taking slaves out of the county, and people might notice –”

“Burn them,” Nie Mingjue said, and Meng Yao’s heart gave a sudden thrill of delight. “She can travel as a free woman. Make sure she sees a doctor, if she thinks she would benefit from seeing one, and cover the cost – I want her to arrive at the Unclean Realm alive and well.”

Alive and well, Meng Yao thought, even more delighted. That was a warning, no doubt about it – telling the cultivator not to take advantage of Meng Shi during his trip. And a doctor! With his sect leader ordering it, the cultivator would have to take her to a good one, not some phony sawbones, and she could finally get that cough of hers looked at…

Meng Yao would do whatever this sect leader wanted. Just for that.

(It was more than his father had ever done for them.)

“Can you handle flying with four boys?” the cultivator asked, frowning, and – flying? “Especially if you already came all the way from Qinghe, and through Yunmeng, you must be exhausted –”

“I’ll be fine,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “He’s thirteen; he can stand on his own and hold onto me, arms around my waist, while I hold on to the others…hey, are you afraid of heights?”

That question was directed at Meng Yao.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, aiming for honest. It seemed to be what this sect leader appreciated, and Meng Yao was good at figuring out and catering to people’s likes. He’d have to exert himself especially this time. “But I’ve never gone higher than the fourth floor.”

“Well, you’re about to,” Nie Mingjue said, and his saber unsheathed itself and floated on the floor. “All right, everyone back on – you can introduce yourself in the air. We still have to make the ride back to the Lotus Pier, and I’m sure your parents are worried sick already, Jiang-gongzi.”

[bartistic]

Bruce Goes To The Market!

knife tw, food cw, incredibly dumb self-indulgent concept cw, outsider (oc) pov

It is universally acknowledged that a cashier possessing free time, will be in want of an extra task to fill that free time. At least, that’s what James’ managers seemed to think. Privately, he agreed, as he found restocking the shelves to be a most agreeable pastime, one that could in fact suck up hours of his eight hour closing shift.

He was in the soda aisle, debating whether sparkling water belonged with seltzer or with the rest of the store brand items, when he noticed a broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a Gotham University sweatshirt, inspecting the selection of diet tonic water and looking utterly flummoxed. Customer in need of assistance!

“Hi, how are you doing tonight? You need help finding anything?” Mentally, James winced at the preppy-ness of his ‘customer service robot voice’ as his favorite coworker Stephie liked to call it. Luckily, he’d thrown his voice out enough screaming to Queen karaoke the night before that his voice stayed in the normal octaves rather than shooting into the stratosphere. The man straightened up and looked down towards James, who suddenly felt very short in all of his 5’9” glory. (Well, 5’8 3/4” but who’s counting.)

“Yes, actually. I’m new to the store, could you direct me to where the soap is?” Oh god. Of all the things it had to be the one item James swore was never in the same aisle twice.

“Of course!” He lied through his teeth. “Here, right this way.” Turning, he set off towards the general direction of where the soap tended to lie, with a variation of four different aisles. Luckily, the first aisle was correct, and he watched, intrigued, as the customer gave a thorough inspection to at least 14 different bars of soap. “Anything else I can help you with?” He added, as the man finally selected a bar and placed it in his basket. The man looked sheepish.

“This is actually the first time I’ve been in a grocery store. I’m not usually the one doing the shopping. My—the person I live with gave me a list, but I honestly don’t know where or even what half of these things are.” He held out a grocery list, scrawled in an elegant cursive. It was double-sided. James checked the front of the store, where the other cashier was engrossed in his phone while trying not to appear engrossed in his phone. It was an hour and a half until they closed, and he was pretty sure there was only one other customer in the store at most.

“Sure! Alright, so our first step should probably be to hit the deli, seeing as they have the longest wait times.” After walking the man through ordering Roast Beef, Prosciutto, Pastrami, Swiss, Havarti, Gouda, and Picante Provolone (what) they moved on to the canned goods. “We should probably grab a cart, I don’t think that basket’s going to be able to hold all of this.” Turning into the canned goods aisle, James sighed.

“Caution: Hazard Detected! Precaución, ¡Peligro Detectado!” The store’s resident useless robot assistant was stuck in place, screaming at a small bit of an onion peel that had fallen to the floor.

“Batsy, I swear to god.” James went over and kicked the peel under one of the shelves, pressing the button on the robot to reboot it.

“...Batsy?” The customer sounded somewhere between bemused and amused. Perhaps just ‘mused.

“Yeah, it’s our obtuse robot that only sees what’s right in front of it and makes a big fuss over literally nothing. It can’t even clean anything up, and the few moments there actually is a spill it just skids through it and makes it worse. Technically corporate calls it Patsy, short for Patrick, because we’re Patrick’s, you know? But since this is Gotham, we call it Batsy. Short for... Batrick. I’m not the one who came up with the name, that honor goes to my coworker Stephie. She’s, uh, not working tonight.” James internally began banging his head against the shelves. Why. Was. He. Like. This. “So, do you know what brand of chickpeas your... roommate wanted?”

/ / /

Finally, after another 45 minutes of shopping, they were ready to check out. James noticed the shift had changed while he was away. “Alright, so I can actually take you at this register over here, ‘cuz I’m still logged in and all.” He gulped as the customer began to load up onto the belt. This was... a lot of food. He’d scanned around a quarter when he officially ran out of room, turning to bagging instead. “Let’s get you another cart, actually, so we can load into that without squishing what you haven’t unpacked yet.” He moved to go grab one, but the customer was faster, jogging back with another cart before he could even finish bagging all the protein shakes. There were, admittedly, a lot of protein shakes.

Scanning the meat-substitutes, James scanned his own mind for an avenue of conversation. “So, you mentioned that it’s your son who’s the vegetarian. How old is he?”

“He’s 13. It’s not religious or health-wise or anything, he just really loves animals. Our house is practically a zoo on a good day, and that’s not even counting all his siblings.”

“Oh, how many kids do you have?” It had to be a fair amount for it to be ‘all’ his siblings. The customer opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again. He seemed to be thinking. Did he... not know how many kids he had??

“Legally I have... fffffour? Five? Yeah... that sounds right.” James tried to hide the bewildered expression in his own face, but he must not have been doing it well. “That makes me sound like such a bad father. No, I promise, I love them all, I just have quite a few of their friends living with us as well, and I’ve known those kids long enough to feel like they’re my kids too. Not to mention the whole difference between the ones I’ve adopted, the one who was my ward who I then retroactively adopted, the one I’m fostering, and the one who is legally an emancipated minor. And... the one who. Is no longer with us.” James blinked. That was indeed complicated.

“You must have a lot of love in your heart,” he settled on, finally.

“I just h— Oh, #%*$.” The blueberry container had burst open, all over the floor. James internally groaned.

“Oh no! Sorry about that, that’s the third one tonight. The packaging is just... not great. Do you want me to go get you another one?”

“No, I can get it. Thanks though.” The customer gingerly stepped through the minefield as James power walked to go get the clean up supplies. Six feet away, Batsy was screaming at a blueberry.

“Eat your heart out, Mister Miyagi,” he aimed a light roundhouse kick at the button to reboot the robot. Batsy got two feet before it encountered another world-ending-threat, danger level blueberry. James sighed and went to go clear that area first.

/ / /

Finally, almost everything was scanned. James was scanning the bread and rolls as the customer fit all the bags into the two carts, like an expert game of tetris. There were a few hiccups where James had had to explain that you probably shouldn’t bag Raid with milk, or that it was a good idea to double bag heavy items, or that you should wait until the end to put the eggs in (and there were a lot of eggs. Gaston-levels of eggs. Probably to be expected with that many kids in the house. Hah. eggs-pected.) But by the end they were working like a well-oiled machine. James bagged the last item, hit the button to total it, and watched as the customer realized he forgot his deli items.

“I’m just gonna— gonna run and go get those real quick. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you fill out the charity question real quick though? Th...thanks.” The customer was gone before James could question him on the fact that he’d used the custom amount option to apparently donate $1k to Gotham General’s children’s ward. It was... probably a mistake, but he’d wait around to check. He turned as he heard the beginnings of a commotion behind him, from the one other customer in the store. This guy’s whole aesthetic just screamed gross, from the white-boy dreads to the Blue Lives Matter gaiter mask. It looked as if he was having trouble at self-checkout. James was about to head over to help when his coworker passed him. He turned back to keep an eye on the clock. 10 minutes until closing. Please come back with the deli items soon. He heard an aggressive murmuring that sent chills up his spine, a distinct feeling of Not Right Bad. He turned back to where his coworker was engaged with helping the other customer. His coworker who was... very pale. Frightened. The customer whose hand glinted silver with... oh #%*$, that’s a knife. Not Good Very Bad... oh hell no, you are not hurting my coworker on my watch.

“HEY #%$&FACE, EAT BEANS!” As the aggressive customer turned to meet the container of garbanzo beans that was currently hurtling towards his face at the maximum speed a theatre-kid-who-never-did-sports could throw, the world seemed to throw down. Faintly, James could hear rational thoughts pounding at the door to his mind, begging to be let in. Thoughts like ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for attacking a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for cursing in front of a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for damaging the merchandise’ and ‘You can’t even throw a ball to save your life, there’s no way that’s going to hit him.’ Praying to Freddie Mercury, Elton John, and all other things holy, James watched as the beans sailed through the air and struck their target true— albeit a little lower than planned.”

Grossface automatically brought his hands down to protect his nethers, apparently forgetting that their was a knife in his hands. He let out a second agonized howl as he stabbed himself in the balls. Blindly, James groped around for more ammunition. Holding out a zucchini as threateningly as he could, he watched as the would-be aggressor ran out of the store as fast as he could with both hands clasping his junk. “Are you okay?” He asked his coworker, feeling his voice echo through the suddenly very-quiet-sounding store. She nodded mutely. He nodded back, then turned back to his register and oH shit there’s His Customer, holding the deli items.

“Nice shot.” Okay, this time he definitely sounded amused.

“I... am so sorry about the beans, I can get you a refund on those or I can go get you some more or—”

“No need, they definitely went to a good cause.” The customer grinned and held out the deli items. Faintly, James began to wrestle with the bag to get to the barcodes. Finally, everything was scanned, for good.

“Alright, will that be everything?” The clock read two minutes until closing.

“Yes, that should be everything. Again, thank you for all your help.” James watched as even with the membership points taken off, the total soared to over $750.

“Alright, your total is... $754.33, here’s some coupons and a survey slip. If you fill that out you get entered for a drawing to win a $500 gift card. Which... I don’t know that you’d need, but. Why not.” The customer reached into his wallet and counted out 5 $100 bills. Then he pulled out a black card. He paid off the total with the card, then handed the bills to James.

“Here you go, I wasn’t sure how much you tip cashiers.” James opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish.

“People don’t normally... tip cashiers...” and especially not HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS.

“Oh. Well, you were a good cashier. You deserve it. And here—” at this he pulled a crisp business card out of his wallet. “At Wayne Enterprises we could use quick-thinkers like you.” Pulling down his sunglasses, he gave a quick wink. James waved absentmindedly as BRUCE #%*$ING WAYNE walked out of the store. He looked down at the business card. Written upon it were the words: “Call here for an interview, mention Malone and they’ll know I sent you. Best of luck with the current job— BW”

James sat down. The clock was 10 minutes past closing before he remembered to look at it. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Oh my god I joked around to a billionaire. I cursed in front of a billionaire. I chucked a can of beans into a man’s nutsack in front of a billionaire.

But oddly enough, the only question that remained at the top of his mind was this:

This is because I have black hair and blue eyes, isn’t it.

[pochiperpe90]

Points of view – The Interview: Luca Marinelli

How do you approach your characters. 

Sometimes I also wonder how I get to the character. For “Non essere cattivo”, I had a very detailed script and a fascinating director at my disposal, so I didn't struggle to relate. It was a very brave script for the way it dealt with reality. At first my auditions went in the direction of Vittorio's character but also knowing the figure of Cesare, more than once I thought I would like to play him. I saw the auditions of others and I stopped to think how I could have done Cesare. Then at a certain point I remember that Claudio looked at Valerio and told him that it would be better to reverse the roles, to let me try Cesare, and so it went. When I read the script of “Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot”, the first thing that struck me, besides the courageous imagination, was to understand how a film of this kind could be made. 

In the first part of your career, you brought an image of introverted and staid youth to the screen. Was this a choice. 

Absolutely not. Or rather yes, it was the choice of those who met me first. Perhaps a part of my personality has been seen that could best marry the characters in question. It happened both in “La solitudine dei numeri primi” by Saverio Costanzo and later with Virzì in "Tutti i santi giorni", then it can be said that with Casare of “Non essere cattivo” and the Zingaro of “Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot” I was allowed to turn things around slightly, to play a character who had a disposition and behavior that was completely the opposite of what I had faced previously. 

What do you remember about your debut with Saverio Costanzo. 

He was my initiation into cinema, I came from the Academy and I had no idea what it was like to work on a set. The best memory, in addition to the experience of the film with him and Alba, is the first meeting, the first audition, where I really understood that I strongly wanted to work with him and that if this had happened I would have ended up in the hands of a great author. 

With that film you found yourself in the main competition of the Venice Film Festival. What memories do you have of that first time at the lido. 

Of a huge confusion and a big headache. We were tossed around from one interview to another and not only that, because the worst thing was always answering the same questions, and I was terribly worried not to make the situation even more boring for the machine operator, who never changed, and I don't think could take it longer to hear the same phrases over and over. Fortunately, Alba was there as well and saved me in more than one interview. The experience helped me because the following times I knew slightly more what I was going through and how to manage situations and keep stress at bay. Or maybe not yet, it's a long way. 

I noticed that when you talk about your job you do it using the verb “to play” (giocare). Is it a coincidence or the choice has a precise meaning. 

Perhaps it’s not a coincidence that in English the term recite is said precisely in this way because in my opinion to play, or the French jouez, represents the feeling of freedom and fun that is inherent in the job I do, better. As far as I'm concerned, the moment of the take is when the actor has to stop thinking, abandon worries, to be able to bring out the energy of his character. He has to play with the same seriousness and commitment with which a child does. I remember a piece of advice from Carlo Cecchi on the fact that in acting counts listening and the here and now. Being actively present to oneself and to others at that exact moment.

You have a method for achieving this condition. 

If someone asked me something about technique, I wouldn't know what to answer, apart from listening. On the set of Andrea Molaioli's film in which I am the father of the young protagonist, the actor who plays him, Ludovico, who is really good, full of talent and very smart, once asked me what was the technique to make the best of the character, and the only thing I felt able to advise him was to try to be present in that moment and then to let go, listen and not think about the rest. 

But I imagine that there are also practical aspects in the preparation that precedes the start of filming. 

As for me, I try to prepare as much as I can before arriving on set because at the start of the shoot it would be good to be ready. But not everything happens automatically, in the sense that you can’t always find the character immediately. However, I have always been lucky enough to have more or less long periods of rehearsal before starting a film. I remember this moment with Saverio and Alba, where we spent weeks among us and also with the kids who would have played us as children, to try the various scenes and to create a union and harmony between the characters. The same happened with Paolo Virzì, Thony and I, more than once we gather, facing the script, to clarify all the passages and moments of the scenes. 

And how did things go with Claudio Caligari. 

The same thing also happened with Claudio even though the illness made everything more complicated for him. He asked us to change our bodies, to participate in the auditions of the other actors. This allowed all of us, the cast, to integrate and develop a unity of purpose and a truly rare familiarity. So in front of the camera it seemed to me that the gang, to which Cesare and Vittorio belonged, was really part of my life, that it wasn’t hard to pass from Luca to Cesare, because I had found him. And always to identify with the environment of the story, I preferred a house in Ostia, and Alessandro often came to me from Rome to spend time between the two of us. Claudio, in addition to having reading meetings together, also showed us films that were a source of inspiration for him for this film, such as “Accattone” by Pier Paolo Pasolini, “Rocco e i suoi fratelli” by Luchino Visconti and “Mean Sreet” by Martin Scorsese.

Instead, I wanted to ask you what happens between takes, for example when you come home after a day of work. You stay inside the character as it happens to Daniel Day Lewis, or you put it aside and think of something else like Marcello Mastroianni did. 

I try to disconnect from the set. I try. I go home and try to do something else, but the last thought before falling asleep always goes to the next day's work plan and I leave myself a few minutes for the memory and concentration useful for tomorrow and then I close my eyes.  

We asked Roberta Mattei and we ask you too. During the processing you were aware of the exceptional nature of what you were doing. 

Yes. Let me explain: I saw with my own eyes that what was happening was exceptional, a man who was dying wanted to give his latest work to the public, to his audience, to his people, to people. This has no equal for me. Don't think about yourself in such a situation but about others.

Then it was the turn of Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. 

I shot Jeeg Robot in March 2014, and therefore before “Non essere cattivo”. The fact that Mainetti's film is only coming out now is due to the long post-production period necessary to assemble the shot with the special effects present in the film. 

Here as well it was an interpretation and a character who completely overturns the transparent and pristine image of the first part of your career. 

To make Jeeg Robot we had to convince each other, Gabriele Mainetti and I, about my success in the character. I pushed him towards a theatricality and Gabriele towards a real madness, a pure pain. In the end, I think we have found the right amount. 

The construction of the Zingaro was already very clear in the writing and it was up to us, however, to find its true aspect. 

Guiding him is this crazy and boundless ego, and the obsession with having to leave a mark. The Zingaro's eccentricity is partly reflected in his look, halfway between a rock star and a suburban bully. For the costumes and make-up we were inspired by the great rock icons. We dared in some choices, such as the black coat with pink leopard lining that characterize the wardrobe. For the aspects related to the way of performing, his model was Anna Oxa and in particular the video of her at Sanremo, when she sings “Un’emozione da poco”. 

In part you have already answered, but I wanted to know how you choose to accept the proposals that are made to you and if you have any foreclosures towards television, or more generally towards commercial cinema. 

I choose the proposals on the basis of love at first sight that must happen with the film, with its screenplay. Then figure out who will be leading the film, meet the director. I don't have any kind of foreclosure, let's say that if I don't like something I don't do it and if I like it I do. And it doesn't matter if it's cinema or television. 

As a spectator what is the cinema you love. 

I like films that have something to say and that I also choose based on who directed and starred in it. Usually when they ask me to name some titles I have a void. Think that the same thing happened to me also during the audition to enter the experimental center, when Lina Wertmuller asked me the title of a film I had seen recently. I was struck by a cosmic void and instead of naming her an authoritative and important film I left her stunned by citing Batman, I think Nolan's first, still a good film, but I still had Wertmuller in front of me... But to go back to what you asked me, I tell you that in general I always like to watch films that come from Sundance, of which I remember, for example “Like Crazy”, which I found disarmingly beautiful, the films of P.T. Anderson, Wes Anderson, the Cohen, there are many, and among the Italians those played by Alba Rohrwacher, Valerio Mastandrea, Elio Germano, Kim Rossi Stuart and directed by Alice Rohrwacher, Costanzo, Virzì, Sorrentino, Garrone, Salvatores. Without forgetting those of the great Joaquin Phoenix. But in reality I look at everything, let's say that I try not to lose anything of these. 

Despite the certificates of esteem you have received for your performances, the impression is that of an understatement that almost seems not to be aware of what you have achieved so far as an actor. 

Whenever I see a film of mine I always think there is something I could have done better. But basically I'm happy with what I've done so far. Having said that, I think that the films alone should be enough to explain everything and that the interviews don’t add anything new to what there was to say before making them. But when I am in the dance, when I need to promote, I am committed to doing it in the best possible way. I strongly think that in life and at work it’s important to demonstrate that you know how to do and not to show at all costs that you do.

DREAMINGCINEMA

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)

[the-last-kenobi]

For the bad things happen bingo, I Will Punish You For Your Friend's Failure, with Obi Wan and Rex during the Zygeria arc with Rex being punished by the slavers.

Oooooh, happy evil brain twinkles.

TW for blood, child death, and mildly graphic torture. No specifics because spoilers but do be cautious.

•••

There is an enemy, and it is within, the Jedi taught.

You will encounter foes of all forms in your years as a Jedi. There will be cruel tyrants and selfish politicians, ruthless criminals and violent terrorists. Possessive lovers, radical reformists, slavers and desperate people willing to do whatever it takes to achieve what matters to them. And then the next thing, and the next.

But these are not the enemy.

The Jedi have only two natural enemies.

The Sith have been extinguished from the galaxy, lost to ruin. What the Jedi did not destroy, the Sith themselves did, locked in the raw emotion of the Dark Side, turning on one another.

And the Jedi are left with the true enemy.

You are the enemy, the Masters warned. Your weaknesses are your real enemy.

All obstacles can be overcome as long as you master yourself.

Fear will lead you astray. Push through it.

Anger will corrupt you. Abandon it.

Envy will poison you. Purge it.

Grief will break you. Overcome it.

And if you fall, you will fall as yourself, at peace. A true Jedi perishes for the right reasons, where not even self-possession could stop the sheer numbers of the opposition.

The enemy is within.

•

Obi-Wan Kenobi took a deep, steadying breath. The enemy is within, he reminded himself. My fear is the enemy. These people cannot destroy me.

The broken wrist, clumsily bandaged and still forced to work, whispers that otherwise. The bruises along his spine groan in misery. There was a cut on his upper lip that had bled and dried in his beard and lips. Someone had driven the handle of a whip into the muscles of his left leg, and it could not bear his weight.

He opened his eyes just in time to receive a stunning blow across the face.

Despite the fancies of holodramas, a strike to the face is nothing to brush aside.

The Jedi reeled, his head exploding, his face stinging. White light erupted behind his eyes and his nose burned as if he’d dived too deep into water.

“Who is your Master?” a voice demanded.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, gasping for air. His entire head throbbed; he was on his knees but his back had arched back so far his head was a foot from the floor. Wincing, he dragged himself back up and stared passively into the snarling Zyggerian’s eyes. “I am.”

A roar of discontent. “Wrong!”

The hand came back, but this time it closed around his throat.

•

Qui-Gon caught him by the shoulders, one hand moving upwards to press against the side of his Padawan’s neck.

“You are stronger than your fear,” he said. “Because your fear is only part of you. Your strengths outnumber your fear, Obi-Wan.”

Behind the boy’s young eyes, though - flashes of remembered horror, children dead in the streets of Melida/Daan and the screaming sound a blaster bolt made as it grazed close, so close, to his ear - and hit another boy instead —

Obi-Wan gasped as if drowning, his mind convinced that he was not getting enough oxygen.

Fear was going to kill him.

Fear was the enemy.

“Oh, Padawan,” sighed his Master. And then the hands left his neck and his shoulder, leaving Obi-Wan bereft, plunged into ice cold waters of terror and trauma, his failures haunting him like the ghost of Cerasi.

•

Obi-Wan choked, bucking involuntarily as the meaty hand clenched around his throat, crushing his air pipe.

He couldn’t breathe.

Still. What did it matter, if this monstrous slaver killed him in a fit of rage? Obi-Wan was more than this man and his pride, his greed, his disregard for life.

Obi-Wan was a Jedi.

His body’s automatic response to being abused and killed was nothing.

He was more than his fear.

“Damn Jedi!”

The hand released him, and the red-haired General slumped to the floor, unable to stop his forehead from colliding painfully with the uneven slag flooring. More blood. He tasted it in his mouth, he felt it dripping down his forehead.

“Very well,” the same voice continued. “The punishment must suit the prisoner, in some cases. How lucky of you. So special.”

They cannot hurt me, Obi-Wan reminded himself. My body is not my soul. I am more than my fear.

And then two more slavers entered the room at a summons, dragging a struggling figure between them.

Rex.

Obi-Wan’s fear spiked so sharply he felt his chest stab with physical pain.

No, he told himself. No. Fight it. Fight it—

The Zyggerian behind him sensed his rising emotion and grabbed him roughly, one hand on the thick collar around the Jedi’s throat, and the other dug painfully into his hair.

•

Obi-Wan shuddered.

A bomb - Twela, Bruin, Conno, Toorun, and others went flying, flailing helplessly in the air.

Toorun rolled on his side and got back up.

Conno collided with a vehicle and lay still.

Bruin landed on his feet and stood up, grinning in shocked relief, and then dropped with a bullet in his head. Blood spattered stone.

Twela landed on a pile of rubble.

When Obi-Wan found her, she had been lying there for an hour while the battle wore on, a rebar shoved through her stomach.

It took her two days to die—

Cerasi, falling into his arms. Gasping. Blood everywhere. Her father screaming. Blood on Obi-Wan’s hands—

Nield, his friend, telling him he didn’t belong - kicking him out of the camp to die alone - blaming Obi-Wan, rightfully, for the death of Cerasi and the peace she had helped create—

But as quickly as they had been taken away, the warm and solid hands of Qui-Gon Jinn were there again, this time on his back. Pulling him. Tightening around him.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, gasping and shaking, pressed into a warm embrace while his Master rocked him gently, whispering encouragement into his hair.

It was good to be held.

•

Obi-Wan twisted, struggling in near-panic to get away from the arms restraining him.

“Stop it!” he yelled. “Stop!”

They did not stop.

The Zyggerians had been on Rex for over two hours, holding him down, methodically slicing the soles of his feet, throwing their fists into his abdomen and face and throat, slamming his head against the unforgiving ground.

The Captain was a mess; bruised and bloodied, involuntary tears making his damaged face glisten.

Rex had finally started to scream five minutes ago, and still they would not stop—

“Stop! You’ll kill him!” Obi-Wan shouted, his bound hands clenched so tightly that his palms were torn and bleeding. “Stop!”

“And now the bird sings,” the slave master crowed, laughing down at him. “So high and mighty, Jedi?”

“Leave him alone!” Obi-Wan demanded.

The slaver’s face darkened.

Two things happened at almost the same moment.

A knife was drawn from seemingly thin air and without hesitation or fanfare was plunged into Rex’s thigh; the Captain screamed again, writhing.

A button was pressed, and the collar around Obi-Wan’s neck blazed with electricity that made him convulse, blinded, agonized.

“You don’t give the orders here,” the master snarled. “Haven’t you learned? You’re not in control here!”

•

“You are in control, Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured, rubbing his hand up and down the boy’s back, following the still too-prominent line of his spine. Up and down, up and down.

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan sobbed. “I’m a failure.”

“You haven’t failed until you’ve let yourself down and decided not to get up again,” his Master replied firmly. “You are master of yourself, Obi-Wan, and therefore master of the situation. You can rise above. Even if you need help to do it. You are not a slave to fear.”

•

“Slaves are not masters,” the Zyggerian bellowed, and Rex screamed again.

Obi-Wan shuddered and twitched on the floor; he felt filthy, ragged, used. Now useless.

“You don’t make the rules!” A kick to the abdomen that deprived him of air. Once again suffocating. Drowning.

All he could see was the bloodstained floor. All he could hear was the voice, and Rex screaming through gritted teeth.

“Every time you cross me, I’ll punish your freakish friend. And anyone else that crosses your path. I! Am! In! Control! Here!” Each of the final words was delivered with a sharp jerk on the chain that had been attached to the collar.

Obi-Wan choked and wheezed.

Pain.

Terror.

Helpless.

I can’t —

“Who is your Master?”

“You are,” Obi-Wan told Fear, eyes glazed, blood spattered across his vision. Maybe permanently. Like a brand. Like Cerasi’s lifeblood on his shaking hands.

“Who is your Master?” the slaver asked again.

Obi-Wan stared vacantly upwards.

Fear looked back at him. Outside him. Inside him. Triumphant.

“You are,” whispered the Jedi, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

He slumped to the floor.

Rex’s screams faded as the punishment abruptly ceased; the Clone lay on the stone floor, limp and in terrible pain, staring with abject fear in his eyes at the fallen Jedi.

His utter relief that the pain was over, that they had taken their hideous hands off of him, was warring with his worry.

And his growing terror.

If even General Kenobi could be controlled...

“A good start,” the slave master said thoughtfully, trodding deliberately on Obi-Wan’s damaged foot. “And I was told Jedi did not feel fear.”

•••

[teachingtales]

I’ve had to answer this a couple times already so I want to share it with you to help make some sense of the Capitol Hill Attack. In bold are the questions/comments from someone else and then my response follows. 

I don't know what these people expected by doing this. We must first remember that these are not the "average person". These are people who firmly believe in an underlying persecution. I grew up in such a cult, where we were taught that everyone is persecuting us, secretly or overtly. To account for the fact that we were part of a religious majority in the US, we were taught that the "other Christians" were not "true" Christians. They were liars who pretended to believe in God hoping for eternal life, but would vote for "worldly and Satanic" ideas like gay marriage or abortion.

These people genuinely believe that the entire political system of the United States is a Satanic cult that sacrifices children. They are told not to donate blood because the Satanic Leaders (politicians and celebrities) steal this blood in order to use it for youth (by putting it on their skin or ingesting it or both). In some cases, young Christian children are stolen and drained of blood for this purpose. They believe that Trump, and only Trump, was fighting a secret battle against the Powers That Be. They believed that Trump's lack of presidential activity/effects was due to him being far too busy fighting the secret Satanists. In other words, the fact he was ineffective (in public) meant he was effective (in private).

So, to your question: what did they expect by doing this? Any or all of the following:

die a glorious death for the man hand-selected by Jesus, thus gaining access to Heaven

they believed they would find the "hidden votes", exposing the Satanic Politicians and showing the world they were really right this whole time

force another recount, which would finally prove that Trump actually won

The election was fair, there's no damning evidence of election fraud and Trump's legal bullshit is baseless and a desperate attempt to cheat the system.

True. But these are not reasonable people we are dealing with. In their minds, the lack of evidence is the evidence, that cheating the system was done so well that they made sure to really cover their tracks. Oddly, they also believe that it was done so sloppily that they do have evidence in the form of a video that Trump referenced multiple times in his Georgia Phone Call. It doesn't matter that the actual, unedited footage wholly disagrees with Trump's accusations; remember, he was hand-selected by Jesus, and the people in possession of the unedited footage are hand-selected by Satan. This, then, means Trump's video and Trump's claims are automatically correct, while anyone else is a liar and holds forgeries. After all, Lucifer is "the Father of Lies", so his agents (politicians) surely can lie effectively.

Again, we are left with this problem: the lack of evidence is the evidence.

Storming the Capitol was a shitty idea, what was going to change? People are dead because of this "overthrow". The government wasn't going to be affected by this.

In addition to what I mentioned earlier, they have a very small view of the world. These are people who typically believe the Earth is only 6000 years old and evolution cannot happen because they cannot fathom the long periods of time it takes. These are people who believe that those of us outside of the US are all collectively lying about the SARS-CoV-2 virus so we can hurt President Trump's reputation. They cannot understand scale. They are the people who watch movies like “Independence Day”, where a single person who has no knowledge of alien computers can take down the entire fleet. They don't understand how complex things really are. Thus, they genuinely think a "last stand" type of attack on a building will bring on the glorious end to this troubled tale.

Trump repeatedly bashed people who protested for BLM and said it was violent, unnecessary, etc. But when people riot and kill in his name he's just like "well they didn't do anything wrong".

This is unfortunately an easy one to answer: if they're against me, they are wrong...but if they are for me, they are right.

This is a classic "in-group/out-group" type of thinking. In-Group: the group you belong to Out-Group: the group you do not belong to (often with directly opposing views) In this type of thinking, you stereotype the Out-Group by their worst actors but your worst actors in your In-Group are different. We can see this in the media in the form of the following examples:

Example A: foreigners who attack something on national soil are "terrorists", but domestic attackers are "troubled individuals"

Example B: if the majority is white, a 17 year-old black male who shoots some people is written about in the news as a "violent man" or "man opened fire on innocent victims". If the shooter is a 17 year-old white male, the news is characterizes him as a "troubled teen" or "boy open fires at school, family wonders where they went wrong"

Example C: if the minority religion has a passage in their holy book that says "Women are less than men", it's because that religion is clearly false and laughably erroneous; if the majority religion has a passage in their holy book that says "Women are less than men", it's not sexist and just needs to be understood in cultural context

The subconscious reasoning for this type of thinking is very tribal but also ego-preserving...that we each believe we are always making the most correct and most reasonable/logical choices, so if someone makes a different choice, that person and choice are unreasonable and illogical.

None of this excuses the behavior, but I hope it helps shed some light on this type of extreme thought process. 

[daretosnoop]

Chapter 1: The body in the Entrance

Here is it guys!

So, I changed the order of some event around to fit better with plot pacing. Also, I extended the mystery beyond one night because that gives me nothing to work with. 

I know I said that this is a romance between Henry and Nancy, but it’s not going to really be that because: 1. Who falls in love over the span of 4/5 days? 2. Henry can’t just go from one relationship to another 3. I have a hard time believing in quick love/relationships. I need foundation, and it’s reflected in my writing. 

I plan to continue the series beyond CRY, and build their relationship. So if you don’t ship, don’t worry, you can still read this.  I suggest listening to the soundtrack while you read to enhance the experience!

Had anyone asked Henry Bolet what love was, he would have had no answer. No honest answer, that is. Love was a parent’s devotion to their children. But his parents died when he was young, and their will somehow declared his father’s brother, Bruno Bolet, as a fit guardian. Love then, must be the desire to look after someone. But Bruno tossed him around from boarding school to military school. Summer and winter breaks were the only chance Henry got to see his uncle, but as he grew older he learned to use his sparse vacations more wisely. At twenty-five, he supposed he couldn’t complain much. Bruno never hurt him. He ensured Henry was clothed, fed, educated, and safe.

But surely, Henry thought, a person could expect more than Maslow’s base level of needs?

That was all life seemed to teach him. If you’re able to stay alive and keep moving forward, be thankful and keep your mouth shut. Be good, be quiet. And Henry was good. He performed well in school. And he was quiet. He silently bore the bullies, the snickers, the shunning. It paid off in military school where his silence was applauded as patience and he was promoted to officer at a young age and expected to delegate arguments. The nub of anger in him, an anger that appeared on the night his parents died, screamed at his fragile backbone. Its voice molded with the voice of his superior officers, commanding for attention among other orders. With so many years being called private Bolet, corporal Bolet, sergeant Bolet, and officer Bolet, Henry almost forgot his name. It wasn’t until he met Summer at a random bar that he remembered.

She sat by him while his fellow soldiers mingled with the other soldiers. It was their scheduled night out and the soldiers wanted to go to the bar. Outnumbered, Henry had no choice but to agree. To disagree would lead to a lack to trust and camaraderie, especially with him. So he sat somewhere dark and quiet in the bar, hoping no one saw him till it was time to leave. But like her name, Summer’s warmth crept into his corner.

“Hey there,” she cooed. “What’s your name?”

“Bolet” came the automatic reply.

“Oooh a cold one are you? Don’t worry. I don’t bite”. She nudged him a little and Henry could smell the alcohol oozing off of her.

“Henry,” he muttered after a long pause.

“Hen-ry”. She played with his name, brought it to life. “I’m Summer”.

Henry nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“Why don’t you join the other men? They seem to be having fun?”

“On duty”.

Summer’s eyebrows perked as she took in Henry’s response.

“So you’re not drinking?”

“It’s not my thing”.

“Ooh, a cleanwhistle,” she edged closer towards him. “A proper soldier”.

Henry said nothing. He could feel Summer’s gaze on him and didn’t know what to do.

“Come join us,” she spoke suddenly and got up, pulling him with her towards a group of people. They quietened when he and Summer approached and she introduced him as the “officer in charge”. It got a few chuckles, but Summer’s face showed pride. Henry didn’t say much, didn’t have to. Summer talked for the both of them, and the other members of the group seemed to have no problem with his trepid responses. Excitement, a rare emotion, flowed through him as he listened to the conversations that flowed through the drinks. It didn’t help that twice Summer gave him a peck on the check. She ordered more drinks. Henry paid for the first one, but then cut her off in concern. A chorus of coos went around the drunk group as Summer proudly declared him as “a good soldier”.

“My good soldier,” she whispered to him and Henry let himself fall.

  It was Summer who persuaded him to leave the military.

“What will I do then,” Henry asked.

“Don’t worry,” she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll tell you”.

She suggested taking up a degree in accounting. It would be a 180 from the military, but the analytical side would be familiar. Henry considered letting his uncle know of the changes he was making to his life, maybe even introduce Summer to him. But Bruno never responded to the letters and emails Henry sent, nor did he pick up the phone. After a while, Henry just stopped calling. And anyway, there was no need to be concerned. Summer’s decisions were always right. She didn’t attend college, but she worked in the local café. Since she couldn’t accompany him, she suggested he stay and work in the café. After all, most freshman were too busy enjoying their youth to offer any real friendship, and since he was older than the others, it would just be too awkward for him. So he spent his free time in the café. He allowed her to crash in his apartment and picked up her slack.

Summer would often complain about her coworkers, her parents, Henry, even herself. The more time Henry spent with her, the more he saw how tired she was. She was often too tired to help out and frequently disappeared for days at a time. Henry was most worried about those days because she never bothered to let him know when she was going or for how long. Whenever he tried to bring it up, she would snap at him, exclaiming her need to discharge from the world. He tried to explain it to her, how his parent’s sudden death made him a little paranoid.

Summer listened to him. She then held his hands and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m not your parents. Get over it”.

So Henry got over it.

Now, two weeks from graduating, he stood in front of the Bolet manor struggling to get over his uncle’s sudden death. Summer had scoffed when Henry informed her of his uncle’s death. She didn’t understand the point of attending the funeral of some estranged relative who barely cared about Henry.

“He took care of me Summer”.

“So?” she exclaimed.

But when she saw that, for once, Henry would not be persuaded, she rolled her eyes and let him go with an aggravated sigh. A permission he thanked with a shopping spree.

“Just come back when you’re done Bolet,” Summer said as she left for her parent’s house.

  It was at the funeral he learned that Bruno had made him executor of his will and also dedicated thirty percent of the estate to him. It was no measly figure. Bruno Bolet’s house was of average size, but his estate encompassed the cemetery plot that belonged to the Bolet family. Even the ten percent that Bruno’s housekeeper was to get landed her a pretty sizable fortune. It was the housekeeper, Renee Amande, who welcomed Henry to the Bolet manor and showed him to his room. The house was very clean, which was all Henry could think of saying as she led him to his room.

“Of course it is. I keep very high standards,” She turned and looked straight at him. “Though Mr. Bolet was an eccentric and disorganized man, I always ensured he lived in a clean home and ate regularly. You don’t get to 98 single and alone”.

“He seemed quite content to live alone, from what I know of him,” Henry said. He couldn’t help snapping back. The anger he held had started to ebb out during the funeral and Henry had no outlet for it.

Renee stared at him. Her eyes roved around his figure, taking in this so called nephew of Bruno Bolet. She didn’t trust him. He certainly played the role of a Bolet very well with his eyeliner, painted nails, and what looked like a fishnet glove on his right arm. But what nephew never met or even called his uncle? Renee entered into Bruno’s life when he was in his sixties and he spoke very little of his family. Oh Bruno prided himself in the Bolet family’s eccentric personality and their history with New Orleans’s ghosts, but he always held Renee and most others an arm’s length away. But New Orleans was linked to the Bolet name.  

The Bolets started out as gravediggers and worked their way up to undertakers. Everyone, both living and dead, knew that if you wanted to be taken care of in death and the afterlife, you came to the Bolets. The family owned the largest cemetery in New Orleans and everyone took advantage of that. Taxi drivers who picked up the occasional ghost rider would drop them off at the cemetery. They would usually find a dollar for their trouble, though it never covered the fare. It was an unacknowledged law that the construction of any infrastructure had to have the approval of the Bolet family. Progressive or not, no one wanted to anger the ghosts of New Orleans.

Yet here stood the heir of the largest cemetery. The next Bolet set to inherit the role of his name. Renee knew from Bruno that the Bolets erred on the side of melancholic, but Henry’s aura radiated cynicism. That boy is trouble for you Renee.

He didn’t object to her desire to stay until the will had been properly sorted. He didn’t object to staying in Bruno’s old room, now stripped of life. He didn’t even object to her carrying on as a housekeeper. But something was off with the boy. At first she though it was grief. But the lack of connection between nephew and uncle made her assume greed. The boy kept staring at his phone with a dark frown on his face. At breakfast, he only nibbled on the blueberry cornmeal pancakes. When she showed him Bruno’s study, Henry just grumbled and set to work. Renee always took pride in Bruno’s workplace. It was a perfect blend of Bruno’s eccentricities and the Bolet’s prestige. But seeing Henry sort through the numerous papers that decorated the dark oak desk, Renee couldn’t help but feel disgust.

He doesn’t deserve any of it.

  Summer had been endlessly calling Henry since he landed in New Orleans. Frustrated and stressed, he put the damn cell on silent. But the missed calls piled up until finally, his phone died on him.

Thank god, he thought, then immediately felt guilty. Summer was just concerned about him. He didn’t even notify her that he landed and attended the funeral. He slept fitfully in a bare room and had no appetite for the breakfast Renee kindly made for him. He didn’t even get the chance to thank her for the pancakes when the landline rang and Henry was pulled into conversation after conversation. Everyone swooped in like vultures, desperate for a piece of the Bolet wealth. From last payments for furniture to unfulfilled I.O.U.s. Bruno Bolet had a lot of money and a lot of places he threw his money. Thankfully, it didn’t look like his uncle was in debt, but the mess he made of his finances made Henry nauseous. How could anyone be so careless on the things that mattered?

The first thing Henry did was grab a trashcan and clear out what seemed irrelevant. Advertisements. Confirmations and thank you for attending parties. Some random info on skulls. And an envelope from a research institute. Rubbish. As both executor and inheritor, Henry was caught in making sure Bruno’s will be carried out, but also in ensuring that no one swooped in and took something without permission. He also had to deal with Bruno’s remains.

After the cremation, Bruno wanted Henry to bury him in the Bolet garden. Where exactly, the old coot never specified. After roaming around a bit, Henry saw a red-eyed vulture sitting atop a shrine. Below it, there were four other red-eyed vultures. Suddenly a gust of noises crowded his mind. They whispered words, some of which Henry barely heard. Am I losing it? He should have been terrified, but whether it was a lack of sleep or the start of insanity, Henry found himself at ease with the whispers. They surrounded his presence and grew louder as he approached the vultures. Here…Here…Here, they urged and as Henry looked around the shrine, he saw a pot hole with the name Bruno Bolet on it. But how to open it?

The pot hole was shut and no matter how hard Henry tried to lever the lid up, it remained fastened to the ground. Taking a closer look at the pot hole, Henry noticed a lock design. So, it needs a key? But where was he supposed to find a key in Bruno’s mess? He sighed and gave up. He’d just figure out some other place to bury his uncle. The whispers cried out as he left, but fell silent when he approached the double doors of the study.

 That night, the whispers came into his room. They swarmed around him, chattering. Tittering whenever he sprung up from the bed.

“Go away,” he shouted.

They shivered.

“What do you want?”

Skull… man… skull… find… man… arrives

Henry flopped back onto the bed. He didn’t have time to chase after the adventures of some Skullman. Maybe he really was losing it. Maybe his uncle’s death was affecting him more than he anticipated. He wasn’t unnerved by their presence. They felt like meeting an old friend, not that Henry knew what that felt like. The only person he had was Summer. Speaking of which, Henry reached for his phone and saw that Summer had called again, numerous times. He sighed, then called and prepared for the onslaught.

“Hen-ry!” Summer’s high-pitched voice spoke through the silence of his room. Immediately, the whispers become silent and Henry could feel their presence leave the room.

“Hey Summer. Sorry about not calling you before. It’s been hectic.”

“God, Henry you’re such a jerk. You couldn’t even call me one time to check-in on me? Don’t you care about me?”

“Course, I do. How are you doing Summer?”

“I’m bored. My parents are working and I have nothing to do”.

“Didn’t you mention that you made plans to go to the beach with some friends? That’s why we bought those swimwear outfits”.

“Yaaa, but what can I do if my friend suddenly decided to bring along her boyfriend? Do you know how lame I look saying I have a boyfriend but not bringing him along? See how inconsiderate your uncle’s death is?”

“Sorry about that Summer,” Henry replied weakly. He never really figured out what to say to Summer when she got angry.

“You have to make it up for me,” Summer demanded. She sounded serious and Henry knew that a stubborn Summer was an uncooperative one. Still, he tried.

“Aw, come on Summer”.

“No buts, Bolet!”

“Alright, alright,” Henry said, trying to pacify her.

“How about I get you some CDs? That way you can listen to them until I finish around here?”

Summer was silent for a while and Henry held his breath.

“How long will you be gone for?” she asked.

“I’ll get you enough CDs for two weeks. How’s that? That way, if I finish early, you get extra CDs for another time?”

“You’re really pushing it Bolet”.

“I know. I’m sorry”.

“Just hurry up!”

Saying so, Summer hung up on him and Henry dropped the phone to the ground.

  There was a local antique store in the old French quarters. The owner, Lamont Warrick, didn’t hesitate to introduce himself to Henry at the funeral and procure a business card.

“For anything you deem useless, just toss it over to me”.

Henry didn’t have much on him. It didn’t help that Renee seemed to always keep an eye on him. Between the whispers and her unexpected presence, Henry didn’t know which was worse. Honestly, he was so close to snapping at her to just get it over with if her intent was to kill him. Her badgering presence was something he didn’t want to deal with. He didn’t know from where he was supposed to get the money to by the CDs Summer wanted. He only had a debit card on him and the stores only took credit. He cursed himself for never applying for a credit card. He never really needed it seeing as uncle Bruno and school took care of everything. It wasn’t until he left with Summer that he had to really take care of himself.

He didn’t need much, just enough to get the CDs and pay for shipping to Illinois. He knew it was wrong, illegal even. He could be forfeit from his inheritance. He would be a hypocrite for sure. But if he didn’t do this, Summer would be mad at him, and if Summer was mad at him—he didn’t want to continue that thought. So he grabbed a box and quickly chucked some clutter from Bruno’s room. The faster he did it, the less he would have to think about what he was doing. Giving Renee a quick excuse, Henry shuffled out of the manor and headed towards Zeke’s curiosity shop.

Lamont gave Henry a friendly hello and perked his eyebrows when he saw the box. Lamont felt bad when he saw Henry Bolet for the first time. He knew Bruno Bolet well. The man spent a lot of time at his curio shop, and frequently bought items. His housekeeper, Renee also frequented the place. But Bruno was the one who truly admired Lamont’s collection. In Bruno, Lamont found an appreciator of junk. The discarded bits people didn’t want, or had no place for, all found home in his curio shop. Bruno often invited Lamont over to see the Bolet manor, so Lamont knew that the house was a trove for antiques.

Lamont once asked Bruno who would get the house and the artifacts upon his death. He supposed some people would take the question as insensitive, greedy even, but Bruno understood what he was really asking.

“A relative of mine would inherit the majority”.

Seeing as Bruno was already hitting his 80s, Lamont assumed the relative was older. But when he saw the relative, this Henry Bolet, as a young man, all sympathy burst forth. This Henry was younger than him. Lamont had heard that Henry’s parent’s died when he was only eight. Bolet news spread like wildfire in New Orleans. Bruno would have been his only other relative. To have him die too. Lamont knew it was wrong. The young man didn’t seem to want company, but business was business. If he didn’t want comfort, maybe this Henry would understand business.

“Didn’t take you long to stop over,” Lamont said as he eyed the box. “Didn’t bring much either”.

“This is just a small sample. I’ll bring the rest later”.

Lamont was confused. People didn’t decide to sell a small portion of their junk and save the rest for later. It was usually a full overhaul, especially when death was the cause. Most just wanted to shove off the remains of the dead, as if they were scared of the memories the junk contained. Henry himself looked distressed, as if he was in a hurry.

Lamont perused through the box. Some old photographs. A locked box, and what seemed to be a top hat and skull costume. He’d often see Bruno wearing the top hat. It would sell. The box would also sell. But the rest would be hard to pitch to customers. No one really wanted the photographs of an unknown person, or their letters. Lamont sighed.

“Your uncle died 2 days ago, right?”

“Yes, and?”

“Well, let’s just say that in my experience, people don’t bring in things to sell 2 days after someone dies. Also, they don’t bring a small box”.

Henry became very quiet and Lamont continued.

“Hey man, I’m not judging you, but I’m assuming that you need cash fast”.

Henry gave a stiff nod.

Lamont sighed again. It was common in his business for people to quickly sell off something they assumed was junk when strapped for cash. He never bought anything from them. If they got caught, he could also get into trouble and Lamont had a family to worry about. But this kid, he looked so, so naïve. He clearly had no idea what he was doing.

“Look, I can’t buy this”.

Henry’s face fell.

“But,” Lamont continued. “Here’s what I will do. How much do you need? Hundred bucks?”

“Two hundred,” Henry muttered, then scowled. He couldn’t Lamont in the eyes.

That’s nothing, Lamont thought. But the kid looked so worried about it.

“Okay, so let’s say this. I give you the two hundred. I’ll even take this box and make a receipt for you if it will make you feel better. But, in exchange. When you actually go through your uncle’s possessions, you invite me over and let me have first pick over the artifacts. I take two hundred dollars’ worth with me. Deal?”

Henry nodded and Lamont rang up a bill.

  A couple days later, after dealing with an endless amount of callers, Henry pushed it all away. Slowly Bruno’s estate and finances were sorting themselves out, but Henry needed a break. Feeling perky, he offered to treat Renee out for dinner.

“About time I saw some Southern hospitality in you, young man”.

Their plan of enjoying the May breeze in the French quarters at a local café was ruined by the onslaught of rain. Henry apologized to Renee, but it was clear that the woman blamed Henry for the rain. They ate in silence and returned back to the manor to see the front door open.

“Did we have a break-in?” Henry exclaimed.

“Oh dear. This is highly unusual to happen in New Orleans. Normally it’s so safe, we needn’t lock doors,” Renee wondered.

Henry turned towards her.

“You didn’t lock the door?!”

“No dear. Like I said, it isn’t necessary”.

Henry pointed to the door.

“Yes, I can see how unnecessary it was”.

Renee eyes flashed.

“No need to take that tone with me, young man. I am not speaking nonsense”.

Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why was he bothering to argue with someone who made huff-puff hoodoo powder in her free time? It didn’t help that the whispers came back to him. They followed him to that curio store, screamed more like it, as he ‘sold’ the junk. They were screaming now.

Skull… man… skull… man… fall…

Henry massaged his forehead.

“Let’s just infiltrate and assess damage”.

As both he and Renee stepped into the house, Henry caught the sight of footprints. One wet and small. The other muddy and large. The muddy one indicated that it’s owner had long left the house, but what caused him concern was that the smaller foot prints only went in one direction.

“Be careful Renee. I think our thief is still inside the house,” Henry whispered.

“Understood,” Rene whispered back, eyes watching the floor and mirroring Henry’s thoughts.

They stepped cautiously into the foyer and Renee reached for an umbrella. Smart, Henry thought. The thief might be armed. It would be best for Renee to arm herself. Henry clenched his hands into fists and tensed, ready to throw a punch.

When they stepped into the living room, Renee let out a gasp and dropped her umbrella. In front of them was the award-wining cemetery model Bruno made a long time back. Below the table, and splayed out, unconscious, at the centre of the living room was a young woman.

[livinglifebehindthemask]

The Chosen

Based on the book The Selection by Kiera Cass

Pairing: Magnus/Alec with a small side of Helen/Aline and Reyhill

Rating: M for Mature

Word Count: ~24,000

Art: @flynnifox

Beta: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myblackeyedboy

Summary: In a land where your place in society was decided long before you are born, Alec Lightwood spends his day as a farm hand for a local family. His family is just above the poorest in the country. The most he can expect in life is to die early from stress like his grandfather before him.

But this year everything will change.

The only son of the King of Edom has come of age. There will soon be a lottery between the counties and twenty-three young women will be picked to try and win over the heart of the beloved prince. However, this year will be different, for the first time ever men are allowed to enter as well. Will Alec risk the shame of coming out for a chance to meet his childhood crush, that is if he is chosen.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33675712/chapters/83691226

1

The sun was just rising when Alec awoke. The Lightwood household was still quiet, but not for long. Soon the rooster would caw and the whole house would rise. Alec leaned back in his small bed. Across the tiny room was his brother, Max. The poor little boy had soot still on his nose from helping their dad clean the chimney of the main house.

A bird started cawing outside of their window and Max stirred. Time to get up and get ready for the day. There were three children in the Lightwood household. The Lightwood family were Sevens. They were just above the homeless untouchables and people didn’t hesitate to remind them of this fact.

The Kingdom of Edom had eight class levels. Ones were the royalty and magical mystics. The second level were the models, actors, soldiers, and politicians. The Threes held most of the everyday jobs like teachers, doctors, lawyers, writers, and inventors. Fours were the farmers, chefs, and business owners. Fives were the artists. Singers, musicians, and dancers filled this level. The Fives were on the cusp of poverty for more than half the year. Sixes and Sevens were similar in that they were mostly servants, wait staff, secretaries, housekeepers, factory workers; however Sevens worked outside. They were also similar in pay. While their jobs were needed they were barely paid for their work. Eights were the lowest class, made up of the homeless. Traitors and criminals were among their ranks and they had to beg for food or steal.

Alec’s family lived on the Herondale family farm. It was steady work, but not well paid. The five Lightwoods did most of the upkeep needed on the farm. While the Herondale’s ran the business side of the farm. The Heriondales were only Fours, three levels above the Lightwoods, but they never treated them as anything less than family. However, even the Herondale’s were not that rich.

Max rolled over in his small bed and resumed softly snoring. Shifting out of his bed and pulling on his threadbare socks Alec pushed his feet into the worn out shoes and quietly shuffled out to use the bathroom. Alec splashed water on his face afterwards to wake himself up more. He heard a rooster and knew that everyone else would be getting up soon too. Down the hall from the bathroom was his parents room and his sister’s room. Izzy had a room to herself, but it was not much. It had been a place for storage once upon a time, but when Izzy got older they took her bed and squeezed it in the small room. It was big enough for a small bed, side table, and a chest at the foot of the bed. Still it was her little sanctuary.

His mother was already up, fixing food. He leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek before pulling on his overcoat and heading outside. His first task of the morning was to milk the cows. Once he did that he had to make sure they were fed and comfortable. The chickens would be next.

The wind chilled him to the bone. Fall was not far off and winter would quickly follow. The crops would be harvested soon and the land left barren for the season. It had been a hard summer. The drought had lasted too long and their yield was not going to be as much as previous years. There was a possibility that the Herondales might have to let them go. This was the only home Alec had ever known and he didn’t want Max to grow up in this uncertainty.

The only way out of your level was marriage for women or being drafted into the military for men. At nineteen, men were randomly selected for the draft. For some it was a way out of poverty, but it also brought on more danger. Men that went to the front in the war with Diyu rarely came back. Still if he could get drafted and stay alive for at least a few months then the money he earned could help his family. One more year and he would be old enough for the draft. There was, however, an exception to the marriage rule.

Male pregnancy had always been the stuff of legends, but after the king's mystics found the proper mixture of spells and potions men were able to carry children to term just like women. While only Threes and up had enough money to pay for magical potions and spells, the lower levels didn't. Fours on down were more traditional. Men married women and had families.

"Hey." He turned to see Jace, the oldest Herondale son. Jace was about a year younger than Alec, all blond hair and muscles. The Lightwood and Herondale children had grown up together. There were five Herondale children: Jace, Sebastian, who was two years younger and a year younger than Izzy. Aaron was four years younger and the closest to Max's age. Then Layla and Dylan who were the only girls, twins of about five years old.

"Hey." Alec smiled back as his heart sped up. Alec was not like most men, he was in love with a man. Well two men. His place in society meant he could never have what he truly wanted.

"Need any help?" Jace was still rubbing his eyes.

"You can take that bucket back to my mom." Maryse, Alec's mother, and Izzy worked on the dairy side of the farm while at the same time Robert, Alec, and little Max did the tilling of earth. Jace nodded and walked, grabbing the full bucket and taking it back to the house. Alec sighed as he watched the man leave. He needed to snap out of this. Besides, Jace already had a girlfriend. So Alec being in love with his best friend was completely wrong. There were a handful of Twos and Threes but most of the province of Idris' residents were Fives on down.

The second man Alec was in love with was even more unattainable. Magnus Octavioasn Aemilius Bane was the crown prince of Edom, but Alec felt like he knew him after watching him grow up on the public access channel. He had copper skin, just like his mother, raven hair that was always perfectly coiffed, and honey gold eyes, like his father.

Alec sighed as he finished up with the second bucket. Why was he attracted to men that were so unattainable?

Later after the eggs had been collected and his mother had gotten the milk, he sat down for a simple meal of porridge and day-old bread.

"How is the harvest coming?" His mom asked his dad.

"Better than we had expected but nowhere near enough. Stephen said they will try to make a good profit on what they have but there will not be any left over." Robert sighed. The drought had really hit Idris hard. Fellow farmers didn't have any room for extra workers. The dairy would keep them going through the winter but Alec knew his father was already looking for other work.

“I can go into Alicante and see if anyone needs help.” Alec offered. His father had been looking too tired as of late.

“You are needed here, Alec.” His father sighed.

“After the last of the harvest. Maybe I can get enough work before the snow starts to fall.” His father would not say no to any work and Alec was the same way.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Izzy came into the boys’ room after dinner. Max was taking a bath so Alec was alone with his thoughts for a moment.

“Alec.” His sister walked over and sat beside him. “I just delivered some milk to the main house and I heard Mr. and Mrs. Herondale talking about the Prince. His birthday is soon.” Alec nodded as if trying to follow along but he was lost. Izzy sighed. “When a prince of Edom turns 20 he is deemed marriageable age.”

OH. It was time for the prince to find his spouse. Daughters of the King were usually married off to foreign leaders to secure bonds, but sons always married a daughter of Edom. Soon letters would be going out to every female between the ages of sixteen and twenty to be placed into a lottery and see which would become a part of the chosen few.

“Then you will be able to enter.” Alec said with a small smile. If a girl became a part of the chosen few her status was automatically upped to a Three if she was not a natural born Two or Three. Even if she went home the very next day she would still retain that level. Izzy deserved a better life than the one she lived.

“I was not finished,” She admonished. “They said that rumor has it that the Prince is bisexual and might be looking for women and men.” Alec’s head spun for a moment. The Prince was...how...no. It had to be a rumor. That was it, just a silly rumor.

“Ssso?” He hated how his voice slipped as he tried to sound confident.

“So, I will not be the only one that can fill out the form.” Alec shot up from his bed and stuffed his feet back into his worn out shoes.

“I forgot to check the hen house.” Alec nearly ran out of the door just to get away from her. No, absolutely no one knew of his feelings toward men and yet Izzy had pretty much spelled it out. Alec made his way over to the hen house knowing fully well he had locked the gate and nothing could get in or out.

If the Prince wanted a male spouse...it was not unheard of in the upper levels, however, as long as he could remember Princes married daughters of Edom, not sons of Edom. Tucking that thought away, back where it belonged, Alec walked around for a bit before he was sure Izzy would be in her room so he could sneak back in without encountering her knowing smile.

2

Alec wiped his brow before the sweat could fall into his eyes. It was nearly noon and the harvesting was almost done. His father was right, it was not going to be enough to make a decent profit. Alec had already decided he was going into town the next day to look for work. Neither his father nor little brother were looking particularly well lately. Max had always been a little sickly, but Alec feared it might be stress for his father. Roberts' own father had died around the same age from a heart attack. So had his father before him. Working all day outside in the heat and the cold for very little pay would be stressful for anyone. Alec was not going to let that be the fate of his father, not if he could help it.

Later after a small dinner the family traveled up to the main house to watch the weekly report. No one missed a report, ever. Even the homeless could find a store front to watch the report from. It told the people of Edom everything they needed to know from prices of produce, to the war. Tonight was going to be particularly special. This would be the night they would announce the Prince’s birthday and the Chosen guidelines.

When they got to the Herondales' they found that Dylan and Layla were already in Jace’s lap, each one occupying a leg of their favorite brother. Aaron and Max went to sit in a corner, probably going to play with cards or bottle caps. They didn’t much care for the report. A bunch of boring updates that never had anything to do with two lower class boys. It would be a few years before they started to take notice.

Izzy sat next to Sebastian, who was sitting next to Jace, and Alec took the floor in front of her. For the past year both mothers have been trying to push the kids together. Izzy could marry into a higher level and get out of the hard labor. Lower levels tended to marry early as premarital sex was punishamble by banishment or death. Most people married within their class and it was rare that a boy from a high caste would marry a level beneath him, not to mention three levels.

Jace already had a girlfriend, a little fiery red headed Five. Clary Fairchild lived in the middle of town, above a bookstore. Her past was a sordid one. Her mother used to be a Five, a painter in Alicante. A neighbor boy, who was a Four, had gone to a school far from Idris. One vacation he brought his new friend, a Two, to visit. Jocelyn fell for the charismatic Valentine Morgenstern.

They married and Jocelyn left Alicante for the capital. Unfortunately Valentine was caught in a plot to overthrow the king, along with his son, Jonathan. Jocelyn was innocent in the plot and in exchange for testifying against her husband she was able to go back to her hometown and became a Five once again. Clary was the younger child and only eight when all this happened so she went with her mother. The demotion from Two to Five must have been hard for Clary, who was used to such a grand lifestyle as the daughter of a politician. But she was a natural Five, being as good of an artist as her mom.

But if the weather didn’t get better both unions might have to wait. There might even be a possibility that Jace or Sebatien would be forced to marry a wealthier Four bride. Love was still the primary reason that most lower level couples married for, but in the upper levels connections took precedence over emotions.

“There he is!” Izzy cheered. She didn’t need to be so loud, but nonetheless Alec turned his head to the TV. King Asmodeus and Queen Annisa walked in, hand in hand with Magnus on his father’s other side. Magnus walked with grace and beauty. The raven haired man had his head held high. A streak of blue running through his perfectly quaffed hair. Being from the Bane family the Prince knew magic and knew how to change his appearance and he never missed an opportunity to make a statement.

Izzy squeezed her brother’s shoulder as Jace tried to calm the girls down. The report would start with the Edom national anthem, led by the royals themselves. Then advisers would stand one by one and give a brief update of issues around the kingdom. Only after that would the talk turn to the Chosen.

As the program went on Alec found his heart was beating faster. Why did it matter? Even if he did enter he would never be chosen and then he would bring shame to his family. He was expected to marry within his class, not above it, and to a woman.

Both families listened to the reports with the kids zoning in and out of listening. Max and Aaron were still playing in the corner, Dylan had settled down but her sister was still a ball of energy. Finally after the last governmental report, the one about the farms, the attention was turned to the master of ceremonies, Simon Lewis. His dark curly hair was perfectly styled and he held a microphone to match his magenta suit. Simon bowed before the King.

“Thank you, Sire. It is an honor to be a part of this historic choosing.” Alec felt his breath hitch for a moment. Historic, so it was true. The rumor was true. “Prince Magnus, might you join me down here.” The Prince stood from his chair and gracefully walked down the few steps and over to where Simon and a small table and two chairs waited.

“Thank you very much, Simon.” The Prince and the MC sat down.

“It is I that should be thanking you. Life is never boring around you.” Magnus chuckled.

“That is very true and soon it will be more chaotic.”

“Speaking of, how are you feeling about this year's choosing? Twenty-three young women chosen to come vie for the Prince's attention?” Simon wiggled his brows. “Must be quite a task.”

“It would be, but I have decided to take it a step farther.” Magnus turned to the camera and spoke straight to the people. “I am opening the Chosen to the sons of Edom, not just to the daughters.”

Those words buzzed in his ears loud enough that Alec didn’t hear anything else. <i>Sons of Edom.</i>

3

The news exploded through all twenty-three provinces of Edom. The local province registration offices were flooded with people, both male and female, all trying to get their chance at this lottery. In Alicante most of the men that signed up were Threes or Fours. No men from the lower levels were seen near the office. Even the Fours signing up were risking everything.

Robert had forbidden Izzy from signing up. “If he is that much of a deviant then we don’t need our family dragged into that.” Of course he had only said that within the confines of his small home with his family present. But that didn’t stop Alec from wanting it. He wanted to sign up and even made up his mind to walk the five miles to the office, twice, before he chicken out.

As the days went by Alec filled his time with finding new work to offset the cost of winter. He had found a few construction jobs along with cleaning up a couple abandoned plots of land. The money he brought home was well worth it. He had even started to forget about his own wishes until the night Max came down sick.

Max had never been that healthy, but most of the common remedies for colds kept the sickness at bay. He was not to work in the cold and rain, but being on a farm he often had to help his father and brother. The weather had started to turn cold when Max woke up one morning with a headache and he looked as white as a sheet.

Unfortunately they couldn’t send for a doctor, that was just too expensive. Even the Herondales didn’t have the money. Maryse sat by her son’s bed and tried to make him as comfortable as possible.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Izzy pulled Alec into her room and closed the door. “What do you want?” Izzy had been trying to get Alec alone all day, but there was work to be done. Finally after dinner she was able to corner him.

“Here.” She handed him a small white envelope. Alec looked at it and then back up to his sister. “Open it, you idiot.” She said, exasperated. Alec rolled his eyes and sat on her small bed to open up the envelope. The moment he read the first sentence of the form he knew what it was. It was the Chosen form.

“Izzy, no.”

“Alec, yes. This could be your only chance at real love.” That was if the Prince even chose him, which he probably would not. He would want some handsome Two or Three that knew poetry and how to model rather than when to plant the next crop or how to clean a chimney in under an hour.

“And what if it gets back to mom and dad? They can not afford the shame.”

“Alec.” Izzy took his hand in hers. Both of them worked hard but Izzy still had softer hands. “We are one step above the homeless. We live in this hell of a level because of our ancestors. That does not mean we should not want more. You don’t want to waste your life working outside on a farm, marrying someone you don’t love, and then possibly dying early from all the hard work?”

Alec looked back at the form. If the people of Alicante found out and refused to employ him...he could move to Brooklyn, thirty miles to the east, he reasoned. The city had more opportunities and maybe he could bring back a lot of money, but was this worth all that effort?

“Try, Alec. If you are picked then the family will get a stipend for your absence. That money could be used to heal Max. It could keep us in this house for another winter.” Izzy was right. If he was chosen his parents would get money and Alec would be elevated to a Three. Even if he was shown the door the first night he would have a different level that would allow him to be a teacher or a writer or anything else really.

“Ok, Iz. I will try.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

The next day before anyone had gotten up Alec rose from his temporary bed. Alec had given up his bed so his mother could sleep near Max in case he needed her. Alec took the worn out couch in the living room as his bed.

Going to the bathroom he combed his hair and washed his face. After everyone had gone to bed the night before Alec had looked over the form. It was said that pictures were taken when the person turned their form in. So much for it being a random lottery. Still Alec wanted to look his best. He had borrowed a shirt from Jace, not exactly telling him why he wanted it, but the light blue shirt looked newer than his brown or grey ones. It made his blue eyes pop and that was more than he could hope for.

Back out of the bathroom he stuffed his small satchel with his work shirt, the form, and some food before leaving a note for his parents. He was planning on finding work after he put the form in. It would give him an excuse as to why he had left so early. He would not turn any job down, no matter what it entailed.

It was early morning as he walked across the fields to the road that would lead him into Alicante proper. Alicante was a small town with a main street full of little shops and then homes surrounding it. The registration office opened at eight and he still had over two hours before that. He could take this walk at a leisurely pace. He didn’t want to be muddy or sweaty when he got to the office.

As he walked he tried to think what it would be like if he was chosen. There would never any be a chance with Jace. He didn’t favor men and only had eyes for Clary. Like Izzy said, this could be his only hope at a relationship with a man.

Slowly the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. People started to open their businesses as he passed main street. He would be back soon to see if anyone needed help. The business owners were always so nice to him and his family. Turning off main street he headed for the edge of town. The registration office was right across from the train station on the edge of town. He stopped by the station to see the price of a ticket to Brooklyn. If everything went south he would need a way out.

There was already a small line in front of the office. Two more days and the registration would be closed. It seemed he was not the only one that wanted to get their pictures taken early. There were a handful of girls with their mothers who looked like they were on their way to work. Probably Sixes going to work at local factories or maybe even bookkeepers.

The group looked at him for a moment as he stood behind the last woman in line. Even if he flushed with embarrassment he refused to turn around. He was here and he was going to put his form in.

Within twenty minutes of standing in line and a few more people joining the line the office opened. This gave Alec time to wipe his face of any dirt or sweat he had gathered from the trek. The wait was short before he was allowed in the building. The woman at the front desk looked him over before asking for his form. Most government office workers were Fours so he was pretty sure this woman looked down on him.

Taking out the form from his bag he handed it over. Where girls might have been able to put skills of cooking and sewing down Alec only had one skill, archey. He hadn’t even done it in years since Jace’s bow had broken in their early teens. Still it was better than any other skill he could think of.

“Alright, Alexander Lightwood?”

“Alec.”

“Alec. This way to the photo booth.” She motioned into a small room. Inside was a photographer and his assistant. Alec swallowed his embarrassment and walked inside.

“Come over, my son. Getting your picture taken for the choosing?” The man didn’t bat an eye at him. He must not be from Alicante.

“Yes sir.” Alec put his bag down on the floor near the door and walked over to where the man pointed to. Once he sat down the assistant made a few adjustments to the lighting before going behind the camera with the photographer.

“Alright, son. I want you to think of your happiest memory. Hold it close to your heart and smile. One.” Alec thought of a time when Jace, Izzy, and himself had played near a brook, acting like they were pirates that wanted to take over the world. “Two.” He remembered being chosen to be Jace’s first mate and how much pride he took in that job, mostly “swabbing the decks.” “Three.”

Alec smiled brightly as the flash went off. He hoped he looked as happy as he felt from the memory.

After Alec left the office he hid in an alleyway and changed his shirt. Stuffing the nicer shirt back in his bag he set off back down the street towards main street. That day he was able to scrape enough money together to save some for his train ticket plus a little more to bring home.

4

It had been two weeks since he put his form in. The lottery had closed and soon the Chosen would be picked. Even though he felt like he had changed, no one else seemed to notice. No one turned him away when he asked if there was any work he could do. That made him breathe a little easier.

So far he had brought in enough money that his parents could get medicine from the store to help little Max. He still was not better, but he hadn’t gotten worse. There was no way that in the next few months he could get enough money together so they could visit a doctor. If Max didn’t get better on his own there might only be four Lightwoods left.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Alec sat his pack down at the door and stretched his back and neck. Today had been a hard day. Only a few people needed help in the town. It was still another week until people started to winterize their homes. Both Robert and Alec had clients lined up starting the next Monday.

“Hey, Alec.” Izzy was in the kitchen stirring something over the stove.

“Please tell me you didn’t make that all on your own.” He ducked as a towel sailed towards him.

“It’s one of mom’s stews so no it will not poison you, but I might.” Izzy was not the greatest cook, mainly because their mom never let her help. Maryse wanted to be in control of everything in the kitchen but now with Max sick, she couldn’t.

Their father came in moments later. He looked paler than usual. The partiach had been working twice as hard the past couple weeks. They were both trying to make as much money as they could.

“Food will be ready soon, Papa.” Izzy said as she moved to cut up some bread. Alec went to the bathroom to wash up, followed by his father. They didn’t speak, both so tired, but they had to conserve their energy. The weekly report was coming on tonight. As Alec exited the bathroom it struck him tonight the twenty-three people were being picked. His heart beat a little faster as he walked himself back to the kitchen and sat down at the small table.

“Alec?” He looked up to see his sister placing the food in front of him. “You look spaced out. Please tell me you have not been working too much.” Alec shook his head and opened his mouth to answer but their mother walked in.

“Is the food ready? Max said he wanted to try it.” Their mother seemed to have aged several years in only a few days. Izzy dished out some of the stew, more liquid than solids. Their mother took it and turned back to the hall. Their parents passed each other sharing only a quick glance.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Robert, Izzy, and Alec were the only ones to make the trek up to the main house. Maryse refused to leave her child behind and Max was in no shape to walk up.

The Herondale household was more subdued than it had been a few weeks before when the Choosing announcement was made. Dylan and Layla still sat near their favorite brother but neither were very talkative. Aaron sat against the wall with his legs drawn up to his chest. Sebastian sat beside his brother with Izzy and Alec on his other side. Robert sat in a side chair while Mr. and Mrs. Herondale shared the other side chair.

The report started. The King and Queen walked out with Magnus beside them. His suit was made of deep green velvet with gold buttons. While he did look dashing Alec didn’t have much enthusiasm in him. They would announce the Chosen and Alec would not be one of them. No Seven had ever made it to the Choosing, not once in over two hundred years. They would not start now for a male.

The announcements were made but they barely listened. His father was staring into space either in deep thought or just too tired to focus. There was nothing particularly interesting about the announcement. Nothing they had not heard before. Finally Simon Lewis took the stage with an electric blue suit jacket.

“He has interesting style choices.” Izzy commented to no one in particular.

“And now the moment that I am sure everyone in Edom is waiting for. Prince Magnus, would you join me?” The Prince moved from his throne down to where Simon stood with a handful of cards. “Now, your majesty, I am told you did peek at a few of the pictures of applicants.”

“Yes. I was only allowed a few minutes to look through a few profiles, but everyone I saw looked stunning. I would be lucky to have any of them as my spouse.” Simon chuckled and pulled up his cards.

“Alright, then let’s get this started. In no particular order let’s see who the lucky twenty-three sons and daughters of Edom will be.” The first picture that came up was a blonde woman with a dazzling smile. “Camille Belcourt, Two.” Of course. “Merlion Knight, Two.” The next picture was a dark haired man with a slight smile.

The next few came so quickly. They were all beautiful people. Two more Twos and three Threes.

“Helen Blackthorn, Three.” Another blonde but her face was softer than the first blonde. “Lydia Brandwell, Two.” They had yet to give any below a Three. They might throw a Four or Five in there for good measure but that would probably be it.

“Andrew Underhill, Four.” A picture flashed of a joyous man with blond curls. Two more Threes and then their first Five “Maureen Brown, Five.” She looked more like a child than a woman, if she was sixteen it would be a miracle. More names rolled past but Alec had lost count. They had to be coming to an end soon. Izzy reached out to take his hand and he looked at her out of his peripheral vision. She was not looking at him but she was here for him.

Two more Fives, another Four, another Three, another two Fours, another two Fives. “And last but certainly not least.” Simon said before the last photo flashed up on screen. “Alexander Lightwood, Seven.”

5

Idris was a wash with activity. It had only been two days since the Chosen had been announced and the Lightwood family had had many visitors. They all wanted to congratulate a Chosen son of Edom. At first Alec’s family had been surprised. When his name came up on the television along with his glowing photo, Alec had froze up. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he could ever make it.

Izzy had jumped up from the couch yelling and dancing around. This seemed to lighten the twin’s moods and they got up to dance not knowing why. Alec felt all eyes on him but his eyes were still on the TV as the Prince thanked all the Chosen and wished them safe travels to the capital. Then the national anthem played again before going to snow.

After the TV was switched off there was no sound but the girls asking why they were celebrating.

“Home.” Was the only word their father said before standing up and leaving the room. Alec and Izzy followed close behind knowing an explosion was going to happen as soon as they made the walk down to their house. Maryse was in the kitchen when they came back, pushing her soup around. She was not all that hungry but needed to keep up her strength.

“Sit.” His father’s voice was clipped and both Lightwood siblings sat down at the table.

“What is wrong, dear?” Their mother asked.

“Alec entered the Chosen.”

“And won!” Izzy snuck in before her father glared at her.

“Alexander...” His mother started with sadness in her voice.

“You entered that lottery without a thought of what it could do to your family. We are nearly destitute, Alexander.”

“I know, Father..”

“No you do not! We will lose jobs! Everyone now knows you are a deviant. You will never be able to marry a good girl...” Alec slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

“I never wanted to marry a good girl! Father, I am gay. I have known for some time.” He knew since he was young when he developed his crush on Jace. “And I did think about the family. You will get a stipend for my absence. That will more than pay for the lodging over the winter and get a doctor out here to see Max.” Both of his parents sat stunned at their eldest son. “If I had not won then we would not have had to worry. No one at the Government office has said anything.”

As he ended his speech he felt himself slightly weaken and sat down. Izzy reached across the table to take his hand but he pulled them back into his lap.

“And how long do you think you can stay?” His father asked. “Once you are thrown out you will have nothing and neither will we!”

“I will be a Three.” Alec said. “I will be able to get a better job, one where I don’t break my back and die at 40.” This caused his father to pale. Most Lightwood men only make it to 40 or 50 if they were lucky. Life was just too hard. Finally his father sat down at the table with his family.

“The damage has been done. You have made your bed, Alec, now you must lie in it.”

It was the very next day that a few local workers stopped by to bring some food for the family. The next visitors were a few businessmen from town. They talked with Robert and offered him some work for a good price. They must have told a Doctor because the very next day Dr. Hodge, the local physician, showed up to examine Max. Finally something was getting done.

-=-=-=-=-=-

On the third day a Mr. Victor Aldertree knocked upon their door at two p.m. The dark skinned man looked out of place in the Lightwood home with his beautiful three piece suit and top hat, though the man didn’t exactly look like he wanted to be there to begin with.

“May I speak with Mr. Alexander Lightwood?” The family brought the man into the kitchen and sat around the small table. Izzy was pleased to be a part of all this. Alec felt sick.

“Now, Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood, I have a few questions that need to be asked of you and of young Mr. Lightwood. Some of these questions are of a sensitive nature. I feel that it might be best if your daughter were not present.” Izzy gave an indignant sound and stormed off. Alec would fill her in later.

“Alright, Alexander, I need you to answer all these questions as truthfully as you can. If at any time we find out that you have lied you will be reprimanded and thrown out of the Choosing. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Alec nodded.

“First question, when was your last physical exam?” Alec blinked as he couldn’t remember.

“I do not remember.” They didn’t have money to go to the Doctor that often. Aldertree marked something down.

“Would you be willing to get one, paid for by the Crown.” He added.

“Yes.”

“Very good. Now sexual orientation.” Alec flushed bright red. “Would you consider yourself hetreosexual, bisexual, or homosexual?”

“Hhhomosexual.”

“Have you engaged in any sexual activity with a member of the opposite sex or the same sex?” Alec felt like his face was going to burn off from the heat of embarrassment.

“Nnno.”

“To which one?”

“Both.”

“Very good.” The man wrote something else down before moving on to less sensitive questions. By the time Aldertree was packing up Alec could feel a headache coming on.

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood, Alexander. Someone will be in touch with you shortly about the trip to the capital and a schedule for a physical examination.” The man exited the house and put his hat back on. “Good day to you all.”

6

It was a Thursday when he would finally leave his family and journey to the capital. Edom City was named after the country for which they resided in and was the main headquarters of the royal family and the military. From what Alec had read about when he was younger there were buildings so high up you couldn’t tell where they stopped and the sky began.

There was not much for him to pack. His family had used most of their money on a new outfit for him. The palace would be taking over his wardrobe once he got there and most of his clothes had more holes than a beehive. He was taking only his small satchel filled with a few trinkets.

Max had given him a wooden horse that Jace had carved for him one year. <i>“It will keep you safe.”</i> Izzy gave him a small book that she had purchased a few years back. Alec loved to read but he had neither the time nor the books to actually read. <i>“When you have time between kissing the Prince and talking to high society you can sit somewhere and read.”</i> His mother had given him a handkerchief that she had embroidered his name on. <i>“I hope you will be happy, dear.”</i> His father, however, didn’t give him any trivial trinket. He was not a man that was sentimental. Instead he gave a few words of advice. <i>“While I do not like this, you are the first Seven to ever be picked. Head up and chin out. Show Edom that a Seven is not as lowly and weak as they think.”</i>

The day before Jace and Alec had sat by the river and briefly talked. Saying goodbye to his best friend was not as hard as he thought it would be, but he knew once he got to the palace he would miss Jace terribly.

“I think it's really cool you went for what you wanted, Alec.” Alec looked over at his blonde friend.

“You don’t mind me being...”

“Nope,” Jace said, shaking his head. “I kind of always knew. I don’t know, like this feeling.” Alec found himself blushing and looking away from the other. “I mean, if I was like you, I wouldn’t mind having you for a partner.” That caused Alec to blush even deeper. They didn’t say much after that, just sitting by the river listening to the water.

When they got up to leave Jace reached in his pocket and pulled out a small bracelet of colored beads.

“I had Clary make this for you. I know it's not much...but I don’t want you to forget about me.” Alec felt tears in his eyes when he pulled Jace into a tight hug.

“I could never forget you.”

The car arrived to take him to the station. Once on the train it was a straight shot to the capital but they would be making a few stops. After Idris they would be traveling through the Undying Lands, the biggest farmland in all of Edom and the richest. First stop would be Winter Vale where they would pick up Helen Blackthorn. Alec had done very little research on most of the other Chosen but since the Undying Lands were so close he looked up the three people coming from there.

Helen’s family were from level Three, being mostly lawyers and educators. She was actually going to become a lawyer when she was chosen. Now that Alec had become part of the Chosen he had ascended to the rank of a Three. Maybe he would become a teacher or librarian. He did like books and to be surrounded by them would be wonderful.

Six and Sevens attended a mediocre public school. They learned only the basics and were done by the time they were sixteen so they could get out and start working. They didn’t need much more than that. If you worked in a factory or out in the sun why would you need to know complex chemical formulas or the history of Edom before it was called that. Alec smiled slightly, he would never have to work out in the sweltering heat ever again.

After Winter Vale would be Spring Dale, where they would pick up Meliorn Knight and Annabelle Powerton, both Twos. Meliorn’s father had been drafted into the military when he was nineteen, he was already a Two so his status wouldn’t change. Apparently Merliorn did not want to follow his father into the military and the man had never held a job in his life. Being at the high end of the age range maybe he was just hoping to become the spouse of the next king of Edom. Annabelle’s father was a politician and very trusted by the people in the Undying Lands. She was a pretty girl, petite with chin length brown hair, and a tiny waist. Any one of the other Chosen from this area would be better suited for life in the royal palace.

Alec had never been on a train so when he was shown where the car the Chosen would be riding he jumped as the train started to pull out. Sitting in one of the oversized chairs he looked out as the land whipped past. Soon he would be out of Idris. The farthest he had ever been from home. After the Undying Lands was the county of Adamant Citadel, where the military trained, then on to the capitol. The trip should take around four hours, at least that was what he had been told.

There had not been any big send off for Alec. Anyone who was anyone had already wished him good luck. He had said goodbye to his family at their home. The Herondales had come to see him off and Alec’s heart ached to hug Jace goodbye. His first crush. It all seemed so long ago. Now he was on a train headed for his future, whatever that would be.

-=-=-=-=-

At their first stop Helen Blackthorn was brought on. She was a tall, thin woman with blonde hair that was pulled back from her face, and blue-green eyes. She wore a black long jacket over a tan pantsuit and tall heels that made her much taller than Alec who stood at 6’1”. She was nice but a little aloof. They spoke for a little while before their second stop.

As they pulled into the Spring Dale station, Alec could see from the train all the fanfare that the next two Chosen were getting. A man with long brown hair, half tied up, was waving and carrying flowers. He had on an all white suit that Alec wondered how he kept clean. By the time the other Chosen had got on and came back to the car Meliorn had ditched the flowers. From what Alec could see now Meliorn was not wearing a shirt, just the suit jacket.

Annabelle was walking behind him looking a slight bit mift. Oh dear, drama and they had not even got to the capital yet. Annabelle came up to Helen’s midriff, she wore a short pink lace dress and black shoes. She had a small bag on her left arm that looked no bigger than an envelope.

Meliron sat across the aisle from Alec and Helen and took out a grey box and started pressing on it. Annabelle sat next to Helen, who was across from Alec. She didn’t even look his way. Helen had been nice, but no doubt Annabelle didn’t want to associate with anyone that used to be a Seven. Sighing he turned back to the window.

After Spring Dale was miles and miles of farmland and forest. Some later they entered the Adamant Citadel countryside. No more farmland, but flat, lush greenery around small bunches of trees. They sailed through only one town. It had been a couple hours and Alec was getting tired of looking at fast moving scenery when a voice came from the ceiling.

“We will be arriving in Edom within the hour.” A jolt of excitement went through the four Chosen. Annabelle was getting out a mirror and some makeup from her tiny purse. Helen also opened her satchel to take out a mirror to make sure her hair was still in place. Meliorn was sitting up and straightening his jacket before taking a cloth and wiping down his shiny white shoes. Alec just pushed some of his hair from his face, behind his ear. Why did he need to look good anyway? Prince Magnus’ eyes would overlook him for someone like Meliorn or Annabelle.

It was not much later when Annabelle squealed and pointed out the window. Turning in his seat Alec saw the great city of Edom. There were many greyish buildings all clustered together. The sun shone brightly on the buildings and windows. It looked beautiful but so different from the county of Idris. It glimmered in the distance like a beacon. They passed the treeline right before they entered the station. From what Alec could see there were no trees or plants of any kind. Just cement and steel.

The train started to slow down as they went through some sort of tunnel. Out of the window all he could see was concrete until the tunnel opened up. Beyond the train was a bustling station with people moving too and fro. Some sat on seats and looked at the same box that Meliorn had taken out. A wall hid his view of the other patrons. When it opened up again he saw that his area was not crowded. There were only a few men in uniform waiting.

The train slowed to a stop. As the Chosen exited the train for long black cars, Alec realised how lonely and far from home he was. <i>“Head up and chin out. Show Edom that a Seven is not as lowly and weak as they think.”</i> Alec took a break and closed his eyes. He might have been a Seven but he had been through more than anyone else in the Chosen. Opening his eyes he stepped into the black car, his blue eyes shining with determination.

7

Alec rode to the palace in the back of a long black car with the rest of the Chosen. Annabelle was going a mile a minute about everything around them. Meliorn was fixing his hair for the third time and Helen was just nodding along to whatever Annabelle was saying. Alec on the other hand was just holding his breath. His last boost of confidence had left him feeling better but he still knew he was out of his element. While Helen had been nice to him, neither Annabelle nor Meliorn had spoken one word to him.

Instead of focusing on that he looked out the window at the large grey building that seemed to be spurting out of the ground below them. What struck him as odd was that there was no greenery around. No plants, trees, or shrubs. This was unlike anything Alec had ever imagined.

“Why are there no plants?” He found himself wondering out loud, then felt utterly embarrassed.

“The soil here is unusable. The country before Edom didn’t care about their land and piled waste anywhere they could.” Helen explained in a soft voice. “Now the ground can not grow as much as one weed. The royal family has been trying to reverse the effects of the toxins, but the mystics have not found a way yet.” Ah, that made sense, although it didn’t sound familiar so that must have not been something they were taught in school. History of the earth would not be high on the list if your only duties were only following the directions of your superiors. Still, it saddened him. He had never lived without greenery in his life. Even with all the work he had to do there was never a day that he didn’t get out in nature.

The palace came into view between a row of buildings. It was like the city parted for them as the road led up to Edom’s royal palace.

As soon as they got out of the car three people, two women and one man stepped up to them.

“Good day, Chosen. My name is Iris, this is Victor and Jane. We are part of the public relations department here at the palace. Each one of you signed a contract to not disclose anything that might make the royal family look bad. We know this was not an easy adjustment for some of you, but now that you reside in the castle you will make the monarchy look good. As such we are here to remind you and wish you a pleasant stay. Just through the doors you will have the chief maid and she will direct you to your rooms.” With that Lanette was done talking to them and moved to the side.

Had he signed a contract? He didn’t remember, but he was pretty sure when he had signed his name back at his home that one day he had pretty much sold his soul.

They trudged up the stairs to the large double doors which were opened for them and a woman with dark brown hair tied up in a nice updo welcomed them.

“Hello, chosen few. My name is Imogen and I am the chief of the attendants. If there is anything you need don’t hesitate to ask. Now let me introduce you to your maids.” Each Chosen got a set of maids or butlers in Meliorn and Alec’s case.

“Miss Blackthorn, these are your maids. Lucy, Aline, and Donna.” Helen curtsied to her maids, which seemed to be flustered with her movements. They must have not been curstiesed to very much. Annebelle was next and then Alec. “Mr. Lightwood, these are your attendants, Will and Jem.” The two men bowed slightly to Alec. No one had ever bowed to him him, a worthless Seven. Well he was no longer a Seven, he was now a Three, but it would take a while to get used to it.

“May we take your things?” Jem asked, his arm already stretched out. All Alec had was the bag on his back.

“I can carry my things.” Alec said nervously. The men looked at each other as if they were trying to communicate with only their eyes. The rest of the Chosen had already started to move farther into the palace. “I only have this bag.” Three sets of eyes looked at the small bag.

“Alright, Mr. Lightwood, please follow us.” Will said, motioning for Alec to follow them. Will had coloring like Alec; dark hair and blue eyes. His face however was full of more color than Alec’s pale skin. Jem had the same type of looks as the prince. Thinner eyes but warm brown irises.

They went up one set of stairs and then another. At the top of the second set of stairs they made a left down a long hallway and then another left only to turn right and then left until they were in a little alcove with a single door. Alec couldn’t help thinking he was being shut away from the rest of the Chosen. He didn’t see Helen, Annabelle, or even Meliorn.

Jem was the first to the door and opened it. Inside was a room roughly four if not five times the size of his own home. It was like a dream. Walking into the room he took in the balcony and the large four poster bed. The canopy was a soft cream color tied back with little silk ties. The bed was decked out in all manor of pillows and lush fabrics.

“Does it suit you, Mr. Lightwood?” Alec blinked and looked back at his three attendants. Suddenly he felt very small. This had been a dream less than a week ago but now being here, inside the palace he felt...wrong. A Seven didn’t belong in a palace, even if he were to work there. He would just soil the place with his filth. “Mr. Lightwood?” Alec could barely hear the name past the panic and rush in his ears.

“I’m fine.” He felt everything but fine. “May I have a moment?” The three attendants looked at each other in that same wordless communication.

“Yes, Mr. Lightwood. We will be just outside the door if you need us.” Quickly the three men disappeared leaving Alec alone in the huge, unfamiliar room. Falling to his knees Alec buried his face in his hands and cried. It was the soft, barely there cry he had felt so many times in his life when he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t belong here and by the end of the day he would be the first sent home.

8

It was nearly six when his attendants came back to get him. They brought in a beautiful suit of silvery grey. In the time they had left Alec the young man had cried out all his emotions, leaving him feeling numb and drained. He had splashed cool water on his face from the bathroom and at least looked more put together than he felt. He didn’t even mind the men helping him dress in the beautiful garment.

Dinner was served promptly at seven thirty. That was a little later than they ate back at home, but when you worked all day outside with only a meager sandwich for sustenance you tended to be starving after work. Dinner would be the first chance any of the Chosen would meet the Prince. It would be informal, a quick smile and hello. The next day, however, would be the make or break day.

From what he had gleaned from a bit of research was that the Prince would be expected to cut at least five members of the Chosen within the first week. King Asmodeous had cut seven girls the first day. His father, the late King Modomus had cut about the same amount and the Prince's great-grandfather had cut the competition in half by the third day.

Alec expected to be one of the few to be cut early. He was nothing like Meliorn, sleek and graceful or like that Camille woman he had seen on tv. She had the air of a princess even from just the brief smile he had seen.

“Mr. Lightwood?” A Gentle voice broke through his thoughts. In the mirror he could see Jem looking back at him as he fixed his collar.

“Yes?”

“Be yourself. Do not let them scare you.” Alec wondered what he meant but Will was interrupting them to attach silver cufflinks.

“I will be back shortly with your shoes.”

“Do I look alright?” Alec found himself wondering aloud, looking into Will’s blue eyes.

“You look breathtaking, Sir. The Prince will surely notice you first.” Alec didn’t know if the man was just placating him or he really thought a Seven could stand up to a room full of the elite. He had to remember that even his attendants were above him. Working so close to the royal family and inside the palace meant they were Sixes, yet they treated him as if he was so far above them.

Will returned them with immaculately polished shoes so shiny Alec could see his own reflection in them. Once he was completely dressed Jem showed him down to the dining room. The room was already half full of Chosen contestants. Panic gripped at Alec’s heart as he took in the variety of dresses and suits.

“Breathe, Mr. Lightwood.” Jem told him with a smile. Another servant appeared to take him to his seat. Thankfully he was seated between Helen and another woman named Maria. Maria was a talkative girl. Within a few minutes he knew she was a Four, her father owned a leather making business near the capital, she had three younger sisters and no brothers. She liked to sing but that was just a secret between them and the rest of the table. She made Alec feel so much better. A couple more people joined their table as Maria chatted up a storm. A Three from the outer county of the kingdom named Jessica, another Four named Xander, a Two from the glittering capital aptly named Duchess and last was a familiar face from the broadcast, a Four named Andrew.

Andrew was the last to take his seat at their table. He wore a sleek navy suit and tie. He looked a little flustered and apologized for being late.

“My attendants could not decide what suit to put me in.” Maria started asking about his wardrobe up until the point where a servant loudly cleared his throat and announced the royal family. All of the Chosen stood as King Asmodous and Queen Annisa came in, arm in arm followed by the Prince.

The Prince glittered like diamonds in his nearly all white suit. A few girls at another table nearby nearly swooned and even Alec felt himself flush slightly. Once the royal family had made their way to the head table the Chosen were permitted to sit. The Prince was the only one that stayed standing.

“Thank you chosen few for making the long arduous trip to our fair capital.” The Prince started, thanking them for coming. “Tomorrow I will have a chance to thank each of you in person, but for now I wish you would enjoy the selection of foods from around the country. Eat and be happy, without a care in the world. Thank you again.” With that the Prince sat down and the food was brought in.

There was so much that Alec scarcely knew what to eat first. Many of the foods he had seen on TV or for sale in Aleconte’s marketplace, but he had never had the pleasure of tasting. Most of them he didn’t even know the name of. No day old bread, porridge, watery stew to be seen.

“Helen.” He asked in a quiet whisper as Helen put some sort of fluffy white food on a plate. “What is that?” Helen just gently smiled and passed him the serving bowl.

“Potatoes.” Potatoes? He had never seen such white and creamy potatoes in his life. Taking a spoonful then passed it to Maria who was talking to Xander about the many foods from her province. After most of the food was passed around, from which Alec had taken a little bit from each, he started to eat along with the rest of his table guests.

The food seemed to melt upon his tongue. The flavors exploded across his palate and at one point he even moaned aloud at the taste. He had never seen so much food and the variety was amazing. Potatoes so fluffy and white like little clouds. Meat so tender he didn’t have to cut it, it just fell apart.

“Oh yes, you are a Seven, are you not?” Jessica asked from across the table. “I supposed this is the first time you have ever seen such food.” It was a backhanded way of calling him poor, but it was true.

“Yes and I intend to enjoy it.” He was a Seven, but he had done more in his short existence than that woman would ever do in her whole life. She may have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but Alec had had to work for every scrap of food he got.

“Even in my family we try to eat more meagerly.” Helen said, taking a bite of meat from the end of her fork. “My family tries to give as much spare income as we can to charity. Some of these dishes I have never seen, but they are all delicious, wouldn’t you say Maria?” That pulled Maria into the conversation which effectively ended any tirade Jessica might have. The blonde girl smiled at him and Alec felt that amongst this sea of sharks he at least had one friend for now.

After dinner came dessert. Miles and miles of pastries and sweets, things that would make his brother’s mouth water and his sister jump for joy. Sugar was so expensive, so they rarely had anything sweet. Only on the new year would they get a small toffee that Alec was sure his parents saved up for all year. He couldn’t decide on what to eat first. Helen took a slice of some sort of cake. It was red in color with white icing.

“You must try this, Alec.” She said, gesturing to her slice. “Red Velvet is my favorite cake.”

“Does it really have velvet in it?” He asked, taking a small piece with his fork. She laughed.

“No, but it is so smooth and feels like velvet.” Alec took a bite and found it entirely too sweet for his liking. The flavor was good but the amount of sugar was too much.

“Is there something not so sweet?” She smiled back and then turned to look at the selection of food.

“Excuse me.” She said calm and sweetly to one of the servers. “Do any of these have less sugar in them?” The servant looked shocked that he was being addressed but then nodded. He grabbed a plate of three dark balls of something covered in brown powder and surrounded by raspberries.

“Dark chocolate truffles, Miss.” He gave her the plate which Helen then passed to Alec.

“Dark chocolate has less sugar added to it. It makes it a bit bitter, I have never liked it, but maybe you will.” Alec nodded in appreciation. He took his folk and cut one in half. It was soft and as easy to cut as butter. Taking one piece he placed it in his mouth. It was bitter but it still had a smoothness and not too much sugar.

After he swallowed, he nodded. “It’s good.” She smiled back.

“It is also one of Prince Magnus’ favorite dishes, I believe.” Alec found himself looking back at his plate with a blush. Chancing a glaze towards the head table he could see Magnus talking with his father and mother with a truffle on the end of his fork.

After dinner the Chosen were taken back to their rooms. At least one of their attendants was there outside of the dining hall to greet them. Alec and Helen were speaking about the foods they had never had before when they heard a scoff. Turning they both saw an extremely beautiful blonde woman in a red gown, but whatever beauty she held on the outside certainly did not match her inside.

“I thought it was a joke, but they were serious about letting a Seven inside the palace.” Alec found himself looking down, it was what he had been taught. “You aren’t even fit to shine my shoes. But I suppose that is why they put you over in the west wing. No one ever goes there. Come servant.” She swept up the stairs with a maid following swiftly on her tail.

“And that would be Camille.” Helen said. “She may have been the queen bitch back home but I am sure Magnus will see right through her.” Alec hoped she was right.

9

Back in his room Alec had to convince his attendants that he didn’t need their help getting dressed for bed. He could do all that himself.

“We are here to serve you, Mr. Lightwood.” Will said calmly.

“I don’t need servants!” He yelled so fed up with everything. “Look, you are Sixes and I am a Seven. We can do things on our own.”

“You are now a Three, Mr. Lightwood.” Jem spoke up.

“Please call me Alec!” He was just so tired and worn out from everything. “Please, just leave me.” The men nodded at him and left. Looking in the mirror of his vanity he saw the poor level Seven boy that tilled land and feld trees dressed up like something he was not. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong in this suit. Jessica and Camille were right. He would be gone by tomorrow morning.

The longer he stared the quicker his breathing came. Standing up he took off his jacket, tearing the cufflinks from their spots on the jacket. He pulled at the tie and unbuttoned the shirt. He still couldn’t breathe. Running to the window he tried to open it but found it bolted shut. He needed air, he needed freedom.

Out the window he could see a vast garden. The soil might be toxic around the city but it seemed that the royal family had their very own piece of paradise. Gasping he turned from the window, ripped open the door and ran as fast as his feet could take him. He found the grand staircase and nearly jumped down all of the steps to get to the first floor. Looking around he saw that to the left of him was a large doorway open to the night air and to the garden.

Making a break for it he didn’t even hear the guards telling him he needed to go back to his room. All he saw was air and grass and trees bathed in moonlight. He did feel one of the guards grabbing him none too gently.

“Sir, you need to get back to your room.”

“No, I need….please!” He felt like the world was spinning.

“Sir!”

“Let him be.” Came a voice from beyond the doorway.

“But your Majesty.”

“I said let him be.” The guard let Alec go and he stumbled before running head long outside into the cool night air. There was a distant smell of exhaust that he had first caught at the train station, but for the most part it was clean, fresh air. He fell to the ground putting his hands in the earth, feeling the grass move as he shifted. His toes dug into the cool dirt. By him was a rose bush and farther out were rows of yellow flowers. He had stopped hyperventilating and panicking, breathing in the floral scents all around him.

“Do you feel better?” Alec whipped his head around at the voice. Not two feet away was the Crown Prince. He was no longer in his white suit but some sort of leisurely button up and grey slacks. Maybe to the Prince this would be dressing down but to a Seven it looked just as fancy as the suit had.

Dropping his eyes he nodded. “Yes, your Majesty.” Then the Prince did the most unbelievable thing. He sat in the grass next to Alec. The dark haired man felt his jaw drop. Did the Crown Prince of Edom just sit on grass next to a common Seven?

“You are Alexander, are you not?” Alec must have looked like a fish out of water before he pulled himself together and sat fully on the grass. This would probably stain his suit, crap, he had forgotten about that.

“Yes, your Majesty. Most people call me Alec.”

“I see. Well then, Alec, you may call me Magnus. At least while we are alone.” Alec felt a blush on his face as he looked away. It was dark and there was no other light besides the moon. The light from the door was too far away to illuminate anything.

“I couldn’t. You are the Prince.”

“And you are one of the Chosen. That makes you something special as well.” Alec was flushing again.

“Thank you for talking to the guards. I know I should not be out here.” Magnus waved that off.

“You needed to come out here. I saw your face and heard your voice. You were panicking.” Alec was ashamed that the Prince had seen him like that. He would surely be sent off in the morning. “There is nothing to be ashamed of.” Magnus said as if reading his mind. “It happens to many people. Even I have felt it.” Alec looked back at the prince.

“How...you always look so calm.”

“I am for the most part, but there are times I am overwhelmed and need a break.” That did not sound like the Prince Alec had seen on the television all his life. Magnus had looked like nothing would phaze him, even at seven when he was finally presented to the people.

“Well thank you. I did need this.” Being stuffed inside a building for most of the day and almost, well actually it had been too much.

“Tell me, Alexander, how are you feeling about being here in the capital?” Looking back up at Magnus he studied the man but he gave nothing away. What answer was he looking for?

“It is an honor to be here, your Maj-”

“Magnus.” The Prince cut in.

“You called me Alexander.” The Prince chuckled and nodded.

“I did, but your name is much too special and beautiful to be shortened to some mere nickname.” Again Magnus was making the dark haired younger man blush.

“Well, it is an honor. I never knew Edom was so vast.” He had seen a map of the kingdom at school but that had been years ago.

“And being in the castle?” Now that was a little harder to comment on. He was a minnow in a sea of bigger fish. What was even harder was that he didn’t have his family’s support here. “Is there...anything a miss?” Magnus sounded a little lost.

“No. It is just...so different to my home, that is all.” He remembered what Camille had said.

“Your Highness. It is time to come in.” A guard called from the doorway. It was getting late. Standing up Magnus reached out a hand to help Alec up. The instant their hands touched it was as if a shock went through their bodies that left them both looking down at their hands.

“Thank you for letting me come out here, Magnus.” Finally they pulled their hands apart.

“Please don’t tell anyone about this. I am not supposed to meet with the Chosen, formally, until tomorrow. Besides, I want this just to be between you and I.” Magnus stepped closer to him and Alec felt his heart beating fast.

“Your Highness!” Magnus actually growled at the guard’s insistence.

“Coming!”

Back in his room Alec stripped out of his soiled clothes and folded them neatly. He would have tried to get the stains out but he was not sure the beautiful suit could take the scrubbing needed to take the stains out. But, as he slipped into bed after a short shower the thought about his meeting with the Prince and a smile crossed his face. Even if he was sent home in the morning he would have the memory of meeting the Prince and touching his soft hand.

10

Jem was not happy with the stains but he would help Alec to keep his secret of sneaking out to the garden. However, Alec had not told him about meeting the Prince. That was solely a memory just for him.

After he had been woken up, early the next morning he was dressed in a day suit. It was not as fancy and intricate as the suit from the night before. It was a light grey with a light blue shirt and no tie. Will had explained to him as they dressed the young man that the royal family always dressed up for dinner. That sounded so unpleasant. What if you spilled food on your priceless clothes?

“Today the Prince will be cutting some of the Chosen.” Will said as he stepped back looking at the shirt. “Take off your jacket, please. Jem, get me the medium blue shirt with the subtle diamond print.” Alec quickly took off the jacket and unbuttoned the shirt.

“Does it not look good?” He asked. It was probably just that Alec looked horrible in the color. His mother had said that wearing blue would only draw attention to his eyes. A Seven was not to be seen nor heard from. They were just supposed to do their job.

“It does not make your eyes pop. On second thought, get the violet shirt.” He called out to Jem. “Purple will make your eyes pop. We have to make you stand out.” Stand out, meaning he had to catch the Prince’s attention. After the previous night he was sure that would not happen. Maybe Magnus would let him at least have breakfast before he sent him packing.

Giving the blue shirt to Jem, he took the purple one. It was a beautiful color. Buttoning it up he slipped the jacket back on.

“Yes, that is it.” Will said.

“You are so good at matching.” Jem complimented his friend.

“An artform that I have cultivated over years of working with the royal family.” The three men chuckled for a moment before helping Alec finish up.

The Chosen were gathered in a salon off the great hall. When Alec arrived there were only a couple of people. Two men and one woman. Each one looked beautiful in their day outfits. The woman, who had red hair, was wearing an emerald day dress. The sleeves were short and off the shoulder. Her hair was done in waves and curls that made it looked like a waterfall. Both of the men were in day suits. One was a cream color with a bright red shirt. This man had slightly longer hair. It was gathered loosely at the nape of his neck and curled slightly. The second man had a dark grey suit and blush pink shirt. The front of his dark hair was combed back into a high curl over the rest of his hair.

As the other Chosen started to appear Alec took in all their clothes. Each one was dressed better than the one that came before them. Alec felt very plain in his grey suit. His hair had not even been fixed like other men. It was allowed to go in its tousled state. The only part that was taimed was his darn cowlick.

“Alec!” Helen came walking over to him with a gentle smile on her face. Her blond hair was tied up with a few tendrils framing her face. Her light blue day dress looked wonderful on her slim figure. Annabelle was behind Helen in a long buttercup yellow dress. Her hair was down but curled.

“Helen, Annabelle. It is good to see you.” Not so much Annabelle but Helen was a welcome sight in this sea of strangers. "I like your hair." Helen smiled with a little flush.

"Aline did it. Isn't it pretty?" She turned around so Alec could see the back. Her hair was twisted in braids. There were little gems stuck in parts of her hair.

"Aline?" He didn't remember anyone by that name.

"One of her maids." Annabelle added.

“You look great, Alec. That purple makes your eyes stand out.” Helen said quickly to change the subject. At least Will would be happy.

“Thank you.” He flushed a bit. “I was not sure...everyone else looks so much grander.”

“Nonsense.” Helen brushed off. “You look just as handsome as the rest of the men. Right, Annabelle?” The blonde turned to her companion, who just nodded. Alec gave her a small smile. At least she didn’t tear him down.

“Move!” The three of them looked up to see Camille walking in. Her bright red dress was skin tight and backless. Apparently she didn’t get the memo that this was breakfast and not a ball.

“Ugh, you’re still here.” The woman turned up her nose at the sight of Alec. “At least your outfit is as boring as you. Better for me to stand out.” Helen was the one to step up this time.

“Yeah, because I heard Prince Magnus really loves stuck up bitches.” A hush went over the room. No one spoke or even breathed. But Helen was not backing down. She was not afraid of this spoiled child.

“Why you-”

“Breakfast is ready.” Rang out a servant’s voice, telling them it was time for them to move from the sitting room to the dining hall.

Breakfast was pretty much like the night before. The Chosen were seated around tables in front of the main table. The royal family would then enter, while the Chosen stood, and then bid the rest of them to sit. Next came the food. Even more wondrous than the night before.

There were fruits, tarts, breads, bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, anything anyone could want. Alec again tried a bit of everything. This was a far cry from his usual meal of porridge and maybe stale bread. If only he could pack up some of this food and send it to his family.

“Ladies and gentleman.” Once the meal was over Magnus stood up and spoke to the Chosen. “I have decided to kick off this Choosing with some one on one time. Each one of you will meet with me. I will be able to get a better sense of you. For now I would like Miss Hannah Whitman to stay. The rest of you please adjourn to the sitting room and wait for our meeting.”

A woman to the right of Alec's table, in a light green day dress, was the only one that continued to stay seated while the rest of the Chosen stood up and left the room. They were taken back to the sitting room where they had waited before. Most of the Chosen started to gossip about meeting the Prince, one on one. A few girls even giggled and squealed.

Alec on the other hand was not that excited. He was sure Magnus would tell him that he would be leaving within the hour. A strong man like the Prince didn’t need a spouse that had a panic attack over something as silly as not feeling the earth beneath their feet. Although, the idea of Magnus ending up with someone like Camille irked him. Said wolf in sheep’s clothing was sitting with a couple other girls as Camille told them loudly how she would win the Prince over.

As if.

Slowly the group of twenty-three men and women started to shrink as they were called to talk to the Prince. Annabelle and Helen had already been called when Alec was finally summoned. He had been talking to Andy, a Four from a county far from Idris, about the farming they were missing. Andy’s family might have been Fours but they were poor and could not afford extra help.

“Alexander Lightwood.” Both men turned their heads. By now only a few Chosen were left.

“Good luck.” Andy smiled at him and it felt genuine. Other than Helen, everyone else was out for blood. They wanted to be the spouse to the most powerful man in the land. Yet in the sea of man eating fish Alec had happened to find two good people.

Alec was taken to a side room just down from the sitting room. Inside was a small table and two chairs. Magnus beamed brightly when he saw Alec.

“Please, have a seat, Mr. Lightwood.” He said formally as he stood up. Alec nodded and sat in the seat across from him. When the servant finally left Magnus seemed to relax.

“How was the rest of your evening? No more panic attacks I presume?” Alec shook his head.

“No, your Majesty.”

“Magnus, remember?” Alec flushed and nodded. “I am glad to hear that, Alec. The last thing I would want is for you to feel overwhelmed and I was not there to help.”

“Thank you again...Magnus. It was very kind of you.”

“Any true man would have done it.” But they both knew that was a lie. While Alec might be a Three on paper he still had the stench of Seven on him. Magnus was a good man and he would be a great King. A kind King that loved all his subjects. “We talked about what you like here at the castle, but what of your family? Do you miss them?”

“Yes.” He said at once. Alec missed playing with Max on the rare breaks from work. He missed gossiping with Izzy and imagining a life away from all the hard work. He missed the warmth of his mother’s hugs and the gruff voice of his father as complained about the crops. He also missed Jace… He loved the man with all his heart but being here made that love seem different somehow.

“They must be a wonderful bunch.” Alec blinked as he was pulled from his thoughts.

“What?”

“The emotions that went through your eyes. You miss them very much. Please tell me about them.” It seemed that was all Alec needed as he started to describe his family.

He spent the most time talking about his sister and brother. Just talking about them made him feel home sick. He missed them a lot. While he missed his parents too he missed his partners in crime more.

“I wish I could share the food I have enjoyed with my family. It might even help Max. My little brother is always getting sick. I hope the money being sent to him means that he could go to a Doctor for once.”

“What do you mean ‘for once’?” Magnus looked confused.

“Your- Magnus, I am Seven or I was. I have not been to the Doctor since I was a baby.” The only time he was seen was just after his birth. His parents had to save up the money for their first born. They wanted to know their child was healthy.

“You don’t have money for Doctors?”

“Or medicine.” Magnus looked floored. “You don’t know what Sevens go through, do you?”

“I didn’t know...is it like this everywhere?”

“Most Sixes and Sevens barely have enough money to live. Fives are not much better, but they do get more pay for their art.” The raven haired Prince was leaning back in his chair and looking hard at the table.

“My people can barely live yet I have never wanted for anything.” Silence filled the room. Alec felt bad at being the one that showed Magnus the truth.

“Magnus-” But he was interrupted with a hand held up. Finally Magnus looked back up at him.

“You are amazing, Alexander. I have only known you for less than a day but I am sure I would love to learn more.” Leaning forward the Prince took one of Alec’s hands. “Be my prince, my future husband.” Now it was Alec’s turn to look floored.

No. Magnus did not just say that. He did not just ask a Seven to marry him. No. Alec had used all his luck just getting here. There was no way Prince Magnus Bane wanted lowly Alec Lightwood.

“You must have others to see.” Alec pulled his hand back and stood up so quickly he nearly turned the table over.

“I don’t care about them. I only want to know you.” Magnus also stood up. Thankfully the door was right behind Alec. Turning he rushed to the door before Magnus’ voice stopped him. “I will wait for however long you need.” With that Alec opened the door and closed it behind him before rushing back to his room.

He was dreaming, he had to be.

11

It had been almost a week since Magnus had proposed. For the first couple days Magnus would try to win over the scared younger man, but every time Alec would change to the subject. It was a joke, it had to be. Soon Magnus would get tired and choose someone that would actually be a good spouse. They went from seeing each other everyday to once in a while.

At dinner after their first official meeting Helen had told him that Magnus had cut the group down to only fifteen people. Of course Camille and Meliorn were a part of that group. Either one of them would be a better Queen or Prince Consort than Alec.

The next day the smaller group started etiquette lessons. Thank whatever Gods there were out there that they were split into two groups. Males and females, each one having their own etiquette teacher. The seven men left were given their lessons by one of the King’s royal advisers, Lord Lorenzo Rey. The man was also one of the few mystics employed by the Kingdom.

The man was intolerable. Everytime Alec misstepped or made a faux pas the man was quick to correct him, loudly and somewhat cruelly. It was as if Alec was being singled out. Even Andy did just as bad a job as he did and yet the mystic kindly corrected him. To say the least Alec’s life was turning into a living hell.

Camille took every chance she could to tear Alec down. Most of the words he ignored until the bitch started to talk bad about his family.

“If only the Kingdom had a way to get rid of Sixes and Sevens. The Kingdom would be less polluted with worthless rabble.” Alec immediately stood up and walked out of the room. Later when Jem and Will found him Alec had been crying, his eyes red. They both helped him back to his room and got a cool cloth for his puffy eyes.

Soon things went from bad to worse. While the first couple days Magnus had little mini dates with Alec, usually to the garden or the library, he had been choosing others. Each time he was in the sitting room with the rest of the Chosen and one of the other men or women were Chosen he could feel himself die a little inside.

He tried to tell himself that Magnus was quickly realizing how bad of a choice Alec would be. He tried to hide it from everyone, which worked for the most part, but it seemed that Helen, Will, and Jem could read him too well. Helen tried to pull Alec into little card games she played with Annabelle, Andy, and a few others. She pulled Alec’s mind away from the Choosing and onto something fun. Once Alec went home, aside from Magnus, Helen would be one of the people he would actually miss.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Alec was wandering around the halls of the palace. It was raining outside and Magnus was on a date with one of the Chosen. He couldn’t escape to the one place he felt safe in this foreign land. Turning the corner he found Andy on the floor, knees nearly up to his chest and his hands in his hair. It almost looked like a panic attack but he was not breathing hard.

“Andy?” The curly haired man’s head went up and he was surprised to see someone had found him. “Are you alright?” The man sighs and nodded but then shook his head.

“I don’t know.” He said. Alec walked over and sat on the floor near him. “Do you ever feel...like you don’t belong here?” Andy asked. “I don’t know why I was kept here. I have nothing to give the Prince. Our dates feel...mechanical. Like he is just going through the motions.”

“I am sure it is not that bad.” Alec tried to comfort his friend. He was not as close to Andy as he was with Helen, but he still understood the feeling of not knowing why he was still here.

“Yet I don’t want to go home.” He said under his breath, which Alec could barely hear. “I don’t understand why you haven’t been on more dates with him. All he talks about is you.” Alec felt himself turning red.

“I think you misheard.” Andy chuckled.

“I didn’t, Alec. The Prince holds you in high regard. I don’t mind, like I said, I don’t feel anything between us.” Alec’s head was spinning, Magnus talked about him on his dates with other Chosen?

“What does he...say?”

“He talks about how kind and caring you are. About how much you care for your family. He also talks a great deal about changing...” Andy looked around to make sure no one was near before leaning in. “About changing the level system.” A couple times Magnus had talked to him over the past week he had said something about the levels and how he hated it. Magnus must have done more research on the caste system in Edom. He was a smart man, it was only a matter of time before he learned the truth.

“It would be nice...but I don’t think it would happen. Some people would not be happy.” Mainly the Twos and some of the Threes, the upper class.

“It would be...I always dreamed of working for the people. Being a politician of some kind...” Andy shrugged. “I’m a Three now so I suppose I could teach.” That has been Alec’s plan too.

“To be honest, I never had a dream of what I would be. I knew I would work in the fields like my dad and granddad. Now I have a chance to think about it and I still don’t know.”

“We have all the time in the world, Alec. We can now have further education if we wish. We will find our place in this world. Me as a teacher and you as the future Prince Consort.” Alec flushed and tried to back track and talk his way out of here only for Andy to laugh at him and get up.

“Thank you, Alec. Just for being here and listening to me. There are not many people I can vent to.”

“My pleasure, Andy.” Alec got up with the help of the other man. “Now let’s find something to do before we both die of boredom.” Both men laughed and headed off to the sitting room to see if there was a card game already going on.

12

It was the day before the national broadcast when Magnus finally called upon Alec. They would have a picnic the next afternoon. The rest of the day Alec spent his time with Will trying to pick out the perfect outfit that was not too casual but not something he would regret getting stains on.

“Personally, Mr. Alec, I believe the cream shirt and the tan trousers are the way to go.” It had taken Alec nearly a week to get Jem and Will to call him Alec, although they both still preferred to use “Mr.” along with his given name.

“What about grass stains?” Alec worried about making even one little stain on his new clothes. They were so nice and expensive. It felt wrong to treat them with such disrespect.

“I am sure the Prince will have a blanket for the two of you. You should not worry, besides Jem knows how to get stains out of clothes.” The dark haired servant looked over to his friend.

“I do, but I prefer not to scrub too hard. Though, I agree with Will. The cream shirt and tan trousers are the best.”

That was how Alec found himself the next afternoon. Will had rolled the sleeves up on the shirt and left the first two buttons open. Alec was thankful his chest hair was thin and sparse or it might show with how low the shirt was. Well it was low for Alec.

“Alexander.” Alec turned to see Magnus walking toward him. The man was breathtaking in his simple outfit. He had on light grey trousers, khaki shoes and a muted dark teal shirt. It was all tailored specifically to him, as if painted on his body.

“Your Highness.” Alec bowed slightly.

“Come, I want to show you something.” Magnus held his arm out for Alec. The dark haired man flushed, but took the arm. They walked out into the warm sunny day. “I want to show you the maze. My great grandmother had it installed to honor the gardens of her youth.”

“Maze? As in...we could get lost?” Magnus chuckled.

“I could get to the center and out of the maze blindfolded. I have been playing in this garden since I was a child. Do not worry, you will soon know your way around the garden.” Magnus took them into the maze. After a few twists and turns a bit of backtracking they found themselves in the middle of the maze. There was a water fountain with a marble mermaid atop a marble shell.

“Beautiful.” In front of the fountain was a checkered blanket and a picnic basket. “Magnus...this is too much.” Magnus shook his head.

“This is what you deserve. All this and more.” They sat down on the blanket and took off their shoes. In the basket were several little treats. Mini sandwiches, bite sized tarts, a variety of fruits and cheese, along with two bottles of something dark.

“Magnus, what is this?” Alec asked as he picked one up.

“Soda. It is a fizzy drink from the old Kingdom. My great uncle found a recipe and tinkered with it until he got it to his liking. It's rare because it takes so much effort.” A fizzy drink? What was a fizzy drink? Magnus took the bottle from Alec’s hand and a small metal object and popped off the mental top. It made a sound and bubbles rose to the surface. Giving it back to Alec he warned that the bubbles might feel like they burned the first time he tried it.

They did. The first sip felt hot but it was not painful, just strange.

“Thank you for sharing this with me.” Magnus smiled and picked up a fruit.

“You are welcome.” They continued to eat for a little bit longer before Magnus spoke again.

“I want to share a lot more with you, Alexander. Like my future.” Alec flushed and looked away.

“I am not right for...”

“Me? The Kingdom? No, you are perfect. You care about the people that no one else does. You have been through so much and yet you are not bitter. You do not hate me for what my family has done.”

“Magnus, your family has not done anything.”

“Maybe not this generation but back in time they made your family Sevens based on how much money you had. That was not right, Alec. This system is not right.” Magnus sat back. “I knew it was not right but I also didn’t know how to change it so I tried to block it out and worry about what I could control. Then you come here and open my eyes to people like you, my people. The people that I swore to look after, yet they toil to death with no one to turn to. A family should not have to choose between food and healing their child. It is unacceptable.” Magnus was not wrong. Life as a Seven was hard. Alec knew this. It took such a toll on his father that they might only have a few years left with the man before he joined his own father in the ground. Izzy deserved more, Max and his mother deserved more. They all deserved the right not to worry.

“I am a Seven. You should marry a Two or a Three.”

“The spoiled children of the elite? Then I would only perpetuate the cycle further. I do not want my child to think it is their right to lord their position over the people. The Bane family is here to serve the people, not the other way around.”

“I don’t know how to be royal.”

“Then I will help you. I will be by your side, along with Will and Jem.” Alec looked at him. He knew his servants by name? “They used to be my servants. When they were dolling out servants for the Chosen, I had Will and Jem assigned to you.” Moving closer he took Alec’s hand. “The Choosing is not as random as most think. Only about a third are random. Most are hand picked by their profiles. I was allowed to look at the profiles and choose two. Looking through the profiles I saw your bright smile. You looked so happy. You were my only choice. I wanted to get to know you from the moment I saw you. I had Will and Jem placed as your attendants because I trust them with my life.” Magnus ended his little speech with a kiss.

The press of lips against his made Alec relax into Magnus. It just seemed so impossible that someone like Prince Magnus wanted him just from a single picture. His class had meant nothing. A warm hand cupped the back of his head as Magnus opened his mouth. Alec was not sure what to do so he just followed Magnus’ lead. His first kiss was in the most special of places.

“Prince Magnus! Your Majesty!” The call from the guards caused the two to pull apart. They could not see anyone but that didn’t stop Alec from turning his usual shade of red.

“I never can have a moment's rest.” Magnus said with a sigh. His hand had slid from Alec’s head down to hand. “Yes!?” Magnus yelled back.

“Your father needs you.”

“Can it wait?”

“I am sorry, but it can not.” Magnus sighed again. “I finally get you all to myself and it is cut short.”

“It’s alright.” Alec brushed off.

“No, it is not.”

“Your Majesty?”

“I am coming!” This was the first time Alec had heard the Prince snap at anyone. “Apologies.” Magnus looked sheepish as he stood up. Putting his hand out he helped the other up. Pulling Alec close to him, Magnus kissed Alec once more. “Until tonight, Alexander.” With that Magnus navigated them back out of the maze.

They split at the grand staircase as Magnus traveled down a side hall that led to the King’s office. Alec stayed at the bottom of the stairs for a moment just looking off into the distance. For a moment he could see himself at Magnus’ side. He could see the man that Magnus would become. A smile crossed his face as he started up the stairs. He needed to talk to Will about his outfit for the broadcast that night. He wanted to stand out and shine, for once in his life he wanted to be the center of attention.

Unfortunately Alec had not been looking where he was going, and his mind was still focused on Magnus. His foot landed on the third from the top step when he felt a hand at his shoulder. Starting to look up, Alec noticed he was falling backwards. His arms circled in the air as he tried to right himself but it was too late. He felt his head hit one of the stairs before flipping backwards. When he finally stopped at the bottom of the stairs he looked up only to see something pink move too fast for his disoriented eyes to catch. Pain and sickness washed over him. Rolling to the side he threw up what little he had eaten before passing out.

13

Magnus walked as quickly he could without running. The day had been perfect with Alec. His sweet innocent boy had tasted as sweet as the tarts they had eaten. Magnus had wished they could have kissed for longer. Maybe he could have kissed other places to see what reaction they gave. Unfortunately his father had called for him.

There were problems brewing in one of the southern lands. Ever since her husband had died Lady Lilith had taken more control of Talto. The province might have been small but it was an important one. Not only did it have the biggest depostest of adamas, the metal needed for the Edom Military weapons, it was also the border between Edom and their enemy. If Diyu was able to capture Talto it would be disastrous, but Lilith didn’t seem to care much. The woman was leaving the mines barely guarded.

After the talk with his father they would send down a couple mystics to make sure the mines were protected by magic and if need be, remove Lilith from power. Once back in his room Magnus’ attendants started to dress him. They were not as good as Will and Jem, but he trusted them. The suit they had picked out for tonight was deep royal blue in color. The stark white shirt made his skin pop. He thought about Alec and smiled. After the broadcast he would get Alec alone to propose again.

Reaching into his side table he found the Bane family signet ring. Once this was placed on Alec’s finger he would be known as his intended fiance. By the end of the night, if Alec said yes, Magnus would be sending everyone else home.

There was a tap at the door. A servant peered in and told him it was nearly time. Thanking the man, Magnus straightened his suit coat before leaving.

He should have known something was wrong when he entered with his mother and father and he could not spot Alec with the other Chosen. What had happened? The broadcast had already started and the young man was nowhere to be seen. Magnus tried to keep his panic down as Simon, the master of ceremonies, asked him a few questions.

“You cut down the Chosen to only a chosen few, pardon the pun.” Simon chuckled. “But just between us,” His voice went lower but he still held the microphone close. “Is there anyone that stands out?” Magnus smiled slightly.

“There is, but I do not want to talk too much about them at this moment. I am still trying to win them over.” Simon chuckled again.

“You are the Prince, you could win over anyone in this kingdom.”

“Maybe, but this person is special.” Simon tried to get more out of him, but Magnus gave nothing away. The broadcast soon ended. Once the cameras were turned off the Chosen started to gossip but Magnus couldn’t hear anything as he went to his father.

“Alexander Lightwood was not among the Chosen tonight. What happened?”

His mother looked grim as he took his hand. “The boy fell down the stairs this afternoon. Your father didn’t want you to know until after the broadcast.” Magnus shot his father a seething look. The Kingdom always came first, even at the price of love. Turning from his parents Magnus strode out of the room.

Alec had been taken to the infirmary. He had been found not long after his tumble. He had been out for hours when Magnus finally came to see him. Jem and Will were by his side. The two men looked pale. They cared too much sometimes. That was why he had sent them to be attendants of Alec’s. They would help him in this strange world.

Magnus found the medic on duty and asked about Alec’s condition. “He has a suspected concussion, but we will not be able to make sure until he wakes up. His left wrist is sprained, but thankfully not broken. He must have landed on it as it was under him when he was found. He also has three bruised ribs.” Alec was very lucky. But how did Alec fall down the stairs? Not that it was impossible, it just didn’t sound right.

“When will he wake up?” The medic shrugged.

“We were hoping he would wake up within a couple hours. If he does not wake up even a little within the next 24 hours he might never.” Magnus grabbed onto the doorframe to keep himself up. No. He would not lose Alec so easily. Alec was a fighter.

“Thank you.” He said before slowly walking to Alec’s bed. Jem vacated the seat next to the bed for Magnus. “Thank you for staying with him.” The men nodded. Will looked as if he had been crying not too long ago. His eyes were slightly red.

“I don’t think he fell on his own.” Jem said, his voice low. Magnus looked up at the man. Their mothers had come from the same province so they had similar looks. Jem had sharp, angled eyes. Magnus’ were not as angled because of his father’s rounder eyes. They had met when they were still children. Instantly, Magnus had been drawn to the boy that he had called brother at times. Magnus never had any siblings so Jem was the closest thing he had to one. Unfortunately as they grew up Jem was put to work in the castle just like his parents before him. Yet Magnus never treated him any differently. Jem was still his little brother.

“I was thinking the same.” Magnus voiced. “He was happy when I left him.” Leaning over he took Alec’s hand in his. It was still warm even though it was limp.

“Alec is not well liked by all the Chosen. Some believe he should have never been chosen in the first place.”

“Then there was that altercation with Ms. Belcourt.” Will piped in. “I found him in his room crying once. He didn’t tell me why, but I am sure the woman was the cause.” Magnus nodded. It was all hearsay. They would have to wait until Alec woke up to know for sure. “Tell the medic I will be staying with him tonight.”

“But your majesty...Magnus,” Jem whispered his name. It had been beaten into him at a young age he could not call the man by his name. He was just a servant and Magnus was royalty. The Prince still hated that he could not do anything to have stopped that. “You have so much to do tomorrow.”

“They can all wait. I am not leaving him until he awakes. Let my father be furious, I don’t care.”

-=-=-=-=-

<i>Elsewhere in the castle two other lovers were about to take a forbidden step.</i>

Andy was placing down his journal when he heard a small knock on his door before it opened. The night had been a whirlwind. Alec had never shown up to the broadcast and the young man had seen the Prince’s eyes looking for someone that was not there. It was painfully obvious to Andy that the Prince and Alec were meant to be, if only Alec would just let himself accept it.

It was so late at night that Andy’s attendants had already gone to bed. It had taken a lot to get the men to leave him at night. He didn’t need someone at his every beck and call through the night. He could get a drink or use the bathroom without needing help. It was ridiculous, but he also had another reason for shooing the men away.

In the mirror of his vanity he could clearly see Lorenzo as he closed and locked the door behind him. The blonde’s breath sped up. Lorenzo always had this effect on him, even when they first met. “Lord Rey, what do I owe the pleasure of your company so late at night?” A smile spread out across Lorenzo’s face.

“Must I spell it out for you?” He snapped his fingers and the lights lowered. It hid the blush that crawled over the blonde’s fair skin. The man walked slowly up behind him. Andy turned his head slightly for the mystic to grace his neck with a gentle kiss. A shiver went down his spine.

If they were caught they would both be sentenced to life as eights for treason. For Lorenzo it might even be worse. He might lose his life, but neither of them cared at this moment. In all the craze of Prince Magnus trying to find his mate, two unlikely men had happened upon their own love story.

Gentle hands ran up Andy’s sides and under his sleep shirt after Andy stood up.

“Lorenzo.” He breathed out. They had touched before, it had been brief but the feeling had lingered for hours after the man had left Andy’s room.

“I love when you say my name like that. Like a prayer from the mouth of an angel.” Gentle lips touched his neck again.

“Someone had been spending too much time with his tomes.” The blonde finally turned around in the man’s grasp to plant a deep kiss on the lush lips of the mystic. All he wanted to do was be with Lorenzo, only Lorenzo.

“I speak only the truth.” The older man said with another snap of his fingers. This left them both naked, bodies intertwined. Andy moaned and tried to kiss him again but the other man twisted them around and pushed him back on the bed. “Are you sure, Andrew? After...there is no going back.” Andy nodded. He knew what he meant and he didn’t care.

“I know Magnus loves Alec but Alec does not know if he wants to be Prince Consort. I will not be Chosen. When I go back home after this I want to at least have the memory of this night.” There would be no way that Lorenzo could ask for Andy’s hand. Mystics were not supposed to marry outside of their station, it kept the pool of magic from growing into the general population. Only mystics and the royal family could have magical powers. Even if they never planned to have children it was still forbidden.

“Then you shall have anything you want.” Leaning down they pressed their bodies together again, kissing and touching.

“Please don’t tease.” Andy whispered against his lips. He was already too wound up. He needed Lorenzo to do something. Suddenly slick fingers were gently pressing against his hole. How the man did magic was one of the things Andy liked about him. Magic amazed him, but Lorenzo enraptured him.

He whimpered against the other’s lips as fingers pushed into him. “Lor...enzo...” He whispered.

“Slowly, my love. I will not hurt you in my haste.” Leaning up Lorenzo got on his knees between the other’s legs as his slick fingers kept thrusting gently into him. “In all my years...I have never seen something more beautiful.” Andy slapped his arm with a giggle before it changed into a moan as the mystic pressed something inside him.

“If you don’t...get inside me now...I might come...” With a chuckle Lorenzo leaned down and nibbled at his ear.

“Go ahead, my angel. It will not be the last orgasm you experience tonight.” The press of his finger against the spot was too much for Andy. Lorenzo covered his mouth with his to smother the cries as he felt over the edge. Lorenzo was correct. It was not the last time he came that night.

14

It was the middle of the night when Alec finally woke up. His head ached and his vision was blurred. At first he just laid there and didn’t move. He could not remember what had happened. The bed did not feel familiar. It was soft but nothing like his bed at the palace. Then again it was not the cold hard mattress of his home. Finally as he woke up more he noticed there was something warm near his arm. Slowly turning his head he saw a dark figure slumped over in a chair near his bed. Blinking, he recognized that it was Magnus. The Prince was slumped in a chair, his hand next to Alec’s. His mind was slowly trying to process what was going on. Why was Magnus here when he had a nice bed in his own chambers?

Moving slightly was enough to wake the Prince up. His eyes looked around before they landed on Alec.

“Thank god. You finally woke up.” Reaching forward Magnus cupped Alec’ cheek. “I was so worried.”

“W-why are you here?” Alec’s voice was deep and thick as he tried to speak. How long had he been out?

“Where else would I be?” Magnus asked, confused.

“Your bed.” That made the Prince chuckle.

“A bed would be better, but while you are here, this is where I will be.” Magnus took Alec’s hand and pulled it up to lay a kiss on the knuckles. “I love you, Alexander. I think I have since that night in the garden.”

Alec flushed and looked away. “Why would you want to marry a Seven?”

“Because I would be marrying the one I love. I don’t care about your number or station in this world. I only care about you, about Alec Lightwood.” Alec turned his head back and smiled.

“I think...I think I love you too.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

After Alec had woken up and they had time to talk, Magnus fetched the medic. The medic looked over Alec and confirmed that he had probably had a concussion but he seemed to be doing well. His side and wrist still hurt so the medic suggested Alec stayed for one or two more nights. Medicine and bindings would help. Begrudgingly Alec agreed.

Even though Magnus wanted to stay with him he was called away shortly before breakfast. The Prince still had to make an appearance. He promised to return later and left his love with a kiss. This left Alec alone with his own mind. What had happened the night before? He remembered the wonderful picnic and the kiss they had shared, but the rest was foggy. The only thing he did know was he didn’t fall on his own volition.

Thankfully it was not much longer before Helen came to visit him and brought a treat from breakfast. He was not terribly hungry, but he thanked her nonetheless.

“The Prince told us you fell yesterday and are recuperating, but I don’t think you fell. I think you were pushed.” She said after asking how he was.

“I don’t remember. The medic tells me my memory of that event might never come back.” Alec rubbed his temple. It had been hurting ever since he started trying to remember.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to press you.” She said concerned.

“Don’t worry. My temple has been hurting since I woke up. Must be the leftover concussion.” He placed a hand over the other’s. “Please don’t worry about me. You need to focus on you. Didn’t you have a date with the Prince today?” Helen just looked at him in amazement. The boy was absolutely blind.

“The Prince will not be choosing me, I know this. He is just waiting on you.” Alec flushed a bright red.

“Mag- the Prince deserves...more.” He had to catch himself from not calling Magnus by his name.

“He deserves to be happy and so do you.” She said, squeezing his hand.

“What about you? You deserve happiness.” Sighing, she nodded. “Do you have someone at home?” Most chosen that might have had a romantic partner back home had broken it off with the chance to be crowned king.

“No. There is no one at home that holds my heart.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

~*<i>Earlier that morning</i>*~

Helen sat in her seat at the vanity that seemed to be in every Chosen’s room. Her maid, Aline stood behind her braiding her hair. Breakfast was soon and Helen needed to hurry, but she didn’t want to. It was only in moments like this that she truly felt happy. Helen had grown up in a very forward thinking family, but even they would not approved of their daughter favoring the fairer sex. Thankfully Helen found herself attracted to both genders.

However everything had changed when she came to the palace. She had been given three maids, like the other female Chosen, while the male Chosen were only given two attendants. Among her maids was Aline. She was a pretty and spunky girl of only seventeen. That made her two years younger than Helen and closer to her brother Mark’s age.

“Your hair is so pretty and light.” Aline had commented the first time she brushed Helen’s hair.

“It becomes very frizzy if I don’t put product in it.”

“Better than my thick, dense hair.” Aline had beautiful hair. It was long and jet black, but like all the maids she kept it tied up in a bun under a small hat.

“Is there something wrong, Helen?” The darker haired woman’s voice broke through Helen’s thoughts.

“No...why do you ask?”

“You look a bit sad.” Her time in the Chosen was coming to a close. She knew that. It was only a matter of time before Alec said yes to Magnus. Then Helen would have to leave. She did hope Alec was alright. He had not shown up to the broadcast the night before and that worried her.

“I do not wish to leave you.” Helen said, looking at Aline’s dark eyes in the mirror. They had become friends so fast that when they started to fall for each other they didn’t even notice until that one kiss. The kiss they had shared two days ago. The kiss that changed everything. It might have been easier to leave a friend but to leave a love? But even if magic could help men conceive it would not help two women.

“You will not leave for long. Mr. Lightwood cares for you. I am sure he would have you visit often.” It was a weak excuse but Aline was used to disappointments in her life. Her father had left her and her mother when Aline was just a child to run off with some other woman. Her mother tried to support them as well as she could but in the end it was too much for her. Even as sickness took hold of her, Jia Penhallow was still able to find work for her daughter in the palace before her passing. It was a prestigious job indeed, one that any Six would kill to have. Now Aline had found someone that she cared for as much as she had her beloved mother.

“I wish I was not a part of the Chosen.” Helen said, grief in her voice. Then she would not have to make such a choice to leave. Moving around the chair, Aline knelt beside Helen.

“If you had not I would never have met you. That would have been the greatest tragedy.” She took the other’s hands in hers. “My mother once said that people come into our lives for a reason. We might not know why or for how long, but we are better for having them with us.”

“Aline, you are too wonderful for the life you have.” The dark haired woman shrugged.

“I am content where I am and I intend to enjoy what time we have left together.” Leaning up, Aline pressed a quick kiss to Helen’s lips. “Now let me finish with your hair. You can not go to breakfast with a braid half done.” They both chuckled before hugging each other.

“You mean the world to me, Aline.”

15

Alec was finally allowed to go back to his room two days after his accident. His ribs were doing fine and his wrist barely ached, as long as he didn't move it too fast. All in all he was feeling much better. It didn’t hurt that Magnus had visited him quite a few times. Alec knew he should not be feeling this way, Magnus needed someone that was Prince Consort material, but he could not deny that he had been imagining their life together.

Once back in his room, Jem and Will were very attentive. They had Alec stay in bed and not move, even though it was his wrist that got sprained, not his legs. Still Alec did as was asked of him. He let the two cater to him. It was nice to have been missed. Most people of higher class levels would not have cared if the ‘help’ missed them. But Alec was different. Will and Jem were different. Alec could see why Magnus trusted them so.

Towards the evening there was a knock on the door. It was just after dinner and Alec had eaten in his room. Tomorrow he would go back out and meet the rest of the Chosen again. He was scared of what might happen but he was going to hold his head up high. Whoever had caused this was not going to get the satisfaction of keeping him down. Will opened the door to find Magnus there, a small white box in hand.

"Will, it is good to see you again. You too, Jem." Magnus smiled as he walked in.

"It is nice to see you again, Sire. Under better circumstances this time." Magnus nodded to that. Smiling, he turned to Alec who was laying in his bed with a couple books around him.

"How are you, Alexander? I see Will and Jem have made you stay in bed so they could make sure you didn't get hurt again."

"I let them." Alec said, but they all knew the truth.

"I wonder if I might have a little bit of your time. Would you mind, Will? Jem?" Neither man said anything to the contrary. The attendants knew what might happen but they also knew that in the end Alec would become the Prince Consort. They were made for each other.

Quickly the attendants bid them both good night before leaving.

“What is in that box?” Alec asked, finding himself eager to see.

“Chocolate truffles. A little bird told me you fancied my favorite sweet treat.” Magnus came over to the bed and sat down before handing over the box. There were four dark brown powder covered balls of chocolate.

“I was not used to eating something so sweet. This was the right amount of sweet for me.” Magnus brushed his hand through Alec’s hair.

“Was sugar something else you never had?”

“Not never, but usually baked into something or used in jam.” Alec took one of the small balls and bit into it. The powdered chocolate landed on his bedding and he got scared. “I didn’t mean to.” Uncultured.

“Do not worry, my dear.” Magnus plucked one up and popped it whole into his mouth. “It can be cleaned.” Alec ate the rest of the truffle. Suddenly Magnus’ face changed. He looked...serious? Maybe even a bit...determined? Leaning in Magnus wiped a bit of chocolate from the side of Alec’s mouth. Then his lips descended upon Alec’s.

It was similar but also different from the kiss before. It made his body tingle in all the right ways. Magnus had been his first kiss and he couldn’t imagine anyone else. He tried to chase the man’s lips when the Prince pulled back.

“I do not wish to injure you farther.” He whispered. Alec licked his lips, still tasting the chocolate that could have come from either of their lips.

“I like kissing you.” Alec admitted.

“Oh my dear, sweet Alexander. There is more I want to do to you than just kiss.” Alec found himself blushing down onto his neck. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt that out.” Magnus started to pull back from the other, but Alec grabbed his arm.

“I know we shouldn’t...but...I may never get this chance again.” Then the Prince laughed so hard that it made Alec jump.

“My dear, my love. I do not plan on spending the rest of my life with anyone but you.”

“Magnus-” The Prince placed his finger to Alec’s lips.

“I will be there every step of the way. Jem and Will can also be of help. Alexander, please, make me the happiest man that ever lived and marry me?” The darker haired man was silent for a long while. Could it just be that easy? Magnus deserved more, but even as he thought that he could not stand another person having Magnus. “I will wait for as long as I need to.”

“Jem was telling me earlier that you cut the Chosen down again. There are now just five.”

“Yes. It is unfair to them to get their hopes up. Not when my heart is not mine to give anymore. I know you are fond of Helen and Andy so I kept them around.” Alec smiled. At least he would be able to say goodbye to them.

“Who else?”

“Meliorn Knight and Camille Belcourt. They are the favorites of my father.” <i>Something pink moved too fast for his disoriented eyes to catch</i> Alec rubbed at his temple.

“Alexander, are you alright?”

“I am a horrible choice, but...” He stopped Magnus with his hand. “To be away from you might be a fate worse than death. You must promise me that you will always be with me. I need your strength and guidance.”

“Yes, always. I will be there for you, always.”

“And one more thing. If you choose...later on to take another to your heart-”

“There will never be another, Alexander. You will be the only one I need.” They both smiled before Magnus leaned back in for a kiss. “You didn’t answer me, darling.” Magnus whispered against his lips.

Alec laughed and then nodded. “Yes, Magnus. I will marry you.” Magnus smiled as he pressed a kiss to Alec’s lips.

It was supposed to be slow but neither of them could hold back their pasion. Not now, not after they had declared their love for each other. Magnus helped Alec back on the bed and pulled his covers back before climbing on top of him. Alec flushed and tried to look away, but Magnus cupped Alec’s face.

“I do not wish to go all the way. I do want to save that for your wedding night. However, there is something I have been dying to see.” One hand left Alec’s cheek and traveled down his neck and chest, catching on a nipple that made Alec gasp.

“What?” He finally asked as Magnus’ hand moved closer to the hem of his nightshirt.

“The look of pure pleasure.” Magnus' hand slipped between cloth and skin before wrapping around Alec’s nearly half hard cock. He gasped and arched only to wince. His ribs still hurt.

“I am sorry, my love.” Leaning down he kissed Alec as his hand started to move. This way he could keep Alec from arching up again. Alec was lost in the current of pleasure. He had never really touched himself before. He never had time living with his family. He had attempted once or twice when he bathed, but he felt too guilty to continue. What a fool he was.

“Magnus...” He breathed when Magnus pulled back to give them air. Reaching down he pushed Alec’s pants down slightly, enough to uncover his cock. Alec made the mistake of looking down and only groaned. The head was starting to leak and Magnus’ hand looked so good around him.

“That is the picture that has been playing in my dirty mind since I first met you.” Magnus kissed his cheek. “Even better than I thought.”

“Magnus...” Magnus pressed a thumb to the slit of the head. Alec’s eyes rolled back in his head, briefly.

“Let go, my love.” Magnus kissed along his neck as his hand started to move faster. Any chance Alec had at lasting a while longer flew out the window. The intense pleasure was too much.

"Magnus!" This time the Prince’s name was said like benediction instead of a plea. His vision whited out for a moment as his pleasure cascaded over his whole body. He felt it everywhere, even in his toes.

When Alec came back to himself a moment later he noticed Magnus was rubbing his lower half against Alec’s leg, his head in the crook of his neck, until he suddenly stopped and let out a quiet, strangled noise. At that moment he knew that Magnus had just reached his peak.

Hot, quick breath was the only sound he heard and felt against his neck for a moment. Then Magnus turned his head and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, my love. For sharing in the first of many firsts with me." Alec smiled.

"I can't wait for more."

Magnus stayed for a little while, cleaning them up before Alec finally fell asleep. He kissed Alec and got up out of bed. As much as he wanted to sleep beside the dark haired man, he had something else he needed to do. With a quick trip back to his room to change, Magnus was headed down stairs.

Magnus knocked on the door to his father’s study. While he had asked Alec to marry him, now three times, he still had not told his father. Asmodeus didn’t have the last say in his choice, but that didn’t mean that he would not try to influence it. The man loved his son but he also saw what the politicians wanted.

“Come in.” Magnus opened the door and walked in. It was late at night but his father, the King, was sitting at his desk reading over some royal doctrine. Magnus never understood how his father didn’t get a headache from all the reading. After two hours Magnus needed a break while his father could continue for an hour or so more.

“Father, I have made my choice.” Asmodeus looked up from his papers before sitting them down.

“Have you? That is very quick. You just culled them yesterday.” Magnus came over and sat in the chair directly in front of his father.

“I choose Alexander Lightwood.” He noticed the twitch of his father’s brown. The King did not approve.

“Why him? If you wish to marry a man then why not Mr. Meliorn Knight? His father was once a great general. There is also Ms. Camile Bellcourt.” She had been Asmodeus’ top pick because of her father. A top politician would influence a lot of people. As much as the Morgenstern betrayal still hurt, Asmodeus was practical. They needed more support.

“Why did you pick a mere painter?” Magnus countered. “One with a history of fertility problems?” Magnus’ own mother had been a wonderful painter, which she still did, but being one of only two Fives in the choosing meant she was the odd man out. Yet she survived until the last five girls. With her Choosing she became the next Queen of Edom, but her family history was not what the crown needed.

Asmodeus had been the only son of four children. Each one of his sisters had been married off to secure alliances, however, being the only son Asmodeus was expected to marry well and have an heir and maybe even a spare. Yet he married Annisa Sari who was an only child herself. Her mother had given birth to two stillborns before Annisa and then passed with the birth of her fourth and the child followed not long after.

Asomdeus sat back in his chair and gave a small chuckle. “Because I loved her. I didn’t care about her background, all I wanted was for her to be beside me for all our lives.”

“I only want what you wanted, father. I want the love of my life to be beside me.”

“Has he said yes?”

“Yes. He fears the life of a Prince Consort, but he does want to be with me. I just need to give him the ring”

“Then I give my permission. I always assumed you were more your mother’s child. You show her gentle and thoughtful nature, yet you take decisions head long. You weigh the options and take the one that speaks to you. You will be a great king someday, my son.”

“Thank you father, but there is one last thing I would like to speak with you about.”

16

A special TV broadcast was arranged for the next night. Magnus did not want to wait until the following Friday to put a ring on Alec’s finger. He wanted it now. However, he had to find the person that caused Alec’s fall first.

Who would want to kill a Chosen and in such a public area like the grand staircase. Someone should have seen it. The obvious answer was another Chosen. Now the question was, did they cause it themselves or pay someone? Magnus didn’t even pretend to know all the servants in the palace but he felt like he knew a good lot of them. Rumors flew around quickly among the servants so Magnus enlisted the help of Jem and Will.

It would take some time so Magnus went to see Alec and spend a little time with him.

“Your highness.” Magnus had not even noticed that he was not alone in the hall anymore. Ms. Camille Belcourt had just come out of a side room. She curtsied for him, a little deeper than need be but he was pretty sure the woman was trying to show off the plunge of her neck line. Camille was a beautiful woman, but she was not what Magnus wanted in a spouse.

She cared only for material things. On one of the few dates they had she had spent the entire time talking about the parties that she had at her home. How lavish they were and offering to show him around her city. While Magnus had grown up to be Prince his family was not as posh as it looked. Personal family meals were not taken in full dressed attire, that was only for show.

His father liked her because of her father. Reginald Belcourt was a well known politician in Little Paris, one of the largest cities on the east side of Edom.

“Hello, Ms. Belcourt.”

“Oh, you can call me, Camille.” She said walking closer to him. “We have not had a date in a while. I hope that is not an indication that you are bored with me.” The woman pouted, but it was just too much.

Will had said that Alec had an argument with Camille. Could she be the type of person to try and kill the competition? Maybe. He was about to find out. Putting out his arm for her the woman took it as they started to walk.

“I have called a special broadcast for this evening.” Magnus started as Camille looked startled.

“Why? I will not have enough time to get ready.” She actually looked worried.

“I intend to announce my engagement to one of the Chosen.” This caused Camille to nearly misstep. He wondered what was going through her mind right at that moment. She probably thought it was her.

“Then I need to pick out a dress.” She started to pull away but Magnus stopped her.

“Why?”

“Well if I will be on TV tonight I need to look my best.”

“Only my fiance will be on the stage with me.” She smiled, a sickening sweet smile reserved for a simple child that did not understand.

“Oh course, Prince Magnus, but my dress-”

“I will not be asking for your hand.” She stopped dead in her tracks.

“WHAT?!” The beautiful woman beside him let out a screech like he had never heard before. “Who would be a better queen than I?! We are made for each other!” Magnus finally pulled his arm away.

“No. No we are not.” Then out of nowhere the woman slapped him across the face, her long nails leaving redden marks on his cheek. Reaching up Magnus touched his cheek, but thankfully there was no blood.

“Ms. Belcourt, you hit the Prince. That was not a very bright idea.” His voice was calm and measured.

“I am supposed to be the Queen!” Then she must have thought better of herself. “I do not know what came over me. Apologies, your highness.” But the apology fell on deaf ears. “I just don’t want all my training to go to waste.”

“Training that did nothing but make you an evil jealous creature that would dare to try and kill another Chosen and then strike the Prince of Edom. Guards!” Magnus yelled.

“Did that little stoot brush tell you I pushed him down the stairs? He wouldn’t know class if it came up and slapped him across his dirty face.” Magnus was seeing red. He knew the little terms that higher levels called the lower ones. His mother had talked about them. Fives were painted prints or song stealers, depending on the type of artist they were. Sixes were rags and Sevens were stoot brushes. Thankfully the guards appeared at that moment.

“Take Ms. Belcourt to her room so she can pack.”

“No! Magnus, please. We belong together!”

“My dear, unlike the man I want to marry, you belong in the cold palace you came from. Away with her.” The guards dragged Camille kicking and screaming from the hall. He was positive that she was the one that tried to kill Alec. Even if he couldn't prove it he at least got her out of the palace.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Alec stood behind the curtains. His stomach was in knots from the nerves. Any moment the curtains would be pulled back and he would be presented as the fiance to the future king. It was almost too much. His hands traveled down his blue suit as if trying to straighten any imaginary wrinkles. Something caught the light and he looked down at the ring on his finger. Not an hour ago Magnus had gotten down on one knee and asked Alec to be his Prince Consort.

<i>Magnus looked a bit flustered when he came to Alec’s room. Will and Jem were finishing up on his suit for that night’s special broadcast. Alec turned to look at Magnus and noticed two red marks on his right cheek.

“Magnus, what happened?”

“Just getting rid of a nuisance.” Magnus waved off and then walked over to Alec. He placed a kiss on the man’s lips as the attendants quietly made their way out of the room to give them time. “I love you, Alexander Lightwood.” The Prince said as he pulled back from the kiss. Alec was so dizzy from the kiss that he barely followed. Then Magnus knelt on one knee.

“Oh my god.” Alec found himself breathing as the Prince pulled out a small box with the Bane family seal.

“At the end of each Choosing, the Prince in question would give the family signet ring to his chosen spouse in front of everyone.” Magnus started. “But you are a private person who does not want others to look upon him. So here, in your rooms I want to ask you, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, to be my Prince. Be the one that makes me strive to be a better person. Help me teach our future children that levels do not matter, what matters is what is found inside a person. Be the one I grow old with, be my everything.” Alec was crying by this time. He couldn’t even say yes through the tears but he did nod. That was all Magnus needed. He pushed the ring onto Alec’s finger before standing up and pulling him into another slow, passion filled kiss.<i/>

“Welcome honored guests to a special broadcast!” Simon Lewis’s voice broke through his thoughts and brought him back to the present. Just remembering how thoughtful Magnus was to make that moment just about them gave him enough strength to stand still. “Now, a little birdie told me, Prince Magnus, that you have a surprise for us.”

“Yes.” Magnus said, his voice calm and smooth. Alec smiled. “I do have a wonderful surprise. People of Edom, my people, I have come to the decision as to whom I will be marrying. It had been a fast and whirlwind romance, one for the books I am sure. The moment I met this person I fell for them. They were so raw and open with me and I couldn’t see a day without them in my life, but they needed some convincing.”

“You did say that before. Who is this wonderful person that has captured the heart of our marvelous Prince?” Simon asked. He was sure everyone was wanting to know, but as usual Magnus was building up the suspense.

“This person never expected to be picked for the Chosen in the first place. They never thought they could have what they wanted because of their level.” A hush went over the few people in the audience for the broadcast. They were mostly journalists that wanted the first taste of a story. “That is also something that I wish to talk to my people about. These levels, the ones that have kept all of you in place, will soon be ending.” Suddenly the journalists gasped and tried to ask questions before they were hushed. “That plan is in motion, but I am sure you are all wanting to know who I choose.”

The curtain opened and Alec stepped out. He didn’t look like a level Seven boy from a small town. There was no dirt under his nails or bruises from hard work. No, he looked like a Prince Consort and for the first time he felt like something special. Magnus stood from his seat and walked over to Alec as flashes of lights went off. Taking Alec’s hand he pressed a kiss to his hand.

“This is my chosen. Alexander Lightwood. Formerly a Seven and one of the best men I have had the pleasure to meet.” With that, the Prince of Edom leaned in to kiss his Prince.

And they lived happily ever after.

The End.

[elfrooting]

Hey, Nonny! Sorry for taking a while to reply, I wanted to make sure that I gave this the appropriate amount of time and thought, as it’s a subject that I think warrants a lot of care. Also I can’t seem to reply directly from my inbox, I think maybe Xkit is f-ing up at the moment, so sorry for the weird formatting as well!

Before I get into my opinion on the film, I think it’s important to clarify a couple of things.

1) I am part of the American Sámi diaspora. I have regrettably never lived in Sápmi (although if I thought my husband would let me drag him up there, I would be on a plane tomorrow), and my Sámi heritage is also something I have only recently begun the process of reconnecting to. My Sámi ancestor immigrated from Sweden to the United States to escape persecution and forced assimilation, so when they arrived here, they tried very hard to blend in with other Scandanavian immigrants and did not pass their language and culture down to their children. As such, I have not grown up in the culture and was raised in a very typically white midwest family, and so I don’t have the same lived experiences as a Sámi person who has grown up in Sámi culture in a country where racism against our people is still very much alive and well. I could write a whole separate post on what it means to be a white-passing indigenous person living thousands of miles from their ancestral lands with only bits and pieces of their culture accessible, but that’s not what you’re asking about, so I’ll save that for another time. But I do want to be very transparent about this part of my identity and make it clear that I experience a level of privilege that many, many Sámi do not.

2) Sámi people, like any marginalized group, are not a monolith. We are all individuals with our own differing backgrounds and lived experiences, and because of that our opinions on things like this are not universal. So what I say in this post may vary from what you see from other Sámi people, and my opinion does not invalidate or negate theirs. We are all allowed to feel however we feel about issues that relate to the representation of our culture in media and the impact it has on our community. My opinion is my own and shouldn’t be taken as The Sámi Opinion™ on the matter. There are a lot of other posts about it from other Sámi folks, as you’ve noted, and I would encourage everyone to look at all of them to get a broader view of how the film has been received by our community.

SO. All that being said, here are my thoughts:

The Frozen franchise already had kind of a special place in my heart because of Kristoff. According to the original script from the first film, his character is “a young Sámi boy,” and it was my first time ever seeing a Sámi person represented in an animated film. And while Disney did not remotely do Sámi culture any justice in the first movie, it still felt nice to see my culture being recognized in a children’s film at all. So few people have even heard of us that just to be seen felt kinda good, even if the representation was… not great. LOL.

The second film was produced with the help of Sámi people who consulted on the representation of our culture, both in terms of the aesthetics and the way the Northuldra people’s lifestyle was depicted. It was MUCH better than the first film. However, it still had some issues. This is going to get a bit long so I’m going to put it under a cut.

I think there are a lot of Sámi who can identify with reconnecting to the culture, self certainly included. Centuries of forced assimilation have left a lot of us displaced and removed from our heritage and I think we saw some of ourselves in Anna and Elsa’s discovery of their mother’s Northuldra roots. But the idea that Anna and Elsa automatically get accepted into their culture just by virtue of… a shawl? It felt a little bit superficial to a lot of people, and I think that’s valid. The reconnection process is long and involves proceeding with an abundance of caution, care, and respect. None of us would be able to come in and say “Hey, I have this liidni, it belonged to my mum, so I no longer represent colonization and all the horrific things my family did to you guys, isn’t that great!?” That shit wouldn’f fly, LMAO. 

And the idea that this person who hasn’t been raised in the culture can come in and claim her place without any work, and also happens to be a magical Chosen One archetype has some white savior overtones that are kind of uncomfortable, as well.

I also know that a lot of folks felt that the Northuldra fall into the “noble savage” trope, and I can definitely see that as well. So often the way indigenous people are portrayed boils down to Magical Nature People and it can be tiresome, because it leads to a lot of exotification/fetishization of our culture by outsiders. Like, Ryder’s last name is Nattura. It literally means nature in Icelandic. Of course nature is a huge part of indigenous culture, but we have interests and personalities beyond that and it would be nice to see those explored more in media.

And I’m also kind of salty about Kristoff not getting a proper reconnection, or really any explanation about his origins at all. I thought for sure that they were going to get into that, given his affinity for reindeer and the almost immediate brotherly bond he had with Ryder, but then… nada. I really need my soft Sámi boy to find his place and discover more about his own roots if there ever is a Frozen III. That and gay Elsa, those are my two demands from the Mouse, LOL.

But you know what? There were also parts of the film I really did love.

When Yelena called the Northuldra “people of the sun,” I legit got goosebumps. One of our creation stories explains that we were the children of the sun and the moon, and the seeds of that story are scattered all over Sámi culture. You can find our people referred to as “children of the sun” in some form in many places throughout history. Our flag has a large red and blue circle, which represents the sun and moon respectively. One of our most famous poets, Áillohaš, wrote a book called “Beaivi, Áhčážan,” or “The Sun, My Father.” Our national anthem refers to the Sámi as “Beaivvi bártniid,” sons of the sun. So to hear that referenced in the film was really something.

I also enjoyed the overt anti-colonial themes in the movie, with the dam representing the colonial oppression of indigenous people and Anna working to crumble it despite knowing it might mean the end of Arendelle. In recognizing the role some of her ancestors played in oppressing her other ancestors and doing “the next right thing” to correct it, she was showing that she was willing to face the ugly parts of her family’s history in order to truly embrace her heritage, and as someone with mixed indigenous and colonizer ancestry, I felt that in a big way.

So yeah… it definitely was not what I would call perfect representation, but then, I don’t think that media written about Sámi culture by non-Sámi people ever will be. Even the much-praised Klaus—which is a beautiful film, by the way, and I would literally die for Márgu—but even it had some room for improvement in the way we were portrayed. Still, I felt Frozen II had a lot of positives going for it and I’m hoping future installments in the franchise will continue to improve on indigenous representation, and that Disney will continue to involve our community in the discussion when doing so.

I hope that answers your question adequately, Nonny! Feel free to send another ask if you want me to expand on anything or provide any clarification. And thank you for the ask, and for listening and learning what you can about our culture. It means a lot!

[iminye]

Chess

@tolkienocweek day one - shipping. Aracundo, Gil-Galad, a bet and chess, also cuddles and my very clumsy first attempt at romance. I should have gone with Headcanons instead probably.

It wasn't unusual for Aracundo to wait until way after midnight for him. Council meetings were a matter of long debates and advisors always found a way to make them even longer, mostly by discussing a topic that on other days would've taken mere minutes for such an extended period of time that it seemed downright exhausting for an outsider. But he knew that this was part of his husband's duties.

Husband.

The thought made him blush a little and he looked at the slim silver ring he wore on his right hand. Husband. They had only been married for four years and yet Aracundo was sure he would never tire of it. It made him happy in a way he hadn't been in a very long time.

Not since… not since ever actually. He couldn't recall a time in which he had been as happy or even happier than now.

His childhood had been a mess to put it lightly. He didn't like to recall it. His adolescence he had spent fighting in a war. His adulthood however he would spend married, loving and in peace.

He was sure of it. Now came a time of happiness. An eternity of love and security.

While he waited Aracundo used his time to run over some formulas that had been invented during the First Age and that had survived the sinking of Beleriand. Their purpose had been lost over the chaos of the war and the deaths of those who invented them but Aracundo had made the decision to rediscover their purpose even though they seemingly had none. Most of them he had quickly realised were indeed only brain exercises, theoretical concepts without any further usage.

But there were exceptions to this and whenever he found one he was overjoyed. His husband was very profound in putting them to use whenever or wherever they could be applied.

While he went through the sparse notes of a Gondolindrim scholar who had sadly not survived the Fall of Gondolin he glanced over to the table beside the large window where a chess game waited to be finished. A smile formed on his lips.

-

"Chess? What's so interesting about that?" Ereinion asked and picked up one of the pieces Tyelpë had carved for Aracundo out of soapstone. It wasn't his brother's best piece of work but Aracundo loved them regardless, it was the latest begetting day gift he had received, the first in their new home. He treasured them.

"It's a good exercise," Aracundo replied and smiled. He pointed to the seat across the chess board. "Why not try and learn? I can teach you."

Ereinion set down the piece again - not quite where it belonged but Aracundo was quick to fix that - and looked at him for a long time, without saying something.

"Why would you want to exercise in your free time? That doesn't make much sense. Free time is free time after all."

His logic didn't make much sense to Aracundo. Exercises were fun after all, especially when they had something to do with thinking and logic. What did Ereinion do when he had nothing to do? Did he just laze around in the midday sun and do nothing? Aracundo couldn't be able to do this. He would be overcome with the desire to do anything.

"It's also a lot of fun," Aracundo tried. "At least for me. But if His Highness isn't interested in learning I wouldn't blame him."

His attempt at getting out of a discussion before it began took an unexpected turn for him. Instead of nodding and turning away to go and laze around, Ereinion frowned, pulled back the chair on the other side of the table and took a seat.

"It isn't that I'm not interested," the prince stated, avoiding Aracundo's eyes. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "It's just that I've never played before…"

Aracundo beamed.

"Then I'll teach you!"

Ereinion blushed and nodded.

-

"You win every time…"

"I have more experience than you, Ereinion. When you have played some more and figured out a strategy I'm sure that you will be able to best me. You learn really quick after all."

Ereinion looked at him with skepticism but didn't say anything more. Aracundo wanted to laugh but didn't as he arranged the chess pieces once more in their starting position on the board. His new chess pieces - ones one of his distant uncles had brought with him from across the sea, originally meant for his mother who like him loved to play - too pretty and expensive for the old run down board they were using. Wood was rare these days. Aracundo didn't want to waste even a little bit on something trivial like this.

"Do you have time for another game?" he asked his friend with a smile. Ereinion nodded.

"As long as nothing comes up I should," he said. Both of them knew that something could come up at any moment, that these peaceful games were the most leisure Ereinion got these days. As High King and as General he had a stacked schedule and had to be ready for battle at all times. Aracundo on the other hand just like Tyelpë had been removed from all battle activities because of his Feanorian blood. No soldier from across the sea or native to Beleriand wanted to fight on the side of s Feanorian. It didn't bother Aracundo. He could work with the tacticians while Tyelpë repaired weapons and armour.

"Well then," Aracundo said as he finished rearranging the pieces. "Since you lost, you may begin."

Ereinion looked at the board thoughtfully. It was the sort of look he got when he was thinking about something that he was very serious about. Aunt Lalwen had said that he looked very much like his father when he did so but Aracundo couldn't testify this.

"How… about a bet," he said after a while, his gray eyes sparkling. Aracundo raised an eyebrow.

"A bet?"

"Yes a bet, not that I'm going to win it any time soon but if I win just one game you have to grant me a wish, no matter what."

The smile Ereinion gave him made Aracundo's poor heart skip a beat. A bet. Oh dear that could end one of two ways and Aracundo wasn't sure if he was ready for either.

"I won't humiliate you!" Ereinion added hastily. "It will be harmless I swear!"

"No swearing!" Aracundo said automatically, very serious and sincere. No swearing. That was a rule.

"But I mean it. I won't humiliate you, won't force you to do anything you don't want to. Promise."

Aracundo nodded.

"Alright…"

-

Throughout the war he didn't win a single time. For some reason though he didn't seem bothered by this at all anymore, instead any time he lost he seemed more and more eager for the next game. Aracundo could feel himself falling for this stubborn, stubborn man.

Oddly enough this made him anticipate the day the other one finally won even more.

-

The day he did win was some few years after the war. They were seated in one of the many gardens of the royal palace, on a blanket amidst the flowers Aracundo had planted himself. Their chess board was new, made and decorated by Ereinion himself, yet they weren't using the new pieces along with it. Ereinion had insisted that they use the old ones made by Tyelpë.

"Like when we were children."

Aracundo could not say no to him, not anymore. He had discovered quite a while ago that he couldn't deny the other man anything anymore, no matter how silly or trivial. Only a few days ago they had gone and collected seashells and lazed around on the beach the entire afternoon. Aracundo had forgotten what it was like to be without worry and as it seemed so had Ereinion.

Their chess games were a wonderful distraction. The only time either of them felt truly free from any duties. The only leisure time they allowed themselves, even though the bet was an ever present factor during their games.

The bet that was now over. Aracundo looked at his king, trapped and with no way of escape. He had lost. They had played this game consistently for nearly a century and a half and this was the first time Aracundo had lost. He couldn't be more proud.

He looked at his smiling friend.

"Congratulations!" he said and Ereinion nodded seriously but instead of demanding his price here and now he sat up and began to put the chess board and pieces out of the way, back into their chest, making room on the blanket in between them. He took his time but Aracundo could see how his hands were shaking with excitement.

Once finished he shifted a little, seemingly uncertain of what to say. That was new. Ereinion had never been someone who struggled with his words.

"You promised no humiliation," Aracundo reminded him. Ereinion nodded, his ears red.

"Not for you," he said, voice cracking.

"Why would you want to wish for something that would be humiliating for you?" Aracundo found himself asking.

"Because I know I would also like it very much. It's just that I don't know if you will like it the same way I would…"

Ereinion shifted a little closer, their noses touching.

"Because," he said. "I wish for this."

Aracundo's first kiss was not like how he had read about first kisses in those romance novels the Edian tended to write. There was too much nose, too little experience on both sides, the feeling of other lips on his was weird but it was the best possible outcome for this bet.

He felt like it was the perfect first kiss regardless.

-

He awoke when soft lips touched his earlobe. His mind had drifted away from the waking world too caught up in his thoughts. He slowly blinked away the fogginess that had settled in front of his eyes and was met with his husband's gentle smile.

"You should not wait for me, Aryo," he said quietly and kissed his brow. Aracundo made a small noise in protest. Of course he would wait for his husband. It was only fair… yet he had drifted off again instead of staying present and awake. A shame.

"Rest is important for you. Your mother was very clear when she ordered me to take care of you on our wedding day, you know? And if we're both being very honest with one another, I fear both her and your brother more than most things…"

Aracundo huffed a little and lifted his head from his papers. One of them stuck to his cheek but was swiftly removed by his husband's gentle hand. One more kiss was placed on his face, this time on his forehead.

"Are you coming to rest with me?" Aracundo asked. "Or do you have more meetings to attend?"

"In the morning again but for this night I'm all yours my dear."

He held out his hand for Aracundo to take and let him past the side table with their unfinished chess game and past the balcony where the two wine flukes were still waiting and past the normally closed doors into their shared bedroom.

Aracundo could only stand still as his husband lifted the circlet from his head and removed any ornaments, earrings, rings (save for their wedding band), bracelets and necklaces that he was obligated to wear because it was Noldorin tradition.

Aracundo had never really cared about Noldorin traditions that much, his mother being Telerin and him growing up being surrounded by mainly Sindar and Edain. But when he wore the small trinkets Ereinion had gifted him over the years of their courtship made his husband's eyes sparkle with happiness.

So he continued wearing them.

The small smile that graced his husband's features was worth any annoying tradition.

When they were done undressing and changing into simple light nightgowns they huddled together under the covers seeking each other's warmth and comfort. Aracundo buried his face in the other man's neck, breathing in the smell of ink and pine trees, while soft fingers combed through the long white strands of his hair.

"I'm exhausted," Ereinion proclaimed quietly. "Here I was thinking that ruling would be easier once the war is over and we all can return to a peaceful life. And yet.. yet they come and ask about taxes and land and legal privileges."

"You are doing great I'm sure," Aracundo replied and looked up at him. His husband smiled fondly but there was still a frown in between his brows. Aracundo was determined to make it go away.

"You think so, Aryo? Or are you just saying that so that I don't feel bad?"

"No, Ereinion, you're wonderful at organising and planning. You will most definitely find a way to make the people happy. It will just take some more time and effort. Tirion wasn't built in one day either "

He earned a kiss on his bare shoulder and one on his cheekbone for this, as well as a smile half hidden in the comfortable darkness of their room.

[thenightgazer]

Spark of Stardust

Chapter 1 : An Interstellar Quest It's not a date. Vergil insists upon it, even when he doubts himself as he asks Lyra to accompany him to search for a perfect birthday gift for Kyrie. But just like the dying star that sparks its undying stardust; the "date" is just a start for him to get to know more about Lyra, as the librarian reveals her "little, deepest and darkest secrets"

Warning : implied psychological and drug abuse

Part 6 of Tales of Apotelesma

You can also read this fic on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~~

It starts with a soft hand that brushes his face. The fuzzy sensation wakes him up. The lamp on the ceiling is the first thing he sees when he slowly opens his eyes wide awake. His eyes linger to his surroundings— and that shocks him because he’s no longer in his bedroom at Devil May Cry. He’s awakened in someone else’s bedroom. The wall is painted with warm colours and there is a large bookshelf besides the bed. When he turns his head to his left, he spots toys and trinkets which supposedly belong to a little girl, and there sits a young woman who smiles at him.

Where am I?

“How was your sleep?” she asks him. Her soft hand ruffles his hair gently. “You look so peaceful.”

He’s speechless. Not because he doesn’t want to answer, but his mouth won’t cooperate with his head. His survival instincts scream at him to get away from this situation, but all he could feel is numbness.

“I brought you dinner,” the beautiful woman continues. He observes her cautiously; she is approximately in her thirties, with long brunette hair and brown eyes. She looks like the kind of woman who looks absolutely harmless. The way her body moves is delicate. Her voice sounds appealing as she tells him the menu and hopes he will like it. She gives him the same warm impression as his own mother, but this woman seems shady. Her eyes remind him of someone... but he couldn’t remember the person. The same cold, void eyes...

“The nurse said you haven’t eaten since last night. You refused to take your medicines. Why? Don’t you want to get better?” Her voice turns colder. “When I heard that you refused to eat, I couldn’t concentrate on my work. I’m afraid you won’t get better. Now you will eat and take your medicine for me, okay?”

He can’t follow everything she has said just now. Who is this woman? What medicines? What nurse? But his head nods automatically as if his body is controlled by someone else, and that little gesture makes this woman’s warm smile appear on her pretty face again.

“Good. Let’s eat! After that, I’ll read you something exciting. How’s that sound?”

He nods obediently, opening his mouth to eat the porridge. He can’t feel the taste, nor can he sense the texture of the food. But the woman looks at him as if she would blast if he didn’t eat. The sound of friction between the spoon and the bowl drives him crazy. She’s making sure that he swallows the food as she cleans up his mouth. After the bowl is empty, she proceeds to pour something from a bottle—medicine— on a small spoon and look up at him, opening her mouth as a command for him to mimic her gesture. She seems delighted when he swallows the medicine.

“Atta girl.”

What is this nonsense? What is that thing she put inside me?

But he knows he won’t get the answer.

It’s all just a dream, right?

The woman walks to the bookshelf. Her fingers run through the book until she finds the one she desires. She sits back besides him again and opens the book, her fingers scan through the pages.

“You don’t like Cinderella, so I picked up this one,” she shows him the cover of the book. “I guarantee you’ll like it! It’s called The Hobbit, an adventure story. Your favourite, right?”  

I do like adventure stories. But it isn’t my favourite. It’s Dante’s…

She starts her storytelling in a clear voice. “In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit...”

There’s something in her face when she reads. She seems more relaxed and softer than before, as if she got lost in the story. His suspicion is surprisingly gone while he listens to her and the familiarity strikes him again. She reminds him of his own mother when he was a child, reading him bedtime stories. Cambions in their early childhood needed a lot of sleep just like human children, but Dante and he always refused to sleep early and asked for more stories. There’s something peaceful about this familiarity. It calms him, then he decides to close his eyes again whilst the woman’s voice slowly fades away.

---

The dream shatters as Vergil’s cell phone rings loudly.

The hybrid lays still on his bed. He was sleeping for two hours just because he had no other options left to do aside from sleeping. Yet, even though his body doesn’t particularly need to sleep, he hates it when his slumber is interrupted. His hand reaches to find his phone and immediately pick it when he finds it on the desk beside his bed without seeing who’s calling him because he doesn’t bother to open his sleepy eyes.

“Dad?”

That familiar voice forces Vergil to open his eyes.

“Nero?”

“Yeah. You busy?”

“No,” Vergil throws a blanket from his naked chest as he moves his body to sit and brushes his hair. “What’s wrong, Nero?”

Nero doesn’t reply immediately. Vergil can hear a heavy sigh from his son and that makes him a bit anxious.  

“Nothing wrong. Just...” The young devil hunter lets out another sigh. “Today is Kyrie’s birthday. She invites you and the crews for dinner at six. Uh… six as in Fortuna time, which is an hour later from Red Grave time. Just in case you got lost in time again.”

“Of course. We will be attending the dinner. Thank you for the invitation.”

“It’s Kyrie who invites you, not me.”

“...”

“... but having you around here is not so bad. The kids were always whining whenever you and Dante left the house.” Nero’s response is almost excited and eager, much to Vergil’s relief.

The picture of Julio, Carlo and Kyle somehow makes Vergil grins. “You did very well taking care of those little rascals.”

“Thanks,” there’s a pause before Nero continues. “Anyway, I should get going. Nico needs my help to do some crazy shit.”

“I hope all is well for you.”

“You too, I guess...” the young man clears his throat. “And... thank you. For accepting the invitation.”

“It’s the least I could do,” The blue devil smiles, his anxiety is gone as their interaction goes smoothly. “Carry on, son.”

“Y-yeah— bye, then.”

Warmth fills Vergil’s heart as he cleans up his bed and folds the blanket neatly. Never in his life would he have thought that he’d become a father. Even though it was unplanned, having a son does change his life. He has no parental figures to ask advice from and those parenting books are not helping at all, but he learns at his own pace. Two years of effort of atonement is nothing compared to his sins, yet he wants the very best for Nero and is very protective to him.

Then the word stings him.

Birthday, huh?  

Ever since he was a little boy, Vergil has never understood the concept of celebrating birthdays. For him, birthday is just another day to pass. If anything, it seems like people love to celebrate the day when their life spans decrease. People are getting old, so what? Why do we celebrate that irony? Is that because of the presents and cake? Little Vergil never found the answer, but he did feel happy whenever he received presents and ate his birthday cake, even if that means he had to share it with his twin, Dante (he had given up the dream of having his own cake, since being twins means sharing almost everything). He didn’t even think about birthdays until Nero reminded him.

I wonder if he knows his birthday...

Vergil walks to the bathroom and washes his face. He looks at the mirror and the man guy in the mirror stares back at him. His reflection somehow reminds him of the strange dream. What was that dream about? It seems visceral, like it was my own memory. His heartbeat gets faster when he has a dreadful negative thought that it could be Mundus’ mind manipulation. If that was Mundus, it’s too pointless. He’d use my own memories to torture me, not with some kind of irrelevant vision.

“Mornin’,” Dante shoves himself besides Vergil and yawns. “I’m hungry.”

“Pleased to meet you, Hungry.”

Dante bursts into laughter. “Since when are you into dad jokes?”

“I’ll take the shower first.” Ignoring Dante’s question, Vergil picks up a dry towel and gets inside the shower cubicle.

Dante takes off his shirt and stretches his muscles. He washes his face and begins to shave his beard. “You said you fought Angelo demons at last week’s gig, right? Heard from Lady the same Angelo demons got sighted at another city. We still don’t have any information on who created and summoned them.”

Vergil wipes the droplets of water from his face. “It seems like those Angelo demons were none like all the artificial demons we have ever seen before. Their form, their abilities, their durability. They looked rather... futuristic, I'd say. I got an impression that the new Angelo was created mostly by advanced science rather than magic.”

“Another thing happened these past weeks. There are three outbursts at restricted medical facilities in different cities.”

“What medical facility?”

“Trish said that the three of them were research laboratories owned by Ravenhill Corporation.”

“Isn’t that the same corporation that won a peace award or something like that?”

“Yeah. The Ravenhills are an influential aristocrat with power over the health and security industry. Most of the health facilities in this world are sponsored and if not, owned by Ravenhill Corporation. They have a branch company here in this city too.”

“And do you think those incidents have a connection with the appearance of Angelo demons?”      

“Just a gut feeling, but that’s worth investigating, better safe than sorry, aight?” Dante brushes his hair and flips it back like Vergil. “Hey, I look just like you with this hairstyle! Perhaps I should go with this style from now on.”

“If you’re done talking, get out of the bathroom.”

“This is MY bathroom!”

“And I’m the one who cleans up the mess you’ve created in this house, Dante.”

“Fine~!” Dante chuckles as he cleans up the remaining shaving foam from his jaw. “Have you bought something for Kyrie’s birthday? Got missed calls and a text about the dinner party from Nero.”

“Not yet.”

“I’ve been thinking of giving her a fancy revolver. Heard from Nero that she’s quite good at using guns.”

“... do you really think that women fancy weapons as a gift?”

“Trish and Lady do. But hey! You can go ask our clever librarian!” Dante's face lightens up in exhilaration.

Vergil turns off the shower and wraps a towel around his waist as he opens the cubicle. “What do you mean by ’our’?!”

“Yours, then. She’s a normal civilian woman. Perhaps she can recommend you a perfect gift for Kyrie.”

No, if only you know that she’s not normal! “... you’re probably right.”

A teasing whistle comes from Dante as he takes off his pants and walks inside the cubicle. “As Yoda said, Verge, ‘ do or do not. There is no try ’. Call her and ask her out for a date.”

“I’m not taking any advice from a man who has rotten luck with women. And who is Yoda?”

“Call it what you want it. If you’re not asking her out, I’ll go ask her by myself.”

“Not before I step over your dead body.”

“Ha! Someone’s jealous for realsies~”

Vergil walks away from the bathroom before his inner turmoil tempts him to try to kill Dante… again. His insolent brother might have been teasing him too much, but in a way he’s right. He needs to find someone trusted enough to help him buy the perfect gift for Kyrie.

But she’s on duty today is her work day. I won’t make it right on time to the party if I have to wait for her shift to end.

He’s still thinking about it when he enters his room on the second floor and grabs his phone. Lyra’s contact name is showing up, but he hesitates. It’s still 9 o’clock. The library must have just opened.

After having a quite long internal battle with himself, he decides to call her anyway.

It takes a little bit long for Lyra to finally pick up her phone. Vergil catches the sound of her voice and a man’s laugh who Vergil assumes is Nate. “Bugger off for a minute, will you? — Clayton here.”

“Lyra.”

“Oh, hello Vergil!”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all! Is there anything I can help you with?”

“... yes.”

“Are you okay? You sound like you want to cry.”

“I am certainly not,” Vergil groans at Lyra’s giggle. “Yet, I do believe I need your help.”

“Name it!”

“... it’s about a birthday present.” Vergil clears his throat. “Do you remember Kyrie, my son’s fiancée? She will be celebrating her birthday this evening. She invited Dante and I to her house for dinner.”

“I see.”

“Kyrie has always been there for Nero,” he continues. “She helped guide him to become the person he is now. She took care of him while I wasn’t there for him. She’s an important person to my son. That’s why... at least I have to show her some respect.”

“By giving her a decent birthday present.”

“Yes.”

“I think she will appreciate everything you give to her.”

“She will, certainly. She’s too polite to reject a present, but I don’t want her to think that I’m a careless father-in-law by giving her a gratuitous gift.”

“You’re right. I’d be delighted to accompany you to buy the present, but…I’m on duty right now. I’m afraid I couldn't help you any further.”

“That I know. That’s why I call for your advice.”

“I suggest something small, but meaningful. You told me she love to sing, right? Maybe a vinyl of classical music would — what in the bloody—! Nate! Give me back my phone at once!”

Vergil hears them grumbling and arguing at something. He considers to just hang up the phone given to his hunch that Lyra and Nate are probably having a fight right now, but suddenly he hears Nate’s voice as the young librarian speaks to him.

“Mr. Vergil? It’s Nate!”

This scoundrel's audacity...! “I recognize your voice, Nathaniel. What are you doing with Lyra’s phone?”

“Err... sorry for the interruption, but Lyra forced me to tell you this myself, or else you won’t believe her! I told her that I don’t mind if she wants to go on a date with you! My father won’t be checking on the library today!” Nate lets out a dry chuckle to break the ice, but since Vergil says nothing, Nate continues to speak. “She insisted on at least working today, so I told her to finish the duty earlier so she could spend her time with you. That’s all! Oh yeah, a little advice here; Lyra has a terrible sense of direction, means that you should hold her close— ouch!”  

A sound of a book slapped on Nate’s head comes to Vergil’s ear. The next is Lyra’s nervous voice talking to him. “Vergil? You heard Nate. So... we meet at three. How’s that sound?”

“I’ll pick you up at the library.”

“Okay!”

“Then... I’ll see you around.”

“Cheerio!”

Vergil hangs up the phone, unexpectedly feeling the queasiness after he recalls the word ‘date’ as Dante and Nate said earlier. Foolish. We are not dating. We are just going to buy a birthday present. That’s all. Stop this unnecessary disquietude. It’s just Lyra—

“Tell me you’re not gonna go on a date with your boring clothes!”

Vergil hardly glances to his side and sees Patty’s figure standing by his door. The twenty years old girl is wearing an apron and holding a broom in her hand. “At least wear something stylish! You and Dante are all hopeless! No wonder the two of you haven’t gotten married yet!”

“I believe that’s none of your concern, Miss Lowell. And although I lack what humans would consider common sense, the last time I know about human norms and etiquette, that it is rude to trespass on someone's private space and eavesdrop on other people’s conversation.”

“I’m not eavesdropping! I just happened to pass this room while cleaning this house because lately you are not present in this house and Dante is being a lazy bastard as usual! Show some gratitude!”

“Thank you for your help. But as you can see now, I am here and that means I will do the household job while you can go disturb Dante’s peace now.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Dante shouts from the first floor.

“Anyways, let me help you to choose better clothes for you!” Patty insists. “I don’t know who this girl is because Dante won’t tell me, but she seems special to you. You need to dress at your best! Impressing a girl on their first date is a must!”

“I’ll forgive your impudent attitude this time if you kindly close the door, Miss Lowell. I need to put some clothes on.”

Realizing that Vergil wears nothing but a towel wrapped on his waist, Patty flusters as she looks away and grabs the door knob violently. “Fine!”

The blue devil chuckles softly when he hears Patty goes downstairs and screams at Dante for whatever antics that he does right now. He searches through his wardrobe, pondering if Patty was right. And maybe she is. He’s about to blend into society, that means he needs to look less suspicious. He should wear something casual and humane.

Humans and their fashion. Even demons are much simpler.

He picks some clothes with a hope that he won’t look too ridiculous.

---

“Do you think he’s the type of person who brings flowers for a date?” Nate throws paper planes at Lyra’s direction, which she blocks it all with a book.

“Why do you insist that this is a date? We are friends. Friends go hang out sometimes.” Lyra says.

“Dammit, Lyre! You are older than me but I can’t believe you’re so clueless about this. Even idiots could tell that he likes you!”

Lyra groans desperately. “That’s it. That’s the problem of modern society. People nowadays confuse politeness with flirting!”

“Sometimes both work simultaneously! And that’s the case of Mr. Vergil. Sure, he’s polite to everyone even though he always looks like he wanted to kill someone. But he’s different with you; he’s not just polite, but kind. That’s two different things!”

Lyra half-heartedly listens to Nate’s babble; despite she already knows what is inside Nate’s mind. She knows what he means about Vergil being kind only to her, and Nate’s mind interprets how soft Vergil is whenever he’s around her. The thought of those forms of romanticism confuses her. Being a telepath, she has seen and listened into people’s minds for almost her entire life. She’s no stranger to the concept of love according to universal belief, yet she still doubts its existence.

Sometimes, what people think about something isn’t always synchronized with how they feel about it.

And speaking of which, I haven’t heard Nate’s thoughts since fifteen seconds ago...

“He’s here!” Nate declares as he looks up at the window near the front door. “Wait, uh... is it really him?”

“What?”

“He looks... different.” Nate mumbles. “And he didn’t bring flowers. Guess he’s not the flower type of guy.”

“On the contrary, he is.” Lyra takes a brief look at her appearance in the mirror and puts on eyeglasses before giving a wink at Nate. “See you tomorrow!”

“Now who’s excited about the date!?”

She giggles throughout her journey to the front door, only to be surprised when she opens the door and finds Vergil standing in front of her and about to open the door too. But today he looks stunningly different; he is wearing as black shirt beneath a navy-blue casual coat. His dark trousers make him look taller than usual. He changes his footwear into a pair of black chukka boots. Even with his usual warrior clothes, Vergil Sparda is already breathtakingly handsome. His casual look just enhances his majestic stature.  

Lyra has never really given any attention to fashion, but now she can’t take her eyes off of him. “What’s with the sudden change in your sense of fashion?”  

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it!” she blurts. “You look… so… normal”

“Is it just me or does it sound like an insult?”

“It’s a compliment!”

“... thank you, I suppose,” Vergil reluctantly scratches his nape. “Shall we go now?”

“Let’s!”

Lyra glares at Nate who’s giving her double thumbs up and loudly wishing her good luck before she closes the door.

“So,” the librarian walks side by side with Vergil. “Do you remember I mentioned that I purchased my devil arm at an antique shop?”

“Yes. What’s with that?”

“I think it’s a good place to start our quest. The shop sells antique weapons, jewelries, old books and trinkets. Perfect collection for Kyrie.”

“Very well. Where’s this shop located?”

“Nova Town.”

“It’s too far from here.”

“Lucky for us, you have Yamato.”

“I’m beginning to think that you see me as a mere means tool of transportation.”

“Maybe,” she winks playfully. “But you are too decent to be a mere tool, my dearest friend.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, “Let’s find an empty alley first.”

---

“That was the first time I saw Lyra smiling like that,” Nate mutters at himself as he taps something on his cell phone. “Good for her! Ever since I saw their chemistry on the murder in the library weeks ago, I know they’re going to form a relationship soon!”

The twenty four years old librarian giggles at his own fantasy while drowning himself further into a mobile game he always plays whenever he has free time. He almost startled himself when the bell rings and a customer comes in. Nate abruptly pauses the game and greets the guest. “Welcome to The Literarium!”

The guest — a tall and ginger-haired man — returns Nate’s greeting with a nod. A suspicion arises in Nate’s head as he observes the man’s eyes that are covered with sunglasses. Why the hell does he wear sunglasses indoors? He continues to follow the man’s movement, which is also suspicious. The man seems detached from reality as he stares at one of the shelves quite long without really doing anything, not even touching the books. He walks slowly to another section, again without any interest in the books. The man seems eager to look for something as he repeatedly tilts his head to look outside the window, but Nate is certain that he’s not here for books. Then why bother coming here if he’s not interested in books? Nate clicks his pen anxiously. Paranoia begins to consume him. What if he wants to rob this place?!

The ginger-haired man approaches the sale section and finally picks a book. He looks at the cover briefly before heading to the counter. Nate fakes a polite smile when he scans the book— Lord of the Flies by William Golding— and forces himself to make a small talk. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

The man nods while giving Nate his money. “I agree.”

“You like allegorical one, huh?”

The man furrows his brow. “Sorry?”

Nate lifts the copy of Lord of the Flies . “You don’t know that Golding wrote one of the best allegorical novels all the time?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I only recognized it as one of the bestseller books,” the man chuckles. His laughter surprisingly sounds very friendly. “I picked it because the synopsis reminds me of the past.”

“Jesus, what a chaotic past you must have back then.” Nate gives him the book and his change.

“Quiet so,” the man flips the page, but Nate can sense he’s focusing on another thing. “By the way, the woman who wears eyeglasses… She came out from this place with a man about five minutes ago. Does she work here?”

Shit, another Lyra’s admirer. That explains my suspicion! “Yeah. You know her?”

“She looks like a person I used to know. Quite different, but I spot some similarities.”

“Maybe they are the same person?”

“The same person?” the man chuckles again as he closes the book. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“She died years ago.”

“Oh, man… I’m so sorry...”

“It’s fine. She wasn’t related to me, just a person I knew. At first glance, your friend looks eerily similar to her,” the man’s face abruptly turns into doubt and anxious. Nate swears he can see his hands tremble. “I was terribly surprised when I saw your friend out there. I thought the woman I knew was alive again. What is the name? Your lady friend, I mean.”

“Louisa.” Nate lightly says his lie as soon as he’s aware of the man’s intention. I’m not doing anything wrong. Lyra told me to fake a name in case some flirty bastards ask me her name.

“Louisa, then. Pretty name,” the man seems pleased at Nate’s answer. “Thank you. Lovely library, anyway. Good day for you.”

“Thank you. Happy reading and have a good day!”

He’s different from any of Lyra’s secret admirers, Nate feels uneasy about the man’s strange attitude even though the man has already taken his leave. He makes a mental note to contact Lyra soon after he closes the library. “That guy looks like he’s about to plan something fishy. But I can’t disturb Lyra and Mr. Vergil right now.”

Nate grabs his cell phone and restarts the game with a hope that nothing bad would happen.

---

She’s strangely quiet today.

Ever since they arrived at Nova Town, Vergil catches something unusual from Lyra. She guides the way to the antique shop without talking to him but carefully watches her surroundings. But at the same time, she seems to lose her focus and sometimes stares blankly at something. They have been walking for almost 30 minutes and they haven’t arrived at the antique shop yet. Also, that’s not the only thing from her that is unusual... “You wear eyeglasses.”

“Huh?” Lyra automatically touches her eyeglasses. “Why? You don’t like a girl with eyeglasses?”

“I don’t dislike it.”

“You have a funny way to compliment others, don’t you?”

“I have never seen you wearing eyeglasses before. I thought I was looking at a completely different person when you opened the door earlier.”

“I always wear eyeglasses whenever I’m out to shop, just for aesthetic purposes. I’ll take it off if that makes you uncomfortable—”

“Please don’t. You look lovely with that.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. Are we getting closer to the shop?”

“… I think so?”

Vergil stops abruptly, “Tell me we are not lost.”

“W-we’re not!” she stutters in panic. “I’m just having a little confusion here, because this town looks different from the last time I came here. It has only been two years and the town is already changing...”

“Are you even certain that we are in the right town?”

“One hundred percent certain!”

“Then tell me,” Vergil curves a devilish grin. “Is Nathaniel right? That you have a terrible sense of direction?”

A light blush blooms on Lyra’s face. “Uh... yeah— but we are in the right town! For real! Just because I have a terrible sense of direction, doesn’t mean I’m an idiot!”

“Yet we are lost, aren’t we?”

“We are not! See that monument over there? It’s the town’s icon. We just have to turn left to that road and the antique shop should be on the right corner.”

Vergil watches the monument that Lyra mentioned before he glances at her again with doubtful looks. “Alright, then. But why don’t you use… what is it again... GPS?”

“Later. I’m practicing my sense of direction by practicing my telepathic ability.”

“Does your telepathic ability have something to do with your sense of direction?”

“Since the murder in the library, I’m practicing to read people’s mind whenever you’re around me because your magical defense blocks my telepathic ability. Normally, all I need to do is just focus on their minds and find out if some of them have knowledge of the place I’m about to go.”

“Why bother? You still can read minds by touching their body parts.”

“That’s impractical! Not everyone wants to be touched. Just imagine if I need to touch a person with haphephobia.”

“I thought you like it when you don’t have to read minds anymore.”

“Just in case of an emergency. Who knows if we would find any strange cases again, or if I’m stuck with Dante and there’s an urgent situation where I’m required to smuggle into someone’s head.”

“Hold on. Your telepathy doesn’t work on Dante too?”

“I guess the power of Sparda includes protection from telepaths.”

“I see. Now I understand,” Vergil scoffs. “The reason why you were awfully quiet since we stepped in this town is that you tried to practice your telepathic ability to find out the antique shop’s direction, so you won’t embarrass yourself in front of me because you have poor sense of direction and you think having to use GPS would make you look unreliable as a guide.”

Lyra hides her hands behind her back and stares at the ground, which to Vergil indicates that everything he said is true and that she’s embarrassed to admit it. To be very honest, he doesn’t think that Lyra does something wrong. He just wants to clarify things behind her unusual behavior, but it unconsciously sounds like he’s scolding her for her little secret.

“Just use the GPS if you need it. You have nothing to be ashamed of. That won’t make me think less of you.”

Lyra seems to hesitate at first, but eventually shrugs and takes her phone out from her bag. Vergil quietly smirks at her surrender.

“Fortunately, we’re on the right track!” She shows Vergil the map. “Thank you for your encouragement, Vergil. That’s the longest advice you ever said to me.”

He shrugs it off. “I guess that’s what friends are for.”

“Still, that means a lot to me.”

“Just forget it. Then how’s your practice going?”

“Still doing my best. The first time I tried to read someone’s mind without touching them whenever you were around me, it was all nothing. But now I can see blurry images and hear buzzing sound!” She smiles at him, her eyes beam as she points at the rustic shop at the corner of the street. “Look! We've arrived!”

When Vergil enters the antique shop, he expects the shopkeeper to greet them with unstoppable pestering offers like all the shopkeepers normally do. That’s why he hates shopping. Thankfully the shopkeeper is sleeping on the counter, like she doesn’t care if someone steals one of the items. The shop itself is quiet and the goods are all unique. The problem is, Vergil doesn’t know where to start searching. There are many items that Vergil puts a certain degree of interest in—necklaces, bracelets, clocks, paintings—but he doesn’t think that it would be useful or meaningful to Kyrie. He starts to think about Dante’s suggestion to give her a weapon for self-protection. It seems easier than this endless searching.

“Do you know the biggest dilemma when it comes to shopping? You expect to find a certain thing, but when you’re in the shop, suddenly you’re not sure what to buy anymore.” Lyra chuckles at Vergil’s confused expression.

“Evidently,” Vergil picks an antique revolver. “I think I want to give her a weapon.”

“Is Kyrie an excellent combatant?”

“She can take care of herself, though she still needs a lot of practice, but she won’t survive a second if she had to fight multiple opponents.”

“Mmmm... okay but... how about something for protection from the demons?”

“That will do. It’s way more practical and useful.”

“Alright. Let’s ask the shopkeeper.”

Vergil points his chin at the counter. “She’s sleeping.”

“I’ll wake her up.” Lyra fixates her focus on the shopkeeper until she slowly raises her head from the counter table and rubs her eyes.

Vergil almost couldn’t hide his amusement. She can wake someone up from slumber? How advanced is her ability actually?

The shopkeeper yawns loudly. “Welcome. How can I help y’all?”

“We’re looking for an item for protection from demons. Do you have anything suitable for that?” Lyra asks.

The shopkeeper looks straight to Lyra’s eyes, then to Vergil’s. She sighs as she walks to the weapon cabinet. “I don’t have much of that, but I have this one. Take a look.” she mumbles, handing Lyra a red music box. The music box looks captivating with a rose pattern carved on the box. When Lyra opens the music box, Vergil recognizes the box is playing Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier.

“Lovely, but I don’t see what’s so special about the music box,” Vergil mutters his doubt.  

“Easy, dude. Push the button near the mirror to open the secret room behind it.”

Lyra does the exact instruction until the secret room is opened and reveals a golden bracelet inside.

“What’s that for?” Lyra asks.

“It will glow red whenever there's demons nearby,” the shopkeeper lights her cigarette and walks back to the counter. “When the bracelet glows, you press it and close your eyes, because it will cast a very blinding light. It’ll blind and burn demons and that’s the best time for you to run away.”

Lyra glances at Vergil, who’s examining the music box and the bracelet. She holds her giggle when she notices that the bracelet glows in red when Vergil holds it and abruptly puts it back to the secret room behind the mirror before the shopkeeper notices it.

“I guess the bracelet couldn’t distinguish demons and cambions,” she whispers to him.

“This should be fine,” Vergil forms a satisfied grin. “It has both protection advantage and aesthetical function. Perfect.”

“You take that?!” the shopkeeper shouts eagerly.

“Yes,” Vergil replies. “Is there a money-back guarantee in case the item doesn’t properly work?”

“This is an antique shop, dude. Some items might not working at all—”

“I believe I don’t have to repeat myself.” Vergil insists.

The shopkeeper gulps at Vergil’s unspeakable death threat within his icy eyes, knowing that there’s no use to argue with a man like Vergil. “Dammit, fine! Now can I get my money?”

Lyra howls with laughter, “Blimey, you are a terrifying customer.”

Vergil grins in pride as he heads to the counter.

---

The birthday party will begin in an hour, but Vergil chooses to spend the rest of the time with Lyra at the Sparda Manor. During the day time, they only meet in the library. That makes their little adventure today seem rare... and fun. Lyra buys them ice creams at the end of their journey in Nova Town. She can’t hold her laughter when she catches Vergil’s eyes sparking in childish interest as he holds his ice cream once the magic portal opens its way to the Manor.

“The shopkeeper was different from the one whom I met two years ago. He was nice and helpful,” Lyra murmurs, licking her bubblegum ice cream. “Guess he didn’t work there anymore. We get a sleepyhead instead.”

Vergil says nothing as he examines his blueberry ice cream cone. His memory of V eating cheeseburger hits him. “Why do humans think that creating something messy is a good idea?”

“It’s called innovation, Vergil.”

“Messy innovation.”

“As long as people like it, it is considered as a great innovation.”

He finally gives up and chomps his ice cream. “This is not bad.”

“Tell me this is not your first time eating ice cream.”

“I might be inexperienced in human lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I never tasted ice cream.”

It’s strange, Vergil recalls the moment when they used to be strangers before Almagest helped them to get closer. Now they stand side by side and talk about stuff like old friends to the point where he could never get enough of her companionship. He lets her wander around his childhood house, even if he barely calls it a house now. He lets out a silent chuckle when she lifts a pile of rocks up to the air just to see what hides behind it, only to find another ruins and she’s slightly disappointed.

“For a second I thought your father was Johann Sebastian Bach.” Lyra looks up at Sparda’s family painting.

“You are not the first person who said that.”

She laughs. “Oh look at you… stoic since you were born. And I already got a picture on Dante being impatient while the painter kept asking him to stand still.”

“Pretty much correct. He complained how itchy his feet were at the end of the session.”

“Your mother was gorgeous,” Lyra admires Eva’s angelic stature. “No wonder Sparda fell for her.”

Vergil forms a wistful smile. “She was.”

“This painting reminds me of The Picture of Dorian Gray .”

“Pray tell, why?”

“Dorian sold his soul to the devil for eternal youth, and it decayed his self-portrait painting every time he did a sin. Of course your family portrait is a different case, but you see, your mother’s face is the only one that didn’t get burned by fire. It’s like a sign that she was the only human in the family…”

“And the rest of the family members were cursed by the evil blood that ran in their veins. That’s why the faces of the three of us were burned. That’s a picturesque perspective.”

“I didn’t say that demon is always evil—”

“I know. Still, it’s a good metaphor. Haven’t thought of it myself.”

“Why don’t you take the painting with you? People keep their family portrait in their house.”

“Dante and I agreed to leave it here as a sign that this mansion once belonged to our family. Besides, I can’t imagine such a painting to be hanged on the shop’s soiled wall. It would be a disgrace for the painting itself.”

“Now that you mentioned it, I think you are right.”

Lyra continues to lift some rocks and put it back carefully once she finds nothing interesting.. “Have you been in there again after you escaped the Underworld with Dante?”

“To collect mementos, yes. Though, as you can see, nothing much was left since Urizen destroyed the whole city. Not to mention almost all parts of the house were destroyed or blocked by pillars and huge stones. We tried to remove them, but it’d cause a domino effect throughout the manor and demolish it completely.” 

“How did it feel to visit your childhood home again?”

Vergil swallows his ice cream at once. He puts a handkerchief out from his coat and wipes his lips. “It felt mostly heartbreaking.”

“I see,” Lyra nods and gives Vergil a light pat on his shoulder. “Not everyone could even come back to the place where their trauma began. Not that it’s necessary. I just found it encouraging.”

“Speaking of memento, what was the most valuable present you had ever received?” Vergil curiously asks.

“Oh, we start to have a small talk now?”

“I thought we agreed to trust each other, don’t we? Then we should start from mundane things.”

“Alright. Make sense. Let me recall it… mmmm… oh right! A lyre!”

“You play lyre? Amazing.”

“I thought you were about to say ironic.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You know, a lyre plays a lyre.”

Vergil smirks, recalling her remark on their previous little adventure, “You’re right. It’s ironically amazing.”

The librarian rolls her eyes as she bites the ice cream cone. “My mum bought me one for my fifth birthday. It only lasted for two months before I asked her to give me a harp for the next birthday.”

“Did she finally buy you a harp?”

“She didn’t.”

“Why?”

“She died before my next birthday.”

Vergil immediately stared at Lyra’s sullen eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles at him, chewing the last part of her cone. “It was a long time ago.”

Lyra has so many things she hides behind her amicable demeanor, and Vergil should’ve feel relieved because after all these months, Lyra finally opens up a little bit about her family, yet he doesn’t feel it at all.

“Were you close with your mother?” Vergil’s tone is full of consideration.

Lyra taps her fingers on her chin. “I guess so. We only had each other.”

“… How did she… die?”

The librarian smirks at him. “If I told you she fell from the tree, would you believe me?”

“Only if that’s the truth.”

She goes silent for a while, seeming unwilling to continue her story. She opens an empty drawer, looking at nothingness for a while. “You might’ve heard about her.”

“Your mother?”

“Uh-uh,” Lyra nods calmly, but Vergil senses a slight hesitation. “Her name was Asteria Crescent.”

Impossible! “The award-winning astronomer?”

“Astrobiologist, yes.”

“I see. That explains your fondness of astronomy.”

The first time Vergil heard about Asteria Crescent was when he was eleven years old, still homeless and constantly moved out from place to place in search of power. Asteria’s groundbreaking research of modern astrobiology broke the news. Her discovery led the scientists to rethink human’s position in this world and question the exact location of the Underworld in the known universe, considering demons as an extraterrestrial creature with its own origin and evolution. Demons and magic are inseparable, but Asteria Crescent was brave to make a further step to explain demonology in a scientific approach. Science and magic are two sides of a coin , Vergil recalls her statements. Science just has yet to understand magic.

“Asteria was a Titan goddess of falling stars and nighttime divinations. That suited her very well,” Lyra chuckles bitterly, swinging her hand to lift a pile of ruins back to its place. “I once wondered why she didn’t name me Hecate, daughter of Asteria and goddess of witchcraft. Maybe at that time, she didn’t have a thought that someday I’ll develop this… psychic ability.”

“The media never reported anything regarding her cause of death. It happened all so sudden, they said.”

“They always spoke highly of her. But when she died, they turned the story into rumors and gossip.”

“So did she fall from the tree?”

“She did fall.”

“But not from the tree.”

Vergil’s demonic eyes catch Lyra’s body slightly flinching, but she maintains her calmness and fakes a smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you further about your private life.”

“You entrusted me your biggest secret. I intend to do so. I’m just… not ready to open up, but I know that I want to.”

“When I said that we should try to trust each other, I didn't mean that you should abruptly open yourself to me.”

“Too late. Now you know I’m the daughter of a dead astrobiologist.”

“Why did you change your surname then?”

Lyra stops and gazes at Vergil. She seems anxious while glancing at her surroundings carefully, as if she’s afraid that someone else would hear them. Vergil slightly bows his body when Lyra whispers in his ear.

“I’m being hunted.”

The furrow on Vergil’s brow is going deeper. “By whom?”

“Someone who wants to abuse my power. That’s why I need to change my surname and hang out around wearing eyeglasses, so people won’t find out about my identity.”

For a moment, they stand still there, staring at each other’s eyes to find some clues. It’s logical that Lyra’s unique ability would attract power-seekers, be it humans or demons. Vergil knows it too well; the danger of possessing a greater power. A part of him wants to believe her words…

If only he failed to spot a subtle grin on the corner of her lips.

I would be absolutely fooled by her deception, Vergil grunts discontentedly. "You are lying, aren’t you?”

Lyra’s laughter echoes throughout the lake.

Vergil snarls at her unstoppable giggle. "Quite a jester, I see.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Vergil doesn’t bother to reply, because he knows it would lead to another bickering. He doesn’t try to hide his amused smile too, even though Lyra teases him about the ‘sly devil smile’. To be honest, he couldn’t care less. He just wants to see her smile, her true smile.

Like the way she’s smiling right now.

“Do you want to have a look at the lake?” Vergil offers, trying to lift the mood. “There’s nothing left to see here.”

“Sure!”

They sit on the cobblestone pier in the lake while admiring the twilight sky. It’s Vergil’s favorite place, ever since he was a child. This place has changed; there are no more Qliphoth roots left and there are several trees and wildflowers growing on the land. The lake no longer contains human blood. It’s mesmerizing how fast time flies and changes the entire city.

“I used to spend my days here, reading and playing with Dante,” Vergil says. “We loved being here more than staying indoors.”

“I can see the reason. It’s bloody beautiful here.” Lyra mutters her admiration. She taps her fingers on the cobblestone playfully, causing a small rift in the lake.

“Dante once pushed me to the lake because we fought over a chocolate bar,” Vergil recalls one of his precious memories. “I pretended to be drowned. He pulled me out of the water and cried, pleaded to me for not leaving him alone and that he’s sorry. Promised me that he won’t disturb me again. Right when he shook my body to wake me up, I pushed him to the lake but he managed to drag me with him.”

Lyra can’t hold her howls of laughter. She chortles until her stomach hurts and her throat gets sore. Vergil swears he never saw her laughing like this. “I’m sorry— I— HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Lower your voice,” Vergil grunts. He starts to regret his decision for rambling about his childhood antics just to get rid of Lyra’s gloomy face. “You might end up choking yourself to death.”

“ Pfffftttt!”

“Will you shut up?!”

“Sorry!” Lyra bites her thumb to hold her cackle but fails. “I just… bwahahaha! It seems that ‘never hold a grudge to the people who wronged you’ is true!”

Vergil pulls her thumb away from her teeth, caressing her reddened thumb. “A little deeper, you would bleed your thumb.”

The careful touch from Vergil distracts Lyra for a while. It’s the first time he holds her without gloves on, and it surprises her how soft his palm is despite the fact that he is a warrior who wields various weapons. Her thumb slips lightly from his palm. “Even if I bleed, I got your Lucy Pevensie’s cordial to heal me.”

Vergil sighs heavily as he removes some strands of Lyra’s hair from her forehead. “I gave it to you for an emergency case only. The cordial was made mostly from demon’s blood, mixed with rare herbs and some complicated spells to make it suitable for human’s bodies. Even the bottle was made from demon’s materials to prevent physical damage. Trish produced only a few bottles of cordial, so use it wisely.”

“I will,” Lyra picks out the cordial bottle from her bag and shows it to Vergil. “See? I haven’t used it since Capulet.”

“Put it back into your bag before it slipped from your hand and fell into the lake.”

“Alright alright! Why do you sound a lot like my mother?” Lyra puts the bottle back into her bag.

“You are clumsy and easily distracted. I have to keep my eyes on you every time. It’s rather distressing.”

“I can take care of myself!” Lyra lays a punch on Vergil’s chest. “Remember, I weakened Phantom last week, so you devil twins could kill that spider easily!”

The cambion smirks disdainfully to her weak strike. He puts something off from the back of his coat and hands it to Lyra. It’s an old book with a black leatherbound with the title engraved in a beautiful golden emboss. “Your payment for escorting me today.”

Lyra observes the front cover with beaming eyes. “The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe...”

“It’s one of the mementos I brought from the Manor. I reckon you would love Poe, given to your fondness of horror and mystery.”

“Then I have to refuse! It’s yours!”

“I believe I made myself clear when I said the book is for you.”

Lyra was about to refuse again, but quickly zip her mouth when Vergil glared at her with his terrifying and undeniable gaze. He won’t take any ‘no’ from her. She flips the pages, and something almost falls from the book before Lyra catches it quickly; an antique necklace with an obsidian pendant. She takes a closer look at the pendant and recognizes the familiar white, shiny dots pattern on it— the Lyra constellation.  

“… did you pick this one too from the manor?” Lyra asks carefully.

“… it was from the antique shop.”

“I didn’t see you strolling around the jewelry section.”

“It was displayed on the counter. Nothing special. Just normal jewelry. The pattern just reminded me of you—”

Vergil can’t finish his sentence because Lyra wraps her arms between his waist, locking him in a tight embrace. He can feel the strange, but comfortable warmth fills his body as he returns to hug her without hesitation. Her body is so small and shorter compared to his height that he needs to bow slightly in order to balance the embrace. He loves her scent— a strange mixture of peach, black tea and old roses— and quietly inhales the intoxicating fragrance from her hair. He feels like he could do this all day.

“Thank you,” Lyra’s murmur vibrates his chest. “I’ll cherish this forever.”

“It's just a book and a necklace.”

“These are the best presents since the lyre from my mum!” she chuckles. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually hug people around.”

“Neither do I.”

“So let us hug a bit longer, shall we?”

“It looks like I have no choices but to comply.”

For a moment, they banish their distrusts about each other, breaking the adamant barrier and wishing the time to stop ticking.  

---

Yesterday, Lyra dreamt of a boy who wanders around a big house.

She thought it was just a meaningless dream, at least until she realized that she was the boy himself. She looked at her—  his — reflection in the mirror; the little boy was handsome with swept back silver hair and a black pajama. His serious and grumpy expression reminded of someone she couldn’t remember yet. She— the boy —wandered off around a big and dark house. It wasn’t her own intention; like her movement was controlled by someone else. She opened a chamber and let herself in. There was a woman who lay unconscious on the bed. Lyra could see traces of tears on the woman’s sullen face. Her body forced her to lift the quilt to cover the woman’s body and tip-toed herself out from the room.

When she was about to go back to her room, she heard a wheezing cry and followed the voice to the main hall. It didn’t take her too long to find out the source of the voice as her hand reached to open a white drawer, where another little boy with the same silver hair cried inside it.

“Vergil…” that little boy stared at her with a turbulent sob coming out from his mouth. “Father… you… you d-d-don’t believe that he died… r-right?”

I am…Vergil?

Does that mean that this crying boy… Dante?

The next thing Lyra remembered was she woke up with tears stream down her face like a waterfall, soaking her pillow. She was sure the sadness she felt in the entire dream wasn’t hers, but Vergil and Dante’s. She was going to tell Vergil about her strange dream when she saw the exact same white drawer in her dream at Sparda Manor, but she thought she was biased. Vergil had told her about how devastated his family was when they heard that Sparda was deceased, and her dream must be just her brain playing a trick to her.

But then she thought, Vergil never told me that he found Dante hiding and crying in that draw…

Tonight, Lyra falls into another strange dream. Even weirder and scarier. A titanic, god-like demon tortured her in the most unimaginably painful way. Her entire body was chained and spiked. The demon was merciless. His face was full of disgust and hatred as he spat her insults and penetrated her head with dreadful illusions she couldn’t even envision. He kept calling her “disgraceful offspring of the traitor Sparda”. It was only then she realized that she wasn’t herself, but Vergil.

Lyra fights herself to wake up, and is barely successful. The dream is too visceral that she almost still can feel the pain all over the body as she opens her eyes. Her back is wet from her own sweat.

Why do I keep dreaming of him? Moreover, I never experienced this kind of pain…

Does it have something to do with our accidental mind link on that day? Strange things have happened since then...

Her wave of thoughts are interrupted by the sudden thirst in her throat. She snaps her fingers and the light from the lamp brightens the bedroom. The door cracks slowly to open its way for Lyra. The librarian walks with leaden steps as she rubs her sleepy eyes. She almost stumbled upon a chair when she entered the kitchen.

“A cuppa sounds delightful to cure nightmares,” Lyra mumbles at herself, swinging her hand to summon a cup from the drawer. The cup flies and lands right in front of her, but she makes no further movement but staring blankly at the cup. Her body is still shivering by the imaginary pain from her nightmare.

“From all the people in the world, why does it have to be Vergil? This mind link is vexing me...”

The harsh cry of a raven causes Lyra to glance over the kitchen’s window. She curves a light smile while opening the window and lets a little raven enter her house. The raven lands on her shoulder for a while before flying around the house and lands on the kitchen counter.

“Where have you been, Corvus? Haven’t seen you for days!” Lyra greets the raven.

The little bird tilts its head and squawks. Lyra giggles as she pats the raven’s head. “Hey look. My friend gave his poem book to me and one of the titles is The Raven. I like it, by the way. And I’ve been thinking about him lately, even dreaming about him. To be honest, it’s disturbing. Do you think I should invite him here and tell him the truth?”

The raven gives her a nod.

“You are right. A cuppa is best served with a friend, don’t you think?”

Corvus flaps its wings eagerly. The black bird flies around Lyra’s head before making its way outside the house.

“Leaving already? You haven’t eaten yet!” Lyra shouts at the raven. “Alright then, send my regard to your girlfriend!”

Corvus squawks something like a curse, causing Lyra to barks in laughter. She heads back to the counter as she turns on the radio to entertain her confusing state of mind, picking the channel telepathically until she finds her favourite channel. She listens to the song while summoning her phone from the bedroom, tapping the screen until Vergil’s contact name pops on the screen.

Down in the willow garden

Where me and my love did meet

As we sat a-courtin'

My love fell off to sleep

I had a bottle of burgundy wine

My love, she did not know

So I poisoned that dear little girl

On the banks below

I drew a saber through her

It was a bloody knife

I threw her in the river

Which was a dreadful sign

“By Jove, that song is sinister,” Lyra chuckles darkly. Her solemn face is turning pale. “As for the poisoned little girl… well…”

She clicks Vergil’s name, waiting for the devil to answer with fingers tangled between the black pendant on her neck, hoping half-heartedly that he wouldn’t pick her call.

~~~

A/N : the song mentioned at the end of the chapter is “Down In The Willow Garden” by The Everly Brothers.

Tagging : @drusoona @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz @shiranyaaww @andieperrie18 @rubixa-seraph @blooddrop-palace (I honestly forgot who to tag, so if you want to be tagged just send you reply or DM me! XD)

Masterlist | AO3

[xinfamousxunderdogx]

Did our fairytale go bad?

Since I'm currently rather uninspired to write something new I decided to post an older one shot I wrote last year.

Pairing: Ymir x Historia

Source: Attack on Titan

Trigger Warning: kind of alcohol abuse / getting drunk

I just wanted to write a dramatic breakup story. I hope you like it. A bit different than my last two quite fluffy Jaskier x reader one shots, but I hope you'll like it anyways ^^

______________________________________________

‘You can’t just leave!’, I shouted, trying not to let my voice show her how hurt I was. How broken. How desperately I wanted her to stay. I looked at her, but she kept her gaze down, slowly shaking her head, strands of her blond hair covering her eyes. Those deep, blue, ocean eyes.

‘I can. And I will.’, she said calmly, eventually looking up. Her face didn’t show a single emotion. Did she really not care at all about all this? About us? About me? I thought I would mean at least a bit to her. But apparently not. Otherwise she wouldn’t have chosen Reiner. Not to sound selfish, but that jerk didn’t deserve her. Not at all. He was just so … I don’t know. He seemed so self-centered. I doubt that he cares about Historia the way I do. This girl deserves to be treated like a queen. But apparently that was not what Historia was looking for.

She sighed and grabbed her coat from the chair in the kitchen. ‘My uber-driver should be here any moment.’ She looked at me. I looked back, trying to figure out what exactly was going on inside her. Nothing. Historia turned around and made her way to the door. And I … I just stood there, frozen. I couldn’t let her go, but I couldn’t figure out any way to make her stay.

‘Historia, please!’

She didn’t stop, nothing that showed that she regretted her decision at least a little bit. I couldn’t move, my eyes were basically glued to the back of her head. This blonde, soft hair I ran my fingers through so many times.

Even though every part of me tried to resist this, a loud sob escaped my lips. Fuck. I hated showing feelings. Historia was actually the very first person I was with where I allowed myself to be me. To even show weakness from time to time. It was still one of the things that scared me the most. Appearing vulnerable.

“Please don’t leave me.”

My voice was cracking, I took a deep breath and bit my lip. And for a very short moment Historia stopped and her movements became more hesitating.

“I’m sorry, Ymir.”

These were the last words that left her lips, almost too silent for me to even hear them. Then she left and the last thing I heard was the door closing shut and footsteps running down the stairs.

Almost automatically my feet made their way to the kitchen, to the window from where I could see the street in front of the house. Historia stood there, next to a black car with tinted windows. And Reiner was there, too, he was leaning against the back of that car. When Historia came out of the building he smiled, approached her only to place one hand on her waist and a kiss on her forehead. Unfortunately, her hair covered her face so I couldn’t see if she was smiling. But that was better for me, I assumed.

I clenched my fist, so hard that even my short nails were digging into the skin of my palm.

That bastard.

When Historia got in the car he looked up, directly at me as if he had already known I was standing there, watching them. He even had the nerve to slightly smile at me. As if he’d conquered me or something. As if Historia was his trophy that showed his victory over me. This man was so disgusting. Historia was nothing but a toy for him, someone to brag with, and someone to be seen with. I knew that outside he’d pretend to be the perfect boyfriend, caring, courteous, protective. But as soon as they were home, alone, he wouldn’t care for her, except when it would come to his desires.

At least that’s how I expected him to behave. Maybe it was just a product of my jealousy that wouldn’t let me realize that Reiner maybe really was better for her, and that Historia actually could become happy with him.

Afraid that Reiner could read my face I turned around. From the corner of my eyes I could see him get on the back seat of the car next to Historia. And I was somehow glad they were finally leaving. I couldn’t stand seeing them together.

---

I felt as empty as back in the days where I was all alone, not knowing who I was, not really having a name or an existence. Before I met Historia.

I sank down to the floor in the hallway, closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. Within a few minutes I lost the most important part of my life. The person that meant everything.

Where did I go wrong?

I don’t think I ever told Historia how much she actually meant to me. We also hadn’t been together for a very long time, officially together at least. Almost a year. Even though things started way earlier. But in the beginning, everything was just more of an open on-off relationship. We hooked up from time to time, went to several clubs, Historia pretending to find a guy and me pretending to help her even though we both knew that we’d end up in my bed. Together.

But I never dragged her to make things official, to decide and to state what exactly the thing between us was. I didn’t want her to feel constrained or anything like that, not only because I was the first woman she was with, also because she told me her parents were very conservative. I didn’t want her to get in trouble.

And I admit it, I was kind of afraid to confess how much she really started meaning to me in such a short amount of time. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I saw more than a friend or fuckbuddy in her. Because it scared me that I caught feelings, on top of that such strong feelings, so quick. That has never happened before. Which as well made me realize that Historia was different. My soulmate, even though that sounds corny as shit. My feelings for her were different. I’ve had several relationships before, not many, but enough to be able to compare them to Historia.

All this went on for … let’s say a bit over a year. And then Historia was the one who asked to make our relationship official. Not in public, at least not to everyone. But for us. She asked me to be her girlfriend. And I was so overwhelmed and happy. I refused to believe that all this should be over now. Everything we had.

I just wished I was more honest with her. About my feelings I mean. I wished I would’ve told her how much she really meant to me; how special she was to me. I don’t know if she knew, but I never specifically said it to her. And now I’ll probably never again have the chance to do so.

But why Reiner? Why him? She could’ve had anyone. I always saw how people looked at her whenever we were outside. And not only boys. But mostly. Hardly surprising. Historia was stunning. Not merely her character. Her bright, blue eyes, her soft, blond hair, and her smile. My god, that smile.

But why, of all other people she could have, did she choose him? Reiner, the biggest jerk I’ve ever met. It just didn’t make sense to me. To be honest, it didn’t really even make sense to me that she left me at all. I thought she was happy. I thought we were happy. Together. Was it something with her parents? Did they force Historia to get together with Reiner?

I didn’t know her parents very well, I’ve met them twice or so, but that was enough. It wouldn’t surprise me if they forced Historia into this relationship. In their eyes Reiner was probably perfect for their princess. Tall, popular, from a wealthy family. The exact opposite of me. He was perfect. Highest graduation, and probably about to be the next head of his father’s company. God dammit, why do I know so much about this bastard? Right, Historia had told me about him. Not often, she just complained that her parents always reproached her with what a perfect guy he was. Comments, that subtly meant that they wanted him and Historia to get married and have lots of children together. But Historia also always told me how ridiculous this behavior was in her eyes. And how disgusting Reiner was to her.

“He doesn’t really have much respect for women. He’s that kind of guy that thinks a woman belongs in the kitchen and who wants his girlfriend to stay at home, look pretty and be completely dependent on him.” She said all that with a face that clearly showed her disgust about his attitude.

Was this all a lie?

I buried my face in my arms which I’ve rested on my knees. I couldn’t prevent a single tear from running down my face. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Maybe I didn’t mean as much to her as I thought I did. Maybe I was kind of an experiment for her. Maybe she saw the past two years as an adventure, a break from her stereotypical, normal, boring life. But now she’s had enough and wants to get back to her usual, previous life.

The last thing I wanted to do now was to drown in self-hatred and doubts again, but I couldn’t help. Too many questions were running through my head.

What if I did things in a different way? Was there anything I should’ve done different? I could or should’ve done better? Did I hurt her without noticing? Did I give her the impression I didn’t love her?

“Fuck!”, I whispered, my voice thin and raspy.

How do I shut my fucking brain off? I don’t have the energy to overthink about every single thing that I did in the past weeks. But I still do. My brain automatically starts overanalyzing everything, every single situation from the past weeks. Everything I said, everything she said. I even tried to remember if she behaved differently or anything. But I couldn’t remember. And that stressed me out. I felt horrible because I knew that it must have been my fault. I must have done something wrong.

I furrowed my eyebrows, my teeth clenched as I aggressively ran my fingers through my hair. Then I abruptly got up and made my way to the living room, directly to the cupboard next to the TV and opened it. I hated myself because alcohol seemed to be the only thing I could think about when it came to coping mechanisms. Why wasn’t I able to handle things in a normal way? My other coping mechanism had been sex, healthier than drinking, but well, kind of hard to practice when you just got dumped. So, I had to take the other opportunity.

I didn’t want to fall back into old habits. But I kept telling myself it was just this time, only tonight, that I just needed distraction until tomorrow, when I could maybe see this whole situation clearer. When I would be calmer and wouldn’t feel the shock that deeply anymore.

I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured the liquid into one of the glasses that were standing on the counter. Then I took the bottle as well as the glass with me to the sofa where I sat down. There was no need to lie, I knew I would drink more than one glass.

I took a sip, bigger than I intended and hated myself for it. This wasn’t a solution. I hated myself for being better at drinking my feelings away than talking about them. And I guess that was the main problem.

How could you be so emotionally dependent on one single person that they could leave you as a total mess as soon as they were gone? When did I even allow myself to become so attached to a person, to become so vulnerable? In a way that I couldn't come up with anything but drinking my feelings and my pain away? And even though I told myself it was only today, that I’d feel better tomorrow, that everything would be fine again in a few days.

But a tiny part of me knew that that was not true. That I wouldn’t stop drowning my sadness in whisky or any other strong alcohol. That I wouldn’t get over this so fast.

I grabbed the bottle and filled my glass again, taking a big sip to silent this voice in my head that was whispering all these verities to me, at least for tonight.

[archadianskies]

trying my best; trying to find happiness

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Wednesday Day 3: Past & Future • Separation; post-revolution Daniel/Leo 

A missing scene from [heavy with hoping]

He remembers going to Greektown specifically to visit Bellini Paints when he first moved to Detroit. It had been a small detail he remembered from an interview with Carl he watched in school; Carl Manfred had pure pigments imported via Bellini Paints and mixed his own paints by hand when he couldn’t find the right premade tubes. 

Sixteen year old Leo had treated it almost like a pilgrimage, visiting the store his father relied on to create his masterpieces. Sixteen year old Leo had been so full of hope, so full of yearning to connect with his biological father. What an idiot he’d been, that sixteen year old boy desperate for approval from a man who’d been more than happy to keep their relationship purely monetary. 

Bellini Paints is no less beautiful thirteen years on. The walls are lined with jars of pigments and illuminated with soft ambient lighting. All the cherry lacquer cabinetry has a pleasing rosy hue to the wood, and the polished brass knobs and handles aid in the stately, regal aesthetic of the brand. It feels old and timeless, an institution that will remain even when he is long gone. 

He’s no longer that naive, hopeful teen and though he’s left that Leo in the past where he belongs, he feels no anger or frustration towards him. How could he? All that Leo had wanted was to connect with his father and be loved; surely seeking love and approval from a parent isn’t asking for the world?

Not that it matters now, anyway, not when Leo’s got a brother now- a Manfred that matters in a meaningful, healing way, and it’s for that Manfred that he makes the trip to Bellini Paints. Which is now closed.

“Ah shit,” Leo swears, rolling his eyes in exasperation as he stands in front of the locked store.

 *~*

He remembers going to Greektown as chaperone for Emma and her friends one weekend to watch a movie at James & Carter cinemas. There were four children in total, including Emma, and one other domestic android, an AX400 accompanying them. Daniel paid no attention to the movie, but what he does remember was Emma’s fascination with Bellini Paints. 

The children had been chattering away avidly after leaving the cinema, discussing what they’d just watched, but they’d fallen into a hush when they passed the store. He remembers Emma’s delighted gasp, remembers her walking to the window and peering inside at the rows of pigments on the shelves. 

“Hey Daniel, which one matches my eyes?” She’d asked, and he’d pointed at one of the jars in the top right hand corner. She’d laughed so brightly, and then her attention turned elsewhere and the moment was over, the moment lived on only in his perfect memory. 

They’d gone to Essie’s Bakery afterward because Caroline specifically did not like the place but Emma loved the buttercream cupcakes there and she knew her mother would say no, but Daniel would always say yes. Even that Daniel in the past had been well on his way to deviancy because even a direct order from Caroline became meaningless when Emma pleaded for leniency.

He wonders if someday Emma will visit Essie’s Bakery of her own volition, and buy one of his buttercream cupcakes, because that’s where he works now, now that he is alive and free and has been given a second chance. He loves it here because he can hide out in the back and just create food to be consumed, and no one can eat baked goods unhappily. That he can somehow contribute to someone’s happiness is enough for Daniel, more than enough, and certainly far more than he ever deserves. 

The workday ends and he packs up, cleans up and locks up. Daniel wraps a scarf around his neck made of chunky blue yarn that Simon knitted for him because Simon is good, and kind, and all the things Daniel used to be but isn’t now. He’s trying, though, he’s trying very hard because Simon believes in him and Daniel loves him too much to disappoint him. 

He makes his way towards the bus stop only to bump into someone outside of Bellini Paints.

“Oh, sorry-!” The young man looks familiar, and Daniel recognises him from a few days ago.

“Leo?”

“Danny?”

“It’s Daniel, I told you that,” he corrects automatically, bristling. “What are you doing here? Bellini’s closes at 6pm.”

“Ugh, I thought I’d have enough time after my therapy session to swing by and grab Markus’ pastels order,” the young man groans, jamming his hands in his pockets. Leo Manfred, human brother to Markus Manfred, leader of Jericho and object of Simon’s unrequited affection. Daniel’s interacted with Markus several times now and doesn’t care much for him despite the whole ‘saviour’ thing. He’s grateful, no doubt about it, but anyone who Simon fixates on and loves so openly only to fail to return such affections isn’t so great in Daniel’s eyes. 

“They’ll open at 9am again tomorrow, though if you’re in a rush, Vincent’s here by 8:30am,” Daniel points out, thinking fondly of the genial EM400. 

“Uh, no, I value my sleep,” Leo rolls his eyes. “But I’ll swing by around lunch probably. You heading home now?”

“Yes, if I catch the next bus it should line up with when he leaves your place and we can take it home together,” Daniel nods and Leo shrugs. 

“I’ll call you a cab- that way I can go home and Simon can continue on with you,” he takes out his phone and opens an app. “Don’t worry, I’ll put it on the house card. The old man’s got plenty to spare and he’d be more than happy to pay for Simon to get home safely.”

“Simon, but not us,” Daniel drawls as Leo snorts back a laugh.

“I mean, we’re all in agreement here though aren’t we?”

“Yes, Simon is always the priority,” Daniel replies without hesitation.

A taxi pulls up and Daniel climbs inside as Leo takes a seat opposite him. He generally avoids interacting with humans but for some reason Leo is the exception. He’s so stubbornly blasé about Daniel, so readily casual with his invitation of friendship that he can’t help but accept. It’s as if Leo’s willing to pester him into becoming friends and truth be told, Daniel wants it, Daniel wants someone to want him. Simon does, and that’s why he loves him, because Simon has a way of stubbornly killing him with kindness when everyone else loathes him. 

“So, the other day Simon was telling me he was at the DPD for some important meeting or other,” Leo begins, hands gesturing animatedly, “and all he could focus on were the shitty store bought muffins on the meeting table. Which got me thinking of how you could make some of your amazing pastries to totally wow them, and give Simon the perfect window he needs to talk to the Anderson brothers.” 

“You want me to bribe the DPD into silence so we can set up my brother to not be with yours?” It’s so stupid it makes Daniel want to laugh. Stupid, but plausible, and really, it’s for Simon and they’d both do anything for happiness. “I’m in.”

He’ll do it for Simon, but who knows, maybe there’s a little scrap of happiness held in store for him in the future too.