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walpurga-nacht-academy · 4 years ago

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“Any practitioner of magic that’s received even a modicum of training in the field has, at one point or another, heard of the term ‘grimoire’. Its origins are shrouded in mystery, its purpose unknown and the power that it possesses inestimable. However, their prevalence is also fading.

As magic studies become more and more accessible to mages of all walks of life, it is considered futile for witches and warlocks to keep personal tomes of spells and hexes anymore. The uniformization of magical practice has brought about an age in which collaboration between our kind is considered not only beneficial, but also ideal. The practice of taking apprentices is no longer an individual choice that each magician makes for themselves, and thus the need for secrecy - the fear of others invading our most personal matters and thus robbing us of our knowledge has become quite absurd.

Nowadays, grimoires have started to gain a reputation as old-fashioned magical tools, relics of the past or tools of forbidden lore. Less than 200 remain still, collected by the Ministry of Magic’s illustrious archivists and kept in many museums across Twisted Wonderland for easy access to those that seek to expand their knowledge. Yet despite their heavy efforts many of these crucial tomes fall prey to the passage of them, deteriorating as their magic fades away. Preventing the loss of these books is quintessential, if not for us, then for future generations. Thus, many countries have launched conservation projects in order to salvage what is left of our inheritance.

It is due to these projects that my own efforts have not been in vain. For years I have searched all over the world to recover and preserve the eight grimoires which had once belonged to the eight great witches of the Bald Mountain, figures shrouded in such mystery that these books are considered the only valid proof of their existence. They are thick volumes, averaging about 1,000 pages each, something quite unusual for that period, and written in codes and foreign languages that have long passed into obscurity. Translating them required intensive work and research, and even so I was able to conquer only sixty percent of the original text. The rest will be lost to history, I am afraid to say, for there are few people able to interpret the original dialects and signs of these spellbooks.

I hope that in the future there might be somebody more courageous and ingenious than me, who will decipher these tomes in their entirety. There is precious knowledge to be learned from these pages, power that has been lost over time, and power that might help the future. It is thus my request that for every person who reads this book detailing the journey I have taken since I decided fourteen years ago that I must resolve this mystery and prevent it from slipping through the cracks of progress, that you think to dedicate a little bit of time and money to the eminent researchers that still struggle to maintain their memories alive.

In this regard, I would like to dedicate this book to the many people and organizations that have made possible the publication of this volume. First, there is of course the Magical Research Board, The Ministry of Magic and the Magic University who have kindly and dutifully supported me financially. The research grant that they have awarded me with has helped me carry my investigation through several countries, as well as access resources that would have been otherwise impossible for me to make use of.

I would also like to express my gratitude towards the ruling families of the Afterglow Savannah and the Valley of Thorns, for their generosity in allowing me to study the history of their kingdoms in order to better understand the social and political dimensions to two of the witches’ that are said to hail from these places.

I would also like to thank all the translators and historians that have taken time out of their busy schedules to help with my manuscripts - pointing out translation errors, mistakes regarding historical dates and events, or even my continuous use of the word “mystery” of which I am guilty even in my opening chapter I must sadly admit! Thus, I would like to mention among many Miss Line, and her lovely daughter Safia, whose generosity saved my life when I was to drown at sea;

my Lord Duban of the Land of Hot Sands, who enchanted me with tales of viziers and street rats who court princesses;

Nefu, whose knowledge of the low town in the Savannah rivals none, I am sure of that;

Lord Himalia of the Land of Pyroxene whose heart is as great as the acres of land he owns;

old, wise Louisa who welcomed me in her hut before her beloved Cockatrice managed to tear me to shreds;

my dear friend Daphne, whose courage is greater than even the rage of a Kerberos breed when it sees its owner attacked;

Thursday, who proved to the world that despite their short stature dwarves should not be taken lightly after all;

and General Vanrouge, whose skill with the sword is as unmatched as the knowledge he possesses. To all of them, I would like to express my sincerest, heartfelt gratitude for the help they have given me. It is truly unmistakable that good friends are more valuable than a thousand golden statues!

Though they are departed, I wish to thank my parents as well, for having instilled in me such good morals and values. I am eternally grateful to all your guidance and love, and hope that you rest safely above in the sky.

Last, but not least, I would like to thank my dearest Alkin, who is first among familiars and friends alike. His companionship and experience has proven to be invaluable to me during my travels, and there are no words to express the warmth with which I regard my beloved brother.”

- Introduction to Of Grimoires and Pledges: A Study of Eight Texts that Shaped Our Understanding of Modern Magic

Grimoire of the Rose

In the sea I used to be a poet.

You do not believe me. That is alright. I understand. My speech is stilted. My pauses are long. My mind, once sharp and swift as the marlin’s gait, now always searches its corners for words that came easily before. I have forgotten them all now. I glance around with wild eyes. The vastness around us scares me.

You think, ‘Ah, this woman is not well.’ And perhaps you are right.

You think, ‘She must have suffered greatly.’ That is not so.

Please do not pity me. I do not deserve it.

As all fools I’ve made peace with myself.

As all wise men I wish to warn others.

Forgive me. Speaking in your tongue is hard for me. But please bear it. I would like to tell you my story. It is not long or sad. Just short and silly. You will surely laugh as you read it. That is alright. I wish you would laugh. It eases my soul when I hear others laugh. It reminds me of the ocean.

But I wish to tell you my story. Please listen.

It starts with a beautiful princess born in a wealthy kingdom.

No, that princess is not me. I was born on the shore, among the sand and shells, under the great night sky. I have never seen a palace, nor worn a gown. I have heard that they are beautiful. Princesses wear them at balls, with golden slippers and dance away the night. This princess must have worn one too. She must have been very beautiful. And loved. All beautiful women are loved.

No, I do not know what made her beautiful. I have never seen her. But I like to imagine it must have been so. It helps me rest.

As I said, my story starts with a princess born in a wealthy kingdom. She was her father’s only child, a sweet, delicate girl with fair hair and golden eyes.

Yes, I am lying now. For I never laid eyes on her. I say these things because it helps me rest.

I am repeating myself? Forgive me. Your tongue is difficult for me. I wish to tell you my story. Will you listen?

My story starts with a beautiful child, born to a widowed king, who paid three gold pieces to the undertaker to build a temple over his wife’s grave, where he went to pray every evening. I do not know why humans built temples. My kind does not.

I have asked him, but he did not know either.

He loved her too. They all did. She was beautiful. All beautiful women are loved. I was loved too. I was beautiful too.

My story starts with the birth of a beautiful child, whose father built a temple ashore the land where my mother had borne me. It was the darkest night she had ever seen, and the stars shone bright. My mother cried as I came out, small and pink and weeping. I was so small I fit in her arms with ease. She was frightened I would die of cold. She bundled me up and ran to the sea.

You think it’s strange. That is alright. Forgive me. I will explain.

My mother ran with me to the sea, for my father was giving chase. She reached the waters before he had a chance to grab her. That is as well. For if he did, he would have pulled my mother’s skin away.

Yes, my father loved my mother. All men love us. They cannot help it. It is their sin.

He found her upon the beach and took her to his hut and made her his wife. She bore him sons, I don’t know how many for I never asked, and then me. My father’s world came crashing down upon him. My mother wept with joy. When I came she knew Mother Sea would welcome her back. She bore me upon the shore so that Mother would bear witness.

When mother’s feet touched the water, she had already been gone. I do not know if my father followed. I think he must have not. Mother Sea does not welcome his kind. You cannot breathe when Mother holds you. That is very pitiful.

Forgive me. Your tongue is difficult.

There are no men among us. It is only us and Mother. She loves us deeply and we love her. And the men that Mother hates also love us. It is a difficult love. No, I do not know if we love the men too. We must love them. We swim every year to the shore to take our skin off and be like them - the human women that they love. And they love us too. Because we are more beautiful than their women.

Forgive me.

They love us, and they desire us. They take our skins and bring us to their sheds and take us in their beds. We bear them sons and mend their clothes and curse the land we live on and love them dearly. We cannot help but love them. No, it is not love. It is love. Your tongue is very difficult.

We love them and we love them. We must, for Mother no longer loves us when we love the men. She does not recognize us anymore. She cannot hold us when she doesn’t know who we are. She is frightened of us then. So we love the men because we cannot love Mother anymore. We miss Mother. But she doesn’t miss us.

It is very pitiful.

When we are human we cannot love Mother, so we wait for daughters to be born so she will love us again. No, only daughters. Never sons. Mother does not love our sons. They cannot see or hear Mother. But daughters - us - we can. I heard Mother before I had been born. She sang to me of the sea foam, and the waves and of my mother’s skin and where my father hid it. I told my mother this. She dug the chest buried underneath the juniper tree with her bare hands as I sang to her. She was crying because she heard Mother’s voice in mine.

I do not know what happened to my father. I have never returned to that shore. I have never met my brothers. I do not wish to. Mother does not either. She told me to be careful. She held me to her breast as we watched the angelfish, and told me to never go to the land of men and take off my skin. She told me to keep away.

But it was a waste. She knew this. We must go to the shore every year. We must take off our skin.

My mother did so the next year as well. I never saw her again. She must have been found by another man. That is as well. I would soon follow in her footsteps.

My story starts with the birth of a fair child, beloved by all, and especially by the young poet who wished to marry her. He was a handsome man, but he was poor. This is unfortunate in your land. Forgive me.

Why did he love the princess? Because she was beautiful. All beautiful women are loved.

Yes, all beautiful things must be loved.

Why?

Because they are beautiful. That is all.

The poet loved this princess because she was beautiful, but she did not love him because he was poor. It is a pitiful thing.

Yes, I loved the poet too. Because he was beautiful. No, I did not love him. I loved him. Your tongue is very difficult.

I wish you could understand.

He did not understand either. Though he was a poet. It was odd. He told me he could not hear me sing when I spoke, and did not hear me speak when I sang. But Mother hears us. She hears me and my sisters as we sing-speak and speak-sing to her. Only Mother can hear us.

But still I loved him.

Yes. No, I did not love him. Please understand.

I sang to him under the night sky and he kissed my lips. I spoke to him about love and he kissed my cheeks. He loved me on the shore until dawn. No, it was love, not love. Forgive me.

When Mother released the sun from her hold, he kissed my eyelids. He had beautiful lips. I loved them dearly. He was a beautiful man. All beautiful things must be loved.

He did not take me for his wife. He loved the princess.

‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘Forgive me,’ he said.

I am repeating myself. Please understand.

‘You are taking my skin,’ I told him. ‘You are taking my skin. What will I do without my skin? Mother won’t take me back without my skin.’

‘Forgive me.’

He spoke so sweetly. Do you understand? All beautiful things must be loved.

‘The princess of this land - I love her dearly. I wish to marry her. But I am poor. I am not worthy. I wish to be worthy. The princess - she wishes for a coat more beautiful than the sunrise. I have searched this land - from the mountain to the sea, from the fields to the hills, but I have not found a coat more beautiful than yours.’

‘I cannot give you my skin,’ I told him. ‘You must take me as your wife. I cannot give you my skin for another. I must have my skin to return to Mother.’

‘Forgive me,’ he said. He kissed my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids - and then he was gone. He took my skin to the princess. She loved it dearly. She loved him dearly. They were to be married within the year. She wore my skin as her veil. It was a beautiful veil. It was a beautiful wedding.

All beautiful things must be loved.

I gave chase. Yes, I did. I followed after him - my husband.

I called to him. But he did not stop.

I wept for him. But his heart did not yield.

I wept for Mother. But she could not hear me.

I wept for our Master. He said I was a fool to trust the word of man. He thundered. He roared. He drove me away with arrows made of fire and spiteful words. He did not care. He did not listen.

Please listen.

I wish to tell you my story.

There was once a child born upon the land where a temple was built with just three gold coins. This child was so beautiful that when she spoke, the birds would listen to hear her song. When she danced, the ground would soften underneath her feet so no harm would come upon her. When she smiled, the sun bowed so it would not deter from her beauty.

He loved her. She scorned him. He was poor. It is a pitiful thing.

I loved him. He loved her. I loved him and loved him.

Your tongue - forgive me.

She came to me upon the shore.

All beautiful things must be loved.

My husband - he left me upon the shore. He took my skin and left. He loved the princess. I loved him.

I wanted to return to Mother. But Mother did not love me anymore. She did not hold me. She could not hold me. I wept. Mother’s arms - they seemed to wrap around my throat. I could not breathe.

She came to me upon the shore. My Lady.

My sisters - they tore away their skin. A leg, an arm, a breast, an ear - they had sewn it all together. They gave the coat to me. They said Mother would hold me now.

She did not. She could not.

I loved Mother. I loved and loved and loved and loved and loved and loved and loved Her.

She could not love me. He did not love me. She did not love him.

They were to be married within the year.

It was a beautiful wedding.

It was a beautiful veil.

‘My skin,’ I said. ‘My skin, my skin, my skin - You must take me as your wife.’

‘I do not love you.’

‘You must. Mother does not love me anymore. You must.’

His roots went deep. They touched her mother’s grave. They touched my mother’s grave.

He loved her. She loved him. No, not love. Love.

Please understand.

All men love us. It is their sin. We must love them too, when Mother no longer loves us.

Please understand.

‘My child, my rose,’ she spoke. Her eyes were so sweet. I wept. She kissed my eyelids. She kissed my tears. All beautiful things must be loved.

I loved him. I let him bloom. I gave him light. I gave him water. I fetched it every day from the well and watched him grow. My husband.

It was a beautiful wedding.

‘My child, my rose, my sweetest heart.’

She held me. Mother could not hold me. She held me and kissed me and loved me.

Your tongue is very difficult.

‘I do not love you,’ my husband lied. ‘I cannot love you. I do not want to love you. Please understand.’

All men love us. It is their sin.

It was a beautiful veil.

Forgive me.

I am repeating myself.

Forgive me.

They take us from the shore into their huts and into their beds. We bear them children and mend their clothes and curse the land we live on and love them dearly. And wait for daughters to be born.

Every year he gave me blossoms. I crushed them underneath my feet. He fed on my blood.

I loved him. And I loved her. And I loved Mother. And I loved her.

‘My child,’ she kissed me. ‘My rose,’ she kissed me. ‘My sweetest heart,’ she kissed me.

I sheath myself in wicked thorns and sing of my Lady’s love.

Please listen. Please understand.

My mother’s grave. Her mother’s grave.

He took her into his hut and into his bed. He took her into the garden and stripped her of her skin. He hid it underneath the juniper tree where mother heard me sing.

All men must love us. It is their sin.

She was a beautiful child. He was a dutiful king. He paid three gold pieces for the temple. It was made of stone and wood and the bed inside it was warm.

They take us from the shore and into their beds.

I loved him. He died in spring. I burned him. I kissed the ashes.

Mother would not listen.

Mother could not understand.

It was a beautiful veil.

Forgive me.

Your tongue is very difficult.

I wish to tell you my story.

Please listen.

Notes

“Translating this introductory part of the grimoire has proven to be by far the easiest part of my endeavour, as there has not been much to translate at all. It seems that unlike her sisters, the Witch of the Rose wrote in the common tongue of that time, which fortunately for me is not very different from our current one. Line tells me this might be because the language of the selkie has no written form. In fact, its complexity is so great, no written form could properly capture its beauty.

It is an interesting notion to me, a student with meagre interest in languages, at the very least before I become employed in this project. There is no proper way to prove this, however, as according to what Line tells me, she can barely remember even the few things she picked up from her grandmother. It is so with every selkie that lives on land for too long - slowly they forget the tongue of Mother Sea (an ancient pagan deity, I believe) and learn the tongue of their husbands. Line herself seems to remember mostly old songs that she teaches to little Safia too so she can remember her ancestors even a little. She tells me they are the last ones.

Line’s great-great-grandmother was taken from the sea by her husband as well - a practice which was considered normal back in the day - and as she never managed to have any daughters was forced to live the rest of her life on this foreign land. She tells me this story with a sort of melancholic detachment as she brushes her daughter’s long, golden hair. This is standard for their species it seems - all daughters have golden hair and golden eyes which makes them look terrible and inviting to the men that come across them.

Line also tells me that the selkie language has over 34 words to express ‘love’. She says that the witch must have been trying to capture them all as she wrote down her confession, but she can only remember a few of the ones her grandmother taught her. Thus, there is ‘love gleaned from above the sea foam’, ‘love that is realized by the stroke of midnight’, ‘love which blooms only at the wake of dawn’, ‘love which burns one as they feel it’ which is different from ‘love that scorches one as they let go of it’. She does not know the word for the love felt for one’s husband, but she tells me that the love for one’s daughter is translated as ‘love for a budding flower which blooms on the bottom of the ocean’.

She tells me all this with a mournful look - the expression of a woman who knows that when she passes there will be a little less of her legacy left. The grimoire that I show her has a shell accessory on the cover that when opened produces the most beautiful melody in the world. When I showed Line this she started weeping and once she calmed down she explained that it was the same song that her grandmother used to sing when she was little. I believe it must be an old folk song, though she cannot confirm it for me, since she admits that there are barely any words that she recognizes. Though she can tell with some certainty that it is a song of forgiveness - that the witch is begging her mother to welcome her back to the sea. Little Safia listened to the song as well, but I could tell that beyond the soothing melody nothing stuck out to her at all. It broke Line’s heart.

I stayed there for almost two months learning what I could about the selkie. It did Line good too since she felt that even if she were to die, little Safia and her children would not be robbed of her heritage. I was touched by this sentiment - so much that I swore that once I have finished my business collecting and translating the grimoires I would make sure to amass in one volume the entirety of Line’s teachings during the time they graciously let me stay there.”

- Of Grimoires and Pledges: A Study of Eight Texts that Shaped Our Understanding of Modern Magic

“It has now been more than ten years since I have made that promise, which I have managed to keep after all. If you were to look in any library right now, dear reader, you might spy tucked away in one of the shelves a little book of no more than 100 pages, more than half filled with illustrations and drawings, while the other half is full of songs and poems and little phrases that Line shared with me as we sat huddled around the fire at night. I’ve been told it is a commercial failure - that nobody but the most dedicated anthropologists give it more than a glance. But it does not matter to me. It took four years for the 100 copies to sell. I have recently ordered 100 more.

To others these books might be nothing more than curiosities, oddities, a change of reading material - but it is not so. Not in the slightest. These are the words and experiences of a woman whose ancestry has been erased almost entirely and plunged into obscurity. By no means can I simply let her life or history be disregarded in such a manner. Especially now since I am the only one left fighting.

It was two years after I departed from Line’s house that I received a letter from the young lord who oversaw the village she lived in. I was in the midst of a lesson with Old Woman Louisa when I was informed that due to a tragic accident little Safia lost her life at sea, followed three months later by her mother who died of grief. I was left numb by the news - barely registering it at all and inconsolable for weeks after. I had to leave Louisa’s abode as my mourning made the beasts under her care uneasy, and with no goal in mind simply proceeded forward to the Isle of Lamentation. A fitting spot to vent my grief.

I have had the good mind to send the young lord a letter asking him to keep the hut in which they lived in good condition, and returned there two years after my travels ended. It is now a museum, my dear reader, dedicated to Line, Safia and all the women who suffered at the hands of their destiny by being taken from their home to live on these strange lands. The last that will even suffer this destiny, for Line and Safia’s deaths did not mark merely the loss of two great souls and hearts from the world, but also the loss of an entire species. There are no more selkie that roam the ocean, and if there are any on land they must have long forgotten they even were.

To them I wish to dedicate this small volume that I have compiled, relying on the memory of the most wonderful woman I have ever met in my life, and the innocence of the sweetest little girl that I have had the good fortune of knowing.

May their souls rest among the stars, free of pain and suffering, curled in Mother Sea’s bosom.”

- Songs of Mother Sea: A Short Guide to the History of Selkie Culture Through Poems and Music

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #astra selene #witch of the rose #selkie #twist #twisute #twist oc #twisute oc #fanmade lore #twisted wonderland fanschool #walpurga nacht academy #the little mermaid #postmodern fairytale #fractured fairytale

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bnhavibes · 5 years ago

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Can u do a fluff fic where the reader has night terrors and bakubabe happens to be there when its happening like comfort and stuff

Thanks for the request!! I usually write dark stuff so this is more true to my roots :) I am 110% an angst and hurt/comfort kind of gal, so there’s plenty of that.

-Brit, @slut-zawa

Ao3

Rating: Teen, some language, TW for slightly disturbing imagery; it’s nightmares, yo. Hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff I promise!!!!!!!! SOFT BAKU

It’s written like poetry in some places. Also I take metaphors too far?? It’s not actually real, I just like to confuse people 🙃

Word Count: ~1k

Breath with me || Bakugou x reader

“Hey. Hey, wake up!”

You awoke with a start, heart pounding dangerously fast in your chest, banging at the walls of your rib cage.

Trying to claw its way out. Wheezes were audible in the shrill air and it took you a moment—and the concerned male voice next to you—to realize that the noise was you struggling to breathe. You were convinced that if you looked down, there would be an elephant lying on your chest for how impossible it was to fully inflate your lungs. The pressure on your chest grew and grew until your ribs creaked and bent dangerously, a few cracking under the invisible weight.

You opened your mouth in a silent shriek. It was so terrifying and painful that you would have cried out audibly, but with shattered ribs you couldn’t move, much less breathe deeply enough to scream.

A gentle shake to your shoulders made you vaguely aware that Bakugou had been saying your name in futile attempts to orient you.

“Why wohn the elephant gedoff my chest?” You sucked in air greedily, constricted throat giving a strained cry. “Can’tbreathecan’tbreathe,” you mumbled incoherently between shaky breaths.

“What? There’s no elephant. Calm down!”

“It broke my ribs! ican’tbreathe oh my god, please help me.”

“Nothing’s broken. You’re okay.” Bakugou repeated your name to grab your attention, calloused hand cupping your chin. “Look at me.”

Unsure of how you managed, you found him, gazing into those deep eyes. You could stare into those pits of sanguine galaxies for an eternity; they were as endless as time itself. They held such pure, ruby love for you, and you clung on, grasping for some stability. You felt close to death, overcome with terror and confusion but you were certain of one thing: he was the sole antidote.

Bakugou. Your everything.

Crimson eyes blown wide, the sharp lines of his face were softened in concern and twisted with something somewhat foreign. Horror.

Suddenly his face became shrouded in stygian mist as your vision blacked out. Oh fuck, oh fuck.

No! Don’t take him away from me. Again.

You were drowning. Stuck awash at sea during a hurricane. Your arms flapped frantically about, splashing and thrashing the swells of murky water to keep afloat. The harsh undercurrent taunted you, pulling at your legs, curling you toward its event horizon. You became heavier, soaked with no air in your lungs to hold you up against the torrential, chilling waves.

There was a distant echo of a voice, but nothing could save you now, head sloshing under. Still you stuck your hand up, futilely attempting to pull yourself back to the surface. But there was nothing to grab onto. Something under the waves called to you, enchanting and deep and dangerous. Beckoning.

Sinking.

Down.

Lower.

It’s silent now.

The taste of salinity makes its way into your mouth. You realize it’s because you’re screaming. But no sound comes out. Only bubbles and salt.

No one can hear you and you’re still melting down into the abyss, calling out for Katsuki.

Katsuki.

That distant voice says your name again. This time it’s startling.

“Just breathe with me.”

A hand plunges into the water to pull you out. Your savior’s low voice envelops you, keeping you grounded. Suddenly you can breathe again. It’s welcome, but just as terrifying as drowning.

The sound of Katsuki taking a deliberately deep inhale brought you back to the room where you could feel his rising chest moving your head with it. You were cradled against him, strong arms secured around your shaking figure.

You could hear the echoes of your love’s scream as he fell. Why did this have to happen again? Curling in harder on yourself, the tears overflowed, pouring down your paled cheeks. Hands scrunched up the soft fabric of the white shirt in front of you.

You attempted to focus on what sensory experiences linked you to the here and now. Bakugou’s hand trailing through your hair as he whispered reassuring words in your ear. His soft lips kissed away your tears.

After a moment you could finally look at him again, still quaking gently, with uneven breaths coming slower.

“I’m sorry. I—I don’t, I can’t.” You began to cry again. As much as you wanted to tell your boyfriend what had happened, you genuinely couldn’t force the words out. You had always hated being a burden, and you felt like one now. It was embarrassing. Only children had nightmares that made them wake up screaming.

“Hey. Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. Is there anything I can do?”

“Hold me,” a sob broke your sentence, “please.”

He laid down with you, placing your head on his chest, wrapping his toned arms securely around your back. One hand carded through your locks and stroked your neck while the other drew reassuring circles over your back.

The two of you just breathed together. No words. Just complete synchrony.

A familiar warmth settled in your stomach, stretching to your toes, like a cat curling up to fall asleep. And fall asleep you did, slowly but surely. Katsuki smiled down at your slumbering figure, soft features finally peaceful. He was unequivocally mesmerized at the way your mouth opened slightly with each inhale. How your lashes fluttered ever so much. Still stroking your hair, his heart began to pound as he dared to say words he never had before.

“I love you.”

He could have sworn you smiled in your sleep.

A/N: This was actually inspired by something strange that happened to me. One morning in seventh grade I was getting ready for school when my vision blacked out and I started hyperventilating. I went to my mom’s room and just kept repeating “I can’t see, I can’t see.” I think it was a panic attack. Not sure, though. It lasted like five minutes and has never happened again. It was kinda terrifying; I thought I was going to die. Who knew it would inspire angsty anime fanfiction years later?

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki imagines #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha angst #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #bnha fluff #bakugou katsuki fluff #bnha imagines #brit #brit writes

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iwritefanficion · 5 years ago

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Sanders Sides Dating Headcannons!

Prompt/Summary: Fantasy Au (because I can), (fem)reader is a witch, meeting the sides. Medieval-ish setting, if you want a more in-depth explanation, just ask.

Characters: Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Remus and Deceit

Warnings: Remus, sexual innuendos, some swearing, inappropriate language, non-graphic violence, mentions of wounds.

Roman

-Prince Roman had set out to kill the supposed ‘wicked’ witch that lived in the enchanted forest.

-When he actually got there, he was surprised to find not an ugly old wench but a lovely woman who opened up her home to him and offered him tea.

-You told him that sure, you were a witch, but you didn’t harm anyone. You mostly just made herbal remedies and potions to help others.

-You traded plants, food and money for these concoctions and that's how you stayed alive.

-Sure you could cast spells, but you rarely used them. There were wards around the cottage, and you did use your magic on your garden but you didn’t actually like hurting people.

-So, Roman apologized profusely. You accepted the apology gracefully and told him you were used to it. People often made assumptions about witches because of the bad rep they get from fables and actual wicked witches.

-You two spent the day together, just talking and laughing. Each asking questions about your respective lives.

-”Is the castle as large as they say?”

-”What kinds of things do you put in potions?”

-Roman had a fantastic time with you! Honestly, he knew he fell head over heels in love with you the first time he heard you laugh. You were so incredibly sweet and thoughtful he thought he would melt.

-When the sun was beginning to set, he knew he had to go back. His subjects awaited his return. But, he did ask if he could come to see you again.

-”Of course, my home is always open to a friend,”

Patton

-Patton was a healer. One sought out far and wide because of his amazing abilities. He did live with his friend, the Prince, at the castle because of the abilities but also had a store in town.

-Though his magic could heal wounds, he couldn’t treat pain with his abilities. But, he worked with plants and herbs that had medicinal and pain-relieving purposes. Some even had magical properties but he couldn’t make potions.

-But, when he was working on a certain herbal remedy, he realized he needed a rare plant that didn’t grow in the kingdom.

-He asked around but all that anyone can tell him is it grows in the darker part of Enchanted Forest.

-No one really goes there but he was never one to let someone suffer, so he decided to go there.

-He quickly finds himself lost.

-Like, he spends HOURS trying to either get out or find the plant, neither which succeeds. By the time the sun is setting, he’s so close to crying.

-That is until a soft voice speaks through the darkness and fog of the mystical forest.

-”Are you alright? You seem lost,”

-Patton cries in relief when he realizes someone is there. The figure steps out, shrouded in a long robe, a basket at their side.

-He, through snot and tears, tells the stranger that he is lost and can’t find his way out. He begs them to help them.

-The stranger reveals themself as you, a lovely woman, and you smile so sweetly at him. You tell him that you can help him get out.

-He grasps your free hand as the two of you exit the dangerous forest, being extra careful to stay close to you.

-For some reason, he feels safe with you, as if you could shield him from all the darkness of the forest. As if you were a bright beacon, banishing all the evil creatures that lurked.

-You can sense his uneasiness and talk with him. Distracting him is easy, you ask who he is, what he does. Basically, you learn his life story by the time you’re both out of the forest. He actually starts making dumb little jokes that make both of you laugh.

-Patton takes a liking to you, not just because you saved him. You’re just so sweet and kind that he wants to get to know you more. So, he does feel a bit disappointed when the two of you are at the edge of the forest.

-Then he realizes he never got any of that plant he was looking for and he heaves a heavy sigh. That just ruined all the pleasantness of being around you.

-You ask him what’s wrong and he tells you about the plant. He mentions he doesn’t want to go back in there but he really needs the plant.

-You smile at him, like an angel from above he could swear. You pull out some plants from your basket and hand them to him.

-”I have too many, will you take some off my hands?”

Logan

-Logan was a wizard, one who worked with and under Prince Roman, someone he could call a friend, even if the prince exasperated him most days.

-Books and knowledge were his specialties, and how he gained his many magical abilities and spells. He considered himself quite powerful, and so did many others. He was trusted by the Prince, even to join parties on quests or go alone on these journies.

-On one of these quests, he was sent, alone, to take out some rogues in a village who were stealing valuables and money of the poor people who lived there.

-But, as he was travelling, it soon got dark- just not from the night sky rolling in but by grey clouds crowding the stary skies. Rain poured down heavily, soaking him in a matter of minutes.

-The road he travelled was absent of any shelter, he picked it so no one would know he was coming. Since there was no cover from the rain, he kept walking, knowing he would get sick from being in the cold.

-He was shivering, his steps slowing. The chilly air nipped at his skin, and the water soaked him to the bone. With bleary eyes, he saw a light only a short distance away.

-Hoping it was some shelter, he ran to it, finding it to be a small cottage.

-Relief washed over him as he knocked on the door, his hands trembling.

-The door was open by none other than you, who took one look at the shivering traveller and ushered him in without another word. You set him on the couch, peeling off his drenched robes and wrapping a warm blanket around him.

-You set a fire with a few words and a flick of your wrist. This man, who was saturated with water, felt like death, blue in the lips, and paler than a corpse, had to be warmed before he joined the dead.

-Logan could feel the energy of magic flowing through the air, sparking him with familiar comfort. The house was filled with the aroma of herbs, especially sage, and the smoke of the fire. It wasn’t hard to figure out the woman was a witch.

-You made him some tea and hung his wet clothes by the fire.

-You asked him his name, giving yours as well, and smiled when he told you. He also mentioned what he was there to do, and thanked you for letting him in.

-The rain doesn’t let up, so you tell him to stay the night, and he weighs the options before agreeing.

-The two of you spend hours talking about different subjects, astronomy, magic, books. Everything and anything. Time just flies by until you yawn, then you both realize how late it is.

-You allow Logan to take the bed and you take the couch. He tried to argue with you but you use logic against him, saying he needs a good night sleep to continue his quest. He can’t argue with sound logic.

-By morning, the rain has stopped and you give Logan back his now dried clothes.

-”Come back at any time. I want to hear more about the stars,”

Virgil

-Virgil is an angel who fell because he wasn’t angelic enough but wasn’t accepted into Hell because he wasn’t demonic enough. This lead to him just falling to earth, his wings burning as he plummeted to the ground.

-Still (sorta) a celestial being, he could survive without food or water. But, he spent a few days unable to move or speak, his physical body weak and none of his abilities working.

-He thought he was going to die from his injuries, some were severe and, because of the limitations of his body, were prone to infections. The days he spent on the ground was filled with agony, and his mind was still reeling in all that happened to make this occur.

-But, a stranger had come around, and as soon as they saw the fallen angel, a small shriek of horror left their lips.

-Virgil, being anxiety-ridden, thought they were scared of him because of the burnt, black wings protruding from his back that would usually be an indication of a demonic presence.

-However, he was not expecting to be picked up and carried bridal style. He would have done something to stop them but he couldn’t move or speak. So, he could only watch as they carried him off. But, they were mindful of his wings, so that was a good sign.

-Being held only added to his suffering, physically speaking. This caused him to pass out from the pain.

-When he woke up, he was in a comfortable bed, in a warm house, that smelled of candles and sage. Coming from angelic past, he was able to sense the magic that stuck to the air. It was something peaceful and soothing, so he knew he wasn’t dealing with something malevolent.

-The creaking of the door alerted him to someone coming in, and you did, in all your witchy glory. In your hands were a basket of ointments, herbal remedies, bandages and something to drink.

-You told him who you were, and that you found him when out in the forest. He was badly hurt, so you brought him back to patch up.

-He asked if you were frightened of him. He was a fallen angel, and angels who fell became demons, usually.

-You told him you weren’t, you were a witch, you could feel the aura’s all beings give off. His was not evil nor wicked, and you had no reason to believe he would harm you.

-You gave him the hot tea and asked if you could patch up his wings. You examined them when he was asleep and they were broken, badly scarred, and burnt. If he didn’t want to get an infection or if he ever wanted to fly again, she would need to fix them.

-Virgil was skeptical. Why were you being nice? Why would you help him? Was there something you wanted from him? However, he could get his answers later. The pain was unbearable and he did need them fixed.

-So, you did. You used healing spells for the major wounds, healing the broken bones and fixing the majority of the burns. You used ointments and herbs on the minor cuts and bandaged any open wounds.

-Virgil was in misery the entire time, his screams echoed through the house. He bit into your pillow to try and silence himself but it was useless. Even with the trembling and yelling, you managed to finish.

-You apologized profusely when it was over, putting a wet cloth to his forehead. You told him the tea would help soothe him, ease the pain and make it easier to rest. He would need it.

-Before he did, he demanded to know why you were helping him. Everyone had an agenda, everyone wanted something to gain. So why help him? What were you after?

-You told him you wanted nothing from him except for him to feel better.

-He didn’t believe you but decided that you would have to mention something sooner or later. So he drank the tea and immediately felt better.

-Before he went to sleep, he asked you if you were going to take any feathers from his wings. He knew that angel feathers- or fallen angel feathers in this case- can be used for spells.

-You laughed softly and shook your head.

-”Of course not. If I wanted angel feathers, all I’d have to do is pluck a swan and soak the feathers in holy water.”

Deceit

-Deceit was a naga. A serpentine-like creature with scales and a yellow tail, long enough to wrap around humans and constrict them. Though, being a naga, he could turn himself human or transform into a snake.

-He often tricked rich people and stole their belongings for his personal stash. Unlike his brethren, he didn’t like to kill all that much. He was more into deceiving people and tried to make people do the worst they’re capable of.

-It was uncommon for people to venture into the dark part of the Enchanted Forest, where he resided in. It was nearly unheard of one to come into his cave.

-Yet, there you were, coming in. You looked so naive, so curious. You had no weapons, no sword or armour, only a bag by your side. A smile lit up on your face as you wandered the cave, lightened by the pools of water that made everything glow.

-He watched from the shadows, waiting to strike, to deceive and trick you. He watched as you took an empty glass vial, round in shape, and filled it with the glowing water before placing it in your bag.

-Then you began searching for something. Deceit believed you were looking for his treasures, why else would you come here? Why else would you come into a dark cave in the most treacherous parts of the Enchanted Forest?

-Slithering out, he turned into a human. Black and gold clothes adorned his body, looking much like some kind of nobility or royalty.

-”Looking for something, little rabbit?”

-You spun around, hand clutching your chest. When you saw that it was nothing more than a man, you let out a sigh. You told him not to sneak up on people, you could have hurt him!

-He chuckled at your ignorance. Then he apologized in a way that was charming but it wasn’t sincere. However, you didn’t seem to notice.

-You said it was fine, and that you were looking for something. Then you asked him what he was doing in the cave.

-He told you that he was looking for the naga’s treasure since he lived in these parts. He asked if you were looking for it too.

-You shook your head, saying you weren’t. Treasure meant little to you, you were searching for a particular plant. You also told him if he was going to steal from a naga, he was writing his death sentence. And that you wouldn’t blame the creature.

-He was a little bit stunned by your words. He thought you were lying to him, or that you knew he was a naga and were trying to fool him. But, he watched as you were looking near the water, trained solely on the ground.

-The two of you chatted for a bit, talking about your lives and such. You gave him your name and told him how you lived near the forest. He told you his name was ‘Dee’ since he didn’t tell anyone his real name.

-You let out a little ‘aha’ when you found a bundle of a certain flower, plucking them and placing them in a box then in your bag.

-You told him you found what you were looking for and would be taking your leave. You also said you would love to see him again if he didn’t get killed, that is.

-He didn’t know why but he almost wished you would stay. You had this warmth to you that a serpent much like him adored. But, your last words to him were anything but warm, and that made him all the more interested.

-”I’d wish you luck, but you’re stealing from someone, so I give you a warning instead: don’t do it.”

Remus

-This was so not your day.

-First, you were forced out of your home by a fire started by royal soldiers. Then, said soldiers tried to kill you because you escaped. So, you had to wipe out the miserable little bastards. Then, there’s a bounty on your head, so you had to stay away from all towns and villages.

-Oh, then there was the matter of all your stuff being burnt to a crisp. You managed to salvage some things, some books and vials of potions. Anything you could grab, basically. You could make new stuff and many of your most valued items were safe, but still!

-You had to hide, so the darkest corners of the Enchanted Forest was a good place. Sure everything there wanted to kill you but they were mostly just creatures and plants. Those you can deal with because sooner or later, they’ll get the hint.

-You’re not to be trifled with.

-However, as you’re searching for a cave to hide out in, you spot a dark tower in the distance. As you get closer, you can see how worn down it is.

-The windows are cracked or shattered, the stones are crumbling, vines are invading the walls from below, the doors look like they’d turn to ash by being touched.

-Despite being a powerful witch, a certain uneasiness grows in you. Something sinister lived in there. Was it more powerful than you? You didn’t know but you were dying to see what lied beyond those walls.

-So, you started walking towards it, making sure to keep your magic at high alert.

-That did not do much because the second you were close to it, slimy tentacles popped from under the ground and wrapped around your arms, legs and neck.

-You grimaced at the wetness of the tentacles but otherwise, weren’t bothered by it, besides the fact that you couldn’t move. Sure, you could wipe these suckers out, by why do it now?

-The person living there would come out and not be on guard. If you did it now, they would know you had abilities. But, you could surprise them with your powers if they posed a threat.

-So you waited for a few minutes before a cackling laugh echoed through the forest, coming from all around you. You rolled your eyes at such a cliche.

-A man showed up, looking very similar to the goody-two-shoes prince of the land, besides for the fact that this guy had a mustache and a silver streak in his hair.

-”Well, looky what we got here! What should I do with you? Maybe replace your fingers with your toes and your toes with your fingers?!”

-This guy threatened you with a few more very weird ideas but you weren’t scared. You were actually kind of amused. Sure, he had a wacky brain, but those are the best.

-So, you cut off his rambling by asking who he was.

-He stopped talking, looked you up and down in more of a quizzical manner, before grinning. He did a bow, over the top and very dramatic, introducing himself as the Duke, but he said you had a face worth his tentacles, so you could call him Remus.

-That’s when it clicked. Ah, the Prince’s evil (and demented) brother! He was mostly forgotten about after he escaped execution and all attempts to find him were unsuccessful.

-Smirking, you told him it was nice to meet him, before saying your name. He was taken aback by your politeness to him, even after everything he’s said and done.

-He whined that you shouldn’t be nice to him. He had you as his prisoner! You were supposed to be begging and pleading to be let go, as well as disgusted by his presence.

-You shrugged at his words. Honestly, you’ve imagined worse than some of his ideas and after everything you’ve done, nothing really grosses you out anymore. You’ve stuck your hand up a dragon's ass. It doesn’t get much weirder than that.

-That’s when a mace just randomly appeared in his hands. It was just there. But you sensed no magic. Huh. Wait, was that a dead mouse on the mace?

-”Well, if you’re not going to be any fun, no point in keeping you around. At least I can cut you up and start making a meat dragon out of you,”

-At that point, you let your magic flow through you, generating a skin of flames around your body that burnt the tentacles to a crisp and made calamari. With a wave of your hand, you melted the mace in his hands and stepped closer to him.

-Next, you made stone hands rise from the earth and grip onto him, everywhere. They wrapped around him and held him in place.

-”You were saying?”

-”Well, now I just want you to fuck me until I’m covered in sweat and come, so I can lick it off my body,”

-You laughed at his words, again, finding him amusing. He had zero filters! You loved it, it was refreshing.

-With a wave of your hand, the hands all crumbled to the ground.

-You hooked arms with him, deciding you’re going to stick around with him for a while. Not like you had anywhere else to go. Then you ventured to his tower, saying a few words as your life changed.

-” We’re going to be great friends, I can tell,”

That’s it for now! If you want another scenario with this au, just let me know! I’m going to be definitely writing some more! If you have any other ships, ideas not related to this au, or imagines you want me to write, don’t be afraid to ask! My inbox is always open!

#sanders side fic #sanders sides #sanders sides x reader #fanfic #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #roman sanders #fantasy au #headcannons #iwritefanfiction

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solitaria-fantasma · 5 years ago

Text

((Extensive Session #3 highlights.))

We go to Von Trikona’s tower and are greeted by three students and a handful of golems.

Humphry eyes Mountain with abject terror.

Von Trikona gives us the preserved bodies wrapped in burial shrouds, and teleports us to the town of Fwee - just past the security gates, but not right in town square.

The map for the town of Fwee is heckin’ pretty.

“Oh no...oh no, I fucked up. I made a mistake! UwU!!!”

“Please don’t comment on the corpse-shaped backpacks!”

Udaji may be tol and stronk but she is also dumb and can’t roll higher than a 10 on her Perception checks.

“The only ones who don’t blend in with the local crowd are the Halfling and the Dragonborn.” Claus and I just can’t catch a break…

We walked around the marketplace with the preserved corpse backpacks for a while as we asked for directions to the Rose family home.

Mountain’s intimidation checks are on-point.

Udaji’s average Perception roll is a 4 while the rest of the party averages around 16.

It has been decided that this scaly baby should never have been allowed out of town on her own.

Somebody in this town is throwing mud balls and glitter bomb darts at our rogue and Udaji is seeing NONE of it.

“Claus would like to point out that you’re covered in paint.”

We entered a house and the DM resized our icons to reflect the height differences. It looked like a bad game of Agar.io and I was winning.

Matthias - still covered in paint - was politely asked not to sit on the furniture, and handed a single tiny-ass napkin to ‘clean up’ with.

“Yeeeaaahhh...there was no easy way to do this, was there?”

“Is it more disrespectful to put the bodies on the ground or the table?”

“It might be more disrespectful to try and unwrap the bodies one handed and risk dropping them.”

“Above the board, do we have to tell her that the bandits were already dead when we found them?”

Matthias ‘accidentally’ smeared paint on the servant on his way out, and offered him the tiny-ass napkin back.

Lady Rose thanked us for returning her family’s bodies, but asked us to give her some time to process her loss.

We then went to the magic district (mostly wizards, mostly elven) to get started on the errands we promised to run between Von Trikona and her friend Vincent.

We knocked on the door, heard a loud ‘CRASH’, and poked our heads through the unlocked door Scooby-Doo style.

The DM promptly had us roll for initiative.

I keep forgetting to select my token BEFORE rolling for initiative heck.

“Hopefully you guys don’t die.”

“Gotta be honest - I’ve thought about what character I’d bring in if Udaji DID die. But it would be really, REALLY sad.”

I had to run down to get dinner and missed half a turn of combat but I made it back just in time for my second go.

“Oh! Udaji! You missed this part, but the old wizard man has cried out for you to not set anything on fire.”

“Can do! That’s not my kind of dragon heritage!!”

The old wizard man is ‘Vincent Oman’ - an artificer. We returned his stuff, and he offered us dinner.

“This guy is, like, peak Grandpa. He’s very happy to have people over.”

Vincent has not heard of Lord Hassan, but recalled an enchanted lockbox a cohort of his (Ceri, another artificer) had made on commission for the dowry of a local girl marrying a man in the next kingdom over.

That lockbox (enchanted to be neigh on impossible to break into) was part of Clarissa Rose’s dowry, and now I’m sad.

Vincent drew us a map to Ceri’s house, and then we nearly left without picking up Maxine’s books (three advanced spellbooks & some of her notes).

He also offered to let us sleep in his attic for the night, since it was getting late, only asking us to try and keep quiet, as he was a delicate sleeper.

Matthias finally got to wash off the paint in the ‘waterifier’ (re: magical, water-creating shower).

Vincent reminds Udaji too much of her own dad, and she took one point of homesickness damage. Vincent gave her heartwarming life advice, and more food.

“It’s okay if you get sad sometimes, when traveling far from home. You will find people who will not, perhaps, fill the void, but surely make it feel less empty.”

I’m going to adopt Vincent holy heck

Ceri confirmed that the lockbox was commissioned to keep safe a dowry traveling a long distance, and told us that it could only be opened by using two skeleton keys simultaneously.

We had found one of said skeleton keys in the bandit/necromancer lair back in Session 1.

“We were too eager to shout ‘MURDER!’ in front of the guards back in Torrin so now we’re afraid to whisper it in Fwee.”

Ceri confirmed that the key we found is one of the lockbox’s two keys.

We then debated for five minutes who the key, lockbox, and dowry would legally belong to, now that Clarissa and Donald are dead, but never officially reached the wedding.

“This is not the kind of law my family studies!”

Ceri whispered a few rumors of engagements in the area that had fallen through due to ‘accidents’ which saw the dowries go missing, and that the enchanted lockbox had been commissioned by the Rose family to protect against that.

He then told us to get out of his house.

“That’s the kindest ‘GTFO’ I’ve ever gotten.”

“We haven’t heard back from Lady Rose yet, but I feel like it would be too awkward to go back to her house and knock on the door like “Hey, are you done grieving yet?”. The answer is probably ‘no’...”

“Maybe if we walk around town, someone will try to throw more paint at Matthias.”

We wandered around the marketplace for a while, trying to lure out the mysterious woman who’d been throwing things at us the day before.

[Just to set a little reference - this is all happening within the first two hours of the campaign.]

Matthias got egged, and we chased the perpetrator into a public park.

Mountain got distracted by the beautiful view, and Matthias threatened the woman with his bow. The woman pulled her own bow and threatened right back.

“I am going to swing my lute around in front of me to act as a shield in a worst case scenario. I’m not taking an arrow over an egg.

THE WOMAN. IS MATTHIAS’. CHILD.

DM: “How long has it been since you last spoke with your lover?”

Matthias: “Let’s say it’s been….twenty-five years, seven months.”

The kid’s name is Astrid, and she is mAJORLY pissed off at ‘dad’.

Udaji is backing away from the awkward family reunion, and Mountain is still distracted by the park scenery and has no idea.

“You’re Hohenheim, and she’s Edward.”

[I understood that reference!!]

“Udaji makes eye contact with Mountain and shakes her head like “Don’t get involved you’ll regret it”.”

Mountain officially confirmed for Tiefling.

Claus tries to calm Astrid with the blessings of Lathander. She refuses. Udaji bends over a little and pats Claus on the shoulder consolingly.

His player has difficulty articulating it (and honestly, who wouldn’t? Words are hard), but Matthias is legitimately upset to hear that his lover had died.

“You go up to her and give her a hug with a pat-pat?”

“She immediately starts sobbing in your arms.”

“I shed a single manly tear.”

Mountain has only just now caught up to the fact that these rogues know each other.

Astrid is now refusing to leave. Udaji is still the party baby.

“The only reason I was allowed out of town is because nobody could physically stop me.”

“Claus gives you a comforting pat on your hip, as that’s about as high as he can reach.”

After all that chaos, we were approached by a servant from the Rose family, calling us back to Lady Rose’s house.

Her name is now Ingrid Rose, because the DM forgot to name her until this very moment. Mood.

Matthias is still covered in egg.

Lady Rose admits that she thought the offer of marriage from Lord Bryant Hassan to her daughter was too good to be true.

She also admits that she thought the Lord had asked for a rather greedy amount of dowry with the proposal.

“Were any of my husband or daughter’s possessions recovered?”

Don’t look at Matthias. Don’t look at Matthias. Don’t look at Matthias.

Lady Rose asks us to look into the recovery of the enchanted lockbox that was carrying her daughter’s dowry, and offers to reward us for it.

She ALSO asks us to put a knife in the throat of whomever arranged her daughter’s death, should we find it to not, in fact, be a tragic accident.

Astrid is basically June from AtLA but without Nyla.

Everybody stocks up on rations for a long trip back to return Maxine Von Trikona’s books.

We get on the road back to Torrin, retracing the ill-fated Rose party’s steps as we go.

After two days on the road, we come across a seemingly wounded man on the side of the road, by an overturned cart.

He asks us for gold to get back on his feet.

Udaji immediately fell for it, and had to be physically stopped from reaching for her gold.

Miraculously, we all managed to avoid a bunch of mysterious projectiles and whistling noises.

Interestingly, both of the guard corpses we had ‘interviewed’ reported hearing a whistling noise before their death.

Mountain took an arrow to the horn, but only three points of damage.

We were all tired by this point and there were a lot of bandits so combat was looooooong.

Claus has two waiting Bardic Inspiration dice and is having a very good day.

“You’re going to shoot THROUGH your daughter and your cleric??”

ONE BANDIT DOWN!

I charged at a bandit, sword drawn, but couldn’t quite make it there in one turn, so I added an intimidating roar for good measure.

I rolled a nat 20, therefore proving that I inherited SOMEthing from my white dragon mother, and the bandit pissed himself.

THREE BANDITS DOWN!

I took 8 points of damage from the other bandits and it’s a good thing the DM had us level up at least once bc if I’d still had my lvl. 1 total of 9hp that damage would have damn near killed me.

“Ew, he’s got a skull face with horns! ...oh, wait, he’s just ugly nevermind.”

“If I cast the magic, but Matthias says the words, can we duet ‘Vicious Mockery’?”

“My mother [the white dragon] would be proud of that, and I’m not sure I’M proud of that.”

I stand corrected: Astrid is a ranger, not a rogue.

Dragonborn zoomies.

“I may be wearing a flower crown, but I’m still scary.”

I have now decided that there will be - at minimum - one fight where I take off my flower crown and force someone else in the party to hold it.

Probably Claus.

SIX BANDITS DOWN!

“Well, they identify as a corpse right now, so…”

We got distracted for another five minutes arguing about how useful Hawkeye was to the Avengers in the MCU vs. how useful Hawkeye was to Loki in the MCU, which spawned from the DM apologizing for her slowness in playing out Astrid’s turn, as she had never played a Ranger before because she thought they were useless.

Poor Hawkeye.

The bandit captain tried to ambush Astrid, hit her with one of two scimitars, and failed his dagger roll badly enough to stab himself.

Claus - incredibly inspired by Udaji’s music and heroics - saved Mountain from dying.

Udaji keeps rolling really well on attacks and damage...if only I could shuffle some of those over into Perception.

Astrid got the killing shot on the bandit captain.

I looted his body, and found (2) scimitars, tattered leather armor, the queen piece from a set of dragon chess, and (7) silver.

I took the chess piece, and nothing else.

Astrid found footprints leading back to the bandits’ camp, so we took over it for the night.

We leveled up! Woo!!!

Zone of Truth. Zone of TrUTH. ZONE OF TRUTH-

And College of Creation. This is gonna be fun!!!

#OOC #Quarantine D&D #((these keep getting longer and longer...))#((I need to learn to summarize))

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paladin-andric · 6 years ago

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Joy and Ashes

Well, here’s a followup to the last short! This one’s a bit all over the place, but it should flesh out bit of a clearer picture between the fall of the dragons in the Industrial Age and how King Patrick ‘the Dragonchaser’, the current ruler of Geralthin in the Modern/Information Age, ran into the first hints that the dragons were still out there somewhere. That there was a chance to bring them back...

Cheering filled the air as crowds gathered, exuberant and wild. Screams of adoration broke out as the army entered the city.

Genmere, the capital city of the Kingdom of Geralthin, was safe. The threats had been destroyed.

The dragons had foolishly attacked. They sought to subjugate mankind. They sought to reclaim dominion over the unconquerable.

They should have learned from the first time, over a thousand years ago.

Soldiers in brightly colored uniforms marched, their rifles on their shoulders. Humans, most of them, the army and the crowd. There were others, though. Genmere was as metropolitan as a city could get, being the trade hub of the world. Wolfmen, insectoids, koutu, pona and even a few kobolds were among the crowds and in the marching columns.

This was Geralthin. It may have been home to humanity, but it was not a nation of humans. No, these people, all of them...they were Geralthiners, every last one of them, and they had all fought hard to protect what was theirs.

The soldiers laughed and chanted songs from their lengthy campaigns as they marched triumphantly through the city, vibrant banners waving through the air.

“Oh, we are the valiant cavalry, we are the finest soldiers there shall ever be!

Look to the fearless infantry, withstanding all like a proud oak tree!

Hear our cries as we shout to the skies, striking down the dragons like swarms of flies!

To defend our dearest motherland, we’re ready to give up our lives!

The tyrants think they can rule thee, they tried to force their foul and wicked autocracy!

Their arrogance will set us free, blasting them apart with flying batteries!

Dragons do not rule the sky! The koutu and halfkind all soaring so high!

To defend our dearest motherland, we’re ready to give up our lives!”

The faces of the people were brighter than ever. Confetti streamed down the streets as soldiers and their families hugged and held one another. It was finally over. Everyone would be okay. Everyone was safe.

They had won!

…

Zaphontilku chanted the magic words, the words of mystical power. The words that were supposed to save him.

The words his father had taught him.

Father had foreseen defeat, apparently. He knew this was a bad idea, and so he made preparations.

When the time comes, come to this place and speak these words.

He had done so, and as his voice reverberated through the caverns, it happened.

The hole he entered from was covered in a shrouded mist of magic, waving and rippling as it came into being.

A magical barrier, preventing anyone from entering...or leaving.

He was safe.

The dragon made his way down the cave, going deeper and deeper, barrier getting further from his sight. At last he had gone so far down the path that the barrier was out of his sight.

At the bottom of this descending path, there was a massive, open clearing. A great expanse of rock floor. Large enough for him and his family to rest comfortably in while they waited for…

...what WERE they waiting for? All father had said was that the surface was no longer safe. Only here could Zaphontilku live safely.

Live? Live for how long? He wasn’t staying here...forever, was he?

Well, no matter. The young, white dragon lay himself down on the floor and rested. It had been quite the journey, and he was looking forward to catching up on his slumber while he waited for his mother, father and siblings to arrive.

Surely, they would be here soon…

…

Ten years.

It had been ten years in this cavern.

Zaphontilku lay on his side, eyes staring up to the ceiling. He had been foolish.

Mother and father weren’t coming. His siblings weren’t coming, either. They had never survived the war.

He was all alone.

The dragon didn’t need to worry about food. His father had taught him how to conjure food from thin air using magic. He was well-fed.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave so badly. He was so sad. He was so tired of this accursed cave.

But father hadn’t taught him the words to dispel the barrier.

The world above wasn’t safe, so his father had ensured he would be stuck here forever, while able to sustain himself indefinitely.

He truly did think of everything…

Zaphontilku had been brushing up on his magic training during his stay. Of course, what else was there to do? He was getting better and better. He would be a grand sorcerer someday.

But he didn’t care about that. He wanted the sun back. He wanted the trees back. He wanted the air rushing against his wings back.

He wanted his family back.

…

How long? How many days and nights, months and years, decades or even centuries passed in the outside world?

He didn’t know. He had stopped keeping track. After all, he’d never see the sun again anyway. He was here forever.

The now older dragon had changed. He entered this cave hopeful and innocent. Young and bubbly. Time bled that out of him. His life passed without success or happiness, and he started to resent it.

Anger and hatred came first.

He hated the humans. He hated them so much for putting him in this position...but his father was to blame too.

He had imprisoned his son. Sure, he did it for his own good, but that didn’t matter.

The hatred and fury led to tantrums. Screaming, roaring, banging and stomping.

He wanted out. He wanted out of this cave, this coffin.

Soon, as he realized there truly wasn’t any hope left, it finally hit him.

His family was dead. They had been dead for many years...and they were the only ones that knew he existed.

No one was coming for him. Ever. He would spend his entire, five thousand year life trapped here.

Anger became fear. Hate became depression. The final bit of his old self, clinging on faded away.

He was all that was left, as far as he knew. Doubtless the humans turned on their lapdogs once all other dragons were defeated. Why keep them around when there weren’t any threats? There was no more use for them. His kind was doubtless destroyed.

He tried to stop conjuring food. It was the only way he knew how to end his own life in these circumstances...but every time, the gnawing, horrid hunger broke him. He gave in and fed himself, and wept each time. He hadn’t the guts to kill himself so slowly and painfully.

Father wanted him to live, because he loved him. Because he cared about him. Because he was the last beacon of hope he had.

But Zaphontilku didn’t want it anymore. This was a fate worse than death. A lifetime of painful, miserable isolation, devoid of light or joy.

There was no reason to go on.

Every day, he cried. Every day, he lay on the ground and roared out to the heavens in dismay. Every day, he wished it would be his last.

Why him? Why did he have to go through this? Why couldn’t he have just died in the war, all that time ago? He could be in paradise with his family, right now.

He lay in a crumpled heap, as he always did. His head pressed against the ground. His tears flowed onto the rock. His claws scraped idly. He had tried to dig his way out, but father had thought of even that. They were enchanted.

This truly was a prison, a coffin for him to die in.

If even one other person had made it, it would have been okay. He would have had someone to talk to, to pour out his woes with. His hope wouldn’t have been extinguished with someone there for him.

Instead, he was alone. He hadn’t heard anything but his own cried for as long as he could remember.

As he lay there in his daily routine of nothingness, the dragon cursed his fate. Sealed away forever, forgotten by all. Time bled him away and not a soul would even recognize his carcass.

Why, why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t it just-

A sound broke his thoughts.

A sound. A sound.

A sound besides his own voice.

The sound of something shattering.

He would investigate, but he hadn’t the energy for it anymore. The countless cycles of doing nothing, combined with his repeated attempts at self starvation had left his muscles atrophied. He could hardly stand back up...in fact, he hadn’t tried for...well, at least a year, perhaps.

He was swimming in his own despair when he realized he heard...footsteps.

Someone was here. Someone had gotten in somehow.

He pushed against the ground, but he couldn’t get to his feet. No matter, he could at least save himself from looking pathetic. He rose off his side and lay down on his stomach, head rising up high. He looked...a touch regal, again.

The footsteps grew louder and louder. Zaphontilku’s mind was in upheaval. There were so many different ways this could go.

Someone could have found a way to dispel the barrier. Humans...he could fight them. If he killed them, he could finally leave, finally taste freedom at last...and if he fell to them, well...at least his suffering was over.

Perhaps his kind hadn’t been defeated, and found his hiding place. They could be here to free him, too. What a waste that would have been...he could have been up above on the surface, all this time if that were the case.

The last thought in his mind was almost alien to him now. A tiny, faint glimmer of hope. The final shreds of his old personality.

It could be his father, finally here now that the surface was safe.

That was impossible. The footsteps weren’t the slow, powerful thuds that a dragon would carry themselves with. Still, for a moment, it was lovely to imagine…

A figure turned the corner and stood at the entrance to his resting place. A human. A man.

The man was wearing strange clothes that Zaphontilku had never seen before. They were...almost indescribable. Almost.

If there was any single thing they came close to, it was like...when kobolds would stick pieces of bark and leaves to themselves to conceal and hide while out in the woods...except these clothes didn’t have leaves on them, or bark. They were simply...colored and patterned in that fashion.

Over the strange tree-colored pants and shirt was a vest. It was a tan color, and had bizarre little bumps and ridges along the thing. It was strapped over the man’s shoulders and went down to his waist, were he had a belt with all sorts of things Zaphontilku had never seen strapped to it.

His knees had extra padding on them, a sort of armor the dragon also hadn’t seen before. The design was truly unusual. In addition, the man was wearing a pair of boots with what he could only make out to be lacing on them. Lacing! The things humans put on corsets and dresses! What in the word was this man doing with frilly lace-boots?!

His head had a helmet atop it, colored and patterned the same as his strange leaf-wood outfit. It was shaped like a soldier’s helmet from the dark ages, and yet it appeared to be made of similar material of those silly tall hats they wore during the war.

At last, his hands were gloved, and in one of those hands...he held a gun. A rifle, but...it was all wrong. Instead of the wooden rifles and long barrels the young dragon knew all soldiers carried, this strange man was holding a gun that was much shorter, and colored all black, like those artillery pieces of theirs.

In the other, he held...some black device he was pointing forward. It shone an unnatural brightness from the end of it, towards the dragon.

How...how much time had passed? How much had their weapons advanced? Was there truly no hope left?

The man froze as his eyes fell on the dragon. His horrified expression...it gave the dragon a moment’s happiness that his kind was at least a little feared and respected still.

“Who are you to come here?” Zaphontilku demanded, voice booming. The human recovered, aiming his gun up at the great beast.

“O-oh my God…” he muttered, shaking.

“I asked you a question. Who are you to come here?”

The man took a long time to finally call back.

“I wanted to see what was behind the barrier.”

The dragon growled slightly as he answered. “Well, it seems you have found the answer you sought. Is that right?”

“I-I...I didn’t…who are you?”

The beast sighed. He tried to get up, though it was so difficult. His strength was hardly enough to keep himself up anymore.

“I am Zaphontilku, and I...”

After a lot of effort, he forced himself up, rising from the ground for the first time in ages. His spread his wings and stood tall, the human seeming like an ant from his position now.

“...am the last dragon.”

“T-the last dragon…?”

Zaphontilku rumbled deeply. “Indeed. All I ever loved and cherished were slain by you. I have no family, no friend...no kin. They are all gone.” He craned his long neck down, glaring at the human. “Gone because of you.”

“T-that’s not...I mean…”

“You deny your slaughter? My father put that barrier up to protect me from you, you bloodthirsty animals that could not even drive us away. You had to hunt us all down, down to the deepest, most remote cavern...this is true, is it not?”

“I didn’t come here to kill you…”

“Oh? Than what?”

The man shrugged. “I was patrolling the area when I noticed the barrier. It was...blinking. Then it faded away. I went inside to see what’s been here all this time. I had no idea...”

“Patrolling? Are you a soldier?”

“Yeah.”

The dragon’s growl made the man take a step back instinctively.

“Accursed hand that struck us down...who do you think you are? What gives you the right to take the world from us?”

“I-I never made that choice! I didn’t...I thought there was only one dragon in the world!”

“There is, and it is I.”

The man shook his head. “T-the Black Dragon! The one that gives the king his power! The one that lives with the royal family!”

Zaphontilku’s eyes twitched, as did his claws. “Gira…” he snarled out, “She is not a dragon...she is a lapdog! No, she does not count! I am the only TRUE dragon left!”

“I mean...alright...what happened? Why are you here?”

“I think that is OBVIOUS!” the dragon roared, “You drove us to extinction! This is the only place I would be safe! And yet...here you are. No matter how hard we try to stay away, you will never end in your quest to see us utterly destroyed…”

The man didn’t have an answer.

The dragon began to walk forward, which triggered the man to raise his gun up again.

“S-stay back!”

“Do you honestly think that little thing can harm me? Do you seriously believe that? Even if it could, but a twitch of my claws, and you fall first.”

“Stay…”

“I am not approaching to kill you anyway...human. Move aside.”

“Then what are you doing?”

Zaphontilku leered. “I have been trapped here for an eternity. The misery I have experienced being in these accursed walls cannot be described. I am leaving.”

“You were stuck…?”

“Move. Aside.”

The human shook his head “You can’t-”

“MOVE!”

“I just mean that-”

The dragon growled and rushed forward, knocking the man over but taking care not to flatten him.

“You are lucky you are not one with the floor! I had the power to destroy you, as you have our people! Bow before my infinite benevolence, you worm who would dare to try and keep me confined in this living nightmare!”

The man looked up from his back, eyes wide.

“N-no, I-I didn’t-”

“Be silent! Lay there and bask in my mercy. I only grant you it because you have given me a way to finally escape my torment.”

As the dragon quickly marched away, he heard the voice of the human call out once again.

“W-wait! You don’t understand…”

He ignored the wretch’s cries, quickly moving up the path, rising higher and higher until at last, as he turned the final corner of this terrible hole, he found…

...the barrier.

It was still there, wavering in the wind, the exit path of the cavern still out of his grasp. Nothing changed.

Zaphontilku froze in horror. His mind raced with disbelief.

His claws reached out, touching the barrier. It was very much still there. He wasn’t seeing things.

He was still trapped.

“No...NO!”

He attacked it as he had countless times. Just like every other attempt, it proved fruitless.

“Why...WHY?!”

He banged on it, clawed along the barrier, threw his weight against it.

“Why is it NOT GONE?!”

The man from before raced around the corner.

“I-I tried...to tell you…”

The dragon ceased his assault. His great size mattered little as he swung around, baring his teeth.

“What did you do? What did you DO?!”

“N-nothing!”

“LIAR!” Zaphontilku roared, shaking in fury. The human held an arm outstretched towards the beast.

“W-wait, just listen!”

“EXPLAIN YOURSELF!”

“I-I saw it go down...so I went inside. Once I was in...it came back up. I tried to get out, but...it wouldn’t go away. W-when I first saw you...I thought you did it, that you trapped me here for some reason. I-I don’t know what’s going on…”

The white dragon’s rage simmered, turning back into that defeated sorrow. His eyes closed. His head lowered.

“Than...I will remain here...forever. I will never get to live, to see the sky, the shining sun, ever again. Here, I will writhe, in darkness...”

The dragon collapsed to the ground, shaking it violently and nearly making the man fall over.

“Here I lay, swallowed whole by the abyss, my fate withheld to all. Here, I live and perish in the deepest reaches of hell…”

The man sighed and rubbed his arm. “Err...hey...uhh...chin up, buddy.”

The dragon blinked. “Wha...what did you just say to me?”

“I said...chin up. Relax. I think...I think we’ll be okay, y’know?”

Zaphontilku grimaced, his head resting against the cold ground. “And what is it that makes you believe this? All I wish and ever have wished is to be released from this prison.”

“Look...I’m from the army. I-I have a schedule, a patrol route. It goes right past here. When I don’t report back, they’re gonna start looking, then realize I went missing. They’ll form search parties. And once they check this cave...that’s it. We can go.”

“But...the barrier…”

“I know. But I think...I think there’s a shot. Once they realize I’m trapped here, they’ll send magicians to bust us out for sure! Besides...if the barrier blinked in and out of reality like that...I think it’s getting old. Maybe it’s starting to weaken. I think...everything’ll be okay. We should be out of here in a few weeks, tops.”

Zaphontilku’s eyes widened as he stared into the barrier. “You...perhaps...you are correct. A few weeks…? I can leave...I can finally be done with this. Just a while longer...just a short stay more…”

The soldier frowned. “Err...name’s Jack, by the way.”

The dragon rumbled. “Why do you tell me this? Names matter not.”

“Well, uh, I know yours already, Zaph...Zapo…”

“Zaphontilku.”

“Err...I know yours already, Zap. Thought I’d introduce myself.”

The dragon twitched a bit at that...bastardization of his regal name, but he let it slide, his rage simmered at the prospect of liberty. “I care not for any of this. Why is your name so important?”

“Well, if we’re gonna be stuck here together...being friends would make this a lot more bearable, wouldn’t it?”

The dragon turned his head back, staring at the human in bewilderment. “Friends? You think us FRIENDS?!”

Jack shrugged. “I mean, if you don’t want to be, I can stay out of the way…”

Zaphontilku’s mind halted for a moment. He recalled his own thoughts, some time through this trial…

If even one other person had made it, it would have been okay. I would have had someone to talk to, to pour out my woes with. My hope would not have been extinguished with someone there for me.

“N-now just a moment! I said no such thing about that!” the dragon quickly exclaimed, “I-I was...merely surprised, is all!”

Jack smiled. “So...you’re saying yes?”

Zaphontilku looked away for a moment, trying to hide his own vulnerabilities. He wanted a friend. He was alone in the darkness for so long...he’d nearly gone mad. He hadn’t heard another voice in at least centuries. Even if it was a human, if someone truly wanted to talk with him…

He turned back, face stern as if he was delivering a lecture. “W-well, if you insist. Since you are so terribly desperate for a friend, trapped here in this terrible darkness and seeking help, I SUPPOSE I could make an exception, this one time…”

The man laughed. “Well, that’s a start, at least.” He pointed towards the barrier. “We’d better stick around here, so we don’t miss them when they come for us.”

“Hmm...indeed. At least you have SOME sense...Jack.”

The soldier slid against the cavern walls until he was sitting on the ground. “Yeah...hey, you’ve been here forever. There’s...there’s food for me here, right?”

Zaphontilku smirked, waving a claw and warping reality with his magic. In an instant, a loaf of bread materialized from thin air, and floated slowly down into the soldier’s waiting hands.

His brows rose as he stared down at the bread. “Holy shit, man. That’s...incredible.”

The white dragon felt a bit of pride in his chest at that. He hadn’t been complimented since he was but a baby, all that time ago.”

“I hold much knowledge, human.”

Jack exhaled sharply and put his flashlight down on the ground, snapping the loaf in half.

“Well...tell me about yourself, Zap. What’s the deal with you? You said your dad put this magic crap up to save you, but you’ve been calling this place hell ever since I walked.”

“It is Zaphontilku, human! And, well...he did. He used all his power to make it...and he did not reveal the secret power to dispel it.”

Jack answered with another question, voice muffled by the bread in his mouth. “Why not?”

“For it is torment here. He knew I would try to leave too soon...and he knew that to save me, he had to put me here, even if I did not wish it...and I do not wish it. I have craved the embrace of death for so long.”

“That’s horrible!” the soldier answered, looking shocked.

“Yes...but, if we can truly leave...I think my woes will be...not over, but manageable.”

“How long have you been stuck here, man? Why the hell did you need to hide for long?”

“I...have lost track. However, I began my stay here when I was but a child...back during the war where our kind was struck down. The artillery, the blasted artillery…”

“W-wait...the war...the war of 1815? THAT war?!”

“Hmm...yes, I believe that is correct.”

Jack ruffled his hair, moving his helmet away. “God, man! That was two hundred years ago!”

Zaphontilku closed his eyes again, reflecting on that. “I see...two hundred years of torment…”

“Well, I don’t blame you for being so mad. I-I’m sorry. Two hundred years...I’d have gone nuts a long time ago.”

“I very nearly have…but now, there is hope. I have not felt hope for well over a hundred years. It is strange...I thought myself lost, but...to have freedom so close within reach...”

“They’ll come, just you wait. I only wish I could use my radio.”

The dragon tilted his head quizzically. “Radio?”

“Yeah. Damn thing got loose and fell off. Burst to pieces when it hit the ground. Cheap piece of shit.”

“What is a radio?”

Jack looked confused for a moment, but his face quickly lit up.

“That’s right, you’re ancient! Well, I can explain. Let you tell you what you’ve missed down here, Zap…”

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadhorner, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @candy687, @novicewriterstuff, @shewrites-sometimes

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shestillhasherquill · 7 years ago

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All’s Fair in Love and War (8/?)

At the time of a brewing battle, there are tough decisions to be made, alliances to be forged. The Princess of Misthaven has no choice but to comply with the demands of the Council and wed the Prince of Camelot. But what happens when she falls for his half-brother, Killian? A war like never before.

A Reign-esque twist to an Enchanted Forest AU that no one asked for.

Read on FF.net/AO3

@welllpthisishappening YOU ARE THE BEST EVER! Thank you for helping me finish this and constantly encouraging me. @accio-ambition I hope you like all the father-daughter feels in this one. It’s full of ‘em.

ALSO, for everyone who has been waiting for the captain swan content it’s finally here. I’m uploading two chapters today and the latter is just one big ol’ Captain Swan Adventure. Thank you for waiting so patiently!

-/-

King George paced up and down his throne room as darkness shrouded it. He was growing more agitated by the minute, and he had to know what the verdict was. If King Stefan was as enraged with Brennan as he assumed he was, then George would finally have another big ally on his side. Just when he thought he could not wait any longer, ready to get the next phase of his plan started, a messenger burst through the doors.

King George practically ripped the paper from his hand in his hurry, breaking the seal and reading quickly, a smirk quickly taking over his morose expression. He had finally caught the fly in his trap. Soon, Camelot would be his, followed by all the Northern Kingdoms.

-/-

King Brennan stared at the missive from King Stefan in his hands, still unable to believe the contents of the letter. While he had always suspected that this would be the end result, he was still surprised to be proved right. This was one instance where he did not want that, even if he still does not regret his decision to protect Regina. He could still remember clear it was yesterday, the day she was born.

“Come on, Amelia. Just breathe,” he urged, holding her hand.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she cried out.

“You are giving birth to my child. Of course I should be here.”

“But I’m just-” she was cut off by her own scream, her contractions painful but still far apart. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. And I’d like for you to not insult the love of my life in such a way, thank you.”

“Brennan, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Amelia! I may never be able to marry you or claim our children, but you cannot begin to understand how painful it is for me to have to do that. I want to give them the world, and all I can give them is this – myself, my love and my protection.”

Amelia smiled through her tears, pressing her forehead to his, “That’s all they ever need. I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling. I’m going to go fetch the midwife.” He left with a swift kiss to her forehead.

-/-

Once the baby was out and cleaned up, Brennan held her for the first time, his little girl. He was secretly glad that it was a girl. He knew that Amelia wanted another boy, but he had enough sons to teach and guide. He needed a little girl to pamper – after all, fathers and daughter do share a special bond. He smiled down at the sleeping child, pressing his lips to her wispy forehead.

“What do you want to name her?” Amelia’s voice broke through the fog in his head.

“Regina Jones.”

“Are you certain? Just because you acknowledge her, doesn’t mean she can ever be legitimised.”

“It’s fitting.”

He wanted to give her the world, and he did, in a way, by making her his ambassador – allowing her to travel all over the land and take in everything that life had to offer her. She had loved that she could travel and still get to do something useful for her kingdom. To see her now having given up on the thing she loved to do most, was beyond heart breaking. He had been furious, not only did he have to beg for King Stefan to spare his daughter’s life, he had to do so even when she hadn’t committed a crime. When he had seen the state she was brought back in, he was ready to wage war on King Stefan, diplomacy be damned. He had to be restrained by William, and forced to sit at Regina’s bedside as she recovered so he wouldn’t take an impulsive decision that would affect the entire kingdom.

He had been ready to stake his kingdom’s future that day for Regina, and nothing has changed now. He would still do it, and from the letter that he has received it was evident that he would have to. He could only hope that the other rulers would still believe in him, and stay with him.

-/-

David balled up the letter in his hand, fury blazing within him. He’d always known King Stefan to be fickle and underhanded, but to shift completely over to the enemy lines, and abandon the other northern kingdoms was extreme even for him. He wasn’t oblivious, he had heard the rumour mill that had been going around for days about the possibility that Stefan would shift sides, but he also knew that his political tensions with Camelot must have been a big cause for it. While he would never question the integrity of his friend, he needed to get some answers if he was going to have to make a decision regarding Emma and William’s future.

And if he did find something worthwhile, he could still call off the wedding, without completely abandoning Camelot. It would be a win-win for both kingdoms, and Emma and him would finally have the upper hand that they had been struggling for with the council. If only he could find someway to overthrow the Duke’s power, or bring him under doubt for questioning, he could finally find a way to fix what had long since been broken between the kingdom and the council.

He took out a plain parchment, quickly writing out a letter to his wife. She had been gone long enough, and as understanding as he wanted to be, her rightful place was next to him. Especially in a time like now.

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope that Nate is feeling much better with you by his side, for I know how much comfort simply your presence can provide. I am in desperate need for your presence next to me, my love. It is time for you to return home; it is time for us to prepare for Emma’s wedding, and she needs her stepmother with her.

I implore you to return to us at your earliest, even as I hope that you reach home much before this letter reaches you.

Awaiting your arrival,

Yours, always,

David.

He sealed the parchment with his official seal, choosing to send it with a pigeon rather than a messenger. He was aware that his correspondence would be read either way, but that was why he had been so careful in his wording. There could be no proof that a rebellion against the council was imminent until the last possible moment. I would not do them any good if the council is alerted of their plans.

He could only deceive them if they had no clue of his intentions. If they get even a whiff of his ideas, they would definitely see it as enough reason to overthrow the monarchy. He could let that happen, and if it meant he had to comply with the demands of the council for a while longer, he would have to.

Taking out another piece of parchment, he began penning a letter to his dear friend, inviting him to Misthaven and hoping to clear all doubts he had regarding the situation with King Stefan. Brennan would never betray him, after all.

-/-

Elizabeth held Nate’s hand as the physician examined him. “He’s been complaining of discomfort a lot more nowadays, doctor. Is there anything that you could give him to help relieve his pain?”

“I’m not sure, madam. I can give something that would help him sleep, but at the stage of illness, there is not much that we can do.”

“What are you saying? That we simply give up?” she demanded. “We can’t do that unless we have explored all our options!”

“El,” Nate protested weakly. “You need to stop this.” Turning to the doctor, the sickly man smiled gratefully. “Thank you for all that you have done for me, doctor. I know that I have reached the end of my time.”

“You don’t know that!” Elizabeth cried, angry at how callous he was being.

“Yes,” he wheezed, coughing before he continued. “Yes, I do, El. This is why you came here, to be with me during my dying moments. So be with me. Let’s not waste time, when we have so little left with each other.

“Nate,” she whispered, looking down at him with a forlorn expression. “Please. There has to be something else.”

“Nothing short of a miracle can keep me alive, El. We all have to go someday. I’m just glad that the woman I love is with me when I do.”

“Don’t say such things, Nate.”

“I have to, El. I need to. I know that you have moved on from me-”

“I never stopped being in love with you,” she cut him off in protest. “You are, and will always be, the love of my life.”

“It is such an honour to have loved you, Elizabeth. Such a privilege to be loved back by you.”

“Nate, don’t do this, don’t say goodbye.” She was crying now, trying desperately to stop and failing miserably.

“We said our goodbyes years ago, El. You will be fine without me.”

“The only reason I even left you was so your life would be spared by my father. You know that. How could you think that I would survive this?” she cried.

“Because you are the strongest woman I have ever met. If anyone can get through this, it would be you. Just stay true to yourself, El. Get back to your family, they need you.”

“But you need me more, Nate.”

-/-

King Brennan had just finished up a meeting with the army general, his bones aching from tiredness. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, rubbing hard to get rid of the haze of sleep gripping him tight. He knew that he needed his rest, but King Stefan’s decision had opened up too many avenues for problems and it was best if he found solutions for all possible problems instead of waiting for them to come up. He closed his eyes, memories of a dark time drifting into his unconscious.

“What do you mean that she has been imprisoned?” Killian demanded, forgetting his station as he addressed his father. “It has to be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“Of course, it has to be. She has been charged with sexual assault against the princess, Aurora.” He crumpled up the letter in his anger. “Who the bloody hell does he think he is, falsely accusing my daughter?”

William piped up, the voice of reason. “Father, from his point of view, he isn’t accusing the daughter of a king. He’s accusing the ambassador of a kingdom. We could use this to our advantage. Because if Princess Aurora relents and accepts that everything that happened between them was consensual, she would be cleared of all charges, and King Stefan would owe you a debt, for insulting the kingdom like this.”

While Killian was more of a punch-first-ask-questions-later type of person, William always had a political agenda and a diplomatic way to deal with things. Brennan nodded at William’s suggestion, looking at Killian to see what he thought of it. After a moment of reluctance, he nodded, “William is right, father. We do need strong allies in the upcoming war. But I also think that this has the potential to go sideways. I think it would be a good idea for us to have open communication with King David about this issue. So even if we lose King Stefan’s support, we could still maintain good relations with the other kingdoms, if we have King David’s. Everyone follows his lead.”

Brennan’s expression grew pensive as he considered both his sons’ reasoning. They both had sound arguments, and the both were right. It was always best to anticipate and prepare for the worse and hope for the best. He nodded, turning to William first. “William, Killian is right. We need to strengthen our other allies, and make sure that the loss of King Stefan’s support wouldn’t be staggering. I will write to David myself. I want you to write to all the other kings, making sure that we still have their support. But do not disclose what is happening with King Stefan. We cannot afford to spook anyone.”

When William left, he turned to Killian, hand clasping his shoulder. “You go and bring your sister back. No matter what Stefan says or does, whatever he asks for – just bring her back.”

Killian looked taken aback by his father’s demands, knowing that it was the opposite of what William would have said. “But William-”

“William doesn’t understand.” His father sighed, running a hand down his face. “He always thinks about what the politically correct decision is. And he is right to. But this is Regina, Killian. Nothing can happen to her. Whatever the consequences are, we will face it together, as a family.” Standing up straighter in all his regal glory, Brennan ordered. “Bring her back.”

Of course, back then he never anticipated things to do go as they had now. He’d expected Stefan to be more understanding. But the moment he’d seen Regina in Killian’s arms, he knew there was no coming back from that. No matter what Stefan had done after, it would have never been enough. In some ways, he was glad that this happened, so he wouldn’t have to be any sort of relationship with such a heartless and cruel man. He was better off with the Southern Kings. Even now, after all these months, after knowing that Regina has physically recovered, the anger seething in him was as much as it had been the day she’s returned home, if not more.

Brennan and William were in a meeting with Lord Cramwell when the healer’s assistant burst through the doors, creating a commotion.

“Sire, your daughter. She’s back,” he panted from the exertion of running all the way. “She’s in the infirmary with Ser Killian.”

Both men rushed to the infirmary, only to find Killian pacing outside, his hair sticking up in all directions, as if he’d repeatedly run his hand through it. “Killian, how is she?” Brennan asked, already fearing his answer. But before Killian could say anything, they heard an agonising scream from behind closed doors, giving them the answer they had dreaded.

“Is that- What happened to her?” William breathed out, horrified by his sister’s screams as they rang through the corridor.

Killian cupped his mouth, unable to answer them for a while, just praying that she would pass out from the pain so that she wouldn’t suffer as much, as he had been doing the past several minutes.

“Why haven’t they given her any sedatives?” his father demanded, her every scream tearing open his heart.

“They cannot give her anymore without risking her health. We had her sedated for most of the journey,” Killian explained, finally finding the words to talk. “King Stefan had her flogged within an inch of her life, like she was a low-life criminal, father. He had her chained up and thrown in the dungeons in her condition. She has an infection and she’s had fever for the past two days, and no sign of it going down,” he rushed out, heart in his throat.

“Gods have mercy,” William prayed, turning towards the doors to the infirmary as Regina’s cries softened.

Brennan could not find words to comfort both his sons, his own heart plummeting to his feet at Killian’s news. An infection could mean the end of her, she could die from her wounds. Anything could happen to her. He couldn’t lose her, he could not lose Regina. She was-

“Something must be done about Stefan,” he growled, startling both his sons. They had never seen their father so angry, his face turning purple and eyes blazing. “He cannot get away with this.”

“There’s nothing we can do, father,” William reasoned. “We do not have the manpower to go against a man like King Stefan and remain victorious. We cannot cause wars between the Northern Kingdoms right now, we cannot afford to with King George’s attack imminent.”

“That is enough, William,” Brennan snapped. “That is your sister in there. And more importantly, Camelot’s foreign ambassador. King Stefan held a trial against her, without the presence of a proper representative from Camelot. That is treason.”

William, always being the level-headed one, knew he had to talk his father down before he did anything drastic. “Father, that rule is overlooked if the King views the defendant as a threat to the crown, or in this case, his heir – Princess Aurora. He was well within his right to do-”

But before he could finish his sentence, Killian had him pushed against a wall, his arm at his throat. “You tell me he was well within in his right to almost kill my little sister, I will rip you apart,” he threatened, his eyes wide with rage. He growled at William before releasing him.

William cleared his throat, knowing that neither his father nor brother were ready to listen to reason. So he simply chose to wait with them, hoping that when a new day dawned, things would be much better.

-/-

David had just finished composing his letter to King Brennan, his eyes going over the text once before sealing it.

My dear friend,

I have received word from Stefan that he has chosen to ally himself with King George, because of some grievance with you. I hope that this is not true. But if it is, I believe that you would have done the noble thing, my friend. We have known each other since we were but children, not knowing much about anything except the ball and grounds. I do not doubt you for a second, but I am afraid the others might.

I only wish to hear your side of the tale, and I welcome you to Misthaven. If you are unable to leave Camelot in this tumultuous time, I hope that you would grant you son, Prince William, the permission to disclose the details of your issue with Stefan. While I am happy to assume that it was that spineless bastard at fault, it would not be just for me to take a decision and appeal to the other rulers without some credibility.

At this outset, I am writing to Stefan as well, hoping to bring him back into our fold. We will need all the allies we can gather, for the war against King George was hard won the last time, and with more than just his kingdom being him, it would be that much more difficult.

I invite you to agree to a truce with King Stefan, in the instance that I am able to negotiate it. We are stronger together than we are apart, my friend. I hope that you will reconsider my offer.

Your friend,

David

While he was usually more formal in his letters, he had known Brennan all his life. He knew his friend enough to trust that he would never have done any of the things that Stefan had claimed. He was an honourable man, and never once has he proved David’s belief in him false. He would only have to have faith in his friend, and wait.

-/-

Elizabeth had just returned from fetching fresh water when she saw Nate start to try and get up. She rushed to his side, place the bowl next the bed as she helped him up.

“You ought to be resting, Nate,” she gently admonished, ever as she allowed him to lean on her for support.

“I just needed a breath of fresh air. I thought we could go outside for a bit? Sit at the beach and look at the stars, like we used to?” he suggested, smiling winningly at her. She hadn’t been able to resist it when she had been twenty, she couldn’t resist it now.

Rolling her eyes at his obvious attempts at charm, she agreed, slowly but surely guiding him out of the stuffy cottage and into the fresh, if slightly chill, atmosphere. When he began to shiver, she draped her shawl around him, allowing him to hold it close. “Let’s go sit by the water, Nate.”

He nodded, taking slow, measured steps with her. When walking became too much, they both sat down, listening to the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

“May I lie on your lap?” he asked, and when she nodded, he placed his head on her lap. She used the shawl to cover him fully, her fingers carding through his hair, making him smile in contentment. “This is nice, El.”

She hummed in agreement, knowing that words would only ruin the moment. So, they remained quiet, Elizabeth watching over him as he stared up at the stars, his gaze occasionally shifting to hers, smiling every time it did. Soon enough, his breathing slowed down, and his eyes drifted closed. She stayed with him until he breathed his last, unmindful of the cold. And when he stopped breathing, she finally let out the sob that she had been holding in all these days, her anguished cries drowned by the sound of the ocean.

#cs ff #cs au #enchanted forest au #all's fair in love and war #cs mc ff

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dfroza · 5 years ago

Text

to affirm sinful behavior, to say that it’s Okay

as if to play God by making our own rules, is in itself sinful behavior.

and the only remedy for this, for all of sin, is grace. it is the cure and the pure rebirth of the heart that is necessary in becoming known as a child of Light who has found the place of “Home”

(inside, Anew)

and the act of grace that is (already inside) as a seed of the Spirit to be found and chosen within those who have been first chosen by Love (by God) to be in Love is what we see in Today’s reading of the Scriptures beginning with chapter 15 of the ancient book of Mark

and the True beauty of grace should spark humility of heart and mind, which should inspire people to do good things. not being saved by such good works, of course, yet at the same time faith without works is considered dead. we have to use it to actively do good toward others, which includes forgiving and letting go of offense. and doing something good is not for the sake of recognition, rather should be done out of a heart of Love that actually cares.

because the common theme of this world is the nature of good vs. evil, for the time being. everyone has a choice in how to conduct themselves, for better or for worse. and good will always conquer evil, eventually. Love will make all things right at some point.

from the writing of Mark and a sacred act of grace on a Tree that clearly speaks of a New Covenant with God, our Creator, the Maker of the heavens and garden earth as the instrumental womb of the universe. for each person alive on this planet began life at the genesis spark of conception as a shared seed between mother and father, to be protected inside the womb. but Love requires an act of rebirth so that Heaven may be welcomed within the space of the heart. and each heart is becoming an eternal book that contains our words and deeds, kept safe in a heavenly Library to be opened and read in A grand end of time.

Chapter 15 of Mark that contains 47 verses of Scripture that mirrors a number seen twice repeated in the odometer reading of 147847 miles on my former Chevy Lumina after my last shift worked at Love envelopes, inc. in Tulsa, Oklahoma on january 27 of ‘06 that reflects upon my dream of writing to reach the heart in the True illumination of Light that seeks to befriend someone, to share a story in Love with pure simplicity and Authenticity

(this is the significance of True nature to me)

Mark 15:

[Jesus Handed Over to Pilate]

Before dawn that morning, all the ruling priests, elders, religious scholars, and the entire Jewish council set in motion their plan against Jesus. They bound him in chains, took him away, and handed him over to Pilate.

As Jesus stood in front of the Roman governor Pilate asked him, “So, are you really the king of the Jews?”

Jesus answered, “You have just spoken it.”

Then the ruling priests, over and over, made bitter accusations against him, but he remained silent.

So Pilate questioned him again. “Have you nothing to say? Don’t you hear these many allegations they’re making against you?” But Jesus offered no defense to any of the charges, much to the great astonishment of Pilate.

[Jesus and Barabbas]

Every year at Passover, it was the custom of the governor to pardon a prisoner and release him to the people—anyone they wanted. Now, Pilate was holding in custody a notorious criminal named Barabbas, one of the assassins who had committed murder in an uprising. The crowds gathered in front of Pilate’s judgment bench and asked him to release a prisoner to them, as was his custom.

So he asked them, “Do you want me to release to you today the king of the Jews?” (Pilate was fully aware that the religious leaders had handed Jesus over to him because of sheer spite and envy.)

But the ruling priests stirred up the crowd to incite them to ask for Barabbas instead.

So Pilate asked them, “Then what do you want me to do with this one you call the king of the Jews?”

They all shouted back, “Crucify him!”

“Why?” Pilate asked. “What evil thing has he done wrong?” But they kept shouting out with an deafening roar, “Crucify him at once!”

Because he wanted to please the people, Pilate released Barabbas to them. After he had Jesus severely beaten with a whip made of leather straps and embedded with metal, he sentenced him to be crucified.

[The Soldiers Mock Jesus]

The soldiers took Jesus into the headquarters of the governor’s compound and summoned a military unit of nearly six hundred men. They placed a purple robe on him to make fun of him. Then they braided a victor’s crown, a wreath made of thorns, and set it on his head. And with a mock salute they repeatedly cried out, “Hail, your majesty, king of the Jews!” They kept on spitting in his face and hit him repeatedly on his head with a reed staff, driving the crown of thorns deep into his brow. They knelt down before him in mockery, pretending to pay him homage. When they finished ridiculing him, they took off the purple robe, put his own clothes back on him, and led him away to be crucified.

[The Crucifixion of Jesus]

As they came out of the city, they stopped an African man named Simon, a native of Libya. He was passing by, just coming in from the countryside with his two sons, Alexander and Rufus, and the soldiers forced him to carry the heavy crossbeam for Jesus. They brought Jesus to the execution site called Golgotha, which means “Skull Hill.” There they offered him a mild painkiller, a drink of wine mixed with gall, but he refused to drink it.

They nailed his hands and feet to the cross. The soldiers divided his clothing among themselves by rolling dice to see who would win them. It was nine o’clock in the morning when they finally crucified him. Above his head they placed a sign with the inscription of the charge against him, which read, “This is the King of the Jews.”

Two criminals were also crucified with Jesus, one on each side of him. This fulfilled the Scripture that says:

He was considered to be a criminal.

Those who passed by shook their heads and spitefully ridiculed him, saying, “Aha! You boasted that you could destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days. Why don’t you save yourself now? Just come down from the cross!”

Even the ruling priests and the religious scholars joined in the mockery and kept laughing among themselves, saying, “He saved others, but he can’t even save himself! Israel’s king, is he? Let the ‘Messiah,’ the ‘king of Israel,’ pull out the nails and come down from the cross right now. We’ll believe it when we see it!” Even the two criminals who were crucified with Jesus began to taunt him, hurling insults on him.

[The Death of Jesus]

For three hours, beginning at noon, darkness came over the earth. About three o’clock, Jesus shouted with a mighty voice in Aramaic, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”—that is, “My God, My God, why have you turned your back on me?”

Some who were standing near the cross misunderstood and said, “Listen! He’s calling for Elijah.” One bystander ran and got a sponge, soaked it with sour wine, then put it on a stick and held it up for Jesus to drink. But the rest said, “Leave him alone! Let’s see if Elijah comes to rescue him.” Just then Jesus passionately cried out with a loud voice and breathed his last. At that moment the veil in the Holy of Holies was torn in two from the top to the bottom.

When the Roman military officer who was standing right in front of Jesus saw how he died, he said, “There is no doubt this man was the Son of God!

Watching from a distance, away from the crowds, were many of the women who had followed Jesus from Galilee and had cared for him. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of Jacob the younger and Joseph, and Salome. Many other women who had followed him to Jerusalem were there too.

[Jesus’ Burial]

Evening was fast approaching, and it was a preparation day before a Sabbath. So a prominent Jewish leader named Joseph, from the village of Ramah, courageously went to see Pilate and asked to have custody of the body of Jesus. Joseph was a highly regarded member of the Jewish council and a follower of Jesus who had focused his hope on God’s kingdom realm. Pilate was amazed to hear that Jesus was already dead, so he summoned the Roman officer, who confirmed it. After it was confirmed, Pilate consented to give the corpse to Joseph.

Joseph purchased a shroud of fine linen and took the body down from the cross. Then he wrapped it in the linen shroud and placed it in a tomb quarried from out of the rock. Then they rolled a large stone over the entrance to seal the tomb. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joseph were there and saw exactly where they laid the body of Jesus.

The Book of Mark, Chapter 15 (The Passion Translation)

and paired with Mark 15 from the New Testament, since i read a chapter from each Testament on a daily basis moving sequentially through the books of the Bible with the exception of Psalms and Proverbs, is the 2nd chapter of the book of Daniel in which is seen a dream and its interpretation by the inspiration of the Spirit working through Daniel:

[King Nebuchadnezzar’s Dream]

In the second year of his reign, King Nebuchadnezzar started having dreams that disturbed him deeply. He couldn’t sleep. He called in all the Babylonian magicians, enchanters, sorcerers, and fortunetellers to interpret his dreams for him. When they came and lined up before the king, he said to them, “I had a dream that I can’t get out of my mind. I can’t sleep until I know what it means.”

The fortunetellers, speaking in the Aramaic language, said, “Long live the king! Tell us the dream and we will interpret it.”

The king answered the fortunetellers, “This is my decree: If you can’t tell me both the dream itself and its interpretation, I’ll have you ripped to pieces, limb from limb, and your homes torn down. But if you tell me both the dream and its interpretation, I’ll lavish you with gifts and honors. So go to it: Tell me the dream and its interpretation.”

They answered, “If it please your majesty, tell us the dream. We’ll give the interpretation.”

But the king said, “I know what you’re up to—you’re just playing for time. You know you’re up a tree. You know that if you can’t tell me my dream, you’re doomed. I see right through you—you’re going to cook up some fancy stories and confuse the issue until I change my mind. Nothing doing! First tell me the dream, then I’ll know that you’re on the up and up with the interpretation and not just blowing smoke in my eyes.”

The fortunetellers said, “Nobody anywhere can do what you ask. And no king, great or small, has ever demanded anything like this from any magician, enchanter, or fortuneteller. What you’re asking is impossible unless some god or goddess should reveal it—and they don’t hang around with people like us.”

That set the king off. He lost his temper and ordered the whole company of Babylonian wise men killed. When the death warrant was issued, Daniel and his companions were included. They also were marked for execution.

When Arioch, chief of the royal guards, was making arrangements for the execution, Daniel wisely took him aside and quietly asked what was going on: “Why this all of a sudden?”

After Arioch filled in the background, Daniel went to the king and asked for a little time so that he could interpret the dream.

Daniel then went home and told his companions Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah what was going on. He asked them to pray to the God of heaven for mercy in solving this mystery so that the four of them wouldn’t be killed along with the whole company of Babylonian wise men.

[Dream Interpretation: A Story of Five Kingdoms]

That night the answer to the mystery was given to Daniel in a vision. Daniel blessed the God of heaven, saying,

“Blessed be the name of God,

forever and ever.

He knows all, does all:

He changes the seasons and guides history,

He raises up kings and also brings them down,

he provides both intelligence and discernment,

He opens up the depths, tells secrets,

sees in the dark—light spills out of him!

God of all my ancestors, all thanks! all praise!

You made me wise and strong.

And now you’ve shown us what we asked for.

You’ve solved the king’s mystery.”

So Daniel went back to Arioch, who had been put in charge of the execution. He said, “Call off the execution! Take me to the king and I’ll interpret his dream.”

Arioch didn’t lose a minute. He ran to the king, bringing Daniel with him, and said, “I’ve found a man from the exiles of Judah who can interpret the king’s dream!”

The king asked Daniel (renamed in Babylonian, Belteshazzar), “Are you sure you can do this—tell me the dream I had and interpret it for me?”

Daniel answered the king, “No mere human can solve the king’s mystery, I don’t care who it is—no wise man, enchanter, magician, diviner. But there is a God in heaven who solves mysteries, and he has solved this one. He is letting King Nebuchadnezzar in on what is going to happen in the days ahead. This is the dream you had when you were lying on your bed, the vision that filled your mind:

“While you were stretched out on your bed, O king, thoughts came to you regarding what is coming in the days ahead. The Revealer of Mysteries showed you what will happen. But the interpretation is given through me, not because I’m any smarter than anyone else in the country, but so that you will know what it means, so that you will understand what you dreamed.

“What you saw, O king, was a huge statue standing before you, striking in appearance. And terrifying. The head of the statue was pure gold, the chest and arms were silver, the belly and hips were bronze, the legs were iron, and the feet were an iron-ceramic mixture. While you were looking at this statue, a stone cut out of a mountain by an invisible hand hit the statue, smashing its iron-ceramic feet. Then the whole thing fell to pieces—iron, tile, bronze, silver, and gold, smashed to bits. It was like scraps of old newspapers in a vacant lot in a hot dry summer, blown every which way by the wind, scattered to oblivion. But the stone that hit the statue became a huge mountain, dominating the horizon. This was your dream.

“And now we’ll interpret it for the king. You, O king, are the most powerful king on earth. The God of heaven has given you the works: rule, power, strength, and glory. He has put you in charge of men and women, wild animals and birds, all over the world—you’re the head ruler, you are the head of gold. But your rule will be taken over by another kingdom, inferior to yours, and that one by a third, a bronze kingdom, but still ruling the whole land, and after that by a fourth kingdom, ironlike in strength. Just as iron smashes things to bits, breaking and pulverizing, it will bust up the previous kingdoms.

“But then the feet and toes that ended up as a mixture of ceramic and iron will deteriorate into a mongrel kingdom with some remains of iron in it. Just as the toes of the feet were part ceramic and part iron, it will end up a mixed bag of the breakable and unbreakable. That kingdom won’t bond, won’t hold together any more than iron and clay hold together.

“But throughout the history of these kingdoms, the God of heaven will be building a kingdom that will never be destroyed, nor will this kingdom ever fall under the domination of another. In the end it will crush the other kingdoms and finish them off and come through it all standing strong and eternal. It will be like the stone cut from the mountain by the invisible hand that crushed the iron, the bronze, the ceramic, the silver, and the gold.

“The great God has let the king know what will happen in the years to come. This is an accurate telling of the dream, and the interpretation is also accurate.”

When Daniel finished, King Nebuchadnezzar fell on his face in awe before Daniel. He ordered the offering of sacrifices and burning of incense in Daniel’s honor. He said to Daniel, “Your God is beyond question the God of all gods, the Master of all kings. And he solves all mysteries, I know, because you’ve solved this mystery.”

Then the king promoted Daniel to a high position in the kingdom, lavished him with gifts, and made him governor over the entire province of Babylon and the chief in charge of all the Babylonian wise men. At Daniel’s request the king appointed Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego to administrative posts throughout Babylon, while Daniel governed from the royal headquarters.

The Book of Daniel, Chapter #2 (The Message)

with Today’s reading of the Psalms to accompany this:

[Psalm 11]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

I am already in the soft embrace of the Eternal,

so why do you beckon me to leave, saying,

“Fly like a bird to the mountains.

Look! The wicked approach with bows bent,

sneaking around in the shadows,

setting their arrows against their bowstrings to pierce everyone whose heart is pure.

If the foundations are crumbling,

is there hope for the righteous?”

But the Eternal has not moved; He remains in His holy temple.

He sits squarely on His heavenly throne.

He observes the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve, examining us within and without,

exploring every fiber of our beings.

The Eternal searches the hearts of those who are good,

but He despises all those who can’t get enough of perversion and violence.

If you are evil, He will rain hot lava over your head,

will fill your cup with burning wind and liquid fire to scorch your insides.

The Eternal is right in all His ways;

He cherishes all that is upright.

Those who do what is right in His eyes will see His face.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 11 (The Voice)

[Psalm 50]

God Has Spoken

A poetic song of Asaph, the gatherer

The God of gods, the mighty Lord himself, has spoken!

He shouts out over all the people of the earth

in every brilliant sunrise and every beautiful sunset,

saying, “Listen to me!”

God’s glory-light shines out of the Zion-realm

with the radiance of perfect beauty.

With the rumble of thunder he approaches;

he will not be silent, for he comes with an earsplitting sound!

All around him are furious flames of fire,

and preceding him is the dazzling blaze of his glory.

Here he comes to judge his people!

He summons his court with heaven and earth as his jury, saying,

“Gather all my lovers,

my godly ones whose hearts are one with me—

those who have entered into my holy covenant

by sacrifices upon the altar.”

And the heavens declare his justice:

“God himself will be their judge,

and he will judge them with righteousness!”

Pause in his presence

“Listen to me, O my people! Listen well, for I am your God!

I am bringing you to trial and here are my charges.

I do not rebuke you for your sacrifices,

which you continually bring to my altar.

Do I need your young bull or goats from your fields

as if I were hungry?

Every animal of field and forest belongs to me, the Creator.

I know every movement of the birds in the sky,

and every animal of the field is in my thoughts.

The entire world and everything it contains is mine.

If I were hungry, do you think I would tell you?

For all that I have created, the fullness of the earth, is mine.

Am I fed by your sacrifices? Of course not!

Why don’t you bring me the sacrifices I desire?

Bring me your true and sincere thanks,

and show your gratitude by keeping your promises to me,

the Most High.

Honor me by trusting in me in your day of trouble.

Cry aloud to me, and I will be there to rescue you.

And now I speak to the wicked. Listen to what I have to say to you!

What right do you have to presume to speak for me

and claim my covenant promises as yours?

For you have hated my instruction and disregarded my words,

throwing them away as worthless!

You forget to condemn the thief or adulterer.

You are their friend, running alongside them into darkness.

The sins of your mouth multiply evil.

You have a lifestyle of lies,

devoted to deceit as you speak against others,

even slandering those of your own household!

All this you have done and I kept silent,

so you thought that I was just like you, sanctioning evil.

But now I will bring you to my courtroom

and spell out clearly my charges before you.

This is your last chance, my final warning. Your time is up!

Turn away from all this evil, or the next time you hear from me

will be when I am coming to pass sentence upon you.

I will snatch you away and no one will be there

to help you escape my judgment.

The life that pleases me is a life lived in the gratitude of grace,

always choosing to walk with me in what is right.

This is the sacrifice I desire from you.

If you do this, more of my salvation will unfold for you.”

The Book of Psalms, Poem 50 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 15]

A song of David.

Eternal One, who is invited to stay in Your dwelling?

Who is granted passage to Your holy mountain?

Here is the answer: The one who lives with integrity, does what is right,

and speaks honestly with truth from the heart.

The one who doesn’t speak evil against others

or wrong his neighbor,

or slander his friends.

The one who loathes the loathsome,

honors those who fear the Eternal,

And keeps all promises no matter the cost.

The one who does not lend money with gain in mind

and cannot be bought to harm an innocent name.

If you live this way, you will not be shaken and will live together with the Lord.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 50 (The Voice)

and concluded by the lines (in 31 verses) of chapter 11 from the book of Proverbs for november 11:

To set high standards for someone else, and then not live up to them yourself, is something that God truly hates. But it pleases him when we apply the right standards of measurement.

When you act with presumption, convinced that you’re right, don’t be surprised if you fall flat on your face!But walking in humility helps you to make wise decisions.

Integrity will lead you to success and happiness, but treachery will destroy your dreams.

When Judgment Day comes, all the wealth of the world won’t help you one bit. So you’d better be rich in righteousness, for that’s the only thing that can save you in death.

Those with good character walk on a smooth path, with no detour or deviation. But the wicked keep falling because of their own wickedness.

Integrity will keep a good man from falling. But the unbeliever is trapped, held captive to his sinful desires.

When an evil man dies, all hope is lost, for his misplaced confidence goes in the coffin and gets buried along with him.

Lovers of God are snatched away from trouble, and the wicked show up in their place.

The teachings of hypocrites can destroy you, but revelation knowledge will rescue the righteous.

The blessing that rests on the righteous releases strength and favor to the entire city, but shouts of joy will be heard when the wicked one dies.

The blessing of favor resting upon the righteous influences a city to lift it higher, but wicked leaders tear it apart by their words.

To quarrel with a neighbor is senseless. Bite your tongue; be wise and keep quiet!

You can’t trust gossipers with a secret; they’ll just go blab it all.

Put your confidence instead in a trusted friend, for he will be faithful to keep it in confidence.

People lose their way without wise leadership, but a nation succeeds and stands in victory when it has many good counselors to guide it.

The evil man will do harm when confronted by a righteous man, because he hates those who await good news.

A gracious, generous woman will be honored with a splendid reputation, but the woman who hates the truth lives surrounded with disgrace and by men

who are cutthroats, only greedy for money.

A man of kindness attracts favor, while a cruel man attracts nothing but trouble.

Evil people may get a short-term gain, but to sow seeds of righteousness will bring a true and lasting reward.

A son of righteousness experiences the abundant life, but the one who pursues evil hurries to his own death.

The Lord can’t stand the stubborn heart bent toward evil, but he treasures those whose ways are pure.

Assault your neighbor and you will certainly be punished, but God will rescue the children of the godly.

A beautiful woman who abandons good morals is like a fine gold ring dangling from a pig’s snout.

True lovers of God are filled with longings for what is pleasing and good, but the wicked can only expect doom.

Generosity brings prosperity, but withholding from charity brings poverty.

Those who live to bless others will have blessings heaped upon them, and the one who pours out his life to pour out blessings will be saturated with favor.

People will curse the businessman with no ethics, but the one with a social conscience receives praise from all.

Living your life seeking what is good for others brings untold favor, but those who wish evil for others will find it coming back on them.

Keep trusting in your riches and down you’ll go! But the lovers of God rise up like flowers in the spring.

The fool who brings trouble to his own family will be cut out of the will, and the family servant will do better than he. But a life lived loving God bears lasting fruit, for the one who is truly wise wins souls.

If the righteous are barely saved, what’s in store for all the wicked?

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 11 (The Passion Translation)

my personal reading in the Scriptures for november 11, the 50th day of Autumn and day 315 of the year:

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ethereal-wishes · 6 years ago

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Solstice

Autumn

She sauntered unforgivably through a heavenly meadow of wildflowers. She could smell his intoxicating scent as she passed by each one. In one sense it made her drunk and in another it made her want to rip up each one and shred it from the root. She was treading on forbidden territory and knew it was unwise, especially since he had asked for her company again. It was approximately three days until the first day of autumn, and when the day came, the Summer King would have to give up his reign - until the spring solstice. She was in charge of overseeing the winter and autumn seasonal courts, for she was the winter queen and had been so for over five millennia. He had been trying to get her to free herself of her title for over three thousand years since he became the new summer king, but she’d refused his offer. She had no desire to be apart of his frivolous summer court. She could have easily passed on her title to another one of her sisters, but she decided that wasn't the proper thing to do. The winter had been hers for so long, and she loved it far more than she would ever come to love another, yet there was always a gaping hole in her heart that even the winter could not fill. She continued through the meadow as she began to sing her beautiful enrapturing song that would soon welcome the long cold days of winter.

~X~

"Your majesty, what are you planning?" asked one of his royal advisors as he looked upon his king with curiosity.

"Capturing the Winter Queen’s heart with a sweet summer song." He grinned as he played an enchanting song on his lute which made all of the animals of the forest dance.

"You've been trying to do so for over three thousand years, your majesty! What makes you think your plan will work this time?" cried his advisor.

"Oh, Ardent, have some spirit about you! Even the queen of winter can't refuse the enchantment of summer's song, forever!" he remarked confidently.

"She has and she will!" Ardent sighed as he left his master's chamber.

The Summer King only shrugged as his uncanny advisor left. The autumn wouldn't begin this year until the Winter Queen finally acknowledged his presence. He would make sure of that.

~X~

"What will you wear when you go out to meet the Summer King this afternoon?" asked the winter queen's sister, Glacia.

"What I wear every year." The Winter Queen smirked as she tossed back her ice blonde tresses. She placed a hair clip with blue sapphires and pearls grafted into the surface to hold her hair back. The outfit she always had worn when she went out to greet the Summer King, twice a year, was a long, flowing ice-blue dress. The gown shimmered with thousands of tiny snowflakes which clung to the silk embrodiary. The meeting which was held twice a year signified two events. The first event of the year was when she - the Winter Queen - permitted the Summer King to reign without any interferences with the spring. This was her resting period, and she took full advantage of it. The second event was when he passed on the autumn to her and promised not to intrude upon her work throughout the winter until the spring arrived once more. This routine had gone on without ceasing for thousands of years. It was forbidden for one monarch to refuse the other monarch of their rightful privileges. It had never happened before. Human life would cease to exist without each monarch fulfilling their proper roles. The Winter Queen could've given up her title at any moment and forced it upon one of her sisters. Retirement wasn't anytime soon in the Winter Queen’s future, mainly because she loved toying with the Summer King’s affections towards her year after year. She had always promised him that one day she'd accept his offer and go live with him in the summer court, but she had kept evading him. She always held onto the winter and refused to allow the invigorating warmth of summer melt the ice around her heart.

Flowers withered up and died as she wadded through them - the thrall of winter shrouding her. She always met him in this forest year after year to pass off the seasons. He would be here any moment. She leaned against the trunk of an ancient oak tree, ice forming around its base where she had touched it.

In the distance she heard the enchanting song that he always played on his pipe when he was ready to greet her. The song filled her head with thoughts of lazy afternoons and melting sunsets. He stopped a few feet in front of her. He was wearing his usual buckskin robes. He looked at her with enchanting jade irises, full of summer. He grinned as he wrapped his hand around his pipe and placed it into one of his pockets.

"Nice to see you again, Theros.” She greeted him, blowing frosty air against his rosy cheeks, causing him to rub them agitatedly from her icy breath.

"The pleasure is in itself, Adena,” he said, giving her a boyish grin as his ruddy cheeks illuminated golden sunshine.

"Well you know what to do, Theros,” replied Adena as she held her hand out as an affirmation that the autumn had begun.

He laughed wildly as he threw back his golden mangled hair full of green leaves and things which spoke of summer.

"Will you pass on the autumn to me or shall I freeze you in that jubilant pose?" she remarked icily, becoming quiet heated by his arrogance.

"Shh..." Theros replied as he placed a finger to her lips. Adena froze abruptly, startled by his sudden gesture, standing there momentarily as she listened to the faint lull of birdsongs.

"Close your eyes,” he commanded as he took a step closer to her, and she did surprisingly without hesitation. Suddenly the warmth of summer's kiss penetrated her entire body, all the scents of summer filling her nostrils. She had never felt so lighthearted as the ice around her heart began to ebb away. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer. Every part of her body ignited in flame, as if she were nothing more than an ice sculpture. The caress of his heat engulfed more or her body as the winter rose to meet the summer and wrapped them both in a snow squall.

"Adena..." Theros breathed heavily as they both hit the ground with an unceremonious thud. She wordlessly wrapped her arms limply around his neck as she crushed her lips to his, causing the remaining chill of winter to flee from her as the snow which had formed around them vaporized as they languidly explored each other’s bodies.

Spring

"So, this is really it? You're finally giving up your title as the Winter Queen?" inquired Glacia curiously.

"Yes, it's all yours." smiled Adena as she passed on the title to her sister.

"But, sister, do you really think I'll make a good winter queen?" asked Glacia, unsure of herself.

"Of course you will." Adena beamed as she kissed the new winter queen's brow, causing her to warm from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.

"You already feel like summer." smiled Glacia admirably as she looked upon the new summer queen. Adena glowed as brightly and brilliantly as the sun since he had melted the ice around her heart.

"Well, I must go meet him to pass off the spring and to join him in his courts as the new queen of summer." Adena said, bidding her sister farewell. She walked daintily through the forest as tiny shoots sprung up around her; rabbits trailed at her feet. She stopped by the oak tree and listened for his familiar song. She heard it, but it seemed more lively and fulfilling. He stopped a few inches in front of her and proffered his hand. She smiled brilliantly as she accepted it, and they danced a dance of summer bliss. Winter's icy chill was far from her now as she embraced the warmth of summer, leaving the winter behind.

Summer still comes and goes as always. The only thing difference is it's a little brighter and happier because the Winter Queen fell in love with the Summer King.

#fairies #fantasy #fantasy writing #seasons #flash fiction #personal #fairy tales

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dcbicki · 8 years ago

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Jonsa AU: The Summer and the Winter Garden (alternatively, Beauty and the Beast)

To her fortune, she had not yet been forced into any marriage or sacred act by the beast, but she figured that time was drawing closer. He had scarcely spoken to her since he had let her fall onto the fresh tiles of his grand hallway, muttering and mumbling about her father and his broken promise. He affords her dresses and whatever else she may need to feel at ease, and she rewards his kindness with smiles.

They have shared only few meals together, and she has tried one too many times to earn the right to stare at his scars. His face is mauled, seems to have been savaged by some wild animal. A wolf, she guesses.

There is a deep scar running from his left eye brow down to his cheek, and one lightly circling around his right eye. His lips are bruised, constantly beaten and battered and she does not know how this happens. His teeth appear sharp, like those of lions or tigers. His hands are always covered by his gloves, but they are quite large and remind her of a mammal’s. His legs are thin, all bone and knee, but the hair that grows there is thick and matted.

He is not entirely handsome, but he is not ghastly to look upon either. There is something about him.

She had sought out this black beast, walked the castle time and time again in search of him. But he was nowhere to be found when she wanted his company.

The summer garden’s flowers were still thriving, blossoming into the evening and morn again. But the white sheets of snow falling over the winter garden had begun to encase the whole castle, and little by little the summer garden’s colours began to fade.

It has only been some days since he took her, since he made good on a promise that her father could not keep.

She had been traded for a rose, an exquisite white rose that now withers away in a vase on her bedside cabinet back home.

Her father had stolen it, you see; trespassed on land that was not his own, and robbed it from right beneath this beast’s nose. But it had been her fault all along, she supposes.

She had asked him for three items on his last venture into the town. A dress, which he had bought finely made and fitting. Shoes, which he had found tasteful and practical for his beautiful daughter. And a rose, freshly sprung and watered.

The one small, or at it seems grand, problem was that no roses grew in the winter. And so she had almost foolishly charged him with a rather grueling task. She would take it back, if only she had known what would entail.

By some ungodly misfortune, her father had happened upon this same dark castle sitting lonesomely at the edge of the village.

He had been enchanted by its gardens, somber though they may at first seem. One side of the castle was shrouded in fallen snow and snappy torn leaves. The other side was more colourful, capturing the essence and feeling of a fresh summer’s day.

He had only meant to linger for a moment, just enough time to pluck a flower from its root and feign recognition of such an act. Her father was no thief, but he had thieved now and the black beast had not liked that one bit.

“Give me back my rose.” He had warned her father, stunned him with his sudden presence into a dead silence. His legs were covered by ripped pieces of cloth, his clothes grim and dreary, but the thick hair beneath was plainly visible. “Give me back my rose.”

Her father had paid only little mind to the beast’s face, scarred and flawed.

“Please. I must have this one rose for my daughter. She is the most beautiful daughter I could ever have. She will be saddened if I do not return with it.”

“Let her be sad.” The beastly creature of a man had offered, but then he changed his mind, “Or take my rose and I will take your beautiful daughter as my wife in seven days.”

He hadn’t wanted to plead, so instead he had accepted a proposal he assumed would never take.

Returning home, her father had chosen to not let Sansa know of this arrangement, for truthfully he thought little of it.

Seven days passed, and on the seventh day when her father departed for the town once more, Sansa had been tending to that day’s supper.

The beast of a man had knocked, rapped against the door only twice before letting himself in and tossing the young woman over his shoulder. She was nowhere to be seen when her father returned.

Having grown quite easily accustomed to her new surroundings, Sansa had thought to make the most of her situation.

She had sought out this black beast, walked the castle time and time again in search of him. But he was nowhere to be found, and she could not find a safe way past the gardens for he had caged them in quite thoroughly.

He affords her dresses and whatever else she may need to feel at ease, and she rewards his kindness with smiles.

The hair that graces his head is curly though, all black and soft on the eye.

He is not entirely handsome, but he is not ghastly to look upon either. There is something about him.

He is not charming, but instead brooding and solemn and on the occasion that she can find him, he barely speaks. She does not know who cooks for them, who cleans the castle. It seems they are a lonesome pair.

She has had to gather everything she can about these circumstances she finds herself in from the mirror. He had shown her this mirror as reassurance, you see.

Missing home, Sansa had cried for days and forced an emotion from him. He had shown her a small mirror in return, and through it she had seen her father in their home. He had been weeping, grieving his loss. The red eyes did not hide his illness, though.

“I must return home.” Her father is not well, and she is saddened by this.

This beast she has fallen into a quietly comfortable habituation with, whom she surmises is named with a man’s name beginning in J from a locket she found in a locked draw, grants her permission to return home to visit. But she has to promise to return.

“Seven days. You must come back in seven days.” He calls after her, and his quiet melancholy voice is harsher, desperate even. She promises.

When four days have flown by, her father passes. He caught a cold from the town, and a lack of treatment and aiding had caused him to give into the sickness. She is deeply dismayed by this, and the seventh day passes without her ever noticing, too preoccupied with her grievances.

On the eight day, she comes to realise that she is missing the black beast. She has grown fond of him, in a strange way, and she finds herself wishing that every mirror could show her his reflection.

Her own mirrors are not magic though, and she finds herself saddened at the thought of him. Sensing that he too has fallen ill somehow, she departs for the castle with haste after only a moment’s thought.

He is nowhere to be found though, once anew. And the bright side of the castle that once shined from the sun’s rays is darkened, all coated in snow and crunchy leaves. The castle itself is coated in blackness, once gold furnishings suddenly dull and plain. Everything is black, except for her black beast whom she cannot find.

Wandering into the winter gardens, she allows a fresh dusting of snow to coat her cloak and hair as she searches for him, digging through dirt and unorganised heaps of fallen leaves.

Sensing something she cannot quite put her finger on, she rummages through a large stack of old wooden logs. They are damp and soft from the snow’s frosty bite and beneath them all she finds him. He is cold and unmoving, and he is dead.

Saddened once again, she runs the pads of her fingertips over the scars on his face, loathing their depth whole-heartedly. Leaning down to express her grief, she kisses his frozen left cheek, right at the bottom edge of the thicker scar. She kisses it again, for pity’s sake, and he shifts beneath her body.

Backing away, she falls onto her knees as he awakens, his face slowly transforming into that of a handsome man. The scars of his face turn from deep gashes to thin lines of liquid blood, his lips curl as he attempts to talk and they shade into a healthier pink colour.

She does not apologise for breaking her promise, for returning to him a day late. If she had, perhaps she would not have discovered his true nature. He is no black beast, but a dark prince by the name of Jon.

#gotedit #jon x sansa #jonxsansaff #jonsansasource #alittlestardustcaught #qinaliel #couturegirl20 #riahchan #edit*#jonsaau #ship: jon x sansa #ch: sansa stark #ch: jon snow #jack zipes is a fucking hero #sweet hell this took me way longer than it needed to... or than i'd care to admit

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flatsuke · 8 years ago

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KBTBB Fairy Tale AU

yet another self-indulgent AU…. lmao im so sorry

I decided to put some twists to classic fairy tales!

@maidofstars @tsundere-eevee @bolt8826 @alolan-lillie lol

Eisuke: Beauty and the Beast

With nowhere else to go during a stormy winter night, MC decides to take refuge at the long-abandoned castle in the heart of the forest. However, the rumors speak of an hideous flesh-eating beast that inhabits the castle. They say the creature is shrouded in so much darkness that the light of the sun never reaches the forest. Despite that, MC braves herself and takes a step inside. What she doesn’t expect is meeting a cold pair of eyes, not from a monster, but from a man whose heart has long turned into stone.

“You do know that trespassers won’t be forgiven, don’t you?”

Soryu: The Snow Queen

MC’s childhood friend, Soryu, has been gone for years. Following his disappearance, their village has frozen to a perpetual winter. According to the elders’ prophecy, the only way to bring spring back to the village is to defeat the Snow King. MC, in her desire to save the kingdom, journeys to the Snow King’s palace with a sword in one hand and her determination in the other. When finally arrives, she’s surprised to see a painfully familiar face sitting on the ice-cold throne…

“Don’t come any closer. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Baba: Rapunzel

Tired of being locked up in a tower by a witch all her life, MC steels herself and decides to climb down after making sure the witch has left. From afar, she can see that the tower is crackling with evil energy—a sign that the witch has returned and is definitely angry. Not knowing where to go, she runs aimlessly until she bumps into Baba, a wanted thief who is also on the run. She begs him to help her, and, torn between not wanting to reject the wishes of a pretty lady and getting a stranger caught up in his mess, he reluctantly agrees. Both of them go on the wildest escape of all time.

“Well, it looks like we’ll be stuck together for a while, pretty lady.”

Ota: Little Red Riding Hood

Ota, in search of inspiration for his next magnum opus, decides to venture in the forest. Despite everyone’s warnings about a vicious wolf that lived there, he doesn’t listen to any of them and trudges in fearlessly. He’s surprised to find not a wolf, but a girl with an almost nymph-like appearance. He’s so mesmerized by her beauty that he pulls out his sketchpad to hopefully capture her likeness on paper. However, when he looks back to where she was standing, she seemingly vanishes out of thin air, mysteriously leaving paw prints in her wake. In pursuit of his muse, he visits the forest every day to find her, not knowing that a pair of canine eyes stalk his every move…

“If I ever see her again, I’d like to tell her how beautiful she is.”

Mamoru: Sleeping Beauty

For years, no one has been able to to wake the sleeping prince. The royal advisors, the wizards, and the scholars have tried everything in their power to rouse him from his slumber, but to no avail. The curse put on him was strong enough to put him in a death-like sleep. In their desperation, the royal family put up an announcement saying that whoever could wake the prince would receive anything they wished for. MC decides to try and take on the challenge, bringing only a flute with her. The royal court laughs at her performance, but when the prince’s eyes slowly flutter open, the whole room goes silent.

“The song you played…it wasn’t half-bad at all.”

Shuichi: The Frog Prince

After being labelled as the most incompetent princess among the royal court, MC retreats to her secret haven—a secluded spring just south of the castle. She cries to herself for a while, but she suddenly hears a voice coming from the spring. A green frog pops his head out of the water and proposes a deal to her—he’ll teach her to become the most formidable princess in the kingdom if she helps him break a curse that was forced upon him. Out of desperation, she accepts the frog’s offer. Soon enough, she finds out that there’s more to the little green frog than she thinks.

“If you can find a way to turn me back into a human, I will make you the most awe-inspiring princess there is.”

Luke: The Little Mermaid

Luke has wandered the oceans for as long as he can remember. Because of his boredom and dissatisfaction with his stagnant life, he finds excitement in collecting human artifacts. However, his fascination with humans has labeled him the odd one out among merpeople. One day, while swimming near the shore, he’s entranced by the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid his eyes on —a human woman with the most exquisite bone structure. Out of impulse, he makes a deal with the sea witch. He’ll give up his tail and his voice just to meet this person—and hopefully, become friends with her and leave his life of loneliness.

“If that’s all I have to pay, then so be it. I don’t think I was ever meant to be a mermaid in the first place.”

Hikaru: Cinderella

After living a life of poverty for so long, a fairy godmother frees him from his suffering—for a price. Hikaru must sneak into the ball at the castle and kill the princess of the Tres Spades Kingdom at exactly midnight. At first, he sees no problem with it. He’s always hated how royalty lived in excess luxury and lavishness, while those like him had to steal bread to live. When his “fairy godmother” casts a spell on him to look like a prince, he sneaks in the palace with the intent to kill. However, after an unexpectedly enchanted dance with the princess, he starts to hesitate—how could he possibly kill someone this pure? As the clock nears midnight, he finds himself unable to control the urge to reach for his knife…

“Listen, Princess. When the clock strikes midnight, I want you to run as far away from me as you can, got it?”

Bonus - MC: Alice in Wonderland

Did you mean: the plot of KBTBB?

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lotornomiko · 7 years ago

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OSVP Chapter Six The Overhauled Edition

There was no peace in her heart, no peace and no quiet for her soul, Lenneth falling into Odin’s enchanted slumber, and being plagued by the uncertain. By the doubts and the fear, Lenneth’s mind overtaken with the thoughts that focused near unwavering on that of her younger sister, Silmeria.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. There wasn’t supposed to be anything felt while under the Valkyrie’s forced slumber. By all rights, Lenneth should have been at ease, neither dreams, nightmares, nor memories, able to disturb her. Her mind should have been blessedly empty, Odin’s enchantment working it’s magic to strip Lenneth of her defiance, her strength, and her free will. In many a way she should have been reborn anew, a total clean slate for the love that would be forced upon Lenneth at her awakening.

None of that had happened, not even the small mercy that should have freed the Valkyrie maiden from her thoughts. The recollection that she still had, Lenneth not so much dreaming as reliving the events that had led up to this punishment a thousand times over. She would see the faces of the slaughtered, that of the Valkyries and the chosen few einherjar who had been entrusted to her command. She’d remember Gwendolyn and Jacqueline’s screams, and the sound of flesh tearing, the greedy hungry gulps of many a throat working, and the smacking of lips against too wet skin.

Most of all, it was the thought of Silmeria, thoughts of the woman’s fate that had been a result of Lenneth’s spectacular failure. Lenneth was haunted by the idea of that, by the knowledge of just what her mistakes had led Silmeria into becoming. She was tormented, Lenneth knowing that she should have been faster and stronger, SMARTER somehow. Her sister had paid the price for Lenneth’s short comings in that moment, Silmeria taken.

Sometimes the Valkyrie saw Silmeria as she had once been. The strong and the confidant Goddess, the able bodied and capable warrior. Dressed in full Valkyrie regalia, Silmeria was often seated at the head of an army. Such a striking image of what had once been, Lenneth still couldn’t keep the memories from then turning dark, from showing her sister out on the battle field. This vision of Silmeria was not as Lenneth had known her, the Valkyrie’s indigo armor gone. Dressed in dark shrouds of crimson, Silmeria’s deathly pale skin had only stood out starkerr against the blood colored rags. And then it would hit her, Lenneth realizing that the shredded gown had once been colored a snow white, the blood of Silmeria’s many victims having soaked into and changed the very nature of the fabric.

Lenneth’s mind had tried to deny this sight, tried to make up some feeble excuse as to what she was seeing. No blade and no bow besides her, Silmeria herself had become a grim parody of the undead, her teeth and those ungodly claws the weapon of choice that had attacked and killed so many. Her very lips stained a vivid red from the innocents she had slaughtered and fed upon, Silmeria’s eyes had flashed a crimson accusation at her sister.

Holy sword then appearing in her hand, Lenneth had STILL hesitated to strike down her sister. She had looked at the soulless monster that Silmeria had become, the undead nightmare that would be the death of countless others, and she could not do it. Lenneth couldn’t bring herself to put an end to the creature who had once been her sister. That completed Lenneth’s failure, Silmeria and the nine realms’ many inhabitants doomed to die at the former Valkyrie’s hands.

It was her fears manifested to extremes, Lenneth frightened by both the reality and the what ifs that continued to plague her. Maybe it would always torment her. Maybe Lenneth would always be haunted not just by her failures, but by the fact she hadn’t been able to personally put Silmeria to the sword. She hadn’t even been given the chance, Odin stripping the right to that duty from her. Just as he had stripped everything else from Lenneth, the one time Valkyrie now made human and cursed to know the love of the man who would one day awaken her.

Something very much like tears had then pricked at her eyes, Lenneth feeling overwhelmed by the situation. By the helplessness of her fate, and by the sight of Silmeria at her absolute worst. Lenneth’s soul actually cried out in pain, the Valkyrie maiden herself taking a step towards her sister. “I am sorry!” Lenneth would say, openly weeping. Was she desperate for an absolution? For a forgiveness that Lenneth would never dare give to herself? “I couldn’t save you.” Lenneth would finally acknowledge, the sword falling free of fingers that had now gone limp.

A wail of agony like Lenenth had never thought to ever hear had then escaped her, the woman falling to her knees. Her eternal torment, that agony, had increased by droves, Lenneth now knowing the ultimate in despair at Silmeria’s agreeing nod. Such was the effect on her mind, that Lenneth would often forget this was nothing more than a dream. A nightmare that was grounded in the basis of truth. Gripped by this hellish reality, Lenneth was caught in an endless loop, of agony and of regret, of her failure and of her heartache.

Her mind tortured her with the countless what ifs, Lenneth was frozen and helpless, unable to do much of anything save scream. She’d watch as Silmeria attacked innocents, as the humans fell victim to her claws and to her teeth. Other times the nightmare would take them back to the Plains of Idavoll, where Brahms was out and about, fighting alongside his new bride. Together the pair would attack Silmeria’s one time people, ripping apart Valkyrie and einherjar alike. Silmeria would feed on the very Asgardians who had once been her allies, Such things would be repeated, Lenneth bearing witness to an unending slaughter that spread throughout the nine realms. Until finally with an unholy fury burning in those crimson eyes, Silmeria had then turned on her own sister.

Lenneth had screamed out in pain then, the agitated state of her mind, the agony of Silmeria’s imagined future, driving the Valkyrie to cry out for real. Lenneth was trapped in a realm of unending nightmares and torment, completely unable to fight free. Not on her own. Not without the kiss of her soon to be husband. That man should have spurred even more nightmares to life, Lenneth not wanting to lose herself to him. To the kiss that would strip away her very identity, to the love that would remake her into ANY man’s ideal wife.

No idea of the who or of what kind of man Odin would deem suitable for his failure of a Valkyrie, Lenneth had a very real reason to be afraid for herself. That man could be cruel, and he could be abusive, ready to hurt her in so many ways. He could demean and debase her, Odin’s love enchantment such that Lenneth would gladly submit and surrender to just about anything. Her mind wouldn’t even know enough to protest, to recognize the right and the wrong of it.

Despite all this, Lenneth could only stay caught in the grip of fear for her sister. For Silmeria’s soul. Those few conscious times when Lenneth realized that she was dreaming, would have the Valkyrie maiden praying for her sister Hrist’s success. For the dark haired Valkyrie to not only kill Silmeria, but to do it quickly enough to save the young woman’s very soul.

Time against them all, Lenneth’s sleep was not anywhere peaceful to those that watched over her. Locked in that nightmare, screaming inside of her own mind, sometimes Lenneth would cry out for real. Other times silent tears would fall from beneath her closed eyes, her cheek’s skin slick and flushed with the Valkyire’s unnerving upset.

The enchanted sleep was meant to be peaceful. It was anything but for Lenneth, the woman exhausted by her dreams. With the agony of a countless millennia lived out in her nightmares, Lenneth had not a single bit of idea as to what was actually going on around her. She was simply unaware of what if anything was happening in the world that existed outside of her tortured mind. Asleep for it, Lenneth had no way of knowing that time itself was passing, many days upon days marking her body’s travel. That untold amount was spread out over vast distances, the journey to Lenenth’s new home a long one.

Just as she had no awareness of time and distance, the physical sensations of the journey were lost to her as well. Lenneth had felt not a thing, nothing from the many bumps of an unpaved road jarring against the carriage’s wheels, or to the hands that touched upon her in concern. She felt not the washcloth that touched upon her skin, or how her armor had been stolen away. She felt not even the difference in fabrics, the clothing upon her, the cushions beneath her. Frozen in that enchanted slumber, Lenneth did not even feel the physical needs of her body, the magic such that the woman was in a state of total hibernation.

There had been no way to fight this, no way to keep this unnatural slumber from taking her over. Lenneth had been damned to it the moment that Odin’s potion had touched on her tongue, the sleep overtaking her just as a scream had sounded. The voice had been that of her sister, Hrist, the woman angry, maybe even frightened. Lenneth would never know just who that shout had truly been for, the Valkyrie falling, already asleep long before her body hit upon the floor.

Once in the eternity that was her suffering, Lenneth would have a real moment. A thought where she didn’t think about her failures, that she didn’t worry for her sister, Silmeria. Those brief bits of time never lasted long enough, Lenneth left to wonder if she would ever awaken from her enchantment. Paranoia sometimes crept in with such a thought, Lenneth fearing that THIS was the true punishment. The torture of not knowing, of never learning of just how Silmereia’s fate had played out. Maybe this sleep would be upon her for forever, forcing Lenneth to endlessly relive all of her failures and her fears.

Awake or asleep, which would be better? Which would be worst? Was the agony of her mind truly fitting punishment enough? More so than humiliation of being tied in love to some random stranger? To be his property, made devoted and loyal, her affection and her obedience stolen rather than earned? Would she have found ANY man worthy of her heart? Neither fate was palpable, not as a punishment and not as a duty.

Wishing that she had fought both Brahms AND Odin harder, the helpless feeling Valkyrie almost wished she HAD died. Better Odin’s potion be poison than this hell, this sleep AND the reality that it’s magic would make her a slave of. This time when Lenneth cried, it was tears for herself, the liquid born of her frustration over the hopelessness of those fates.

The sadness on her face, a sob caught in her throat, Lenneth did not even register when a strong pair of arms lifted her into their embrace. The enchanted sleep had left her body absolutely pliant, Lenneth easily cradled against a chest. She was asleep for even this, someone carrying the woman into her new home. It wouldn’t be that long after, that her enchantment was then broken, Lenneth finally starting to stir. It wasn’t an immediate awakening, no sharp and no sudden a gasp to herald it. Even the dark horrors of her mind tried to still linger, that unholy vision of Silmeria the last and the strongest to fall to the dawning awareness of her surroundings.

As Silmeria faded away, the sounds and the smells, and even the physical sensations all began to filter in. The sounds were among the first wave of outside stimulation, a quiet kind of murmur that was nothing like what the Valkyrie had been used to hearing. It was different from the noise that had always inhabited around the castle, Valhalla, the battlefield and it’s distant roar, that of the angry and the dying screams and the sounds of metal clanging, having permeated near permanent across the vast expanse that was the Plains of Idavoll. It was war that she was used to, the fighting, the sights of it, the smells, and especially the sounds. Anything else was foreign and unwelcome, Lenneth confused by this odd kind of silence. So quiet was this place that Lenneth could actually hear the sound of a songbird’s chirping.

She processed the information that came with the sound, Lenneth understanding it had to be daylight for this species of bird to be up and about. However strangeness abounded with that bird’s presence, Lenneth wondering why she did not hear any other birds chirping. It couldn’t be the fault of the voices, those soft and occasional murmurs of people that passed by so near to her. Most of their voices were too soft and too muffled, Lenneth unable to make out clearly any of the words. Hushed though they were, there was no disguising the sound of a woman’s giggle.

Lenneth couldn’t help herself, she frowned, so surprised and taken aback by that giggle. Laughter of any kind was such a strange, foreign sound to Lenneth, the unending war that had plagued the heavens leaving little to smile about. To the Gods and the Goddesses, to the einherjar, and especially to the Valkyries. Always so serious and intent on their duties, Lenneth could not remember a time when she and her sisters had had a real reason to laugh. Especially not so happily, with such joy infusing the voice and the heart.

Lenneth might have tried to lose herself to a memory of just exactly when she had heard either one of her sisters’ last laugh, if not for the feel of something—someone TOUCHING her. In an overly familiar manner that was absolutely foreign to the Valkyrie, with hands that were not like any she had ever felt. Softer somehow, and lacking the callouses that came with the handling of a weapon, these hands spoke of the life of privilege that this person had led. It was more than that. This person, whoever HE was, had never known anything of hardship or that of traditional work. Luxury was the life that these hands were used to, everything from their home’s surrounding, to whatever it was that they actually did.

With a frown of disapproval, Lenneth tried to stir awake enough to open her eyes. They were still too, too heavy, and the rest of her wasn’t faring much better. Her limbs didn’t want to move, a weight upon them that helped to keep her down. The soft mattress at her back, the plump pillow beneath her head, both worked to seduce her back into sleep. It was the hands that kept her grounded, that kept Lenneth from slipping back into the enchanted slumber. It was HIS fingers that shockingly gripped firm hold of the bare part of one of her arms.

She wasn’t that used to being touched, especially by a man. To feel him so near to her, his hand on her exposed skin? It wasn’t just shocking, it was alarming. Her apprehension made her stir, Lenneth struggling the rest of the way awake. Even as her eyelids quivered, even as she fought to draw in a breath, Lenneth became aware of more and more things in regard to the man. Such as the fact that it was HIS warmth on her, a firm, insistent pressure placed against her lips. That firm feel had her gasping, Lenneth unprepared for her first kiss. Or for the sensations that followed, the tongue that not only licked over her lips but past them, the man taking from Lenneth a deeply thorough taste.

His lips remained a constant on hers, his eager mouth an unyielding, physical manifestation of his desires. She felt every tremor, tasted the very excitement from him. Smelt it, that faint bit of spice, that foreign undercurrent of a man. Clean smelling, but holding a whisper of something, something beyond his choice of soap. In many ways it reminded her of the God’s use of ether, but Lenneth couldn’t place WHY.

Confused by it, by him, Lenneth’s alarm only ratcheted skywards, finding there was a hand creeping in between her and the mattress. Fingers touched at the small of her back, Lenneth reacting. Arching up to get away from them, her body only ended up pressed against his. She might have almost panicked then, Lenneth realizing that the man was somehow on top of her. Such a delicate position was far too intimate to be allowed, Lenneth finding the strength at last to lift up her arms.

With a push of her hands, with a snapping open of her eyes, Lenneth then jolted completely awake, finding a fitful sound was escaping from her throat. New feelings and sensations assaulted her, the provocative glide of her body against his, the soft whisper of fabric rustling, some light gauzy material brushing a reaction into the very tips of her breasts. There was expensive silk against the palm of her hand, a kingdom’s wealth upon his shoulders. That only helped confirm Lenneth’s earlier assessment that this man was a being well acquainted with luxury.

As she pushed at his shoulders, Lenneth tried to reel back against the bed. He wasn’t fully on top of her, the man more twisted and bent over from a sitting position besides her. It left her with only his torso to contend with, his torso and those ever so ardent lips, the soft smack of them against hers a downright suffocating pressure. Lenneth felt light headed from the kisses, her entire world spinning around dizzily. If she hadn’t already been laying down, her knees would have buckled for sure, Lenneth desperately inhaling. With it came his longing sigh, the fingers on her back trying to stroke reassurance against her skin. Rigid in response, Lenneth voiced her displeasure, a deep grumbling sound that might have almost pass for a snarl. It was that sound that the man reacted to, the kiss slowly breaking, as he let her shove at him one last time. Lenneth found herself not only breathing heavily, but blinking rapidly in response. In that precise moment, red faced with anger, and thinking her hands the only thing that might keep him back, Lenneth looked up into his eyes. That deep amethyst color, so dark with his arousal, seemed to pierce Lenneth from deep within. Her lips parted on an unvoiced gasp, the enchantment trying to take hold of her heart. An entire rush of overwhelming feelings went through her then, their leash tightening around her as Odin’s spell tried to force Lenneth to love this man.

She attempted to fight it, Lenneth refusing to melt for him, for ANY man, so completely. The beat beat beat of her heart thundered in her ears, an unfamiliar, unwanted, unneeded ache birthing inside her. Warmth filled her cheeks, and her eyelids fluttered, Lenneth’s hands no longer trying to push the man away. She was simply there, touching him, but the man didn’t press the advantage. Those soft feelings now inside her, Lenneth had to fight to harden herself against them. Against him, the woman withdrawing her hands from his shoulders, so that Lenneth could instead dig her own nails into her palm.

A sharp pain spiked within her at that, Lenneth having pressed hard enough to break flesh. She didn’t care, the pain such that it helped to clear her mind of the troubling feelings that were being forced upon her. To hold back the worst of her love, Lenneth feeling it’s ache in her breast, the enchantment still keeping a tight hold on her. She pushed it back, but not enough, Lenneth aware of the man, of the uncharacteristic attention that she was paying to the most striking of his features.

His eyes, that bright blaze of color, that vivid jewel like shade, the amethyst, were a stark expression of sexual intensity. She shivered under that focus, Lenneth caught by the beauty of his gaze, and the heated emotion within it. Nothing could detract from that beauty, from that or the look that he was giving her. A passionate reverence, a look of such immense longing, that Lenneth could almost think that this man was the one affected by the enchantment.

She had no experience with kisses, and even less so with passion. Lenneth simply wasn’t used to being looked at as a sexual being, as a person to be desired. It made her face grow hotter yet, Lenneth trying to look away, to look down. His hand on her cheek stopped her, Lenneth’s eyes darting upwards. This time when she looked into his eyes, Lenneth noticed that her face was reflected in that jewel like gaze. It might as well have been that of a stranger, the blush on her cheeks, and the startled look of her eyes not anything that belonged on the face of a proud warrior maiden.

The enchantment at fault for the change in her demeanor, Lenneth found a dozen compulsions birthing to life inside her. Her fingers itched with the desire to touch him, to caress over his pale skin. Her lips tingled with the memory of his kiss, the compulsion urging her to press her mouth to his for yet another. She positively yearned to feel his body’s weight on her, to feel the press of his flesh against hers. Lenneth even wanted to stroke fingers through his hair, to add further to the rakish mess it was already styled in.

Other desires were upon her, unspeakable passions bringing to life the parts of her that were the most female in nature. THAT unsettled her the most, Lenneth fighting against that needy ache, her thighs pressing firmly together to stem the flow of a tide within her. Again her nails dug into her flesh, Lenneth fighting against the compulsions, against every last one of them. She almost looked away from him then, but the part of her that still remembered being a Valkyrie first and foremost was suspicious.

It was the Valkyrie in her that insisted that this man was her enemy. That this man was her punishment. But more than that, Lenneth instincts screamed at her to remain wary, to not leave an opening for him to get into her heart, or into her bed. That steel determination flashed in her eyes, Lenneth staring at her opponent with an icy cold glare. She still felt the enchantment, still felt it’s pull like a whisper in her ear, urging Lenneth to pull this man down on top of her. She actually trembled with her need, with the desire to kiss him, with a violent want to do more than just kiss. Lenneth barely managed to stop herself from opening her arms in invite, the Valkyrie not wanting to fall in love with this man.

As she fought the compulsion, she tried to focus on other things. Tried to notice something beyond the opponent in front of her. He was all that she could see, all that consumed her, Lenneth instead noticing other details about him. Like the fact his hair was colored so dark a brown as to resemble the sweet chocolate that Lenneth had sometimes favored on occasion. Or how his gold pane glasses complimented similar flecks of that color in the center of his eyes.

Those eyes did a slow blinking, the man betraying his shock at the venomous look that Lenneth was trying to keep giving him. It was clear that he hadn’t expected any sort of defiance, and in truth, Lenneth wasn’t sure how she was managing what little she had left. She could feel it wavering in her heart, the ache there going from soft to hard and then back again. It affected her, played havoc with Lenneth’s mind, body and her emotions, the woman again trying to push the man away from her.

A tilt of his head in response, the man still bent over her with that intent look on his face. He wasn’t trying to kiss her, wasn’t trying to do anything more than study her face in turn. The look in his eyes had brightened to a curious kind of wonder, his lips crooking in a sort of half smile. She tried to maintain her glare, but that half smile was her undoing, Lenneth unable to keep from noticing how soft and sensually shaped his mouth now appeared to be.

The feel of his kiss branded onto her, Lenenth’s mouth trembled with it’s own need, the woman licking nervously at her swollen lips. The man took that as an invite, pressing into her staying hand. Lenneth first gasped in protest, and then instinct took over, the Valkyrie shoving hard. With that near violent push, Lenneth managed to topple him off and away from her. She slid on the bed in the process, hearing fabrics rustle and feeling the glide of them against her skin. Lenneth then practically threw herself off of the bed, pleased that her legs were stable enough to support her steps away from the man.

Legs strong and sure, it was the skirt that nearly brought her down. The very heavy skirt that fell down nearly past her ankles, Lenneth actually tripping over it’s length. This was no Valkyries' uniform, no lightweight skirt made for battle. This was some velvet and silk contraption, all frills and lace that molded tightly to her waist. She felt confined in it, noting the skirts even trailed out behind her, ever ready to snag on any and all inconvenient outcroppings.

As annoyed as she was with the dress, Lenneth was still intent on the man. The room itself remained a mystery, Lenneth managing to get only the briefest of impressions. That of open windows and a closed door, that of a cage that held the songbird that she must have had heard singing earlier. The little creature continued with an excited chirping of it’s voice, flapping it’s small wings in the cramp confines of it’s cage. But nothing that the bird tried, could set it free, the sweet tiny creature remaining as trapped as Lenneth herself now felt.

That comparison made was almost bitter, Lenneth fighting Odin’s enchantment, and the effect that this man was having on her as a result. He had stood up off the bed seconds after her push. Lenneth was tensed for a fight, not sure what else to expect from him. Would he hurt her, would he try to force her any more than he had already done?

Right now he seemed content to do nothing, instead turning to just study her. There was no mistaking the surprised look in his eyes, the man cocking his head to the side in response to the defensive posture of his bride to be. A long silence followed that look, the only sound in the room that of the bird’s excited flapping and it’s high pitched squeaks. It reacted as though it knew of the tension in the room, as though it was mirroring the unease that was in Lenneth’s heart.

Such was the upset beating of her conflicted heart that Lenneth at first didn’t understand the words of the man’s voice speaking to her. But there was no missing that sound, that rich throaty purr of a voice that made Lenneth’s insides quiver and cramp with need. This voice wasn’t just commanding, it was sexy, holding a distinct accent to it. She couldn’t place it, couldn’t get her mind to work past the compulsion enough to think of just where he might have come from. But Lenneth wanted to hear it again, wanted to listen to the man speak in that velvety voice all day and night long.

It didn’t matter what he had to say, just so long as he kept on talking, the love compulsion would be satisfied. That soothing, charismatic tone didn’t lose one ounce of it’s charm, not even when the man’s comment made Lenneth’s blood run cold.

“Lord Odin boasted that there was no coming back from his enchantments. No fighting it’s hold." Was that disappointment that he was voicing, or was the man merely marveling at her strengths? Lenneth wasn’t entirely sure, the only certain thing that she did know was that even with that possible disappointment, he still sounded sinful, that voice trying to lull her into a false sense of security. But no voice could sound THAT nice, the compulsion surely at work here. It’s enchantment wasn’t just trying to make her fall in love with this man, it was trying to drive her to distraction, making everything about him seem wonderful and worth admiring.

“Lenneth?” Her name was the sweetest of sighs on his lips, the man looking concerned. He’d repeat her name, that questioning look alight in his eyes, but he also made no real move towards her. Instead he waited patiently for her answer.

The chains of love trying to tighten around her, Lenneth feared that too big a distraction would settle the love spell all the more firmly on her. She shook her head to fight it’s effect, to shake free of her more affectionate thoughts. Instead of being flattered that he already knew her name, Lenneth chose to be angry, letting the displeasure of it sound off in her voice.

“You know my name.’ She said. “But I know NOT of you.”

Another steady blink of his eyes, that amethyst gaze never wavering from her. Not even when the man began a slow, respectful bow, the man begging for her forgiveness. “Ah forgive me.” He said, and Lenneth fought her blush, the compulsion leaving her far too pleased by this simple show of his regard. "My name is Lezard Valeth. I am Lord of this castle."

His name a whispering echo in her mind, Lenneth swore the enchantment only grew stronger. She could barely think to ask questions, let alone speak most of them out loud. Who was he, and why had Odin deemed him a suitable punishment? But those words wouldn’t form, Lenneth instead stating, “It was you that broke my sleep.”

The man, this Lezard, nodded, looking quite pleased with himself. Lenneth found herself frowning, the words all wooden on her tongue. “That means you are to be my husband.” The statement came out flatly, and if Lezard took offense to her tone he did not show it, instead smiling brightly at her.

"That I am." Came his agreement. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady." He was already stepping towards her, hand reaching to take hold of hers. She didn't let Lezard complete the action, Lenneth sidestepping him with a purposeful avoidance.

“I cannot lay claim to feeling that same pleasure.” The words cold and haughty, the truth didn’t entirely run through them. It was Odin’s enchantment at work again, the spell trying to seduce Lenenth into liking everything about Lezard, and that included the situation that she now found herself in. It still couldn’t quell the resentment that lived on inside her, but that anger was tempered somewhat by Lezard himself. Gratitude birthed inside her, Lenneth relieved to note that this man wasn’t trying to pursue or persist in touching her.

With his eyes meeting hers, the man used the same hand that had reached out towards Lenneth, to instead run fingers against his own scalp. It upset the balance of his bangs, brown hair falling messily in place over an eye. Again it was her fingers that itched, Lenneth fighting the impulse to approach him and set to rights his hair. Her fingers instead curled against her palm, Lenneth taking comfort in the pain that sparked at her nails’s pressing touch.

“I must admit, this situation is not exactly like I had imagined.” Her voice strangled inside her, a rude kind of scoffing sound escaping Lenneth at Lezard’s words.

“I’ll just bet it isn’t.” The enchantment couldn’t keep the words from sounding sharp, Lenneth almost birthing to life bitterness as she thought and remembered just how she had been awakened. The touch that had been upon her, the liberties that this Lezard had taken. The heat of that memory, brought color to vivid life on her skin, Lenneth upset and unable to hide it. It was the enchantment at work again, the spell such that if it couldn’t make her love him, it would instead settle for exposing Lenneth’s every secret to him.

If Lezard was offended by her tone, by the upset in her eyes, he did not show it. His fingers stopped their almost skittish play against his scalp, the man letting out a sigh. “I was well aware that this type of situation is not one most Valkyries can enjoy.”

“Then you understand, right?” The enchantment tried to stop her, tried to lessen the impact of the words that Lenneth then delivered. “I do not love you.” She said. “Nor do I WANT to.”

There was a quick blinking of his eyes, but other than that betrayal of expression, Lezard showed no other reaction. Again she wondered if he was disappointed, the enchantment looping chains about her heart, almost making Lenneth want to reach out to him. The urge to comfort versus the necessity of being cruel waged battle inside her, Lenneth making fists at her side, as she leveled him with another stare.

“I also have NO desire to be HERE.” It wasn’t outright cruel, but neither was Lenneth in any way prepared to feign at enthusiasm over the situation her failure had put her in. Her voice didn’t waver, Lenneth pleased at the strong, determined sound of it that was mismatched against the conflict going on inside her.

“It took a King’s decree to bring you here.” His looked had turned serious, the man still staring at her. “”I am under no delusions when it comes to your wants and desires. Of that you can be assured of.”

She wasn’t happy with that, Lenneth not liking nor needing the reminder of the fate Odin had decided for her. The punishment, Lenneth’s failure such that she had not been given a single courtesy or choice. It wasn’t just that she had been given away, that the woman had been stripped of her godhood, that Lenneth had been denied the chance to try and set right her sister, Silmeria’s fate. It was ALL of it, and it was him, Lenneth wondering just how much Lezard knew of the situation. Did he know of why she had been chosen, or why she had been brought here? Did Lezard have any idea of why HE had been chosen in turn, why Odin had deemed him a fitting punishment for Lenneth’s failure? Such questions only brought with them a sharp pang to her heart, Odin’s love enchantment working to poison her line of thought, to force on her a love that would strip away any and all other concerns. Nothing would remain of Lenneth then, nothing but a slavish devotion to this Lezard.

The pain of her nails tearing at her skin had Lenneth making a sound before she could stop herself. The Valkyrie’s lips then thinned into a flat line, the woman hardly happy with this betraying sign of the inner struggle that waged on inside her. Without even realizing it, she then breathed better, Lenneth free of some of the worst of her suffocating emotions, when the man, when Lezard, glanced away from her face.

“You’re hurting yourself.” His eyes were trained on one of her hands, Lenenth realizing that she had done enough damage for thin trickles of blood to have seeped out past her clenched fingers. Lenneth opened her mouth, prepared to tell this Lezard that she was fine, when he LOOKED at her once more. That amethyst gaze stole all protests from her, Lenneth almost numb inside, as the man approach her, the lacy white cravat at his throat being unraveled, and pressed against her injured palm.

It was such a soft gentle touch, a reverence that left Lenenth shaken, the woman actually trembling in place at Lezard’s hands. She was held frozen by the look in his eyes, by the feel of that exquisite cloth of the cravat being wound about her hand. Lenneth wouldn’t be entirely free of the spell, until Lezard glanced down to knot the cravat into it’s place, and then all of her upset flooded forward, her anger over the helplessness of her situation wanting an outlet of it’s own.

“I KNOW what my King has commanded of me.” She told Lezard, quickly biting out the words before he could look up at her with that beautifully colored gaze. “I will not do him OR you an insult, by refusing to do my sworn duty. But neither will I take any pleasure from it.”

Combatant as she was, there was still a melting of the iciest recesses of her heart, Lenneth taken back by the sight of Lezard’s smile. What began as a slight quirking of his lips bloomed outright into a confidant expression, the man hardly bothered by Lenneth’s bluster and bravado.

“Well you certainly do look upon your duty with resignation.” A curt nod was all that she could manage, the only answer she could give expression to in the moment. “But I think that you will be surprised at just WHAT you can enjoy from a union with me.”

That seducing tone, that self satisfied curving of that sensual mouth, and the look of dark promise in Lezard’s eyes, all had Lenneth reacting. She FELT the blush on her cheeks, even as her eyebrows raised with her expressed disbelief, Lenenth ill at ease with Lezard’s smug overconfidence. “Oh? Are you THAT sure of yourself?”

“Quite.”

A harsh sound escaped her, a hoarse bit of laughter that wasn’t as full of contempt as Lenneth would have liked. “You are both arrogant and overconfident.”

“Is it arrogant to to think that I could make you happy?” Lezard wanted to know. “Is it overconfidence or just my deepest desire and hope that you could learn to like it here? Is it selfish to want my bride to be able to thrive in her new life?”

She wanted to scream at him then. Lenneth wanted to rail against Lezard and her fate, against the unfair injustice that had been done to her and her sisters. Most of all, Lenneth wanted to cry out in protest, hating that Lezard had expressed a desire that he hoped would one day find her HAPPY.

“You know NOTHING of me.” Lenneth finally settled on hissing. “Not of who I am, not of who I was. You know nothing of my life, of my wants, of my needs. It is absolutely preposterous for you to even think to try. You can’t make a woman like me happy, a woman you just met, a woman you do not love and who does not love you!”

Her heart fluttered in protest at all that she was saying, and at the sight of his smile fading, the light in his amethyst eyes somehow now dimmed. Lenneth braced herself for a complete and total change in his demeanor, half expecting Lezard to strike her for her impudence.

“Are you quite finished?” He then asked her, and no real emotion had leaked into his voice with that inquiry. She wondered how that could be, how Lezard could possibly rein so tight a control over his anger and disdain, his cold disappointments.

“For now.” Lenneth answered with a stiff nod.

“Then allow me to offer up a countering view.” He had let go of her hand during the worst of her anger, but he hadn’t once cowered before it. His eyes took took on a determined sheen, Lezard staring at her as he spoke the following. “It’s true that we have just met, that you do not love me. Neither one of us knows much about the other, not our likes, wants and desires. But Lenneth? We can LEARN.” There it was, that off putting smile, that sensual expression that held the promise of wicked intentions. Lezard’s determined look did not waver, the man stepping forward to close any distance Lenneth might have tried to put between them. She couldn’t stand her ground, but neither could Lenneth yield to him, the woman watching with suspicion as Lezard extended out his arm and his hand to her.

“We can take as much time as you need.” He added. “We needn’t rush this….”

She didn’t take his hand, but neither did Lenneth find the strength and disdain to slap his arm away. Instead Lenneth looked into his eyes, into the hope that she saw blooming dark in the amethyst color. The astonishment eased away some of her tension, Lenneth searching his expression of any sign of deceit.

“You are not...eager to consummate this union?” She inquired, waiting for the lie. So braced was she for it, that at first Lenneth didn’t comprehend the words that were actually spoken.

“I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t.”

She nearly gaped astonishment at him, his blunt honesty such that she was torn in her feelings over the truth that Lezard had just admitted to. It was Odin’s enchantment at work again, the magic wanting Lenneth to be flattered regardless of the fact that Lezard’s admitted desire upset her greatly.

With that push and pull of emotions, with the right and wrong of it inside her, Lezard begrudgingly scored a point with Lenneth’s bespelled heart. It then skipped a beat at the deepening of the man’s smile, Lezard’s eyes taking on a lighthearted sheen that was so at odds with the darker look Lenneth had already acquainted with him.

“I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.” He had then added. She couldn’t believe it, Lenneth’s lips parting on a stunned sound.

“This whole situation makes me uncomfortable.” She blurted out with that sound. Was it Odin’s love spell, or something else to blame for the words spilling from her? The confidence that she was sharing. “I’m completely out of my element. Not just with these feelings, but with the expectations that might be put on me as a result. I was raised on a battle field, left to toil in war for centuries!"

His hand had never lowered, Lezard still urging her to take hold of it. “It will take some time and adjustment, of course. But given a chance, you can learn to accept this new life. To not only accept it, but to thrive in it!”

She simply couldn’t believe, couldn’t imagine the future that Lezard himself saw for her. “How?” Lenneth demanded in a plaintive tone. I have no purpose here, no reason to exist…"

“For now, let ME be that reason.” He had finally grown tired of waiting, reaching to clasp hold of her hands with his. “Together we can work to find you your purpose!”

His was an earnest warmth, the looks in his eyes alight with the belief of his hopes. That voice didn’t just whisper promises to her, it made Lenneth want to believe, the Valkyrie nearly caught up in Lezard’s excitement. On some level the woman realized and understood that she NEEDED to try to make the best of things, that for her own peace of mind, Lenneth had to try. That was nearly the tipping point that overcame all her doubts, that understanding working together with Odin’s spell over her heart. Nearly pushed to accepting, at the last possible second, Lenneth managed to fight free of Lezard’s words, and the magic of the enchantment.

Her eyes staring not at Lezard, but at the clasping together of her hands with his, Lenneth all but snarled venom at him. “My King would have me be nothing more than your slave.” She jerked her hands free of him, defiant and wanting to hurt Lezard the way that Lenneth herself had been so hurt. “That is my punishment.” She said. “YOU are my punishment.” The Valkyrie had raised her head as she had announced this, her blue eyes alight with all of her anger. That challenging gaze met his head on, Lenneth almost satisfied to see Lezard looking so shocked.

He seemed to forget how to breath, to speak, a single, solitary word choked out of him. “Punishment?”!”

Never taking her eyes from his, Lenneth was almost mocking as she nodded, quirking her eyebrow at him. “Did you not even know?” She asked. “Were you so unaware of the circumstances around your acquisition of a Valkyrie for your bride?” Silent, Lezard could only gape at her as he quickly shook his head no. Lenneth frowned in response, actually sighing out loud. “Then it seems we both enter into this union with little real knowledge to us.” She would have turned her back on him then, if Lenneth wasn’t still so wary, so suspicious of Lezard himself. “I am NOT your typical Valkyrie bride.” She added, none of her agitation having lessened with the announcement.

“Now that I don’t doubt.” He spoke it, but it was such a soft murmur, that Lenneth wasn’t sure that Lezard had meant to be heard. Nor did she allow herself to dwell on just what the man could have meant with such an agreement.

Wanting him to understand her, absolutely needing him to realize and know of the circumstances that had brought Lenneth to him, the Valkyrie found herself confiding to Lezard. “I was not retired from the battlefield due to a physical injury.” Lenneth fought not to close her hand into another fist, the unfairness of her fate, the injustice of it, agitating the Valkyrie further than she already was. “I was still able to fight, still able and willing to stand with Odin's warriors against our enemies." Her temper flared, as did her despair, Lenneth almost hissing in a despondent tone. “Why even now, I should be out on the Plains of Idavoll, leading our einherjar to do battle against the undead...” Once she might have even boasted of the victories her leadership would have guaranteed the soldiers under her command, but Lenneth had not forgotten the slaughter that had happened. The massacre that had befallen valkyrie and einherjar alike, Lenneth remembering the bodies, and that of her sister’s limp form forcibly embraced by the vampire king himself.

Almost caught by that memory, by her failure, Lenneth startled in place at the sound of Lezard’s soft question. “Then why? What happened to lead Odin to have to punish you?” At her sharp look, and at the pain of her failure echoing not just in her thoughts, but showing on her face, Lezard looked almost contrite. “It’s not too bold of me to ask, is it?” He then wanted to know.

In a way it was exactly that, and yet Lenneth also knew that Lezard deserved to know. Not just of her disgrace, but the reason why it had led to the woman being punished. It didn’t stop the angry look in her eyes, Lenneth downright ruthless as she spoke. “If you are to be my husband, then perhaps you have a right to know.”

Those words, that grudging acceptance, did not make it any easier for Lenneth to speak on her failure. Especially to this man, this stranger, who was to be part of her punishment. The anger and the pain that lanced through her, had Lenneth at last turning her back on Lezard. Let him strike her down for all that she cared, the woman unable to stand being so close to him for any longer.

With her arms crossing over her breasts, with Lenneth hugging herself for a comfort she could not accept, the woman strode away from Lezard. She would not speak until she was before the cage of the songbird, the woman staring down at the tiny creature who had finally quieted down. As though it too wanted to be privy to her secrets, to her failure.

"Lenneth?" prodded Lezard when she let the silence stretch out for longer than was merited.

“Would it surprise you to know that I was not an only child?” That was how Lenneth chose to start, the woman staring down at the songbird inside it’s metal prison. “My parents were blessed with not two, but three daughters. Hrist was the name of my older sister...” It was impossible to speak of her, to speak of them both without Lenneth conjuring their images to mind. She could almost smile, almost until the images distorted, Lenneth remembering Hrist’s scream, and spying Silmeria as she was fed upon by the vampire Brahms.

“And the youngest?” Lezard voice had urged her to fill in the silence once more.

“My sister Silmeria.” Lenneth answered in a grim tone. She had to extend real effort not to dig her nails into the soft flesh of her arms, all of her fondness and her love for her sisters tainted with the pain that she had come to associate with them over what had happened. “We’ve been at war with the undead for centuries..and there are those older than we, who have been at it for a millennia.”

“The undead...”

“Ghoulish creatures.” Lenneth spoke over him. “Nightmarish monsters all united under the vampire’s rule.”

“Ah yes….I believe the Lord of the Undead is a vampire who goes by the name of Brahms.” There wasn’t many that hadn’t heard that name at least once in their lifetime, and still to hear it spoken by him, by anyone, set Lenneth’s hackles raising.

“Brahms...” She all but growled his name, and this time her nails scratched over the flesh of both of her arms. It was no less than what she had done to the palm of her hand, and yet Lenneth was heedless of the pain, the hurt that she was now causing. “He is obsessed with my sister, Silmeria. Has been for a long time now.”

She heard the soft determined footfalls, spied Lezard’s drawing nearness out of the corner of her eye. “My sister Silmeria was the one who was injured on the battlefield. She was the one due to be retired and wed. All she need to do was wait and be safely delivered to her soon to be husband.”

“What went wrong?” Lezard asked. He was already reaching for her, touching fingers to hers, gently but insistently prying them away from the scratching she had still been doing. She tried to fight him, to at least shrug him off, but Lezard would have none of it. He not only persisted, the man chastised, his spoken reminder inadvertent in the hurt that it brought to her mind. “You are mortal now, Goddess.” He had stated. “Even the smallest of scratches can lead to a deadly infection.”

He had another cloth in his hand, a handkerchief that Lezard had drawn from a spare pocket. It was just as fine a material as the cravat, but made even bloodier from the number Lenneth had done to her arms. She might not have let him tend to her, but his warning earned her grudging acceptance. Though she might not be willing, and certainly not at all happy, Lenneth wouldn’t dishonor her duty as a Valkyrie, and let anything stand in the way of the woman surviving her punishment.

Without even a nodded thanks, Lenneth resumed speaking. “I was to be the head of the party that would escort my sister to Alfheim. The undead were never even supposed to come close, our sister Hrist leading those fiendish factions away from Valhalla. With the warring on both sides distracted, Silmeria should have been able to make her escape.”

“We were fools to believe that.” Lenneth announced. “The vampires weren’t on the run, weren’t tricked by my sister’s feint. Brahms and his kind instead lay a trap of their own, those blasphemous beings laying in wait inside the Forest of Spirits.” Lezard was listening with rapt attention, his hand pressing the handkerchief against the worst of her scratches. “Ambushed and overwhelmed, it was a slaughter. A massacre on the side of the divine. Only I survived such a nightmare...”

“Don’t blame yourself for that….”

“Why should I not? My King does! He faults me for the failure, for the lives lost, and for the blasphemous act I had allowed the vampire King to get away with.”

“Blasphemous act?” questioned Lezard, and Lenneth’s eyes flashed, her anger and pain, her abject heartbreak, tearing up the very expression on her face.

“My sister wasn’t just stolen.” She announced. “She was TAKEN. That bastard fed from her. I bore witness to that much with my own eyes, unable to stop him. Unable to save her, or stop the grievous sin he forced her to commit.”

The question was in his eyes, Lenneth unable to suppress her pain, or the agitation that was making her shake. “He made her drink of his blood. Do you even know what that means? Can you imagine what she will become? What ruin she will bring upon herself and countless others?!”

“She’ll become one of the undead...”

“She will lose her very SOUL.” Lenneth proclaimed, and with it came her exhaustion. “I failed her.” Lenneth said in a broken despairing tone. “I failed every last one of them!”

“You place too much of the burden on yourself.” Lezard protested.

“What do you know?!” She scoffed. “You weren’t even there!”

“That even one person survived, is a miracle.” But he hadn’t asked her just how she had managed that feat, Lenneth grimacing at the memory of just how easily Brahms had been able to defeat her.

“My King doesn’t think so. Nor is he anywhere as understanding about a failure as you seem to be.” She was trying to force down the pain, the anger, and her unceasing worry for her sister. The effort to keep all that at bay, crept into her voice, Lenneth sounding ever so tired as she spoke. “He can see nothing but my faults, my FAILURE. A failure he deemed grave enough to warrant a most extreme of punishments.” She looked Lezard in the eyes as she said this.”It wasn’t enough to retire me ahead of my time, to strip me of divinity. To marry me off with little idea of who or what would be having me. No...none of this was enough, Odin would have me lose my free will, my heart taken just as surely as Silmeria’s life, her future, was stolen!”

Somehow Lezard had managed not to have flinched under all of that. Instead Lenneth’s near unforgiving tirade had softened the expression on his face, Lezard gazing at Lenneth with something that might have been PITY. She couldn’t bear it if it really was that, her temper already flaring to life long before he tried to offer his condolences.

“I am truly sorry for your losses, for ALL of them.”

“Your sorry does not bring me back my sister, or my honor!” Lenneth practically shouted at him. “The vampires have cost me EVERYTHING!”

“You STILL have your LIFE.” Lezard was quick to point out.

“Life!? What good is my life if I cannot even use it to save Silmeria?!” She demanded, attempting to pull away. Not without some effort exerted, but the man managed to hold onto the former Valkyrie Goddess.

Maintaining eye contact with her, Lezard spoke. “You are suffering from survivor’s guilt. A common enough affliction, and one that is none too easy to work through. But in time….” At the scoffing sound Lenneth made at that, Lezard sighed. “Perhaps then, it wasn’t so much punishment as it was a kindness from Odin, when he attempted to enchant you to love me?”

She stared at Lezard like he was half out of his mind, Lenneth shaking with an urge to do a very real violence to him. “How can you say that?” She asked in a strangled tone of voice.

“I..I meant no insult.” Lezard correctly hastily. “But you can’t live out the rest of your life, mourning your sister and lost comrades. Anymore then you can spend that time blaming yourself for what has happened, or torturing yourself with the things that you might have done differently. That’s not a good life, and you survived for a reason. You need to do those lost honor, you need to LIVE, Lenneth. You need to embrace life and that which it offers you.”

She was still staring at him, mouth agape with her shock. He hadn’t made her see the validity of what he was suggesting, anymore than Lezard had made Lenneth believe that Odin had meant this marriage to be anything but a punishment.

“With you?” She finally managed to say. Lenneth had wanted to sneer, but Lezard had left her to stunned to manage that or much of ANY expression.

“It would be a START.” He told her with a smile.

“Why would you even care?” Lenneth wanted to know. “I am a just a stranger to you...”

“Ah but you are a little more than that.” Lezard reminded her. “Yes, we might not know each other just yet, but one day it will be different. One day I want to be more to you, than just the man your king forced you to marry.”

She couldn’t help the suspicion that crept into her voice. “Oh?”

I want to be your friend.” Her startled look of surprise, earned yet another smile from Lezard. “”Will you let? Will you allow me at least the chance to try?” He was no longer trying to restrain her, but then Lenneth was no longer trying to pull free of him. “I’ve no reason to try to trick you. My offer of friendship is just that, no schemes or hidden agendas to be found. None save for one.”

“And that is?” She asked guardedly.

“So that we can get to truly know one another better.” He explained.

Still maintaining that guarded tone, Lenneth cautiously spoke. “I don’t know if I can be your friend...”

“You don’t know, or you don’t WANT to?” He asked, and Lenneth hesitated. Odin’s enchantment was still inside her heart, affecting her emotions, messing with her mind. It had never stopped playing with her, trying to make Lenneth be amenable to everything about Lezard, including just about anything he had suggested. The Valkyrie knew that Odin’s enchantment would settle for nothing less than her completely falling, Lenneth in love with the man who had kissed her awake. So strong was the enchantment, that it would be so easy to give in. So easy and even freeing, Lenneth no longer needing to fight, to think, if she would just let the spell over take her. She was stubborn though, Lenneth fighting both the magic and Lezard’s offer of friendship.

She didn’t think she could afford to let Lezard get that close to her, Lenneth saying as much out loud. Lezard was hardly turned aside by that. “Can you afford NOT to?” He had countered, and Lenneth unsure, had simply shrugged. “Ah well, you needn’t decide on it right this very second. My offer of friendship stands for however long that you need to decide towards accepting it or not.”

With that, the man had finally let go of her. “Well Lenneth, would you like to explore your new home?” He had set aside the bloodied cloth, Lezard seeming satisfied that Lenneth’s self inflicted wounds weren’t a danger to her.

“Yes.” Lenneth quickly agreed. Just about anything was a better prospect than remaining alone with Lezard in this room. “I am quite curious about where I have ended up.” She added in a conversational tone.

Lezard drew up short at that off hand comment, his look seeming shocked. “Odin did not tell you even that much at least?” It was more than just shock, Lezard was dismayed. “Your King has a sick sense of humor, leaving such explanations to me.”

“Does he now?” Lenneth asked, with a confused look in her eyes. “Odin is known for many things, but somehow...humor isn’t one of them.” Lezard seemed to have no comment to that utterance, the man instead gesturing for Lenneth to follow him. He almost seemed to hesitate before the bedroom’s main door, as though Lezard was bracing himself for something unpleasant.

“Is there a problem?” She didn’t understand his hesitation, and Lezard didn’t offer up any immediate explanations. Instead he muttered something softly under his breath, the door then opening to reveal a long and wide corridor, and the few people that were walking about it. Most of them were dressed in the uniform of a servant, and those each carried things as they hurried off on their appointed tasks.

There was also a few dressed in finer clothing, the likes of which made Lenneth think they were of noble birth. This group seemed to have nothing better to do, loitering about the hall, holding a hushed conversation. Both they and the servants all turned to look at Lezard and Lenneth, but no introduction or explanation was offered. Lenneth supposed that for right now it didn’t matter, the woman having enough on her mind without having to meet a whole new group of people.

Such as the enchantment, Odin’s magic not anywhere near ready to relinquish it’s hold on Lenneth’s heart. The Valkyrie felt as though she had to maintain a constant vigilance against it, the fight such that it dulled the opulence of her surroundings. Lenneth did see and notice much, such as the intricately painted panelings of the walls, and the very expensive carpets on the floor. The woman saw the statues, and the richly appointed rooms through the open doors that she and Lezard walked past. She wasn’t impressed by such things, but Lenneth did know enough to recognize that Lezard was a very wealthy man. A man who liked having the finest on display, a man who saw no expense spared when it came to decorating his home.

That he could afford to spread such wealth throughout a building of this size frankly amazed her, Lenneth not having realized that anyone could be as well off as the Gods. This castle didn’t quite rival Valhalla, but it was still a marvel. Lenneth found herself wondering just what Lezard did to make his living, and THAT is when she came across the crest. Such was it’s size, that Lenneth would have never NOT noticed it. Larger in size than most mirrors, the crest took up a generous portion of the wall it was adhered to.

Mystic runes were carved at the base of it, their red glow making her eyes water to look at them for too long. The language the runes spoke in, were of an old and near forgotten tongue, and yet to one who once been an immortal goddess, the language of the ancients was a common enough knowledge. Even if she was slightly rusty on some of the finer nuances.

Almost absentmindedly, Lenneth had translated enough to get out the general gist of what was written. Of how the runes spoke of loyalty to a great Queen, telling of the prosperity that was to be earned at her feet. But that alone might not have been enough to alarm her. It was the image itself, the carvings that had been etched into the stones of the crest. A three legged horse that Lenneth had instantly known to be a Helhest beast was there, leading a chariot in which a single woman could be seen seated inside it. That woman only had half of her face made clear, as though the smooth stone of it had been purposefully left incomplete in giving the Queen her appearance.

“Lenneth? Is everything all right, my lady?”

It was only then, at the sound of Lezard’s voice, that Lenneth realized that she had come to a complete stop. Her body was practically paralyzed with the horror dawning inside her, the shock of her discovery pushing back even that of Odin’s love spell. Lenneth just stood there, her mouth open and gaping, her mind trying not to acknowledge just WHO was the patron Goddess of these people.

She didn’t want to accept it. Lenneth stared at the crest, then forced herself to turn to Lezard. She was shaking with the violent tremors that had overtaken her, Lenneth leaning into Lezard just close enough to breath in deeply of his scent. Her flaring nostrils that had thought they had caught the familiar scent of ether, now knew that it was just different enough. The two similar scents both brought to mind a powerful discharge, but where one was of the divine, the other wasn’t so blessed.

Magic. The scent was of magic. Now that she knew what it was, Lenneth would never ever mistake it for the other, magic so far removed from the Gods’ ether as to be a pitiful imitation.

Actually shaking in an attempt to suppress the worst of her horror, it was with the utmost in discomfort that Lenneth addressed Lezard with her questions. “What nation of Midgard have I come to reside in?” So much was already known, the very existence of magic here, betraying Lezard and his people as to what they already were. Yet Lenneth tried to deny it, foolishly hoped that the man would somehow answer with something other than what the Valkyrie knew to be the truth.

“I have a right to know!” She added, when it appeared Lezard was going to leave her voiced question unanswered.

With a resigned sigh, Lezard seemed to deflate. “That you do.” He agreed, keeping his eyes locked with hers. It was as though he was gauging the reaction that Lenneth was already giving him. “This is Flenceburg.”

“Flenceburg!” She gasped at the confirmation, her hand pressing over her chest as Lenneth staggered back against the wall. She simply couldn’t believe that Odin would do this to her, that her king could be so cruel. Was her failure to keep Silmeria away from Brahms really worth such an extreme punishment? That Odin would willingly send Lenneth among their enemies? Her eyes looked away from Lezard to the crest, finding it was a confirmation that made her shudder. She could almost picture the Queen's appearance now, and that of her mocking smile.

How funny Queen Hel would find the situation. Lenneth was sure that that hated Goddess would find it highly humorous that one of Odin's Valkyries was now to be wed to one of her followers. For once Lenneth didn't have to fight the love enchantment, her horror all consuming. She may not have had much experience on Midgard, but she knew enough to know of Flenceburg. A nation that allied itself with the underworld, and it's Queen. The Goddess Hel of Nifleheim, a ruler who was rumored to hold many dread alliances, the most notorious being that of the undead.

Still completely reeling, Lenneth stared at the crest, wanting to scream with her mounting revulsion, and the rage that was boiling inside of her. How could Odin have done this, how could he have put her in the heart of an enemy nation? How could he expect her to love this man, and to bear children that would one day swear their allegiance to the bitch Goddess Hel? Was Lenneth's failure such that it warranted such an extreme punishment? If Odin thought to make an example of Lenneth, he had surely succeeded. No Valkyrie would ever risk failing him again, for fear of being so dishonored.

“You are handling this better than I would have actually thought.” Lezard had finally broken the silence. She nearly choked at his words, Lenneth too upset to do much more than stand there in a growing display of her shock and her horror. She almost didn’t notice the way that Lezard’s shoulders were sagging with disappointment, the way his very nature seemed to scream of his awkwardness and embarrassment. Lenneth might almost think Lezard was ashamed of his home land, and it would have been a justifiable response. Her reaction might be playing a huge part in that too, as though the man had realized that all of his hopes and his dreams where Lenneth was concerned had gone up in flames.

“I am a Valkyrie.” She said at last. It was both a way of reminding him, and an explanation, Lezard nodding slowly in agreement. “I will honor the agreement.” Though she wouldn’t much like it. “Though I must admit to being quite curious how you managed to make such an arrangement with my King."

Lezard seemed to turn even more uncomfortable at that inquiry, his eyes actually shifting away from her. He was hiding something, that much was obvious. Lenneth stepped towards him, intent on getting her answer.

"The wedding will be in a few days' time." Now he was the one avoiding her touch, Lezard walking ahead of her. "I thought it best to let you acquaint yourself with your new home and it’s people before rushing into the ceremony."

She frowned at his back, Lenneth thinking she would never be at ease with the people of this nation. Not when most if not all would be known followers of Hel, the lot of them sworn to the dark arts in the foul Queen's name. Perhaps even more unbearable was the thought, that unlike her sister Silmeria, there would be no one coming to rescue Lenneth from the predicament she had found herself in.

Clenching her hands into fists, Lenneth slowly followed after Lezard. The words whispered in her head, but she knew not who to direct her prayers to. The woman would be damned before she would pray to Hel for guidance. But the Valkyrie was also loathe to pray for help from the very king who had betrayed her in so extreme a manner. In the end, she settled on her sister's name, Lenneth wishing Silmeria was somehow faring better than she.

#valkyrie profile #fanfic #osvp #alternate universe #Lenneth Valkyrie #Lezard Valeth #Brahms #Silmeria Valkyrie

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