#he does not remember that he can be so gentile | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sara-scribbles · 2 years ago

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The Littlest Dragon (Part 2)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/GN!Reader Summary: Your quiet life as a herbalist is disrupted when you take in an injured dragon Word Count: 7,251 Notes: I might write a part 3 as an epilogue. Hope you enjoy! Warnings: None

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

With no word from Riddle, you go about your life as usual. Unfortunately, Tsunotarou is unable to accompany you on your trips into town due to his sudden growth. Though he gives you sad puppy dog eyes, you firmly tell him to stay home. He’s also a lot heavier so trying to carry him would be too difficult. Though you feel bad, you heed Riddle’s warning of keeping him out of sight.

It is a bit lonely without having his constant presence while you shop, but you quickly get used to it once more. Browsing the shelves at Sam’s, you grab a new mortar and pestle. Turning down another aisle, you nearly collide with another person.

“I’m so sorry!” you apologize quickly.

“Maître herboriste!” You recognize the voice immediately before even seeing his face.

Rook Hunt in all his feather hat glory, smiles widely at you. “Hello, Rook,” you greet. A bit eccentric, you know him through Vil.

He points to your loaded basket. “Shopping for supplies?”

“I’ve worn out my mortar and pestle, so I thought I’d get a new one,” you explain. You note his basket is filled with top of the line beauty products.

“Always so busy, Maître herboriste! I hear you have a little assistant, no?” The glimmer in his eyes tells you all you need to know.

Sighing, you nod. “Yes, I do have an assistant. No, you cannot hunt him.”

He gasps dramatically, hand flying over his heart. “I would never ask something like that! I just wish to…observe him a little closer than from the trees.”

“Trees?” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you inhale sharply before exhaling. “Have you been spying?”

“Non! Not spying, just observing.” His bright smile does nothing to make you feel better.

Now you’re starting to realize why Tsunotarou spent a lot of time glaring out the window as of late. He most likely sensed Rook and saw him as an unknown threat. And here you thought he’d liked watching the hens.

Heaving another weary sigh, you shake your head. “I don’t think coming would be a good idea. At least not alone. If Vil needs to drop by, you’re welcome to join.” Saying ‘no’ to Rook is useless. He’d just continue his spying or try something even more extreme if he really felt like it.

“Oh, so thoughtful of you! You truly are so très gentil!” He beams brightly.

After a few more compliments and praises, you manage to buy what you need and leave the shop. Rook can be a bit exhausting at times, but he means well. You just hope Tsunotarou doesn’t decide to roast him the moment he walks through the door.

---

You wake up suddenly from an odd dream. Yet, the moment you try to remember, it disappears. The feeling of the dream remains. Rolling over on your side, you reach for Tsunotarou but are met with nothing. Sitting up, you glance at the open window. Though you leave it open for him in case he ever wants to go out, you do sometimes worry. Sure he’s a dragon and can probably fend for himself, but you still remember how he looked when you first found him.

Getting out of bed, you head downstairs. Taking a quick peek out the window, you don’t see anything out of the ordinary. The full moon hangs low in the sky, illuminating the quiet night. Heading out the garden, you inhale the scent of moist grass and crisp air. It’s warm with a slight breeze, a nice night stare at the stars.

Sitting down on the bench swing in the back of the garden, you have a view of the cottage and the rows of plants growing. You idly swing your legs back and forth causing the bench to gently sway. The soft chirping of crickets and buzzing of insects fills the air. Fireflies lazily float by, giving the night an ethereal glow.

So distracted by the sight, you miss the approach of someone until they’re nearly standing a few feet away. Stiffening, you halt the lazy movements of the swing. Looking at the uninvited guest, you realize he’s the naked stranger from last time. Thankfully not naked this time.

He’s wrapped in a long black cloak that matches the inky color of his hair. Sharp, almost glowing peridot eyes gaze down at you. Your gaze lingers on the pointed ears and horns atop his head. His pale skin glows under the moon, almost making him seem ghostly.

“H-hello?” you greet, hesitantly. Unsure what else to say, you at least want to break the staring contest.

He smiles, flashing sharp incisors. “Hello, child of man. What brings you out?” His voice is smooth and low, like a warm whisper.

“Just couldn’t sleep,” you answer truthfully. “What are you doing here?” What you really want to ask is why he’s in your garden. It isn’t because you’re afraid, no he doesn’t give that sort of aurora. You’re genuinely curious why he’s here again. And since he’s not naked, your freak-out meter is low.

He gestures to the garden. “It’s very peaceful here at night. I thought I’d take a walk.” Pointing to the bench, he asks, “May I sit?”

You could say no. You really should say no. He’s a complete stranger, who you first saw in the nude. However, you nod and scoot over. The bench swing dips at the added weight. He quietly tips his head back to stare at the stars.

Leaning back, you observe the night sky. It’s been awhile since you’ve been able to just enjoy nature. Potions and salves keep you busy enough. By the time night comes, you’re dead on your feet. Though with the extra help, you aren’t so tired anymore. Having Tsunotarou around has made your life easier. And less lonely.

You didn’t realize how lonely you actually felt until he showed up. Sure Ace and Deuce visited sometimes, but it wasn’t often. You did correspond with some other people through letters, but it didn’t make up for the lack of physical contact. Though he can’t respond in words to what you say, he understands. He does his best to let you know he’s listening.

“You seem to be deep in thought, child of man,” the stranger interrupts.

Realizing he’s now staring at you intently, you sit up straighter. “Just thinking about stuff…”

“What sort of ‘stuff’ may I ask?” His tone is gentle and curious.

Looking away, you wonder if you’re really going to tell a stranger your worries. However, you don’t take much time to spill. “I recently made friends with…someone. And I realize now that as much as I enjoy my solitude, I was lonely. It’s funny how spending time with someone can change your views so quickly.”

He nods sagely. “Sometimes it only takes a little change to open our eyes.” Glancing at him, he seems to be lost in his own thoughts.

You continue, “I’ve gotten so comfortable with his presence that I’m afraid of what will happen when he leaves. Everyone has to leave at some point. And someone like him probably needs a change in scenery.”

“And have you asked this person if he wants to leave?” he asks, gaze once more focused on you.

You chuckle, scratching the back of your neck. “That would be easier than needless worry, wouldn’t it?”

“He did say humans can be very convoluted about their desires,” he muses.

An eyebrow goes up. “Oh?” Not sure who he’s referring to, you’re somewhat offended. But there’s truth in his words.

He nods but flashes what you assume is supposed to be a reassuring smile. “But I can say you are not like that.”

“How do you know that? We’ve just met! For all you know I could be the worst human you’ll ever meet,” you half tease.

He shakes his head. “No, you’re nothing like that.”

It’s almost as if he knows you. But that’s impossible! You’ve never spoken to him until now. The only time you’ve seen him was a month ago when he was standing naked in front of your chicken coop. You’d remember seeing someone as beautiful as him. Unless he’s someone like Rook, who likes to spy from afar. That sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

“How are you so sure?” you ask, curious to see what answer he’ll give.

His bright eyes sparkle. “I just have a good feeling.”

Since he’s not elaborating further, you can only nod. “So, this might sound rude, but you’re not human, right?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “That’s correct. I’m a fae. You may call me whatever you wish.”

You know very little about fae, though you vaguely recall a lesson on them. A species that had many different types, they’re well connected to magic, though some more than others. With their long life span, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if the fae next to you is hundreds of years old. And one more thing you remember is that fae don’t lie. They might twist the truth to fit their needs, but it’s never a lie.

“I’m not the best at giving nicknames, so I’ve been told,” you warn. Eyeing him, you try to wrack your brain for something. However, nothing comes to mind until your gaze settles on his horns. “Hornton!”

There’s a pause as he blinks twice. Then, he bursts out into laughter, throwing his head back. “You never cease to surprise me,” he says once he manages to gain his composure.

Shaking your head, you point out, “I did warn you.” But since he doesn’t seem offended by the name you’ve chosen, perhaps your nicknames aren’t so bad.

“It’s a wonderful name,” he reassures.

There’s a pause before you blurt out, “Why were you naked last time?” You immediately bite the inside of your mouth. It’s something that’s been bugging you for a while now.

“Certain circumstances made it so that I had no clothes at that moment,” he answers, not at all bothered.

“So where’d you get your clothes?” Did he steal them from someone’s laundry? Not that you’re too concerned with that. You do prefer him covered as you’re pretty sure seeing him naked again wouldn’t be good for your health.

“This was made by magic. Unfortunately my magic is being limited right now, or I would have created something more elaborate. And this won’t last for very long.” He plucks at the black fabric, brows creasing.

So he’ll be naked. Again. Covering your face with both hands, you mutter, “So you’re suddenly going to lose your magically made clothes?”

“Something like that.” His tone is nonchalant as if the idea of being naked in front of a stranger isn’t concerning.

This really sounds like a Cinderella moment except it’s way past midnight. A deep sigh escapes your lips. Perhaps fae aren’t as concerned with nudity as humans. Or perhaps it’s just this particular fae.

“Is something the matter?”

You quickly shake your head. “No. All good!” Deciding to take your mind off the topic, you switch gears. “So where’s home?”

“Briar Valley. It’s a small place west of the Queendom of Roses.” You’ve heard of Briar Valley. Though you haven’t traveled since your school days, you have a vague idea of where he’s from.

“It’s noted for its black forest, right?” Something you recall reading about places to visit. You’re not sure if you would want to visit the forest considering it’s said no one comes out.

He nods. “Yes, though I’d suggest against visiting. Humans tend to get lost in the forest unless guided by a fae who knows the area. Even then, some fae can get lost too.”

“Definitely not on my bucket list,” you mumble.

“You should come visit Briar Valley. It’s quite charming. I’d love to show you around.” He grins, eyes glimmering.

Ace and Deuce would probably berate you for this, but they’re not here. “Sure! Traveling isn’t something I’ve thought about, but I wouldn’t mind going away once and awhile. A friend from school, Kalim, has been asking me to visit him in the Scalding Sands. But I always put it off because of work.”

“I’ve only been to the Scalding Sands when I was a child,” he muses. His brows draw together as if trying to recall something. He shakes his head. “I wonder how much has changed since then…”

“We can go together someday.” You can almost hear the duo shouting at you. Maybe you shouldn’t be making deals with a fae. But you’ve always been a bit reckless. You haven’t done anything dumb in a long time.

He smiles. “Wonderful! I can’t wait.”

---

You wake up feeling tired and groggy. Maybe staying up to chat until the sky started turning light wasn’t the best idea. However, it was nice to speak with someone. Your new friend had bid you goodnight once the first rays of light started peeking through the horizon. He promised to visit the next full moon, which you found odd, but chalked it up to fae stuff.

Yawning for the nth time, Tsunotarou chirps worryingly. “I’m okay. Just didn’t get much sleep last night.” You pat his head. “We don’t have much to do today, thankfully. Think I’ll take a nap later.”

However, just as the words leave your mouth, there’s a sharp knock at your door. “Bonjour, Maître herboriste! Vil and I wanted to pay you a visit.” You sigh as you recognize Rook right away. He doesn’t even need to complete the sentence and you know it’s him.

Tsunotarou bristles. “It’s okay,” you reassure. “They’re friends. No need to set anyone on fire. I know Rook has been spying, but he doesn’t mean any harm.” You hold your hands out in a stop motion. He settles down a little, but his eyes remain narrowed.

Opening the door, you give the two what you hope is a pleasant smile. “Hello, you two. I didn’t think you’d be coming around today.”

Vil sighs. “I’ve been working with Riddle, but I decided I needed to see the dragon for myself. And you know why Rook is here.”

Said huntsman gives you a cheery wave. “Oh! Is that the magnificent creature?!” Spotting Tsunotarou from over your shoulder, you step aside to let the two in.

Rook makes a beeline for him. “Simply magnifique! He’s gotten even bigger than last time!” While Rook is busy studying Tsunotarou from all angles, Vil examines him from afar.

“He is a sight,” the guild master murmurs. “From Riddle’s description, the measurements are off. Though he did mention that the creature seems to be growing in size. How much has he grown since the last time?”

Scratching your head, you shrug. “Not sure. I don’t keep track, but he does seem a little larger than yesterday.” Maybe ‘a little’ is an understatement. His head reaches your shoulder when he’s sitting on the floor. You woke up to him taking up half the bed.

“I do sense the magic. It’s as potent as Riddle said. This won’t be easy and we might not be able to do anything,” Vil tells you. His attention is momentarily taken away as he leans in closer to your face.

You inch back under his scrutinizing gaze. “Vil?”

“You have bags under your eyes. What have I told you about getting proper sleep, spudling? Sleep is vital not just so we look refreshed but so we feel refreshed.” He shakes his head. “Tsk, it seems all my lessons on good health have been for naught.”

“I’m sleeping fine, Vil. I just couldn’t sleep last night, that’s all. I promise it’s not a common occurrence.” Eyes darting over to Rook and Tsunotarou, you attempt to turn the conversation away from you. “Anyways, will Riddle be coming over too?”

“This conversation isn’t over,” he warns. “Not today. He has some things with his guild he needs to take care of. I just wanted to come here and take a look at what we’re dealing with. There’s no potion in this world that’ll be able to break a curse of this magnitude.”

Tsunotarou, completely ignoring Rook now, is focused on Vil. The two stare at each other much like the staring contest Riddle had. Vil chuckles. “He’s a smart one. Already assessing if I’m a threat, it seems.”

“Of course! Such a powerful creature recognizes a powerful mage!” Rook pipes in between taking pictures.

“We should head back to the guild. I need to do more research now that I know what we’re dealing with.” He pauses and turns to you, “Can I speak to you outside?”

“I’ll be right back,” you call to Tsunotarou before leading the two outside. Coming to the front gate, Vil stops before glancing back at your cottage. “What’s up?”

In a low tone, he says, “You probably don’t realize this, but that creature in there is dangerous.”

“Aren’t all dragons da-”

He cuts you off. “That’s not what I meant. I’ve seen a few dragons before but none as powerful as this one. The magic radiates off him in waves. I’m not sure if Riddle didn’t notice because of the curse or if something has changed since last time. I’d be careful with him. Dragons are temperamental creatures by nature.”

“Tsunotarou wouldn’t hurt me. At least not intentionally,” you argue. “He’s different and I trust him.”

“Tsk. Still reckless as ever. Just keep what I said in mind.” You can see the concern in his eyes.

“I’ll be careful,” you promise.

---

“What are these?” Horton asks.

You had handed him a bundle the moment he appeared. “Clothes. I had to guess your size, but I think they’ll fit.”

He seems surprised. “For me?”

“I thought real clothes might be better than magically made clothes that only last for a while,” you explain.

You had asked Jack for advice on what to get considering you didn’t know his size. He looked to be a little bigger than Jack, so you hoped the bundle the beastman got together would fit. Jack had mumbled something about underwear while looking away, so you can only assume there’s undergarments in the package.

“Thank you, child of man. This is a wonderful gift.” He looks all too pleased to receive a plain white shirt and black pants.

The way he’s looking at you is like you gave him the greatest gift in the world. “They didn’t cost me much, so it’s nothing big.”

“May I put them on?”

“Sure.” The moment those words are out of your mouth, he snaps his fingers and the outfit he was wearing disappears in a flash of green. “A little warning!” you shout, covering your eyes.

There’s a chuckle and you can only imagine the amused look on his dumb face. The rustle of fabric is all you hear. After a few moments, he says, “I am dressed.”

Pulling your hands away, you’re quite pleased to see that the clothes mostly fit. The pants are a little short, coming a little above his ankle. “You look great!”

He holds up a thin white string. “Is this meant to go somewhere?”

Laughing, you take the tie from him. “Come sit.” While he sits down, you hover over him. “It’s mostly for decoration, but you just weave it through the holes up here to make a crisscross pattern.”

Leaning down, you carefully pull the string through the loops of his shirt. After fiddling for a bit to make sure it’s even, you glance up. “Perfect!”

Your eyes meet and you suddenly realize how close to his face you are. “Thank you.”

He’s probably the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. Sorry Vil. With long, thick eyelashes that brush against his pale skin, you wonder absently if all fae are as beautiful. Up close, you can even see the specks of darker green in his eyes.

“So pretty,” you whisper.

His eyes widen and there’s a sharp intake of breath. Realizing you just said that aloud, you pull back with a jerk. You suddenly find interest in something far away. “A-anyways, I hope the clothes are comfortable. Cotton is good for this weather even at night. I guess I should’ve gotten you shoes too,” you ramble.

“You’ve already given me so much. Thank you again, child of man.” The way he thanks you is almost reverent. “I wish to return the favor. Is there anything you want?”

Quickly shaking your head, you can’t imagine taking anything from him for something so simple. “No, I don’t need anything.”

He frowns. “Are you sure? Aren’t you supposed to return the favor when receiving a gift?”

“Not all gifts require something in return. This is something I wanted to do, so don’t worry about giving me anything.” His brows are still drawn together.

Tilting his head to the side, he studies you. “You’re very strange for a human. Many would jump at the chance to receive a favor from a fae.”

The pressure of his gaze makes you nervous. Looking away, you stare at the grass. “Like you said, I’m a strange human.”

His chuckle sends a shiver down your spine. “Yes, very strange. But that’s what makes you so charming.”

You ignore the fluttering of your heart.

---

Waking up to being half smothered to death by a dragon has become the norm. Tsunotarou has grown so big, your full sized bed is starting to feel too small. At this rate you might need an upgrade. You don’t mind that he’s grown, it’s just waking up because you can’t breathe isn’t the most pleasant.

“I’m pretty sure you're almost as tall as Riddle with his shoes on…” You eye him as he sits patiently on the stool while you stir the cauldron.

Tsunotarou makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m not complaining about your sudden growth spurt. Just that we might have an issue with sleeping if you keep getting bigger.”

You toss in a few dried rosebuds. Stirring clockwise three times, you pour in a handful of pink sand. Tsunotarou drops a jar of fresh newt tails in your outstretched hand. You throw in a handful of those before stirring counterclockwise four times. The concoction bubbles and steams before changing colors.

“Hmm… That should be enough for six bottles.” While you pour the potion into bottles, he corks them before putting them on the table in a neat row.

You’re almost done when you hear loud, angry clucking. Then an even louder voice. “GET OFF YOU FOUL BIRDS!”

Glancing at your dragon companion, he doesn’t seem concerned about the sudden commotion. “Alright, guess we get another guest.” You can’t pinpoint the voice as anyone you know.

Taking a look out your window, you can see the three hens surrounding a very angry looking person. He waves his arms around trying to scare them off, but the three ladies just continue to peck at his boots.

There’s another person standing next to him, but he doesn’t do anything. The more you look, the more you think the silver haired one is sleeping. If he is sleeping, it’s quite a feat to do while on his feet and next to someone shouting.

Deciding to try and save your hens, you step outside. You let out an ear piercing whistle, which causes the green haired to stop his shouting. The one sleeping blinks awake as well. The three hens leave the stranger alone to go back into the coop. Though you note that Merryweather gives his boot one last peck for good measure.

“Can I help you two?” you ask once the hens are gone.

The loud one straightens his outfit before clearing his throat. “WHAT KIND OF HUMAN ALLOWS PEOPLE TO BE ATTACKED BY SUCH VICIOUS BIRDS?!”

You resist the urge to plug your ears. “They tend to not like strangers wandering near their coop. Also, no need to shout.”

He seems to stand up straighter and open his mouth, but the other one quickly intervenes. “We apologize for trespassing. My name is Silver and this is Sebek.”

“DON’T GO GIVING MY NAME TO THE HUMAN, SILVER!” Sebek admonishes.

After a beat, you ask once more, “Can I help you?”

“We’re looking for someone. A signal was sent from somewhere in the area,” Silver explains.

“I’m not in town as often, so I might not be the best person to ask. I’d suggest trying the guilds in town.” You gesture in the general direction of the main road.

Giving you a brief bow, Silver nods. “Thank you.” He turns to his companion. “We should head to town then.”

“Hold on! We might as well ask if the human has seen him. It’s hard not to notice such a magnificent person,” Sebek says, pointing at the human in question. His eyes zero in on you. “Human, have you seen the great Malleus Draconia?”

Your face twisted into something akin to confusion. “Who?”

The green haired one lets out a gasp. He looks equally offended and shocked. “YOU DON’T KNOW WHO THE GREAT MALLEUS DRACONIA IS!?!”

You proceed to plug your ears. Forget about being polite! “Can you stop yelling? And yes, I have no idea who you’re referring to. Like I said, check with the guilds.”

“How can someone not know the glorious young master???” He mutters to himself, not hearing a single word you said.

Giving you an apologetic look, Silver tugs his companion. “Thank you.”

Once they disappear down the road, you go inside. Tsunotarou, who had been peeking through the window, turns to you. He makes a series of grumbles. “I have no idea what that was about.” Shrugging, you go back to your potions.

After packaging everything, you plop down on the sofa with a deep sigh. “I’m already tired and it isn’t even that late.” Huffing, you close your eyes. The sofa dips and extra weight is dropped on your lap.

Tsunotarou rests his head in your lap while chirping at you. Opening your eyes, you chuckle. “Hey, you.” You affectionately rub his head. Adjusting your position so you’re laying across the sofa, Tsunotarou nestles half on top of you. His tail hangs off the couch and onto the floor.

“Ooof! You’re getting a little too big for this.” With his head resting on your chest, he peers up at you. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m just stating a fact. You’ve grown a lot.”

Scratching him around his horns, you can’t help but study them. They remind you of something, but your brain is too tired to figure it out. “Ever since you’ve come into my life, it seems my days aren’t so monotonous. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the quiet and routine. But I’ve come to realize I cherish having you around.”

He gurgles happily. “But you’ll have to leave someday, right? You can’t stay here forever and if you continue to grow, I don’t think the cottage will be enough.” Chuckling to yourself, you’re reminded of the conversation you had with Hornton.

Tsunotarou nudges your cheek with his snout. “Do you want to leave?” you ask. He shakes his head while making a few noises. “I don’t want you to leave either. But I don’t think we’ll have much of a choice. We’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

The two of you doze lightly, but a sudden knock on the door sends you tumbling off the couch. Tsunotarou somehow managed to catch himself as he peers down at you. “Who’s visiting at this hour?!” Grunting, you get up and march to the door.

You’re greeted by the two from before. The shorter of the two opens his mouth to speak but is quickly interrupted by his companion with the loud mouth. “HOW DARE YOU LIE TO US, HUMAN!”

“W-what?!” Confused, you look between the two. “Can someone explain what I supposedly lied about. Without yelling.”

“Excuse me!” Riddle shoves his way from the back. You hadn’t even noticed there were more people. Ace and Deuce pop up as well giving you nervous looks.

Riddle holds his hand up to prevent the green one from shouting. “Sorry about that. They came saying they were looking for someone. After they explained what happened, I figured out who it was they’re looking for. And rule 233 states I should escort guests to their desired location.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain the accusation.” You’re too tired to be nice.

Shaking his head, Riddle sighs. “They’re looking for him.” He points over your shoulder. All eyes turn to the dragon sitting on the couch.

“Young master!”

“Your highness!”

Sebek pushes his way past you to get inside. Grumbling a few not so nice words under your breath, you allow the rest to come in as well. Sebek falls to his knees in front of the dragon while wailing something incomprehensible.

Silver turns to you. “I apologize for the accusation. Sebek can be a little…excitable when it comes to his highness.”

“Highness? Wait, so Tsunotarou is a prince?!” Angry green eyes turn to you.

“HOW DARE YOU REFER TO HIM WITH SUCH A VULGAR NAME!” Even Riddle looks put out. Seeming to realize his volume, he tones down just a little. “Not only did you kidnap him, but you subjected him to a ridiculous name?!”

Ace and Deuce move to stand in front of you when Sebek advances. “It’s okay guys. I’m not afraid of him.” The two give worried looks as you step forward. “Listen here. I did not kidnap him. I found him unconscious and injured in the woods. I took care of him and he’s been staying with me of his own free will. Tsunotarou is free to leave whenever he wants.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him with a sharp look. “I don’t appreciate people barging into my house making accusations! So, sit down and use your inside voice or I will kick you out on your ass!”

Ace lets out a low whistle as Sebek stands there slack jawed. “Are we done now?” Riddle asks, having taken a seat during your little speech.

There’s a moment of silence before Silver gives a small cough. “Again, I apologize for everything. We’ve been looking all over for his highness for a while.”

“It’s fine. Let’s sit down and have a civil discussion.” You take a seat on the couch. Tsunoartou sticks to your side despite the forlorn look Sebek gives him.

Once everyone is sitting, you gesture to the two. “So, who are you?”

“As we said before, I am Silver and this is Sebek. We are personal guards for his royal highness, prince Malleus Draconia,” he explains.

Looking at the dragon leaning against your side, you eye him curiously. “So you’re actually a prince?” He gives a nod. “You do know I was joking about the whole cursed prince thing, right?”

He grumbles deep in his throat, seeming not too pleased about something. “Your prince is a small dragon?” Deuce asks, scratching his cheek as he tries to wrap his head around it all.

“Of course not!” Sebek glares at him. “The young master’s true form is much more elegant and refined. Even his real dragon form is better than this! Not that you humans would understand the beauty of fae.”

“So how did he end up like that?” Ace pipes in.

Pressing his fingers to his temple, Silver sighs deeply. “It was punishment from his grandmother for not doing his duty. We didn’t think he would get carried off by a demon crow when we weren’t looking.”

“What kind of person is your grandmother to curse her own grandson? Scary…” It sends a shiver down your spine. His grandmother must be very powerful since both Vil and Riddle said the curse was created with old magic.

“The curse thing has happened before,” Silver explains, not sounding concerned at all. “Getting lost is new.”

“He’s been living with me for almost a year, and you just decided to search for him?” If he’s a prince, shouldn’t they have been looking for him sooner?

Silver sighs. “The queen assured us that he was fine and ordered us not to search for him. However, a few weeks ago, she told us to find him. I’m not sure why she changed her mind…”

“I assume the one who put the curse on him can take it off? We’ve been studying ways to lift the curse, but haven’t had any luck.” Riddle’s cheeks are puffed out, most likely annoyed that he couldn’t find a way to break the curse himself.

Silver nods. “Yes. We will take him back home so the queen can lift the curse. Though looking at his form, it seems his own magic was working on breaking the curse from within. I’m sure fath-Lilia will be interested to hear this…”

The two stand up. “We need to head back home, immediately!” Sebek announces.

“Right now? But it’s night time. It could be dangerous,” you point out.

“We’ll be fine. We have a charm that will take us directly to the castle,” Silver explains.

“Of course you do.” You can’t delay the inevitable. “Can I have a moment alone with him? Please?”

“Of course. We will wait outside.” Despite Sebek’s protests, the two head out.

Riddle, Ace and Deuce also stand to leave. “I’ll head back to town to let Vil know what happened.”

“We'll be outside if you need us,” Deuce informs you.

Once everyone leaves, it’s just you and Tsunotarou once more. Suddenly a heavy feeling settles on your chest. “You’re leaving… I guess the time has come, Tsunotarou. Sooner than I would like, but you have to go home.”

Sitting up to his full height, he places his front paws on your shoulders. Staring at eye level, he silently conveys his message. Chuckling, you press your forehead against his. Wrapping your arms around his body, you give him a squeeze.

“I’ll see you soon Tsuno-no, that’s not your name. I’ll see you soon, Malleus.” Pulling away, you press a kiss to his forehead. He freezes while his eyes widen. You laugh at his shocked expression. “I just wanted to see if it would work.”

You give him one last hug. You’re not sure when you'll see him again, but you have a feeling you will. You just have to wait.

---

Half a year goes by and things return back to how it was before you found Malleus. The same routine that you once found comfort in feels empty. You go through the motions but none of it really registers. You tell yourself you’ll get back into the groove of things eventually. You’re lying.

Ace and Deuce drop by more often, which you appreciate. Though they don’t say it, they know you’re feeling down. However, they can only stay for so long before they’ll have to find a new commission to take.

“Hey, do you guys actually know who Malleus Draconia is?” Ace asks one day over breakfast.

Deuce throws him a look, but you wave him off. “It’s fine, Deuce. It’s not like we can’t talk about him. And no, I don't know who he is.”

“He’s the next king of Briar Valley! And he’s considered one of the most powerful mages in the world! Can you believe that someone that scary was living with you?!”

You shrug, not really caring. “To me, he was just Tsunotarou. And even now that I know who he is, I don’t care.”

Ace snorts. “Of course you wouldn’t. Still, can you imagine how powerful his grandmother is? That’s one terrifying family you don’t want to mess with.”

“Though now that you mention it, Briar Valley sounds familiar…” Thoughtful chewing on a piece of bread, you wrack your brain. “Oh! That’s where Hornton is from!”

“Horn-what? Who’s that?” Deuce asks between mouthfuls of food.

Taking a sip of your juice, you nonchalantly reply, “You know the naked stranger I mentioned a long time ago. Turns out he’s from Briar Valley too.”

“Are you asking to be killed? Why would you talk to someone who can’t even wear clothes?!” Ace looks at you like you’ve grown too heads. “And what kind of name is Hornton?”

“It’s a nickname. He didn’t give me his real name so I gave him one.”

Rolling his eyes, Ace shoves the rest of his breakfast in his mouth. “Yew swuk at maming!” Bits of food fly out of his mouth. You childishly stick your tongue out.

Deuce is quiet before asking, “Have you seen him recently?”

“No. He usually shows up during the full moon, but I haven’t seen him.” You did spend a few full moon nights waiting, but he never came. After a few times, you gave up. “Now that I think about it, he hasn’t shown up since Tsunotarou left…”

“...”

“You met one of the most powerful beings in the world and not only did you give him one dumb name, but two?!!”

“I didn’t know!”

Covering your face, you let out a frustrated groan. The table falls silent once more. Then from the redhead in a barely contained laugh, “So, you saw his crown jewels?”

“Ace!” Deuce's face turns bright red.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” There’s a pause before the table erupts into laughter. Sometimes you question your choice of friends, but at times like these, you’re grateful for them.

---

“Do you have everything?” Deuce asks for the umpteenth time.

You adjust the straps to your bag. “Yup! I’ll be back in a few weeks at most. Just don’t burn down my home. Please.”

“I’m not that bad! If anything Deuce will burn down the cottage,” Ace shouts in the background. Merryweather gives his shoe a hard peck. “Evil bird!”

Shaking your head, you turn to Deuce. “I want all my ladies to be here when I get back. Or else.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” he reassures. However, seeing Ace run away from three angry hens does little to relieve your concerns.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go…”

“Go! You got a personal invite from a prince to visit.” He waves you off. “Anyways, Trey will be coming to make sure your house is okay.”

“At least someone responsible will be here,” you mutter. Giving Deuce one last goodbye, you head over to where Sebek and Silver are waiting just outside your front gate. “Be nice to them, Ace!” you shout.

He’s too busy trying to fend off the hens to say much. “They truly are vicious creatures. Are you sure you didn’t train them to attack?” Sebek shudders at the sight of the redhead getting pecked at.

“They’re just overprotective. So, how are we getting to Briar Valley?” With a suitcase and backpack, you’re ready to leave home for the first time in a long time. Malleus’s invitation is safely tucked away in your bag.

Silver produces a small piece of paper from his pocket. You note there are some ruins written on it. “Everyone, hold on to me.” Placing a hand on his shoulder, he rips the paper in half. The ruins light up momentarily, before you’re engulfed in a blinding light.

You blink rapidly, trying to clear the spots dancing in your vision. Once you can see again, you look around. No longer home, you’re standing in front of a gate. A marvelous castle looms above. Despite all the opulence, you’re solely focused on the figure standing on the path leading to the castle.

Pushing through the gate, you rush forward. “W-wait!” You ignore Sebek’s shout.

Stopping just a few feet away, you break out into a grin. “I see you’re wearing clothes this time.”

He returns the smile with one of his own. “I wanted to look my best to greet you. You’re a very important guest after all.”

“Can I give you a hug or is that breaking decorum?” you ask, ignoring Sebek’s sputters of protest.

“Come on, Sebek. Fath-Lilia wanted us to see him right when we returned.” There’s a few words exchanged, but they leave you two alone.

Malleus opens his arms. “I would like that very much.”

Without hesitation, you wrap your arms around him. Despite not knowing Tsunotarou and Horton were one and the same until recently, there’s a sense of familiarity. He might not be a scaly black dragon like you’re used to, but he holds the same scent and warmth. His gaze has the same wonder and affection.

He nuzzles the top of your head. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Pulling away, you take his hand. “Though I do kinda miss your little dragon form,” you tease.

Malleus squeezes your hand. “Perhaps I should ask grandmother to curse me once more?”

“No!” However, you note the way his brows are lifted and his mouth quirks up. “You’re teasing me, right?”

“Of course. I guess I missed the mark on that.” He shakes his head. “Before I can show you around, grandmother would like to meet you.”

“Right now? I’m not even presentable!” This is not what you expected. You’ve only been in Briar Valley for a whole 5 minutes, and now you’re expected to meet the queen!?

Malleus doesn’t seem worried, though. “You look wonderful as always. Come, let us be off.”

Before you can protest, he pulls you to his chest. Arm around your waist, you temporarily lose the ability to think as you’ve never been this close to him before. Well at least not in this form. In a blink, you’re no longer standing outside the castle.

You stand in a large gazebo surrounded by rose bushes as far as the eye can see. They’re all in full bloom. There’s a lot of time and effort put into the garden. You also notice a rather scary looking gargoyle further away.

Someone hums with interest causing you to turn your attention away from the roses. The only other occupant in the gazebo is a regal looking woman holding a teacup. A table filled with small dishes and a tea set are laid before her. She has the same inky black hair as Malleus, though you note streaks of white in her impeccable style. Her horns are intricately decorated with delicate gold chains studded with gems. Green eyes flash with interest as she sets down the teacup without making a sound.

“Malleus, what a lovely surprise. Who is this?” she asks, eyes never leaving you. Her knowing gaze sees right into your very soul.

“Grandmother, I’d like to introduce to you (Y/N).” You realize he’s still holding you close to his side. Disentangling yourself for him while stepping away at a respectable distance. You don’t know if you should be bowing. She is the queen after all!

She smiles, revealing shiny, white teeth. You briefly wonder if the smile is meant to be inviting or intimidating. Maybe both. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, little human. My grandson has been talking about you non-stop since he came home. And I must say, you’re as adorable as he described~”

“I-It’s nice to m-meet yo-you too, your highness!” Did she just call you adorable?? Your neck prickles as you suddenly feel too warm.

She stands up, towering over your form. Not only is she intimidating just by her aura but also in height! “Hoho, so formal! You can call me grandmother.”

There’s silence as your brain stutters to a halt. You can hear Malleus let out a deep breath while the queen's laughter echoes in the garden.

Tagging: @starsilluminateourgalaxy @stormyovent0aster @hanafubukki @mscarterakaviola98 @sparkleypancakez @youaskedfurret @yokokai @hajimeseyo @ravenlking @peter-the-pan @enchanted-nerd @nocturneabyss @chaasworld @lechuko @bloomsapphire @amar-farasha @itszzmoon @xlifexdeathx @supernovaicloud @mysterypotatoink @illytian @depressed-bitchy-demon @cheyuma @liquidfurby @bigcandlesmolbrain @thetruepair @chibishae34 @strawberry-soap-bar @sus0daddy @inana-mm @liliaviper @musclefanatica @loivre @chuchotheblackcat @lorkai

#twst imagines #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #reader insert #scenario

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danibee33 · 9 months ago

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The Queen’s Guard - Chapter 6: Promise

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

word count: 2.5k

[<<< chapter 5]

For the first time, in longer than you can remember, you don’t dread the morning sun. You watch it crest the horizon, feel its warmth radiate on your skin, bask in its dewey light- bathing you in a delightful glow.

And it feels so surreal, like you’re surely doomed to wake from this dream, like the strong arms that had held you so tightly, and the lips that kissed yours so passionately, were only figments of your imagination. Yet, when you reach out, your fingers graze over the very real, and very smooth, cold, dark surface of Simon’s helmet still sitting on your bedside table; unmoved since he had retrieved it from the balcony hours ago-

“It’s real, My Queen..” You suck in a breath at the thick rasp of Simon’s voice in your ear, earning you a sweet chuckle, the arm around your waist pulling you closer so he can bury his nose into the soft hair at the nape of your neck, “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

A deep sigh parts your lips at the way he feels, how solid and hot his body is wrapped around yours, his breath sneaking beneath the collar of your nightgown,

“Tell me,” You say, wriggling yourself even further against him, “can you read minds, Ser Simon?”

Your question riles a deep and genuine laugh from him this time, though he does his best to keep it quiet, only for your ears, and hopefully none that dare to pry-

“Why?” He asks, gently tugging you to turn over, “Somethin’ up here you wouldn’t want me to know?”

Smiles pull at both your lips when he taps your temple with the pad of his finger, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen something as glorious as Simon’s dimpled smirk- Gods, why would he ever hide under that helmet.. it’s a fleeting thought, but one you hope to learn the answer to eventually. Hm, eventually, when is that? How much time do you really have with him? What could possibly-

“Hey..” His calloused palm settles over your cheek, thumb tracing a soft, back and forth pattern, his eyes narrowed in concern, “What is it? I lost you..”

Such a simple question, and such a simple statement, but they feel incomprehensible. That you could have given your life to man for years, and he still knows nothing of you, thinks nothing of you- but Simon, who has only been with you for a handful of months, has somehow learned you, maybe even better than you know yourself.

You rest your palm over his hand, unsure of what to say, or where it could possibly go; his promise ringing in your ears, reverberating through your marrow and bones-

“I’m goin’ to get you out of here. I swear it.”

“If we leave.. Where will we go?”

“When we leave..” His voice is steady and hardly above a whisper, the tip of his nose grazing over yours, “We’ll go wherever you like. The coast, inland, mountains, and forests- we’ll see it all.”

“But.. Simon- the King..”

So, so sweetly, you feel him pull your head forward just enough to crush his lips against yours- effectively silencing all your relentless thoughts, even if only for this glorious moment. Because it’s so easy to be consumed in him, in his power and his gentility, his brutish strength and the way he holds you as if you were made of the most precious and rare element he knew. And once again, you feel your body giving in to him- feel the tightness gather in your belly, and the ache grow between your legs. You want him, in every way that a woman can want a man- but all too soon, he’s pulling away again, his forehead pressing against yours,

“I will deal with the King, sweet girl.” He studies you, biting harshly at his bottom lip before glancing behind you towards the sunrise, “I have to dress- your hand maid will be here soon.”

You know you should let go of him, but it feels like you only just got him- and your stubborn heart wins against the logic of your mind as you lean into him again, kissing him with a little more urgency, a fervor behind your actions that he gives into, but only for a moment. He holds you back, eyes clenched shut in a silent battle all his own,

“Little Queen, you might think me a better man than I am..” He practically groans out the words, reaching down to hitch your thigh up over his hip, pushing his pelvis forward so that his want and arousal are made quite evident to you, “But, I beg of you, not here.. Not yet.”

There’s nothing in his words or his tone that could lead you to believe he doesn’t want all the same things you do, nothing about the hard length that presses against your cunt that could possibly make you believe he isn’t holding on by the thinnest of threads, trying his damnedest to be good to you- so that you’ll never, ever think that he simply wants your body and nothing else.

“Ok, Simon..” You nod, letting him press one more kiss to your lips, one so full of pining and longing, that it threatens to steal the air from your lungs as you reluctantly relent your hold on him so that you both could sit up, a little breathless and out of sorts.

But even though you’ve parted, it doesn’t stop him from planting a few more chaste kisses over your jaw and cheekbone before tearing himself away, allowing you to watch as he moves across the room. Seeing him only in his thin base layers is enough to raise your heart rate, remembering how you helped him shed his bulky armor last night- and now, you watch ardently as he picks it up and puts it back on, piece by piece- the thick muscles of his back and shoulders rippling and flexing with every practiced movement.

And, far quicker than you like, he’s sauntering towards your side of the bed, where you’ve sat so entranced by him- seeing him once more covered by the heavy steel plates, the ones that only make him larger than life, that make his already broad frame almost unnaturally bigger, his pitch black cloak billowing behind him,

“I’ll assume my post like always,” Simon says with a low tone, taking your bare hand in his gloved one just so he can place a gentlemanly kiss to the soft, pale skin, grabbing his helmet when he lets go.

You stand, looking up at him- committing every wonderful feature and flaw to memory before it’s covered again,

“And I’ll have a raven sent to Clan MacTavish, he can help us-”

But Simon shifts on his feet, your hand still engulfed by his own, “Are you sure, My Queen?”

And you can see the way his dark brows furrow behind the helmet, he doesn’t trust Johnny, but you can understand his apprehension- he doesn’t know the Scot like you do, and if what you think is going to happen, there can be no loose ends in what’s to come.

“Yes, I’m sure. There’s not a soul that we could trust more, Simon. I promise.”

This time, it’s you who lifts his hand to your lips, kissing the black leather as if to seal your own words- something a proper queen should never do, but the warmth that spreads through you when you see his eyes widen slightly makes you want to do it again and again.

He gives you a nod, not allowing himself the chance to waste anymore time, because gods know he would never leave you if given the option- but he must. There is much to plan, much to do, too many seeds of doubt to sow in far too short a time.

Johnny’s POV——

Work. That’s what it feels like for Johnny to come home. There’s no rest for the weary, no, not at the MacTavish estate, they’d never dream of allowing such a luxury-

Buncha fuckin’ dobbers they can be.. I swear.

Yet, he greets them all the same. Giving his Da a stiff, one-armed hug, exchanging the traditional three harsh pats to the back before moving down the path towards his childhood home.

“You’ll tell us about yer visit to court, won’t ye, Johnny?”

A warm smile spreads over his face as he looks down at his youngest sister, throwing an arm lazily over her shoulder,

“Well, hi to you, too, El..” Johnny teases, ruffling her dark brown curls playfully, “I’ll give ye all the juicy gossip tomorrow- after we get some shut eye, eh?” he says, nodding at the maid as they cross the grand threshold, “And I wan’ tae hear about this new constellation ye’ve discovered, my wee little genius!”

Elsie giggles and tries to escape his hold, going on about him being a numpty- all smiles and laughter until the most senior Lord MacTavish blows out a loud scoff,

“Enough o’ that, you two. Elsie, go on, need tae talk tae yer brother.”

She shies away almost too quickly, and it makes his stomach turn, seeing the flash of fear in her eyes as she gives his side one more weak squeeze before flitting off up the stairs-

“Been a long few days, Da. ‘M right ready for a bed-“

The door to the Lord’s study slams shut, cerulean eyes pinning Johnny down in an instant,

“I dinnae give two shites ‘bout how long it’s been, son. I told ya, if you were comin’ back here, ye’d better have a wife in tow.”

Johnny rolls his eyes- big mistake.

His father is a big man, and he’s never had an issue using his size against the lot of them- Johnny being the eldest, all the way down the line, and even their Ma, gods rest her soul.

Which is how he ends up with his back shoved against the closest wall,

“Mind yer fuckin’ attitude with me, boy.” He spits the words, making sure Johnny knows just how little he still in his father’s eyes, “Ye think yer someone big and important out there, huh? Think the army made ye tough, gave ye a big heid, that it? Well, dinnae forget who-“

But, see, Johnny isn’t that little boy anymore, he isn’t that frightened little teenager constantly in fear of the good Lord MacTavish’s thumb crushing him under its weight. His time in the army has treated him well, in fact. He’s bigger, taller, stronger, and faster- and too much time spent on the front lines has made his skin thick and calloused.

With a deep snarl, Johnny is quick to grab the older man by his collar and reverse their positions before he even knows what’s happening,

“Tha’s not how this works anymore, m’lord.”

If Johnny could sketch the shock and surprise in his father’s eyes, he would- hells, he might, because it’s a beautiful sight. One he thinks he’ll remember for a long, long time to come-

“And if I hear one more cross word out of yer filthy fuckin’ mouth, I’ll cut yer tongue out m’self. Is that clear?”

Matching blue eyes stay locked in a silent battle, young and old, a battle as old as times itself, father and son going head to head, a true fight for dominance.

The old lord’s lips curls in anger and disdain, his breath hot and laden with the thick scent of Scotch,

“Ah..” he coos, a chuckle bubbling from his barreled chest, “Aren’t ye a big hotshot, spent time with the little traitorous Scottish queen herself and suddenly yer invincible, that it?”

Johnny growls right back, pulling his father forward before slamming him against the solid wood even harder, “What? And yer still mad it wasn’t one of yer daughters, huh?”

The lord struggles against his hold, but turns out, the boorish old man isn’t all that strong anymore- at least not stronger than his son, which only enrages him more,

“I’m only here to settle my inheritance, ye insufferable old bastard. We’ll talk tomorrow, when ye think ye can speak to me like an equal-“

Johnny lowers his tone to something heavier, his voice dripping with malice, “and there will be none of this, ye won’t put yer hands on me, and I willnae put mine on you. Aye?”

A long silence stretches across the space between them, a heated pause, one that threatens to explode on a hair trigger- and maybe, it’s not actually that long, maybe it’s really only a few seconds, glaring daggers into his own father’s eyes before the old man gives a hateful, “Aye.”, in return.

And if Johnny just so happens to shove the self-righteous old cunt into the wall one more time for good measure, well- that’s between him and the gods he chooses to answer to. But, fuck all if it didn’t feel good to do it.

——

When he finally gets to his room, it’s a disparaging sight- dusty and stale, not a thing changed since he left years ago. And he wishes so badly to feel peace, to feel warmth and love in the place that he should feel all those things and more- in the place he did feel all those things when Ma was still alive.

Yet, it’s just sad and cold now, just how it was when he left. But, a smile does tug at his lips when he unlatches the case Sunny had sent home with him, packed to the brim with treats and fine fabrics and leathers. Some for him and each of his sisters, and an abundance of spares that would last them for a long while-

“Yer too good to us, Grianach..” he mumbles, popping a delightful, citrusy sweet in his mouth as he continues to unpack.

And it takes a while, but eventually he pulls a lone envelope from under a primly wrapped hunting vest, one of the finest he’s ever laid his hands on- the dark brown leather soft as butter in his fingers as he lays it to the side with care.

The bone white paper is thick and stiff, royal stationary that he knows well from letters and messages he’s gotten from her before; the edge sealed with a deep green wax crest- the king’s crest. It brings a disgusted grimace to his face, thinking of the last days with her, the terrible, mottled bruises on her skin- it makes him ill to his stomach to remember.

But, with a deep sigh, he gently pulls the seal apart- recognizing her handwriting right away- though, the farther he reads, the more his guts twist and wrench, the harder his heart beats and the less air it feels like he can suck into his seizing lungs-

No.. no, no, no. This isn’t right, it can’t be- not you, not my Sunny. How could you not tell me? Why didn’t you tell me how much pain you were in-

My dearest Johnny,

I pray this letter finds you well, cousin. And, I pray for your understanding in what I feel I must do, not only for myself, but more importantly, for you. Though.. I do not think you will see it that way, and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry, Johnny. You’ve been my best friend since my first memories, never letting me forget that you’re one month and one day older than me, or that you learned to ride a horse first- remember sneaking out to the stables? I thought Mother would kill us both when you brought me back home covered in scrapes and muck. Oh, I miss the simplicity of those days, I miss it so much it hurts. That life I had for just a moment, where I was free and untethered- or well, I thought I was. And, I suppose, perception is what really matters, isn’t it?

That is what I’ve been taught my whole life, afterall, perception is key. That I must be at my best, presented in a pretty, pretty package- pleasing to the eye and well groomed enough so that the masses may never know the chaos that lies beneath the silks and jewels.

Well, my sweet Johnny, no more. I won’t do it, I will not be scruffed by the neck any longer, I will not live as a possession, an item, an object that only exists to be pretty and used. I am more than that, and I pray.. I pray you forgive me, I pray you are not disappointed, I pray that you remember me only as I was, and not what I have become. Remember me covered in scrapes and muck with a broad smile on my face and joy in my heart. That is the real me, not this fallacy that everyone thinks they know.

I have a trusted courier at the ready, the few earthly possessions I own that mean anything to me are to be delivered to the estate. They are yours. We always shared everything anyway, no need in changing that now. Be well, cousin.

All my love, your Sunny.

[chapter 7>>>]

taglist: @spxctorsslxt

#call of duty #but make it medieval #medieval au #knight!ghost #queen!reader #simon ghost riley #cod fandom #cod fanfic #john soap mactavish #lord mactavish #are you kidding me #also on ao3 #simon riley x reader #maybe a throuple?#slow burn #eventual smut #i promise #it’s coming #🫢🫢🫢

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short-wooloo · 1 year ago

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From Jediism to Judaism: Star Wars as Jewish Allegory, by Daniel Perez

A look at some of the Jewish elements – coincidental or otherwise – of Star Wars.

A long time ago in a place far, far away...

It is a period of civil war. A new government has declared the practice of the old faith a crime punishable by death, disbanding an ancient order of sages and sending many into exile. Rebel fighters, striking from a hidden base, have won their first major victory against the evil Empire, stirring a spirit of defiance among the populace. Outarmed and vastly outnumbered, the ragtag band of rebels – aided by an all-powerful, all-permeating Force that binds together all life in the universe – remain the only hope for restoring peace and freedom to their people.

It's one of the greatest epics known to mankind. No, not Star Wars. The above synopsis is actually the story of Hanukkah, the eight-day Jewish festival that commemorates a miraculous victory of Israelite insurgents against the tyrannical Seleucid Empire roughly 2,200 years ago.

With Star Wars Episode VII set to premiere in just a few short weeks, I got to thinking about how certain aspects of the Star Wars universe are eerily similar to the history, beliefs, and teachings of the Jews. Now George Lucas did not set out to create a fantasy universe full of Jewish references, but the connections are nevertheless there. So let's put the “Han” back in Hanukkah (Harrison Ford, by the way, technically a member of the tribe) and look at some of the Jewish elements – coincidental or otherwise – of Star Wars.

A Galaxy of Hebrew Names

The heroes of the Star Wars series are members of a “rebel alliance,” basically Maccabees in outer space. It's right there in the name: Jedi. The Hebrew letter yud is often anglicized as a “J,” and syllables occasionally get dropped in translation. Hence, a Biblical name like “Yehoshua” makes its way into English as “Joshua.” It's not much of a stretch to see how “Jedi” can be derived the original Hebrew word for Jew, “Yehudi.”

Remember Luke Skywalker's Jedi rebbe, Grand Master Yoda? Is it just me, or is his peculiar syntax reminiscent of someone whose first language is Yiddish (“Yodish”)? More to the point, his name sounds a lot like “yada,” the Hebrew word meaning “to know.”

And how about those Skywalkers? Luke Skywalker might sound like a gentile name, but that name was clearly chosen to alliterate with his twin sister Leia (Leah). Also keep in mind that their parents were an interfaith couple. The father, Anakin Skywalker, played by the unmistakably un-Jewish Hayden Christensen, tried to convert to Jediism, but as we know he ultimately turned to the Dark Side instead. Their mother was Queen Amidala, portrayed by the beautiful and talented Israeli-born actress Natalie Portman. Suffice it to say their marriage did not end well, and it wasn't until much later in life that their children discovered their Jedi-ish identity.

Learning Academy

When an aspiring Jedi Knight goes to the Academy, he or she must complete what is essentially an apprenticeship with one more learned in Jediism than they are. Similarly, a future rabbi's yeshiva experience will consist largely of chavruta learning (studying with a partner – lit. “friendship”). Fun fact: The name for a young, unmarried yeshiva student, “bochur,” actually means “chosen” (as in “The Chosen People”). The idea of a foretold “Chosen One” who would “restore balance to the Force” was a theme running throughout the Star Wars films, wherein Anakin Skywalker was recognized for his extraordinary potential as a Jedi. As mentioned above, he went “off the derech” and became the villainous Darth Vader. In Return of the Jedi, however, Vader/Skywalker fulfills the “prophecy” when he does teshuvah (our term for repentance, which literally means “return.” Whoa. Return of the Jedi!), thwarting Emperor Palpatine to save his son's life, and ultimately, the galaxy.

Of course, if you tell a young rabbi-in-training that he is the “Chosen One,” it sounds cool and dramatic and is technically true, but then, the same can be said of all of his classmates.

While the Star Wars films don't feature Jedi trainees delving into sacred texts (it doesn't make for the most exciting movie montage), some of the greatest rabbinic books of ethics and Jewish philosophy would be right at home in any Jedi library. “Duties of the Heart,” “The Path of the Just”....tell me these don't sound like the reading list for a hero of the Light Side.

The Force

While Jediism isn't a theistic religion per se, its practitioners do teach of a Force that, in the words of Reb Obi-Wan Kenobi "...is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together." That almost sounds like some sort of Chasidic teaching – just replace “energy field” with “entity” or “consciousness,” and “created by,” with “that creates,” and what you have starts to come across less like new age hippie talk and more like an introduction to Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism.

One idea that devout Jews of all stripes share, is that God, the creative “Force” that sustains all, is the source of a Jew's power. “Ein od milvado,” there is none besides Him. The Jew expresses his or her connection to the universe by striving for an ever closer relationship with its Creator.

Another aspect of Jedi belief is the notion of balance, the idea that the Light Side and the Dark Side are both aspects of the same Force seeking equilibrium. The religions that branched off from Judaism tend to show the Creator and Satan, or “The Devil,” in an adversarial relationship, almost a sort of de facto dualistic theology with a God and an anti-God, if you will. Judaism maintains that the Satan (lit. “Accuser”) is the angel associated with temptation, and prosecution in the Heavenly Court. He's basically Slugworth to God's Willy Wonka. He's got a dirty job to do, but in the end, we're both serving the same Boss.

Judaism also teaches that the source of Light and Darkness are One and the same, as it says in the prayer book: “Blessed art Thou, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who forms light and creates darkness, Who makes peace and creates all things.” The source for this line of liturgy can be found in the Hebrew Bible, Isaiah 45:7: “Who forms light and creates darkness, Who makes peace and creates evil; I am the Lord, Who makes all these.”

Incidentally, one of the traditional names for God – invoked particularly by the Jewish mystics – is HaMakom, literally “The Place.” The deeper idea conveyed by this name is that the Creator does not exist within the universe; the universe exists within Him. It sounds a lot like The Force. The key conceptual difference between the fictitious all-uniting Force of Star Wars and the Shechinah or “Divine Presence” is that the former is impersonal and passive, the latter is an omnipotent consciousness that actively intervenes in human history, speaking with Prophets and working miracles until this very day.

So if you see the new Star Wars movie, directed by Jeffrey Jacob Abrams (who couldn't sound more Jewish if his name was Saul Cohen or Herschel Rosenblatt), perhaps you'll be able to seek out and appreciate the surprisingly Jewish flavor of the Star Wars universe.

Happy Hanukkah, and may the Force be with you!

#wooloo-writes #wooloo writes #star wars #sw #jedi #jedi and judaism #judaism #✡️#article #chanukah #hanukkah #happy hanukkah #happy chanukah

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matan4il · 1 year ago

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Hi, I saw on your posts that you volunteer at Yad Vashem.

I came to Israel as a (gentile) tourist in 2012 for 2 weeks when I was 16 as part of a tour, as one does. In the UK, where I live, it is a statutory requirement to teach the Holocaust in history class before the age of 15, and, unlike a lot of people I could mention, I actually paid attention in history class, learning about Kristallnacht, the Kindertransport, the ghettos, and the Final Solution. And I read and saw all the grisly school displays in the history corridor with pictures of emaciated dead bodies in those striped uniforms. And I read at least 3 books by concentration camp survivors in the school library. And my school got a Holocaust survivor in to talk to us, AND we covered the Holocaust, the Khmer Rouge and Darfur in Religious Studies. Not to mention I had taken history as an elective and done Interwar Europe and WW2.

So I was pretty well-versed on the factual, violent elements of the holocaust.

But when I came to Yad Vashem, there was an aspect to the Holocaust that I wasn't expecting, and that was how people held onto their humanity in the worst circumstances. I remember seeing a photo of people lining up for the cinema they'd organised in the ghetto - people who were lucky to get one meal a day. I remember the story the tour guide told us about a rabbi's son who ended up in a camp with his kid brother and kept him alive.

But the most moving thing of all was the makeshift ram's horn that a rabbi had made in one of the concentration camps.

Not even the camps could stop him blowing the ram's horn. And while I don't know much about Jewish festivals, I felt that the ram's horn was a sign of hope.

Hi lovely!

Thank you so much for sharing this with me. I'm very moved to hear how much you care about the topic of the Holocaust. I personally believe we can't understand human nature, without attempting to understand the Holocaust, all of it, the whole range of human nature as it was expressed back then, from the worst of the worst, to the best of the best. We do very much try to talk about this subject, as we try to generally highlight parts of the Holocaust that we feel have been neglected. So, I am REALLY happy to hear that we could introduce that aspect to you, and that it touched you so much! <3 I personally find a lot of comfort and strength in studying more in depth how people managed to do it, how they maintained their humaneness, even as they witnessed, and were victims of, the most monstrous deeds humans are capable of.

I guess following Oct 7, I feel the same way about seeing Israelis, Jews and allies react in a similar way, and choosing good, in spite of the evil we have experienced again, firsthand.

The ram's horn is a Jewish shofar, and this is the specific one you're talking about, it's found in gallery 8 (which focuses on life for enslaved Jews in the Nazi camps):

And this is Moshe Ben Dov, who crafted it in a Nazi slave labor camp in Poland, in 1943.

He said, "I think I must have softened the horn with my tears." Moshe Ben Dov knew that for using the tools the Nazis gave him, to create an object with Jewish significance, they would kill him if they found out. He wasn't in denial of his pain and of the horrors surrounding him. He didn't blindly ignore the danger. He simply chose to overcome it, to channel that pain into creating something good, a symbol of hope as you said, a holy artifact that would allow Jews to blow the shofar, and maintain their tradition and religious customs, even in the middle of a Nazi camp. I think it's remarkable.

This is why one of my favorite Jewish sayings is, "A little bit of light chases a lot of darkness away." This shofar didn't change the world, but it changed something fundamental about the reality of the Jews enslaved in that camp (they all came to hear the rabbi blowing the shofar on Rosh Ha'Shana), and I believe it can also change us for the better, if we let such incredible deeds inspire us to channel our pain into doing good, too.

Thank you so much again for this ask! I hope you have a wonderful day! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#ask #letmyneckbelikethetowerofdavid #personal #holocaust #israel #terrorism #judaism #jewish #shoah #jumblr #frumblr #anti terrorism #rosh hashanah

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wangxianficfinder · 2 years ago

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A question : Why aren't there any horses used in mdzs? I mean for people who aren't able to cultivate properly but are main part of the sect, eg, Nie Huaisang, he isn't able to cultivate well and has to rely on someone to carry him on sword. Same goes with Wei Wuxian, he uses a donkey instead of a horse and so does Cangse Sanren. So are horses not famous? Even in Sunshot Campaign, no one uses horses.

Going off pure memory -

They do use horses. When they lose their swords at the wen indoctrination, they use horses to leave the Nie sect (at least in CQL iirc).

The reason WWX uses a donkey is because it's part of a core memory of his parents. The only memories of them he can truly remember is of him sitting on a donkey with his mother laughing next to him and his dad leading it.

He uses a donkey because of nostalgia and because it reminds him of happier times with his parents.

Why they use a donkey instead of a horse? I don't really know. Maybe it was more efficient or cheaper for them to get a donkey.

As for why there's no horses in the Sunshot campaign - they use swords. They don't really have a reason to use the slower method of a horse. Though they might have actually used them and we just missed it/it wasn't outright mentioned.

I haven't read the novel in a while, so I can't remember any obvious mentions of horses, but I am sure they used them in some capacity.

Though, please correct me if I am wrong!

- Mod C

---

gentil-minou: There's horses in the novel just before the Phoenix knight hunt, with the flowers! (Unless im misremembering or confusing with fanart oops)

Ah, yes! It's when Wei Wuxian throws a flower at Lan Wangji and pretends to be talking to the people next to him when he looks over but they point to Wei Wuxian! It's part of the ceremony of the hunt, each sect arrives on horses and people in the stands throw flowers at them. I remember that scene now too ^^

- Mod C

justgot1 said: I think they’re using a horse drawn carriage as well in the scene where the boys send an unconscious Jiang Yanli off with Song Lan (?) to get her safely away while they “go see Baoshan Sanren.” And come to think of it, Jiang Yanli arrives by carriage to the unclean realm at some point too I think.

I believe it was a horse carriage too.

- Mod C

#mod c #answers

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 2 months ago

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Jews are privileged, but even they have failed

1-4 Is there any advantage then in being one of the chosen people? Does circumcision mean anything? Yes, of course, a great deal in every way. You have only to think of one thing to begin with—it was the Jews to whom God’s messages were entrusted. Some of them were undoubtedly faithless, but what then? Can you imagine that their faithlessness could disturb the faithfulness of God? Of course not! Let us think of God as true, even if every living man be proved a liar. Remember the scripture? ‘That you may be justified in your words, and may overcome when you are judged’.

5-8 But if our wickedness advertises the goodness of God, do we feel that God is being unfair to punish us in return? (I’m using a human tit-for-tat argument.) Not a bit of it! What sort of a person would God be then to judge the world? It is like saying that if my lying throws into sharp relief the truth of God and, so to speak, enhances his reputation, then why should he repay me by judging me a sinner? Similarly, why not do evil that good may be, by contrast all the more conspicuous and valuable? (As a matter of fact, I am reported as urging this very thing, by some slanderously and others quite seriously! But, of course, such an argument is quite properly condemned.)

9-18 Are we Jews then a march ahead of other men? By no means. For I have shown above that all men from Jews to Greeks are under the condemnation of sin. The scriptures endorse this fact plainly enough. ‘There is none righteous, no, not one; there is none who understands; there is none who seeks after God. They have all gone out of the way; they have together become unprofitable; there is none who does good, no, not one’. ‘Their throat is an open tomb; with their tongues they have practised deceit’; ‘the poison of asps is under their lips’, ‘whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness’. ‘Their feet are swift to shed blood; destruction and misery are in their ways; and the way of peace they have not known’. ‘There is no fear of God before their eyes’.

19-20 We know what the message of the Law is, to those who live under it—that every excuse may die on the lips of him who makes it and no living man may think himself beyond the judgment of God. No man can justify himself before God by a perfect performance of the Law’s demands—indeed it is the straight-edge of the Law that shows us how crooked we are.

God’s new plan—righteousness by faith, not through the Law

21-26 But now we are seeing the righteousness of God declared quite apart from the Law (though amply testified to by both Law and Prophets)—it is a righteousness imparted to, and operating in, all who have faith in Jesus Christ. (For there is no distinction to be made anywhere: everyone has sinned, everyone falls short of the beauty of God’s plan.) Under this divine system a man who has faith is now freely acquitted in the eyes of God by his generous dealing in the redemptive act of Jesus Christ. God has appointed him as the means of propitiation, a propitiation accomplished by the shedding of his blood, to be received and made effective in ourselves by faith. God has done this to demonstrate his righteousness both by the wiping out of the sins of the past (the time when he withheld his hand), and by showing in the present time that he is a just God and that he justifies every man who has faith in Jesus Christ.

Faith, not pride of achievement

27-28 What happens now to human pride of achievement? There is no more room for it. Why, because failure to keep the Law has killed it? Not at all, but because the whole matter is now on a different plane—believing instead of achieving. We see now that a man is justified before God by the fact of his faith in God’s appointed Saviour and not by what he has managed to achieve under the Law.

29-30 And God is God of both Jews and Gentiles, let us be quite clear about that! The same God is ready to justify the circumcised by faith and the uncircumcised by faith also.

31 Are we then undermining the Law by this insistence on faith? Not a bit of it! We put the Law in its proper place. — Romans 3 | J.B. Phillips New Testament (PHILLIPS) The New Testament in Modern English by J.B Phillips copyright © 1960, 1972 J. B. Phillips. Cross References: Genesis 8:21; Genesis 18:25; Leviticus 16:10; Deuteronomy 4:8; Deuteronomy 6:4; Job 40:8; Psalm 10:7; Psalm 36:1; Psalm 53:2-3; Psalm 107:42; Psalm 130:7; Psalm 143:2; Psalm 147:20; Proverbs 20:9; Isaiah 59:7; Jeremiah 23:6; Daniel 9:42; Matthew 25:30; Luke 1:80; Luke 20:16; Acts 10:34; Romans 2:17; Romans 6:1; Romans 8:4; Romans 9:19; Romans 10:16; James 2:18; James 3:8; 1 John 1:8

Romans 3: Commentary, Bible Study And Summary

Key Passages in Romans 3

1. The Jews prerogative; 3. which they have not lost; 9. howbeit the law convinces them also of sin; 20. therefore no one is justified by the law; 28. but all, without difference, by faith, only; 31. and yet the law is not abolished.

#boasting #blood #Jesus #the faithfulness of God #righteousness #faith #God of everyone #Romans 3 #The Epistle of Romans #New Testament #PHILLIPS #J.B. Phillips New Testament Bible

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 month ago

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Gentile. | Chapter XXXX

Quintus confronts you about the notes on Jesus from Nazareth found in your room. You run into the same woman on the streets again. You find something meaningful to do with your love for writing.

Chapter list

The news of Jesus’ followers being back in town spreads like wildfire amongst the soldiers, allowing you to remain somewhat in the loop in spite of spending your days in either your personal study or Quintus’ office. Jesus is conspicuous by His absence and hasn’t been seen in a while, even by His students. It seems that nobody knows where He is and when He will return from His journey, causing the people of both Capernaum and the rapidly expanding tent city to grow restless and impatient.

You find yourself taking half-hourly trips to the lavatory at this point in your pregnancy. With the broken cistern you attempt to keep your visits to a minimum in order to not strain the servants too much, but your unborn child does not seem to comprehend your moral considerations but knows perfectly where to aim their kicks in order for you to rush out of the office again. Despite his usual sour mood, Quintus seems to find the whole ordeal quite humorous, huffing in amusement whenever you hurry away. Yet another way he appears to be enjoying the way you suffer, you bitterly think.

A few days pass, nearly a week, and you have almost forgotten about your encounter with Cecilia during the party. It isn’t until one morning that you enter your husband’s office and find him with a particularly hard line in his brow, but before you can ask him what is on his mind, Gaius enters the workroom with heavy steps.

“You wanted to see me, Dominus?” The Praetor has apparently called in the Primi for an audience before your arrival so you find your usual spot in the corner of the room, sinking into the plush upholstery of the chaise longue that has started to take the shape of your body at this point, the imprint on the sofa barely visible to the naked eye until one takes a seat and finds its shape slightly altered.

Quintus’ gaze snaps up to meet he man in question with a glare that indicates thorough displeasure.

As Gaius turns and leaves the room, Quintus has a thoughtful frown on his otherwise sharp features. “I thought you took on the task of repairing the cistern, no?”

“Yes, Dominus, we are still waiting for the materials to arrive from Jeru—”

“Well, wait faster.” Quintus gestures towards you, “I’ve got a pregnant wife, remember? She needs the cistern more than anyone.” That isn’t necessarily true but your bite your tongue.

Gaius’ jaw tightens. “I understand, Dominus. I will inquire about its status as soon as I can.”

With a sharp wave of his hand, Quintus sends him on his way dismissively.

A brief silence lingers between you and your husband as he grits his teeth. Something is on his mind and you wait for him to speak it out loud. Tension grows — crackles — as he points at the chair in front of his desk.

“Sit.”

You frown, sitting in your chaise longue already. As you open your mouth to mention this, your husband repeats, firmer this time, “I said sit. There.”

He narrows his gaze when you stand and walk towards the seat he is gesturing at. You fold your hands in your lap under your belly as you sink into the less comfortable wood, trying to make yourself appear as small as you can.

“I do so much for you. You know that, right? I make sure you’ve got a roof over your head, the best food on your table, the prettiest dresses imported for you…” He doesn’t look at you as he traces the edge of his desk with his finger. There is a dangerous glower on his features, “I did your family a huge favour by accepting your father’s offer. For what it’s worth, I could have refused and found myself a different wife instead, but here we are.”

You tilt your head, not liking where this is going, even though the conversation — monologue this far, really — hasn’t really taken a definite turn yet.

“Every woman in this entire Empire would kill to take your place.” Quintus lets out a humourless chuckle. “I’m being serious here, (Y/n). They’d stab you in the back if they saw an opportunity!”

You try and swallow the words, you really do, but they escape you no matter how hard you try to fight them. “Women… Like Cecilia?”

Quintus sharply stands, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the tile floor of his office, which makes you shrink and pull up your shoulders as if it would block out the penetrating sound. “I found out something about you, (Y/n). Something… That could get you killed.”

Your heart rears inside your chest as you look up at him, eyes widening.

“Tell me where I went wrong!” he exclaims, glaring at you across his desk, “Tell me how it happened, that my wife, who lacks absolutely nothing in her lavish, lazy little life, where everything is being done for her, tell me where she gets the gall to find religious texts from the Jews, brings them home and then meditates on them!”

All air leaves your lungs at the hatred that lingers in his unforgiving intonation, the way Quintus’ eyes glitter with unvoiced hatred towards everything Jesus is — “That my own wife, my insolent, puerile and spoiled little wife, feels the need to commit such blasphemous acts regarding a Preacher Whom her husband has been trying to banish from the streets he is supposed to keep safe!”

He paces around the desk and traps you between his body and the chair you’re sitting on before you can even rise to your feet. His breath stinks as he leans closer to you, eyes wide-blown with adrenaline and unbridled rage. “How will I even explain to Caesar that my wife has left me for some— Some infatuation with a Jew of all people!”

“It’s not an infatuation!” you defend yourself, “Jesus’ words and teachings are everything I’ve ever needed in my life! This empty, hollow and meaningless life where I am locked inside a gilded cage—”

“A gilded cage?” Quintus guffaws, “It is obvious that you know next to absolutely nothing about life itself, (Y/n), but to accuse me of keeping you prisoner is a very bold and dangerous claim.”

“It is not up to you how I feel about my life! You can’t dictate what — or Whom — I do or do not believe in!”

Quintus steps away, turning his back to you sharply as he paces towards the window. It gives you a moment to breathe before he sharply turns to you again, pointing a finger at you. “I warned you about that Man, and yet you went to see Him?!”

Before he can trap you against your chair once more, you stand on wobbly knees, the baby taking the worst moment to turn inside your belly, a wave of nausea causing you to gasp and support yourself against the table.

“You never warned me about Him. You said that His popularity would blow over! It was Atticus who warned you about Him instead!”

“Oh,” Quintus’ brows rise, “I thought you always listened to what Atticus said. It seems like his judgement is way more important to you than mine!”

You narrow your eyes at your husband. “Well, obviously I didn’t follow Atticus’ advice!” The words exchanged between the Praetor and the investigator concerning Jesus had been way different from what you had discussed with Atticus, but Quintus didn’t need to know that. “I am my own person, and so I can decide what I find important in my life!”

“Unless it brings you, or worse, my reputation in danger!”

“So you give the key to my study to some woman for her to snoop around through my belongings?!”

Quintus brow lowers. “I was right to distrust you,” he hisses, “The means of my investigation are none of your concern.”

“They are of my concern, since you’ve invaded my privacy!”

He snorts. “A husband and a wife shouldn’t keep secrets from one another, darling. Don’t force me to dig through your room again to find out what other things you are hiding from me.”

Panic suddenly claws at your throat as he glares at you, stepping closer until his face is right in front of yours. “Don’t think that just because you’re pregnant, you can say everything to me that comes to mind. This time, I will let it slide, because it might be your hormones telling you that whatever this Jesus of Nazareth is preaching is what you want to hear, but… If I find out you are listening to His sermons again, or have spoken to Him or any of His followers, or…”

He pauses, your heart stuttering inside your chest as fear increases the pressure in your abdomen tenfold. “Or if I find out anything else that I don’t like one bit… You can make sure I’ll lock you up in that precious little study of yours and not let you out of my control again. Do I make myself clear?”

You let out a shaky exhale. No mention of the rumours regarding Atticus, at least.

“Plenty,” you whisper coldly. “Can I go? I need to use the bathroom—”

“Fine. I can’t stand the sight of your face right now, anyways.”

That makes two of us, you want to say, but decide it would be best to let the words die somewhere between your throat and lungs, where countless other statements directed towards him had been caught overtime, known by you and God alone.

Without saying any other word, nor in greeting, you hurry out of the office as fast as your aching ankles can take you. You make it to the lavatory just in time, red hot embarrassment colouring your cheeks as you sit to relieve yourself, remaining there until you’ve calmed down your racing heart.

Of course it would have come to light sooner or later, you think to yourself as you clean yourself up. Heading back to your study would be too stifling to you right now, causing you to take another road instead — the one leading to the local library, where you will hopefully find some comfort in written texts.

The librarian gives you a once-over when you enter sans escort. It has been awhile since you were here and your stomach is obviously way larger than when she last saw you. You can barely recall the last time you were here, but a fond memory of standing trapped between the shelves and Atticus’ body comes to mind, flushing your cheeks into a shade of pink.

Your fingers slide admiringly over the spines of the books. You inhale deeply, the scent of parchment, ink, leather and wax filling your nostrils like a soothing balm for the soul. Looking over your shoulder, you check to see if anyone has their curious gaze on you. When you find the librarian busy with something else than paying attention to you, you slip into the section with religious texts.

The selection of Jewish literature you find is greater than back in Rome, and you slide something with ‘Rabbinic midrash on the Lamentations’ written on it out of the pile before opening it up, letting your eyes scan over it. Five meditations on five chapters, one longer than the other, and you immediately notice the implication of these laments. A plea to God, a cry for help whilst also maintaining Jeremiah’s guilt towards Him, sketching a vivid image of a broken world. The Rabbi wrote down his meditations on how the texts highlights the importance to focus on God, or ‘Adonai’, no matter how dark things might get in life, and a clear yearning for redemption lingers through his commentary.

The Lamentations themselves seem to be dark and desperate, but you find hope and renewal when trust is put in the Lord. Something tightens inside your chest and creeps up towards your mind, where it brews for but a moment until it forms an idea. Or rather a strong urge, you realise upon closing the written work in your hands.

The librarian at the counter gives you a strange look when you walk up to her. “Could I please have a journal, some ink and a pen?” She looks you up and down and opens her mouth to speak, when you already take your purse from your pocket and slide a few denarii her way, more than the items you requested would ever cost you. “Keep the change.” You have noticed how easily you give away money that isn’t really yours. One of the few ways you can hurt Quintus is by spending his income like water, but you’re not materialistic enough to keep up with draining his funds.

You sit down at the table, happy to be off your feet for a bit since your ankles have been killing you for a while now, and flip open the crisp, leather-bound book in front of you. For a moment, your teeth sink down in the back of the reed pen as you think what to write first.

Overcome by a sudden burst of inspiration, you put the nib into the ink before setting it against the fresh parchment, starting to scribble over it without really thinking about it.

“Entangled in the cold of darkness my soul drifted into nothing but despair. Warmth enveloped me when Your hand found me and tore me away from the claws of desperation. My whispers reached Your ear although I did not name You, but You knew mine and breathed it in the darkness, where I said Yours, a foreign language, yet familiar to my very soul.”

You lift your pen to refill the ink, and whisper to yourself as a small smile spreads over your lips. “Adonai…” you murmur before continuing to write again.

“Your ways are a mystery, unknown to my sorrowful heart. Yet it seeks Your path like the desert chases the drops of dew landing on her surface, like the rain descends from the heavens to the Earth with invisible strength, finding its way. In the blackness of night, Your light burns brighter than my wounds, it is here where You will make me whole.”

For a moment, you sit up straight and sigh as the baby kicks your bladder. “Not now, little one,” you mutter to yourself more than to your unborn child, for the last thing you want right now is to have to rush to the bathroom once again, and you force yourself to go back to your work.

“And at the same time, I feel like I’ve known You forever, just like how You have known my soul forever. My Lord and my God; if I may call You that, for I do not comprehend all that my heart is saying. All I know is that You are all I’ve been yearning for, the One Who heard my call in my darkest hour.”

A second Psalm — song — poem, whatever you’ll end up calling these. You had filled journal after journal about your experiences with Quintus, the desperation and lack of relief you have come across under his control. There have been poems about those you love, about your nieces, your brother, about Atticus. But now… These are for the God you have just met, and yet believe.

Jesus’ words are unfamiliar, yet you know them to be true. Wax poetic has meant little to you in your time of need, and you have always wondered if there was something wrong with you for not feeling connected to the Roman deities.

“You are the One true God, and Jesus Christ is Your Son.”

The moment the words are jotted on the page in your very own handwriting, you drop the pen from your fingers with a sudden gasp. The sentence stands there, black on white, indelible, an indisputable proclamation of faith that has left your wrist before fully realising that the words were being formed by your hand.

It feels as what you are writing down are not your own words, but sent through your system by a higher power, as if revealed to you by divine intervention. You don’t even know what the name ‘Christ’ means, yet it has appeared right there, written in your hand, in clear Latin.

The ink does not bleed through the paper. You slam the journal shut and put the cork back on the inkwell, only bringing the book along as you rush out of the library. Your own decree of faith seems to have shaken you, as if it is just settling in.

Quintus had been right to be suspicious about your interest in Jesus of Nazareth. He could have you killed for this. Your feet carry you back to the villa as fast as you can, where you are eager to lock yourself up in your room to let your mind run amok with everything that is going on inside your very heart and soul at this very moment—

—You nearly collide with someone face-first, and you profusely start apologising.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t look where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” a woman breathes, stepping back as she looks you up and down. There is something familiar to her. “I’m sorry, too.”

Something solemn falls over her features as her eyes lock onto your stomach, and you put a hand over it as you realise that she had made that gesture towards her own belly, too, when you last ran into her. The very same Jewish woman you had almost bumped noses with only a few weeks ago. Your gaze travels down and find no evident swelling of her abdomen. Your heart sinks at the realisation.

“You’ve lost your baby,” you whisper with so much emotion that the woman seems both touched and taken aback at your words, and a frown falls over her brow. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Then, it twists into something sadder. She doesn’t need to ask, just as you do not need to know more. You reach out, taking her hand in yours, and she squeezes.

A second chance encounter, two complete strangers who knew nothing of each other besides that they are supposed to be one another’s enemy. Yet connected intimately through motherhood — or lack thereof, and the pain that losing it brings forth.

A tear rolls down your cheek when you see the heartbreak on her face. “Aside from my mother, nobody knows.” She whispers, her face turning red as her brown eyes swim with tears. “You are a complete stranger, a Roman at that, and yet you read it from my face.”

You swallow hard lest you start crying harder at sensing what this woman must be going through.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere,” the woman says, “Are you from around here?”

“I live in the Roman quarter,” you state the obvious. “I… I visit the market on a regular basis.”

She nods, sniffling. “Well, maybe we have ran into one another there at some point.”

You can’t help a small smile from forming. “It seems that we’ve got a knack for that, of literally colliding with one another.”

The Jewish woman lets out a small, light-hearted giggle. You can tell it’s been a while since she genuinely laughed.

“Perhaps we will meet again, then.”

“Yes, who knows? Once again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She gives you a small bow of her head, her face falling into solemnity again, until she walks past you and disappears around the corner just the way you nearly had slammed into her. For a moment, you consider calling after her to ask for her name, but a sharp kick in the bladder prevents you from doing that.

With a heavy sigh, you once again make your way over to the restroom, suddenly on the brink of peeing yourself.

Once you are home again, you head for your study to lock yourself up, bitterly considering getting the locks changed without Quintus knowledge, and take a seat at your desk before grabbing your brand new journal again. With your own pens, ink, and personal environment, you hope your inspiration to flow more freely, although you find that your first poems - Psalms, hymns, whatever they may become — have turned out quite nicely.

You draw the Roman numeral III on the left of the page, thinking for a moment. Your first two poems had been about redemption from the dark pit you had been in. Perhaps the next one could be about…

…You press an ink-filled pen against the surface of your journal and start scribbling without a second thought.

“Proud and cold stand the marble statues of Vesta, Jupiter, Minerva, as unyielding as their unforgiving hearts, to worship, pray more, shout harder, wail louder. Requiring sacrifice for an ear unhearing, draining my soul, from which I pour until there is nothing left. Then, I whisper a prayer in the breeze, a simple word is all it takes, for You, my God, to hear and listen, and answer not in a storm, or a fire, but in a breath that fulfils everything.”

Finding your flow, you start on another one. For a second, you look out the window in thought, listening to the sounds of Capernaum drifting through your window.

“In untainted light I stand exposed and seen at last, with every nerve and wrongdoing bare and open, vulnerable, deserving nothing more but my shame. But there You are, and You see, and You smile.”

A heavy familiar tread that you know like none else draws your attention from your writing, and you quickly shut the journal without leaving it open to dry, shoving it into your drawer before grabbing a random book from the shelf, settling on your sofa in an attempt to appear busy.

Just as you sink down in the pillows, Quintus opens the door without knocking, ready to catch you in the act of anything, really, until his eye falls onto your reading form, causing his shoulders to relax and his accusing finger drop back to his side. “Oh, you’re just reading. Dinner is almost ready.”

“I’m not hungry,” you state, which isn’t a lie. He narrows his gaze at you and sighs.

“Suit yourself,” says he, and heads back downstairs.

Only when his footsteps are audible from the kitchen, you dare to exhale again. Snapping your book shut, you bite your lip in thought, momentarily looking at the closed drawer, which isn’t that good of a hiding spot, as last week had proven. You might have to find a different location for your secret papers, you conclude.

With an aching back, you stand up and stretch, deciding it is best to get something to eat regardless of your lack of desire for food.

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#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #atticus aemilius pulcher #atticus x reader #the chosen atticus #gentile #the chosen quintus #quintus x reader

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