#he would confiscate all the remaining dragons

[another-goblin]

Neuvillette should establish some kind of Big Animal Protection Services (BAPS). He would travel all around Teyvat to make sure other dragon-sovereigns are doing fine.

Imagine him visiting different nations and talking to the Archons.

How is your dragon-sovereign doing? Can I see them please? Are they well-fed? Are they groomed? (btw whose giant skeleton is that?) Are their scales healthy and shiny? What do you mean "what dragon"? What are you showing me, it's a wrong dragon. Ma'am it's a pink fox. What do you mean "they are gone"?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU AND THE TRAVELER BEAT THEM DOWN EVERY WEEK???

Btw I've heard there is a lovely couple of sea serpents living in your harbor. I'd like to pay them a visit afterwards.

[bayofwolves]

A Revised History of Erdas: The Four Heroes' Bond Tokens

The Four creating bond tokens of their own -- brilliant concept, terrible execution. I'll forever be disappointed in how The Dragon's Eye handled this legendary moment for our protagonists. Naturally, this is one of the first things I thought about changing in A Revised History of Erdas. So, here are my ideas!

Conor

Conor's canon bond token: Shepherd's staff of unknown origins; grants the user strengthened senses and some level of prescience.

Revised version: Conor's own shepherd's staff that he names Pathfinder, in part due to its prophetic abilities and in part as a nod to Briggan's most well-known title. This staff grants the user short prescience and increased wisdom. When wielding Pathfinder, one can predict events up to a few minutes before they happen. In time, Conor may learn to see farther into the future, but only with a level of exposure that would drive any other user insane. As for the increased wisdom, I sort of remodelled the persuasive quality of Meilin's bond token and transferred it to Conor's. These combined abilities can lend the user a great strategic advantage in battle. I scrapped the strengthened senses, which is what resulted in Conor becoming quite animalistic.

My reasoning: First of all, the object itself. I felt it would be more impactful if the staff had always been Conor's rather than a random one he picked up at the last minute. Conor is shown throughout the series to take his staff with him during the group's travels, even though it doesn't lend him much protection. It's a reminder of who he used to be -- who he still is at his core. It would have been easy to show the Oathbound confiscating the staff from him along with the rest of the team's weapons, then have Conor find it again before they create their bond tokens.

Now, onto what it does. I felt it was jarringly out of character for Conor to act like the wild, howling beast his canon bond token made him. Throughout the series, Conor has remained a levelheaded, gentle, somewhat quiet person, and even as he progresses as a character he retains these defining traits. The only time he has acted even remotely similar to how he does with his bond token is when he was possessed by the Wyrm -- which was so horrifying to read because it proved that anything left of him was well and truly gone. The fact of the matter is, the Conor at the end of The Dragon's Eye was not the Conor we knew, and that was a poor writing choice (especially for the last book of the series, where there would be no opportunity to explore this development further).

Additionally, this isn't really what we've seen of Briggan, either, and it is my goal for the Four's bond tokens to be an accurate representation of their spirit animal. In Tales of the Great Beasts, Briggan is a mystical, awe-inspiring being who is shrouded in mystery; a fearsome packleader who evokes respect and devotion and walks in dreams. That is the atmosphere I hope to emulate from Conor's bond token in ARHoE. Conor is, at his core, a wise and kindly leader who deserves to have his -- and Briggan's -- character properly emulated in their bond token. And so it will be.

Abeke

Abeke's canon bond token: Abeke's bow; grants the user increased agility and perfect shooting accuracy.

Revised version: Abeke's bow since Immortal Guardians, originally gifted to her by Lenori. She names it Swifthunter, both pointing to what it does and her and Uraza's shared natures. It grants the user the ability to conjure arrows out of nothing, perfect shooting accuracy and the ability to track any living being, regardless of distance. To tap into its tracking power, the user need only envision the desired target in their mind and a glowing trail will appear, visible only to them (and their spirit animal, if they have one), stretching across land and water -- the best route to the thing they seek. To conjure arrows, you would pull back the string of the bow as if to shoot and one would form in your grip. There was no need to change the canon bond token's inability to miss a target, a suitable echo of its owner, but it no longer has the extreme jumping ability.

My reasoning: I wanted the bond tokens to do something that isn't already provided via the bond with the spirit animal. Abeke has always been able to jump an impressive distance with Uraza's powers, so there is no need to have this extremely basic ability augmented in the bond token.

Swifthunter's new ability to pinpoint and track any creature has a lot to do with the hunter symbolism present in The Dragon's Eye. Abeke accepts that Uraza is a hunter and a killer by design, and to some extent, this speaks for herself too. What better way to show that newfound understanding than with a bond token that reflects this?

It is even more fitting when you consider that in ARHoE, Abeke starts to show more ruthless tendencies after killing Zerif and the Wyrm during the climax of the previous arc. For instance, she kills Wikam with no remorse and wants to track down the escaped Oathbound immediately so they don't get far. She doesn't lose her character, but she becomes harsher. More like Uraza. She has embraced what Zerif told her in The Burning Tide: That there's a killer underneath her unassuming demeanour.

Meilin

Meilin's canon bond token: A hairpin given to Meilin by her father; grants the user the power to heal wounds and the ability to calm and persuade others.

Revised version: Yin Yang amulet attached to a silk thread, gifted to Meilin by her father on her 13th birthday, to be worn as a necklace but often just carried during the team's travels. Meilin names it Peacefinder, which was one of Jhi's titles of old. The name is also a nod to her finally finding peace in her journey, both with Jhi and with her own self. It grants the user indestructibility, perfect balance and a calming, sound-blocking buffer. When utilising its indestructibility, a transparent, softly glowing sphere envelopes you, and anything that strikes it will rebound. It is here that the sound buffer comes into play, further sheltering you from the offensive force. It also allows you to feel utterly calm and still. The balance it gives the user is so absolute that you could stand on one foot on the edge of a cliff and never fall. Apart from the item being from Meilin's father and her home, this one has been changed entirely.

My reasoning: I wanted Meilin's bond token to be an item we knew to be significant to her, hence the amulet's origins. If the hairpin had been a recurring item that Meilin held onto to comfort her and remind her of home, I would have thought it perfect. Instead, it appeared out of nowhere, which was a disservice to how monumental the creation of bond tokens was for the Four. The concept of Yin and Yang perfectly represents Meilin and Jhi, which inspired the change in item. They even have history with it, hearkening back to Hunted.

I removed the healing ability for two reasons. First, the sheer magnitude of the canon bond token's healing power would eliminate any stakes in the team's future adventures. Meilin saves Conor's life in The Dragon's Eye, leaving him without even a scar. With the hairpin, they are effectively immortal, and that is no good for storytelling. Second, in ARHoE, Meilin already has healing abilities through her bond with Jhi -- though to a much lesser degree than what her canon bond token gave her. She can ease someone's fever or make a wound heal faster -- and like with the others', I wanted her bond token to focus on something she can't already do.

The reason I took out the persuasive, calming aspect of the canon hairpin is because, aside from it being shown to not work, I did not feel as though it suited Meilin. It does suit Jhi, but it is important to realise that she and her partner are different and must find balance between them, not go against their own nature for each other. To attempt to represent this, I turned the calming effect inward rather than outward, serving to aid the user rather than sway the listener.

As for its new abilities. The indestructible quality represents Jhi's solid, immovable strength, which can also be said for Meilin. The perfect balance aspect signifies how Meilin and Jhi have finally found balance in their bond after a long struggle. It is perfect considering what Meilin chose to be their bond token -- the symbol of Yin Yang, which is fundamentally about balance.

Rollan

Rollan's canon bond token: Tarik's green cloak; grants the user the power of flight and sharpened eyesight.

Revised version: Tarik's green cloak that passed to Rollan in Rise and Fall. It grants the user the power of flight, the speed of a falcon while in flight and influence over the wind. Rollan names it Morningstar, for its connection to the sky but mainly in honour of Tarik, whose name means "morning star". When in use, the cloak lengthens and contorts into two wing-like shapes, long and broad enough to support the person's weight. I didn't change much about this one, but I did remove the sharpened eyesight.

My reasoning: The canon bond token was already quite well done. It is an item we know is of tremendous importance to Rollan, and it offers an otherwise unattainable power while still remaining true to Essix. This is the only one I am fully on board with.

As for why I got rid of the canon bond token's sharpened eyesight: Rollan can already access that through his bond with Essix. It's the same with the others -- their bond tokens should do something they can't on their own.

The new abilities of gaining a falcon's speed while in flight and controlling the winds are simply to add to the power of the bond token. Again, this one is already pretty damn good.

And there you have it!

That is how I plan to revise our heroes' bond tokens in ARHoE. I can't wait to get started on Path of the Heroes, in which these new bond tokens have an important role, because I'm dying to find out how their lives would change with them.

[hungrydolphin91]

me, who has too many thoughts about cult-ish Kresnik clan: pls tell me about cult-like Elysia 👀

OK SO.

This is gonna get long because as usual I am overexplaining and it's also very angsty because there is something wrong w me but you asked so here you go!!

tw for possession and cult behavior:

I have to preface this by saying that this cult!Elysia AU is part of a general darker Zesty AU where the biggest fundamental difference is that prolonged exposure to malevolence causes seraphim to straight up not exist rather than turning them into dragons (it still turns humans into hellions though). They can withstand it better if they have a pure vessel but since it causes them to become less and less corporeal over time it's better in seraphic culture to have a vessel with its own mobility like, say, a living thing (or a goblin cart but that's a different story XD). This has obviously caused a very different dynamic between humans and seraphim, as humans are unknowingly wiping out the seraphim that would have been blessing them and restoring peace to their own declining societies, while seraphim see humans as little more than plague-ridden beasts to be avoided at all costs.

Thus how we get to cult!Elysia, established by Zenrus on a mountain far away from human settlements to avoid their malevolent contamination. After he witnessed the fall of the last Shepherd and the general shit-show that is Camlann, Zenrus gave up on humanity and twisted the myth of the Shepherd into one of the seraphim's ultimate weapon, a human that could be manipulated via armatus and used to wage war against his fellow humans. There's plenty of disgruntled seraphim around seeking shelter and revenge to join his cause, and two kids, one human one seraph, who could easily be indoctrinated and groomed for this purpose. I'm sure you know who those two are ^^'

At first Sorey and Mikleo buy into what they're told; I mean, they're isolated on a mountain and these are their only guardians so how could they not? Sorey's not too keen on the methods though, mainly because in order to be able to armatize someday they have to improve his resonance via pacts and possession, which has the same toll on his body that it originally did in canon. Mikleo, meanwhile, is assigned as Sorey's primary caretaker since they're the same age and even though they're preserving this vessel to stay "pure" there's still a lot of disdain toward humans in general; this is not a desired task. And Mikleo resents his job at first but as he spends more time with Sorey it becomes pretty evident that humans have the same feelings and intelligence of seraphim, that they're not "lesser" or "dirty." Before long he starts doing his job too well, ie. trying to keep Sorey healthy by not letting the other seraphim abuse him and make him sick again. His protests are not appreciated and are mostly ignored.

With Sorey's health frequently compromised, the two spend a lot of time indoors talking or reading books Mikleo swiped from Gramps's house. It seems Zenrus broke rule number one of Cult Formation because some of the books they read have ideas that go outside of the cult's ideology, namely that the purpose of the Shepherd is supposed to be as a bridge between humans and seraphim and that coexistence between the two is not only possible but highly prosperous for both (sidebar, Zenrus owns those books because he used to believe in those things! alas!). Of course once they start talking about this and asking questions their reading material is confiscated and burned, except for a copy of the Celestial Record that Sorey stashed under his pillow. It remains their favorite talking point as they imagine a less malevolent-y future where they could leave the mountain and explore these places for themselves.

As the two grow older they internalize their experiences and reject their ideology in different ways: Sorey is rather quiet and withdrawn from the years of abuse and resulting learned helplessness, except when he's alone with Mikleo in which he talks his ear off. He still has pure feelings of wanting to be the Shepherd, just the one from the books not the sermons. Mikleo however is more rebellious, fiercely loyal toward Sorey, and wants to just run away with him somewhere beyond the reach of the Elysians OR humans. He's been practicing the Spectral Cloak arte in secret so they might be able to escape with it one day.

Ok I'm almost done since most of this AU is just backstory anyway but there is the usual inciting incident: on a rare day where they're allowed to explore the nearby temple, Sorey and Mikleo meet the human Alisha, who came searching for a seraph to potentially bless her city, as the corruption in Ladylake runs deep and she believes in the old legends of seraphic blessing bringing prosperity. As far as the two can tell, this human seems harmless and polite, reinforcing their ideas from the texts that humans aren't inherently bad. She also mentions a festival in honor of the Shepherd, though humans see the title and action of drawing the sword as more of a ceremonial sign of divine leadership and right to be king rather than a specific connection to seraphim, since most humans don't believe in them. Sorey is fascinated by this but Mikleo doesn't want to hear about it; he's still struggling to dissociate the title of Shepherd from Gramps's twisted agenda that's hurting Sorey.

At any rate, they recommend that she stay away from here; the seraphim here aren't going to help and are more likely to put her down like a rabid raccoon. But even with her departure Lunarre still shows up, not unnoticed by the Elysians this time, and while fighting him Zenrus is finally able to enact a full armatus with Sorey and kills the hellion. The rest of Elysia celebrates, as this means the time has finally come to begin their war on humanity, but to Sorey and Mikleo it means the timetable for escaping has been bumped up from "whenever Mikleo has perfected the Spectral Cloak" to "TONIGHT."

And that's pretty much the full background for this AU, the rest of it is pretty sparse but does involve stealing Gramps's pipe as an act of rebellion, an edgy, angsty lil Mikleo who thinks his whole race are monsters (he did that whole paradigm-shift thing where he swung from one extreme belief to the opposite extreme belief), and a potential plot line where Zenrus tries to hunt them down. He didn't raise these kids for 17 years to let them wander off before the final showdown, after all.

Anyway thanks for reading this far, I love being invited to share my soul-crushingly angsty WIPs that I can never actually write or finish. I hope it was interesting and relevant to your own interests! feel free to share your Kresnik thoughts as well, fucked-up fantasy cults are fun :D

[ya-boi-haru]

A crossover no one asked for:

What Miraculous i would assign Fable SMP characters + Headcannons

(This is set so they have the ability more than the costumes)

• Rae: Ladybug - Creation

• Sherbert: Cat - Destruction

• Wil: Ox - Determination

• Momboo: Peacock - Emotion

• Centross: Goat - Passion

• Athena: Pig - Jubilation

• Ven: Bee - Subjection

• Seven: Snake - Intuition

• Easton: Mouse - Multiplication

• Ocie: Tiger - Elation

• Caspian: Horse - Teleportation

• Chaos: Monkey - Derision

• Hayley: Rabbit - Evolution (temporarily)

• Ulysses (From Telkins): Butterfly - Transmission

• Arisanna: Turtle - Protection

• Aax: Dragon - Perfection

• Wolf: Dog - Adoration

• Jamie: Rooster - Pretension

Headcannons:

• Rae would risk wielding multiple miraculous at a time, even if they couldn't handle it or one was broken

• Caspian got his miraculous later. When they found it, Rae wanted to give it to Cas so if he was ever in a situation like the prison again, he'd have a safe way out back home. Also he could stop getting lost.

• After his work with Enderian, Centross didn't use his miraculous often and after he accidentally killed Chaos, he renounced ownership of it. He wore it again once he learned the truth and for the Warden fight but went back to not using it much after the reset.

• Sherbert would be the one to figure out how to make the "power-ups"

• Momboo made sentimonsters to watch over her kids and friends

• Will was given his miraculous by his dad to help protect him

• Athena and Jamie are making all the best food for the kwamis

• Sherbert renounced their miraculous after Corruption. It took them a while to wear it again, but they didnt use it. After they got their memories back in S2 they didn't want to use their miraculous again for a while.

• The Rabbit miraculous fell with the Aether and Hayley found it in Purgatory. She didn't come back with it though

• During Season one, (corrupted) Sherbert tried to "task" Seven with using Second Chance during the tower fight. He made the decision not to.

• Parts of the Grimoire are scattered in libraries

• Athena's miraculous broke, thus making them get sick. They were able to repair the miraculous and heal them in time, but Athena still needs a cane to walk.

• Perix had the Fox miraculous and would offer its power to those that helped her. After they defeated her, everyone agreed to keep it safe, only wearing for times of complete necessary. It remains inactive.

• To make sure Sherbert couldn't Cataclysm their way out of prison (season 1) Seven temporarily held the Dog miraculous and used its power to take Sherberts ring.

• Even though he wouldn't have used it, Sherbert took Centross' miraculous off him during his Prison 2.0 time.

• Caspian uses his miraculous to take Rae and Aax to cute fate places.

• Caspian still isn't good with directions and using the horse miraculous actually makes it worse, since he's going straight from A to B rather than knowing where to go to get there

• Rae attempted to fix the End Islands with the Ladybug miraculous, but had to learn that it doesn't work like that

• Will's miraculous was one of the main reasons he was able to survive attacks in the Ominous Bane fight.

• Sherbert is a secondary/ temporary holder of the Rooster miraculous and used the Monkey to try Quixes research

• Momboo confiscated Jamie's miraculous when going into the bunker

• They had only heard of the Butterfly miraculous but when they met Ulysses they finally got to see it

• Arisanna uses her miraculous a little aggressively (trapped Rae in it when they first met)

[matcha-x-matcha]

i think I've come to a conclusion about Ken dolls, as someone who was formerly a little girl who was also known to make Stew™️

EITHER, he died a dramatic death simply because one did not want the ken doll in the moment (or he permanently remained dead which is fine too), he was just Barbie's Wife™️, or he was always off on some random adventure like fighting dragons (the cat) or exploring uncharted lands (on top of the sofa)

And then I'd like to add an additional one, once I was tall enough (additional height from standing on the bed as well) and could reach the ceiling fan, I had decided I was tired of Ken's shenanigans (he'd broken up with barbie AGAIN for my cousin's barbie). So, using an old belt we had, I tied him to the ceiling fan and he remained there for a week before anyone noticed. Note, this was at my grandmas house and we had a dedicated toy room with an extra bed in it for naps, and it was on the other side of the house so no one ever really went back there unless it was for the bathroom.

Unless you were a kid, no one went back to the playroom so they would always call us into the main room, never usually went back and retrieved us unless they didnt feel like yelling. So, for an entire WEEK, Ken remained belted to the fan that spun continuously. Only when my uncle came to get us for dinner did he see Ken, in all his glory, spinning from the ceiling fan with the song "I Believe I Can Fly" playing on the old TV, via On Demand.

In the end we had to make a specific rule about not tying Ken's to the ceiling, and only Ken simply because we just liked the other toys too much to do that. The belt used to hang Ken was also confiscated, for safety measures, and we were lectured about the treatment and wellbeing of our toys (it really only applied to Ken).

Anyway a week later Ken disappeared and we didn't get another Ken doll for a while so all our Barbie's turned lesbian (I didn't know it was a thing at the time, I just concluded that barbie had to marry someone and if Ken wasn't gonna do it, someone had to) and that of course did not appease my very conservative Grandma so we got another one right after she discovered our lesbian barbie harem.

[fidelixcorde]

The revelation of Norbert being a female dragon was funny enough, especially with the look on Hagrid's face, but when Arthur's Patronus appeared, it definitely brought a damper to the party. Almost as soon as it started dissolving, Remus was taking Tonks' hand. "We have to leave," he said urgently. "Sirius--"

In response, Sirius transformed into his dog form, but he stayed where he was.

"For goodness sake," Remus muttered. "Harry, I'm so sorry, I'll explain later." With that, he and Tonks hurried just past the gate before they Disapparated from sight.

"What--?" Hermione sputtered a little.

A few seconds later, Arthur appeared, and so did Rufus Scrimgeour. It was silent as the two men marched across the garden to the table, and Taylor was the only one to get to her feet, her face set as she met the Minister's eyes; he looked visibly older than he had when they had met briefly at Christmas, and from the look on his own face, he would rather be anywhere but here.

Sirius growled quietly. Taylor put a hand on his head.

"Sorry to intrude," Scrimgeour said, his eyes landing on the cake, "especially as I am interrupting a celebration. Many happy returns, Mr Potter, but I need to speak to you privately. As well as Miss Hermione Granger, Miss Taylor Borelli and Mr Ronald Weasley."

"Us?" Ron asked, surprised. "Why us?"

"You will understand once we are underway." Scrimgeour turned to Molly. "Is there anywhere we may go that is quiet?"

"Ah, yes," Molly replied, looking a tad nervous. "The sitting room is available, if you'd like?"

"That will do. There is no need to follow us Arthur, it's only for the five of us to discuss." Scrimgeour nodded to Ron. "Please lead the way, young man."

With some hesitation, Ron got up, as did Hermione and Harry, and the teenagers walked into the Burrow with the Minister. It was quiet, save for the man's obvious limp making his foot scuff across the floor, and as they reached the sitting room, Hermione flicked her wand, allowing the oil lamps to light softly. Scrimgeour took the chair that Arthur normally took, leaving Ron, Harry and Hermione to squeeze into the couch. Taylor remained standing, though she was by Harry's side still, as he took the one end of the couch.

“I have some questions for the four of your and I think it will be best if we do it individually. If you three“—he pointed at Harry, Taylor and Hermione— ” can wait upstairs, I will start with Ronald.”

"No." Taylor's voice was hard. "If you have something to discuss with us, you do it with all of us present, or you don't do it at all."

Scrimgeour gave her a look, but when he saw she was refusing to back down, and neither Harry or Hermione moved an inch, he just sighed. "Very well then. I am here to discuss the last will of Albus Dumbledore." At the surprise on the other three's faces, he hummed. "A surprise. I take it you didn't realize he would leave something for you?"

"All four of us?" Ron asked wonderingly.

"Yes."

"But...he died a month ago?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked, a glare settling over her features. "They wanted to examine what he left us, to make sure none of it was Dark in nature. You had no right to do that, Minister."

“I had every right,” said Scrimgeour dismissively. “The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a will— ”

“That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artifacts,” Hermione said hotly, “and the Ministry is supposed to have evidence that the deceased’s possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?” “Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?” Scrimgeour asked, raising an eyebrow. Hermione's eye twitched. "No. I’m hoping to do some good in the world!”

Taylor snorted with laughter, briefly covering her mouth with her hand and ignoring how Scrimgeour glared at her for it. But she was proud of her friend to standing up for what was right; if only all politicians had the same kind of drive an eighteen year old girl did.

RP: The Sun Will Come Out // Closed RP

continued from thread with @fidelixcorde

Harry couldn't remember the last time he had felt this happy, in recent years. It would have also been credit to Taylor or the Weasleys, no doubt....but this was just a perfect moment. He was surrounded by people he cared about, a large family that was expanding, and he had Taylor, Ron, and Hermione beside him. It was the perfect way to celebrate reaching wizarding legal adulthood.

Taylor's purred promise made him blush, trying not to let his imagination get away from him. Though judging by the knowing smirk on George's face, he might not be too far off.... And that proved true, as he was sneakily led away from Charlie's haircut doom and upstairs.

Now that was how to celebrate a birthday.

His hair was unapologetically ruffled and he had to switch shirts to something with a higher collar to cover a particularly gorgeous bite left on his collarbone, and Harry was grinning helplessly as they rejoined the family downstairs. Hermione took one look at him, then Taylor, then went pink and giggled, and George gave him a passing high five that confirmed his suspicion of who had been on keep everyone downstairs duty.

Their dinner guests began arriving, and Harry found himself seated at the head of the table in the garden as they feasted, and then Molly brought out truly the most breathtaking culinary creation he had ever seen. He had to leap up and hug her again, tears in his eyes as he thanked her.

"First day of the best start of my life," Harry said fondly, beaming back at Hagrid. "I mean, having Taylor growing up was grand, but finding out we were headed for Hogwarts....life got good." He examined the small bag Hagrid handed him, and its explanation made him smile, hopping up to give Hagrid the closest to a hug that he could manage. "Thank you! This is amazing." Oh, it would come in handy as they traveled, he was sure of that.

“S’nothin’,” Hagrid laughed. “An’ there’s Charlie! Always liked him—hey! Charlie!” Charlie approached, running his hand slightly ruefully over his new, brutally short haircut. He was shorter than Ron, thickset, with a number of burns and scratches up his muscly arms. “Hi, Hagrid, how’s it going?” “Bin meanin’ ter write fer ages. How’s Norbert doin’” “Norbert?” Charlie laughed. “The Norwegian Ridgeback? We call her Norberta now.” “Wha—Norbert’s a girl?”

“How can you tell?” Hermione asked with intrigue.

“They’re a lot more vicious.” Charlie grinned knowingly. "Can't say that's unusual, though, I've always thought women are scarier by far. He looked over his shoulder and dropped his voice. “Wish Dad would hurry up and get here. Mum’s getting edgy."

Harry looked over; Molly was talking to Madame Delacour, while glancing repeatedly at the gate. “I think we’d better start without Arthur,” she called to the garden at large after a moment or two. “He must have been held up at—oh!”

A streak of light that came flying across the yard and onto the table, where it resolved itself into a bright silver weasel, which stood on its hind legs and spoke with Mr. Weasley’s voice. “Minister of Magic coming with me.”

The Patronus vanished, leaving Mrs. Weasley looked bewildered. “The Minister—but why—? I don���t understand...."

[high-dragon-bait]

Idk if you are still taking banter requests but Fenris and Dorian is such an interesting thought to me.

Dorian is two things that Fenris hates, a mage, and a Tevinter. Would make things very interesting is Fenris doesn't murder him on sight when they first meet.

I'm noticing. A pattern

The timeline for this one is post-Trespasser. In my head this takes place solidly at or around the time Dreadwolf will take place.

Assume there's some sort of deal in place here keeping hands from being thrown

____

Fenris: You’ve been staring at me.

Dorian: Oh, I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable. You just have a reputation for tearing out the hearts of my countrymen.

Fenris: For tearing out the hearts of magisters.

Dorian: Yes, so you will forgive my caution.

Fenris: I’ll forgive you for nothing.

Dorian: Then this may be a long partnership indeed.

____

Dorian: You are more... solid than I expected.

Fenris: What?

Dorian: “The Blue Wraith.” I thought you’d be more of a wraith. From the stories I’ve heard, you should also be about ten-feet-tall, and howling.

Fenris: And there is a point to telling me this?

Dorian: Just trying to chip away at the fortress of tension between us.

____

Dorian: I never met Danarius, but-

Fenris: You did.

Dorian: I... Pardon?

Fenris: Wedding of Asiah of House Braheus to Dante of House Osiander. 9:26. Danarius was a guest of honor. You sat with Magister Halward Pavus at the feast table, near the groom.

Dorian: You recognize me from that?

Fenris: I have all your faces seared into my memory as clearly as the markings on my flesh.

____

Dorian: You can’t honestly believe the indiscriminate slaughter of every magister in Tevinter is a proper solution, yes?

Fenris: You would call me indiscriminate while you’re still breathing?

Dorian: You’ve ended the lines of no less than three great houses. What do you think happens now? Where does all that liberated land go? Do you think it just stays there, filling with flowers and frolicking sheep?

Dorian (Cont): No. It goes not to the highest bidder, but the one who cries the loudest. That usually requires demons, and that usually requires death.

Fenris: You are within arm’s length, mage. 

Dorian: Do you think there will be any Imperium left once you’re finally done?

Fenris: No, I don’t.

____

Dorian: I’m not saying your anger is wrong, Fenris-

Fenris: Yes you are.

Dorian: I spent my life breaking under the weight of the Imperium. Choking on my family’s leash. I stayed awake so many nights dreaming of how I’d burn it all down. I understand more than you think.

Fenris: What was your leash made of?

Dorian: My father’s excuse for a legacy, most days.

Fenris: Danarius favored one of dragon-leather, paired with a fade-metal collar. He thought it a symbol of his status, using such fine materials to bind a slave.

Dorian: I... see I have misspoken.

____

Dorian: For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

Fenris: You’re sorry?

Dorian: Danarius was a monster. Most of the houses knew it too. Something should have been done, but no, what happened to you was allowed to happen. You are owed more than an apology, but I am sorry.

Fenris: Ha!

Dorian: Fenris-?

Fenris: And with those words, the bonds fell off every slave in Tevinter.

Dorian: I’m not trying-

Fenris: I am free. Danarius is dead. Do not look at me and pretend you care.

____

Dorian: I do care.

Fenris: I don’t believe you.

Dorian: Is it so hard to believe I might honestly despise the same people you do?

Fenris: No. I’ve never met a magister content in the company of his own kind.

Dorian: So hating me is just an amusing pass time for you?

Fenris: It brings me no pleasure to hate you.

____

Fenris: These magisters you despise, what will you do with them?

Dorian: I’ll have their land and titles stripped. Their workers confiscated and sent to where they’re safe and respected.

Fenris: And remain slaves.

Dorian: No, the ones I can take in will be freed and paid for their work. Regardless, they will all be kept off the streets, kept warm, fed. Their lives will have purpose.

Fenris: A caged bird may know its purpose, that won’t blind it to the bars.

[bluemoonfantasiesiii]

Festering Desire (Nigredo & Durin)

Nigredo made a concerted effort to never look to his right when he left the camp to go to his greenhouse. The massive ribcage that stood there was just another painful reminder of everything that had been taken from him. He had no intentions of going to that place until he knew he would be able to bring back the dragon of Dragonspine as he was before Corruption poisoned him.

But one day, Aether came to visit with a peculiar-looking blade. Silver lined with a familiar but sickly fuchsia pattern, with what appeared to be an eye embedded in the guard of the hilt, dulled out and lifeless. The whole time the outlander was speaking, Nigredo couldn’t take his eyes off of the sword. None of Aether’s words registered in the alchemist’s brain as something within the sword was drawing him in, stealing all of his focus, as if the eye in the hilt was coaxing him into a trance.

There was something about the sword that he recognized, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He just needed to look a little deeper, and the answer would surely come to him.

Deeper. He could see the door beginning to crack.

Deeper. He was almost there.

Deeper… Just a little deeper…

“Hey! Nigredo!”

The gardener yelped at the shrill sound of Paimon’s voice, the door slamming shut as he was suddenly back in his greenhouse.

The tiny floating guide huffed and crossed her arms. “Hmph! Paimon knew you weren’t paying attention! How rude!”

Aether was, as always, a bit more understanding. “You were staring at Festering Desire the whole time I was talking,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

Nigredo’s eyes drifted back to the sword in the outlander’s hand, the pull of something familiar but unknown still there.

“Festering Desire?” he asked, forcing himself to engage with the other lest the eye in the hilt begin to hypnotize him again. “Is that what it’s called?”

Aether nodded, lifting the blade up to inspect it. “It…was supposedly made using some of Durin’s remains. At the very least, it was exposed to the same power that corrupted him.” Golden orbs lifted from the sword to meet teal stars. “Nigredo, do you…feel strange at all in the presence of this blade?”

Nigredo gathered his thoughts, took a moment to figure out how to put his feelings into words, eyes shifting between the sword and its master. “I feel…drawn to it,” he answered finally. “It feels like a contradiction. Like a voice I’ve never heard before calling me home. Something familiar, yet I can’t name it. And the eye… There’s something within me telling me that if I just look deep enough, I’ll be able to make sense of it all…” As he finished his explanation, his eyes fell once again to the sword’s hilt before he shook his head clear, forcing himself to stay focused. “Maybe my connection to Durin and my status as a fellow victim of Corruption is somehow tying me to this sword.”

“That’s my line of thinking, too,” said Aether.

“My condition isn’t reacting to it, though. And no offense, but it doesn’t look very…vibrant.”

“Oh!” Paimon piped up. “That’s because Albedo extracted the energy from the sword right before he gave it to Aether!”

“Albedo gave this to you?” Nigredo asked. “And how did he get his hands on it?”

“It was confiscated loot from a band of Treasure Hoarders after they were apprehended by the Knights of Favonius,” Aether explained. “No one came to claim it, so—“

“So my brother just took it,” Nigredo finished, sighing when Aether nodded. “That Albedo… Though I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing. Especially if it was made with…” Teal eyes brimmed with sadness, as his voice softened and wavered. “Can I…hold it for a second…? Please…?”

After exchanging a look with Paimon, Aether held out the sword to Nigredo. The gardener’s left hand wrapped carefully around the hilt, as if he was afraid the sword would shatter, and held it up with the tip pointing to the ground. He gazed into the eye in the guard once more as his other hand ran down the blade.

“This eye…” he breathed, tears stinging at the corners of his own. “His were a lot bigger, but other than that, it looks exactly the same. Brother…” Carefully, he hugged the sword close as if it was a stuffed toy, hilt pressing against his cheek as he pressed his back to a wall and slid down to the floor. “Is this all they see you as now?” Nigredo choked out. “Raw material? A thing to be crafted into tools and weapons?” Tears spilled down his cheeks as hiccuping sobs wracked his entire body. Aether feared he would draw blood if he clutched the sword any tighter.

The outlander and his guide stood there in silence so he could let everything out, chests aching at the display of raw grief, before Aether finally spoke.

“Would you like to keep it?”

Nigredo’s head shot up to look at him, eyes red and puffy and so, so vulnerable, his voice thick with lingering tears as he answered, “R-really? You’d let me…?”

Aether nodded. “He was your brother. And besides, I have plenty of other swords. Even if you never use the sword…you deserve to have it more than anyone.”

“Thank you…” Keeping one arm around the sword, Nigredo hastily wiped at his eyes, sniffling like he’d caught the flu. “Sorry about that…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Paimon said. “We understand. This must be a lot for you to take in.”

Nigredo nodded and rose to his feet. “It is, but… This sword could propel me so far forward in my quest to bring him back. Even if the life force is gone, just having some piece of Durin with me… Thank you again. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, just say the word and consider it done.”

“You really don’t need to,” Aether said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I’ll let you know if I need anything botany related.”

“Alright. In the meantime, I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. This is going to occupy me for quite some time.”

“Just remember to eat, okay?” Aether said as he headed toward the door.

“I’ve got plenty of food in here! I’m not Albedo!” Nigredo shot back, revitalized and seemingly back to his usual self. Content that the alchemist would be okay, Aether headed out to his next adventure.

—————————

Nigredo shot upright on the mattress, cover slipping down to pool in his lap. The siren song invaded his mind once again. Ever since Aether had given him Festering Desire, he’d been hearing something calling out to him. A deep, rumbling voice from deep within the mountain. A familiar voice.

Durin’s voice.

For weeks, he tried to ignore it as another anomaly of Dragonspine attempting to lure him into danger. He refused to fall prey to call of the Lotus Eater carried in the wind, reverberating through the snowy ground, sending a strange tremor up his spine, as if the feeling was trying to concentrate itself in the birthmark that rested between his shoulder blades. It only ever swept him when he was alone, and every time he heard it, it left him reeling.

After a few days, he began to have lapses in his memory, finding himself beneath Durin’s ribcage, far closer to that red cavern where his heart rested than he ever cared to be, with no recollection of even leaving the greenhouse. He began keeping a record of every time it happened and rigged up a trap for himself so that a bucket of ice water would spill on him if he tried to open the door and wake him up from whatever trance was pulling him toward that place.

Nigredo tried to block out the noise. It had to be some cruel trick of the mountain. Durin was dead. There was no way he was speaking to Nigredo. And yet, when Nigredo decided to listen to what the voice was saying, he could faintly recognize the words as the code they would use to protect Rhinedottir’s research. It was a a language no one other than a child of Gold could possibly know. Still, Nigredo ignored it, grounding himself to reality by burying himself in his work.

But as his older brother’s voice brushed against his brain, making the inside of his head itch and tingle, right there in the presence of Albedo and Rubedo, the Erdeprinz could no longer ignore it. Slowly turning to his right, he observed his family. Albedo had taken one of Nigredo’s sleeping elixirs. He wouldn’t awaken even if you screamed in his ear. And Rubedo, with no sunlight to fuel him, would be out like a light until sunrise. Nigredo slipped out of bed and dressed himself, lining his coat pockets with extra anti-venom. Something compelled him to grab Festering Desire as he walked past it. For the first time since moving in with Albedo, Nigredo stepped out of the camp and looked to the right.

In the dead of night, with clouds blocking out the stars and moon, the glow of the red cavern was like a shining beacon, and Nigredo was a ship being pulled toward the shore, toward home. Steeling himself and tightening his grip on the hilt of the sword, he descended the mountain, slipping between massive bones, toward the red light of the cavern, the warmth of Durin’s heart. Once his free hand met the mouth of the cave, he felt his body weaken as his Corruption was drawn to the surface, and he quickly uncorked and downed a vial of medication before stepping past the threshold, breathing in the metallic scent of blood and the familiar, comforting warmth of his eldest brother.

”Aster,” the whole cave rumbled with the voice, an embrace that carried all the tension away from Nigredo’s body like a warm breeze. ”At last, you’ve come.”

Nigredo stepped closer to his brother’s heart, a faint, rhythmic thumping echoing around the cave, lulling him into a nostalgic sense of security. “I wasn’t sure if it was actually you or another trick of the mountain.” Finally, his boots landed on the rocks that cradled Durin’s heart, heat swathing him like a blanket. “And I go by Nigredo now. I’m no star…”

”To me, you will always be little Aster,” Durin said. ”That sword you carry… Hold it up and let me take a closer look at it.”

Nigredo had almost forgotten he was holding Festering Desire. He brought it up to rest at his eye level, a tremor passing through him as his brother hummed in thought.

“It is dull and lifeless,” the dragon observed.

“Our younger brother extracted its power a while back after he had the Traveler purify it,” the homunculus explained.

”I see… Then it is indeed the residual Corruption that binds you to this mountain, to me.”

Nigredo closed his eyes in thought. “Then being in direct contact with your remains in the form of Festering Desire must have deepened our connection, which allowed me to hear you. Or, well. I suppose it’s more accurate to say I felt more so than heard.” His eyes opened as his thoughts began racing. “And yet, I could only truly hear you when I entered this cavern. I can’t linger here, lest my own Corruption overtake me, but if I leave, then…”

Durin easily followed Nigredo’s line of thinking. ”I could restore some of the blade’s power. Just enough that my energy will not overwhelm you. Then you will always have me with you.”

Nigredo perked up. “You could do that?? I— Yes! What do I need to do?”

”Plunge the blade into my core, and remove when I tell you.”

“Y-you want me to…stab you in the heart?” the gardener asked. “Won’t that hurt?!”

A deep chuckle shook the cavern and left Nigredo’s back arching at the strange, weightless sensation. ”How do you think the blade was forged in the first place, little Aster? I will be fine.”

Despite his brother’s reassurance, Nigredo still hesitated, clenching his eyes shut before stabbing the blade into the glowing red muscle before him. An intense tingling sensation almost like electricity shot up his arms as he felt Durin’s power seeping back into the sword. His body began to feel weak again when he heard the other call out.

”Aster, now!”

With some effort, Nigredo yanked the blade out of his brother’s heart and immediately fell to his knees, coughing and fumbling for another vial of medication. Durin waited patiently for him to empty the vial down his throat before speaking again.

”You should not linger here much longer. The energy I dispelled into the sword should be enough. Go back to the others and get some rest, little one.”

“Right…” Nigredo said. In his scramble, he’d dropped the sword next to him, and when he moved to pick it up, he saw that the eye in the hilt and the center of the blade were aglow with the bright fuchsia glow of Durin’s power. He could feel a slight thrum through his gloves as he took the sword back in hand and rose to his feet to make his way toward the mouth of the cave.

“I will find a way to bring you back in full, brother. I promise.”

”Ambitious as ever,” Durin teased. ”I look forward to it…Nigredo.”

Nigredo brushed some stray hairs out of his face. “You…can still call me Aster,” he said softly. “Good night, Durin.”

”Good night, Aster.”

Nigredo turned away from the warmth of the cavern and headed out into the freezing night air of the mountain. He was about halfway home when Durin’s voice cut through the silent chill of the night.

”Incredible. I can see through the eye in the sword’s hilt now.”

Nigredo shrieked and dropped the sword in the snow before rushing to pick it up. “Durin??” he asked, eyes wide with wonder and disbelief.

”You can still hear me. Good. Then it worked.”

Tears brimmed at the corners of Nigredo’s eyes as he stared directly into the eye in the hilt. “I can finally talk to you again…”

”Please do not cry, little one. Regrettably, I have no limbs to wipe away your tears.”

Nigredo let out a raspy chuckle and dried his tears with his glove. “I can do it myself, you big dork,” he said before tucking the sword under his arm and resuming his trek back to camp. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

[elerondo]

Headcanon | Rivendell and Celebrian

This headcanon is set in the timeline from S.A. 1697 to T.A. 2501, so it’s going to be very long. It is my attempt at the fullest account of Elrond’s priorities in that timeline, and his life and marriage to Celebrian. And the After.

PRELUDE After the initial crush that Elrond had on Celebrian, Elrond did wait more than 1700 years before proposing to her. Elrond did not want to subject her to a life of war and hardship with him when they’d only just met. Elrond loved Celebrian enough to let her go home to safety and a more peaceful life. But Elrond loved Middle Earth more, that he would sacrifice his personal happiness in order to protect and save the free peoples.

The dire costs of the War of the Elves and Sauron were echoes of the War of Wrath, where Elrond had seen the wrath of the dragons as a youth and the trumpets that eventually marred and sunk Beleriand. He was determined not to let Eriador reach that stage of destruction, and since few of the strangers in the Valley were well enough to engage in battle, Elrond was frequently at the helm of offensive measures against the forces of Sauron that sought to besiege Rivendell.

POST WAR OF THE ELVES AND SAURON When Rivendell was founded, it was basically filled with refugees and soldiers gravely wounded from the destruction of Eregion and Sauron’s conquest of Eriador. Simply put, Rivendell was functional at best, and a stinky shit hole of armour and blood at its worst. A stronghold with severely weakened military power. There was no Ring of Power to protect it yet, so Elrond took it upon himself to ride out and meet evil before it could come near. Frequently, he rode from the northern foothills of the Hithaeglir, to the south bordering the outskirts of Eregion, then east across the valley to the ford of Bruinen, and even further still to penetrate the forests to the west.

Even though Elrond wanted to beautify Rivendell with other areas like education, hospitality, music, etc, it remained clear to Elrond that his immediate and most urgent priorities had to be taking vanguard in most marches as his elves and men were recovering, returning home, or sailing West.

After Vilya was handed to Elrond and he was made Lord and Master of Rivendell, Elrond was at the peak of his power and strength. Loyal and following the passions of a war won, the coverage of Vilya stretched from the Men-i-Naugrim to the Coldfells to the Last Bridge to the meet of Mitheithel and Bruinen. It matched his initial marches, patrols, and more. Elrond purified the forests and straightened the roads, dealing death to the last of the fell beings out of the Coldfells, the East Road, and the Old Forest Road. Strongholds were built upon the Misty Mountains and the borders of Eregion to keep watch on the southern and eastern passages. Where the Ring could reach, there Elrond’s spirit was, working its inner machinations to keep it safe.

FALL OF NUMENOR Elrond took his marches very far south to keep the borders and to exercise his Crown rights. He tripled the patrols around southern Eriador. If there were any stray survivors, they must be verified clean and without evil before they could travel. Otherwise, they were caught and handed to the nearest City willing to let them stand trial. When the presence of the Crown Prince of the Noldor increased near the borders of Gondor, there were quite many mixed reactions. A certain pressure to observe decorum, for example, to stop everything one was doing to answer questions, possessions checked thoroughly, and weapons that were deemed stolen or machines of darkness were confiscated until further notice. As long as one saw the banners of Gil-galad, even from a distance, they were compelled to stop and obey.

MARRIAGE TO CELEBRIAN Elrond is not a free and easy leader. He is a leader who actively chooses to sacrifice his happiness, his reputation, rest / sleep / food, for the sake of protecting and aiding the people at large. Elrond’s version of taking care of himself was stretched until his limits threatened to break, then rest for a while. It was the equivalent of sleeping once a week.

I think that Celebrian would have heard a lot about Elrond and what he was doing, Elrond’s fame and infamy spreading far and wide over the Misty Mountains. On the other side of the land, Elrond knew his deeds and renown were preceding him. He had some fears that he wouldn’t be well liked, because who could understand the land’s emergencies as well as him? He didn’t think anyone could, not because he was arrogant or wanted to do everything himself, but he was the most endowed.

Celebrian would be the only person Elrond could be weak to without being judged, rejected, or told to change or stop what he was doing. With her, Elrond was that bit more comfortable in taking / asking for comforts, and sharing his griefs, resentment, the nasty stuff and not just his plans, counsel, the good stuff that was always dispensed to all without cost. Celebrian was the shoulder Elrond cried on, while he was the shoulder for the world. Celebrian was the person whom Elrond revealed all of his quirks and eccentricity to. It was Celebrian who really made Rivendell into a Homely House. Celebrian was the one who helped him fulfil his visions and execute the blueprints of his mind while he properly focused on keeping Eriador and Rivendell safe. With her in mind, Elrond took more care of himself because he did not want her to be worried about him. Elrond was the healthiest in the 1000+ years before the Angmar War.

ANGMAR RISING The split and existence of Rhudaur in T.A. 861 unsettled him and so Elrond frequently visited Arthedain in secret, debating upon many topics of potential insurrection and defense strategies. The chief of the matter were these: Both Rhudaur and Cardolan desired to possess Amon Sul, and Rhudaur resisted Argeleb who claimed to be High King over all of Arnor. Elrond was sensitive to the matters of kingship and the Palantir. For the lands of Men and the Palantiri to come under one king was better than for them to split into the hands of the wrong people. Celebrian understood that for Elrond to ally Rivendell with Arthedain, hostilities with the rest would be inevitable.

( my Angmar war timeline here where Elrond suffered a Morgul-wound at the end of )

THE WATCHFUL PEACE … is a deceitful name. It was more watchful than it was peaceful.

Rivendell spent the early years recovering from the 600 year war, especially Elrond - being the first of all elves to suffer a Morgul-wound, a large scar on his back with no recovery method yet. Elrond had to devise and experiment on himself, while he was suffering from it, before he managed to heal himself. However, the military never again rises up to any relevant standard in a war. A lot of commanders were lost, Elrond was weak and sick, and many elves succumbed to their injuries, grief, and they faded or sailed West.

Every year for the rest of Elrond’s life in Middle Earth, on the same week, the Morgul-wound brought Elrond searing and debilitating pain. He still could hold the power of Vilya over The Angle and the Misty Mountains, but the western forests and Coldfells were neglected.

Rivendell never ceases to send patrols across Eriador, despite Elrond being in an extremely bad shape and the vale was desperately short handed. Elrond depended on Vilya more, both to heal and to protect, as he would leave Rivendell defenseless except for the Kingsguard, while he sent aid and resources everywhere else. Celebrian was beside him every step of the way, going into a Post-war scenario in a huge piece of land called Eriador again. They really could not enjoy the quieter times at all.

Furthermore, before the Watchful Peace ended, evil again invaded Eriador. It was followed by Galadriel’s summons of the White Council.

CELEBRIAN ASSAILED, DEPARTURE TO THE WEST 46 years later, tragedy ended the marriage of Celebrian and Elrond. He would be officially widowed with her passing over the Great Sea. The greatest healer who ever lived could not save his greatest love.

He let her go when she made her choice to go. He did not force to stay her, it would be too cruel to her. Elrond chose to do what was right instead of what was kinder to himself. When she left, she tore half his heart and flesh along with it.

This trauma is one that Elrond carries with him. The darkening of the times did work to twist his sacrifice into guilt, into thoughts of ❛What if❜ he was stronger, more powerful, better, or enough. Because of how obvious it was that Celebrian’s assault was premeditated by Sauron to weaken Rivendell, Elrond would always blame himself for bringing her into his life. Perhaps he should have just continued hiding his love. Perhaps she would have been safe. Perhaps.

In Elrond’s lowest moments, he could not understand what was so good about Valinor. He could not reconcile Celebrian’s choice of Aman over him and their 3 children together. For all his wars and battles in Middle Earth, no army ever came from the West to aid the people. He has no good perception of Aman. Over time, Celebrian’s departure joined one of many gravestones that Elrond had to force himself to move forward from. It was the only way, force himself not to dwell on it, bury himself in work, in the forge, in planning. For his children, for all the people who depended on him, for the sake of unseating Sauron, Elrond had to move forward even if it was by crawling through the mud.

His love for her did dull, did become mixed with depression, and he feared to see her again if he sailed to Aman. Elrond fears that Aman might actually be better for Celebrian than him. The dilemma? Wanting Celebrian to be happy and healthy, but wanting it to be him for her and no one else. Elrond knew the solution to that, and the answer was: Not him. It is a fact that is so hard to swallow at times, that he has to leave the love of his life in someone else’s hands.

[on-noon]

I was new to the town, but since it had already rained four of the five days there, I figured I'd better get used to the rain. But I couldn't do that if my glasses kept getting clouded with raindrops.

Downtown had a little magic shop, spells, potions, and whatnot. I figured I could check see if the had something water repellent for my glasses.

The shop didn't have windows, and seemed small, smooshed between a bar and a clothing store, so I wasn't prepared for what was inside. The only indication the store sold magic was the painted door.

I opened that door, and a little bell rang. The store was chaotic, with scents competing, mixing. My eyes didn't know what to focus on, everything was so cluttered. And then some little creature ran past me, and the shopkeep came chasing after, then she noticed me.

She stopped. "Oh. Didn't notice you there. What do you need?"

"I can wait until you've dealt with that creature," I said. I didn't have anything else that day.

"No, it'll be fine. Worst case Mobgeor knocks down some things that need to be reorganized anyway. What did you come in here for?"

"My glasses, when it rains the water on my glasses it's hard to see out of them. I was thinking you might have a water repellent."

"I'll see if I can find it, meanwhile feel free to look around yourself." she disappeared through the wall.

I started looking at the things on the wall. Only around half of anything was labeled, and the labels weren't always helpful. One said "buraer" and then some characters in another language, one I didn't recognize.

And when I picked it up, to see what the label said on the back, and saw a glow coming from behind. So I dug through the various vials and boxes, and I saw the source of the glow. Dragon's fire, stored in a jar. An old jam jar, to be specific. The faded label was still there.

The way the fire was moving, the color, all of it proved it to be genuine dragon's fire, not one of the fakes sold as novelties occasionally.

If you want to know how I knew with such certainty, that's my job. I deal with magic contraband, finding it and confiscating it.

"Excuse me, I have something to ask you about," I shouted. I wasn't on duty, so I had more leniency in getting information.

It took the shopkeep a while to come, but when she did she was covered in some feathers.

"What was it you had questions about?" she asked.

"This." I hold up the jar, making sure I've got it held steady with both my hands. "Where'd it come from?"

"Sorry, I don't know. I just inherited this shop from my uncle, and it might not surprise you to learn the man had no sense of organization. Why? What is it?"

"Dragon's fire. Genuine dragon's fire."

"That's dragon fire? He kept dragon fire just on a shelf? I'm not dealing with that. Y'know what? I'm not dealing with any of this anymore. Keep the dragon's fire, and take the shop as well." She pulled a paper out of her apron, and looked ready to throw it at me, but set it down cautiously instead. She then left a wide bearth when leaving the store. Smart. That's what I'd advise anyone on what to do with dragon's fire. Calmly leave the area.

But I couldn't do that. If I just leave, someone else might stumble upon the building. I found a box to put the jar in. I would have also liked to move it to a proper vial, but I didn't see any of the necessary equipment.

And that's how I ended up with the shop.

It took me over two years to open, you know. I had to search through for other contraband. Of which there was plenty. Nothing quite as extreme as dragon's fire stored in a jam jar, but still plenty dangerous. But it's nice, to have a second job I'm in control of. That's why I open it only once a week, helps it feel like a break from my normal job.

It isn't a break, of course. The store remains chaotic, as much as I tried to organize it.

But it's something different.

🦄

all you really wanted was a water repellant spell for your glasses, not a jar of contraband dragon's fire and a shop newly empty of the shopkeep who thrust it upon you.

[belphegor1982]

86. “Don’t be scared I’m right here” prompt for sibling feels between Jonathan and Evie! Maybe when they’re kids and Jonathan is being a protective big brother?

I finally finished it! Hope you like :o)

The Chimera in the Attic

“Don’t be so loud,” whispers Jonathan, and Evelyn does her best to pin him with the most beady glare she can manage in the dark. It’s not so easy as it used to be. Jonathan has grown a lot in the past few months, and Evelyn remains somewhat on the small side for an eight-year-old girl.

He’s still skinny, though. The dressing gown Dad gave him for his birthday, saying he’d grow into it, is still too long and baggy for him.

“I’m not loud.”

“You are! I don’t even know how someone so small can be making so much noise while she walks! What are your slippers made of, solid lead?”

“Well, you’re the one who keeps talking!”

“Look, do you want my help or not?”

Evelyn glowers, but forces her voice down.

“Yes,” she mutters with a sigh – carefully, so she doesn’t blow her candle.

“Good show. Now – toes first, and then your heel. Mind the stairs, we’re almost there.”

It seemed a good idea to ask Jonathan for help – and, if she’s honest, it probably is – but she still doesn’t like it when her brother decides to be The Grown-up. It doesn’t suit him at all. But if she is to retrieve the books Mrs Pemberton, the housekeeper and household dragon, confiscated from her and locked up in the attic, then Jonathan and his baffling (and highly dubious) talent for opening doors is just the man for the job.

The fact that this ‘man’ is a thirteen and a half boy notwithstanding, of course.

And to be completely honest, creeping around the dark, silent house around midnight in his company feels much less daunting than it would on her own.

“Mum and Dad wouldn’t have taken my books away,” she mumbles while the both of them tiptoe up the stairs, careful to avoid the fifth step that always creaks.

Jonathan shoots her a look that has more than a little commiseration to it. But he doesn’t make a sarcastic comment like she half-thought he might. He also doesn’t point out that she’d need only wait till next Friday for Salwa and John Carnahan to come back from their trip. He knows few things are more important to her than her books.

“No,” he murmurs, “they wouldn’t have. But maybe you need a little more… I don’t know, subtlety?”

“What do you mean?”

“Next time, don’t leave the books lying around when you know Mrs Pemberton doesn’t approve of you reading treatises that would give any normal adult a headache, especially when you should be sleeping. You might want to keep them hidden.”

Evelyn concedes the point silently.

True to his word, Jonathan only needs a few minutes until the lock gives up. She probably shouldn’t be so impressed.

The South Wing attic is one of the few places in the house that still don’t have electricity – not even gaslight. It’s essentially a large lumber room filled with steamer trunks, some full, some empty, cabinets and bookshelves devoid of books but filled with bric-a-brac, and more generally everything that’s not too sensitive to light or dust. The windows have only had windowpanes for a few years, and that’s solely because Mum and Dad wanted to use the space to store their travel diaries, inconvenient heirlooms, and everything they couldn’t find room for downstairs.

At this hour of the night, it looks empty and huge, and dark, and utterly uninviting.

Evelyn and Jonathan remain frozen on the threshold for a few seconds. Then Evelyn takes a deep breath, hears Jonathan do the same, and they enter.

From there they split up to search, Evelyn hoping the dust won’t ruin her slippers, Jonathan swearing quietly every time he stubs his toe against something. For some reason it feels even more important to be silent here than it did downstairs, which is silly. This attic is not anywhere near sleeping quarters.

Evelyn lifts a pile of old almanacs, careful not to breathe in the dust that goes flying when she puts them down. Then an unexpected noise behind her makes her gasp.

“It’s just me,” whispers Jonathan, who somehow crept up on her. Evelyn is all the more miffed because for once it doesn’t appear he did it on purpose. “Did you find anything?”

“Just these.”

“Are you sure this is where Mrs Pemberton took your books? She could’ve hidden them in her lair with the rest of her hoard – ugly portraits, stuffed lizards, human remains –”

“Oh, shush.”

Mrs Pemberton came with the house, so to speak, and watched over their father’s childhood with a gimlet eye. She’s very fond of John Carnahan and respected Salwa al-Masri from the moment Dad brought his new wife to England, which is a lot more than can be said for the rest of his family and household staff then. But she is Proper and Traditional and rules the house with an iron hand when the master and mistress are away. Jonathan sometimes half-jokes that he doesn’t see much difference between home and school as far as caning and bleeding knuckles are concerned. Evelyn really hopes he’s exaggerating on both accounts; but the last time Mrs Pemberton caught him scaling the vines on the west façade to sneak into a room, he held himself oddly for a few hours, and that wasn’t because he’d fallen down. He also made Evelyn promise she wouldn’t say a word to their parents, so she kept mum, but she can’t help thinking it’s not right. Mum and Dad never hit Jonathan when he misbehaves.

In normal circumstances she wouldn’t pick at his language. But a dark, dusty attic in the middle of the night is the last place in which she wants to hear about human remains.

“I saw her climb the stairs with all three books and come back down without them,” she points out. “She must have left them here.”

Logic has always been her most trusted ally. Jonathan, knowing this, nods.

“All right, so they’re somewhere in this mess. Now. If I was a fire-breathing dragon who eats twelve naughty children for breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper every day, where would I hide forbidden but valuable books?”

Evelyn can’t help a silent chuckle. Then her eyes fall on a cabinet in a corner, standing in a pool of shadow.

She nudges her brother and they silently make their way towards the cabinet.

A rustling sound in the near distance makes them both freeze. The little candleholder trembles a little in her fist; with her other hand she instinctively searches for Jonathan’s.

“Don’t be scared,” she hears him whisper, “I’m right here.” But his hand is none too steady in hers as he grips back.

“I’m not scared.” Jonathan gives her a look before he bends to inspect the lock of the cabinet, so she insists, “I’m not! I was just startled.”

“Right,” he says with that small infuriating grin of his, like he hasn’t jumped as well at the sudden noise. “All right, then, let’s see…”

A minute later he manages to open the door just a sliver and peek inside.

“Well, good news, there’s your books. I can see the name of one of those dratted Bembridge fellows on the cover. Bad news: something’s blocking the door and I can’t get it open without forcing it – hang on –”

Jonathan pulls on the door, Evelyn steps closer to hear what he’s muttering, and that is when a few things seem to fall on their heads at the same time: something heavy, a cloud of dust, an angry screech, the flapping of wings brushing their skulls. Jonathan yelps, Evelyn cries out. Her candle falls to the floor, instantly snuffed out, but the light managed to give her a glimpse of teeth, feathers, and – scales?

A hand grasps hers and tugs her onwards. She runs along without hesitation, barely registering that they’re racing down the stairs and across the wing to Jonathan’s room, until they’re safe and secure behind the door, covered in dust, chests heaving, their hands on their knees.

“What the hell was that?” gasps Jonathan. Evelyn is too out of breath to answer right away. She’s too busy trying to shake the sensation of lightning coursing through her whole body, like her whole person is reduced to a small human-sized wire.

When she’s able to make sounds other than panting, she groans.

“My books! We forgot the books!”

“We were attacked by a monster and that’s the first thing you say?”

“But that was the entire reason we… We have to go back!”

“And we will, but in the morning, when we can see more than five inches in front of us. And won’t be set upon by nocturnal chimeras.”

“Well,” Evelyn declares mulishly, struggling against the remnants of the terror that made her fly down the stairs as fast as though the wings had been hers, “I’m going. I won’t be able to sleep for a while anyway, I might as well have something to do.”

“Evy.”

“You’re welcome to stay here if you’re afraid, of course.”

“Evy.”

“But you will not stop me from—”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. The next thing she knows he drops three heavy volumes into her arms, so covered in dirt one can hardly decipher the titles on the cover.

“Here are your blasted books, you lunatic! And the next time you need something retrieved from wherever it’s ended up then you’re welcome to—”

It’s not easy to embrace another person while holding books that might be a little more massive than one can safely hold with one arm. That doesn’t stop Evelyn from following her impulse and throwing herself in her brother’s arms before he can finish his sentence. Emotions race through her – retroactive fright, a remnant of righteous anger at being denied what she loves most to do, relief at the return of her favourite books – and she knows better than to fight them. Instead she burrows her nose into the front of Jonathan’s dressing gown and lets them run their course.

Jonathan sighs into her hair and wraps his arms around her. If she doesn’t grow taller quickly he’ll soon be able to put his chin on top of her head. Usually she’s tempted to be a little miffed about that. Right now, it doesn’t sound so bad.

“I don’t… I didn’t mean that.”

I know, she thinks, letting the familiarity of his voice and his wiry frame wash the rest of her nerves away. She was fully prepared to march back up those stairs and into the attic, and now she’s unspeakably grateful that she won’t have to.

Later, when they’ve dusted off their nightclothes, Evelyn hops into bed with her brother. She does it every now and then when she can’t sleep for this or that reason, more rarely since he has gone away to Eton and only comes back in the weekends. Even if he complains that her feet are cold he never turns her away. As always, their whispered conversation carries late into the night. Evelyn is drowsing already when she asks, “What do you think happened, exactly, back there?”

“I don’t know,” whispers Jonathan, eyes closed, “and I don’t care. Whatever it was, it won’t bother us now.”

Evelyn agrees and finally falls asleep, secure in the knowledge that she is safe and, perhaps more importantly, so are her books.

※ ※ ※ ※

The next morning, they wake up at an ungodly hour to retrieve Evy’s candleholder and erase all traces that suggest they recently set foot in the attic. They approach the cabinet cautiously, only to find a moth-eaten stuffed crocodile’s head on the floor covered in bird droppings and what looks like a little owl’s feathers. The ‘trophy’ – probably older than their parents – must have been left on top of the cabinet for ages, wedged against the top of the door, effectively preventing anyone from opening the door completely.

Jonathan looks down, then up, then down again, and says, “There’s our chimera. Looks like we survived a crocodile attack last night.”

Evelyn makes a face. The memory of their undignified rout stings, especially now that it’s obvious there was nothing to get so scared about. Startled, yes; scared, no.

“I wonder if we frightened that poor bird away for good,” she muses as they set everything to rights as silently as they can.

Jonathan, who wandered off looking for the point of entry, looks over his shoulder and says, “I hope so. I don’t fancy this attic becoming an aviary. There are too many interesting things here to leave them left for the birds, so to speak.” He plugs an owl-sized hole in a windowpane with a rag and adds with a grin, “The things you’ll do for books, I swear.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Evelyn counters, feeling a similar wide smile make its way on her face.

And Jonathan, who usually has a ready sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue, only shakes his head with a snort.

Books – both their contents and their physical form – are important to Evelyn in a way they aren’t to Jonathan. Perhaps they’ll never really understand each other on this. But perhaps it doesn’t really matter, either.

After all, even if he isn’t up to standing up to a chimera in the dead of night any more than she is, her big brother still knows her well enough to know that Evelyn Carnahan will only leave a book behind in the direst of circumstances.

(There you go! Not my best prose, I’m sorry, but it’s the best I could hammer out into shape ^^’ I have a lot of feels about these two and I’m always glad for the chance to explore these feels, so thank you, dear anon 💜)

[trashcankitty12]

omg thank you so much for answering! 😅 i have another ask about the origins of the ancestral witches, how did they come about? was darkar involved in their birth or even growing up? how did they end up working with/for darkar? and how did their childhood affect their mothering for valtor?

Okay, so in my head, and in my verses, the whole Darkar being the BIG, BIG BAD isn’t the case. It’s the Ancestral Witches themselves. Darkar is just someone who used to be a good person, but turned into... a servant of sorts. Which I’ll get to that soon enough. After my big spiel on the Ancestral Witches. XD (This is gonna get long, so there’s a read-more.)

Belladonna, Lysslis, and Tharma were three sisters born to a noble family on the realm (which is now dead) known as Ulmoira. Their family had been servants of the King and Queen there for eons, and their realm was in service to the Great Dark Dragon which birthed all dark realms (and dark magic), just as the Great Light Dragon birthed all light realms (and light magic).

Belladonna had ice magic, though not to the intensity we now know her to have. In fact, her magic was considered nothing more than a party trick at the time, meant for cooling drinks or crafting neat ice sculptures.

Tharma’s magic was always considered dangerous due to her outbursts. (Such an angry child...) But she could only conjure small scale storms. Nothing that spread over entire realms, not like she’s known for.

Lysslis’ magic was mostly just extreme empathy and telepathy and being able to create and manipulate emotions in others and forcing them to tell the truth. Nothing like the illusions and hallucinations she’s known for creating today.

Belladonna was the eldest sister, and the craftiest. She made her way quickly up the ranks in the Palace and became advisor to the King. The main advisor. His right hand. His partner. (And, yes, on occasion in exchange for getting her own items on the agenda, his lover.)

See, Belladonna could see just how powerful Ulmoira could be and wanted to expand it’s power and have one of the Great Dragons claim Ulmoira as a holy land, giving more reach for their kingdom than even the newly formed Council could handle.

And of course, endearing herself to the King and making herself so integral in his life and in his court gave her all the power that not even being a Queen could give her.

(She’s ambitious, so sue her.)

(And she’s great at playing the long game.)

Lysslis, the middle sister, was also quite a crafty woman, partially in thanks to her “unique gifts”. She understood people; their fears, hopes, what made them tick inside. An empath with a near excessive reach. 

Using her talents, and her way with words, Lysslis enjoyed playing spy for her sister. Always getting her intel on what others in the court were up to and what potential threats lied with other kingdoms.

(Lysslis is also the more curious sister. She’s the reason they end up going in the direction they go.)

Tharma is the youngest sister, and far more malicious and sadistic than her older sisters. She was labeled the “problem child” and the “family disgrace”. Always fighting, always starting trouble. Always where she shouldn’t be: in the way.

Belladonna and Lysslis couldn’t outcast their sister though, and found her a place to thrive: prison guard. 

Tharma loved her job and loved giving prisoners exactly what they deserved. 

It was an idyllic life. 

Until Lysslis, during one of her missions in which she got interesting information from one of the Great Dragon Priests... Information about the Dragon Fire, Primordial Magic created from the Dragon Fire (such as the Phoenix Flames and the Water Stars), and the predictions about people one day being able to harness such magic. He even had a Grimoire detailing the prophesy of the Dragons’ deaths and Them imparting Their magic to those deemed worthy, and how the other Primordial Magics would follow Their example. 

Lysslis, of course, confiscated the Grimoire and brought it to her sisters’ attention. 

This could be the big break they were all waiting for. Forget the original plan of their homeland becoming a holy ground, THEY COULD BECOME GODDESSES.

But how to prove themselves worthy to the Great Dragons and other Primordials? Simple: they make themselves stronger by any means necessary.

Their family had a Family Book of Shadows tucked away and hidden from the kingdom’s authorities, a tome mostly forgotten about due to the nature of the spells within. (Black Magic. A cursed and volatile version of Dark Magic, and, of course, forbidden to use.)

But Belladonna knew about it, had listened as a wide-eyed girl while her grandmother told stories of what their family used to be able to do. And now she had a reason to unlock her full potential. (And her sisters’ of course...)

In secret the three would practice and strengthen their magic using the spells from their forbidden tome, not realizing just how the magic was changing them. Oh yes, their magic was stronger and capable of things others could only dream of doing, but their physical and mental states? Their sanity? Their grip on reality?

Fleeting. And fleeting fast. To the point where they considered themselves gods without any Primordial magic, to the point where they didn’t need to be worthy of the Primordials, it was just a matter of taking what was already “theirs” to start with.

The King, disturbed by the increasingly erratic and terrifying behavior of his advisor and her sisters, confronted them.

Belladonna told him what they were planning, hoping he could see ‘reason’ and that they were the ones who ‘deserved to be in charge’. He called them out for their crazy behavior and with his army, he did his best to stop them.

Unfortunately, with their rage and combined magic, it wasn’t enough to stop them. 

Belladonna was now able to call forth blizzards with never before recorded temperatures. She could sense the blood within others and freeze them from the inside out. And she could create snow creatures to do her bidding.

Tharma’s storms could cover vast quantities of land and rage with the full force of the anger she’d kept inside all those years. Lightning strong enough to electrocute even the hardiest of people, tornadoes able to suck the air right out of another’s lungs. Hail storms that could destroy everything in their path. And the storm harpies she could summon to fight for her where just as terrifying as anything else she could do.

And Lysslis... She had soldiers killing themselves and their comrades, their minds completely overtaken by her own will. The hallucinations she made them see, the agony and fear she had overtake them... Nothing could save those in her grasp.

Ulmoira was ultimately destroyed.

But that was fine. They had no use for their homeland anymore. Not when they had an entire magical dimension to claim. Starting with the Dragon Fire.

Before they could take the Dragon Fire, they knew they’d need assistance. So they went to a realm known as Whisperia and stole three crystals from it. (These crystals were said to contain traces of the Water Stars within them, meaning they could damage or control the Great Dragons.)

Then they headed to Domino, wanting to face the Great Light Dragon. Unfortunately for them, she had already left her physical body, her magic and soul bonding with the future king of Domino that had just been born. (And they knew even with all their power, they couldn’t fight the realm of Domino. Not while still recovering from the destruction of Ulmoira.)

So they traveled to Obsidian, finding the aging and dying Great Dark Dragon. They thought him an easy target, using their magic and crystals to weaken him further, but he wasn’t worried. Angry, sure, but not worried.

Because the moment he died, the future queen of Obsidian took her first breath, and became his bond.

Deterred, but not defeated, the Ancestral Witches decided to seek out the other Primordials first. 

For ages they searched and scoured for Primordials, even stealing sacred items from realms in the hopes it would give them the power they sought. (And in their quest, they gained followers. Devout followers who worshipped the grounds they walked upon.)

And, curiously (and in great timing, considering their ages), they found a way to remain... Immortal. More or less. 

One part blood bond between their new “Coven” and “covenmates”, a bond where they would syphon their members’ life forces, a slow process they’d never notice happening. And one part a potion they discovered which needed unicorn blood, dragon scales, and the hearts of lumen. (Poor little things...)

Over the years, the Ancestral Witches tried to “steal back” the Dragon Fire from both Domino and Obsidian, only to have their forces blown back each time. (Though each time, without fail, new followers would fall to their knees for the Witches.)

And then, an idea struck.  Why take the Dragon Fire when they could raise it? King Gasper and Queen Gnala of Obsidian were due to have their child in a few months time. (Queen Natalia of Domino was still having issues becoming pregnant, poor dear.)

Carefully they monitored the situation in Obsidian, taking notice of the exhaustion among one of the most loyal servants to the Obsidian Throne since the Dragon bonded to the Ruler. Sir Argulus and his wife.

Interesting.

Lysslis saw the opening and she took it. It was slow, convincing Argulus and his wife to betray their King and Queen, but they did in exchange for the power they wished they had.

And two weeks after the young prince was born, a week before his christening, the Ancestral Witches struck with their forces, and the newly awoken Lord Darkar and Lady Mandragora. (And, a former prisoner of Obsidian’s dungeon who now had the power to absorb and redirect magic, Ogron.)

Obsidian fell. The kingdom tattered, but remade in the Ancestrals image. All correspondence and travel to the outside realms were destroyed. And the Ancestral Witches had their newest prized possession, and their future weapon, the former prince now known as Valtor.

(After Obsidian’s fall, the Council became concerned about dark magic and dark magic users. They felt that dark magic was so close to black magic, that it was only a matter of time before others turned treasonous too. Which started the crackdown on dark magic and the ostracization of dark realmers.)

(The Ancestral Witches viewed this as an opportunity and used it to manipulate dark magic users, and even some light magic ones, into joining their forces so as to “fight these injustices” and “retake their place” in the Magical Dimension.)

And that’s the story. Or well, a sort of glossed over, short version of the story.

Hope you enjoyed it. 

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Kaddric the Heedless, King of Empty Coffers

(This is part of a multi-post adventure prompt, to get the whole story, click HERE) 

Setup:  The madman was never supposed to take the crown. Brought out of exile to put an end to a succession crisis, the last sovereign's son has an avaricious lust for wealth and prestige, and little love for the people his office holds him to protect. 

Seemingly obsessed with bleeding every last drop of value from his new domain, there is no avenue of exploitation that the Empty-coffer King won’t pursue: Confiscating communal lands and noble estates before sending indentured surfs to stripmine any resources that might enrich the royal treasury, burring settlements and merchants under needless taxes , and enforcing his will through the use of private mercenary armies drawn by the promise of his bottomless vaults. 

Kaddric plunders his own land worse than any invading army, and it’s up to the players to mount a rebellion against this gold-glorifying tyrant and kick his avaricious ass off the throne. 

Adventure Hooks:

When a vein of silver is discovered on the lands belonging to one of the players or their patrons, a cadre of Kaddric’s flunkies and their mercenary escort show up not long after to contest ownership. While negotiations dragon painfully slowly, the party realizes that the king’s agents are surreptitiously looking for ways to oust them from their land, vacating their claim and allowing it to be taken into royal possession. 

The party is made up out of outlaws, those who had their family swept away to access their vaults, or who fled from their village as Kaddric’s pressgangs circled offering only enslavement or the noose. Together with their allies and a few would-be masterminds they’ve assembled the seeds of a conspiracy that may one day overthrow the tyrant. As their first true meeting is raided by the King’s enforcers, the conspirators scatter, leaving the party to find allies in a realm turned against them. 

The king has come to town and he’s apparently brought a party with him? A rolling caravan of circuses, menageries, and theater troupes descends on the part’s home and turns the landscape into a labyrinth of excess. Formerly starving people gorge themselves on the finest meats and wine, all work ceases as the townsfolk disappear into distraction and indulgence, and Kaddric wanders the streets at the head of a mob of adorants: gold coins dripping from his fingers like drops of water. 

Based out of a neighboring kingdom to Kaddric’s and hearing only rumors of his crimes, the party learns the truth when an alchemist friend/patron of theirs is kidnapped and whisked off to the king’s dungeons. 

Background: 

A twitchy and illhumored youth, Kaddric was the least favored of five royal siblings and cousins to inherit the title of sovereign, a losing bet in a system intended to produce the most capable heir to lead the realm upon the retiring of their predecessor. Not wanting the increasingly unstable middle sibling to cause trouble, Kaddric’s royal parents sent him off to be “fostered” among the merchant princes of a friendly nearby republic.

Facing a succession crisis after a brutal war and ensuing sickness led to the death of both their sovereign and the expected heirs, the kingdom’s high council brought the sovereign's last remaining son out of exile.  However Malajusted and paranoid, and however little he cared for the responsibilities of his new position,  the new king has a wicked mind for logistics, overhauling the nation’s treasury and tax system and using this windfall of new funds to reequip the army and finally push the forces of invaders that had occupied the kingdom’s lands. 

This victory earned him enough goodwill to forestall any opposition as Kaddric went right on reforming, using his powers as a wartime king to smash any opposition and install agents loyal to himself in key positions. All in preparation for his eventual plundering. 

Goals: 

Get Even: at his burning core, Kaddric feels ashamed for being put aside. Paired with his bottomless greed is a desire for others to look upon him as someone worth recognition and praise. This drives him to spend lavishly on his court favorites, as well as financing works of art in his own honor. 

Get Rich: Among his many side projects, Kaddric is fond of interrogating alchemists on the nature of their art, especially those famed for being skilled enough to transmute base materials into gold. in his time abroad he learned of an artifact that is said to have such a power, and is willing to torture any number of scholars and sages for it’s supposed location. 

Get Out: Anyone with sense can see that Kaddric is squeezing his kingdom to death, that his slash and burn tactics will lead to total economic collapse, his head mounted on a rebel pike, or likely both. Their appraisal would be apt if Kaddrics end goal was being a good king... but it isn’t. After a few years of pillaging, Kaddric plants to abdicate, leave his homeland for the vultures, and return to the Republic of merchant princes with the wealth of a nation at his personal command. Already he plants his masterstroke: as his last act on the throne, he’ll offer up patches of lands he’s despoiled for the exploitation of the republican gentry. Slavemines and factories and workhouses, his sworn subjects sold off as chattel with a few strokes of the pen.  

[mauvehound]

Behind every turn and corner, Mauvier finds himself forced to slow down, lest he bump into some student or other, too drawn into their peculiar activity to take notice even of someone as large (and, he has to admit, loud) as him. Now, between their classes and training sessions, students can do as they please - though the Hound holds himself to a strict regiment, he would not enforce it upon others. However, when some attempt to discuss, trade and sometimes even play their games in the middle of his explaining the intricacies of not getting stabbed, he finds himself with little choice but to confiscate their precious toys.

Protests erupt, of course, accompanied by pleading, on one occasion even by tears; but the rock remains unmoved. "It's for your own good," he insists, calm, but firm. "Next skirmish, when you successfully evade a bandit's axe because you paid attention instead of playing, you will thank me."

As he nearly kicks another inattentive young man too absorbed in the cards to remember the world around him, Mauvier stifles a sigh and prepares himself for another day of dealing with... whatever this is, really. The young people of Fódlan have very peculiar hobbies. Does the Goddess approve of this, anyway?

However, the thoughts fly right out of his head as he enters the classroom and beholds the well familiar mixture of white, pink and black. He does not look at Mauvier right away, focused on his papers, and mistakes him for a pleading student; and though the Hound is not one to laugh easily, a small smile does creep its way onto his lips. It is only as he approaches and his figure casts a shadow on the dragon that he lifts his eyes, and the moment of recognition startles both of them.

"Ah. Easy there, Lord Rafal. I apologize for surprising you there," Mauvier says with a nod of greeting. "I did not want to interrupt you. Has the news of my arrival in Fódlan not reached you?"

His gaze then wanders briefly - onto the desk, the papers, and the couple of small cards here and there - before returning to the Fell Child.

"I see you have found your patience tested," he notes with a faint smile. "All the same, I hope you've been well."

✦ 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐌 ✧

Mission Board: Recovery, authority +1

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Good morning, good afternoon, and good evening! I'm writing for Drarropoly for @gameofdrarry this year along with my girlfriend so I hope you guys check my stories out and have a good time reading them! 

Position: The Burrow | Theme: Gryffindor. 

Things are always easier in groups. Unless someone is keeping a secret.

Choose one of the following: Group Project Group Date Group Vacation

N.E.W.T.s Level:     + Include non-linear storytelling.     +Include the Established Relationship trope OR the Secretly Pining trope.

Min-Max Word Count: 3333-4444 words

Rating: Teen Audiences 

Tags: Harry Potter, Drarry, Relationship - Drarry, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest, secretly pining, Non-Linear Narrative, non-linear storytelling 

Word Count: 3,350

Summary: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have never gotten along as everyone in their lives will attest to. That's about to change when their so called 'friends' betray them and force them all to go on a group vacation together. 

It goes better than they would have expected.

                              what will this change? (everything)

Harry breathed in the crisp night air sharply, collapsed on the ground and still trying to regain his breath as he shivered at the cold, wet sand pressing against his bare back as warm palms dug into his shoulders. The heat of the palms only grew more prominent as fingers grasped at his skin even harder, Harry’s attention soon shattered and shot as he felt chilled, bare thighs pressed into the skin just above his hips. 

The silence of the night was only broken by crashing, breaking waves of the ocean only a few dozen feet away and the whisper-soft words of, “You’re staring.” Harry, who made absolutely no move to look away, couldn’t help the amused quirk of his lips as his hands moved. Sand still stuck to his palms, but instead they pressed into those chilled thighs, Harry feeling a thrill at the shiver that wracked through the body of Draco Malfoy.

“I could say the same thing about you, you know,” Harry finally said, only absently feeling his heart pounding away as he watched Draco’s eyes flutter, long lashes only just brushing the edges of his cheeks. “The others are probably wondering where we are by now.” 

It was barely a token protest, Harry’s own eyes starting to fall shut as Draco leaned in towards him, whispering a soft, “Probably.” The word brushed against his lips, Harry panting around warm breath as those lips swayed even closer. “We should probably head back.”

“Probably,” Harry repeated, fingertips pressing into soft, cool skin. It was more effort than it should have been to cut himself off with a sharp bite of his lip, watching as Draco breathed out a long, slow breath, thighs shaking on either side of him. “Draco.”

Those lips, chapped and bitten and dry like his own, were so close. Harry could just tilt his head up the smallest amount and… Draco’s shivers echoed against him, the other’s breathing heavy and hot as his hands clutched at him even more tightly, nails scraping against his skin. 

Harry bit back the sharp hiss of what was certainly not pain, instead looking up as he noticed stormy grey eyes looking into his own. They truly were a storm in their own right, swirling with magic and emotion and apologies and explanations and begging and so much. It was the most Draco had ever spoken to him and it was all said without a word. 

“What will this change?” Draco’s question, soft and whispered and immediately whisked away by the summer night breeze, was the question that Harry had been avoiding thinking about — the question they had both been avoiding. 

“I-” Harry shuddered as those lips were so close again, the breath they shared the exact same. Finally, miraculously, Harry managed to choke out, “I don’t know.” But… But, but, but- 

Draco started to lean away, and Harry had a hand on the back of the other’s neck before he could move more than a breath away. Draco froze in his grip and Harry was overcome with the same feeling he always had when he was on the verge of doing something stupid and incredible and overwhelming.

He was standing in front of fierce flames with enough potion for only one person to pass safely through. He was speaking in a language known only to a few, ready to find the truth to the answers kept from him all year. He was staring at himself across a lake, knowing he was about to lose everything and yet safe with the knowledge he wasn’t.

It was the feeling of facing down dragons, and Death Eaters, and mermaids, and the corrupted Ministry, and Tom Riddle, and Dumbledore’s plans, and Death, and it was the feeling of not yet. I’m not ready to let go yet. 

Draco was tense against him, hands shaking from where he had been trying to push himself up before Harry had pulled him back down because Harry really didn’t know what this would change in the end, but… “But isn’t it worth it to find out?”

“Is it?” A hand slipped up to press against Harry’s cheek, Draco’s gaze harsh and heavy. His eyes showed a storm that was ready to break; to rage and scream and destroy. “Is it really worth it?”

Harry was silent, watching that storm grow as excitement beat away in his chest. Finally, somehow, he managed the breath to speak, answering with a soft, “No.” Harry met Draco’s eyes, breathless as he finished, “But you are.”

The storm broke. 

⁂

“Pansy, my dear, you know I care deeply for you, but are you absolutely mad?” It was a terrible enough fate that Draco had been forced into agreeing to spend a summer vacation with Hogwarts’ Golden Trio of all things, but this? This was asking too much of him. “Why can’t I simply room with Blaise? We shared a dorm for seven years!”

“But Draco, darling, Ron is rooming with Blaise on this trip, remember?” Pansy’s sickly-sweet tone was a threat just as much as it was a warning and Draco cursed the day she had made friends with Hermione bloody Granger. Granger, on her part, only seemed as pleased as Pansy, the two standing with their arms linked together and identical smiles on their faces. Bloody harpies. “And there are only a limited amount of rooms available.” 

Draco opened his mouth to argue because like bloody hell that was true. Their little ‘group vacation’ was taking place at the beach house of Pansy’s aunt, and if that woman was one thing it was extravagant. Unfortunately, before Draco could craft an argument that would get him his way, Granger stepped in.

“Oh, that’s right, you were just telling me about that! Your aunt is doing renovations in most of the bedrooms here at the moment, right?” Granger was smiling but the look in her eyes was pure evil. Pansy, the little tart, seemed to get off on it, beaming. 

“Right you are, darling. I’m so glad someone seems to remember the things I tell them.” Pansy snapped her gaze to Potter, who had until that point been silent. Shame it wouldn’t remain that way. “Harry, darling, you’re content sharing a room with Draco, aren’t you?” Ah, but the anger in those shimmering green eyes was always so nice to admire. 

Draco had half a hope that Potter would actually throw his weight around for once and get them out of the mess they were about to be stuck in, but then he looked at Granger. Potter heaved a sigh, tone dull as he responded with defeat, “I’d be perfectly fine with it, yeah.” 

“Excellent!” Pansy clapped her hands together before whisking Granger away to another part of the house to no doubt seduce her into more misdeeds. Weasley, vapid git that he was, didn’t even seem bothered by the Pansy and Granger bonding. 

Instead he just gave a low whistle followed by an idiotic, “Rotten luck about the renovations, huh?” 

Blaise glanced to Draco, a clear look in his eyes of, He really can’t be that stupid, can he? There’s simply no way someone can be that daft. 

Draco, reasonably, turned his own look to Potter, a very, very clear, Of course he’s that bloody stupid. What do you expect? He’s friends with Potter of all people. 

Potter, for one shining glorious moment, looked as if he actually regretted choosing the weasel as the one he was stuck with as a friend for the rest of his life. As it was, he sighed and turned towards the prison cell they were stuck sharing together, “Let’s just settle in. We don’t have to be in these rooms apart from when we’re sleeping.” 

“That’s the part I’m worried about,” Weasley snorted, the heathen. He then glared at Draco, who made sure to give his own nasty glare back. “Perfect chance for a ferret to slit some throats-”

“Why you-!” Draco dropped the bag he had been carrying and stalked forward and so what if the girls had confiscated their wands as soon as they had arrived to teach them a lesson in ‘restraint’? Draco didn’t need magic to teach irritating little weasels a lesson-!

Blaise turned traitor and grabbed him before he could add one more murder to his long life of mistakes, sighing and half-laughing with a cheerful, “Well, this is going to be a fun trip, gentleman, don’t you think?”

“We’ve been here for two hours,” Potter said, stating the obvious as he always did. Honestly, he was good for nothing except brute strength and looking not completely bad. “I’m pretty sure you already made some blood pact with Hermione about something and Draco’s about to kill Ron.” 

“Draco?” Blaise asked before Draco could because since bloody when had he been Draco to that prat? As far as he was aware, they were Malfoy and Potter to the bitter end of the world. Honestly, acting as if the two were friendly after… well, everything. “Since when has he been Draco?”

Potter looked back at Blaise and then at Draco, those bright green killing curse eyes locking with his own. There wasn’t hatred like there had been for so many years — there wasn’t even annoyance and frustration. There was- Merlin, Draco didn’t know what to call those emotions. Breathtaking, perhaps, for a start. 

As Harry spoke, he didn’t look away from him. “You two may feel differently, but we’ve all lost enough after this war and fighting. I think I’ve had enough of enemies and burning bridges for a lifetime.” 

With that he was turning and walking into their room, Draco’s mind spinning a million different ways a minute because that- What had that been? Was he saying that he didn’t want anything to do with Draco anymore? Was he saying he wanted more to do with Draco? Did he, perhaps- Well, did he mean… Was it possible…? 

“You know,” Blaise whispered quietly, finally letting him go. “I think this little ‘vacation’ of ours just got a lot more interesting.” 

⁂

Harry sighed softly against warm, pink skin, lips twitching into a grin as he felt the body pressed against his own give a small shiver, followed by a groggy, “This is a terrible idea, you know.” 

“Absolutely awful,” Harry agreed, lazily shifting on the gritty, sand-covered bed before ducking down to press his lips against more of that smooth, soft skin. His tongue edged out to trace against bright red marks and slowly forming bruises. It was more than gratifying to hear Draco Malfoy give a wrecked, quiet moan that bordered on a whine. “Probably the worst idea we’ve ever had, huh?”

“The worst,” Draco agreed around a soft pant, tilting his head up to allow Harry just the access he needed to nip at already bruised skin. Harry had thought the man had been beautiful in the light of a full moon, but he was now certain that there was nothing more beautiful than Draco Malfoy groggy and half-asleep and hopelessly turned on in the early morning slips of sun that fell over their shared bed. “It’s just going to end in tragedy.” 

“Mhm,” Harry hummed, kissing at the sunlight touched skin and only stopping when fingers were tangling through his hair and tugging sharply. Harry laughed but followed the pull, lips slotting easily against Draco’s own. The kiss was already dangerously familiar, as was the way Draco’s hands dropped down to the back of his neck, pressing him closer — as close as they could get. “Probably use us an example of who not to fall for for years.” 

“Probably,” Draco repeated absently, those grey eyes warm and soft and still edged with sleep. “Harry…” The soft call of his name had shivers running down Harry’s back before he could even try to stop them. He was pretty sure he had never heard a better sound than Draco Malfoy calling his name like that. “It’s… It can’t be this simple.” 

“Why not?” Harry knew what Draco meant. It shouldn’t be so simple for them to just fall together so easily. There should have been far more kicking and fighting and screaming. It should have taken weeks or even months to realize there was something there between them, and even longer than that to act on it. That’s how it should have gone, but… in some fucked up way, Harry was pretty sure it already had gone that way. “Why can’t it be this simple?”

Draco’s hands clenched against him, annoyance starting to filter back into his eyes as he glared at him, muttering a sharp, “You know why. I’m- I was a Death Eater and you’re- You’re Britain’s Golden Boy! You-!”

Harry cut Draco off in his new favorite way, smothering the words with a kiss that Draco slowly but surely fell into. It was not long enough, in Harry’s opinion, when Draco pulled away with a pout, “Stop that. It shouldn’t- It shouldn’t be so simple.” 

“Maybe,” Harry allowed, going back to pressing soft kisses against wherever he could reach, grinning when Draco relaxed into the touches. “You wanna hear what I think, though?”

“What’s it matter what you think. You’re utterly daft,” Draco complained, tilting into the kisses before tapping at Harry’s shoulder blade, a clear message for him to continue. “Well? I’m listening, Potter.” 

Harry snorted, shaking his head and pulling back. He moved a hand to cup Draco’s cheek, grinning when he saw the other’s eyes flutter shut. “I think that I’ve had well enough of the world telling us who we’re supposed to be and what we’re supposed to do. So… I gave it some thought and you wanna know the answer I came up with.” 

“Mm?” Draco cracked his eyes open, seeming to almost study him before he was pressing his cheek more against Harry’s palm. “And what answer did you come up with, oh brilliant one?” 

Not even trying to smother his laugh, Harry leaned forward until his forehead bumped Draco’s. The sudden heat and craving in the man’s eyes had a shiver crawling down Harry’s own spine. “I decided… that I don’t care.” 

“You- What?” Draco blinked, some of that heat slipping away in favor of confusion. “What do you-”

“I mean that I don’t care what the world thinks or what it wants of me. I defeated their bloody Dark Lord, so now I’m going to do whatever I want — I’m going to chase after whatever makes me happy.” Harry ducked in to press a soft kiss to Draco’s lips, something sweet and short and simple. “And, God help me, you’re the one that makes me happy, Draco Malfoy.” 

Ah, there it was. Draco finally seemed to realize what Harry had been trying to tell him all night. Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised that Draco was immediately trying to hide his face, cheeks flushed an even brighter red than they were when Harry had him on his back and was pounding into him. “You-! You can’t just-! Bloody prat-!”

“I can do whatever I want,” Harry teased, guiding Draco closer so the man could hide his face against Harry’s chest like he so desperately wanted. Harry wasn’t too upset about it. He had a feeling he would be seeing Draco’s flushed face far more in the future. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the Chosen One.”

Harry laughed as Draco cursed and squirmed against him, doing nothing whatsoever to actually get free or move away — and, really, Harry wasn’t stupid. He knew it wasn’t that simple and that the real world was still out there waiting for them, but… 

Surely it wouldn’t hurt for the two of them to be just Draco and Harry for just a bit longer. After all… they had time.

⁂

Pansy, the little harlot, had waited until Draco had taken a sip of his tea to tell him and Blaise her latest bit of news. As it was, while Draco hadn’t spitten his tea out because he was a gentleman, thank you, he did immediately start choking. Blaise didn’t even attempt to help him, in shock himself — not that Draco could blame him. It wasn’t everyday that their former best friend turned traitor was telling them that she had sold them out to Gryffindors. 

“Are you bloody mental?” Blaise shook his head, paused, and then shook it again. “Is this punishment for something? Have you been imperioused?” 

“It’s a vacation, Blaise,” Pansy lied to their faces, rolling her eyes as if she was in the right. “It’s not as if I’m signing you up for your deaths — besides, we’ll be going to my aunt’s beach house! Draco, darling, you love it there!”

“I do, yes,” Draco agreed, voice harsh from where he had almost died. “It just so happens that I also like it when it’s the three of us and not the three people in this world who most want me dead.”

“Honestly, Draco,” Pansy scoffed, settling back with her own cup and a disappointed cluck of her tongue. “You simply must get over this delusion that you hate Potter when we all want to know you want nothing more than for him to shag you silly-”

“Pancella-!” Draco hissed, and oh, she was never going to hear any good gossip from him ever again! “I am not going on this little suicidal mission you seem so intent on putting together with Granger of all people!”

“Hermione, darling, is perfectly pleasant.” Draco looked to Blaise, who looked just as disturbed as Draco felt over the matter. “And we agree that it’s time we put all of this school rivalry nonsense behind us and, since all of our schedules have lined up just so, we thought it would be great to vacation together!”

Blaise was the one to take up the fight, edging in with a hesitant, “Pansy, you know we love you. Truly, we do. We’ll fight any number of light-loving fools for you, but…” Blaise glanced to Draco, who made sure to show an expression that conveyed how properly upset he was with the matter. “Is this really such a good idea for all of us to go?”

“Honestly,” Pansy tsked. “Potter already agreed to the trip and you know that Weasley will do whatever Hermione asks of him-”

“He agreed?” Draco was surprised to find that he was the one who had spoken since he hadn’t actually meant to voice his question out loud, but… “Potter, knowing full well that I- we’re going to be there still agreed to go?” 

Pansy looked at him, something like sympathy warming her expression. It was far worse than any mocking she could have done. “Actually, Hermione mentioned to me that he hadn’t wanted to go at all until he knew you- Sorry, ‘we’ were going.” 

“Of course,” Draco scoffed, looking away sharply. “The fool probably just jumped at the chance of tormenting me, no doubt.” Still, though… For a moment, just a moment, Draco had heard Potter was going and he felt something like… 

A fool. Draco was an absolute fool who hoped for things that would never happen far too easily. Flights of fancy, as his mother would call them. He had no reason whatsoever to agree to this trip, and, for as much as Pansy seemed to believe she was in charge, she couldn’t make him go along with it.

“So, then.” Pansy sounded close to laughing, Draco firm in keeping his gaze on his empty tea cup, faint memories of tea leaves and their meanings stirring at the back of his mind. “Do you want to go on a vacation with us, Draco?”

She couldn’t make him go. Nothing would change. They would never get along. This was doomed to end in disaster. Draco was not going to go and simply make things worse. He was going to say no. He was going to, but… 

Well… 

“You know, Pansy, dear… A little vacation to the beach sounds lovely right now.” 

Surely, just this once, the world could keep spinning in the face of Draco Malfoy’s hope. 

[murderoustedbear]

War (unfinished but I plan to finish it)

My neighboring kingdom, Atarius, has been thriving for years under the rule of an unknown queen. None of her people have seen her face except those in her palace and they are sworn to secrecy. She is known for turning down marriage offers but I plan to win her over. If she does refuse my hand in marriage, I’ll over throw her.

Years ago, my kingdom was grand, as big as hers. However we went to war with a country suffering the plague. As men came back, they spread the illness. Our numbers are low however, her’s are lower. The plague hit them harder than us. There’s a rumor that the queen herself helped nurse her people and was killed from the plague. Of course that would leave the question of who is ruling. No one knows. All I know is her population is about half of mine. With both our kingdoms we could conquer half of Ruasiae.

A knock rings against my chamber doors as I dream of the unknown queen’s face. “Come in.” I roll my eyes.

My royal advisor enters, studying me. “Sorry to disturb you, Majesty.”

“Quill! My dear friend! You are no disturbance.”

He nods, “There’s been news that Atarius’ queen will be holding a ceremony. Invites have been sent out to several of her neighboring kingdom’s.”

At this, he has my full attention, “Ceremony? Of what sort?”

“I haven’t the slightest, sir. I believe she is looking to seek an alliance with some. It’s quite an intelligent strategy on her behalf. She’s had no problems with us, never lifted a finger to harm us nor the other countries. Rather kept to herself and her country. A spy from another kingdom has returned and has news regarding Ityal.”

“The news?”

“He’ll speak only to you, sir.”

“Send him up!” I demand, a bit too harshly. I look at the ridges on my nails hinting at the anxiety they’ve fallen victim to.

Minutes later, Quill has returned with the spy in tow, “Here’s your spy.” He leaves, shutting the door. My mouth goes dry. I can’t believe I called her a him.

“What news do you bring?”

The fragile maiden grins, golden eyes shining, “You’ll love this, sire.” She sits at the end of my bed. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news, the queen of Atarius has sent out invites for a ceremony. She’s seeking to save herself and her dear kingdom. A week ago, Ityal’s widower king sought to court the queen. She shut him down faster than lightning strikes the ground. Well he sucks at taking rejection and so he began plotting to destroy her kingdom. However, a servant that stayed in her castle for a while when he was there had grown fond of her due to her kindness and sent her a warning. She’s trying to find a way to keep her kingdom safe and if she dies in the process, someone to rule for her.”

I consider this. If she turns down my proposal and becomes allies with another country, it may become impossible to overthrow her. “Thank you, um… What’s your name?”

She didn’t answer but instead said, “I was there, at her palace.”

“Did you see her? Tell me about her.” I’m studying the spy now.

“She never spoke, rather communicated with hand symbols that a guard would translate. Her dresses never revealed any part of her body and weren’t tight at anypoint. Her face remained covered the entire time. She didn’t eat or drink around us. She wore gloves. She always had the same guards with her.” I frowned, hoping to have known what she looked like. “She was kind though. We went with her once to check on her kingdom. She doesn’t have any beggars, they all live in cabins and everyone has a job. Everyone contributes to the kingdom. She’s loved by her people. Children will run up and hug her and she hugs them back. She’s an honorable queen, the type that loves her people. The only reason she cares to continue ruling is because if someone else were to rule in her place, they may harm them. She’s compassionate.”

“Good qualities of a queen. Why hasn’t she married yet, do you know?” I inquire, considering the possibilities.

“Many reasons. She doesn’t want someone controlling her and ruling her people, tearing down what she’s built and she feels, marriage will lead to that. She wishes to not have children. She refuses to be married to a man who has a mistress or multiple mistresses in some cases. She hasn’t found someone she loves and will only marry for love.”

“So, if I want to marry her, I need to stay loyal, let her rule her people how she wishes, not pressure her into having children, and get her to love me?” That won’t be too hard.

She scoffed, “You have to love her too! There’s more to it all. She knows how many queens have been treated by their husbands and she want to be treated differently!” She walked out the room without another word. The last thing I saw as the door slammed was fire red hair swiching about.

At this point, I like this challenge.

Two days later

I’m dining alone in my chambers when Quill knocks.

“Enter.”

“Sire, a messenger has arrived.”

“Well let them in.”

A girl, no older than fifteen enters. Her blonde hair braided down her back. “King Arawn of Omirran, I bring news from Queen Myla of Atarius.” She stares me in the eyes, fearless.

“Go on.” It’s unsettling, having a servant look me in the eyes however, I cannot harm her as she is not mine and I do not want to be on Queen Myla’s bad side.

She clears her throat, “You are invited to celebrate the Queen’s twenty-fourth birthday in her palace for a fortnight. The ceremony begins overmorrow. You may bring with you a guest of whomever you like. Please note, upon reaching Atarius’ gates, you and your guests will be searched of weapons. Any weapons held by you and your party will be confiscated until you leave to ensure the safety of the people, the queen, other guests, and yourself. Please be ready to show the guards your invitation in order to be let in the gates.” The girl hands Quill the invite and leaves without another word.

Two weeks. I have two weeks to be in her palace. Can I charm her? Make her love me?

I call in every girl that lives or works in the palace, including the spy. The spy describes Queen Myla and the girls collaborate together a list of possible ways to charm her. All I need is her to develop a crush on me, I’ll propose and she’ll say yes, we’ll get married right away and my kingdom will be expanded.

The challenge is actually making this happen as there’s not much to work with. I don’t know know much about her. However, the strategy is to focus on personality. Originally, I was going to shower her with expensive gift, but everyone pointed out that every other suitor has tried this or will try it and she has turned them all down. I hope this works. I can’t afford to fail.

As the palace begins for my departure to Atarius, I decide that I shall bring her a single gift. I shall bring her a dragon flower from .the palace gardens. One that is yet to bloom so it shall bloom that night.

Two days later

On the day we’re to set out, I wake up before dawn. My thoughts are beasts, tearing my mind to shreds. There’s no way I’ll make her fall for me. No way I can charm her. Whatever higher deity that exists out there in the universe has shown me that.

My entire life, I’ve always believed there’s a higher power who sends us visions in the night. Whoever, whatever, this higher power is, they’ve sent me one and I know better than to question the message they convey.

I call Quill to my chambers and describe my dream. “I was there, with her. The more I tried to charm her, the harder it became. She grew cold in her heart towards me. I tried to tame her heart and call her mine but she did not wish to be trapped. She married me for the same of her sanity and then murdered me. Like a tigress in captivity, never meant to be tamed.”

“Sire,” Quill breaks my thoughts, “Perhaps you’re not seeing the true meaning… Only she can make herself love you. Love is not just an emotion… Love is a choice and she must choose to love you. No one and no thing can make her love you. Just be yourself and let her find you herself.”

This is why Quill is my advisor and dearest friend. He is wise and is always good with advice.

The day drags on as Quills words echo in my brain. Let her fall in love with me on her own. Why does that even make sense? I mean, I know everyone will put on a mask and treat her kindly and act like who they think she’d like so the best way to let her fall for me is to do the opposite.

We arrive at Queen Myla’s palace as dusk begins to blanket the world with her comforting shadows. I can see rulers from neighboring countries gathering to meet the mysterious queen.

Palace guards escort us to the throne room and none can help but marvel at the beauty. The floors are polished black marble filled with golden webs. Obsidian columns tower above, cradling a ceiling of stars. The illusion of stars came from gems embedded in the black ceiling. One would wonder how Queen Myla lit her throne room but she managed. Torches lounged on every column and their glow reflected off the precious stones. My gaze wandered to the front of the room. Two steps up led to a white marble platform that held a silver throne. Seated on the throne was who I assumed to be the queen. Her dark gown flowed to the floor, hiding her legs and feet. As my eyes traveled up, I noticed her gown was not form fitting at all but loose as my spy had described. Her hands were gloved with silver fabric and resting on the arms of her throne. My eyes came to rest on the veil hiding her face. Not an inch of skin could be seen.

Guards flanked her, staring ahead. My eyes noticed a guard standing rather close to the queen, closer than the others. I wonder why.

Queen Myla begins signing something and the guard who was close to her begins to translate the signs. “Welcome all, the queen is delighted to see many of you here and looks forward to celebrating with you. Since Myla has become queen, the country of Atarius has become reclusive and relied on only herself and her people but now it is time to befriend her neighbors and come out of her reclusive state.”

A man from another country responds, “If Myla wants to befriend us, why won’t she talk herself? Or show her face at least?”

The guard’s hand slid to the hilt of his sword, “First off, it is Queen Myla to everyone here, you are in no position to disregard her title or disrespect her. She welcomed you into her kingdom. Secondly, watch your tongue or have it cut from your head. I will not hesitate to show you how to respect a lady. Finally, she owes no one an explanation. If you cannot respect that alone, you are free to leave and never return.”

Queen Myla had yet to move in response to the man’s comment. Her hand glided through the air to the guard’s arm. I watched as she traced something on his bicep. The guard only nodded and relaxed. Did they have a relationship? Is that why she rejected all?

As the night waltzed on, Queen Myla’s voice was never heard, but rather the guard voiced her words for her. I noted that she didn’t eat nor drink. Why? What was her reason for keeping her face covered?

At some point, my curiosity got the best of me. “Your majesty,” I began, “I mean no disrespect but I am dreadfully curious.”

Her head bowed for a moment, an invitation to ask my question.

“Why do you hide your face? Why do you not speak? Again, I mean no disrespect.”

Her hands glided through the air and the guard translated, “I hide my face for many reasons. One is for respect. If I were to show my feminine features, men would not respect me as much as they do, though I am still respected less than men are. By hiding my face, you have no way of seeing the femininity in my face, forcing you to ignore how I may look and respect me. This is why my dresses aren’t like dresses of women in other courts. As for my voice, I was mocked for my voice long before I became silent. It will not happen again.”

“Mocked? How?” I watched the guard, careful not to cross any boundaries.

“I was the only heir to the throne. My voice was soft and fragile. The court used to mock my voice, sneering at how soft it was. I was told to marry a man with a deep, strong voice as soon as I came of age so I wouldn’t have to make any decrees and would be taken more seriously.”

“Were you ever married?”

She shakes her head, “I didn’t wish to be married.”

I nodded, it was understandable. I didn’t want to be married either when I first became king. Probably for different reasons but nonetheless, I could understand. “Queen Myla, I brought you a gift.”

The guard rolls his eyes. He must’ve been tired of all her suitors bringing gifts.

I produced a small box made of midnight valadium. As I stand, I feel everyone’s eyes drift to the box. I thank my blacksmith for being good at crafting. As I handed her the box, the guard stiffens, watching me. I return to my seat and watch as he whispers to her.

Her head bows and she traces on his arm again. What did they say? Her hands glide over the lid and I know she’s admiring the box. I was right to have him engrave flowers. I noticed he had added a small proverb on the lid as well but it’d been too late to say anything. As her hands whirled through the air, the guard spoke, “Queen Myla says the box is beautiful. She loves the inscription as it rings true. Thank you kindly.”

“What’s the inscription?” Another guest asked. We’d all formally introduced ourselves earlier however, I hadn’t cared to pay attention. I was too busy admiring the castles interior. The queen had taste.

“Where there is love, there is hope.” The guard answered. I could hear venom in his voice. He was not pleased.

“Queen Myla,” I smiled, “Open the box, please?”

She nodded and opened it. Her gasp was barely audible as she gently lifted the flower out of the box. My heart gunned, hoping she was happy.

The yellow flower was just beginning to bloom. “I hope you like it. Happy birthday.” I beamed. Why was I happy over this. It was a simple flower as a gift. Well, a flower and a box.

She carefully set the flower down, and signed to a young servant. The servant nodded and left. Then she began signing to me which the guard translated, the venom dripping from his voice, “Queen Myla adores the gift. Flowers have always been among her favorite things.”

“I bet the royal garden is huge then, and lovely?”

Laughter poured from his throat, “No, we don’t have a royal garden.”

“Why not?” I tilted my head to the left.

“Queen Myla simply does not wish to have one. Her taxes are low so she doesn’t take from her people. She bought all the materials from the people of Atarius to give back to them. She believes having a garden strictly for herself would be a waste. However, the entire kingdom has a community garden. Everyone is allowed to eat the food grown and use the herbs. Farmers help tend to it.”

The next few days, we toured Atarius. The kingdom was beautiful. Most kingdoms have run down homes towards the boarders but not Atarius. Even the poorest had decent homes. I learned Queen Myla hated the idea of anyone living in poverty and did her best to ensure no one did. In return, her people were loyal. Many brought her gifts that varied from flowers to fresh baked pastries to jewelry.

She held nightly parties in which the entire kingdom attended or sent their blessings. The parties weren’t grand like others I’d attended. There was no fancy band playing music. No one to cater to you at the snap of a finger. There was a buffet of food prepared by the citizens. Even the queen had pitched in to help prepare the food.

Still, her voice was never heard. She hadn’t even slipped up and said anything. It seemed the entire kingdom knew her hand language. I suppose her voice wasn’t necessary if her people knew her language. I decided to learn her language in order to communicate with her.

On the fourth night of my stay, I asked her for a dance which she graciously accepted. As we danced, I spoke. I knew she wouldn’t respond vocally which was a bit disappointing. “I admire the way you run your kingdom. You run it well if you’re loved so much by your people. You said you were told your voice would make it harder to run a country. I don’t believe that. Your people love you dearly, I believe you’d still be respected.”

I tried to see through the veil that covered her face but even still, as close as I was I could not. “Do you think, while I am here, you could teach me your hand language?”

She nearly headbutt me when she nodded. Her eagerness was endearing. I wanted to know who silenced her and make them pay for their crime. She was nothing but admirable, how could someone be so cruel?

The days bled on and I spent every spare moment focusing on learning the hand language. I learned to say “thank you”, “please” , “hello”, and other simple phrases first. After a day of learning, I’d learned a bit. It was quite simple, though she had to slow her movements for me so I could keep up. By the end of the week, I could translate small sentences.

One day, as we were walking through the town, she and her guard were teaching me. He grew impatient and snapped at me. That’s when she slipped, “Warin! Patience!”

Two words. She silenced and excused herself. I watched as she left. Why had she snapped.