#i was half tempted to leave them as plain wood (maybe adding a nice finish) bc they looked really nice

[littlejazzy]

I made some magic wands!!! I got the wooden wand bases from the dollar tree several months ago, and finally got around to sanding the edges and painting them!

The heart wand is inspired by the Powerpuff Girls! The hearts are based from the outro and the ribbons are based off the girls! All the ribbons are just what I've had laying around (the pink one is something I've had in a junk drawer for 10 years akshskjdk), they're all different textures and are nice to swish around!

The star wand is just something I thought would look nice! I wanted an ombre effect, so I mixed white paint into the yellow twice so the center would look brighter than the edges! And then, for the handle, I wanted it to kinda look like the night sky, and I'm very pleased how the color-mixing turned out! I also had some glow-in-the-dark slick/puffy paint, so i just brushed 2 layers on the star and!! it glows!!! It's kinda hard to see in the picture, but it looks better and cooler in real life, trust me, lol

I'm really happy with how they turned out!!! They're really fun to spin and twirl in my hand, and I absolutely adore the size and weight of them - it's surprisingly satisfying to gently bonk myself on the head with the flat part, lmao. They're fun to fidget with, look nice as room decor, and! most importantly! are nice for my regression!!!

[quickspinner]

Damsel in Distress for Hire

I wrote this for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers sprint challenge ages ago, but life happened and I never got it edited and cleaned up. Now I have, so here it is! I used the @mlweeklyprompts prompt Bard. 

Luka reined in Sass before the gelding could clear the shadows of the trees, and eyed the keep tower with some satisfaction. It stood alone on a hill, with ground cleared around it and a wall around the courtyard, and only a single tower rising out of the fortifications. It looked like their information had been good, then. Their opponent didn’t have a large force, hence their underhanded approach. They were depending on the seclusion of this place to keep them safe, and not strength of arms. That made him breathe a sigh of relief. He of all people knew how much harm misinformation could do, and though he had done everything in his power to be sure of his information, there always was that worry in the back of his mind. 

Luka urged Sass forward at a walk. 

“Hail and well met!” he called cheerfully, waving. “I am but a single traveler, of no threat to you!” He dismounted from Sass and spread his arms wide, hands far from the rapier hanging at his side. The guards exchanged a look, but didn’t move. 

“I am a minstrel on my way from the capital to cities in the south,” Luka said, with a little bow that still kept his hands well clear of his weapon. “I’ve been travelling all night to get through these woods, and as I’ve stumbled on you here, I was hoping I could perhaps share your fire and the protection your company would afford me from the local dregs so that I may take a short rest in peace? I have some goods of my own that are better shared, if you would be so kind to allow me to sup with you.” He leaned over and reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a large bottle that glinted appealingly in the sunlight.

The guardsmen exchanged grins with each other, and invited him at once to come and share their watch, on the condition that he give them all the news he had and play a little for their entertainment. 

“Shall I not be detaining you from your duties?” Luka asked, glancing up at the Keep as he tethered Sass. “I’ve no wish to get you in trouble, nor be chased away for causing undue distraction.” He winked at the guards, who chuckled. 

“It’s light duty today,” one of them said easily, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Any force large enough to breach it will be seen from the tower long before we spy it from here, and nothing here to tempt anyone except a fine lady who barely even had any baggage. Come and give us the news!” 

It was amazing, Luka reflected to himself as he sat down, opening the bottle and pouring generous measures into the cups they they held out for him, what you could get away with when you carried a lute and some good wine.

“Aye, she was a nice one to look at though,” the second guard observed with a sigh. “I was on duty when they escorted her in this morning. A highborn lady, that, worth her weight I’m sure. Not that the higher ups tell us much.” His companion elbowed him and gave him a dark look, before turning back to waggle bushy eyebrows at Luka. 

“Ye seen many pretty ladies?” he asked, and a smile twitched at Luka’s mouth at the obvious attempt to deflect the conversation. “Bet ye have, a court songbird like you.” 

“Oh, many,” Luka agreed, hiding his distaste at the epithet. Court songbird, indeed. “Duchesses and princesses and high court ladies of every kind, but there is only one lady that holds my heart, no matter how much my eyes may wander.” He winked and the two men guffawed. Luka disguised a roll of his eyes with another deep drink from his cup. He’d been around this type enough to know what kind of humor they enjoyed. Luka turned his eyes up in the direction of the keep, hiding his scrutiny behind a dreamy expression. 

“My lady is as lovely as any princess I’ve ever seen,” Luka continued. “Clumsy, sometimes, but all the more joy in catching her, ey?” Another round of laughter. “She has beautiful dark hair, and the sweetest, most beguiling eyes you’ve ever seen, and her mouth was carved by the gods.” He sighed longingly. “And I’ve been apart from her much too long. I’m on my way back to her now, and I appreciate you sharing your fire with a lonely minstrel.” 

“There, there,” the taller man said, not without genuine sympathy, and patted Luka’s shoulder roughly. “Ye’ll be with her again soon, no doubt.” 

Luka looked toward the Keep gates and smiled as shouts began to rise in the courtyard. “I do believe you’re right,” he said, finishing the last of his cup. “It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen, but my lady awaits. I leave you this medicinal powder and my sincerest apologies for the headache you’re going to have in the mornings.” 

He set a small pouch on the ground, where it would be in plain sight of the men who had just slumped to the ground, unconscious. 

Luka tsked as he picked up their empty cups and examined the residue at the bottom. “More than enough to keep them out most of the day,” he murmured with satisfaction. He leaned back against his pack and waited.

Eventually, the heavy keep doors swung open, and a petite figure in a lovely velvet red dress came striding out. Luka couldn’t help his smile, or the sigh of relief and longing that passed his lips. 

She caught sight of him and scowled, completely ignoring the passed out guards that lay on the ground. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. 

“Well met, to you as well, Marinette,” Luka laughed. His roguish smile made a mockery of his courtly bow. 

“Why are you here?” she asked again, crossing her arms. “You were supposed to wait in the capital.”

“I am no court bard, to find inspiration in perfume and flattery and empty love affairs,” Luka sniffed affectedly. “I am a seeker of adventure, and I follow my heart.”

“You dog my heels,” Marinette accused, reaching down to pull out the hidden ribbon she had worked into her gown. The dress split on the sides, and Marinette straightened, rolling the ribbon carefully around her fingers even as she glared at him. “Admit it.”

“Admit that you have my heart? Gladly.” Luka swept a bow, and Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Don’t flatter me,” she snorted. “You’re not any good at it.” 

“Shall I compliment you instead?” Luka asked pointedly, and Marinette blushed, looking away. His compliments were always far worse than his flattery, because he meant them. 

“Don’t change the subject. You were worried about me,” she accused, waving a dagger like an admonitionary finger. “I can handle myself.” 

“You can handle yourself, and me as well,” Luka grinned, and then softened his tone, dropping his courtly pretense. “But I’m always worried about you. That proves nothing except that I care about you.” He held up a furled parchment between them. “However, this is actually why I’m here. I also bring Lady Kagami’s thanks and her appreciation for your very convincing performance of a helpless highborn princess being carried off, although she feels it wasn’t a very accurate imitation of her.” 

Marinette snorted. “Kagami could have easily handled these idiots herself if her mother wasn’t such a stick in the mud. It probably would have been more entertaining for everyone if they had managed to kidnap her.” She sheathed her dagger and took the parchment, unrolling it as she added, “I hope she sent her payment as well as her thanks.” Her lips pursed as she read, and then pushed out in a pout as she looked up at him. “Okay. That’s a good reason.” 

“No point in riding all the way back just to traverse the exact same route again,” Luka agreed. “And since I was coming all this way, why not meet you at the door? I’ve stashed our supplies in a nice little campsite far enough away from this mess,” he gestured at the tower. “We can spend the night and set out in the morning.”

“We?” Marinette asked, eyebrows raising. Luka shrugged.

“I’ve no mind to let you get that far away from me for that long,” he told her, only half joking. “I’m sure there’s a noble house somewhere in the city looking for entertainment, and if not—” Luka shrugged. “Then there’s certain to be a tavern."

Marinette grimaced. “I don’t like it when you play taverns,” she muttered. “You’re far too good for that.”

“We take the pay where it comes,” Luka reminded her, plucking the parchment from her hand and tucking it back in his saddlebag.

“It doesn’t have to come with tavern wenches hanging all over you,” Marinette complained. 

Luka barked a laugh. “The noble ladies are just as bad, only more subtle,” he chuckled, mounting his horse. He extended a hand down to Marinette. “Shall we? I’m sure Tikki’s getting hungry.”  

Marinette looked up at his tall gelding and sighed. “I can get up myself,” she muttered, but she let Luka grip her wrist to give her a little extra boost. She landed across Sass on her belly with a small grunt, and then scrambled into place behind Luka. She could see the curve of his smile just before he faced forward. 

“I’m glad you’re coming with me,” she murmured into his shoulder blades. “And I’ll gut anyone who touches you.”

“My thanks, my gallant lady protector,” Luka said, patting the hands clasped around his waist. “I need fear nothing as long as you are with me, except the hour of parting.”

Marinette huffed, her breath tickling his neck. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Luka looked over his shoulder and winked. “If my heart grew much fonder of you, you would never be rid of me.” 

Marinette was silent for a moment, and then said, “Maybe I don’t want to be.” She said it very quietly, and held her breath after. Luka’s big hand covered hers again, his thumb caressing the back.

“Then maybe you should say yes the next time I propose,” came the teasing answer, and Marinette’s mouth dropped in outrage. 

“You propose every time we pass a church!” she scoffed. 

“Yes,” Luka agreed shamelessly. “How many churches do you think there are between here and the Jewel of the Southern Wastes ?” 

“Not enough to convince me to marry you,” Marinette shot back. “I like the way things are.” 

"As do I," Luka chuckled.

Marinette sniffed. "I knew you weren't serious."

"Of course I am. I will wed you the moment you say the word. But if you are content, then so am I."

"You're infuriating, you know that?" Marinette huffed. 

“There, there,” Luka laughed, patting her hand before putting his own back on the reins. “We’ve a long way to go to get there, and through some pretty sketchy territory. Maybe if you’re really lucky, we’ll get robbed.”

“You think?” Marinette perked up. “Bandits?”

“Possibly even ruffians ,” Luka teased, and laughed when she smacked his shoulder. 

“Ruffians are always broke,” Marinette complained. “I want bandits. I’m going to have to buy new dresses when we get there, I can’t wear dresses from the Northern court in the South. I’d look ridiculous.” Her eyes widened slightly. “Luka, what did you do with my dresses? You didn’t pack them yourself, did you? They’re much too delicate—”

“I had them professionally packed and sealed and sent to Lady Alya for safekeeping,” Luka reassured her. “I would never dare let harm come to your wardrobe.” 

Marinette slumped in relief. “Oh, good.” After a moment she added, “Thank you.”

Luka lifted one of her hands from his waist and kissed the palm softly. 

[freddiesaysalright]

Tale As Old as Time - Chapter 1

Rami!Prince Adam x Reader

Summary: A prince cursed. A young woman aching for adventure. The classic tale of seeing beauty within.

Word Count: 4.3k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​,@minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @xviiarez​, @rogerina-owns-me​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Let’s meet our heroine! You! Not much Rami in this chapter, but he’s coming!

Warning(s): None!

Moodboard

Prologue

Chapter 1 here we go!!!

You woke to the chirping of birds outside your window. The sun was just peeking over the hillside and through your curtains. You groaned, stretching your limbs to wake yourself up. You had errands to run today, and you needed to finish early to help your father with his newest invention. You shivered slightly as you pushed your covers back. 

You changed into a plain dress for your walk to town. Then you slipped on your boots. You stopped by your father’s bedroom to peek in on him. He was snoring, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath. You smiled to yourself, grabbed a basket, and headed out.

The crisp autumn air felt refreshing against your skin. You began to hum to yourself as you walked. The sleepy little town was also waking up. You smelled the fresh bread from the baker, heard the thud of a knife hitting wood from the butcher, and saw the bright white flowers at the florist. You waved to each of them as you passed.

“Good morning, Y/N,” said the florist. 

“Good morning, Elaine,” you replied sweetly.

“How’s your father?” she asked.

“Sleeping soundly,” you replied with a smile. 

“On your way to pick up his medicine, I assume?” she guessed.

You nodded. “It’s that time. I’ll be by later to pick up some flowers for my mother’s grave. Is that alright?”

“Of course, darling,” she assured you. “I’ll start an arrangement.”

“You’re the best!”

You waved once more and started toward the apothecary. Your father had a dreadful illness which caused him to cough. At first, you wrote it off as dust from all the things he built. But then he began to cough up blood, and you insisted on taking him into town. The pharmacist gave him some herbal treatments, which was manageable, but it wasn’t a cure. You wished you could take your father to a big city to get a trained doctor to treat him, but you couldn’t afford it.

With a sigh, you entered the apothecary. The pharmacist - Lyle - beamed at you.

“Good morning, Y/N!” he greeted. “I’ve got your father’s medicine ready for you.”

He indicated the small package on the table.

“You’re always prepared, sir, I can’t thank you enough,” you replied. 

You dropped some coins on the counter and picked up the parcel, placing it carefully in your basket.

“How is old Paul, anyway?” he asked.

“He’s fine,” you answered. “I know he’s got big plans for today, though I don’t know what.”

“Tell him to be careful,” he warned. “That dust is not good for him. And we don’t want him to take a turn.”

“I’ll let him know,” you said. “Thank you again!”

You left, dreading having to tell your father once again that he needed to stop his work. His work drove him. It broke your heart that it was also killing him.

You went to the bakery and picked up some bread. Then back by the flower shop for the little bouquet for your mother’s grave. Then you headed to your favorite spot in town - the library.

You adored books. As a simple country girl with a bit of time on her hands, you found your adventure in stories. That was the one thing you had always craved - something more than caring for your father and visiting the village. To experience something you had never seen before. The closest you ever came was through a book.

“Good morning, Jean!” you called to the librarian as you came through the door.

“What’ll it be today, Y/N?” he asked kindly.

“Has anything new come in?” you wondered, scanning the front desk for a fresh title.

“Actually, yes,” Jean said, picking up the book off the top. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s about a prince under a curse, and a fight to break it.”

“Say no more,” you replied, taking it from him. “You know how I feel about magic.”

“I do,” he chuckled. “You know, you could experience some of your own if you got out of the village every once in a while.”

You sighed. “You know I can’t leave my father. Besides, I couldn’t afford a trip.”

He shook his head and tutted. “Y/N, you’re such a bright girl. You’ve got so much going for you. It’s a shame that you’re stuck here.”

“Maybe, but I love my father,” you said firmly. “He’s given me his whole life.”

“He doesn’t want you to return the favor,” Jean insisted.

“There’s still the cost,” you said. “We spend enough for Papa to go to contests. That’s all we can really do. Really, Jean, I’m happy with how things are. At least for now.”

“Because you have my books?” he teased.

You grinned. “Precisely.”

“That’s due back in a week,” he said.

“I’ll have it back before then!”

You waved and headed back onto the street. Immediately, you began poring over the book. You were so invested that you crashed into someone before you finished the first page. The collision knocked you flat on your bum.

“I’m so sorr-!” you began to say, but then you looked up and saw who it was.

Victor. You bit back a groan.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a cocky grin, helping you to your feet.

“Good morning, Victor,” you replied. 

He picked up your book and handed it to you. “What are you doing with this?”

“I’m reading it,” you said. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, I’ve got a lot to do today.”

You pushed past him and kept walking. To your dismay, he followed.

“Y/N, I’ve been doing some thinking,” he began.

“Oh, how rare for you,” you said.

You didn’t mean to be snarky, but Victor was so conceited and arrogant. He was handsome and had money, but because of that, he was spoiled. For some reason, you had caught his attention. But he hardly knew you. He didn’t catch your jab.

“Don’t you think it’s time we got married?” he said. 

You scoffed. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you’re the most beautiful woman in town, I’m the handsomest man, why shouldn’t we get married?” he said with a shrug.

“Do you really think looks are all that’s required for a successful marriage?”

“What else is there?”

You stopped walking and looked at him in disbelief. You searched his face for any hint that he was joking, but found none. He genuinely believed appearance was that vital.

“Victor, I’m flattered, but no,” you said. “I have no interest in getting married just now. Not when I have my father to care for.”

“That may be precisely the reason to get married,” he argued. “I’ve been thinking of buying the old palace, but if my dear father-in-law needed care, well - I might consider something smaller to get him what he needs.”

You froze. That offer was tempting. But Victor was just so...all brawn and no brain. How could you spend your life with him? 

“Victor, I can’t marry you,” you said simply. “I don’t love you.”

“Honestly, Y/N, whether or not you love me is of little consequence,” he said. “You’ll learn to love me. You don’t have to make a decision just yet. But do promise me you’ll think about it.”

You sighed and looked away. “Sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Wonderful!” he cried. “I’ll come by later to get your answer. Have a good day, Y/N!”

With that, he was off. You saw him join a few other men who had gathered on horseback. Victor had a fine, black horse, which he mounted gracefully. The group galloped away for their weekly hunt. You found it absurd that other people couldn’t see past Victor’s good looks. He was a shallow, empty person, with money and some charm.

You started back toward your house. Only, as you started to walk, you caught the eye of three other young women. They tended to follow Victor around and swoon over him. He ignored them completely. They were glaring fiercely at you and you heard them whispering, surely speculating how you could possibly need time to answer a man such as Victor.

Rolling your eyes, you began walking. Your house came into view through the trees and you walked up the stone steps. Your father was out of bed and already tying on his inventing apron.

“Morning, my dear,” he said cheerfully. “How was town?”

“Fine,” you replied dismissively. “I picked up a new book.”

He chuckled. “Just like your mother. Always have your nose in a book.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased.

You placed the bread on the counter and began cutting it into slices for toast. 

“Have you eaten anything yet, Papa?” you wondered.

“No, but I’ve been looking forward to your blueberry preserves all morning,” he told you.

You giggled. Over the summer, you had taken to gardening after reading a book about it. You had a natural knack for it. Over the summer, your blueberries came in sweet and ripe, so you took about half of  the bush and turned them into preserves for the fall and winter. The rest, you and your father ate fresh. 

“Coming right up,” you assured him.

You toasted the bread over the fire and then retrieved your preserves from the pantry. You spread it generously over the bread, and enjoyed the breakfast treat with your father. He groaned at the taste.

“Y/N, these are just delicious!” he praised. “I hope you keep growing all our food!”

“I’ll need more practice for that, but thank you,” you returned. 

“So, did you see anyone in town today?” he asked.

“Well, I saw Lyle,” you began. “Speaking of which, your medicine is on the counter, don’t forget to take it. Then Jean at the book shop. And Elaine arranged some flowers for me to put on Mama’s grave.”

“How nice,” he said.

“I, uh…” you trailed off. You wondered if you should tell him about Victor’s offer. “I also saw Victor. He told me something interesting.”

“Oh? What’s that?” he wondered.

You quickly changed your mind. 

“He said he’s thinking of buying the old palace.”

“I wasn’t aware it was for sale,” your father said.

“With enough money, you can get anything you want apparently,” you said, half to yourself.

Your father set down his toast, mid-bite.

“Now, Y/N,” he scolded. “That sounds like bitterness.”

“I don’t mean to, Papa,” you said apologetically. “But I feel like Victor gets everything, whether he deserves it or not, simply because he has money and a way with women. It’s maddening!”

“I know, but it’s the world we live in,” he said gently, placing his hand atop yours. “All we can do is be as kind and helpful as possible.”

You smiled. “You’re right, Papa, I’m sorry.”

“Besides, he’d have to appeal to the royal family,” your father continued. “Their living relatives will have claim to the palace before Victor. Besides, the prince may still be alive.”

Your brow furrowed. “I always heard the whole family was killed that day.”

Your father shook his head. “Not true. The king and queen were found. But the prince never was. He simply vanished, it seems. I think he escaped that night and is still alive somewhere.”

“That’s awfully hopeful,” you remarked.

“I can’t help it,” he said. “That prince was a kind boy. He used to come into town and -”

Your father stopped and was hit with a coughing fit. He hacked into his napkin, his whole body racking with the force of it. You jumped up. It had never been so intense before.

“Papa!” you cried, concerned.

“I’m alright,” he wheezed, but blood dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin. “I’m alright. I just haven’t had my medicine today, that’s all.”

“Papa, this is more than before,” you said. “It can’t just be your medicine.”

“Don’t fuss, Y/N,” he returned. “Now, I’m going to take my medicine and head down to the cellar for my new invention.” He cheered up. “I can’t tell you much just yet, but we’ll see how it works!”

You opened your mouth to argue further, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“Go see your mother,” he said gently. “I’ll be just fine.”

He took his medicine down the stairs with him before you could say anymore. With a huff, you grabbed your bouquet and headed out to the cemetery. 

Your mother was buried on a grassy hill about half a mile outside the village. It was wide and spacious, and strangely the place you felt the most free. You took your book along since you sometimes read aloud to her. Other times, you leaned against her headstone and read to yourself. Today, your heart was too conflicted to read. 

The choice before you was clear: marry Victor and get your father the help he needed or refuse the proposal and let your father continue to suffer. Either way, you were trapped.

You placed the flowers before your mother’s grave.

“Oh, Mama, I don’t know what to do,” you sighed. “I can’t win in either scenario.”

You paused, hoping for some inspiration. You considered what your mother would do. She was a very giving woman, but she believed in genuine love within a family. She certainly had not married your father for money. And yet, she would have done anything to save the people she loved.

“Maybe Victor isn’t so bad,” you said, trying to convince yourself. “Maybe I haven’t given him enough of a chance. Sure, he’s vain and shallow and self-centered, but he isn’t cruel. I could certainly do worse.”

You paused and heaved a sigh. It seemed so unfair.

After about an hour, you headed back. You went right down into the cellar to help your father, who was still not telling you what this new invention was. And from the looks of it, you couldn’t even guess. All the while, he coughed. He took several breaks, becoming winded after short bursts of work. All this after having taken his medicine.

You worked well into the afternoon. Then you headed upstairs to start dinner. You were just at the door, wiping your hands on your apron, when Victor walked up. You hastily wiped some soot from your cheek.

“Y/N, hello!” he said cheerfully. Then he frowned. “My goodness, what have you been doing? You look like a field hand.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’ve been helping my father. It’s not exactly neat work.”

“Don’t you have sewing or...ladies work to do?” he wondered.

You resisted the brutal urge to roll your eyes.

“Actually, Victor, all my ladies work is reserved for Tuesdays,” you said, but once again, he did not detect your sarcasm.

“Y/N, I’ve come by to see if you -”

“I know why you’re here,” you cut across him. 

“Well, have you thought about it?” he asked.

“I have,” you said, heart pounding. “After careful consideration, I have decided to change my original answer. I will marry you, Victor.”

You felt like vomiting. But you knew what you had to do. Your father needed this.

“Wonderful!” he cried, punching a fist into the air. “Shall we set a date? How about a week from today?”

“Woah, settle down,” you said. “A proper wedding takes months to plan. And I want it to be done the right way, not the quickest way.”

“Ah, of course,” he replied. “Then, shall we go and give your father the good news?”

“I’ll tell him myself,” you said. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

He took your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles. You tried not to cringe.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy for you,” he said. “There’s no better match in town.”

You forced a smile. “Yes, I...well…”

“I can see you’re speechless,” he chuckled. “I’ll let you and your father have some time. I’ll come back tomorrow to pay him my respects.”

“Thank you, Victor,” you said. “This is going to change our lives.”

“It certainly will,” he agreed pompously. “Good day, Y/N...dear.”

You winced as he released your hand and returned to his horse. He mounted, blew you a kiss, and then trotted away with a wide grin on his face. You watched him disappear through the trees. Disgust crawled over your skin, and weren’t sure if it was for yourself or Victor. Now there was the issue of telling your father.

With a groan, you headed back down to the cellar. You heard a loud whistle of the machine he’d been building, which made you stop. You watched as everything began. Springs coiled and released, steam erupted from lids, wheels turned. All of it led to an axe - attached at the front - rising up, and coming down hard enough against a piece of wood to chop it cleanly in half.

Your mouth fell open.

“Papa!” you cried.

“Can you believe it, Y/N?!” he returned, jubilant. “It works!”

It made you sick to think you were going to have to ruin his good mood.

“Papa, I’ve got something to tell you,” you began.

“I tell you, Y/N, with this one, we’ll go far,” he continued, ignoring you. “This is going to be my greatest yet!”

“Papa, I -”

“Chopping wood is back breaking, people will be clamoring for this!” he went on. “We’ve got to celebrate! How about we -”

“Papa, listen!” you insisted.

He stopped short and looked at you. His brow furrowed at your watery eyes. He switched off the machine and the room went silent.

“I....I have more news,” you said quietly. Dread made your stomach turn. “Victor was just here.”

“Oh? Any updates on buying the old palace?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t about that. He...well, you see...he…”

“Out with it, Y/N,” your father pressed. “Don’t leave me on tender hooks here.”

“He asked me to marry him,” you blurted out.

You found it difficult to meet your father’s gaze now. Shame made you fix your eyes to the floor.

“What did you tell him?” your father asked gently.

You looked up. “I said yes.”

Paul’s eyes went wide. You knew you had shocked him.

“Y/N, I...I didn’t think you wanted to get married,” he said. “Much less to Victor. From the way you spoke this morning, you seem to hardly even like him.”

“Well, it’s not always about what I want,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest stubbornly. “This is about what’s best for us.”

“Us?” he questioned. “Heavens, I’m not the one marrying him. What’s he got to do with me?”

You squeezed your eyes shut with frustration. A tear slid down your cheek.

“He can take care of you, Papa,” you said softly. “He can get you proper care. Better than Lyle.”

“Y/N, you can’t pledge your life to someone for my sake!” he cried, crossing over to put his hands on your arms. “You should marry someone for love! And no other reason!”

“And what, watch you die right in front of me?!” you shot back. “When I could have done something? Papa, you’re the only family I’ve got left!”

“I’m not a reason to waste your life!” he insisted. “You’re my child, I’m supposed to go before you do! And what happens then? You’ll marry a man you don’t love or respect to give me just a few more years?”

“I need you!” you argued, tears falling freely now. 

“You can’t sacrifice your life for me, Y/N, I won’t let you!” he shouted.

You sobbed and collapsed into his arms. He held you against him and let you cry, patting your back soothingly. Pressed to his chest, you could hear his rattling breaths. It reaffirmed your decision.

“I won’t let you die,” you whimpered.

“Y/N, there’s a contest in the city this week,” he said. “Before you go through with this, let me go and try to win some money. If I can do that, I’ll get treatment, and you won’t have to marry Victor. Okay?”

“I’ve already accepted him, Papa,” you said, sniffling.

“Engagements can be called off,” he returned. “Let’s give my inventions one last chance to save us.”

You pulled away and looked at him. “Alright, then.”

He cupped your face in his hands, gently wiping your tears away with his thumbs. 

“Have some faith, my girl,” he said. “At least this one works.”

“Oh, Papa,” you laughed.

You went up and had dinner together. 

The next day, you rose early and helped your father pack up the wagon. You hitched up the horse as well. As Paul climbed into the seat, he looked at you.

“What shall I bring you if it’s good news?” he asked.

“A rose,” you replied. “The kind you always brought home for Mama.”

He smiled. “A rose it is, then.”

You stepped up on the hitch and kissed his cheek.

“Good luck, Papa,” you said. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Y/N,” he returned warmly. “I’ll see you in three days.”

“Three days,” you repeated, stepping back down.

When you were safely on the ground, he flicked the reins and he was off. You watched him go. The sun began to creep over the horizon, and with it came new hope. This invention worked, and it was incredibly useful. There was a chance.

Paul started at a brisk pace, determined to make it to the city by the afternoon. Then he’d have a whole day to sell the new invention. He was certain it would do better than the last few. It had to. His daughter’s whole future was at stake this time. 

The only trouble was, getting to the big city quickly meant going through the forest. And Paul had not made the journey in over a year. Either his memory was failing him, or the path had changed. He couldn’t be sure which. But it seemed suddenly the world had gone dark, though he knew the sun still shone above the trees somewhere. 

“Where are we?” he wondered aloud.

He brought the horse to a slow stop. Then he looked around. There were no signs to indicate which direction to go from there. Worried he was missing something due to the darkness, he reached into the wagon for a lantern. He lit it, which helped some, but still there was no indication for where he wanted to go. He dug around in his bag for his map. As he did so, a soft pattering through the leaves got his attention.

Rain came down, dampening his clothes. He blinked and looked up. Now it was clear why visibility was so bad. Clouds blocked out the sun. Dark, wicked looking clouds.

A jolt of fear ran up Paul’s spine. A storm would mean a cold, which was something his lungs couldn’t take right now. Not when he had to go and present his wood chopper. He needed to head back home and try again tomorrow.

He tugged the reins to the left to begin his journey home. A low rumble of thunder confirmed his decision. Then…

CLAP!

Thunder sounded almost right above them. Paul shivered as the rain came down harder. The horse whinnied nervously, backing up. 

“No, Phillipe, forward,” Paul urged, flicking the reins again.

BANG! FLASH!

Lightning struck the tree in front of them and it immediately burst into flame. Phillipe neighed and reared back, throwing the wagon off balance.

��Phillipe!” Paul shouted, in an attempt to calm him.

The flames warmed the air around them. Thunder boomed above. The dry, crunchy leaves on the forest floor caught the flames from the tree. Phillipe turned tail and took off into the woods, away from the fire and further away from home.

Paul gave a yelp of surprise and held onto the reins. The wagon bumped along over the roots and rocks, and he was just trying not to be thrown off as they galloped through the darkness. The rain picked up, pelting the man’s face and eyes. Paul lowered his hat to try and shield himself, but it was already soaked through.

“Phillipe!” Paul yelled through the noise. “Phillipe, stop!”

The horse did not listen. His animal instincts had completely taken over and he was focused only on escaping the fire and storm. They hurtled through the woods without any direction or destination.

When Phillipe could go no further, he slowed, panting. Paul peered out from below his hat. He hoped he could discern where he was, but the only thing in front of him was an old, wrought iron gate. It was elaborately designed, and now that the rain had eased up, Paul could see why. Behind it was a lush garden. The most prominent growth was a stunning rose bush. Thinking of his daughter, he had Phillipe halt so he could get down. He retrieved his pocket knife and reached through the gate.

To his surprise, it squeaked open. He gasped as he lost balance and stumbled through. He brought his arm back through the bars and then walked onto the little path into the garden. The roses really were some of the finest he had ever seen. The bushes were tall so it felt like walking through a maze. Unwilling to venture too far in, he stopped before the first curve.

A large rose bloomed out from the bush. The petals looked so delicate with the rain drops adorning them. He brought forth his knife once again, and he cut the stem, carefully avoiding the thorns.

He heard a low rumble nearby. Assuming it to be thunder, he started to jog back to Phillipe. Only it wasn’t thunder, he quickly realized. A great, looming shadow had appeared above him. As he took in the shape before him, he stumbled backward and let out a scream.