#i’m deeply sorry to inform you of this your royal highness but the world does not revolve around you!

[pwurrz]

fanfiction, at its core, is an expression of love. when someone writes for a rarepair, or oc x canon, or even a character analysis piece, they’re writing from a place of love. and going out of your way to leave a comment about how you didn’t like how that person expressed their love and how you think their writing is bad, when they did not ask for constructive criticism or advice, is fucked up and hurtful beyond words. don’t do that shit.

[carewyncromwell]

The Cinderella AU is back, and...ahhhh, my babiiiiies. *dissolves into a pile of happy goo*

The Winter Festival presented in Royaume is most strongly related to the celebrations for Saint Nicholas in French provinces such as Lorraine, which are held on December 6th and include lots of music and a parade led by Saint Nicholas (or Pere Noel, as he’s also called), the French alternative to Father Christmas and Santa Claus. Florence’s holiday likewise resembles Italy’s Feast Day, which is hosted on December 8th. 

Back in the olden days, dancing wasn’t just done for fun -- it was considered a standard form of socializing. Prior to the 19th century, it was far more common for Europeans to dance in large groups that then switched partners frequently, as opposed to being locked onto a specific partner, and this applies to both formal gatherings and more informal ones. Strict pair dancing really came more in vogue in the early 1800′s with the German waltz, so during the Renaissance, one could expect to see a lot more swapping of partners at parties than one generally sees in the modern era. There were couple dances at that time, of course, such as the lavolta -- they just weren’t as popular as dances like the waltz became at formal gatherings later on. Country dancing, or dances performed at informal gatherings, was generally seen as more lighthearted and easy for people to join in without being expert at it, while court dances, which were generally saved for more formal events, were much more performative and choreographed.

Carewyn’s dress in this sketch was strongly based off of this absolutely gorgeous dress, which was inspired by real Renaissance artwork.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

With the arrival of winter, Carewyn found herself busier than ever. The King and Queen of Royaume had ordered that the palace be fully furnished with holiday cheer, so Carewyn and the rest of the staff soon had their hands full, putting gold-trimmed garlands around every banister and decking every hall with holly and ivy. Carewyn wondered how in the world the King and Queen could afford such finery when they still couldn’t seem to scrounge up enough funds to have the proper tools and supplies in stock for their staff, let alone to give them proper food rations -- but from what Bill and Charlie told her, this wasn’t too uncommon.

“It’s like this every year,” said Charlie, sounding very surly. “The royals and the court always pig out on the most sumptuous feasts, and then we have to pay for it after the fact. Just you wait until New Year’s -- the Queen always likes hosting a huge masked ball to ‘start the new year off right’ and the nobles end up leaving the worst messes behind...”

Bill sighed. “I don’t think it’s all selfishness on their part, really. I think it’s to try to lift the Prince’s spirits, more than anything. You know he isn’t allowed to leave the castle grounds...and I’m sure he no doubt hears all about the Winter Festival and all the other celebrations in town around this time of year, from the staff. The holiday season can’t be that much fun, when you’re forced to sit and watch from the sidelines...”

Andre did indeed seem to be in a forlorn mood. Whenever Carewyn caught sight of him walking through the palace gardens with her cousin Iris, he seemed to always be looking away, off into the distance, while Iris tried to engage him in conversation. Carewyn couldn’t help but feel sorry for him -- as much as his parents clearly were spending beyond their means, it seemed to be largely so that they could try to shield him from the War going on outside. It wasn’t a good decision, Carewyn thought, but a slightly understandable one...and more importantly, Andre himself had no hand in either the staff’s struggles or his own captivity.

One day Carewyn was polishing the floors in one of the guest suite, singing the song Orion had given her for the second time that day, when the partially ajar door was very quickly shoved open. Carewyn looked up just in time to see a ruffle of bed curtains, as if someone had leapt onto the guest bed and drawn the curtains so that they were hidden from view.

Carewyn opened her mouth, ready to ask who was there, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice echoing down the hallway outside.

“Your Highness?”

Iris?

Carewyn frowned deeply. She heard heels clapping down the hall, and sure enough, her brown-haired, slender cousin came into view through the open door.

Iris caught sight of Carewyn inside the guest suite, and her confused expression instantly turned ugly.

“Have you seen the Prince?” she demanded.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows innocently. “No.”

“Well, if you do, tell him that Lady Iris is looking for him,” said Iris waspishly. “And see that you don’t speak to him either.”

“I don’t quite know how I can tell his Highness that you’re looking for him, if I’m not allowed to speak to him,” said Carewyn rather coolly.

“You know full well what I mean,” Iris snarled under her breath.

Eying the almost completely polished floor, she rather pointedly strode right through the part Carewyn had just finished cleaning, dragging her heels to leave long, streaking footprints through it.

“Prince Henri might like using you as his little dress-up doll, but don’t think it means he actually likes you,” she whispered coldly. “Why would a prince ever be interested in a servant girl with no dowry or prospects?”

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon the streaks on the floor before flitting up onto Iris’s face with a very stony look. She was very tempted to remind Iris that she had no interest in kissing up to the richest man that would have her, and that a man and a woman didn’t have to be romantically interested in each other to engage in conversation...but, honestly, she didn’t see much point. She wouldn’t be able to soothe Iris’s jealousy no matter what she said, and Carewyn quite frankly liked the thought of Iris leaving far more than to try to make her feel better.

Satisfied that she’d gotten the last word, Iris picked up the skirts of her lavender brocade gown and strode quickly from the room and down the hall in search of Andre.

Carewyn remained on the floor for a moment, waiting for the sound of her cousin’s footsteps to fade away. Then she slowly rose to her feet, walked over to the door, and closed it, before she got back down on her hands and knees so she could start cleaning the part of the floor Iris had slid her feet through.

“Andre?” whispered Carewyn without looking up. “Is that you, hiding in there?”

There was a rustle. Then the bed curtains parted, to reveal Andre sitting on his knees on the bed.

“You knew it was me?” he murmured.

“I thought it might be,” said Carewyn, offering him a small gentle smile even though she didn’t fully look up from her work.

Andre looked almost guilty. “...Thank you for covering for me, Carewyn. I don’t mean to insult your cousin, I just...need some space.”

“It’s all right. It can be draining, not to have any time to yourself, even when you are around people you like. And really, I didn’t lie -- I hadn’t seen you, however much I thought I might know where you were,” she added with a wry smile.

Andre tried to smile, but it came out rather forced and faded very quickly. He glanced from Carewyn to the closed door and back.

“...Does she always talk to you like that? Iris?”

Carewyn paused in the work and looked up. Andre’s face was twisted in a very troubled frown.

The maidservant returned her focus to the floor so as not to look at him, scrubbing at a particularly dirty streak.

“Not always,” she said mildly.

Sometimes she says worse things.

Andre’s eyes narrowed slightly, becoming sadder still. “Carewyn...I had no idea. I mean, I understand your mother was estranged from your family and your father skipped town, but...Iris is your cousin. Even if she’s nobility and you’re not, the way you talked about your family, I thought...”

He trailed off. He felt incredibly foolish, for not having questioned whether Iris and Carewyn’s relationship was really that good. KC had even complained about her mother trying to matchmake her with Carewyn’s cousin, Arsen Dupont, hadn’t she? Did that mean that all of Carewyn’s family talked to her the way Iris did?

Carewyn, however, was very stoic in her response. “Please don’t judge Iris based on how she speaks to me, Andre.”

Grandfather would be furious if I were the reason Iris didn’t marry Andre. The only reason that Iris and Andre shouldn’t marry should be Iris herself, and her own stupidity.

“Good people don’t have to get along with everyone, not even their own family. The way Iris speaks to me is just as much my own doing as it is hers -- and truly, her words are just words. They don’t injure me. If you enjoy her company, then you mustn’t judge her too harshly for something like this.”

Judge her harshly for other reasons.

Andre didn’t look very comforted. He adjusted himself on the bed so that he was sitting on the edge with his feet on the floor.

“...To be honest...I don’t really enjoy it that much,” he muttered.

Carewyn looked up again.

“She’s amiable enough, I suppose,” said Andre uncomfortably, “but...well, I was curious to meet her because it sounded like she enjoyed fashion and might have some good ideas for me to try out. And she had a few -- I mean, I still don’t think ash gray suits you at all...but I ended up finding a rather nice shiny pewter fabric for your shoes, and -- well, you’ll see it when they’re done. I think you’ll like them. But even with that...it just feels like, a lot of the time, she’s only saying what she thinks I want to hear, rather than what she really thinks! Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike flattery -- but I already get that all the time at court. Especially around this time of year...”

He looked down at the floor, his shoulders dropping as he rested his arms in his lap.

“I have plenty of servants and subjects and...well, people who only want to be around me for my crown,” he said dejectedly. “I guess all I was really hoping for was...”

“A friend.”

Andre looked up at Carewyn in surprise. She’d put down her rag on the edge of her bucket, her eyes full to the brim with compassion.

Within seconds, the Prince’s face had burst into a delighted, relieved expression.

“Yes! Oh, I’m so glad you understand, Carewyn. Erika always says I shouldn’t complain so much...and I know she’s right -- I have a lot to be grateful for. It’s just...”

“You can have a lot to be grateful for and still be missing what you need,” said Carewyn very primly. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more or be more. It’s how you express that feeling that matters.”

Andre cocked his eyebrows curiously. “Express it?”

Unable to meet the Prince’s eye straight-on, Carewyn fixed her ponytail so that some of the hair coming out of it was restrained again.

“Well...to Lady Rath’s point, complaining about a problem, or wishing it would go away, never really solved anything. My mother used to say that ‘dreamers never make a dream come true’ -- if you want something to happen, then you need to act on it, not just sit around and wish that things might change.”

That’s why I can’t just sit back and wait for the War to end so Jacob can come home. If he’s out there on the battlefield, in pain and alone, I need to find out where and figure out some way to reach him.

Andre considered this for a long moment. At last his face split into a huge, blazing white smile.

“You’re right! You’re absolutely right, Carewyn...”

He leapt off the bed, bent down to get down on Carewyn’s level, and grabbed both of her shoulders.

“Will you go to the Winter Festival with me?”

Carewyn was taken aback. “What?”

“I’ve never been, not even once, even though I’ve always wanted to,” said Andre, his eyes bright with excitement. “Of course we’d probably have to be sneaky about it...but the courtiers will be plenty occupied all night here, with Mother’s ball. There are plenty of times I’ve been able to sneak out of the ballroom and no one’s ever found me, even when they were actively looking. I have the perfect purple brocade doublet I could wear...and I’m sure your new shoes will be stunning with the dark blue velvet gown I made for you...”

“Andre,” said Carewyn, a bit taken aback by his enthusiasm, “hold on. Brocade and velvet...those are hardly things to wear outside the palace, if you don’t want to be noticed.”

Andre blinked. “They’re not?”

“No,” Carewyn said very firmly, her eyes narrowing reproachfully as she slid out of his grip. “Only people of status and wealth wear those materials. People in town wear cottons, linens -- wool -- and they’re far simpler than even the uniform I’m wearing right now. You and I would stick out like sore thumbs, especially since all of the nobility will be at the Queen’s Ball. I doubt we’d last more than five minutes in town before we got caught.”

Andre deflated visibly.

“...I see,” he said, disappointed. “If only I’d thought of this sooner...I could probably have made us something else, if the Festival wasn’t the day after tomorrow...”

Carewyn bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t love the thought of going against the King and Queen’s wishes, and of course spending time with Andre was uncomfortable considering she was supposed to stay out of Iris’s way, but...well, she agreed with Bill. It had to feel pretty rotten, to be stuck on the sidelines, watching everyone else have fun and longing to join in, during the holidays. Carewyn had never really gone to the Winter Festival as a kid since her mother didn’t like large crowds and she’d preferred spending quiet time at home with her and Jacob...but Andre clearly wanted to go to the Festival so badly...

“...I could...always go pick something up, in town,” Carewyn said slowly, her eyes lingering on Andre’s shoulder rather than his face. “I’m supposed to be meeting a friend at the castle gate around noon...I could always convince him to walk with me to look for some festival clothes for both of us. Then you could always tailor what I bring back, in case it doesn’t fit correctly...”

Andre looked like Carewyn had just presented him with a unicorn for a Christmas present.

“Oh, Carewyn...you’re absolutely brilliant, that’s what you are! Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of money -- buy whatever you think is best -- ”

And that was how Carewyn got roped into going to the Winter Festival. But really, she knew she couldn’t in good conscience let Andre sneak out on his own...and despite herself, her heart was much too gentle for her to even think of trying to tell him not to go, however much trouble she knew both of them would be in if they got caught.

All the more reason to make sure we don’t, she told herself.

When she met Orion at the gate that day, she told him she had some shopping to do before the Festival. Orion had quirked an eyebrow when she had him hold up several peasant-worthy outfits over himself so Carewyn could examine them, but Carewyn refused to tell him who she was shopping for, merely that he was around Orion’s height.

“Can I take this to mean you’ll be attending the Festival after all, my lady?” Orion asked, his eyes trailing over her face with some interest. “I believe you told Ginny Weasley that you’d be too busy.”

Carewyn avoided his eye as she took the outfit he was holding from him and placed both it and a forest green and white dress she’d found on the counter so she could pay.

“I am -- but I’ve opened some time in my schedule for it all the same, at least in the evening.”

Something flickered in the back of Orion’s eyes. Was it curiosity, or was it disappointment? “The gentleman you’re shopping for must be someone special, for you to reschedule your plans.”

Carewyn couldn’t fight back a proud huff. “He’s special only in the way that he needs help, and I’m the person who can give it.”

She took the clothes from the cashier and started heading out of the shop. Orion followed along behind, his black eyes running over her face even while she refused to look at him and narrowing ever-so-slightly.

“...I see.”

Andre was pleasantly surprised by what Carewyn had brought back for them. Although yes, they were made of far less expensive fabrics than he was used to and lacked decoration, he was very pleased with the colors. He’d mentioned having a purple doublet before, so he wasn’t surprised she picked that color of tunic for him, but he was very happy when she picked out some very handsome emerald green trousers trimmed with gold embroidery to go with them, as well as some tall black leather boots with gold buckles. Andre hadn’t really put purple and green together much before, but he really liked how the shades looked together. Carewyn’s dress, however, he did make one large alteration to besides just the fit -- adding a rather pretty trim to the front and back of bodice and the bottom of the skirt made of thick silvery linen ribbon. (He claimed that it was to help the dress better blend with her new pewter gray silk slippers, but Carewyn also just suspected he couldn’t help himself, seeing how plain the dress she’d gotten was.)

The night of the Festival, Andre went down to the Queen’s Winter Ball. After going through the motions for a half hour or so to throw off suspicion, Andre slipped away, and -- after quickly changing into his peasant clothes -- met Carewyn by the gate of the palace. When he got there, he found Bill, Charlie, and their little sister Ginny waiting just across the street, ever so “casually” looking away from the castle wall as Carewyn carefully opened the gate and she and Andre slipped out. Once the gate was closed, the three Weasleys swooped down on Carewyn and Andre, Charlie grabbing Andre’s arm and Ginny grabbing Carewyn’s, and the group flooded into town to meet up with the rest of the Weasley clan.

From the moment they arrived, Andre looked happier and more laid-back that Carewyn had ever seen him. Carewyn couldn’t help but feel like just walking around the Festival, surrounded by ordinary people who had no idea who he really was, made this the best day of the young Prince’s life...and she had to admit, as much as she could take or leave parties, his enthusiasm was infectious. When Ginny suggested they go dance, Andre was absolutely thrilled at the thought of learning how to do a country dance, and pressured Carewyn to show him how. Carewyn hardly thought herself the best choice for this, but found it difficult to say no, seeing how excited he was. Once Carewyn, Charlie, Andre, and Ginny jumped into the fray, though, she did find herself having fun. The steps were actually pretty easy to follow along to, especially compared to the sorts of court dances she’d always seen her older cousins practicing at the Cromwell estate, before any private balls they were invited to.

It didn’t take long, though, for someone to spot Andre. In the middle of one of their dances, a hand came from out of nowhere and snatched a hold of the back of the Prince’s purple tunic, pulling him back out of line.

“Hey!” yelped Andre. “What are you -- ?!”

He looked up, to see the rather tall and foreboding frame of his fencing instructor.

Andre gave a very weak smile. “Aha...hi, Erika.”

Erika’s expression was very stony. Carewyn, Charlie, and Ginny immediately hopped out of line and over to them. Standing right behind Erika and dressed in a sapphire blue cloak that obscured her elegantly trimmed linen dress was KC.

“Lady Rath!” said Charlie with his best attempt at a winning smile. “KC! What a nice...surprise! Heh...”

KC raised her eyebrows coolly. “Hello, Charlie...Carewyn.”

Bill had rushed over too, sensing trouble.

“It’s not their fault, KC,” said Andre quickly, “I can explain -- ”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said KC, her arms crossing as she looked at Andre. “We know full well it isn’t their fault.”

“I say it is,” said Erika rather bluntly, her eyes flashing dangerously at Carewyn and the Weasleys, “considering they encouraged it.”

“It isn’t their fault because they wouldn’t have felt able to say ‘no’ to the Crown Prince of Royaume, even if they’d wanted to,” KC pointed out logically.

Andre suddenly looked very guilty. He glanced from the Weasleys to Carewyn, almost silently asking if he’d pressured them into any of this. Charlie, in response, spoke rather forcefully.

“Well, frankly, we did want to! Andre deserves a fun holiday, for once. Reckon it’s a helluva lot better than that stuffy old ball going on up there.”

He jabbed a thumb behind him in the direction of the palace.

“The Prince’s safety is more important than a fun holiday,” Erika shot back coldly, “as are the King and Queen’s orders. You’d do well to remember that, Weasley.”

“Erika, please,” said Andre desperately. “No one from Florence would dare come this far west of the border...and even if they did, none of them would recognize me, dressed like this. And you said it yourself, KC, it’s likely they won’t attack our forces anyway until after the 8th -- that’s when their winter holiday is, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” granted KC with a frown. Her voice became much more thoughtful as she added, “Though if they wanted to be really clever, they’d strike on or the morning immediately after a holiday, when everyone’s got their guard down...”

Carewyn faced Erika with as much conviction as she could, even though she was completely eclipsed by the taller and stronger woman’s shadow.

“I realize the Prince’s safety is important,” she said in a very low voice, so as not to be overheard, “but if there truly was anyone who meant to target him, wouldn’t they be more likely to look for him at the Winter Ball, rather than here among the peasantry? And considering that the palace is only about five blocks away from here and he’s in the company in one of the castle’s most capable guards,” she nodded in Bill’s direction, “and both his combat instructor and our army’s chief military strategist...I’d say that he’s quite well protected.”

Erika gave Carewyn a beady look.

“People say you’re nothing like your family, Cromwell,” she said rudely, “but I think they’re full of it. You’re just as pretentious and fawning as the rest of them.”

She nonetheless released the back of Andre’s collar.

“I’ll stay for two hours only,” she muttered to him sourly. “When I go, you go.”

Andre beamed from ear to ear.

KC and Erika weren’t much for dancing, but they did loosen up in time, while sitting with the rest of the Weasleys and enjoying some of the fresh sugar-dusted crepes, mince pies, cocoa, and coffee. Before long as well, Andre had mastered the art of the country dance. Ginny was thrilled to have someone else who was just as excited to dance as she was, and -- bless her heart -- the twelve-year-old treated Andre with the same amount of cheer and respect as she probably would’ve anyone else, just like her brothers did. She even ended up giving Andre pointers about how to do the dances better. Carewyn soon found herself getting pretty tired, but Ginny, Charlie, and Andre all kept pulling her back into line with them, and she bit back her exhaustion if only to see them smiling a little longer. It had been a really long time since she’d been able to make anyone smile like that, while doing so little -- it made herself feel that little bit better about herself, and made her stand just that little bit taller.

While dancing to a particular song, the woman playing the fiddle sped up very abruptly, changing tempo. Soon everyone was rotating in chaotic, joyful circles, switching partners constantly. As to be expected in country dancing, a few people made mistakes that they had to correct, but nobody really cared. One mistake, though, was Carewyn losing her footing and tripping over her skirt. The new gray silk shoes Andre had made for her, as lovely and comfortable as they were, were more like slippers than any proper outdoor footwear and didn’t have great traction, so she would’ve fallen right off her feet if someone hadn’t suddenly appeared behind her and caught her with an arm gently looped around her back.

It was Orion. He was dressed in clothes that were nicer than usual, but still modest, including some brown suede boots and a handsome forest green doublet that ended up being the same shade as Carewyn’s dress, though he still lacked the high-collared undershirt one would usually see from a nobleman.

“Forgive me for catching you twice, my lady,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Carewyn couldn’t help but smile. “At least you weren’t hurt after throwing yourself under me this time -- ”

They couldn’t continue the conversation, though, without getting locked up in the midst of the group dance. Carewyn was forced to twirl in sequence, just to avoid another pair moving on through.

“Shall we?” she asked.

Orion suddenly looked oddly wary, like a foal learning how to walk.

“I’m afraid I’ve never done this before,” he murmured, just barely dodging another pair of dancers.

Following the sequence, Carewyn rested an arm lightly around Orion’s waist, steering him in a circle.

“Don’t worry,” she said, as she offered him an encouraging smile. “It’s only a pattern...no one will complain if you make a mistake. Follow me.”

His face betraying some hesitance, Orion nonetheless found himself letting go, mirroring Carewyn in stylized turns and spirals through the dancing crowd.

Orion had come to the Festival because he’d guessed that the mysterious “guest” Carewyn was shopping for was -- in fact -- the Prince of Royaume, and thus this would be the perfect opportunity for Orion to meet him and get a better fix on his character. But even with this goal in his mind, he’d found his inner balance oddly disturbed, when he caught sight of Carewyn. She’d always been a rather pretty woman, but in the company of her friends -- smiling with such pure, undiluted happiness, at the sight of how happy they were -- her blue eyes sparkling with such soft emotion, every time they laughed -- her ginger hair flying free as a flag behind her as she twirled around them...it distracted him. It was an unwelcome distraction, one he was quick to scold himself for, before trying to relocate his center and return to the task at hand. And yet, when Carewyn lost her footing, he found himself once again throwing away his own internal balance and laser-pointed focus in favor of turbulent, emotional chaos...and soon they were dancing, and Orion found himself surfing in that chaos -- relishing that wild, but liberating warmth he felt coming off of her. Was it some magical aura she had, that made him feel like he was dancing with a blazing, soothing fire even as the snow began to fall overhead?

Carewyn Cromwell truly was a remarkable woman, to divert the Prince of Florence’s focus away from his one and only goal...and yet, as Orion danced with her, he couldn’t help but think...oh, if their world could be but a world where they could dance like this anywhere...even in Florence, where everyone knew his face...

When the dance came to an end, everyone clapped, and Carewyn and Orion moved off to the side together to sit with Bill, Ron, KC, and Erika. Erika was very suspicious of Orion from the off-set, finding him way too “pleasant” for her tastes, but Orion wasn’t the least bit offended. If anything, he said with a wry smile, her aggressive aura in some ways reminded him of a good friend of his. After several more rounds, Andre, Charlie, and Ginny finally came to sit down with the others for a quick break.

“Whew! I’m parched,” said Andre. He brought a hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Here,” said Bill.

He offered the Prince a stein of apple cider. Andre gulped down about half of it before lowering the stein, his mouth stretched into a broad smile.

“Oh, Carewyn, thank you for this,” he said, reaching out a hand to squeeze hers. “If I’d had any concept just how much fun this was, I would’ve come years ago.”

Carewyn smiled, looking genuinely touched. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Andre.”

Orion glanced from Carewyn to Andre and back. His face was very unreadable, but his black eyes had widened noticeably.

This must be him, he realized. Prince Henri.

The thought was a club to the back of the head, knocking some sense back into him after having gotten so thoroughly distracted. Orion’s thoughts moved very quickly as he watched the two interact.

“I am,” Andre said fervently, his eyes squinting slightly as he beamed. “And I hope you know how grateful I am...”

Something grimmer flickered over his face.

“...I hope you know...Iris was wrong, about how I see you.”

Carewyn was startled. “Andre...”

“I don’t just see you like a little dress-up doll,” said Andre very seriously, as he squeezed her hand. “You’re my friend, and a good one, at that. And for what it’s worth...” he smiled broadly, “...I’d say any royal should be proud, to have you on their arm.”

Carewyn was clearly a bit overwhelmed by the Prince’s complimentary words. Her gaze had drifted down to the table.

“...Thank you, Andre,” she said very softly.

Although her face was demure, her sparkling eyes and voice betrayed some deep, genuine emotion -- and despite himself, Orion felt some warm pride welling up in his chest, at the sound of it. Catching himself, Orion forced himself to return to the task at hand and lightly cleared his throat.

“Forgive me,” he said politely, “but I don’t think we’ve met.”

Carewyn looked from Andre to Orion quickly.

“Oh -- yes,” she said, “Andre...this is Orion. Orion, Andre.”

Andre’s eyes lit up at the name.

“So this is the infamous Orion you’ve been telling me about, KC!” he said, shooting a bright grin over at his cousin.

Orion raised his eyebrows curiously. “‘Infamous?’ I must wonder what she’s told you, for me to have earned that title.”

KC grinned. “Just that you saved Carewyn from a bucking horse, pulled her out of a ravine, and climbed over the castle wall twice just to visit her.”

Ginny’s freckled face lit up. “Orion, you did all that? That’s so romantic!”

Both Orion and Carewyn immediately tried to correct the record, but no one seemed to care much. Andre was laughing most of the time.

“Are you well-traveled, Orion?” asked Andre. “Judging by the way your doublet is distressed, I’d guess you’ve been to the Islands in the Southern Sea -- I’ve only seen such fabrics as imports.”

“I’m...afraid I haven’t, actually,” confessed Orion. “Though I have been to the Southern Sea.”

Florence’s castle was actually positioned on the shore, right by the sea. It was one of the few things Orion could say in its favor, even though there were times it made him long to cast off and never return.

Everyone seemed interested in this.

“You have?” said Charlie eagerly. “What’s it like?”

“Did you sail on a ship?” asked Ginny.

“Were you ever attacked by pirates?” added Ron.

“Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid,” Orion chuckled. “I’ve only seen it, not sailed it...at least, not yet.”

Carewyn’s red lips turned up into a full, pretty smile. “It must be beautiful, though.”

Orion turned to her, his own mouth spread in a grin. “It’s breathtaking. A seemingly endless void of blue that nonetheless sparkles as green as jade and as white as pearl. It’s as translucent as crystal, and yet so deep and mysterious that ships have been swallowed whole by it, and no man could ever discover all of its secrets. Its waves whisper to you as it ghosts the shoreline, and yet it can also roar and ravage like a beast, without warning or mercy. It can hypnotize you, draw you in...make you long to drown yourself in it, while simultaneously wanting it to spirit you away, over the horizon...”

Like your eyes.

Orion caught himself staring in them. Closing his eyes and bowing his head, he forced a soft laugh.

“Forgive me -- I’ve gotten carried away...”

“Not at all,” said Carewyn gently. She rested a hand lightly on top of his forearm. “It sounds wonderful.”

Orion found himself unsure of how to respond to her touch. He’d never really been around a lot of physical affection before, so he was at a bit of a loss of what to do in such a situation. Fortunately Carewyn withdrew not long after, and Orion tried to find his center of balance again by turning his focus back to Andre.

“...I must say, though...your attention to detail is impressive, Andre. I can see why you and Carewyn get along -- she also has an eye for hair and clothing pieces.”

“Of course she does,” said Charlie, sparing a playful smile in Carewyn’s direction. “Carey is our little lady, after all.”

Carewyn shot Charlie an attempt at a sardonic look, but it was foiled by the broad smile that had conquered her face.

“That she is!” Andre laughed.

“A lady with considerable grit, however,” said Bill, his mouth turned up in a wry smile not unlike Charlie’s. “I’ve never seen anyone else climb up onto a mantle, just to reach a chandelier.”

KC looked at Carewyn incredulously. “What? Why didn’t you get a ladder?”

“It wasn’t necessary,” said Carewyn primly, crossing her arms. “I had it under control.”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled affectionately. “I’d say even an experienced soldier in the field would hesitate before climbing over a steep cliff and into a briar patch at the bottom of a ravine...wouldn’t you agree, Andre?”

Andre nodded. “I daresay so! Though I’ve never been to the battlefield myself, or met any soldiers...I would dearly like to, though.”

Orion frowned. “Like to?”

“Well, yes,” said Andre, his tone becoming more serious. “We could use all the help we can get out there...I’d love to feel like I could really help the war effort on the ground, rather than staying at home. Especially when my comfort is built on the backs of those who are hurting.”

Orion’s gaze fell down onto his hands as they clasped together on the table.

“...Your conviction is inspiring,” he said softly. “But believe me...a battlefield is not a place anyone should like to visit.”

Not long after, Erika rather abruptly rose to her feet and told Andre it was time to leave. The group all left the festival together, though Carewyn lingered behind with Orion, so as to try to give Andre cover for getting back inside the palace without anyone noticing.

Once they were alone, Orion once again found himself off-balance. He’d acknowledged before that Carewyn indeed was a person to be admired, as well as a person who could be admired by anyone...even him. He did admire her. He enjoyed her company -- he found her witty and engaging -- he identified with her independence, resilience, and determination -- he was struck by her compassion and utter selflessness. She was like him in so many ways, and yet she was methodical and insightful, as well as braver than a bear, despite her size. Her voice was so soothing, and yet it rippled with a kind of deep passion and emotion that it truly rivaled the deep, dark sea. And tonight especially...tonight, he kept catching himself staring...but none of that mattered. None of it should matter, in the face of achieving peace for Florence.

“She’s not on your side,” McNully’s words returned to him. “She’s on Royaume’s. Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion couldn’t help but feel as though using his head would be easier if he could more easily tell which way was up.

“I’m glad you came, Orion,” said Carewyn. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better dance instructor -- dancing isn’t really my area of expertise.”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled mischievously. “Perhaps we shall simply have to dance again in the future, so that we might practice.”

Carewyn giggled. “Somehow I doubt either of us will be attending any grand balls in the future.”

Orion’s amused gaze softened as it trailed over her cold-kissed pink cheeks and along the snowflakes clinging to the ginger waves cascading down her back.

Carewyn tilted her head, her lips twisted up in a wryly questioning smile. “...What?”

Orion looked away quickly.

“Forgive me -- I merely...don’t recall ever having seen you wear your hair down before. It’s...different.”

Carewyn brought a hand through her hair absently. “Mm...yeah, I guess it would be. I don’t wear my hair down much, but...well, I figured for a casual event like this, it wouldn’t be a problem...”

“It’s no problem at all,” said Orion. He kept his tone as level as possible, even though he felt a flush creeping up his neck. “I was just thinking it was appropriate...to see you letting loose with your friends, the same day you chose to wear your hair free...”

He came to a stop, and Carewyn stopped too, turning around to face him properly. Orion reached out his hand and -- very tentatively -- took hers, holding it between their chests like a gentleman.

“...You should be allowed to feel like that more often,” Orion murmured. “Free.”

Carewyn scanned Orion’s face, her eyes lingering on his before dipping into the corners of lips. Orion felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He wanted to kiss her hand, but...did he dare?

“She’s not on your team.”

“You reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?

“Mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

It was just too much. Orion couldn’t think, whenever his thoughts got too loud. Closing his eyes, he took several deep, measured breaths. Only once he’d brought his heart rate down did he open his eyes again.

“I should go,” he said at last, his voice coming out much more calmly than he felt.

His eyes flickered down to his hand holding hers again, but he’d already lost his nerve. He released her hand, even though his hand felt like it had chilled as soon as the contact was broken.

“...Good night, Carewyn.”

He turned to go.

“Orion.”

Carewyn’s hand enclosed over his. Orion stiffened, his heart pounding full-force once more, and he turned back around to face her, just as she raised his hand up to her own lips and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Orion stared. She raised her head with a smile, releasing Orion’s hand with a kind of muted confidence even despite the pinkness of her cheeks.

“Until we meet again, Mr. Freeman.”

With this, she picked up her skirts and darted away up the street, in the direction of the palace.

Orion stared after her. He stared long after she was out of sight, his galaxy-like black eyes staring at the swirling snow without even seeing it. He tentatively took his own hand, trailing his thumb over the place her lips had grazed...and despite all judgment, despite all rational thought, he found his lips turning up in a smile of their own accord. He’d never felt so light and so off-balance in all his life -- was this what it felt like, to glide on a bird’s wings? And yet he knew, despite the weightlessness he felt, it was instead indicative that he’d fallen.

In the midst of using her to get intelligence about her kingdom...in the midst of him following the strategy he’d laid out to get the end of the War he wanted, by learning their weak points and using them to soften others to him...Prince Cosimo Orion Amari, heir to the throne of Florence, had fallen head over heels in love.

[alreadyblondenow]

King Taeyong | 3

Taeyong x ballerina!reader // SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST, fantasy!au Summary: You welcome back Taeyong in your life after he left you for almost a year. Maybe its because your feelings never left in the first place. Now that he’s back, he’s more transparent and honest with you. Promises over promises, is he going to keep his promises this time?  Word count: 5k Warnings: Unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of other idols, pairing of other idols but not too much, death of someone  Note: -The fantasy part is already here. I tried to keep it short and simple, didn’t want to overdo it.  -Imagine a Narnia kingdom setting hihi Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Seeing Taeyong again after for so long was something you’re not looking forward to happen. Even though you imagined him coming back to you, now that its real you’re like a statue. You have million things to say to him but non came out in your mouth. You wanted to yell at him, curse at him but you can’t. It’s been a long time but what you feel for him never left.  

You made coffee for the both of you still trying to escape the gaze from Taeyong’s eyes.  Those beautiful eyes that will make you fall in love with him again any second. Those beautiful eyes you used to lock eyes with while he’s making love with you.

“Y/n, I’m sorry” he broke the silence but his voice was almost a whisper. It made your heart sink, suddenly you’re hurt again. Tears falling because you don’t know what he’s sorry for. Are you sorry because you went away? Are you sorry because you’re breaking up with me?

“But can you please, come with me?” he added. You were so confused because you thought he’s here for closure.  “Baby please, just please. I’ll explain later. ” the pet name gave you shivers, hearing him call you with fondness again makes your heart warm. Out of respect and curiosity, you grabbed any coat you could find. Putting the cupcakes to the fridge, and leaving a note to Jaehyun, ‘I went out with Taeyong.’

Seeing Taeyong with his two bodyguards Jungwoo and Lucas is something normal, but seeing more than two bodyguards in front of your apartment sure is not. You try to count them in mind and they were at least eighteen. Why does Taeyong has eighteen bodyguards today?

His bodyguards addressed him as “Your highness,” as if he’s really a king or someone from a royal family. “The car is at the back of the building” a man in black suit informed Taeyong without any expression. Just a stern look in Taeyong’s eyes. What is happening. Is this some kind of joke.

All is settled inside the car and you sit as far from him crossing your arms and biting your lip from time to time. He came closer to you touching your knee with full bravery but you moved it away. “I promise all will make sense later” he said, keeping his hands to himself not trying to touch you again. Everything thats happening right now looks like a joke to you, some sick prank.

“I missed you. so much” he started talking again, annoying you with his sweet gestures.  You still gave him the silent treatment that he deserves but deep inside you wanted him to know how much you missed him too. And that you waited for so long but he never came back.

Finally, the car stopped. When Taeyong opened the door, the light coming from the outside was weirdly different from your perspective. You got out of the car still squinting trying to recognise where on Earth did he take you.

Everywhere you look seems so foreign in your eyes, you’re positive that you’re not in your own country. Impossible, you cant believe what you’re seeing right now. Is this a dream? A castle is right in front of you, one that looks like it came from a storybook. Tall, wide and overwhelming for your eyes but nonetheless it welcomes you. Seeing people bow before Taeyong, convinced you that this might be a dream, or a nightmare because Taeyong is in it.

This cant be real.

When the two of you are finally alone in his so called office... in his kingdom, you wanted to wake up. Thinking about opening your eyes over and over again, forcing yourself to wake up. Seeing Taeyong in a dream hurts so bad it makes your heart heavy, you cant take it anymore.

“you’re not dreaming” Taeyong surprised you with a kiss being brave again. You slapped him in the face, hard. Your hand burns from the slap “it’s hurts right?” Taeyong asked, “That means you’re not dreaming”

No, it cant be. Taeyong? A king?

Everything that’s happening right now is like a big pill that’s hard to swallow. The moment you saw Taeyong on your doorstep, asking you to come with him, his kiss, the castle, is all too much and hard to believe. You asked Taeyong again what is this place but you get the same answer, “My kingdom.”

“Oh please Taeyong, not that bullshit again” you said hard and stern. He rolls his sleeves and let out a heavy sigh. He’s not forcing you to believe him but he wants you to believe on every word he’s about to tell you now. He clears his throat, and made you sit on the couch with him.

“I was away for a friend’s wedding. He’s a good friend of mine and I couldn’t miss his wedding” he breaths in and exhales sharply,  “the wedding was perfect and everyone was having a good time, until… someone shot the groom, my friend, Taemin, right before my eyes. His wife... died too” his steady voice is not so steady now, you see his hands shaking while telling you more of what happened and to be honest you dont know if you should believe it.

“It was a fucking massacre we should’ve known better. Johnny lost his girlfriend too” he reaches for your hand and smiled when you didn’t nudge. “I was thankful… Really thankful that you were far from me during that time. Many people died that night. A lot of kingdoms right now are facing big problems. My kingdom needed me y/n, thats why I couldnt go back to you.”

Feeling his touch again made you want to wake up more. Praying that you really wanted to open your eyes now. Too much, everything about this dream is too much. “Doyoung, Johnny and Yuta are now looking for the last assassin, and it’s in your world. We figured, its there to hurt me, to kill you” there was a moment of silence, he came closer to you, his lips touched yours again. You didn’t slapped him this time. His soft lips made you want to stay in this dream more, if this is a dream might as well drown in it.

You hugged him tight, you both fell on the floor with a loud thud. He chuckled but you see tears in his eyes, “look babe were on the floor again” you dried the tears on his eyes with your thumb and laughed with him. Suddenly happiness hits you like a truck again just like the day you met Taeyong for the first time. “Can I kiss you again?” this time its you who initiated the kiss, you kissed him deeply with love.

He asked you to changed your clothes so people in his kingdom wont think your clothes are weird. The maids picked a simple beige garden dress for you though It was kind of long for your liking but it was surprisingly lightweight and beautiful. In other words, you looked like a princess. Get it together y/n, you’re a ballerina for goodness sakes think of it as a costume.

The place looks exactly how fairytales described it. High ceilings painted with clouds and angels, open roof for the everyone to admire the beautiful sky, fresh breeze, people wearing fancy dresses, knights guarding every corner of the palace and Taeyong....looking like a prince fresh out of a story book. You wait at the big balcony watching the sun set in front of you almost looking like a painting. “Im sure you have a lot of questions” Taeyong interrupted your thoughts.

You scoffed, “Lee Taeyong, you have no idea”

“Im sure I can answer them all. Fire away”

“Well, you can start by telling me the truth and tell me stuff I need to know. Parents? Siblings? ....Allergies?” You shook your head, “personal stuff Taeyong”

He’s calm expression melts your heart, he’s always like that. You felt him kiss your exposed shoulders his arms encircled on your waist. “I’m still your Taeyong. Just add the word king” he let out a soft chuckle but you gave him a look telling him you’re serious. “Okay, tiger. chill” he hugged you tighter letting his warm breath hit the shell of your ear, “I lost my parents when I was 8 from the same assassins that killed my friend Taemin. I have a sister but she’s in your world living peacefully without any memory of this world. I dont have any allergies” he turned you around so you’re facing him, he missed being this close to you. He doesn’t say it but he’s so turned on right now, his gaze never leaving yours.

“In your world, you call my world... a fairytale. There is magic lurking in this world but nothing too crazy don’t worry. No harry potter type of situation.” He winks.

“I want you to meet someone very important to me, one of these days I’ll bring you to her. She’s someone special and she helped me shaped my life and with my duties as king” you nod silently.

Taeyong secretly worries about you, to be honest he worries for you and your mental state while living with him here in his kingdom. Is it really okay with you? Do you still see him as the Lee Taeyong as your number one fan and not as the highest king in this world?

“Y/n.. please be honest with with me. Dont hide what you really feel right now.”

“Baby. You were gone for almost a year, it was a lonely time for me. I appreciate your effort for explaining everything even though its too much. I’ll get there. I hope you understand that.” he nods changing the subject and showering your face with kisses.

“How are you?” Taeyong asked sweetly like how he usually do.

You let out a small laugh, and told him everything he missed. That you were devastated, sad and lonely when he was gone and that he missed the opportunity of meeting your parents during Christmas eve. “Im sorry. Im sorry for not being normal enough to make you happy and provide normal stuff-“

“Dont say that” you cut him off, “You’re more than enough for me Taeyong. Dont say stuff like that” he’s still guilty but you comfort him nonetheless you never want to feel sad anymore. Not now that you’re in each others arms again.

Taeyong prepared dinner for the both of you while you’re out roaming the castle grounds. He made a picnic style dinner setup at the balcony of his chambers making you comfortable on your first night here in his kingdom. “Yum!” you let out a groan out of excitement and told him you missed his cooking.

“You know, I planned to have my own bakery. I already took care of the loan and the bank will help me make my dreams come true” you sounded really excited while telling him what you’ve been up to while he was away. He was happy that you had everything under control and you made the planning all by yourself. “Actually I could help you out. Forget about the bank, I can help you. Let’s find a decent place for your bakery when we get back” Of course your super rich boyfriend will help you out because he loves you so much.

You knew Taeyong loves seeing you do what you love, and you know Taeyong offered help because this is his way of taking part in your life. Again. And you love him more for it. “Yeah. Lets do that” you accepted his offer with a smile, feeding him a potato chip with a mouthful of guac. Just how he liked it. “How about you Taeyongie, whats new?” you made him think hard. “Hmmm. Well, do you accept interns?” You laughed hard and loud your giggles echoed in his room.

“What Im serious! I can taste everything you make, clean tables, anything you like me to do” There’s the Taeyong that you know. The simple man with a great sense of humour that you fell in love with. Now that you’re talking about dreams, you confidently told him about the life you wanted to build with him when all this is over, telling him you cant wait to go back and be with him again.

“If you’re going to marry me someday. I want a baby girl... now, I know you need a prince as an heir....” Taeyong laughed so loud enough for the whole castle to hear. Brave of you to tell him that you want kids in the future.

“But I want to have my own mini me. And maybe if we get lucky, you can have your own mini you” you continued and Taeyong is still laughing.

“I’ll help you buy our house when I save enough from the bakery. We will make love from sun up until sun down. Never ending happy mornings with you. Tie my hair until we grow old and everything in between, I just want to be with you until I die” Even though it made Taeyong laugh so hard, he can’t help but have butterflies in his stomach the whole time you were talking. He wanted the same thing too.

“I promise. We will have a normal life.” he kissed you to seal his promise.

After dinner you took a shower in Taeyong’s garden bathroom. Never getting used to what this castle can do, it really surprised you how a bathroom can be so magical. Taeyong’s bathroom smells like fresh flowers everywhere, maybe thats why Taeyong smells good all the time. It feels good to be in Taeyong’s comfortable clothes again. He gave you his favorite sweater and a pair of comfortable sweatpants. You only wore the sweater and underwear, not bothering to wear sweatpants.

As you got out of the bathroom you see Taeyong laying in bed with a book on his hand, topless and flashing his wide broad shoulders. You remember nights at your apartment when he waits for you in bed while he’s playing games on his phone. He looks so handsome. You crawl towards him feeling his soft bed and snuggles beside him comfortably. “Finally. Some alone time with you” he kisses you softly, carefully nibbling your neck and slowly tugging the sweater that he gave you as if he’s testing waters.

You were impatient so you removed it already showing off your breast to him. He gently kisses your body marking it like how he used to. His touch and kisses are still the same you thought. Oh how you missed this feeling. You crave for Taeyong and he can see that you’re eager “Slow down baby. We have all night” he says while drawing small circles on your thigh. It makes you crazy how he’s taking time with you and how he slowly devours your skin while you crave for him entirely.

He quickly switched positions with you, now kissing your lips slowly going down to face your pussy. Gently spreading your legs in front of him, you let out a gasp and a choked  moan when Taeyong blows cold air at your slit, making you shiver. He smiles at you before he finally licks your pussy, slow and deep. His tongue starts from the bottom slowly goes up to your clit and gently kiss it. Catching your first orgasm for the night, Taeyong overstimulates you while you ride your high. Your moans are load and sharp he cant help but smirk and feel proud of his work.

“Baby are you planning to wake up the whole castle?” leaving wet kisses on your left breast and bites your nipple.

“Babe just fuck me already” you beg, feeling his hands kneading your breast, playing with your nipples with his thumb. You’re so focused on what he’s doing with your breast, you didn’t notice he’s spreading your legs wide for him preparing you before he finally fucks you. Without warning he inserts two fingers already to stretched your cunt. You yelped and tried to grasp anything from bed, you feel like your energy was slowly fading until you surrender in his touch. He chuckled.

This is not funny Taeyong. “Lee Taeyong im almost the-“ you warn him but he lets you cum on his fingers. You whisper sweet words to him expressing how much you missed him and it made the sexual tension more intense. Lining his cock on your pussy, coating it with your essence and slowly he gets deeper and deeper inside you. It feels so good. He fucks in slow pace, taking his time before going faster. You let out a string of moans, encircling your arms on his neck feeling his back muscles.

Slow, fast, deep and sharp thrust. He’s taking his time, fighting his urge to cum before you. Little did he know you cant take it anymore, you’ve cum so many times when he was fucking you slow. You tried pushing him away but you’re too weak. Taeyong fucked you again and again until you don’t respond to him and he let’s you sleep. He took care of you before joining you, made sure you’re clean. “I love you y/n” he whispers before sleeping beside you.

Taeyong slept like a baby beside you. It was his first time getting a good sleep from months of longing you. Telling himself he will never let anything come between the two of you ever again.

And it went on like this for days, weeks, even months while you’re stay in his kingdom. You became used to the castle grounds already, roaming around as if you’ve live there for a long time. On your way to Taeyong’s office, you see Taeyong with a beautiful woman almost your age wearing a beautiful dress, she has gorgeous long straight blonde hair and her skin is as fair as Taeyong’s. You got jealous for a second but maybe he’s Taeyong’s cousin or whatever.

Taeyong saw you and quickly introduced you to the beautiful princess in front of you.

“Y/n, this is Sorn. My fiancé”

Your what Lee Taeyong?

You gave him a look. A look thats saying you’re confused, mad and at the same time you want to punch him. Then you remembered the time when Jaehyun introduced himself as your future husband, you think this is his way of getting even. But he wasn’t kidding at all.

“Arranged marriage when we were both still young. I hope you understand” the princess speaks and reached out a hand full of sparkling rings. You wonder which ring Taeyong gave her. You didnt have a choice but to be nice.

Taeyong and Sorn are now talking inside his office about some royalty shit you thought and you can’t help but sulk. Yuta noticed that you’re bothered by the thought of Taeyong having a fiancé, hoping he could help you feel better he explains the situation further.

“Don’t worry y/n, it’s only for formality. This royalty shit is crazy and Taeyong needs a “queen” to rule here so he can be with you from time to time in your world” you thought that the idea was fucked up. “What was he thinking?” You almost shout but Yuta laughs at you.  “I told you. This royalty shit is crazy. A lot of sacrifices needs to be done”

“I love her y/n” Yuta finally confess. “To protect this world. To protect my kingdom, I have to let go of Sorn” your heart aches for what Yuta just told you. How can the world of royalties can be so cruel to good people?

Yuta and Sorn were young and in love for as long as they can remember. So deeply in love, that they plan to help each other’s kingdoms by marriage someday. But Sorn’s family faced problems and they needed help immediately, so the royal court’s decision is to arrange her for marriage. The royal court is so obsessed with finding Taeyong a queen and they saw Sorn as a good opportunity. “Duty before self” Yuta explained.

“Why didn’t you volunteer your kingdom? Is that too selfish?” You asked, trying not to sound rude.

“My kingdom is not that rich to solve her kingdom’s money problems. Thats why I’ve been  saving money in your world and be as rich as possible. That’s how I help my father with being king for now “

You cant believe this tragic love story that you’re hearing from Yuta. Just the thought of it makes you scared, that even though two people deeply love each other if fate is not in their favor, you can’t do something about it. Feeling bad about oversharing his feelings, Yuta told you not to worry, for Taeyong loves you so much and his kingdom equally.

You didn’t notice that you fell asleep while waiting for Taeyong to join you in bed. You felt soft kisses on your cheek, Taeyong waking you up in the middle of the night. Softly stroking your hair telling you to shush and follow him. Guiding you as you follow him to dark places that you’re not familiar with, you finally arrived to where he’s taking you.

You squint a little, seeing candles lit up, different flowers scattered on the floor, you’ve guessed you’re walking on an aisle with Taeyong. Doyoung, Yuta, Johnny and....a priest is waiting at the end of the aisle. Gasping as you realised, you’re about to get married.

“I was actually going to ask you to marry me over dinner tonight but-“ you cut him off and kissed him. “I’ll marry you.” You sad with a smile and hugged him tight. Crying tears of joy already.

You both proceed to this secret wedding that he organised. It was simple, just like you’ve always wanted. Genuine like him and sincere like his love. Taeyong promised to give you a proper wedding when you both get back to your world, but you told him you wouldn’t trade this wedding for anything.

Doyoung, Yuta and Johnny are happy for the both of you. They’ve seen Taeyong suffer enough without you and they all think that you both deserve to be happy. The three princes congratulates the both of you and telling them they’re more than happy seeing their Taeyongie marry happily someone he loves.

“Just dont be too loud fucking tonight or the castle will know somethings up” Johnny jokes making Taeyong punch him on his arm.

You spend your honeymoon enjoying the cold breeze around the palace. Sitting on the grass while watching how the castle turn yellow because of the soft sunrise. Taeyong got you beautiful flowers from his garden, tying it in a perfect knot making a small bouquet. He told you that the last assassin is dead and finally you can go back to the human world.

Just like the sunrise, you watch Taeyong be happy beside you. Remembering every detail of this beautiful moment. He noticed you were staring at him for a while now and he cant help but make you laugh by showing his wedding ring. Reminding you that he’s your husband from now on. Taeyong completely changed your life.

It was almost afternoon when you finally wake up from your sleep and still couldn’t believe that you’re married to this handsome guy kissing you. For the second time, Lee Taeyong is waking you up from your beautiful sleep by kissing you until you acknowledge him. “Lee Taeyong what do you want?” You asked him forcing yourself to open your eyes.

“Good morning... wife” and that alone made you smile. Taeyong thought your smile was so bright but it never hurts his eyes.

“I need you to meet someone important today” he’s now kissing your neck. Seriously this guy. “Last three days before you leave this kingdom by the way” he chuckled. “Everything will go back to normal once we go back. I promise.” He gave you one good kiss before leaving to prepare for breakfast.

He told you that you’re meeting the kingdom’s witch, a nice witch who helped him to be the king that he is.  “Ruby is like my secret weapon. She warns me and gives me knowledge with all the decisions that I make for the kingdom.”

Ruby is a witch that tells Taeyong what the future holds for his kingdom. She never tells what will happen entirely. She didn’t want to ruin the natural order of the universe, she can only warn his king and give him choices to make good decisions.

When you arrived at where you believed Ruby lives, a pond inside a cave, you thought that maybe Ruby likes fishing. You peeked at how deep the pond is and you see coins and, random things under the water that are all solid gold.

“Anything you throw in this pond turns into solid gold” he winks after he explains.

You saw the water shine as Ruby comes out of the pond with all her glory turn into this gorgeous human in front of you. From being a mermaid with golden fishtail. A mermaid witch, you thought. And she is naked in front of your husband with only her golden hair covering her boobs. Wow.

“Y/n, this is Ruby.” Taeyong broke the silence. When Ruby took a step further out from the water, she turned in a much decent human, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you y/n. Congratulations.” She smiled sweetly to you.

Ruby was nice to you and she offered to read your future. You didn’t want Ruby to show you your future to be honest, but you did it for Taeyong. She asked for your hand, holding it while she looks directly in your eyes. You saw what she saw. And there’s no need to tell Taeyong about it. You both giggle like little girls after you both saw your future, leaving Taeyong really curious.

In the future that Ruby showed you, you will have a little girl. And you will live like how he always promised for the both of you. Its pure happiness. “Thank you Ruby. It really means a lot” you told her with sincerity.

But little did you know, Ruby just showed you the future that you wanted to see. Not showing you your true future. She asked to speak to Taeyong privately and you respectfully left them talking.

Ruby did the same thing to Taeyong, but without the filter.  She showed Taeyong the challenges and pain he will put you through if he continue this married life with you.  “Your highness, Im afraid you’re not going to be the father of the child” Ruby showed Taeyong what you saw in her eyes earlier. It made him smile but he felt a pang of pain at the same time.

“Don’t get me wrong your highness, the child will come from you. But you will not be present as her father in her life.” Taeyong was confused. Ruby continued showing him more, and his world crashed. His heart feels heavy, he feels broken than ever. Taeyong is scared to the bone right now, but he trusts Ruby with his life and he is positive that Ruby wants what’s best for the kingdom and him.

Taeyong saw how his kingdom suffered from a famine while he was away from the kingdom living his life with you in the human world. He will have no other choice but to leave you again for the kingdom needs him. The famine will last for a year, and your pregnancy will not be the healthiest. You will lose the child and it will drive you to killing yourself. He saw how Doyoung told him the news that you passed away and it made him crazy. Taeyong turned into a mad king and the whole kingdom suffered in other words.

“Your highness now I ask of you.... to do the same thing as we did to your sister and prevent everything whats about to happen. We will create a life for y/n, a beautiful life without you in it” Ruby explains with a heavy heart.

Taeyeon. Taeyong’s sister is living well in the human world without any memory of the kingdom. Taeyeon was with their parents when they were killed and the incident traumatised her. To save her from being crazy, they gave her a potion for forgetting everything about the incident, the kingdom, Taeyong, everything.

Taeyong didn’t have much choice. He didn’t want to hurt you and kill yourself that will indeed make him crazy for good. Although its wrong for him to decide on his own, he still agreed to Ruby. He told her all about your dreams, the normal life you long with him, and the bakery you wanted to be successful with.

“I want her - I want her to have a peaceful life when she wakes up. A life without sadness, make sure she’s never alone or lonely. Be sure to never let her give up dancing because she loves her craft so much. Let her explore new things” Taeyong sniffs and continues to instruct Ruby. “She wants a bakery, let it be so successful customers will always buy every masterpiece she bakes. Please let her be with someone who truly loves her the same way I will.”

It really hurts him to pass you on to someone, it breaks his heart thinking of another man having you. “Please let that man be Jaehyun” he could only trust you with Jaehyun. Ruby hands the potion to Taeyong with a heavy heart. “I know you just got married. I’m sorry my king”

Your husband cant look you in the eye right now, but he stayed brave and put the small bottle in his pocket. “I’m still curious on what she showed you babe” Taeyong said, faking a smile. You let out a loud laugh without knowing what he really feels.

“Oh its a secret” you told him with a big mocking smile.

“I love you, y/n” he smiles ever so sweetly before your eyes.

Noticing his beautiful rose scar, and gently stroking it with your thumb. “I love you too, Lee Taeyong.”

[secret-engima]

Okay but how does Regis' dinner with his Demon King not-so go???? U can't just LEAVE that there, do Chocobros 1.0 get an explanation? Does tiny!Cor attack Noct and get gently put down by the the Dark Retinue and just, instantly idolize these SERIOUSLY OP but also v tired warriors?

XDD Well technically I COULD but I won’t. FICLET TIME.

The Chocobros 1.0 do NOT get an explanation (not a full one anyway) because nobody is up to explain the whole “your kids from another dimension that died and woke up here and accidentally usurped a kingdom with the crash landing”.

Instead, after the Night King blandly warns that any attacks on his person will end badly, so please don’t, and please don’t attack the servants either they’re just doing their jobs, he waves a hand and the daemons release Regis and Co. Very slowly, warily, they stand up and rub feeling back into their limbs. Their weapons were taken away, and in this AU while Regis and co have Elemancy and other fancy magic, they DON’T have Armiger (it’s a lost art in this world, so Regis would have to be taught how to access it) so they can’t just yank more out of thin air as they assess their situation (heart of enemy territory, at the feet of the Immortal Accursed who is acting surprisingly nice but has been terrorizing their kingdom off and on for literal centuries). Regis opens his mouth to maybe cautiously ask a question when Cor shakes out the last kinks in his back-.

Then dives for the Night King with bare hands sparking with lightning.

Regis doesn’t get time to tell Cor to stop and the Accursed doesn’t even blink or startle. He doesn’t even move because he doesn’t have to.

The board-shouldered man with Amicitia gold eyes and two scars on his face stops Cor in his tracks. Regis isn’t even sure where the man came from, he moved so fast. He was just there, casually deflecting Cor’s attack without flinching from the lightning, then catching Cor’s follow-up attack with an almost lazy gesture.

Cor winds up winded on the floor at the man’s feet. The man in question rumbles a laugh while letting a frantic Weskham and cursing Cid drag Cor back into their group by his ankles, “Nice try kid, but you’re about three decades too early to pull that off.”

“I’m sorry for him,” Regis manages past the vice in his throat, because Regis can see the Night King watching Cor with a contemplative expression he can’t understand (why is the Accursed looking at Cor like that, with an expression that could ALMOST be called fond-), “He’s young.”

“I remember,” the Accursed says, but does not elaborate on what he remembers (being that young? Others who were like Cor? Information his spies brought him on Cor?) The king shakes his head and looks over at the shadows, “Prompto.”

Yet another human slides out of the shadows, this one as clearly of Niflheim descent as the grinning bear of a man is of Amicitia blood (and Regis can feel Clarus trembling at that, is trying not to think of it himself, because that paired with the Night King’s black hair and blue-blue eyes....). The newcomer smiles like the sun, a shockingly genuine expression in a place like this, “Lemme guess, guest duty?”

The Night King’s expression shifts from mild and unreadable for the first time, a delicate half-smile sliding onto his face that makes him seem unnervingly ... human, “Iggy should be finished soon, just ... escort them to the dining room. Maybe a tour.”

The blond man (Prompto? Is that his name?) laughs, calm and easy, and gestures for Regis and his Retinue to follow him, “Sure thing, Your Majesty. Come on intruder-guests, His Royal Highness needs to finish business in here without gawkers.”

Numb and confused, even Cor meekly follows the man out past the daemons and into the strange, endlessly tall building that served as the Night King’s home (hard to call it a castle with no ramparts or walls, just a tower as large as a small village that reached-reached-reached for the sky, the methods to build it lost centuries ago). The man (Prompto, he introduces himself as) leads them down halls lit by ghostly blue lights where torches should be, past daemons dressed like servants, who bow deeply to their guide as they pass and make no move to attack. Along the way, the man chatters amiably, pointing out meaningless trivia that would do nothing to help should they try to escape but was almost amusing were it not for the circumstances.

At one point, Cor lunges for Prompto’s back before Regis can stop him (Cid curses as the boy worms out of Cid’s grip unexpectedly, he’s getting better at escaping each time they try to stop him from getting into trouble). Cor snatches a decorative but razor sharp knife from a display rack as he goes, diving for Prompto’s back.

The man sidesteps without even looking, easily swipes Cor’s feet out from under him, then sidesteps again when Cor rolls with the fall and comes up swinging. Regis is tempted to try joining in, to try to get AWAY but by the time he’s thought it, the fight is already over and Cor is dazedly staring at Regis from where he’s been pinned against the wall by Prompto, “Dude,” says the member of the Dark King’s court, “rude. Wait until after dinner or something yeah? Pretty sure His Majesty will let you borrow a training room if you want to go a few rounds with me or Gladio.”

Cor twitches against the hold, but doesn’t really dare move because Prompto is holding the knife now and it is dangerously (lazily) close to Cor’s neck, “You’re faster than Gilgamesh,” Cor wheezes angrily, “How are you faster than Gilgamesh?”

Prompto doesn’t even blink at the mention of the ancient Swordmaster’s name, just lets Cor go with a shove that propels him into Clarus’s arms, “Please. Gilga-brat,” Clarus choked on his spit at the nickname, “has got nothing on Iggy when it comes to speed. Not even close. Assuming you stay for a day or two, ask your king if you can spar with Gladio a few rounds or something”

“Assuming we survive the night?” Weskham asks dryly.

Prompto blinks at him as if surprised, then grins, the expression sharp with something Regis can’t place (it almost seems like grief, but that can’t be).

They arrive in the dining room to find another human, a man with horrible scars mostly hidden beneath strange glasses that have to be too dark to see through and oddly stretched to wrap around the front of his face rather than being small, round little lenses like Regis is used to. The man is expertly directing a positive mob of Tonberry and Arachne, pointing out where to put the plates and where to adjust something all without so much as turning his head in the direction of the people he’s instructing. Regis wonders with a prickling chill if he has some kind of power given to him by the Night King. Surely all of the human inhabitants have SOME reason for staying in this place, either curses, thrall marks, or the promise of unnatural magic. Regis glimpses the woman from before, but she disappears through a different door before he can really look at her.

The blind man tips his head in their direction, “Ah, our guests. Your Highness, you sit in that chair if you will,” he gestures to the plush seat opposite the one clearly meant for the Night King and Regis falters at the implied equality between him and the Accursed, but the man is already directing the others to their seats and all they can do is tentatively creep past the bustling Tonberry and sit as food more fitting for an Altissian Royal Banquet than a castle of evil is laid out before them. He knows he should be wary, but after weeks of travel on only rations and campfire cooking, the sight and smell makes his mouth water.

Moments after they are seated, the Night King sweeps in, his Amicitia on his heels. The woman reappears alongside a boy who must be Cor’s age (physically anyway) and they seat themselves. Regis notices that the arrangement is a mirror of his own Retinue.

The prickling feeling increases.

They eat only because Regis is terrified of pushing the Accursed into acting like- well- the Accursed, even though he’s half afraid he’s eating people or something with every bite (it tastes amazing though, like fine dishes and rare spices, not like daemon food at all so maybe he’s okay?). Over dinner, the Accursed makes very light, easy conversation, never asking why they tried to break into his kingdom or mentioning the fact that they were- you know- mortal enemies. Regis doesn’t understand what the trick is and that scares him.

Finally Clarus breaks. He does not slam the table, he is more controlled than that, but he puts his utensils down and clears his throat, “May I be permitted to ask a question, Your Majesty?”

The Night King looks up and there is surprise in his eyes for just a moment, “Speak freely,” he answers dryly after a moment, “you’re hardly going to say anything I have not heard before.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Weskham shoots Clarus a sharp look and Regis pinches the bridge of his nose. The Night King tilts his head like he doesn’t understand, “Clarify.”

“Why are you entertaining us as honored guests? We are all members of your sworn enemies, of Lucis that you have spent centuries trying to destroy. Why show us courtesy? Why have the attacks on Lucis stopped to begin with?”

The Night King sits back and looks ... so genuinely flummoxed Regis almost finds himself believing it. The Accursed looks at his Dark Retinue, who all openly shrug save Ignis, who adjusts his strange glasses without comment. The Accursed frowns, then calls to the rafters, “Sheria?”

An Arachne, so old she’s massive, easily descends from the rafters (Cor’s breathing goes pointedly measured, he never could stand arachnids of any kind). The Arachne leans down and murmurs something into the Night King’s ear that the Dark Retinue can apparently hear because now all of them are blinking. The Accursed nods slowly and dismisses the giant daemon, then rubs his forehead, “Lovely. Just great. Why did no one tell me this when I took the Astral-cursed job-.”

The blind man’s lips twitch, “Noct,” he murmurs softly and there is an entire conversation in that one word. The Night King throws his head back and groans like a teenager, sits up straight and shatters Regis’s world with a casual, “Yea I didn’t do any of that stuff. I’ve only been King for ... I think a year now? About a year. Still catching up on all the paperwork and stuff.” He pauses, “The raids on your kingdom DID stop right? I ordered all raids be put on hold indefinitely on my first day.”

Regis is pretty sure he’s not breathing anymore, “You ... have only been ... for a year?” He manages a strangled gasp, squeaks out, “Then you aren’t the Accursed?”

The man waves a hand impatiently, as if the title was an annoying fly, “Formal title. Blame my uncle, he was always a drama queen.”

“...Uncle?”

The Dark Retinue is definitely snickering now as the Night King (?) props his chin on a hand and says, “Yeah, my Uncle. The original Accursed. I finally killed him a year ago, which makes me the new Night King.”

Cid runs a hand through his hair, “Ah thought the Accursed was immortal.”

“Yes, he was. Only one of his blood could kill him, everything else just bounced off. We fought, I won, so he died. That’s ... how it works. Next question.”

Cor speaks up next, because Regis is still trying to get his world to stop shattering, “So you ... aren’t going to kill us?”

A fractured expression and the deceptively human, amiable mien cracks to show ancient, terrible, grieving anger. In that moment the man before him seems centuries old, not somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties and Regis can BELIEVE that the man (men, and woman, because the others have similar expressions if not so deep and ancient) is an Immortal. Has seen things too old for Regis to comprehend.

“No,” the man answers and his voice cracks with emotion as he looks away, “No, I’m not going to kill you. I don’t want to kill anyone. I did my killing. I don’t want to do anymore.” And there is ... something so very fragile in those words, so very broken and tired and Regis suddenly realizes that ... this was the first Accursed’s nephew, family, he had assumed this man killed the other out of desire for the throne but what if...

What if it have been a desperate desire to make the death and madness stop?

“Is there something we can call you,” Regis hears himself saying, his heart going out against his will to this dangerous, strange immortal, “other than your titles? Is there a name you prefer?”

The looks the Dark Retinue send him are approving and surprised, and the tight line in the Night King’s shoulders unwind, “...Noctis. Please, call me Noctis.”

[voltrontranscript]

VLD S8E2: Shadows

Season 8 Episode 2: Shadows

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: In a series of flashbacks, we learn about Honerva’s history with Lotor and Zarkon across the centuries. We follow her from the events of Season 6 until the present as she looks for Lotor, mixed in with flashbacks of Lotor’s childhood.

[Google Doc]

[Open on a flashback from Season 6, then Honerva transports away from Lotor and his generals to the bridge of the ship.]

Honerva (as Haggar): Commander Mar, the emperor has been taken. The Voltron Paladins have betrayed him. Track him down and return him to me.

Mar: Vrepit Sa.

[Scene change to Honerva in her alchemy chamber.]

Honerva (as Haggar): Have you any word from Commander Mar?

Macidus: Nothing, High Priestess. Communication with Commander Mar has been lost.

Honerva (as Haggar): What of Emperor Lotor’s whereabouts?

Macidus: Still unknown.

[Scene change to Honerva back on the bridge at the ruins of Daibazaal where Kova waits hidden in the debris, then transition to a flashback of Honerva with Zarkon while Kova watches.]

Zarkon: I don’t see anything. Can it be true? I am to be a father?

Honerva: Yes.

Zarkon: And you, my queen, will be the mother to the heir of the Galra throne.

Honerva: Yes. There is much to do. First, we must continue to harvest the quintessence. It will be needed for your son’s empire.

Zarkon: He will be the best of both our people.

[Flashback ends to return to Honerva at the bridge, this time with Kova at her side as they overlook Daibazaal.]

Honerva: I will find you, my son.

[Scene change to Honerva’s alchemy chamber once more.]

Macidus: High Priestess, I am sorry to disturb you.

Honerva (as Haggar): Have you located Emperor Lotor?

Macidus: We still have not been able to ascertain any information regarding Emperor Lotor, Commander Mar, or Voltron. It has been phoebs since Emperor Lotor disappeared. The empire is in a state of chaos. The Blade of Marmora still challenges. We need a strong leader. The druids look to you, High Priestess.

Honerva (as Haggar): Tell them to look elsewhere. The druids are but ash in the winds of infinity. Let them be led by someone of equal esteem.

Macidus: Priestess…

Honerva (as Haggar): Depart my presence.

[Flashback to Honerva and Zarkon in the royal bedchamber.]

Zarkon: What shall we name the boy?

Honerva: I was thinking a name that has deep Altean history. Lotarious.

Zarkon: Lotarious?

Honerva: He was one of the ancient Alteans believed to have established much of the foundation of the engineering that built our world.

Zarkon: Interesting. I was considering a name from mythology. Kaltor. But he did not build the worlds, he conquered them.

Honerva: Perhaps we can honor both traditions.

[Scene change back to the alchemy chamber, where Honerva kneels.]

Guard: High Priestess, apologies. I was ordered to notify you when Commander Mar returned.

Honerva (as Haggar): What happened to him?

Drick: I found him like this, near death.

Honerva (as Haggar): What does he know?

Drick: His vitals are weak. He has yet to regain consciousness. We may never find out what he knows.

Honerva (as Haggar): There may be a way. Leave. Do you have news of the emperor?

Mar: Yes. I located Lotor’s generals.

Honerva (as Haggar): Where are they?

Mar: They… they attacked me and took over my ship, leaving me stranded.

Honerva (as Haggar): And what of the emperor? And what of the emperor?

Mar: The generals said Emperor Lotor accessed the Quintessence Field.

Honerva (as Haggar): He pierced the veil.

Mar: But then Voltron attacked. The fight ended. There was an explosion. Lotor and Voltron perished.

Honerva (as Haggar): No… No. I must find him. Call forth the Kral Zera.

[Flashback to just after Zarkon and Honerva’s “deaths” in the rift.]

Honerva: Who… who are you?

Zarkon: You do not recognize your emperor?

Honerva: Who… am I?

Zarkon: Where am I?

Guard: Aboard your ship, sir.

Zarkon: Take us home.

Guard: I can’t, sir. Daibazaal has been destroyed.

Zarkon: Get a doctor to this room immediately.

Haggar: Excuse me, my empress. I just need to--what are you doing? I need you to let go of me. Please! Let go!

Guard: Haggar! Haggar, can you hear me? Haggar, answer me! Oh, no. Help! Send help now!

Honerva: Haggar…

[Flash forward to Honerva-as-Haggar laying in bed after Lotor’s birth.]

Doctor: Sire, the birth was difficult but successful. Your son is healthy and in good shape, though we seem to be getting some strange readings coming from him directly. Similar to those that, well, similar to those of the empress and yourself.

Medic: Your son, sire.

Zarkon: Take him away.

Medic: But--

Zarkon: I said take him away! And what of her?

Doctor: I’m sorry, sire. We have her under constant watch, but she remains in this state. She only seems to become aware when we administer her quintessence. I’m hopeful her condition will improve with time, but, sire, we’re going to have to face the fact that our quintessence supplies are finite. The empire cannot continue to run on what we have. And you and the empress… without it, you’ll--

Zarkon: Give me the room. Do you know who I am?

Haggar: You are emperor.

Zarkon: And you?

Haggar: Ha… Haggar?

Zarkon: Do you know of quintessence?

Haggar: Quintessence.

Zarkon: Can you find me quintessence?

Haggar: Yes, my emperor.

[Flash forward to Feyiv, where Galra ships gather for the next Kral Zera.]

Drick: I am lighting the flame. Bow now, and your allegiance will be remembered.

Galra Officer: My fleet would crush yours in an instant, raining fire and death upon you and your clansmen. What makes you think I would ever bow to you?

Drick: Because I have the witch’s favor.

Galra Officer: It matters not. Power rules absolute.

Drick: I invite you to challenge me once the ceremony has begun. A display of the witch’s magic will bolster my claim as nothing else could.

Second Galra Officer: The Archivist!

Galra Officer: And your witch is nowhere to be found.

Honerva: This flame represents Lotor, son of Zarkon, prince turned emperor, emperor that pierced the veil. And my Altean blood coursed through his veins, but the Galra Empire failed him. It was the Galra blood, deeply boiled in traditions of evil, that tainted him. Your ways weakened a god.

Drick: That treacherous witch!

Honerva: The empire is weak. And now, I will end it.

Galra Officer: What’s this?

[Flashback to the Galra Command Center’s throne room, where a young Lotor stands before his father with a Dayak.]

Zarkon: Dayak, update me on the prince’s progress.

Dayak: Yes, sire. Prince Lotor completed the Agotian Trials as you requested. He was successful, even though they were advanced for his age.

Zarkon: What else?

Dayak: His physical stature is below expectation for the blood lineage of the Galra royalty, but his tactical scores are the highest we’ve ever measured.

Lotor: All I do, I do in the name of Galra. Father, there’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask you.

Dayak: Greatest apologies, sire. This one should not be speaking out of place.

Zarkon: Proceed.

Lotor: I would like to know about my mother. Please, Father, what happened to her?

Zarkon: I will tell you this and no more. She was my only weakness, but now she is gone.

Lotor: What was her name? What was she like?

Zarkon: Enough.

Lotor: Please, Father, I must know who I come from.

Zarkon: I said enough! If you do not remove his impurities, then I will find a Dayak that can.

Dayak: He will be punished accordingly. We will sear him down to his inner fire so that he may burn the universe. Vrepit Sa!

[Flash forward to Honerva, returning to Daibazaal after the Kral Zera.]

Honerva: My son.

[Flash back to Zarkon’s throne room, with a preteen Lotor at his side.]

Guard: Sire, your audience is requested in the Kandar wing.

Lotor: Father, may I accompany you?

Zarkon: You will stay here.

Lotor: But I want to join you. I have learned much of our--

Zarkon: You are an insolent boy. You may be the prince, but I am your emperor.

Haggar: Do not touch him. He will hurt you.

Lotor: What is his name?

Haggar: He has no name.

Lotor: Then I shall name it. Your name will be…

Honerva: --only Kova.

Haggar: Kova. His name is Kova.

Lotor: This creature pleases me. It will be mine.

Haggar: My lord…

Lotor: You may be the high priestess, but I am your prince, and you will do as I say. Isn’t that right, Kova?

Haggar: Yes, my lord.

[Flash forward to Honerva arriving at the first Altean colony.]

Merla: What are you doing here? Answer me.

Honerva: I am Honerva of the planet Altea.

Merla: That is impossible. Altea was destroyed over ten thousand years ago.

Honerva: A powerful portent that is shared with the birth of my son, Lotor.

Merla: Lotor’s mother?

Honerva: Lotor is gone.

Merla: How did he die?

Honerva: Voltron. To all of you who believed in my son so justly, your faith will be rewarded. I have come here today to continue my son’s mission and for that, I need you all.

Luca: We are your humble servants as will be the members of our sister colony once we inform them of the news. Do you know of their whereabouts?

Honerva: Unfortunately, they have also fallen to the evils of Voltron. Voltron and the Galra will pay for what they have done. With your help, I will resurrect my son’s dream.

Merla: We pledge our allegiance to you, Honerva, mother of Lotor.

[Flash forward to Honerva’s ship flying toward the white hole that hides Oriande.]

Honerva: This ancient land was created through powerful magic. Alteans would travel here to learn the secrets of our race. We have a long and difficult road ahead of us, but our path is true.

Merla: We will do anything to bring Lotor back.

Honerva: I know.

Merla: The acolytes have worked tirelessly. The prototype is ready.

Honerva: Excellent work. Find me the most faithful amongst us.

Merla: Yes, my queen.

[Flashback to Lotor’s colony planet, where the Galra Command Center orbits as it’s constructed.]

Ven’tar: Are you nervous?

Lotor: No, Ven’tar. This is my chance to finally make a difference, to show my father what we are capable of.

Zarkon: Update me on your progress.

Lotor: Our quintessence yields are some of the highest in the empire, and we’ve been more efficient than any other. By working alongside the denizens of this planet, like Ven’tar here, we’ve outsourced--

Zarkon: You dare work with this pitiful race as if they are your equals?

Lotor: It is working. We have outpaced even the most generous projections.

Zarkon: The heir to the Galra throne should not sully our honor by working with his subjects!

Lotor: It is the way my mother’s people would have done things. You thought I couldn’t find out about my own mother? About her people? You thought you destroyed every remnant of Altea, but you cannot unless you destroy your own son, as well!

Zarkon: Enough! You are to crush this planet beneath your heel!

Lotor: Never!

Zarkon: Then I will!

Lotor: You wouldn’t. You can’t! Father, wait! No, please do not do this, Father. Do not make these people suffer for my actions.

Zarkon: It is already done.

Lotor: I will do as you ask. The people will serve the Galra. No… No!

Zarkon: You are hereby banished from the empire. Forced to live out the remainder of your days remembering your failure here.

Lotor: Have you nothing to say, witch? Surely even you can see the folly of your master’s actions.

[Flash forward to Honerva as Haggar on the bridge of her ship.]

Honerva (as Haggar): Commander Sendak.

Sendak: the Lions of Voltron have arrived as you suspected. Shall I capture them for you, High Priestess?

Honerva (as Haggar): No. Destroy them.

Sendak: Vrepit Sa.

Honerva: Voltron has been found. It is time to test our first Altean acolyte.

[Flash forward to Honerva standing before the Alteans, lined by mechs on either side.]

Honerva: Today, the light of the universe shines inside our most brave. The dream of life is realized through her actions. For Luca the first acolyte, we shine in Lotor’s bright luminescence!

Luca: Voltron will pay for what they have done.

Honerva: May the light guide you. Rise and avenge my son.

End.

[yesilikenct]

it is you

summary: his eyes met yours and he knew. he knew you would be his downfall. but did it really matter?

♛ kingdom! au  → crown prince taeyong ; gisaeng reader  

genre: fluff

warning: allusion of non consensual sex; please note that gisaengs were slaves, that they belonged to the government or scholars, and most of them inherited their status from their mother. keep in mind that, even though i tried my best to find proper informations to write on this subject, i can always be wrong.

glossary:  

gisaeng: highly-trained artist woman in ancient Korea offering artistic entertainment (music, dance, poetry...) or conversation to men of upper class. could serve in the royal court, though lower-ranked gisaengs served as prostitutes. (- thoughtco.com + wikipedia)

hanbok: korean traditional clothes

❝ part I ❞

crown prince taeyong roamed the royal palace aimlessly, with a blank expression on his face. he was not feeling too well that day, but decided going for a walk would make him feel better. he was tired of always being followed by his eunuch and numerous servants, but there was no way he could dismiss them. because then, they would report it to the king and he did not want to stir up any kind of conflict. his father was rather strict and would become suspicious immediately.

prince taeyong looked around and realized he was getting closer to the entrance of the palace. it was beautiful as always, the morning sun shining over the colored housings and the faint autumn breeze hitting his face. 

that’s when he saw you. 

and he swore it was his first time seeing a woman so beautiful. you were standing there, in your red and blue hanbok, skirt adorned by gildings, and wearing your oh so big headdress. 

he stared at you, completely numb from the sight. he could feel his cheeks redden and his heart beating faster. what was it? what was this feeling? prince taeyong had never been like this before. even reading delicate poems from his favorite authors would not bring him to this state. and then, you turned around, your gaze meeting his. he looked flustered, and you were surprised. was it really the crown prince?... without further thoughts, you bowed to him instantly, other gisaengs doing the same but the young man looked away quickly, clearing his throat.

“do not mind me, i am only passing by.”

and on that note, he was gone like the wind.

a few days passed and all prince taeyong could think about was you. he was full of regrets. he deeply wanted to know your name as he was haunted by your thought. he knew your status, your clothes giving it away instantly, but it did not matter to him. he could only think about your life and how it must not be easy all the time. you had to be at the service of men and in the worst cases, you might even had to go as far as have sexual intercourse with them... because that was your “duty”. it was so unfair. and he was so upset that someone as beautiful as you would have to be in this position. he remembered your smile as you were talking to your acquaintances. the smile that made his whole mind completely void of thoughts. he needed to find you. fast.

you, on the other hand, were still thinking about his appearance. you had seen many officials, many men in general, in your life but him... it was your first time seeing him. his highness taeyong, known to be the most handsome man of the capital, the crown prince of the country, but also the most intelligent and sweet person in the world. that is usually how people in the court described him. his servants always spoke fondly of him, describing how he was always respectful and how he would treat them better than anyone else in the palace. but you had never witnessed him in person before. he truly left a deep impression in your heart. somewhere it should not have. 

weeks had gone by, now. your routine was roughly the same. you would meet government officials at the royal court like the old minister kim, or, if you were lucky, the 3rd and 4th princes of the royal family would pay you a secret visit to the gisaeng house. along with other gisaengs, you would serve them alcohol, listen to them, read them poems, and so on. it really depended on the mood of your guests, and on some occasions, you had to have intercourses with them. your life had always been like that, but sometimes you felt exhausted of it.

tonight was not different from any other night. you made your way through the corridors of the lively house, heading to a room where you had been called. surprisingly enough, someone wanted to see you... alone. you knocked softly, and was greeted by a voice you had never heard before. it was not too masculine, but not feminine either, and laced with shyness.

“come in...”

the moment you stepped in the room, your body stopped unconsciously. you had to keep a neutral face on but your mind was racing. how did he find you?

“your highness...”

the crown prince was here, sat in front of you. he smiled gently at your immediate bow. you, on the other hand, waited for further instruction.

“you... you can come and have a seat.”

it clearly showed in his voice that he was not a regular guest. actually, it was his first time being in a place like this. since he had always been the crown prince, his father the king would always watch his every movements so, compared to his brothers, it was impossible for him to escape the palace secretly. plus, he really had no interest in women keeping him company either. however, during the past few weeks, he figured out the only way to find you was to actually go somewhere you would be. and it was not too difficult to know where, since there was only one gisaeng house in the capital. dressed as a noble man, he had came many times before witnessing you once in the garden of the house, playing an instrument. that is when he asked for your name and no one had recognized him, thankfully. now, he had you in front of you, and he was very scared you might think he was approaching you with ill intentions.

you went to sit to his right, pouring him a glass of alcohol. 

“what can i do for you, your highness?”

prince taeyong looked at you, a little dumbfounded.

“what do you usually do here, miss?”

you were startled by his unfamiliar question. “it really is his first time here”, you thought. the young prince saw the surprise in your eyes, mistaking it as discomfort, and got flustered. was it inappropriate?

“forgive me for this question. i am just really unsure of what i should ask you.”

“i can do whatever you want me to do, your highness...” you replied, smiling lightly at his now shifty eyes. 

“what are you good at then?” he asked, drinking the glass in front of him.

“it is not for me to say...”  you stated as you poured him a second glass. “may i share a poem with your highness?” 

he looked at you, his doe eyes sparkling. you had heard somewhere that prince taeyong was enamored with literature, and that is why you had suggested it. 

“please do.” he said quietly. 

and as the night went by, your tender voice lulled his mind.

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author’s note: i’m so sorry if there is any mistakes, or if it’s not too well written. i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. i’ll post part 2 tomorrow. <3 thank you for reading!

[heythatpenguinhere]

Switched

*Hello again Elena of Avalor friends! Have you ever wandered what it would be like if Elena and Mateo switched places? Well... Now you can have an idea! Please enjoy an ongoing series of Eleteo shorts: Switched!

The kingdom of Avalor glowed under the summer sun’s rays; flowers bloomed and the waves crashed gently on the shores around it’s edge. Today was one of those days where families made an effort to be out and about to enjoy the outdoor weather which was prime. Everyone except the Crown Prince. 

Inside the colorful palace, behind the pillars, Crown Prince Mateo de Alva stood admiring the kingdom from his room’s balcony. He watched the families and children laugh and play games with the breeze, wishing he too was able to partake. Being a Crown Prince was not all it was cracked up to be.... Ever since his parents had passed, Mateo had begun to feel so alone within the clay walls around him. He had been an only child which meant he was given the crown he had never really wanted to take. He didn’t feel like he was worthy of it truthfully and felt that his personality would never be that of a strong ruler. His heart wasn’t in it and belonged out there, with the people and exploring the world. But fate had other plans and now with his Grand Council he had to rule over Avalor as best they could. 

He did have friends though, don’t get him wrong. He even had some family left: his grandparents. But there was a void in him, longing to be filled and he knew would never be as long as he sat on a throne…

A heavy sigh left his lips as he pushed off the balconies edge and walked back into his room. He had a council meeting he could not neglect. With each footstep, he felt he was sealing his fate further. 

-

“Now onto our final items. Does anyone have anything to bring up?” Mateo asked rolling up a scroll in his hands. 

His grandparents, the Chancellor, and his friend Naomi looked at each other, before Naomi cleared her throat. 

“There is actually something I wanted to bring up Mateo…” She said apprehensively. 

Mateo looked at her in worry. Naomi wasn’t one to shy away from saying what she had to; what was it that had her so hesitant to bring it up to the Council?

With a reassuring nod of his head to Naomi, she continued. 

“I don’t know exactly how to tell you this… but we’ve received reports of a Sorceress in Avalor…” She said avoiding eye contact. 

Several gasps were heard in the room. The last time a Sorceress appeared in Avalor it had resulted in the deaths of his parents and the near downfall of the entire kingdom… Shuriki had been a cruel dictator for several years having overtaken the throne by force the way she did. Mateo, being the only child and heir to the throne, had been taken into hiding and placed under protection until she was finally overthrown. Living hidden as an orphan had changed his life. He grew up under the protection of the royal guards and several brave townspeople who moved him from safe house to safe house. He grew up with the children of the town which is where he had met his friends Naomi and Gabe. Living in fear of being caught, living in fear of being killed, and living with the hurt of having lost his parents shaped his young life and now it seemed it was starting all over again. 

Mateo sat still as can be trying to process the information given to him. 

“A Sorceress?! Where are these reports coming from?”

“We should dispatch the Royal Guard to search immediately!”

“I cannot believe this is happening again… Have we not hurt enough?”

All the voices and opinions in the room chimed at once around him. Mateo didn’t know how to feel. A cold seeded fear began to sprout in him. He felt like he was going to drown. 

Mateo stood up quickly and ignoring the pleas of the others, he walked out of the Grand Council room. 

-

Donning a deep maroon cloak, the crown prince secretly made his way into the village. This was a hobby of his that he liked to indulge with occasionally trying to feel normal. With the help of Gabe, he could sometimes sneak out for a brief break and to visit those who he’d grown up with: his extended family. It never ceased to amaze, inspire, and refresh him how the kingdom was thriving now under freedom. If he ever felt too overwhelmed or like he was losing touch with the importance of his role he remembered them: the brave people. 

Walking around, he had no suspicions that a Sorceress was on the loose. The people were smiling and going about their days normally and yet he couldn’t help but be slightly on edge; the Sorceress could be anywhere

-

After stopping for some fresh Pan Dolce at his favorite bakery owned by Gabe’s family, Mateo wandered towards the edge of the town towards the forested areas he would hide in often before. As a child he would pretend he was a strong knight or even a wizard himself to take on Shuriki; waving around any stick he found and cast imaginary spells at trees and bushes. It was nostalgic to go back and see other children openly playing in that area now without fear. 

He watched as a particularly brave small child began to climb one of the trees as her friends egged him on. Every limb higher made Mateo begin to worry a bit more. The little girl however seemed almost calculated in the limbs she chose and would pause to carefully step, clearly skilled in doing this.

“Be careful Isa! You’re getting awfully high!” Another little girl yelled up. 

A larger boy laughed, “You got this! Remember, you owe me your bag of chocolate if you don’t!” 

The girl, Isa, paused looking down. “Yea right! You’ll be giving me your bag after I-” 

With a large crack, the tree branch supporting her snapped. 

Isa and her friends screams filled the air as she began to tumble toward the ground. Mateo felt his feet move and he ran towards the tree. He had no idea what he could do, but he was determined to at least do something to help the poor girl. As he neared and the girl nearly hit the ground he heard another voice yell. 

“ISA!” A voice exclaimed followed by a strange word and a thump sound. 

Right before their eyes, Isa was engulfed in a sparkly orange glow and she was slowly set on the floor, unharmed. 

Mateo could not believe his eyes. Her friends quickly gathered around the girl checking on her and hugging her. He however was still stunned. Slowly, his eyes shifted to the side of the scene. 

Standing there was a young woman, about his age and stature. She had long flowing chestnut hair in a ponytail and a red dress. She stood breathing heavily and still in shock it seemed, but what caught Mateo’s attention most beside her undeniable beauty was that she stood with a Tamborita extended out still. 

“The Sorceress!” He thought immediately as fear and anger began to fill him. The young woman, or Sorceress, quickly packed her Tamborita into a side bag and ran towards the kids. Mateo, clearly confused and deeply emotional, ran. He could not let this woman hurt those kids. With a strong push and unknown courage, Mateo tackled the young woman to the ground. 

The two began to struggle for the upper hand before finally he somehow managed to pin her to the floor, internally thanking Gabe for teaching him how to defend himself. The young woman below him glared at him intently. This close up he could see her amber eyes glowing with a fire inside them. Her cheeks were a soft rosy color and her skin soft under his grip. She… She didn’t look like a Sorceress…? 

“You’ve got me. Go ahead and turn me in like I’m sure you’re going to.” She said defiantly. Her voice was melodic and pure to his ears in a way he had never experienced before. 

“Who are you?” Mateo said, voice coming out softer than he intended to. 

With all the confidence she could muster, the girl spoke and then faltered, “ My name is Elena. You can turn me in if you want to, I don’t care, but please let me say goodbye to my sister…” 

“Your sister?” He said confused, looking at who he now knew as Elena. 

“Elena!” A young voice called out. 

The little girl that had been falling, Isa, came running towards them. She stopped just beside them in fear and a sort of understanding. 

“Elena… Why…” She spoke, beginning to tear up. 

The young woman under him began to slightly tremble, “I couldn’t let you get hurt… even if it meant using my magic and being exposed. I’m sorry Isabelle.” She said and suddenly everything Mateo thought he knew about the “Sorceress” was rocked. 

He looked back and forth between the two and climbed off his grip on Elena as if she had burnt him. She looked at him with confusion and apprehension before sitting up. 

“You… You aren’t an evil Sorceress are you?” He asked; it came out more like a statement than anything.

Isabelle ran toward her sister and embraced her tightly, maintaining eye contact with Mateo. Her eyes were captivatingly strong and fiery even now. 

“No, I’m not.” She said back with a bite to it. 

“B-But how? How can you use magic?” He found himself asking, desperate for answers. 

“Why should I tell you? So you can tell the guards and collect your reward in full?” Elena said, pushing herself to stand. 

He could see her discarded bag off to the side where her Tamborita still resided. He found himself sifting through all he knew of magic. While magic had scared him to a degree, he had felt himself inexplicably drawn to it as a child. He remembered sneaking books and scrolls to learn what he could about magic, where it came from, and who had it. He learned magic hadn’t always been seen as bad and been used even by the Royal Family through appointed Royal Wizards as needed. That had all been shattered when Shuriki invaded. She had banned learning magic or using it in the land and even after she was gone, no one had bothered to take that down. The people still lived in fear of magic. And yet somehow, above all odds and public opinion, here was this beautiful young lady who could use magic...

“You… You studied magic!” He said in awe and realization. 

Elena looked as if she was torn between running and staying before she spoke up once more in that confident tone of her’s, “Remove your hood.” 

Mateo’s hands moved against his will at her command and soon his wavy locks and hazel eyes were exposed for the world to see.  

Elena’s eyes widened; in fear or awe he could not tell. 

“P-Prince Mateo?!” 

-

She was going to be locked up in the dungeons for sure. 

When the hood fell on the young man’s form in front of her, she hadn’t been sure what to expect but this definitely wasn’t it. The Crown Prince of all of freaking Avalor was knelt in front of her. 

Everyone knew of Prince Mateo de Alva, though not many personally knew him. It was always known he was guarded within the palace walls as the only royal left after Shuriki’s reign of terror. While Elena hadn’t personally seen him before, she knew enough of him to know that that was exactly who had witnessed her use magic to save her sister. The same young man whose parents had been killed by someone with magic. 

Today wasn’t going like she had planned. 

Elena immediately fell to her knees. 

“Crown Prince Mateo. I am so sorry for the way I addressed you. I-I have no excuse for my behavior… or breaking the law. I understand the punishment…” She said, unable to look at him as embarrassment and shame was written all over her. 

Gone was the fiery flame of challenge within her and it was now replaced with the reality that she was sure was to follow: she was going to be imprisoned and tried for practicing magic. 

Elena knew it was against the law and yet she felt it was part of her destiny. Long ago when magic was allowed and celebrated, her grandfather had been a royal wizard once. The ability to do magic ran in her veins and she couldn’t ignore it. Studying magic under Shuriki had nearly gotten her killed… but instead her parents paid the price to protect her. They were killed when she was young and Isabelle was barely a toddler. And while that should have stopped her, it fueled her to continue studying magic to become strong enough to overthrow Shuriki one day and avenge her parents. Revenge had once been her drive, but compassion was now her motive. She currently used her magic, when she could do so carefully, to help others. She had to be careful not to be caught as magic was still greatly frowned upon and misunderstood and recently she had made a few slip ups that resulted in others seeing her abilities. She had promised her sister to no longer practice magic for others and protect herself, but when she saw her sister falling to harm she knew she could not keep that promise. 

She had expected the prince to come over to her angrily and take her away at once… but he hadn’t moved. The young Prince stood shyly in fact. He didn’t seem all too confident in himself if she was honest. He was only a bit taller than her, with a small frame to him. Instead of polished hair, his brown hair fell in waves and was a bit messy around his face. He had large, bright hazel eyes that gleamed a sort of green color, but seemed so innocent. He didn’t give the impression of a big and proud ruler and that was throwing her for a loop. His voice was a bit shaky at times and yet she felt… drawn maybe to his words? The more she stared at him and into his eyes, the more she felt a strange pull towards him as if two strings were tied around them pulling them towards each other. 

What were the odds that they would ever meet? He, a royal in a palace, and she, a lowly orphan living on the outskirts of Avalor. There was no real reason the two should have ever met and yet here they were facing each other, both seemingly caught in a strange frozen moment waiting for something to happen. 

Magic was a tricky thing Elena had learned. It didn’t always go how you wanted it to and sometimes it had a mind of its own. It was powerful and yet could be so gentle as well. Living in a world where magic existed, she knew that there were forces beyond her control and magic was more around them they people realized. Had magic somehow brought her here? 

“I-I’m not going to arrest you… Elena.” The Prince spoke up shaking his hands. 

The way he said her name sent a strange tingle down her spine. 

“... Why?” She uttered. She could sense her sister standing frigid behind unsure of what was happening as well. 

He looked a bit confused himself. He was fidgeting a bit with his hands and scratching the back of his neck. Why wouldn’t he arrest her? She had broken the law. She should be seen as the enemy by him and others for who she was and what she could do. She had long accepted magic as a part of her and that she would never apologize for that, but she would never get used to how scared it made other people feel… all because one magic user had tainted magic in an evil way for them all. So why now, was the crown prince showing her mercy? 

Clearing his throat before speaking up, he looked at her once more in the eyes. That familiar shock ran through her again as his words broke through the air.

“W-Will… Will you show me... how to use magic?” 

[allhalloweve]

Chapter 4: The Wildland

Chapter 4 of Axe and Sword is up! Read it here on AO3!

If Lily ever saw that fucking wizard again, she was going to kill him. “How’re you doing, Dorcas?” she shouted over the roar of quaking trees and the rumble of the earth.

“I’ve been better!” Dorcas clung tighter to her branch as the trunk groaned beneath her; with each lurching roll, the arrows in her quiver came closer to spilling out.

“James?”

James’ hand slipped on the flat bark and he scrambled to wrap both arms around the tree. “Ask me again when this stops!”

“If we make it out of here, you and I are going to have a discussion about insulting magic lands.” Lily’s heart leaped as the wood beneath her hands gave a threatening creak and she silently cursed her decision to follow a gang of idiots halfway across the world. Maybe if she had just minded her own business and stayed home, she wouldn’t be in this situation.

A strange rustling noise grew steadily louder and she craned her neck to look further into the jungle, where the canopy swayed in the earthquake. “I think something’s coming!” Dorcas warned.

“I’d rather face shaking ground than being eaten alive,” James said as be began to slide down his perch.

“Agreed,” Lily and Dorcas chorused. Alright, Lils, step-by-step. Imagine you’re at home. Trees in Bailey were easy to climb—their gnarled knots and sturdy branches were ideal for long afternoons spent climbing toward the sky with little fear of falling. These trees, on the other hand, had sand-smoothed bark and made her hands itch when she touched them for some unknown reason.

She made it halfway down before her foot missed a spot and her palms, covered in fear sweat, skidded into open air. The cracked ground was hard as stone when she smacked down and her breath disappeared in a single huff, making her vision turn black for a moment. “Lily!” A blurry form appeared moments later, and two warm hands dragged her into a sitting position. “Are you hurt?”

“Dorcas,” she wheezed as soon as the first wisps of air entered her lungs. “Fine. ‘m okay.”

“Good. Come on!” Lily stumbled upright and kept a tight hold on Dorcas’ wrist as the three of them sprinted deeper into the forest, away from the sunbaked wasteland they had first been dropped in. It was, unsurprisingly, quite difficult to run when the earth made a point of trying to turn itself inside out every few seconds; Lily was sure her shoulders would be bruised from bumping into anything within three feet of her.

The rustling turned into screeching and they poured on speed, but they weren’t fast enough to outrun the things coming in behind them. Lily had heard stories of the monsters of the Wildland: massive boars with metal tusks, sand worms the size of rivers, and flesh-eating deer were some of the frequent characters in fairy tales. She had never believed them before.

Dorcas let go of her hand and spun around, nocking an arrow and firing into the trees in record time. There was an earsplitting scream and a huge bird dropped from the tangle of vines, its razor-sharp beak open wide enough that Lily could see the tiny teeth inside. “We can’t outrun them! James, give me a hand!”

James was already in motion and a second bird fell moments later with a red-feathered arrow embedded in its neck. Lily drew her axe—the wave of rippling vines overhead became interspersed with feathers in a rainbow of colors and she was deafened by a cacophony of shrieking bird calls.

The first dive-bomber was met with a shorter, blue-fletched arrow and Dorcas turned her attention from shooting into the group to picking them off one by one as they appeared. “We can’t do this forever,” James yelled. “Sooner or later, we’ll run out of arrows, and I don’t know where we’ll get new ones.”

And, miraculously, the ground stilled. The monsters flew back into the canopy and disappeared with a soft ­shush of leaves. The only trace of their existence were five dead birds sprawled around the glade. “James, what did you do?” Lily asked cautiously, keeping her axe ready just in case.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s really quiet,” Dorcas said. “I don’t like it.”

“Do we…keep walking?”

“Hang on a second.” James lowered his bow and crept toward the corpse of a falcon-like creature, reaching out on hand to grasp his arrow by the hilt. With a sharp tug, it came free, and the bird disintegrated into a patch of… “Is that moss?”

“What the fuck?” Lily murmured. “That’s not normal.”

“These are gryphons,” Dorcas said as she followed James’ lead and collected her arrows. “I’ve seen them flying above the border once or twice, but they never came close enough to be an issue and they never travel in packs.”

“So the Wildland is out to get us?” Lily rolled her eyes. “I wonder whose fault that is.”

James sighed deeply. “Look, it was a simple observation and I wasn’t exactly expecting the whole place to take offense.”

“It’s magic! That’s what magic places do!”

“How would you know?”

“How would you?”

“Will both of you give it a rest?” Dorcas interrupted in exasperation. “At least now we know what to expect. We should get started on looking for the weapon if we want to have any hope of catching up to the others.”

“Dumbledore gave us a map, right?” Lily set the rucksack down and loosened the drawstring. Carefully, she poured the contents out onto the ground and began sifting through. “Looks like we have…an empty waterskin, a doll, a square of fabric, and a broken compass. Oh, here it is.”

Honestly, the other items in the bag should have prepared Lily for disappointment. “What?” James asked as her face fell.

“There’s no names or anything, just lines.” She laid it out for all of them to see and weighed down the corners with the other useless objects.

“I’m going to kill that wizard,” Dorcas muttered as she squinted at the map. “Which way is north?”

“No clue.”

James ran a hand through his hair. “Y’know, I thought forgetting a map was bad, but this…”

“So we have a useless map for a monster-infested place none of us have actually been to, and the fate of the world rests on our ability to find a single cryptic spot. That’s not difficult at all,” Dorcas said sarcastically. “Didn’t Dumbledore mention a compass?”

“He said Riddle’s weakness was in the compass rose,” Lily recalled.

“Is there something hidden in the one he gave us?” Without waiting for an answer, Dorcas grabbed the dented bronze compass from the pile of junk and began feeling along the edges. “There aren’t any latches or seams. Do we have to crack it open?”

James shrugged and grabbed one of his arrows. “Can’t get more broken than it already is.”

“No!” Lily snatched the compass away from them. “We’re not just going to shatter it! It has to have some sort of purpose.”

“Does it though?”

“A wizard gave it to us, right? That means it’s either helpful or cursed and I’m not ready to die from some sort of booby trap you two set off by prying it apart with an arrowhead.” Lily opened the top and watched the needle spin. “I think we should try and follow it.”

“If it’s cursed, we’ll be walking straight into a trap,” James pointed out.

“I think we have worse things to worry about than traps,” Dorcas said. “There are a lot of stories about what lives in here and I’m not keen on getting killed by any of those. Let’s find some water and a safe place to plan before we make any big decisions.”

They set off deeper into the forest, keeping the edge of the woods in sight in case the gryphons came back. Lily’s knees ached from running through an earthquake and she hoped a shelter showed itself soon. The sun was astonishingly bright even through the trees and it was difficult to tell how much time had passed with the glare; Lily’s best guess was that it had been two hours since they left Dumbledore’s house, but her knowledge of magic was limited to the events of the past twenty-four hours.

More than once, she caught herself looking over her shoulder for the other four members of their party. It was especially strange seeing James without Sirius, and she realized a few minutes into their journey that she had never actually seen James without his living shadow.

During one such time, he caught her eye. “What?”

“Sorry.” She shook her head. “It’s just weird seeing you without Sirius.”

James’ face fell. “Oh, Yeah.”

“What’s the story with that, anyway?”

“What story?”

“He told me he came to live with you when he was sixteen, but most people don’t get adopted by royalty on a whim. He got all weird when I asked where he lived before.”

“Then he probably doesn’t want you to know,” James said, sounding strangely annoyed.

“He doesn’t like talking about it.” Dorcas shared an uneasy glance with James and indignation sparked in Lily’s chest.

“Oh, so you know what happened, too?” When they both stayed quiet, her frustration grew. “I get that I’m not some high-born royal but that doesn’t mean you can just ignore me.”

“This has nothing to do with your status.” James stopped in his tracks. “For your information, I’m not royalty.”

“You’re a prince!”

“No, I’m not! My dad is an elected official for the mainland because the last one’s kid didn’t want to continue,” he snapped. “And I don’t plan on following in his footsteps.”

Next to Lily, Dorcas’ eyes widened, and James looked like he regretted his words. “What?”

“I thought you knew.”

“No,” she said, clearly upset. “James, I thought you wanted that.”

“I’m missing something,” Lily said, holding up her hands for a time-out. “What’s happening? You can’t just give up a monarchy, can you?”

“Like I said, the Eastern Coast doesn’t have a monarchy,” James sighed. “Each of the islands, including the mainland, elects a representative when the previous one steps down and their heir decides not to take their place. My dad was elected the year before I was born and I…I don’t want to do that.”

Dorcas frowned. “Did one of the others say something to you? Hang on, have you even told your parents yet?”

James shook his head. “You guys are my best friends; this has nothing to do with you. And no, not yet.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?” He was quiet. “James.”

“A couple years.”

From the look on Dorcas’ face, he may as well have smacked her between the eyes. “But you—at the councils—does Sirius know?”

Lily didn’t think it was possible, but James’ shoulders shrank in further. “I was planning on telling him after we got home. My parents would be so disappointed in me if they knew.”

Dorcas’ anger softened. “No, they wouldn’t.”

“They’ve been preparing me my whole life and I’m throwing it away.”

“What’s your plan?” Lily asked at last.

James’ eyes flickered over to her and his face flushed. “My granddad builds and sails ships for all the islands. I want to work with him.”

“That doesn’t sound like throwing your life away to me. You’d be really, really good at that,” Dorcas said. “James, your parents are good people. They’ll love you no matter what and I’m sure once you explain, they’ll understand.”

“Maybe,” he muttered. “After what happened to Sirius—”

“Your parents are not Sirius’ parents.” Dorcas’ voice was firm. “You know that.”

“What’s the deal with Sirius’ parents?” Right back where we started, Lily thought.

James hesitated for a moment, then started walking again. “Sirius used to be part of a super wealthy and ambitious family that wanted him to continue their bid for power. They were involved in some really nasty stuff, a lot of corruption and such, and he told them he wanted to no part in it. They disowned him within a week and shipped him off to the Eastern Coast.”

“It was a huge deal among the upper-class families,” Dorcas added, her face stormy. “People called it the scandal of the century.”

“It happened at a big party, too.” James frowned. “He still won’t tell me the whole story.”

“Shit.” Lily didn’t know how to respond to that. “I don’t think he believed me when I told him he was a good person. That explains why.”

“I swear he’s vainer than a cockatiel sometimes, but his mother took it upon herself to make sure his self-esteem scrapes the floor. Horrible woman.”

“If I ever meet her, I’ll kick her in the kneecaps for him,” Lily said, earning herself a bark of laughter from James.

“I’d pay to see that,” Dorcas snorted. “I met her once when I was a kid, and once was enough.”

“What’s her name?” Lily asked.

James bit his lip. “Walburga Black.”

Lily’s stomach dropped to her feet.

--

Lily was still thinking about their conversation as they set up camp in an abandoned cave lit by dim crystals that dripped condensation onto the ground. Walburga and Orion Black were notorious for exploiting workers and getting away with it due to their wealth; Lily had heard traders and woodcutters cursing their names in taverns more times than she could count.

But Sirius? Protective, reckless Sirius who made a point of cheering up the group whenever they needed it? It was hard to believe he was raised in a family like that. I suppose that’s the point, she thought as she spread her cloak over the damp moss and laid down. He’s not like then and they hate him for it.

Sixteen years old. When Lily was sixteen, her father taught her to use the largest saw he owned; at the same age, possibly the same time, Sirius had been thrown out of his family and sent across the continent. I still had a fucking bedtime, she realized just as she was about to doze off. The urge to hit Walburga Black with a chair increased.

Needless to say, Lily didn’t sleep well that night. She kept watch until sunrise, when James and Dorcas woke up and they agreed to follow the compass’ needle on the off-chance Dumbledore was actually trying to help them in his secretive way.

“I miss them,” James said out of the blue around a mouthful of ham, cheese, and bread when they stopped by an unnaturally large tree for lunch. “I miss them a lot.”

“Me, too,” Lily admitted. It was silly, but the sandwiches made her heart ache with homesickness. “The sooner we find the mysterious weakness, the sooner we can get back.”

“You know we’re friends when you don’t even have to clarify who you’re talking about,” Dorcas smiled weakly. The conversation dulled after that until they began walking again. “So, Lily, tell us about Bailey.”

“What about it?”

Dorcas shrugged. “Anything. The rest of us have known each other for years, but I don’t know much about you yet, beyond the fact that you can crush us all at board games.”

Lily laughed. “Well, it’s a pretty small place. I think you can see most of the town out the window of my mum and dad’s house.”

“You said your dad’s a merchant, right?” James asked, walking backwards to face them.

“A woodsman,” she corrected. “He travels to discuss lumber prices, though, which was why I was in Silvalith. He was supposed to go, but the mill called him in for extra shifts.” A sudden thought struck her and she slowed down. “If he had gone, he’d probably be dead right now. Huh.”

“Are you alright?” Concern laced James’ voice. “Lily?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m—I’m okay. It’s just weird to think about.”

“What do you do for fun?” Dorcas quickly changed the subject. “When you’re not on life-or-death quests with a bunch of strangers, of course.”

“I don’t think any of you count as strangers anymore,” she said with a smile. “I climbed trees a lot when I was little and went on long walks. The woods are so different for each season and in winter, the snow is perfect for playing in. All the neighborhood kids used to get together and build forts for snowball fights.”

“I wish we got snow,” James mused.

“Frystmark is hoarding it,” Dorcas joked. “We should get Remus to ship some to us in the winter.”

“You don’t get snow?” Lily supposed she should have known that, but it seemed impossible. Winter was for hot cider, snowmen, and fuzzy socks, not sunshine.

“No,” Dorcas said. “There’s a running joke that Hisanon is where the sun goes when it’s nighttime in other places. We take it from you all since you don’t appreciate it, but that means we don’t have real seasons.”

“We have seasons back home.” James tilted his head slightly as he thought. “No snow, but there’s a lot of wind and rain off the water. Springtime is the best.”

“I love autumn,” Lily said. “It’s strange not being home to see the leaves change this year.”

“Hopefully we’ll be home before winter sets in,” Dorcas said. She paused for a moment. “I forget what day it is, actually.”

“Oh, fuck, Sirius and I were just talking about this.” James scrunched his nose up and counted softly under his breath, frowned, and counted again. “It’s been seven days since the attack.”

“What?”

“I call bullshit,” Lily said immediately. “No way.”

“We spent one night in Hemgard, one in the next town, two with your mum, one with Dumbledore, and one in that cave.” James held up his fingers. “Six nights, seven days.”

“It feels like a month,” Dorcas said. Lily nodded in agreement. “Too much has happened in too little time. We need to keep it to one disaster per day, alright?”

In the distance—but not nearly far enough away in Lily’s opinion—something boomed. “You had to jinx it,” James sighed. “Trees again?”

“Gryphons, probably.”

“Let’s run first and discuss later,” Lily suggested, keeping her eyes steadily in the direction the noise had come from. It sounded like heavy footsteps and she really didn’t want to know what kind of creature was big enough to do that. “Go!”

They took off at a sprint, keeping in a close group with their weapons at the ready. She could hear the galloping footsteps growing closer; it was almost as if a herd of deer were all running at the exact same time. It’s the flesh-eating deer, her terrified brain supplied. All the stories are true.

“Holy fuck!” James yelped as he looked over his shoulder. Lily glanced backward and saw a bristly hilltop charging through the underbrush at full speed—no, not a hill. A boar.

“Don’t climb the trees!” she shouted. “We can’t outrun it, but it’ll knock down anything we can climb!”

“Those aren’t normal tusks!” Dorcas’ voice cracked with fear. “Is that metal?”

“Let’s not find out!”

“If we can’t outrun it and we definitely can’t beat it in a fight, what the hell are we supposed to do?” James nearly tripped over a large root and Lily’s heart stuttered in her throat. She couldn’t bear to lose any of them, and not just because of the promise she made Sirius. All six of those wild, chaotic, wonderful people were her friends now, and she would keep them safe if it was the last thing she did.

Come on, come on, there has to be something we can use, she thought desperately as she scanned the jungle. Her chest and legs burned from running and she could hear the others panting heavily. Finally, she saw it. “Over there!”

“What?” Dorcas shrieked.

“Would you rather get gored?”

“We’ll die either way!”

“It’s less of a guarantee here, now jump!” Rather than waiting for an answer, Lily shoved her axe into its place, grabbed her hand, and vaulted over the edge of the ravine.

Things got a little hazy after that. The initial drop was short, maybe four feet, before they hit a claylike outcropping that cracked beneath their combined weight and sent them skidding down a steep slope of pebbles, dust, and prickly plants. She lost her hold on Dorcas, but she could hear two different voices alternating between panicked yelling and grunts of pain when they hit a rough patch. The slope came to a sudden end and Lily braced herself for the fall—she hit the rushing water below with a splash, and then everything went dark.

Being underwater was a strange experience. It was quiet, save for the low rumble of the source waterfall that sent her tumbling through the current like a smooth stone. Her senses were completely overwhelmed—her ears popped, her vision was murky, and the only thing she felt was cold. The tightness in her chest snapped her out of her shock and she struggled to the surface, breaking through with a gasp.

“James! Dorcas!” she called frantically. Lily had waded in ponds and the lazy stream by her house, but she wasn’t the strongest swimmer. To be honest, she had not thought there would be water at the base of the hill.

James surfaced with a spluttering cough, saw her, looked around, then immediately ducked under the water again. She bobbed further down the river and hoped with everything in her heart that her half-baked plan hadn’t accidentally killed two of her friends.

There was a splash behind her and she turned as quickly as she could, only to see James and Dorcas struggling against the current. “Head for the bank!” James yelled, leaning back and kicking his feet. He was holding Dorcas tight to his chest; she looked terrified. “Lily, hurry!”

Lily paddled as hard as she could until she reached a tangle of grass and used it to haul herself out of the river, where she collapsed on her stomach. James splayed on his back on the dry earth and tried to catch his breath while Dorcas coughed up water. “I can’t swim,” she managed, glaring at Lily.

“Sorry. Didn’t think there would be water.”

James’ head lolled to the side and he squinted at her. “You jumped over a cliff not knowing what was below it?”

“In my defense, there was a fucking huge boar with metal tusks chasing us down.”

Dorcas’ coughing turned into giggles, then full-blown laughter; Lily and James followed suit until they were all slightly hysterical with joy and relief. “We just did that,” she gasped. “Let’s never do it again, alright?”

“Deal,” Lily and James said in unison.

“Our stuff must be soaked,” Lily groaned, peeling the bag off her back. She knelt and emptied the contents of the rucksack onto the grass, only to see they were completely dry. “Or…not.”

“Woah.” James scooted closer. “You were underwater, right?”

In lieu of an answer, Lily gestured at her soaked clothing and dripping hair. “Well, he is a wizard,” Dorcas said. “Making a waterproof bag would not be the craziest thing he did.”

“That’s true. Where do we go from here?”

Lily spread the map out again, using river rocks to hold the edges down. “This doesn’t make any more sense than it did yesterday.”

“Hang on.” Dorcas bent over the map and traced the thick lines, then looked around them. “Yes, it does. Does this look familiar to you?”

Lily looked at where she was pointing, then glanced around the clearing. The wobbly shape on the map was the exact same as the waterfall in the distance. “Oh.”

“Which means this…” Dorcas traced down the squiggle and tapped the page. “Is about where we are.”

“So where are we supposed to go?”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” James poked Dorcas on the shoulder. “It’s ‘in the compass rose’, right? Four corners. Four countries.”

Dorcas’ eyes widened. “You don’t think…”

Lily scanned the map until she saw an intersection. “That’s where the borders meet, isn’t it?”

“The Middle Kingdom.” James touched one section, then moved clockwise. “Marajis. The Wildland. Silvalith. Four countries that meet at one point.”

“That’s where we need to go,” Lily breathed. “I’m so glad you two are on my team.”

“It’s not far, come on!” James and Dorcas helped her stuff Dumbledore’s items back in the rucksack and they hurried away from the river; Lily could already feel the sun’s heat drying her clothes as they hiked through the tangled plants.

The landscape grew more and more desolate as they drew closer to their destination. The earth, which had been mossy in their cave and drier than a desert outside of the forest, was the same color and texture as slate. The twisting plants were blacker than charcoal and just as brittle—it even smelled dusty. Dead. Leeched of all life. If a shadow had a scent, this was it.

The ground dipped as they neared the center; everything around it had been blasted smooth and shiny by some enormous force, and in the middle of the shallow pit laid a rusty dagger. It didn’t look special, and if Lily didn’t know better she would have dismissed it as a useless relic. “There it is,” she said, pointing to the blade.

James picked his way around broken stones and thorny plants. “Will it fit in the bag?”

“I don’t think you should touch it with your bare hands,” Dorcas said. “Your track record with magic things so far has not been great.”

“It was one comment,” James grumbled, though he did refrain from grabbing the dagger. “That doesn’t count as a track record.”

“Still.” Dorcas stepped behind Lily and reached into the bag, then emerged with the piece of fabric. “This should work.”

Carefully, James reached down with the cloth and wrapped King Riddle’s weakness up.

As soon as the dagger left its place, the ground began to shake and a mighty roar grew around them. “Really?” James yelled as he clambered back up to them and shoved the package in Lily’s bag. “Not this again.”

“We should aim for Hisanon!” Dorcas shouted over the howling. “We’ll find help there and it's safer than the Middle Kingdom!”

Neither Lily nor James was particularly inclined to argue, so they followed Dorcas’ lead, stumbling over debris and the gale force winds. The forest teemed with life, but they didn’t stay to find out what it was and instead crashed through the underbrush until they emerged in a stretch of land similar to the desert they had arrived in.

“That way!” It was too loud to hear Dorcas’ words, but her mouthed message was clear as she pointed toward a long line of grass a few hundred feet away. The tumult grew as they ran; Lily was sure something was following them out of the trees and she focused her attention on the pounding of her feet against the ground instead. Do not look back.

As soon as they tumbled into the grass, the air turned fresh and the trembling ground stilled. Lily took a deep breath of the sweet breeze; she had not realized how stale the air of the Wildland was until it was gone. James whistled lowly next to her when he looked back from where they had come. Above the treetops, gryphons flapped and screamed, and the whole place looked like it was rioting against an unseen enemy.

“I’m glad we got out of there,” he muttered.

Just as Lily was about to agree, the bag grew unbearably hot against her back. She untangled its straps and practically threw it to the ground; it rattled and glowed for a moment, then went quiet. She poked it carefully with her toe. When nothing happened, she untied the drawstring and let the contents spill out.

The dagger steamed as she peeled the covering away and all three of them gasped. The rusted, corroded metal was shiny and pure silver now, revealing an intricate snake with perfect emerald eyes curled up along the hilt and a scale pattern decorating the base of the blade. “It’s pretty, but I still don’t want to touch it,” she said, folding the cloth over it once more.

“Turn around and put your hands up!” a stern voice commanded behind them. Lily whirled around and snatched the bag up for protection as three sturdy horses came trotting toward them. Their riders wore leather armor and had their bows trained on their group. “Dorcas?”

The lead rider removed her helmet and dismounted, slinging her bow over her back. “Hestia!” Dorcas ran forward to nearly tackle her in a hug.

“I thought you were dead,” Hestia said, pulling away to search her for injuries. “The news of the attack on Varghal came in two days ago and we’ve been patrolling the borders ever since. What happened?”

“Silval soldiers and mercenaries raided the city in the middle of the night. They kidnapped the royals and the rest of us barely got away with our lives.” The horses nickered and danced nervously.

“Is Marlene alright?” Hestia asked.

Dorcas paused. “I hope so. We had to split up two days ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“She’ll be alright. Is there a place we can talk about this is private?”

Hestia nodded and looked back to Lily and James. “Can either of you ride a horse?” At their nervous expressions, she nodded toward two of her companions. “You can ride with Alice and Emmeline, and Dorcas will ride with me. You should get comfortable; it’s a bit of a trek.”

--

Technically, Lily had been less comfortable before, but horseback riding was getting high up on her list. Emmeline was a talented rider and knew everything about the history of the western lands of Marajis while Alice was chatty the whole way about nothing in particular. It was hilarious seeing James wrap his arms around the waist of a girl who was at least six inches shorter than him while he tried not to slip off the saddle.

“Where are you from?” Emmeline asked as the sun began to set. The high grasses turned a million shades of copper and rose; not for the first time, Lily wished she was an artist so she could remember it forever.

“The Middle Kingdom, up north in a town called Bailey. You?”

Emmeline pointed to a distant shadow of buildings. “That’s my hometown, Fansen.”

“Vance?”

“Fan-sen,” Emmeline repeated. “The ‘n’ is soft.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, a lot of people get it wrong the first time. What are you doing so far away?”

“It’s…kind of a long story. Are you one of Dorcas’ friends?” Up ahead, Dorcas and Hestia were talking in low voices.

“The four of us learned to ride together,” Emmeline explained with a fond look on her face. “Hestia became captain of the border guard a year ago and specifically requested that Alice and I be on her team. Dorcas was a little busy, as you can imagine.”

“I bet,” Lily laughed. “It must be nice to work with your friends all the time.”

She nodded. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. We miss Dorcas, though.” There was a moment of hesitation before her muscular shoulders sank. “We were so worried about her.”

“We were lucky,” Lily said. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could still smell the acrid smoke of the wall in flames, still hear the screams and the howling of wolves. “Really, really lucky.”

“Is it true? Varghal was burned? The rumors are vague at best and—”

“Yeah.” A lump rose unbidden to her throat as she remembered the beautiful frozen lake and the mountain fortress with its people who welcomed them with open arms. “It was the middle of the night, there was no warning. They lit the gate on fire and killed anyone they came across. Remus—he’s the prince who helped us escape—he went back and said there was nothing left.”

Emmeline swore under her breath. “I’m going to assume you three were in the Wildland for a reason, but I’m not going to ask why. I’ll help you find whatever you need.”

“Thank you.”

A sharp whistle pattern drew both their attention and Lily’s jaw dropped. Ahead, a magnificent city rose against darkening sky, lit by a thousand torches that made it glow like a miniature star. “Welcome to Hisanon,” Emmeline said, sounding rather smug. “Capital of Marajis.”

Lily and James were a little wobbly once they dismounted the horses, but Dorcas was steady on her feet and nearly bouncing with joy to be home. Lily could relate—entering Bailey after the chaos of the previous days had been the best feeling in the world. “Hestia and I are going to talk for a while, but I think you two should get some sleep,” she said as they stopped outside a large building.

“You need to rest, too,” Lily protested. “We can do it as a group in the morning.”

Dorcas gave her a gentle punch on the arm. “Princess, remember? I have a lot to get done, but I promise I’ll sleep. We’re safe here, don’t worry.”

“Sleep well, Dorcas, and good luck.” James exhaled slowly as she walked away arm-in-arm with Hestia. “And then there were two.”

“And then there were two,” Lily echoed.

“I really hate splitting up.”

“Same.”

Alice appeared from the stables with Emmeline behind her. “We have some rooms for you to stay in,” she said with a bright smile. “And food.”

Lily had never followed someone faster and probably never would again. The guest rooms were cozy and cool against the rippling heat of the prairie outside and she reveled in the change; now that her clothes were dry, it was easier for her to overheat. Emmeline and Alice kindly refrained from asking them any more questions until they were done shoving bread and meat into their mouths—Lily would never be a picky eater again, holy fuck—and pointed them toward the washroom when they were done.

Rivers were nice and did an amazing job of getting into every nook and cranny, but there was no feeling like scrubbing down in clean, fresh water that wasn’t full of silt. Lily stayed in the tub until the water was cold enough to make her shiver before rebraiding her hair and slipping into loose pajamas with an intricate pattern.

“Where’s James?” she asked when she entered the room again and found Emmeline snacking on some of the dates.

“His room is next door,” she said casually, then did a double take. “It’s okay, you’re safe here. The doors aren’t locked, so you can go wherever.” Lily managed a half-smile and settled back into the cushions. Emmeline’s face softened. “You really aren’t comfortable apart, are you?”

“I haven’t slept alone in over a week,” she confessed, a little embarrassed. “In almost every place we’ve stayed, we’ve been attacked or forced to split up. I’m already worried about the others.”

“Who else was with you?”

“Marlene, her friend Peter, James’ best friend Sirius, and Remus, the prince of Frystmark. They’re somewhere in the Middle Kingdom right now, I think.”

“Dorcas has mentioned Remus before. They’ve been friends for ages.”

Something in Emmeline’s tone prickled at the back of Lily’s neck. “You don’t like him?”

“Never met him.”

A realization dawned on Lily. “You like Dorcas.”

“No,” Emmeline said far too quickly. “She’s engaged.”

“To Marlene, not Remus.”

“I know,” she snapped. “She’s one of my best friends, after all.” Some of the defensiveness melted away. “I’m one of her bridesmaids.”

“I’m sorry.”

Emmeline shrugged. “I’d rather be there as a friend than not at all, you know? The worst part is, Marlene is awesome and they love each other so much. I’m happy for her, but…”

Lily let her trail off before reaching over and gently squeezing her arm. “Hey. You’re an amazing woman and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“You’ve known me for five hours.”

“And in that time you’ve carried me on your horse back to your city, told me about your hometown, and let me take my first real bath in about three days. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Thanks, Lily.” Emmeline looked up from her hands to meet Lily’s eyes. “I meant what I said earlier. If there’s anything you need for your quest, I’ll help you get it. Sorry, I should probably let you sleep now.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“You bet.”

Lily smiled and Emmeline headed back into the hallway, leaving one torch burning happily in the holder by the door. The sheets were soft as Lily slipped into the bed, but she stared at the ceiling for an indeterminate amount of time as the sound of the city outside slowly died down. She tried closing her eyes, counting sheep, and about a million different sleeping positions before giving up and padding into the hall.

She knocked on the door to the right of her own as quietly as she could, just in case. It swung open a few moments later; James looked exhausted and wide awake at the same time. “Hey.”

“Hey. Can I come in?” He held the door open further in answer and they sat next to each other at the foot of his bed. “You stopped flirting with me.”

“What?”

“Before we got to Dumbledore’s you were insufferable,” she teased. “But since then, you’ve been awfully normal about it.”

James snorted and flopped onto his back. “You seemed uncomfortable. You’re awesome and strong and funny, and I’d rather be your friend than chase you away by being some gross guy.”

“You’re not gross.” The bed bounced as she stretched out as well. “Awkward, yes. A little over the top, definitely. Mildly annoying at times, but never gross.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” A few beats of silence hung between them. “I’m sorry about Sirius.”

James exhaled and his nose whistled a bit—Lily was glad the shadows hid her smile. “I’m more worried about him than anything. It’s my job to protect him.”

“I’m a hundred percent sure he thinks it’s the other way around.”

“That’s just who he is. Sirius finds someone he cares about and goes all in, and it’s gotten him bruised more than once. It’s just…he’s never left me before and I’ve never left him, either. Six years and the only time we’re apart is the councils.”

“Why did he come this year?”

There was a light laugh next to her. “My parents thought he’d keep me in line.” Lily chuckled at the idea and soon they were both muffling their laughter into their hands. “Even though that was doomed to fail, I’m glad he was there.”

“Same here.” Lily bit her lip. “Can I stay here tonight? It feels weird being alone now.”

“Absolutely. I can sleep on the floor if you want?”

“Please don’t, I’d feel bad.”

“Alright.” They both curled up under the covers and for about ten seconds, the only sound was their breathing. “Night, Lils.”

“Night, James.”

--

When Lily awoke, a cool breeze from the window ruffled her hair and the sounds of a bustling city filled the air. James was on the other side of the bed, his arms and legs spread at strange angles in contrast to her own tight ball. She stretched her legs out, relishing in the pop of her back and the heavenly mattress.

“James.” She poked him on the shoulder. “James, wake up.” When he didn’t budge, she shook him lightly. “James.”

He snorted and batted her hand away. “Five more minutes.”

Lily rolled her eyes as she climbed out of the bed and wandered back to her own room. There was no harm in letting him sleep, but they would have to leave at some point today if they wanted to have half a chance of catching up to the rest of the group. Emmeline knocked on her door a few minutes after she had finished washing her face with a neat pile of clothes in her arms.

“They’re clean,” she said as she handed them over. The rough green and brown fabric of Lily’s vest and pants had never been so vibrant, and she saw that someone had stitched the torn edges of her sleeves with a careful hand.

“Thank you.” As silly as it might be, Lily was grateful to have a small piece of home with her in such a new place. She had never been so far from Bailey before. “James is still asleep, sorry.”

Emmeline shrugged. “I can dump some cold water on him if he’s not up in twenty. Dorcas is in the dining hall if you wanted to meet up.”

By the time Lily was done getting dressed, James was awake and rustling around in the room next door. “I’m heading to the dining hall to see Dorcas, d’you want to come with me?”

“One second!” There a thump and a muffled curse and James appeared in the doorway a moment later with his hair sticking up at all angles. “Alright, let’s go.”

The dining hall was not hard to find—a long line of people stood outside the door and Lily and James only made it through because Alice recognized them. At the end of an intricately-carved table, Dorcas was up to her elbows in paperwork. “Morning,” Lily said as she took a seat next to her. “Did you sleep?”

“I did.”

“How long?”

Dorcas glanced up at her and cracked a smile. She looked worried, but rested. “Well enough. Hestia made me go to bed just after ten and I slept until eight, which was nice.”

“Excellent.”

“I was thinking we’d leave around eleven?” Dorcas suggested as she turned back to her work. “That way I can get a bit done here while you two pack our stuff. Emmeline and Alice can help you find good horses.”

James, who had taken the seat on her other side, went ashen. “We’re riding horses again?”

“Unless you’d like to spend eight or nine days walking, yes. Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up easily enough.” Dorcas shuffled through a sheaf of requests and sighed. “I’ll meet you in the stable at ten-fifty, okay?”

“See you then.”

It was surprisingly easy to find horses for Lily and James to ride, even though as they had no prior experience whatsoever. The horses of Hisanon were well-trained and absolutely beautiful—Emmeline shone with pride as she talked about their incredible stamina and speed. “If I had to wager a guess, I’d say you’ll be near Bailey in three days with these horses,” she said, absently stroking a mare’s black-and-white nose as it nuzzled her for treats.

Riding was the real challenge; she nearly fell off several times despite the sturdy saddles and Alice’s close instructions. In the two hours they had to prepare, she learned more than she would ever have dreamed of about proper techniques and how to hold her seat. Her thighs and lower back ached when she finally dismounted to help James load their supplies.

“Good choices,” Dorcas said as she entered the stable and made a beeline for a golden horse at the end of the stable. She murmured to it softly for a moment and it whinnied softly back, nosing at her face and hands for more pats. It followed her out of the stall without any lead and Lily marveled at the ease that settled into Dorcas’ whole posture. “Ready to go?”

“Are you?”

“I’ll be back,” she said, casting a glance over the city outside. “At the end of this, we’ll all go back home and things will be better.”

As they set out northwards at a steady walk, Lily found herself believing that more and more.

[msjr0119]

What took you so long?

One Shot

I’m missing writing about Drake and Riley, so decided to post this One Shot.

Liam had been assassinated, Drake had left Cordonia before this. He had heard from Savannah about his friend- he felt guilty not returning. Someone had blackmailed him to not return, with only his sister knowing the truth. Leo had taken over the throne in place of his brother due to there being no heir....

Tags- Just tagging people from my series.

@annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @choices97 @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world

******

Drake arrived back into Cordonia, after three years away. He was returning for his sister’s wedding to the Duke of Ramsford. Nerves were hitting him like a ton of bricks. Three years ago, Anton bribed him to leave- threatening to take murder his sister and nephew if he didn’t. Drake would do anything for his family. At this point, he didn’t realise what Anton’s future motives were. Anton wanted Drake out of the country, he spent years planning how he going to assassinate the King- but Drake would defend and save his friends life. Drake was the “spanner in the works”.

Drake got in his truck to drive up to Ramsford, he knew he couldn’t let Savannah down. She had let him know that King Leo had eventually caught Anton and that he was safe to return- he shouldn’t fear coming home.

On arrival, the manor looked beautiful. The sun was shining. His little sister was finally getting married. Savannah and Bertrand had postponed the wedding, due to the tragic circumstances regarding Liam. The country was still in shock about losing Liam, the first couple of years everyone mourned their loss.

Drake parked up, and slowly walked into the grounds. He had wondered what people had said behind his back about his disappearance. Hoping that no one would have berated Savannah on his behalf.

“Drake!”

Drake was knocked out of his trance as his little sister ran over to him jumping into his arms.

“Hey, Sav. I’ve missed you.”

“We’ve all missed you too! Bartie is eager to see his uncle..”

Savannah lead Drake to where everyone was sat- they all looked at Drake as if they had seen a ghost. He felt like he couldn’t go through this. After the initial shock, everyone provided him with a soft smile. He now knew that Savannah had come clean about his disappearance.

“Uncle Drake!” Bartie shouted as he jumped into his uncle’s big arms.

“Hey buddy! You’ve grown up so much. I’ve missed you.”

Drake let the boy down. And looked at him in awe. His handsome nephew had grown up and he had missed all those precious moments. Before anyone spoke to him, he needed a bit of Dutch courage- whiskey. Turning around he stumbled as a little toddler bumped into him.

Drake bent down to see if the little boy was hurt. As he bent down, he stared into the little boys piercing baby blues. It was as if he was looking at a mirror image of the Rhys brother’s when they were younger. His heart sank. This reminder made him think back about his best friend who had lost his life.

“Are you okay little man? I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

The little boy, looked at the stranger nervously, bit his lip and nodded politely.

“Liam. Liam. Hey, uncle Drake. This is my friend Liam.”

Someone in court had named their child after the previous monarch. Emotions were running high. If only Drake had of informed everyone that he was onto Anton.

“Hey Drake!” Leo said before picking up the little boy.

“How’s my favourite boy?”

The little boy sucked his thumb and snuggled into Leo’s chest.

“Hey Leo, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Sav told us the truth. We would have all done the same for our family. And Liam knew his time was coming. He changed the law before he passed so I could take over the throne even though I had abdicated. We all miss him. But he will be looking down on us all proud.”

Drake had assumed that Leo was still with Beth and that the little boy was their child. Drake couldn’t stop looking at the little boy- he wondered what other secrets he had missed.

“Look Liam, mommy is back.”

Drake followed Leo’s gaze, there she stood. Her natural brown curls, her big smile, the beauty radiating around her- his breath caught.

Brooks, he whispered.

“Hey baby! I’ve missed you.”

Riley was oblivious of Drake’s presence as she kissed her child sweetly. She turned around and froze. Drake mimicked her actions. He saw her baby blues roam up and down his body- she should have known he would be back for his sister’s wedding but the shock had taken over.

“Walker. Nice to see you again.”

“You too Brooks. You look beau.... well.”

Riley nodded, avoiding his gaze. They had history. They had a one night stand in Vegas, before he left.

“See you at the wedding, Walker. Come on Liam.”

Riley grabbed her son’s hand it was time to get ready into his little tuxedo. She walked off into the manor. Drake’s gaze never left her.

*****

Drake went to get ready, he had kept an envelope in his bag unopened from all those years ago- it had a royal stamp on it. He knew it was from Liam. Since his passing, Drake was tempted to open it but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Savannah walked in, and saw her brother crying onto the envelope.

“Drake? Are you okay?”

Drake looked at his sister in her wedding dress. He wiped his tears quickly- he didn’t want his sister to witness him being an emotional wreck on her wedding day.

“Wow, Sav! You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Don’t avoid my question Drake. You snarl. You don’t cry. You’re the grump in court. What’s up?”

Drake handed Savannah the letter- his hand shaking uncontrollably, she noticed the time stamp on it.

“Do you want to open it? It’s from Liam. Or I can open it?”

“I can’t bring myself to open it Sav. Can you do it?”

Savannah slowly opened the letter.. she covered her mouth.

Dear Drake,

I have a feeling why you are not with us. I believe that reason, is Anton. Myself and my guards are trying our best to retain him. He is too cunning. I have a feeling my time is running out. If you are reading this, I am probably gone. You are my best friend and always will be. But I need you to return. I’ve recently changed the laws- Leo will take over my reign even though he previously abdicated. I need you to come back. Myself and Riley are expecting a baby. I know you love her as much as I do. I need you to look after her and my baby. You need to bring the baby up with her.

I’ll always love you my brother.

Liam x

Savannah read the letter out loud. Both her and Drake froze in shock. Drake felt guilt stab him constantly in the heart. Liam had lost his life, Drake wasn’t there to protect him. He had lost out on watching his son grow up.

“Brooks won’t want that. I will stay and keep an eye on her- for Liam’s sake. Come on Sav. Ignore this for now. This is your day.”

*****

The wedding went off without a hitch. The country had united for a happy event for the first time in years. The nanny eventually arrived to collect all the children- it was the start of the evening do and it was well passed the young nobles bedtimes.

Drake noticed Riley was overly protective over Liam Jr leaving with the nanny- of course she would be. His dad died protecting the both of them. Savannah nudged him and encouraged him to go and talk to her. Drake nodded, nervously he walked over to Riley.

“Hey, Brooks.”

“Hey, Walker.”

“He’s Liam’s double. He is so handsome. Li would be proud. You’ve raised him well.” Shit that sounds patronising, Walker sort your shit out.

“Liam will be proud, you’re right. I know, he doesn’t look anything like me.”

“Oh he does. He bites his lip like you do. He may not have your looks, but he definitely has your facial expressions.”

“Yeah he does do that doesn’t he.”

“I’m sorry, I let you all down.”

“Drake don’t. It’s fine. We all know why you left. Don’t blame yourself, please.”

Drake heard the music begin. He believed it would be rude of them to both stand in the corner. He plucked up some courage....“Lady Riley, would you do me the honour in joining me for a dance?”

“Of course, Sir Walker. But I thought you didn’t dance?”

“You’re the only person I’ve danced with- and you forced me into that.”

“Well someone had to.”

Riley felt content for the first time in years. Laughing and joking with her friend who had just returned to Cordonia. She had missed him. She had missed his sarcastic manner. There was no one in court that was like him.

“Ri, thank you for the dance....”

Ri- he never called her by her first name. She thought he wanted to continue speaking, but he abruptly stopped.

“Thank you for asking. Are you okay? It seemed like you wanted to say something else?”

Drake took a deep breath. He wanted to talk to her about the letter.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about Li, but I need to speak to you about something.”

“I don’t mind talking about him. It’s good to talk about him.”

Drake bit his lip, placing his hands in his pockets avoiding Riley’s gaze. She put a hand on his arm, the other hand lift his chin up so she was his focus. He noticed that her eyes became tearful.

“Drake?”

“Riley, this isn’t easy to say. He sent me a letter. I never opened it... I couldn’t bring myself to do it... I opened it today. Liam’s last wish was for me to protect the two of you... he said he knew his time was coming...”

“Drake... I know about the letter. He left me one too. He wanted you to come back, to love the two of us. To help me bring Liam Jr up. I know... are you staying in Cordonia?”

“I am. It’s now my responsibility to look after you both... if you’ll let me. I feel I owe it to Liam.”

Riley wrapped her arms around Drake. Staring deeply into his earthy eyes- her baby blues sparkled for the first time that day.

“I will always love Liam. And his child knows who his dad is - and always will do. But I also loved you. He knew that. That’s why he asked you to protect and love us.”

Before Drake could react, Riley pulled him in for sweet longing kiss. When they parted- Drake stared at her, smiling. He was going to protect them both, until he died.

“What took you so long to return Walker?”

[themagicianshea]

From now until November, we’ll be spotlighting one of our MHHE registered authors every week. Want to be featured? Just fill out this form!

MHHE Author Spotlight: prettyclever & charlotteschaos

What piece of work best represents your writing style, and how would you briefly describe it?

The work that most exemplifies our writing style is probably "It's Never Over," a season 5 AU in which Eliot's marginally less afraid of commitment, Quentin is less clueless than he used to be, & Margo is a sassy alpha bitch. There's sex magicky shenanigans, a giant turtle, talking pegasi, and a plot to overthrow the Dark King and reclaim Fillory, all done Queliot-style.

Basically it's smutty, fluffy, cracky, intense, and full of pure love between Quentin and Eliot.

Excerpt:

Quentin frowned but hopped up to follow, squeezing past Eliot to stand behind Margo, probably so he wouldn’t have to manage the door. It was a little strange. Eliot was about to ask why, but it suddenly got a lot strange when a giant turtle head zoomed at Eliot, hooked mouth open.

“Whoa! Prince of the Mud, we talked about this! No!” Margo cast a massive spell, blowing back the fifty-foot snapping turtle.

“You said there would be food,” the giant turtle—Prince of the Mud?—wheezed.

“You ate five goats on the way!” She turned toward Quentin and Eliot with her hands up as if exasperated. “And not all of them were the non-talking kind, either.”

Eliot had ducked and covered, instinctive, but he slowly stood as the turtle no longer seemed hell-bent on devouring him.

“I am not a goat,” Eliot pointed out, looking between Margo and the Prince of the Mud. “In fact, we are all deposed Fillorian royalty, as I’m certain Margo has informed your highness the Prince of Mud.”

Sidling closer to Quentin, Eliot ran his hands over Q’s shoulders, making certain he was still solid and okay. Standing behind Q, he looked to Margo and said, “You don’t do anything by halves, do you, Bambi? Find a turtle, we say, and you bring us goddamn Turtlezilla.”

No wonder she’d been so proud of herself.

She nodded, smiling to herself with her hands up. “Right? You say bring back a big turtle, I brought a fuckin’ big turtle.”

“I said old turtle.” Quentin seemed bit tense. He’d jumped toward Eliot when the Prince of the Mud had made his move, but apparently the Prince didn’t see him. Or couldn’t grab hold. “Old. Has to—”

“It’s been a thousand years,” the Prince interrupted. “I was a hatchling when this world was born. Ember and Umber—”

“And how did he get through the wards? He could’ve eaten Eliot!” Quentin was trembling, with rage or fear, it was hard to say.

“All right, so I didn’t think he could walk through them. Sorry I didn’t think to ward off house-sized talking reptiles. I thought you were the Fillory dork who knew these kinds of things.” Margo’s eyes flashed as she approached Quentin, but Eliot knew she was probably about as angry with herself as Quentin was.

“I—” Quentin turned to appeal to Eliot. “Did this turtle even vote?”

They all turned to look at the Prince of the Mud, who had sneaked back toward the cottage and was slowly stretching his head, mouth open near Eliot again. He stopped when everyone looked at him and slunk back.

“I consider myself apolitical.”

“Do you also consider yourself expendable?” Eliot glared and twisted his fingers through some preliminary battle magic, just in case. “Because if you keep trying to eat me, you’re going to end up very dead. Ember and Umber aren’t going to save their little hatchling this time around. It’s every royal for himself.”

The Prince of the Mud huffed, then pulled his head into his shell. “I was told there would be snacks.”

Margo gave a little shrug. “He’s got us there. El is a snack.”

Quentin started to pace. “A thousand years? Fillory is much older than that. Democracy was just three hundred years ago! How were you here at the dawn of Fillory?”

“I might be unclear on what a year is, exactly.” The Prince’s legs emerged from his shell, and he started to back away. “This seems like a bad time. I’ll go back to the Northern Marsh.”

“The hell you will!” Margo charged toward the Prince. “Listen, you overgrown amphibian wannabe. You came with me from that stinking marsh to help me persuade the talking animals to my side, and that is what you’re going to do!”

What piece of work are you most proud of and why?

We're most proud of "It's Never Over" because it's been so popular and touched so many people. We got so many beautiful comments from people hurting over the season 4 finale and needing to feel good and see a fix-it, and finding that sense of community with others who were feeling like we did really made it memorable.

Excerpt:

Eliot shifted to nuzzle into Q’s face, kissing the corner of his eye and down his cheek. “I was so afraid to invest in you that I made you think I didn’t even want to. I’m… I’m sorry for that, Q.” He exhaled against Q’s lips and kissed him softly before opening his eyes to look at him. “That first day, after we… When we’d been here a year, and you wanted to talk about it… I thought you were going to freak out on me, and I shut it down because I couldn’t deal with your regrets and identity panic. It had been so good for me, and I just wanted it to have been good for you. So when you let it drop, I was just…so relieved I never wanted to talk about it again. But that—”

Eliot bit his lip and searched Q’s face. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to do it every day before that and every day after. It doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you all the damn time, or that I wasn’t fighting so hard not to fall for you that it took up every ounce of my strength. And when we were finally just…just us, and we were experimenting and doing everything I’d ever wanted to do with you, I maybe exerted my will on the idea of us as… You know.”

Though Q hung on every word, Eliot couldn’t bring himself to just say it. “It’s too stupid to even put words to, even now, but….” He breathed deeply, glancing again at Q’s rapt expression.

Q deserved to hear it, didn’t he? To know what he’d meant to Eliot?

“Without Margo, I was… She’s like my platonic life partner. And that position’s, you know, it’s filled. It was filled before you met me. But this… Q, this”—Eliot gestured between them—“has never been platonic. I wanted you the minute I laid eyes on you. And if Margo’s my platonic life partner, then you’re my true love. That’s what I put into that magic we worked here. That’s what was in my heart.”

Quentin closed his eyes, seeming to glow softly even beyond the bright sun shining on him. He cupped the side of Eliot’s face and gazed up at him, drunk on emotion.

“What I wanted from you was unrealistic. It—I think it played out how it had to, painful as it was.” He moved to his toes and kissed Eliot tenderly, then nuzzled his face. “It was what was in my heart, too. I just didn’t want to scare you away being so intense. That doesn’t scare you anymore, does it?”

Eliot inhaled deeply and shrugged a little. “I’m still scared shitless, but I’m… I’m gonna be brave for you, Q. Like you were brave for me.”

What tropes can we look forward to in your MHHE fic?

Friends-to-lovers, Mutual Pining, 12 Days of Christmas, Winter Wedding. Dramatic Christmas Presents, Domestic Fluff, Magical Holiday Baking, Christmas Shopping, Childhood Home, Protective Father, Sibling Rivalry

Fuck, Marry, Kiss (under the mistletoe) with three Magicians characters of your choice!

Char: Fuck Penny, Marry Margo, Kiss Eliot pc: fuck Eliot, marry Kady, kiss Penny 40

[naptis-lucis-caelum]

similar to another request, could you write something for the chocobros+luna reacting to a s/o who cries a lot? sometimes over silly things like a really cute, small animal or a sad drama lol

HELLOOOOO I’m so sorry this took forever! I had to get my Mac fixed but now that it’s all good let’s get back to the requests! Sorry I have to skip out on Luna, I don’t feel like I have enough background/research on her to write about her and make it close to canon huh. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!!

You and Noctis walked through the streets of Insomnia, and while he continued to talk to you about fishing, you stopped in your tracks as a small husky and its owner approached your path. The dog stopped in front of you and you, almost instinctively, fell on the floor and began running your free through its soft fur. You commenced short chit chat with the owner, finding out more information about the sweet husky who had his eyes closed and his tongue out at your touch.

“Who’s a good boy?” you asked in an endearing manner. “Who’s the best boy, huh? Who’s the best bubba?”

The dog emitted a sweet whimper at your praises, and you were quickly attacked by licks on your cheek. They bid you two a goodbye, with the owner curtsying at the Prince and the dog barking cheerily. You waved at them and watched them continue their walk over your shoulder, but you couldn’t help but feel a sudden emptiness in your heart.

“Noct…” you trailed off with a sniff.

His eyes moved from the dog’s wagging tail in the distance and back at you, surprised at the tears forming in your eyes. 

“H-Hey,” he stuttered in shock, “What’s wrong, princess? Are you hurt?”

“I… I…” you sniffed once again. “I want a dog!” you began to cry.

Noct’s first course of action was to wrap you in his arms—something he didn’t do often in public due to his title, but he was willing to make exceptions. “That doesn’t answer my question, babe.”

“The husky,” you inhaled, “The husky was adorable and he loved me so much!”

He laughed at how silly you were being, but found your unconditional love for animals heartwarming. He pulled away softly and kissed your forehead.

“Then let’s go see who we can adopt,” he said with a smile, wiping your tears and holding your hand tightly. As you made your way to the nearest animal shelter, he stopped for a second and stared at you with a deceiving grin. “But you know, we can just skip the dog and…” he raised his eyebrow, “Get straight to the baby-making.”

You gasped and slapped his shoulder, “Noct!”

“Ow—hey! I was kidding!” he defended himself with a laugh. “Partly.”

You rolled your eyes and hit him again, walking ahead to hide the warming blush on your cheeks.

“Huh, so Kimi no Na wa was as good as everyone said it was,” Prompto remarked as the credits on the screen rolled. He shifted his position on the couch, wrapping his arm around you before noticing how red your eyes had become. “Babe, why are you crying?!”

“M-M-Mitsuha and T-Taki,” you murmured between sobs, “They were meant to be!”

You covered your face, partly because you were embarrassed over how strongly you felt about the move, but mostly because thinking about the ending riled up your feelings once again. Although Prompto was initially confused as to why the movie had affected you so much, he’d be a hypocrite if he said he never cried over a film before. Instead of poking fun at you about it, he wrapped his other arm around you and pulled you in for an embrace. He let you soak up shirt for the next 15 minutes before you finally calmed down and collected yourself.

“That Red Thread of Fate concept absolutely killed me,” you chuckled as he helped you wipe your tears away.

Prompto rested his hand on your cheek, rubbing the high point with his soft thumb. The way his eyes were staring at you intently made your heart jump right out of your chest, and seeing your reaction to him caused his lips to form a huge smile.

“Yeah… the Red Thread is pretty cool, huh?” he said. “It’s crazy to think that such a belief of connection exists.”

You nodded, “Yeah, how wild would it be if it actually existed?”

“… I think it does,” he shrugged.

“You do?”

“Mhm,” he answered. “Actually, I…,” he swallowed, “I think I found the other end of my Red Thread… wrapped around you.”

The broad smile on his face quickly minimized into a shy one. You fought back the new army of tears threatening to leave your system, but the soft kiss Prompto had planted on your lips left you weak. You moved your hands to cup his face only to feel ropes of tears trickling down the sides os his face as well.

“I love you,” he whispered, keeping your foreheads together and his eyes locked on yours.

“I love you too, Prompto.”

After a hectic day at work, all you wanted to do eat your feelings out and go to bed. You had been complaining about your misfortunes to Gladio all day, but walking in to him transforming your apartment into a private spa wasn’t something you expected to see.

Before you could even say anything, Gladio quickly walked over to you and kissed you deeply, practically sucking the air out of you. Your tense shoulders dropped as you lost yourself in the kiss. He took your bag and set it on the floor, hung your coat, and placed your shoes on the rack. Smooth jazz music played from your burnt out speaker while he guided you to the bathroom that smelled of lavender—your favourite. The bathtub was surrounded by candles and filled with warm water, bubbles, and floating flowers. 

“Gladdy, you didn’t have to do this,” you said, a little shy with how spoiled you felt.

He shook his head, “You take care of me all the time. I’d be a bad boyfriend if I couldn’t make you feel better after a shitty day.”

“You can always make me feel better without all this, though,” you replied. “I just need you by my side.”

“And I’m always gonna be by your side, baby girl.” He kissed the back of your hand and brought it up to his face. “But this is the least I can do for you. You deserve everything in this world.”

“Gladio!” you whined into a cry, and he couldn’t help but laugh at how easy it was for you to burst into tears. 

To be fair, you couldn’t help yourself; your heart was bursting at the seams. Being part of the Crownsguard wasn’t an easy task, and even though he had his own troubles to deal with, he decided to throw them away just for your sake. The mere fact that he decided to think of you and not of himself was enough to remind you of how lucky you were to be with such a kind and caring man.

He kissed your tears away as he began undressing you. There was no malice in his movements, only love. Gently, he lead you into the bathtub and rested you down. He pulled up a stool and sat beside you, continually kissing your hand while praises left his mouth. 

You couldn’t stop crying, and it was okay.

“Ugh, Iggy’s gonna be the reason for my diabetes,” you groaned to yourself after spotting a tupperware of sweets on your work table.

You moved the envelope and opened the container, revealing stacks of chocolate chip cookies that looked too moist to eat. The heavenly sight made you salivate a little, but the small white envelope called you back into a reality. You flipped the top open and pulled out the small card, reading the words,

‘Just because. Always thinking of you, my dear.

Love,

I.S. xx’

Just because. That was the first time in a long time you heard someone use that reasoning with you. You broke off a piece and let it crumble in your mouth, closing your eyes as you entered a short moment of reverie.

Yup, this was definitely the work of Ignis Scientia.

Giggling, you picked up the phone and dialled his office number. After exactly two rings, his stern voice picked up from the other end of the line.

“Mr. Scientia, can you drop by my office in the next 10 minutes? I have urgent business with you,” you said, attempting to keep your tone as professional as possible.

It didn’t take long for him to enter your office and swoop you in for a kiss. He backed you up to the edge of your office table and deepened the kiss, causing you to smile against his lips. You were technically breaking the rules by showing affection—hell, you were technically breaking the unspoken rule of dating a coworker, but because Ignis was the Royal Advisor, he got away with certain things. 

His eyes moved down to the opened container on your table. “I take it you enjoyed the cookies then, love?” he asked.

You nodded and grabbed the remaining piece from earlier. He opened his mouth and you fed him, watching him relish his own creation. Iggy knew he was a fantastic cook, and he would never turn down the chance to speak or taste his culinary prowess.

“I called you over here because I wanted to say thank you,” you began, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

“For the cookies?” he asked before wrapping his arms around your waist in return. “It’s not a problem at all.”

“Not just that,” you shook your head, “For always taking care of me. You never have to sneak food into my office, but you always do. It’s such a sweet gesture and you never fail to make me happy.”

“Because you never fail to bring joy into my life as well,” he replied. “I can’t offer you much else other than my cooking,” he added half-jokingly.

“I don’t need anything else, Iggy. I just need you.”

He took a deep breath, “I love you very, very much.”

You sniffed at the sincerity in his voice and the warmth in his beautiful green eyes. “And you know I love you too, Iggy.”

“There’s nothing more I want in this world than to grow old with you, my dear.”

That did it. That sentence opened the floodgate of your tears. You looked down as you started to cry, prompting him to move even closer and lock you in an embrace.

“I’d cook for you every single day for the rest of my life if you asked,” he humoured you, making you laugh and pull away. 

He grinned, happy that he was victorious in making you smile. His hand snaked over to the cookies and he picked up another one, bringing it to your mouth and feeding you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in delight, but a second later, tears began to run down your face once again.

“Please don’t cry,” Iggy comforted you. “I won’t ever leave you.”

“It’s not that,” you shook your head, “Your cookies are just so damn good!”

[rita-morgan]

You Can’t Have My Heart - Chapter 6/?

A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to update this. My muse left me but it has returned! Here's a small chapter but I promise the next one will be nice and long. I have so much in store for this story. And remember guys, this is a SLOWBURN. A lot is going to be revealed about Mon-El's past first before these two even come close to getting together. They still have almost a full year before Kara is to be married. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this.

AO3

Kara watched as Bree and Mon-El positioned themselves in the center of the large ballroom where she knew the party would be held. Kara watched as Mon-El bowed to Bree before he gently placed his hand just above her waist. They started to slowly dance as Bree explained to Kara the meaning behind the dance.

“Many centuries ago, our king had to choose a bride for his son. However, he could not see which princess would bring our kingdom the truest benefit. So he turned to our god, Val-Or, and asked to give him a sign as to which bride the gods would show favor on and bring prosperity to our people. He invited all the kingdom, both high and low-borne, to the feast that day, announcing for all to know that our god would choose their future queen for them. Twenty women stood before them and each danced with the prince. And just as the sun began to set the twentieth princess began to dance with the prince. It is said that the moment they touched the room was filled in awe, a hush falling over everyone. As the dance progressed and as the sun sank, the crowd waited with bated breath to see if perhaps she was the one our gods had chosen.”

Kara’s own breath caught in her chest as she watched the two gracefully dance around the ballroom, the dance itself a beautiful sight to behold. She saw how as the dance progressed the points of contact grew. At first it was just Mon-El’s hand then his other arm gracefully connected with Bree’s, her hand gently cupping his as it began to sway up and down in the air flawlessly along with the dance. He slowly spun her with their connection and she twirled until she was facing him again. He again slowly spun her out but this time he extended his arm for her to grab onto as they moved through the ballroom. She watched as Mon-El grabbed Bree’s hand and Bree flawlessly spun out, their hands the only point of connection. They beautiful came together, their hands raised high in the air before moving apart again. They did this twice more before they came together, both arms squared and wrapped around one another.

As they began to waltz, Bree continued. “As they glided over the floor, the room grew dim save for the twinkling lights on the walls and above them. The music began to swell, as if the gods themselves were playing and blessing the union.” As Mon-El spun Bree out, she said, “The crowd gasped as he spun her and when they came back together, the prince lifted her into the air,” Mon-El doing just that, “and a brilliant ray of sun shone down upon them.” As Mon-El gracefully lowered Bree down, her feet gently touching the ground, she finished, “Showing us that our gods had made their choice. She would be our next queen.” They concluded the dance with a low dip before separating and bowing toward each other.

Turning to face Kara, Bree said smiling, “The dance itself symbolizes the bringing together two beings and unifying them as one. It has become tradition ever since then to ask our gods to bless the marriage that will take place.”

Kara had tears in her eyes, for the dance was truly breathtaking. Clearing her throat softly, she asked, “Has it always happened each time? Have your gods chosen each time?”

The smile fell as Bree shook her head. “No and when we do not listen to our gods there are always consequences. Sometimes the kingdom suffers through a harsh rulership, a war is started, an insufficient supply of foods for the people, or even a loveless marriage. There are always consequences for going against what our gods desire. Whether that be on a large-scale or contained just to the royal family is yet to be seen until the marriage is sealed.” Shaking her head, she smiled at Kara as she reassured her, “I’m positive that won’t happen here though. This marriage will bring only good things for our people.” Stepping away from her brother, Bree motioned for Kara to take her place. “Alright, now it’s your turn. We will go slowly as I talk you through each one of the steps. Mon-El is an excellent lead, so if you follow him he will guide you through it all quite easily. I promise.”

Kara shook her head, not wanting to share such a symbolic dance with a man she knew had feelings for. Even if they were just blossoming little buds of emotions. However, Bree wouldn’t take no for an answer and Kara found herself being bowed to by Mon-El before his hand gently rested on her waist. They went through the movements slowly at first, the sun leisurely beginning its descent as time passed. Both Bree and Mon-El coached her through the moves, adjusting her step each time she stumbled or faltered. Soon Kara forgot her own feelings as she focused solely on learning the dance. As the sun began its final descent, the last rays lighting the sky, Kara finally felt confident enough to do it at the normal pace once through. Bree started to sing softly the melody that would play tomorrow as Kara would dance with Ashe. Kara smiled at Mon-El as she matched each of his move, pride swelling in her heart.

Bree herself smiled widely as she watched the two dance together. She liked Kara a great deal and was happy to see her brother would be marrying a lovely woman. She watched as they came to the conclusion of the dance. Mon-El spun Kara out just as the sun finally set and as he lifted her into the air, Bree gasped softly as a brilliant ray of sunlight shone down upon them. She watched as Kara smiled down at Mon-El, her own smile matching the light unifying them by their gods. Then looking down, Bree saw her brother smile right back as a light she had never seen before shined up at Kara. With tears filling her eyes, having been honored to witness her gods’ wishes, Bree looked on as Mon-El slowly brought Kara back down. They ended the dance with the dip before separating and bowing toward each other.

Bree didn’t know what to do with this information. Val-Or had made his choice known. She knew firsthand what going against their gods meant, her own parents union having never been blessed. Their marriage was only that by word. Neither of them loved each other and while her father treated her mother with nothing but respect, she saw the sadness in his eyes. A sadness of a love lost, a love that had gifted them her oldest brother. While the kingdom prospered under her father’s rule, it was the House of Gand that suffered. A house full of hatred and contempt. Bree feared what would occur if her own brother entered into a marriage not blessed by their gods.

She was just about to move forward to tell them what she had witnessed when the doors to the ballroom opened. Her mother, Klysa, entered the room and Bree immediately knew this would not end well. Trying to intercept, Bree rushed before her mother, standing in her way. “Mother, what a surprise! I thought you and father would be settling in and resting after such a long journey.” Looking back at Kara and more specifically at Mon-El, who took a large step away from Kara, Bree tried to implore him to slip away. However, her brother would not listen as he knew that if he were to escape, the queen’s anger would then be dispelled upon her daughter.

Klysa looked at her daughter, before looking behind her toward Kara and Mon-El, a scowl appearing as her eyes landed on him. “What are you doing in here?”

Bree lied blatantly. “Kara was just being so kind as to show me around the palace. She was just showing me the ballroom where the banquet will be held tomorrow. Isn’t it beautiful in here mother?”

Klysa slowly let her eyes take in the room, not letting her contempt of this world show on her face. “Yes, it’s just…delightful isn’t it. So quaint.” Moving forward she came to stand in front of Mon-El, Bree rushing toward his side, worried at what her mother would do. “Jaarc has been looking for you since we’ve arrived.”

Mon-El started to apologize when Klysa backhanded him, her ring cutting into his cheek. He bit back a gasp of pain as Bree protested loudly, “Mother!” and Kara reached out toward him, shocked at what she had just witnessed. 

Klysa grabbed Mon-El’s chin and held it so her nails started to dig into his flesh. “Don’t forget your place, whoreson. I am your queen and you are nothing. You would still be rotting away in the stocks if it weren’t for my mercy. Remember you are not to speak until given permission.” Mon-El breathed heavily through his nose, his jaw clenching in rage. He took her harsh words though, knowing the truth behind her lies. He knew she only did this to him to humiliate him in front of not only his sister but also Kara. Reminding him that she viewed him as nothing but an animal to abuse. Klysa saw the anger in his eyes and punished him for it, her nails drawing blood as she forced him to bow down low before her. “And you are to bow before your queen.”

Mon-El sank to his knee as Kara spoke up, “Stop this!”

The queen looked at her and said, “This does not concern you.” Looking down at Mon-El she asked, “Now what do you have to say for yourself?”

Taking in a deep breath, Mon-El controlled his anger as he spoke evenly words he learned long ago, “I offer my deepest regret and apologies to you, my queen. I am but your humble servant.”

Klysa smiled wickedly at him before releasing her damaging hold on him. “You are dismissed. Find Jaarc, I am sure he has his own form of punishment for your tardiness.”

Clenching his jaw, Mon-El bowed his head before slowly standing to his feet. Turning toward Kara and Bree he bowed deeply at the waist, never meeting their eyes. “Your Royal Highnesses.”

Kara was left speechless at the horror she just witnessed. Her heart hammered in her chest as rage for Mon-El and how the queen treated him. She didn’t know what to say or even think. Bree though looked at her mother with unbridled anger, it seeping into her voice as she spoke. “How could you be so cruel to him? Must you continue to punish him for something he had no control over?”

Klysa stepped toward her daughter, a warning ringing clear in her voice. “Do not speak to your mother in such a tone. If he cannot remember his place, then that is your fault. He is not your equal and he never will be, so stop treating him as such and treat him as he should be treated. As his name requires him to be treated.”

“Father did away with such terrible rules long ago. It is you who insists on it, your own wounded pride…” Bree was not expecting the slap as her mother hit her. Tears filled Bree’s eyes, her bottom lip trembling as she gasped aloud in pain. Looking up at her mother, she cradled her cheek. “I hate you and I hate what you’ve done to our family.” She excused herself from Kara before rushing out of the room.

Kara stood in shock as the queen turned toward her. She saw no remorse in the woman before her for what she had just done. Kara decided right there and then that the queen of Daxam was a cruel woman that she would never like. Klysa held her head high as she told Kara, “You would also do well to remember your guard’s place. He is not your friend. He is your servant. He is beneath you and you should treat him as such for him to remember so. 

Kara stepped forward boldly as she spoke with conviction. “He is a person, just like you and I. I will treat him as I would treat any of my fellowman. I would remind you that you are not on Daxam. You are on Krypton and we treat everyone equally here.” Klysa sputtered in anger as Kara took another step toward her, causing Klysa to take one step back. “And when I become the queen of Daxam I will ensure that everyone will be treated just as equally there as well. Now, if you’ll excuse me Your Majesty, I must go check on my friends.” Kara stormed off in a rage, looking for where Bree or Mon-El went off to.

Klysa took in a deep breath as she contained her own rage over what Kara had said. Looking around at the ballroom, she promised silently to her god that she would never allow a Kryptonian to rule on her world, even if it was the last thing she did.

[imaginedisneydescendants]

Summary: (Y/N) was neither an Auradon princess nor a villain from the Isle of the Lost; she was just a simple servant girl that worked within the confines of Beast Castle. King Ben never treated her any less than he would that of his friends or family. They’ve always shared a special bond with one another, but when confessions are made. A budding romance begins to bloom but being from completely different worlds, they realise that they can't possibly be together...or can they? (( Reader x Ben ))

Table of Contents:

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

“Ugh, I hate scrubbing floors,” You hissed to yourself, scrubbing at the marble floor vigorously as if it was going to get the job done faster.

Your back ached from the hours of labour, so thinking it would ease some of the tension from your aching back, you sat up straight from the kneeled position that you were in on the floor before you stretched your back muscles and wiped the sweat from your forehead. Sighing deeply to yourself, you lifted your gaze and came face to face with a portrait of a member of the royal family; it was the newly crowned King Benjamin of Auradon.

A smile subconsciously crept across your face as you stared at the portrait longer than you had intended to. Ben's head was held high as his crown was placed on top of his honey brown side-swept hair. He seemed to be gazing off into the distance as he was standing tall and proud in a regal fashion. His hands were clasped in front of himself. He was only sixteen years of age and while the portrait managed to capture his boyish charm, it could never capture his full maturity. He was incredibly handsome in the portrait — oh who were you kidding, he was always handsome, no matter what he was doing or wearing.

King Ben would often request an audience with you and when you walked away from each exchange, the both of you learnt a little more about each other. You could even say that you and the King were close friends; he never treated you like a regular maid.

However, servants were never to speak unless spoken to, so it was hard to approach Ben knowing that you could get into serious trouble for breaking one of the most important rules that were discussed when you first entered the castle walls.

Your smile dropped into a frown; what chance did you ever have with the King of Auradon? That’s right, none! He was a King and you were just a lowly servant girl; it was as simple as that.

Even if Ben did take you as his bride, you wouldn't know how to run a whole country. All you knew how to do was wash dishes, scrub floors and windows, the laundry, sewing, cooking and a few other household chores. Picking yourself up from the floor, your gaze never tore away from the portrait. You knew your feelings for the King was scandalous, however, no matter how hard you tried to suppress your feelings, you couldn't get rid of them.

Suddenly, the loud chime of an old grandfather clock, that was sitting on one side of the parlour room, snapped you out of your daydream. You turned your attention to the clock and read the time. Your eyes widened.

"Oh no, is it time already!" You yelled before you quickly gathered your cleaning supplies and hurried off.

"You're late."

As soon as you entered the kitchen, you came face to face with none other than the head maid, Agathe. She was a sharp woman who always expected everything to be done perfectly. Agathe had been working at the castle for over thirty years and is in charge of every maid in the castle and was quite strict when it came to keeping everyone in line. You really hoped that Agathe wasn’t going to punish you for your tardiness like she did the last time.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," you apologised as you hurriedly tied your white apron around your waist.

"Daydreaming again I assume, (Y/N)?" Agathe scolded.

You didn't meet the older woman's gaze. "S-Something like that," you stuttered as your cheeks tinted themselves in a light shade of red.

You couldn't think of an excuse like you normally had, so you just agreed with her. Thankfully Agathe didn’t question it.

“Do try to be on time, next time (Y/N),” Agathe sighed deeply, “Or you'll be cleaning out the stables as punishment."

You shivered; no one liked to be given stable duty. “Yes, ma'am,” You responded with a firm nod.

Somewhat satisfied with your response, Agathe turned on her heels and walked off. You blew a sigh of relief, thanking your lucky stars that you weren’t punished before you started peeling potatoes for tonight's meal.

You often cooked for the royal family and in the eight years you had started working in the castle, you had gotten noticeably better at making all kinds of lavish and complex meals. When you first entered the castle walls, you didn’t know how to do anything apart from washing dishes and dusting, but the other maids stepped in and they showed you how to do your chores and cook meals properly and in no time, you were one of the best maids in the castle.

Smiling, you went about preparing the royal family’s meal.

After dinner was done and dusted, all maids that were not on night duties were free to return to their quarters. Although you lived in a castle, the servants quarters weren’t all that extravagant as the rest of the castle but it was decent enough so you couldn't complain. At least you had a roof over your head.

As you were going to start your nightly routine, a maid who was a few years younger than you that worked alongside you with from time to time, came towards you.

"(Y/N), the King has requested to see you,” The maid informed in a slightly sour tone.

You tried to suppress a smile but failed. The maid gave you a questionable look but you ignored her reaction. As you were about to walk out of the room, you heard a scoff.

You turned your head to face her, “What’s wrong?”

She crossed her arms in a huff, "Oh nothing, it's just...why does the King always want to see you?"

Her question caught you slightly off guard before you shrugged. "I have no clue why he wants to see me all the time. Maybe it's because of the hot chocolate I serve him from time to time," You joked, before making your way to the kitchen to prepare the hot chocolate for you and Ben.

Two cups of steaming hot chocolate sat on the tray that you were holding as you swiftly and silently made your way to Ben's study. You always made hot chocolate for Ben and yourself whenever he called for you this late at night. However, nights like this were a rare occasion. He normally didn’t send for you when he was drowning himself in paperwork. You were glad that tonight was one of the quieter nights where Ben didn’t have anything to work on.

Your shoes clicked against the marble floors as you walked, the sound echoed inside your eardrums as if they were reminding you that you'll have to scrub this floor in the next day or two. You rounded a corner before your (e/c) eyes fixated themselves on the door at the end of the hallway. Without hesitation, you made your way down the hall.

Your heart hammered inside your chest as you started to feel giddy inside. You were really looking to forward to spending quality time alone with Ben. Coming to a stop, you stood silently in front of the dark oak door. Moving the tray to sit in the middle of your palm, you lifted your free hand up and knocked on the door lightly.

Not even a second later, a voice spoke behind the door spoke, "Come in!”

A soft smile spread across your lips before you grabbed the golden doorknob and opened the door. You quickly slipped into the room, making sure no one was watching and closed the door behind you as softy as you could possibly. Grabbing the tray with two hands once again, your gaze shifted to the end of the room where Ben was hunched over a large wooden desk. He was concentrating on what you presumed to be paperwork for some official royal business.

You bowed your head and curtsied the best you could, all the while trying to hold the tray steady, “Your Highness.”

Ben's head snapped up at the sound of your voice and a dazzling smile spread across his features. Laughter filled the room, which made your head snap up to face him. You raised an eyebrow and straighten your posture.

Ben shook his head in amusement, “(Y/N), what have I told you?”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “To not curtsy when I am with you when no one else is around,” you recited when you two first agreed to meet like this, “Forgive me but I can’t help it.”

Ben chuckled, “You still do it every time. No matter how many times I tell you not to do it."

You let out a soft laugh and approached the King, “Sorry, I'll try to remember next time."

Stopping in front of the desk, you placed the tray down before you took your cup into your hands and sat in one of the comfy chairs that were located not too far from Ben's desk.

"By the way, I think the other maids are getting suspicious as to why you always send for me," You teased, “Especially after hours. Some people might get the wrong idea.”

"What makes you think that they are getting suspicious?" Ben questioned as he took his own cup and took a sip of the delicious warm liquid. "You make the best hot chocolate,” he then commented as he took another sip.

"Thank you!" You smiled brightly before you cleared your throat, “And well, reason being is because one of the maids I work with questioned me as to why you always want to see me."

“Is it so wrong to enjoy some quality time with my one of my good friends?" Ben remarked with a smirk.

His comment made you blush. “Oh, now that's just playing favourites," You tittered before your smile turned into a lopsided one, "I suppose not but...don't you think that it's unconventional for a maid and a King to be friends?"

Ben resisted the urge to let out an angry growl. He really hated it when people thought that just because (Y/N) was a maid didn't make her any different to him, sure they were from different social classes but she was still a person. If he wanted to be friends with her, who was to stop him? He was the King, after all, he shouldn't be questioned for his choices.

It wounded him deeply to know that he would probably never be with (Y/N) other than platonically. Ben had started to grow feelings for (Y/N) a few months back, and although he was with Mal, there was just something about (Y/N) that made him feel euphoric whenever he was around (Y/N). Yet, he knew that it was a forbidden romance that was doomed from the very beginning.

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it playing favourites. You’re the only one out of all the other maids that didn't act as if I was their ‘boss’.” Ben beamed and finished his cup of hot chocolate before placing the empty cup back onto the tray, "Besides, we aren't doing anything bad now, are we?” Ben couldn’t help but smirk in your direction, “And I don’t think our friendship as unconventional at all."

“But, do you not care if anyone finds out about these late night rendezvous?"

“Yes I do care,” Ben admitted, “Because if anyone were to find out, then the both of us could be in a lot of trouble."

You didn't answer him; you knew the risk of these late night talks, but it was a risk you both were willing to take in order to be with the one you loved.

“So, how has the royal life been treating you?” You asked, deciding to change the subject.

Ben let out a tired sigh before he ran a hand through his hair, "Well, let's just say it has been anything but uneventful. I have no time to myself other than now until the early hours of the morning."

You didn't say anything for a while, sipping on your hot chocolate that was beginning to go cold, before you spoke again. "Do you regret it?"

Ben looked up at you, puzzled "Regret what?"

"Taking the throne at just sixteen,” You enlightened.

"Sometimes," Ben admitted shrugging half-heartedly. You raised an eyebrow. "Part of me says that I should've waited until I was older but it's too late now."

"Well, no matter what age you are, you have proved to Auradon and to your parents that you are a fine King,” You spoke softly with sincerity.

Ben couldn’t help but smile, “Thank you, (Y/N), I really appreciate your kind words.”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him before you glanced at the clock. Your (e/c) eyes widened.

“Well, Ben, I’m sorry to cut this meeting short,” You got up from your chair and took a couple of steps forward to take the tray in your hands, “But I should be going to bed and you should as well. I’d imagine that we have a long day tomorrow.”

Ben chuckled before he nodded, “Alright, goodnight, (Y/N)."

“Goodnight, Ben,” You said softly before leaving the room with the biggest smile on your face.

[pocket-anon]

The Long Way Home (3/10)

The journey begins!  Thank you so much to all of you who have expressed your support for this story.  Your reblog tags and comments on AO3 bring me so much joy.  I deeply appreciate the time you're spending with me, especially right now, when there’s a plethora of good stuff out there to read!  I would love to keep hearing your thoughts and reactions to what I have in store for you. XOXO

As always, thanks to my beta, @captainstudmuffin, and to @lifeinahole27, @clockadile, and @ladyciaramiggles for their additional feedback.  Additional thanks to my wonderful CSBB artists, @waiting-for-autumn and @giraffes-ride-swordfishes for providing some gorgeous artwork to accompany this fic!  Links to their illustrations of certain scenes (*) will be in the text - go show them some love!

Find it on AO3.  Nautical term glossary here.

Missed a chapter?  Get caught up here.

Summary:  After an unnaturally long life fraught with personal tragedy, Killian Jones has become known throughout the realms as the infamous Captain Hook, an opportunistic ne’er-do-well and one of the most formidable pirates to ride the waves.  When he crosses paths with a mysterious young woman with no memory of who she is or how she arrived there, he recognizes the chance to claim a monetary reward that will constitute his biggest score yet.  But a journey across the world to get her home leads to a series of adventures that reveal that her value lies in far more than gold and jewels.  A Captain Swan Anastasia AU - sort of.  (Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU.  Romance, Adventure, & Eventual Smut.  Rated E.)

Warning: Brief but graphic depictions of violence, peripheral character death, and smut.

The following morning is hazy, the rising sun just beginning to burn off the thick harbor fog when Hook first sets foot on deck.  He fills his lungs with cool, damp air and surveys what he can of the surrounding water before turning his attention to the wharf and the port beyond.  The sight of a hooded figure walking down toward the dock through the backlit mist causes him to do a double-take, and a broad grin splits his face.  She wears the same blue cloak and green skirt as the day before, but a large, gathered burlap sack is tossed over her shoulder now, and her step is more purposeful.

She strides in the direction of the Jolly and sights him as she draws closer.  Taking his cue, he moves down the gangplank to intercept her, schooling his features so as not to betray his excitement.  Only a subtle smile remains on his lips by the time he meets her emerald gaze.  “’Morning, Swan.”

“Hi.”  She surveys the ship behind him, squinting in the reflected sunlight but appearing suitably impressed as her eyes drift across the gleaming white hull, the bright blue and yellow gunwhale, the polished wood bowsprit, and the neatly furled sails.  “So this is the Jolly Roger.”

“She is indeed,” he says, gesturing proudly.  “Finest ship in all the realms.”

Emma makes an agreeable noise, admiring the ship a few seconds more as they listen to the early calls of the sea birds and the soft slosh of the water.  She takes a deep breath.  “I have some conditions,” she informs him.

“Oh?”  His eyebrows and chin rise a touch.

“I sleep separate from the crew.”

“I’ve already made arrangements for a private berth.”

“And you’ll have to forgive me for not loving the idea of being trapped on a ship with a bunch of men, much less pirates,” she continues, her face still critical.  “Can you guarantee my safety?”

Hook nods soberly. “You have my word.  My men follow my orders or they regret it. Severely.  You will be safe under my protection.”

She’s silent for a moment as she studies him with that penetrating stare of hers.  At last her shoulders relax, and she tosses her head a little.  “I’ll need a weapon.  If your ship falls under attack, I will not be helpless and unarmed.”

A quiet laugh filled with admiration bubbles from his chest, and he bobs his head again.  “Of course.  We can find something for you in the armory once you’re settled.  A ship is not an ideal place for longswords, but perhaps you’ll find something else to your liking.”  He dimples playfully.  “Under my instruction, we might even turn you into a better swordsman than your father.”

Emma finally cracks a small smile, the apples of her cheeks pinking with amusement.  “Humility becomes you,” she deadpans.  She cocks her head and narrows her eyes shrewdly. “Returning a missing royal has got to be worth some gold.  What if it turns out I’m not the Princess?  That there’s no money in this for you?”

“Ah.”  Hook glances at the sky and searches for the right words, both unsurprised and chastised that she’s deduced his potential for profit in this situation.  “The Jolly does not stop being a pirate ship simply because we travel north with you, Swan. We’ll make this trip worth our while either way, and forgive me for saying that you will not be allowed to interfere in those activities.”  He keeps his voice firm, though inwardly he cringes at the way her eyes widen.  “But we will not take unnecessary risks with you aboard,” he adds, his expression softening.  “We will do everything we can to deliver you safely to Misthaven, and, in the unlikely event I am proven wrong about you, the pleasure of your company aboard ship will be payment in full.”

“And by the pleasure of my company, you mean…?” she asks, her tone bordering on a warning.

“Why, your delightful conversation, darling,” he responds breezily.  “Unless, of course, you had something else in mind.”  He smirks like a scoundrel at the deep flush that washes up over her face.

“I did not.”

His eyes sparkle.  “As you wish.”

Emma huffs in a way that befits her regal pedigree, recovering from her ruffling admirably and fixing him with a look of cool scrutiny that actually causes him to hold his breath.  Relief washes over him when her hand finally juts out.  “Deal.”

Hook beams as they shake on it, and he sweeps his arm sideways to invite her to climb the gangplank. “Who knows?” he declares cheerfully as her cloak swishes softly past him, “Perhaps you’ll make a useful addition to the crew.  I get the feeling there’s a little pirate in you.”  Her dismissive laugh makes him grin even wider.

 *             *             *

 Swan can feel every pair of eyes on her as she stands at the rail behind the ship’s wheel while the Jolly Roger pulls farther out to sea, her gaze fixed on the little port town that grows smaller and smaller in the distance.  Her grim face disguises the tumultuous emotions swirling in her chest as the features of the coastal hamlet grow less and less distinct, fading into the greater landscape of the peninsula until the town is nothing but a smudge in the early afternoon sunlight.  Vicarstown never really felt like a home, but it’s the only place she can ever remember being, the only world that’s familiar, and she’s melancholy not knowing if she’ll ever return to see it or Maggie again.  As it has since she set foot on the dock, anxiety also ebbs and flows in her veins today, priming every nerve to be on edge, and she wonders for the hundredth time how foolhardy it is to try to journey halfway around the world in the company of pirates.  

Upon maneuvering out of harbor, Hook had called all hands to attention in order to present her formally to the crew, most of who had clearly not been expecting her presence aboard their ship.  She’d withdrawn her hood and seen recognition cross more than one face as the men remembered her from the tavern and perhaps even recalled her altercation with Blackbeard. Surprised looks had abounded when Hook had explained that she was being transported to Misthaven as his personal guest. Interestingly, he’d made no mention of her suspected identity or of any reward for her return.

“She is the Lady Swan, and you will treat her as such,” he had called, his jaw set in a determined scowl. “I know most of you bilge rats do not have a lot of experience with true ladies, so I will be clear.  She is to be addressed as ‘milady’ or ‘ma’am.’  The deal is that she will not interfere with our ship’s activities, and you will grant her every courtesy within reason. If she asks you to leave her alone, you will do so immediately.  Any harassment or insult to her person will be met with consequences at my hand.  And her safety is our top priority.  Is this clear?”

Sideways glances had been exchanged, but heads had bobbed, and though some had muttered while others had responded more heartily, all had voiced their understanding without protest. The steely glimmer Hook had had in his eyes and the unforgiving harshness in his voice – her first glimpse of him as the dreaded pirate captain – made her breath catch, but the pure obedience it appeared to inspire in the men did leave her feeling more secure by the time he’d dismissed the assembled back to their posts and begun barking orders in various directions to get them properly underway.  

Now, however, her anxiety flares anew.  The crew moves in a flurry about her, and she bristles as the pirates openly gawk and leer, staring at her with varying levels of fascination, awe, contempt, and desire.  Swan takes a deep breath and holds her head high.  She wants nothing more than to try to forget about them, to focus on the sea and the sky or to close her eyes altogether and savor the sound of the waves and the breath of the wind on her skin, but prudence demands she keep her guard up around these men regardless of the Captain’s guarantee.  She swallows, wondering if she’s to spend the entire voyage feeling eyes on her back.  Hook estimates their journey will take them five or six weeks if conditions are in their favor.  Five or six weeks.  She sighs, impatiently pushing her windblown hair out of her face.  A long time to spend looking over her shoulder.

Footsteps approach, and she whirls to see Hook strolling up.  He responds to her skittishness with a hand held aloft to stay her and a small smile. “Relax, Swan.  It’s only me.”

She blinks sheepishly. “Sorry.”  Her eyes flick over his shoulder toward the rest of the crew. “Being the only woman on a pirate ship takes some getting used to, I guess.”

She swears there’s a little tinge of sadness in his eyes as he momentarily bows his head.  “Aye, I suppose it does,” he says, more quietly than she expects.  He looks back up at her, his smile restored.  “Come.  Allow me to see you to your cabin.”

Glad for something to do, she picks up her sack and allows him to guide her down a hatch, his hand poised just behind her back as they navigate the narrow passageways that run below deck. They arrive at a nondescript door mid-ship, and he pushes it open before standing aside to reveal a small but serviceable private berth.  Swan enters, looking around with interest as she examines the small bunk, built-in washstand, and empty locker shoehorned within.  Though the wood surfaces are all well-worn with use, the room is clean and shipshape, and she recognizes the boon of having such a space on a vessel like this.

“Who normally sleeps here?” she asks, impressed with his generosity.

“My first mate, Mr. Smee.” Hook scratches behind his ear. “He’ll bunk with the rest of the crew for this voyage.”

She sets her sack down on the bed and lays a hand softly on the edge of the washstand.  “I should thank him for giving this up.”

Pleasant surprise flashes across his features, but Hook shrugs.  “He does so on my orders, but I’m sure he would appreciate the gesture. You’ll know him by his red hat. Only he and my quartermaster, Mr. Roberts, know that you’re the Princess.”

“Alleged Princess.”

His handsome face breaks into an amused grin, and he nods indulgently.  “Very well, Your Highness.”

She rolls her eyes.

He gestures out the door. “I believe you saw the mess on the way here.  The crew eats just before noon and just after sundown.  One of the men, Thomas, does most of the cooking.  The fare can’t rival Maggie’s, but it’s passable.”  He registers the nervousness on her face. “Are you alright, love?”

Swan tries to force a grin, even as her stomach clenches at the idea of sitting at a communal table with a group of unfamiliar and potentially unsavory men twice a day. “Uh, yeah.  Fine.”

Hook considers her for a moment.  “Would you prefer to dine with me in my cabin?”  When she blinks and relief writes itself across her features, he chuckles. “Private meals are a captain’s privilege.”

Swan folds her lips and manages a tiny nod.  “If it’s not too much of an imposition,” she stammers.  There’s a flutter in her chest at brilliance of his smile.

“On the contrary,” he says, “it would be my honor.”

 *             *             *

 The day is marvelous fun for the Captain.  He invites the Princess to hover at his elbow while he explains the ins and outs of the ship, spending more time than usual behind the wheel and pointing out the goings on about the deck to her.  He familiarizes her with the structure of the Jolly and with the various members of his crew, and despite her initial guardedness, he wins her smile by interspersing his explanations with the occasional dry commentary, particularly with regard to the latter.  The way her dimples flash and her eyes twinkle when he tells her about Smee’s attachment to his hat or about the cooper, Martin’s, propensity to warble loudly and badly under the influence of too much drink tempts Hook to grin like a fool, something he hasn’t done sober in recent (or even distant) memory.  She seems to relax a little as the hours go by, her uneasiness lessening in fractions in the comfort of his shadow, and she even goes so far as to voluntarily introduce herself to the crewmen that come up to speak with him, taking an extra moment with Smee to thank him for the loan of his cabin.  The expression on his first mate’s rounded face – surprise followed by bashful enchantment – makes Hook wonder how long it will be before Emma has even the most hardened of the men wrapped around her little finger.

There’s something soothing about her presence at his side, her chuckle is music in his ear, and more than once he has to force himself to stifle a smile when he catches a member of the crew watching him knowingly.  He swallows hard after the third time it happens, well aware that some of them are comparing this to the last occasion he brought a woman aboard, the woman who became his first mate in every sense, the woman who died because of her decision to follow him.  His eyes fall to the deck, the muscles of his jaw tightening.  This isn’t the same thing, he reminds himself.  Swan – Emma – the Princess – she isn’t like Milah. She isn’t here for him, and she isn’t staying.  She may be smart and fiery and bloody beautiful, but she’s a temporary distraction, just a lovely means to a well-paid end.  He glances up to see her tracking a pair of gulls over the starboard bow, her eyes wistful and her hair tossed on the headwind in golden ribbons, and he sighs. Bloody hell if he isn’t going to earn every copper of that reward money exercising the self-control it’s going to take to remember that.

“So what did you think of your first day aboard ship?” he asks as they retire to his quarters to await the arrival of their dinner.  The sun is just below the horizon now, the sky still glowing with the last bit of its light like a burnt ember.  Emma waits, braced midway down the ladder that leads from the hatch above, while Hook moves about the shadowy room, using the flame from a lantern to kindle the brass oil lamp hanging above his table and the two wall-mounted lamps over his berth and near his desk.  They flicker to life and cast glimmering light across his belongings, and he turns to see her descend the last few steps hesitantly, her eyes darting this way and that as she takes it all in.

“There’s a lot more to sailing than I ever realized,” she admits, her boots landing softly upon the floorboards.  

“Indeed.”  Hook chuckles and gestures with a small bow. “Welcome to my humble abode.”  He turns his back to her to shrug out of his coat and strides over to the corner to her left to hang it on a peg on the back of the door.  “Sounds like you haven’t spent much time at sea.”

She continues to hover at the foot of the ladder almost shyly.  “I don’t know,” she reminds him.  “It doesn’t feel like I have, anyway.”

He hums.  “Well, all due respect, Misthaven’s never been known for its seafarers,” he points out, unfastening his sword belt and hanging that over the same peg.  “As I understand it, its wealth lies more in its forests and mines.”  He flashes her a smile.  “Never fear, love.  You’re a fast learner.  If you desire it, I wager we can turn you into a more than adequate sailor by the time we reach your shores,” he says with a wink.

He motions her toward the table, rolling out a map.  “Care to see our course?”  Hook feels a small swell of gratification when at last she ventures forth from the ladder, hiding his smile beneath his bowed head as he runs his hand over the parchment, the stones from his rings catching the light.  “Now, we’re here…”  

Emma becomes engrossed as he talks, some of the stiffness in her spine dissipating while he traces the stages of the Jolly’s anticipated path with the tip of a finger and points out their options for making port along the way.  She sweeps the veil of her hair back and tucks it behind her ear before tapping a small drawing of tentacles emerging from the waves.  “What’s this?”

“That,” he says sagely, “is a region of increased krakken activity – best avoided unless you care to meet an enormous beast with lots of arms and teeth who wants to have you for dinner.”  A knock causes him to glance up.  “Speaking of which.  Come!”

The door swings wide, and his crewman, Thomas, a lanky young man with auburn hair, appears, balancing a tray laden with two plates, a pair of goblets, and a small bottle of wine. “Dinner, Cap’n, m-ma’am,” he announces, sounding a little nervous.

Hook beckons him to approach, hurriedly rolling the map away and relocating the other items on the table to the shelf beneath the bank of windows behind him.

Thomas clears his throat as he sets the tray before them.  “I found the wine you asked for, sir.”

“Excellent.”  Hook swipes the bottle from the tray to examine the vintage and gives a small grin of approval before dismissing his man with a nod.  

Thomas sneaks a shy look at Emma and takes his leave, shutting the cabin door quietly behind him.

The Captain sets the bottle aside and moves to pull out a chair for her.  “Milady.”

Emma looks a little embarrassed, clearly unaccustomed, within recent memory at least, to such a courtesy.   Her cheeks bloom red as she slides obligingly into the seat and allows him to scoot her in.  “Thanks.”

He unseals the wine. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion,” he says with a wink, pouring them both a liberal glass.  “It seemed like an auspicious way to begin our journey.”

Emma reaches out to peer at the year on the faded label, and her eyes widen.  “You didn’t have to open this for me.”

His grin reaches his ears. “Nonsense, Swan.  Fine wine is meant to be shared with the perfect company. And I assure you, you’re the first person I’ve had the pleasure of sharing a meal with in a long time on whom it would not be wasted.”

She chuckles and looks down into her goblet, giving the straw-colored liquid a little swirl. “Really?  You don’t think your men would appreciate getting to taste this?” she asks, bowing her head and sniffing delicately.

He snorts.  “Enjoy it, yes.  Appreciate it, no.  I know the swill many of them will settle for.  I’ve drunk a fair amount of it myself.”  Her little laugh makes him feel a bit giddy before he’s even had a sip, and he toasts. “To finding home.”

She clinks her glass against his with a slightly apprehensive smile.  “Home.”

Between the wine, a meal made from ingredients all fresh from port, and Emma’s company, dinner is nothing short of delightful, though he’s fairly certain the latter is the greatest contributing factor.  Emma prompts him to tell her more about the locales they’ll pass through on their way north, and though she clearly makes a point of not overindulging in the wine, she seems to enjoy herself as he entertains her with descriptions of the soft white sand beaches of Glowerhaven, the rolling green hills of the Southern Isles, and the dramatic Cliffs of Evensbrooke.

Only crumbs remain by the time they finish, and Emma rises from the table with a soft rustle of her skirts in order to peruse his extensive collection of books.  She drags her fingertips lightly across the spines of the volumes lining the shelves near his bed, examining the titles one by one while he watches her over his second glass of wine.  A sizable tome with foreign script stamped across it in fading gold leaf catches her eye, and she carefully pulls it free to inspect it further.

“Odýsseia.  The Odyssey,” she observes, admiration in her voice.  She freezes, blinking.  “I read Greek.”  She stares at the shiny worn calfskin cover in awe.

Hook rumbles with satisfaction at having stumbled upon more evidence of her royal upbringing.  “It would seem you do, Alleged Princess.”

She narrows her eyes at him and purses her lips in the barest of concessions before flipping the book open and scanning a few of the dog-eared pages thoughtfully. “Hmph.  Not nearly as well as you, it seems,” she concludes.  “This looks like it’s been read a hundred times.” She arcs a brow at him in silent question.

The corner of his mouth crooks upward, and his gaze grazes the beams above them.  “You’d be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy,” he tells her.  “And perhaps less surprised to know that a pirate enjoys reading about adventures at sea.”

“No offense, but I’m a little surprised to find a pirate enjoys reading,” she admits.  “All the pirates I’ve met seem to prefer less… intellectual activities.”  She folds the book shut with a soft whump and returns it to the shelf.  “Poetry and literature were not exactly common topics of conversation at the tavern.”

Hook flashes a muted smile. “We hail from all walks of life, love. It’s hardly fair to paint us with the same brush when it comes to our interests.”

Emma shoots him an appraising look over her shoulder as she goes back to her meandering tour of his books and other knickknacks.  “Are you telling me you don’t also love rum and dice and cards and easy women?” she challenges.  The spark in her eyes is pure intelligence and boldness, and, gods, it calls to him like one of Homer’s bloody sirens.

His tongue feels pleasantly heavy as he swallows.  “I take pleasure in many things,” he manages, watching her raptly from his chair. “Though I admit that diversions that offer a challenge tend to be much more… rewarding.”

“Hmm.”  She sounds unconvinced, but he doesn’t miss the tiny twitch of the corner of her mouth before she resumes her survey of his things.  “So. The Royal Navy?”

His grin fades. “Aye.  Speaking of ancient tales,” he murmurs.  He reaches for his wine goblet and lifts it to his lips.

Emma turns at the change in his tone, eyeing him curiously.  “Not a happy story, I take it.”

He sighs as he drains his glass and sets it down.  “Not in the end, no,” he answers flatly, his expression somber as he slowly rotates the stem between his fingers.  “Let’s just say every man has his reasons for turning pirate.”  He should change the subject or stop talking now, he thinks. There’s nothing to be gained by revealing his emotional soft spots to anyone.  But she approaches and reseats herself next to him, folding her hands unassumingly in her lap and remaining silent as she waits for him to elaborate, and he realizes that part of him wants to tell her.  To be known by her.  Several long seconds go by.

“We served a corrupt king who sent us to Neverland in search of a plant we were told was medicine,” Hook begins at last.  “It turned out to be poison meant to be used as a weapon of war.  My captain wouldn’t believe it at first and dosed himself with it to prove it was a lie.”  The muscles in his jaw flex with tension and grief.  “He was my older brother, Liam,” he says quietly, his gaze fixed on the table. “He died.”

Emma’s expression transforms into one of horror.  “I’m… I’m so sorry,” she stammers.

He nods, his features pained as he chances the briefest of glances up at her before letting his eyes fall back to the worn wood table.  “I took command, and this ship hasn’t served a monarch since.”

Her eyes widen.  “This ship.  This was a naval vessel.”

Hook’s mouth pulls into a half-hearted smirk.  “Not just any naval vessel – the pride of the King’s fleet,” he corrects.  “She’s special – made from enchanted wood they say. It makes her the sturdiest and fastest ship in all the realms.”  He glances around looking nostalgic.  “We’ve weathered many a storm together, seen many strange, glittering shores.”

“Like Odysseus.”

“Indeed.”

Emma hums.  There’s a moment of hesitation.  “Your brother must have been quite an officer to have been appointed captain of the naval flagship,” she ventures kindly.

Hook’s brow wrinkles, his smile slipping away.  “Aye,” he mutters with a bittersweet huff.  He stares distantly at the floor by the bookshelf, the spot where Liam last drew breath, and his voice grows thick.  “That he was.  He was the best of men.”

She shifts in her seat, her face written with sympathy.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”

He glances up and catches her gaze with the shadow of a polite smile.  “It’s alright, love.  It was a very long time ago.”  He brushes the side of his nose with his thumb before clearing his throat.  “Feel free to borrow any of the books you like,” he offers, rising with a grunt.  “I should fetch you a lantern for your cabin.  Wait here.”

He registers Emma’s grateful nod as he takes up his own lantern and exits his quarters, pausing in the corridor as soon as the door closes behind him to try to shake off the fresh ache  - the guilt, sorrow, and loneliness – that resurrecting his brother’s ghost always brings to his heart.

 *             *             *

 A weary sigh escapes Swan’s lips as she retires to her cabin, hanging her lantern above her berth and settling on the edge of the utilitarian mattress with the Captain’s copy of Customs of the Frozen Lands. She runs her hand over the smooth black cover, her thoughts swirling as she replays the day in her mind and feels the steady rock of the ship beneath her.  The soft, rhythmic creak of boards and the faint footsteps of the night watch overhead sing to her, and Hook’s voice echoes in her thoughts.

Every man has his reasons for turning pirate.

What is that like?  To not have any memories?

She remembers the deep weariness that had crossed his face and the way his eyes had darkened when he spoke of his brother, and her lower lip disappears between her teeth.  She’s heard Captain Hook described as many things, seen the swaggering rapscallion and the hard-nosed commander, but it’s these facets of him that she’s never heard a word about – the worldly thinker, the thoughtful host, the mournful survivor – that give her the most pause.  None of the tales, even from Maggie, have prepared her for the honesty she hears in his words and the glimpses of vulnerability he allows her, and it makes her wonder even more at the hard life that twisted the Captain, a man in whom she sees more than a kernel of good, into a figure of such dark reputation.

Swan rises and sets the book on the washstand.  She studies her murky reflection in the dimly lit mirror and half-heartedly tries to finger-comb a few of the innumerable tangles out of her hair.  Since her appearance in Vicarstown, she’s only been afforded the luxury of seeing her own reflection a handful of times, and the face that looks back at her is still disturbingly unfamiliar.  Alleged Princess.  As many questions as she has about Hook, it’s really her own story that she should be worrying about.  She doesn’t know which possibility terrifies her more – that he might be right about her or that he could be wrong and this could be a fool’s errand that will end with her meeting some unspeakable fate at sea or abandoned in yet another unknown land.  

She locates the laces on her corset and tugs them loose with a sigh.  Killian Jones has apparently sailed the realms for over a hundred years, she reminds herself, tossing the leather aside.  The questionable nobility of his intentions notwithstanding, she believes his expressed determination to get her safely to Misthaven, and, like it or not, she’s left herself with no option but to trust in that and in him.

She reaches for the lantern to turn down the light, lowering the wick and staring into the dancing flame as it shrinks down to nothing more than a thin glowing stripe.  The cabin transforms into a room full of shadows, and Swan shucks off her boots and crawls into bed, electing not to strip down to her shift even in the supposed privacy of her berth.  The gentle sway of the ship is soothing, but after several long, sleepless minutes, she frowns, realizing that she misses the chirp of crickets and the chorus of frogs that always filled the night air of the little port town in the wee hours once the bawdiness died down.  She wonders what the night sounds like in the world she used to know.  Swan curls up on her side, cocooning herself beneath the slightly rough wool blanket and clutching the ancient pillow beneath her fingers, and as she closes her eyes to the uncertainties that loom over her like the dark, distorted shapes on the walls, she tries her best not to feel like a wayward, lonely child who misses a home she can’t even remember.

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[beauvoyr]

Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired | 6

blooming | the architect’s book of friends Pairings: Noctis/Reader Genre: Friendship/Romance/Friends-to-Lovers Tags: Fluff, Humor, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, and an inappropriate amount of references to video games and classical music and literature titles, no beta we die like men ;;v;; pre-canon a.k.a before FFXV Chapter Rating: T Crossposted on: AO3 Summary: Rules to join the Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired: 1) One must love sleep. Sleep is love. Sleep is life. 2) One must be tired. Physically or emotionally, both are acceptable. 3) One must love video games. Halfhearted interest in video games will result in immediate termination of membership.

Fortunately, Noctis falls into all three categories.

IT DOESN’T TAKE IGNIS MUCH time to find what he’s been searching for. The Royal Library, a separate section in the Citadel spanning over four gargantuan floors, is a labyrinth of wood and papers building up the history of the Lucian Kingdom. An area whose silence rivals a mausoleum, certainly not many frequented the library unless they are either the royalty, or one of the Lucian historians working for King Regis. And knowing Noctis, it’s very likely that he’s only set foot in here once or twice out of his entire lifetime.

All clean decor of black marble and delicate crystalline chandeliers, Ignis navigates himself through the automated barriers to locate the librarians. Of course, given his title as the prince’s advisor, they are generous enough to redirect him to some of the many computers hooked up to the walls. Despite the breadcrumbs of information on the Andronici stored in the archives, the digital collection of newspapers did not disappoint him. Ignis clicks on one of the two articles showing up on the computer screen, green eyes glinting as he scans over the title.

THE ANDRONICI FAMILY’S GENIUS

The Andronici welcomes another doctorate holder in the house. This is an achievement unlike any other in Lucis, as the youngest Andronicus is only 19 years old. A private graduation ceremony was held in the House of Andronicus to commemorate this event. Quintus Andronicus, the current head of the House of Andronicus, mentions that he expects nothing less for someone bearing the name of the Andronicus. He has declined further interviews on the matter.

A brief article devoid of pronouns, sidestepping the delicate matter of your birth. No mentions were made on your thesis, and not even the university you graduated from. You were, for a lack of better word, erased out of everyone’s sight. Perhaps Quintus had generously paid an additional sum for the journalist not to mention anything further, or certain threads are sewn upon the lips of those who chatter too much; that, Ignis doesn’t know.

What he knows is this: The more he pries on the Andronici, the sooner he’ll find himself erased as well.

With that thought lingering in his mind, Ignis closes the article with a click and deletes the browser’s history.

and so, it has become a routine of sorts. the days go by a little bit easier now, less empty, less lonelier, because your head’s all clogged up with thoughts of mama. mama and her undying elegance—talented fingers pressing in each note on the piano, as you’d sit in the adjoining parlour with your ear pressed to the door, a hand in your mouth to stifle your sobs. the astrals must’ve blessed mama, you see, for she births music as easily as she breathes. a debussy for a day, and a satie for the next. sometimes she’d sing along, a wordless mime of the music she makes, and you follow her song, albeit your broken warble remains incomparable to her songbird voice.

each day, she plays a tune for you. each day, she presses her lips to the door, kissing you through the wood.

and each day, byron stands dourly at the back, keeping a watchful eye over the entrance lest anyone intrudes.

IT USED TO BE A PRISON of glass. The world outside of the prison tempts you with many sights and sounds, but they all remained out of reach, obstructed by that cold, transparent wall. Try as you might, pounding your fists until you bleed, and you’ll still amount to nothing. Byron likened you to that of a tragic bird in a cage. With him as your arms, you could grapple and reach between the iron bars for slivers of pleasure from the outside world. Red apples from Cleigne, cute stationeries with cats printed on them, fashionable pair of heels trendy girls would wear, or a book on the Seven Wonders of the Lucis Kingdom for your imagination to take you places.

But what would you call those who willingly stepped foot inside this cage of yours?

“Shit—Noct, get that wyvern off my back! It’s poisoning me!”

Rapid keystrokes and the prince’s eyebrows are all furrowed, face perfectly fixed in a scowl. “Get out of the AOE, I’ll take the threat from you. Architect, stay on the boss. DPS until the aggro falls on you, then I’ll come back to tank it.”

You almost rolled your eyes at his command. “Prince, in case you haven’t noticed, the aggro’s already on me. Just that your Ray Jack’s in the way, so it looks like you’re tanking it since you’re absorbing all my hits.” The look on Noctis’ face is best described as the calm before a storm, so you quickly bit your tongue and remedied it with the press of a button. “Right—let me just go and get the wyverns from Prompto while you stay on the boss.”

For a scholar who devours words all your life, your tongue struggles with naming this feeling.

This feeling of having Noctis on your right, elbows propped up on one of your pillows, lying on his stomach as he fends off the boss’ attacks in desperation. The feeling of Prompto to your left, chewing on his bottom lip, whining when the boss knocks him out and you had to revive him, thanks to Kaliva’s necromancy. This feeling of being cocooned in your blanket, resting your head on a pillow, hands holding up your phone when Prompto sends a heart emote to Kaliva as thanks, narrowly fleeing the fiery onslaught from the boss’ wrath.

Does it matter if it had a name in the end?

No, you suppose. It doesn’t matter at all.

Noctis lands the final blow with Ray Jack’s special ability and the prince’s lips immediately curl into a smirk, nailing a high five to Prompto when the screen lights up in VICTORY. To you, he nudges you in the shoulder with his elbow in what seems to be a show of appreciation, and you return it with lightly punching him in the arm, feeling the briefest tug of a smile on your face. No sooner than you felt it—

you are a weak and foolish child for harbouring such feelings

—it drops, automatic, and you immediately refashion it into a neutral expression, turning away from the prince’s sharp eyes.

No.

It wouldn’t do.

This wouldn’t do at all.

“Maaaaaan, that was so tough, I’m so lucky I only died once!” Prompto groans, dragging a hand over his face as he flops backwards on the floor. “Seriously—this event’s gonna be the death of me! How much longer do we have to farm until everyone gets their five-star weapon!?”

And you’re thankful for his untimely interference, even if he doesn’t realise his heroic action.

Almost reluctant, Noctis passes it off and looks at Prompto, who’s already lying on the ground like he just got out from a life-and-death fistfight with the daemons. “You’d be long dead if King’s Knight isn’t a video game, buddy.”

“Noct, buddy,” the blond corrects him with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, “I know I’m definitely stronger than Toby right here. Just you wait until I get all the credits to give him a new rank—he’s gonna come equipped with epic debuff skills and you’re gonna cry for my help in the long run. Still not too late for you to say sorry to me, y’know.”

Amidst their pleasant bantering with one another, Noctis’ low voice contrasting deeply with Prompto’s affronted squawks, you find yourself rolling over to your side, scrolling through your list of friends in King’s Knight. What used to be an empty space has three boxes on its screen now, each detailing the nickname, the class, and the pixelated rendition of the player’s character. NoctGar Ray Jack the Warrior, Noctis’ character. Chocoboy Toby the Thief, Prompto’s selection. And Beefcake Barusa the Giganto, Gladio’s newest addition to your book of friends.

It’s strange having all of them here together with you, even if it’s just on your phone. A silly notion father would’ve scoffed at, easily dismissing it with a derisive click of his tongue.

You almost missed the sound of the doorknob turning as the door swivels open, and all the raucous chatter in your room died down just as immediately as a white blob emerged from the doorway. Of course—you definitely couldn’t have missed the scarlet glare in the sea of murky greys, nor the prim ponytail slung over one shoulder.

Byron closes the door behind him, taking off his leather shoes and socks with one hand and a bagful of groceries in the other. You could hear Prompto whispering under his breath, a soft who’s that? followed by Noctis’ noncommittal murmur of I can kinda guess in reply.

“Good day, milady,” Byron greets, an unmistakable cheer in his voice, yet the quick scan of his eyes across the room says otherwise. Putting down the chunky paper bag, he takes no interest in the two new occupants, instead finding more joy in restocking your fridge with two cartons of eggs and chunks of butter. “There was a good deal on the eggs and you know me, I can’t resist a good deal. Picked up some strawberries for dessert too, so we can have some tarts for tea later on.”

You pull yourself up from the floor, languid, and rub a hand over your neck guiltily. Throwing an apologetic look over your shoulder, Prompto only makes abstract movements of confusion, while Noctis is hardly any better, just alternating furtive glances between Byron and the fridge.

Once restocking the fridge is crossed off his agenda, Byron straightens up, reaching over the counter to procure a frying pan. His gloved hands expertly lights the stove, wields a spatula like a dagger, all the while rambling on. “The weather’s getting terribly cold lately, milady, until I’ve been having so much trouble trying to stay warm while I’m sleeping. Do you think I should invest in better blankets? Or should I wear more layers when I go to bed?” He hums a little, oils the pan in stunning fluidity, and cracks an egg. “Should I go for both? Or am I going to catch fire and die in my sleep?”

From behind, Prompto’s whispering continues with a conspiratorial dude, is this guy okay in the head? and met with Noctis’ low murmur of dunno, go and ask her what she thinks, and now Prompto’s tapping you on the shoulder, giving you weird facial expressions and thumbing at Byron.

This is definitely going nowhere. You placate the blond by patting his knee, reassuring him with a thumbs-up, and clearing your throat. “Byron—“

“Ah yes, before I forget.” The sizzle of egg fills the air and Byron fixes you with a look. The knowing slant on his lips has disappeared, shadowed by something else altogether. “Your father sends his kindest regards. He’s pleased to know you’ve made tremendous progress while living here. Aren’t you glad, milady?”

THE MOMENT HE MENTIONS QUINTUS, whatever’s on your lips left your mouth, replaced with a vacant look again. Noctis knows he’s seen this before, seen those times when you bite back on your emotions and revert into the non-existent shell of a human you are. Denying even the smallest of smiles, you only wore the lightest of frowns or the barest of scowls, keeping the rest of your emotions stowed in a chest—away, far, far away where the prying eyes couldn’t see, and the knowing tongues wouldn’t wag.

How absurd it is to make another person deny their feelings, robbing them of their humanly rights.

It’s as if you had no right to begin with.

To dignify the albino’s question with an answer, you lift your chin and regarded him, sedate. “Please thank father the next time you see him again.”

Curt, almost dismissive in nature. Whether or not you’ve taken it to heart, Noctis is unsure, not when you are toneless, emotionless, expressionless to everything else around you. A defence mechanism of sorts, maybe? He knows he’s put up quite a few walls when he thinks of the sunsets where his dad was supposed to visit him—only, King Regis didn’t show up and left him all alone to entertain the weight of his thoughts, looking at the pathetic stumps for his legs, thumbing the raised scar that ran across his back.

“An excellent choice, milady,” the albino utters—and Astrals know that Noctis’ seen better smiles on the faces of hyenas than this man right here. He plates a perfectly fried egg, cracks another, and this time scrambles it on the pan with a dash of pepper. “May I know if those two fine young men flanking your sides might be interested in eggs? Scrambled, fried, or sunny side up?

Oh, so now they’re finally getting acknowledged? Something about this guy pisses him off. Still, two could play this game, and Noctis knows he’s the better gamer around here. Crossing his arms over his chest, cocking his head to the side, Noctis puts up a slow, deliberate smile. “Scrambled.”

“Um.” Prompto’s sitting up straighter now, blue eyes the size of chocobo eggs. “Uh, can I ask for an omelette? With some shredded cheese on it? That tastes super good.”

“I’ll throw in some extra milk in the mix,” the man answers airily, already moving towards the fridge to withdraw a carton of milk and flimsy packets of cheese. As the rich scent of fried eggs permeates​ the air, he works on a second frying pan, stunning his audience of three with intense professionalism that rivals Ignis in the kitchen. Then, almost abruptly, he breaks off to look Noctis in the eyes. “Ah yes, how silly of me. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Byron, her butler.”

Noctis thought as much. “Kinda figured that out a while back.”

His wit goes unappreciated, and the albino—Byron—returns to his task of making them eggs for lunch. “Good to know you’re such an intelligent young man.” Dripping with sarcasm, Noctis notes, but his friends are champions of backseat fishing so he supposes this is the best this Byron guy could do. Oblivious to his internal monologue, Byron cracks open a second egg and lets it fall on the oiled pan with a crackle. “What about the other young man over there? You look positively adorable with your chocobo-themed hairstyle.”

The sarcasm lost on Prompto, he immediately perks up. “The name’s Prompto, nice to meet you.”

And Byron doesn’t even offer him a second glance. “Likewise.”

Is that sentiment even mutual? Clearly it isn’t. With how Prompto’s grin becomes downcast in mere seconds, it’s telling enough. A part of Noctis wants to shut this guy down for being such a cynical bastard, all haughty grandeur even if he’s just standing at your kitchenette, frying some eggs Noctis doesn’t even care about. Because nobody gets away with treating Prompto like that. Nobody gets away with treating his friends like that.

He’s already opening his mouth to offer his rebuttal with a snarl, but you’ve already set your face straight and cuts him off.

“I don’t appreciate the way you’re talking to them,” you utter, and every single word slipping past your lips makes him stare. “Please don’t repeat that unless you want to make me angry. They’re my friends.”

Friends. It must’ve been a foreign word missing in your lexicon, for a moment of self-doubt manifests as soon as it tumbles from your lips. You cast a look at Prompto, inquisitive, and the blond only returns it with a standard Prompto Smile™ before you turn to Noctis, giving him the same inquisitive look. A worrying, searching look. As if reaffirming that this is friendship and yes, they’re your friends, and Six forbid that anyone takes it away from you.

To others, it must’ve looked stupid because a twenty-year old is only starting to make friends.

But hey, Noctis supposes, returning your abject look with half a smile, nudging you in the arm, everyone’s gotta start from somewhere.

“what does snow feel like?” you ask, sprawled messily over your unmade bed. byron, in the midst of rearranging your avidly growing collection of novels, catches the pensive look on your face, and straightens up as you fire off more questions. “it’s cold, right? but does it feel like touching solid ice? or is it like touching cold sand? kind of like a popsicle, maybe? hey—hey, byron, what do you think?”

how ridiculous it is for a child to have seen snow, yet deprived of the experience of touching it. all you’ve seen are the white dusts falling from the skies, a rain of white, colouring everything in white, white, and more white. everything the snow touches is preserved in beauty, rendering it a timeless piece.

but you mustn’t know of the outside world.

if you knew, you’d desire it even more.

desire leads to want.

and want leads to need.

clearing his throat, he chances a glance outside the windows and eyes the darkening sky. “it’s cold, yes. what brought this on, milady?”

“well,” you begin, all sheer excitement as you lift the book you’re reading—it’s something byron vaguely recognises as a title he picked out in a local second-hand store last week—and points excitedly to a watercolour picture on its page. childish gushing, ecstatic, all hopeful smiles and wistful sighs. “they’re talking about having a snowball fight with their friends! but snow melts when you touch it, right? so how can they fight with ‘snowballs’ when it’s going to melt the moment they touch it? tell me, tell me!”

ah, the magnificence of childlike innocence. it’s hopeless to deny you of your rights to feel passionate about something. after all, you are only human—even if you are the child of the andronicus. byron resumes his task, half-bent over a shelf of literary classics, and breathes out his warning.

“when you’re with me, it’s all right to feel everything under the blue sky, but you must remember this: in front of others, you mustn’t show your emotions. never. only with me you’re safe, milady. nobody else. you know how much your father hates it. and i don’t wish for him to hurt you.”

THE ANDRONICI FAMILY IS FRIENDLESS, and that’s a fact. They carry themselves with a certain self-assurance that one might misinterpret as excessive arrogance, finding fault with every stray detail obstructing their plans, and keeping themselves at a distance from others, away from friendly contact. Quintus Andronicus, too, made only acquaintances and Byron supposes nobody is deserving enough in their ranks to be called a ‘friend’ to him.

Seeing the beginnings of a frown settling on your forehead, eyes dark, mouth firmly set in a thin line, makes him wonder if all of this ‘friendship’ nonsense will pay off in the end. Nothing good ever stems from building a ‘friendship’ brigade, especially with one like the prince himself. He knows it’s Noctis from the start—who doesn't? The Internet’s full of his face with just a simple search, and the tabloids gossiped about his university life like what the prince is eating should be everyone’s main concern for the day.

Nothing good comes out of this. Nothing.

“My apologies,” Byron offers, yet he knows you’d know he doesn’t mean a single word of it. “Milady, with all due respect, please stop whatever it is that you’re doing now. No,” he firmly cuts you off the moment he sees you readying a retaliation on the tip of your tongue, “stop. Yes, I know you’re all buddies with the Heir of Lucis, but are you ready to destroy everything with this whole friendship nonsense? It’s not worth it, if you ask me.”

“In case you missed it, nobody asked you,” Noctis grits out, and for the slightest moment of humour, Byron finds it cute that the prince is trying to level him with a glower. He’s obviously ten years too young to start a fight he’s not going to win.

“Freedom of speech allows me to say what I want, all in the best interest of milady,” Byron reproaches, wagging a finger warningly. “You know nothing of Quintus Andronicus, so kindly stay out of this, Highness.”

What he said must’ve loosened the muscles in your mouth because you’re openly glaring at him now—and by Six, he’s never been subjected to this level of loathe from you before. Lips curled in disgust, half-lidded eyes, neck fraught in thinly quelled anger, you’re the very image of Ifrit’s wrath ready to scorch those who crossed your path. It’s silly how something as trivial as ‘friends’ would surpass his decade-long servitude with you.

And it’s sillier how this game of friendship’s got you all worked up, ready to defend them with a bite of your fangs.

“No—I know what father is like. I know him best.” You shake your head, staring him down. “He hates it if I have friends, hates it if I show any emotions. So what? I came here to get away from all of that—I purposely came here to get away from him, get away from all of the restrictions he puts me under. I want to live, Byron.”

You’re obviously speaking under great duress right now. He knows where you’re coming from because he’s been there, done that. One year after another, teaching you how to skirt the boundaries of Quintus’ domain, pressing sticky sweets in your clammy fingers with a roguish wink, shielding you behind his figure when the maids pass by with their noses upturned. He’s heard the aged manservants lamenting the dismal disaster of the Andronici daughter, he’s been subjected to their ‘careless’ hands staining his white laundry load with coloured clothes, and—

—you’re looking him in the eye, the glassy reflection of a white visage reflected within.

Fuck. He hates it all.

The egg’s already burnt around the edges and the acrid stench is almost enough to make him retch. He clicks off the stove and shoves the whole pan in the sink, letting it sizzle under a great waterfall from the tap.

“Remember what Quintus said?” he reminds you, trying to keep his voice trimmed from excessive ire. “A great strategist is never one who’s easily influenced by their emotions. A great strategist offers nothing of their thoughts on their faces. While I’ve been at fault for playing a part in your rebellion, part of me hoped that living here would’ve offered you a different perspective on your dreams and aspirations to become the next in line. You know I’ve always encouraged your every step, milady, but there are limits to certain things. Stop this nonsense immediately.”

He doesn’t expect anyone to understand this.

Nobody ever does anyway.

It’s not safe outside for you. It’s not safe for someone like you to showcase your emotions as though it is an art exhibition in the Royal Museum of Lucis and you’re one of the subjects in a painting. It’s not safe for you to be with someone without him. It’s not safe at all. And it’s complicated. Everything’s complicated when it comes to him, when it comes to you, when it comes to the two of you together with Niflheim’s unspoken promise breathing down your back.

But nobody else needs to understand this.

As long as you understood him, then the rest of Eos can go fuck themselves.

Yet, the blond—Prompto—Prompto’s flushed with obvious anger, a scarlet haze crossing his freckled cheeks and colouring the tips of his ears a violent red. Hell, the kid’s even got his hand balled up in a fist. “Dude, what’s your problem? Let her have friends! You’re not her mom. It’s not enough that she’s locked up here—“

“—out of her own volition, must I remind you,” Byron tuts, shutting off the tap and letting the clogged sink stay there for all he damn well cares.

“—yeah but she’s right,” Prompto goes on, all mouthy with the heat coursing through his body like he’s desperate to get it out of his system. “She finally got her freedom and now she’s finally trying to get a life of her own, but you’re taking all of that away from her. What do you even see her as? A robot? She’s a human, for Gods’ sake. Let her have friends.”

To make matters worse, even the prince is under their friendship spell now, wearing a slightly playful grin as he prods you in the side, making you look up at him in surprise. “Heads up; I don’t wanna work with an emotionless robot in the future, got it? So you better work on your expressions a little bit more. Not too late to start now.”

“R-right,” you stammer—and for the love of Six, did you actually stutter like a giggling girleen? That’s completely unheard of. “I’ll work on that, I swear. I think.”

Noctis’ playful grin slips into something else, sliding into a lazy curl of the prince’s lips, and he all but claps you on the back with a hearty thump. “Good.”

It’s just a simple word. Good. Yet Byron knows you’ve been starved of attention, of acknowledgement. The feeling of being recognised, being wanted for something, being given something—just like the abandoned child you are. Even if Noctis is feeding you scraps of praises from his outstretched hand, you’re nothing but a ravenous mongrel eager to lap it all up, licking all over his palm and sucking off his fingers. In all of your disgusting desperation, there is beauty in how you gaze at the prince, the wide-eyed ingénue you are.

Ah.

Byron thinks he knows what this is.

The ardent yearning mirrored in your eyes, veiled partway by your lashes. Dilation of your pupils, unconsciously parting your lips, breathing quietly through your mouth. The fleeting touches Noctis gave you must’ve short-circuited your brain, crossing the wires and sending all sorts of mixed signals in your head. You must’ve not noticed that you sat so close to the prince until his knee bumps against yours, and you both had been like that ever since he first came in. And how long have you been like this with him? Surely it’s been weeks by now, long few weeks with many hours spent on coddling the baby prince.

Were you that desperate to mistaken acknowledgement for love?

This is silly. This is so silly until he knows he has to put a stop to this madness. He’s got to prune the roses from the desolate garden of your heart and leave you with the thorns. There is no choice. Not for you, anyway.

“Best forget that, milady,” Byron quips, pointing at your proximity with Noctis. “You don’t even know how to love to begin with. You’re not made for this.”

That is uncalled for.

He knows.

All is lost when you wrench your gaze away from the prince so sharply until he sees the broken reflection of his whiteness in your watery eyes.

“Get out.”

There it is. He knows he’s hit a nerve for you to use that tone on him. Still, an order is an order after all, and he’s made to follow orders. Despite the many circumstances surrounding your birth and your entire life, he doesn’t fault you for it. Not a single bit. Not when he’s too deeply involved with you to ever go away. Pan in the sink, the bitter stench of burnt egg in the air, Byron saunters over to the exit, slipping on his socks and shoes in a subconscious routine he’s already mastered in a heartbeat. With his hand on your doorknob, he wrenches it open.

There is only a single farewell, but it’s definitely not his last.

“But milady, do remember this,” he says without even looking at you. Not that he needs to anyway, when he knows your eyes are pinning needles in his back with your tears unshed.  “You know I can’t live without you.”

And your answer comes just as sharp as the crack of Quintus’ slap.

“Neither can I, but right now, I can’t bear the sight of you.”

IGNIS IS IN THE KITCHEN, and Noctis hunches over his assignment as he scrawls down several key points about this fictional Zeus guy who’s a supposed God in this weird novel their lecturer made them read. He can’t focus even if he tried to think of studying as a means for distraction, not when he’s seen the devastation wrecked in your little home, watching the cracks in your life grow bigger and bigger.

What that butler said still pisses him off—even thinking about his sneering face, all white hair with a heart all black, is enough to irritate him to Galdin and back.

The aftermath of the destruction was a quiet room devoid of sounds, and the only hint he received from you was from the unshed tears brimming your eyes. Yet, you blinked them away, didn’t even sob when Byron closed the door behind him. Prompto was there in two quick steps; he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you in for a hug, running a hand down your back in comforting little circles, whispering it’s okay and hey you’re gonna be fine and shhh we’re here for you in repetition like a looping lullaby. Only then, only after the storm had passed, after your little trembles gave way into even breathing, Prompto pulled away and they left just as quietly.  

Sighing, Noctis props his head up with a hand on his chin and banishes the thoughts with the sight of his dull book. Tapping his pen against the list of characters he made on the novel, he skims through his notes again.

There’s Zeus, the almighty God whose number of wives and children could’ve surpassed the Lucian lineage, and his wife Mnemosyne, the personification of memory and remembrance. Together, they had nine children, all of which are muses for inspiration. Memorising all these nine names are definitely going to be a pain in the ass, and Noctis already feels a migraine kicking in as his dark blue eyes scan the names; Calliope of the epic poetry, Polyhymnia of the hymns of Gods, Urania of the stars and astronomy, Melpomene of the tragedy—

“It’s a play written by a certain playwright several hundred years ago,” Ignis says, delivering a brief history lesson as he expertly flips a grilled sandwich in a pan. “A grotesque tragedy, if I must summarise its contents.”

What Ignis said before surfaces in his mind, unbidden.

A tragedy, huh. Much like the title Titus Andronicus, Noctis supposes. Before he realises it, he’s already circling Melpomene with his highlighter, putting a star mark right next to it. Then, he shuts his book and calls it a day.

If this were truly a tragedy, then you were undoubtedly the architect of your own destruction.

[tbc.]

;;v;; hi guys pls don’t hate byron yet, he’s got very good reasons you’ll find out in a few more chapters ;;v;; but that aside, i’m rly blown away by everyone’s kind likes and reblogs and messages! <3 you guys are blessings to my awful work life (work sucks but ah w e l l such is adulting) ;;v;; <3 <3 <3 the next chapter is plot-development fluff so look forward to sleeping with noctis!!!

p/s i screwed up the timeline orz this is what happens when u let a grandma write fics ;;v;; resetting their ages to 20 bc i realised they started somewhere in october and forgot to take into account that noctis’ birthday had already passed _(:’3 im sorry agh i was writing chapter 15 (they’re already starting january) so i want to take this time to apologise for my rapidly deteriorating grandmotherly memory </3

PREVIEW:

“Hey, you look like shit,” Noctis says—and he can mentally imagine his etiquette tutor screaming at him at the back of his head because he did not just address a female nobility like that and oh Six where have I gone wrong? as she wrings her hands tragically. Still, his casual greeting cracks the sleepy stupor you’re in, and your lips curve into a small smile. It’s nowhere a big one, but it’s a start.

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Educating Vitae

by Shim

Monday, 18 January 2016

In which choices are explored, people do things they know to be bad, blood is unhelpfully like sex, and there are altogether too many types of vampire.~

I must apologise firstly for the title, and secondly for not incorporating any song titles from Meat Loaf into this article. I already spent too long writing it.

So, only six years late, I finally finished reading Vampire Academy.

It’s quite fun. I originally wrote "really fun", but reflection on the social plot has made me a bit less enthusiastic.

The following will contain enormous amounts of spoilers, including big plot-type revelations. I should also point out that the book includes self-harm, and I will briefly mention it but not go into detail.

On Protagonists and Viewpoints

So the book is a little ambiguous about its nature. Let me cite some of the back blurb here.

Lissa Dragomir is a mortal vampire. She must be protected at all times from the fiercest and most dangerous vampires of all - the ones who will never die. Rose Hathaway is Lissa's best friend - and her bodyguard. Now, after two years of illicit freedom, they've been dragged back inside the iron gates of St. Vladimir's Academy. The girls must survive a world of forbidden romances, a ruthless social scene and terrifying night-time rituals. But above all, they must never let their guard down, lest the immortal vampires take Lissa - forever...

Huh. I don’t think I’ve seen a single night-time ritual. How misleading.

But never mind that! The point is, in this blurb and the early stages of the book, it’s not entirely clear who’s the protagonist (as discussed originally in

The Text Factor: Halloween Special: Girl Books for Girls

). The description kicks off with Lissa, and she’s the vampire, and the one affected by most of the weird events of the book. However, our viewpoint character is always Rose.

I wondered for a while whether this was going to be a dual-protagonist book with a single viewpoint character; due to blood bond shenanigans, Rose sporadically ends up in Lissa’s mind, which is a handy way to convey key information. That would have been interesting.

As the story progressed, though, I increasingly got the feeling that Lissa is more of a plot point (albeit a nicely characterised one) than a protagonist in her own right. Her early interactions with Christian, and her special status, suggest that her experiences might be the main focus of the book, with Rose there for support, observation and a bit of romance on the side. However, it soon becomes clear that Rose’s experiences are going to be much more narratively important than Lissa’s.

Introduction to the Vampire

There’s quite a lot of vampire stuff to introduce, especially for those of us not familiar with it. I’ve not idea how closely it fits folklorific ideas of vampires. However, the broad-strokes picture we get of how vampire society works seems to fit together in its own rather bizarre way. The relationship between moroi

[1]

, dhampir

[2]

and humans is clearly unhealthy, particularly their utterly hypocritical view of the people they depend on for blood.

However, Mead is careful to weave in some explanations for this. Not only are the ‘feeders’ providing food, which tends to dehumanise them; they do so willingly and eagerly, because of the intoxicating nature of vampiric saliva, making them into addicts. Society doesn’t respect addicts, so it’s easier to accept this situation. Moreover, Rose calls out the hypocrisy in the situation explicitly, while still allowing shades of it to slip into her own attitudes and words. Knowing something’s morally dubious isn’t an easy route to resolving it, after all.

They were well cared for and given all the comforts they could need. But at the heart of it, they were drug users, addicts to Moroi saliva and the rush it offered with each bite. The Moroi - and guardians - looked down on this dependency, even though the Moroi couldn't have survived otherwise unless they took blood by force. Hypocrisy at its finest.

This trait of allowing grey complexities into Rose’s voice is one of the things that pleased me about the book. Rose is quite perceptive about wrongs, injustices and ambiguities, but Mead hasn’t written her as some righteous, crusading heroine. In fact, the book is riddled with her weaknesses. You might even argue that one of the themes of the book (and, I suspect, the series) is morality, boundaries of acceptability, and the strength and opportunity to make moral choices. Let’s see if I can make a case for that.

Choices and Morality

One of the first things that happens in the book is a feeding; Rose’s vampire, Lissa, needs blood from her. This introduces the intoxication aspect, but it’s only later that we learn how unacceptable – dirty, perverted, unthinkable – this is in vampire society. However, it’s a decision they made to keep Lissa alive, and one that’s left Rose with a mild addiction.

Soon after they return to school, Rose walks into a classroom to find two high-status kids tormenting a poor kid, magically blowing his papers around the room. In many books this would be a teaching point, where Rose or Lissa stepped in to deliver justice and demonstrate their righteousness. Here, nobody does a thing.

My instincts urged me to do something, maybe go smack one of the air users. But I couldn’t pick a fight with everyone who annoyed me, and certainly not a group of royals – especially when Lissa needed to stay off their radar. So I could only give them a look of disgust as I walked to my desk.

And then the narrative moves on to another part of the plot. Although Lissa is technically high-status, and both were once socially powerful, the school has moved on in their absence. Now, the rumours about their escape – and soon about a series of associated events – greatly complicate their attempts to blend back in.

Similarly, Rose frequently does things that aren’t particularly nice, or good, or sensible. As the story is told from her viewpoint, we even hear her acknowledging these issues. She still does them, though. It’s very human.

Some tiny, tiny part of me was starting to feel sorry for Christian. It was only a tiny part, though, and very easy to ignore...

And later on:

"...between stealing [her boyfriend] and spreading those stories about her parents, you guys really picked the best ways to make her suffer. Nice work." The smallest pang of guilt lurched inside of her. "I still think you're lying." "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a lair. That's your department. And Rose's." "We don't-" "Exaggerate stories about people's families? Say that you hate me? Pretend to be friends with people you think are stupid? Date a guy you don't like?"

All of the above accusations are, of course, entirely accurate.

A feud erupts between Rose, Lissa and another girl called Mia, apparently at Mia’s instigation. Still, both sides are determined to utterly crush their rival and exact painful revenge, which means immense suffering for both parties as their most private secrets are turned into playground gossip by the other side. It’s mutually-assured destruction, basically.

Another important decision involves Lissa’s vampiric powers. We learn early on that Lissa has some compulsion abilities, and gradually discover that she can influence both humans and vampires, which is highly unusual. When their social standing is destroyed by revelations of blood sharing, a furious Lissa resolves to use those abilities to forcibly change people’s opinions of them, catching them one by one and altering their feelings by magic. This does indeed allow them to gradually regain acceptability in the school, but Rose is deeply uncomfortable about it, with good reason.

Finally, there’s Natalie. Poor Natalie.

Natalie is the daughter of a powerful vampire, Dashikov, and she just wants to be loved. Throughout the book, she seeks social validation, but it’s made clear that above all, she wants her father’s affection, and doesn’t quite get enough. This poisonous little worm is enough to turn her into a pawn for him, and his total carelessness about her really reinforced how unpleasant he is. From spying on her friends for his sake, she’s eventually pushed into leaving mutilated animals around in an attempt to make Lissa reveal her healing powers.

Finally, when her father is captured, she takes the ultimate step of becoming a Strigoi, murdering one of the teachers to gain the power to break him out. It fails, and her death is another trivial loss in his quest for power. Once again, out come those Themes I mentioned.

Natalie breaks the bounds of friendship in the hopes of winning validation from her father, and what she’s prepared to do for his sake pushes her into the final betrayal of her friends and her entire species. Although apparently happy, she doesn’t have the willpower to withstand his influence and refrain from doing wrong on his behalf. Dashikov betrayed his duties as a father by turning Natalie into a pawn for his own sake, and manipulating her love to force her into immoral acts. This contrasts with Dimitri, who as a child defeated his vampiric father to defend his mother, and now bursts in to help Rose defeat her one-time friend.

Although Natalie was only ever a minor character, looking back, you can see hints of what’s going on in the way she casually teases out information and hangs around Lissa. I did feel genuinely sorry for her, and I was sorry to see she just got killed off at the climax. On the other hand, stories where the bad guys just hang around indefinitely can drag.

Knowing what’s best for you

It strikes me that throughout the book, I don’t think Lissa ever actually asks Rose for anything. Partly this is perhaps just habitual expectation that Rose will be there, but I feel that part of it is that Rose projects her own ideas about what Lissa needs onto her charge. The mental bond that lets her literally see through Lissa’s eyes and experience her thoughts surely doesn’t help. We never see Lissa’s side at first hand.

This is shown up most flagrantly when she intervenes to block what she sees as an unhealthy friendship blooming between high-status Lissa and the local brooding loner, Christian, whose parents were killed after going rogue and hunting other vampires. Lissa finds his company soothing and there’s a sympathetic spark between them.

Rose, who is unusually bound up in social games for a contemporary heroine, is horrified at the thought of Lissa associating with this outcast, and repeatedly takes her to task. Between her prejudice and his rather erratic behaviour, things spiral until Rose intervenes, actively lying to Christian to separate them. Naturally, both Lissa and Christian think the other party has wronged them, and things become progressively worse. She does become guilty, though, and eventually she’s forced to admit that she was in the wrong.

Nonetheless, Lissa’s story throughout the book is one of having her best interests decided and controlled by other people. Her escape from the school turns out to have been at Rose’s instigation and with no warning; they’re forcibly returned to the school; Rose patrols her friendships and tries to dictate her social interactions; and eventually, Dashikov steps in to capture her in the hopes of curing his terminal illness. Even this he tries to frame as being good for her, providing an escape from the problems caused by her unique magical abilities.

The problems are, essentially, mental illness. For some reason not yet explained, Lissa's abilities not only lead to her mental bond with Rose, but also to extremely distressing mental episodes. Her coping mechanism for this is the self-harm I mentioned above, and there are a couple of explicit scenes, including first-person perspective courtesy of Rose's bond. Her eventual hospitalisation after a particularly bad episode causes yet more social waves, but also kicks us over from the social plot to the Dashikov plot that seems likely to be the overarching arc of the series.

Interestingly, I don’t think Christian ever does this. One of the things that seems to make him a suitable friend is that he’s fully prepared to leave Lissa alone. In their first encounter he simply extends a tenuous offer of conversation, making no attempt to force it, and he gives her plenty of space. When Rose tells him that Lissa doesn’t actually want him around, he immediately pulls back (causing both plenty of grief).

He does approximately set someone on fire to end a spiteful conversation about Lissa and Rose, but in fairness it’s purely a distraction and he doesn’t really get a chance to ask whether they’d like any help. Although he also clearly thinks it’s really funny. It's sort of reminiscent of the earlier scene with the boy being bullied, only this time the observer does decide to step in and face the consequences.

Since neither Jacob nor Ralf would have set Ralf on fire, it sort of made the culprit obvious. The fact that Christian was laughing hysterically sort of gave it away too.

Coming back to my point, though, I do think his willingness to just let her be herself – tied in to his own solitude and need to just be himself – is a strong point in his favour. When he realises she’s been self-harming, he twigs immediately, says nothing, and just exudes a kind of supportiveness that Lissa finds very comforting. He’s also smart enough to realise she’s been mesmerising everyone to restore their social standing, which is another point in his favour. Admittedly, he thinks it’s hot, rather than an alarming abuse of a power she shouldn’t even have, but then he is a teenager, and she is canonically doing nothing harmful with it, so the narrative’s always going to be on her side.

What I’m saying is, basically, I liked Christian as a character. I thought he was a well-constructed love interest, even though we mostly only see him in brief glimpses through Lissa’s eyes, as he doesn’t let his guard down as much around Rose. To some extent he comes across as the conscience of the story, reminding Rose and Lissa of their moral failings.

In fact (if I can be astonishingly pseud for a moment) you could almost posit him as a jester; his outsider status, total lack of social power and uncaring badass lonerism means he can speak truth to power (and set people on fire) with impunity, having very little to lose. He's also positioned to observe the other students without much personal involvement, and thus to comment on them.

I found Dimitri appealing as well. Mead did a good job of building the connections between him and Rose – they have similar mindsets, a strong sense of dedication, they feel somewhat isolated, and they’re very physical people. In both cases, they bring an outsider perspective that gives rise to mild contempt for some aspects of vampiric society; a sort of flipside to Christian's status as scion of a family fallen to the strigoi.

Yet they’re not entirely the same. There are clear differences in upbringing: she was raised by the school and indoctrinated from birth to become a model guardian like her mother; he was raised in a tight-knit community of blood-donors. Age also creates a distinction: I can see Rose eventually maturing into a more measured person, though probably still less reserved than Dimitri.

The older lover thing is a trope, and being a trope it isn’t quite as problematic as a 17-24 relationship would seem to me in real life. Rose has also been surviving in the real world for two years, so she’s a bit more savvy than her years. I was pleased that Dimitri, and to some extent Rose, recognised and tried to deal with these issues. As well as the simple age barrier, school rules, and his pastoral responsibility towards her, there are some professional complications.

One odd observation: given how Dimitri is presented as a consummate professional, he completely misses a massive and glaring clue that something suspicious is going on, and the narrative skips right over it.

"Well, it was a hell of a lot better than the last one they tried" "Last one?" "Yeah. In Chicago. With the pack of psi-hounds." "This was the first time we found you. In Portland." "Um. I don't think I imagined psi-hounds. Who else could have sent them? They only answer to moroi. Maybe no-one told you about it." "Maybe," he said dismissively. I could tell by his face he didn't believe that.

It's not very clear to me whether this is supposed to mean "he decided Rose was making it up" or "he was deeply suspicious and pretending not to be". Either way, nothing seems to suggest that anyone actually follows up on this obviously suspicious point, even though it ties strongly into the conclusion of the story.

Changing Minds

It’s maybe worth noting that this offers one of the more accurate portrayals of manipulation and social dynamics I remember seeing. Everyone involved is aware that what they’re dealing with is say-so, rumour and gossip, and quite harmful gossip at that, but they nevertheless either spread it or at least allow it to influence their behaviour. First Lissa, and then Rose, know the other’s desire for revenge is excessive, but they don’t seriously intervene and eventually both are committed to destroying Mia (we never get to see Mia’s side, sadly).

This isn’t just about bitchy girls, either. The boys in the story don’t come out too well. Several are happy to spread damaging lies about girls to get some attention, or even to be bribed with sex. There’s petty bullying, and Lissa and Rose are regularly targets of leering remarks and speculation on their relationship. Even the nicer named boys, Mason and Christian, are hot-tempered and use violence to defend Rose and Lissa from bullying. Only Dimitri, Rose’s smoking-hot combat instructor, escapes most of this – and as a 24-year old, he’s presumably matured more than the others, though he does have one aggressive confrontation with a student.

The school principal is interesting in the little we see of her. Rose views her quite clearly as despotic and arbitrary, but I don’t think the text quite supports that. She is quite harsh with Rose and Lissa, but then she has very good reason: they have committed a serious breach of rules by running away for two full years, causing enormous trouble and worry for a lot of other people. They also appear to be habitual troublemakers (lots of illegal parties and midnight escapades) and smashed up another student’s bedroom before leaving. Of course she’s going to be strict.

Moreover, this isn’t just normal school strictness; the vampires face the very real threat of strigoi hunting them down. In the absence of a very good explanation, which the girls don’t dare to give, severe punishment is inevitable and appropriate. She does intend to expel Rose before Dimitri intervenes, but then again, she’s prepared to change her mind when he agrees to take her in hand. I thought she was pretty well-done as a character.

Social Protagonists

On that social games point – my observation (from an admittedly limited subset of reading) is that the majority of protagonists in contemporary literature, particularly literature aimed at younger people, don’t really dabble in social politics. Many are bookish nerds, particularly on the more fantastical end of the literary spectrum. Many others are simply everyteenagers; they’re averagely attractive (at least in theory), averagely clever, have an average number of friends, and so on. I can only remember seeing high-status people in more literary books, or that high-society flavour of romance a la Jilly Cooper. Historical novels seem much readier to star nobles and the socially-influential, possibly because those are the bits of history that sound most fun.

As such, it was interesting to see a story whose protagonists were enthusiastic participants in the social scene. I was a little disappointed to realise that that was going to be strictly past tense; I suppose it does make sense for things to have changed in their absence, including their own feelings. Mostly, though, I imagine the narrative called for them to have to make new friends and not have very much support, because most of this volume is about that social uncertainty, and how it leaves them vulnerable.

Oh Sole Mia

Mia was actually the aspect of the book that I thought was weakest. I liked the fact that there was an apparently-arbitrary rivalry between these girls, and was quite sympathetic to Mia. Truth be told, I still am. We learn that her family are very low-status and she’s managed to work her way into more influential circles – another example of boundary-crossing, as this seems to be viewed in much the same way as social climbing in 1950s Britain, but seems quite reasonable to me.

Later it’s revealed that the reason for the feud is her appalling treatment by Lissa’s deceased brother, which Lissa is naturally reluctant to believe (as quoted above). Again, the brother made bad choices and harmed Mia both personally and socially in the process. However, Lissa loved and had faith in her brother, and it's difficult for her to accept that he was not only in the wrong, but actively wronged someone else. The fact that she's currently in a serious feud with Mia naturally makes that even harder.

I felt like both sides were being realistically angry and vindictive, but both were also understandable and sympathetic in their motivations. Although Mia technically starts the feud, she's clearly on the defensive from the start, responding to what seems an invasion of her social territory from someone she hates both as a royal and as the sister of her horrible ex.

Later on, though, the authorial voice turns violently against Mia. She becomes increasingly desperate in the face of the nobility closing ranks against her (which is quite understandable), and resorts to trying to get Rose’s help after a fall-out between her and Lissa. This is a sort of unpardonable sin in narrative terms, trying to create a betrayal between friends, and she’s quite explicitly painted as dangerous and ruthless. Of course, this is all in Rose’s voice, but it also felt fairly clear that this was the reality.

Worse is to come, though; it turns out that Mia spread rumours by offering sexual favours to a couple of bragging lads, while in a steady relationship with someone she’s apparently devoted to. This is the point where the narrative switches from nasty-but-somewhat-understandable to, it seemed to me, depicting her as genuinely obsessive and (in Rose’s words) “well into sociopath territory”. It’s not the actions specifically, so much as how far she’s willing to push boundaries in pursuit of revenge. Rose, on the other hand, is the Sexy Spice half of the Rose-Lissa pair, but the text is careful to emphasise early on that she hasn’t had sex, despite all the kissing and “semi-nakedness” that’s brought up regularly.

The problem is, though, that this leaves us with an antagonist who is flat-chested (highlighted very early on), short, relatively unpopular (until she started dating Lissa’s royal ex, apparently), working-class, and promiscuous, who is also portrayed as nasty and sociopathic. I feel like the conflation of those things is a bit unnecessary – I’d rather hoped to see the end of Bad Common Girl when I stopped reading Enid Blyton. She’s left to contrast with a conventionally-attractive, athletic, popular, high-status party-girl heroine who’s conveniently balanced between “sexy” and “virgin”.

This increasing vilification of Mia helpfully means that Rose and Lissa never have to really reconsider their own actions or question their consciences. In fact, the final flare of this plot in the book involves Mia making yet more bitchy remarks while Lissa is in hospital, and Rose punching her in the face. The uberplot kicks off while she's under lock and key, awaiting punishment. Narratively, Mia is placed firmly in the wrong, and I think that's a shame.

Weirdly, in some ways I actually felt more sympathetic to Mia than to Rose. She’s got plenty of issues, but she had been very badly treated by Lissa’s brother, and had fought had to overcome the major social disadvantages of her background in a prejudiced society, only to have that stripped away by the sudden return of Lissa and Rose.

To a large extent I also felt she was treated badly by the narrative, with Mead making an apparently conscious decision to make her a nasty piece of work and piling sexual condemnation on top of that. I’d have liked to see an antagonist who was just someone whose interests constantly clash with the protagonist, and I feel that would have worked well, given how Rose is constantly presented as flawed.

The Sex Talk

Awkwardly, I think the book is framing a lot of the social stuff around sex. I don’t know much about the sociology or literary issues here, so apologies for the aspects I will undoubtedly miss. Essentially, there’s a slightly weird thing where blood is sometimes a sort of metaphor for sex, except there’s also sex. You know?

People who provide blood to vampires are popularly called “blood whores”, which seems to be completely acceptable terminology – the only alternative, “feeders”, isn’t much better. I’m a bit surprised there doesn’t seem to be a single official or neutral term in use, even if teenagers don’t use it. The characters conflate these with the dhampir communities who raise children, creating an impression that non-guardian dhampirs (mostly women) are basically just sources of blood or sex or both for moroi. It’s not entirely clear how accurate this is in the setting.

The entire blood-sharing issue, which is the cause of Lissa and Rose’s fall from grace, is explicitly depicted as both “dirty” and strongly associated with kinky sex. The rumours spread about them claim that Rose has been sleeping around while allowing vampire boys to drink her blood - which is, predictably, treated as only being icky on her side, because sexism.

I mean, it makes some sense. I can see that in a world where “people you feed on” is an actual thing, then taboos would quite likely arise on also having sex with those people, and that all sorts of baggage would build around this.

The awkwardness here is that half their social redemption comes from proving (well, getting those same accusers to declare) that it’s all lies and Rose never actually had sex with anybody, let alone allowed them to drink her blood (the issue of Lissa is allowed to drop). The second half comes from revealing that, while Rose hasn’t been having sex, Mia has, which makes her the slutty one, so ner ner na ner ner. More or less.

It’s all fairly believable behaviour-wise... no, wait. The responses of the teenagers to these various bits of gossip and scandal are sadly believable, though Mia’s behaviour specifically was pretty hard to credit as plausible. At the same time I found it uncomfortable, because these attitudes were also bundled with Mia being quite clearly the spiteful antagonist and also presented as somewhat unstable, and the fact that she specifically uses sex as a lever to get boys to lie on her behalf.

Broadly speaking, you end up with a situation where Our Heroine is vindicated and approved because she wasn’t having sex, whereas Our Antagonist is condemned because she was having sex. This is, bizarrely, true even though Rose and Lissa actually were doing the blood-sharing that’s the biggest part of the taboo, whereas Mia just had sex.

It’s also a bit strange that as far as I can tell, the two boys who spread vicious lies about Rose in exchange for sex are perfectly happy to admit it and don’t seem to expect any consequences. Sexual mores are messed up, but in my experience flagrant lying tends to cause social backlash – and more so considering that the targets of the lies, Lissa and Rose, were social bigshots whose popularity is now restored. As far as I can tell, they agree to come clean under threats from one of Rose’s friends, but I didn’t find it entirely convincing. It felt a bit like the writer just needed to wrap this arc up now to start introducing the series plot.

It wasn’t a huge problem for me or anything, but this Rose-vs-Mia arc is the biggest arc of the book (it’s a series, so the main plot only just gets a look in), so it seemed a shame it had this awkward aspect to it. I feel like just dropping the sex aspect and having the scandal built purely around blood-sharing would have been both neater and stronger, as well as less problematic. As it was I didn’t feel like this arc was very well written.

The end bit

I feel like I should have some kind of conclusion here, but I don't really. I'm not sure whether I'll read any more of the series; I thought some of what it was doing was quite interesting, but I've noticed how much hmming and hawing I'm doing here, especially over poor Mia. The fact that I'm even thinking "poor Mia" is perhaps an indication that this series isn't for me.

I must also confess that I've got limited tolerance for plots along the lines of "you alone have the one special magic long thought lost or legendary, which will be the key to saving the universe".

On the other hand, I liked the bits of it that weren't about Mia, and maybe with the uberplot kicking off, that won't be much of an issue? I dunno. I've got plenty more to read right now. But perhaps, as with

Fallen

, now that I've worked out what the series is doing I've got what I need.

[1]

“Vampires” who are, as far as I can tell, essentially human wizards who drink blood but not in a bad way you guys, and also don’t like sunlight. They don’t seem to be superhuman other than some elemental magic.

[2]

Half-vampires who are basically Buffy as far as I can tell, but get brought up to be fanatically loyal to their vampiric masters and dedicate themselves to either protecting moroi from attack by the strigoi

[3]

, or being “blood whores” because… why not, as far as I can tell. Maybe it’s hard to get social security numbers when your parent was a vampire? Your dad, I mean. Dhampirs are basically all the bastard offspring of horny male moroi who wanted to get some curvy human female action, because moroi are always pale, thin and flat-chested.

Canonically, the dhampirs do all this to ensure the survival of their species, which is to say, their hybrid. Given the reality of dhampir life, I’m not sure why. Basically this seems to boil down to accepting a brutal life of either dedicating yourself to being elite bodyguards for feeble moroi and under constant risk of death, or being junkie blood sources for moroi and at constant risk of abuse, or breeding the next generation of dhampirs – in order to ensure that you can have descendants who have the same kind of lives.)

[3]

Vampires who are canonically evil because they kill their victims, although I get the feeling they’re mostly bad because they feed on moroi specifically to be honest. Also their bite turns people into more strigoi. They’re presented as being incarnations of predatory evil, but from the one strigoi we meet in the book, they come across as a mixture of Character In Goth Makeup and

Character In Evil Voice

. Basically these seem to be the Buffy Vampires of the setting – basically just like they always were, except faster, stronger, more metal, cooler and probably sexier.Themes:

Books

,

Young Adult / Children

,

Horror

,

Text Factor Halloween Special

,

Romance

~

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Bill

at 17:25 on 2016-01-18

The girls must survive a world of forbidden romances, a ruthless social scene and terrifying night-time rituals. But above all, they must never let their guard down, lest the immortal vampires take Lissa - forever...

Two out of three ain't bad

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Shim

at 18:31 on 2016-01-18

Two out of three ain't bad

I... how did I miss that? *facepalm*

Also I just realised this cover is different to mine (probably the US edition?) and although it's the exact same photo, mine is very pale with black hair and red lips (classically vampiric), whereas the above is pinkish with... brown hair, I think?

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Robinson L

at 15:00 on 2016-05-24I checked this one and its sequels out, along with

Fallen

and

The Morganville Vampires

after the TeXt Factor Halloween special. I read the final book, book 6, a year or two ago, and I recently started listening to the spin-off

Bloodlines

series on audiobook. So, I obviously liked it—quite fun on the whole, with occasional forays into really fun. I'd put the series somewhere above

Fallen

, but below

The Morganville Vampires

in terms of my enjoyment/appreciation.

(I also encouraged one of my sisters to read the first book, and while she enjoyed it, she loathed Lissa and all the Moroi, because she considered them useless in their dependence upon the dhampir guardians.)

I broadly agree with your case for the themes the book explores, and I'd definitely say it carries over to the rest of the series—and the first two spin-off books, at least. Interestingly enough, despite dealing with these fairly weighty issues in a moderately intelligent manner, the books still come across to me as light beach reading; I still haven't worked out whether I think that works towards their favor or against it.

Book 2—where my sister bailed on the series—is a downgrade in quality from the first, as there's less stuff going on through most of it. However, it rallies at the end with an exciting climax, and one which redress one of my major disappointments with the climax to the first.

Book 3 is a return to form, and a solid addition to the series.

Book 4 is, in my opinion, the best of the lot: here we see Rose's internal struggle at its most intense, and Rose herself at her very lowest point in the series. I said the books feel like beach reading, but there was a point about two thirds of the way through the fourth book which got me right in the heart, and I was impressed with the depth of emotional reaction Mead managed to evoke. Plus, the Lissa subplot was pretty cool, and the resolution was both awesome and unexpected.

Book 5 like Book 3, is a really solid addition to the series, though it feels like a bit of a downgrade coming off the high of Book 4. Still, it's got a lot going for it, and while the big plot points themselves aren't to surprising, I wasn't expecting when or how they would play out.

Book 6 was a little disappointing, not because it did anything really bad, just that it wasn't quite as exciting as I would have liked from the final installment. While I like that the climax doesn't revolve around a big fight with an Arc Villain for the series, I could have done with something a

little

more epic. Plus, the villain turned out to be a very likable character I'd pegged early on as being either a villain or a victim, because they didn't fit into any other story slot. Just when I was beginning to think this was just a cool supporting character, it's revealed that person was a villain after all. Sigh.

I agree with you about Natalie, poor thing.

As I recall, the school principal is, indeed, a strict but ultimately reasonable authority figure throughout the series, whom Rose misreads because Rose's and Lissa's behavior often brings out the “strict” part of her character. Actually, that's a bit of a running theme in the series.

From what I remember of the first book, Mia does degenerate from understandable antagonist to Designated Villain, part of which involves her engaging in sex to influence someone else's behavior—rather than for love, in contrast to both Rose and Lissa* over the course of the books—and that's not good. It's probably no big spoiler to reveal that Mia is rehabilitated later in the series, but as I recall, it's a case of a reformed villain rather than both sides admitting they shared the blame equally.

*I think Lissa slept with her then-boyfriend—Mia's current boyfriend—before the events of the book because she was young and horny, which is still more “legitimate” than sleeping with someone because so they'll help you out in your evil scheme.

I also felt like the series as a whole has a disappointing lack of follow-through regarding some of the more unpleasant aspects of Moroi society. The hypocrisy over feeders (I think that

is

the common parlance “neutral” term) is brought up at times, but nobody ever really tries to do anything to resolve it, so the overall message comes across as a helpless shrug, “too bad, what'cha gonna do?”

Furthermore, the books never really acknowledge how immensely f*cking scary the Moroi's compulsion magic is, and how, in a more realistic universe, even well meaning people like Lissa would probably wind up using it for much more destructive purposes than undermining their rivals' popularity; kind of like a miniature version of the One Ring. (One character in the

Bloodlines

novels is suitably freaked by it, but this is explicitly depicted as part of their irrational distrust of Moroi and magic in general. Not once so far have we seen how easily compulsion could be abused to disastrous effect. I know Robert Jordan had a lot of flaws as a writer, but his characters knew to treat that kind of power with the respect and suspicion it deserves.)

The Moroi's institutional aristocracy and monarchy (even if it's a constitutional monarchy) also strikes me as pretty disturbing, but no one even suggests there might be something wrong with that one.

I think Mead does a better job of keeping Rose's faults and flaws as a character foregrounded, even with Rose providing first person narration the whole time, while still keeping her a likable character. One of the fascinating things in the later books is the way Rose gets into relationships which we know because of narrative convention are never going to work out, and which she has some misgivings over, but which she talks herself into anyway, sometimes multiple times, and the boy in question is so enamored of her that he keeps holding out the hope she'll commit to him for real. It's very unfair of Rose, and depicted as such, but also as completely understandable given what she's going though. It's like a total deconstruction of the Evil Girlfriend Who Toys With Innocent Boys' Emotions archetype, without ever hitting you over the head with what it's doing. (Indeed, I could be prepared to believe Richelle Mead didn't set out to explode this stereotype at all, and just happened to do so in the course of writing about a young woman caught up in an Epic Tragic Romance trying as best she can to navigate a swathe of feelings and emotions which she doesn't fully understand.)

The older lover thing is a trope, and being a trope it isn’t quite as problematic as a 17-24 relationship would seem to me in real life.

Me too—although on the other hand, one of the best matched couples I know got together at ages 17 and 30, and they're still going strong 8 years later. Funny old world.

On a tangential note, it's really weird to consider that I'm now several years older than Dimitri in the books. The way he acts, I guess I always tend to think of him as being in his early 30s, rather than early 20s.

I must also confess that I've got limited tolerance for plots along the lines of "you alone have the one special magic long thought lost or legendary, which will be the key to saving the universe".

For what it's worth, we meet a couple of other spirit users over the course of the series. Also, while Lissa's magic is, indeed, critical to the plot, it is not the key to saving the universe, as that's not really what the books are about.

We learn a lot more about Strigoi in later books, too, and they do indeed come across a lot like Buffy-esque Vampires: pretty much the same personalities, and they seem to have some sort of feelings for other people, and yet still somehow evil and uncaring, and the juxtaposition of the two is about as awkward as you would expect. (I fantasized while reading those sections that the Moroi and the Guardians might just be mistaken, and Strigoi, while alien and with very different priorities, might not be actually evil and uncaring. No such luck, sadly.)

If you do decide you want to continue reading the series, don't get attached to the psi-hounds. They get dropped so completely in later books that I was shocked to see them when the film version of the first book came out, as I'd literally forgotten they existed.