#it's called the thief who wore a crown and it's about a thief who has to impersonate a soon-to-be-crowned prince | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sehunniepotwrites · 4 years ago

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AS YOU WISH | J.JH | ONE

cover by @seostudios

SYNOPSIS. He was a boy, she was a girl— can I make it any more obvious?

But actually, she was a cursed genie of two thousand years who longed to be freed of her gilded cage and he was a modern but lonely boy who hoped to free her. He just didn’t expect to fall in love with her in the process.

GENRE. angst, slow burn, romance, genie!au, reincarnation!au, royal!au, thief!au PAIRING. jeong jaehyun x female genie!reader MINOR CHARACTERS. mark lee, moon taeil, jeong sungchan WORD COUNT. 10.6k+

WARNINGS. stealing, mentions of cuts and wounds, blood, physical beating, derogatory name calling

ONE: PAST | TWO: INTERLUDE | THREE: PRESENT

2000 YEARS AGO, THE KINGDOM OF NEIHO

“Stop, street rat!”

Heavens, how you hated that name. You ached to yell a taunting insult back but you were afraid of the royal guards catching onto your identity by hearing the sound of your voice.

“Grab that lousy thief!”

The calls of the guards continued to sound throughout the pathway as you ran for your life. The heavy bag of riches slung along over your shoulder pounded against your upper back as you felt the wind in your hair. The extra weight was beginning to weigh you down but you did not falter. Your strained legs propelled you forward and you stole a quick glance behind you— the burly men with swords were gaining on you and you could not let them.

“Wait— there are two of them!”

You cursed when your partner was spotted. From the corner of your eye, you caught a flicker of his cape turning a corner. You were supposed to be the diversion. The blazing sun burned your skin through your hooded cloak but you had to keep pushing. For them.

You would do anything for them, even give your life for them, just as your mother did before you.

Apologizing as you passed, you threw down displays of fresh produce to throw the guards off. You would come back to help clean up later.

You pulled the cloak down to better conceal your face before sprinting into a hidden nook in the village center. The bolstering guards ran past your hiding spot moments later, their leader barking commands to his subordinates before they all went their separate ways. Peeking behind a wall, you watched as their backs grew smaller and smaller and let out an audible sigh.

You made it another day. With a wide-eyed grin, you pushed yourself out of your hiding spot and walked an easy path to the outskirts of the kingdom where people were waiting for you.

If the guards were smart enough, they would have easily found you by they searched the outskirts of the kingdom’s stone walls. There was an opening in the walls, big enough for one person to fit through. You frequented that small hole often with a large sack hauled over your back. As soon as you passed that point in your path, you tossed your cloaked disguise into a nearby bush before trekking on to your final destination.

The path was lengthy but at least you were in the shade instead of under the blazing sun. The clanking of your stolen riches kept you company as you navigated through the many trees. It wasn’t long until you reached an open area filled with a variety of people. Lousy tents made of the thinnest cloth and held up by fallen branches surrounded the field and in the center was a large fire pit. There were clotheslines, cooking supplies, and a short supply of food scattered around the makeshift camp.

The plentiful conversations hushed when you dropped the sack at the end of the path. A shuffling of footsteps and the tinkling sound of coins clanging against each other reached your ears before another figure plopped down beside you, his body falling splat onto the soft grass.

“I refuse to do that again,” a boyish voice groaned beside you. It came from a boy around your age, give or take a few years, with messy brown hair and the cutest set of doe eyes. His thin face and sharp jawline were lined with dirt but he was still what you considered handsome.

“Minhyung, stop your fusing,” you scolded as you ruffled his hair. The boy whined at your actions, moving away to escape your teasing. “You say the same thing every single time we do this, however, you keep coming back to help me.”

“They almost caught me this time around,” he told you. “I barely escaped— one guard grabbed me by the ends of my cloak and almost saw my face! I thought you were the distraction!”

“I was,” you fired back.

“And yet, they still found me,” Minhyung reported dramatically, swinging an arm over his eyes. There was a beat of comfortable silence as the breeze came rolling in.

“But was it worth it?” you asked with a soft voice.

A pair of dirtied feet appeared in your vision. You and Minhyung tilted your heads up to find a small child, not even five years of age gazing at you expectantly. The child’s body was extremely malnourished and their cheeks were horribly sunken in. They looked bashful as they outstretched an arm towards Minhyung.

He sent the child a tiny smile, his mouth curving up at the ends, as he produced a small loaf of bread from beneath his cloak. The child’s eyes sparkled in delight as they snatched the piece of food from Minhyung’s hold and eagerly bit into it. You patted the child’s head lovingly as you hand them a grip of gold coins. They shuffled back to their family who gave their thanks.

As the other people in the open field started to line up to receive their share, Minhyung simply replied: “Yes, yes it was.”

You grinned at your fellow thief— you thought it was worth it, too.

Your gaze shifts to the high towers of Neiho’s palace peeking from behind the treetops. But sometimes, you pondered over how effortless life must have been when living like royalty— was it easy when everything was provided for you?

Unlike what most people assumed, living the life of a royal was far from easy.

Jeong Yuno, the Crown Prince of Neiho, had a sudden urge to bang his head against the library wall. He refrained from doing so, the action being far from princely. He looked up from his pile of parchment paper with glazed over eyes, the ink from his quill drying from the lack of writing. There were rows of untouched books lined up at his desk and none of them were of his interest. They skirted on the topics of Neiho’s history and politics; although it was something he was already versed in, he hated the subject unlike his younger brother, Chansung, who excelled and loved it.

Yuno longed to touch the atlas that was stationed on his tutor’s desk. He wanted to study it, chart a course to another far off land, and mark it with ink as he visited place to place. But instead of traveling, the crown prince drowned in his studies while his tutor looked down upon his distracted self.

“Prince Yuno, have you heard a single word that has left my lips or is your head still up in the clouds?” Moon Taeil, the kingdom’s main historian and tutor, scolded. His wooden stick struck the surface of Yuno’s desk and the shocked boy jumped. From his own desk, Chansung snickered behind his thin hand.

“My apologies,” the crown prince bowed his head, his ears turning crimson from being caught by the snippy tutor.

“Well, since I have gained you back from the skies, might you list Neiho’s past rulers and achievements in order?”

Yuno bit back a loud groan. He was in desperate need of a sweet escape. His gaze floated out the window and onto the blooming marketplace below. It seemed like the liveliness was calling his name.

One of the things you loved about your mother was her storytelling. You heard stories of all kinds of love while growing up on the fly. She painted clear pictures of people falling at first sight, of hate turning to overflowing affection, and so much more. Your mother sold you tales of star-crossed lovers that found their happy endings before she passed; her fables of love sounded nothing more than poppycock and folly.

That is, until it occurred to the unsuspecting you.

It was a usual day for you in the city— hood up, cloak flowing in the wind with a sack beating your back as you were on the run from the royal guards stationed in the marketplace. You weaved in between the townsfolk, your nimble body easily pushing through nooks and crannies when you bumped into something— or rather, someone strong.

“Oof!”

“Oh!”

The large sack you carried added some extra weight, leading you to topple over the stranger that ran into your smaller build. The stranger was about to mumble a quick apology before you heard the bellowing of the persistent guards.

You cursed. There was no room for hesitation when you were caught in a tight spot such as this. With staggering breaths and a pounding chest, you grabbed the man’s hand and navigated through endless alleyways and store fronts. You mastered the art of escaping at a young age while he had trouble keeping up with your speed.

And so, your first adventure with the man you would soon learn to love began.

Your hurried steps brought you to an unattended rooftop. You put one foot on the ledge and leaned your body over to glance at the commotion in the market. Down below, the guards were scrambling through the bustling crowds in a failed attempt to find you. Watching them struggle on their search sent you into a laughing fit that your then mysterious companion echoed.

With a heaving chest and rushing heart, you finally looked up at him for the first time and saw the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. Despite only seeing him from his place on the balcony or painted portraits before, you immediately knew who he was: The Crown Prince of Neiho. He had deep chocolate eyes and jet-black hair that highlighted his sweat stained skin. His cheeks and ears were flushed with a rosy red as he gasped for air. He was dressed in a horrible excuse for a disguise; the high-end material he wore and golden shoes were purposefully stained. It was as if the prince wanted to be found.

You quickly retracted your dirtied hand from his soft one and immediately dropped to your knees. “My sincerest apologies for placing my soiled hands on yours, Your Highness. I ask for your forgiveness,” you said with a bowed head, your disheveled hair covering your embarrassed face.

Yuno let out a hearty laugh, one that was deep but still sounded like the lightest bells in your ear. “Please, none of that,” he said, helping you to your feet.

“If anything, you helped me escape from those wretched guards,” he sent you an angelic smile and you swore the heavens were smiling down on you at that moment. “I should thank you.”

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as you felt your face flush with an unfamiliar heat.

“May I know the name of my savior?” Yuno questioned teasingly, his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Perhaps another time, Your Highness,” you said quite cheekily before running back into the crowd.

The second time you met Prince Yuno, you were both on the run once again. In a way similar to what you had done in the past, his hand slipped so fluidly into yours before you sprinted through the town square. You knocked a fruit cart down as a diversion and the guards struggled making their way through the mess. Through your hooded cloak that flowed in the breeze, you turned over your shoulder to chuckle at how helpless the so-called protectors looked.

“We must stop meeting like this, Highness,” you breathed out as you kept up with his speed.

“Why? I quite enjoy meeting like this,” he threw back at you with a sheepish grin. There was a glimmer of adventure in his eyes and you chuckled.

The hood of your cape fell back, revealing your face for a quick moment before you tugged it back up. It was too late, though, for he had seen your face. Having only heard your voice before, Yuno’s steps faltered at the sight of you. Taking charge at that moment, you overtook him and jerked him into an unpaved path.

You took him over and under until you found a safe haven on top of a building— your makeshift home. Ratty cotton sheets were tied to poles for shade and a pile of pillows was bunched together to make a bed. Random trinkets were scattered along the rooftop along with a scarce supply of food and sacks of stolen treasures leaning against a wall. You wordlessly made yourself comfortable, pouring yourself two cups of water from a jug and handed one to the stranger in your space. He took it graciously and gulped it down, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he did so.

“From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, my dear savior,” Yuno spoke to you for the second time that day.

“It was nothing, Your Highness,” you responded, waving him off as you sat at his feet.

“I feel like this was fate or destiny calling,” Yuno suggested out of the blue.

“This?”

“Us, meeting again,” he answered smoothly, his voice as melodic as a mother’s lullaby.

“I suppose it is.”

“Seeing as destiny brought us together, might I know your name?”

Despite being of a higher status, he didn’t seem as selfish as you thought he would be—Yuno seemed kind and trustworthy. You let down your walls and stuttered out your name. The dark orbs that you got lost in flashed with recognition and you wondered if you made a wrong move by revealing your identity.

“You!” he shouted, his voice booming loudly. “Yes, I have heard many things about you.”

You glared at him with panicked eyes and you rushed to cover his soft lips. “Are you insane, Highness? Speak like that and they will surely find us here!”

“My apologies,” he replied, tugging at his earlobe in embarrassment. “My excitement got the best of me.”

You snorted at his answer, “Excitement?” you probed. “What is there to be excited about?”

“It is not everyday you meet the infamous thief that steals from the rich to give back to the poor,” Yuno grinned with dimples sinking into his soft cheeks.

He was not wrong; you did steal for a living to help the less fortunate. Unlike many others your age, you were able-bodied and felt the mighty need to provide for others who needed extra support. This had been the fifth time the guards had almost caught you but it didn’t matter. As long as the children on the street did not starve, you would risk your life over and over again.

Your mother, compassionate and altruistic as one could ever be, had done so in the past and you were determined to carry her legacy. You wanted to make her proud.

“Are you going to arrest me then?” you challenged with a brow. You took a large step back, ready to be on the run if the situation called for it. “If that is your intention, Your Highness, it is in my best interest to leave you.”

“Oh, no! If anything, I agree with your actions,” he relayed, arms shooting out to keep you in his reach. The Prince’s touch pierced your skin with comforting warmth and you shudder at the odd sensation.

“The Royal Advisor, Rowena, insists on high taxes and taking from the poor while feeding the rich,” he started to explain, taking a seat on the dusty steps.

You hummed, recalling the many times you had laid your eyes on the advisor— she held her head high and wore a permanent, almost sinister smirk on her gorgeous face. Her eyes were as red as blood and hair as black as night. She was beyond intimidating, more so than the Royal Family and their guards.

“What she is doing to the people out here, it isn’t right,” Yuno added on. “They are suffering and I feel as if it is my duty to stop her.”

“I feel as if it is mine as well,” you replied.

“I tried to tell the King of how Rowena’s suggestions have been affecting the community outside the palace walls but it is as if she has him under a spell. He hears not a thing I say,” he explained exasperatedly.

He let out a defeated sigh as you crouched next to him. You let him speak, seeing how distressed he was by the whole situation. “He only listens to her and my younger brother, Chansung; he is the smarter sibling. I am nothing but a pretty face that represents the kingdom,” the prince chuckled darkly.

“Highness—” you tried to intervene, not enjoying how he was belittling himself. He stopped you before you could even begin with a mere glance.

“It is not I who deserves the throne, it is Chansung. I can barely do a thing when my mind is elsewhere. How can I rule when my mind is not focused on the needs of my people?”

You place a tentative hand on his knee to ground him before his thoughts send him spiraling.

“I apologize,” the runaway prince blurted suddenly. “I do not know you and here I am, spilling out my innermost thoughts. You must think I am a fool.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I imagine you have no one to discuss this with within the palace,” you comforted him with a kind smile. You encouraged Yuno to continue, hands urging him on. “But if your mind is not here, then…”

Yuno shot you an empty grin, the upturns of his lips not meeting his reddening ears. “I have been trapped inside the palace since birth. Raised inside these walls all my life. I am safe and sound with a set future here and yet…” his voice trailed off, looking at the overview of the kingdom. His stare then gravitated beyond the kingdom walls.

“And yet?”

“I want to go beyond our borders. I know there is more the world has to offer. I have read about it in books but I want to experience it in person, write it down, and bring back what I have learned to better Neiho.” There was a sense of longing in his voice and you could almost relate to his yearning.

You took a seat next to him, your knees touching his. Your body turned towards him, torso leaning forward to give the prince your undivided attention. “What have you read about so far, Your Highness?”

“Please call me Yuno,” he said gently, clutching onto your hand. You tried to tug it away, flustered from the sudden contact, and he only tightened his clasp.

“Yes, Your Highness,” you replied, “I mean, Y-Yuno.”

The instant his name left your lips, he sent you the most dazzling smile, his pearly white teeth perfectly framed by the pink of his lips and the curve of his dimples. Whiskers appeared around his closed eyes and his nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and you found yourself falling down the rabbit hole one called love.

Ever since that fated day, you arranged countless meetings in random nooks and crannies of the marketplace. Yuno taught you the many things he had learned from his readings while you showed him places he had never been before. He brought you books and taught you how to read. You taught him how to fend for himself in the forest.

You often found yourselves weaving through crowds as the guards attempted to follow your trails. Laughter bubbled through the prince’s chest as you tugged him along with intertwined fingers. Your heart leaped huge lengths across your chest every time he glanced your way through his fluttering eyelashes and you wondered if he felt the same.

Your days with Yuno always ended on that same rooftop, overlooking the beautiful sight that was Neiho, and you adored every second of it.

One night, you blurted out, “Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?” Yuno glanced up at you from your lap, head tilting with curiosity. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, clean hair as his hand played with the ends of yours.

“Do you?” he countered. The point of your elbow dug into his toned stomach and he winced.

“I asked first,” you said and he laughed at your argument.

“And I am the Crown Prince,” he threw back and you pouted at his response.

You were quiet for a moment, gathering your thoughts together before answering your own question. “Yes.”

“And what do you wonder about?”

“There are times I wish for a life where I am comfortable, where I’m not breaking my back for someone else’s sake.” Feeling a bit vulnerable, you drew your hands away from his head and wrapped them around your waist— it was your first time to reveal this hidden thought of yours.

“It’s not that I want to stop helping them,” you explained tentatively, “I just wonder what it would be like to start living just for me, without the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

Yuno only hummed in reply. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of the daze you were in. “Your turn to answer,” you pushed the heavy question onto him.

“I suppose so, yes,” he mused simply. “I would like to be a traveling scholar, see the world through my own eyes. I often wonder about a life of travel, you know this.”

You did know this—Yuno told you this many times.

“There’s another thing I wonder about, though,” he slipped in.

“And what is that?”

“I often wonder what life would be like if I had you by my side.”

You coughed at his sweet words, not at all expecting to hear a statement like that. He reached up to pat your back as you choked on air, giggling at your antics. Your breathing returned to normal and his fingers found their way to yours. With entwined fingers and hearts, he called your name endearingly as his head rested against your lap. You returned his earnest stare under the light of the moon with the same intensity, “Yes, my prince?”

He rolled his eyes at your response.

Yuno, hidden in a ripped cloak, brought your hand against his plump lips and looked into your eyes as he kissed your knuckles. “I arose from bed this morning with a sudden realization.”

“Have you come to the conclusion that Chansung is the better looking royal?” you poked. He gave you a look of betrayal and you giggled at his furrowed brows and flared nostrils.

“It was nothing but a joke, dear,” you laughed, running your fingers through his thick locks of hair. He huffed loudly, turning away from your playful gaze.

“My attempt to confess my love and she makes a fool out of me,” he mumbled under his breath but you could not catch his words.

“You would make a great jester,” Yuno added with another roll of his gorgeous eyes.

“I don’t think I would enjoy being the laughing stock of nobility,” you answered, poking at his soft cheek. He swatted your hand away in annoyance but your fingers were persistent. You continued to sink your finger into the skin of his cheek until he caught it and nibbled on your fingertip. Yelping, you drew back your hand and narrowed your gaze at the prince.

It was his turn to laugh at your reaction, blessing your ears with the sweetest melody. “My darling, you would never be a laughing stock to me.”

Although your finger throbbed, you were happy to see the playful side of the prince— he often had a stoic expression when addressing the people of Neiho from the palace balconies. The sight of his bright smile was enough to light the whole kingdom tenfold.

“What would I be then?” you asked mockingly.

Yuno shifted to face you, his ethereal features glowing in the starlight and captivating you in ways you could not explain. There was a fluttering feeling in your stomach and an intense pounding in your chest as Yuno gave you the simplest answer, “The love of my life.”

His words sent your heart soaring to the highest of places.

In that moment, it mattered not who you were and where you were because you were the love of his life just as he was yours.

Arriving at the clearing deep in the forest, you released the bag of stolen goods from your hold. Panting out breaths, you did your best to steady your heartbeat. The racing palpitations of heart felt different somehow, maybe because for once, they were not caused by the adrenaline of running away but by the highs of being deeply in love.

A gorgeous smile broke out on your face and you hadn’t a care if you looked like a crazy loon.

“Where have you been?” A familiar voice blasted from above you. Looking up, you saw Minhyung seated on a tree branch. He leaped down, landing directly on his feet with a playful smirk.

You coughed the grin right off your face. “I had to take a little detour is all.”

“A detour?” Minhyung questioned.

“Yes, a detour.”

Your friend circled you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Quite unusual for your detours to last until sundown,” he teased, “and you look like you’re walking on air.”

You tried to bite back your grin and you failed. You could never hide anything from Minhyung, he had seen you through it all. He was your brother after all— not by blood but nevertheless, he was family.

“I met the Crown Prince,” you muttered under your breath.

“Do speak up, you know how I hate when you mumble,” Minhyung teased, using the words you often fired at him.

“I said, Minhyung, I met the Crown Prince,” you repeated with a louder voice.

You watched as Minhyung’s eyes widened like saucers and how they gleamed with intrigue as he squeezed you closer to him. “You met Prince Yuno?!” he gasped. “How— why? What?”

“Keep it down, will you please?” Clamping a dirtied hand over his mouth, you tried to shut him up. He simply licked your palm to which you smacked him across the head.

“Well, this isn’t our first time meeting. We’ve met many a time before,” you started off, going down your short history with the prince. Minhyung listened attentively— his admiration for the Royal Family, much like many of the other Neiho citizens, ran deep.

“How is he in real life?”

“Nothing short of wonderful,” you sighed, head turning back to face the city. You wondered how he was doing, if he made it back through the palace gates without any trouble from the guards he was escaping from. “He is like the brightest star I have ever seen, so beautiful and radiant but still so far out of my reach.”

Remembering the sound of his laughter and the look in his eyes, another soft smile appeared on your face. It was a smile Minhyung had never seen on your features. You appeared as if you were the star you just described, shining brightly for one person and one person alone. The light in your eyes was almost too blinding, he wanted to look away but Minhyung couldn’t.

It had been so long since he had seen you this happy— the last time you smiled so cheerfully was with your mother so many years ago. You adopted a harsher look throughout the years that Minhyung was beyond ecstatic to see that happiness still existed within you.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you answered gently. “He told me to call him Yuno.”

“And did you?”

“Of course, Minhyung,” you said with a chuckle, “it would be wrong to not obey royalty.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Minhyung hummed back.

“He is filled with kindness and loyalty to the kingdom, which is admirable.”

“But?”

Thinking back to the conversation you had with the prince, your eyebrows stitched together when recalling his dreams. “His heart aches for adventure and knowledge, things he cannot find here if he is to be King.”

Minhyung searched your face for a glimpse into your head. “Isn’t that what you’re looking for, too?”

Looking your best friend and fellow thief straight in the eyes, you were posed with a thought that hadn’t even crossed your scattered mind. “I suppose it is.”

Minhyung laughed as you came to the realization. The two of you sat in silence as you breathed everything in.

“The Prince isn’t that far from your reach then,” Minhyung posed with a childlike grin. “He is much closer than you think.”

The first time Yuno kissed you was underneath the setting sun. Hidden behind the stone walls of the palace, he pressed you into a dark corner where no one could catch sight of your unlikely pairing.

It was a long day for the both of you— you had snuck into the houses of nobles, stealing their smallest treasures to sell in order to feed the hungry while he shadowed his father during his audiences with the people of Neiho. Your secret rendezvous started with exchanging stories about your eventful day with shared laughter and the sweetest of touches. Yuno’s smooth hands ghosted against your dry ones several times, each touch sending tingles down your spine.

His arms caged you in between his strong body and the hard stone wall as his face hovered in front of your own. Your breath hitched as his intense stare shifted from your eyes to your parted lips. It was the dead of winter but you had never felt hotter under his fiery gaze.

“May I kiss you?” you found yourself asking as his plump bottom lip grazed against your own. You were shocked by your own bravery and you knew he was, too. Your heart pounded loudly like a beating drum and you swore the prince could hear it as well.

“Do as you wish,” the prince replied almost breathlessly, captivated by the way your eyes kept flickering to the lack of space in between your bodies.

“But is that what you wish for, Yuno?” you countered with a sultry tone. He gulped loudly at how confident you were and nodded almost too eagerly, lips barely brushing against your dry ones. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Then, your wish is my command,” you smile before closing the distance between. A light press of your lips onto his was all it took to send your world spinning round. Yuno deepened it by leaning his body against your smaller build, a hand tilting your jaw up in a different angle.

He held you so gently, making you feel as if you were royalty. Hands in his hair and his arms around your waist, his kiss made it seem like you had chased the blowing winds and touched the pastel sky. His love rose you to the heavens above and you soared with a rush of freedom you had never felt before.

You kissed as the sky cast a golden glow upon your bodies, too lost in each other to realize you were the focus of someone’s envious gaze.

While you flirted with the life of crime, Yuno made his way through the hallowed hallways of Neiho’s palace. His heavy steps echoed throughout the empty path but he couldn't even hear a thing— his mind was littered with scattered thoughts. He marched his way to his younger brother’s quarters, determined that would be the day he would reveal his heart to his kin. The crown prince groaned in frustration, decorated hands messing with his jet-black hair as he tried to piece what to say.

How did one even start this conversation? Yuno never had a conversation as deep as this with his sibling before. The only person he poured his heart to was you.

Does he start with not waiting to take the throne or with his dream of travel? Should he begin with his skepticism over Advisor Rowena and the poor conditions of their people?

Yuno stopped in place— Rowena. He cringed at the thought of her. He heard the rumors swirling around the circle of nobility. The servants in the palace could never keep their mouth shut at the whispers. There were tales of the King making the advisor his betrothed for the sake of a flourishing kingdom.

He couldn’t fathom how his father came to this as a viable option for the betterment of Neiho.

Yuno thought traveled back to you and what you stood for: how your gigantic heart only thought of others. He recalled how your body was drenched with wounds and scars and yet, you still kept going for the people that had everything to lose. He wanted to find ways to make your life easier but he knew he couldn’t find them inside Neiho’s borders. He had to leave in order to find that solution.

Yuno had no idea how long he contemplated in front of Chansung’s room before the door burst open. Yuno let out a shocked yell as his brother cocked an eyebrow at his older sibling.

“Brother, how long were you going to stand outside my door before simply coming in?” Chansung leaned against the wall as Yuno placed his hand over his rapid heart. He tried to catch his breath much to his brother’s amusement, but he was a bundle of nerves.

“Chansung,” he exhaled, still clutching his chest, “how did you know I was here?”

“It is impossible to not hear your stomps and groans through the wall,” the younger prince poked. “I imagine the townsfolk down below could hear your pacing.”

“Of course,” the older prince said with a roll of his eyes. His younger brother wordlessly invited him in by opening the door to his chambers wider and he breezed through, taking a seat on Chansung’s plush mattress. Chansung closed the door behind him to find his usually composed sibling with his head in his hands. A symphony of defeated sighs left Yuno’s lips and Chansung set a comforting hand on his brother’s back.

“What ails you, dear brother?” The younger implored.

“Chansung.”

“Yes, brother?”

“Have you ever felt like there was something more out there in the world, just waiting for you?”

Chansung paused at Yuno’s question, retreating his hand from his brother’s body. A silence surrounded the room as the younger sat next to his sibling.

“I suppose I haven’t,” Chansung answered with a hum. He turned to face his brother, finding the crown prince’s face contorted with furrowed brows and sucked in cheeks. “I knew that my place was always here in the castle and I have always taken that role seriously.”

This was true. Chansung always buried himself in his studies, gathering enough knowledge to to soon overtake the place of Yuno’s future advisor. He studied religiously to not let his people down, just as his Father and Rowena currently were.

The older nodded silently, the black strands of his hair shifting to hide his eyes as he did so. He tugged on his earlobe, a habit he picked up when he was deep in thought or stressed beyond belief. Chansung caught sight of Yuno’s tell-tale and his lips pursed on trying to figure out as to why his brother was stressed.

“See, Chansung, that’s the difference between us,” Yuno broke the deafening silence.

“What is?”

“You are the one who deserves the throne, not I.”

“Brother!” Chansung shouted in defiance. “Why would you say that? You would make a great king!” He pushed with such force. Yuno smiled, his brother always had seen the best in him.

“Chansung, one cannot deny the truth,” the crown prince smiled at his sibling. The upturns of his plump lip showed the prince’s fondness for his brother and a twinge of regret for not being the royal people expected him to be.

“I have known what people have expected me to be and I have tried my best to live up to those expectations but...” Yuno began. He stood up and walked towards the open balcony, Chansung following in his wake. The elder leaned against the railings, hands resting on the cold stone as his sibling chose to press his back against it.

Townsfolk caught a glimpse of them from down below and enthusiastically yelled for the royal duo’s attention. The younger greeted them with matched excitement, bringing his hand up for a wave while the elder just nodded at them with a forlorn expression taking over his handsome face. He stared at the crowd a little longer than he should have, his mind wandering to the thief that stole his heart. His deep chocolate eyes traced the busy streets and alleyways, through the ways of the marketplace and the housing area until he could no longer see the outlines of the path.

“But you feel as if you belong down there,” Chansung finished for him with a hint of understanding.

“Yes,” Yuno breathed out.

“Brother, you have always had a knack for escaping,” Chansung joked lightheartedly to ease his brother’s troubled heart. It was not everyday a royal revealed he wanted to be one of the people after all.

A hearty, deep rumbling laugh escaped the crown prince’s lips. “I suppose I was not as discreet as I could have been,” he said with the shake of his head, “I was too busy running away from the guards to leave quietly.”

“I suppose not,” the younger chuckled along, the sounds of their laughter drifting with the winds.

“But Yuno,” Chansung’s voice called, “will you be alright?” His voice grew faint towards the end of the question and Yuno caught what his sibling was implying. Would the crown prince be alright after leaving a life of comfort?

“Yes,” Yuno smiled, his eyes shining in a way the second in line had never seen before, “for I will be happy.”

“Will you really be happy?” Chansung asked softly, his voice choking at the thought of his brother leaving him behind. He shook the sadness away and grinned widely at his sibling.

“You are leaving your favorite person behind after all,” he teased, barely dodging a playful punch to the chest. Yuno slung his arm over Chansung’s broad shoulder, bringing a hand to ruffle the other’s neatly styled hair.

“When have I ever called you that?”

“Come, Yuno,” the younger man said with a proud smile, “we have much to discuss before we bring this to Father.”

Yuno laughed once more, his heart bursting with an infinite amount of joy. He was one step closer to being free.

Nothing could take away his happiness, or so he thought. Neither brother realized the person lurking in the shadows, hanging onto every word with disdain.

“He wants to abdicate the throne for a measly street rat? How could this be?” Rowena asked herself as she stormed into her secret hideaway within the palace walls after hearing the conversation between the siblings. The fabric of her robe flowed behind her and the mighty jeweled staff pounded against the floor as she rushed her way down steep steps.

“All these years of scheming my way to the top will be wasted if he leaves with that peasant,” she spat harshly. Passing by the mirror hanging on her wall, Rowena paused in place to admire her looks. Running a hand through her shining black locks and stroking the sharp line of her jaw, she wondered what you had that she didn’t.

She had the looks, the intelligence, and the kingdom in the palm of her magic hand while you merely survived by committing to a life of crime. Why wasn’t the prince in love with her?

“Yuno and the position of queen was to be mine,” the advisor hissed, hazel eyes darkening with envy with each word she spoke. “I have not wasted my energy spelling the king only to settle for the second born.”

Her reflection disappeared from her view, a bundle of smoke and clouds hiding her away before dispersing into a sweet image of you and the prince together.

A terrifying shriek left her lips at the new reflection. Picking up the closest item within her reach, she hurled it into the mirror projecting that horrifyingly romantic image. The crack of the glass echoed in throughout the room and it fueled her bubbling ambition.

As her grip tightened against the length of her staff, she felt a new plan hatching in her head and dark magic coursing through her veins. “Prince Yuno and Neiho will be mine, make no mistake about that.”

You thought your love was too good to be true and he tried to convince you otherwise— you were a mere village thief and he was the Crown Prince. You came from practically nothing while he was of royal blood and yet, your fragile heart couldn’t help but fall for the lost man behind the crown and jewels. Your relationship was against the fates and the aligned stars but the prince had the strongest urge to rewrite them just to keep you by his side.

“I have scheduled a private audience with the King tomorrow.”

“And what will you discuss with him, love?” You stroked his fringe away from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your gentle hold.

He nestled into your palm, sighing at your warmth. “Renouncing the throne,” Yuno announced casually.

“I beg your pardon?!” You almost screamed into the night.

The prince ignores your little outburst, continuing his explanation. “The life of a royal is not the life I wish to live. I want to live a life of travel and adventure.” He sat up to clutch your hands in his. “I want to live a life with you, if you will have me.”

“With me?” You managed to mutter. “Out of all people, why with me?”

“Because I’m in love with you. Any day with you would be an adventure.”

“But I don’t have anything— no riches, just rags,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. He took you in, dirt smeared face and ripped clothing, and still looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Yuno saw the stars, the sky, the whole entire universe in your eyes. He didn’t need anything else— he just needed you.

“I love you more than anything else in this world but all I have to offer you is everything in me. I’m not sure if that is enough,” you bit your lip, teething gnawing down on your sensitive skin out of nervousness. He was the boy who had everything and he was willing to give everything up for a life with you.

Yuno brought your injured knuckles to his lips. He kissed them gently, holding your gaze with a soft one of his own. “My love, that is more than enough. You are more than enough.”

“But what about the villagers? What will happen to them if I were to leave?” You sputtered out, worrying about others rather than yourself.

He smiled at your selflessness. “I have already discussed this with Chansung. He is aware of the village’s situation and is willing to make changes to better their livelihood.”

“I can’t leave them behind,” you pulled your hands away. “They need me.”

“He is willing to work with your partner, Minhyung, to reach out to our people. No man left behind,” he replied with a smile. “We thought of all the options.”

You wanted to go with him but they were all you knew. Protecting the villagers and providing them with hope was always your number one priority— you had never thought of anything else. Would your mother be disappointed in you if you left them all behind or would she be happy to know that you have found a potential shot of happiness?

“Please, just think about it, my darling.”

“And Minhyung, he asked me to think about it!” You shrieked while running through the trees, a sack of gold hitting the small of your back. You looked behind you to see your younger partner-in-crime giving you the smuggest smile.

“Well, are you thinking about it?” He questioned, curiosity burning in his doe eyes. He wiggled his brows to tease you and you wanted to slap him with your heavy sack.

“What is there to think about? I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Why is that?” Your friend pushed.

“Because you need me, they need me.”

“Do we really need you or is it you that needs us?”

You frowned at him, not understanding his words. “What do you mean by that, Min?”

He laughed, nose coiling up cutely as he did so. “You have been stealing all your life, it’s all you know how to do. It’s familiar.”

“I do not see where you’re going with this.”

“You love him and you want to go with him but you’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“The unknown.” Minhyung gestured to all the riches you’ve stolen gathered by your feet. “This is all you’ve known but wouldn’t it be nice to do something more?”

“But this is all you’ve known too, Min,” you countered defensively.

“True, but by working with Prince Chansung, I can broaden my horizons.” There was this proud glint in his eye. “I can help more people. And you—”

“And me?”

“— you can finally be free to see what’s out there just like you’ve always dreamed of doing with nothing holding you back.”

Your friend grabbed hold of your hand, his larger one clasping over your own. Minhyung’s grip tightened around your palm to reassure you. “You can be selfish for once, to think only of yourself, and it will be perfectly fine.”

“Min, I want to be selfish but I’m frightened of everything— life beyond the walls and forest. What if everything out there is not what I think it is? What if I’m not prepared to leave this familiarity?”

Minhyung whispered your name as you began to spiral down a road he could not follow.

“And being in love with a prince for that matter! Love could be fleeting. Any given day after I leave with him, Yuno may not want me. He could turn his back on me and leave me to die. He has options, Min. I, for one, am not that lucky.”

Your friend squeezed firmly on your shoulder before reaching down to take hold of your hands. He crossed your arms over your chest and placed each hand on a shoulder, leading your fingers to tap against your skin. Minhyung encouraged you to follow along as he began to guide you through deep, calming breaths.

As your heart rate and thoughts began to settle, you wondered when Minhyung grew up to be the strong boy who stood beside you.

“Life is frightening. We know that more than anyone, flying by the seat of our pants,” Minhyung said with a chuckle of his own. “It’s alright to be scared of the unknown but it should not stop you from living your life the way you wish to live it.”

As you took another breath, you nodded to acknowledge his words.

“Do you want to live a life with the Crown Prince?”

“More than anything in this world,” was your firm reply.

Minhyung grinned at you, “Then that should be enough. Your love will be enough.”

Tugging him into a hug, you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. The act of affection was a “thank you” you cannot express with words. You only hoped your friend would understand the meaning behind the gesture. Luckily, with years of experience being your partner-in-crime, the young Minhyung was able to between the lines.

“Will you be alright?”

“Of course,” he said, placing a faint kiss against the crown of your head. “You’ve taught me everything I need to know.”

Minhyung, the younger and more energetic one of your thieving duo, ran ahead of you into the clearing to make the first drop of goods. You laughed at his excitable demeanor— you knew he would be the person you would miss most once you hightrailed out of the kingdom. He was the only family you had left but there he was, happy that you were finally setting yourself free.

The upward curve of your lips dropped when you heard his voice yell out for help. Heart racing, you let go of your sack, legs running faster than ever before to come to your best friend’s aid.

Once you caught a glimpse of him, your heart dropped to the floor, right by your soiled and tattered coverings you called shoes.

Minhyung was fighting against the hold of the strong guards that always chased your tail. His hands were handcuffed in chains and tears were running down his sunken cheeks as one guard repeatedly abused his small frame. You screeched at the vulgar sight unfolding before you— your little brother was being beaten to a pulp.

Three rough strikes to the stomach was all you could witness before you went flying towards him, hands outstretched to catch him as his body fell to the floor. You never reached him, another pair of guards preventing you from doing so. They immediately cuffed you and pulled your struggling frame towards them. Your shouts and frantic cries for the injured Minhyung were hushed when a restricting feeling took over your vocal chords.

Opening your mouth, you tried your best to make a sound but you found yourself mute.

A horrifyingly disturbing laugh came from behind the trees and you scuffled to find the source through your tears. The tall and sleek figure, dressed far too nice to be caught in these parts, approached you with the most evil smirk. Her back was straightened, chest puffed out, and head held high with pride as she used the tip of her staff to lift your head.

“So you are the one who caught the crown prince’s eye,” the figure said, her voice as piercing as her glare. “The little thief.”

“You,” came your choked reply as she released the spell she casted on you.

“Oh, so you know of me?” she laughed haughtily. “Say my name then, child.”

Refusing to do what she said, you turned your head to look at the unconscious Minhyung who was slumped across the grass.

“I said,” she hissed, using her hand to force your gaze back at her. “Say my name.”

“Rowena,” you growled. “What do you want from me? I have nothing you want.” Her sharp nails dug into your skin and you winced at the pain. The royal advisor clearly did not appreciate your snark.

“That is where you are wrong, my sweet child,” Rowena almost purred back. “You possess the thing I long for most.”

You scoffed at her answer. “And what would that be, witch?”

“Be careful with your words, street rat. I can end your friend’s life in an instant if you fail to hold your tongue,” a nail scratched your cheek, leaving you with a new cut. A thin stream of blood flowed down your face, dripping onto your tattered clothes as Rowena watched amusingly. “You are in possession of Prince Yuno’s heart when it was destined to be mine.”

You fought the urge to laugh, “You are doing this out of jealousy?”

“Hold your tongue, riff raff. You forget who is in control here, I can easily command my men to strike another blow on your poor fri—”

“No!” you yelled, cutting Rowena off, suddenly desperate to get on her good side. “Don’t hurt Minhyung; he has nothing to do with the situation!”

Minhyung weakly called your name and you ignored his cries.

“But he is a thief and it is a great crime to steal in this kingdom,” Rowena drawled on teasingly, like a cat playing with a hopeless mouse.

“No, please,” you begged. “You mustn’t hurt him.”

“Then you must do something for me in return, peasant,” Rowena laughed at how easily she had you wrapped around her finger. You appeared to be strong, but your overly selfless heart was weak.

“I will do anything you ask me to if you leave Minhyung alone,” you petitioned. You couldn’t let anything happen to Minhyung— he was the only family you had left. “He’s a brother to me.”

Minhyung’s head shot up at his new title while he gasped for air. Locking eyes with him, you smiled painfully. He was always at your side, protecting you when he could. Now, it was your time to protect him.

“I will let the boy live if you come with me without a fight,” Rowena schemed, grin growing wider by the second. She had you in the palm of her hands. “He is of no importance to me.”

“He is of the utmost importance to me,” you said, the familial love seeping through your veins. Though physically far apart from him, you hoped he could feel the love you had for him. Minhyung violently shook his head, as if to tell you not to go. He refused to let you sacrifice yourself to let him live, you had done enough for him as is.

“I will go with you, Rowena. Just allow me a moment to say my goodbyes.”

The guards holding you and Minhyung back looked at their commander for an order. With a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand, you and your friend were freed of your confinement. You quickly shuffled to your feet and Minhyung fell into your arms as you sunk to the ground.

“Oh my stars, Min,” you sniffled as you took him in. Sandwiching his fallen face in between your hands, you stroked his cheeks and pushed back the strands of hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead. “Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’ll be alright if you stay here with me,” Minhyung replied with tears welling up in his soft brown eyes. Minhyung was always the crier between the two of you. He cried more at your mother’s death than you did but this time, you let your tears cascade down your cheeks, knowing this was the last time you would see your best friend.

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t let anything happen to you, you have gotten yourself hurt because of me,” You gather enough strength in your shaking hands to squeeze his cheeks, something you always did to cheer him up. “I refuse to be the cause of your pain.”

“And I refuse to let you go,” Minhyung raised his hands to hold onto yours.

“I have made my choice,” you whispered harshly, “and that is to keep you and the others safe.”

You take a moment to hug the younger boy in your arms, trying to commit the feeling of Minhyung in your memory. Flashes of your best friend growing up by your side ran through your mind as your fingers stroked through his hair. Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head, you shut your eyes and bit back a sob. “Do me one favor? Find your happiness, wherever it may be and never let it go, alright?”

When you released him from your hold, Minhyung whined at the loss of warmth.

“You’re my brother, Minhyung. I love you,” were your last words to your thieving partner before you turned away from him and his heart wrenching sobs and willingly stepped into your doom.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

What started off as secret meetings and stolen kisses in alleyways was ending with you chained to the floor of the palace’s throne room while your lover watched helplessly from the side. He screamed your name and struggled against the hold of his guards but you shook his head to silence him.

Stop, you begged in your head, make it stop.

The King and Prince Chansung did nothing to help you or their kin, only staring blankly at the chaotic scene unfolding in front of them. They had no choice; they were bewitched to be at the sorceress’ beck and call, just like the many guards that protected the kingdom. If only Prince Yuno had realized it sooner.

“Why are you doing this?” Yuno yelled, his deep voice booming throughout the large room. His harsh glare, a look you had never seen on him, was focused on the lady seated on his father’s rightful throne.

“Why?” Rowena echoed. “My darling prince, I did this because of you and your wish to renounce the throne for her.” Her extreme distaste for you was apparent as she hissed the last word.

She left her seat, leisurely sauntering over to Yuno with a smile as if it was a casual meeting when the situation was far from it. Rowena squatted down to reach his level and Yuno hastily turned his head to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. His jaw tightened and his teeth grinded against each other as she forced him to look her directly in the eye. “Marry me and crown me as your Queen. Only then will I let her go.”

Instead of answering the witch with words, he chose to spit in her face instead. “Never, you hag. You are not worthy of ruling Neiho, nor will you ever be.” Yuno’s voice was ruthless and unwavering, just as a prince’s should be. Even in a moment like this, your heart swelled with pride at his bravery.

“Long live King Chansung,” he jeered, which only set Rowena off. “He is the next, rightful ruler of the kingdom.”

“If this is how you want to play, so be it, Prince,” Rowena laughed in his face. The sound of her cackles made shivers run down your spine and cold sweat broke out in a number of places. You were scared of what was to come.

Using her staff to help her back up to a standing position, Rowena made her way towards you with a menacing stare. The curve of her lips grew wider as you flinched back in fear. You heard the clanking of metal chains as Yuno wrestled against the guard’s hold. “Don’t you dare do anything to her!”

“And what will you do, Yuno?” she threw back. “There is nothing you can do to help her now.”

Only a few steps from you, she points the end of her staff in your direction. A gleaming emerald jewel taunted you as you sucked in a breath. “You, peasant, have always given selflessly without expecting anything in return so selfless you will remain,” she started to say, a gust of wind bursted out the end of the jewel. It first surrounded her figure, then you, before spreading throughout the room.

A golden lamp appeared out of thin air, floating in front of your face before you felt the spark of dark magic course within you. It released you from your physical binds only to leave you immobile. A pair of gold cuffs materialized on your wrists and tugged you closer to the lamp.

“No longer will you be able to act selfishly for you are bound to this lamp and to these chains until a master wishes you free,” she explained. The taunting laughter that would soon haunt your memories echoed in your ears as ideas for a curse were thrown into the wind. “It will be at least two thousand years until you have the chance of seeing your precious prince again, that is, if Prince Yuno finds you first.”

“What? No!” Yuno howled across the room as you were slowly consumed by a dark cloud. Calls of your name were heard but you could not respond as Rowena began to chant,

“Golden lamp of antique old, Bind her body, mind, and soul. May she obey her master’s whim, Turn her future dark and grim. Freedom comes with just one wish Unless it is a true love’s kiss.”

The smoke spread throughout the room, leaving the surroundings in a haze. As the evil enchantress concentrated on the curse, the hold on the others in the room fell through. The king and Chansung snapped out of their daze only to watch the horrific separation begin to take place.

“Brother, what is the meaning of this?!” Chansung shouted to get his sibling’s attention, bringing an arm to shield his eyes from the powerful gusts. His father gripped at his youngest’s sleeve as the gale turned into a hurricane with you in the middle.

Yuno failed to hear his brother’s questions, eyes zoned in on you as your freedom was slowly stripped away from you. The sight of you crushingly accepting your fate tugged on his heartstrings. This wasn’t the ending he wanted for you. This was far from it.

"Remember me! You must remember me," he yelled over the commotion. You watched him struggle over the smoke as you cry out for him.

"How could I ever forget you?" you reassured him with a broken smile. You felt the tail end of your body being pulled inside your new cage and tried to fight the unbreakable force.

Yuno screamed your name once more. You locked eyes across the room, his dark orbs spinning with love and desperation. You wondered if your wet irises looked the same as his.

"I will find you! I will search until the ends of the earth until you are by my side again.”

You wanted to laugh at his hopeful optimism— how did love get you into this situation?

As much as you wanted to believe Yuno would find you, the situation was bleak.

Rowena’s body rumbled with a laughter so sinister, so piercing that you flinched at the sound as her dark magic ran through your veins. “I would like to see you try, my prince, but until then, you and the throne belong to me,” she sneered.

Ignoring the enchantress’ claims, his eyes continued to search for your disappearing figure. “I will come back to you, I promise!” Yuno’s deep voice rang into your ears.

“I hope you will,” you whispered a defeated reply back.

“If not in this life, then I will find you in the next! Mark my words!”

“Yuno…”

“In any version of reality, my darling, I will find you and I will choose you every single time. Do you hear me?”

You nodded vigorously as you choked back your sobs.

Just as the last bits of your being slipped through the spout of the lamp, Yuno broke free from the guards’ hold and rushed to your side. You reached out a hand and his fingertips grazed yours.

“Don’t forget me,” he mumbled through choked up sobs. His shaking hands grabbed at the dreaded lamp, clutching it to his broad chest like it was the most precious thing on earth.

The sight of him so desperate before you was reminiscent of the star-crossed lovers you heard about during your younger years, the ones that ended in the worst of tragedies. You pondered if this was your own personal tragedy, if this particular scene would haunt you for the rest of your cursed life.

You exchanged one last glance. One last touch.

Your hand clutched his cheek like it was made of the most fragile glass and the pad of your thumb stroked his soft skin. Yuno leaned into your touch, wanting to soak in his last moment with you. A spark flickered the place of contact, a sizzle of bright dust oozing from your fingers— your first dose of magic and you couldn’t even use it to keep him by your side. A glittering tear fell from your cheek and landed on his skin.

It was then you muttered your last words to the man who claimed your heart before being completely tugged into your golden cage, “As you wish.”

author’s note. hello, my darling readers! i know many of you have been waiting for this release for the longest time. this is the first of three (or four) parts. this part has been done for quite some time now; i’m just struggling to get the rest of it out.

but i thought it was too good of a story to just sit there in my google docs. i had this need to finally put part of it out into the world so here we are! i’ve been writing this since october and i would like to thank the many people who have helped me with the plot so far: kira, my chaotic gc, allex, and joyce!! ily all!! <3 this is for you!!!

part two is finished and i’m in the process of editing it! will it be out soon? who knows?

taglist. @rindomo @yshbaewenjun @hannie-dul-set @itsapapisongo @babyyynatty @notnctu @w0nni3wrld @yuta1forme @lucyinthesunshinee

i lost my original copy of the taglist so i’m sorry if i missed people! (especially since it’s been so long!) please let me know if you would like to be added to the list for future parts!

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #jung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #as you wish

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cassava-49 · 4 years ago

Text

Death 2

Part 1/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/Part 6/ Part 7

"Seriously? You did that to him?" Marinette asked trying to control her laughter. "Adrien's very easy to fool. He lets his guard down every time he feels like he could trust the person," Felix answered as he grinned at the girl in front of him.

It has been five days since Marinette got into a coma. The doctors said that she'll recover and would be able to wake up in soon. However, Felix's condition was slowly deteriorating. There were times when his heart would stop beating for a second or two. This caused a massive pain to those who knew and love him. Given that he's already a month in.

Although, the two ghosts seem to not mind it at all. Given that they're both just chilling at the roof. For the past three days, the two of them had been entertaining each other with their life stories, given that they know both of them were not going to live anyway.

"Hey, I saw your classmates trying to visit you again," Felix said as he stands up and goes to the ledge. "Who stopped them this time?" Marinette asked as she continues to finish the flower crown. "Security," he replied casually as he watched his mother entering his room to visit him again. "Your parents talked with the head and asked to have your classmates stopped if they're just here to visit you," he added as he faintly feels his mother's hand in his. Distracted by his mother, Felix didn't notice that Marinette had placed a flower crown on his head. "There, now you look a lot less like a creepy ghost," Marinette smiled as she looked at him with the flowers on his head. He smiled at her and adjusts her flower crown. This made him slightly jealous of his cousin for scoring a sweet, innocent girl in his life.

"Getting cozy up there you two?" a voice called from the other side. "Claude, what kept you guys?" Marinette asked as she approached the new comers, leaving Felix behind. Claude, a supposedly 17-year-old boy, who had been in a comatose state for a year already because of a car accident right after an akuma attack. "Hey, why does Felix get a flower crown?" Claude pouted. Marinette giggled and went to her pile of floor crowns. Giving each one of them a crown.

"Oh darling, it's beautiful," Allegra gawked with pride as she lined the outline of each one of the petals. Allegra is a 15-year-old who just got in a coma yesterday because of diabetes. Practically she's the one who's most likely to go first, given that was close to death's door when she arrived. "How are you feeling Allegra?" Felix inquired trying to see if she's recovering smoothly. "I feel better. I'm starting to feel the nurses whenever they touch me," she replied to him with a smile.

"Does it look good on me?" Kenya asked as she adjusted it on her brown locks. "Yup, you're totally rocking them," Allan replied with a wink. Kenya is an eight-year-old who got into an accident a week ago. Allan, on the other hand, is a soul who is trapped inside the hospital. He had been there for two years now, and he could have been 17 by now if it weren't for a rogue bullet.

"Marinette, do you like how I did my flower crown?" Lindalee asked as she showcased her new flower crown which was now in her two hair ties that held her blonde hair. Lindalee is also an eight-year-old who fell off the staircase about a month ago. "It's beautiful Lindalee. I love it," Marinette praised as she stared at it with pleasure. "You're looking great in that crown," Allan teased Felix. "For your information, I look majestic. It is, after all, made by our future fashion designer Marinette," he replied, which causes everyone to laugh.

"I really hope that you'll wake up soon, Marinette," Kenya exclaimed. "I hope that all of you would wake up," Marinette replied as she crouched down to meet the girl's eyes. "And don't forget to go to my grave when you guys all make it out," Allan reminded to them all, who nod in agreement.

"Hey guys, another one is in the emergency room," Claude called as he looked at the nurses who were rushing a young boy who seemed to have broken his leg. "Ooh, this one's interesting," Lindalee exclaimed as she examines the damage. "Is he going to be okay?" Kenya wondered in worry. "Don't worry honey, he'll be alright. It seems to be fracture, nothing as serious as death," Allegra said as she takes the little girl's hand. "It's funny how our only entertainment here is the emergency room," Felix commentt as he stood beside Marinette, who giggled in agreement. "Well, it's not like we could get out of the hospital, can we now?" Marinette replied with a smirk.

"Why can't we leave?" Allegra complained, still wondering the reason for it. "You guys are bounded to your bodies, so leaving it may become a welcoming invitation for the lost souls like me," Allan explains. "Why don't you leave?" she asked. "Why should I? My friends are all here," Allan replied with a smile. "My family moved away so I knew that I should just let them move on. From what I heard my sister's wedding was a blast and her husband is a nice, rich guy, who was her classmate in high school, and my little brother will be taking medicine for college and has a lot of achievements so far. So basically I'm not needed there, too much. They still come here on my death day so that's enough for me," he answered.

"That's so sweet of you," Lindalee cooed as she hugged him. "I'm definitely visiting your grave, first thing I'll do once I'm out," she adds. "Guys, the old man in room 404 is dying. I can see Grim waving at me," Felix said and pointed as room. "Let's go. I want to talk with Grim," Allan said as he begins to jump from the roof to the room. "Alright! Let's go!" Claude responded as he took Allegra's hand, who was still unaware of the perks of being separated from your body. They took a running start and jumped as well, aiming for the room. "Let's go Kenya!" Lindalee said as she took the girl's hand. "Yeah!" the two girls exclaim as they jumped. Marinette laughed at their reactions, since it became a game for them to jump into the room of the person who's about to die and surprise them.

"Come on Marinette, maybe today's the day," Felix said after chuckling as he sticks out his hand for her to take. She smiled and laughed as she takes it. "Let's go!" she exclaimed as the two began running towards the edge jumping through the window and landing in front of the group.

"About time, I thought that the two of you would be staying up there and make out," Grim said as he rolled his sunken eyes at the two. "What gave you an idea that we'd be doing that?" Marinette asked oblivious to the fact that they were still holding hands. The reaper, with his bony phalanges, casually pointed at their hands leaving the two teens flustered at their cluelessness. He chuckled at the two as he looked back at the old man, who was having a heart attack.

The Grim Reaper is as old as time. He wore a vanta black cloak that's tattered at the hem. His whole body is but of bones, a symbol of man's future after death. He carries a scythe to help end a person's suffering when it's too much, however he cannot use it unless the Fates allow him. But, it can also be used to transport the person's soul into the other side. Some may say that he's merciless, cruel, unforgiving and a thief. However, if they get to know him more, he's actually very nice and entertaining. He enjoys the company of ghosts, however is very sad for not being able to transport them to the other side.

"Grim, how's the number of deaths doing?" Claude inquired to pass the time. "It's the same. One person per second, we're just getting stretched too thin. Welp, better than the black plague is what I'd say," he replied. "What about the 1909 Provence quake?" Lindalee asks. "Wow, even for a kid you're really well informed with this," Grim commentt. "But yeah we had to pull out a lot of us just to accommodate all those souls before dinner or some of them decide to go haunting. And believe me the paperwork on it is not fun," he complained. "Grim Reapers have paper work?" Felix queried. "Nah, I think the right question is, Grim Reapers eat?" Claude asked. "Yeah, I guess. More or less, we kind of do," Grim replied as he gestured.

"Hey, look," Kenya pointed as the man's soul was slowly slipping away, as the heart monitor went crazy. The doctors and nurses kept on trying to revive him, but to no avail his soul finally separated. His old wife's tears continue to fall as she reached out to him. The doctor and the nurses give their sullen condolences to the woman.

For the old man, he slowly caught up on what was happening. He tried to go to his wife to comfort her, only to have his body phase through. He then turned around to find the group looking at him.

"W-who are you?" he asked pointing at Grim. This made him smirk and strike a sinister pose. "Who do you think?" he asked in a terrifyingly low voice. This made his eyes widen in horror as he made his way to the children and slowly push Grim away from them. "Stay away from them. You can't just take away children's souls!" he shouted, horrified at the thought of the young children dying. "Why not?" Grim snorted and taunted in a threatening tone. This causesy chills to go down the old man's spine as he tried to protect them. "Don't worry kids, I'm not letting this monster take any of us," he declared.

However, he turns to them when he heard a laugh coming from behind. He scowled at Allan and said, "This is not funny boy, can't you see he's going to drag us all to hell!" This caused the rest of them to look at each other and start laughing as well, confusing the man. "Well, now I know why you guys enjoy doing this," Allegra exclaimed in between laughs. "By the way Grim, I think you made that scary pose a bit too horrifying. I thought I was going to die as well," Allan added. "Who-who, what are you kids?" the old man asks with a shaky voice.

"It's alright sir, we're not demons, and Grim is just here to help you cross over," Marinette calmly told the old man. "You don't have to afraid. He's here to help," Felix reassured. The old man's features slowly relax as he looked at them all. "So, what are you?" he asked in concern, mostly looking at the two kids with worry. "Just souls of comatose victims," Claude replied casually. "Except for Allan, he's dead," he added. "Speaking of which, so do I get to crossover today?" Allan asked with hope. Grim looked him with a pitying look and shook his head no. This made the young soul frown in disappointment as his friends have him a hug for comfort.

Grim looked at them with a desolate look as he takes the old man's hand with reassurance. "Don't worry, I talked with the Fates and they said your time is near, so no need to worry about it," he says to Allan. "Easy for you to say, your dead. Time of different in your realm," Allan replied. Grim gives him a smile as he says, "Lighten up kid, at least you get to enjoy your friends company more."

He turned to the old man and offered his hand saying, "Grab on, the Fates have been expecting you, as well as your son." The man's eyes widen as tears began to fall at the mention of his deceased son. He hesitantly lookef at the hand, not trusting Grim one bit. However, he turned to his right to find Kenya holding his hand with a smile on her face. "There's no need to fear anything sir. He'll guide in your journey to the afterlife as your angel guided you in your life. Your son is waiting on the other side for you, I'm such he'd want to see you," Kenya guaranteed.

The old man's features slowly relaxed as he turned to Grim and slowly made his way to him and took his hand. "Come along sir, we're taking you home," Grim said as he placed his scythe back on the ground, which in turn encased them into a sphere of water, from the river Lethe, to help them easily crossover, forgetting of all the hurt and pain. It was always enchanting to watch souls crossover from life to the demimonde. After the event, Marinette turned her attention back to her despaired friend. She scrunched her eyebrows and looked around.

"Where's Allan?" she asked, concerned for her friend's wellbeing. This caught their attention as they began noticing his absence. "Wasn't he with you?" Lindalee pointed at Claude. "He was. He was right next to me," he replied a boy confused as well. "Let's split up and find him," Kenya suggested. They nodded at each other as they separately began their search.

"Why are we supposed to look for him?" Allegra asked. "He's a lost soul left to wander the earth and had been denied entrance to the afterlife, it's usually heartbreaking, mostly on his part," Felix replied, clearing the air. "Lost souls are more powerful than you think. They have the ability to disrupt the living world. Unlike us who just go through things, they can haunt anything and anyone. On bad days, they're the worst to deal with, and Allan hates being denied entrance to the afterlife after the 100th time," Claude answered with a hint of fear. "How many times had he been denied, including now? curiously queried. "157," Felix responded with a sigh.

With that in mind they all went forth, searching every corner of the hospital. Though they hope that he's still in the hospital.

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alexandralyman · 5 years ago

Text

Summary: A Hook/Emma angel/demon AU. They hide in plain sight, the servants of heaven and hell. The angels and the demons, who can save your soul or damn it. They stand on opposite sides, they are the bringers of light and the agents of darkness, they are enemies in an eternal war, but what happens when an angel and a demon are inexplicably drawn to each other?

Read on FF.net here or on AO3 here

Part Twenty-Four

The Sistine Chapel - May 6, 1527

The long train of her gown made a faint whispering sound against the floor as she glided the length of the chapel, the heavy gold satin rippling and flowing in waves over the fine marble and intricately laid mosaics. They would have been a showpiece in any other cathedral, but here they paled in comparison to the splendour of a thousand years' worth of papal wealth that surrounded them. A few lanterns were still lit in the niches and alcoves set into the walls but the light was dying, flickering and growing even more dim with each step she took further and further into the shadowed heart of Christendom. It was in this place where a new pope rose upon the death of the old, crowned and gowned and bequeathed the Keys to the Kingdom as he ascended upon Saint Peter's seat.

The ancient throne lay empty and abandoned on this night.

Her hair was a loose spill down her back and she wore no hood or veil to conceal it, normally an unthinkable breach of protocol for a woman entering the sacred site and a grave offence to the Church. But there was no one left to bar her entry, not that any mortal man could actually stop her from passing through any door to any room in this place, where even the holiest of relics, the priceless texts of scripture and verse, the sacred hearts of saints, the swords carried into battle during the Crusades, all paled in comparison to her.

Not a single candle was left burning by the altar where a figure was just visible in the gloom, garbed as a monk in sober dark robes. But he was no more a lowly cleric labouring anonymously in the depths of the Vatican in his humble attire than she was a wealthy Roman noblewoman in her rich gown and while her head might be uncovered, it was far from bare. She wore her own diadem above her brow, it was made not of gold or gems, but of an unbroken circle of Heavenly light. Divine radiance illuminated her path while the astonishing frescos that the Florentine master, Michelangelo, had laboured over for the better part of a decade looked down from the ceiling above, now silent witnesses left behind when everyone else had fled.

Almost.

"His Holiness has left in the company of the Swiss Guard and the Emperor's army is about to breach the walls. Rome will fall to the wolves and it will fall tonight, it's too late to stop it now."

Emma delivered the news to the figure's back, as still as any of the painted prophets and saints that surrounded them. For several long moments he didn't move and if it was anyone else she would have thought he didn't hear her. But he heard everything, and when he finally turned the hood of his monkish robe fell back to reveal one who was both prophet and saint, known by many names and titles in different languages and traditions. In the chronicles of noble knights seeking the glory of the Holy Grail he was the mysterious and powerful Merlin, possessor of magic and esoteric knowledge beyond that of mortal men. In truth, he was a Prince of Heaven in his own right, an Archangelus, the patron of healers, lovers, and guardian angels and one of the highest ranked of the Blessed Ones along with his brothers Michael and Gabriel.

The Archangel Raphael.

Like all angels he was captivating to look at, with a face that Michelangelo would have given his own soul to capture in marble. Strong brows, full lips, and large, liquid eyes that were fixed firmly at some point in the distance before his attention turned to her. Pleas for salvation were echoing in the back of Emma's mind like a thousand hands all reaching out from the shadows to clutch at her train, while the Pope had been spirited away to safety many innocent souls had been left behind, unarmed and completely defenceless against the rampaging horde of soldiers about to descend upon them.

Raphael spoke in a low voice as his gaze drifted again, to the shadows that veiled the splendor around them and grew more with each passing moment. "Yes," he exhaled, and painted heads turned as his breath gave the little figures miraculous life. "They will come from the north...an army sent to expand an empire and lay waste to all who stand in the way...cities fall one by one and there will be death and destruction and war."

An exasperated huff escaped her lips. "Will be? War is already here!"

He shook his own head, his hair as close-cropped as any monk's in place of the flowing locks usually depicted in the many portrayals of him that adorned chapel walls and illuminated texts. The shapeless robes stirred about his legs, lifted by a cool breeze that swept through the nave and made the lanterns flicker and the frescos cower. The light dimmed even more with it and didn't recover, more faint, misty glow now than illumination.

"No, I don't mean this. What is to happen tonight will fade from history and be all but forgotten within a generation, though the effects will linger. This is not war, this is two mules eyeing each other balefully over the same pile of hay.

Only an angel would openly refer to the two most powerful men in Europe, the Supreme Pontiff Clement VII, who held dominion over all Catholic souls, and the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, who ruled most of the land those souls resided on, as nothing more than humble pack animals fighting over a mouthful of feed. But the description was an apt one, it was their mutual stubbornness and refusal to cede any ground that had led to an army the Emperor could no longer control poised to lay waste to everything in its path and the Pope abandoning Saint Peter's throne to flee like a thief in the night instead.

"Charles and Clement may be nothing more than mules, but even a mule's kick can be fatal," Emma argued back. "And when a Hapsburg aims for a Medici, he doesn't just strike his rival. Tell the people of Rome that this is not war when they're burned from their homes and slaughtered without mercy in the street."

Raphael sighed and statues wept. "His Majesty and His Holiness are not the only ones possessed of an excess of stubborness. Now is not the time for debate about the constitution of war, it's long past time for you to go home, beata Emma. The army is not the only wolf howling at the gates tonight."

Emma lifted her chin, not giving quarter even to an Archangel. "And the innocents will suffer all the more for it."

His voice was firm and the warning in his tone was clearer than any bell. "The darkness will always seek to snuff out the light, in every form. Always. We can't save them all, Emma, and we are not meant to. He gave them the freedom of their own will be they prince or peasant, and as such they are capable of so much beauty and so much ugliness in equal measure. That potential they all hold within is His gift to mankind and we must allow them to choose their own path. You can not interfere in this mortal quarrel and if you stay, it is inevitable that the darkness will seek to find you."

She knew what would follow the soldiers in once they descended like locusts from the plagues of old and began to pillage the city. Even in the very heart of the Vatican itself she could sense them faintly in the distance, just beyond the seven hills.

Waiting.

Damnate Infernum.

The Damned of Hell.

"I do not fear the darkness."

Her voice didn't rouse the frescos or move the carvings to tears as his did, but her voice was steady and her shoulders were squared back in her elegant gown. She carried no sword, no heaven-forged blade like the one that had made it into legend alongside Raphael's tenure as Merlin appeared in her hand with which to repel back a demonic horde, but she couldn't leave, not when so many voices were out there and calling to her with their pleas for salvation.

"You do," the Archangel intoned with a raise of his brow. "Oh, you are brave and your heart is pure, but no one, not even an angel, is immune to fear."

He smiled then, a breathtaking sight that eclipsed even the glory of the grandeur that surrounded them. Emma felt her own lips lift in response and the candles that had been left unattended at the altar all ignited, filling the air around them with the scent of beeswax and sweet oil. Raphael's smile turned melancholy, his pupils twin golden flames from the reflections but also flickering with something else, beyond what Emma herself could see. The Merlin of tale was a prophet and that wasn't the fanciful imaginings of a twelfth-century cleric, Raphael had the divine gift of prophecy as all the Archangels did and in truth, Emma was afraid to ask what he saw when he looked at her now.

Another breath of wind swept through the chapel, cold, and decidedly unnatural. It licked a shiver down her spine and the candles went out again from the force of it, wisps of dark smoke curling up to the ceiling in serpentine ribbons. All save for one long, pale taper that continued to burn alone in defiance of the attempt to snuff it out. Raphael looked at it for a long moment and then he nodded once, as if in acknowledgement.

"A single light remains. If you truly wish to stay through what is to come, I won't forbid it. But Emma, you must keep in mind that the most divine of gifts can also become the heaviest of burdens. To listen and stay silent is not easy, you can find yourself longing not to hear them at all when you can't answer. Perhaps even for eternity."

She couldn't imagine even considering such a notion, one that trod so dangerously close to a path that led away from Heaven and only a few had chosen to follow since He first separated the light from the darkness as painted above.

"Is your gift a burden, beatus Raphael?"

His handsome face shifted, becoming softer and more wistful at the question. "My gift is wonderful. And terrible. I see such marvels to come, each more astonishing than the last as they continue to embrace art and science and learning, even when they stumble along the way. Then there are the horrors that have yet to be as well, when they fall into ignorance and loathing. But that is the future and as pleasant as it might have been to be gifted with visions of only the former and not the latter, without both, I would be blind in one eye."

With that, he made a motion with his hand and the candle that still burned lifted from the altar on unseen wings, crossing the bit of distance to float between his cupped palms. The little flame grew even stronger and for a moment that was an eternity unto itself the whole chapel blazed with light. Frescos acted out their stories in miniature, Passion Plays in pigment and plaster. The First Man reached to his Creator, the waters rose as the Flood washed over the banks and the Serpent hissed in triumph as the Forbidden Fruit was consumed and Man fell from grace.

Raphael offered the taper to her and she accepted it, his hands closing over hers so they both formed the ancient gesture of prayer. When he pulled away the flame returned to nothing more than a tiny spark, the painted figures were still and his eyes no longer reflected that which fate had hidden to all but him.

"They will follow you by this light, beata Emma."

She dipped her chin. "Gratias tibi ago."

The Archangel Raphael stepped back and folded his hands solemnly in his sleeves. A papal audience would conclude with the kissing of the fisherman's ring, but angels wore no jewelry. Her own fingers were bare of any adornment despite the richness of her attire. Still, she recognized she was being dismissed and she turned, satin gown rustling with the movement.

The candle illuminated the path back out of the chapel and no more, saints had retreated into shadows and all that remained of the dazzling splendor was a solitary angel. A glance back revealed what she already knew, Raphael was gone and she was alone.

It had already begun, Emma could hear the hue and cry quickly spreading across the city in advance of the army. She picked up her skirts and started to run, flying not with her wings but on her faith instead, trusting that it would take her where they would find her, whoever *they* were.

When she reached the closest set of doors that led outside they opened into the darkness of the night, the sky above indistinguishable from the ground below even with the candle in her hand burning bright. The space between the ornately carved wood gaped like a maw, and she could smell the smoke in the distance as her own prophecy came true and the fires were lit.

Rome had fallen.

When she reached the threshold the finely laid mosaics abruptly stopped, giving way to the drop where the Pope would slowly descend to the cheers of the waiting masses come to pay him homage in His name. Adoration had turned to debasement, cheers to screams, and as the floor fell away from beneath her feet Emma didn't ascend.

She leapt straight into the storm instead.

Lower Saxony, Germany, 1943

Bright sunshine shone down on the tall stone walls of the medieval Schloss, an imposing structure that dominated both the surrounding countryside of forests and fields and the picture postcard village nestled in the valley below, all nearly unchanged from how it must have looked centuries ago when the Hapsburgs still ruled this part of the world with absolute power not as mere kings like in France and England, but as emperors anointed by Rome.

Killian stepped out of his car and tilted his head back to take it all in, squinting into the light. It really was like stepping back in time, his was the only vehicle he'd seen on the winding road that connected castle and village and, unlike in every other city and town across Germany, there was no hint of the current turmoil to be seen or heard. No armed checkpoints on the roads, no soldiers posted at the town hall, not even the distant roar of the Luftwaffe in the sky overhead that was ever present now in even the most remote provinces far from the hive of furious activity that was Berlin. It would be curious, if Killian didn't already know exactly who was currently residing behind the ancient walls, someone who was far older and had the power to keep everything that was going on at bay.

For now, at least.

Inside, heavy damask curtains were drawn tight across every window and he was plunged directly into the darkness upon entering what was almost certainly enemy territory. It would have been disconcerting to anyone else, but Killian could see perfectly in the dark and his eyes adjusted at once with a flash of crimson to take in the artwork that crammed every inch of the walls in ornate frames. Far from an unusual sight in a castle, but these weren't the expected solemn-faced portraits of family scions or middling landscapes by unimportant artists like the one Emma had been so enamoured with before the French decided to give their entire aristocracy the same treatment as Herod gave to John the Baptist. Killian recognized the unmistakable hand of Titian in a red-haired siren and Caravaggio's signature chiaroscuro in the depiction of a saint, there was a Rembrandt that, as far as he knew, belonged to the Dutch royal family, currently exiled in Canada, and a half-finished sketch that he would wager a literal king's ransom was a Da Vinci. It was a veritable Aladdin's cave of priceless treasures, and none of it was owned by the noble family who had given their name to both the Schloss and the village and were now conspicuous by their absence. War had redrawn the European borders once again and, like the sacking of Rome by another German army four centuries prior, spoils had been taken and even more innocent blood was spilled. As Damnate Infernum, a Demon of Hell and corruptor of human souls Killian had seen it all before, he'd been standing on the hill when the city gates were finally breached on that May eve long ago and the holy city itself started to burn, but this conflagration was the closest he'd ever felt to the End of Days and the war destined to eclipse all others.

The Final Battle.

The artistic splendor was marred by the presence of an imp, lounging on an antique chaise in an insolent sprawl with one leg slung over the back and a grin that revealed a mouth packed with too many teeth.

Killian detested imps.

"Corruptor," the lesser demon practically purred, drawing the title out like it was a juicy treat. "What business have you with the illustrious Dark One? Have you come to make a deal?"

He would sooner be tortured by the Inquisition again than make a deal with Rumpelstiltskin and he bared his own teeth at the imp, white and far sharper than they looked.

"Tell your master that I'm here to speak with him, and that he needs to keep his pets on a tighter leash. I've heard what you've been up to when he lets you run loose. Bad form, even for an imp."

The rebuke in his voice made the imp's head snap back hard against the padded velvet, but instead of being chastised, it let out a high-pitched giggle that quickly melted into an obscene moan.

"Do it again!"

Killian grit his teeth, trying to keep his hellish temper in check. As much as he would have liked to teach the imp a painful lesson in the proper amount of deference owed to a higher demon, he was here for something far more important and anything else was a distraction.

Besides, the infernal creature would probably enjoy it.

"Fetch. Your. Master," he repeated, each word snapping in the air like the crack of a whip.

The imp stood and gave a mocking salute, clicking its heels together and bending its knees like a ballerina doing a plié. Killian didn't return the gesture, despite the uniform he was currently wearing.

"Aye, aye, Kapitän."

He felt his eyes narrow at that as the imp disappeared down the hall, dancing and whistling a jaunty tune through those piranha teeth as it went. The sound seemed to echo long after the imp was gone until Killian realized he was hearing someone else instead, his head turning in the direction it was coming from and following on silent feet until he found the source.

A pair of narrow doors stood ajar with a sliver of light peeking out and through the gap he saw that it was the castle's library, tall stacks rising right to the ceiling and filled cheek by jowl with leather-bound books. He gave the door the tiniest of nudges and it swung open fully, revealing that the curtains were tied back in heavy swags unlike in the other rooms he had passed, letting in the sun. The reason why quickly became obvious, there was a ladder attached to the bookcases to allow access to the higher shelves and perched on it was a soman, her back to him as she dusted along a row of books and hummed to herself in a sweet voice. Unlike the imp she was mortal, entirely human, her petite figure clad in a modest blue dress and her chestnut hair falling down her back in thick curls. Killian supposed she was Rumpelstiltskin's chambermaid, but strangely for someone in a demon's employ there wasn't a whiff of corruption about her. As one whose entire purpose was to corrupt and defile he could always detect it, to him it was like the scent of overripe fruit about to spoil. It clung indelibly to those falling away from the Light as their souls blackened and shrivelled like the half-eaten apple left behind in the Garden, so perfect and unblemished on the Tree until temptation proved too much for Mankind to resist. Whoever the woman was, she was still innocent, and curiosity had time taking a step closer because he was never one to resist temptation in any form.

The doors both slammed shut in his face before he could cross the threshold, with enough force to make his teeth rattle and the sweet humming was abruptly cut off, replaced by the harsh scrape of a lock being turned.

"Corruptor."

His demonic title was spoken from behind him in an oily voice and Killian turned smoothly on his booted heel, away from the library and the woman now locked within.

"Dealmaker," he acknowledged.

Rumpelstiltskin's thin lips went even thinner, but he couldn't fault Killian for addressing him in kind and not by his preferred moniker. He was attired in current fashion from the knife's-edge part in his hair down to his two-tone loafers, but he still carried the silver-tipped cane that Killian remembered from Paris, in the midst of another time and another war. The handle was shaped like a reptile's head, fitting for an ancient demon with such a cold-blooded disposition. The ebony tip rapped sharply against the floor when he turned and started to walk back down the hall without another word, not bothering to check if Killian followed. The dealmaker was more arrogant than any king in his newly acquired castle, and Killian rolled his eyes behind the self-styled Dark One's back before falling reluctantly into step to the metronome of the cane against the polished stone, each strike echoing loudly in the silence.

More incredible art adorned the walls on either side of them, one long corridor was completely lined in fourteenth-century tapestries that were somewhat faded with age but remarkably intact, depicting a typical medieval hunt. Killian had participated in his fair share of them under his many different noble aliases, he immediately recognized the scenes. The elusive quarry managed to evade the hunting party for several panels, leaping through glens and peeping defiantely at them through a copse of trees just beyond their reach. It almost slipped away, but the pursuers were determined and the freedom of the forest was fleeting, as the tiny woven arrows landed straight and true at the end.

Rumpelstiltskin came to a halt by another pair of doors where the imp was waiting, bowing like a well-trained footmen when he approached, fawning and obsequious now in the master's direct presence instead of mocking and impertinent. Rumpelstiltskin lifted the tip of the cane off the floor and used it to raise the imp's chin, forcing the creature's head back at what on anyone else would be an unnatural angle.

"Wait for me outside the library. It's currently locked, and it stays that way."

The order was clear and the imp ran off again, not bothering with any theatrics this time to scuttle away like a cockroach instead. Killian watched it scurry down the hall, his interest piqued even more while Rumpelstiltskin entered what looked like an ordinary sitting room. Tufted chairs, a wireless in a walnut case, and a china tea set left on a side table, nothing unexpected at first glance. A closer look told a slightly different story, there was a copy of the current evening edition of the London Telegraph folded next to the flowered cups, even though it wouldn't be out for another two hours across the Channel. There was no picture of Der Führer hung in place of pride or copy of his odious book on display as there were in every patriotic German household, and even ensconced as he was deep within the dark heart of the Glorious Reich, Killian suspected that Rumpelstiltskin had his long, grasping fingers stuck in all sorts of pies.

"Did the local count bargain away both his Schloss and das Mädchen?"

Killian sat down in the tallest chair without waiting for an invitation, pulling out a silver cigarette case engraved with his monogram and flicking it open. He lit one without a match, inhaling deep and blowing out not a mere smoke ring, but a smoke serpent that rose in the air and hissed right in the other demon's face until it dissipated from an equal flick of Rumpelstiltskin's finger, his expression clearly unimpressed by the showy display.

"She made her own deal with me and is therefore off limits to you, Corruptor," he said. "Don't think I've forgotten the last time you interfered in my affairs."

Killian hadn't forgotten it either, and he couldn't say he felt any remorse for assisting the courtesan Maleficent settle her affairs behind Rumpelstilskin's back. The letter she had written had been delivered safe to her daughter while the daughter's husband was away from the house and unable to confiscate it, Killian had made sure of that. It hadn't been a deal, not exactly, just an offer made to give the woman a bit of comfort with none of his usual strings attached because he felt like being magnanimous. Besides, he'd always enjoyed Maleficent's elegant salons. He took another drag on his cigarette and did his best to look contrite, even though they both knew it was completely insincere.

"Speaking of which," Rumpelstiltskin continued, as if the thought had just occurred to him, "what happened to that angel you were so damn adamant about? I heard rumours that an angel finally smited that irritating succubus Zelena in Paris and yet by some miracle you appear to have walked away from that encounter completely unscathed. How curious."

Killian hadn't forgotten the Dark One's interest in his angel either, an interest he had no intention of encouraging. Emma hadn't fallen, not yet, and until she did and he could claim her openly for his own, she was fair game to any demon that crossed her path. He was certain that he was the only one who could seduce her, but the others would be all too eager to attack a Blessed One and try to destroy her. Including the demon who sat across from him now.

He needed to tread very carefully.

"She flew beyond my grasp," he said, blowing out another lungful of smoke that turned into an image of Zelena's face, rendered as delicately as any of the paintings on display. Her mouth split open in a silent pantomime of her final, agonized scream when another breath of smoke spilled over it just as the holy water had in life. "Zelena thought she could take an angel on herself, if she had stayed on her back where she belonged and out of my way, then maybe she wouldn't have ended up as nothing more than effluent in the Paris sewers alongside the contents of every royal bowel loosened by the steel kiss of Madame Guillotine. But I can't say I mourned her untimely passing, not after she spoiled my plans and let the angel escape."

Zelena's image finally melted away just like the succubus herself when he stubbed the cigarette out into a crystal ashtray, leaving behind a smear of ash as dark and thick as her infernal blood had been when it spilled over the blade of his iron knife. Rumpelstiltskin's gaze followed the movement, unblinking even through the eye-watering haze of smoke that now filled the room.

"Indeed. Perhaps you'll have another bite at that particular apple, one day. Although it's already been what, a hundred and fifty years? Taking the definition of eternity rather literally, aren't we now?"

Killian knew it was a jab at his apparent failure and he let his expression twist into a scowl. Little did the Dark One know of all the nights since then when he'd succeeded in "capturing" Emma, her wrists pinned fast by his grasp that could so easily become shackles from which she'd never escape, caging her with his body while she was wound in his sheets, close, so close to surrendering to him fully and not just to his carnal temptation. He'd savour his other victories privately until then, how he'd coaxed out her name the night they met, worked to gain her trust over the centuries, her confession that she could hear him, each far more valuable and rarer than any painting or tapestry Rumpelstiltskin could acquire.

He'd get what he wanted, in the end. Patience might be a virtue, but he was willing to be virtuous for this, and he'd rub Rumpelstiltskin's nose right in his success whether it took ten years or a hundred. Losing a little face now was a small price to pay.

Turn the other cheek, as it were.

"I'm sure it didn't take you nearly as long to accumulate your little treasure trove, did it, Dark One? And all strictly for the glory of the new German empire, I'm sure."

There was a flash of amusement on Rumpelstiltskin's face at the sarcasm in Killian's tone.

"I've held up my end of all the bargains I've made on behalf of the empire. What you see here are merely a few trinkets kept for my private collection."

Killian thought that "looted" was probably a more apt description than "kept" for the fortune crammed onto the walls, but he didn't say it out loud. And he was the one who'd once been called a pirate. Still, the dealmaker's penchant for trinkets was the whole reason why he'd come and he made a photograph appear, held delicately between his fingers like the cigarette before he set it on the table and slid it over.

"Is this one of your new acquisitions like the artwork and the decorative young girl, perhaps?"

The image was grainy, a faded sepia and foxed at the edges from age. Rumpelstiltskin looked down at it and while his expression didn't change the blue haze in the air from the cigarette smoke rippled around him, like a stone dropped in a still pond.

"It's called the White Hilt," Killian began, watching the other demon carefully as he spoke, "among other names, and was said to have been made from a remnant of the sword wielded by the angel who drove the First Man and First Woman from the Garden, where it was cleaved in two by their sin."

While the photograph was badly faded, the object pictured was still recognizable and had even retained a bit of gloss, forever reflecting the flash that had gone off when the image was captured for posterity. It was a blade, long and narrow and oddly shaped. Both sides were curved several times along the edge, so that it resembled less of a knife and more like a lick of flame made metal. Despite the name the actual hilt wasn't white, it was so dark in the picture that it was probably black or nearly to it, and was studded with what looked like a large jewel at the top.

"There was legends about it, like those about the Holy Grail and the Spear of Destiny, but they fell out of fashion and out of history and only a few scholars have even heard of the White Hilt now, including those that Der Führer has combing every pilfered record he can get his hands on thanks to his new obsession, the occult sciences."

Rumpelstiltskin gave him a contemptuous look. "Spare me the lesson, I'm far more versed in these tales than you, Corruptor. More than one soul has tried to barter with me for holy relics, thinking it will bring them power and glory. A blade forged from Heavenly light is an attractive idea, especially to one who has styled himself a Saviour of the people."

"While he exterminates those who don't fit his definition of the term," Killian added.

It wasn't spoken of openly, but people knew where their absent neighbours had gone. Yellow stars were left behind on the lintels of empty houses, paint flaking away in the elements and the sin cut deeper than any knife.

The other demon lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. "Sieg Heil."

As before, Killian didn't return the sentiment. He gestured to the photograph instead. "This was taken sometime before the Great War, in this very castle."

He flipped it over and revealed the writing on the back, done in an old, copperplate hand. There were only three lines, the name of the Schloss they were currently sitting in, an illegible signature, and below them both was a word written first in German, and then, perhaps more tellingly, in Latin.

Dagger

Rumpelstiltskin eyed his uniform, one that gave him near absolute authority in the name of the would-be king. "I suppose you've come here as the knight on a noble quest?" he asked, tone still laced with contempt. "Shall I address you as Sir Killian instead of Corruptor then, collecting shiny tribute for your new master?"

Killian ignored that jab as well and focused on what the dealmaker might have just accidently let slip instead.

"So it is here?"

He met Rumpelstiltskin's gaze head on across the table. It was like staring into a well, his eyes were fathomless black depths that seemed to ripple from deep within. A mortal soul would fear what lurked unseen at the bottom and glance away from it, as Damnate Infernum in his own right, with power far beyond what the rank on his collar granted him, Killian didn't blink.

When Rumpelstiltskin spoke again it was through teeth gone serrated as a crocodile's. "I don't answer to you. Or to Der Führer. You think I'm somehow unaware of his more esoteric interests and attempts to collect such objects? Napoleon went to Egypt in search of Biblical treasures to strengthen his laughable claim, Charles V sent his troops to Rome to seize Saint Peter's throne, and now Adolf Hitler seeks a broken sword with which to rule the world. An emperor in all but name, and like those who came before him, doomed to inevitable failure. Just as you've failed in your pathetic attempt to intimidate me."

He started to rise from his seat then, cane in one hand and clear dismissal in his voice. "You can see yourself out now, Corruptor."

Killian remained where he was, idly examining his rings. The large, square cut ruby that he'd owned for centuries sat on his finger and winked up at him, he refused to don the honours that went with the uniform and wore his favourite pieces in their place instead. He rubbed his thumb over it and admired the fire within before rolling his wrist and snapping his fingers without looking up.

"Even in this modern world, I find that some still cling rather stubbornly to the old ways, don't you, Dealmaker? Especially those who used to hold power. They still style themselves with the titles they lost in the last war in the hope they'll regain them one day, prince, duke, count, and they still arrange marriages for their children. Marriage is a sacrament, and there is nothing more sacred to these people than money."

Rumpelstiltskin snatched up the papers that had appeared on the desk at Killian's command, his face a mask of utter fury as he scanned them and obviously realized his error. The marriage contract was clear, the bride's wealthy family had provided a considerable dowry to the impoverished but noble groom, on the condition that she be granted sole ownership of his ancestral seat and all the contents within upon the wedding, a hedge against a future divorce. Furnishings, carpets, silverware, there was a complete inventory right down to the number of teaspoons.

Including; "an antique jewelled dagger of unknown provenance."

"I confess I may lack your level of expertise," Killian continued, acting as innocent as a virgin at Mass, "but I do know that you can't put up what doesn't belong to you as collateral. Your contract was only with the husband. Mine is with the wife."

Her signature was next to Killian's own on the document the Dark One now held, granting him possession of the castle and surrounding estate. Marriage was a sacrament, and adultery was his favourite sin. He lit another cigarette from his silver case, filled as much with smug satisfaction at having pulled the rug out from under Rumpelstiltskin as the smoke he drew into his lungs. Another demon couldn't interfere directly once a bargain was struck and they both knew it. But Killian hadn't, since the deal was never valid to begin with. "Good faith" was not a doctrine demons followed, and Rumpelstiltskin had no choice but to accept that his own carefully wrought deal was now completely null and void.

"You don't answer to me, that's true. But you do answer to the Fallen One, so if you care to argue this further we can always take this little disagreement to him for a final ruling, if you desire."

The papers fluttered back down and spread across the table in an untidy heap while Rumpelstiltskin's dark gaze went sharper than any dagger. Despite his easy posture with the cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers, Killian was inwardly as tense as a bowstring. They were both bound by the same rules that called for the other demon to acquiesce, however unwilling he was to do so, but he looked to be on the verge of breaking those rules completely and refusing to relinquish his claim. If he did it would come at a considerable cost, and Killian's entire plan hinged on the Dark One being unwilling to pay it.

"That's twice," he said at last. "Believe me, there won't be a third time."

With that, Rumpelstiltskin lifted his cane and slammed it back down on the floor. The sound was like the strike of a match flaring to life, only magnified a thousandfold and everything in the room rattled from the force of it. For a split second Killian could see what lay beneath the unassuming countenance that had slithered unnoticed and forgotten throughout history for so long, the Beast without his human form to conceal him. He braced himself for the attack that was sure to follow, fingers tightening on the arm of the chair and ready to leap up and fling the lit cigarette right into the demon's face.

It never came. The Dark One was gone instead.

His boots made no sound when he stood up from the chair and walked around the table, the tip of the cigarette flaring crimson as he took another deep inhale. A chasm had opened in the floor like a sinkhole, right where the cane had struck. Killian crouched down to examine it, taking a final drag before flicking the cigarette into the hole and watching it fall end over end until it was swallowed up by the darkness. The chasm was deep, impossibly so, and for a moment he wondered if Rumpelstiltskin had decided to appeal to Lucifer after all and returned to Infernum itself to do so, as the Fallen One rarely left his kingdom below. He waited a few moments, but there was no summons under his skin that compelled him to follow and a check of the castle revealed that most of the treasures had been removed as well. The walls where the tapestries had hung were bare, the exquisite paintings were gone, furniture was draped in dusty cloths and there was an air of disuse and neglect as if everything had been shut away and left untouched for months. A check of the hall outside the library revealed the imp was nowhere to be found, and now that he'd established himself as master the door opened as soon as Killian touched the knob.

It was empty.

Not just the maid, a lot of the books had vanished alongside her. There were holes on the shelves that hadn't been there before and a few of the ones left behind had toppled over completely without the others to hold them in place. Rumpelstiltskin had withdrawn in silent acknowledgement that he'd been outmaneuvered, but he'd obviously taken everything from his other deals along with him. Using that much power at once could nearly cripple a demon, even one as powerful as the dealmaker.

When he returned to the sitting room he saw the rent in the floor had sealed itself back up and all that remained where it had been was a small black mark, perfectly round, left by the tip of the cane. His shoulders dropped with relief under the tailored wool of his jacket that his gamble had paid off, in truth, Killian hadn't wanted to involve the Fallen One either and the invocation of his authority had been a bluff.

The edge of the photograph peeked out from underneath a page of dry German legalese, Killian picked it up and read the words on the back again. If the White Hilt truly existed, then it was a holy relic of the highest order and one he would not allow to fall into Nazi hands. That madman in Berlin could make do with the ramblings of false prophets and the bones of apocryphal saints to fuel his insane crusade, anything genuine was exceedingly rare and he had his own reasons for searching such objects out, reasons he didn't share with those who only thought the commanded him. Just as it had the last time he'd been part of a German army, it was to serve his own purposes and not the other way around.

"Find it."

He didn't have any imps at his disposal so he sent his shadow to begin the search instead. The dark shape moved along the wall of its own volition and sank into the stone like water sinking into the sand, if the dagger was secreted somewhere within the Schloss then he'd find it no matter how well it was hidden. If it turned out to be a medieval copy then he'd return with it to the capital and graciously accept the Reich's accolades, but if it was real, then his coded dispatch would report that the legend of a blade forged from a sword once wielded by a holy angel was just that, a legend, and nothing more.

Night had fallen by the time Killian went outside for some air, frustrated by what appeared to be a fruitless search. There was no jewelled dagger anywhere to be found and he couldn't sense the presence of anything holy. He'd known the odds were exceedingly slim to begin with, and yet for some reason a part of him had believed that not only did the White Hilt exist, he would find it here. Learning that Rumpelstiltskin had chosen this of all the estates he could have had for a wartime headquarters had only increased that belief, it was too much of a coincidence that the demon who coveted power above all else could be sitting unawares on such a prize.

A single line in an inventory that had been prepared years prior and a photograph even older still. It could be real, or it could be nothing more than a wild goose chase and there was no way to tell without the dagger itself. He'd know immediately, just as he'd known that Emma was an angel. The damned always recognized the divine.

A light appeared high in the sky above and drew his attention up. It wasn't the holy light that had drawn him closer on that night in Rome when war had raged unchecked and the city burned, it was the Luftwaffe, flying on steel wings to rain fire in the form of the bombs dropped nightly across the Channel. A falling star streaking across the heavens with a deafening roar, and as it passed overhead he felt the disturbance in the air even from the ground.

The feeling didn't go away after the plane was gone, if anything it increased, hairs on the back of his neck rising and a prickling under his skin that usually meant one thing. Something else caught his eye, a tiny bit of movement that was nothing but a pale smudge against the deep indigo at first. As it grew closer Killian saw that it was a bird, a dove, with something held in its beak.

Not an olive branch, it was a note, falling straight into his hands while the dove flew away. There was only one who correspond with him in such a fashion, and it wasn't another demon. When he unfolded the square of paper letters appeared as if by magic in gold script, addressed at the top in a familiar hand to, "Damnate."

Killian quickly scanned the lines, his brow creasing with a frown. Once he'd secured control of the castle his plan had been to keep following the trail of the White Hilt if it wasn't there, he had some other leads and records that pointed to where it might have gone and the war was the perfect cover for his pursuit. Now that the Dark One knew of his interest, it was even more important that he maintained his cover and moved as quickly as possible. He wasn't bound to answer the summons he held in his hands, the promise he'd made could easily be broken.

"...as you once agreed to give me safe passage I ask that assistance again of you now…"

"...I need you…"

"...please…"

It was signed at the bottom with a single initial in lieu of a name, E, and he brushed his thumb over it.

His answer was silent to all but her.

Belgian Countryside, 1943

"Someone's coming."

The whispered announcement made everyone freeze for a moment before they hurried to the dusty windows in a flurry of palpable dread, dousing the old gas lamp they'd been using for light and pulling the tattered curtains back to peer out into the gloom on the other side of the glass. Outside it was pitch-black for miles around and silent as a tomb across the barren fields and empty roads that made up the ancient Flemish countryside, with not a soul to be seen nor heard from in days. Or it had been, at least. Now there was a distinctly mechanical hum in the air, quiet and barely audible at first, but growing louder and louder and a collective gasp echoed around the room when the long drive to the abandoned farmhouse where they'd taken refuge suddenly lit up with twin oblong lights. As yellow as the predatory eyes of a serpent poised to strike and moving even more quickly, they were unmistakably headlamps, from a large vehicle that was making its way directly towards them at breakneck speed.

"Soldiers!"

"Germans!"

It was a single cry of alarm that was taken up at once by the rest of the ragged group, white-faced and trembling with both exhaustion and fear. In the shadows Philippe and Richard shared that kind of unguarded embrace that would send them straight to the camps as sexual deviants alongside Isaac and the other Jews who sought shelter under her wings, while the Mother Superior had her arms wrapped comfortingly around little Gretel, as thin and delicate as a baby bird fallen from the nest.

Emma forced herself to her feet despite her own utter fatigue and lurched towards the door, tossing a hurried, "Stay here," over her shoulder as she went.

"Emma, Emma come back!"

"Emma, wait, no, it's too dangerous, you don't know who's out there-"

She heard them, but there was another voice that was even louder and she didn't heed their warnings, already on the sagging porch with her shoes scarcely touching the ground as she practically flew down the steps and flung herself headlong into the path of the oncoming car. The light found her immediately and there was an ear-splitting squeal of metal as the unseen driver behind the wheel slammed on the brakes. Gravel flew from under the tires like shrapnel and the car skidded to a halt scant inches from where she stood, so close that Emma could feel the searing heat from the engine, a shocking contrast against the cooler night air. A door opened and a tall figure emerged, standing just beyond the pool of light with his face hidden under the brim of his hat. His appearance elicited another shriek of fright from behind her when they caught a glimpse of his uniform, the glint of silver on his collar and the armband red as blood. Her little flock hadn't listened and had followed her outside, staying close to their shepherd and bleating in fear like orphaned lambs in the dark. Their presence pulled at her to return while his pushed her back, his damnation attempting to repel away her divinity and she swayed back and forth where she stood, caught between warring instincts until he stepped into the light and there was nothing except him.

"Engel," Killian murmured when she threw herself at him, straight into his arms and burying her face in his shoulder. His voice rumbled through her, equal parts amused and concerned. "Oh blessed one. What have you done now?"

There was a shuffle of footsteps behind her and she felt him stiffen, his attention shifting to the small group she'd guided from the Dutch border and across half of occupied Belgium. Emma knew she should pull herself away and try to come up with an explanation as to why she was embracing what appeared to be a Nazi officer who'd just appeared out of nowhere in a car more suited to a film star than a soldier. It must look like their shepherd had delivered them straight to the wolves instead of the safety she promised and she should step back, reassure them, ease their worry...but her head was too heavy, weighed down with innumerable unanswered prayers that flickered behind her eyes in an endless loop. People were suffering, starving, dying, and it was too much for even her wings to carry. Her fingers curled into the dark wool of his jacket and when they called her name again it seemed to come from very far away. His voice was among them but she couldn't answer, her hold loosening and her knees giving out, buckling like an ancient tree gone hollow with age and unable to withstand the force of the wind any longer.

"Killian."

His name fell from her lips in a whisper and she was falling with it, the hard earth below rushing up to meet her and the heavens above, dark, and devoid of stars.

The demon caught her before she hit the ground.

#cs ff #cs fic #my fic #Between Heaven and Hell

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imaginesmai · 5 years ago

Text

Peter Parker - See the light (1)

Here is the first part of the Tangled series! If you don’t know what I’m talking about, here is a small sneak peek . Let me know if you want to be tagged!

This doesn’t follow exactly the story, but I’m trying to be as accurate as possible. If you haven’t seen the film, you can still understand the story, but it will be easier if you have seen it since it follows the main plot. Just a reminder; reader is not as neutral as in other fics, since the story requires a specific characteristics and I didn’t want to change Peter.

Now, I hope you enjoy it!

Plot: Peter Parker has changed over the past few years. From the sweet boy that helped in town, to a thief running away from the guards with the missing princess’ crown. While doing so, he comes across a tower with a girl with a ridiculously amount of hair. First encounters had never been so agressive for him.

The forest was nothing more than a blur as Peter dashed through the overgrowth. The mossy ground was spongy under the soles of his feet, as he practically bounded around the trees and danced around roots and barbs. His lungs burned, his legs pleading with him to slow down, but he couldn’t. The soldiers were hot on his heels, and as long as the crown was still in his possession, he couldn’t slow his sprint.

“Parker!” one of the brother shouted over his shoulder. “Keep up!”

Peter just huffed in response. The other two men were already far ahead of him; both keeping stronger stride and pace. He leaped over a fallen log and narrowly missed getting clipped by a low hanging branch. Behind him, the could hear the pounding of horses and shouting from the commander of the guard.

Suddenly, the back of Peter’s vest was being grabbed, and he was pulled into the cool brush by a strong hand. He struggled for only a second before realizing that is the other Stabbington brother who pulled him in.

“Shut up and stay still” the one with the patch scolded, and Peter’s shoulders slumped.

The theft of the crown had been nothing but improvising. Even though Peter had been dreaming with having it for months, lately he had been more focused on other things. Like the death of his uncle, murdered by the guards in a misunderstanding, or the death of his aunt, killed by an illness that Peter couldn’t afford. When the Stabbington brothers had suggested him the job, he almost said no; but he had to do something apart from hurting.

And hurting the king wasn’t such a bad option.

The ground thundered with the thumping of hoof steps, and Peter bit his tongue. The other two men were already running, caring little about the ‘team’. Peter fell into pace behind them, his lungs aching again. They didn’t run for long thought, as the trees seemed to end and they were cut off by a tall cliffside.

The three of them stared at it, until Peter broke the silence.

“Alright, help me up” Peter clapped his hands. His colleagues just stared at him in shock. “I’ll pull you up after. I’m the smallest and the lightest.”

“Give us the bag” the first one growled, holding out his hand.

“And I thought I had earned your trust” Peter said, arching a brow. There was no trust between them, and they all knew they would kill each other; even the brothers between.

The brothers just gave him narrowed eyes, so Peter gave them the bag. The crown made a tingling noise, and Peter thought of all the things that could go better if he had it.

Less than a minute later, Peter was climbing up their back like a human ladder. He had always been a skinny boy, that had grown muscles with the years, and he was used to climb into the trees for fun; so it was easy to get to the top. At the last second, he slipped the satchel right off one of them and then scampered up onto the higher ground.

“Parker, your hand” Peter should really know their names, but he couldn’t quite differentiate them.

“Sorry, but I don’t think I have one to spare. See you later!”

The brothers caught sight of the satchel in Peter’s hand, but Peter was already running before he could steal it back. The last thing he heard was his colleague’s cries of anger.

That time, sprinting didn’t feel as tiring as it did before. The horses were still behind him, but it was less threatening that earlier. Peter assumed that most of the guards had stopped over the brothers, so he had a few minutes.

As he let the wind hit his skin, Peter thought how a few years ago he wouldn’t have been able to steal, or to cheat. He was a simple boy who lived with his aunt and uncle; not with too much money, but happy enough. He had a best friend – Ned –, a girl who he considered his girlfriend – MJ – and even a man who he was learning from – Mr. Stark, the inventor –. Everything had been perfect, until they all left him, one by one, and he found himself stealing for a living. It wasn’t fun, and sometimes he allowed himself to share a few tears over the night, but it was necessary.

Peter didn’t let the emotions much room, and kept running, until he found a tower to hide.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was someone in the valley.

You knew it wasn’t your mother. For one, the person didn’t call for you to let down your hair, and secondly, the person was then climbing the body of the tower to get inside. Years of being hidden in that tower, without getting out, let you know that whoever was there didn’t have friendly intentions. Your mother had warned you from them, men that wanted to kidnap you, armies that would drag you away. And thirdly, you had a too silent chameleon looking at the window.

You had hidden yourself from sight, the heaviest and most deadly pan you owned then secured in your grasp. It was slightly rusty, but that wouldn’t stop it from being able to be swung at the intruder.

The person was breathing heavily as they scaled the tower, and moments later, you observed in freight as they crawled through the window and into the living space. It was a man, and fortunately enough, he had his back turned to you.

The man reached for the bag he had slung around his torso and looked inside. He sighed.

“You arrived a few months late, my friend”

There was a slight sad tone on his voice, but he didn’t get to say much more before you had clobbered him in the back of the head with the pan. The hit wasn’t hard, just enough to have him fall to the ground, unconscious.

You stared at him for a second. For the first time, you were looking at someone other than your mother. Pascal scampered up your back and then rested on your shoulder, the little chameleon blinking confused. You ignored your friend and took a tentative step towards the stranger, curious; Pascal only shuffled backward.

The man, or boy, had chestnut hair, full of messy curls, and a clean jaw that didn’t seem like the ruthless beards of the vikings you were waiting. His long eyelashes rested peacefully in a face that seemed full of worries, although he could be sleeping. Lips parted and breathing, the stranger was beautiful.

He wore a bright blue vest without sleeves, an underneath white shirt and pants that had seen better days, brown boots scuffed and well worn. Something that seemed a small spider was drawn on the bottom of the vest.

“What do you think he is, Pascal? A ruffian or a thug? He doesn’t seem the bogeyman to me” you asked, feeling intrigued. “That’s not what the plague looks like, is it?”

Pascal seemed to roll his eyes on your shoulder, turning around and looking out of the window.

“You’re very helpful, Pascal” you sighed, and the animal just stuck his tongue.

The boy – he couldn’t be older than you – seemed out cold, so you stepped away for a second, walking towards the abandoned satchel. Keeping a cautious eye on him, you picked up the bag and opened it. A large, golden hoop, covered in what looked like shard of glass, and ornately designed stones, laid on your hand. It was gorgeous, and shimmered in the sunlight.

You turned the thing over in your hand a few times, and walked over to the nearby mirror and stared at yourself, then down at the hoop. You placed it on your wrist, but Pascal, who was back on the ground, shook his head, obviously not convinced. You spun it around your finger next, but the hoop quickly lost balance and you had to catch it before it clattered to the ground.

Finally, you brought the object to the top of your head, and stared at yourself in the mirror. Long, and hard. Pascal’s eyes seemed to widen for a moment, until he shook his head again. Defeated, you placed it back in its bag and went back to the knocked out stranger.

“What should we do with him?”

The only place you could think to hide him was in the closet nearby. Something about throwing him out of the tower didn’t seem right, so you decided to wait until he woke up and kindly show him the way off. And, maybe, you felt a little curious about the stranger.

With a grunt, you picked up the boy and dragged him over to the wardrobe from his shoulders. He was pretty heavy and you knocked a few things over, but finally managed to shove the man in; not without two or three bangs that probably had made him even more unconscious.

“There is a man in the tower” you said, crossing your arms and looking at the closet. Was it a finger what stuck from the opening? “There is a man… in my closet. In my – ha! How you like that, mother? Who’s the sapling now?”

The little dance-off you were having against the unconscious man and out of happiness ended quickly when a new voice rang up from the valley.

“Y/N! Let down your hair!”

You tumbled to the window, and looked down to see your mother smiling at you. She was carrying a basket with some fruits, and you squealed in excitement; the unconscious man would be enough proof to let you go outside. You let your hair fall towards the ground, and your mother stepped into the tower.

“I have a huge surprise” she said cheerfully.

You reeled the rest of your hair back into the tower, and singed back a happy ‘so do I’, staring at her back as the older woman removed her cloak.

“Mine first, I’m sure you’ll love it. I bought mangos!” your mother chuckled, placing his back full of fruit on the table. “Thought we could make some special dessert, it’s been a while since we did so. How’s that for a surprise?”

“It’s great, mother” you replayed, kissing her cheek when she gave you a pointed look. “I wanted to talk to you about something, though”

“Treasure, you know I hate leaving after an argument, but-“

“No, mother, you don’t-“

“Don’t interrupt me” her voice was hard, and you casted your eyes down..

“Sorry. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, mother”

“When are you not?” your mother laughed.

You looked around the walls of the tower, where a lot of drawings and books were kept. There were pieces from all over the world that your mother had given you, and some of them done by you. There wasn’t much to do when you spent your whole life up there.

“But I have –“

“I hope it’s not about the flying lanterns”

You inched closer to the wardrobe, looking for an emotional support on any of the habitants of the tower. Pascal was too busy, chasing a fly on the window, and your mother only had disapproval on her eyes. You sighed, hand shaking.

“Mother, just – earlier, you said I wasn’t ready for the outside. But I just think you were wrong –“

“Don’t tell me what’s right or wrong” you mother corrected you quickly.

“But, if you just trust me, mother, I know –“

“Y/N, we’re done talking about this.”

“I know, mother, but I just wanted to –“

“Y/N”

“Please, mother, just listen to –“

“Enough with the lights, Y/N! You’re not leaving this tower, you’re not leaving me, and you’re stopping right now if you don’t want consequences!” your mother all but screamed, eyes blowing side open and voice louder than you had ever heard it. You immediately removed your hand from the wardrobe’s handle out of shook.

It took her a second, but eventually your mother regained some form of composure and fell into a chair like the victim.

“Oh, perfect” she sighed. “You’ve made me the villain”

You watched your mother, your heart rate decreasing slowly, with your enthusiasm and happiness along. After a long moment where you fight to keep the tears at bay, out of frustration and sadness, you stepped towards her tentatively, until you could kneel by her side.

“Before… I just – I just wanted to say I know what I want for my birthday”

“What do you want?” your mother eyed you with a critical eye.

“New paints. Like the one you bought me last year, that had a special bright red glow, or the thick blue one”

Your mother narrowed her eyes at you, and leaned forward against the chair.

“That man doesn’t live close, treasure. The trip will be long. Almost three days.”

“I just thought it would be better than the lights”

Your mother let out a long sigh and stood up. She walked around for a bit, until finally stopped in front of you with a too kind smile, that only showed when she got what she wanted, and knew she had won. Leaning down, she took your head in her hands and brought it forward, so she could plant a kiss to the top of your hair.

“You sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“I’ve done it before” you smiled shakily at her.

“Alright” your mother’s mouth was pressed in a grim line, yet she still nodded. “I’ll be back in three days. No more. I love you very much, treasure”

“I love you more, mother”

You helped your mother with the bags and wished her a safe journey under the promise of being careful in the tower. As you watched her walk away, you thought about how three days was enough time to coax the boy to take you to the flying lights and be back before she noticed.

Now you only had to wait for him to wake up.

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descendantofthesparrow · 5 years ago

Text

Daughter of the Honorable thief - Harry Hook x reader - part 11 - the fair

thanks to @musicarose for commissioning me to help continue this series! more coming soon!

You were bouncing in your seat, watching as your parent's castle came into view. Erza leaned over you, a squealing noise coming from her mouth as she spotted her own home.

“ohhh I can't wait to get back, I've missed genavive~” Uma raised her brow at you, mentally asking you who Genevieve was.

“her horse” you laughed, pushing Ezra off of you and back into her seat in the car. You had arrived in your country by plane and continued from the airport by car, your family's driver in the front seat.

“so I talked to my mom, Harriet, harry, and Gil, you guys will be staying with me, and Uma you'll be staying with Ezra.”

Gil perked up, raising his hand, you snorted and nodded at him “why is it that way?”

“I informed my mom of what and how much you guys eat, my castle has a lot more food so it just made sense for you to be at my place, and harry and Harriet was just a choice”

“so Ezra and i will be hanging out…i’m good with that” Ezra grinned at you, patting your arm rapidly, you smiled and gently shoved her hand away.

“I know I know, chill”

A couple of hours later and you were ready for the festival, a green peasant dress flowing around you.

Your handmaid laid your small tiara on your head, the other helping you tie your boots.

“Thanks, you two, you guys can have the rest of the day off, go to the festival” you cheered, pushing them out of the room, Serena and kya smiled and nodded, bowing slightly before running off to their rooms.

You laughed, grabbing your shoulder bag, and walking out, checking to make sure you had your phone and wallet.

A whistle came from your right, and you turned, smiling as Harry walked up to you, he was wearing his shorter red leather jacket, black pants, and converse.

“wow, lookin’ good lassie” you giggled, spinning and letting the dress twirl around you.

“Why thank you~ you're looking quite good yourself!” Harry smiled and nodded, playing with his rings on his fingers.

“thanks” Harriet exited her room, messing with the strings of her own red peasant dress.

“oh you wore it?” you tilted your head “you know you didn’t have to right?”

“I know” she muttered, flattening the dress down on her front “I liked it, so I wore it fuck off”

“ok ok!” you held your hands up laughing “just wanted to make sure you weren’t forced to wear that”

Gil popped out of his room, a dark orange vest over a long-sleeved white shirt on his form, dark pants and his usual boots on his feet. “so (y/n), do they have really good food there?”

“oh amazing food, im willing to bet erzas gonna gun it to the Scotch eggs” gil tilted his head at that, following you down the stairs.

“whats a Scotch egg?”

“A deep-fried egg” you snorted, you never really understood erzas obsession with them, they were good, but not bulldozing other people over them good.

Likewise, she didn’t understand your obsession with churros, which were heaven shaped logs of cinnamon and sugar~.

“Alright, ill drive us over to the festival and we’ll meet uma and erza there okay?” the three pirates nodded and followed you out to your car.

You grinned, spotting erza in her light purple dress, her pastel flower crown on her head and brown boots, her dagger belt hanging off her waist.

Uma stood next to her, wearing a simple teal tank top and dark shorts, dark purple converse on her feet. She nodded at you, leaning off erzas car and walking towards you.

“loving the dress hettie~” uma teased, Harriet just gave her the middle finger and walked into the festival.

Harry laughed and gave a two-finger salute to uma, who nodded back, she turned to you “so what do we…do here?”

“play games-“ you started, erza interrupting you.

“eat food-“

You smirked and spoke up again, “buy things-“

“watch the tournaments-“

“and have fun generally” you finished, waving your hand for them to follow you in.

Harry whistled as you entered the main area, smiling at the decorations and stands. “this is pretty cool, I’ll admit” he spun around once, trying to see everything.

You broke away from the group to walk over to the map area “hey man, is there anything exciting going on right now?”

The old man smiled and looked down at his timesheet “why yes, there's a joust going on in seven minutes, just up here” he pointed down at the map.

“can we get there in seven minutes?” you asked.

“you can get there in three, I could get there myself in five, and im the slowest person here” he laughed, handing you a map and waving you off.

“guys there's a joust, lets go!”

“ ‘hood wait up!”

“there's a lady knight!” erza pointed out, Harriets and umas head popped up.

“lady knight? Wheres the lady knight I instantly love her oh my god” Harriet ran in front of the group, you and harry cackling at her.

Erza, uma, and Harriet were almost on the fences separating the arena from the people. You could hear the tail end of erzas words.

“whatever makes me that much more gay” she laughed, you settled next to her and looked around the arena.

“so we like the lady knight with the blue flag and the feathers right?” “yes,” erza nodded her head erratically, Harriet and uma agreeing quickly.

“okay so the boys” you rose your brow at them “they seem a little full of themselves” one of them was flexing.

“I don’t like his attitude” uma snorted “he looks like his name is lance or something im not about it”

The announcer started, calling for the audience for who they were going to cheer for.

“call out if you are here for the order of the moon!” the lady knight with the blue flag lifted her flag, smiling as the crowd went wild, including you and your friends.

During the match, you walked off and bought some of the lady knights mini flags for her supporters and gave them to uma, Erza, and Harriet.

Erza cheered and waved the flag around yelling out “hail the moon!”

The tournament began, the six of you cheering and screaming along with the crowds, uma turned to you during the match between the lady knight and “lance” “I think I get sports now!”

You laughed loudly and nodded, cheering as the lady knight knocked away the other knight's shield, giving her the match, she raised her lance high, smirking at the crowed, winking as she caught Harriet's eye.

“did-did she jus-she did oh shit” Harriet turned red and stood, hiding behind harry, who smirked and lushed her back out into the front, just as the lady knight circled round, right in front of your group.

She nodded down at Harriet, who blushed and squeaked, burying her face in her hands.

“Didn’t you say you had a crush on someone?” erza asked, leaning into Harriet's sight.

“I did! They don’t swing that way” she sighed, letting her hands drop onto her lap. You saw the lady knight smile to herself and nod, trotting off on her horse.

“I think she heard you” you chuckled. You knew the lady knight, the daughter of little john, ember, who was 150% gay, and Harriet was her type.

Tall, dark, and a talent with swords and the sea.

“hold the phone- wait isn’t that ember?” Erza leaned back to you, you nodded, Erza broke into a grin “holy shit! Last year she didn’t even qualify for the tournament!” she stood, waving her flag and screaming “GO EMBER~!”

Ember turned, a bright grin spitting across her face, pumping her fist in the air.

Soon the match was over, and luckily, Ember crushed it, though “lance” the knight for the order of the sun, was smiling and boasting to other guests, about how he would be winning the rematch later.

You pushed erza to talk to him, she pouted at you and walked over to him, he grinned and nodded.

Erza gave him a fist bumb and ran behind you, the knight laughed “thank you, I don’t know what that means but thank you” he spotted the sunflower gil was holding.

“quite a flower, and also appropriate since your over here on the order of the sun's side” gil smirked and shrugged.

“well you see” he turned over the flower, revealing the moon flag. The knight gasped in mock offense.

“oh, how could you!”

“How can you not, have you seen ember?” uma taunted, smirking at “lance”

The knight pressed his hand to his chest “hurt” clear on his face. “well the rematch at six! Youll have your chance” you supplied, the knight nodded and stood straight.

“aye, and if I don’t win…well I don’t know, will you all be there?” he chuckled.

“at 6? Yeah, we will be there!”

You all started to walk off before Harriet turned and asked.

“will ember be there?” the knight nodded “oh well then, well definitely be there! Come on, guys!”

You burst out laughing at the knight, who was staring at all of you with his mouth open and his eyes wide with amusement.

“so (y/n) uhhh, Scotch eggs?” you snorted and pushed erza out of your face.

“we will get them when we see the stall, so chill”

You walked around the market place, uma was gazing at a blue peasant dress, which you bought for her and she proceeded to get changed.

“lookin good cap’n” harry yelled from across the shop, a red and pink flower crown resting on his head, gil was trying on some leather gloves, smiling at uma, nodding with harry.

She rolled her eyes and gave a mock bow, stuffing her shirt into her back. “wheres your shorts?” erza asked, uma just hiked the dress up, revealing the shorts under the dress. Erza turned red and chuckled, turning away and waving her hands around her face.

“erza, calm the gay” you teased, patting her back as uma smirked and walked off.

“coffee!” Erza bolted off, you snorted, spotting the coffee stand across the road. You quickly paid for Harry's flower crown (which he tried to stop you but you insisted he looked good so he blushed and gently put it back on) and followed after her.

“CHURROS!” you exclaimed, detouring to the shop next to the coffee and buying 6 churros.

You handed one to harry and gil, waiting for Harriet, uma, and erza to return from the coffee shop.

“I needed this” erza sighed, sipping on the iced coffee. You smirked gesturing to erza.

“oh look, ye old basic bitch” erzas eyes widened as you finished your sentence and started to hit you with an open palm, you cackled and handed her a churro.

Uma and Harriet grabbed theirs and bit down, low moans coming from them as the cinnamon hit their tongues.

“holy shit that’s good” Harriet muttered, chomping down on the fried stick covered in cinnamon sugar.

“Yeah, what are these called and where can I get a thousand of them,” Harry asked his mouth full.

“churros, they are fried dough sticks with a bunch of cinnamon sugar on them” erza explained, sipping at her coffee.

“little sticks of heaven is what I think you mean” you muttered, pouring the leftover cinnamon sugar in the holding back into your mouth.

“there she be, the wild (y/n), scoping out the prime bows, as SCOTCH EGGS ARE JUST ROUND THE CORNER” you looked up at erza, raising your brow at her.

“you and your scotch eggs” you laughed, looking back down at the Celtic designed bow.

“since you’re offering, yes I do want some scotch eggs” she leaned on you heavily, raising her brows up and down.

You snorted and walked away from the bows, smiling as you saw harry and Harriet trying on pirate style hats.

“I do think you should look into getting new servants young lady” there was an older woman, dressed in high-class attire, speaking to erza, you snorted, waving for the rest of the group to come over. “there are many fine servants, around the shire”

“thank you agree” erza pointed at all of you, smirking at you “you hear that, not one of you have gotten me a scotch egg.”

You smirked “the only thing I serve are god, and sick dance moves, so please” erza almost burst out laughing but she held it in, managing to keep a straight face.

“then bust one of em out what you doin’?” erza challenged you laughed and started doing the robot, the older woman, laughing a little.

“those are dance moves? Everyone knows dancing is shifting hights and moving back and forth, and around” she demonstrated, you gasped and held up your hands.

“I just got served!”

The older woman laughed, eyes leading up to your tiara “oh my, you wouldn’t happen to be lady Loxley are you not?” you nodded, fixing the skirt of your dress

“yes that would be me” the older woman smiled.

“then you should be happy to know, in one hour there is an archery contenst~!” you turned to erza, who grinned back.

“oh, we gotta go!”

“and we shall!” you cheered, but first? You needed your gear.

--end of part 11--

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years ago

Text

Winner’s Curse Ch. 20

So here’s a brand new chapter. Some mentions of Tangled the series characters. And of course, some double crossing. Enjoy. "Why are we here?" CJ squinted suspiciously at the ;avish room they were in. It was stone like the rest of the castle, decorated with lavish tapestries and filled with multi-colored orbs and chests of fake golds that looked filched from Jafar's Junk Shop they were so rusted. She knew each member of the Coven had their own private room, decorated to their theme but since this didn't have a sea theme or a Bayou theme, she was out of luck of guessing who this one was. What's more she didn't care.

It had been almost two weeks and though CJ had studied the waterways, scoured the uncleaned, and trash-filled sewers for secret passages, and secretly inspected the ships she planned to plunder, Lady Caine hadn't listened to any of her plans. More specifically, Lady Caine hadn't allowed her to even talk about her plans. Even though the self-proclaimed pirate queen had given her the mission to create a plan to pillage Auradon with her fleet, she decided to load CJ with a new job of spying on the Coven to find out their plans.

Though CJ was all for a good backstabbing against the high and mighty sorcerers that liked throwing their weight around. BUt CJ bristled at being given another mission. Like Caine was handing off duties to her as if she was some second in command. And CJ was no one's second command. That was Harry. That was Smee. She had ambition, she had guts, and if Caine was trying to use her, she swore she'd... "Caine, darling!" A voice cried and in walked a violet eyed brunette with the longest legs CJ had ever seen. She wore a purple dress matched with a black trench coated, both looked quite new leading CJ to believe she was one of the new transfers like Circe and Morgain le Fey. "CJ, this is Staylan, daughter of the notorious kingpin, and a wonderful thief herself." Lady Caine explained, kissing her deeply, and CJ held back a laugh at the ridiculous name, "We have similar plans for old Queen Rapunzel and her prince when we take over Corona."

"Oh no, not me. I'm over Ryder. It's Beast I have a problem with." Staylan growled, "How dare that mongrel send me and Brock here. Rapunzel vouched for us. She lectured me about being good years ago and I listened...mostly. A girl's gotta have some fun."

"So what's that gotta do with me? Why are we here?" CJ demanded to know, a bit of the impatience that she had been holding in the past days starting to spill over. Plans were all well and good but all this waiting was making CJ anxious. She spent 10 minutes pacing the floor just going over her plan obsessively. That Hook trait was starting to get hold of her and was driving her crazy if they didn't enact a plan. "This is our hideout. Oh, CJ, we can't stay in Maleficent's castle forever. We need our own allies. You don't think we're going to act as enforcers for the Coven? We have our own insiders. we're going to cut the Coven off at the bridge and take over Auradon ourselves through infiltration." Caine said.

CJ couldn't stop the way her mouth dropped from surprise even though she knew it made her seem unprofessional and out of her league.

Caine had been keeping this secret from her! But what about her plan?

She needed to rearrange all of her strategy if they weren't going to be relying on the Coven's magic.

Also there was the darker thread running in her mind. If Caine was keeping this from her.

What other surprises were waiting?

"Helllllooo Staylan?" A man's voice called and said horse-named girl rolled her eyes, "Coming my prince." "You're with that control freak?" Lady Caine raised her eyebrow sardonically.

Staylan shrugged, "Sure, I'm married to Hans but that's only for the money. Brock is my true husband. We're all very open."

CJ's mouth dropped again. She heard the rumors that Prince Hans had married but since Lars had often talked about his father's sadomasochist nights with Drizella and other prostitutes, she had assumed they were just that, rumors.

But he was married? And his wife was cheating on him? CJ knew he would not be a fan of that. Like Caine said, he was a control freak and into pretending he was still royal. "I know. I was there Friday night." Lady Caine smirked.

"Hey, he has his affairs, I have mine. At least I have the decency not to do it in the dungeon when he's in the castle. I can hear Drizella's screams all night long. It's impossible to sleep." Mmm that explained it. Unofficial open marriage. Very common.

"Anyway, just wanted to drop in to let you know that Hans is also willing to support your takeover of Auradon and block any of the Coven's efforts. Lars will even overpower Staqauit if need be." Staylan said. "Thanks, Stal. Please let Morgain in when she knocks." Lady Caine instructed. "Knocks? That freaking le Fey never knocks she pops in her like a-ahhrgh!" Lady Caine opened the door to reveal a Morgain le Fey and one huffy Staylan walking away. "Can you explain what she is doing here if she's part of the Coven?" CJ reluctantly whispered as Morgain ignored her and began to use a portable cauldron to do some sort of spell.

"CJ, you're smart. Why do you think she's here if she's part of the Coven we are double crossing?" Lady Caine turned the question back onto her. "She's double crossing them too." CJ answered, feeling a bit unsteady, a bit seasick which never happened to her. After all she was a pirate at heart and loved the sea. But all the double crosses, she was starting to feel uneasy that there was something else Caine was holding out on her and that was Caine was going to doublecross her next. Why else had she been so eager to extend the hand of mother-daughter relationship after all these years but to use her for something?

The suspicion that her mother would be willing to betray her wasn't what upset her. It was the fear that she had no one to use now.

Her dream of getting her birthright was starting to slip.

Sure, she'd have the satisfaction of defeating her brother's girlfriend's Coven would have been nice. But nothing like getting the Jolly Roger. Nothing like proving she was better than Dad. Better than her siblings.

She would be the new legend. She had to. She needed two new plans now. Double cross Coven and double cross Mom.

"So what did you learn from the meetings?" Caine asked. CJ had sneaked around the meeting room, doing the tried and true tactic of hiding behind the curtains. So obvious, no one noticed her and she found out the date of their attack. “Good. See, Morgain calls the insiders from Auradon. Some of those goody goodys want the Beast to burn as much as we do. We tell them about the Coven. They go stop them and while they're on the Isle, we take over Auradon and kill the beast. Got it." CJ nodded. She understood and mentally, she was taking notes. She would need this. For now, she had to pretend she was still gleefully under her "mommy's" thumb.

"Ready to meet our inside contacts?" Lady Caine smirked as a blue flash enveloped them both. ———————————————————————————————————-

"I'll be ready in a minute dear." FG's voice called from the lobby that led to her Student Counselling room.

Alexandria shifted restlessly, rolling her eyes even though FG wasn't there to be shocked at her rudeness. She heard the way too happy godmother laugh, cooing something about "Oh Jane, that's very sweet." So sweet. That's one way to define FG. So sweet and peppy you could get a toothache from the sheer sacherinne bibbidi bobbidi boo-ness.

She could still hear FG chuckling and decided to look at the notes written in her Counseling Folder because if Alexandria knew anything, sweet was not everything. Sweet was the facade FG used to hide her real thoughts about people.

Alexandria shifted the open folder from her desk and eagerly read the contents to see what FG really thought of her attitude during their stupid counselling sessions that she hadn't even wanted in the first place.

Lately she hadn't felt any interest in school. Everything was boring.

What was the point of learning Potions, and Commotions if magic wasn't allowed in Auradon. Why should she learn Royal Politics if she wasn't technically going to rule as princess even though she was part of the Atlantica Royal Family.

Everything was useless.

Not that she slacked. She didn't allow herself to get anything less than a B. She was her mother's daughter and she would make her proud in a life so filled with disappointment.

But FG had noticed her lack of enthusiasm and pulled her into these bogus counselling sessions that have lasted for two months.

Admittedly, she hadn't thought it was going to suck when FG first suggested it. In fact Alexandria had felt relieved. Finally someone would listen to her about this hollow emptiness that seemed to permeate most of her days. Listen to her frustrations about her family and the rest of Auradon Prep students who barely knew her name.

The complete opposite happened. FG was sweet as eve, but her advice was asinine and from what she read of FG's notes, she didn't understand her at all. Alexandria of Atlantica and Olympia Contrary to the happy display at events, Crown Princess Attina's and Crown Prince Thor's (which Alexandria insists on others referring her parents to their former titles as King and Queen of Atlantica) arranged marriage had not blossomed into love as the public was led to believe. They are married out of duty and professionalism in order to lead their citizens. Since the Great Uniting of Kingdoms and relinquishing king/queenship of Atlantica, the couple lost the only tie binding them together.

Princess Attina has moved on to working on Atlantica's tourism and nonprofit businesses to protect the reefs and Atlantica's ecological system. Thor has no interests nor the skills since he had only been trained to rule and seems to be engaging in extramarital dealings. Alexandria is absorbing this dysfunction to become morose, defensive and irrational, blaming her parent's estrangement on her Aunt Ariel whom the populace has elected to be the new queen. I will call Princess Attina and suggest family counseling to improve Alexandria's attitude in school.

Alexandria threw the folder back on FG's desk, wishing she hadn't looked. She knew FG thought she was being defensive. She saw the plastered smile as FG encouraged her to "think positively" and see the issue from another angle and her life wasn't "so bad as she was making it out to be." But she wasn't irrational! She had a right to be "morose" about this.

Aunt Ariel was to blame for her parents losing their kingdom! Aunt Ariel could have done so many things when people elected Aunt Ariel to be queen. She could have refused! She could have given it to her mom. She could have said she didn't want to be queen of Atlantica as well as Uncle Eric's kingdom. Besides that election hadn’t even fair! For the sake of the new monarch-democracy, King Beast allowed all of Auradon to vote for the king and queens of the new united kingdoms. And all those strangers from Agrabah and Charmington and China and Camelot, peasants and fairies voted for the ruler of Atlantica to be Ariel, overwhelming the votes of the mermaids in Atlantica whose tiny population compared to the rest of Auradon brought an overwhelming 75% Ariel to 25% Attina.

Of course they voted for Ariel. Ariel was the one they knew. The quirky and adventurous mermaid who sacrificed everything for love. Not her mother. The eldest, the responsible daughter who had trained and been brought up to be a ruler, who had already married her father so they could unite their two sea kingdoms, whom the people of Atlantica loved as queen. And now 10 years later, her parents were miserable, her beloved home was a tourist trap that was polluted, littered and filled with obnoxious foreigners taking pictures and scaring fish, and she was stuck in this boarding school to be told to look at things positively and be happy that she is a princess, she could be less off like a VK.

FG walked into the room and Alexandria stood up. She couldn't bear to stay in front of her doughy cheeked, happy peppiness

“I have to go FG," Alexandria stared at the ground, sure if she looked at her face she would begin to scream all the obscenities running through her head, "I-I have a test tomorrow."

"Alright honey. After knowledge and learning keep you happy through life. But I still feel we should continue meeting. My suggestion for this week is to try not to think about the past. Just focus on the happy now." FG said softly, a "comforting" hand patting her shoulder, the sincerity oozing out like oil rippling through ocean waves. Alexandria didn't answer. She just turned and stalked out the room, a million thoughts crashing in her head and pressing against her chest in a tight coil."Don't focus on the past." Easy for her to say when the past was still directly affecting her present. She hated to read the Atlantica Courier everyday to see a new plea for tourists not to litter or will face severe consequences which never came to fruition because they could just bribe their way out. Read about the newest oil spill or kelp forests being harvested for spas. Read about her mom's hard work in various Atlantica nonprofits that took several years of board meetings and schmoozing and still didn't accomplish all the goals Attina wanted.

Whenever she visited the palace for vacation, she'd see her grandfather avoid looking out the windows because of how changed the kingdom was. Dull, grey, the coral eroding. Her aunts visits, exhausted from hosting Atlantica tours and arranging kingdom-wide clean ups of the reef while trying to find time to carve out careers based on their own passions. Passions pushed aside when their kingdom turned into a tourist attraction.

Her dad, when he was home and not off trying to find some new entertainment, would lead her around the royal treasury, telling her of their family history and all he had learned. His royal lessons that were useless to him now that he had no kingdom.

Sometimes she'd hear her mother crying alone in her room at night, but by day she'd be back to her stoic grim determination. Act like a true queen and keep her feelings inside so she could lead those who needed help more than herself.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she was jolted out of them when she was banged against the lockers. One particular bejeweled lock scraping her shoulder. When she rubbed, droplets of blood smeared. "Heyy, oh sorry Arabella! Nice solo yesterday in Auratones." Herkie yelled as he rushed off.

Arabella! Freaking Arabella. Somehow all of Auradon could remember the names and sometimes the order of the seven dwarfs, but remembering the name of Aunt Ariel's six sisters was beyond their capabilities. So for someone to confuse her with her cousins was a common event.

Despite the fact that some of them were even blonde or redheads and thus very distinguishable from Alexandria’s own dark brown hair. Not that anyone would ever confuse her with Melody. Oh no, no one would ever forget Melody, being the daughter of oh-so amazing Ariel. Her story was just as memorable as her mother's. How cute it was that Ariel wanted to be a human while Melody wanted to be a mermaid. Adorable! Alexandria always had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at that. Everyone seemed to think that her aunt and cousin were so courageous chasing after what they wanted. No, they were stupidly impulsive and lucky.

Ariel was lucky that Eric returned her love. If he hadn't, Atlantica would be in ruins, Aunt Ariel dead and Eric married to a witch. And sure, Ariel defeated Ursula but if Ariel hadn't tried to bargain with Ursula in the first place, then Ursula wouldn't have gotten close to Atlantica in the first place! Ariel was one of the lucky few to get a happily ever after. Much like all of Auradon's beloved couples but if others tried to do the same and follow their hearts...

Her grandfather still sometimes laughed and cringed thinking of the great Land Migration where mermaids and mermen, inspired by Ariel, tried to find potions to walk on land. People transformed into fish, clams, even a few seagulls. Those who managed to find the right one only stayed for two hours on land, finding the surface world to be as messy and awful as Sabastian always warned. Aunt Ariel had been so lucky that way. She barreled into situations and she always came out on top. While her mom worked and strived to do her best and had everything taken away from her yet she didn't complain. She didn't tell Alexandria her problems nor would she confide in grandfather Triton, she heard the way her mom dismissed his concerns. She'd just say she was the queen, it was up to her to take care of things. Grandfather should just enjoy his retirement. Alexandria should be a teenager.

But Alexandria wasn't blind. She could see her father sneaking other women into guest rooms. Could hear the fights between closed doors. Feel the silence during family dinners. Alexandria dug out her phone and called her mom to get voicemail. That's what always happened and she left her usual message, "Hey Mom, just checking in. I love you. I'm thinking about you." It was a small thing but she always did it. Her mom had to know she had her by her side no matter how bad things got.

Or if things stayed the same. And that's what Alexandria secretly feared.

Every day being the same. Nothing changing for the better. She'd be stuck as Alexandria with a meaningless title. Princess Alexandria of Atlantica. Always confused with her cousins because nothing of her life was special.

She'd work at her mother's nonprofits trying to fulfill familial duty to make Atlantica better but reach nothing because she wasn't special enough. If Ariel told people to pick up their trash and drink Atlantica's famous kelp smoothies, people would obey like mindless sheep. But if it was Alexandria urging people to think of the environment was like screaming into the void. It would have been worthwhile if she was going to be queen. She understood the duty but all work with no crown, no citizens to advocate for. It was useless.

She was useless.

This was what the rest of her life was going to be like. Her chest clutched tighter and her heart pounded. She could hear the pounding in her ears as it came faster and faster. Oh great Neptune, she felt like it was punching against her chest.

BaBOOM BaBOOm BaBOMBaBOOMBABOOMBABOOMBABOOM. She ran, she ran as if she could escape the drumming heartbeat in her body, her feet echoing its rhythm as she bounded up the steps.

She struggled to open the door to her room, the lock feeling extremely slippery in her trembling grasp. She couldn't and knocked frantically on the door. Some part of her mind knew it was irrational yet she started to feel that if she wouldn't get into her room, her heart would explode. She was going to die in this hallway, if not from a heart attack but from lack of oxygen, she felt like she could breath. She couldn't breath, she tried to remember what Aunt Ariel had said when she first came to land. She had to breath in and out but she couldn't think how exactly she was supposed to do that, She needed water. She wanted water.

"Woah woah what is all the bangin-" Victoria Porter opened the door to their room and Alexandria pushed past her to flop on her water bed. Not like the lumpy bed other students had that jiggled but her bed was a glass case of water that felt so like home.

Her heart was still bursting out of her chest and she vaguely registered Victoria rubbing her back, asking if she needed water or something but Alexandria couldn't speak. It felt like hours passed but she knew from the times it had happened before, it had probably been only a few minutes.

"Hey.. what happened?" Victoria asked as Alexandria wiped her eyes from the tears that had formed.

"You know, life sucks." Alexandria managed beyond the lump in her throat, "I had another "counselling session" with Fairy Godmother and she wrote that I was irrational for blaming Ariel about my parents."

“Ahhh," Victoria nodded understandingly, "You're not irrational. Don't listen to her, After all, she's the same woman who thought reviving the world's worst and most heinous villains to put them together on the Isle was a good idea. COme on, she's hardly the epitome of someone acting rational. She is in favor of the Magic Ban, she is going against her roots." Alexandria sniffed, and smiled a little considering how Victoria used to be in favor of the Magic Ban.

Victoria had felt magic was a short cut and couldn't solve everything. Not like science which always progressed forward. "True."

"You know, I'm right." Victoria leaned on the glass, "I know something that will cheer you up. Kyro and Morrían are available to start talking to Caine."

Alexandria immediately sat up, spilling her water onto the floor, but she didn't care. "Now? In the middle of the day They're hardly awake during the day like weird vampire people." Alexandria cried.

"I don't know why they're up now but they are. Come on, Caine said she has something very important to tell us." Victoria pulled out her phone as Morrian's serious and Kyro's bored faces popped up on Auradon-Face, "We're all ready. Bring on Caine."

Morrían’s tangled black tresses had a way of framing her violet eyes that whenever she was annoyed or angry, it would like two flashing orbs sparkling out of a dark cave, just as they were now at Victoria's cheerful attitude. "Porter, you must remember to call her Lady Caine." "Ugh she's no lady. She's a pirate." Victoria scowled. “Well we are working with her and we better keep a good relationship with her until we can turn her over to the authorities." Morrían reminded.

"But she's a thief. She's evil. Why shouldn't we remind her that she's a lowly little-"

Morrían’s eyes flashed and Kyro chucked, the Never fairy seemingly to wake up from his usual unimpressed expression to enjoy the potential hexing. Morrían’s fingers steepled her fingers together, blue flames flickering menacingly.

The gesture had its intended reaction as Victoria slumped a little and pursued her lips, no doubt remembering that Morrían le Fey was the daughter of one the most dangerous and morally flexible magic user in all of Camelot. "Now then, I shall call her up." Since Lady Caine was a mortal on the Isle and obviously had no ability to use magic, Morrían and Morgaine would work in tandem to briefly teleport Lady Caine to Camelot so they could all see her from Auradon-Face. There was a flash of blue behind Morrían’s screen and Lady Caine and the pirate that Alexandria recognized to be as CJ Hook appeared.

“Why is she here?" Victoria growled. "Relax, she’s my kid. She's part of the deal." Lady Caine smirk, "She won't betray us. She wants Auradon to go down just as much as we all do."

Alexandria managed to school her face from the obvious shock she felt to know CJ Hook was not only Hook's daughter but Caine's as well, and side-eyed Victoria. They wanted to bring down Auradon. That's what they allowed Lady Caine to believe.

What they wanted was a revolution to the past.

It had all begun after Cotillion. It had been at one of the kingdom press conference/town hall that they had met and found they had similar issues with the kingdom they lived in. They wanted to go back to the way things were before the Uniting and the creation of the Isle.

Alexandria had always known Victoria's fiery opinions about the latter. The formation of the Isle led to the creation of Vks when villains were better off dead. Now Vks were trying to get revenge on behalf of their parents.

Stellar future planning King Beast.

Victoria’s view was that the Vks should stay on the Isle because it was a waste of time and energy to integrate 11 year old and older to Auradon. It led to some sibling friction between her and her older brother, Kerchak who was on King Ben’s side that some of the kids could be reformed.

Alexandria was unsure of her stance on the VKs. Morally, she knew it was better to get them away from their parents but on the other hand, they seemed more trouble than they were worth. Truthfully, The whole Isle of the Lost was more of a distraction to what she considered bigger problems that existed within Auradon. Since the formation of the Isle was one obvious mistake, then other decisions King Beast had made that should be changed. The whole Great Uniting should be reversed. The first major problem was the Auradon-wide elections of people voting in things they weren't informed in like when they voted for Aunt Ariel, an inspiring story, but unprepared princess, to rule Atlantica.

Secondly was the arbitrary melding of kingdoms so the continents became one mega continent leading to turf wars like China vs Agrabah in the Great Olive Oil-Carpet Fights until King Ben had resolved it after his father left the issue unattended.

There was the fact that the kingdoms were not equal now they were united. Atlantica was being used as a playground for royals to trapiese around in their underwater vacations. Arendelle's ice was being transported among all the kingdoms instead of being fairly distributed to its own people. Atlantis was besieged by pissed off scientists that wanted to explore and dig in its ruins instead of respecting the purity of the culture that came from being isolated.

Then there was the Magic Ban which Kyro and Morrían felt very strongly about for the obvious reason of their magical heritage. Kyro didn't like that in order to "fit in" with the other students that he had to take Wonderlandia potion to grow human sized and hide his wings. Furthermore, he hated the compulsory education that he was expected to attend because he was the son of the semi-famous Never bad girl fairy, Vidia. He did not find any use in classes about politics and history. He wanted to go home and embrace his fast-flying roots as part of the rest of the Never fairy system.

Another strike he hated was that because his father was Kyto, the greedy dragon of Neverland (a parentage that Alexandria wasn't sure how it worked and hated to imagine), he was also forced to attend the patronizing Remedial Goodness class with FG. Morrían had the more pressing problem that adults wanted her to be sent to the Isle of the Lost after they had already sent her mother away from her in the second purge of potential villains after Cotillion. Morrían despised what she saw as the hypocrisy that mortal royals could do whatever they wanted and reach after their dreams but immortals and magical creatures like her had to hide their gifts or hold back in order to make things "fair." Nevermind that hiding their magic felt unnatural and painful to some. Alexandria understood that, she remembered the first time she had used her legs, living on land with its arid dryness and lack of fluidity. No one had believed her that she felt shooting pain every time she walked, she had been so unused to the jarring rub and grind of leg muscles and of course, having to actively remind herself to inhale and exhale air.

She had gotten used to it.. after a month but she knew others like Morrían whose magic was part of their essence that it felt suffocating. Like wearing a corset all the damn time. So they had to go back. Back to when they were all isolated kingdoms. Allied but separate. Each kingdom dealt with their own criminals and the Vks that came from them, their trade and magical beings themselves. No one had to be uniformed with others or bend down to the will of richer kingdoms.

Morrían had been the one to mention that she felt there was a hole in the Barrier of the Isle, that magic was spilling into the hands of the worst villains and that she would have to warn someone. But that she felt conflicted because her mother was trapped there and she felt maybe she should let the magic stay there. At least long enough for her mother to regain her strength and break out on her own. Alexandria was the one who had come up with the idea of allowing the villains to escape. With Morgain on the inside, they'd have inside information to what the Coven was doing. They'd be able to use their tactics against the villains, and save the day. Morgain befriended Caine and got them in contact with her since she was supposedly a master technician and infiltrator since she nearly killed King Fredric back when Rapunzel first returned. Albeit their grand rescue would be a bit delayed.

They could not act like they knew too much about the Coven's plan, that they had been conspiring with Lady Caine and so they had to allow her to cause some chaos and get vengeance. Victoria had suggested that perhaps Auradonians needed a close call to see how weak the Auradonian Royal Guard was spread out among the kingdoms, they'd see that it would be tactically intelligent to split the kingdoms.

Morrían and Morgain wanted to be able to save Camelot and usurp Merlin as top sorcerer as deserved since he was just as hypocritical as FG. And Alexandria... Alexandria was willing to let some parts of Atlantica get crushed. Specifically the royal beach homes that were built there, ruining the pristine ocean with their gaudy mansions. So yes, they were allowing Auradon to descend into chaos when knowing they could save it.

Perhaps it was wrong. But sometimes one needed to strike fear and terror in order to make a point.

Auradon as it stood was not working. Radical change had to happen. She wasn't going to end up like her mom and work in the system that is crushing her. "Tell us, Lady Caine," Kyro purred, "What is so important?" She had told them that it seemed King Ben had sent another covert group to try to defeat the Coven but thankfully they seemed subdued with Jay under Jafar's hypnosis and the rest imprisoned though Lady Caine still was suspicious of the motives of Circe's son.

Although Alexandria was secretly glad there was another group ready to fight against the Coven, she worried that they'd succeed before Lady Caine could invade.

Then Jay and Prince Aziz would get all the fame. Sons of enemies teaming up and saving Auradon was just the fairy tale that people would eat up and nothing would change. Lady Caine did not respond to Kyro's smile which was odd since the two seemed to enjoy volleying seductive voices and bedroom eyes. A trait that always unnerved Alexandria.

Though she understood that Kyro was probably trying to get Lady Caine to believe they truly wanted to overthrow Auradon and let everyone they love die, it was creepy how easy being bad was for him.

Then again, he was fey. If there was anything she learned from Magical Beings: Friends and Foes was that fae operated on a different level of morality than mortals and mermaids like her. "The Coven has a date of attack." Lady Caine informed them, "Summer solstice.” The solstice was 7 days from now. "Thank you." Alexandria said, "We will contact you again tomorrow to discuss our plans." "Actually I have some ideas." CJ smiled, grandly gesturing in front of her mom but Morrian teleported them back before she could continue.

7 days time. They can do this. She wasn’t like Aunt Ariel, jumping into danger. She had this all planned out, and that meant her rescue of Auradon would be better. Her fairy tale ending would fit.

She studied and strived and looked at all the angles. She was responsible like that and though Auradon would never admit it but impulsively following your heart only lead to temporary happiness until reality set in.

But she was a realist, she was studious and that would make her happiness permanent in a new old world order.

#winner’s curse #my fanfic #my fanfiction #disney descendants #ocs #my ocs #staylan #lady caine #cj hook #fairy godmother #alexandria #victoria porter #morgaine le fey #morrían le fey #kyro

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thewarriorandtheking · 5 years ago

Text

Thief In The Night

A little Warrior and The King/Fantastic Beasts crossover story, because who doesn’t like nifflers? And can you imagine one loose in Erebor?

The Warrior and The King MasterList

Warnings: Silliness and shiny things

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“My king, what are you thinking about?” Kaylea Wolf asked, running her foot up the inside of Thorin’s leg. They were in his office, drinking coffee and looking over some old maps, Kaylea was sitting on the edge of his desk. Thorin Oakenshield looked up at her with a soft smile, about to reply when his wife suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“What have you done with my jewelry?” She demanded, pointedly not looking in Kaylea’s direction.

Thorin scowled at her. “Why would I do anything with your jewelry?”

Shurri drew herself up, her hands on her hips. “It is all gone! Even all the jewels on my dresses. What is the meaning of this?”

“Why do you assume I had anything to do with it?” Thorin replied angrily. He glanced at Kaylea, saw her incline her head towards the door. “Show me.”

Shurri snorted, turned on her heel and stalked off towards her apartments. Thorin followed, with Kaylea a few steps behind. When they reached her rooms Thorin could see the place looked almost as if it had been burgled; drawers open, clothes strewn about.

Kaylea scanned the scene from the doorway, knowing the Queen would not want her inside. “How long was your majesty away from your rooms?”

Shurri’s eyes flicked toward her briefly, not wanting to acknowledge Thorin’s Woman. Suddenly there was a shriek from the hallway. Thorin was immediately out the door, he and Kaylea hurrying down the corridor. Freya, Thorin’s daughter, was standing in the door of her apartments, her face white.

“Someone has been in my room!” She exclaimed as soon as she saw her father. “All my jewelry is gone!”

Kaylea quickly walked through her apartments, the scene was the same as the Queen’s. Freya’s jewelry chest was open and empty, as she stopped to inspect it she caught a glimpse of something small and black disappearing under the wardrobe.

“Do you have a cat, your highness?” Kaylea asked, moving slowly towards the wardrobe.

“Puss is just there,” Freya replied, motioning to the tabby cat regarding them quietly from the bed.

“Another cat. A black one?” Kaylea slowly knelt down.

“No.” Freya shook her head. “What are you doing?”

Kaylea knelt and lowered her head to the floor. There was a black creature under the wardrobe, not a cat. It was chubby and soft looking, had a bill like a duck, bright eyes and almost human hands. As soon as she laid eyes on it the creature shot across the room and past Thorin out the door, without giving anyone time to react. It was amazingly fast.

“What in Mahal’s name is that?” Thorin asked, as they hurried to follow it. When they got to the hall it was already far up the stairs. “It is heading towards my rooms!”

Kaylea paused, sending a mental call to Ajax to come to her. She knew he was in the city, probably down in the kitchens looking for a handout. She felt the touch of his mind and knew he was on his way as she followed Thorin up the stairs. Thorin stormed through his rooms, opening the door to his bedroom to find an extraordinary sight. The little creature was sitting on his dresser, all the drawers were open and it seemed to be stuffing rings into its pouch. As soon as it saw them it disappeared over the mirror. The little animal was fast.

Thorin looked over his things. “It has my crown,” he said. “Where did it put it? It certainly was not wearing it.”

Kaylea closed the door. Thorin’s apartments were huge and as fast as that animal was, it could be anywhere. “I guess that pouch is much bigger than it looks,” she said. “You have never heard of this animal?”

Thorin shook his head, bending down to look under the furniture. “I have no idea what it is, but I want my things back.” His face was dark.

They split up, each taking a side of the room, moving slowly, inspecting every place it could be hiding. Suddenly Kaylea saw Thorin lunge forward, the little creature was running around the bed, heading for the door. Kaylea jumped and got a hand on it, but it flowed out of her grasp then flattened itself to slip under the door. She pulled the door open to see the creature frozen in the middle of the room, staring at Freya standing in the doorway to the hall.

“Do not hurt it! Look how cute it is!” She knelt down, holding her hand out. “Come here, I will not hurt you.”

Kaylea watched as the little animal took a few steps towards her. She realized it was not focused on her face, but her necklace, swinging free from her neck as she bent over. In what seemed like one smooth motion the creature jumped forward, grabbed her necklace, stuffed it in its pouch and made a break for the door. Freya grabbed at it, but missed. Thorin and Kaylea ran past her, the animal was already far down the hall. They chased it through the princes’ apartments, then saw it start down another stairway only to suddenly back up. Ajax was coming up the stairs, his yellow eyes fixed on the little creature. It looked quickly back at Kaylea, then the wolf, considering its options. It chose the stairs and ran right at Ajax, he grabbed it in his jaws, the animal squeaked loudly and somehow freed itself, shooting between the wolf’s legs and away. All three of them ran after it, into the Hall of Kings. Kaylea saw it pause and run straight for the throne.

“The Arkenstone,” she said quietly.

“I think not,” Thorin said, his voice murderous. He realized he still had the piece of quartz in his pocket he had picked up in the mine that morning. Quickly judging the distance, he pitched it at the running animal, the rock hit it square on the shoulder and sent it sprawling. Ajax, who was close behind, was on it in a flash. This time he held it down with his paws, holding its head in his mouth. Thorin immediately grabbed the creature by its feet, giving it a sharp shake.

“Give me back my things, you little shit,” he growled. The Raven Crown fell out of the animal’s pouch and rolled across the floor, accompanied by several rings and chains. Thorin handed it to Kaylea and stooped to pick up his crown. The thing had fur like ruffled velvet and was incredible slippery, but she found its feet were easy to hold on to. It was very much heavier than it looked, she was amazed it could move so fast loaded down with jewelry. The animal kept curling up, chittering softly, as if to protect its pouch. Kaylea held it by one foot and poked its belly, this seemed to tickle it so she poked it harder. As she did so a stream of jewels and jewelry began to flow out onto the floor.

Thorin looked at the growing pile. “I am going to boil that thing alive.”

“Do not say that, father!” Freya exclaimed breathlessly as she came up. She was fascinated with the little creature. “I do not think it meant any harm. It just likes shiny things! And look how cute!”

“Cute,” Kaylea said. “And not something that should be running loose around Erebor. Imagine if it got into the treasury.”

Shurri strode up behind Freya, her face astonished at the pile of gems and jewelry the creature has stashed in its pouch. “Where did this thing come from?”

Kaylea glanced at Thorin. “Any ideas, your majesty?”

Thorin looked thoughtful. “Not yet. I wonder if it was deliberately sent here to steal the Arkenstone, or the treasury, or both.”

“Possible, but it acts like a wild animal,” Kaylea said. “And it is certainly not the only creature to be attracted to shiny things.”

“Can I keep it?” Freya asked hopefully, giving her father a pleading look.

“Absolutely not,” Thorin frowned at her. His daughter was such a lover of animals. He would prefer to wring the thing’s neck and be done with it.

“I will take care of it,” Kaylea said, grabbing the animal by both feet and giving it a sharp shake, as Thorin had done. Shurri’s best necklace fell out on the pile. “I have a way to keep it safe. Find out if it belongs to anyone, and if there are more of them.”

When they had recovered all the family’s jewelry, and much more they did not recognize, Kaylea walked back to her quarters, holding the animal by its foot. Ajax walked close beside her, ready if the creature wiggled out of her grasp. The little animal made soft squeaking noises, trying to free itself. Then it spotted the mithril beads she wore on her braids and tried to climb up her arm to get them. Once in her rooms Kaylea put the animal in a stasis box, there was no way it could escape and Erebor would be safe. As she watched the lights on the box turn green to indicate the animal was safely contained, she could not help wondering if it really could have fit the whole treasury of Erebor in its pouch.

The next day many enquiries were made and the city thoroughly searched. Erebor was a great center of trade and there were always many people coming and going, but no one admitted to losing an animal. It was possible its owner had moved on not knowing it was missing. More importantly, they did not find any more of them. Freya badgered Kaylea with questions. Was the creature getting enough to eat? Could she see it? Kaylea politely put her off, reassuring her the animal was getting the best care and she would not try to convince her father to let her keep it.

Late that evening, Thorin and Kaylea were walking along the battlements when they saw a familiar figure approaching. There was no mistaking Radagast the Brown, even at a distance. Tall and lean, his brown robes showing the signs of long travel, a goshawk on his shoulder and a spring of oak in his short-brimmed felt hat.

Kaylea bowed as the wizard came up. “Radagast the Brown, what a surprise to find you in Erebor!”

The Brown wizard smiled. “Yes, I would not be here if my errand was not urgent. The Lonely Mountain is beautiful, but this city gives me a headache. Anyway, an associate of mine has…ah, misplaced…one of his animals. Have any of your jewels gone missing, your majesty?”

Thorin scowled. “Only my wife’s, my daughter’s and my own. We caught it before it got any further.”

“So, you have it! That is good news!” Radagast nodded quickly. “An unfortunate lapse in judgement on my friend’s part. You should never bring a niffler anywhere near a Dwarf city! Goodness, no!”

“A niffler?” Kaylea asked. “Is that what it is called?”

The wizard smiled. “Yes. Harmless little creatures really. But they do love precious things.”

“They certainly seem able to steal a great many,” Thorin scowled at the wizard. “Where do they come from?”

Radagast put on his best mysterious wizard look. “There are many creatures in Middle Earth that live unseen alongside us. The niffler is one.”

Kaylea smiled. “I would not dispute that, but this creature has no equal as a thief. What does this associate of yours do with it?”

“He has a scholarly interest in magical creatures,” Radagast explained. “And he does keep quite a few of them, but he is an honest man. He came to the mountain looking for a particular animal on the high slopes, I ran into him searching the forest for his lost niffler. Of course, I knew immediately where it had gone. He was completely unaware there was a city on the other side of the mountain, like me he spends most of his time away from them.” The wizard chuckled. “I told him I would retrieve his animal, as I am known here and he is not.”

“I want that thing out of my city. I will hand it into your keeping if you promise you can prevent it from getting loose again,” Thorin said. “And if you take it far from here and give me your word it will not come back.”

“You have my word,” the wizard replied solemnly.

Kaylea led the way to her quarters. Radagast gave her a startled look when he saw the stasis box. “A magical box for a magical creature,” Kaylea explained, laying the flat square of metal on the table. “I trust you have a way of catching this thing when I open it.”

She touched the edge, there was a shimmer of blue light and the niffler appeared. It looked at them and started to launch itself, but Radagast held out a hand and spoke a few words. The little creature happily sat back and let the wizard put it in his robe. Radagast gave Kaylea’s box a curious glance.

“What it that, if I may ask?” He asked. “I have never seen the like.”

“Something from my homeland,” Kaylea said, slipping the box into a drawer. “You might say it is a place of many wonders.”

Radagast laughed. “Since you come from there also, I must agree! Thank you both, I will be on my way. And do not worry, your majesty, you will not be bothered by this niffler again.” He bowed to Thorin and took his leave, striding purposely along the gallery towards the gates.

“For a wizard, he is not so bad,” Thorin said thoughtfully, watching his retreating back. “Though it does concern me we have never seen one of these creatures before. I hope there are not many more of them.”

“I cannot imagine they are very common,” Kaylea said, leaning against the doorframe. “If they were the Dwarves would have encountered them long ago.”

“That is true enough,” he turned toward Kaylea with a mischievous smile. “It occurs to me I never did answer your question the other day.”

“Mmmm…,” Kaylea responded, running her fingers down his braid. “Then shall we finish that conversation?”

“Talking is not exactly what I had in mind,” Thorin slapped her playfully on the butt as he followed her into her quarters and shut the door.

#fanfiction #crossover #the hobbit #fantastic beasts #thorin x oc #thewarriorandtheking #thorin oakenshield #niffler #nifflers are cool #king under the mountain #wizarding world

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keeperofhounds · 5 years ago

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Lost & Found (Chapter Six)

Special thanks to my beta reader @rachelbethhines and special thanks to Varian66 on Discord for their part in developing this story.

We all know how the original story started. We all know how it ended too. Let’s see an alternate take if Eugene were to have been adopted rather than being alone for most of his life.

The group wasn't hidden in the cart for long. Which was great since there was very little space to go around. While the ride was bumpy it was definitely faster than walking. When the cart stopped Flynn peaked his head out from under the tarp. The area looked familiar with a crossroads ahead with signs pointing to different directions. One of the villages the cart was heading to was in the opposite direction of the capital. It was time to go.

Pulling his head back in Flynn gently took Rapunzel’s hand, “Come on Blondie this is our stop.”

When they got off the cart they dashed into the woods to avoid getting caught by the oblivious cart driver. Flynn didn’t need to be accused of stealing when he needed to keep a low profile. After catching his breath Flynn looked around the area, it was empty save for the group. If they followed the dirt path they could get to the capital by nightfall.

Flynn told Rapunzel exactly that and they walked along the woods following the dirt road deeper down the path. That’s when they happened upon a building, a run down one which had seen better days. The amount of noise coming from the building informed Flynn that the establishment was packed. It was also one Flynn recognized. It was also an establishment he wanted no business being near.

Rapunzel however had other ideas.

“Ooh, the Snuggly Duckling.” Rapunzel read from the sign, “Have you ever been here before Flynn?”

He placed his hands over her shoulders and steered her away from the building, “Yes, I have and let me tell you unlike the last place we’ve been at, it really isn’t a place we should visit.”

Rapunzel slipped away reading the sign further, “How can a place called the Snuggly Duckling be bad? Ooh, it’s a pun too? That’s like a restaurant right Pascal?”

Pascal nodded, it sure sounded like it.

Smiling Rapunzel started to head towards the building ignoring the clear signs that it was a bad idea. Flynn jumped in her way, “Look Blondie believe me this is not a good idea, trust me the last thing you want is to get scared and to just give up on your adventure. Although if you did I would still get that crown back. The fact is that no one in their sane mind would come here.”

Rapunzel crossed her hands over her chest and gave Flynn an unimpressed look, “Haha, like you told me how dangerous Varian was?”

“Honestly, Goldie today was an off day for him, normally when I visit there’s an explosion or accident of some kind.”

Rapunzel didn’t look convinced, she wasn’t going to let what he was saying bother even if it did. In her one experience in visiting a strange place has taught her anything it's that words can be deceiving. She believed Flynn’s exaggeration about Varian this time she wasn’t going to freak out when clearly nothing was wrong. How can a place called the Snuggly Duckling be considered dangerous?

“Nice try Flynn Rider, but I won’t be letting you trick me this time.”

Placing her hand on the door she threw it open with all the confidence she could muster. Then she promptly froze at it became increasingly obvious that she had once again had the wrong impression. The amount of eyes pinning her place were made all the worst seeing Mothers portrayal of thugs and ruffians be so on point. One even had pointy teeth, which made Rapunzel wonder if he was a cannibal. She grabbed her hair as a way to comfort herself at least she could keep it close by. Pascal on the other hand hid under hair at something she hoped wasn’t chameleon tails.

Flynn sped walked towards the frozen girl and tried to steer her towards the door, he nervously laughed, “She’s not from around here we’re just a little bit lost but we’ll be seeing ourselves-”

The door slammed right at their faces before they could leave, leaving the room in darkness save for the candles in the building. The man who did so was a giant who wore a Viking helmet with long horns. So long in fact Flynn almost thought it was ridiculous, he wisely kept this to himself when the man narrowed his eyes at Flynn.

Flynn just knew that coming here was a big mistake.

“Well look who's back it’s Flynn Rider.”

“Really? No I’m not, I don’t know who Flynn Rider even is.” Flynn denied, looking for a way out.

A man with a hook for a hand grabbed him by the front of his shirt, “It’s him alright, word out in the streets is the guards are looking for you.”

The thief cringed at the words and the man’s breath. When he was a kid he would get into all sorts of trouble. This included messing with the patrons who now frequent in this very pub. They never caught him since he’s just that good, but they never forgot it either.

Flynn held his hands up in surrender, “Come on guys can’t we talk about this like civilized men?”

Hookhand only gave Flynn a look before turning to a random thug, “Call the guards.”

This was not looking good for Flynn.

Rapunzel watched in horror as the thugs grabbed Flynn, each one having a different issue with him. They dog-piled him and fought over him trying to be the one to win the right to punch him. Throughout all this Flynn struggled trying to get out of their grips but it was useless they were all too strong.

Rapunzel for her part tried her best to get Flynn out of his situation. She was the one who got him into this mess. Now Flynn was going to get hurt all because she didn’t listen to his warnings. Grabbing her frying pan Rapunzel swung, “Hey! Leave him alone!” The pan bounced off the thugs, they were too tough.

This didn’t stop her from trying to push through the crowd of men, “Give me back my guy!” Another failure. Nothing was working.

That’s when Pascal chirped at some point he had moved into the bag that Varian had given her. He jumped out and held out a sphere similar to the one which had trapped her. Panicked as it looked like the thugs were going to punch Flynn Rapunzel threw the sphere with all her strength towards the thugs. She had no idea what it would do but she hoped it would help Flynn.

When the sphere hit the thug with the hook hand who was just moments away from hitting Flynn. There was an explosion of color. Pink to be exact. The color exploded in a cloud surrounding all the thugs, Flynn included.

The end result was a group of grown men covered from head to toe in pink dust. Stunned and silent. Rapunzel saw this as her chance to be heard, “ Put him down!”

The thug closest to her turned his head with a glare.

“Okay, look I’ve had a long day today. I’ve passed out and I don’t know where I am and I need him to take me to see the lanterns because I’ve been dreaming about them my entire life! Find your humanity! Haven’t any of you ever had a dream!?

The thug who was staring at her took his ax off his back and started to stomp towards her. The other thugs just stared as the giant one hung Flynn on a hanger like a coat. As the man got closer Rapunzel tightened her grip on the pan with both hands and leaned away from the man, to the point where her back was on the table. Just when she could only assume the worst the man said, “I had a dream once.”

What happened next was both the strangest and greatest thing she had ever experienced in recent memory. Thugs started to sing and not just the one but all of them about their dreams. It was exhilarating and it made her realize that she wasn’t the only one chasing a dream. That these thugs like her had a dream that they didn’t chase and they regretted it until this very day. This gave her hope that it wasn’t too late and that she and them, they all had a chance to fulfill their dreams.

Just as everything felt perfect. It ended.

“I’ve found the guards!”

Everyone went silent at the proclamation with Flynn grabbing Rapunzel and whisking her off the table she was standing on. They hid behind the bar as the guards shouted demands looking for the thief who still had the lost crown. Flynn braved a look and saw to his dismay the Stabbingtons in chains, which prompted him to quickly hide lest they see him.

Hookhand threw a hook stopping it right at his face moving his eyes to a specific section of the wooden floor. Catching Rapunzel's attention he silently pointed towards it and started crawling towards the duckling painted panel. Right when they were on it the floors dropped exposing a hidden passage away from the guards.

“Go,” Hookhand said, “live your dream.”

At this point in time Flynn’s dream included not dying so he rushed ahead into the dark cave. Although he waited for Rapunzel to join him, which she did after thanking the thug. That’s when Flynn took her hand and started to run because there was no way he was going to get caught in Corona. What would everyone think? The entire day had reminded him of what exactly was at stake if he were ever caught.

#flynn rider #rapunzels tangled adventure #tts varian #Varian #tts rapunzel #tangled the series #Tangled the movie #tangled varian #Lost & Found #Chapter 6 #pub thugs

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button-phobia-is-real · 4 years ago

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Queen of Hearts - Thursday, September 21st, 903 “To fulfill this task you must all lay down your Princess accessories. When they all bind together the famine will be a thing of the past. Now, now, stand in line, one at a time, put them in the right order. The Crown, the Earrings, the Necklace, the Brooch, the Bracelet, the Ring, the Cane, and at last, the Fan.” The lecture hall they sat in was a converted theatre; where tall, turquoise panels were adorned with golden wood anemones, crown mouldings that told of the kingdom’s history, floor to ceiling windows that let in all the natural light the days had to offer, historical art covering every inch of the ceiling, built-in seats made of wood and velvet, with an elevated platform to give the audience a better view, an oval door looking out over the intricate gardens framed the stage. Right then, however, the windows were covered with thick, burgundy drapes, the massive chandelier was only half lit. People sat in their seats, filled to the brim with anticipation.

Taffy Chevalier, a dark-skinned, coily-haired girl, sat in the second row with her parents, sister, cousins, second-cousins, third-cousins, grandmothers and grandfathers.

The Chevalier family had guarded the Fan since many centuries, and Taffy was the current Guardian, despite her young age.

Since ancient times The Princess had chosen their Guardians; ones who could handle their power. It was normal for the passing of one Guardian to another to be hereditary. In Taffy’s case, she had been chosen as a young toddler, and thus been moved to the Chevalier Kingdom, where she had been raised as one with blue blood.

She prided herself in her extensive research on the matter. Often she would study texts that had long since been lost in translation, or were seemingly indecipherable, studying many languages and much literature in the process . It was an important thing she had been tasked with by the universe, so to treat it importantly was only logical.

Though she wore light rococo dresses of the finest fabrics, lived in a mansion where all her whims could be fulfilled in an instant, never had to go to bed hungry or wander about bored, she never thought of herself as above others. All should be treated with respect and dignity, coreless social classes had no impact on that.

Most servants called her graceful or humble, so fragile in stature a hard gust of wind could take her down.

Her dark brown, doe-eyes only cemented a picture of vulnerability. But she greatly enjoyed gardening, farming, woodwork, archery and pottery outside of her more refined hobbies, so although small, she was nowhere as weak as others saw her as.

For long there had been a great famine across the lands, rendering everybody in their right minds to spare on resources. Yet, the nobles had acted as if nothing was wrong.

Now that resources were becoming more and more scarce however, the Eight Kingdoms were growing desperate: and Claire Beaumont had called an impromptu meeting for all the Guardians and their families, all they all had to do was come to the Beaumont palace with the Accessories.

The Princess Accessories were powerful tools, each having their own power. Taffy’s, the Fan, could control the wind, able to tear off houses off their foundations,

the Cane could bring anyone to their knees with just a tap,

the Ring could beckon most to tell the truth,

the Bracelet could give their Guardian a guiding aid in their time of need, the Brooch could mimic the others’, all you had to do was place it in the appropriate place, though a mimic could never be as strong as the original, the Necklace could see into people’s hopes and desires, their deepest wishes,

the Earrings could hear all and translate any heard words,

lastly, the Crown could control willing or weak-willed people.

In their dormant form the ensemblé was called The Princess. They looked inconspicuous: cream-colored with red hearts dotted on or incorporated into the design.

Activated they had a more mature, round look, shifting in hues of red and purple. The Queen. A legend tells of how She would free the world from all its suffering if she was summoned. The complete truth had been lost in the cracks of history, leaving only fragments of imagination to fill in the gaps.

One thing was known, though. The Queen was an entity of raw magic, and needed a body to inhabit. Magic on its own was something most people couldn’t handle, raw magic would completely destroy someone from the inside out, distorting their organs, draining their veins and mending together bones. Just thinking about it made her shudder.

Subconsciously she rubbed her wrist, where the Fan would usually be hanging off from its leather handle.

She looked out over the crowd with a growing lump in the pit of her stomach; nobody seemed to share her worry.

The heavy entrance doors were opened, protesting with a long squeak. All heads turned back towards them.

In came nine guards and a struggling person in shackles. Assuming any sort of gender was impossible; their face and body had been clad in literal potato sacks, the only characteristics visible were hawk-like arms with black claws and long, thin wings that twitched with every move they made.

The wing holes looked bloody.

Worry quickly turned to horror. Who was that? Why were they contained?

She wanted to go and check on them, but her mother held a steady grip on her shoulder, giving her a warning glance.

“This is a thief we captured a couple of days ago, raiding our supply pantry. Crimes must be punished accordingly, yes? And what better punishment than to give your life for the well-being of the people!” Claire proclaimed.

Cheers echoed in the walls. The heads of the noble families rose, hand over their heart, silently reciting a prayer as they followed the prisoner’s movements with harsh looks.

‘Die? For a bit of food? That..that couldn’t be right, it didn’t make any sense-’ but Taffy’s thoughts were interrupted by a thud and loud protests. The captive was flailing around on the floor, clearly trying to break free. One of the guards kicked their head.

“Silence! Such a noble punishment you’ve been given, and you’re resisting? This is an honor, so stop being so ungrateful. The choice has already been made, you will become the new vessel for The Queen of Hearts!” Claire bellowed. The cheers continued.

‘What did she just say? That..that she was going to reanimate The Queen of Hearts? No, no, no, it wasn’t right, wasn’t fair. It would be a painful, drawn-out death, nobody deserved it, especially for only stealing a meal!’ Taffy thought.

The prisoner was put on the table, held down by the guards. Piece by piece, the Princess Tools were put on. The face’s sack had turned dark. Sweat? Tears? Vomit? It didn’t matter, Taffy knew she had to do something.

Without thinking for another second, she pulled her mother’s arm away from her shoulder and rose, the way the heads had done just a few minutes ago. But her mother managed to get a grip on her arm.

“Don’t do anything foolish, Taffyta. This is for the best.”

Her mother sounded convincing, comforting, but she couldn’t believe a word of it.

She tore herself away from her mother’s iron grip, her thin arm already bruising, and started running to the stage, where they had put on a person’s execution like some sort of sick show. One after another, her family started yelling at her to stop.

Sweating, shaking, she stood eye to eye with the Sisterhood’s founder, the former Crown Guardian - Claire Beaumont. Her eyes were ice cold.

“This isn’t right!”

“Taffyta, you’re dishonoring the family name by acting like this! Come back and sit down again” her mother pleaded.

“No, I can’t! I can’t let you sacrifice someone else for something, especially not this!”

“Taffyta! If..if you go through with this, you’re not a part of the family anymore!”

She stopped mid-movement. She had been so sure until her mother said those words. Was she truly just overreacting?

“There, there, dear, we understand this might seem a bit scary or unfair, but it is what is best, now, sit back down before you make more of a fool of yourself.” Claire’s voice was warm, but her eyes still ruthless.

Once again, Taffy looked over the crowd.

At her family, her friends, her home; she’d lose everything.

The prisoner started flopping desperately, sobbing loudly. Another guard hit their kneecaps with a baton. They let out a pained whimper.

No longer was there any doubt. Taffy jerked the Fan away, turned around, and loudly proclaimed, under the light of the chandelier:

“I hereby remove the Fan. Without it, The Queen of Hearts cannot be formed!” And with those words, the prisoner wormed their way out of their suffocating prison. One moment they flew into the chandelier, making it drop to the floor, they then yelped, shattered the balcony doors, flying out on broken wings to freedom. It all happened within a matter of seconds.

A moment later the room was dead quiet, staring dumbfounded at the smashed exit. The floor was covered in glass shards and blood drops.

“Get out,” Claire demanded “go away and never come back, Taffyta. You have doomed us all, you gave a heinous criminal the chance to escape. You’re a disappointment, the Chevalier family is a disappointment.

Don’t let any of your blood stain the parquet floor on your way out.”

Taffy’s family sat with red faces, looking down in shame.

No longer was she a Chevalier, no longer a Guardian.

She was a traitor.

OCtober - Day 2, Mercy

@oc-growth-and-development

#nobody is reading all of this asdfg #but its fun to get it out there!#oc-tober #queen of hearts #writing #my writing #pt

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darkwoods-darkdreams · 5 years ago

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Imagine you’re a thief (IV)

You stood at the bottom of the staircase, gazing up at the doors that separated you from the outside world. It wasn’t a barrier keeping you from your freedom anymore. No, you had quickly learned that the ruin was one of the safest places in the world for you. But now you were leaving. It brought about a nervousness you hadn’t felt in a long time, not since you had first become a thief. You paused, realizing that you had been absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. Rather than immediately moving your hand, your touch lingered. You weren’t sure if you were attached to your child, given you weren’t overwhelmed with pride like most mothers you had seen, but you certainly didn’t mind the changes to your body as much.

The elf finally entered the room, carrying a rather large box. Since he was meeting with his associates, you were sure that he was bringing some supplies and wares. If anyone asked for something to be made, he would be able to do so with the items he had brought.

“Forgive me, packing too longer than I expected,” He let go of the box, but it remained suspended in the air, “Are you ready to leave?”

You nodded, watching as he moved over to the nearby wardrobe and grabbed two cloaks. When the elf had first asked you to come with him, you had questioned his motives. He had let you stay in the ruins every other time he had left, but now he was changing his mind. He had merely smiled, explaining that he was worried about you, given the circumstances. He wanted to be by your side should anything happen. It was strange, to know that someone was worried about you. You had left any sort of family long ago and the feeling had become a distant memory. You never expected to feel that way again.

“The trip won’t take that long. A few days, at most,” He draped one of the cloaks over your shoulders, pulling it across your form. It hid your pregnancy quite well, despite how far along you were. However, he hesitated for a moment. The elf stared at you, as if searching for something in your expression, “…I would have liked to abandon this trip and stay here with you, but the meeting can’t be avoided so easily. Our child has grown much faster than I expected. It could be a moon from now or several moons. If anything were to happen, I would hate for you to be alone.”

You were rendered speechless at first. When the incident with the potion had first happened, he had referred to your pregnancy as a condition. He had tread so lightly and carefully around the subject. But he had changed. He had called it his child, one that the two of you shared. Your emotions got the better of you. You stepped away from him, “We should go.”

“Yes, of course,” He replied. There was no hint of regret in his words. He had meant what he said and wasn’t shying away from it. Still, his lack of pressing any further proved that he had noticed your discomfort. In fact, he seemed even more amused, since he slowly bowed in front of you and offered his hand, “Would you like some help getting up the stairs?”

You watched him at first, then sighed, “Yes,” You weren’t about to try getting up a set of old, worn stairs with added weight by yourself. You reached out to take his hand, only for him to gracefully lift you into his arms. The glare you gave him was sharp, “This isn’t what I meant.”

“Ah, no, but it was I meant,” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

“Farewell, master,” The stone guardian had awoken, moving closer, “And to you, mistress.”

You glanced to the elf, trying to find any sort of reaction. But he merely turned and carried you up the stairs, the floating box following closely behind. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t about to let it go unnoticed, “It’s been calling me that for a while now.”

“Has it?”

You pouted, but it was only to hide the small grin threatening to spread across your face. He was pretending to be unaware, though you knew better. Such things imbued with magic were set to a strict set of rules. It wouldn’t have changed its opinion of you unless the elf had told it to do so. He liked to tease you, but he was prone to sentimentalities that you could use to your own advantage.

He set you down inside of the boat, then climbed in himself. The box landed gently between you. The elf waved his hand and the boat began moving on its own at a reasonable pace.

You looked out at the horizon briefly, then returned your attention to the elf, “I thought that you used portals to get around.”

“Usually, yes. But that magic is not tolerated well by everyone, especially those with child.”

“What would have happened?” You couldn’t help but be curious. You were still wary of magic, though being around the elf had lessened your fear towards simpler spells.

“You would have felt rather ill. The nausea would have lasted for hours, if not days. I think you’ve dealt with that sort of symptom enough.”

You sighed, not wanting to think about how horrible your morning sickness had been before it disappeared.

“But that sort of reaction happens to everyone. In your case, our child would have been quite restless afterward.”

“Oh,” You had expected something far more dangerous. You had felt a bit of squirming and kicking every once in a while. It had surprised you at first, but it then became yet another common occurrence. Still, his explanation made it apparent that he was avoiding magic for the sake of your comfort and safety, “…Thank you.”

He said nothing, though you could tell from the way that he leaned back and grinned that he was pleased.

Your destination, which the elf explained was a secluded meeting place for what used to be a large group of elven mages. Due to the tense relations between elves and humans, the number of people who knew of the location was limited. You didn’t understand why he trusted you with such information, given your being human, but he still insisted that you go with him rather than waiting at an inn.

You walked alongside him, though you moved closer and placed your hand in the crook of his elbow as the crowd thickened. You didn’t want to get separated in a city that you had never been to before, let alone one that had so many royal guards stationed every few buildings.

The reaction to your gesture was almost immediate. Two women that you walked by paled and began whispering to each other. Your instincts as a thief begged for you to separate yourself from the elf and head off in a different direction to avoid raising suspicion. You were wearing clothing covered in elven symbols. You were clearly human, and yet you were heavily involved with someone that wasn’t. You swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to run. Instead, you spared a glance toward the elf. He hadn’t made any effort to disguise his appearance. His hair was pushed away from his face, keeping his pointed ears uncovered. He walked with the same regality that he always did, a gait that was visibly noticeable compared to everyone else bustling through the streets. You wondered if he didn’t care because he could protect himself with magic, or if knew that carrying himself a certain way would keep him safe.

You tried to refocus on the path in front of you, but the elf gently stopped you. You paused, about to ask why, only to see that he was looking at a young girl selling crowns made of flowers and other trinkets in front of a bakery.

He approached her, bowing slightly, “May I buy one of these from you?”

The girl hesitated, clearly not used to seeing elves. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest, knowing that you used to be the same way. She looked to you for a moment, then nodded.

He gave her some money, then took one of the crowns. He turned to you with a smile, setting the flowers upon your head, “Perfect.”

You laughed a bit, reaching up to touch the flowers. You didn’t recognize half of them. Perhaps they were only found in or around the city, “Is this really necessary?” You teased.

“Of course,” He quipped, “Elves only give the best of offerings to their goddesses.”

You opened your mouth to give a witty remark in return, only to notice the same women from before. They had been following you, though they were keeping their distance. They had abandoned whispering to each other. They were talking quite loudly, obviously wanting to be heard.

“Look at them. Disgusting.”

“She’s carrying that thing’s spawn. She’s probably under some spell. No one in their right mind would do such a thing.”

“Giving life to Halflings. This town is becoming a breeding ground for filth.”

Your grip tightened on the elf’s arm. Lifting your arm had parted the cloak, revealing your swollen belly. You quickly returned your arm to your side and stepped forward to berate them, only for him to step in front of you. He leaned down, kissing you. You immediately withdrew, about to argue until he kissed you again. You sighed, holding his shoulders, “Enough. I’m going to tear them apart.”

“Cerbin,” He blocked your path again, the corner of his mouth pulled upwards. He took your hand, kissing the back of it as his eyes shone with mirth, “Relax. This alone makes their blood boil. Anything you say to them now will only make things escalate.”

You scowled, “They have no right to-“

“Yes, I know,” His lips brushed against your cheek, then your jaw, “Come. We’ll be late, otherwise.”

You reluctantly walked away with him, refusing to look back.

The mages’ meeting place was in a rather expensive looking building. On the outside, it seemed like a high-class inn. However, upon the elf using a spell to get inside, you discovered that the interior was heavily influenced by elven culture. You followed him, but caught yourself pausing to marvel at all of the designs and objects on display. You would have to ask him for a tour when you had the time.

The largest room housed a massive table, several chairs already filled with other mages. Most of them wore elven clothes, though some had made a point to look more human. Still, you couldn’t tell if it was out of personal preference or for the sake of their own safety. When you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by everyone staring at you.

One mage, who was wearing traditional clothes, stood abruptly, “An’givare! How dare you, Gvalch?!”

“She is not a spy,” He replied as he brought you chair of your own, “Nor am I a traitor. I brought her here for her own safety.”

“What is she to you, then?” Another asked.

“Me minne,” The elf you knew as Gvalch sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other, “An aen modron me wedd.”

You couldn’t piece together what he was saying. He rarely spoke in anything but the common tongue unless he was performing magic. You didn’t know if he was using the language in order to keep his colleagues from being offended or to keep it a secret from you. However, you could tell from the reactions of the others that he had revealed something important.

“She has done nothing to betray my trust since I’ve known her. She has no ill will towards us.”

“Regardless, she is human.”

“If you’re telling her to go, then I will also take my leave.”

The others exchanged glances, some of them visibly sighing. It seemed that, with the few mages still left, they couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.

“Fine, she is permitted to stay,” Who you guessed was the leader spoke up, turning his attention to you, “Though I’m sure you understand that nothing that is said here can be repeated elsewhere.”

“I understand,” You bowed slightly in your chair. Even if you wanted to, there was no one for you to tell. You never worked with anyone. Any friends or family were long gone.

The meeting lasted for hours. It was a fury of the common tongue, several elven dialects, and other languages you had never heard before. You waited patiently, quite entertained when they spoke in the one language you understood. Every so often, the elf would stop paying attention to whoever was speaking in order to check on you. He would smile, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. He was still so openly affectionate, even when most of the others didn’t approve.

You made it back to the inn you had stopped at to deposit your belongings. You sat down on the bed as the elf sorted through the luggage. You watched him for a moment, only to notice you were still wearing the flower crown. After gently removing it, you looked over the various flora. The situation you were both in was much more complicated than you had realized. You had spent so much time in the ruin that you had forgotten about how much the majority of humans and elves hated each other. No matter where you went, there would always be someone who disagreed with the two of you living together.

“About what happened today, with those women,” You looked up, “That happens often, doesn’t it?”

“Occasionally,” He replied, “But I’ve learned that ignoring them is the best course of action. In my youth, I used to confront them. I’ve had to avoid being tied to a pyre several times.”

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t imagine living such a life. Most cities and towns were filled with humans. Only small villages and secluded areas were home to elves, unless they were influential enough to remain untouched around humans.

“Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.”

“I’m more worried about you,” You countered. You refused to make this about yourself.

“Nothing will happen to me, either,” He sat down next to you, casting you a soft grin, “Though I appreciate the concern.”

“Isn’t there a way to fix it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I would never ask you to become human,” You began, “But what if I-“

“No,” His answer held no harshness, though you could tell there was nothing that could sway him.

“It would be easier, wouldn’t it? You’re one of the best mages in that group, surely you would be capable of such a thing.”

He reached out, brushing your hair away from your face, “Even if I were capable of tearing the skies open and destroying every star, I would not change you.”

“Because you can’t disrupt nature.”

“Because I love you as you are,” He replied, “And I find your curved ears and cuspids quite adorable.”

“You like my pointed teeth?” You laughed a bit.

“Yes, but if I had to choose a trait that I admired the most, it would be your ferocity. You are unafraid. You wanted to confront those women. Even I’ve been taken aback several times by you, especially when we first made our agreement. You must be a formidable thief, when you are not hindered by magic.”

Yet again, you were rendered speechless by his eloquence. You had always brushed off his comments as just a part of his teasing nature, but you couldn’t ignore it anymore. He loved you, it wasn’t just for the sake of wit.

He turned to you, “The potion from that night, I believe it’s finally worked its way out of your system. You’re no longer a servant to your own arousal.”

He was right. You hadn’t asked him for anything since you left the ruins. Your mind was so much clearer than it used to be. You felt like your old self again. You rested your chin on his shoulder, holding his arm to your chest, “Could we? Sleep together, I mean.”

The elf looked at you, unable to hide his smile, “It would be disgraceful of me to refuse a request from my goddess.”

The travel back to the ruins took much longer than expected. As you made your way with the elf back to the boats, discomfort was beginning to impact your movement. You had nearly doubled over in pain when getting into the boat, your stomach and back aching. You had brushed it off, pretending that it was just the child kicking a tender spot. However, you knew that it more than just idle movement. You had never truly experienced someone else giving birth, let alone yourself, but you knew that was what your body was working towards. Even so, you kept quiet. Every wince was masked as fidgeting. Every moan was swallowed. When your water broke, it was hidden by the seawater that occasionally splashed into the boat.

However, the pain was becoming too great. The shore and the entrance to the ruins were visible, but you couldn’t hold out any longer. You gripped the side of the boat, whimpering.

“Cerbin?” The elf stared at you, his concern evident, “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“I-I think I’m…” You placed a hand over your stomach, wishing the pain would stop.

You didn’t need to say anything more. When the boat reached the shore, the elf was already standing. He helped you step out, quickly lifting you into his arms. He abandoned his supplies, carrying you down the stairs and into your bedroom. He placed you on the bed, but never stepped away. He brushed your hair from your face, kissing the back of your hand.

“Gvalch,” You tensed, the pain worse than anything you had ever felt before. You gripped the sheets, trying to ground yourself as another contraction started.

“I’m right here, my love,” He kissed your forehead, then moved to the end of the bed, helping you with your skirt and smallclothes.

As soon as you were able, you spread your legs. You could feel the child moving downwards, causing your back to arch. Your cries became louder. You shut your eyes, holding your breath as you pushed. You gasped for breath, falling back against the bed. The entire process was exhausting. You had no idea how you would keep going. Tears blurred your vision, spilling from your eyes and wetting your hair. You were in so much pain, “I can’t…I’m so sorry.”

The elf returned to your side, taking your hand. He didn’t pull away, even as you gripped his hand to point that you were sure he was in pain. He watched you, eyes wide. He was horrified, and at a complete loss as to what he should do. He seemed torn between helping you give birth and comforting you. He whispered something that sounded like elven. At first, you thought it was some sort of prayer to the elven gods. He never seemed like a devout believer in such things.

However, as your pain was suddenly washed away by a feeling of slight cold, you realized that it was a spell. You turned to him, “Was that…a spell?” You watched him, worried that he knew something you didn’t, “I thought you said you didn’t disrupt nature.”

“I know,” He sighed, “I just…Seeing you in agony is unbearable. Forgive me, I can take away the pain, but I cannot make this any easier for you. Any other spell could bring consequences for both of you.”

Your womb tensing caused no pain, only a pressure that made you curse under your breath. The child shifted again, the feeling of such fullness bringing the urge to squirm. You remained still, trying to focus on something, anything else. With another push, you felt its head crowding against your entrance. You let go of the elf’s hand, “Go, it’s-“

He hesitated, as if he wanted to stay by your side, but moved to the end of the bed. He placed his hands on your thighs, pushing your legs back. It took away some of the pressure, though most of it remained, “You’re almost there.”

You nodded, gathering what strength you had left. Thankfully, you felt the child make some progress. It must have been enough, since the elf gently guided it the rest of the way. The hollowness was strange, especially when you had grown so attached. The rest was easier, especially when you finally heard the baby crying. You forced yourself to sit up, only for a wave of dizziness to overtake you.

The elf stood, cradling the child in his arm despite all of the blood and other fluids staining his clothes. He nudged you softly to one side, “You should rest. You’ve been through quite the ordeal. I’ll take care of everything.”

You blinked tiredly, carefully lying down on the bed and closing your eyes.

When you awoke, you weren’t sure how much time had passed. You sat up, noticing that you were in different clothes. The bedding had been changed. A gurgling sound made you look up. The elf had brought his chair from the study, sitting next to the bed with the child wrapped in soft fabrics. You watched, not saying anything at first. It was so small. You couldn’t believe something so tiny could survive, and yet it was right in front of you.

“Me minne,” The elf smiled, “You’re awake.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Not long,” He rose from the chair, as graceful as ever, “Would you like to hold them?”

You nodded immediately, reaching out to take the small bundle into your arms. When you had first entered the ruins in search of something to steal, you never would have expected to be in such a situation. But you weren’t the same person anymore. So much had changed.

“She’s beautiful,” He sat down once more, giving you time to have the child to yourself, “Just like her mother.”

A girl. And he was right, she was as adorable. It reminded you of the fairytales about cute princesses. You moved the blanket a bit, smiling when you saw that she had pointed ears, “Looks like she didn’t inherit everything from me.”

“Who knows, she might still have pointed teeth,” He teased in response. He crossed one leg over the other, content with watching, “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” You shook your head, “Just a bit tired, but I can sleep later,” You looked up at him, though you absentmindedly stroked her soft cheeks with your fingertips, “Are there any other names for birds in your language?”

“Ah, let me see,” He pondered it for a moment, “Zireael is the term we use for a swallow,” He tilted his head to one side, “Is that what you want to name her?”

“Yes. I like it for a girl’s name,” You paused, remembering that you didn’t know each other’s real names. Gvalch was just an alias. Cerbin was just what he called you, “Um, about my name, it’s _____,” You weren’t sure if he wanted to know. Even if he didn’t, you had spent so much time with him. It was something he deserved to know.

He grinned, repeating it. It sounded so much nicer with his voice and accent than it did from a human mouth, “It suits you, though you’ll always be my Cerbin,” He moved closer, sitting beside you, “Would you like to know my name, then?”

“Of course,” You replied, “It’s only fair.”

He leaned down, whispering his true name into your ear. It sounded like that of some ancient king, but he always reminded you of that sort. His name only proved his natural regality and poise. You murmured the name, trying to match the pronunciation. Still, you had a hard time imagining him as anything other than Gvalch.

He withdrew from you, though an expression flickered across his features that you weren’t used to seeing on him. He bowed slightly, “Now that you’ve given birth, I would like to offer you another choice. Before I explain and you decide, I want you to know that I bear you no ill will regardless of what you choose,” He said that, but you had gotten used to knowing when he was lying, “You’ve been a thief for over half of your life. I understand if it’s difficult to leave that sort of lifestyle. If you desire it, you’re free to leave with or without the child.”

You stared at him. He was still offering you a choice. He truly believed in free will. It was strange to have someone with so much power and influence at your feet.

He knelt before you, “However, you are more than welcome to stay. You wouldn’t be able to continue with your previous work, but I promise that you will never want for anything. You or Zireael. I love you both dearly. You are more than anything I could ever ask the gods for. No spell or magic could have brought me someone like you,” His voice cracked. He was overwhelmed, a man at risk of losing everything important in his life, “Please, Cerbin. If you love me, stay with me.”

You smiled, leaning forward and kissing him, “Am I still a raven if I don’t admire shiny objects?”

He kissed you once more, withdrawing with a wide grin, “You’ve stolen much more than a phylactery from me, me minne.”

An’givare – spy/traitor

Me minne – my love

An aen modron me wedd – and the mother of my child

#fpreg #birth #gvalch and cerbin #a thief #good ending route #elf route #series

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hyunllx · 5 years ago

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Heathers & Gargoyles A complete rewrite of Riverdale Season 3

A game, a cult, a murder. Sounds like a stereotypical october for the town of Riverdale. Yet when Betty, Jughead, Veronica, and newly freed-from-juvie Archie are recruited to join the increasingly dangerous game of Griffins and Gargoyles, they find themselves dodging assassinations and deadly traps designed to keep them on a pre-determined story path. Left without the help of their brainwashed allies, the core four must work in the shadows to stop the rising body count and unmask the King of Gargoyles before their story is finished.

Chapter One: Beautiful Previous Chapter | Read it on AO3

Black midnight sky stretched taught about the grasping branches of the Southside treetops, stars fading to nonexistence behind the pale orange glow of the near-full moon. It would be not but a couple days until she was at her peak, and her sinister visage glowered down on the junkyard. Archie, Betty, Jughead, and Veronica arrived at the back entrance in the old, rusty Serpent pick-up, pointed in the direction by stone-faced Deathknights brandishing torches that threatened to lick the dark, drying bark of early-October trees. The doors screeched and groaned as they hopped out of the truck, the noise deafening in the silence of the midnight forest. Footfall after footfall of players making the journey had smoothed a clear path through the trees. Archie set off on the path first, eager to confront the man, or thing, that placed a bounty on his head. Betty and Veronica followed close behind him, though, lest he barge into trouble alone. Instinctively they held hands through the mounting fear, while Jughead took up the rear, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. Two by two piles of fallen branches, weathered bamboo standing-torches, and aluminum trash cans flicked and sparked along the path. Each accompanied a Deathknight or an Acolyte in full costume; they stared at them behind their masks and under deep hoods. The dull thumping of unseen drums beat against the air to signal the new initiates arriving as they passed through the removed panel in the junkyard fence. Entering a small clearing, the four spread out side-by-side before a Deathknight in tattered layers of black cotton and jean and a girl in a medieval-style light grey and red dress. She wore a snow-white cloak over both shoulders and a matching veil obscured her face in the low light, as if the ghost of a princess stood before them. From the shadowed alleys between towers of rusted half-cars and ancient appliances, four Deathknights emerged, each carrying lit standing-torches of black iron. They placed one in front of each of the four; Archie, Veronica, Betty, the finally Jughead. The heat from the torches stung the skin of their faces in the bitter autumn night. Betty turned away from the flame proximity, the fire of the torch triggering a hazy dizziness to cloud her senses. She swayed slightly in place, Veronica’s hand in hers and Jughead’s arm finding its way around her shoulders, keeping her from tumbling into the cloudiness of her mind. The attention of the four pulled suddenly toward the ghostly girl again as she raised her arms and lifted the layered tulle veil from her face, revealing the familiar visage of their childhood friend, Ethel. “Greetings, friends. I’m so glad you can finally join me for Initiation.” “We didn’t have much of a choice.” Archie bit back, though shock lingered on his face. Betrayal carved a hollow in his chest, cutting deep into the dark recesses of his mind now filled by the trauma sweet and trustworthy Ethel had a hand in creating. From his pocket he pulled the now-crumpled and slightly torn Kill the Red Paladin card. “You’re behind this?” “No,” Solemnity returned to her face as she answered, the muscles in her hands tensing as she clasped them in front of her, “I wasn’t aware the King had ordered this until the prison break. As a Princess of the King, my quests are specific. I never received a call for that quest.” “Would you have answered if you did?” Jughead asked, his brow pulled tightly down over his eyes in angry contemplation. He could see the hesitation on her face as she turned toward him, though stubbornness quickly grew in its place. She didn’t answer him, though he held her gaze for a moment longer than she would’ve liked. Jughead suspected the answer was no, but she wouldn’t admit that surrounded by followers of the King. This was a cult, and they’d have her head next. “Why don’t we begin?” Ethel cleared her throat instead, turning back to the group and clapping her hands. At the sharp signal, the Deathknights that brought forward the torches stepped forward again, presenting the four each with a small case. Leather, palm-sized with a magnetized flap keeping it closed. An upgrade from the envelope, Veronica thought to herself, the snark a reflex toward her anxiety as she remembered finding the card over a month ago. It felt like years. They took the cases, albeit reluctantly and held them up to the torches to inspect. Snarling gargoyle faces glared up at them from the grey and silver stitching on the back, and the magnetic clasp bore the same symbol as the wax seal on the parchment that summoned them. “Within the satchels are the three class choices the King personally chose for you,” Ethel began, the Deathknights retreating to the shadows once more as her posture became serious and professional once again, “Your classes will determine the quests you are assigned and will act as your form of identification. Once you make your choice, burn the others in tribute to the King.” As she finished speaking, she lifted fistfuls of her long dress and stepped to the side, the silent Deathknight who had remained at her side mirroring her movement in the opposite direction. When they parted, the faint orange glow of torch and open flame illuminated the space behind them, revealing the grotesque effigy of the Gargoyle King; a bull’s skull staring at them with empty eye hollows, bone stained with red spattering, gnarled branches twisting off its back like wings, all draped in a cloak as long and black as the sky above. Scribblings and paintings they grew familiar with were no match to seeing the effigy in person. It appeared to be sitting, yet still towered over them by 6 inches to a foot. Archie’s face hardened at the sight of the beast, his will to confront the King spoiled now in the monstrosity's presence. Betty looked away; stepping closer to Jughead as her head reeled again. Her stomach churned with the sensation, as if something paranormal were happening here. Even Jughead’s resolution weakened under the sudden pressure. Veronica, however, didn’t succumb to the intimidation. Unsure whether it was because of her experience dealing with powerful, ugly men, or if it really didn’t frighten her, she wasn’t sure, but her posture nor her hatred of the beast before her altered at the sight. “Jughead Jones,” The deep, echoing growl of the Deathknight’s voice changer coupled with the morbid effigy startled him out of his awed trance, “The King has chosen you first.” Jughead cast a long, guarded glance at Betty, the muscles in his shoulders tensing in caution, lest this be a trap. Much like a cat blinking to soothe a loved one, Betty gave him a silent look of encouragement, accompanied by a slight nose. With and understanding, responding nod, Jughead pulled three cards from his leather satchel, fanning them in his fingers to examine each. The first on the left was the typical Rogue class so many of the Serpents already initiated had chosen, including Joaquin, initiated in the fighting pits, most allured by the thief’s dark clothes, sharp daggers, and the mischievous smirk under his hood. The middle card read “Hellcaster”, depicting a young sorcerer dressed in black and green robes with a serpentine staff. His verdant eyes glowed eerily in the shadow cast by his low-drawn hood. The final card read “Prince,” yet unlike typical medieval nobility, this prince wielded a greatsword and stood clad in intricate black armour. A gold crown sat atop his unarmoured head, two twisting antlers rising out of its sides. Immediately he did not trust the Prince card; Ethel just claimed she was a Princess not but a few moments ago, and Jughead suspected he would have to be of the same station with this class. He was a king of his own right; he would not kneel for this false God. That was the first card he tossed into the fire. “State your choice aloud, so the King can hear.” Ethel reminded him, her voice sweeter than it had been, but stern. Jughead looked over the Rogue and the Hellcaster one more time, a near-amused smirk pulling on his lips. He tossed the Rogue into the torch; the serpent iconography of the Hellcaster was too obvious a sign. This card was the one it meant him to pick. “Hellcaster.” He announced, lifting the card so Ethel, the Deathknight, and the effigy (if it could see) could observe his choice. “Welcome, Hellcaster.” The words rose from the spectators, echoing around the Junkyard from shadows between the rusted metal and piles of discarded treasures. Ethel turned to the next initiate, Betty. She was already looking over her cards as the garbled voice of the Deathknight spoke her name. Cabalist, Deadeye, Acolyte. Fingers trembling, she immediately lifted the Acolyte card to the torch. If she was sure of anything, she would never be a mindless sheep for a fake God. Pausing, Betty took a grounding breath as the flames consumed the card into the torch, watching for a moment before tearing her eyes back to the remaining cards in her hands. The Deadeye held her at the ready, pointing her knocked arrow straight up at her, while the elderly Cabalist hunched over her sacred texts, glowing runes circling her body. A buzz hummed in the back of her mind as a flashback crashed through her, preventing Betty from examining the Deadeye further. The image of her father in a black mask holding a gun forward and staring up at her obscured her perception of the real artwork. Quickly, her reflexes tossed the card into the torch, nerves shaken. Both Jughead and Veronica reached out to her again in her panic to place comforting, grounding hands on her shoulders. Vision fuzzy, hands trembling, Betty pushed through the haze to lift her final card into the air and announce: “Cabalist.” “Welcome, Cabalist.” The call echoed around them. Veronica was next; with a sneer of disgust, she tossed the first card out of the satchel into the fire: Princess. While that was the card she was certain the King wanted her to choose, she had enough of that role in her real life. If she had to play this game, she might as well be someone unlike her rich daddy’s girl reputation. Pulling the other two cards from the pack, she held one in each hand. The Bard in her left was joyous, laughing with a drink in one hand and their lute in the other. They grinned up at her, happy just being considered and included. In her right, the Enchantress smirked at her with playful mischief; dressed in an oddly familiar black hooded shawl and wreathed in smoke trailing up from the train of her dress. A master of joy and song, or a master of shadow and illusion? “Enchantress.” She announced confidently, tossing the Bard into the flames. The cardstock fizzled and spat defiant sparks back at her, making Veronica take a step toward Archie, called last after the shadows welcomed her choice. His case remained unopened until Archie felt his name shake in his bones from the growl of the Deathknight. As he pulled the cards out, the glanced first toward his friends, then to Ethel, who still could not meet his eyes. Confusion warped his face in the firelight. In his hands he held only two cards, not three like his friends. A familiar Paladin, though this card had etchings of reflective red foil and the deep black foil of a Deathknight with a completely petrified skull of stone. The rustling of dead leaves and branches assaulted their ears suddenly as the effigy rose off the ground. Towering high above them, the gnarled wings stretched wide and the heavy skull twisted on its invisible neck to glare down at Archie specifically. “Red Paladin…” The King rumbled, the bass in his amplified voice shaking the ground enough to feel through thick winter boots. “You have one choice. Pledge yourself to me and lift your brand for death.” Follower or target. Hunter or prey. Defiant anger flared in Archie’s chest, pulsing hard against his bruised and cracked ribs. A reminder, and a message, “No.” He crumpled the Deathknight card in his clenched fist and tossed it into the torch flame. With a forced sense of pride, he lifted the Paladin card so everyone could see the orange glow of the fire reflecting off the bloody-coloured foil. “Then you will die.” The Deathknight warned. Archie detected a hint of alarm despite the disguised sound of his voice. Maybe even desperation. “We’ll see.” Ethel cleared her throat to bring the attention back to her, shuffling a few steps forward to stand in the light from the torches. “Welcome, Initiates. You have chosen your classes and are now waiting to be tested individually on your separate skills. You may be approached by a Deathknight, you may find your quest hidden someone secret. In either case, you will know, and I wish you luck.” “Go.” The booming voice of the King commanded at their hesitation to leave, the four taking the dismissal to heart and walking as quickly as they could back to the truck. They drove home in silence, the gravity of what they’d done falling on them slowly like snowfall. They weren’t players in a game. Now they were cultists. School the next day felt different. An air of respect now floated through the halls. Where once the spaces and groups barricaded them from entering, now people greeted them openly and genuinely. People brought them into conversation after conversation about Quests, or news of other parties failing, or that someone had broken into more businesses since the start of the school year. Veronica and Jughead shrugged it off easily, making their way through school as if it were a typical day, but the attention was grating and uncomfortable for Betty. No one but teachers used her name; now she was ‘the Cabalist.’ Other Cabalists (there were only a few, mostly honors and AP students) excitedly welcomed her to the class, though none of them she’d met before. Though not openly hostile, wizards and sorcerers (seemingly the most common classes chosen) playfully glared at her and made remarks about her study habits. Betty didn’t want to understand what they meant, or why people were so drawn to her suddenly, and by lunchtime, she’d had enough of the socialization shift. Like every cliche 90s teen movie, she wanted to buy lunch and eat in the restroom, away from the prying eyes and questions of her peers. Food acquired successfully with minimal resistance, Betty swerved out of the cafeteria toward the nearby restrooms where she hit a sudden roadblock. Bodies swarmed the walls of the hallway, parting at the center like the Red Sea as awed whispers rose and crashed over the crowd. Slowed but not deterred, Betty muscled her way through the throng, only to emerge on the other side nearly face-to-face with her cousin Cheryl, Toni, and their infamous party. They walked with unbridled confidence through the crowd, basking in the attention Betty despised. Cheryl and Toni were two of the first players to be open about their involvement in the game, and many players enviously looked up to them. Where once people pried to join the River Vixens, now they pleaded and grovelled to help the Vixens on Quests. The whispers of awe and longing followed them everywhere, even outside the once-safe walls of Riverdale High. If Cheryl wasn’t popular and powerful enough before, her status elevated her to Goddess in their eyes. “What’s going on here?” The voice of an unseen teacher rose over the hallway, slicing through the audience as they grabbed the attention away from Cheryl. Betty seized the moment of distraction as an opportunity to duck into the restroom. Voices muffled by the closed doors rose in groaning protest as the teacher told them to scatter to their classes. Betty leaned against the door, the drumming of dozens of feet pulsing against the concrete as she finally let out a long breath. She was alone, away from the prying gaze of what felt like the entire town. Short-lived relief suddenly stamped out of her as the door hit hard at her back, someone pushing it open from the other side. Stumbling forward a few steps, Betty made room in the small space as the heavy door swung open completely and Cheryl stalked her way inside. “There you are, cousin.” She spoke with her usual friendly grace, a familiar smile on her scarlet-red lips. Where her typical spider brooch would’ve sat on her collarbone, now a crest of golden, crossed arrows reflected the fluorescent lights; the crest of the Deadeye class. Despite wearing her brand, though, no hunger for information nor judgement sat on her face so Betty relaxed slightly at her presence. “Good afternoon, Cheryl.” Betty side-stepped around her as Cheryl made her way to the mirrors over the sinks to check her hair and makeup. “I hear you finally joined the game.” She said cheerfully as she combed wayward strands of orange hair back into their places. Their eyes met through the mirror and Betty nervously started picking at the cellophane wrapper around her sandwich, “And as a Cabalist. Fascinating choice, though I suppose it suits your whole Nancy Drew aesthetic.” Avoiding answering, Betty took a bite out of the sandwich, chewing slowly so she wouldn’t have to explain how she and her friends never chose to be initiated, and the threats to Archie’s life. Not that it was a secret; everyone knew about Archie’s great escape. “You know…” Cheryl cut the silence, unbothered by Betty’s lack of an answer, “My party, the Pretty Poisons, received a quest this morning, and we might need a Cabalist if you want to join us sometime.” Paranoid haze rose at the corners of Betty’s vision at the offer. “Is that… allowed?” Cheryl frowned, turning to look at her instead of through the mirror. “Why wouldn’t be?” “I don’t know. I thought you had to stay with the people they initiated you with.” The thought of Archie being placed in the King’s crosshairs because she accidentally broke a rule surged forward, bringing with it a new fear of the game. “There’s nothing in the Player’s Handbook against it. I mean, how else are we supposed to complete the Quest when we have no Wizards or Cabalists?” “Wait… Player’s Handbook?” “You don’t have one?” Genuine confusion and shock distorted Cheryl’s calm demeanor, and she immediately dismounted the bag from her shoulders. From inside she pulled a stack of papers, three-hole punched and connected by gold rings, “This isn’t all of it, but I can lend you the whole thing if you join us at the entrance to Fox Forest on Friday night?” Betty took the small stack of papers; the top page was an ancient outline of the Deadeye class, if the game were being played on a tabletop like D&D. The pages weren’t old, but well-used by the wrinkles and bends in the corners. Fatal curiosity peaked, Betty nodded without asking details about the quest, “All right, I’ll come.” “Ladies…” The voice of the teacher returned as a warning as she pushed open the door and stuck her head in. “What’s happening here?” “Betty wasn’t feeling well. I was just helping her.” Cheryl smiled sweetly, tossing her bag over her shoulder again. The teacher looked over her glasses at them, skepticism crawling over every inch of her face. She decided arguing with a Blossom wasn’t worth the time and held the door open for them. “Just get to class…” Cheryl gave Betty a wave and skipped into the hallway. How she kept such a bright appearance despite everything she’d endured, Betty didn’t understand. It made her envious, as the anxiety seized her by the throat again when she made her way back toward the cafeteria. At least she had something to study now, a guide on how to navigate and deal with this life-consuming game. Perhaps she’d find something that would break them free from it. Perhaps her life wasn’t over just yet.

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale ff #bughead #varchie #mine #my writing #h&g

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robot-unicorn-attack · 5 years ago

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☽ SNOW, 31

“ The ice does not forgive.” —Leigh Bardugo

Real Name: MARIVANA IRINDRA

Agency: 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 (Ice World)

FC: Anna Selezneva

Unicorn Name: SPARKLE CHARMER [+]

Place of Birth: Ice World

Appearance: When Marivana made her comeback to the racing industry as Snow, she had two dozen tiny diamonds implanted into her irises (12 in each eye), arranged in a circle around her pupils. They’re just a tad lighter than her natural eye color, and it gives her eyes a certain cold steeliness, a certain unnatural hardness, when they catch in the light. Although the procedure was originally at the insistence of her agency, Marivana finds that she’s grown to like having the diamonds there. They make her look a bit more intimidating than she would normally be - perfect for fending off sales executives and creative directors who might get a little too handsy while on the job.

In addition, the current makeup looks that the stylists give her are all very dark and dramatic-all black eyeliner and smokey eyeshadow and diamond-encrusted fake eyelashes. It makes her look a tad villainous-like a ruthless evil queen-and Marivana thinks that she could be into that.

“ You think I’m not a goddess? Try me...Touch me and you’ll burn.” —Margaret Atwood

Wardrobe: If Marivana could have it her way, she’d dress in nothing but dark colors and streamlined, practical outfits (“It’s all very Lava World”, her agent had once said, disapprovingly). If she could have it her way, she’d wear severe gowns and sharp suits, without any makeup and with minimal jewelry.

But, of course, that is not how a racer for Ice World’s most prestigious racing agency dresses. When she was Snow Princess, Marivana would be forced into the most ridiculously elaborate gowns - Ice Worlders are never frilly, mind you, but they’e still very extra about their wardrobes. As Snow Princess, Marivana wore poofy fur-lined sleeves and dresses with modular skirts and layers upon layers of satin and tulle - not to mention all the fucking jewelry. Nowadays, however, Marivana’s image as the ice queen of unicorn racing means that she gets less satin and tulle, more diamonds and leather. Nevertheless, everything is still embellished with so many goddamn jewels and gemstones that Marivana feels 100 pounds heavier when she’s wearing some of the ensembles that the stylists put together for her.

Places most likely to be found: When there’s a race coming up, Marivana is usually on any one of the practice race tracks/areas. In the event that she has a bit of free time, Marivana likes to frequent each planet’s respective libraries. Before she was scouted, she’d planned on becoming a botanist, and the interest is still definitely there.

If she’s in Unicorn City, Marivana’s usually at whichever clubs, parties, galas, or promo events that her agency sends her to. Marivana usually hangs out along the side or in a corner - alone, unless someone else approaches her (and people usually do. She’s Snow, after all).

People mostly likely to be with: Sky and Ice, just because they’re from, you know, the same agency as Marivana.

Strongest character trait: Steely

“ I’m headed straight for the castle, they’re gonna make me their queen...and there’s an old man sitting on the throne that’s saying that I probably shouldn’t be so mean. ” —Halsey

Public Image: Cold, determined, aloof, and a bit cruel, a bit ruthless, a bit brutal: Snow is robot unicorn racing’s resident Ice Queen, and boy oh boy does her agency like to hype it up. Every year, they spin something about how her encounter with the thief who allegedly smashed her first unicorn to bits “changed” her from the dainty snow princess into her current icy persona. It’s bullshit, all of it, but Marivana will put up with the marketing and misinformation if it means that her agency will just let her continue running with this public image that matches up with what she’s actually like. She’s had enough of smiling until the entire lower half of her face feels numb to last a lifetime, thank you very much.

Racing Strengths: Marivana has been with Sparkle Charmer (S.C.) for almost ten years, meaning that she knows her unicorn. She knows everything that there is to know about S.C., from where her horn and hooves were manufactured to what breed of horse she was originally engineered from. And though she’s no mechanic, she’s well aware of how to do many of the basic repairs that S.C. might need.

The thing that makes her such a good racer, in Marivana’s opinion, is how well that she and S.C. know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. And there is, of course, the implicit trust in between them - Marivana is unyielding, yes, but only when she knows that she won’t endanger S.C. in doing so. She knows when, and how, to push S.C., and when to dial it back. Neither of them are afraid to take something head-on. Neither of them are afraid to put another racer and her unicorn in a tight spot in order to gain the upper-hand.

Racing Weaknesses: Marivana is perfectly good at navigating treacherous passes and maneuvering her way around plasma beams, yes, but she’s never been particularly great at the delicate dressage that other racers/unicorns excel at. She’s also not one for subtlety, of any kind - she would much rather dash through a star or stone golem than try to do a fancy jump and avoid it.

And, although she would never admit this in a million years, Marivana’s never been very good at adapting quickly to new situations. She likes to go in knowing what to expect, so on the off chance that she encounters something completely new, Marivana would be in a bit of a tight spot.

“ You should see me in a crown, your silence is my favorite sound. ” —Billie Eilish

Personality: Marivana’s entire image revolves around the fact that she’s cold, and it’s true-in fact, it’s the one part about her that her agency hasn’t lied about. Practical and pragmatic, with both feet planted firmly on the ground, Marivana is observant and brutally analytical; calm and collected under even the most trying of circumstances. She is logical and rational and constantly aware of her surroundings, thanks to being in the industry that she’s in for over ten years, and her cunning intelligence allows her to pick up even the slightest of cues.

Marivana is usually more “terrifying” than “charming”, but she is able to be charismatic, albeit in a vaguely terrifying sort of way. She is meticulous and thorough in everything she does, and she knows the ins and outs of the industry like the back of her hand. She tends to think things through before she acts, and rarely lets her temper get the best of her

Marivana tends to be coolly detached and aloof; she comes off as a bit haughty and snobby, sometimes, which perfectly fits her image as unicorn racing’s resident ice queen. She’s not the most moral of people, with more than just a bit of a ruthless streak in her, and her agency would have the galaxy believe that Marivana cares about nothing except for winning.

But they’re wrong. They’re wrong. Marivana cared very much for that first unicorn of hers, the one that her agency put down, the one that her agency then used basically for plot convenience in order to re-make Marivana’s image. She used to be angry and resentful about it, but nowadays, it’s more of a dull sort of ache, when she lets her mind wander back to that. If she lets her mind wander at all.

And so Marivana pretends that she truly does not care for anything except winning, and sometimes she can even fool herself into believing it. She pretends, as if this numbness was any better than the rage from before. As if pretending could somehow make her feel alright again.

(She knows that it won’t).

“ Rebel rebel, call me a rebel rebel; I walk the plank, not a tear in my eye; I won't go down, your blushing bride; Under the water I'll be sharpening my knife. ” —MILCK

Biography: Marivana, the former "Snow Princess", was once Ice World's sweetheart; at only seventeen with her blonde curls and sparkling blue eyes and a smile so pretty and sweet that people said it could melt ice, who would have not loved her? Her first unicorn was the same-extraordinarily gentle, with an even disposition and as pretty as a picture.

Marivana is one of those cases where a racer is scouted as much as for her looks as for her prior knowledge of robot unicorns/horses. She came from a middle class family from Ice World, one that could afford to send her to riding classes. Marivana did well in her competitions, but it was always more of a hobby than it was a career choice. But one day, by chance, an agent from 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 was at one of her competitions. And although she came in sixth, the agent decided that her specific combination of aesthetics and skills was just what 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 needed to round out its 3-racer team.

And so when she was seventeen, she signed a contract with 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 and became Snow Princess.

Marivana had always been stubborn and determined. She was a no-nonsense kind of girl who had never actually been all that popular amongst her peers, thanks to her general standoffish-ness and resting bitch face. But what 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 needed, when they brought her in, was a pretty face with blonde curls and blue eyes and a gentle smile.

Stars above, it was hard, to relax the tension in her forehead, to not look like she wanted to die every time she smiled. But the agency had her practice, and practice she did, until becoming Snow Princess was just like slipping on a scratchy sweater. Not the most comfortable sensation, no, one that felt a little wrong...but it was convincing enough, from the outside, and that was what mattered.

The public, of course, ate it up. That, combined with Marivana’s hours and hours of practice, brought her success. Her career was on a precipitous rise during the first couple of years; the Estrellian Federation and the rest of the unicorn racing world just couldn't seem to get enough of Snow Princess and her unicorn. But her life was turned upside down when the terrorist attacks on Unicorn City were attributed back to rogue AI; one night, as she was returning back to the training facility with her unicorn, a thief tried to rob her of everything she owned. Marivana's unicorn saw her panicking and intervened, killing the thief. Normally, this would not have been such a big deal, but with anti-robot sentiment on the rise, Marivana's racing agency was forced to deactivate ("put down") her unicorn in order to avoid legal sanctions from Ice World’s governement.

For the next three competition seasons, Snow Princess with her sweet smile and blonde curls were nowhere to be seen, and fans anxiously waited for her return. And return she did, but she was different. Marivana came back with Sparkle Charmer (who has been her unicorn ever since), but she dropped the "Princess" from her stage name and all the pretty smiles were gone.

Marivana (now known as "Snow") made a name for herself in the industry with both her unbeatable technique and her ruthless nature; cold and ambitious, she would do anything to rise to the top, according to her bio on her agency’s website. And with both Sparkle Charmer and the backstory that 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 spun up for them, her career sky-rocketed. The Ice Worlders loved the way that she and Sparkle Charmer simply smashed through stars and golems alike; they were fascinated by how Sparkle and Snow could hang still in the air, suspended by nothing but strength and sheer willpower alone. Snow and Sparkle are not known for their fancy flying or their nimble maneuvers. They are known for their raw strength and power and their gritty sort of determination. They are harsh, blunt, unyielding-something that, despite all their insistences on politeness and propriety, Ice Worlders absolutely adore.

Marivana is now over thirty, but she shows no signs of retiring (yet)...and she's definitely good enough to compete with newer, younger racers. These days, she is widely considered to be an industry veteran. She stays with 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, if only because they give her perks and have generally left her alone, but she’ll never forget how they took what happened with her first unicorn (which was allegedly “smashed to bits” by the thief, according to the official statement the racing agency put out) and turned it into a fucking marketing shtick.

“ Of course I’m a threat. Why? Did you think for a moment that I wasn’t?” —Emma Frost (Marvel’s X-men)

Relationships:

Sky -

Ice -

Supernova - Marivana is...pretty indifferent? when it comes to Supernova. She knows who she is and what she’s done, of course-who doesn’t?-but if you think that she’d be starstruck and/or falling over herself when Supernova’s around her...well, you’d be wrong. Marivana’s had multiple trusted parties tell her that she’s just as good as Supernova was, at her peak, so she knows that she’s not a threat-for now, at least. Marivana’s a bit wary of the other racer, but also a bit curious to see as to where this comeback will lead.

Sunbeam -

Flower - Marivana knows exactly what 𝑅 𝐼 𝒮 𝐸 is pulling with Flower (her own agency did the same thing to her, after all), and she is not fooled at all. She’s not stupid; in the robot unicorn racing industry, nobody is completely, utterly unknown when they debut unless they had no prior experience with robot horses/unicorns in the past. Marivana knows that Flower probably had to work her butt off to stay with 𝑅 𝐼 𝒮 𝐸, and she would bet her right hand that the image that Flower puts out to the public is just that - an image.

Flame - Marivana knows about 1) the image that she projects, and 2) that this image is pretty true to who Flame really is, for the most part. Her verdict? Flame could prove to be annoying, if she gets relevant while Marivana is still in the industry as a racer. Marivana doesn’t know what life not racing would be like, but she’s well-aware that she’s the oldest racer out there (well, besides Supernova, who doesn’t count. She’s making a comeback, after all), and that retirement is probably not too far out in her future. So, if Flame is still around within the next 5-10 years, then Marivana might start worrying about her. For now, she’s just the irritating racer with ʟᴀᴢᴇʀ who won’t ever stop causing a scene.

Nyx -

Widowmaker -

Playlist:

“Freeze you Out” by Sia

“Adios” by Everglow

“You should see me in a crown” by Billie Eilish

“Castle” by Halsey

“Devil Devil” by MILCK

“Glory and Gore” by Lorde

“The Lady in Red” by Jolin Tsai

“Samaritan” by ionnalee

Headcanons:

Marivana addresses her unicorn as S.C., because ‘Sparkle Charmer’ is a mouthful and just ‘Sparkle’ is too Snow Princess, in her opinion.

She gets lots of points for strength and technique/execution when she races, but not so much for speed or precision.

Marivana has always been slightly more sympathetic to Flower than she normally would be to other new faces, just because she knows exactly what Flower’s agency is putting her through.

That one scene with Flower, the 50-pound diamond headdress, and a creepy drunk guy at a club in Unicorn City (The Neon Demon)

Basically, all the Aurivana content. Secret relationship???? Secret relationship.

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/ayzrules/and-the-rest-is-rust-and-stardust-rua/snow-sparkle-charmer/

Official Bio on Agency Website: https://robot-unicorn-attack.tumblr.com/database-snow

#snow #racers #sparkle charmer #racer info #marivana #written by alicia/ayz!!

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dragonleesupporter · 6 years ago

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My First Story Ever! (First of the Paradigm Series): The Meet {WARNING: TRIGGERS}

Paradigm is a world of anthropomorphic wolfish creatures called greckens that live in a medieval-styled era where females are dominant and males are generally enslaved and treated as inferior.

This whole world was created and published here with a little inspiration from thetickleraven’s He Came From the Woods AU, so go check them out! This would not exist without them!

Critique is appreciated as this is my first story ever on this social media! If you have suggestions or requests, feel free to tell or ask me!

{TRIGGER WARNINGS: This series will cover some adult, hard-to-swallow topics and includes some cursing, but some stories will be entirely cute, fluffy stuff. Just watch for the warnings! This first one starts with some traumatic flasbacks, so I’ll give this one a warning for those sensitive to that kind of thing.}

The purple Grecken stood, hunched over and held in place by his binds as his heart raced. He could hear footsteps behind him as he desperately yanked on his confinements. More footsteps… He pleaded to deaf ears as he could hear the sound of metal on metal rise over the murmurs of disapproval.

The dark basement that surrounded him was filled with the blood of past victims, yellow filling his eyes and a dreadful stench filling his nose. Through the cracks in the wall, he could see a million tiny white eyes gazing hungrily as a hoard of flesh-eating insects cleaned their mandibles in anticipation.

“P-please! Don’t cut them! I’ll be a good boy! PLEASE! I’LL BE GOOD!” He shrieked, eyes popping out his skull as he saw the glint of a blade approaching from the shadows.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re good or not. I want you here and now, and you must be in an acceptable form for the alchemists.” A deep, loathing voice sounded from behind him. Ritah’s voice. “Give me and my girlfriends a good laugh, and quit squirming!!”

“NO! PLE-”

The blade came down.

“AH!” Alo woke with a start, nearly falling out of the tree he was in.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the remainder of the screams echoing in his mind. His dreams always consisted of small reminders. Like why he can’t be seen, why he can’t go back, … and why he can’t fly… That had been the second worst day of his life. The first worst day in question was the day he escaped…

Another flaskback.

Working out on the field with alchemists bound to come for him any day to study his “unnaturality.” Handling back-breaking work alongside his father and other males Ritah had bought. Farming, cleaning, organizing, and pampering Ritah and her girlfriends… he was just a child at the time.

The day following the removal of his wings, he was sent back out to the field. His father saw what had happened to him and pulled him aside when the girls weren’t looking.

“Look here.” He said, placing his bruised hands together. “When I had my wings cut, the day after, I got a short spurt of energy due to the traumatic event. It’s biological… Sadly, I didn’t use it, and here I am. When your spurt comes, RUN. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing or where you are. Take advantage of that adrenaline! This energy comes very rarely. If you’re going to escape, it’s got to be today. You’ll be able to outrun them.”

“B-but what if they catch me?!” The purple child quivered and squeaked, the very thought of trying to run away made him shake with fear.

“They won’t. Now get out there before they realize you’re gone.” His father ushered him out of the bush quickly and got back to hoeing the new garden.

Several hours later, when Alo’s burst of energy came while he was moving bales of hay in the barn, he hesitated. It felt as though all of his insides were vibrating as he sat there, shivering and twitching. Then, with a breath, he sprinted. He ran as fast as his beaten legs would carry him out the barn door, his feet slamming the hard ground and his breath sporadic.

“HEY! GET THAT BRAT!” He heard Ritah howl infuriatedly behind him from the fields, the fire in her chest audible in her wild screeches.

“No! You leave him be!” His fathers voice echoed before an ear-piercing shriek cut through the air sharper than an axe, making Alo run even faster.

“Keep going Alo! Don’t look back! DON’T LOOK BACK!” His father’s voice faded into nothing but incoherent wailing as the poor child dove through a small gap in the barbed fence. It ripped the skin on his shoulders and face, but he didn’t care. His whole body was strangely numb as he forced himself deeper into the woods, all the screaming and yelling slowly disappearing behind him.

That had been the worst... and also technically best day of Alo’s life. The day that had granted him freedom, but also the day he lost his father. He knew his dad didn’t live a day after that, since his contributions to his escape was the equivalent to a death penalty. Alo only knew that because of what happened to his uncle, but that was the third worst day of his life, and the purple Grecken had done enough self-reflecting for the morning. He was hungry!

…

“One lame apple, two slices of filthy bread, and a swig from the river. Perfectly healthy breakfast.” The thief murmured sarcastically under his breath while he ate what was really a brunch.

He found himself walking along the river several hours later as his mind wandered. Of course, he was always aware of his surroundings, looking around frantically in case anybody saw him and his “unnaturality,” but it was good to just let himself think for a while before he had to find his next meal. Every day he would travel toward the rising sun, away from where he came from. The thief didn’t know for how long he had traveled since his escape, all he knew was that he couldn’t stop. Not until he knew he was truly safe from Ritah… his mother…

He sighed peacefully as he made his way under a bridge, the shade cooling the boiling hot sun that had eaten at him for past hour. With Alo unable to go into the water next to him, he was certainly grateful. In fact, he was so grateful that he didn’t realize the gold tracing the bricks in the construction.

“Hey! What are you doing down there?!” A deep voice shouted from the bridge he had just wandered under as he passed through to the other side. “You’re on royal ground, peasant!”

Alo looked up, surprised that his lack of focus had landed him in the sights of a castle guard. He always hated guards, they were so snotty and stuck-up and whenever they saw him, they’d chase him. One of the main nuisances that Alo had to deal with on a weekly of not daily basis.

“Oh no! I’m breathing royal air?! Fuck you!” Alo shouted back and was about to run before he realized…

“Wait… a male guard?? That NEVER happens! What kingdom am I in?!” He thought as the guard fumed red.

“I’ll have you know such things are not tolerated in Dujokah!” The, now red, grecken flung himself off the bridge and into the forest to chase after Alo who had already started sprinting to the next bridge to cross over.

“Well, I guess that’s one question answered.” Alo thought as he dashed across the bridge and into thick brush where he couldn’t be seen.

After breaking through to the other side of the bushes, the thief jumped a couple brick walls for good measure. He silenced his panting and waited, until he was certain that he wasn’t followed. Aware he could very well be surrounded by guards unbeknownst to him, the purple grecken made a beeline for the castle before him, knowing that if the guard behind him couldn’t clear the walls he just jumped, no one would be able to reach him on top of the castle.

The castle was easy to climb for the escape artist, but he realized a small flaw in his plan. Castles weren’t like huts or bars. They had sharp roofs that the thief couldn’t sit on and would likely either slide off of or pierce himself on the pointy tops. Luckily, there was a balcony just above him. After a cautious glance over the edge and realizing no one was inside the room that led out the balcony, the thief made his way onto the upper tier, just to see a dresser covered in makeup and jewels, as well as a royal bed and a whole-body mirror in the room connected to ledge.

“Shit!” He thought. “This must be a princess room! I’m so dead!”

He turned to leave but part of him whispered.

“No… get a jewel first.”

“Nah… I don’t need it.”

“Neither does the bitch who has it.”

“It’s not mine to take! I don’t take what I don’t need!”

“Come on… you know you want it.”

“No!”

“Aaaaargh.” Alo growled and simply sat on the balcony armrest, looking down at the confused guards as they searched around for him several stories below… almost ALL of them male…

“What a strange place...” He murmered.

Alo decided to look up and felt his heart skip a beat. The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon, casting an array of reds and oranges onto the valleys just below it, and a wide selection of purples that stretched across the sky, the smallest specks of stars just coming into view…

“Hello?” Suddenly came a voice, making the thief nearly fall of the ledge.

Alo spun around and saw what he thought was a princess until he took a closer look.

“WHY ARE YOUR EYES GREY?!”

“WHY ARE YOU A GUY?!”

Both shrieked at the same time and pointed at each other fearfully...

“A prince??” Alo thought as the other Grecken cautiously stepped forward.

Yes… a very… attractive… prince. The grecken had golden fur with light blue eyes and white fur in the hollows of his ears. He wore a white, golden-laced, jeweled suit accompanied by light blue tights and sashes to match his eyes, golden shoulder plates, white shoes, a golden-laced dark teal cape, and of course, his crown.

The prince looked at the stranger for a moment. Alo was a dark purple grecken with grey fur at the hollows of his ears as well as strange grey eyes. All he wore was a patchy dark blue hoodie and slightly loose jeans with bare feet gripping the railing.

“What in Seah’s name are you doing on my balcony?” He huffed after returning to the present moment.

“Okay… we got two options…” Alo thought to himself. “Tell him the truth, or fuck with him… hmmm. Let’s confuse the hell out of this bastard.”

The purple grecken suddenly grew a sly smile.

“Oh, you know. Just enjoying the view. But now I guess it’s been ruined with a royal pain giving me THAT look.” Alo pointed at the prince’s face, who seemed surprised at his sudden change in attitude. “But if you want me to leave, that’s fine.” Alo shrugged nonchalantly and jumped off the upper tier.

Unknown to the startled prince, Alo had just latched himself onto the wall below the balcony to see what he would do.

“Oh Seah!” He heard a frantic cry and footsteps rush to the edge as the strange golden grecken peeked his head over the ledge and blicked multiple times in disbelief, his mouth hanging wide open. “H-how are you doing that?” The prince raised an eyebrow, looking down at the, now smirking, hooded grecken.

“I’m just holding onto a wall! But if you think THAT’S impressive…” Alo continued to spin and flip and launch himself all over the wall, never slipping an inch. All the years of him climbing walls while dodging guard’s arrows sure had become a skill of his.

When he looked back up, he was surprised at the awe-stricken gaze he received.

“That was amazing!” The golden Grecken started to hop up and down as the boards supporting the balcony creaked slightly and dust fell from the bottom.

“Woah, there. Careful. That balcony isn’t necessarily ‘new.’” The thief slid out from underneath the structure.

“That WAS an amazing show, but I will not take orders from a peasant! You still owe me at LEAST an apology for breaking into my room, considering if you haven’t stolen anything! Even though I doubt you would, you NEED to apologize!” The prince suddenly got sassy and slightly childish, choosing to stamp his foot repeatedly to prove his point.

SNAP.

The prince opened his eyes to see a purple face looking at him with worry, but as soon as their eyes met, the stranger’s expression morphed into a cocky smile.

“Now you owe me a thank you.” He hoisted the golden one back onto what was left of the balcony.

“W-Well… I-I-I-I guess we’re even…” The prince, flustered, crossing his arms.

“I suppose I should be more thankful to meet a PRINCE instead of princess. I’d be long dead by now if I were caught in a princess’s room.” Alo shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s me. Shasta the Prince… the only prince.” The golden grecken looked down slightly with what looked like… sadness? But then it was wiped off as he turned back to the stranger, excitement taking it’s place.

“Shasta, huh?” Alo raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. Shasta the PRINCE. The HEIR, if you will. Who may you be?” Shasta tried to act mad or professional, but couldn’t help his tail wagging slightly at the thought that he was actually meeting someone outside his castle walls.

“Alo the Unwanted.” The hooded figure chuckled slightly at his own self-deprecating joke just to receive a sharp gasp from Prince Shasta.

“You aren’t unwanted! There’s got to be someone who wants you with them!” Shasta’s eyes started to look sad again. “Say… I think you’re quite cool! ... If not a little rude...”

“Really?” Alo tried to hold back a hopeful smile that was fighting its way onto his face.

“Yes!”

“Well, that’s nice to hear.” Alo suddenly realized that he had just had a full conversation with a royal heir and had given him his NAME. He was supposed to be invisible! He couldn’t go around giving his identity out to handso- STUBBORN royal blood! He had to get out of there!

“I got to get going now.” Alo, tried to hide his face as he started to climb back down the wall, afraid his newfound acquaintance would definitely give his location away to others who wanted to study or imprison him.

“Wait! A-Alo, right? Will I see you again?” The prince called out hopefully.

“N-no… I don’t think so.” Alo kept his face hidden and continued to climb down.

“Pleeeeaaase? I’ll be here tomorrow at this time!” Alo paused for a moment. Had a prince really just… pleaded for him not to leave?

“Nah. You’re not worth my time. Next time you’ll see me I’ll most likely be in shackles… farewell… Prince Shasta.”

And just like that, he was gone. Leaving a whimpering prince to morn his empty space.

“H-he’ll come back.” Shasta forced on a smile and looked into the sky that was being filled with more and more stars. The same sky he had stared at his whole life. “He’s got to come back… a-and he will. I can feel it.” He could feel doubt rising inside him like a bubble of uncertainty, but tried to ignore it as he forced back tears to smile at the beautiful sky.

“I’m not going back.” Alo repeated to himself over and over as he snuck into a closed food market, slipping his hands into small cubbies and becoming a rock whenever someone walked by, tucking into his hoodie and rolling into a ball. “I’m not going back… I’m not going back.”

Alo climbed a tree and settled into a branch and sighed to himself, frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t seem to get the prince out of his head.

“I’m going back, aren’t I?”

#ParadigmSeries

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