#light consorting with shadows chapter 4

[power-rings]

Light Consorting with Shadows

Chapter 4: Ambush (edited version)

 Author’s note: I dug through my stories on my blog, went through my drafts and decided to touch up Chapter 4. I am planning on working on chapter 5 hopefully tonight!       

                                 *I don’t claim Aurora as my own, she rightfully belongs to @e-vay !

It was a long travel to a neighboring kingdom Murasia, and after they made their way through the forest, that was worth at least two days of trekking through, then they would need to travel by boat for until they arrived on the island where the older kingdom stood strong. For years, they had yearned to become allies, and finally sign a peace treaty; that Sonic didn’t feel the need to sign because a piece of paper did not mean a thing to him. It was the actions and the fellow king’s character that mattered to him, more.

He did not travel alone. His wife came along, and with much persuasion from his daughter she tagged along with her parents – he didn’t want to bring up the fact that this dude was interested in marrying his son off to Aurora.

In the wagon, being pulled by a pair of horses Aurora was currently resting on some silk sheets, surrounded by supplies in the wagon. She the puffy clouds pass over her head, and occasionally feeling the breeze tickling her face slightly soothed her. Oh, and the fact that she was no longer restricted in Camelot. She felt free... and perhaps forgetting her role as a princess altogether, if only for a short time. Sure there were knights surrounding her and her family to secure their safety, which she merely ignored many hours ago. Lancelot might’ve been great company too if he was actually being sociable. That wasn’t the case today, the dark hedgehog was far too focused on getting to their destination instead of making small talk with the princess. It surprised her how disappointed she felt because of how distant he was being. However, this feeling was quickly ignored when she realized how she was being quite selfish simply because the knight was on duty.

There was so much she wanted to do after they reached the village. Explore, interact with the villagers, try various foods the merchants may sell there, and even if it was a fleeting thought... perhaps sneak out of the glimpse of her royal bodyguards’ view to explore outside of the village walls. There were lots of sights she desired to see. But, she had to remind herself this wasn’t a vacation of any sort.

Aurora was soon startled awake when the wagon hit a pothole, and then suddenly coming to a complete stop. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that she stars were shining brightly. She was quite shocked on how long she had been asleep. She overheard her parents talking about setting camp here, and taking a break before continuing onward. Hopping out of the wagon, Aurora gave a stretch and a yawn before meeting up with her parents. Behind her, the horses kicked at the ground, neighed and shook their heads in response a knight approached the two horses to offer them some fresh water and food, and then guided them away from the path, leaving the wagon abandoned on the side of the road. The horses ate some more grass, and some apples provided by their caretakers. Once they decided where to setup camp, which was between several trees - only a faint shine from the moon peeked through providing them some light. Aurora caught a sight of Lancelot leaning against one tree, just observing his surrounding for any sight of danger. Her attention went back to her parents  who was laying out their bedding for the night, a goodnight kiss was exchanged between them, and as she wiggled underneath her blanket she heard her father whisper to her “Goodnight, Tiny.”

Whenever Aurora tried to fall asleep again she was quickly disturbed by the sound of creatures that were more lively during the nighttime. Owls, coyote’s yelping and even wolves howling, and her father’s snoring was the most disturbing of them all. With a sigh, Aurora left her bed. As she came near the tree Lancelot had been standing before she leaned against it to support her.

Snap! Came the sound of a twig, followed by the sound of footsteps. Starling her, Aurora quickly peeked over to the left of her to notice Lancelot was approaching her. All she could see through the darkness was his crimson eyes, and the moon shining off his armor. “Princess?” He cleared his throat to make a correction to his response, “Aurora. What are you doing awake?”

“Not tired.” She answered with a shrug, “I slept the whole way here.” Lancelot nodded in understanding, and came closer to stand in front of her. Aurora gave him a challenging look, “don’t even think about it. This is my tree.”

“Oh? I don’t see your name on it.” He knew she was only teasing, so he played along. Why not? It was gonna be a long night, he might as well make it a little interesting!

Aurora frowned at him, and then glanced around to look at the ground to search for a good stick to write her name on the tree. With her hand resting on the trunk, she inched a little further away from the tree to reach down and grab the stick. She turned, her back facing Lancelot now as she carved her name into the trunk of the tree. “There! Happy now?” She heard Lancelot stifle a soft laugh, and he shook his head, taking a step closer to take the stick she carved her name with.

“Hey! Don’t carve in my- What are you carving, anyway?” Lancelot gestured for her to wait, and she stood next to him, struggling to see what he was carving into the tree. As she waited, Aurora tapped her foot impatiently until Lancelot moved aside.

“Fixed it.”

She gave him a suspicious look before checking to see what he carved into the tree. It read: “Lancelot was here first”. She turned around to face him again, “how old are you? Five?”

“Tch. Says the one who started this fight over a tree.”

“....Hmph! I bet you can’t climb it!” A wide grin spread across her face.

Lancelot glanced up to the nearest branch - which would be a huge challenge for either of them no matter how skilled they were in climbing. “Actually, I don’t think-” Before Lancelot could argue back, Aurora was already attempting to climb it. She struggled to even reach the nearest branch, she dug her nails into the bark to and pushed herself up only to lose her footing on the side of the tree when getting a tad closer to the branch. As she fell, it was all a blur until she felt two strong arms around her before hitting the ground. They looked at each other, in silence.

“Don’t you dare say it.” Aurora gave a nervous laugh, and walked away from the knight.

“Say what?”

“I told you so.”

Lancelot looked away, but that smirk didn’t go unnoticed by Aurora whatsoever. “... I was actually gonna say you lost your own bet.”

-

The following day, they were heading in the direction of the deep forest that stretched for miles and miles. There was no other route to take unless they preferred to take a boat across the borderline. It was a risky journey ahead, for the forest packed lots of traps and horrific legends that left man and women shaking. Theories of ghosts haunting were spread across the land, which lead them to believe that is why many who traveled here never returned. Instead of hesitation among the group, however. Sonic led them onward displaying no sign of fear whatsoever. This was typical of the hedgehog and everyone simply went along, trusting their leader’s intuition instead of dwelling on childish fairy tales.

For a couple hours they continued onward without stopping for a break, until the horses needed to be tended to and the canteens that had been provided for the whole group was refilled with fresh water that they gathered from a nearby stream. Some of the knights removed their helmets and poured some water on their heads to cool them off while others gathered some snacks, and found themselves a comfortable seat on the damp grass. With the soothing breeze, and their quiet surroundings it was a struggle for many to not dose off right that second. Once the horses’ restored their energy again, they kicked at the ground, and tugged at the restraints as if they were ready to take on without the group. Sonic was the first to stand up and encourage the others to get back on their feet again. They were wasting precious daylight! Every knight returned in their designated position among the group like before, but not without giving a sigh of complaint for having such a short break, yet they respected the king’s wishes and made themselves ready for the rest of the journey for the day.

Following alongside her parents, Aurora caught a glimpse of Lancelot in the corner of her eye. He was gripping his hilt of his sword awfully tight. Taking a few steps away from her parents, she quietly approached the knight and elbowed him gently. Who in turn, quickly glanced in her direction. “You’re not nervous about those ghosts, are you?”

“I have a feeling ghosts will be the least of our worries, princess.” Her eyebrows arched slightly when Lancelot was being so vague.

“That’s awfully vague... what are you nervous about then?”

It surprised him somewhat that she picked up on his body language so quickly in the first place. Yet at the same time... after being in her company more often, she could’ve caught on to many of his quirks and habits in that period of time. Is it really that obvious? No matter, Lancelot was standing his ground by completely ignoring the following question and focused on their surroundings instead. Why should he worry her with his suspicion?  

                                                         ~~~

  “Aurora?” That voice sounded all too familiar, and only few that she was close to called her by her name. Gradually that voice encouraged her to fight the pain. The princess’s eyes begun to open, blinking up at the handsome knight hovering above her. Everything was hazy. Squinting, and slowly lifting her head. “Don’t move.” The knight’s voice was soft, but stern. With a groan, she obeyed and rested her head. What in the world happened? Why did her head hurt so bad? She was bearing tons of questions that she was fearing to discover the answers to.

She rested her eyes momentarily, until she was disturbed with that throbbing pain on the back of her head, and the terrible ringing in her ears. The princess took notice that Lancelot was no longer beside her. Here in a tent, all alone. Her body ached when she moved any. Something awful had taken place, that was for sure. She called out, her voice straining. Then, she heard footsteps and a shadow came closer to her tent. Peeking in, it was the unmasked knight – Lancelot. When he discovered she was awake, he entered the tent, crouching down to her level. She raised a brow, taking in his appearance. He had a cut along his eye, and jawline. Aurora opened her mouth to speak, only to find a canteen of water presented before her. She desperately desired for some water, and so she gladly took his offer without another word.

The refreshing sips of water seemed to help gain her voice back, “w-what happened?” She watched the flame flicker in the lantern, that seemed to grow duller and duller.

It was that dreaded question Lancelot wasn’t prepared for. He felt like a failure to the royal family. However, he couldn’t hide it for too long. She would be able to figure it out soon enough. Without looking at her, the knight sighed. “We were ambushed, the other night.” Well, that clarified why Lancelot was injured. He must’ve fought hard.

Aurora lifted her gaze to watch the knight’s face, watching for a change in his expression. “Is everyone okay…?” Hell, she was surprised her parents wasn’t freaking out about her being knocked out. Other than that, she heard no commotion outside. No stirring of feet, hooves beating against the ground, just the eerie stillness of the forest.

“There was a huge number of attackers, Aurora. Some of us made it through okay, while…” The solemn tone suggested that something tragic had happened, that she was unaware of.

She swallowed thickly, and her chest tightened. “Mom and dad?” Immediately, she noticed Lancelot clenching up his fist.

“They were taken.” Their eyes met, and Aurora could’ve sworn she saw sorrow in his eyes. It was a rare sight. Of course, it made sense though. Lancelot cared a lot about her and her parents, and the very kingdom itself.

More questions filled the princess’ head. Who took her parents away, and why? “W-we have to find them!” She exclaimed with determination, although, her voice cracking with emotion did not help her sound so strong. Fighting through the pain, she slowly stood to her feet, albeit very wobbly as she did so. Lancelot was on his feet in a heartbeat, and quickly steadied her before she fell. Don’t need her bumping her head again, he thought.

“Aurora, we have to plan this out. But, first… you need medical attention. You bumped your head- “

She jerked away from him, only to stumble and almost fell out of the tent in a very unfashionable way. “N-No! They may hurt them… or w-worse!” And then, there came the tears.

The knight’s hands rested on her shoulders, and turned her around to face him. “Aurora, I will do anything in my power to get them back to safety. But, we must look at this in a realistic way.” He paused, once Aurora finally met his gaze again; shimmering with fresh tears. “I would like to remind you that your father probably has this situation well under control… in his own way. “Aurora gave a nod. She felt dizzy now. Both from the head injury and the stress of the news she just received.

                                                           ~~~

It was a bit of a risk as they took the boat to the nearby island, that was home to the Murasian’s civilization. It did not look like much from afar, but this very kingdom use to dominate most of the world until the former king had been brutally murdered. His great grandson took over, bringing peace for years to come. During King Alastair’s reign, the civilization was known for their advancement in technology, and many desired trade with them. Camelot’s civilization was the only outsider that the Murasian’s accepted as their allies, and would trade with them in the future.

They were indeed expecting the royal family to set foot on their territory, but would they be friendly when they discover that the king and queen were not with them? It would defiantly look sketchy. Lancelot took Aurora’s hand, and helped her along the shore. Not far from the shoreline, there were stone steps up ahead. Lancelot stood there, surveying the walls that protected the kingdom; feeling weary of archers that may be standing on top.

“Let me go first.” Aurora offered, stepping ahead of him. His eyes grew wide, slightly startled by such a bold move.

“No.” He grabbed her by the wrist gently, “you’re not leaving my side.”

“I can protect myself.” She stubbornly remarked, “what if they recognize-“The sound of a loud horn hurt their ears. Lancelot saw a figure on top of the towers, and he pushed himself onto Aurora, her back against the stone wall. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be hushed by the knight. She glared at him with piercing emerald eyes.

It wasn’t until they heard something from behind them. It sounded like voices, and then from the corner of Lancelot’s eye he noticed a with two passengers paddling to the shore. He cursed under his breath as begun to pick up the containers being carried on the boat, and stepped off the boat, now walking closer to the steps. One of the men noticed the two immediately. His eyes darkened, and he dropped his things. He pulled out a dagger. “State the meaning of your presence. Now.”

Lancelot gave Aurora some room, now standing in front of her. For once, the knight did not pull out his sword. He wanted to make this as peaceful as possible. Aurora needed medical help, and they needed assistance in finding the king and queen. Calmly, he stood his ground as another native came forward – who left his belongings next to the other container. “I am Sir Lancelot of Camelot. We came for your assistance.” The two Murasians looked at each other, and slowly lowered the dagger held in tightly in their grasps.

“Camelot, you say? The King Alastair was supposed to meet with King Sonic. If you say you’re with King Sonic, dare I say. Where is he now?” The taller and muscular individual stared the two down, harshly. 

“That’s why we came. My majesty and his queen was kidnapped the other night.” Their eyes grew wide, but they were still skeptical of the whole situation. The older and smaller Murasian took a step forward, “and who are you, miss?” He pointed with his dagger in the direction of Aurora.

“I am Sonic’s daughter, Princess Aurora.” It rolled off her tongue, after saying that same phrase for many years.

“Well, well. The king would be happy to see you, M’lady.” He coughed, “despite the circumstances. My apologizes. We shall take you to him, then. Perhaps he’ll even assist in your search.” Grabbing their belongings, the natives led the pair up the stairs to be welcomed to an almost ancient appearance, with a touch of modern buildings spotted here and there. Walking further down the pathway, they did not meet very many of Murasians out and about, and if they did there were some odd glances sent their way. The guards at the gate, which blocked the entrance to the castle stood upright and looked at the fellow citizens, which now Lancelot and Aurora soon learned were the ones who conducted trade with other civilizations. The youngest of the two, spoke to the guards in a hushed voice. He glanced at Aurora, gave a nod and stepped aside to open the gate. Inside the palace, they admired their surroundings. It was nice here, but it definitely wasn’t like home. Ironic how Aurora had wanted to get outside of the walls of Camelot, however, due to the situation at hand, she desperately just wanted to be back home instead... safe with her parents.

“What’s this all about?” That deep voice sounded from the walls of the palace. Immediately, the traders fell to their knees. Lancelot and Aurora did not follow along, which earned a disapproval scowl from the king. “No kneeling before my presence?” Alastair scoffed, he stepped forward. Lancelot stared him straight in the eye unmoved by his cold stare.

“You are not my king, therefore I refuse to kneel.” Such a bold move that would have cost the lives of many that spoke to him in a manner just like this.

“Is that so? Then who is your king?”

“King Sonic.” Alastair was taken aback. “That doesn’t make sense. If he’s not bold enough to face me, then we can’t settle the deal.”

“No, sir. Sonic and his queen Amy was taken while we were camping.” Everything was becoming clearer now, and Alastair’s gaze seemed to soften ever so slightly. The Princess was introduced soon after, and then Lancelot mentioned seeking medical attention for her. It wasn’t long before one of the servants came back with the middle-aged physician who took Aurora away to be examined. The rest of the evening, the knight, the king of Murasia and his son Baron talked about finding the royal couple of Camelot. They concluded that there wasn’t much that could be done, especially without any clues of who these attackers were and where they even came from. However, Alastair was willing to assist with his strongest soldiers alongside to fight whatever forces that may intervene in the couple’s safety. “Now, I want you to realize that I suspect something in return for my assistance when they are found..” He retorted, his gaze once more cold, but the knight wasn’t fazed, and stood stiff under his gaze, they quietly settled on an agreement, the King dismissed Lancelot while Alastair found his men dressed in heavy armor to discuss the plan.

                                                       ~~~

Lancelot took a quick bath, and made his way down the hallway. They were in a building connected to the palace where the physician was nearby. The other rooms sometimes housed patients with severe illnesses, but now there were only a few rooms that were currently being used. The room at the end of the corridor had been where Aurora was staying the night. The knight lightly knocked on the door, before being greeted with a soft “come in” from the princess.

“Hey.”

Aurora perked up when noticing it wasn’t her doctor, but instead it was a familiar face who wasn’t asking her a thousand questions that concerned her wellbeing. She smiled faintly. “Hi.”

Lancelot looked around the room, kind of awkward. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nope.” She seemed a bit more upbeat now that she had something to take for the pain, and a warm place to rest. She invited him to join her at the end of the bed.

“I miss being at home…” After longest span of silence between the two Aurora spoke up again. If she hadn’t, Lancelot would have been asleep by now.

Lancelot mumbled something under his breath, and rubbed at his eyes. “I can understand why.”

“Don’t you miss being at home?”

He wasn’t sure if he was making the right connections to her question. Lancelot looked at her, his brow raised slightly. Was she implying Camelot, or his home before he entered knighthood? He did not know. It was possible she was asking about his past; since there were still a lot he hadn’t told her. “…I do.”      

Aurora gave a yawn, and stretched out those stiff muscles. “It all feels like a dream, you know.” If that was so, it would be great time to wake up by now!

“It’ll be over, soon. Until then, you need your rest.” The dark knight stood to his feet, and was about to walk away until he felt her hand grasp a hold of his own. He gave it a light squeeze.

 “Please… don’t leave.”

Heat rushed to his cheeks. Sharing a bed with her? She can’t be serious! Sonic would have his head! “No we shouldn’t- “

“Okay, first of all. You have a dirty mind. Secondly,” she raised her voice slightly, showing she was frustrated that the knight jumped to conclusions. “we don’t have to share the bed. You can take that ugly couch.” Aurora grinned, pointing towards the furniture. 

Boy, did he feel stupid. “I knew that.” He frowned. Refusing to look her way until his cheeks weren’t red as a tomato. He walked away, kicked off his boots, and took off his gloves before settling down.

“Goodnight my fair knight.” She stifled a laugh, before rolling over on her side.  

 “Goodnight, m’lady.”    

“Goodnight, Lancey.”          

“Stop that.”          

Another giggle from the other side of the room, “wait! I’ve got one more I promise.” The knight gave a sigh, but waited. It was like being in the same room as her father. They were certainly two peas in a pod.

“Goodnight my- uh.” Aurora gave an awkward laugh, “I lost it.”

“I’ve noticed.” Through the darkness, Lancelot grinned wider. “Now, get some sleep Rory.” In response, Aurora snorted at his remark, when she closed her eyes slumber quickly took over her.

[downstarr]

The Consort (complete)

The Consort (11364 words) by downstar Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins, Balin (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Domestic Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Established Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Fluff, Consort Bilbo Baggins, POV Bilbo Baggins, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Misunderstandings, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Dwarf/Hobbit Relationship(s), Dwarf Gender Concepts, Dwarf Courting, Domestic Fluff, Non-Graphic Smut, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Cultural Differences, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Gentleness Series: Part 2 of The Quiet Moments - Bilbo and Thorin Summary: After a confession of their feelings, Bilbo returns to Erebor with Thorin. The great city is in the process of rebuilding, and Thorin is settling into his role as his king. Word is getting around that their king has asked an outsider - a hobbit! - to be his consort. Can their burgeoning relationship survive the pressures of kingship and cultural misunderstandings? --- This fic carries on in continuity from my one-shot The King and the Hobbit. It's part of a series of one-shots or short pieces that exist within the same continuity and in the same timeline. Check the previous fic in this collection for the story of how the two of them got together.

Excerpt:

One evening, a few weeks into his stay in Erebor, Bilbo sat hunched over a heavy metal desk, perched high on a pair of cushions, his hairy feet dangling off the edge of the chair. He’d been hard at work for hours, drafting what would one day become the first chapter of their fated quest. 

Thorin approached him from behind and set his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’m going to sleep. Join me when you’re ready. Don’t hurry on my account. Your candlelight does not bother me.” 

“Mhmm, be there soon,” replied Bilbo, his brow furrowed in concentration as he mouthed the words of the sentence he was trying to get just right. “Ah, Thorin, Thorin…” he looked up suddenly and swiveled around.

Thorin had just finished ducking out of his embroidered tunic. The flickering light of the roaring hearth set into the wall and the dim glow of the sunstones huddled up against Bilbo’s plants tossed flattering shadows across the thick muscle of his back. It also highlighted the pure white scar tissue rimmed in silver where Azog’s blade had sliced him through. Elvish medicine had saved his life, but he would always bear the mark of his nemesis and feel the wound echoed in the movement of his body. 

Thorin looked over his shoulder and lifted a brow when Bilbo called his name. “Mhmm?”

Bilbo found himself staring. He still wasn’t used to seeing the dwarven king in a state of undress, especially in so casual and intimate a moment. A physique such as Thorin’s was unknown among hobbits, which went some of the way towards explaining why Bilbo had never found a lover among his own kind. There was much more there, of course, but the physical nature of his attraction had caught him off-guard more than once since he’d found the courage to acknowledge it. 

Thorin noticed Bilbo’s wandering gaze and turned around. He made a bit of a cheeky show of leaning up against the wall next to the hearth, as if aware that the firelight did much to flatter his body. 

Bilbo swallowed, twitched his nose and tap-tapped his pen against a spare bit of paper he used to blot the ink. “Do you…” he cleared his throat, “...do you think there’s someone who could teach me Khuzdul? I should like to add some dwarvish script to my book. I’ve also heard that Smaug left the archive virtually untouched and there are many wonderful and ancient tomes that are still in good condition. But I can’t read any of them. And that…” he rapped his pen again, “... is a speeeeecial kind of torture.”

Thorin was a stoic man, capable of very subtle expressions. But the delight at hearing Bilbo’s request was immediate and obvious. He smiled, his eyes lighting up as warm as hearthfire. He crossed the great chamber to Bilbo’s side and reached out to cup his cheek. “I will send for a scholar from the Iron Hills to be your tutor. You will have the advantage of learning under a master of languages.” 

“That’s really not necessary. I can muddle along with some references and a helper. I don’t want you to go to a lot of trouble,” Bilbo replied. He felt the tips of his ears burn red, and he was suddenly grateful for the mess of his hair and the low shimmer of light. 

[sasaranomiya]

Koukyuu no Karasu Volume 4 Chapter 1 - The Silkworm God (Part 1)

hey guys im back~~~ this chapter was supposed to come out way earlier but i got sidetracked

Previous || Index || Next

The moon sank into the sea and became two gods:

One the god of shadow, one the god of light

Eight thousand nights they spent at the sea.

The first god secluding in the black palace

The second god cavorting in the palace of the moon

And thus, one became Kakurenomiya

And the other became Sasaranomiya

Another god became the port of Kakurenomiya

This was the Great Sea Turtle God

The god had sinned, and was thus rent into eight parts

The flowing water carried them away from the palace

Its head was Jie, its arms were Bahuang, its legs were Gulu

Its carapace became canyons, its blood transformed into rivers

Its eyes became swamps, its breath became a maelstrom that called the tide

Ears of rice ripened in its rotting flesh and degenerated into seeds

The mulberry tree grows, the silkworm grows, and mankind grows

Its bones were made one once again, and the white turtle god was formed

His name was Gou-no-Kami

This god calmed the violent seas to protect ships

The descendants of these gods began

The bloodline of the white king, the emperor—

――From a ritual song of wubangs

There were bundles of raw silk packed in a wooden box in front of Banka. The milk-colored raw silk, resembling morning mist, had a moist luster. Her father, Chouyou, had sent her some of the finest raw silk from Ga Province.

Ga Province’s raw silk was considered to be of the highest quality in the nation of Shou. The province’s sericulture industry began with the silkworms brought by the Saname clan when they migrated here from Kakami, and it had the reputation it developed today after Chouyou devoted himself to selectively breeding the silkworms. Banka had been taking care of the silkworms since childhood under his orders. Spring silkworms, summer silkworms, autumn silkworms, late-autumn silkworms…everyday, she picked mulberry leaves, fed them to the silkworms, cleaned, moved the place where they made their cocoons during their maturing period, sorted them based on their shells after they became cocoons, and repeated that year after year.

Banka liked listening to the sound of the silkworms eating mulberry leaves. When she sat in a corner of the cocoonery and listened closely to the sound of silkworms feasting on the leaves, she felt calm as if being enveloped in gentle rain. It was the sound of life itself.

That was why, when she watched the sorted cocoons being boiled in hot water and their threads taken out, she felt a cold shadow in her heart. The sound of boiling water was the sound of life being torn away. However, the threads spun in this way shined coldly and was above all beautiful.

Whenever the silk slid over her skin, there was always a blue-black chill, like a winter shade.

Banka picked up a bundle of raw silk from the box.

The bundle was tied with paper. Banka stuck her finger in there. Unscrupulous merchants would cheat the weight by rolling in lead or scrap iron into the bundles. Of course, there were no such tricks in packages from her father, but there were other tricks. Banka’s finger felt for the paper string pasted to the back of the paper. Unlike ordinary letters, letters he didn’t want other people seeing were always delivered in this way. She removed the paper string and opened it carefully. A short sentence written in her father’s handwriting was on the thin strip of paper.

“Don’t get involved with the Raven Consort.”

Banka’s breath caught.

Why?

Her father’s written orders never contained reasons. Banka simply obeyed his words. That was why she informed him about everything that happened in the inner palace, and let him know how the emperor looked whenever she was near him. She could do these things only because she thought it was for the best interests of her father, and by extension, the Saname clan.

That was why she wrote about Jusetsu’s secret in her letter. The fact that she hid the color of her hair.

She told him the secret of Jusetsu, who saved her life, who she even wanted to be friends with.

After much hesitation, she weighed Jusetsu and her father, and in the end, Banka chose her father.

She didn’t know why her father, who knew Jusetsu’s secret, ordered her “not to get involved with her.”

However, she didn’t need to be ordered to do that. She didn’t know what kind of face she should make when she saw Jusetsu from now on. They could no longer be friends.

Banka stroked the raw silk. It was cool, but she felt a heat that bounced off her hand as she stroked it. It was the heat of life. Of harvested life.

I’m sure I don’t hold a heat like this.

Banka recalled the sorting of cocoons. It was the work of sorting the good cocoons from the bad ones. Among the bad ones, there was the so-called dead cocoons. The moth had died inside the cocoon and it rotted. A rotten, mushy cocoon.

I’m the same as them.

Unbeknownst to anyone, I rotted on the inside, and now I’m dead on the inside…

“I heard that there’s a ghost in the cocoonery.”

Jiujiu didn’t talk about that rumor until nightfall. As the weather got cooler day by day, the sun set earlier. As usual, Yamei Palace was quietly plunged into darkness without any of the lanterns lit. The sound of insects could be heard in the distance. The only people in the room were Jusetsu and her attendant, Jiujiu. Even though Jusetsu told her it was fine, Jiujiu stayed up with her until late at night. This was because of the guests who visited the Raven Consort at night. They relied on the black-clad consort would accept any request from searching for lost items to curse killings, so the people of the inner palace hid away from prying eyes in the darkness of the night and came here.

“Where?” Jusetsu asked back at the unfamiliar words.

“The cocoonery. It’s the place where the silkworms are raised.”

“There was something like that in the inner palace?”

“Apparently, there is a mulberry grove north of Hakkaku Palace. It’s located there. It was also there during the previous dynasty and the reign of the emperor before the last. The previous emperor’s wife disliked silkworms, so the cocoonery was demolished, but His Majesty built a new one. You see, the Crane Consort’s family runs a thriving sericulture business.”

“Banka’s family…the Saname clan?”

“Yes. The cocoonery was built for the Crane Consort. Apparently, she also helped raise silkworms back home. It’s the palace ladies of the Hakkaku Palace who work in this cocoonery, though.”

This is where we come to the main topic, Jiujiu said.

“People are saying that it’s haunted.”

“Oh? Is it a silkworm ghost?”

“No, it’s the ghost of a palace lady.”

According to Jiujiu, this was the story.

During the previous dynasty, there was a palace lady who worked in the cocoonery. One time, she accidentally stepped on a silkworm and killed it. But she kept silent without confessing her crime. After all, she would be punished if she did. That night, however, she suddenly began to suffer in pain and started to vomit silk from her mouth. The raw silk kept coming out without ever ending. Her body wasted away as more silk came out. When one of the palace ladies hurriedly cut the silk with a pair of scissors, she collapsed and died. Her hair had become white like raw silk.

“It’s the silkworm’s curse,” Jiujiu said fearfully and pressed her hand to her cheek. Jusetsu tilted her head to the side.

“Then is that not a story about a palace lady who was cursed and killed? I don’t believe it has to do with the ghost.”

“That’s where the story begins, Niangniang. The ghost of the palace lady who died from this curse is said to haunt the cocoonery. It’s said that she would appear there from time to time and take care of the silkworms while mixed in with the other palace ladies. She blends into the group while no one is paying attention, and once someone realizes that she’s there, she disappears. They say that she also showed up during the reign of the emperor before the last. The cocoonery didn’t exist during the previous reign, so it seemed that she never appeared, but—”

“After the cocoonery was rebuilt, the ghost appeared again.”

“That’s right, Niangniang,” Jiujiu nodded deeply.

“She didn’t seem to have harmed or cursed the other palace ladies, but the Hakkaku Palace palace ladies are terrified.”

“Did you hear that from them?”

“No, from a palace lady at Enou Palace. I heard it when I went there to get scrap paper for Ishiha’s writing practice.”

Yamei Palace’s boy eunuch, Ishiha, was currently learning to read and write, and he needed all the paper that he could get. That was why they asked for scrap paper from many people.

Every palace had chatty palace ladies, and Jiujiu gathered gossip whenever she went on such errands. She got useful information, as well as trivial ghost stories.

“If it didn’t come from the people involved, then there is no way to know how true it is.”

“Shall I ask a palace lady from Hakkaku Palace, then?”

“You need not go that—” Jusetsu stopped and looked at the doors. Xingxing the golden bird was flapping its wings. They had a visitor.

“Niangniang,” the voice that came from the other side of the door belonged to her bodyguard eunuch, Onkei. “I’ve brought a palace lady who got lost in the woods.”

Yamei Palace was surrounded by a lush forest of laurels and rhododendrons. The forest, which was dim even during the day, was even darker at night when the moon was covered with clouds like today. One could lose their way if one wasn’t careful.

When the doors opened, Onkei brought with him a petite palace lady who had an anxious expression on her face. She knelt in front of Jusetsu and bowed. Onkei went back outside after saying, “Tan Kai will slack off immediately if you take your eyes off him.” Tan Kai was her other bodyguard eunuch. Contrary to the taciturn and austere Onkei, he was chatty and often lazy.

“Lady Raven Consort, I have come to ask you for a favor.”

After saying that, the palace lady prostrated herself in front of Jusetsu as kowtowing towards her. Her feeble voice sounded strained. She seemed to have an urgent request.

“I cannot hear you very well from there. Come here and sit down.”

Jusetsu pointed to the chair across from her. The palace lady stood up, looking somewhat puzzled, and hesitantly walked over.

“Your name?” Jusetsu asked bluntly.

“My family name is Nen, and my given name is Shuuji. I belong to Hakkaku Palace, but I mainly work in the cocoonery.”

Jusetsu met eyes with Jiujiu, who was standing next to her. She knew that even without going to Hakkaku Palace, if something really happened, someone would come here. But she never expected them to show up at such a convenient time.

“Is there a ghost haunting the cocoonery?”

“You knew about that, Lady Raven Consort?”

As expected of the Raven Consort, Shuuji said in awe, but Jusetsu corrected her. “No, I merely overheard the rumors.” It would be troublesome if people thought she could read minds.

“I heard that it’s the ghost of a palace lady.”

“Yes. Apparently, it’s the ghost of a palace lady who died from the silkworm’s curse in the previous dynasty.”

Shuuji’s story about the ghost was the same as the rumors Jusetsu heard from Jiujiu.

“Before I knew it, that ghost was in the cocoonery. When I was carrying the mulberry leaves and feeding the silkworms, I was so busy that I barely even glanced at all the palace ladies’ faces. Then, when I suddenly looked up, I saw an unfamiliar palace lady giving mulberry leaves to the silkworms. I cried out in surprise, and she suddenly disappeared. There are others who had seen her besides me.”

Shuuji said that since, the ghost had often appeared in the cocoonery.

“But if that was all, I wouldn’t have come here to consult you, Lady Raven Consort. Taking care of the silkworms is a busy job, so we honestly don’t have time to worry about one or two ghosts. She appears suddenly and disappears just as suddenly, and she’s harmless, so everyone soon got used to her. We were more focused on successfully raising the silkworms and making them into good cocoons.”

But then…Shuuji’s face clouded over.

“Someone has been harmed?”

Shuuji nodded. “Yes. But no one has been sick or injured. No, it’s more worrisome than that.”

With a pale face, she lowered her head.

“Worrisome?”

“Cocoons have gone missing.”

Jusetsu was somewhat disappointed. “That’s worrisome?”

“It’s very important to us. The silkworms raised in that house belong to the Crane Consort, and by extension, His Majesty. We must not let even a single one die in vain, much less letting them go missing.”

“How many are missing?”

“Two as of now.”

“How do you know that only a few have been lost? You must be raising a lot of silkworms in the cocoonery.”

“It would be almost impossible to tell when they are larvae, but when they are matured silkworms, that is, ready to make cocoons, they are moved to a cocoon-making area made of straw called the cocoon holders. We put one silkworm in there each morning, so we would know if the cocoons that have formed there are missing. The missing cocoons were the ones that had been completed and all that remained was to remove the fluff, but yesterday, when we suddenly took our eyes off them, they were gone…”

“Are you saying that’s the work of the ghost?”

“Of course, at first, we thought that maybe they had fallen out of the cocoon holders for some reason, so we searched not only the floor, but also the entire room. We even searched the palace ladies’ clothing. But we couldn’t find them. In the midst of all this, one palace lady mentioned something. She said that the ghost had appeared right before the cocoons went missing. She thought it was the aforementioned ghost, so she let her be, just like everyone else… I have never seen the ghost take a cocoon, but there is no other way. After we entered the house, no one left until the loss was discovered. Even so, the cocoons weren’t found in the room or the clothing. So it cannot be that one of us took them. In the first place, we are the ones who will be punished if a cocoon goes missing, so there is no way one of us would do something like that.”

“Indeed, your logic is sound,” Jusetsu nodded.

“Because the cocoons have yet to be collected, the cocoon numbers haven’t been reported to the Crane Consort yet. So, we all decided to claim that the cocoons died. …Um…”

Shuuji glanced at Jusetsu.

“I won’t tell the Crane Consort.”

After Jusetsu said that, Shuuji looked relieved and continued talking.

“However, if the ghost appears again and takes more cocoons…starting tomorrow, we will have to collect the finished cocoons. After collecting them and sorting them into good cocoons and bad, if some of the good ones disappear, it will all be over. They are counted, so we can’t cover it up.”

Punishment would then await them. That was why Shuuji called it worrisome.

“The ghost of a palace lady who died after being cursed by the silkworms is now taking their cocoons…” Jusetsu murmured.

“Even if you cover up the loss this time, it would difficult to do it again in the future.”

“Yes. In the Crane Consort’s cocoonery, we raise silkworms three times in spring, summer, and autumn. I feel my body wasting away when I think of the possibility of this happening again.”

Shuuji covered her face with her sleeve. Hmm, Jusetsu pondered.

“If it really is the work of ghosts, then we would be one step behind if we take our time investigating the ghost’s circumstances. For the time being, I can create a barrier in the cocoonery to prevent the ghost from appearing…”

“Can you really do that?” Shuuji raised her head.

“I cannot say anything unless I see the ghost.”

“Yes, by all means, please go ahead.”

Shuuji looked overjoyed enough to clasp Jusetsu’s hands, but her expression immediately darkened again.

“Lady Raven Consort, I have another problem.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the missing cocoons. If it’s true that they are completely gone, then it’s fine, but if the ghost took them somewhere else, that would be a problem.”

“Why?”

“The silkworms in that house are Ga Province silkworms. They are not local. In the event that those silkworms emerge and cross-breed with wild or domestic silkworms in this area, that will cause great problems. It will ruin their breed.”

“Ah…I see.”

Problems like that exist? She thought

“Then, do you want me to find the location of the cocoons?”

“The moths emerge from their cocoons after about ten days. We have to find them before that…”

Shuuji covered her face. She seemed overwhelmed by this sudden disaster.

“I think it would be a good idea to explain the situation to Banka—the Crane Consort. I don’t think she would give you a severe punishment.”

“…That may be true for the Crane Consort, but…” Shuuji trailed off and looked down. “Her father…”

“Banka’s father? The head of the Saname clan?”

“Yes…” Shuuji’s gaze wandered. “The Crane Consort’s father is very strict, and she cannot go against him. If he tells her to hand down a strict punishment, she will obey him.”

He’s the man who told Banka to choose between her own life or the life of her adopted sister.

The Saname clan was cursed by a god to have the youngest daughter of the clan head to die at fifteen. In order to circumvent that, a girl younger than Banka was adopted into the clan. Banka begged her father to save her sister, but he told her that she herself should choose to die instead if that was the case. As a result, the adopted daughter died, and Banka lived. Jusetsu wondered what kind of man Saname Chouyou was for forcing his daughter to make such a choice.

Shuuji covered her mouth with her sleeve.

“I’ve said too much. Please forget it.”

Jusetsu promised to go to the cocoonery tomorrow, and then Shuuji left.

“The Crane Consort seems to be an easygoing person, but her father is very strict. Even the palace ladies are afraid of him,” Jiujiu, who had been standing by in silence, opened her mouth like she couldn’t wait to speak. “The behavior of a consort will probably reflect the inclinations of her family to some extent…”

Jusetsu turned her face to the window. She couldn’t see Hakkaku Palace from here.

If Banka—Hakkaku Palace was at the will of Saname Chouyou, that was something to think about.

Koushun probably already knows about it.

The face of the inscrutable young emperor appeared in her mind. Neither his consorts nor their families were something for Jusetsu to worry about. From the start, the Raven Consort had nothing to do with the outside.

“…”

Jusetsu narrowed her eyes at the melting darkness of the night outside the window.

A lush green mulberry grove could be seen on the other side of Hakkaku Palace.

“Is that it?” Jusetsu muttered. “Yes, niangniang,” Onkei answered from behind her. He was accompanying her to the cocoonery this morning.

“The mulberry grove has been around since the previous dynasty, and it was still maintained even when there was no cocoonery.”

“Why are silkworms raised in the inner palace?”

“It’s more the imperial palace rather than the inner palace. There is also a cocoonery in the outer court. They say that breed improvement and research are being conducted there. Originally, raw silk for the emperor and imperial family were produced there.”

“So, the cocoonery in the inner palace is for the consorts?”

“Yes. I heard it used to be quite large.”

Since Onkei said that, Jusetsu imagined a small hut. However, the cocoonery that appeared before her was quite a respectable building. It certainly didn’t have the magnificence of a consort’s palace, but it had three buildings roofed with blue-glazed roof tiles, and it was encircled with mud roof walls. From the front building, they could hear the sounds and voices of the palace ladies busy at work, and in the back building, they could see eunuchs coming and going with bundles of firewood.

“The mulberry storehouse is in the back, and the cocoonery is in the front.”

Onkei explained. He was sent here as a spy on Ei Sei’s orders, so he knew most of the things here, which was helpful. He was a beautiful eunuch with cool eyes and a single scar running across his cheek. He was a skillful guard, but he was also a very capable servant, with his attention to small details, a shadow-like unassumingness in all things, and his efficiency in carrying out tasks.

Jusetsu headed for the building in front. Before she could climb the steps, the doors opened and a palace lady hurried out. It was Shuuji.

“My deepest apologies for not noticing your arrival, Lady Raven Consort. I was watching the outside, but I thought you were a eunuch…”

“That’s fine. It would be unfavorable to me if I were recognized from a distance.”

In order to not be recognized by Hakkaku Palace, Jusetsu came here dressed as a eunuch. It really was convenient. Although Jiujiu, who wanted to dress her up, complained about it.

Jusetsu peered into the cocoonery and saw that the palace ladies seemed to be collecting cocoons. When they heard that the Raven Consort was here, they stopped what they were doing, got onto their knees and bowed.

“Continue your work. Other people will suspect something.”

The palace ladies obediently returned to work. There were rows of shelves and long tables, and on top of the tables, there were bellows-shaped objects woven from straw. When she saw the cocoons hanging from them, she thought that they must be the tools called cocoon holders that Shuuji talked about last night. The palace ladies removed the cocoons and placed them on trays.

“Right now, we’re collecting cocoons. After this, we will remove the fluff stuck to them and separate them into good ones and bad ones. The difference is whether or not they are suitable for turning into thread or not. Double cocoons consisting of two silkworms becoming one cocoon, thin cocoons, cocoons with holes, cocoons with rotting dead moths inside, cocoons soiled with urine and other bodily fluids, cocoons with marks left from the holders…they will all be removed,” Shuuji explained. “Furthermore, the good cocoons are divided into those that will be used to make thread, and those that will be made to emerge to lay eggs. The thread will be offered to the Crane Consort, and after that, she will present them to His Majesty.”

“Once the good cocoons are selected, not a single one of them will be lost, right?”

Yes, Shuuji lowered her eyes. In other words, there could be no deferment. Jusetsu put her hand to her hair and realized that she didn’t have her usual flowers there. Even though she dressed as a eunuch often, she kept forgetting about it.

She held her hand out forward and gathered heat in her palm. A light crimson haze flickered, tangled, and intertwined. The haze transformed into petals, one by one, and formed a peony flower. Jusetsu blew on it.

The flower turned into smoke and scattered. It floated around, swimming between the palace ladies.

The pale red smoke gradually gathered in one place and began to take the form of a person. It was the figure of a woman. A simple hairpin was tucked into her chignon, and her pale, slender face had well-shaped eyebrows that looked as if they were drawn with a brush and thin-lidded eyes. The long robes that enveloped her thin body weren’t in the current fashion, but her modest yet elegant appearance gave her the look of a court servant.

Shuuji let out a small cry and covered her mouth with her sleeve.

“T-That’s the ghost of the palace lady I saw!”

The other palace ladies had also stopped what they were doing and stared wide-eyed at the ghost.

The ghost suddenly moved amidst those stares. She soundlessly went towards the door. Jusetsu leaned back halfway and made way for the ghost. The ghost disappeared as though sucked into the door.

She went outside.

“L-Lady Raven Consort—”

“We’re going after her,” Jusetsu interrupted Shuuji and called out to Onkei. He quickly opened the door.

When they went outside, they saw the ghost from behind about to leave through the gate. Jusetsu followed her. There were no sounds of foodsteps or rustling of clothes, but the ghost’s gait was similar to that of the living. What was different was that the hem of her robes didn’t flutter and her sleeves didn’t sway. If such ghosts were to simply stand still among the palace ladies, even the people next to them wouldn’t realize that they were ghosts. Among the many courtiers in the inner palace, there might be ghosts mingled in with them, pretending to be the living.

The ghost left the cocoonery and headed further north. That was the outskirts of the inner palace. It was a neglected area with unkempt, overgrown trees, and there was no one in sight.

Jusetsu, who had been chasing the ghost, came to a slightly open space and stopped. There was something like a small burial mound covered in dense moss and grass there. The ghost had stopped in front of it. The sun shined down on the mound, and the moss glistened faintly. As they watched, the ghost seemed to melt into the mound and disappeared.

What is this mound?

It couldn’t belong to the ghost. It was difficult to imagine that a mere palace lady’s burial mound would be located inside the inner palace.

“Whose mound is this?”

She turned back to Onkei, but even he had a rare unknowing look on his face.

“I shall look into it.”

“Please do so.”

After that brief exchange, Jusetsu looked around. The area was surrounded by trees. There were old trees with ivy entwined around them, young trees lush with leaves, and trees that had already rotted and fallen. It was quiet. Judging by the trampled undergrowth, it seemed that it wasn’t completely unvisited by people. Did they come here to visit the mound? After checking the surroundings, Jusetsu returned to the cocoonery.

Shuuji was standing alone in front of the room from earlier, looking like she had nothing to do. Apparently, the other palace ladies moved to another room to remove the fuzz from the cocoons.

Jusetsu told her about the ghost disappearing into the mound, but Shuuji didn’t know anything about the mound either. In fact, this was the first time she heard about it.

“The outskirts of the inner palace are frightening, and as a woman, I can’t go there unless I have serious business…”

That did seem to be true.

“It would be easy to keep that ghost out of the cocoonery, but…” Jusetsu cut herself off there and pondered for a bit. That wasn’t enough. The cocoons must be found.

“I ask for your assistance,” Shuuji bowed to her. Jusetsu wasn’t a god, so being begged like this made her extremely uncomfortable.

“…Very well. I’ll create a barrier for now. Then I’ll see what I can find out about the mound.”

She took out a spindle wound with thread from her breast pocket. She went out to the outer corridor and asked Onkei to hold the end of the thread, then ran it along the floor, making a circle around the cocoonery. Finally, the barrier was created once she tied the ends together. It was a spell she used many times before. It wasn’t the Raven Consort’s spell, but a sorcerer’s spell.

She had learned it from Reijou, the previous Raven Consort, but in the previous dynasty, when sorcerers were able to frequent the inner palace, this kind of work was probably their job. They must have been valued.

No, it probably went beyond that.

She recalled the words of Ui, the keeper of the treasure room.

It was for protection against Wulian Niangniang, just in case

He told me that he couldn’t feel safe without the power to fight back…

There was probably a good reason why sorcerers were so highly regarded during the previous dynasty.

“Avoid stepping on the thread as much as possible. Though, as long as it doesn’t break when you step on it, it doesn’t matter.”

After giving Shuuji those warnings, Jusetsu left the room. The palace ladies were waiting outside, and they all knelt upon seeing her. Jusetsu was perplexed.

“Thank you very much, Lady Raven Consort.”

“I didn’t do much. Don’t make it to be more than it is. You were the ones who said that it would be all of you in trouble if outsiders learn about it.”

Even so, the palace ladies didn’t rise until Jusetsu passed through the gate. It seemed that the palace ladies of Hakkaku Palace held the Raven Consort in particular reverence, especially after the incident in which she saved Banka. Despite the fact that she really hadn’t done much.

 “And there’s also the cocoons…”

After leaving the cocoonery, Jusetsu stopped once and looked back. The gentle green of the mulberry trees shone in the morning sun. Here and there, there were sections where branches had been cut, probably for feeding the silkworms.

I’m good at looking for lost items, but…

It was different when it came to cocoons. Because they had no owner. Tracing lost items from their owners wasn’t difficult. However, cocoons were…

“Onkei,” Jusetsu called out to him while still looking at the mulberry grove. “In addition to the mound, there is something I want you to investigate.”

Yes, came his short reply.

Previous || Index || Next

[casspurrjoybell-31]

The Consort's Will - Chapter 4 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Finn

I clutch the duffle bag to my chest as Brayden races through the endless, frigid terrain.

Cold wind slaps against my face, its fingernails of ice scraping against the soft flesh of my cheeks.

Everything burns.

I try to cover myself more with my jacket but it just as quickly falls again.

My eyes water when I try to spot Leo behind us.

He's keeping up, barely, with his electronic motorcycle.

He must have done work on it before he started using it in the war, though.

What was once a soft purr has now dissipated to silence.

No wonder Brayden never heard him approaching.

I close my eyes and lean into Brayden's chest.

This is the fastest we've ever traveled.

Granted, he has a slightly smaller load since Leo offered to take the tent on the back of his bike but to me it feels like we're moving way too fast.

Hours pass.

The cool shadows of the evening give way to morning... and eventually the soft hues of morning change into the deep, rich tones of the evening.

My stomach grumbles.

I swallow down a dry mouthful of saliva and gently tug on Brayden's arm.

He immediately comes to a stop and glances down at me with bright, red eyes.

"Mind if we stop for food?" I ask.

Brayden nods and gently sets me on my feet.

My arms feel stiff from holding onto the bag so tightly and they ache with protest as I retract them away from my body.

Because the two of us travel as much as we do, we came up with our own system.

Instead of Brayden wasting time stopping every hour to see if I need any breaks, I told him any time I needed to stop I'd just tell him.

It's worked out well so far but today I went well past my hunger marker.

But I did it for Brayden.

After hearing that Mark's group was following behind us yesterday, I knew that Brayden would want to create as much space as possible between us and them.

So I let him.

I groan slightly as I take the first few steps.

To my surprise, the stinging cold I expect to feel is gone.

Completely.

In its place, a gentle breeze softly moves along the contours of my face, urging me out of my thick winter coat.

"It's warm," I say, turning to Brayden with a grin.

"How far did we get?"

Leo's silent motorcycle sidles up beside the two of us.

He pushes the kickstand into place and yanks his riding goggles away from his face.

A red line has formed around the edges of his eyes and he grimaces with pain as he hoists himself off the bike and into a standing position.

A few strands of his blonde hair fall in his eyes and he pushes them away while slowly walking towards us.

"We done for the day?" he calls out to Brayden.

Brayden walks alongside me.

He retrieves the map from his breast pocket and tosses it to Leo.

"We're in Criston," Brayden states coldly, ignoring Leo's question.

"Locate the nearest place where we might find food."

Leo catches the map and cocks a brow in surprise.

Brayden's tone is commanding and even.

There's no room for argument.

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, hoping that Leo doesn't try to argue.

My history professor narrows his eyes.

His gaze shifts over to me and I know there's a pleading look in my eyes.

If he says anything to push Brayden, it will be reason enough for a fight to ensue.

I know Brayden doesn't trust Leo yet.

I'm not sure I do, either.

But fighting isn't the answer... especially when Brayden and I need all the help we can get.

Leo works his jaw tighter as he slowly unfolds the map.

He holds it up to the light, tilting his head to study the various notes he left for himself the night before.

"If we just travel about twenty more minutes east, we'll hit..."

"Drop it and put your hands in the air. Now," an unfamiliar voice comes from behind us.

Brayden twirls around before the either of us get the chance.

A woman standing a good fifty yards away has a gun cocked and ready to shoot.

Directly at me.

My heart slams against my chest.

Obediently I raise my hand and everything else around me becomes lost.

She's going to shoot me.

Blood pounds against my ears and I swallow down tears of trepidation as they burn my throat.

How did she approach us without Brayden hearing?

How did she approach us without Brayden smelling her scent?

But as the woman grins slowly, I notice the tips of fangs pushing past her lips.

Her brown eyes show no remorse as she takes a step towards us.

She's not a fully a vampire but she's not a human either.

She's a Secondary.

[thetomorrowshow]

drunk with stagnant breath - ch. 4

Prologue - Previous - Next

plot things are happening!!

cw: blood, abusive relationship, corrupted!scott

~

CHAPTER 4: in which memories are remembered and unremembered again

The bright light hurt his eyes, but Jimmy pretended that it didn’t. If he made any sort of sign that he was uncomfortable, Scott would usher him back inside without a word. And while he loved when that happened, because Scott would coo and fuss over him and cuddle with him for a long time, Jimmy . . . hadn’t properly been outside in quite a while. Ever since he’d been back to the Cod Empire, actually, which was hazy and far away in his memory. He couldn’t guess how long it had been, but long enough that he wasn’t at all prepared for the wind or sunlight that hit him when he stepped outside.

The air was crisp and cold, light flakes of snow drifting by, but Jimmy hadn’t thought to grab his heavy coat before leaving. Scott always rolled his eyes when he grabbed it, anyway. He was wearing something that used to belong to Scott, he thought, cyan and light grey making up ornate robes that dragged on the ground behind him with sleeves that fell past his fingers. He tripped over them in his effort to keep up with Scott, who strode regally down the winding streets of Rivendell.

Scott paused, an amused smile playing upon his lips as Jimmy stumbled to catch up, anklets and bracelets jangling.

“Am I going too fast, flower boy?” he asked, and Jimmy felt his fins heat. Flower boy was a new nickname—not that he minded it. It felt homey.

An elf hurried by, eyes turned away. Jimmy sucked in a breath. He knew what was going to happen next—one didn’t ignore Scott so easily. In a flash, Scott’s face was thunderous, beautiful black eyes turned to smoldering lumps of coal.

“Bow to your king and his consort,” he demanded. The elf froze, backed up to face them, then slowly bowed, one knee on the ground as he inclined his head. Before he could raise it, Scott had placed his boot on the elf’s head, pushing down until he had to reposition his legs and his nose touched the ground. Jimmy watched passively. Once upon a time, he might have argued with Scott, or at least felt sympathy for the elf. Now he felt nothing, nothing but devotion. This person deserved to be punished, just as Jimmy did when he made mistakes.

“You do not defy me again,” Scott said, his voice low and deadly, “or your whole family pays. How long can you withstand watching your husband and daughter experience the corruption? How long until you beg for mercy while tentacles spurt from their mouths and tar drips from their eyes?”

Scott’s voice was echoing, shadowed by a deeper growl, and Jimmy shivered. Scott only used that voice with him when he was particularly angry, whether at him or at other empires. Either way, Jimmy paid for it. He’d been left broken on the floor, barely able to breathe, last week after an alliance meeting that hadn’t gone to Scott’s plans.

Jimmy blinked and the citizen was gone, Scott looking very self-satisfied. “How about a trip to the bees, darling?” he suggested, voice returned to normal. Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. He loved the bees! And he loved Scott! They were going to visit all of the Archie-bees together, as a date, and he couldn’t be any happier.

Scott wheeled them around, back up the main street of Rivendell. Rivendell was quiet these days, shops abandoned left and right, only the occasional elf in the streets, always with hoods pulled up to guard from the heavy wind and the lightly falling snow, hurrying along to their destination with no time for dallying. Those who were caught in the path of Scott fell to their knees, staying bowed until Jimmy had passed.

They were halfway to the apiary when a distant explosion rocked the mountain.

Scott’s head whipped up, turning this way and that, the surprise on his face gradually morphing into a dark scowl. In a sudden move, he grabbed Jimmy by the shoulders, who yelped as he shoved him up against the nearest building.

“Stay put,” he commanded, then, in a flurry of snow and sweep of his wings, he had taken off.

The town was silent.

Jimmy didn’t really know what just happened.

Everything had been fine, lovely, normal—then Scott was gone and Jimmy was alone in unfamiliar streets. Scott had told him to stay put, so he was going to stay put. He was going to stand alone against this wall and not see the bees and not go home, because then he would be disobeying Scott and he couldn’t do that, he loved Scott too much to ignore his instructions.

So there Jimmy stood, as the snowflakes that fell around him slowly became larger and heavier, the bright sunlight became clouded over with grey, and his feet in their soft elven boots became buried in snow.

He pulled his thin garments closer around himself, wishing that he had Scott’s big woolen cloak. Sometimes, on the coldest evenings, Scott would light a fire in their fireplace and wrap his cloak around Jimmy’s shoulders and give him a cup of hot cocoa, then cuddle up close to him and read while Jimmy reveled in the warmth of his love.

He wanted that warmth so badly now.

Jimmy didn’t know how long he stood there before he realized that he couldn’t feel his body. Hours, maybe—the land had been growing dark for a while now, and street lamps were just beginning to flicker on. The cold had stopped biting, and a voice in the back of his mind that sounded somehow familiar whispered at him to get warmth or else he’d die.

His head felt thick and heavy, like it did sometimes after long make-out sessions of breathing in Scott’s sooty-sticky-sweet taste. He was very very very sleepy. Would he die?

Yes, he decided. Staying out here would kill him.

Would his death hurt Scott more than disobeying instructions would?

Jimmy didn’t know the answer to that. There was snow in his eyes, clinging to his bangs that had grown too long (but Scott loved to run his hands through it and pull on it so it was okay). Before he could properly come to a decision, the wind picked up quite suddenly, roaring with a ferocity that sent him stumbling inside whatever this huge, abandoned building was.

A high ceiling arched above him, cobwebbed and in disrepair, but Jimmy paid no mind to his surroundings, instead falling onto the first surface he came upon—a bench of some sort. His last thought before he passed out was a prayer, sent to whatever god was listening, that Scott would be okay in this storm.

-

Jimmy woke up in a field of flowers.

Or, rather, in a pool in the middle of a field of flowers. He kicked lazily, propelling himself around the pool in a slow circle. The sun shone warm on his face; a bee buzzed somewhere in the background. It was nice. It was peaceful.

It was lonely.

He wanted Scott.

Jimmy glanced around—mountains surrounded the field, making it a valley, really. There were two houses dug into opposite sides of the valley, creating a sense of hominess. If Scott was here, he thought suddenly, he could be happy here. It was so cute and quiet.

Maybe Scott was here. One of those houses was built with his signature cyan, and Jimmy was excited now, because maybe that’s what Scott had left him to do. He noticed how cold Jimmy was, and had a warm retreat built for them. Clumsy in his excitement, Jimmy pulled himself out of the pool and onto the banks on his stomach, already scanning the area for that dark blue hair.

As soon as his feet left the pool, as if a switch was flipped, Jimmy was somewhere else. It was twilight now, and Jimmy tripped and fell into the long grass, just touched with dew. Just before him was the edge of a dark oak forest, a sapling inches from his left hand.

Where was he?

“You are not one of mine, are you?”

Where had that voice come from?

Jimmy looked up, hands slowly sinking into the ground. Stepping out of the forest, graceful as any creature, was a brilliant, golden stag. He was glowing, radiating power in a way that Jimmy had only ever felt coming from Scott.

He missed Scott so much. Why was he alone right now?

“You are not alone, Solidarity, Heir of the Ocean. I am here with you.”

The stag wasn’t moving its mouth, but the voice emanated from him, echoing against the trees and the inside of Jimmy’s head. His head was pounding. Why did it hurt so badly?

“Who . . . who are you?” he asked hesitantly.

“I am Aeor, and I see that I am mistaken. You are one of mine.”

“Aeor,” Jimmy muttered. He’d heard the name before. A long time ago, in a fog. And more recently—angrily falling from Scott’s lips as a curse, or in a dream.

“I am known as the ‘stag god’, I believe,” Aeor said, the slightest hint of a chuckle in his voice. “I am the god of the sun, child. I was worshiped here until recently.”

Jimmy stood, brushing off his knees and hands. Why would a god be speaking to him? He was nothing. He was less than nothing. He came from nothing. The only person who actually was able to care about him was Scott—he was worthless to everyone else.

Aeor made a slight noise of disapproval. “I am speaking to you for many reasons, the least of which is not your worth—nor your heritage. I knew your parent once, oceanchild. You are descended of the gods yourself.”

Was he serious? Did he expect Jimmy to believe such a far-fetched lie? “No, no I’m not,” Jimmy laughed. “There is—no. I’m just—me. Jimmy. Jimmy Smajor.”

The stag bowed its head, and Jimmy was struck suddenly by how . . . decorated its antlers were. Carvings of unfamiliar runes and shapes adorned it, set here and there with tiny, glimmering gemstones. Jimmy longed to reach out, run his thumb up and down them.

“Smajor is why I wish to speak with you, oceanchild. My brother has corrupted him.”

Jimmy’s heart skipped a beat. Scott hadn’t been gone for that long, had he? Just a couple of hours. Was he really corrupted already? What had happened? He had to find him, had to help him—

“It is not a recent development. My once champion has been corrupted by Exor—and his champion in turn—for months now. He has been affected I believe since he asked you to wed—that was the final thought I received from him before our connection was severed and my church abandoned.”

“I—I don’t understand.” Scott was normal. Scott was better than normal. There was nothing wrong with him. Literally nothing. In fact, it was rather bold of this deer to be insinuating that his husband was anything evil or less than perfect, because Scott was wonderfully, beautifully, perfect.

Somehow, this stupid stag was looking at him sadly. How were stags able to look at things sadly? Scott would know, because Scott knew everything. They didn’t even have eyebrows.

“Oceanchild, Xornoth—”

“Oh, none of this,” Jimmy said, rolling his eyes. He was sick of this. His head hurt. “First you make me worry, then you tell me that my husband, the love of my life, is evil? You can understand how I might take that personally, yeah?”

“You must—”

“All I must do is return to my husband. Thank you for your time, stag god. I would like to leave now.” With that, he turned, trying not to be too angry. Scott hated it when he was angry, even against their enemies. Said something about how it didn’t suit him, ‘even on red’. Jimmy didn’t quite understand that. He didn’t understand much of anything these days. Why did his head hurt? This was likely a dream, so none of the rest of him hurt, but his head just ached. It was a dream, right?

Jimmy waited to wake up.

And waited.

He scrunched his eyes shut, believed as hard as he could that he was awake. When he opened them, he saw twilight and mist and grass.

He did it again, this time manifesting his spirit back in that church pew so hard that he was certain he could feel it, feel the chill air biting at the back of his neck, the pounding in his entire body.

Most importantly, Scott was there. Scott was okay. And Scott was going to carry him home. Jimmy smiled, and opened his eyes.

Twilight and mist and grass.

Tears pricked at his eyes unbidden. He was so tired, and confused, and his head hurt, and he missed Scott so so much. Why couldn’t he just go home?

When Aeor spoke, it was hesitant, gentle. “Child, may I. . . ?”

Jimmy turned toward him, finding the stag quite a bit closer than before. It dipped its head close to his, a question in its eyes. Jimmy stilled obediently, eyes down. Slowly, softly, Aeor’s head pressed against Jimmy’s.

And Jimmy’s head split in half.

Flashes—a poppy, given—cows, they needed cows, everyone needed cows—he had to warn her of the salmon—perfect and beautiful but his eyes green—a scarred man with a flightless avian—with her, because of course the ocean was dangerous alone—blood dripping down the beard, and down Jimmy’s face too—he was bleeding—he was in agony—his eyes and mouth and nose all filled with blood—because he had been shot in the throat—blown to smithereens—burned in lava—he was dying, dying, dying, drowning in his own blood, screaming in anguish, everything hurt so so so bad—

Jimmy was on the ground, shaking in the cool, damp grass. The pain was fading as quickly as it had come, leaving his body with shudders and twitches, but not from his head. His head was worse than before, much worse, and as he coughed and choked, he realized that his mouth was indeed full of blood. He panicked (he was bleeding, he didn’t know from where), but probably not as much as he should have. He was used to bleeding these days.

“His hooks are deeper in you than I have the time to extract.” Aeor’s voice came from somewhere above and within. The echo of it throbbed within his head and Jimmy cried out, blood flying from his mouth. He just wanted Scott, Scott would make everything so much better.

Something light brushed his forehead and Jimmy flinched away, but instantly the pounding of his head died down to something manageable. His nose dried up, as he then realized that the blood filling his mouth had stemmed from a nosebleed.

Slowly, shakily, Jimmy gathered himself and stood, arms out for balance. The stag was close, but not so close that Jimmy felt threatened. He was tired of this. He was so tired of being here. Anything was better than here.

“I apologize for the pain, child.”

“There’s a great lot of things you ought to be apologizing for,” Jimmy bit back, spitting blood onto the ground. He hated it here. He wanted Scott. This stupid stag with his insults and pain was just wasting precious time that he oculd be spending in Scott’s arms. How could Scott have ever worshiped such a creature?

“I did not mean to upset you with my . . . rash comments. But you must believe me in this: your husband, while . . . safe . . . now, is potentially in grave danger.”

Jimmy sighed. “Are you lying to me again?”

The stag stood firm, staring into Jimmy’s soul. “I am not.”

He didn’t seem to be lying. Jimmy knew he was too trusting, but . . . the stag seemed so good. Clean, almost. Exhausting. Jimmy’s eyelids fluttered closed before he jerked them open again. He was so tired.

“There is a crystal that the Elvenking wears around his neck, am I correct?”

Jimmy nodded. He’d never seen his husband take it off. It swirled with muted reds and greys, sometimes tendrils of smoke whipping out from it when Scott was at his angriest.

“That crystal contains an illness. It will infect him and be very painful soon enough,” Aeor said. Jimmy’s stomach dropped. That couldn’t be true—could it? He couldn’t let something hurt Scott. He couldn’t imagine Scott being in pain. “In order to save him, you must remove the crystal. Do you understand?”

Jimmy understood, all right. He lived to protect Scott, to love him, to care for him. If what he had to do was get the crystal from Scott, he would do it. He would go so far as to put it around his own neck if it saved his husband.

He looked the stag directly in the eyes, searching for some shadow of falsehood. He found nothing, nothing but immeasurable age and wisdom. He had to trust the stag—there was nothing to lose by it, anyhow. The worst that could happen was nothing.

He nodded once.

Almost instantly, his knees buckled, eyes fluttering shut. The urge to sleep was overpowering, weighing down on his entire body, and as he gave in to the encroaching darkness, Aeor spoke one last time.

“Trust in me. I am with you, my oceanchild. You alone have the power to save the world.”

-

“Please, please, Jimmy, please wake up! Jimmy, I need you, I love you so much, please. I-I can’t do this without you. Jimmy, Jimmy—”

Jimmy groaned, his eyes flickering open. There was a blurry form above him, familiar even in its low definition. “Scott. . . ?”

A gasp, then hands on his cheeks, gentler than Jimmy had ever known. “You’re alive—are you okay—why is there so much blood—?”

His hands and feet tingled, bad, like pins and needles but worse. It was spreading up his legs and his arms and into his body and it hurt so much, why did it hurt—

“Shh, sh, it’s okay, what hurts?”

He was whimpering, crying, shaking uncontrollably, and he couldn’t tell Scott what was wrong because he couldn’t talk, his tongue felt so heavy. . . .

“Ohhh you’re burning up. Okay, it’s okay, oh boy—”

He was still so tired. Would Scott be mad if he took a little nap? Just long enough to forget the pain, to stop the writhing. He was used to sleeping while hurting.

“Jimmy, open your eyes. Darling, look at me. Please—please!”

Scott’s voice drifted away, and so did Jimmy.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 43

Emperor Wei WuXian And His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 

The Gifting Ceremony used to be the highlight of Wei Ying’s birthday celebration. Not so much for the gifts themselves, but for the fact that it signaled the end of the formalities, and the quickly approaching departure of all the sects.

Instead of feeling relieved, Wei Ying is tense and irritable, the upcoming banquet looming larger by the moment.

After seven long days of constantly being accosted by each and every sect leader, even those Wei Ying can ordinarily tolerate with equanimity are beginning to test his patience. 

Jin GuangShan looks far too unhappy for someone whose son had been released from the dungeon that very morning, when the brat should have rightfully remained locked up until his first gray hair appeared. Nie MingJue has been grim and distracted all day, hardly a fit company for anyone. The HeJian Fan Sect Leader is not yet well enough to participate in any ceremonies, not if he means to save his strength for the next day’s travel, and the MeiShan Yu Sect Leader has been been firmly planted by Madam Yu’s side for nearly an hour. Since they both cannot seem to help glancing at Wei Ying every few moments, he is sure that whatever they are discussing will not bode well for him in the end.  

In addition, the Council, showing themselves to be no better than a brood of gossiping hens, had not held to their promise to keep Wei Ying’s betrothal plans a secret. No one has dared speak of these things in his presence, but it is obvious that majority of the sect leaders are now aware that the Emperor had chosen his future Emperor Consort. Wei Ying supposes it was illogical to think that someone like Sect Leader OuYang could actually keep a secret. Still, he hates that Lan Zhan is now a subject of gossip and wild speculation, before he has even had a chance to accept the proposal. Worse, he is beginning to feel as if every bit of slander, every string of nonsense whispered in the corners of the palace, must be magnified by the time it reaches Lan Zhan’s awareness.    

Lan Zhan had said that he will not change his mind. He had said that he wants to marry Wei Ying. But how much drivel can one person be subjected to before deciding that the benefit is not worth the cost? How many underhanded comments from the Qin Sect Leader about his daughter’s sweet nature and refined manners will turn out to be too many? How many thinly veiled jabs about the importance of succession from the Chang Sect Leader? How many hushed whispers of the imminent anniversary of the Empress’ death, each one carrying a stark reminder of the man who had killed her?

Wei Ying thinks he has become accustomed to some of Lan Zhan’s minuscule expressions, at least well enough to know if the man is angry or distressed. But Lan Zhan is at the very end of the hall, still and silent, his uncle and brother by his side. Lan XiChen looks as tired as Wei Ying feels, and Lan QiRen looks as coldly disapproving as he always does. It is Lan Zhan whose thoughts are impossible to read from this distance, his face calm and composed, his eyes expressionless. If he is hearing the gossip, if he finds it ridiculous, or maddening, or unbearable, Wei Ying can read nothing of the sort from his countenance.  

He understands why Lan Zhan had declined his invitation to be seated by the throne during the Gifting Ceremony. The rumors are vicious enough without such an obvious display of favor. But it is unbearable, the distance between them, as if he cannot still feel Lan Zhan’s thumb pressing into his cheek, the scrape of Lan Zhan’s teeth against his bottom lip. As if they are suddenly little more than strangers.

The banquet being only hours away is even more unbearable. Lan Zhan will meet with Song Lan and uncle XingChen after the Gifting Ceremony, but Wei Ying must deal with other matters, and may not have a chance to speak to him again before the celebration starts. Before Lan Zhan willingly places himself in harm’s way.  Before Wei Ying has a chance to remind him to not take any unnecessary risks.  

HuaiSang’s fan lightly taps his knee in reprimand, and Wei Ying resists the urge to snap at him.

He may be distracted, but he is still perfectly aware of his surroundings.

The chest in front of the throne, filled to the brim with delicate spheres of imperial jade, is a gift from the LanLing Jin. Jin GuangShan has spared no expense. The man looks as if he had aged significantly in the last few days, a curse, Wei Ying supposes, of having to deal with brainless offspring. Of course, the blame for this rests entirely on Jin GuangShan, as he has had more brainless offspring, both hidden and acknowledged, than any man Wei Ying has ever met. Still, he feels a thin thread of pity for the man.

Wei Ying would wager that the seven day celebration had not come close to meeting Jin GuangShan’s expectations.

He taps his fingers against the arm of the throne, deliberating.

No matter what Wei Ying does, the next few assassination attempts are certain to be funded from the Jin Sect coffers. It does not seem to matter, whether he treats Jin GuangShan with politeness or cold indifference; the man simply believes that a world without an Emperor would be a world in which he, himself, would have a greater chance of seizing wealth and power. Still, Wei Ying would very much like to have a decreased flow of assassins while he attempts to make arrangements for his wedding.  

It is tempting to go back on his word sooner than he had planned, and permit the reinstatement of the engagement. Everyone present is very well aware that the Emperor has a soft spot for his shijie. They will easily believe that she has managed to influence him, even in such a short period of time. But he cannot reward Jin ZiXuan’s ridiculous behavior in this way, not while the other sect leaders are present.

“Sect Leader Jin,” he says instead, regretting the words even as they are leaving his mouth, “Madam Yu has expressed regret that her time with a dear friend has been cut short. You will remain at the Immortal Mountain an additional ten days, so that she may properly renew her acquaintance with Madam Jin.”

Wei Ying does not dare look over at Madam Yu. She absolutely abhors being used in such a way, but since her daughter is to become the next High Councilor, Wei Ying believes she owes him a significant favor. Jin GuangShan looks properly grateful, and perhaps a little apprehensive as well, which is a satisfying combination.

The gift from the Yu Sect is presented next, then the gift from the Nie Sect, then the Fan and Chen Sects. Wei Ying cannot begin to guess what sort of a gift the Lan Sect will present this year, but he has always felt that their gifts were selected to carry a vague message of admonishment, much like Lan QiRen’s perpetually cold expression.

One year, the Emperor had received a copy of the three thousand Lan Sect rules. They were exquisitely bound and written in a beautiful hand, but no amount of tight binding or lovely calligraphy can make three thousand rules anything but tedious. He had read them, mostly out of curiosity, but the exercise had been as monotonous as listening to Jin GuangShan’s compliments.  

Still, he has never quite anticipated the Lan Sect gifts with this much curiosity or impatience. Their gift is traditionally presented last, but Wei Ying thinks that this will be the last year the Lan Sect is forced to the bottom of the court hierarchy. By his next birthday, he should be married to Lan Zhan, and the Lan Sect will be expected to take their rightful place above all the others.

The gift from the Wen Sect is next, and Wei Ying perks up slightly at the sight of a black chest being carried forward. Wen RuoHan might be a terrible human being on his best day, and a conniving, ruthless tyrant on his worst, but the man has an eye for striking oddities. The gifts that had come from the Wen Sect over the years have been more bizarre than explicitly valuable, never failing to entertain the entire court. One such gift, an enormous, thin slate of cloudy water jade, had found its permanent residence in Wei Ying’s chambers. Depending on the angle of the sun rays reflected off its surface, the slate would depict shadows of birds in flight, folding ocean waves, and on one memorable occasion, two small rabbits chasing each other across the white expanse.

Wei Ying is on his feet before the chest is even opened for his inspection, fully expecting to be enthralled with its contents. Still, despite being surprised each year, the gift takes him off guard.

It is a sword.

Heavy and long, its pommel vaguely constructed in the shape of a leaping tiger, it holds a greater resemblance to the sabers more often used by the Nie Sect, than the cultivator swords Wei Ying is accustomed to handling. Its surface is inky black from its tip to the hilt, a black so deep that it seems to feed on the light around it, creating shadows where none should exist. It is both beautiful and ghastly at once, and Wei Ying cannot seem to look away.

Never before has the Wen Sect sent him a weapon, and his mind is already full of possible implications. He believes that he has reached a favorable agreement with Wen RuoHan, and that the man would find no benefit in going back on his word. The gift was sent before the agreement had been made. Therefore, it could signify the beginning of the rebellion that Wei Ying has managed to avoid, or it could signify Wen RuoHan’s intention to remain a sword in the hand of the Emperor, as long as it suits his purpose.

It is odd, but he cannot escape the impression that the sword should be hot to the touch. Steel is always cold, except in the midst of a battle, but the black inky surface seems to radiate warmth, and he is reaching for the handle before realizing that he means to do so, his fingers wrapping around the ridges of the hilt.

It is cold.

So cold that it burns, his hand submerged in flames. It spreads, the ice traveling through his wrist and elbow, nestling easily in the bones of his shoulder. It is a ruthless, frigid wave, but the way it envelops his chest is deceivingly gentle, the breath in his lugs growing sluggish and slow. A faint sense of disbelief and panic has not yet fully formed when he tries to release the hilt, but he is no longer in command of his arm, the limb paralyzed and unfeeling.

A series of disconnected thoughts dart across his consciousness. 

An awareness that this may be death, a type of death no one could have predicted. 

Lan Zhan at the end of the hall. 

Nie HuaiSang behind him, still sprawled leisurely next to the throne, hopefully too far to be affected. 

A-Yuan. 

He tries to speak, to issue a warning, but his throat is ice, both unyielding and fragile. He thinks, if he could open his mouth, the winter would emerge from his breath, freezing the world to its core.

Just before the world goes black, he hears a familiar voice, faded and distant, already a long gone memory.

“Wei Ying.”

[pheita]

Masterlist Shadow Play - Guild Hunter Sojan Alternative Universe

[Picture ID: A banner with a gray background of shadows from windows with a gray oval in the middle with the light gray writing “Shadow Play” in cursive with dark red shadow effects. End ID] Alternative Universe of “Guild Hunter Sojan” The kingdom of Wealzaryth is known for being the only land on Duwos to have royalty and for their bard school, but only few know the bard school also trains assassins. Lyran is such an assassin, serving as bard at the royal court and assassin of the crown at the same time. His next target: Sojan, the oldest son of Rahnirin Mahelgris, the head of one of the main merchant companies trading with the crown.  When the assassination fails, Lyran and Sojan get caught in the tangled web Queen Consort Asmolea spun since her days as lady in waiting for the late Queen Consort Simalin, using the grief of King Mendis for her own plans. Now forced to work together to protect themselves, their families, and the kingdom of Wealzaryth Lyran and Sojan face another challenge: How long can they withstand the other man before they lose their mind? And what happens when they fall for their desires? Warning: sex, weapons, mentions of murder, nudity, swearing  Additional warnings in each chapter.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Epilogue

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned (Part Eight)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: mentions of death

Context: (y/n) has to stay entertained at the cave, and so goes about setting up defences.

A/N: I think this chapter is a bit dull, but I promise it gets better soon!

Masterlist

Unsurprisingly, no light filters into my room when I wake again the next morning, my eyes having to swiftly adjust to the shadowy sight before them as I sit up, rubbing at my scalp. A pounding headache has set in, thanks to the lack of sleep and the sheer amount of over thinking I did last night, my skull feeling as if it's about to explode as I swing my legs out from under the covers, knowing that I have even more planning and preparing to do if I want to survive long enough to see the end of the year. Stretching out the dull ache in my muscles, I check the watch on my wrist briefly to get an idea of the time: 4:23. Whether that is AM or PM, I have no idea yet, but I aim to find out, quickly grabbing my rucksack and jacket as I stand and leave the room, heading out into the main hall where the boys usually spend their nights.

Bright light streams in from the outside, indicating that it is 4:23 PM, illuminating the decrepit lobby in a new clarity I've not seen it in before, every piece of scattered rubbish given a new appearance. In the daylight, the whole place looks less sinister, and more like an abandoned antiques shop, the dusty bits and pieces casting odd shaped shadows onto the floor as the sunlight hits them from a certain angle, every dull colour suddenly highlighted more than usual. I have to blink a few times to allow my eyes to adjust, but they quickly do so, my gaze swiftly flicking around the looming room so that I can take it all in, a plan springing to my mind as I observe it all.

Silently, I get to work, dropping my bag on the fountain ledge and rummaging around in it, pulling everything out to lay it out in front of me so that I can properly see what I have. It's not much, but it's enough to satisfy what needs doing. Picking up the lightweight chains we are required to own, I grab some dirty old cans lying a little way away, the litter most likely the remains of a meal from sometime before, their rusted forms almost perfect for what I need them for.

Eyeing the brightly lit entrance, I take up a ball of string, too, and go over to it, stepping out onto the rickety walkway, examining the rugged wood with a critical eye as I walk out a little way, putting some weight in my step. Under each step, the wood moves slightly, the material having a light spring to it thanks to its age and exposure to the elements, which makes me frown slightly, hoping my plan will still work even though this is the case. Kneeling down, I measure out a length of string that runs the width of the walkway and use my knife to cut it to size. Setting it aside, I get to work on the chains, making six separate lengths with cans attached to them, each one of them rattling loudly as I shake them out experimentally. Smiling to myself, I connect one chain to the end of the piece if string, doubling it over itself for a better result, quickly doing the same on the other end of the string, weighting it down perfectly. I find a pair of small rocks lodged into the cliffside beside me and place them at opposing ends of the walkway, but not before I've scraped a small groove into their surfaces, where the string rests once I've set it up, hanging the chains over the sides of the walkway. The string sits an inch or so above the surface of the walkway, meaning it is easily tripped over, setting off the rudimentary alarm.

I repeat this twice more, leaving them at alternating distances from each other to provide a crude trap to alert anyone inside the cave of approaching intruders: when someone trips the string, the cans and chains will rattle loudly, signifying their approach. Absentmindedly, I hear a small voice in my head telling me that any SRS soldiers will be expecting this, and won't fall for such an amateur trap, quickly deciding that I need to work on something inside the cave, too, something more hidden.

Going back inside, I wipe some sweat from my upper lip, surprised at the heat of the day despite it being mid-October, my clothes sticking to me as I go back to my rucksack, trying to figure something else out. My eyes are quickly drawn to the grenades I have left. They won't work very well on humans, but the loud noise and subsequent explosion of mist will throw anyone off if caught up in it, meaning they are somewhat effective for this purpose.

Grabbing them, I take the string again and go to the entrance, making sure to set up two of the conveniently placed barrels of charcoal the boys use as braziers, setting them up a little way apart around the front of the cave. Going a little way ahead of them again, I place a seemingly random cardboard box face down on the floor, checking the layout once more, before measuring pieces of string again. Cutting them all to size, I tie one end of each of the length to the ring of a grenade, which I carefully loosen, hiding the two explosives under the cardboard box as I loop the string around the two barrels, pulling it tightly enough that it creates another tripwire across the entrance.

Sitting back, I look at my handiwork, noting that the string isn't too obvious and that the overall look isn't too bad. Cautiously, I pull the string taut again, knowing how tense it needs to be for this trap to actually work. Aware that this is now a near-fatal hazard for the four original residents of the cave, I make a mental note to warn them of the new trap before one of them accidentally trips it and gets a face-full of burning holy water.

Sighing, I go back to my rucksack and pick up the gun, checking the clip for rounds, annoyed to find it only about half-full, most of them having been used over the last few days, meaning it needs reloading. I check over the rest if my stuff, growling when I realise that I haven't got anymore bullets with me, leaving me with a pretty much useless weapon which will need reloading very quickly. Setting it down again, I quickly make a decision, going back out into the daylight and up to the cliff top, where I grab some of the random pieces of driftwood lying around, returning to the cave with an armfull of them. Tiredly, I drop them to the floor and sit down, pull in out my knife so I can start whittling them down - a skill every Hunter is taught is how to make wooden bullets, seeing as they are effective against both supernatural and natural creatures.

A small pile of bullets has steadily grown by the time the boys finally emerge from their sleep, the last rays of sunlight having dissipated an hour or so ago, my fingers sore from scratching the knife over the dry wood for so long, though it has paid off: I have enough to fill four or five clips, now. As they enter the room, I look up at them with a tired smile, glad to have some company now.

"Hey guys. Sleep well?" I greet them, waving slightly with the knife, my tone light despite the tension in my body.

"Mostly, yeah." Marko responds, coming over to me with the others, their brows furrowed as they see what I'm doing.

"What're you up to?" Dwayne questions, eyeing the bullets apprehensively.

"Making some more rounds for my gun. I didn't bring enough ammo, so I'm making my own." I explain, gesturing to the pile dismissively.

"Out of wood?" Paul interjects, looking genuinely curious.

"Yep. It's the only available material."

"That's...kinda cool, but also pretty worrying." The blonde vampire muses, dropping down beside me as he goes to pick one up.

"I'm not planning to use them in you guys, don't worry." I reassure them, rolling my eyes.

"Why do you need so many?" David asks, blue eyes appearing much darker in this light.

I shrug casually, finishing up the one I'm currently working on.

"In case the SRS comes knocking. Speaking of which, I've set up some traps by the entrance, so just be careful of them." I make eye contact with David, "One of them will be very painful if it's tripped."

He frowns a little, but nods in any case.

"Duly noted." The vampire licks his lips carefully, "I'm hungry, so I'm gonna head out and get something to eat. You boys coming?"

Marko and Paul eagerly agree, though Dwayne politely declines.

"I think it's a good idea if someone stays here with (Y/n), and I'm not that hungry so I'm happy to do that." The dark haired vampire explains, watching me for a reaction as I give him a confused look, surprised at the offer.

"You don't need to, Dwayne. I'm grateful for the offer, but I don't want to ruin your night..." I start, only to be cut off by him sitting down beside me.

"Don't worry about it, I'd rather stay here. Plus, maybe you can show me how to do that. It'd get the job done quicker with two people doing it."

"I guess. Thank you." I murmur, still surprised, trying to ignore the blush rising to my cheeks.

"No problem."

"Right, well, we'll be back in a few hours. Want us to bring you something back, Dwayne?" David cuts in, eyeing the two of us carefully.

"No, it's alright. I'll go out when you guys get back."

"Ok. See you two later." Without another word, the three vampires leave the room, the surrounding quickly lapsing into silence as Dwayne and I sit there.

"So, how do you carve these?" He finally asks, pulling a knife from the pocket of his jacket, his thumb running swiftly over the blade to test it's sharpness.

"Oh, it's pretty easy. Just copy me..." I run through the basic premise of what needs doing, the vampire easily picking it up, the two of us starting to produce a good amount of them between us.

Part Nine

[sabraeal]

All That Remains, Chapter 6: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 3]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Obiyukiweek 2020, Day 2: Nobility Exhibit self discipline. Show respect to authority. Obey the law. Administer justice. Protect the innocent. Respect women.

Ah, but we have gotten ahead of ourselves once again, have we not? So wrapped up were we in lies and glamour that we have forgotten our girl on the shore, heart dripping in her hands.

It’s all right. She’ll forgive us. Little girls always do.

Let us not leave her waiting.

A girl stands on the shore, red shoes wet in her hands, with none of the answers she seeks. Or rather, none of the ones she was prepared to have.

Alive, the river had told her. Away, said the darkest fears of her heart.

Never had she thought that dead would seem the better option.

We are complex beings; animals with four-chambered hearts. We are meant to hold more than a single thought, a single emotion, a single wish. But still, still-- it is a poisoned gift when elation and desolation can exist beside one another, when they can be flavored by guilt and betrayal.

She is a just a child, and yet a storm brews in her chest, too large for to contain. Beneath it, she is but an island, alone at sea.

So when the boat comes, a humble thing with no explanation, no expectations, she steps on it. What else can she do, when there is no other way to leave the hurricane behind her?

Her rooms are dark when she returns to them.

Kiki moves, pale hair catching the last light of the hall. “Where are your matches? I can’t--”

“No.” Her voice feels wrong in her mouth, too sour and too low. For a moment, Shirayuki wonders if this is truly her body, or if she has stood in the shadows too long and becomes someone else.

“I mean,” she begins again, sounding more like herself with every word, “there’s no need. I’m going to bed.”

Kiki stills behind her. “Do you need help?”

Yes. “No.” Her fingers fumble at the clasps of her gown. “I wore one of my old dresses tonight. From when I...”

Still felt like myself. Her hands clench, cotton soft beneath her fingers, and for once she longs for something coarser, for a wool that might itch or a lace that might scratch. Anything that could ground her to this moment, this body.

“...before,” she manages, peeling the fabric off her. The night’s chill stings her skin. She nearly laughs-- in Lilias, this would a be a balmy night, and now she’s pimpled with goosebumps. “I haven’t forgotten how to undress myself.”

Stay here long enough and you’ll get the hang of it, Obi would be so quick to say. Or maybe, Master should be seeing to it that you do, Miss. But Kiki--

Kiki nods, skirting back to give her space she desperately doesn’t need. It’s strange how she can feel every inch of the gap between them, even though it is only empty air.

“Will you be coming tomorrow?” she asks, striving to keep her tone bright, buoyant. She may not feel like herself, but Shirayuki has made a career out of pushing forward, of persevering, and tonight is no different. “These other gowns are always a bit of a handful by myself.”

Kiki hums; it isn’t in agreement. “The consort will see to it.”

“Haki?” She tries to imagine that, the elegant queen of Clarines looping a hundred pearl buttons down her back.

Kiki’s lips cant into a soft smile, as if she knows just what Shirayuki must be thinking. “She’ll have women sent to you.”

“R-really?” She’s had maids before, lent to her when she traveled to Tanbarun, or sometimes for the night when Izana had deigned her appropriate company at one of Wistal’s balls, but for the queen to assign a pack of them herself, it seemed--

Official. A statement for other nobles to take notice of. Her stomach twists.

“She believes in you,” Kiki says quietly, laying a hand on her shoulder. “We all do.”

Her belly churns with a sickening flop. So did Obi.

Shirayuki shakes herself. It’s all going to be fine. Obi wouldn’t give up on her, and Zen wouldn’t give up on Obi either.

“R-right,” she manages, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “I’ll do my best.”

Is that not what we all want when we are lost? A way to leave the storm behind. A gentle guide to show us the way. An easy answer when none can be found.

It is said that lightning takes the path of least resistance; tree or pole or child-- all of them are the same in its eyes, so long as it meets the ground. And is that not what we are? Lightning in a bottle, a closed current seeking release. We hold a charge within ourselves and let it out when we touch metal. Sometimes even when we touch each other. No wonder we seize the easiest answer when we find it.

But, oh, how foolish we are to take it.

The covers surround her in a protective cocoon, warm and safe. Tonight’s turmoil has wrung her dry; she flops onto her mattress like a child who has run themselves to collapse. Dreams tantalize her from the corners of her vision, and she’s so ready to tip into their embrace, to take what oblivion they will give her with open arms.

There’s no reason to get so upset. 

She jolts from the edge of sleep, fingers clenched. It’s a stray thought, an echo of Zen’s voice; no reason for her heart to race, not when it’s true. Not when everything is taken care of.

It’s not odd for Obi to disappear with no explanation.

A protest strains against her lips, even with no one to rail against. The boy who left Wistal swimming in the fur of his coat isn’t the man who returned. He hasn’t been, not for years now-- maybe not even then. Not since they stood beneath a tree in Tanbarun and she said, I told you we’d see the town next time, right? Not since he’d dragged her along the walls of Lilias and showed her a sunset.

We might as well try to keep a cat indoors.

She rolls, burying her face in the soft cage of her pillow. There’s no point in worrying, not when Zen has everything well in hand, not when there are men out looking for him--

My lady, I don’t know any that have.

Her heart stutters in her chest. Zen had told her-- had promised her that he would send men out, and he wouldn’t-- he couldn’t--

The boy must have been mistaken. Or the consort had the right of it, and Zen had passed over the royal guard, using the knights of the Royal Circle instead. It would make sense; it would take more than a usual guardsman to catch a man of Obi’s skills, if he didn’t mean to be caught.

Whichever direction you’re heading in, he’d said, words misting in the air between them, a promise. I’ll be sure to follow along by your side.

Which can’t be true. Obi couldn’t-- he wouldn’t leave, not without saying goodbye. Not when he had so many promises to keep.

He saw a man leaping over the walls the night Sir Obi went missing. The guilt in Kai’s expression haunts her even now. He was seen leaving with a woman, my lady.

Shirayuki has always prided herself on her cleverness, how she could unravel the most tangled symptoms into a diagnosis. But she holds this puzzle in her hand, and no matter how she tries, she cannot make the pieces fit, cannot make them into a whole.

Obi is a man of his word. He jokes, but he never lies, she told Ryuu once, though she can hardly remember why now. He wouldn’t leave her, not like this. Or Ryuu. Or Zen. But yet, yet--

Did you know he didn’t leave alone?

The sheets tear from her, and oh, the morning is blinding, leaving her cold and blinking on her bed. Her eyes adjust, and there, in the bright glow of the dawn, stands the consort.

“It is time to get up, Shirayuki.” Her mouth curves into a smile. “There is much work to be done.”

There are no oars in this little boat, the girl realizes too late. She has no sooner pushed off from the shore then the current grabs her, hurtling her toward the river’s end. Water sprays up from the rapids, and her little boat rocks perilously under her feet. The easy path this may be, but it is not safe either.

There is a part of her that is frightened, watching as the world moves by her, taking her toward places unknown; but there is another part as well, and it is relieved. She may no longer be in control, but oh, that means she is also no longer to blame.

“So few gowns,” the consort remarks as her women parade Shirayuki’s closet for her review. “And so many of them out of season. They’ll have to be replaced.”

Shirayuki offers a brittle smile in the mirror as one of the maids firmly drags a comb through her hair. “I don’t--” she hisses, teeth tangling in a knot-- “I have as many as I need. Long skirts and fine dresses were bound to get ruined in the pharmacy.”

“But at necessary at court.” Her mouth bows into a faint frown, displeasure weighing on her brow. “You must understand, this is not a simple undertaking. You cannot just...pass a test and become worthy of a crown.”

“That isn’t--”

The consort raises a hand, and her words stutter to a halt. “You have made your position clear, Shirayuki. It is not the title nor the trappings you want, but Zen himself, and I--” she hesitates, gaze distant-- “it is part of why I want to help you. Love is no little thing.”

She smiles, a shy, secret thing, as if they were alone and the room not teeming with her maids. “It is worth all the pain, if you can have love as well. But--” the consort’s gaze fixes on her in the mirror-- “it is not enough. The kings of Clarines once ruled by divine right, and the people-- they have not forgotten.” Her expression shadows when she adds, “they cannot be allowed to forget.”

Shirayuki stares at her hands, flushed. Tanbarun’s royal family had been a joke rather than an inspiration, a vestige of a bygone age that the country had never quite shucked. She’d never held much stock in divine rights, in the idea that someone could be her superior by nothing more than being birthed from the right womb, but--

But being with Zen would mean participating in that fiction, upholding that illusion to keep him safe. “I don’t see what my dresses have to do with that.”

“Everything,” the consort assures her. “You have read fairy stories, haven’t you? Princes cast away because they are dressed as paupers, princesses made by conjuring the right gown-- we think with our eyes first, and then our thoughts. Do you see what I mean?”

Her lip worries beneath her teeth. She’s read those stories, yes, a thousand times, and in each one, it is the clothes than make the man, that set designs on how he is treat but--

The prince is always betrayed by his courtly manors, the princess found by the softness of her skin or made by the contents of her heart.

But those are just stories. Here, in Izana’s court...

Shirayuki bows her head, allowing the maid to slip a pin tight against her skull. “I do.”

“Good. I’ll call for my dressmaker.” The consort slides up beside her, inspecting her maid’s handiwork. “Lovely. Where do you keep your ornaments?”

“Oh.” She nods her her chin toward the wooden box. “Over there.”

The consort lifts the lid with elegant fingers, taking in a breath as if she means to speak--

And stills. Her fingers splay in the air, and she-- she closes the box.

“Well.” Her mouth melts into a warm smile. “That will have to be taken care of as well. Don’t worry, Shirayuki, you’re in good hands now.” Her teeth flash white behind her lips. “Mine.”

Why must these things always happen to children, you wonder. Could this girl not be a woman? Could this boy not be a man? Must it always be that the smallest and most vulnerable that are asked to wander the roads we most fear?

Certainly, they could be. Stories are but lenses through which we see ourselves, made more palatable for the distance. On another page, in another life, they could be a man and a woman on the cusp of something greater, the distance only increasing their longing--

But in a fairy tales there are rules, and the foremost among them is: you must be able to see the magic for it to happen.

When the boat pulls up to the shore, you must not see the beautiful women waiting at its dock, but instead the woman who can conjure. And that, that--

That is the provenance of a child.

Shirayuki is an eternal well of optimism, a veritable font of good will, but when it came to her training--

It’s impossible, she’d told Obi, face buried in her pillow. There’s no way any one person can do all this and look like they’re not trying.

He’d only grinned, idling by her bedside with his usual insolent grin. Glad to see Princess Lessons are going so well.

She’s prepared for more of the same, for the familiar two-steps-forward, ten-steps-back dance she’s been doing for the last few months only now with the added humiliation of the consort beside her but--

It’s different, this time.

“Shirayuki.” Lady Mihoko is entrenched in the divan today, looming with dignity of a temple’s ruin. It’s only the consort’s presence that has excavated her from her favorite chair, but she bears it like an statue missing a limb. “Pour the tea.”

She knows this for what it is: a trap. Mihoko’s maids flank the door to the parlor, ready and entirely willing to pour endless cups of too-sweet tea for everyone seated. This isn’t about thirst, oh no, but that she’s doing entirely too well. Mihoko wants to see her falter and fail as a girl with so common a spine should.

Shirayuki leans forward, mouth thin with concentration, and--

“Keep your shoulders back.” The consort sips delicately at her cup, her words barely rippling its contents. “Don’t round over. Pretend you have a pencil between your shoulder blades.”

Her hand stutters over the salver. A pencil--?

Lady Mihoko watches from her perch; a vulture waiting for a limping animal to fall. Shirayuki has always been at the top of her class, her time at Lilias served with distinction, but yet in this her failure is not only assumed but assured.

Fine. She pushes her shoulders back until the blades kiss, imagining that pencil between them, holding it still as she bends. It’s-- different. Exposing, almost, though she’s wearing no less than she was before, and--

And Lady Mihoko makes no comment as she pours, filling her cup to within a finger’s width of the rim. Nor does she have any disparaging remarks for when she fills the consort’s cup, or her own.

“Sugar?” Shirayuki offers mildly. The corners of her lips twitch, and it takes every last crumb of control she has to keep from smiling. The last thing she needs is for this victory to be tarnished by a vulgar expression.

Mihoko’s lips thin into a forbidding wrinkle, but holds out her cup. “It seems you are much improved,” she allows, begrudgingly, less a compliment and more an accusation.

Shirayuki will take it. “Thank you, Lady Mihoko.”

“Not that you could have sunk much further.” The lady takes a dainty sip before settling the cup onto its saucer. “But I suppose that would make any progress heartening.”

Her smile, carefully constructed to show no improprietous teeth, wavers. “You are...too kind.” The consort sends her a warning glance, and she adds, “My lady.”

“I know I am.” Mihoko glares down her nose, severe. “You should be grateful that Her Majesty has taken you under her wing. The queen of Clarines has much more pressing duties than to educate a--” she casts a disapproving look over her-- “hopeful.”

“Please, Lady Mihoko.” The consort’s mouth rounds into a pleasant curve, the perfect smile. “I am all too happy to fill my hours with such pleasant company as Lady Shirayuki’s. A lady may learn the right fork or the proper dance for an occasion, but one cannot teach a good heart or an interesting mind.”

Her ladyship harrumphs, a quake that shudders through her from slipper to veil, tenders no harsher reply than a sip from her cup. Some degree of royal relation she might be, but even Mihoko won’t quarrel with a queen.

“I’m very grateful!” Shirayuki assures her. “This whole, um, process has been quite challenging and, ah...”

Lonely, she doesn’t say. It nearly tips out all on its own before she even knows it is there, but now it catches in her teeth, sticky and unpleasant.

“It’s an honor,” she finishes, lamely. Mihoko only nods, propriety fulfilled, but the consort--

Haki stares at her, chin tilted, a finger laying thoughtfully along her jaw. She may not be Izana, but her gaze itches like his, as if she were a puzzle that needed solving, or even--

A bug under a glass.

It is not that the girl did not know the danger of sorceresses. Oh no, she had been warned about such women, had read of them in books and shivered at the sound of them in song. But standing as she is, shoes in hand, alone on a river too swift to swim and no oars with which to row--

She makes a choice.

The boat rocks as it comes to shore, so gentle under the sorceress’s guidance, and the little girl makes herself as placid, as docile. That has always been the way she fooled adults before; misbehavior is only assumed from unruly children, but an obedient one--

Well, she has only gotten this far because no one expects the obedient one to run.

It is a good plan, a clever plan, one any young child could be proud of, but--

She does not expect this sorceress.

It had never occurred to her how mortifying it would be to have someone to watch her fail lesson after lesson, to hear as her teachers passed along their lukewarm-- at best-- praise. Shirayuki had always been top of her class, her professors’ best student, and now--

Now she’s grateful Obi had to stand outside while she floundered. One day of the consort’s steady observation and she wants to lay down in her bed and never be seen again.

“You did well.”

Shirayuki turns, eyes wide, as the consort follows her into her room. “What do you mean?”

She blinks, head tilted. “I mean what I said: you did well.”

But I didn’t nearly tips right out, nearly falls straight on the carpet like an ink stain, but she catches it, just in time.

“You’re too kind,” she manages, because somehow implying a lie is more palatable than saying it outright. “I’m not sure my tutors would agree with you.”

The consort waves a hand, as if such worries were little more than smoke. “They are used to ladies. To breeding. When compared to a girl who has been training for this opportunity all her life...yes, you fall quite short. But that is not who you are.”

Haki steps forward, taking one of her hands in hers. “You are the woman who saved Lilias. That some believe a straight spine or a sprightly step could be worth more than that in a princess is--” she takes a breath, agitated-- “antiquated.”

Shirayuki stares, mouth slack, hand limp. “I thought you said--”

“It is important for the people to remember why kings are give the power they possess,” Haki tells her, her eyes so blue, so earnest. “But a good king earns the trust of his people by surrounding himself with the best minds his kingdom can offer. Anyone can learn to hold a fork, Shirayuki, but you--” she smiles-- “you cannot be replaced.“

Something in her chest squirms, but it’s not unpleasant. More like...a squirrel that’s made its next in a tree’s heart, finally waking after a long winter.”

“Oh,” she croaks past the lump in her throat. “Oh.”

In the stories, the sorceresses are old. Or failing that, they are seductresses, dark haired and pale-skinned, every word a twist of the knife.

But this one, oh-- this one is so beautiful and young, her hat so brightly painted with flowers. There is no danger etched on her face or molded in the curves of her body, no sharp teeth or crooked grin. Just a smile, so warm and so gentle.

The little girl is not foolish; she knows exactly how it is when you are not what you seem but--

She does not expect this.

Nor she does not expect to say, “I love roses,” the moment the woman touches her hand.

“You poor child.” When the woman speaks, every word is a song, “How did you come all this way on such a dangerous river? You must be very brave indeed.”

No one had ever called the little girl that before. Pretty, of course, and kind, and often gentle, but brave--

You must tell me who you are, the sorceress says, awe plain in her voice, and how you came here. I must know everything of such a clever little girl.

Her eyes prickle, and before she quite knows what to do, tears stream down her cheek.

Oh, my darling. Arms wrap around her, warm and soft, and oh, how long has it been since she has been held, just like this? So long, so long. No more worries. I have you. I will take care of you.

“Your Majesty, I must insist.” Arundo’s brow blisters with sweat, his dark eyes pleading. “Truly, it is my duty to instruct Mistress Shirayuki. I cannot possible ask you--”

“You are not asking,” the consort reminds him, her mouth hooked into a devious smile. “And I am the one insisting. I think a change of partners will do her ladyship a world of good.”

The dancing master pales. Shirayuki can’t blame him; if Izana was to find out she mangled his wife’s feet as she did Arundo’s...

“I’m not sure she’s ready for such a, ah...change.” He wrings his hands, mopping at his brow. “Surely a few more weeks, and perhaps--”

“I have been watching these lessons for quite some time, Master Arundo, would you not agree?” The man has no recourse but to nod, not with the way the consort pins him with her gaze, hedging him against the wall with her imposing posture. “I have noticed a few areas in which her understanding of the dance might be improved.”

All of them, probably. Despite years of tutors, Shirayuki has never quite grasped the finer areas of dance. Not that there hadn’t been some successes-- she never seemed to embarrass herself in Tanbarun when Raj insisted on a waltz, and Obi always managed to make her look capable, if not competent, but outside that--

Well, Her Majesty shouldn’t be wearing slippers facing off against her feet.

Arundo deflates in the face of her determination. “Ah, well...if you’re certain...Your Majesty...”

“I am.” The consort turns to her, skirts skimming the floor. Ah, it had been hard enough avoiding Arundo’s feet when she could see them; this hemline can only complicate matters. “Come, I’ll lead you through it. A waltz might seem hard to start, but there’s very little to remember.”

Shirayuki doesn’t have the heart to tell her that’s what they’d been trying to do before Arundo had decided that learning polka might behoove her more, if only because it put space between her partner and her feet. “Ah...if you think so.”

“I know so.” Haki tilts her a small, secretive smile. “Give me your hand.”

With one last helpless glance at Arundo, she does. The consort’s palm is cool against hers, like marble warming under her touch, and she slides into the circle of her arms with only a little finagling.

“I should be about the right height.” Her face is so close-- nearly too close, the her eyes so pale and so clear, so unlike the deep Wisteria blue. “Give or take an inch or two.”

That is all the warning she has; the accompanist starts a thoughtful piece, slow yet bright, and the consort sweeps her across the floor. She stumbles on the first step, but the music’s pace makes it easy to recover, to remember the simple rhythm of up, up, down; up-up-down--

She steps out into her turn, arm lifted, and--

Just barely misses Her Majesty’s slippered foot, slid to safety just in time.

Haki laughs, and it’s so different when it is not a disappointed tutor that looks back, but Her Majesty’s smiling face. As if she were not in a practice room, but a bed chamber, practicing on a lark instead of disastrously careening toward a deadline.

“Well then,” Haki breathes, holding her stomach as if it might cease her giggles. “Now we know what we need to work on.”

The girl is but a child, well-loved and then sent into the world alone, shell of determination over a soft body of longing. For how long has she been reaching out her hands only to come back empty? For how long has she been calling for help, only to go unheard?

And now a hand catches hers with warm smiles above it, with arms so ready to hold the burden she’s been carrying for far, far too long...

The little girl enters a garden, and oh, who are we to judge when she grasps with both hands.

“Well done, once again.” Haki slumps onto the divan beside her, flushed, eyes bright. “I think you’ve nearly gotten that waltz.”

Shirayuki delicately closes her jaw. “I’m...I don’t really think that’s true. I nearly stepped on you at least two dozen times.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Only because you’re much quicker than Arundo is,” she laughs. “Which is good, otherwise Izana would have--” she coughs, flustering under the consort’s bemused smile-- “I mean, His Majesty would have been quite upset if I’d broken your foot.”

Her Majesty hums, gaze measuring. “I see he was right.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You’re really not afraid of him.” Haki’s sweet smile sharpens into a grin. “Izana.”

“Hguk.” If only she knew how to answer questions like these-- or at least, how to answer them when someone with a His or Her poses them, looking for an answer that is not respect is earned, not given.

“I’m from Tanbarun,” Shirayuki settles on, since that seems...safe.

“Yes,” Haki hums, all too knowing. “I could see how a royal title might not impress you.” 

She has the sudden, perverse urge to object. Raj might have once been a black mark on Tanbarun’s reputation, the prince no princess would deign to entertain as a prospect, but now-- now he was a prince the people could be proud of. That she could be proud of. Even if he was a little ridiculous.

But she doubts that consort would understand such a change. So she drowns the impulse in the tea a maid hands her.

Haki sips at her own with effortless elegance, measuring her with a glance. “I suppose that is part of your charm. That you don’t believe in this,” she explains, “the superiority of good breeding.”

Tea burns when she breathes it instead of swallowing, and well, a coughing fit is one way to get out of having to answer...any of that.

Haki pats her back, harder than Shirayuki would expect from a woman raised to be a king’s demure shadow. “There, there.” The words ripple with the undercurrent of a giggle. “Let us talk of something else instead. Perhaps the reason your mind wanders?”

The garden and its marvels lead to a cottage, its walls of wattle and its roof of thatch. The most delicious smells waft through the window-- fresh baked bread, hot fruit tart--

Come inside, the sorceress says, I have sweet berries, fresh picked, and cool cream with which to have it.

The little girl hesitates, red shoe hovering over the threshold. It was one thing to stand upon the dock with her, to be held and hold in return, to walk among her flowers and marvel at the sight, but it’s quite another to enter her home, the center of her power. Unless she wants to be sweet child stew--

You must tell me how you came to be here. The sorceress smiles, so warm. I will help you, if I am able.

The little girl steps inside.

The consort smiles in her silence, sweeping up across the room. “You have such pretty hair pieces,” she remarks brightly, “I must applaud your taste.”

“Oh I...I didn’t pick them,” she admits. “I don’t really have an eye for that sort of thing.”

A perfectly shaped eyebrow lifts. “You don’t mean to say my good brother did. I never thought him the type.”

“Oh! No, it wasn’t him,” she laughs. “Obi...”

I’m looking for a boy, the little girl says, for despite all her cleverness, there are some tricks a child cannot see. He has dark hair. He is this tall. He gave me these shoes.

My oh my, the sorceress says, leading her to a chair. There are no other children in this house, but even still it is the right size, just large enough so that her toes brush at the floor when she kicks them. You describe him so well. He seems like he must be a very good boy.

He is, for he is, even if he’s strayed from her. But he is lost.

This is for you. The pin balances awkwardly behind her ear, hair entirely too short for something like it. He smiles at her, something lopsided and sharp. She hardly knows him then, only thinking that she must look ridiculous. Still, his eyes are the clearest she’s ever seen as he says, Part of my prize.

Is that so? the sorceress hums. Do you mind very much if I were to brush your hair? It is so disheveled from your travels, I would hate for it to get too tangled.

The girl hesitates, her hands in her lap. The berries and cream look very good indeed, and when the sorceress brings out her brush, it is mother of pearl, so pretty and so fine. She knows what they say about strange food, she knows what they say can be done with only a few strands of hair, but-- she is a small girl, so weary, so unused to kindness, and--

She nods.

Since there’s no martial arts match to win, he teases, so many years later, I thought we’d go choose another one for you.

It sits heavy in her hands as she stand in the hall, waiting.

Thank you, she says, meeting eyes that are still so clear all these years later, thank you so much for this

Have you seen him? she asks, watching the woman warily as she approaches. The little girl has heard of what conjurers might do, but she is a strong girl, a brave girl, a clever one. She would not be fooled by illusion. My boy?

Your boy? The sorceress sweeps close, the scent of flowers wafting on the air. I have not.

The brush is so soft in her hair, so lulling. She can feel her eyes drift to half mast. It has been so long since she rested.

But I’m sure he’ll come through. The sorceress’s mouth rounds into a dangerous curve. Everyone does, eventually.

You’re drunk, she decides, watching the way he sways on the balls of his feet, swaying like a sailor at sea. Still, he’s coiled tight, braced for an attack. Even soused, he’s vigilant Obi, I know that--

You don’t know anything about me, Miss.

His eyes have never been cloudier.

You have roses, the little girl slurs, so many of them, and so beautiful.

You like them? It’s hard to keep her eyes open now, her head nodding at the table.

They are my favorite, she says, my boy and I...we raised roses together.

The brush pauses, mid-stroke. You don’t say?

“It’s too bad you have so few.” The consort reaches out a hand, her fingers catching in her hair. The touch is so unexpected, Shirayuki forgets to flinch. “Your hair is so lovely.”

“Thank you,” she manages, which is better than saying, I hear that a lot.

It’s no use; Haki’s mouth lifts wryly, and even though she hasn’t said a word, Shirayuki knows she’s heard every one. “You’ll have to let me lend you one of mine.”

“Wha?” She blinks, staring as the consort rounds the divan, clasp in hand. “I couldn’t--”

“Put it in yourself? I know. Please,” the consort comes to sit beside her, pales eyes shining eagerly, “allow me to pin it for you.”

“I...” Shirayuki snaps her lips over her protest; Haki may only be the consort, but still, saying no to a queen was what Obi would call career limiting. “You’re too kind.”

Her hands are gentle as she removes the pins lying tight against Shirayuki’s scalp. “Oh no, not at all. It’s the least I could do for my sister.”

She says it so casually, as if this were all settled, as if Shirayuki’s success was already assured and not balanced on the head of a pin, and--

And for once, Shirayuki believes it.

You should stay, the sorceress says, and the little girl hardly hears it, her chin cradled on her arms.

I can’t, I can’t, she yawns, looking out on the world through the net of her lashes. I have to find my boy.

He’ll come, in time, the woman assures her. As I said, everyone does. Why not wait here?

With what she’d seen of Rona’s skills the last time she’d visited Tanbarun, Shirayuki expected to be left with a rat’s nest that would take three maids to untangle. But the consort’s hands are practiced, neatly twisting and lifting as she pins.

“Have you’ve done this before?” She grimaces; there was probably much more polite way to put that, one that didn’t call a queen’s qualifications into question. “I mean...there aren’t many ladies of the court that know how to, um, do this.”

“Take care of themselves? Yes,” she hums, too amused, “I know. I was one of the dowager’s handmaidens when she was queen. We didn’t need to do much, but, well...a girl like to distinguish herself, doesn’t she?”

“O-oh.” She bites her lip, thoughtful. “So...before you were the Mistress of Lilias? Is that how you met Izana?”

Her hands still, just for a moment, before twisting another piece. “No. We have known each other...far longer than that. Our fathers were...”

“Friends?” Shirayuki supplies, when Haki does not.

“No, better-- allies. I was practically raised with the Wisterias.”  She laughs. “No wonder I was always desperate for a sister. Good thing at least one of my brothers has decided to oblige me.”

The comb’s teeth skim against her scalp, and Shirayuki grimaces. “With someone no one expected.”

The consort drops down beside her, companionably close, closing a hand around hers. “Perhaps you did not realize, Shirayuki, how serious I was. I am as selfish as any of these men, though what I want from you is not feminine perfection.” She grins, and it’s not like Izana’s, a prelude to a challenge, but an invitation to mischief. “Don’t forget that before I was the queen of Clarines, I was the mistress of Lilias. If the woman who saved the North is an unorthodox choice to the relics of this court...then it is just the one I want. Do you understand?”

Stay, my precious girl, the sorceress whispered, I have long been waiting for a dear little maiden like you.

“I do.”

It is dark when one woman says to another, “There is a box in her room, on the dresser. Do you know it?”

The second bows her head. “I do.”

“Good.” The first worries a lip, hesitant. “See that it disappears.”

“I...” The second straightens, nods. “I will.”

A little girl sleep and a sorceress stands in her garden.

You must stay with me, she says as the roses seep beneath the ground, and see how happily we shall live together.

[power-rings]

Light Consorting with Shadows

Chapter 5: Rescue

By daybreak, Aurora woke up alone in her current living quarters. Quickly, the princess jumped off of her not-so-comfortable bed. Despite the dizziness that she felt, she managed to leave her room to find Lancelot; hoping he didn't abandon her to find her parents without her. It wasn't long before she found him among a crowd of strange men dressed in heavy armor just like him. His ear twitched, hearing her approaching them. Lancelot stepped aside, meeting her halfway down the corridor of the palace. "Princess." His gaze searching her.

"Did you really think I was gonna stay behind, Lancelot?" She saw the Knight shift his weight uncomfortably.

"Yes." He answered very cautiously. "The only thing we can do is hopefully pick up their trail. They have some dogs that-"

"I'm coming with." The princess stood her ground, their gazes locked. Aurora wasn't gonna be cooped up in some stranger's land. She started to walk pass the Knight, not waiting for his reaction. She heard him sigh, and follow her.

"My job is to protect you, and your family. You're already hurt from the other night, I advise that you stay behind." His voice was stern, but she could hear the concern in his tone.

Aurora turned to face him, "Lancelot! Please...! My parents could have been killed," she choked on those words. "Dad didn't raise me to be a coward. And you trained me to handle my own in a battle." Their conversation caused the other men to glance over at the commotion that echoed in the corridor. "Grab me some armor, will ya'?" Lancelot studied her in silence, however, to the princess' surprise he left her behind to retrieve some armor in another room. With his help, she was able to get it fitted properly.

One of the taller men, who appeared to be a black-tailed deer with short antlers poking through his helmet was the first to approach the pair. He glanced at Lancelot in question, "are you insane?" He pulled his helmet off. "I'm not sure how your King runs things. But, royalty never accompany us." He scoffed. "Perhaps, your lack of protection and carelessness was what got your King and Queen kidnapped in the first place." The deer character looked at the other men, and nodded. "With all due respect-"

"Excuse me?!" Aurora bristled, seconds later she was inches away from the deer. "He would die for my family and I!" She jabbed a finger in his chest plate. "We don't have to accompany you, either! My Knight here and I can go by ourselves!" Aurora felt Lancelot's hand going to her shoulder, trying to draw her away from him. The leader stepped back, and composed himself. Aurora was still royalty and he had to respect that. He gave her a humble bow, then pulled his helmet back over his head.

He cleared his throat, "We will have several men near the camp location you had mentioned in case we run into trouble. Their scents should still be fresh, I hope. I will send only 4 of us and a couple of dogs to search."

"Erhan, once we find a trail..."

The deer gave a sharp nod, "I will give you a signal. Lancelot and I can take the lead. Princess, for your protection you will take up the rear. I will have some of my men watching your back. We don't know what to do expect." Everyone gathered around the gate, some mounted on horses, while others kept the dogs at bay until they were ready to depart. "It could be a gang of thieves. Lancelot, do you recall their appearances?" The knight shook his head.

"They were masked up. I just know there were over 10 members.." Lancelot addressed, trying his best to reflect back to that night. He didn't remember much other than fighting hard, only to be knocked out quickly.

Erhan nodded, but said nothing more. He gestured that they follow and the group went down a steep set of stairs and made a haste into the forest. Two men came alongside the princess, while Erhan and Lancelot took the lead while the men with the huge dogs followed closely.

It was a good travel to find their previous campsite. There were remains of some random items left behind, empty tents, cookware, some clothing, canteens of water, a good supply of food. When Erhan searched the wagon, it appeared that someone had rummaged through whatever belongings that was behind inside. Two men gave the dogs something that belonged to the King and Queen and then they paired off to the left, sniffing around the campsite. Aurora was behind everyone, surveying her surroundings for any sort of clue. Lancelot held tightly to his weapon, and walked around the camp, searching high and low. There was a bark from one of the bulkier dogs, he started going further out of the campsite. Everyone followed the lead of the two animals. They were able to pick up some visible footprints, and hoofprints leading in the opposite direction.

---

Miles away, King Sonic was trying to pry the cell open at the keyhole. Amy was in a separate cell beside him. “Almost got it…” he said in a hushed tone. Trying his best not to make too much noise, and draw the guards towards them. During the night, Sonic was able to distract one of the guards and retrieve the key. Once their attention was on something else, Sonic started working at the keyhole. Unfortunately, their escape wasn’t going to be that easy. One of the men that ambushed their camp, and took them away… he came stomping down the hall towards their cells. Sonic quickly moved in the back of his dark cell, hiding the key behind him.

The masked individual shout echoed throughout the facility. “Where is it?!” He opened the cell with his own set of key. More men surrounded the leader, making sure the King wasn’t gonna get any ideas about escaping. “I know you have it!” He searched through Sonic’s cell. Whatever belongings he thought the King had wasn’t in there.

Sonic prepared himself to be attacked. He was ready. Quill’s bristling in defense. “What exactly are you looking for? You took what money had.” Sonic didn’t care about money, all he was concerned about was getting out with Amy and reuniting with their daughter.

“The emerald!” Towering over Sonic, the coyote inched closer. Sonic eyed him as the enemy reached for his dagger. “We will search your palace if we have to.” He withdrew it from his sheath, and held it to Sonic’s neck. “Tell me where it is and you will live,” Sonic’s scowled at the scent of the coyote. He smelled of alcohol, and smelled like he hadn’t bathed in ages.

Sonic narrowed his eyes, “you have no right to own a Chaos Emerald.” The coyote was not pleased with the king’s answered and pressed his blade further, drawing a little blood. Sonic winced, and quickly sidestepped. His attempt at escaping was short lived as one of the foxes tackled the king and pinned him against the wall of the cell.

“You made a mistake, majesty. Tell me where it is.” He walked over and yanked Sonic by the ear. “I’m giving you one more chance.” The King highly doubted that. Sonic opened his mouth to respond, but quickly closed it when he heard another group rushing towards them.

“Sir!!” A younger coyote ran up to catch up to the leader. “We have company. One of our men came across a group…they're probably here for the royal couple." He announced, panting out the warning.

“… Shit.” When the fox released the grip on Sonic, the blue hedgehog quickly got to his feet, making a dash for the exit and to Amy’s cell. He was attacked again from all around him. “They’re probably here for the King and Queen. Bring them outside. This isn’t over, sire.” Unfortunately, Sonic was outnumbered, one gabbed his knife and stabbed him in the side, they managed to cuff him, and roughly lead them outside.

Lancelot caught a glimpse of a group forming at the the top of the hill. He gestured to the others behind him to stop. Not sure what was gonna happen next. He withdrew his weapon, as well as the rest of the men, and Aurora was in the back of the group, and withdrew her own weapon. They slowly inched closer.

“I would stop right there if you want your King and Queen to live.” A voice roared, causing the group to freeze in their advances toward the hill. The leader of the group presented Sonic and Amy before Lancelot and the rest of the group. The knight bristled in rage under his armor. Aurora stepped toward the front with Lancelot and Erhan. Lancelot stepped infront of her, and shook his head. He could see the anger and the fear in her eyes. Acting on her emotion could be deadly… not only for her, but her parents as well.

“Drop your weapons.” The same coyote commanded.

“Not until they are safe.” Lancelot snarled.

“Tch, I can’t promise that until we get what we want.” With a warning, he drew a dagger to the Queen instead. Sonic bristled in rage. He struggled in the grasp of the his capture. Despite the tight grip, Sonic managed to wiggle free to help his Queen. He headbutted the fox that threatened her, but, Sonic was roughly forced away and forced on the ground, with a bulkier individual holding him at bay.

Aurora was ready. Whatever Lancelot taught her during their training, it was gonna come in use if they hurt her parents. Lancelot grabbed her by the arm. “What do you want?! We’ll give you whatever you want. Let ‘em go!” She blurted out, her eyes locking with the leader.

Their leader started making his way down the steep hill. “Ah. You must be the princess.” Lancelot quickly got in between them. They stared each other down. He held his hands up, showing that he didn’t have any weapons on him this time. Lancelot still held his stance, protecting the princess while the others surrounded the coyote. Their weapons ready. He stood tall, and looked over the knight’s shoulder. “You’ll give me whatever I want, hm? Perhaps instead of a Chaos Emerald. You could accompany me.” His grin was devious while his hazel eyes searched her.

Lancelot shoved him. “Back off!” The coyote glared at him, but distanced himself slowly from the knight.

“A Chaos Emerald really? That’s why you attacked us and took off with my family?”

“Oh, honey. You must not know the power that it holds.”

Aurora glanced towards her parents. She knew exactly how powerful a Chaos Emerald was, but one alone had limited powers compared to having 7 in ones possession. She hadn’t seen it used much growing up, her father only told her what it was capable of. “If I give it to you…” From the corner of her eye, she saw Lancelot look at her, skeptical. “You’ll return them safely?”

He bowed, promising the young princess. He gestured towards his group and told them to hide their weapons. But, they were still on edge.

“Princess. I know you want your parents safe. But, I don’t think…” Erhan whispered from behind them.

“They’re not gonna wait too long. I’ll go retrieve it.” Lancelot muttered. The knight had an idea, but they had to act quickly. He pulled Aurora away, and told her to accompany him on his journey back to Camelot. He was honestly concerned what would happen to her if he left. Sure, he was concerned about the royal couple, the knight had faith in Sonic; he was very skillful about getting out of such situations. The priority was that Aurora would be safe if the situation went downhill for them.

--

As expected, it was a long journey back to Camelot. If they didn’t make haste, it would take them about two days to arrive on foot. By daybreak the following morning, they reached the gates of Camelot. Around them, citizens were whispering, they sounded concern because the knight returned only with the princess. Lancelot walked down the corridor of the palace, ignoring the glances, he took a flight of stairs leading to his living quarters. “It should be in here…” He removed his helmet, feeling like he couldn’t breathe. He searched through his room. Aurora stopped at the doorway, watching him roam through his room. Was the Chaos Emerald seriously hiding in his room? She had thought dad told her it was hidden under the palace. Not a simple living quarters like this. She thought Lancelot used them more than her dad, but she wasn’t sure. She saw him pull out a red Chaos Emerald from underneath his bed. That was securely locked in a small box.

Aurora noticed that it wasn’t as shiny as she thought it would normally be. Lancelot must have realized that she was confused by its appearance. “Its a fake Chaos Emerald.” He retorted. Lancelot wiped the sweat off his brow. “This may not work, Aurora.” The knight admitted, “I don’t think your father would want to risk giving them the real one, though.”

“Could one alone really be that dangerous?”

“Yes. If they’re witty enough they could use it to find the 6 others.” Lancelot walked towards the princess. Aurora bit her bottom lip. Praying that this will work and her parents will be returned safely. “Hold on to me.” Lancelot pulled her closer. Heat rushed towards her cheeks when they touched.

“W-what?”

“Chaos Control.” He whispered under his breath, and closed his eyes. Thinking about the destination, within seconds there was a bright light and they were gone.

Just as quick as they disappeared they reappeared near the two groups. Aurora stumbled on her feet after they appeared. That was a feeling she had never experienced before. Perhaps with a real Chaos Emerald, it would have a different effect on her; not that she ever experienced the true power of a Chaos Emerald, anyway.

Lancelot walked ahead of the others, finding the other group’s leader. He put on an act as if he was reluctant to let go of the emerald in his grasp. “Return the King and Queen first. Then, you can have it.” He gestured. One hand reaching for his sword. The coyote groaned, but he released their cuffs and let them reunite with their side. Aurora ran to embrace her parents, tears rolling down her cheeks now they were that they reunited. The coyote jerked the Chaos Emerald out of the Knight’s hand and admired it. The rest of the group joined him, they talked amongst themselves about their plans with it. Some wanted to sell it so they could have thousands or even millions in their possession, while their leader plotted about finding the others and all that he could accomplish if he had them. They didn’t linger around, in a rush they returned to their base while Lancelot, Erhan and his group made their way back. Sonic got his wound patched up, while Queen Amy was checked for wounds. The peace treaty was signed between the two leaders.

Once they arrived to Camelot the following night, Sonic caught up with Lancelot shortly after. The blue blur never doubted his head knight, but he was slightly concerned about his decision between those thieves. “We’re gonna have to keep a good look out for these guys. Lancelot, why did you…?”

“Sire, it was a fake.” Sonic blinked. He didn’t realize the knight just kept fake Chaos Emeralds around. “Perhaps, you are right though. They may be a threat again once they realize…” Sonic patted his shoulder, feeling at ease knowing that the real Chaos Emerald was still safe at the palace.

“We’ll be ready. They’re just a bunch of thieves. We can take them.” Sonic gave a stretch. “Until then…I’m hitting the hay.” The king flashed him a smile, Lancelot nodded in respect before going in the separate direction.

-

At midnight, Aurora took a stroll around Camelot and found Lancelot sitting at one of the benches near the lake. The knight didn’t notice her presence until Aurora sat next to him. “Shouldn’t you be getting some rest?” She elbowed.

“Same goes for you, Rory.”

She rolled her eyes at hearing her nickname, “I slept like a baby, earlier. I’m energized now.” Aurora admired the reflection of the moon on the surface of the water. “I never felt glad to be back here.”

“Perhaps you’ll sneak out less.”

“Chaos… no." Aurora laughed, then gave a deep sigh, now sitting in silence. "Thanks for letting me go with you guys, today." The black hedgehog nodded. "I hate to admit it, but today was frightening." Aurora reflected, their eyes meeting.

"You handled it well, though. I was impressed."

"Ah! The greatest Knight of my father's Kingdom is impressed with lil' o' me?!" Aurora saw the corners of Lancelot's mouth turn into a grin.

"Hm, don't get too cocky, now. You could use more training." The knight stood up to stretch his back, feeling stiff. "Only one or two sessions of sword training wouldn’t suffice. You will also need to learn combat training, in case you don’t have a weapon. That… I would speak to your father about.” He added.

"That's a great idea! Perhaps you and I can train some tomorrow?" Aurora nodded, maybe the King would be willing to teach hand to hand combat as well, at least she could hope.

Lancelot shrugged, "we shall see. After yesterday, we're gonna be on high alert. Once they find out that it's a fake Chaos Emerald, they'll be pissed." Aurora knew he was right, but the princess didn't want to deal with these guys again. But, Camelot was more than prepared now. "We'll set a date and time for another training, though." Though he never admitted it to the princess, he really enjoyed training her. Sure, it was probably breaking some sort of rule; but King Sonic never said anything against it... yet.

Aurora smile grew wider, "sounds great to me!" She pecked him on the cheek, "goodnight." Thankfully, she was gone before seeing his reddening face. Lancelot surveyed outside of the walls of Camelot before getting back to bed, trying to get some rest before he had to patrol the territory by daybreak. All he could think about was the princess, and how that kiss on the cheek made him feel weird.

---

Days later...

Aurora was disturbed by her lady-in-waiting opening her curtains, allowing the bright afternoon sun to seep into the room, the princess groaned in complaint. "Princess, are you feeling alright?" The young rabbit laid out some clothing for the princess. Aurora confirmed that she just overslept, she was helped with her layers of clothes. She found her parents in the dining hall, neither of them lectured her for waking up so late in the afternoon. Just small talk among the royal family. It was a nice change. Aurora had a feeling that this wouldn't last long very long. Being royalty, and the responsibilities that came with it would always ruin these moments, not that Aurora was complaining.

By 2 that afternoon, Aurora exited the palace in search of a familiar knight. Near the stairs, Sir Gawain was standing guard- another knight that the family formed a close bond with, he nodded in her direction. She acknowledged warmly, "morning! Have you seen Lancelot around?" Aurora searched the courtyard.

"... I think he went to the pub, princess." Gawain wasn't quite sure why the princess needed Lancelot, but he didn't have the right to pry.

Aurora thanked him, and made her way in the direction of the pub that was popular in Camelot. She didn't really like the idea of going in this place, but she was determined to see the knight after not seeing him for three days. She assumed he had been quite busy, and she respected it. Something about his company.. she yearned for, and Aurora started to realize the knight had started to make a huge impression on the young princess heart, and she couldn't deny that as much as she tried to. When she entered the smelly pub, she was given some curious looks from the costumers inside. But, she ignored them and made her way towards the bar where Lancelot was sitting. He was startled slightly when the princess tapped him on the shoulder. "Rough day?" Aurora took note that Lancelot had drunk a tall glass of rum, and currently taking a huge gulp of another glass.

"I can enjoy a little rum without having a bad day, princess."

"A little?" Aurora's eyebrow raised a brow.

"This will be my last one, I promise." Lancelot mumbled, before taking another sip. "You don't need to be in here." He gently warned, glancing over his shoulder keeping an eye out.

"When is your next patrol?" Aurora interrupted the knight. She watched him finish his drink, toss some money on the bar, and stand up. Leading her towards the exit. Lancelot didn't want the princess in her any longer.

"Actually, Gawain will take over the next following days." He allowed Aurora to exit the pub first. Catching up to follow alongside her now.

"Maybe we can fit in a training session then, huh?" Aurora's eyes gleamed in excitement.

"You ready to lose to me so soon?" Lancelot grinned back at her.

"Excuse me?" Aurora shoved him. Acting offended by his response, "if this was a competition, I can assure you that I'd win in a heartbeat!" The princess challenged, feeling confident before the knight.

"If you say so. I'll meet you at the training grounds before sunset." Lancelot brushed against her shoulder, as he walked pass her, walking in the direction of the palace. The knight froze at the top of the stairs when he noticed the Queen had been watching the pair. "M'lady." He bowed his head in respect.

"Sir Lancelot." Her eyes softened, "what was that all about?" She motioned in Aurora's direction. The knight hesitated, not sure if he should be fessing up to the queen about what was discussed between them. But, he knew well enough to not hide things.

"I've been training your daughter..." Lancelot admitted, his gaze fell to the ground. The queen's expression didn't change whatsoever.

"Well, I couldn't choose anyone better to train her." Lancelot acknowledged her compliment with a simple nod. They parted ways, and the queen reunited with her daughter.

--

That night...

The queen was getting ready for bed, her maiden left the room shortly after Sonic made his appearance. "We need to talk about Aurora's upcoming courtship with Alastair's son." At the edge of the bed, Sonic froze for a moment before kicking off his shoes. "I think we should reconsider the agreement." She slipped underneath her silk covers, waiting for her husband's response. "I don't want her courting someone she doesn't even know."

"It's how he runs things." Sonic sounded frustrated with the situation. "This could end our peace with them if we disagree out of the blue."

"We can at least let him meet her, I reckon. Aurora should have her own say who she courts. " She laid beside her husband, and got closer to him. "I've noticed a certain knight growing fond of her." Sonic quickly turned to look at the pink hedgehog. "Honey, don't tell me you didn't notice."

"She's suppose to marry another royal suitor." Sonic rolled his eyes. Honestly, he couldn't even think of his little girl getting married. Time was flying by, and sooner than later their daughter will be Queen; whether or not she desired to take that role or not. But marry a Knight? That wasn't common, at least not that Sonic knew of.

"He'd make a great leader, Sonic. You know that."

[rhysand-vs-fenrys]

My Fanfic Library: The Masterlist (As of 03/26/20)

**For the sake of space, only Chapter 1 of long-form fics is linked.**

The Shadows of Night (Ongoing)

A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night's darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

Tumblr: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Cabin By The Lake

Cassian has been keeping a secret- for the past 300 years he has been building cabins around a lake to house the Inner Circle and any family they might have. Five years after the end of ACOWAR, the cabins are finished and the Inner Circle descends for two weeks in paradise.

**Even-number chapters contain smut scenes.

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Velaris

“Protect Velaris. Protect each other. I love you all.” With Rhys’ final words, the shields around Velaris rise, trapping the Inner Circle inside for fifty years. This series follows Mor, Cassian, Azriel, and Amren as they struggle to adapt and fulfill Rhys’ final request.

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Velaris: Fury and Ruin

Following a disastrous attack on Hybern, Cassian’s wings are broken, Azriel is critically wounded, and Feyre is dragged to Spring by Tamlin. Rhysand must now earn the forgiveness of his friends, protect his new sisters-in-law, and find a way to protect Prythian from a looming war- all without his mate and best friend by his side. 

**You do not need to read my previous series "Velaris"

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Feast of Souls

Everyone gathers at the estate in Velaris for the Feast of Souls- and to quietly investigate Feyre’s erratic behavior and strange temperament. Figuring out what is wrong with her is the easy part though- the hard part will be saving her soul before the clock strikes midnight and she is lost forever.

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

An Elucien Epilogue

Lucien returns to Velaris after the events of ACOWAR, determined to be a better male than Tamlin and put aside his mating bond if that’s what Elain wants.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Bring Her Home

After forty-nine years in hell, Rhysand has returned to Night. A piece of him will always belong to that human who saved Prythian- the fae female now poised to marry his sworn enemy. As the sun sets on that horrible day a plea goes out across the Courts- “please, save me. Get me out. End this,” and Rhysand is only too happy to oblige.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Poison in the Wound

Feyre and Tamlin meet to try and finally clear away some of the bad blood between them.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Strength in Darkness

After she is woken by a particularly horrible nightmare, Elain asks her husband to take her to the only place that might help her make sense of everything that has happened to her: Under the Mountain.

Elucien Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elriel Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

What Rises from the Ashes

Tamlin confesses that he and Amarantha were incompatible mates- and the role that played in his downfall.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net || (New) Authorized German Translation

When the Darkness Comes

Lucien recalls the day Amarantha took his eye- and the difficult weeks that followed.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The World Beyond My Cage

Azriel recalls his childhood, how he ended up in an Illyrian camp far from his cell, and how his world was changed by an arrogant little Lordling with a chamber pot.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Peaceful Night (18+)

The holidays are a time for too many parties, too many people, and too much noise. After the festivities are over though, one can take solace in the love of their other half and the light that person brings into their life.

Feysand Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Nessian Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elucien Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elriel Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Azuala Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Amrian Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Morridwen Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Sweet Treat (Feysand 18+)

On Feyre’s first Feast of Souls in Velaris, she finds a new way to give Rhys his holiday chocolates.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Midday Treat (Feysand 18+)

Rhys has been skipping meals again, so Feyre decides to give him an incentive to eat his lunch.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Alone in the Townhouse (Nessian 18+)

When the Court of Nightmares visits Velaris, Nesta and Cassian plot to take advantage of their time alone and finally take things to the next level.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Nessian: The Mating (Nessian 18+)

At long last, Cassian and Nesta's wedding (and mating) day has arrived... along with most of Prythian.

*This is a sequel to "Alone in the Townhouse"*

Extended Re-Post Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Short Version || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Simply Love (Morridwen 18+)

In a thinly veiled attempt to seduce Cerridwen, Mor takes her lover of three years to day for a date before spending an evening at home. A simple, sweet fic for a simple and sweet love.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Slowly (Nessian 18+)

Cassian returns from a fierce Illyrian civil war weary and on edge. Nesta wants to welcome her lover home after weeks away, but she knows the lust that comes on the heels of bloodshed has been building in Cassian the entire time he’s been gone. Both desperately want to be with one another, but for Nesta’s sake he must shove down the Illyrian and proceed slowly.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Bargain Well Struck (Nessian 18+)

Their deal is simple enough- if Nesta trains hard enough, she can claim a massage as her reward. Cassian’s hands never venture beneath the modesty-towels, so Nesta makes sure all the right places are exposed.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Sharing Heaven (Nessian & Azriel 18+)

Nesta and Cassian invite Azriel to join them in bed, and Nesta finally gets what she’s been dreaming of all year.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Alone in the Garden (Elucien 18+)

As the Inner Circle tricks Nesta and Cassian into spending some alone time together, Elain and Lucien find themselves unchaperoned at the House of Wind. **Contains ACOWAR Spoilers** (This is a quasi-sequel to "An Elucien Epilogue" and runs concurrently to "Alone in the Townhouse")

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Cazriel: The Spongebath (Cazriel 18+)

In this AU of my fic "Velaris: Fury and Ruin", Cassian and Azriel explore previously untouched desires each male feels for their friend (written for Court-0f-Dreamers on tumblr in 15 min after too much alcohol).

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net: NOT AVAILABLE

The Torturer’s Throne (Cazriel 18+)

Cassian helps Azriel push his darkness aside and takes a bit of relief for himself in the process.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Until the Shadows Are Silent (Cazriel 18+)

For eight years the shields around Velaris have kept the Inner Circle trapped. Azriel is drowning under the wrath, rage, and pain of being caged in the city, so he turns to an old lover, one who is very good at bending fae over and not stopping until their minds and bodies are ravaged– Cassian.

*Contains strong BDSM themes, DM if you are concerned about a specific TW*

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanficiton.net

One Year in Heaven (Elucien/Elriel 18+)

Elain and her husband celebrate their first anniversary in style. A romantic dinner, an exchange of gifts, and a new suite of bedroom toys to try out.

Elucien Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elriel Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Watching (Elucien 18+)

Elain and Lucien head into the foothills of Velaris to attend the opera, but their true destination is an exclusive club hidden deep beneath the theater. They’ll still get a hell of a show- and have a chance to put on one themselves.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.Net

Sharing (A Watching Sequel) (Elucien 18+)

For years Elain and Lucien have been loyal members of (and performers in) the sensual club hidden beneath Velaris’ opera house. Now- after months of discussion- they have decided to test the waters on expanding their display and changing their masks. No audience, no stage- and no longer just the two of them.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.Net

Incense Burner (Ongoing (Elucien 18+))

After a collapse in the Hewn City reveals a long lost Vault of the High Lords, Lucien and Elain accidentally come to possess one of the Lord’s treasures. What appears to be a simple incense burner turns out to be something far, far more. As Elain and Lucien fall under its spell time and again they will be drawn into a world they could only imagine in their wildest dreams…

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Chapter 2 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Peaceful Night (18+)

The holidays are a time for too many parties, too many people, and too much noise. After the festivities are over though, one can take solace in the love of their other half and the light that person brings into their life.

Manorian Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Chaorene Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elorcan Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Rowaelin Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Nesraq Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Lysaedion Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Calm After the Storm (Rowaelin 18+)

Erawan and Maeve have been defeated, the armies of Morath are vanquished, and Aelin rightly sits on the throne of Terrasen with Rowan by her side- and Lord Darrow as a constant pain in her ass. Frustrated and in need of a break, Aelin orders Rowan to do his job and consort with his Queen.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

To Spite the Shadow (Rowaelin 18+)

Nearly a year has passed since Aelin and Rowan destroyed the forces of Maeve and Erawan. Terrasen is rebuilding, Aelin is healing, and the world is finally at peace. Rowan conspires with Lysandra to give his mate a rest from her Queenly duties.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

For You (Lysaedion 18+)

Lysandra and Aedion enjoy a peace and freedom they never knew before Erawan and Maeve’s defeat. Still- something isn’t quite right. Aedion is keeping one of his desires secret, and Lysandra is determined to figure out what it is.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Familiar Stranger (Lysaedion 18+)

Tanned bronze skin, piercing violet eyes, night black hair- after a nightmare week in Orynth, Aedion goes for a drink and catches the eye of a beautiful- and familiar- fae male. When the male leaves, Aedion follows him to a dark, secluded alley where they can both blow off some steam.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Path Ahead (Elorcan 18+)

For Elide, it is the end of her virginity. For Lorcan, it’s the last ‘first time’ he ever wants to have. Both are nervous about the evening to come, but neither would change it for the world.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Cure for Nightmares (Manorian 18+)

Mere weeks after the events of “Empire of Storms”, Manon and the Thirteen conspire to give Dorian the break he so desperately needs.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Curing the Fever (Manorian 18+)

Manon is forced to leave a meeting early due to a suspected illness. Luckily for her and Dorian, none of the Thirteen guessed exactly what was wrong.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

One Year in Heaven (Manorian 18+)

Dorian and Manon celebrate the anniversary of their meeting in style- with ropes, chains, and a bit of domination.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Morning in the Jingshi

A new merchant has moved into Caiyi Town, one who deals in sinful wares. Wuxian places an order and decides to model a whole suite of new toys for Wangji. Wei Wuxian has always liked it rough, but he may have been too ambitious this time.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.Net (Not Available)

Project: Echo (Part 1)

A long-buried Hydra disaster, a monster in the shadows, a missing child. Eight months after the events of “The Winter Soldier”, Bucky turns himself in to the Avengers on one condition: They must help him find a girl snatched off the streets by Hydra seven years ago. In their quest, the Avengers accidentally unleash a horrifying creature of darkness and shadow, intent on making their quarry its prey.

Prologue || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Project: Echo (Part 2)

A new enemy surfaces with a team of the Avengers’ greatest foes, hand-picked for their destruction. Meanwhile, Inessa’s pre-Hydra past begins to surface, casting doubt on where her loyalties truly lie.

Prologue || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Project: Echo (FINALE)

Seven years after the events of “Part 2”, Avengers Tower explodes, fulfilling Bucky’s vision. All evidence points to Avengers Shadow-Ops leader Inessa Ryker, who is forced to seek out Bucky in hiding. Together they must determine who the traitor is in their ranks and if their friends are still alive- all while trying to survive deadly ambushes orchestrated by Sam Wilson and his hand-picked army.

Prologue || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Avengers: Valkyrie Wars (Part 1)

When a young woman stumbles across a Valkyrie artifact the Avengers will fight Asgard, Valkyrie, Loki, Hydra, and the last of a monstrous race known as the Norn. Whoever claims the weapon can unleash Hell, but when it vanishes Loki takes the only person capable of finding it again: Steve Roger's lover.

**All cannon through "Winter Soldier" used, NO "Age of Ultron" or "Civil War"**

Tumblr: Not Available || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

To Save Her Soul (Ongoing)

After the events of "Captain America: Civil War", Alice Pierce (the granddaughter of Alexander Pierce), a drug addict, is pulled off the streets and forced through detox by the Avengers so that she might help infiltrate her grandfather's compound to rescue Clint's wife and children.

**Trigger warnings noted above chapters, overall warning for drug use/withdrawal**

Tumblr: Not Available || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

X-Reader Format (Abandoned) || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Ridiculous Ground-Up World Building Sheet

Shorter: World Building 101

World Building 102: World Building Tips

The Ridiculous Ground-Up Character Building Sheet

General Writing Tips

Master Plot Types

Things to Ask Yourself

Dialogue

How to Write Smut

Tough-Love Tips for Writers

[sasaranomiya]

Koukyuu no Karasu Volume 3 Chapter 4 - The Twilight Orb (Part 2)

An unexpected twist???

Previous || Index || Next

On that day, Koushun came to Yamei Palace while it was still light, which was unusual for him.

“I’m a little busy, so I can’t stay here for long, but I came to see how you’re doing,” he said matter-of-factly without even sitting down in a chair.

“You needn’t come if you’re busy,” Jusetsu said in exasperation, but Koushun didn’t say anything and just stared at her face.

“…What?”

“If you’re well, then that’s good.”

Just as Jusetsu was wondering what that was all about, Koushun was already outside the doors.

Gazing after him as he left, Jusetsu rose. She was about to leave the room when Xingxing started to kick up a fuss, but she ignored it and chased after Koushun.

“Koushun.”

Koushun seemed a little surprised by her chasing after him.

“…Was there something you have to tell me?”

“No. I’ll see you off until you’re outside Yamei Palace.”

“…See me off?”

“Yes.” Even she herself wondered what she was doing.

Koushun slowed his hurried pace and matched Jusetsu. Ei Sei glanced back at her, but instead of giving her a sharp look, he abruptly turned back around.

She was thinking of talking about Banka, but that wasn’t something that could be done in a short distance, and it wasn’t something she had to talk about right now. It seemed Koushun had the same thought. “I have a few things I want to talk about, but it would be difficult to keep it short,” he said. “I’ll talk with you later.”

“Are you busy?”

“A little.”

It was a meaningless conversation. Once in the woods, the area became dimly lit due to the thick foliage, but it was still extremely humid.

Jusetsu stopped walking when they reached the edge of the woods. Koushun turned around.

“I’ll come visit again.”

There’s no need for you to visit—that was what she would have responded a short while ago.

“Okay.” That was all she said, and she watched him leave. The shadows darkened, perhaps because the sun was covered by clouds. Jusetsu was left behind in the dim forest.

The cries of the spotted nutcracker echoed.

Koushun returned to the inner court from the inner palace and headed for Koshi Palace on foot. He had summoned Shiki there.

Quietly located in a corner of the inner court, Koshi Palace was a small, unusual palace. Its outward appearance was simple, the pillars not even painted red. The decorative tiles depicted an old man riding a large turtle, and cast-iron lanterns hung from the eaves. Once inside, one would find a line of copperplate flags hanging along the walls. They shook and made a rattling sound when one passed by. No one knew why the building was designed this way. The stone floor was engraved with stars in gold paint.

There was no furniture except for a folding screen, a couch, and a table. Shiki was kneeling next to the couch. Koushun sat down on the couch and told him to raise his head.

“…There is a place I would like for you to go,” Koushun said quietly. Shiki glanced up at him and nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“It’s close to Meiin’s house. It’s a mansion in Tourin Row.”

Shiki looked up in surprise. “That’s—”

“I’ll have someone of the Northern Command act as your escort.”

A soldier of the Northern Palace Guard. Tourin Row was the area where the Un estate was located.

“I want you to meet Eitoku. If you tell him that you’re here on my order, he will meet you.”

Shiki silently waited for the order of what he was going to do when he met Eitoku. Koushun leaned toward him, who was still kneeling.

The image of Eitoku, who he adored as his teacher since childhood, flashed through his mind and disappeared.

There was a commotion at Yamei Palace when the dim light of the evening was deepening.

Xingxing was the one who started making a fuss, but before they could feel the presence of a visitor, something akin to a scream rang out.

“Lady Raven Consort! Lady Raven Consort, please help us!”

It was Senjo’s voice. She was terribly distraught. She flew in when Jusetsu hastily opened the door.

“Lady Raven Consort…”

It seemed that the attendant, who was not accustomed to running, had run all the way here. She collapsed to the floor, panting. Jiujiu went to the kitchen to get water, and Jusetsu ran to her side to help her up. She rubbed Senjo’s back as she coughed, gave her the water, and waited for her to calm down.

“What happened?” Jusetsu asked once she settled down.

“Lady Banka…the Lady Crane Consort suddenly collapsed.”

“Collapsed? Did she suddenly become ill?”

“No—I don’t know. She’s suffering from a high fever.”

A high fever.

She recalled the story about the curse she heard from Banka during the day.

“We called for the doctor, but something strange happened when Lady Banka collapsed—”

“Something strange?”

“In the evening, a package arrived from the Saname clan—this is a common occurrence. Fabrics and accessories are often sent to her. This time, there were several accessories. It seemed that something strange was mixed in among them. It was a bracelet, but as soon as Lady Banka put it on, she collapsed.”

“…Was it coated with poison?”

Senjo shook her head. “That was the first thing we suspected, so we immediately removed the bracelet to check.”

However, there was no evidence that poison had been applied to the bracelet or implanted.

“And then, Lady Banka developed a fever…Lady Raven Consort, what do we do?”

What do we do…how am I supposed to know?

“I am not a doctor.”

“Isn’t there any way to cure her? Prayer, or anything… Anyway, will you please take a look at Lady Banka?”

Jusetsu weakened. What could she do even if she saw her? But, there was one thing that concerned her: the fact that Banka had a fever, just like the Saname curse.

“I can’t promise anything,” Jusetsu stood up. “For now, I will take a look at her condition.”

“Thank you very much,” Senjo prostrated herself. It was as though she was entreating a deity, and Jusetsu felt uncomfortable. Accompanied only by her escorts Onkei and Tan Kai, Jusetsu hurried to Hakkaku Palace.

At Hakkaku Palace, the moment she passed through its gates, she could feel the unsettled atmosphere. Eunuchs and palace ladies rushed back and forth in the corridors, and attendants were also going in and out of Banka’s room. When Jusetsu entered the room, she saw Banka lying on the bed. Her face was visibly red, her eyes were moist with fever, and she was panting in pain.

“The doctor left just now…he prepared some medical decoction for relieving her fever, but she seems unable to drink it.”

The elderly attendant by the side of the bed explained the situation. She was the oldest of all of Banka’s attendants. Her name was Rokujo. She was pale and trembling with agitation as she tried to calm herself down.

“Where is the bracelet?” Jusetsu asked, and one of the attendants brought a box that had been placed on the table. It contained a gold bracelet.

Gold? Even though Banka prefers silver?

Jusetsu frowned as she held the box and looked at the bracelet.

This is…

These kinds of things were immediately recognizable. Just like the time with Senjo.

“This is a cursed item.”

The attendants in the room gasped or let out faint screams.

“W-What does that mean, Lady Raven Consort?” Rokujo asked fearfully.

“A curse has been laid on this bracelet. Did you say that this was in a package sent by the Saname clan?”

“Yes—oh, but this isn’t a gift for Lady Banka.”

“What?”

“Lady Banka wrote a letter to the master saying that she wanted to be friends with a consort because she was close to her age, so perhaps this was a gift for that purpose—”

“Wait. What are you saying? By consort who’s close to her age, you don’t mean—”

“She was talking about you, Lady Raven Consort.”

Jusetsu’s gaze returned to the bracelet. “So, this was meant to be a gift for me?”

Was that why it was gold instead of silver.

“Yes. However, when Lady Banka saw the bracelet, she said that it wasn’t pretty and that it didn’t suit the Lady Raven Consort, so she decided to give you a hairpin that was presented to her and keep this bracelet as her own.”

“In other words, they were switched. This was originally supposed to be for me.”

Rokujo nodded.

The one who was supposed to be cursed was me.

This was a deadly curse. Someone was trying to kill Jusetsu. But why?

Jusetsu stared closely at the bracelet. The gold bracelet was inlaid with a milk-white gem. Where the gem was set, there was a decoration carved into it… She looked at it closely.

The carved details were in the form of a toad. The toad was holding the gem. That was what was carved.

A toad. The god that was killed by the Saname…

Jusetsu peeled off the sheeting of the box that contained the bracelet. A curse talisman was pasted to the bottom of the box. The handwriting was familiar. Curses were difficult to grasp as individual characters, the flow of the brush, the way the ink blurred, and the sweeping strokes and upward turns all reflected the idiosyncrasies of the writer, just as in the case of characters. The handwriting was very similar to the talisman used to curse Senjo.

Banka muttered something, and Jusetsu leaned in closer to listen.

“…I’m sure, it’s…Hakurai…”

“Hakurai? Are you saying that this curse is the work of Hakurai?”

Banka nodded slightly.

“I…hate…that man…”

She wrung out her voice under her labored breathing.

“He…cozied up…to Father…” Banka said, sounding half-delirious.

Hakurai—the founder of the Eight Truths. He tried to curse Jusetsu, the Raven Consort.

Could Senjo’s curse also be…

What if, apart from the purpose of cursing Senjo, there was some other intention, such as testing the power of the Raven Consort, or harassing her?

“Lady Raven Consort, what do we do?” Rokujo asked weakly.

“…I will break the curse.”

The attendants let out cries of relief and astonishment. Jusetsu asked them to leave the room and was left alone with Banka. She placed the bracelet and the box side by side on the table and stared at them.

A toad spell.

She remembered hearing about that. It was a spell used by sorcerers. The items they used, such as toads, snakes, and poisonous insects, differed depending on the person. The bracelet was adorned with a toad and a grayish-white stone, which was said to be obtained from the head of a frog. It was called a toad stone.

According to one theory, silver was made from condensed moonlight, and gold was made from concentrated sunlight. Wulian Niangniang, who was Yeyoushen, was weak against light. Was this bracelet gold because of that?

Jusetsu glanced at Banka. Her face was hot, and sweat beaded her forehead and neck. Her breaths were fast and shallow. She wiped her sweat with the handkerchief placed by her side. Banka opened her eyes slightly and tried to look at Jusetsu with unfocused eyes. Lady Raven Consort, she seemed to say with a hoarse voice.

“No need to worry. I’ll break the curse,” Jusetsu told her. She didn’t know if Banka heard her or not, but she knitted her brow slightly and closed her eyes.

Jusetsu pulled out a peony from her hair. Whether it was a toad or snake, these curses could be broken by breaking the curse tool.

The flower transformed into pale red smoke that drifted in the air. She drew it close with her fingers, manipulated it, and shaped it into an arrow. Jusetsu grabbed it and aimed it at the toad stone on the bracelet. She swung down all at once. The arrowhead shattered the toad stone—or at least, it was supposed to.

“!”

The moment the arrow hit the stone, the arrowhead slowly unraveled and disappeared as though it was being sucked in.

“…This is…”

The same thing happened with the Owl.

What does this mean? At that time, if I remember correctly…

It’s pointless to fight with your own family. If you’re going to fight, use a toribe.

Yes, that was what the Owl told her.

Jusetsu scrutinized the bracelet. She was able to return the curse cast on Senjo. Why couldn’t this spell be broken? A toad spell. Toad. The same as the god who cursed the Sanames.

“…I need the power of a god?”

The Sanames were cursed. At the same time, they possessed a sacred treasure. An orb that held the power of a god.

I can also use that.

Jusetsu glared at the bracelet, but raised her head and ran to the lattice window. She opened the lattice. The starry darkness was spreading.

Which way was Yamei Palace? Jusetsu looked around. It didn’t matter. She was calling it anyway. The answer was given to her by the Owl.

“Sumaru!”

Jusetsu’s sharp voice resounded in the darkness. What felt like an incredibly long time passed before she heard the flapping of wings.

The flapping of its wings and its raspy cries tore through the silence. White spots appeared in the darkness. Brown wings. Jusetsu stretched out her arm. The spotted woodpecker flapped its wings restlessly as it descended and perched on her arm. Its claws dug into her arm, and Jusetsu’s face twisted a little in pain. However, this wasn’t the time to complain.

“Sumaru, give me one of your feathers.”

The spotted woodpecker let out a cry, as if giving permission, and Jusetsu plucked out one feather from its wings. When she shook her arm, the spotted woodpecker flew away. The feather transformed into a double-edged sword. The shining brown blade was dotted with white spots like stars. Jusetsu slashed through the air with the sword, making a light whoosh sound.

Jusetsu stood in front of the table. She looked at the gold bracelet and raised her sword. She swung it down with all her might.

The blade made a hard, sharp sound. She felt some resistance pushing her hand back. A gray-brown smoke began to disperse from the toad stone. It enveloped the bracelet, as though to protect it. Jusetsu dug her heels in and pushed the sword down with even more force. There was a sensation like breaking through a membrane. She heard water splashing furiously. A deafening, piercing, and unpleasant cry resounded.

The voice lingered for a long time, but gradually became quieter and thinner, and then finally faded away. She looked and found the smoke had disappeared, the stone was shattered, and the bracelet was broken in half. As she looked on, the bracelet crumbled like ashes.

Silence returned. Jusetsu let out a breath.

She heard a knock on the door.

“Lady Raven Consort, what was that sound just now…?”

It was Rokujo. “You may come in now,” Jusetsu said. The door opened, and the attendants nervously entered. Rokujo was the first to run to Banka’s bed.

“Her fever…!”

She touched Banka’s forehead in surprise. Banka’s complexion had returned to normal, and her breathing became regular and calm. She was sleeping well.

“Lady Raven Consort,” all the attendants knelt before Jusetsu. They were prostrating themselves as though worshiping a god. “Thank you very much, Lady Raven Consort…”

“There’s no need for this. That curse was originally directed towards me.”

Jusetsu backed away at the sight of the attendants. She wasn’t a god, and she didn’t want to be worshipped.

“No…! What would have become of Lady Banka if you hadn’t been here, Lady Raven Consort?”

Rokujo began to cry, perhaps out of relief. The other attendants also began to cry or soothe each other, and the room became noisy. Jusetsu slipped out of the room quietly. Onkei and Tan Kai were waiting outside the door.

“Are you injured, Niangniang?” Onkei asked.

“No,” she responded and began walking away. She was exhausted. The moment she exited the gate, she staggered. Onkei and Tan Kai held out their arms at the same time to support her, so she didn’t collapse to the ground.

“I shall carry you on my back.”

Onkei turned his back to her and knelt down. Under normal circumstances, she would have refused, but right now she found it too exhausting to even open her mouth, so she silently entrusted her body to his back.

Why did the leader of the Eight Truths, Hakurai, try to kill me?

The Owl, who also tried to kill her, didn’t hold a grudge against her. He only tried to kill her out of necessity.

But, this curse was different. There was a clear intention to have her “die painfully.”

The depths of her heart went cold.

Am I hated?

Is it because I’m despised?

When those thoughts crossed her mind, her heart trembled, and she couldn’t move. She no longer knew what to do. And she didn’t even know if it was her own heart that was trembling with fear, or if it was the Raven’s.

I don’t know anything.

Jusetsu felt like she was still that child cowering in the darkness of night. There was no one to point the way. Reijou raised her so that she could walk on her own two feet, require no one’s help, and never need to ask for anyone’s help. That was who the Raven Consort was, after all. Jusetsu had also intended to live her life without asking for anyone’s help.

However—.

In the darkness, she felt the warmth of Onkei’s back, and for the first time, she wanted to cry out from the bottom of her heart for someone to help her.

Shiki was led down a hall in the Un mansion. Instead of sitting in the chair offered to him, he waited for Un Eitoku. The soldier escorting him was waiting outside the door.

The room was very modest. The desk and cabinet were probably made out of good-quality rosewood, but they weren’t painted with expensive black lacquer or decorated with mother-of-pearl. The blue-and-white porcelain vase on the stand didn’t seem to be too expensive.

It wasn’t all that surprising. One could tell by Eitoku’s appearance that he didn’t like extravagance. The room was clean, but not luxurious. Perhaps that was what it meant to be a distinguished family.

After making him wait long enough to fully examine the furnishings in the room, Eitoku arrived. He threw a cool glance at Shiki. At times like this, Shiki always felt like he had been stripped naked. People of distinguished families always looked at him like he had nothing. It was probably subconscious. That was why it showed in his glance.

“Sit,” Eitoku told him after sitting down himself.

“No, I shall remain standing.”

Shiki could have obeyed him without any protest, but he stubbornly refused. His Majesty never looked at me like this. He simply looked at Shiki with a transparent, colorless gaze. That was why Shiki served him. Koushun never broke his polite demeanour even for someone like Shiki, but possessed a dignified and noble manner.

“So,” Eitoku cast a sharp glance at Shiki, who was still standing. “What sort of business is so urgent that you need to meet with me at this hour?”

“I am here at His Majesty’s command.”

Eitoku’s mustache fluttered. “His Majesty, you say. What kind of order is it?”

“I understand that you have been patronizing a silk merchant from Ga Province lately.”

“His wares are good. That is all. –Ga Province is associated with the Sanames, though. Could it be that His Majesty thinks that I’m working with the Sanames and plotting a rebellion?”

Saying this frankly, Eitoku laughed, while Shiki stared at his face without smiling. Eitoku grimaced, looking displeased.

“Speak your business now. But even if you say you’re dragging me before His Majesty on suspicion of treason, I won’t believe you. His Majesty isn’t such a fool. Now, tell me what you want. This is no time to vague.”

Eitoku’s voice held the confidence and composure that had supported Koushun for many years. It was a calmness that came from trust of Koushun’s intelligence.

That finally brought a soft smile to Shiki’s lips. “I feel the same way.”

Eitoku looked puzzled.

“I apologize for doing something so audacious as testing you. His Majesty has charged me with giving you a message. ‘Tell Reiko Shiki everything you can find out and use it.’”

Eitoku’s eyes widened.

“Please let me know how I can help you. I will do my best.”

“—Has His Majesty noticed?”

“Just as you said earlier, His Majesty is no fool. His Majesty knows you well, just as you know him well. You were investigating the silk merchant from Ga Province under the pretense of being swayed by him. You used your ‘ears’ in the inner palace to investigate the Sanames.”

Shiki took a step toward Eitoku and lowered his voice.

“What His Majesty wants to know most of all is who is working with the Eight Truths. –It’s not Saname Chouyou, right?”

Eitoku looked in Shiki’s eyes and nodded firmly.

The copper banners were shattered. Hakurai, who was standing in the center of the room, let out a groan and crouched down, covering his left eye.

The toad spell was broken.

I can’t believe it. Does she still have that much power left? That was a spell that borrowed the power of a divine treasure—.

There was a burning pain in the left half of his face. A lukewarm liquid overflowed from between his fingers. Blood dripped onto his clothes and the floor.

Groaning, Hakurai groped around in his pocket. The divine treasure he took out—the Twilight Orb—was shattered into pieces. In Hakurai’s palm, it turned into dust and vanished.

How stupid.

Hakurai pressed his handkerchief against his left eye and stumbled out the door. The main house was noisy. He could see torches burning. Hakurai put his hand on the wall and staggered on unsteady legs down the corridor toward the main house.

Someone was talking. It was—the voice of this mansion’s owner. It was the Saname elder’s voice.

“What are you trying to do, Chouyou! Pointing a blade at me—at me!”

Hakurai turned the corner of the corridor and appeared in front of the main house. Standing in front of the door was the master in his nightwear and a man facing him. The man was in his forties with sharp features. He was accompanied by his retainers, who were holding torches behind him.

He was the head of the Saname clan, Chouyou.

“Do you think you can talk your way out of this, Uncle? I understand that you were trying to infiltrate the Un clan by sending your own man to the capital, and that you were scheming to regain your own vested rights as well.”

“So what? I’m the Saname elder.”

Chouyou looked coldly at his uncle, who didn’t even attempt to make an excuse for himself.

“Yes. The Sanames take care of their elderly. It is precisely because we respect you as our elder that we have turned a blind eye to you until now.”

Chouyou let out a somewhat theatrical sigh.

“Have you forgotten in your old age what you did during the time of the empress dowager, conspiring with the worthless chief official of Ga Province, who bought his position with money? You falsified the profits of the domain, put it all in your own pockets, bribed the chief official to turn a blind eye, and poisoned my subordinate who tried to inform the central government of your wrongdoings. When the empress dowager was overthrown and the chief official dismissed, you came crying to me when you found yourself in a dire position. If the matter came to light, not only you, but the Saname would also not be able to escape punishment, so I dealt with the aftermath and protected you. All I asked you to do was to never leave the mansion. And yet you’re still dissatisfied with that?”

Chouyou gave his uncle a chilling look. His uncle turned pale. His gray hair was disheveled, and there was no longer a shred of the Saname dignity in him. He staggered back, but perhaps because of his weak knees, which he hurt on a regular basis due to his age, he fell onto his behind.

“I…I simply wanted to fulfill Saname’s earnest wish! To gather strength and return to Kakami! That is all. You also understand, don’t you?”

The old Saname elder looked up at Chouyou as though pleading. Chouyou simply looked down at him coldly.

“You have never thought about the Saname. You’re only thinking about yourself. Secretariat Un is of a different caliber than the former chief official. A paltry bribe won’t work on him. On the contrary, your contact with Secretariat Un has aroused suspicion, and your past wrongdoings will soon be revealed. That isn’t all. That deputy inspector you poisoned is now a scholar who serves the emperor. We can no longer cover things up. The Sanames will be punished. All because of you.”

Chouyou put his hand on the hilt of the sword hanging from his waist.

“I asked His Majesty to grant his forgiveness in exchange for your life. I hope at least your head will become useful to us.”

There was a flash of light.

His skill was magnificent. With a single stroke, the head detached from the torso and flew into the air. Blood spurted out. Chouyou stepped back and dodged the blood. The retainers behind him immediately rushed to the body and head and started cleaning up.

Chouyou turned his gaze to Hakurai. Hakurai was kneeling there. After Chouyou looked down at him fixedly, he said, “You must leave Ga Province.” It was an order of exile.

“Yes,” Hakurai answered obediently.

“…Did you injure your eye?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll let you receive treatment for it, at least. Bring him to the mansion and call for the doctor.”

A servant approached. Hakurai called out to Chouyou’s back as he was about to leave.

“Injou is in the detached house. A little girl is there. She will come with me as well.”

Chouyou turned around and looked at Hakurai briefly, then motioned to one of his servants.

“You should learn from this and stop this sect leader nonsense.”

After saying that, Chouyou left for good. Hakurai watched him intently as he disappeared into the darkness.

Previous || Index || Next

[shadowsong26fic]

Writing meme question: 2, 7, and 9. (If it isn't too much) :D

Nope, not at all too much :D

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

...hmmmmmmmmmm...that is a good question, lol. Uh, I’m not necessarily coming up with anything specific? Although I guess there is some stuff that I mostly do in either RP contexts or very private self-indulgent nonsense that it might be nice to treat Properly, so to speak. Things like self-indulgent crossovers and/or AU concepts, random things like wingfic/bonded creatures/etc. (though only in certain contexts and usually fitting those into an otherwise-canon universe), certain H/C tropes...also, not really tropes, but there’s a couple of rarepairs that I’d love to see more of (for which I’d pretty much have to write it myself lol) but either because I’m not sure I have a handle on the character voices involved or just because...pairing-focused stuff is not really where my fic brain lives for the most part, lol.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oooooh, this is a hard one. Uh. Let’s go with this, from a short story set in one of my original worlds, The Farglass Cycle (previously known as Feredar):

The Audience Hall, at least, seemed to be mirrored rather than clear, other than the dais ahead of her. It gave the impression that Queen Kesshare was floating, rather than sitting, when the light hit her right. As if chairs and floors were for mere mortals, like her consort beside her, not for the iron-hard desert Queen with her dark hawk's eyes and deceptively simple and soft-looking silver gown. She looked like a bronze-gilt statue of a harsh Goddess of the Dead, and Sheminne didn't have to be a performer to know that every aspect of the Queen's clothing, posture, Hall, down to her husband slightly behind her, in shadow, on a more-solid throne, the fact that the cavernous room, with its graceful columns and shimmering floor was entirely empty save for the three of them and a handful of silent bodyguards... It was calculated for exactly that impression of ultimate power and doom.

There are some things I would edit here--I know that my Main Writing Flaw is run-on sentences/overuse and abuse of commas, semicolons, emdashes, ellipses...you name it, I love it. [Hi, we’re the Neverending Sentences, and we’ll be here all night]

...anyway, I’m aware of that weakness of mine, and I think I’d do some more editing here (I wrote this...yeesh, nearly ten years ago; and it sticks out as particularly run-on).

But what I like about this is that...I’m also not super good at description? (Like, for example, the fact that I have yet to describe Dr. Naar in Precipice is not only because I still haven’t made up my mind as to whether he’s Human or Besalisk; it’s also at least partly because fitting in descriptions like that is Awkward and I Don’t Like Doing It, lol).

This is, I think, one of my better efforts at description. It tells you pretty much everything you need to know about Kesshare (who, fun fact, is Not actually the villain in this story; but if other events abroad hadn’t upstaged her, she would absolutely be the villain of another story). And it gives you at least a little bit about the nation she rules (the Kingdom of the City of Glass; usually just referred to as Glass or the City of Glass), and something of its wealth/power/relationship with other nations.

Also, see here for a picture I commissioned of Kesshare awhile ago, mostly using the above passage as a reference, lol. (Kesshare is the top picture; the bottom is Taz, another character from the same story).

((Honorable mention, because they’ve been in my head lately either because characters or topic: a bunch of stuff from our faces like a mirror; both in terms of a few key moments that made Bo-Katan into who and what she became when we the audience meet her in TCW, as well as some things about her relationship with Satine and their respective philosophies; a couple snippets of miscellaneous AU bits (like this one, lol)...but I like this one, and it’s nice to draw attention to some of my original stuff sometimes, y’know?))

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

Oooooh, good question. Uh. Different things are hard for different reasons? I don’t think any fic has ever been Super Easy (except actually maybe The Devoted; that one flowed pretty smooth once I really got going). So, I guess...I’ll cycle through some of my other SW longfic projects and quick answer because Why Not:

Precipice has its ups and downs, depending on topic and focus. Arc Six was I think the hardest (despite the fact that Arc Seven has taken For Ever to get out, lol), between I’m not good at Sustained Fluff and Saw is a pain in the butt even if I wasn’t using his POV. (I swear, the next/final chapter Will Be Out Soon; I have...like...3-4 hours of work left on it which I swear I’m not using this meme to procrastinate <.< ...of course, then I have all the sequel/interquel stuff planned lol I’m sure I’ll have more Ups And Downs to complain about in the future)

our faces like a mirror, which I mentioned in the last answer, I’ve been working on on and off for, like, three years; it’s hard to balance Bo and Satine’s points of view without vilifying either; also because there is like zero canon definition of the period I’m writing about, there’s a lot of whitespace to fill in. It’s almost closer to writing original fiction in that way--I mean, I don’t have to do the heavy lifting of worldbuilding, and I am focusing on fleshing out something we have a hint of in canon that drew my attention (i.e., how did these two end up where they were/with such diametrically opposite beliefs/what is/was their relationship as sisters; how did bo-katan survive the mandalorian civil war since she pretty clearly was not with satine and the jedi; how much do their separate experiences during that time affect them/inform their future behavior (spoiler: A LOT)); but a lot of the specific events/storyline and even some of the characterization of these two women is pretty much built from scratch.

Distaff, I got stuck on ‘cause I borked my timeline and also haven’t 100% figured out how I wanted it to end.

The Phoenix; getting into Luke’s head was kind of hard; also the ending feels kind of rushed.

for we are a woven thread; find the strand; figuring out what to do with Obi-Wan’s thread was a little hard, also just...getting through the super downer beginning, lol.

SW2021 big bang: finding the actual Story buried in how the three focal characters connect and what that means for them/the rest of the galaxy. AKA lol what is the Plot.

...I’m not sure that actually answers the question, but it’s something in the neighborhood, at least?

Ask me a fic writer question! (Or, frankly, any question, I like to babble about writing to/at people. My writing discord is pretty quiet but I do that there sometimes XD)

[gideonaceleigh]

Book Roundup 2019!

I’ve read a lot of really amazing books this year so I thought I’d give a brief ‘review’ of them and my recommendations!! I know it looks like I’m a light reviewer, but I’ve decided to not waste my time on books that are lackluster to me so I’m more than willing to give up on a book halfway through lol

5 Stars

1. Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim YA Fantasy

ahhh!! I’m so obsessed with the book. The cover art alone is insane!! Basically a mix of Mulan and the fairytale about spinning straw into gold. Has sorcery, magic, and shapeshifting!! A proper OTP <3 

2. The Winter of the Witch by Katherine Arden Fantasy

A spectacular end to a spectacular series. Russian fairytale retelling. Another amazing OTP. Magic!! 

3. The Tiger’s Daughter by K. Arsenault Rivera Fantasy

Lesbians on horses with swords! What more could you ask for! Demon slayers and Gods!

4. The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi Fantasy, maybe YA?

oof. Got this in one of my OwlCrates and did not expect it to hit as hard as it did. Based in Paris. A beautiful burlesque dancer who can ‘read’ an objects history. A character who’s been robbed of his proper inheritance. A flower artisan. A rebel. A arguably autistic coded Russian girl who’s a little to into making things explode. And an ‘antagonist’ who isn’t really an antagonist and who I may be a little in love with. Super beautifully done! Excited for the sequel!

5. Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan  YA Fantasy

Heart wrenching. Powerful. Painful. There are three castes: Moon caste are demons who each take on animalistic features. Steele caste are half human and half demon with a few animalistic features. Paper caste are pure humans. Every year the Bull Moon caste king brings in about a dozen Paper Girls from the different regions. This is the year one of girls brings in a rebellion. Primary characters are lesbians and I love them <3 tw: for sexual assault. there are warning at the beginning and resources given at the end

6. We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal YA Fantasy

oof. My boy Altair isn’t a ‘main’ character but not a ‘main main’ character but I love him and his flirty, flirty ways!!

opening line is: “People died because he lived.” second chapter opens with: “People lived because she killed.” and the dichotomy between the two characters is amazing!! beautifully well done!! Arabic inspired! 

7. Anna Dressed in Blood by Kendare Blake YA Horror

a wonderfully intense and engaging horror!! the characters are amazing and very well developed. Kendare is one of my favorite authors <3

8. Shatter City by Scott Westerfeld YA Scifi? Dystopian?

A continuation of his “Uglies” series and just as engaging and powerful as the others! A long time favorite series and author!

9. The Kingdom by Jess Rothenberg 5 stars  YA Fantasy

Holy shit. This book absolutely knocked me out. The style is unique and fresh. The story is told through a series of court transcripts, police interviews, surveillance cameras, and the POV of Ana. Ana is a ‘Fantasist’ in the Kingdom basically Disney World. The Fantasists are incredibly lifelike androids meant to make your wishes come true! But then she gets accused of murder and is put on trial. Absolutely amazing!

10. Five Dark Fates by Kendare Blake YA Fantasy

A solid ending to a spectacular series!! Spent a little too much time on a lackluster romance but overall a favorite <3

11. Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson Horror

Horror from the 50s!! Pretty much nothing like the netflix series but still a wonderful read!!

12. Girls of Storm and Shadow by Natasha Ngan  YA Fantasy

Sequel to Girls of Paper and Fire. Not quite as enthralling as the first, but that’s not out of the ordinary. Moral of the story: everyone’s gay! Has the same TW as the first, along with recovery, self-harm, addiction

13. Girl of Nightmares by Kendare Blake YA Horror

Sequel to Ana Dressed in Blood. A great follow up! I was worried about how it was going to end but I was pleasantly surprised! 

14. Crown of Feathers by Nicki PauPreto YA Fantasy

Phoenix riders!! Warrior Queens! Quite a few great plot twists. Two sisters ended up in a civil war against each other for the throne, animage queen vs magicless queen. Afterwards animages were hunted down and forced into servitude. But there’s a small underground rebellion forming of new Phoenix riders!! I’ve already preordered the sequel for feb!!

15. The Bone Houses by Emily Lloyd-Jones YA Fantasy

A nice little standalone. I believe it was Welsh based? Ryn is a gravedigger near a forest rumored to house magic. Magic that brings the dead to life, but very few people believe this. When the dead start to rise in greater numbers and attacking the nearest villages Ryn and a map maker out to make his name set off to find the source and return the area to normalcy. Well done and cute <3

16. Grace and Fury by Tracy Banghart  YA Fantasy

Similar to Girls of Paper and Fire in that every year the king brings 6ish (?) girls to court to be his consorts. But it’s for life instead of just one year. One of the girls gets convicted of reading and sent off to the female prison island just off the mainland where the women there get split into different ‘tribes’ and are expected to fight for resources in a gladiator type ring. She manages to convince most of the others to band together against the island guards and is determined to find a way back to her sister on the mainland.

4 Stars

17. Wicked Saints by Emily A. Duncan  YA Fantasy

A religious country with a paladin vs a magic country with blood mages. The paladin is forced to align herself with a blood mage in order to save her country. She struggles with her faith throughout the novel while trying to find a way to align what she beliefs with what she’ll have to do to save her people. Some of the blood mages go super far to the point they’re no longer human and become howl-esque bird monsters w/steel teeth, fingernails and wings.

18. Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson YA Fantasy

Another cute standalone!! Sorcerers and magic books! Elisabeth wants nothing more than to be a warden in one of the great libraries, taking care of the grimoires. When the head of the library she’s studying at is killed but a rampaging grimoire she is the prime suspect and is forced to travel with one of the ‘evil’ sorcerers. In her quest to prove her innocence she is forced to question her beliefs and the morality of the sorcerers. 

19. Queen of Ruin by Tracy Banghart YA Fantasy

Sequel to Grace and Fury. Very cute. A little lackluster. The endings a little cheesy but heartwarming. 

[therkalexander]

The Good Counselor Chapter 4

Book Three in the Hades and Persephone series. Seventy years have passed since Elysion was created, and Persephone's efforts to conceive a child with Hades have been in vain. But a secret rite on Samothrace might bend the Fates and give her all that they have dreamed of, or pave a path of untold suffering.

Author's Note: Woohoo! The longest chapter to date! I hope you enjoyed it. I will be interviewed on a radio show called "Behind the Scenes" on Friday at 4:30pm PST if you want to tune in online. I'll be discussing The Good Counselor and turning my series into a TV show

Chapter 4

“Ready?”

Persephone clicked her teeth together. “I suppose so.”

“She did this on purpose,” Athena said. “On the very day that beast will be there…”

“You could avoid Poseidon, you know.” Her gateway through the ether twisted in a winding gyre of Phlegethon flame, and on the other side stood Olympus. “You don’t have to accompany me.”

“I know,” said Athena. “And I hope you don’t think that my ill temper is because of  you. But she told me to bring you and what the Queen wants, the Queen gets. Father is always asking us to play nice with her. Much good it does any of us.”

They stepped through. Persephone’s first impression of Olympus had held true over the years. The garden was filled with perfectly manicured trees, shading plates of rich food from the perpetually bright sunshine. But the perfume of the vibrant flowerbeds was soured but the stink of unpicked rotting fruit, uneaten food, and spilled wine. Around every elegant bend was another display of intrigue, in each secluded bower more emotionless fornication. Deferential nymphs peered over cups of wine, gods and goddesses were swarmed by their retinues, each coincidentally finding a reason to be there to catch a rare glimpse of the Queen of the Underworld.

Persephone had returned only twice since her first visit: once at her husband’s side to announce the creation of  Elysion to  Zeus and the Dodekatheon, and again as a guest of Aphrodite. She wished for  an excuse not to come here, but everyone knew the sowing season had passed, and one didn’t just turn down an invitation from the Queen of Heaven.

“You don’t have to go in,” Persephone said.

“Father wants me to.”

“Why?”

“Strategy. He went easy on me for my role in Poseidon and Apollo’s plotting. I was new to Olympus, then. He wants to make sure that his brother and I hate each other and never conspire again.”

“Given your history with Poseidon, I can’t see why he’d think that’s likely.”

“His punishment for the rebellion has been meted out slowly. He’s been inflicting that animal on me for aeons now” Athena rearranged her scowl into a smile as they passed through the hall, and she straightened her shoulders.

Poseidon stood before the throne, tattooed arms folded. He turned and spread them wide, his sea green eyes lighting up when he saw Persephone. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise!”

She’d only seen Poseidon once, and even then in the most formal of circumstances, at the court of the Dodekatheon. Persephone started to bend her knee.

“No, no, we’ll have none of that,” Zeus said, descending the step of the dais. “You’re Hades’s Queen. Not my vassal. Relax here, daughter. Hera is looking forward to meeting you.”

Poseidon cocked an eyebrow. “I was under the impression she and Amphitrite would be alone.”

“I am no tyrant over my wife’s hearth. She may invite who she likes. Besides: this is quite the occasion. The first meeting of the three goddess Queens. A momentous thing,” he said slapping Poseidon’s back. “Don’t you think, brother?”

Poseidon folded his arms, his shoulders tense. “Indeed.”

“Is Amphitrite here, your excellency?” Persephone said.

“My dear, you don’t need to call me that, and no,” he said, a smirk twisting up the corner of his mouth. “She’s hunting.”

“Not much untried quarry to be had here for either of you, uncle,” Athena said, placing a protective hand on Persephone’s shoulder. “If memory serves.”

“We’ll see.” Poseidon replied. “If she’s unsuccessful here, I could always send her to your temple.”

Athena took a step forward and Persephone could feel the heat rising from her skin.

“If memory serves, it hosts the sweetest prey of all.” Poseidon bared his teeth in a wide smile.

“Let’s not start this again in front of our dear guest,” Zeus said. “I want her to have a good impression of you both.”

“Perhaps we should kiss and make up,” Poseidon took a step toward Athena.

“That’s—”  Athena said, raising her voice. She took a quick breath and continued more calmly, “—quite unnecessary uncle. What are a few jokes among family?”

Persephone stayed quiet. Athena curtsied and quickly strode from the room, hounded by Poseidon’s chuckles echoing through the marble halls. From the corner of the room came a glow of red and yellow, indigo and green.

A woman, kneeling low, shimmered as the light settled. She rose and faced Zeus. “Your grace, your illustrious wife sent me to escort her majesty Queen Persephone to her home.”

“Yes, yes, thank your Iris,” Zeus said, waving his hand. He turned to Persephone. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. Sadly, I don’t think I will be free when you are finished. There’s much business that needs attending to.”

“Fates, I hope not…” Poseidon muttered. He gave Persephone a kindly smile and nodded to her.

She nodded to her father and Poseidon, then followed Iris out of the symposium. Persephone had only seen her from a distance as a child. The goddess-in-waiting to Hera had hair like a raven’s wing, tinged with every color of the rainbow, and her gown shifted color as she took Persephone through shadow and light in the marble halls and along the path to the Palace of Hera. The walk down the hill to Hera’s villa made Persephone uneasy. How odd that Hera kept a separate home, a separate bed from her husband, and situated below his place at the peak of Olympus. Just as her throne was steps below that of the King of the Gods. Hades’s Palace was Persephone’s palace, and Persephone’s bed was Hades’s bed. Olympus again proved itself a world apart.

Like the other private palaces of the Dodekatheon, the grand villa was newer than the old citadel of Olympus itself— the original home of Gaia and Ouranos. Its columns were painted marble statues of women, the heavy balustrade beneath the domed ceiling resting on their uplifted arms.

“If you think this is impressive,” a voice beside her whispered, “you should see ours beneath the waves. And saffron is a good color on you. The daughters of the sea don’t wear that shade often. A pity.”

Persephone blinked, startled from her reverie. Her unexpected companion was a curvy woman with rich umber skin and blue coral and cowry shells woven through her tightly braided hair. A diadem of cross sectioned conch shells sat above her thin eyebrows. She was clothed strangely, like the paintings of the priestess queens on Old Crete. Her flounced skirt and tight fitting blouse were made of an embroidered linen as diaphanous as sea foam. “Am— are you Amphitrite?”

“The same. Though perhaps it’s not so grand. Poseidon and I have merely one bed to share, instead of two. One throne instead of a pretty chair three steps below the big one. The bed keeps him from straying too far if I’m there waiting every night, and sitting thigh to thigh keeps his eyes from wandering too far by day… ”

Persephone’s cheeks grew hot and she stared at Iris’s back, wondering how much Hera’s lady in waiting could hear.

“You’re an earth goddess… wouldn’t you agree that the best way to keep a man from sowing his wild oats is to make sure that his grain silo is always empty?”

“I hadn’t heard that analogy before…”

“I hear you sit your own throne in Chthonia, but Fates— tell me you don’t sleep separately from Hades,” Amphitrite said, louder than was necessary for Persephone to hear her.

“Ah, no, our room is… we definitely— well, I suppose, for six months of the year…”

The sea goddess laughed and threw an arm around Persephone. “Don’t be so nervous up here. They’ll eat you alive. And she will think you’re as much of a prig as she is.”

Persephone’s jaw fell slack and she stared at Amphitrite.

She bit her full lip and chortled. “I couldn’t care less what the rainbow girl hears.”

Iris’s long peplos shifted from a sky blue to the violent gray green of a storm and she spun about. Her face was tight. She forced a smile and straightened her back, her dress lightening until at last it returned to a tranquil hue. She spoke to Persephone. “I shall introduce the consort of Poseidon first. You, as our most honored guest, shall be introduced last.”

A delicate golden gate, it’s filigree mimicking swirls of clouds and the eyes of peacock feathers, swung wide and Iris walked through, followed by Amphitrite and Persephone.

Amphitrite turned her head. You, as our most honored guest, shall be introduced last, she mouthed, exaggerating Iris’s mannerisms. She ended her impression with a spin and a courtly bow. Persephone stifled a laugh.

They passed between the statues who held the ceiling aloft. One looked a bit like her mother. A peahen shrieked and ran across their path, pursued by a peacock. Iris turned the corner and led them through a grand hall, similar to the symposium of Olympus, but with watery light dimmed by gauzy blue veils and green drapes. The columns inside were enormous and carved at the base with stylized lotuses. Soft divans were scattered in clumps here and there, covered in plush fleeces and rolled wool pillows. Frescos and tapestries featuring lionesses with their young, pomegranates, and the ubiquitous peacock feathers plastered the walls. Shafts of light penetrated here and there, giving the strange feeling of being submerged, but the color and softness was welcoming after the Symposium. A delicate, jeweled throne dominated the center of the room, empty.

“Majestic Hera, most treasured daughter of Rhea, She of the Heights, Protector of Men, wife of Zeus Aegiduchos Cronides, and Queen of Heaven,” Iris said to the empty throne, “may I present Amphitrite Halocydne Nereida, Lady of the Sea, Goddess of the Encircling Third, consort of Poseidon, and may I introduce Persephone Karpophoros Chthonios, Goddess of Spring, Exacter of Justice, consort of Aidoneus, and Queen of the Underworld.”

As her titles were uttered, Persephone knelt to one knee, her head bowed. She pressed her right palm to the floor, just as her husband did when in the presence of Zeus, though she was uncertain to whom she was bowing. The throne before her was still empty. She kept her head lowered.

Amphitrite had given a customary nod and curtsy, but stood tall.

“We are all equals here. Please. Stand.”

Persephone rose and looked for the source of the voice. Beyond the throne, a blue veiled woman sat at a loom, her back to them as she wove a fine woolen thread through the taut strands. Iris bowed low once, backed toward the door, curtsied, and departed.

Hera stood and pushed her veil off her head. Beneath were dark locks held up by a simple green filet. Her features were sharp, yet warm, large brown eyes that reminded Persephone of Aidoneus, and a thin, serene smile. Malachite hung heavy on her lids, and kohl rimmed the edges, making them appear even larger. “Come. I thought tea would be in order. If memory serves, wine is not preferred in the lands below, so we shall abstain.”

Persephone felt tension leave her shoulders. “Tea would be fine, thank you.”

“It might be a bit tepid. They took it off Hestia’s hearth several minutes ago.”

Was she late? No, three hours past midday was the appointed time, she thought. Hestia… Persephone tried to remember. The second Child of Kronos. Hera’s closest friend, who had a vast collection of herbs and spices curated from all the plants of the world, some varieties lost for aeons. She cared for the plants, and tended to the hearth with which she cooked and warmed Olympus. And her gateway through the ether was the same as Persephone’s: fire. “Will she be joining us also?”

“No.”

She balked at Hera’s abruptness. But then the Goddess Queen smiled broadly, exposing perfectly white, if slightly large teeth. “I thought it should just be us today. The three of us have never really met.”

“A bit odd that you haven’t invited her here,” Amphitrite said, “since she has been Hades’s queen for nearly four score years. We all thought you were going to go the whole one hundred before holding court with her.”

Hera demurred. “Alas, we’ve been… preoccupied. Much has transpired in that time, no? And dear Amphitrite, how many times has Persephone been a guest at your palace?”

Persephone already felt like a country peasant here. Was she remiss in requesting an audience with Hera or paying fealty to the Queen? Had her oversight endangered the alliance between the Earth and the Heavens? Despite Hera’s tone of friendliness and informality, Persephone kept alert, knowing that every word she chose might be perilous.

“Speaking of, Persephone, I must apologize to you.” Hera moved closed to her, her eyes cast to the ground.

“For what?”

“When I sent you that pomegranate nectar…” She grasped Persephone’s hands, her fingers warm, and looked at her with pleading eyes. “I never intended for my wedding gift to aid your mother’s maidservant in causing so much trouble.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I assure you.”

“I understand you dealt with that wretch and your mother’s base behavior rather succinctly.”

Don’t ever show them weakness, Demeter had told her. Let them believe what they must, her husband had said. Persephone straightened her back. “Yes. I did.”

“Ooh, there’s an idea, Hera.” Amphitrite giggled. “How do you suppose Zeus would react if you made his next dalliance burst into flames mid-stroke?”

“My ways are more subtle than that,” Hera shot back at her. “Thanks to her resourcefulness, Persephone’s husband was unharmed. And, if anything had transpired, Aidoneus wasn’t himself. He had been poisoned by that whore, had he not?”

“With ergot,” Persephone said guardedly.

“Well, as I said.” Hera again cast her eyes to the ground. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Persephone, that you had to endure that.”

“In the grand scheme of things,” Persephone said with a strained smile, “nothing happened.”

Hera clapped once, and three lady’s maids dressed in identical sky blue peplum floated into the room, each bearing a steaming  kantharos. Hera took her place on a divan, and Persephone and Amphitrite flanked her on couches of their own. Persephone didn’t even get a chance to look into the eyes of the servant who bore the golden tray holding her tea: she was silently retreating as soon as Persephone’s cup left the platter. The tisane was pink, and smelled sweet and pungent. Persephone realized that it was rose and jasmine— an honorary nod to her role as the Goddess of Spring. She inhaled and smiled.

“Now, Hera usually punishes those women’s sons and daughters, rather… firmly,” Amphitrite said, “But you… Is it true what I heard from Anauros of Thessaly about what you did to Kokytos, Minthe’s own father?”

“That was… an unrelated matter. He violated the rules of my husband’s kingdom and the dead cast many curses upon him for his wrongdoings. It was my duty to carry them out.”

Amphitrite laughed. “You sound like Aidoneus. So grave! He’s certainly wormed his way well into you, hasn’t he?”

Persephone blushed and looked away, sipping her tea. A burst of sweetness revealed that it was full of ambrosia. She shouldn’t be surprised. Ambrosia was in everything here.

“There’s no need for you to embarrass her,” Hera said under her breath.

“Please… we’re all wives, here. And if they’ve already had a hieros gamos so impassioned that it created Elysion, a realm within their realm, I think that there’s little left to blush about.”

“Let her be the arbiter of that,” Hera said, an edge creeping into her voice. She forced a smile and changed the subject. “I have not seen Elysion yet. Though I heard from my dear husband it is incomparably beautiful.”

“I think it is,” Persephone said. After they told Olympus of its existence, Zeus had made a rare descent into Chthonia to see the Elysian Fields himself. He had said almost nothing at the time, and had looked nervous.

“Tell us a little about it.” Amphitrite said. Both she and Hera leaned forward.

“There’s… the entrance is a grove of intertwined pomegranate trees within the palace garden. Well, it was within our garden. We removed part of a wall and a path was laid out to guide the worthy souls to their new home. Once inside, Elysion appears… expansive. There are many trees, of all varieties, some from lands that we’ve only heard about, and beyond that is a sea, with green, hilly islands dotting the surface.”

“It must be vast,” Hera said, her brow knitting. “How large is Elysion?”

“We haven’t found its end yet.”

Hera’s eyes widened, then she quickly schooled her expression and took another sip. “How do you determine who enters?”

Persephone bit at her lip. “Aidoneus and I spent the better part of the last century combing Asphodel for the worthy shades. With some difficulty, we let them revisit their lost memories long enough to speak with us, and then either sent them back to the peaceful Fields, or rewarded them with Paradise.”

“That sounds exhausting,” said Amphitrite.

“Do you find these souls together during the winter, or does Aidoneus take it up when you are… with your mother?” Hera wrinkled her nose.

“I would not delay any of our— his subjects on my behalf. Aidoneus has ruled Chth— the Underworld for aeons. He is plenty able to search out the worthy shades without my assistance.”

“You have made a great change in him, I think. I didn’t take him for someone who is quite so compassionate. What of the recently departed?” Hera asked. “What must they do to gain entrance to Elysion?”

“Their soul must be prepared. Nothing more.”

“Ah, your Eleusinian Mysteries.” Hera said, raising her eyebrows. She exhaled and turned to Amphitrite. “Any news from beneath the waves, Amphitrite?”

She smiled wide, her teeth showing brilliant white. “There is. I am expecting another child.”

“Oh, by Poseidon?” Hera said over the rim of her cup.

“Oh yes,” Amphitrite hissed at her. “And I would be happy to share every exquisite detail of how he—”

“Congratulations to you,” Persephone interrupted. She hadn’t come here for this. She could very well be with Aidon right now in the comfort of their villa in Thesprotia.

“Why thank you.” Amphitrite smiled at her, and then winked. She knew that Persephone was trying her utmost to keep the peace. She readied her arrows for Hera anyway. “Poseidon was… very eager for another son.”

“You know that it’s a boy?” Persephone said, putting her cup down.

“Why yes,” Amphitrite said. “You know how these things are known.”

“I…”

“Your modesty is quite refreshing here, Persephone,” Hera chimed in.

“I beg pardon,” Persephone said, her eyes cast down on her cup. “But… I cannot claim modesty when I honestly do not know what either of you are talking about.”

Hera put down her cup and canted her head. “Oh dear, I’m sorry, I had completely forgotten you have no children. How careless of me.”

“Good! Then I’ll explain it to her.” Amphitrite stirred her tea. “After the deathless ones create a child, they can both … learn about it together. Its sex, what it might look like, sometimes its sigil for the ether…”

“How?”

“By the simple touch of both, upon the womb,” Hera said.

Amphitrite smirked. “Poseidon likes to find out from inside—”

“Persephone is too much of a lady to listen to any more of that.”

“And what sort of lady? The kind that sits beneath her lover like a concubine?”

“The sort who doesn’t speak like a concubine.”

“At least she too is her husband’s equal.”

“That is not the order of things,” Hera said quietly. “No matter how crookedly you’ve wound Poseidon around your finger.”

“Oh, you hadn’t heard? A little nymphai reminded me that Queen Persephone sits as an equal to Aidoneus.” Amphitrite turned to her. “I know how Chthonia operates. You can tell her, Persephone. Maybe she’ll learn a little something and she can finally bring that insufferable man to heel.”

Persephone sat stock still. Amphitrite was correct, but there wasn’t any way she was going to say so. Persephone didn’t know how to play this game. Fates help her if she was foolish enough to side with either of them.

Hera swallowed a polite sip. “How very strange to hear you speak that way about your sworn king, my husband, when it is well known that Poseidon’s eye wanders far afield. And debasing yourself so shamelessly for his benefit has done you little good.”

“No, plenty of good, I assure you. It was during a very enjoyable ‘debasement’ that we conceived little Eurypylus.” She stroked her belly for effect. “And our bedmate Astypalaia was all too happy to participate.”

Hera sighed, and set her tea aside. She dropped her head into her hand and squeezed her temples. Persephone didn’t move.

“Poseidon desperately wanted to bed that innocent princess, but knew I was between the tides. He started caressing her, then lowered his lips to hers, and she was so enrapt that Astypalaia didn’t even know I was in the room until I replaced Poseidon’s tongue with mine. And it turns out, Astypalaia was not so innocent as Poseidon imagined. To men, sure enough, but not to women. Trust me, the sights and sounds the two of us treated him to drained him of his seed rather quickly.”

Persephone felt the color seep from her face, and looked from Hera to Amphitrite and back.

Amphitrite snickered, then put her cup to the side before she doubled over. Her laugh echoed through the hall. “Alright, you win, Hera. I’ll stop embarrassing her. Gods… you refuse to let me have any fun.”

Persephone relaxed, relieved but exhausted. Hera exhaled and rolled her eyes. “Well since that’s done…”

“I’m done, I’m done. I promise.” She leaned forward. “One last thing though…”

Hera looked skyward. “Amphitrite…”

“Tell me, Persephone… have you considered inviting one of those delicate winged nymphs from the Styx into your chamber? I would be fascinated to find out what they are like.”

“I have not. Nor will I.”

“Surely after all these decades, you’d want to liven things up for the King of the Dead?”

“Neither Aidoneus nor I have any interest but for each other. And it will remain so.”

Hera and Amphitrite looked at one another. Hera lowered her eyes to the floor, but Amphitrite smiled and held her belly, feeling her son turn. “It’s only been seventy five years, Persephone. You have an eternity to truly find the limits to your marriage. And likewise an eternity to try for children.”

Persephone scoffed. “Well rest assured, that despite Zeus’s oath to us, I doubt a child will be forthcoming.”

“Oath? What do you mean?” Hera said, her eyes trained on her tea.

“The Stygian oath he swore to us at the Pomegranate Agreement.”

“Don’t let him get to you.” Amphitrite said. “Hermes told us everything. Cruel and selfish to taunt your husband that way. Zeus only made that promise so that he could bring Aidoneus to heel. He does that to my husband constantly. Not by promising that our child will become the heir to the heavens, mind you, but he has other ways of needling Poseidon.”

“Thank you. As I said, it’s of nothing, and his words on that matter bear little consequence. Aidoneus and I could be content if it never happens at all.”

Amphitrite was silent a moment, then took Persephone’s hand and squeezed it in hers, and gave her a reassuring smile. “As I said, it’s only been seventy five years. Only the Fates know what the future will bring.”

Hera stared into her cup, her serene smile set in stone.

[setepenre-set]

Pleasant Is the Fairyland  (chapter 8)

Megamind/Roxanne

T rating, Labyrinth AU

The Goblin King Megamind is running out of time–he must take a consort. The King declares he will have no one but Roxanne Ritchi—and so Roxanne finds herself whirled away from her unfulfilling, ordinary life…to the Labyrinth, at the center of which is a secret, the King promises, if she can find it. A secret with the power to save a world, or to condemn it to Nothingness.

AO3  |  FFN

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | 

chapter 5  | chapter 6 | chapter 7

(links disabled so this will show up in the tumblr search tool. I’m going to reblog momentarily with the links; look for it in the notes)

Roxanne and the Goblin King stumbled out of the maze and into a world of sunlight and silver-green leaves.

Roxanne kept her gaze fearfully over her shoulder as they did so, convinced, justas she had been as a child going up the basement staircase, that if she looked away from the shadows for a moment they would surge forward and engulf her, eat her whole with vicious, formless mouths.

Convinced with much more reason than she’d had as a child, for she had no doubt that was exactly what the shadows had been trying to do to her and the Goblin King, just before she’d solved the last riddle.

This time, though, the shadows stayed where they were, cool and unmoving and—seemingly—harmless. Instead, it was the iron doors that moved, slamming closed by themselves with a resounding, ominous boom, like the sound of a church bell in hell.

Slamming closed—and then—

—it was as if the doors turned themselves inside out, like a pillowcase grabbed by an immense invisible and hand pulled through itself so that the seams no longer showed.

The doors

(seams)

disappeared, leaving only more trees where they had once been.

Roxanne made an instinctive noise of revulsion, feeling, as she had very much not felt while watching the Goblin King work his magic beneath the tree, a sense of wrongness, of something horrible lurking just beneath the fabric of reality, just beneath the surface of the world, just out of sight.

The Goblin King made a soft, sighing kind of sound and fainted.

She’d been holding most of his weight already, and he was so very light anyway that it actually took her a moment to realize what had happened. It was not until his head lolled against her shoulder, the large, smooth shape of it falling against the curve of her neck, and she looked down into his face that she saw he was unconscious.

His skin was not merely gray now, but nearly translucent, with the delicate webbing of veins showing through, and his breathing was quick and shallow.

He looked—he looked not just ill, but as if he were dying.

Roxanne lowered him gently to the ground, hand cradling the back of his head protectively as she laid him down on the grass behind the nearest tree.

Shadows fell dark on his skin, deep blue and dappled by the leaves, and something about that, something about the shadows, about the light caught at the corners of her mind, something about the light and the way it had—

She looked up.

—changed.

A moment ago, it had been bright sunshine, but now the light that filtered through the silver-green leaves was painted lavender with a swiftly-falling twilight.

Roxanne’s breath hissed through her teeth, the back of her neck prickling with a disquiet that was very nearly fear.

What was wrong with this place? For surely there was something wrong, really wrong with it, just as there was something really wrong with the Goblin King, something beyond just what hunger and heat exhaustion could account for. She couldn’t even blame the head wound which he had been so quick to dismiss, for he’d been doing badly even before the two of them fell into the hole.

Even as she watched, the lavender light of early twilight was already fading into the bluish light of dusk, filtering through the silver-green leaves, coloring the air blue-green, like water seen from the bottom of a forest pool.

Filtering through the leaves and also through—

Roxanne looked more closely.

Yes, she was right; the bunches of brightly colored things that she’d taken at first for flowers like wisteria were actually grapes—never mind that grapes grew on vines, and not on trees.

The fruits of these grapes were multi-colored, a rainbow on each cluster, each sphere a different shade, red and blue and black and purple and yellow and green like ordinary grapes, but also pure white and gold and silver, true orange and bright teal and clear as water droplets or diamonds.

Roxanne stood on tiptoe and reached up to pull down a cluster.

They lay cool and heavy in her hand, cooler and heavier than grapes ought to be, almost like pieces of polished marble or quartz. The scent of them, of the stem she’d broken pulling them down, was sweet and heady.

She knelt down beside the Goblin King, who still lay with his eyes closed, his breathing worryingly shallow. The unnatural pallor of his skin made the hollows beneath his sharp cheekbones look deeper. Roxanne plucked a grape from the cluster, a translucent blue one, and again that sweet, delicious smell filled the air, making her mouth water.

She began to bring the grape to the Goblin King’s mouth—and then she stopped.

He’d said that the food here wasn’t enchanted to force her to stay, but he hadn’t promised that it was all safe, hadn’t promised that some of it wasn’t enchanted in different ways, or simply, mundanely poisonous.

Roxanne hesitated for a moment, hand still outstretched, watching the Goblin King breathe too shallowly, and then she brought the grape up to her own mouth and popped it in.

As her teeth broke the skin of it, the grape seemed to explode with sweetness in her mouth, juice cold and pure and sweet, so sweet, like champagne tasted in a dream. The desire to cram the rest of the bunch into her mouth was nearly overwhelming, but Roxanne held back, carefully chewing the single grape and then swallowing it.

She waited, the taste of it lingering on her tongue, weighing the risk of slow-working poison or deadly enchantment against the way she could see the Goblin King becoming paler and paler, could see his breath coming shallower and shallower, could see him fading as the twilight faded.

(the dying of the light)

She waited as long as she dared, and then she pulled another grape from the bunch, one of the dewdrop-and-diamond-clear ones.

Roxanne was afraid he’d choke on it if she tried to feed him the whole grape like this while he was unconscious, so, instead, she pulled his head into her lap and parted his lips with the fingers of one hand. She held the grape between thumb and forefinger of her other hand and squeezed until she broke the skin of the grape, then let the juice drip into his mouth.

The Goblin King awoke with a sweet taste in his mouth and his head in Roxanne’s lap.

...to be continued.

Happy Valentine’s Day! (...slightly belated) I hope you enjoyed the chapter update, and also day three of my birthday week celebrations!