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selineram3421 · 7 months

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Heeeey, semi-insipred/totally inspired by "As the World Caves in" can you do a story that involves Alastor going after that one last killer he hadn't got yet. Like alot of serial rapist-murders, they have a type they go after. Maybe Alastor's fiance is exactly 100% the type, and he starts noticing a new car in their neighborhood and a new seemingly friendly face in their lives that seems to be VERY interested in his fiancé, but mostly he is just seen walking a dog and from gossip might be the new bf of a neighbor (who doesn't fit the type). Nothing OBVIOUSLY suspicious to your averge person but maybe not Alastor.

Maybe they can be kind of a foil to Alastor where Alastor in his own twisted way has a nobel cause of trying to stop extremly dangerous crime by killing criminals that the cops aren't getting either on purpose or theoufh incompetence.

Maybe the serial rapist murder also thinks they have a nobel cause thinking they are "saving women from this terrible world." Or whatever idea that they got in their head to justify their wants. Maybe just some guy. Crooked cop knowing how to dodge the system. Ifk.

Idk, I'm messy and here for the DRAMA!

Ooooo~ Some of you wanted mooooooore. Lol.

Coming Apart

As The World Caves In

Human Alastor X Human Reader Oneshot

Warning!⚠

⚠ she/they for reader, mentions of hunting, blood/gore(discriptive injuries), fluff/angst, food mention-breakfast, hinting at the start of cannibalism, stalking, attempted rape, murder, blood!, bad dog owner, reader gets their hands dirty, self defence ⚠

Being engaged to Alastor is very much like being partners in crime.

It is never boring.

Instead, its quite exciting and unexpected at times. Sometimes its good but sometimes it could also be bad.

Like right now.

It was late at night.

Only students working on papers or assignments are up at this hour. Thankfully with blasting music, headphones or not.

You were up waiting.

Alastor was out on one of his "deer hunts", you like to call it. Only because you found antlers mounted in his dorm when in college and thought he hunted them.

It gave a good cover for his occasional late night outings.

The hour was way past twelve, quiet in the apartment save for the ticking from your antique mantle clock sitting on the windowsill.

Outside was a different story.

Modern times have a more active night life, and cars pass by now and again. Not too often.

Thank god I don't live on a main street.

You thought, scrolling through images on your phone. Trying to ease the multiple worried thoughts swarming in your mind.

He was late.

Later than usual. Both of you had a long talk about how to carry out his "hunting" properly to ensure it did not disturb nature too much.

It was still bothering you.

He's late.

Then you notice that you've started bouncing your leg in place, and your thoughts keep spiraling.

Finally, there's a sound by the door.

Practically jumping up, you rush over and check the peep-hole, seeing him looking down the hallway and leaning over a bit.

Opening the door quickly with a smile, it shifts into a gasp. "Alastor!", you end up saying in shock instead of happiness.

He's holding himself up by leaning his hand on the doorway, his other hand is red and pressed up against his abdomen. "Hello darling..", he gives you a wobbly smile. "I'm home."

"Get inside, quick!", you whisper shout and pull him carefully.

He hisses in pain but follows you inside the apartment, not going too far. Moving to the wall, he slides down against it to a sitting position in the entryway. Letting out a few more noises of pain when you peel away his hand and shirt from his wound.

"Al.. Al honey, we have to get you to a hospital.", you manage to not stutter out.

"No-what? No. Then they'll ask how I got stabbed.", he says and moves your hand away with a sound effect to go with it. "Pssshh."

"And that tells me how much blood you've lost.", you say as you call an ambulance.

Both of you end up learning more first aid so this doesn't happen again, and so there is no suspicion.

At least it was never boring. Both of you hate being bored.

❇

Weekend mornings are Alastor's favorite.

Because every weekend morning starts off with music.

"Lovin' you is easy cause you're beautiful~", he sings and dances with his fiancé in the kitchen.

"Don't forget to flip the pancake.", they say and give a quick kiss, that turns into a slightly longer one.

Flipping the pancake quickly, he goes back to them to continue dancing.

"And everything that I do is out of lovin' you~", he hums the rest.

The radio continues to play the song as the two prepare breakfast.

Coffee is almost done and mugs are set out, plates are on the counter nearby the stove, and the table has a vase full of flowers that were picked from yesterday's grocery shopping.

Yes, everything should be perfect..

But why does this look lacking?

Alastor thinks as he stares down at the plate he is putting food on, which has scrambled eggs, toast and sausages.

"And every day my life is filled with lovin' you~", she sang while pouring coffee into the mugs.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he finishes up serving the food and takes the plates over to the table.

"Darling, do we have anything planned for today?", he asks as he sets the plates on the table and pulls out the chairs.

"Hmm.. I don't think so.", they say, making their way to the table with the mugs full of coffee. "I'd like to go thrift shopping though, we can try finding that old radio you wanted.", they say placing the mugs on the table.

"I quite like that idea. Let's do it!", he agrees with a smile.

The two sit down to eat and talk about what else they might buy.

Its a week later that his fiancé notices a new face in the neighborhood.

"Do we have a new neighbor?", they ask while looking out the window, but staying near the wall to be out of sight.

"A new neighbor?", he asks and makes his way over, standing next to them and also taking a look.

There's a man sitting at the bus bench on his phone with a dog leash in one hand. Odd thing is that a dog is nowhere to be seen.

"Do you think someone was dog sitting for him?", she asks.

"Perhaps, but we can't be too sure.", he says. "Let's go back to planning love. We're almost done with all of the food options."

"Don't forget the sweets table.", they say and head back over to the couch.

"How can I forget your sugar addiction.", he says with a light laugh and follows behind them.

"At least I know you won't steal my treats."

A few more days pass and the stranger is still hanging around the apartment complex. Not liking the odd vibes he gives off, Alastor visits an elderly neighbor that both of you like to call Grandmother.

He knocks on the door, holding a pie his love baked before heading off to work.

The door opens, revealing an old woman with white hair and wearing a purple dress, with a small pink flower broach pinned on their off white cardigan.

"Alastor, what a surprise.", the old woman smiles.

"Hello Ms Rosie, how are you today?", he offers a smile back.

"I'm doing well dear, come in!", she says and opens the door wider, walking to the living room. "Where is that lovely fiancé of yours?"

"They had to go to work today, one of the people called in sick.", Alastor answers and closes the door behind him before following the woman.

"Would you like tea? I just made some cinnamon tea.", Rosie now makes her way into the kitchen. "Set the pie down on the coffee table."

He sets down the pie like asked and sits down on the couch, knowing the woman would make a slight fuss if he didn't.

Rosie comes back with two mugs of tea and hands one to him before sitting down on the other end of the couch. "How are you dear? Anything interesting to tell me?"

"I'm doing well, nothing too interesting but my fiancé and I went to a few antique stores last weekend.", he says with a fond smile, remembering when they got excited over finding a 1930s typewriter.

"Oh how lovely, was there nice jewelry or tea sets?", she asked.

"There was a good amount of tea sets but most of them were incomplete. We managed to find you something that you might like.", he says before taking a sip of the tea, burning his tongue in the process.

Too soon. He thought with a small sigh.

"How sweet of you both. I'll make you both something to wear. Do you like sweaters?", Rosie continues to talk about different kinds of sweaters she could make for them.

"We both like sweaters, I'll visit again soon and let you know what kind with my fiancé.", Alastor says and puts the mug on the coffee table. "I wanted to ask if you know something about that strange man sitting on the bus bench across the street with a dog leash. He looks about like he's in his late thirties."

"Hm.. Yes, that man came into the building once. Asking to put up some missing dog flyers. Don't understand why he's just sitting on the bench. Maybe he's just waiting for someone?", Rosie says, mumbling the last bit. "Well, the other women say he might be a boyfriend of some young girl living in the apartment. Of course its just a guess."

"Hmm. I see.", he hums.

"Why do you ask dear? Did that man cause trouble?", Rosie asks.

"No, just surprised by the new face.", Alastor flashes a smile.

Before leaving the old woman's apartment, she gives him some red tea.

The next day both he and his fiancé are walking to the car when the strange man walks over.

"Excuse me, have you seen this dog around?", he asks them and holds up a flyer.

"No.", Alastor says after taking a glance at the picture.

The dog looks fluffy and has a bandana around its neck, but the image is terrible and you can barely tell what kind of dog it is.

"What about you miss?", the man then asks them, taking multiple steps forward.

"No, sorry.", they shake their head, taking a hold of Alastor's arm.

"We'll keep an eye out.", Alastor says quickly taking the flyer and the two keep walking. "Are you alright love?"

"Yeah, that guy just got too close.", they say.

That night, he looks up a list of stalkers and assaulters online. Only falling asleep after remembering that he has work tomorrow.

During work, there was an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

When it hit five, he gathered his things quickly and left the radio station. The drive back home was a little annoying due to traffic, but he got there earlier then he usually does.

Then his phone rang.

Picking up the phone after seeing it was her, he let out a small sigh of relief.

"Hello darling. I just got home, so-", he started.

"Hey Red, remember that guy that kept sitting on the bench across the street? He- he followed me to work today.", they say shakily. "He had flyers like last time but he's been outside the building since putting some up."

"I'll be there. Stay on the phone with me and tell your boss the situation.", Alastor says quickly and gets ready to head out.

"Ok.."

When he gets there its dark, only the street lamps, a few stores, and cars passing by are giving off lights. The phone call ended when he said that he was around the corner.

Getting out of the car and running over, Alastor heads inside the building they work in and asks for them.

"You're their fiancé right?", the woman, who he assumes is your boss asks.

"Yes, are they ok?"

"Yeah, but the guy is still around. I'm going to need you to "buy" something while they sneak out. That ok?", she asks.

"Yes, that's fine. I don't care.", he says and gets a few bags of candy in the front.

Then he sees them walk out to the front.

"Hey.", they wave.

"Thank goodness you're ok.", he sighs and pulls out his wallet and keys. "Take the keys while I pay, the car is nearby. You have it yes?"

"Yeah.", they nod and take the keys, then look over to their boss. "I'll head out now."

"Walk out with Anthony and be careful.", the woman says as they head to the back. "The candy is for them isn't it?", she says as she scans the items.

"They eat candy while at work don't they.", he says with a chuckle.

After getting everything, he heads back to the car and sees that they've made it inside safely.

She unlocks the drivers side when seeing him walk up.

Opening the door, Alastor gets in and passes them the bag of candy, locking the door quickly after closing it. "How are you feeling love?", he asks while starting the car.

"Uh, a bit terrified to be honest.", she says and takes out sour candy. "Thank you for the candy."

"Let's go home.", he says.

Both of them keep an eye out for any cars that might be following them. And to be extra safe they don't turn on the lights when entering their apartment.

❇

After that, you called the police but of course nothing was done about it. They only said that they'd keep an eye out.

It was unsettling.

That guy knew where you lived and where you worked.

Seeing your uneasiness, Alastor suggested that both of you get away for the weekend and rent a cabin.

"We'll have Rosie come by and house sit for us so it looks like we're still here. I'll rent a car and we can go up to that mountain you told me about so much.", he holds you close, pulling you into a dance.

"Really? We can go anywhere, it doesn't have to be-", you started but were shushed with a kiss.

He pulls away with a smirk.

"Yes darling, you love it up there and you can show me all of the little shops you've explored, like that Little Dandelion bakery.", his smirk softened into smile as he lifted his hand up to caress your cheek. "I want to see you smile up at the trees again."

You hid your blushing face by resting your head on his chest with a soft huff. Alastor chuckles and continues to sway you in place, kissing the top of your head.

Rosie came to your apartment with her knitting tools and measuring tape the next day, a Friday evening. She had a book on patters for sweaters, yarn rolls almost spilling out of her bag.

"I'll take your measurements before you head out, go through the book if you want something specific.", the old woman said placing her things down on the coffee table.

It didn't take long before you both went out through the back of the building, going to the rental car that Alastor got. You helped put some of the bags in the trunk before he stopped you.

"Don't bother with this love, get in the car and lock the doors until I'm done.", he kissed your forehead.

"Ok.", you nodded and went into the passenger side.

Once finished, he joined you in the car and began driving. Both of you didn't know that the man had taken note of all the licence plates in the area.

The drive was peaceful, just an hour and a half away. You held the map on your phone as the car passed by familiar grassy hills and the old church ruins. At some point you both got off the car to get snacks and stretch your legs.

Driving up the mountain, you were beaming when the car drove through a cloud.

"I hope it rains, it's so pretty and smells nice in the rain.", you commented.

Soon both of you arrived and you told him to park near the shops.

"The restaurants are nearby, so we don't have to walk that far.", you explained.

Alastor smiled as you dragged him from shop to shop, and even praised the food from one of the restaurants that you took him to. The last stop was at the bakery you favored.

He took the orders while you found a spot to sit outside.

Paying for the sweetbread and coffee, he also got you a small pie. It didn't take long for the drinks to be ready and they quickly gave the baked goods.

Now I see why they like it here so much. Good service. He thought before stepping outside and looking for you.

But you weren't anywhere to be found.

"Darling?", he placed the items on a nearby table and looked around the area.

You would have told him if you were going somewhere, he knows that you would have waited for him. Something was wrong. Where were you?

Looking at the woodland floor, Alastor quickly went into hunting mode. It was quite easy to pick out shoe prints as the dirt was still damp from the morning rain. He knew your shoe size and the pattern on the bottom of your shoe, because you added little hearts to make markings with every step you took.

He found the little prints, but what had him more alert was the signs of struggle.

Someone had forcefully dragged you away.

Quietly, he followed the prints and soon found you pressed against a tree with a man covering your mouth.

"Don't you see I had to save you?", the man said as he tried to undo your pants.

"Mph!", you clawed and punched to get out of the gross thing's hold, effectively scratching the man's face till it bled.

"STOP FIGHTING ME!", he shouted and threw you on the ground.

You hit your shoulder on a rock which made you yelp in pain.

Alastor used this moment to tackle the man.

"YOU FUCKING PIG!", he growled and started beating the man in the face. "HOW DARE YOU! YOU NASTY, LOATHSOME-!"

"ATTACK!"

There was a loud bark and then before he knew it a dog was trying to maul him.

"Get off you beast!", Alastor tried his best to throw the dog off but it just kept biting and ripping his jacket.

He was angry.

At the man and at himself.

How could he have ignored everything else? He should have noticed there was a mutt. But in that moment all he saw was red. He couldn't let that man lay another hand on you.

"Argh!", he yelled as the dog bit his leg. "You little shit!", he kicked the dog.

It took longer than he would have liked but he knocked the dog unconscious.

Alastor dragged himself to lean on the trunk of a nearby tree. Arms and legs firing up with pain, him barely able to move an inch before the burning flared up again.

"AAAAHH!"

He heard his love scream out.

Finding her and the disgusting man near the other side of the trail, he sees that they've taken the upper hand and pulled out their sharp pair of scissors.

Ah, its Mr. Stabbington.

"STAY STILL YOU BITCH!", the man yells, grabbing her by the neck and trying to choke her. "CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I'M DOING YOU A FAVOR!?", he rolled them over until he was back on top.

"L-LET GO OF ME!", you coughed before stabbing him in the neck.

Blood splattered and dripped onto your face as the man looked down at you in shock, his face staying frozen that way as he dropped.

You shivered in disgust as the body pressed against you, feeling how aroused the creep was when you moved your leg to kick his lifeless body off. Not sparing another glance at the body, you quickly turned to rush over to your lover's side.

"Alastor!", you cried, throwing the scissors as you stumbled over, kneeling down by his side to look over his wounds. "Oh god, you're bleeding so much-!"

The dog had left bite marks and gashes, his blood starting to sink into the soil.

"I-I'll call the local police and-and an ambulance will get here!", you took off your jacket and covered him before shakily taking out your phone. "Fuck!", you shouted at the no signal.

He called your name softly and held onto one of your hands. "I'm going to be ok, just go to the cafe and bring help."

"I don't want to leave you here.", you sniffed, and pulled the chain of your necklace, a whistle at the end of it. "I'll use this and shout but I'm not leaving your side."

Your love nodded and let you do what you wanted.

"You look beautiful in that shade of red."

It only took a few minutes before someone had come to help.

"HOLY SHIT!", the person yelled and ran over.

Local police arrived and the clinic vehicle as well, you told the police the summary of what happened before promising to tell the rest after Alastor was taken care of.

You got into the back of the clinic van and held onto your love's hand whenever you could.

He would be ok.

He had to be ok.

This took me a while but yay. More human Alastor. There will be more✨

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @kiraisastay @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @biromanticboba @pooplyface1423 @naelys-the-aster @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @+?

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youreallyshouldtalkmore · 6 months

Text

Kiss from a Rose_Part 2

A.N: A three part series featuring Neuvillette x Reader!

Genshin Impact MasterList

------

“This…is Monsieur Neuvillette? You are quite certain?”

Paimon was the first to break the silence. You, the Traveler, Paimon, Navia and the twins and Freminet were at the lake that lead down to the Melusine’s village. In lieu of all the drama that Fontaine was in with the missing ludex, the seven of you decided to meet here. Currently, the otter was sitting in the water with everyone was staring at him.

He calmly looked back, dipping his head once.

"Hold on! Did he understand me?" Paimon asked.

Lyney clapped his hands once, “Well, stranger things have happened!”

“I’m just glad to know that he is okay….” Freminet murmured.

“But how?” Navia questioned.

“That is unimportant.” You dismissed, “Right now, we need to figure out how to turn him back.”

“Unless, what turned him into an otter could turn him back.” Lynette offered.

“I thought about that.” You nodded, “Through trial and error, I did try to retrace Neuvillette’s steps, and it reached into the village. But then he started flipping out. Whatever, it was, he did not want anyone going into that area. So I had it quarantine off. Since he cannot speak, we do not know precisely what to look for. And if we try, we might end up in the same position.”

The otter splashed once as if in agreement with you.

“A wise decision.” Navia nodded, “But we will need to fix this before our entire country falls apart. The Steambird has now taken to publish conspiracy theories on his disappearance. Imagine what they would print if he showed up as an otter.”

You swore you heard Neuvillette sigh.

You rubbed your temple, “I don’t want to imagine.”

Navia continued, “Lady Furina is doing all she can to divert the public’s gaze. If nothing else, she is making herself a target for Charolette’s teeth.”

Paimon sighed, “That in and of itself deserves accolade.”

“But rest assured, we are ready to do whatever necessary to bring Monsieur Neuvillette back to normal.” Navia stated.

“Yeah, don’t worry, Monsieur Neuvillette, we will find a cure for you!!” Paimon cheered.

“....”

“So, any ideas?” Freminet inquired quietly.

—-

That had been three days ago, and no one seemed to be able to figure out any kind of plan. They tried all sorts of medicine and potions, but nothing seemed to work. By the fourth day, all of you were back at the lake for another meeting.

“This is getting worrisome now.” The Traveler murmured.

“I agree! Come on, guys, there has to be something.” Navia cried frustrated, “I can use my connections to get whatever it is, as long as I know what to get!”

A silence descended.

“Well…..” Lyney hummed.

You turned to the magician with wide, expectant eyes.

“....I do have an idea, but you may not like it.”

“As long as it turns Neuvillette back to human form! It’s fine! What is it?”

“It’s quite unconventional….”

“You're doing an awful lot of setup.” Paimon remarked.

“Perhaps, a kiss of true love can turn him back. In the stories, it usually turns a beast back into his princely form.” Lyney was dead serious as he looked at you without a hint of a smile.

You stared at him a good minute. Traveler and Paimon looked at each other as Navia gave a long-suffering sigh.

You finally turned Lynette and Freminet, “Can I hit him?”

“Sure. It will save me from having to come out of power saving mode myself.”

A dip of the head was all from Freminet.

You reached for Lyney fully intended to slap him upside the head, but he dodged nimbly as he spoke, “My lady, please I beg you a minute to explain!”

You have finally grabbed at his clothes, snatched his hat and began playing keep away with it.

“Not my hat! Lynette, Freminet, help me!! Traveler!!”

The Traveler discreetly looked away, as Paimon only folded her arms, unimpressed.

“You started this foolishness!” Lynette returned calmly.

“Look, we have no idea what turned him into an otter in the first place! It could be anything! Which means we need to think outside the box. Nothing conventional has worked so far! So whose to say that this isn’t some magical one off?”

You eyed the magician for a long moment.

“At this point, we need to try everything. Even I admit, it sounds like a setup from a storybook, but I just thought I’d put it out there. We aren’t going to give up. All of us will continue looking for a solution, but I’m just trying to present all options. Even the unconventional ones.”

You gave a sigh, “Well, I do appreciate it. I really couldn’t tell if you were trying for a joke at this time or not.”

“I’m a magician not a comedian, my lady! With tension being so high, I would never take advantage of it.”

You gave him back his hat, and he welcomed it back like an old friend.

“Well, I shall keep it in mind. In the meantime, what other practical solutions are there?” You asked the group.

—-

You gave a sigh as you entered the house and headed for the bathroom. You slipped off the backpack of water you had used to carry otter Neuvillette in. Unzipping the bag, you placed the sack on the ground. It had a net on top to let in air, so he wouldn’t suffocate. You pulled off the top before turning and filling up the tub.

Then you sat down with an apology, “I’m sorry. It seems it’s another day without a solution.”

The otter only shook its head.

“You're quite patient even during this ordeal. You never fail to amaze me, my dear.” You murmured, reaching out to plant a kiss on the head. Your lips lingered for a moment before you pulled back with a smile, “We’ll figure this out! Tomorrow is a new day!!”

Once the tub was filled and Neuvillette settled you, you eventually headed to bed.

Tomorrow was a new day, you reminded yourself.

You would see Neuvillette through this.

Part 3

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fanfic #neuvillette x reader #neuvillete x reader #neuvillette

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im-not-corrupted · 10 months

Text

@samsalami66 very kindly gave me another prompt for a new Dreamling fic--Can I do your hair? from this list of prompts.

Features: human au, too much pining, Dream on the aromantic spectrum, childhood friends, developing friendship, and so many feelings!

-------

The sun is already low in the sky when he asks, evening setting in far too quickly for Dream’s liking.

The question comes as quite the surprise. Dream doesn’t quite know why, exactly—they have been steadily growing closer over the last few months, since they reunited after a good many years apart. It is a strange thing to go from close friends to nothing but tentative strangers after years apart. There is familiarity, of course—not everything changes. Some things remain the same.

Most things do not. Dream recalls the way he saw Hob after their numerous years apart. He did so with an entirely different light, though whether that perspective came with age or that distance, he doesn’t know. It was simply that he saw Hob grin at him—small and tentative, unsure despite the confidence he held himself with, a beautiful study in contrasts—for the first time in years, and it did something to him. Stirred something within him, something that remained stubbornly latent until that one moment.

It was something to do with his eyes, Dream thinks. Hob has lovely eyes. Russet brown with specks of gold. They are made for sunlight and seem to crystallise its rays in their irises, all brilliant colours that manage to take his breath away each and every time. They are gentle, hopeful things, those eyes, and made even more beautiful by the soft lines in their corners. Crows feet, barely noticeable but there. Those were not there when they were children, and serve now as proof that they both grew older, but also that Hob has spent these last years away from one another happy.

There is a jealousy to be found there, in the idea that he has been unable to contribute to this joy. He has found the act of bringing smiles onto Hob’s face almost addictive—they are blinding in their brilliance, precious gems Dream just knows he will treasure until the end of time. He wants to be the one to bring him further joy, and wishes he was there to do so during their years apart.

Yet Dream has duties to his family. He could not forsake them, not even for Hob. (He wishes to. They meet every fortnight since their reunion. Dream creeps out the palace, takes his mare from the stables and rides to their obscure meeting place, where Hob is always—always, without fail—waiting for him. The sight always makes his heart ache in his chest, and when they say goodbye…When they say goodbye, Dream wishes he could follow Hob. Wishes he could follow the steps of his childhood friend who he had become ridiculously attached to, a bond that is so terribly unwise he knows he should not continue to meet him yet finds himself unable to not do so. He wishes he could forsake every duty that has ever been placed upon his shoulders and see what life away from the palace might be like—what a life with Hob might be like.

He imagines it to be wondrous. Hob’s stories have always been so…so full of adventure, the tales he spins so full of drama and excitement and everything the palace is not. He wishes he could experience that, if only once.)

In the end, that faint amount of jealousy—the idea that he should be the one to inspire joy inside of Hob, the selfish thought that he has missed so much—it all faded away into gladness. He is happy that Hob has been happy in their time away. He is glad his friend gets to have that, and gets to have enough of it that it has made a permanent mark upon his face.

That, Dream thinks, is enough.

So they have grown closer, these last few months since their reunion. It started tentatively, with unsure steps, a little like walking on eggshells. For Dream, though much about Hob remains the same, the differences are large enough that, at first, he was terribly unsure of himself. There is Hob, with his new-found confidence, with arrogance that suits him instead of feeling obnoxious or annoying like half arrogant nobles back at the palace, with his new-found strength and tanned skin from years spent in the sun, with easy smiles that look so natural on his face. And then there is Dream, who is, for all intents and purposes, much the same. He still dresses in black, as he did when they were younger. He still finds court to be stifling, frustrating, a cage he has yet to escape and one he fears may crush him someday. He still argues with his parents, though admittedly far more politely than he used to, about duties and marriage and all the things that were predetermined for him the moment of his birth. He still wanders the halls of the palace a little like a ghost, stays quiet when he is expected to raise his voice, and is perpetually terrified that he is not enough. For his kingdom, for his family, for anybody he truly cares for.

When he thinks about them like that, it is clear that the two of them are so different. It seemed a foolish idea, that the two of them could be friends, that they could rekindle what they once had. Dream missed him dearly in their years apart, of course—Hob was one of the few things that made his life bearable, along with the books inside the Library and Jessamy. But in that first moment, the day of their reunion, he was sure that he was so much lesser than Hob. That Hob would see it and spit at his feet and simply leave.

That did not happen. For all his fears, all his uncertainty, things were just as easy that day of their reunion as they were the day Hob left. They learned what parts of them had changed, decided they still fit together, and they formed a friendship that now seemed stronger than the one they left behind when Hob had to leave.

It is a blessing, Dream thinks. He thanks the stars that Hob decided, however foolishly, that he is worth befriending. That he is worth knowing.

Still. Growing friendship or not, Dream was not expecting Hob to state at him for a couple of moments and ask, abruptly, “Can I do your hair?”

He blinks, taking a moment to register the question. He replied with a quiet, “…What?” because, truly, he is unsure he heard correctly.

Despite all his confidence, gained from years of befriending people with nothing but a smile, Hob sometimes manages to be so unconfident sometimes. This is one of those moments—his eyes widen fast enough to almost be comical, staring at Dream like he had made a grave mistake, before his face turns red. Distantly, Dream wonders at that, at the way it appears so becoming on him. It compliments the tan skin of his face and Dream wants to see more of it, though isn’t entirely sure where that impulse came from.

“Sorry,” Hob says sheepishly. “Only—your hair is so pretty. I had the sudden urge to braid it. I know that may be…weird? Just. Forget that I asked?”

”No,” he says, and, truly, he is unsure where the word came from. Only, he is not opposed in the slightest to the idea of Hob’s hands in his hair. They’re tough hands, scarred and callused from years of soldiering, yet they have only ever treated Dream with an unfamiliar tenderness he craves. The few touches they have shared are memorable solely due to this—to the carefulness with which Hob touches him. Not like he is a delicate, breakable thing, but instead like he is something worth treasuring. He did not think there was a difference between those two things until Hob Gadling pulled him in for a hug the day they reunited, one arm around Dream’s waist and the other cradling his head.

It is a moment that has changed him, he thinks. Because now that he has been offered more of those touches, more of that gentleness, he wants it. He is familiar with want. It is a great burning thing inside of his chest. He does not want with any kind of moderation, and he wants so much of it that the wanting has nowhere to go.

But it has a direction now. He thinks of Hob’s hands in his hair, of the loveliness with which Hob would no doubt do this with, and he wants. Which is why he looks at Hob, at the red blossoming across his cheeks, pretty like roses, and he offers softly, “You may. If you truly wish to.”

He watches as a smile full of relief and delight breaks over Hob’s face like the sun at dawn. It feels a little like a miracle to be able to see this, and even more like a blessing to know this is solely his. That, in the end, Hob smiles with such beauty in his direction, and now he is able to keep this close inside his memory and revisit it again and again. “Really?” he asks, and he tugs at his ear in a way that can only be nervous, and Dream thinks this is what it means to be in love. “I only want to if you’d be comfortable with it.”

He has read about it, in books. There are plenty in the library, and it seems to be one of the more common themes. Love. Romance. These are things he has never understood.

He does love, of course. He loves his dear older sister, Telute, who they all call Death. He loves his youngest sister Del. He loves Lucienne even if he is not strictly supposed to, for she treats him less like a prince and more like a person, and that is important. He loves Jessamy, who has taken care of him even when his parents have not.

But romantic love is another thing entirely. He feels a little as though he is incapable of it, and cannot quite understand why. It seems to come so easily to everybody else, after all. It seems to be such a universal experience—has to be that, if there are so many works about those feelings inside the library.

Here, in this moment, he thinks he understands. He wants, only he is not sure what exactly it is he is wanting. He aches with it, with the desire to see Hob’s smile again and again. It is different from friendship, he thinks. It is a little like a wildfire catching, burning bright and beautiful and yet so dangerous.

This thing is large enough to ruin him, he can tell. If he reaches forward and lets his fingertips brush those flames, he will burn.

He offers Hob a smile that feels a little like tempting Hell and figures he will be okay with burning if it means he gets to have more of this. More of these moments, lovely and warm and gentle. More of Hob’s smiles and more of his touches. “I wouldn’t agree if I didn’t want you to,” he points out, and Hob laughs.

It is a loud, joyful thing. Dream wants. He wants to taste that sound for himself. Wants to swallow it and let it take root inside himself so that he has a piece of Hob with him. Wants to press his lips to Hob’s and see if he will be as kind to him then as he is every other time.

”Alright then, my friend,” Hob says, and he is beautiful when he is delighted. It becomes him. He had a face built for joy and a voice made for expressing it. Dream wants as many of these moments as possible. “Sit in front of me?”

Hob crosses his legs where he sits in the meadow, amongst wildflowers that bathe the area in a sweet scent that reminds Dream of all things summer. Of sunlight on his skin, its warmth seeping in through his blood and settling inside his bones. It is heady, and it reminds him also of the early days of his and Hob’s friendship—the times when Hob would convince him to take his horse down to the beach so that they might be able to jump in the sea, the times when Hob would drag him to the market in town and teach him the art of pickpocketing. Each time felt a little like courting danger, for he knew his parents would disapprove of both of those endeavours, but they all felt golden, the days so full with possibility that any bad ending would surely be worth it.

(There were no bad endings, not even when they jumped into the sea. Jessamy found him before his parents ever could and tutted softly at the sight of his sodden clothes, no doubt ruined by sea water, and bid him clean up before anybody else found out. There were no bad endings because Jessamy protected him from them, and Dream is eternally grateful to her.)

And, after a moment’s hesitation, Dream sits between his friend’s crossed legs with an insistent feeling of anticipation. He faces forward, turned towards the gradually setting sun. It is beautiful up here, on top of this hill in the middle of a meadow.

He brings his legs up to his chest, wraps an arm around them. With his other, he picks at the grass beneath them, the green so beautiful and vibrant and lovely. It is a nervous thing, this action, and he feels distantly foolish for it. He is not supposed to appear nervous—he is a prince, after all.

Yet Hob makes him feel like this. Like anything is possible. Makes him nervous, despite all the effort Dream has put into learning how to mask these things.

He does not mind. Hob is…Hob is safe. He knows this.

He does not gasp when he feels Hob’s fingers in his hair, but it is a close thing. The touch is so light, so soft that Dream could melt into it. He does not think it would be entirely appropriate to lose himself like so if he does, but he is tempted. For now, he keeps his eyes on the sun and tells his heartbeat to calm down. It is only Hob.

Except it has never been only Hob, has it? This is Hob he is talking about, after all. He is beautiful and lovely and Dream loves him so much. Perhaps a little more than platonically.

”Is that alright?” Hob asks him. He is…close. Which makes sense, considering their proximity, but being confronted with this so suddenly is almost startling.

It takes him more time than he would like to admit to find his voice. When he does, his voice is small and breathy, and he does not have it in him to feel embarrassed. “Yes.”

Hob hums softly under his breath, and then he starts to braid.

He starts from the top of Dream’s head, so it is certainly no ordinary three-strand braid. He sections the hair carefully, mindful not to tug, and braids with an efficiency that feels practised. Dream did not think this would come out of keeping his hair relatively long out of little more than pure spite and a vague like for the style, but does not mind it at all.

“I used to have a sister, you know,” Hob tells him with an air of wistfulness, like he looks into the past and wishes he could go back as he says it. “She used to demand I braid her hair constantly, so I was forced to learn. Admittedly, I rather enjoyed it. Your hair is perfect for it, too.”

He doesn’t preen at the compliment. He doesn’t. “Used to?” he asks softly, then winces slightly. The use of past tense says enough, does it not? There is no need to drag up old ghosts, and yet, he has done so. Accidentally, and without thinking, but he has. “I apologise. You do not need—“

”Hey.” It is so soft that it stops him in his tracks. “Don’t be. You didn’t know. She died a couple years ago. I miss her very much. You would’ve liked her, I think. I am glad you let me do this. Feels like I’m…remembering her by doing so, if that makes sense.”

Dream thinks it does, and says as much. Hob hugs once more, and the two of them fall silent for a while. There is little more between them than slight rustling of movement from behind him as Hob readjusts himself to continue the braid. More than once, he pauses for a reason Dream is unable to determine.

It is comfortable. Quiet. Dream thinks he would like to do this time and time again, if Hob is amenable.

Eventually, Hob tells him, “It is done,” and Dream immediately regrets having not brought a handheld mirror with him. It feels a crime that he is unable to see Hob’s work with his own eyes.

There is nothing for it. But he reaches behind himself and it feels so neat, so tidy, he knows Hob has done well. Then he runs his fingers over feather-soft petals and asks, “Flowers, too?”

”Yeah. There’s plenty about. They suit you.”

Dream turns to face him once more, and Hob stares at him with an expression he cannot quite read. He wishes he could. He wishes he knew what this is, this growing thing between them. He wishes himself capable of putting it into words.

It is enough, he supposes, to leave this thing between them to its own devices. Perhaps it will make sense, make itself known and understood, at some other point in time. For now, Dream lets himself imagine pressing his lips to Hob’s cheek in the gentlest of kisses, let’s himself wonder if Hob might hold him close with the same gentleness he does everything else, and he decides it does not have to be anything more than what they were already, not necessarily.

”Thank you,” he murmurs softly, and Hob smiles. It is a small, delighted thing. Dream adores the sight of it.

”Anytime, my friend. Anytime.” He settles back a little, resting his back against the grand oak tree they mark their meeting spot by, and says, “Come on. Tell me a story. You’re good at those.”

”I am,” Dream agrees. And Hob asked this of him, so he does. He tells him a story, and eventually, the two of them part ways.

He does not take his hair out until long into the night, where he takes the flowers out carefully and keeps them on his nightstand. They will wither soon, he knows, but for now he keeps them as—as a token of Hob’s friendship, he supposes.

When he sleeps, he dreams of his friend, beautiful and joyful and oh so lovely.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #morpheus dream of the endless #the sandman fic #eris writes things

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acourtofthought · 9 months

Text

"Elain would make a terrible High Lady"

"I've seen Rhysand do such ... horrible things, seen him play the dark prince over and over."

"I am here to help you fight against Hybern." "Bullshit," Cassian muttered.

"You'd be all too happy for war, considering how well you made out in the last one." "No one says war can't be lucrative," Helion countered.

I waited for it - for the blow that would surely doom us. We were thieves who had deceived him, we had come to his house in peace and stolen from him, had ripped into their minds to ensure our success.

One moment, Azriel was seated. The next, he'd blasted through Eris's shield with a flare of blue light and tackled him backward, wood shattering beneath them. / "Call of your overgrown bat," Beron ordered Rhys. Rhys was enjoying it, bargainw ith Eris or no - could have ended it seconds ago.

"You're a coward," I breathed to the High Lord of Autumn. Beron just said, "The same could be claimed of you." My stomach churned. "I don't need to explain myself to you." "No, but perhaps to that girl's family - but they're dead, too, aren't they? Butchered and burned to death in their own beds.

There was still much work to be done, trust to build.

The High Lords quarreled the most about the possibility of a new wall. And with every word of it, just as Helion said, that temporary allegiance frayed and snapped.

"We need the humans in other territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace." "Then perhaps Jurian and Vassa should deal with them."

"The Illyrians are pieces of shit," he said too quietly. I opened my mouth and shut it. / "They're hypocrites." "And what would you have me do, then? Disband the largest army in Prythian?" Azriel didn't answer.

"Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male." "I can't say I'm particularly sorry that he did." "You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully." I didn't want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day. "My business with him is done." "Yours might be, but Rhys's isn't. And you'd do well to remind your mate of that fact."

And though he roams these lands, he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability.

I find the "Elain would make a terrible High Lady" arguments odd. The above is just a small list of what the leadership in Prythian looks like and the actions of those that report directly to a High Lord (who should be able to expect certain behaviors from his inner circle in important meetings or in regards to an entire group of their people). I'm not even trying to suggest that anyone is a bad High Lord, clearly Rhys and his ICs actions are meant to read as amusing and entertaining or warranted. And I think in certain situations there's only choosing between the lesser of two evils.

But it's evident that no one is perfect, that even the current High Lords are capable of mistakes and drama. And with so many strong personalities currently in charge, there is space for someone who approaches things in a different manner.

She had come alive here, and her joy was infectious. There wasn’t a servant or gardener who didn’t smile at her, and even the brusque head cook found excuses to bring her plates of cookies and tarts at various points in the day.

She had looked at that cottage with hope. I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger.

She was generous, loving, and kind.

Elain had taken charge of planning

Elain, to my surprise, had a horse, a satchel of food, and supplies ready when I hurried down the stairs.

She put a hand on Nesta's knee. "Feyre gave and gave - for years. Let us now help her. Help ... others."

A lady - that's what Elain would become. What she was risking for this. (Lady?!? As in High Lady?! Possible foreshadowing???)

"I'll do it," Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn't wait for either of us before she strode out, graceful as a doe.

My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, "And as for Feyre's hunting during those years, it was not Nesta's neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us."

Nesta went on, utterly unimpressed by any of us, "I assume you'll want to stay the night." I said, "If it's not too much trouble, then yes. We'll leave after breakfast tomorrow." Nesta didn't smile, but Elain beamed.

But Elain's cry - a warning. A warning to - . To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last.

Then Elain said quietly, "We could move them to Graysen's estate." "His father has high walls - made of thick stone. With space for plenty of people and supplies." "There are escape tunnels," Elain whispered. "Perhaps it is better than nothing." A glance between the Illyrians. "We can set up a guard - " Cassian began. "No," Elain interrupted, her voice louder than I'd heard it in months. "They...Graysen and his father..." Cassian's jaw tightened. "Then we cloak -" "They have hounds. Bred and trained to hunt you. Detect you." / Elain considered. "I can speak to him." "No," I said - at the same moment Nesta did. But Elain cut us of. "If - if you, and they" - a glance at Rhys, my friends - "come with me, your Fae scents might distract the dogs." "Glamour me," Elain said - to Rhys. "Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary. Perhaps even let you set those wards around the estate." "This could end very badly, Elain." "It's already ended badly. Now it's just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences." "Wisely said," Mor offered, smiling softly at Elain.

Then she was gone - shoulders a little squarer.

Elain offered a half smile. "I suppose that war makes wanting things like that unimportant."

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king's neck as she snarled in his ear, "Don't you touch my sister."

Elain swept in, apron gone and hair re-braided. "Please don't wait on my account," she said, taking the seat at the head of the table.

"It's their tradition though," Elain countered, her face still flushed with the cold. "One that they fought and died to protect in the war. Perhaps that's the better way to think of it, rather than feeling guilty. To remember that this day means something to them. All of them, regardless of who has more, who has less, and in celebrating the traditions, even through the presents, we honor those who fought for it's very existence, for the peace this city now has." For a moment I just stared at my sister, the wisdom she'd spoken. Not a whisper of those oracular abilities. Just clear eyes and an open expression.

"I asked Nuala to do it in that order," Elain said as the others gathered round. "Because you're the foundation, the one who lifts us. You always have been.

Elain, mourn as she might for the life she would have had with Graysen, had found a place, a role here. Tending to the gardens of Feyre's veritable palace on the river, helping other residents of Velaris restore their own destroyed gardens.

She had purpose, and joy, and friends. But those things had always come easily to her sister. Had always made Elain special.

When Rhys spoke like that, it was more of a command than a question. Elain waved a hand in dismissal.

"Using me."

"Elain showed some teeth."

"Don't forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one's hands dirty along the way".

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn't hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was part of this court - and would do whatever was needed.

Nesta was wrong, Cassian realized, to think Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

Let's recap. Elain owns up to her mistakes, gives credit where credit is due, is wise, observant, easily makes friends, can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles, is willing to help out a people she only just became one of (and grew up fearing), brave when the situation calls for it, takes charge and pushes back on topics she thinks are important and is now offering herself up to dangerous situations. I also think it's important to note her diplomatic nature. Whereas Feyre and Nesta spent their childhood at one another's throats and hating their father, Elain managed a decent relationship to all three. No, she's not in a place to rule an entire court all on her own but neither was Feyre, that's why she had a partner by her side to help her learn (as Elain would too, these are romance books after all).

Prythian doesn't need another ruler who is willing to burn relationships in order to achieve a specific end result. No shade to Rhys, he's extremely self sacrificing and someone needs to fill the role that he does.

But we don't need another Rhys and Feyre, another Beron, another Tamlin, or even Tarquin (who while being a good male, doesn't really seem to go out of his way to interact with other courts). It needs a set of rulers who are better at negotiating peace between not only the courts but the human lands and those on the continent.

We know Lucien is set up to be a High Lord at some point (though something would need to happen to Helion for him to begin ruling in Day) and Elain is his mate. We know Tamlin is not currently any sort of leader to Spring so that means there could be a vacancy there. I doubt SJM told us that Elain's scent was a "promise of Spring" and that "the Spring Court had been made for someone like Elain" for absolutely no reason.

Of the possible future pairings, who would make more sense ruling the Fae in either Spring or Day?

Vassa and Lucien? Vassa who is a human Queen and has shown absolutely no interest in the needs of the fae after the war?

Az and Gwyn? Neither Gwyn or Az have been given hints that they'd be leaders of a court nor do they currently have anything to do with Day Court or Spring. Yes, Gwyn has Spring heritage through her grandmother but she doesn't have a connection to the political system there, nor does Az. Not like Lucien.

I think there is a huge amount of evidence showing why Elain would make an excellent leader and that's not even accounting for the fact that mates are equals. Even if in some weird twist she and Lucien don't end up together, it doesn't change that fact.

Mates are reflections of one another.

Rhys was the most powerful High Lord in Prythian's history, Feyre became his High Lady with the power of all 7 High Lords, both having a darkness to them.

Cassian is one of the strongest Illyrian's and the general of the Illyrians. Nesta had the power of death and is set to be the general of the Valkyries.

Lucien is a High Lords heir, showing the markers of such (knocking Cassian from his rage with a single word) AND has strong fire powers through his mothers line. Through Lucien we learned that High Lords are a different breed and through the Suriel we learned that they are not merely powerful, they are Power.

Elain as his mate would need to be a match to Lucien's power and even if she were not a High Lady chosen by the magic, there is little chance Lucien would not make her his High Lady as Rhys made Feyre his, meaning she would be a ruler by his side.

Diminishing all that we know of Elain and what we know of mates, claiming she'd be a horrible ruler though SJM mated her to a future High Lord, it's fandom pettiness born of hatred for her character.

#elucien #elain archeron #pro elucien #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #high lady elain

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headfulloflettuce · 11 days

Text

The Human Who Fooled All of Prythian

19. Memento

The snow crunched underneath Ophelia’s boots as she made her way over to the public events center.

Did I really look like I lacked confidence that much?

Ophelia sighed.

I shouldn't blame her for being concerned, she’s not exactly wrong after all.

Ophelia didn’t want to admit how much she had grown used to that sort of treatment over the years. How she had learned to laugh it off, or ignore it.

Pull yourself together!

Ophelia slapped her cheeks gently, startling a couple winter fae walking near her.

You are better than this.

She stepped inside the large building, shaking snow off her clothes at the front door, her expression determined.

Cosette had done so much to make this perfumery a success. I am not going to be a silent bystander benefitting from her actions.

Ophelia approached the front desk, behind which sat a slender fae male with a chilly expression.

“Hello.” Ophelia smiled, “I am here to request a table for the Winter Solstice fair.”

The fae looked up at her, gesturing to a sitting area, “Please wait to be called.”

Ophelia nodded apologetically, taking a seat in the rows of chairs where various faes, primarily males, were already sitting. After ten minutes of waiting and watching people get called up, Ophelia began getting bored staring at the wall and ceiling, falling into an old habit of hers; listening to nearby conversations.

A habit that kept me alive in Autumn Court.

“Is all the paperwork in place?”

“It is, just relax.”

“What’s the weather like?”

“Cold.”

“It’s always cold.”

Unfortunately, no drama.

Ophelia’s attention was drawn back to the front of the room when a familiar face was called up the counter; the silver haired perfumer they visited during their trips to the street that will not be named.

“I am here to request a table at the Winter Solstice fair.” the perfumer leaned on the counter, a cool expression on his face.

The fae behind the counter scrunched his nose in displeasure, practically thrusting the pass into the man’s hands, waving him off. The perfumer noticed her stare, his cold expression breaking into a small smirk, winking as he left, the paper held tightly in his hand.

“Next.”

Finally.

“Hello sir, I am here to request a table for the Winter Solstice fair.” she tried again.

“For what business or artisan?”

“For a perfumery called Serene Fragrances.” Ophelia leaned back and forth on her feet, waiting as the fae looked through a thick book.

The male clicked his tongue, “Unfortunately I cannot give you a spot as all of them have been taken.” the man drawled, “Next!”

Ophelia sputtered, “What do you mean taken? You just gave that fae a table!”

“Yeah, so?” the male rolled his eyes.

Ophelia stared at him, “Did he take the last spot?”

“No.”

“Okay, so then why-”

“We aren’t allowed to give out tables to untrustable businesses. You might not earn us any money.” the man leaned in slightly, “Besides, that gentleman has ties with High Fae, you think I can tell him no?”

Ophelia’s fingers dug into the counter.

This little shit. You wanna play that game? Let’s go.

“Serene Fragrances is a trustable business.”

The fae’s face twisted into a scowl, “So I am just supposed to take your word for it? You and your group are new and therefore inexperienced. Besides, most responsible business owners order a spot in advance.” he chuckled, “They don’t beg for handouts at the last minute.”

He had a point.

“We didn’t exist until only several months ago, surely there must be something?”

“Well I guess you’ll just have to wait until next year, miss.” the fae smirked haughtily, “Unless of course you can provide evidence of your success, which I dou-”

Ophelia slammed a sales document onto the counter.

This is why I came prepared.

“Our results so far. We have reasonable prices and our profits are competitive with established businesses within the same vein of produce.”

The male fae stared at the numbers before him, his jaw dropping slightly.

“In fact, many shops in the perfumery district have experienced drops in sales within recent months.”

“Even so, they produce high end products!”

“Products that don’t sell as well as ours!” Ophelia didn’t relent.

“I am simply trying to ensure this event is successful as a loyal Winter Court citize-”

“You can ensure its success by selecting the option that will clearly bring in more revenue, since supporting a growing business is clearly not enough reason for you.” she argued.

“That’s not what I meant…” The fae tensed, an awkward expression on his face, “I just…”

“Just what?” Ophelia narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms.

The Winter fae’s cool features didn’t change much, but it was obvious he was starting to break under Ophelia’s persistence.

“Really miss, I wish I could help you but I just simply don’t have a table to give you.” he practically wept.

“Surely you must, the fair stretches for several streets and plazas! It even includes the main square!” Ophelia was slightly surprised.

“The Winter Solstice is a big deal around here, miss.” the fae rubbed his neck awkwardly, “People book spaces months in advance…”

Wow…it’s really as serious as the Autumn Equinox then. Yet how was the white haired guy able to get a table so easily?! Was it really enough to just be friends with some High Fae?

Ophelia felt slightly guilty for underestimating the Winter Solstice’s importance.

“Baha! What did you expect of a foreigner?” a voice interrupted the two.

Ophelia’s fingers left dents in the counter, making the Winter fae let out a small squeak.

“You…” she turned to face the fae who interrupted them, her blood boiling as she recognized him.

The damn fae who broke our stand!

“Me!” he retorted, “I mean, I thought you Autumn fae were at least a little smarter than that, but it seems you’re worse than Spring scum.”

Ophelia restrained the urge to deck the man in the face.

A physical brawl wouldn’t help. Besides, my fight wasn’t with him.

“Yes, it does seem I underestimated the Winter Solstice’s fair.” she acknowledged.

Although considering all the preparations businesses have been doing in recent weeks I shouldn’t have been too surprised.

“Boo hoo, guess the new perfumery won’t be able to participate ”

Seriously…it was like watching a toddler yell nonsensically.

“Really?” Ophelia gave the male before her a look, “You’d give fae like them a table and not us?”

“They filed for it a year in advance…” the man had the decency to look apologetically.

Some of the other faes waiting were now watching the scene intently. Not surprising, as it probably beat staring at the gray walls of this boring building.

“Haha, seriously! Did you really expect to waltz in here all high and mighty and get a table just because you asked?” the oversized toddler throwing a temper tantrum taunted, “You little babies didn’t even exist a year ago! Why don’t you go back to your so-called perfumery and sell your knockoffs.”

Even the receptionist was cringing at this point.

“Yeah yet these ‘little babies’ have managed to outsell you in just two months with their ‘knockoffs’.” Ophelia snapped, making the perfumer turn red.

“You…You-”

“Now.” Ophelia turned back to the male before her, “Since you’re clearly willing to take on charity cases, I am sure you can spare us some space.”

“Space?” the slender fae tilted his head.

“Yes, space.”

Let’s try a different approach.

“I understand you cannot give us an official table, but what about a designated location?”

“Those are determined by tables, miss.” the fae sighed.

“Are you seriously telling me there is no several feet of empty space on the edge of this entire fair?”

Glancing at the still fuming fae, the receptionist’s lips twisted into a sly smile, “Well, perhaps we could come to some sort of agreement.” he deflected, rummaging through the papers before him, “We do technically have some space at the edge of one of the less desired streets.”

Good enough.

“Perfe-”

“But it sure would be challenging to squeeze you guys in.” The fae looked at her.

Ah, there it is.

Ophelia had prepared for this as well.

Let’s see, the regular splitting of profits were 25%-75% with the vendor keeping the majority.

“The event center will take 35% of our profits.” Ophelia offered.

“Hmm, I think this deal is worth at least 40%.”

This prick, first he acts like we’re nothing then switches his tune and tries to extort us for money!

“36.”

“39.”

“37.”

“38.”

“Deal.” Ophelia agreed, sensing the fae’s growing annoyance at her attempts to bargain.

I don’t think I’ll get him to go much lower than that, and I am not about to lose this opportunity.

The male nodded, pulling out a form and writing down the adjusted payment distribution.

“You! You! This is against norms! Against everything we hold dear!” The toddler attempted to regain the duo’s attention with no success.

The only thing held dear in this building was money.

Ophelia smiled proudly as the receptionist handed over a form.

“Thank you for your time.”

The male nodded, waving her off, “Next!”

She practically skipped to the inn, her sparkling aura spooking off some of the passerbyers. Ophelia rolled her eyes internally.

I and Cosette really cannot pass for natives. Guess it’s our luck that the outskirts towns had past relations with Autumn, so my presence here isn’t that insane.

Ophelia though couldn’t help but worry about Cosette’s current backup lie regarding her origins.

‘Some village in a forest.’

Most simply assumed they came from the same place, but if fae began asking they would need to start providing answers. Good answers.

No one was going to believe in the existence of a town that can’t be found on most maps and for which Cosette can’t even say the general location of. Perhaps I should look over the map of Prythian and pick out a small town from the faerie realms.

Ophelia passed by several stores that hung up modified schedules for the upcoming Solstice week, notifying customers that they would be closed for the holiday itself.

It was a good thing I secured us a table. Most fae would be at the central plazas and streets enjoying the fair, no one would be trying to visit regular stores and risk missing out on the festivities. Even if we were on the side, it was still better than nothing.

She exhaled. They were making good progress on Theo’s debt, but they still hadn’t reached the necessary goal.

Seriously, that girl’s kindness will be the death of her.

Ophelia couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Cosette.

Wonder what she was doing right now? Probably working as always.

Ophelia sped up her walk, determined to get back and show her friend what she had accomplished.

I’ll show Cosette she doesn’t need to worry about me. That I am not a burden.

Ophelia made it back to the inn quickly before it got too dark, greeting Blanche and Fermin who were beginning to serve dinner.

“Where is Cosette?” Ophelia asked, sneaking a piece of bread off a table.

“She’s upstairs. Holed up as always.” Blanche carefully set down a soup bowl before a faerie couple, “Can you bring her down? It’s time for dinner.”

“On it ma’am!”

“Cosette, I am home!” Ophelia swung the door open to the room they were still staying at in the inn.

Cosette looked up from her spot at the desk near the window.

“Hi! Did you do the thing you needed to?”

Ophelia approached Cosette’s alchemy set up carefully, “Yeah I did. What are you working on?”

Her friend kept insisting it was chemistry, but it seemed simpler to just call it alchemy.

“The masking scent.”

“Ah.” Ophelia pulled up a chair and sat next to Cosette, “Any progress?”

“Let’s find out.” Cosette added the last drop of a mixture Ophelia had seen her working on the past few weeks.

Ophelia leaned in curiously.

“It’s the essence and scent of the xeranthemum flower.” Cosette explained, swirling the solution, “With some additional natural undertones to spice up the flavor.”

“Why xeranthemum?”

“It represents eternity.” the human turned to face Ophelia, “I was thinking if a fae’s defining characteristic was immortality, one of the materials that represents such a trait has got to work. We’ve already gone through iris, cyclamen and amaranth.”

And countless others.

Ophelia still remembered some of the less successful scents, their presence haunting her nose.

“Alright, here goes nothing.” Cosette spritzed herself with the perfume, looking to Ophelia for a reaction.

The fae closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, letting the pleasant scent wash over her.

The mixture of magnolias with the xeranthemum’s sweetness- Wait.

Ophelia opened her eyes.

It was gone.

She stared at Cosette with wide eyes.

Cosette grinned.

“It’s gone.”

“It worked?”

“I-...yes. I mean, I can still tell it’s you, like the magnolia scent isn’t gone, although dampened, but your scent of mortality it’s…covered. I can’t smell it anymore. It’s this new…neutral scent? Almost a combination of the aforementioned smells?”

“Yes!” Cosette jumped from happiness, “I did it! I did it!!”

Ophelia was still sitting there in slight shock, “How? How is that even possible?”

It’s not that I didn’t believe she would succeed, but seeing it done is completely different from theories.

“Thanks to chemistry!” Cosette smiled, her face flushed from all her jumping, “Though to be honest I am not one hundred percent sure how it worked in this case. I only achieved the neutral scent through trial and error. It would be good if we could run some more tests but I am not sure how we would do that here…Either way, I hope that the masking scent works better than the fragrances I’ve been using up to this point since the latter only adds, while the first option actively works with the existing scent to create something neutral.” she rambled.

Ophelia had to admit she was a bit freaked out. One minute she could smell a human before her, the next the creature standing before her could pass for a fae.

Nonetheless, Ophelia smiled.

“I am proud of you.”

“Thank you.” Cosette said, “I suspect this perfume wouldn't actually work for every human. The xeranthemum most likely has a particular reaction with my natural scent, creating the neutral smell you can then perceive. Hmm, I wonder if this would also vary by fae then.”

“Although that’s possible, I doubt it.” Ophelia shook her head, “Just don’t go banging on Beron’s or Eris’s front door and you should be good. Those two have much stronger noses out of the whole Autumn crowd.”

Cosette nodded, her expression still worried.

“Hey, I have more good news for you.” Ophelia said, wanting to cheer up her friend.

“Oh? Does this have something to do with me having to go home alone?” Cosette put her hands on her hips.

“Mayhaps.” Ophelia did a dramatic twirl, revealing the paper she received at the public events office, “Guess who secured us a table at the Winter Solstice fair?”

Cosette’s eyes widened, “No way…”

“Yes way!”

Cosette tackled her friend into a hug, “Oh my Go-Mother Ophelia, you’re amazing!”

Look who’s talking.

“How did you even manage to do this with the event right around the corner?”

“Oh it was nothing.” Ophelia blushed.

“Look how humble.” Cosette poked her cheek.

“Learned from the most humble person I know.” Ophelia poked back.

“We’ll need to tell Blanche though since she invited us to celebrate that day.” Cosette said.

“We should first congratulate Blanche for not having to deal with your stinky self anymore.” Ophelia gently bumped into her, taking Cosette’s hand and leading her downstairs.

“Hey!” Cosette tried to pinch Ophelia but the older woman kept her at a distance using her arm.

“There you two are, I was wondering if you would come down for dinner at all.” Blanche waved the two women over, taking her seat next to Forrest and Fermin.

Cosette and Ophelia sat with the trio.

“This soup is amazing, Miss Blanche.” Ophelia had to stop herself from chugging the hot food, eating instead with proper manners.

“Thank you, and please, just Blanche. My tongue will fall off correcting you.” Blanche corrected, putting carrots onto Fermin’s plate.

The child proceeded to glare at them as if they were a bed bug.

“Guess what Blanche? Ophelia managed to snag us a spot at the Winter Solstice fair!”

“Oh my! That’s amazing!” Blanche congratulated them with Forrest nodding approvingly.

“Will you not come to the celebration then?” Fermin asked, Blanche taking the opportunity to stick a carrot inside his mouth.

“We will, but later in the evening.” Ophelia looked apologetically at Blanche, “We are sorry about this.”

“No worries, the Winter Solstice celebration lasts all night so you’ll only be arriving fashionably late.”

“Yeah by like five hours.” Fermin muttered.

“Young fae if you keep giving us attitude I’ll send you to bed before 12 on the Winter Solstice.” Blanche’s threat made Fermin quiet down and eat his carrots peacefully.

She woke up to the sounds of sobs and frantic scrambling for the third time this week.

“Cosette?” Ophelia quickly sat up, looking around groggily, finding her huddled in the corner. Ophelia carefully got up, crouching down to Cosette’s level, making sure to keep her movements slow and her hands to herself. The first time this had happened she tried to hug Cosette, which only resulted in a complete breakdown.

“Cosette, can you hear me?””

Cosette’s eyes frantically searched the room for evidence of whatever she saw in her nightmare.

“Beron…Beron h-he sent Aurelius into the kitchens…he’ll set the whole place on fire again. I…I don’t want to burn.” Cosette rambled frantically, shaking her head, “Isabella locked the door…I-I…” Cosette gasped for air.

“Cosette-”

“The smoke…there’s so much smoke.”

“You aren’t there anymore Cosette, you’re in Winter Court.” Ophelia kept her distance, trying to get Cosette’s attention.

I need to get her to focus on me.

“Winter Court…?” The human made eye contact with Ophelia.

“Yes, Winter Court. Not Autumn. We escaped Autumn, do you remember? We rode horses? I had to lead your steed because you didn’t know how to ride it properly. “ Ophelia's voice was soft as she inched towards Cosette.

“But Eris…Eris is going to be mad.”

“Eris isn’t here.”

“He’ll yell at Isabella again.”

Ophelia paused, surprised that Eris would yell at a fae involved in such a crime.

He'd yell at a fae for hurting a human?

“Isabella, not you.”

“But then Isabella will be angry at us. She’ll hurt them!”

“Who’s them?”

“Them.”

“The humans you work with?”

Cosette nodded.

“I couldn’t save her from Isabella.”

“Who?” Ophelia was now right in front of Cosette.

“Lucy.”

“Did Isabella hurt her?”

“She didn’t kill her, she just left her there.” Cosette sniffled, “I tried so hard, but the fire…and everything, it was too much…”

“You can’t save everyone Cosette.”

Cosette hugged herself, rubbing her arms..

“Are you hurt?” Ophelia decided to play along. She hated whenever she couldn’t immediately pull Cosette out of this state.

It hurt too much watching her suffer.

Cosette nodded.

“Let me see.” Ophelia waited patiently for Cosette to let her look at her arm. Ophelia pulled up the sleeve of Cosette’s nightgown to reveal burn scars.

“See, no burns. No fire.”

Cosette nodded, relaxing slightly.

Ophelia waited, watching her friend as she slowly came back to the present moment.

“Ophelia…” Cosette stumbled into the fae’s outstretched arms, sobbing.

“It’s okay, I am here.” Ophelia held Cosette close, “You’re safe now Cosette. Everything is okay.” She gently led Cosette back to the bed, helping her in and pulling her close under the blanket.

Cosette eventually quieted, falling asleep in Ophelia’s arms as the fae hummed.

Despite my hatred for her, I still sing her songs.

Ophelia tightened her embrace around Cosette, making the human squirm.

Breathe Ophelia, that woman cannot reach you here.

The fae took a deep breath, her own fears and nightmares weighing on her.

Stop it Ophelia, you need to be strong for Cosette, you can’t be busy thinking about that sorry excuse of a fae right now. Not now or ever again.

Ophelia relaxed her hold on the human, looking at her peaceful face.

“I’ve got you.” she whispered into the night.

“Alright gang! Ophelia has good news!” Cosette clapped her hands, getting the elder’s and Theo’s attention.

“We’re going to have a table at the Winter Solstice fair!” Ophelia exclaimed.

“Wait, seriously?” Theo’s face lit up, “Me and father had tried to get a table whenever the celebrations took place and we were rejected every time.”

“Well, we don’t have a table but we have a spot.” Ophelia clarified.

“Ha! That’s no big deal.” the elder shrugged, “You didn’t even get a table”

Ophelia wanted to call this man countless Autumn Court insults, but refrained.

“I actually think that’s not a bad thing.” Cosette pipped in, sensing the tension.

“How so?” the old fae grunted.

“Well, if we just had a regular table like everyone else we wouldn’t stick out. We have an opportunity to make an impression this way so I was thinking we should go back to our roots.” she turned to Theo, “Do you think you can modify the stand you made for us to be a bit larger? Or create an additional stand to house more perfumes?”

“Oh can I?” Theo’s blue eyes burned with passion, “Prepare to be blown away!” He quickly disappeared into the back room to begin his scheming.

“Is the existing stand not enough?” the elder rolled his eyes.

“No, no it’s wonderful!” Cosette tried to mediate, “It’s just that we won’t be right next to the store during the fair, so we’ll need more storage space.”

The older fae couldn't come up with a counter argument, so he just huffed and followed his son.

Cosette smiled at Ophelia once the two were left alone, “Ready to open up shop?”

“Always.”

I just hope that man won’t discourage Theo. He can really get to him when he tries to.

Ophelia opened up the perfumery, checking that everything was properly stocked on the shelves, deciding to dust a bit while customers were yet to arrive. As she worked, Ophelia glanced at Cosette who sat at the counter, pouring over some papers.

At least she bounces back from the nightmares quickly.

The front door opened to reveal a group of fae females, chatting happily amongst themselves.

“Welcome to Serene Fragrances, please let me know if you have any questions.” Ophelia greeted them.

“My friend here is visiting from out of town, could you show her the scents you have?” one of the women spoke up, gesturing to another fae.

“Of course. We currently have vanilla, cinnamon and mahogany teakwood .” Ophelia led the group over to a table where test bottles were displayed.

“Wow, the cinnamon is so gentle, I would have thought it would be more aggressive.”

“Our perfumer works magic.” Ophelia said, glancing at Cosette who was still deep in thought at the front counter.

She should really start using that office of hers. Makes it easier to lie and say she’s not here in case a customer gets rowdy when demanding to see her.

“She really does! Cousin, I think I will get this one.”

“Perfect.” the other fae nodded at Ophelia who led them over to the counter.

“Oh, will you be at the fair?”

“Yes, we will be.” Ophelia confirmed, packaging the bottle for the lady, and taking the payment.

“We’ll make sure to come by.” The group left with more customers arriving soon after. Despite the fact that there were only three scents, the novelty of the perfume’s quality kept bringing people back, especially those who were visiting from outside the capital.

Ophelia had never felt this good working. It was so different from Autumn Court where every ten minutes orders were being yelled at her, the only reprieve being near the Lady of Autumn. Yet now directions and decisions were made calmly. Everything had order and for the first time Ophelia felt in control.

“I have been thinking about it, we should make some sort of announcement that we’ll be at the fair, or spread the news some other way.” Cosette said. With the store temporarily empty of customers Ophelia was taking a break at the counter.

“Me and Theo can make some posters and hang them up at the bulletin boards throughout the streets.” Ophelia offered.

“Good idea…I also think it’s time we make a fourth scent.” Cosette pushed a couple papers towards Ophelia for her to look at, “It can be a special release during the Winter fair.”

Ophelia picked up the papers, looking over Cosette’s ideas, “That’s a good idea, I’ll make sure to include that in the posters. We should also start notifying any customers that stop by that we’re going to be at the fair.”

Cosette nodded, “I wrote down some ideas for scents. I am currently leaning towards a jasmine or goldenberry scent. I want to keep the scent more warm and sweet for the occasion.”

“I think jasmine would be harder to find right now due to the lack of imports from Spring. You’d have an easier time acquiring goldenberries.”

Cosette nodded, taking note of her advice.

“Do you think you’ll ever do more earthy or natural scents?”

“I am experimenting with them right now, but they won’t be ready to be mass produced in time for the fair.”

“Hmm, I’ll keep the new perfume a mystery just in case you decide to change it up. Plus, the air of mystery will help bring in more people!”

“Sounds perfect.” Cosette put the papers neatly away, as the doorbell rang and Amelio stepped inside.

“Miss Cosette, how are you?”

“I am well sir Amelio, how about you?”

“Not too bad.” he chuckled, “Busy with the solstice right around the corner, but otherwise life is good.”

“I am happy to hear it.” Cosette led the man away to her office, leaving Ophelia by hearse.

I hope he likes the scents she made.

Ophelia paced the ground floor nervously, checking on the perfume bottles, or sweeping the floor. She assisted any customers that came in with the same happy smile, but the back of her mind was worried.

This was Cosette’s first custom order - it had to go well. If it didn’t…

Ophelia didn’t want to think about that.

“Thank you so much for all your work.”

“Of course, I am glad you found a scent that you like.”

“I just hope my wife likes it, haha.”

“I am sure you know her tastes well.”

Ophelia perked up from her spot by the counter, casually glancing at Cosette and Amelio as she led him out of the perfumery.

The two women made eye contact.

“Well?” Ophelia asked nervously.

“He loved the citrus themed one.” Cosette couldn’t contain her smile as Ophelia punched the air in celebration.

“How much did he pay you?”

Cosette smiled, handing Ophelia an envelope.

Dang it’s heavy.

“A very, very decent sum.”

“You can definitely say that.” Ophelia nodded appreciatively at the money inside, “Is this enough to cover Theo’s debt?”

“Not yet, but we’re really close.”

Ophelia did the mental math, “We would need about 340 more gold. Do you think we can do it?”

“I don’t want to jinx it.” Cosette confessed, “By the way, have you thought of what you want to get Blanche and her family for the solstice?”

“Hmm, I have but I can’t come up with anything. You?”

“I am not sure either…”

“Any ideas for Theo and his father?”

“I have something planned for them though it’s not a gift in the traditional sense.” Cosette had a small glint in her eyes.

“Should I be worried?”

“Not yet.”

Ophelia shook her head, restocking some of the shelves, “We should head out once the perfumery closes to buy gifts.”

“We should. Better to get them now since we’ll be busy in the upcoming weeks.”

“Why is purchasing affordable gifts so hard?” Cosette complained, her voice slightly muffled by the rows of bookshelves separating her from Ophelia, “At this rate I’ll find gifts for myself rather than other people.”

“I don’t know.” Ophelia sighed, a bit frustrated. They had spent the past several hours looking through various stores, unable to find anything suitable for their friends.

Though she had finally found something for Cosette, she simply hadn’t bought it yet.

“I really don’t know what I am going to get Blanche.” Cosette sighed, eyeing the book in front of her, “I considered getting her a cookbook but that just sounds like a jab. Like ‘hey ma’am your cooking sucks so much you should read a book.'”

“I think you’re overthinking this.” Ophelia patted Cosette's back supportingly, “Well, shall we move on then?”

“Good idea.”

The two fae stepped outside into the cold again, with Ophelia purchasing a book of fairy tales for Fermin.

“That’s actually a very smart gift idea.” Cosette muttered, eyeing the book, “Fermin does seem to have a fascination with fantastical heroes and warriors.”

“I know.” Ophelia said smugly.

“I think I am going to try and get some of those goldenberries.” Cosette said, shivering slightly from the cold.

No matter how much we bundle you up you’re still cold.

“Ah, alright. I’ll keep looking at stores here. What about meeting up back here in about an hour?”

“See you then.” Cosette walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

With the Solstice around the corner, fae were trying to get their last minute shopping in before everything sold out.

Once she was sure Cosette was gone, Ophelia ran back into the bookstore to grab the text she had been looking at; ‘Fae Courts and Customs: A Comprehensive Guide’.

There was only so much I could help with when it came to questions regarding other fae courts. Sure I might be somewhat of an expert on Autumn Court and the important surrounding areas, but I for the life of me would not be able to explain to Cosette the details surrounding Day Court’s philosophies on work and pleasure, or Dawn’s specific protocols for treating patients and healing rituals. Cosette would need all the help she could get to maintain her lie, and this was a step in the right direction.

Purchasing the book Ophelia rejoined the fray outside, walking along the street.

Now, what would make Blanche and Forrest happy?

Ophelia furrowed her eyebrows.

Cosette was right, finding gifts for people was hard. Let’s try to approach this logically; Blanche cooks a lot, so perhaps I should look for a gift that could help her with cooking? What kitchen utensil could she possibly lack? Then there was Forrest who managed an inn. He was kind but didn’t speak much about his hobbies.

Now that Ophelia thought about it, it seemed like he didn’t seem to care for much besides the inn and his family. Deep in thought she wandered into a textiles and cloth shop, looking at the various fabrics organized by color and pattern.

Perhaps she could get them new linens? Or napkins for the dinning room area?

“Hello miss, do you need any help?” a woman approached her, smiling.

“Oh, I am just browsing.”

“Perhaps you’d be interested in taking a look at some of our Autumn Court fabrics?”

“Autumn Court?”

“Indeed, they came in just a few days ago, please try them, they’re quite soft.”

Ophelia followed the employee to the back of the store where the new fabrics were being displayed. Gingham, scroll and windowpane patterns stared back at her. Ophelia carefully picked up one of the textiles, examining it carefully.

“You said these were from Autumn?”

“Indeed! They’re from the southern farms. Really high quality!”

Well that was a load of bullshit.

Ophelia smiled. These weren’t bad cloths, but they were not made in Autumn.

Autumn’s fabrics often had a slightly rough texture to it due to the wool used to weave and knit them, while Winter’s were more soft. Winter Court’s sheep were notorious for their thick, yet extremely soft wool.

The female fae left Ophelia alone to look at the display, joining the male behind the counter, the two whispering amongst themselves. Ophelia pretended to be very interested in the products, straining her ears to listen in.

“I can’t believe we were able to secure that much venison.”

“I know right? It’s enough to feed several families.”

Seems like I have found my gift to Blanche and everyone else.

“Wow, I can’t believe you were able to secure such good fabrics.” Ophelia complimented, bringing one over to the counter.

“Oh that’s great! So happy to hear you like them!” the woman giggled, preparing to ring her up.

“Except that these aren’t from Autumn Court.” Ophelia leaned in, a smile still plastered on her face.

“Excuse me?” The fae did a double take, the male beside her getting annoyed.

“Hey, who the hell are you to accuse us like that?” his cold voice didn’t deter Ophelia.

“The quality and texture of this fabric is too soft for the type of sheep that are bred in the southern farms of Autumn. Any fae that works with textiles worth their money will be able to tell you that much.”

Now if you had said northern farms, I might have believed you. There sheep from Winter and Autumn can at times interbreed, although it’s not common. It wouldn’t be shocking for Autumn to set up a luxury farm where they tried to create a new subcategory of pretty sheep for noble ladies to fawn over. However, then they wouldn’t sell to a middle class store like this.

The two fae tensed, put off by her confidence.

“Truly, it’s a shame for two business owners such as yourself to lie to customers like this.” Ophelia raised her voice.

“Okay, okay we catch your drift, just lower your voice please!” the male shushed Ophelia, “Now what will it take to shut you up?”

“About the venison…” Ophelia said sweetly.

Ophelia walked out of the store, dragging a large bag of meat pieces that could feed more than seven people, earning side glances from Winter fae around her.

The human and fae eventually reunited at the shopping center’s main entrance.

“Did you find anything?” Cosette asked Ophelia, eyeing the giant bag with slight concern.

“You could say that.” Ophelia smiled, determined to keep the gift a surprise until solstice dinner, “How about you?”

“Well I got my hands on some goldenberries actually, and I figured out what I am going to get Forrest and Blanche.” Cosette held up two bags, one full of the goldenberries and the other full of cedarwood and lavender.

“Are those ingredients for perfumes?”

“Yep, I am going to make Blanche and Forrest custom ones.”

“Will you have enough time to make them and the new release for the fair?”

“Well, there’s twenty four hours in a day!”

“I don’t like it when you say that.”

It means you won’t get any sleep.

“Have some faith in me, Ophelia! I promise to take care of myself.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Returning to the inn they were greeted with the familiar scene of Blanche rushing around to care for guests and Forrest helping to manage the front desk. Ophelia’s eyes fell on a sulking Fermin in the corner.

Poor kid must be bored out of his mind.

The inn had been busy compared to previous weeks with people arriving to stay in the capital for the upcoming festivities.

Meaning no one available to play with him.

While Cosette went upstairs to their room, Ophelia dragged the bag of meat into the kitchen, following Blanche.

“Blanche! Happy early Winter Solstice!”

“Oh….oh dear.” Blanche stared at the giant bag.

“It’s venison!”

“Venison? How…how did you manage to get so much?” Blanche took the bag from her, staring at the amount.

“I have my ways.” Ophelia winked, “I was thinking we could keep it frozen for the next couple weeks and prepare it once the Winter Solstice arrives.”

“Oh, Ophelia, that would be wonderful.” Blanche smiled.

Your family deserves a feast after all the support you’ve given us.

“I would love to help out in the kitchen if you let me.”

Perhaps I could even make some Autumn themed dishes.

“I would love to have your help.” Blanche said.

The two women stored the venison appropriately, discussing their plans for the party’s dinner.

‘Mother, mother! I have something for you!’ She had been impatiently waiting weeks for the Autumn Solstice. Curse her for being excited, she had worked hard on this gift.

‘Oh, Ophelia please don’t be so loud. Haven’t they taught you how to be quiet back in the palace?’

‘Sorry!’ Ophelia giggled, quickly helping her mother set the table. She had returned home for the holiday, being one of the lucky few given a vacation.

Praise the Lady of Autumn, one of the few kind souls in that wretched place.

‘You really should have stayed behind. They’re holding a ball, perhaps you could have met a nice male there.’

‘If I had stayed they would have had me work in the kitchens.’

‘A shame.’ The elder fae hummed, casually sitting in an armchair.

Ophelia sat down next to her giddily. The turkey, and beef stew were steaming, awaiting their guests.

‘Mother, I have something I want to give you.’

‘Is it evidence of a marriage?’

Ophelia laughed, ‘No, something better!’

The female looked at her skeptically.

Ophelia pulled out a bookmark detailed with pressed leaves and pieces of lace.

‘What is this?’ The woman took the bookmark.

‘It’s a memento!’

The woman raised an eyebrow at her.

‘You know? The one that females give to each other?’

Ophelia’s mother stared at her child with a blank expression.

‘It was in the textbook you had me read? It’s an Autumn Court tradition. Mementos represent shared experiences and memories between two faes, and are meant to commemorate and save those moments in time.’

One of the few things I willingly learned from the mass of knowledge you forced down my throat.

‘The flowers are from the palace forests and gardens. I bought the lace from a boutique in the capital with some of the money that I had saved up. It took a while to collect the perfect leaves, but the palace gardener was very supportive once he found out what they were for!’ Ophelia continued rambling, ‘I know you can’t visit often so I thought this would help remind you of the capital. I am not an amazing poet, but I hope it’s acceptable.’

All the things you love in one place.

Ophelia’s mother carefully tilted the bookmark in her hand, letting the setting sun’s light going through the cottage’s window fall onto it, illuminating the text written in its center.

Like a flower that blooms in Spring,

Your beauty is pristine.

You hold my hand through everything,

A love that’s like a dream.

‘How long have you worked on this.’

‘The past month!’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes!’

The fae looked at Ophelia, ‘You wasted a month on this? This?’

‘Oh, I wanted to surprise you-’

‘I send you to the capital and you bring back this?’

‘Mother-’

‘Seriously, did you think I would be impressed by this?’

‘I thought-’

‘No, you did not think, Ophelia. You never use that head of yours.’

‘I just wanted to-’

‘These kinds of things are useless.’ the older fae stood up, walking towards the fireplace, ‘It’s about time you learned that at your age.’

‘No!’ Ophelia tried to grab her, but her mother simply shoved her away, throwing the decorated strip of paper into the flames.

‘I just wanted to show you that I care…’ Ophelia felt tears prick her eyes.

‘If you cared for me or wanted to do something useful for this family you would have gotten married already instead of wasting your time on frivolous activities.’

The fire crackled, burning up the paper as Ophelia tried to get her emotions under control.

‘I love you.’ Ophelia whispered.

Her mother looked at her with disgust.

‘Please, I am sorry.’ Ophelia hated that expression, ‘I am so sorry.’

‘Clean up that face, we have guests coming soon.’ her mother turned away from her, ‘Once you’re back at the palace actually start using your time productively by meeting men. Your youth is not eternal.’

The fire cracked and popped.

‘Yes mother.’

Ophelia stood in the middle of the small dinning room by herself. As the walls closed in, a single question replayed within her mind.

Why don’t you love me?

Ophelia awoke with a start, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Something warm shifted next to her, snuggling closer. She carefully looked over to see Cosette hugging her, fast asleep. Nothing could wake that human up when she overworked herself.

Ophelia took a deep breath, slowly calming her beating heart.

You were fine. That was years ago. More than half a century ago.

Ophelia took another breath, relaxing slightly. The stress of the upcoming festival was starting to get to her.

You cannot worry her with this.

Ophelia closed her eyes, letting the darkness envelop her..

Her love was always just a dream; stop hoping.

Cosette and Ophelia awoke early on the day of the fair. They had spent the last several weeks buried in nonstop preparations, warning customers ahead of time that they would be participating in the fair and that the store would be closed. Apart from the public bulletin boards, Blanche had kindly put up the posters Theo and Ophelia made in her inn.

After grabbing breakfast and rushing out the door, bidding a sleepy Blanche a goodbye, Ophelia and Cosette walked to the perfumery. Many fellow business owners participating in the fair had also gotten a head start on their day, already carrying boxes of various goods onto carts for easier transport.

Theo was already waiting for them inside - much to Ophelia’s shock. A couple months ago this man didn’t even want to scrub the floors, and now he was showing up early, preparing for an important event.

Maybe, just maybe, I judged him too early.

Ophelia was not, however, about to go back on her feelings towards Theo’s father, who was currently complaining about having had to wake up early.

“I began packing the vanilla, cinnamon and teakwood perfumes, but haven’t gotten to the goldenberry one.” Theo gestured towards a set of packed boxes.

“All good.” Cosette smiled, “That’s exactly why we got up early.”

The group began packing the remaining bottles into the boxes.

“So, how exactly will we get these to the fair?” Ophelia asked.

“I designed the new stand to be able to hold some of the boxes inside. We also have a cart that we can pull by hand from our wood working days that we can use. I can begin loading it up since we’re almost done here.”

“Oh, do we finally get to see this amazing stand you’ve been raving about?” Ophelia teased.

The man kept her in the dark about the whole thing, only checking in with Cosette about its progress.

“I wanted to surprise you.” he smiled, leading them over to a large object covered by a blanket which he dramatically tore off.

“Oh…” Ophelia stared at the stand, cart-like structure. It retained the vanity aesthetic the original stand had but now it was larger, with more places to display perfumes. The top section of the stand had faelights illuminating the display. On the side, Theo had constructed a slight extension that functioned as a register and bookkeeping space designed to make packaging orders easier.

Theo looked at Ophelia nervously, Cosette giving him an encouraging thumbs up.

“It’s beautiful.” Ophelia confessed, making Theo beam from pride.

“It’s adequate.” the elder muttered. His son instantly deflated, staring at the ground awkwardly.

Ophelia and Cosette exchanged a look.

As Cosette checked that they had packed everything, Ophelia and Theo secured the boxes into the cart. The trio set off to the Winter Solstice’s fair site, dropping the elder off at the inn.

Ophelia was already praying for Blanche’s forgiveness when they returned.

There’s no way that man wouldn’t cause her trouble, I only hope he keeps it to a minimum.

It was a good thing they had come out early, as the streets were beginning to fill with other business carts and tourists exploring the city by the time they made it to the street where they would be stationed during the fair.

The street wasn’t anything particularly special, in fact it was probably one of the worse ones, but it was acceptable. The trio stopped at the road’s farthest end, beginning to set up the stand, filling its shelves with perfume bottles, putting the new scent in the center. The cart with additional boxes was placed behind the stand, slightly underneath so it didn’t get in the way. Theo put some snow around the wheels to make sure the stand didn’t roll away.

“Alright, good work team!” Cosette smiled, her eyes full of pride, “Now we just wait for the customers to start coming.”

“Can I take a small walk around to see what people are selling at their booths?” Theo looked at Cosette shyly.

“Of course, but only if you bring back some tea and hot chocolate for us from your trip.”

“On it!” Theo rushed off, glancing from side to side at the booths being set up.

Cosette felt something warm and fuzzy get pushed onto her head.

“Eh?”

“Happy Winter Solstice Cosette.” Ophelia carefully put the hat over Cosette’s ears, making sure to not disturb the cuff earrings.

“Oh! Thank you, you didn’t have to.”

“I did, you’re always freezing.”

“It's not my fault Winter Court is so cold.”

Ophelia laughed, patting Cosette’s head as a couple fae approached.

“Hello!” a female fae rushed over, her eyes sparkling as she took in the stand, “Is that the new perfume you guys talked about?” she pointed at the center of the stand.

“Yes it is.” Cosette said, handing the woman a sample bottle to try.

“Wow, every time I try your perfumes I think you’ve outdone yourself.” the fae complimented, purchasing one bottle.

“Finally! We found you two!” The group of fae that had visited them two weeks ago joined the growing group around the stand also trying the new perfume.

“It’s quite good.”

Ophelia watched with caution the growing line to their stand.

That was a lot of faeries.

Theo returned quickly with the two promised hot drinks soon after leaving for his mini expedition having noticed how crowded the streets had gotten, assuming that Ophelia and Cosette might require assistance with customers. He had made the right call.

The two women were struggling, albeit managing to hold down the fort. Theo quickly began helping with restocking while Ophelia switched to talking and helping people pick out perfumes and Cosette stood by the side table for packaging and processing purchases.

Ophelia was glad Cosette had made extra bottles of the new scent as it was by the far the most popular item to no one’s surprise.

“I am sorry miss but we have no more bottles of the new scent.” Ophelia tried to calm down the fuming female before her.

“I demand to speak to the perfumer!”

Cosette cringed, about to step in but Ophelia raised her hand signaling for her to stay back.

I’ve got this.

“What do you wish to tell her?”

“I wish to tell her that she should give me a bottle of the goldenberry perfume!”

Ophelia groaned slightly, “She will tell you the same thing as me; that we have no more bottles left.”

“Then she should make more!”

“Ma’am she can’t just magic perfume into existence.” Ophelia tried to reason with her.

“If you’re not going to buy anything, leave the line.” The fae next in line spoke up, glaring at the woman causing the scene.

“You shut up!” the woman took a step closer to Ophelia, making her tense.

Is she seriously about to start a fight over some perfume?!

“What’s the problem here?” a cold voice interrupted the conversation. A Winter Court guard approached the stand, staring at the enraged woman cooly.

“They won’t sell me the special edition perfume!”

“We can’t sell it to you because we have none left!” Ophelia exclaimed.

The guard nodded, assessing the situation.

“Ma’am, unless you're going to make a purchase please step away from the booth.”

“But-”

“You’re disrupting the peace, please leave before I have to remove you by force.”

The woman stomped away in a rage, huffing and muttering to herself.

“Thank you for your help.” Ophelia thanked the guard who stepped in.

“No problem miss.” he turned away, resuming his patrol route across the fair.

Praise Winter Court for increasing security during the solstice.

With the night getting very late, and them running lower on all their perfumes, Cosette began counting money, to prepare the funds for the public events office.

Cosette paused her counting, crying out happily “Ophelia!”

“No need to yell, I am right here.” The fae carefully gave the purchased teakwood perfume bottle to a customer turning to Cosette, “What's up?”

“We crossed the 3,500 gold threshold! We can pay off Theo's debt!”

“Wait…. you're serious?” Ophelia couldn’t believe her ears.

“Theo we did it! We reached the goal! You can pay off your debt!”

Theo poked his head from behind the stand, nearly dropping the boxes he had been packing away.

“You're joking.”

“I am not!

Theo smiled, practically crying, “Thank you ….thank you both.…” he looked at Cosette and Ophelia.”

“We did this together.” Cosette hugged Ophelia and Theo, the two of them returning the embrace.

The group made it back to the inn excited, their previous exhaustion replaced by adrenaline.

“We're back!” Cosette called out to Blanche who was carrying hot chocolate to the guests who chose to remain at the inn and her family.

“How was the fair?” Blanche smiled. The woman was out of her traditional inn uniform and in a pretty dark blue dress complete with a corset and a small snowflake hair accessory.

“It was wonderful!” Cosette rambled to Blanche about their success, “We managed to not only clear Theo’s debt but also make a profit!”

“That’s wonderful.” Blanche hugged Cosette, “Congratulations Theo!”

“Thank you Miss Blanche.” Theo couldn’t stop smiling.

“Please, just Blanche.”

Even the elder for once had nothing to say. Ophelia could swear she saw him even wipe away a tear at the news.

“Mama, everyone is here, let’s eat now!” Fermin suddenly appeared from behind a couch, dressed in a dapper dark blue outfit, matching with his mother.

“Aww, you’re such a cute little man.” Ophelia cooed, unable to resist the urge to gush over the adorable child.

“I am not cute! I am handsome!” Fermin’s face flushed red with indignation.

“The most handsome man ever.” Ophelia teased the gremlin before her.

Blanche let the two bringers of chaos squabble playfully as she brought out the food into their personal dining room, Cosette helping her to set the table.

“Is this venison?” Forrest took a seat at the table, glancing at his wife.

“Yes, Ophelia brought it for us. A gift from her to all of us.”

“That is really expensive.” he muttered, casting a glance toward Ophelia.

“That’s what you had in your bag!” Cosette exclaimed.

“What did you think I had?” Ophelia raised an eyebrow, joining them at the table.

“I was honestly half expecting you to have a dead body in there.” Cosette confessed, making Ophelia laugh.

“Ophelia also helped me prepare the food, look at the beautiful cornucopia she baked for us!” Blanche showed off her fellow woman’s accomplishments, as the elder and Theo also took their seats.

“Mama, bring out my present!” Fermin demanded.

Blanche ruffled his hair, adding to the table a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

“I made them.” the child proudly declared, awaiting the group’s praise.

“They look delicious, Fermin.” Cosette tried to take one but Fermin cried out.

“No! You need to eat a meal before the sweets!”

Cosette quickly retracted her hand, “I am sorry!”

“Look at what an amazing example my child is setting for all of you.” Blanche finally joined them at the table, sitting down.

“A true model citizen.” Theo complimented.

“Blanche, you forgot about the Spirit offerings.” Forrest reminded her gently.

“Oh to the Mother I have!” His wife exclaimed, quickly rushing back to the kitchen, returning carrying some shortbread cookies.

“I wanna do it Mama! I wanna!” Blanche rolled her eyes fondly, letting Forrest pick up Fermin to put the cookies into the mantle, as well as one of his own.

“Spirit offerings?” Cosette whispered to Ophelia, not wanting to draw attention to her curiosity, “Is this for the Spirit of Winter?”

“Yeah it is.” Ophelia confirmed, “It's tradition to leave out a Spirit’s favorite food during any major event as a thank you for all the work they do.”

“I see.” Cosette nodded, waiting for everyone to sit down before digging in.

“This is delicious.” Theo complimented.

“I’ve never had traditional Winter Court dumplings.” Ophelia said.

“And I have never had stuffed acorn squash.” Blanche tasted the dish, “It’s quite good. Will you tell me the recipe, Ophelia?”

“Of course, I am glad you like it.” Ophelia kicked her feet slightly.

Fermin happily gobbled up everything on his plate, impatient to get to the deserts.

“Now that we’ve moved on to tea and wine, I think we can begin to exchange gifts.” Blanche clapped her hands together.

“Me, me first!” Fermind waved his arms, earning a pointed look from Blanche, resulting in him adding a small “Please.”

“Here is your gift, Fermin.” Blanche handed her child a small box which he tore into to pull out a pencil set and a sketchbook.

“Since the most important member is getting their gifts first, here you go little man.” Theo handed Fermin another box.

“Not little, but your gift is appreciated.” Fermin opened the box, his eyes widening, “The great Lord of Snowflakes!”

The child held the wooden figure in his hands, analyzing all the small details, from his sword and long cape.

“Here Fermin.” Cosette handed him a box that the child revealed to contain a plush dragon.

Fermin gasped, “The great Lord of Snowflakes can defeat the bad dragon!”

“Open mine too!” Ophelia handed Fermin her gift.

The kid stared in wonder at the book, opening it to stare at the gorgeous illustrations.

“Mama, can we read this before bed tonight?”

“Of course, if you don’t fall asleep before that point.” Blanche ruffled his hair.

Fermin jumped off his chair, rushing back into the main front area of the inn.

“You guys didn’t have to.” Blanche watched her child happily show some of the remaining guests the gifts he had received.

Cosette shook her head, “How could we not?”

“Yeah!” Ophelia voiced her support.

Children deserved presents.

“Now, for you two.” Cosette pulled out two boxes, pushing them toward Forrest and Blanche respectively.

Forrest carefully opened his, pulling out a perfume bottle labeled as cedarwood, with Blanche’s being lavender.

“I tried my best to tailor them to your preferences, however if there’s something you don’t like please tell me and I will adjust accordingly.”

“Oh Cosette, truly you didn’t have to go through all this effort.”

“You two housed us throughout all this.”

“You paid us money.”

“Would I be lying if I said you gave us a discount half way through?”

Blanche looked a bit sheepish, with Forrest looking away as if he wasn’t a part of the conversation.

“You either will take the perfumes or take the perfumes and let us pay the full price of the room we’ve been staying in.”

Blanche sighed, “I guess we have no choice but to accept your gift.” she smiled, “Thank you Cosette.”

Forrest spritzed some of the perfume on his wrist, nodding approvingly.

“I-We also prepared a gift for you two.” Theo carefully handed off a large box to Forrest, who opened it.

“Since you run an inn I thought me and my father could make some decorations that matched your aesthetic.”

Ophelia would be willing to bet money no one in this room was buying Theo’s attempt to pass off the elder’s involvement in this project.

Forrest pulled out several wooden boards, each of which had a carved scene of the Winter Court or the nature surrounding it. Inside the box were also some small wooden animals and tree figures.

“Thank you, these will go perfectly over the fireplace.” Forrest said, Blanche leaning over to look at the pieces in detail.

“These are so detailed…” Blanche wore an impressed expression.

“Thank you.” Theo blushed, turning to Ophelia and Cosette, “I have gifts for you two as well.”

Ophelia and Cosette opened the identical long thin boxes to find matching pens, each carved with their own unique design. Ophelia’s had various Autumn details ranging from leaves to pumpkins, while Cosette’s had pretty swirling patterns, accompanied by a perfume bottle

“You two often work on the paperwork side of things, so I thought a pen upgrade might be in order.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thank you Theo.” Ophelia spoke before Cosette did, “These pens are gorgeous. I can only imagine how long it must have taken you to make these.”

I definitely misjudged your character.

Cosette hummed in agreement, examining the pen under the fairelights above them.

“You will have to forgive me, as I cannot give you your gift today Theo.” Cosette said.

“Oh, why’s that?” the elder snarked, earning a disapproving look from Blanche and a nervous expression from Theo.

“Because it’s not exactly an object.” Cosette looked at the elder and then at Theo again, “I’ll be able to give you the gift in a couple days.”

“I cannot wait!” Theo beat the elder to the punch, smiling at her.

“Well, since you all got to give your gifts, only fair that we now get to give ours.” Blanche signaled to Forrest who pulled out large boxes from a cabinet in the dining room.

“Look who’s giving gifts when they were just telling us we didn’t have to.” Ophelia gave the female a playful look.

“We are hosting, it’s only right that we give gifts.” Blanche waved Ophelia’s argument away, shoving a small box towards her and Theo. Forrest handed Cosette a large soft bag.

Ophelia opened the box, letting out a small gasp at the hair ornament. It looked a bit like Blanche’s but the snowflake was a different shape.

Blanche walked over to the woman, carefully putting the clip into Ophelia’s hair.

“Just as I thought, it looks perfect on you.”

Ophelia couldn’t help the small blush on her face.

Theo’s eyes sparkled at his gift - a set of carving tools. Cosette unwrapped her bag to reveal a very warm cloak.

“You’re always shivering.” Forrest’s rough voice was soft as he helped straighten out the cloak, “Wear this whenever you go out.”

Cosette nodded appreciatively, “I will, thank you for this.”

The group sat together, chatting happily with Cosette and Ophelia drinking some black berry tea, while the others indulged in the wine bottle Forrest had opened. One of the guests in the front room strummed a lute, a happy medley floated through the air.

Blanche pulled Forrest up from his seat, dancing with him to the sounds of the lute.

“Get me a man who looks at Blanche the way Forrest does.” Ophelia whispered to Cosette.

Fermin had fallen asleep on the couch, holding onto his new gifts. Blanche broke the dance to quickly cover her child with a blanket, rejoining her husband after. Theo’s father drunkenly tried to hum along with the instrument, while Theo looked content simply watching the couple dance.

Ophelia and Cosette toasted each other’s tea cups.

This was nice.

Ophelia and Cosette dragged themselves into their room, kicking off their shoes and collapsing into bed with a small ‘oof’.

“Who knew winter fae had so much energy to party…” Cosette groaned.

Ophelia giggled, slightly drunk from the faerie wine, “All fae have energy to party.”

“Good to know.”

The two lay in silence for a moment.

“Oh, I have a gift for you.” Ophelia pulled herself up.

“Same!” Cosette also sat up, leaning over to the small side table to retrieve her gift.

Ophelia pulled out the history book from her own side table, presenting it to Cosette.

“I saw you staring at it in the bookstore and thought it might be useful in your journey of pretending to be a fae. You’ll probably want to study up on the various fae cultures and their customs.”

I only know so much.

Cosette gasped, taking the book from Ophelia, “You mean to say you’re not a walking encyclopedia?”

Ophelia laughed, “Unfortunately no.”

Although I am probably the next best thing thanks to my mother.

“Thank you Ophelia, it means a lot.” Cosette smiled, “I’ll make sure to ask you any questions if I have any.”

“I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Okay, my turn!” Cosette shifted on the bed, holding something behind her back, “During my ‘stay’ in Autumn Court I experienced…a lot. One of those things was the culture of the palace and some of the practiced customs. I noticed that in the female fae community it was tradition to exchange special gifts with those who are close to them. So, I tried my best to make what they call a memento!” Cosette presented Ophelia with a bookmark decorated with dried, pine needles along the edge, with pieces of book paper and aesthetic parchment layered beneath. Various flower petals placed around or between the needles, surrounded the words written in the center;

In autumn you took flight,

In Winter you chose to land.

To showcase all your might,

No fae could dare withstand.

“I know traditionally autumn leaves should be used, and sometimes even lace, but since it’s meant to commemorate a shared moment between us I thought I would try and capture our time spent in Winter Court. I don't know what I would have done without you here, so…thank you.” Cosette looked at Ophelia nervously.

Ophelia felt tears in her eyes

It wasn’t fair.

“Oh no, did I make it wrong?” Cosette had a worried look on her face, “I was only going off of what I learned from other fae by word of mouth, I should have done more research.”

It wasn’t fair that a random human was kinder than my own parent.

“Ophelia, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Cosette pulled Ophelia into a gentle hug.

It wasn’t fair that the same random human was now apologizing when she did nothing wrong.

“I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want a gift like this.” Cosette felt guilty for not thinking ahead, or anticipating Ophelia’s reaction to a gift that would remind her of home.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

Ophelia sobbed, returning Cosette’s hug.

“Thank you.”

“Yes?” Cosette was slightly confused, still holding the fae, gently stroking her hair.

“I just wasn’t expecting you to give me something like this.”

Cosette gently rocked them back and forth, the snow falling outside. Laughter carried through the closed window, celebrations still in full force.

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Ophelia sniffled, “It's a lovely gift.”

“You don’t have to lie, if you don’t li-”

“I love it.” Ophelia looked into Cosette’s eyes.

Do you think I’ll let go of the only memento I’ve ever received?

“I am sorry, I should have asked.”

“That would have ruined the surprise.” Ophelia gigged, calming down slightly, “I promise you that these are tears of happiness.”

“Alright, I believe you.” Cosette relaxed a bit, snuggling closer to Ophelia.

The two lay there, watching the frost paint their window with sharp fragments and swirls.

“Happy Winter Solstice Ophelia.”

“Happy Winter Solstice to you too Cosette.”

Next: Chapter 20 - A Party for Old Friends

Back: Chapter 18 - Family Meeting

Masterlist

Tag list: @rcarbo1

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sadruru · 8 months

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A little bit about the events in Barovia: I'll describe a bit of what happened to Light and her company. 1. In the Baron's mansion we had to fight the guards who were looking for Viktor Vallakovich for some reason. We killed them. Nita didn't like it, with low HP she freaked out and decided to lift the couch instead of Ismark. Failed her athleticism test and got a bleed. Light decided to help and angrily healed her.

2.I didn't tell you last time, but this guy's name is Albian. A red-haired guy with green clothes and green eyes. He's a warlock, but he's not an elf. He was originally born human, but Light somehow managed to talk to him separately and found out that his special appearance is due to a pact, just like his hat. Berries and flowers constantly grow on the hat, and he can't take it off for long. Albian didn't say who he made the pact with, and Light didn't insist. But she quickly realized that it seemed to be one of the very powerful fairies. He also talks weird. Like a storyteller from a fairy tale. And he gave everyone nicknames. He calls Light a blackberry. We offered to help him find Victor, his friend (yes, in our game, he is Victor's good friend). We agreed. But he only whispered what he looked like in Light's ear. I was shocked by such an act, blushed and banged my fist on the table for a long time. Yeah, I like watching them as a funny couple.

3. Light ran off in embarrassment with Tyrin, a priestess of Suna, the goddess of love and beauty. Somehow, miraculously, things had devolved into a rather personal conversation. Light told a bit about herself. The half elf tried to convince the fairy that she should try to open her heart again and not remember the past. Light really wants to go home.

Even I myself was amazed by this kind of conversation, even though this is my first time playing DnD. We talk to each other a lot. It brings out our characters more. And it seems like Light really fell in love~

4. …But someone clearly has trust issues, and there are many reasons for that. Because of the Shadow Plan, the fairy has emotional problems. She never feels happy or cheerful. Sveta dislikes people very much… She killed those who betrayed her and felt nothing, no conscience torments her. It scares her. I've noticed that a lot of my characters have trust issues. I need to think about it…

5. We fled the city from an angry mob of peasants. We stopped for the night in the woods on the way to the Abbey of St. Markovia. We even found Victor! Now we have a long rest. Turns out Albian can do different hairstyles (he has 2 younger sisters). Light got brave and asked him to braid her hair. He agreed.

I'm really glad he's being nice to her at all. But I've been told that he and Victor are in this story for a reason and could be very disappointing…

I love the drama and the glass eating. Thanks. I wish I hadn't been told that... 🗿

6. Right now, Light wasn't thrilled with her appearance. But Albian hinted that Victor might be able to tell her something about her problem. I already know what's haunting her. I'm freaked out by that fact. Maybe later I'll drop a hint who exactly.

7. Darcy is our dhampir. The whole group wishes she and Ismark were together. He's really paying attention to her. Albian's finished with her hair. Even added flowers.

Light is cute~ But Albian is blind and can't see that she really likes him 🗿🗿🗿

And me, of course. Some memes!~ I once stayed up all night and day. I turned into the Joker. I told jokes, screamed about crazy ending theories, about Victor, Albian, myself, panicked. The Dungeon Master just silently read my ramblings with interest... and smiled. Shook my hand in messages. I'm really scared now and I'm wondering what's going to happen next. What did I sign up for?!..

#artists on tumblr #oc #original character #art #didgital art #digital drawing #illustration #dnd 5e #curse of strahd

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nicsnort · 1 month

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Trial by Fire (part 4)

A Nightcrawler/Fem!OC romance, drama, and mystery fanfic, with lots of Quicksilver thrown in for fun and even more drama.

Intro (with link to full Ao3 story) First Previous

The antiseptic wipes had made Quicksilver’s face stung, but he ignored it. He’d be walking around with this for a while. Luckily, once he changed clothes, no one would remember how he had wiped out. Well, no, that wasn’t true. He figured it was a matter of time before the others figured out why the journalist stayed with them.

Bedelia Hayes. That was her name. He had looked over to ensure she wasn’t trying anything foolish about every ten seconds or so. When he looked last, he spotted her removing her shirt. If it had been anyone else, he may have offered to help -- given that she was injured, of course. But instead, he didn’t think it would...be interpreted well. Still, though he knew he should turn away and let her tend to herself in peace, he couldn’t help but stare for a moment or two longer. The freckles on her back and shoulders had caught his attention. Something about them just...distracted him, caught his focus in a way that a puzzle might.

“So you’re a redhead.” He finally called out and turned away once she started to dress again. No, given their situation and their roles -- essentially being her captor and guard -- it was best for him to stay put. He wasn’t looking forward to setting up a sort of Stockholm syndrome situation or, worse, have her think he was trying to cop a feel or a look by offering her help suddenly while she was half nude. Still, the freckles he saw seemed to be a dead giveaway, the name only confirming it.

Quicksilver stepped out of the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe, trying to picture her with the red hair most Irish girls seemed to have. He couldn’t. The green hair dye was actually very well done.

Bedelia smirked just a bit before she turned around. He didn’t need to say anything, he offered his conclusion to her. It was a move, just a tiny bit, towards acceptance in her view. “Yes,” she said, her parents had both immigrated from Ireland to the United States. She did not truly have an accent but it would often be sprinkled in her words when she became comfortable. “Eye and hair color are statistically what people remember the most. Hiding those makes the connection of work to my time in Genosha harder...and the color plays into the stereotype of Mutants looking different. It made getting in easier.”

Of course, that stereotype was true of most in the Brotherhood but Bedelia knew it was one of the sticking points for many humans. They could always “tell” when someone was a mutant because they looked different. It caused discrimination for humans with dyed hair at times and physical deformations or extraordinary features. And allowed many mutants to fly under the radar of bigots.

Quicksilver looked her over closely, his eyes lingering on her hands briefly. “Going off the softness of your hands doesn’t look like you spent much time in Genosha.” He saw that she had done her research though. With the pair of them as wrapped up and clean as they could be, he walked over to his door and opened it, nodding for her to walk out first. They needed to distribute food and water to the mutants they saved next.

“I had just arrived at the prison after a couple of days of processing,” she told him as they walked. “They were just about to take us out to the fields when you arrived.”

Once they were outside again, he walked with a purpose to the east side of the camping area. Thankfully, Toad and Blob were on the west side. He gathered some MREs, gave some to Bedelia to carry, and set out. Tent by tent they paused to give a few to the mutants inside. There were, to his pleasure, a lot of smiles and chatter, all of them happy to be free. It was something the X-men hadn’t done yet, he thought.

Bedelia took whatever Quicksilver handed her and dutifully followed him around. She was not about to cause trouble. Still, she listened to the mutants speak, gathering information. It was sheer habit. Seeing the two mutants she had been with when she arrived at the prison, she gave a friendly smile. They smiled back, unaware of her actual position here now.

Unless the Brotherhood demanded it, there was no need to tell everyone that she was a human. She saw a few eyeing her remaining collar with a mixture of surprise and displeasure. Of course, it reminded them of what they had just escaped from. Several had scarring from collars being in place for so long.

In the back of his mind, Quicksilver mulled over her words and the bits he had heard when he first approached Frost and Bedelia. “So you walked into slavery knowing it was slavery?” He boiled down what she had done to a sentence, wanting to ensure that he understood correctly. For someone to be so...privileged as a human, who hadn’t done hard labor before, for her to enter the fray knowing and willingly made him curious. But then, she had done it for her fame, to write a story to have her name out there. It had nothing to do with helping mutants, he thought.

“I had an exit plan, and before you ask, yes, I was going to try and take others with me.” If she survived this, she would have to recall the favor she called in. She no longer needed the fishermen’s boat to pick her up.

Handing out the rest of the food in silence, Bedelia continued working on what she needed to do to get out of here alive. When she heard Magneto’s deep baritone voice speak, she froze just slightly. Crap. Crap. She wasn’t ready for this yet.

“Quicksilver. You’re taking your time with your responsibilities.” Magneto walked over, checking the last part of the camp to ensure everyone had settled well enough. When his eyes moved over the green-haired woman near him. His expression flickered from a calm one to a brief scowl before he raised his hand. The collar around her next broke open and twisted into nothing more than a ball the size and ease of a paper ball. The smile returned to his lips.

Quicksilver gave a look to Bedelia, one that said: He doesn’t know yet. It was for the best, he thought. “She wanted to help.” He said shortly.

“And what is your name?” He asked Bedelia, almost gentle in his tone.

But the collar was removed and crushed - not crushed around her throat as she had half been expecting. He spoke to her with a softer tone than she would have thought, and then she realized that he didn’t know yet. “I am Bedelia Hayes,” she told him, inclining her head just a bit in greeting.

The older man gave a short nod. “And your real name?”

Quicksilver had to make a quick decision. If it was known that she was a human out here in the open? His pride was at stake, but he couldn’t be sure how the other mutants around them would react, though most were in their groups or in their tents. “Frost needs to speak to you, Magneto.” He informed him, hoping Bedelia took the hint and stayed quiet. “She said it’s urgent.” Given that the man still wore his helmet, it made sense that he might not be able to hear the message that Quicksilver would have.

The man of metal gave him a look before nodding. “Excuse me...Ms. Hayes.” He relented to using her given name before he walked away. Quicksilver gave a small exhale of relief and sent a mental message to Frost about what just happened.

“What was your plan for that lie, anyway?” He asked Bedelia as he kept moving. The campsite was settling down finally, meaning the Brotherhood, too, could breathe for a bit. “There would have been others on the island that would have asked.”

“I would simply tell the truth; I do not have one,” she told him as they walked back towards Brotherhood’s bunker. “I avoid lying as much as possible...when seeking the truth, it is best to be truthful yourself. I only would have lied not to blow my cover, and if I could have investigated without a mutant cover story, I would have. But as you probably know, Genosha does not allow for non-mutant outsiders to visit.”

They entered the bunker, and Bedelia realized was leading her away from the others. Of course, any confrontation had to be dealt with away from the ones they just rescued. How would it look if the Brotherhood had rescued a human or worse, let a human trick them?

Quicksilver gave a ‘hmph’ noise in response to her explanation. He was still wondering what would have happened if she had been left there on the island or if anyone found out about her here. Either situation wasn’t pleasant, for certain. He spotted his sister inside and nodded, walking over to her. “Your turn.” He lightly punched her arm, a ‘tag’ of sorts, as he slipped away before she could protest.

Bedelia stood awkwardly next to Scarlet Witch as she was “tagged” into watching her. The woman rolled her eyes at Quicksilver’s behavior. “Come along,” the witch said, and Bedelia silently followed.

~~~~~

Outside of the bunker, Magneto had approached Frost, who was just finishing handing out the few extra blankets that the Brotherhood had from the military plane they had taken. “Quicksilver said you required me?”

Frost looked up at Magneto. It wasn’t the first time Quicksilver had done this, but this time had some value. She waited until they were relatively alone before she said, “It’s about one of the women. The one you just met.” She sighed, annoyed suddenly, “If you take off your helmet, I can tell you in private.” She didn’t want to play loose with this news.

When he reluctantly did as she suggested, picking up on the situation's sensitivity, Frost explained the situation to him mentally. It was good that she did, for one more mutant walked up for a blanket as she finished. She watched his expression shift from annoyance to anger, then a calm curiosity. She knew what he was thinking even without looking into his mind. “Use her for our profit?” She smiled.

Magneto was ruminating on what Frost had told him. A human in their midsts, a human journalist in their midsts. She was obviously incredibly stupid, but she could prove useful. Profit indeed. This journalist owed them her life twice over. For rescuing her from Genosha and letting her live when they found out. Any “PR” that she could provide would not be for the humans but for mutants. The Brotherhood were not the terrorists that the media called them. They were saviors. Heroes.

“Let us speak to this journalist then and give her a proper Brotherhood greeting.”

Inside, Bedelia was handing Scarlet Witch ingredients as the woman began making a simple soup for the new mutants and Brotherhood. MREs were one thing, but the newly freed slaves deserved a real meal without giving them too much as it could make them sick after months of near starvation. Bedelia had just handed off chopped carrots when the metal around the room began to shake. She quickly moved away from the counter where the knives were and towards the center of the room. Nothing was around her; she was not a threat. Still, Bedelia could help the pit of fear in the stomach as Frost entered and crooked a finger towards her.

“Follow. He will speak with you. Make your case. You have one chance.”

Magneto was standing at his desk when they arrived in the makeshift office at the back of the building. His eyes were sharp and cold as he looked over Bedelia, far more critical than before. “Speak, journalist.”

Words. Bedelia lived on words. Here Bedelia would live or die by her words.

“I am Bedelia Hayes, freelance investigative journalist. I went to Genosha to look into the rumors of what happened to mutants on the island. In Texas, I met a mutant who had escaped Genosha, and he was able to confirm some things, but he was recaptured before I could further interview him. My job requires hard proof and evidence. I needed information. I tried gaining access to the island as a human but was blocked; I had no choice but to go in as a mutant. Dangerous, but I have always been willing to risk my life for my work.”

Bedelia stopped for just a brief moment reading his eyes. They were hard and betrayed very little emotion, but they had not shown anger. She continued. “I had just arrived in the prison when Trance, the mutant I helped onto the plane, and her comrades started their breakout. Certainly, being in the same room as the rebels' extreme suspicion would fall upon me; I would either be tortured, experimented on, or killed. So I also took the chance to leave when the Brotherhood fortuitously arrived. My chances of survival were higher with you, I weighed.”

Magneto’s eyebrow twitched just a bit. Perhaps in amusement, perhaps in disbelief.

“Which brings me here. I am quite literally powerless compared to you. The only power I have is through my platform. I have written several articles on the abuses against mutants. I saw early in my career that they needed an ally in the media, and I chose to be such. I am not an enemy of mutants. At my very worst, I am a neutral entity, as an agent of unbiased truth. But I prefer to be an ally.”

She paused a moment again. Slightly for effect. Mostly to gauge him once again. He was still waiting for something. As she spoke again, there was a hint of desperation in her voice.

“As a function of my job, I do not give up my sources nor those that aid me. If you let me go, on my honor as a journalist, I will not give any information up about you that would reveal your location or bring harm upon you. And while it goes against my inner desire, I will write you out of the Genosha narrative if you want, but I would prefer to tell the truth. The truth about Genosha and your truth if you would let me. Humans and mutants alike deserve to know the truth, don’t you agree?”

The woman knew how to have a way with words, but then again, if she didn’t, she would be a horrible journalist. Magneto gauged Bedelia by the tone she used, the earnestness. He had an idea he was certain he’d use, but it depended on the woman. “My first decision,” he said, “is whether to keep you alive or not. My second decision is what to do with you after that.” He would have to decide if she stayed or left, temporarily or forever, if she lived. “I know you will not reveal any information if I release you because Frost will make that impossible.”

Magneto studied her for a moment. It did take either a foolish woman, a brave one, or both to willingly enter Genosha knowing what it was, particularly as a mutant. Did it matter if she did it for herself or for mutants, claiming to be an ally as she did? The results would be the same. “I believe you hold purpose in staying alive. You will write your article about Genosha and your experience there. You will explain the Brotherhood’s part in it -- how we saved dozens of mutants and that our only regret in handling the battle was that we could not save more. It will be reviewed, you will be monitored, and then afterward, we can discuss what is next.”

He did not ask if she had any questions. He had told her what would happen and there was no way for her to question it. Quicksilver would have to keep an eye on her, and he and Frost would monitor her writing. A glance at the two mutants behind her at the doorway spoke of this without words.

Bedelia was relieved at the news that she had a purpose in being alive. That was what she was most concerned about. If she was alive, she could work on bettering her position. And even better, they were letting her write, monitored, but it was better than nothing. “That sounds like the truth to me,” she told him. “If there are any that were rescued willing to give their story, I would like to speak with them. To fill in the gaps in my knowledge and tug on readers' heartstrings with their statements. If you allow it, it would be useful to my work.”

Bedelia knew that she had no weight to ask anything, but she had to make her case now, she felt. Something told her that Magneto would not wish to speak with or even see her later for her to request things.

Magneto looked thoughtful just for a moment. “I cannot guarantee your safety if the mutants discover you’re human. You can inquire for volunteers,” as they would make it all the better in the story, “but it would be better to maintain your cover.”

He gave a nod to Quicksilver, and the young man stepped up. “Take her to your room. She will be staying with you.”

“Whoa, shouldn’t she stay with Wanda or Frost or someone, you know, woman-like?” Quicksilver looked unhappy at this.

Frost gave a scoff, a noiseless refusal at the doorway. Magneto looked mildly annoyed. “I am aware that having a human in our midst is unpleasant,” there was a dryness in his tone, “but given the lack of rooms, I expect you to be a gentleman. Your sister’s sleep does not always allow for company to remain safe.”

Quicksilver made a face but sighed. “Of course.” He looked at Bedelia. “Come with me.”

“Thank you,” Bedelia said to Magneto with a short nod. She was very much aware that he had the final say in how the rest treated her of the Brotherhood. Despite everything, she could tell, the man had some honor.

Following Quicksilver out, Bedelia allowed herself to relax just a bit. The worst was over with. She was allowed, at least for now, to have her life. “I’ll make sure I don’t put you out too much,” she told Quicksilver.

Quicksilver sighed as they walked down the hall. “I’ll put together a cot for you.” His room was a decent size, but knowing he’d have to lose a few feet to it and move around his things made him grumpy. And, of course, there would be the question of how she would be writing -- he would go out and steal a laptop for her.

“You might want to ask for testimonials before your roots start showing.” He remarked, thinking of how this would play out. It should be easy enough to keep it secret that she was human...he hoped.

Bedelia was about to thank him when he darted off. The speed at which he moved was terrifying. Within a minute, he had fetched and set up a cot, moved some furniture so it would fit, and placed a laptop, brand new from the looks of it, on the cot. She knew the laptop was stolen, but she was glad she wouldn’t be forced to write manually. While she worked best surrounded by her notes and photos, she preferred to write her drafts digitally. “Thank you,” she told him with a small smile.

Sitting on the cot, she flipped open the laptop and began its start-up. She assumed there wasn’t any internet here, so there was no chance of attempting to connect to the outside world. Not that she would risk calling for help, but her previous research of all publicly available information on Genosha was on the cloud. Of course, she would work best in her home office, but she was pushing her luck as it was in being allowed to interview.

With a crack of her fingers, Bedelia began to write.

____

Fanfic Masterlist

#fanfic #xmen #quicksilver #pietro maximoff #fanfiction #long reads #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #Trial by Fire

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billyrussohaven · 2 years

Text

Into my Web

Chapter 14

Dark!Vampire!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Cowritten with @the-cult-of-russo

Ratings: Explicit 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include; Sexual situations, swearing, human slave, biting, blood, murder, obsessive thoughts, dub con, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting.

"Hey guys! How was the carni- uh…" Micro said brightly before stopping mid sentence seeing everyone's shitty faces.

"It was great," Karen bit out, cutting Frank off before he could talk with a harsh look. You'd been through too much already and she didn't want to upset you anymore. This whole thing was a mess. Frank and Billy could have it out once you were in bed later. You didn't need anymore stress and she felt protective of you. Frank knew what the look meant and clamped his mouth shut, unhappy about it but complying. You walked in with Billy a few minutes later, trailing your plushie behind you with a small pout. Micro didn't bother asking what was wrong. Curtis stayed silent, looking around to everyone's behaviour and taking in the situation like a hawk with his drink.

Billy was wound tight, his hand clutching yours tightly as he stood there. He was glad Karen had decided for whatever reason to not have the drama continue, at least for now. He really couldn't be bothered with it.

"So… Dinner!" Karen said with a forced smile, glaring at both Frank and Billy as if daring them to protest. You hadn't had the chance to eat back at the carnival and she could hear your stomach. Billy nodded tensely, eyes darting to Frank who wiped a hand over his face but didn't say anything.

"If you don't mind, please," you said in a very timid and small voice, still feeling guilty about walking away from her like she was kidnapping you or something. You looked down at your feet and sulked. She gave you a small and sad smile before she scurried off into the kitchen to whip up something quick and simple. Leaving both Frank and Billy glaring at each other silently.

You walked to Micro with your ruined plushie and asked for his help.

"You said you're good with the internets and that we can find anything on it right?" You said with a small frown, rubbing at the stains on the plushie.

"Yeah. What's on your mind?" He asked, looking at you with a smile.

"Can you help me find how to clean this? It's beer and dirt," you mumbled. Micro stood up and gave you a small bow.

"Give me a few minutes my lady and I shall find you a magic spell," he said with a wink. He gave Billy a nod and left for his computer room. You flopped down on the couch where he was sitting a moment ago and sighed.

Dinner was the most awkward affair Billy had ever experienced. The tension was palpable and Karen was trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that had settled over Billy and Frank by talking about anything and everything, Micro going along with it and chattering on too. Billy was glad Frank hadn't caused a scene and he was hoping he wouldn't, that you could both leave tomorrow without the drama and then Billy could just avoid Frank's calls until he calmed down. He really didn't see what the big deal was. The guy had been rude and an asshole and Frank was so set on you being a real person and how bad he felt at you being a pet, going on a goddamn pity parade for you. He didn't see Frank stepping up to defend you from the prick though. You ate your food, keeping your head down and staying quiet. The tension and silence around the room was so thick it made you feel uneasy. You had declined wine politely, not feeling up to it and wished Billy and you could skip dessert entirely. You wanted to spend the evening with him, safe and drama free. You played with the hem of his shirt again with your free hand, a little soothing habit you've developed lately.

"We need more wine," Karen sighed, noticing the empty bottle.

"I'll get it," Billy jumped up, needing an excuse to get the fuck away from all the awkwardness. He hated it and he sure as fuck hated the looks Frank kept throwing his way. He should have been used to it by now. The disappointment. Yet it still stung him every time, even if he tried to push it down and pretend it didn't. It also didn't help that Karen, although trying to keep some semblance of peace for no doubt your sake, was throwing a few similar looks his way. It was really pissing him off. He walked into the kitchen and felt himself untense a little now he was away from scrutinizing eyes. He rolled his neck as he made his way to a cabinet that held some wine in. He heard and smelt Frank before he entered the room and once again Billy's body tensed right back up. Frank didn't say anything and Billy turned to glance at him warily.

"I really wish you'd stop lookin' at me that way, Frankie," Billy huffed, annoyed. It was bad enough Frank's behaviour earlier in the week but Billy thought they'd gotten past that. But now after one little thing at the carnival, he was acting like Billy was the enemy, not his brother. That shit hurt. He didn't care what people thought of him, but he did care when it came to his family, especially Frank. It wasn't his fault that Frank liked to pretend he was human more often than not.

"Not lookin' at you like anythin', Bill," Frank sighed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter opposite Billy. Billy pursed his lips, feeling his anger growing.

"Right… this bullshit is why I don't like comin' here anymore," Billy bit out, shaking his head as he set the bottle of wine down. Frank stood up straighter then and looked him square in the eyes, approaching him a little.

"I just don't get it. Me and you… we used to be the same, we both got turned the same way with the same shit and yet you're just…" Frank trailed off, clenching his jaw. A dark smirk graced Billy's face as he moved into Frank's space.

"I'm what? A monster? We're vampires, Frank. It's what we are. I'm the only one not foolin' myself with that. I didn't ask for this shit and I sure as fuck won't say sorry for it," he growled. Frank's righteous bullshit was really wearing him down. He never saw it from Billy's side, never cared to listen anymore. Billy was always just the bad guy.

Frank glared at him, the tick in his jaw showing how annoyed he was as his body stayed stock still.

"I put up with a lot of the shit you've done. You wanna lean into what you are, fine. But makin' that guy kill himself? A fuckin' human pet? I mean, come on, Bill. How long before you kill her?" Frank spat, a disgusted look on his face that got right under Billy's skin.

"Don't you talk about her," Billy seethed. He'd hated every sympathetic look Frank had given you since you'd gotten here like he'd been abusing you. You were goddamn lucky Billy bought you and not another vampire and he knew Frank knew it too. Was he nice? Of course he wasn't, but you'd only end up with worse. Being brutally tortured and raped every day and being fed off.

"I will talk about her. The poor girl had a rough life and now she's your little slave? Has to watch you pull shit like that? Does whatever you tell her or you'll punish her, right? You've got pussy and blood on tap and that's all that matters to you," Frank muttered tensely.

The words hurt Billy, the implications Frank was throwing his way. That he'd ever force himself on you. Billy never did and he'd never drank from you either. But he turned his pain to anger because being hurt was a weakness and Billy was anything but weak.

"It's none of your goddamn business," Billy hissed, moving to walk around him. He was done with this judgmental bullshit. He was taking you and leaving. He was stopped before he left the room though.

"I've made it my business. You're not leavin' here with her, Bill," Frank said firmly. Billy turned, eyes glittering dangerously as a dark and amused laugh left his lips.

"What? You gonna take her away from me, Frankie?" He asked, a menacing edge to his voice. Frank tilted his head, a regretful look passing on his face before it was gone.

"Damn right I am," he said resolutely.

Billy felt a lot of things in a very short space of time. Mostly anger at the nerve his supposed brother had to take his pet away from him, but also he felt a deep rooted betrayal and pain because of it. You were his. He'd put in a lot of work and effort to get you to be the way you were with him and he wasn't going to just give you up like that. He'd gotten used to having you around. Used to your presence in his home and his life. The idea of going back to being alone made something uncomfortable and raw claw deep in his chest and he snapped.

You felt everyone tense around you. You looked around at them and they were all staring toward the kitchen as if seeing something you couldn't. It didn't take long for you to see what they heard. The kitchen door exploded open sending wooden pieces flying all over as Frank's body hit it, being tossed into the room by a livid Billy. You screamed, your legs and arms instinctively moving as you curled yourself in a tight protective ball.

Billy snarled viciously as he pounced on Frank, the pair trading punches as Karen and the guys went over to separate them.

"Stop it, guys!" Karen screeched, putting herself in front of Frank and pressing on his chest as both Micro and Curtis held a livid Billy back.

"You think you're so much better than me with your holier than thou bullshit and I'm done with it!" Billy roared, eyes wild and wide as he glared at Frank. He hated how his eyes prickled with tears. He'd spent so much of his miserable life being made to not feel good enough. Not good enough for his own mother to want him. Not good enough to get a new family from the group home. Never good enough and always a disappointment. Coming from Frank, it stung more than anything.

"I never said I was better than you, but I can't sit by and let this shit happen, Bill!" Frank yelled back, a lot calmer than Billy though.

You kept still looking back and forth between Billy and Frank wondering what this whole thing was about. It couldn't possibly be just because of the dead guy. They were brothers, why were they fighting like that? Most importantly, how was Frank still standing after being thrown out through a door?

"Ever since Maria and the kids-" Frank started, voice softer than a moment ago.

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Billy snarled, hands clenching to fists as his body shook. He knew what Frank was going to say because he'd heard it before. Ever since what happened Billy hadn't been the same. He'd been much like Frank at first. A vampire but not a bad person. Not completely. But after his only family got ripped from him like it did, he turned cold, stopped caring. Frank cared too much. He was weak for it.

"I just want what's best for you. You're my brother and I love you," Frank frowned sadly. Billy laughed, shaking his head as he shoved Curtis and Micro away from him. They moved back but kept a wary eye on him, knowing how volatile he could be.

"You don't love me, not anymore. You love the old me. But you don't love me now, don't accept me. I came into this world without a family and I guess that's how I'm spendin' the rest of it,'' Billy spat with a glower. Frank shook his head as he heaved a heavy sigh.

"You'll always be family to me," he murmured as he gave Billy an imploring look. Billy felt something fracture in his chest at the words. He hated being at odds with Frank. Why couldn't he just accept him the way he was?

"If that was true, you wouldn't be tryin' to hurt me right now," Billy sneered, his voice raw.

"I didn't realise you cared about her," Frank admitted quietly, because he was starting to suspect Billy did care. While Billy was possessive and no doubt felt some kind of betrayal by him trying to take his pet away, Billy didn't fight with Frank this badly about just anything. As twisted as it may be, Frank was starting to suspect that some kind of feelings were involved for Billy to get this upset about the whole thing. Frank's words felt like they smacked Billy in the face. He didn't care about you.

"I don't," he bit out. There was a tense moment of silence that hung over everyone.

You weren't listening to their conversation anymore. You were so anxious your brain went with the first instinct you got which was to clean after the mess. You felt shaky and tense after this confrontation. You didn’t like Billy so worked up and angry, so doing something nice like cleaning up for him would probably make him feel better.

“Ow!” you said dropping a piece of wood you had picked up. You looked at the palm of your hand and there was a prickle of blood, probably from a nail you didn’t see. All the hair at the back of your neck raised up and you heard a collective hissing behind your back. You turned slowly to face the room that was now filled with vampires.

They were all vampires.

Frank, Karen, Micro, Curtis and of course, Billy. They all had their horrible faces and stared at you like a rare and juicy piece of meat. You walked backwards slowly and bolted out of the room shrieking. You ran down the hallway to the door leading outside and yanked on the doorknob. You sobbed and kicked at it but it wouldn't bulge, it was locked tight. Your knees gave out from under you and you crawled under a small draped table. You hugged your legs and hid your face between your knees, waiting for death to come find you.

"Look at that, I'm not the only monster in the room after all," Billy smirked cruelly at Frank, Frank's face falling at your reaction to him. Billy rolled his shoulder as he shook his head.

"The difference between you and me… I don't fight what I am. I don't deny it. You might think you're all high and mighty with your bullshit, but underneath it all, you're a beast just like me. You need blood to keep goin' just like I do. You think I'm just takin' what I want from her, think I'd force myself on her and drink from her whenever I want 'cause I'm such a monster, right? Everythin' we've done has been consensual and I've never drank from her," Billy said vehemently. He didn't stick around to see the shock on Frank's face as he made his way out of the room, following your heartbeat to where you were hiding.

They're monsters. They're monsters. They're all monsters. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. Oh my God. I'm gonna die. They're all… You kept repeating in your head, rocking yourself back and forth.

He found you hiding under a small draped table in the hallway and he crouched down, looking at you carefully.

"C'mon, kitten. I got you, I won't let anythin' bad happen," he said softly with warm eyes, holding out a hand for you. He didn't like seeing you scared like this. As angry as he was at Frank, he considered everyone here family and this wasn't how he wanted things to go. The idea of someone scaring you this much made him annoyed. You squealed loudly hearing his voice so close to you and not knowing he was there. You flinched away instinctively but looked at him like a frightened child, your lower lip wobbly and gasping for air. You looked at your tightly shut fist like it would make the smell go away.

"Look at my face, sweetheart. I ain't gonna hurt you," he murmured. His face was back to normal, no vamp face despite the scent of your blood in the air. The last and only time he'd smelt your blood, he'd had to leave for fear of killing you. But right now with the distraction of you being around other vampires, no matter how good they seemed to be or how much he trusted them, it had him feeling protective of what was his and his need to feed from you seemed non existent which was more than shocking. He decided it was best not to look into it too much.

You looked into his eyes for a while then you bursted out in loud sobs, crawling to him. He helped you out from under the table and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck so tightly they shook. He cradled your head to his neck and you hid your sobbing face into it as he stomped his way upstairs and to the room you'd been sharing.

"NO! Don't let me go! I don't wanna let go! I don't-I don't, they'll take me away! They'll kill me! Please don't let them, I'll be good I promise! Please don't-" you said sobbing loudly, your panic kicking in again when he tried to put you down when you reached your room. You held on to him so tightly it'd have impressed him if it wasn't so heartbreaking. He moved to sit down on the bed with you still wrapped around him, one hand in your hair as the other soothingly rubbed your back. It was jarring seeing you this scared. He'd seen you scared before but you only ever cried once inside the closet, he'd never actually seen you cry out of fear. There was a big difference between him scaring you, and he'd never scared you this much, and you being scared of someone else. He didn't like it one bit. He shushed you softly, rocking you gently as his hand stroked your back, his face pressed into your hair.

"They won't hurt you. They're not like that… You're mine, kitten. That means you're mine to protect. I won't let anyone hurt you," he soothed as he continued to rock you a little.

After a few minutes, you finally calmed down. You loosened your grip on him just enough to move your head and look at his face.

"Take me home, please" you said in a whisper, resting your forehead on his. You didn't want to be here anymore. You wanted to be home, alone with Billy, safe. He nodded, already planning on it. He was done with this drama bullshit. Despite Frank's continuing attitude over the years, he'd really hoped one day he would loosen up and just let Billy be himself without condemning him for it. But now it was painfully clear to Billy it was nothing but a childish dream. He settled you on the bed and he moved to pack up all of your belongings along with his. He couldn't wait to get out of here. He could hear a heated talk between everyone downstairs but he tuned it out. He didn't need to hear his supposed family talking more shit about him. He was already feeling hurt and it was getting increasingly harder to ignore it.

You put your jacket on, slid the magic recipe Micro got you to clean your plush inside your bag and grabbed it with the plushie, ready to go. You took a deep breath and sighed looking around the room.

"I'm ready," you said softly with a weak smile, your eyes still puffy and red from all the crying.

"Alright, let's go," he muttered, his whole body was taut and tense as he grabbed his bag. Billy held your hand as you both descended the stairs, luggage in his other hand as he made his way to the front door. He blew out an angry sigh at Frank lingering by the door waiting for him. When you saw Frank, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips as you flinched, moving behind Billy to hide yourself.

The growl that ripped from Billy's throat was feral, so primal and animalistic he hadn't meant for it to happen, but the warning was clear and Frank held his hands up, stepping back as he looked at you hiding behind Billy sadly.

"I just… I'm sorry. Both of you. I never… I never meant to scare you, Y/N. I'd never hurt you, none of us would," Frank murmured with a guilty look on his face. Billy was glaring at him so hard he was shocked he didn't burst into flames. You peeked at him around Billy's arm to look at Frank and wondered how you could have missed it. How well they hid their monstrous side, how human and kind they were until today. Your heart squeezed painfully remembering Karen's face, her red eyes and wild snarl aimed at you. You shook your head and hid your face into Billy's back.

Frank turned to Billy then, his face even sadder.

"I just want what's best for you. I miss you and… I didn't realise you cared so much and I'm sorry for just… assumin' shit," he sighed. Billy wanted to tell him he didn't care but he just glared at him harder. When he didn't respond, Frank continued.

"I know we're… different. And we dealt with what happened differently. And I get I've not been easy to deal with. I shouldn't judge you when I've done bad shit too. I… I know that. I just… I miss how it used to be, man. We were always on the same page and I know it ain't ever gonna happen. Not now. But I do love you and if you ever change your mind, you know I'm here," he rambled imploringly.

Billy hated the pain ricocheting in his chest and he blew out a breath he didn't need.

"I can't help the way I am, Frankie. You guys… you're my family. Everythin' to me. And it hurts when every time we talk its you just bitchin' at me for shit I've done. I am what I am and I can't change it. And maybe you're happy for now with the whole white knight bullshit but that ain't me. If you can't handle that then… then that's it. I can't keep doin' this bullshit. Not with you," Billy muttered, swallowing thickly and leaving Frank with those parting words to do as he wished. He'd think about it no doubt and Billy would either still have his brother by his side or he wouldn't. There wasn't anything he could do about it. He couldn't just change who he was.

Billy guided you out of the house and down the porch steps to the car, his chest feeling heavy with sadness and something that felt a lot like grief. But he pushed it away because feelings made you weak. Left him open to be vulnerable. You placed the plushie in the backseat with your bag and exhaled loudly flopping down on the passenger seat. Billy tossed his bag in the back with yours before he got in and started the car, his emotions drowning him as he stayed silent and pulled out of the driveway. The first fifteen minutes of the drive was making you on edge. Every shadow or tree seemed to be coming for you and you kept being startled. You ended up closing your eyes and faced away from the window to look at Billy. He had his flawless neutral mask on. You felt the heavy weight of sleep pull you under and you slept peacefully.

The drive home felt like it took forever and it wasn't a good thing for Billy to have so much time to think. He was going over everything that had happened that night, stewing in his anger and betrayal when something hit him. At the time he hadn't thought twice about it, too involved in his heated argument with Frank. But now as he poured over his memories, he remembered hearing you trying to leave the house after you ran from everyone. It only caused another wave of anger and betrayal to sweep through him. Logically, it wasn't like he was surprised. You'd just found out everyone there was a vampire and as a human, of course your instinct was to run. But he wasn't thinking logically and he was already hurting from the bullshit with Frank and the others. And he couldn't exactly take his anger out on them so all of his anger ended up being misdirected at you.

By the time he pulled up at home, he was silently livid all over again only this time it was at you. All of his pain and rage being channeled into you instead. He got out of the car, slamming his door harshly knowing it would wake you up. He didn't say a word as he grabbed both his and your bag from the car, waiting for you to get out so you could both go inside.

You woke up abruptly looking around you and saw Billy already out of the car. You fumbled with the door handle and got out of the car with a yawn trailing the plushie behind. You’ve slept the entire ride and now your body was stiff as you stretched it. You looked at Billy with a small frown seeing how tense and angry he was. You kept your mouth shut and followed him inside the house.

When you both got into the house, he set the bags down with a thud as he whirled around to glare at you.

"You wanna tell me why you tried to run outta the house back there?" He asked lowly, his voice had that eerie calm tone to it that only meant trouble.

"What? I-I was scared! I meant to get away from them, not you!" You said to him with wide eyes full of fear. You flinched, dropping the plushie as he stepped closer to you, eyes turning red in his rage.

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I'm the one that bought you? I put a nice roof over your head, I keep you well fed. When you behave I treat you real good, buy you shit, take you places," he started, his voice growing in volume as his anger got worse and worse. His face had full on changed now as he looked at you with wild and angry eyes. You shut your eyes and looked away, feeling guilty and hurt.

"If any other vampire had bought you, you'd be bein' tortured right now, being taken against your will, bein' fed off all the damn time! Yet here you are bein' an ungrateful little bitch after all I've done for you!" He roared. He couldn't believe you'd try to run again despite all he'd done for you lately. It was just more betrayal on top of what he was already feeling and he didn't like it.

You looked back at him horrified, your lower lip wobbly and your heartbeat kicking off fast. You dropped down to your knees in front of him and groveled.

“I am grateful for everything. I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean to upset you. I was just so scared! I didn’t think-” he cut your sentence short and you whimpered, dropping down even closer to the floor.

"You think you'd survive out there on your own?! The poor little girl who didn't know what a carnival was, didn't even know what snow was! You think you'd make it one day out there alone without me there to keep you alive?!" He bellowed as he gripped your jaw in a vice like grip. He forced you to look up at him and you whimpered, shaking like a leaf looking into his face. All kindness and humanity gone.

"Runnin' away is the same as killin' yourself. You go out there alone and you're as good as dead. That what you want? Huh?" He sneered, getting right into your face. You shook your head at him with pleading eyes as you held on to him. He shoved you away from him roughly as he ran his hands through his hair, making it fall out of place as he glared at you. Somewhere deep inside of him he knew he was taking his shit out on the wrong person, but it was so deep inside of him that he couldn't hold onto it.

***Author’s note: I rarely put warnings mid-fic but it goes from 0 to 11 quite intensely from here. Unhinged dark!Billy warning. You may skip if needed, Ill add more *** when the scene is over***

“No! I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna go. Billy, please! I’m yours. I’m sorry. Please!” you begged between sobs, crawling back to him with your head down. You were practically licking his shoe, your forehead resting on it with your hands around his calf. Your tears dripped down the black leather and pooled on the wooden floor.

"You wanna kill yourself that badly, then fine," he spat as he left the room jerking his foot away from your grasp. You looked up in distress seeing him leave the room in a blur. He was so angry, his humanity seemed so far gone he didn't even move like a human anymore. It was terrifying to watch him go around, your mind screaming for you to run away but your muscles freezing you in place. This was it, wasn't it? That's how you'd die but why didn't he simply snap your neck and be done with it? You saw him quickly move around in blurred motions and it took a minute before you could put the pieces together of what you were looking at. He had a long thick rope swung around the cathedral ceiling beam back down to the floor and put down an old wobbly stool right under it. You remembered that stool, he had almost broken it during another fit of anger at you. Your muscles reacted before your brain did, slowly moving away from him like he was a wild predator about to pounce. You tried to open your mouth to beg for your life but nothing came out of it beside whimpers and pathetic sounds. You weren't sure what was the plan here but you absolutely didn't like the way he was smiling back at you tying up a noose knot.

“No, no, no, no, no…” You muttered unblinking, gaze fixed on him walking toward you and still backing away until your back hit a wall.

"What's wrong, kitty cat? Thought you wanted to die?" He asked patronisingly, a dark smirk on his lips. He advanced on you and grabbed the back of your neck roughly, yanking you to your feet before dragging you over to the stool. He picked you up with ease, placing you on top of the wobbly and unsteady piece of furniture. You held on to his shoulder trying to balance yourself with your shaky legs. He slipped the noose around your small neck before he shot you a wicked grin.

“Nononono! Don’t let go!” You begged him the second his hands left your body. You almost lost your balance instantly, the noose tightening up slightly around your neck. You focused on your breathing and staying still as much as possible engaging your core muscles and legs. He laughed at your distress as he moved to grab a bottle of whisky, walking over leisurely to sit on the couch and watch you.

"Don't fall, kitten," he smirked, taking a sip from the bottle. He was getting a sick kick out of watching you in such a precarious situation. Out of how fast your heart was hammering in your chest.

You did your best to ignore him and his distracting taunt. You tried to calm yourself but you were way too scared to act and think rationally. You had no idea how long he’d let you up there and it scared the shit out of you. What if the stool broke? What if you passed out of fear and hung yourself? Or spend the entire night here? The horrible thoughts let a sob tore its way up your chest.

"Aw, what's wrong, sweetheart?" He snorted, tilting his head in a condescending manner as he watched you. This was what you got for trying to run from him. Again. The closet wasn't working anymore so he decided to get creative. If you'd just behaved in the first place then none of this would be happening. He was already dealing with betrayal from Frank, he didn't need it from his pet who was supposed to be loyal to him. Especially when he'd been treating you way better than he'd ever done before.

“Please let me down, sir. Please, I’ve been good to you. Let me down. I can show you how good I’ll be, I swear! I’ll even let you feed. I don’t care, please let me down,” you begged again with a softer voice this time, feeling hopeless and broken now instead of afraid and betrayed. It was all your fault, always fucking up and making him upset. If only you stopped being a brat and focused on him like you should be.

He let out a laugh that held no mirth as he shook his head at your desperation.

"You think I wanna feed off you? C'mon, kitten, I got plenty of good girls I can go to for that. I don't want you," he shrugged carelessly as he took another long pull of his drink.

“Nonono! I mean it! No more books. No more time off. I’ll spend every minute of my existence pleasing you and learning how to please you an-and show you my never ending gratitude for saving my life, for picking me! I’ll be the best good girl you’ve ever had,” you added quickly nodding and smiling at him, your voice having a slight unhinged tone to it. He saved you from that horrible place, it was the least you could do for your dark knight in bloodied armor.

He was really enjoying seeing you this panicked and willing to please him but he wasn't done toying with you. He hummed as if thinking about your words before he blew out a sigh.

"Nah. You wanna kill yourself so bad, so get on with it. Then I can go get another pet. One that knows how to behave and does what I tell her. One that doesn't run from me," he smirked darkly. He wouldn't admit that he'd felt a stab of hurt at you trying to run once again. He thought he'd built up enough trust with you and that things were going well. You should have ran to him, not away from him. He also wouldn't admit that if he wasn't hurting over Frank then he'd be lenient with you since you'd been so good recently. That he was only lashing out at you because it was easy. You felt your whole body and soul give up. The cold numb feeling of emptiness spreading all over you after hearing his answer. Your face fell and you hung your head forward looking at the floor. Maybe he was right, maybe you should just kick the stool and be over with it.

He watched as the acceptance washed over you, feeling satisfaction at breaking you. His smirk grew into something more sinister as he set the bottle on the coffee table and stood, sauntering over to you.

"Kitten… you know I don't like punishin' you. You know I like it when you're a good girl so I can treat you nice. And we've been havin' a good time lately, right?" He asked, his voice a little softer as he raised his brows at you.

“You’re right,” you whispered, still looking at the floor like you were spaced out. You weren’t, you just didn’t have anything left in you, no fight, no spark. You felt hollow and empty.

He stood right in front of you, a hand reaching out and grabbing your cheek gently as he tilted your face to look at him.

"So why would you hurt me like this?" He asked, his dark eyes all wide and sad, looking at you like you'd broken his heart. It was a manipulation tactic of course but he hated that there was a sliver of truth to his words.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness...I’m sorry for hurting you and breaking the trust you so kindly put in me,” you said, meeting his beautiful dark brown eyes filled with hurt and disappointment.

"I just want you to be a good girl," he frowned sadly, his fingers trailing from your face down to your neck and over the noose. They slid downwards in a featherlight touch, travelling down your body over your dress.

You slowly moved your hands forward, keeping your balance as much as you could to touch the side of his handsome face.

“Please, let me live to be your good girl, your kitten,” you said softly, running your hands down his front and slightly pulling his shirt upward with your fingers. He almost smirked but he gave you a sweet smile instead, sliding a hand up your dress before he slipped it into your leggings. He watched you with careful eyes as his fingers toyed with your clit slowly. You whimpered and almost lost your balance but you knew better than to steady yourself using him. Fear flashed behind your eyes for a second and you held the noose with both hands, hoping it wouldn’t snap around your neck.

Excitement was thrumming through him and he made no move to help you as his fingers circled your clit a little faster.

"See how good I can make you feel when you behave?" He murmured softly, eyes glued to you with rapt attention.

"Yes... I'd never find a better master, one that treats me this well, gives me pleasure," you said with soft moans and whimpers when you felt off-balance. It was the weirdest thing, being scared yet being aroused at the same person. Billy watched you with parted lips and hooded eyes. He loved how your body was responding to his touch despite the noose around your neck. He loved the amount of power and control he held over you in that moment.

"I'm yours to use, to please, to hurt, to kill," you added with a fat tear of sadness running down your face. You hated yourself, hated how you had reacted and should have ran to him, called for him to protect you. But no, you had to be scared and tried to run away. You looked into his dark eyes and reached to caress his face, taking in every tiny perfect imperfection. The heat pooling between your legs was getting harder to ignore and it made you lose your balance more often. It was getting really perilous to stay put on the stool now. Your words pleased him greatly, glad you were once again very aware of your place.

"I'm sorry," you said in a sob with your heart breaking. You were feeling ashamed of breaking his heart, of breaking his trust, of hurting him, of acting up and forcing him to punish you like this. Your legs were shaking and your knees started to give out of you. You looked up at him in a last silent plea for your life.

He removed his hand from you. You'd not behaved enough for him to actually give you any release so you could go to bed feeling uncomfortable and unsatisfied. He tilted his head as he looked at you and your damp cheeks, your tears like little trophies as they rolled down your face.

"I don't like it when you disappoint me, kitten. I need a good pet, not one that tries to run or doesn't do what I tell her. I could easily get another but I keep givin' you chances 'cause I like you," he started with a frown, once again making his eyes all sad and imploring as he stroked a hand through your hair.

"But there's only so much disappointment I can take and if you keep pullin' this shit, I won't have a choice. I just need you to be a good girl," he muttered, raising his brows at you.

"I like you too. I'm gonna be good. I understand now, I'll be good to you," you said looking at him with a weak smile and a nod.

He moved the noose from your neck and over your head before he picked you up and placed you on your feet. His face was now impassive.

***Author’s note: back to the usual dark!Billy level***

"Get ready for bed. It's late," he bit out with no emotion. He'd give you the cold shoulder until tomorrow where he'd give you a lot of attention, just like when he used to lock you in the closet. He'd admit that this punishment had been much more amusing for him to watch.

"Yes right away, thank you," you answered promptly. Your legs felt wobbly and weak as you made your way upstairs to the bedroom. You held onto the handrail to help you stay upright and made it to the bedroom without passing out. You felt beyond exhausted, mentally and physically drained as you undressed and put the clothes away. You used the bathroom, brushed your teeth and all that before sliding in between the cool bed sheets, making yourself small and scarce for him. You didn't fall asleep right away even though you welcomed the emptiness and worry free of sleep. You were alive and he had given you another chance to redeem yourself. The bond and gratefulness you felt for him now was immeasurable and you wouldn't make him regret picking you ever again. You'd keep being a good girl for him just like before and do better, so much better.

Billy got ready for bed, climbing in but keeping distance between you and him. He turned his back to you, staying silent as he lay there and waited for you to go to sleep. He really hoped you'd learned your lesson. He wouldn't say he overreacted, even if he knew most of his anger hadn't really been because of what you'd done. But clearly he'd been too soft with you lately and you needed a reminder of what happened when you were disobedient. He really didn't think he'd ever get another pet like you, not that he'd let you know that. He didn't want to have to start from scratch with another girl who wasn't you. Wasn't as beautiful, wasn't as sweet and innocent, wasn't as easy to break. He didn't want just any pet, he wanted you. So if he had to keep up the punishments until you understood your place, then he'd do it. He preferred it when you were good and he hadn't lied when he said he'd had a good time with you lately. Being able to take you places and do things, watching how your pretty little face would light up when experiencing something new. He'd enjoyed it and while he did get a sick satisfaction out of punishing you, he was tired of feeling like he was going around in circles with you. He'd thought you were past that. Hopefully you'd start being a good girl for him again now.

With how the rest of his life felt like it was falling apart, he really didn't need this bullshit from you. Not when you'd been the cause of the new rift between him and Frank. If he knew you'd start misbehaving again he wouldn't have bothered to fight Frank to keep you. He never fought with Frank this badly even after a lot of the bad shit he'd done that Frank didn't approve of. He could have easily let Frank take you from him and keep his brother by his side, even if he was still going to be self righteous and annoying. It was better than not having him at all. But he'd chosen you. He really hoped it hadn't all been for nothing.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #vampire!billy #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo fanfics #billy russo fic #dark!billy russo #billy russo x you #ben barnes #billy russo x y/n #billy russo/reader

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partystoragechest · 1 year

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A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan tries to find Dagna's delivery.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,815. Rating: all audiences, except for a swear.)

Chapter 12: Unloading Baggage

Trevelyan cascaded through the bowels of Skyhold, sent with special purpose by Dagna. There was a delivery arriving this afternoon, and by the Ancestors, her order had better be there!

Trevelyan had optimistically come this way because she thought—incorrectly—that it might be quicker. Absolutely not. Beneath the main hall, Skyhold wound itself in circles, a grand labyrinth of servants’ quarters, kitchens, larders, and washrooms.

A kind laundress pointed her out of one such room, and along a better-suited corridor. It was down this route that Trevelyan finally found her way into the particular kitchen that she had been promised had an external door.

She had hoped to confirm this with the staff working there—but when she wandered into the room, it was remarkably empty. All except for one elven woman, hunched over two jars.

“Excuse me,” Trevelyan said, pointing to the door across the room, “is that the way out?”

The woman looked up. She had funnily-chopped blond hair, incorrectly-laced clothes that did not look like a worker’s wear, and a grin that could only be described as wicked.

Her eyes flicked to the door, then back. “Yeah?”

“Thank you, I will—”

Maintaining eye contact, the woman picked up one of the jars—labelled ‘salt’—and poured its entire contents into the other jar—labelled ‘sugar’. Trevelyan blinked, mouth hanging open.

“Um…”

“You didn’t see nothing, yeah?” the woman said. The mischevious glint in her eye made it almost an invitation.

Trevelyan smiled. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

With a cackle, the woman slipped into the shadows. It was this that made Trevelyan realise she’d seen her before—up on the mezzanine, during the gala. She was suddenly very glad she hadn’t eaten anything that night.

Regardless, she had her answer for the door. Trevelyan pushed it open, to reveal dearly-missed rays of gleaming sunlight, shining down on Skyhold’s courtyard.

Specifically the stable area, which the kitchen connected to via a small flight of stairs. Trevelyan hesitated to journey down them; their height gave a good vantage of the storeroom entrance below—and the caravan of carts circled around it.

The quietness of the kitchens was at once explained. It seemed that all hands were on deck, scurrying to and fro like industrious insects, helping to unload barrels and crates and sacks. Skyhold had many mouths to feed, and large stores to fill. Finding a small shipment for the Arcanist in the midst of this commotion was no easy task.

But Trevelyan endeavoured to find it anyway. She squeezed her way through the crowd, to arrive at the foot of one of the carts.

A human man stood atop it, well-built, no doubt from many years at this craft—for he slung boxes and barrels into waiting hands like it were an art form.

“Serah!” Trevelyan called, to catch his occupied attention. “Do you know if any of these are for the Arcanist, Dagna?”

The man slid another box with pinpoint accuracy toward a servant—Trevelyan stepped aside at the last moment—and puffed out air. “Sorry, miss, not seen that name”—he passed off another box—“and you’re not likely to find it here. Better off asking your quartermaster once all this is unloaded.”

“I suspected as much. Thank you, regardless!”

Trevelyan retreated as he prepared another sack, yet noted when she did that no one came to claim it. Though as many of Skyhold’s staff as could be spared were aiding the delivery, there were about a dozen carts, all piled high. Only so much was possible.

“Would you like me to take that?” she asked.

The man shrugged. “You’re not busy?”

“Finding that shipment, yes—and it seems the quickest way to do so is by helping things along!”

The man chuckled, and hefted the sack towards her. “Can always use more willing hands! How much you carry?”

Very little, since leaving the Circle. Trevelyan certainly hoped her old strength would still be there, but acknowledged privately that she might need a little… assistance.

A week ago she’d not have dared to cast anything in such a public setting, but her work with the Arcanist had relaxed her attitude. And so she snuck a hand behind her back, and traced a small rune against her spine. The energy of the Fade found her little opening, and flowed through.

The old strength returned, and more. Trevelyan clapped her hands around the sack, and with ease, lifted it onto her shoulders. “This is all right,” she told the man.

He nodded. “Get it to the storerooms; should be someone down there to say where to drop it.”

Instructions heeded, Trevelyan set off for the stores. Servants departing nearby carts made the journey easier, for she simply followed them. Into a door, down a long staircase she went, descending even further than she might for the Undercroft. How far into its mountain plateau did Skyhold burrow?

Eventually, she reached the bottom. No sunlight here—it was a large, torch-lit hall, of which she could barely see the other side—if not due to the distance, then due to the amount of containers already in the place. Skyhold was stocked floor-to-ceiling. Even the stores at the Circle hadn’t been this well-equipped.

Following directions given by waiting pantlers, Trevelyan found where she was to leave her sack. One down, she turned for the stairs, and ascended.

Emerging onto the surface made her quite empathetic to the reluctance of dwarves in Orzammar; what ought to be gentle sunlight came glaring and harsh. As Trevelyan blinked it back, she looked to the carts, and saw plenty more to unload.

Back to her cart she went, through the traffic of other workers. Weaving betwixt them, so as not to disrupt their flow, Trevelyan offered a cheery smile to every face.

Until one of them, she recognised.

Trevelyan froze, and turned to look at the woman. “Lady Samient?” she asked. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be meeting the Commander?”

Lady Samient grinned. “We just parted; I saw you from afar. Lady Trevelyan, what are you doing here?”

“Oh!” Trevelyan patted her hands against her smock, to wipe off the dust. “Well, there’s a shipment I’m hoping to locate, but it doesn’t get found until all the delivery is stored and catalogued, it seems. So, I thought I might help.”

She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. Like it was actually common for noblewomen to randomly muck in.

But Lady Samient appeared unfazed. She looked to the cart, still largely full (with the rest in a similar state) and shrugged. “Do they need any more hands?”

She couldn’t seriously be offering..?

“I believe so,” said Trevelyan, “there is much to unload.”

Samient loosened the cuffs of her shirt, and began rolling the sleeves up her arm. “Well then, I cannot stand idly by. Show me what to do.”

Trevelyan hastily shed her bewilderment, so as not to keep her Ladyship waiting. She beckoned for Samient to follow her to the cart, and said to the deliverer:

“We’ve gained a recruit! Anything needing two to grab it?”

“Ha! Maker’s breath, you ought to be here every week, if you can multiply like that. Here.” He rolled a barrel towards them, and stopped it with his foot. “This’ll do.”

“Thank you.” Trevelyan turned to Lady Samient: “I’ll take this end, you take that end.”

Samient nodded, in the middle of pulling her hair back. She had untied a leather strap from her wrist, and used it to create some kind of rudimentary ponytail. Trevelyan could not help but glance towards her ears—though Lady Samient was careful not to expose them.

“All right,” she said, hands clasping around the barrel, “allons-y.”

On a mutual count of three, they hoisted the barrel between them. With her magic yet in effect, Trevelyan might have lifted it alone (barely), but did not wish to discourage Samient’s offer.

Especially as Lady Samient proved quite capable! Though there was little conversation between them on the descent, there was plenty in the way of communication: Trevelyan would go backward; a count for every step; yell if either needed to stop. Without incident, they reached the stores.

“Did you do this sort of thing, at the Circle?” Samient asked, barrel deposited, an ascent ahead. “You said you worked in their storerooms.”

“Not this, per se,” Trevelyan admitted. “Well, sometimes I moved things—but I was more involved with taking stock and keeping ledgers.”

“Like the quartermaster.”

“Like the quartermaster’s assistant.”

Samient chuckled. “You seem to do a trade in being an assistant.”

Trevelyan smiled. “Stick to what you know.”

They emerged, blinking, onto the sunlit surface. With practice under their metaphorical belts, they delivered their next barrel to the storerooms faster than the last. On the return, their chatter continued:

“We should ask them to open the next one in front of us and settle the debate,” Trevelyan said, joking about their bet as to whether that barrel had contained apples or potatoes.

“If we did,” Samient replied, “it would end up being dried peas instead.”

Trevelyan smiled, about to make some witty remark to win another laugh out of Lady Samient (her new favourite pastime, it seemed), when another voice interrupted:

“What riveting conversations you have!”

Trevelyan glanced in its direction, and saw Lord—no, Dorian Pavus loitering near the storeroom entrance, leant casually against a wall. Forgetting her task momentarily, she hurried up to greet him.

“Dorian! What brings you here?”

Dorian flashed a grin. “I came to see what all the commotion was about.”

“Commotion?”

He tipped his head, quite subtly, toward a small group of soldiers—five or six—who had congregated beside the carts, and were having some kind of whispered conversation. A rather jolly one, too, if the smirks on their faces were anything to go by.

“I overheard them talking about some ‘noble skirts’ that were lugging around barrels. If their laughter was to be believed, it was supposed to be quite amusing,” Dorian explained. “However, it seems to me the most laughable thing around here may be them.”

“Foolish little sword-swingers,” Lady Samient commented, causing Trevelyan to realise she’d followed.

“Never mind them,” Trevelyan told her, “this is Dorian Pavus, of Tevinter. And this is Lady Samient, of Orlais.”

Dorian did a neat little bow. “Of course. A pleasure to meet you. And may I say, I think you have done a fine work with these barrels.”

“Thank you, Ser Pavus,” Samient replied. “Charmed.”

Trevelyan concealed a giggle, as Dorian struggled to contain his dislike of the title. But he managed it sufficiently, and moved the conversation along: “Well, that makes two of your number I’ve met now. Perhaps I should be off, in search of the others.”

Trevelyan asked, “You won’t stay and help?”

Dorian laughed. “No! Absolutely not.”

“Oh.”

“But we should speak another time, when you are less occupied. I want to know more of what you’ve been doing in the Undercroft, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Fantastic.” He gave her a wink, and made his retreat. “I’ll see you another time, then. Your Ladyships.”

Trevelyan waved him off, as did Samient. She gave a wary glance to the soldiers—but thankfully, they appeared to have departed as well. Good. Best not to think about it. The carts beckoned.

“Where have I heard the name Pavus before?” asked Samient, on the way.

“Noble house in Tevinter,” Trevelyan answered, “part of the magisterium.”

“Ah, yes. He’s a mage as well?”

“Yes.”

Samient flicked her eyebrows upward. “Well, if you’re not quite interested in the Commander, you could do far worse than him.”

“Oh, no,” Trevelyan said, as they reached the cart, “I’m certain he’d be quite flattered by that, but I’m afraid he doesn’t like women.”

“Oh. How rude!”

“No, no—I mean, he likes men.”

“Oh.” Samient rolled her eyes at herself. “Of course. I see how that would be something of an obstacle.”

“Quite.”

The man on the cart finished handing off a sack to a servant, and grinned at the sight of the returning Ladies.

“Welcome back,” he said. “‘Fraid I’ve no barrels for now, they’re stuck under the rest of the littl’r stuff. Here, you take something each, get some of this cleared out.”

He grabbed a small crate for Samient, and skittered it towards her. She took it with ease, but waited a moment, for Trevelyan.

“Go,” Trevelyan said, “I’ll catch you.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, do not be idle on my account. Go.”

Samient nodded, and dutifully headed off. Trevelyan turned back, to take up the sack the man had just dropped for her.

But as her hands fell upon it, so did another’s. They were gloved in black, and sudden enough to startle her. She looked to the arms they belonged to—and then the man to whom those arms belonged.

The Commander stared back at her.

(And beside him, five or six sheepish-looking soldiers).

“Forgive me,” he said, releasing his grasp. “I hadn’t realised. Take it.”

There was a growling sort of undercurrent in his speech, a shortness, far more pronounced than she’d ever heard it before. A play of intensity for his soldiers, Trevelyan surmised.

She took hold of the sack, and hauled it into her arms. In that moment, she recalled the magic she had cast upon herself, and felt it still, quietly coursing below the surface. Yet, nothing on the Commander’s face suggested he had sensed it.

“Commander,” she said, with a polite nod.

He nodded back—again, somehow more curt than usual—and turned his attention to the new sack the delivery man provided. Trevelyan left.

But she kept her ears open as she walked away, and her eyes glanced back whence she was certain they would not be spotted. And what she heard and saw was quite terrifically satisfying.

“We are all the Inquisition,” he lectured to those soldiers, “and instead of aiding the Inquisition, you mock those who do. You may think them foolish, but is them who do more than you. Think on that.”

They were each handed some sack or crate, before the Commander—leading from the front, it appeared—collected one for himself. Trevelyan hurried her pace, and slipped into the storerooms to stay ahead of them.

She passed Lady Samient on the stairs, and whispered quickly:

“The Commander’s here. Scolded those soldiers!”

Samient remained tight-lipped in her expression, but called back, “I’ll wait for you by the cart!”

Trevelyan deposited her load with haste, and rushed for the stairs. The soldiers and their Commander came the opposite way. She attempted to avoid eye contact, but her gaze could not resist, and ended up on their faces regardless. Aw, such sad little puppies.

She hurried for the top. Of course, Lady Samient was already there, awaiting her arrival.

“What did he say to them?” she asked the moment she saw Trevelyan.

“I only caught part of it—but he was sure to point out that we were of more help to the Inquisition than they,” she answered. “The lot of them had their tails between their legs!”

Samient smirked. “Good.”

Movement in her periphery caused Trevelyan to glance at the stairs; the soldiers came trudging up. “Let’s continue, we’ll only prove them right if we’re not back to work before they arrive.”

Samient quite agreed, and the pair hurried back to the cart—near empty, thanks to them.

“Here you are, misses,” said the deliverer, rolling a final barrel towards them, “that ought to do it.”

Trevelyan and Lady Samient each took their side, hefted the barrel with practised ease, and paraded it past the returning soldiers. One bravely asked if they needed help.

The answer was no. And a scathing look.

***

The cart was finally unloaded, as were all its brethren. The sorting could begin.

Trevelyan and Samient would have no part in it, for it was Ser Morris’ domain. One would simply have to wait for him to—eventually—locate Dagna’s shipment. And so, the Ladies waited, sat on the end of the cart they’d helped empty, kicking their dangling feet to a synchronous rhythm.

Though the deliverers took similar breaks—the man on their cart rested nearby—some of Skyhold’s staff were still bustling about, fetching not only refreshments, but what appeared to be more containers.

Noticing this, Trevelyan asked the man, “Do you take things from Skyhold, too?”

“Aye. Sometimes they have deliveries for us, but usually it’s the empty bits we take back, and fill ‘em up again.”

“How often do you come?” Lady Samient wondered.

“Every week, supposedly—but the Maker has other ideas sometimes. Got delayed this week by weather. No problem, though; I hear you’ve got stores enough to last months.”

Sounded about right to Trevelyan. Any defensible castle did, just in case the enemy ever tried to starve you out.

Lady Samient hummed. “All sounds very efficient. Do they not worry about something untoward sneaking in through these deliveries, though? Seems like you could fit a man in one of those barrels.”

She wasn’t wrong. You could certainly fit a man. Or a Trevelyan. If things ever got too dire, she might squeeze herself into one of those things, and be shipped out on the next delivery to… wherever these carts went to.

But the delivery man shrugged. “I figure they check ‘em. You’d have to ask the soldiers about that.”

Damn. There went that plan.

And as if to make matters worse, as if summoned by the mention of soldiers, Trevelyan noted a red-caped man striding to where they sat.

“He’s coming,” she whispered to Samient, who gave only a raise of her eyebrows in reply.

The Commander halted before the Ladies, and bowed. “Lady Trevelyan, Lady Sam.. ient.”

At least she wasn’t the only one whose name he forgot. But this didn’t seem to faze Samient:

“Twice in one day, Commander. To what do we owe this pleasure?”

She spoke her words the way silk moves. Interesting. So that was how she behaved around the Commander. Perhaps she had not been lying about her time with him, and the Commander responded well to such affectations.

Or perhaps not. For the Commander did not respond at all to this velvety question, and looked instead to Trevelyan.

“How goes your work with the Arcanist?”

“Very well, Commander,” Trevelyan told him. “We shall have a report for you soon.”

“Good. And you’re, ah..?” Though she had little time to answer, he gave up on the inquiry entirely. “Never mind. Thank you for your help today. Carry on.”

Abrupt as his speech, he turned and left, and Trevelyan held back her laughter. She waited until he was a good distance away, to offer Lady Samient a roll of her eyes.

“I am dreading the possibility of seeing him tomorrow,” she whispered. She had, at morning tea, informed Samient (and Lady Erridge) of her return to the competition. There was little point in keeping it a secret; Lady Samient in particular knew plenty enough already.

But a hum was all Samient gave in reply. Contemplation riddled her face, her gaze fixed on Trevelyan’s. Trevelyan quietly begged the Maker for a distraction from her stare. For once in her life, her wish was granted, in the form of a kitchen maid approaching them with drinks.

“Your Ladyships,” she greeted, “fruit cordial, if you wish it. Nice and cold.”

The Ladies thanked her, and took them gladly. The maid smiled to see it, and lingered by their feet.

“You’re the Ladies here to see the Commander, ain’t you?”

Lady Samient raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. And what of it?”

“Well, you were such good help today that… well, there was a lot of sugar in the delivery, you know.” The maid waited to see their faces change, but the Ladies could offer only confusion. “Well, we need a lot in, you see. Because, well… the Commander has something of a sweet tooth.”

The realisation set in. Lady Samient smiled, and sipped her drink. “Lovely cordial,” she said, winking. “Thank you.”

“’Course, your Ladyship. Best of luck.”

The maid began to slip away. Trevelyan considered herself for a moment, and whether or not she owed loyalty to the little prankster in the kitchen, or the sweet woman she’d just met. It wasn’t a hard choice.

“Excuse me,” Trevelyan called. The maid stopped, and turned back. “Just before the cook uses any of that sugar—perhaps a little taste test, may be in order. Your kitchen had a mischeivous visitor, earlier.”

Though the maid seemed almost bewildered for a moment, and Trevelyan worried she had misspoken, her face soon resolved into recognition, then annoyance. “Oh, that Sera!”

As the maid marched away, Trevelyan recalled the name. Sera. Dagna had mentioned that one. From the description she’d heard and what Trevelyan had caught her doing, she safely assumed that they were one and the same.

The delivery man quite unexpectedly piped up from behind: “Sorry, but did them all say that you were Ladies? Like, nobles?”

The Ladies nodded.

“I am Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick,” said Trevelyan.

“And I am Lady Samient of Samient,” said Samient.

The man’s eyes flew wide open. “Oh, shit. Sorry! I mean, sorry, your Ladyships. If—if I’d known that, I’d have given you the lighter barrels. I swear!”

They laughed. “The insult would have been even more grave had you done so,” Samient teased him.

Sheepish, he slunk away. Trevelyan smiled at Samient. She could not help but wonder about (for the Baroness had put her mind on it) what could be the reason for Lady Samient’s willingness to muck in. Her sheer comfort with such a menial task, and the lack of concern over how it might reflect upon her social image, was all terribly curious.

All were the sort of traits that, perhaps—were the rumours true—might belong to a woman born of a servant; who did not have that haughtiness of high breeding that saw them think themselves better than lifting a barrel. Perhaps that was why, instead of the title that ought to be her birthright—Duchess—she went by the lesser Lady.

But it was of little matter. Trevelyan hardly cared when or where or who from Lady Samient originated. Regardless of its cause, Trevelyan quite liked this side of her.

***

Ser Morris delivered—in the literal sense. Trevelyan raced back to the Undercroft, a small chest in her hands.

Dagna was surprised to see her: “I won’t lie, I thought you just quit for the day.”

But Trevelyan was quite able to explain, and Dagna was satisfied that she had used her time with good purpose. It did help that finally seeing her order put Dagna in something of a good mood.

She placed it upon a workbench, and with great reverence, opened the chest. Even Trevelyan recognised what was inside.

“New enchanting tools,” Dagna said, “straight from the finest smiths in Orzammar. With these, I can do things a little more delicately. Which means the time for theory is over—tomorrow, we enchant!”

Trevelyan grimaced. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she was with the Commander.

#cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #commander cullen #unwanted #unwanted fic #i keep getting in my head about this fic #like theres been so little cullen so far because we were in the 'two leads seeing each other across rooms' stage #and im like idk is this boring #im writing chapters the length of my university dissertation for bag moving scenes lol #but at the end of the day you write fics for yourself first and i'm having fun #posting this is my way of actually committing to writing the whole damn thing lmaoo

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