#raised antari au.

[somedayking-a]

@oflegendaries because u can’t talk abt That Scene re: raised antari au with me and not expect me to do smth with it

white london smells of blood, kell told him once.  metallic.  like the corrupted sort of lightning astrid used to summon, like violence, like the air before a storm.  grey london smells of smoke and dust, red london overpoweringly of flowers, and black london of something else - magic, decay, something he can’t quite recall.  

stepping from nowhere into the silver wood, holland doesn’t so much smell as feel it.  some say this is where magic took its final stand, where it went to die, where it shall one day return.  holland had come here often as a child, then as a young man ( still young, but so tired, perhaps the loss of magic but also bone-deep weariness, the weight of surviving ) to think, to bleed.  

it feels like the faintest breath of fresh air, a pale imitation of life he might have imagined were it not so achingly familiar.  fleeting, but he feels it.  home.

lila drops his arm, but kell doesn’t move away until holland does, slower than he’d like.  they’d gone through the portal from red to white linked together, arm to arm, but the fatigue from the climb lingers and it’s hard to ignore that he was holding on as much to keep his footing as for anything else.

it doesn’t matter.

all traces of osaron’s magic are gone.  the blue sky is so faded as to be almost white, the silver trees a muted shade of grey.  once upon a time, the river had flashed briefly red with antari blood, years ago, when holland saw something jn the offering and had the freedom to make it.  his world is dying.  that’s not alright, but there’s no fight in the acknowledging.  he’s dying, too.  fading into a faded world, a starving world that he gave everything to, once.  there’s nothing left to give, but still he breathes in, imagines a streak of real blue across the sky.

“thank you, kell.”  eyes catch briefly on too-red hair, a sparkling blue eye, colours once again out of place in holland’s london.  and on his other side, a shadow, but somehow lighter than the ones cast over the stained alleys and castle courtyard.  “delilah.”  ( lila catches on his tongue, but the time for that has passed. )

the words are a dismissal, and holland knows neither of them miss it, but though they move away, they don’t leave.  as she turns away, lila’s looking around with faint curiosity, and holland knows what she’s picturing ; remembers a child cross-legged in the gardens of vor’s castle, listening with rapt attention to the story of a silver forest and a someday king.  

this is where magic made its final stand.

this is where magic came to die.

i think you’re a romantic, one of those fools waiting for the someday king.

the time for the king has passed, or maybe it hasn’t come yet.  all holland ever wanted was to see his world flourish, to make it flourish, but both eyes shine emerald green and there’s nothing left to give except the breath in his lungs ( less and less, now ), the fading beat of his heart.  he’s tried.  he’s fought.  he’s tired.  a more idealistic self ( as far as idealism ever existed in white london ) knelt here once, offered blood to the river, envisioned a world coming back to life.

he leans back against a tree, sinks to the ground, closes his eyes.

the king is coming.  

the voice sounds like alox’s, like talya’s, like vor’s.  it doesn’t sound like lila’s, but hers are the steps between the trees, not the tread of ghosts years passed.  knowing he will never open his eyes, he imagines that when he does, the world will be in soft colour, with magic in the air.  leaves falling, gentle breeze, water running bright and clear.  imagines it until the footsteps fade and the voices mingle into something more feeling than thought.

the king is coming.

( at last, the world breathes in. )

[sakusqs]

on.

characters: akaashi keiji, sakusa kiyoomi

genre: fantasy, a darker shade of magic!au

tw: blood

first chapter snippet of the bokuaka magic!au i’ve been itching to write for the last couple of months. why i’m posting it up is because i’m just really curious if people are interested in this type of au. the fantasy world i’m basing this on is from v.e. schwab’s a darker shade of magic. i instantly fell in love with the concept and i hope you do too, dear readers. i know i said it’s bokuaka but for now, please enjoy some sakuaka friendship 💕

The old man turned to stone in a single heartbeat.

Akaashi Keiji drew his hand away—still bleeding from the self-inflicted cut on his palm—and stared down at the man’s statue with not much remorse. The man was lying down on his wooden cot, blanket pulled to his waist and his hands held up in defense. He wore an expression caught between surprise and rage as he gazed up at Keiji with eyes that spoke of hurt, betrayal. Keiji supposed he should feel more rueful or sympathetic, but he didn’t; that was worrying.

“Kiyoomi,” Keiji called out, turning around. “This man better have done a terrible crime, or I would’ve taken his life for nothing.”

But there was no one there to reply to his remark. He was sure the prince had been standing behind him moments before, silently observing, but Keiji now stood alone in the small, dark bedroom. He sighed, his lips curving downward in annoyance—it was one thing to do Kiyoomi’s job for him, but to be left alone without warning while he did them was below the belt. Keiji made to turn on his heels but paused to look back down to the statue.

“Almost forgot,” he muttered lowly before placing his bleeding palm on the man’s arm. “As Steno.”

Break.

The statue cracked into thousands of shards once the command rolled of his tongue; the rocks falling onto the cot and some rolling to the floor with a thud. Without a second glance, Keiji turned around and stalked towards the open door from where he had come.

The man lived in a simple cottage sitting between the the edge of the city and Silver Wood. From the quick scout they had done right before the task, the small residence only had one floor divided into three rooms—bedroom, study, and living space. He entered the latter now, the room bare save for an unlit fireplace on one wall and a worn-down settee situated in front of it, but no Sakusa Kiyoomi on sight. He doubted that his friend would venture out into the cold winter night, and so, that only left one place to look.

“Your Highness,” Keiji raised his voice, his feet already striding towards the open door on the other side of the room. “Bold of you to pry on a dead man’s belongings.”

“To be fair,” a muffled voice finally spoke up from inside the study. “He wasn’t dead just yet when I went inside.”

Keiji stopped by the wooden door and raised a brow at the young prince standing over a desk with papers in hand. Sakusa Kiyoomi raised his head at his appearance, his raven curls shifting out of his eyes to reveal not only the dark brown of his left eye, but the solid black of his right. A black that ran to the edges and swallowed both the white and the iris. It was a mark that struck fear to anyone who spots it. It was a mark of power. It was a mark of a blood magician—of an Antari.

It was a mark that blemished Keiji’s left eye.

[somedayking]

inspired by @venomoustigress‘ post for @titanslayer‘s questions: ROYALTY AU !

where’s holland from?    born and raised in london, makt.  there used to be a vosijk family estate, but it’s fallen into disrepair & they can’t afford the upkeep.  holland and alox spent time there in their childhood, but the main family home is in london, and by the time they’re adults, it hasn’t been regularly used for years.

what’s the world like?    just the same as canon london, EXCEPT that... 01.  instead of being separate worlds, the londons are in neighbouring countries.  so there’s makt, roughly where scandinavia would be; england and its territories; and arnes, geographically around northern europe.  02.  the magic is still there.  nothing’s decaying.  the country is, however, rather poor as a whole due to a war england and arnes were also involved in, which left makt significantly worse off and struggling ever since.  the fact that arnes went on to flourish while largely leaving makt to fend for itself is a big part of why their relations aren’t good, and holland takes it quite personally.

royalty?  nobility?  what’s the backstory?    he’s minor nobility by birth, but later prince and then king of makt.  the royalty / nobility thing works like a mix of canon white london and hereditary monarchy.  there is a royal family and a collection of nobility by default, but the throne is challenged often.  technically, anyone could win it, royal or noble or not, but since other nobility have generally more wealth n resources, they tend to be the ones who win.  they’ll then pass the throne down to their children and them to their children until someone fights them for it again ... which is usually too soon for them to get very far in passing it on.  it’s basically still a case of may the strongest magician win, it’s just that the nobility have had the advantage for so long that the whole fight basically happens between them rather than everyone.  backstory for how minor nobility became the maktahn royal family from dscord under the cut!

what’s their view on werewolves?    a HUGE power advantage for those who have one in the family or in their employ.  i imagine it’s a bit like being antari:  sure, you could probably take a lot of people in a fight and they should technically be scared of you, but everyone wants to use that for their own gain and there’s probably a 24/7 target on your back.  it’s still white london, what can i say,

can jason be his friend?    considering the age difference, they’d probably only meet when holland’s either prince or king, and while he isn’t v interested in making friends by then, he doesn’t want to make an enemy out of him, either.  in fact, when he’s prince of makt under alox’s kingship, holland’s the one to eventually try and repair communication / general relations w other countries  ( something he was very opposed to at first, but as time’s gone on, he’s not too proud to realise it’s the best thing for makt, and alox...... is.  plus he can save weeks of travelling by just as tascen-ing over to another country so he’s really the best one for it. )  so he actually really wants to be on good terms w jason, for political security at least.

BUT LIBBY, HOW DID THEY BECOME ROYALTY?  read on !

[sp4c3-0ddity]

so i dunno if anyone’s read A Darker Shade of Magic, but for some reason I have decided to AU it, Voltron style:

somehow Keith is both Kell and Lila, but since we can’t have it both ways he gets to be Lila, hard-bitten, knife-happy Gray Londoner Lila

which means Shiro is Kell, an orphan raised by the royal family of Red London

(so sheith is in effect, basically)

I suppose Allura is Rhy, for obvious reasons, which makes her the princess of Red London

(awkwardly this also means she’s the least magical one but)

I’m iffy on Lance being Alucard - the privateer and Allura/Rhy’s ex - because like i’m taking away the queer romance in the books...

...but i guess i’m replacing it with another?? *shrugs*

(which means allurance is a thing too)

(which also means Shiro doesn’t like Lance at all because he perceives him as breaking Allura’s heart, and we can’t have that)

(See, this is partly why Keith should be Kell...)

ANYWAY Pidge is Holland, the antari from White London, and everything for her is p a i n

(i swear i like pidge-angst - pangst?? - way too much)

and yeah I’m not sure what to do with either Hunk or Coran, at least specifically wrt characters that correspond to them in the books

Hunk is probably Lance’s fellow privateer, and Coran is...random royal adviser.

(and yes, Alfor dies)

[missbookiverse]

SHADES OF MAGIC von V.E. SCHWAB goodreads

1: A Darker Shade of Magic (dt. Vier Farben der Magie, VÖ: 27.04.17) 2: A Gathering of Shadows 3: A Conjuring of Light

Fantasy, (New) Adult Kell is one of the last travelers – magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel universes connected by one magical city. There's Grey London, dirty and boring, without any magic [...]. Red London, where life and magic are revered – and where Kell was raised alongside Rhy Maresh, the roguish heir to a flourishing empire. White London – a place where people fight to control magic and the magic fights back, draining the city to its very bones. And once upon a time, there was Black London. But no one speaks of that now.

Lesezeitraum Juni 2016 – März 2017, also recht dicht hintereinander.

Reihenfolge Chronologisch (aber der erste Teil funktioniert ganz gut als Standalone).

Stärken ✧ Zehn Säcke Charisma bitte! Es ist unglaublich wie viele coole Figuren V.E. Schwab für diese Trilogie aus der Feder geschüttelt hat. Kell ist mysteriös und ein bisschen mürrisch. Sein Adoptivbruder Rhy dagegen viel offener, kämpft aber mit seiner bevorstehenden Position als König. Den Gegenpol bildet die barsche Lila, die so bleibt wie sie ist und nicht plötzlich ihre feminine Seite entdeckt, um attraktiv zu werden. Ihre Art macht sie zu einem enorm skrupellosen Charakter, der es manchmal bis ins Unsympathische treibt. Schiffskapitän Alucard holt sie charmant auf den Boden der Tatsachen zurück und selbst Bösewicht Holland gewinnt nach und nach an Tiefe und Sympathie.

✧ Liebevolle Beziehungen Sei es brüderlicher, romantischer oder freundschaftlicher Art. Es ging mir sehr ans Herz wie die Figuren füreinander empfinden, sich gegenseitig verletzen (ohne künstliches Drama) und den Rücken stärken. All das bekommt man durch Taten und amüsante Sticheleien gezeigt und muss sich nicht an beweisfreien Behauptungen die Augen ausrollen.

✧ London hoch 3 (4?) Ich fand das Worldbuilding um die parallelen Londons einfach cool. Genau wie das auf Elementen basierende Magiesystem, die geheimnisvollen Antari, die Beschreibungen ihrer Fähigkeiten und die Satzfetzen, die man aus den Sprachen der verschiedenen Welten mitbekommt.

✧ Nix Friede, Freude... Ich verrate natürlich nicht den Schluss, aber ich fand das Finale sehr gelungen. Es schmeckt bittersüß und nicht so kitschig-klebrig wie viele andere Enden, die sich nicht trauen realistische Verluste einzuarbeiten.

Schwächen ✧ Hat jemand den Plot gesehen? All die kreative Energie der Autorin floß wohl in die Charaktere. Die Handlung ist meist geradlinig und ehrlich gesagt viel zu mau für so dicke Bücher. Man hätte entweder viel mehr raffen können (gerade im letzten Band gibt es viel zu viele unnütze Kapitel, die eh alle nur wenige Seiten lang sind und der ständige Perspektivwechsel hat mich immer wieder aus dem Lesefluss geworfen) oder, was mir viel lieber gewesen wäre, noch mehr an der Handlung feilen sollen. Der Bösewicht im letzten Teil ist so stinklangweilig. Obwohl er eine ganze Stadt problemlos terrorisiert, habe ich von dieser Bedrohung nur wenig gespürt. Wie wäre es mit unerwarteten Wendungen oder komplizierten Verstrickungen gewesen?

✧ Und wo liegt das eigentlich? Es gibt keine Landkarte! Die Story und die Gestaltung der Bücher schreien nach einer und ich wollte bei jeder Erwähnung einer fernen Stadt direkt nachgucken, wo die ist, aber Pustekuchen, nur leere Seiten vorne und hinten.

Lieblingsband Band 1! Obwohl es da viel zu wenig von Rhy gibt und Alucard noch gar nicht auftaucht, aber den fand ich von der Handlung und vom Tempo her wesentlich stimmiger als den Rest.

Lieblingsfigur Oaah, nee, das ist wie Lieblingsschokoladensorte auswählen... ääähm. Kell? Ich denke Kell. Lila ist mir im späteren Verlauf zu gnadenlos, Alucard glänzt mir ein wenig zu sehr, Hollands Backstory war eher einschläfernd (ich wünsche mir so sehr er hätte einen cooleren Hintergrund bekommen) und Rhy... hach, Rhy sitzt quasi auf Kells Schoß auf der Siegertreppe ;)

Mehr oder weniger? Den Figuren zu liebe will ich “mehr” sagen, aber ehrlich gesagt, hätte weniger hier besser funktioniert. Nicht ein ganzes Buch weniger, aber so 150-200 Seiten pro Band? Oder mehr Plot, siehe Schwächen.

Offene Fragen? Was ist denn nun mit Kells Vergangenheit? Ich mag wie die Autorin diese Frage beantwortet, aber es ist auch nicht allzu befriedigend. Wenn ihr die Trilogie gelesen habt, was sind eure Theorien?

Empfehlenswerte Leseaccessoires Ein wendbarer Mantel (vorzugsweise in Rot und Schwarz) und euer schärfstes Messer.

[somedayking-a]

fig. 1: delilah?  no

fig. 2: why me

fig. 3: i’m gonna do it i’m gonna call vortalis and tell him i’m quitting i don’t get paid enough for this

diplomatic visits between londons: or “this small child keeps making herself my problem and i don’t know what to do about it”, a memoir / @oflegendaries

[somedayking-a]

some raised antari au for @oflegendaries bc i luv 2 suffer

it happens quickly, the way it always does.  one day, there’s vortalis and holland ; the next, there’s astrid and athos dane.  and holland.  they don’t kill him, which would strike holland as a stupid move if he wasn’t bound and chained and utterly unable to call on the magic that has always been there ever since alox held a knife to his throat and holland shattered him in stone across the floor.  this magic is mine, he’d said.  it’s still his, still there, but it doesn’t come when he reaches for it, bound somewhere in the dark.  in london, those seeking power kill to take it, but the danes are clever.  they are good, holland learns, at taking power and keeping it, holding it close, hovering somewhere between dead and alive.  those standing in their way, they kill ; but the strongest power, the biggest threats, those they string up and dangle at arm’s length.  

there are two ways holland’s power stops being a threat: they kill him, or they control his magic themselves.  there’s only so much power you can take from a dead man, bleeding him dry until you’re left with a corpse icing over in the palace courtyard.  but a man in chains, brimming with potential he’s unable to use, bound to obey another’s word - that man still has limits but the danes know how to hold the balance, keeping him alive and taking everything by force.

so between one visit and another, grey london to red to white, holland stops being a knight and instead becomes a slave.  it’s a subtle change, from a distance.  not many have ever been close enough to see it.  astrid and athos delight in it.  london goes on as it always has, spilling blood for blood and power that will never be enough.  somewhere in the middle of it all, the grey london antari ascends the palace steps.  

“come,” says athos, voice smooth as silk, turning holland’s stomach. “show our visitor in.”

he does.

surely lila can see the difference, must know it the second she sets eyes on him.  small girl, young, too clever and perceptive by half ; holland wonders if the king would have sent her had he known vortalis no longer sits on the throne, known who he was sending lila to.  the magic-less crown covets its antari like a prize, and its communications with red london and his.  holland doesn’t think they would be so eager to throw it away.  

but george iii can’t know yet, because holland hasn’t set foot in lila’s london in months, communication almost to a standstill.  if that had worried lila before, she doesn’t show it.  she doesn’t show worry now, if she feels it, but waits until she reaches the top of the steps before saying “you look like hell.”  

she’s not expecting to see him.  it’s been years since holland and vortalis gave up on trying to escort the foreign ambassador where she’s supposed to go.  lila has, since her first visit, developed a habit of appearing unannounced and unseen, something holland suspects initially had more to do with not knowing where one spot in her own london led to in his than a show of independence -- but that, too.  astrid and athos won’t take kindly to it.  they don’t take kindly to anything, but anything beyond their control is taken there by force, inexperienced antari child or not.  i don’t trust things, astrid sometimes tells him, unless they belong to me.  better lila should be escorted as a visitor than masquerading as an equal.

“where’s vortalis?” she asks, brusque and too perceptive still.

holland inclines his head. “dead.”

dead with twin sadists on the throne, which holland is wise enough not to say out loud.  the king and queen have made a point of being in the hall together, whether to intimidate or merely from horrible curiosity at this familiar magic from another world, he isn’t sure.  so young, he can almost hear astrid’s whisper on the air, though she hasn’t spoken.  unmarked.  untested.  and athos, their voices like an eddy in holland’s mind: i wonder how far she bends before she breaks.  

pushing the thoughts from his mind, the white london antari takes his place in the shadows.  

trains his eyes on the far wall, not on the exchange taking place in the middle of the room.  holland’s awfully good at disappearing, for as long as the danes will allow.  lila can find him, though.  she’s had months of practice, sharp gaze to rival his own.  her eyes keep flicking to him even as the king is talking, as the queen toys idly with an empty glass.

the light dances wickedly off the surface, and despite his best efforts, holland sees it, like he’s supposed to.  no, he thinks, not tonight, letting none of it show on his face.  eyes on the wall, eyes on the wall, eyes on the wall--

“come here.”

the wave of athos’ hand is lazy, but the command is undeniable.  good at hiding for as long as the king will let him.  holland walks forwards, silent footsteps that could have marked a predator, but the predators sit upon the throne.  in the danes’ london, shadows and silence only ever mark prey.

“holland,” athos begins, turning his head only slightly.  if holland had less practice with masks, keeping fear and pain and weakness at bay, he would shiver.  the king rarely addresses him by name ; the fact that it’s for lila’s benefit escapes nobody. “kneel.”

that’s when he knows, for certain, that astrid and athos saw her looking.  he didn’t expect them not to.  people only make the mistake of taking their gaze from the king and queen once.  they’re good at finding power, holding it close, twisting it, and athos has just found where to point the knife.  he is about to make a display of it.  

it’s entertainment and a show of power.  which antari they’re trying to impress this on, holland isn’t sure.  it serves for them both.

holland kneels.

he doesn’t cry out when athos takes a fistful of dark hair and yanks back, forcing his eyes to the ceiling.  astrid presses a knife into his hand, and he doesn’t push her away.  every nerve in his body is singing danger, every muscle tensed to flee from being so close.  he won’t flee, of course.  he’ll do exactly as he’s told.

no-one suffers as beautifully as you.

don’t stop don’t think don’t fight don’t resist just do--

he raises the edge of cool metal to his throat ( athos’ voice never raising to a shout, doesn’t have to, holland is bound to obey a whisper if it pleases ) and draws blood.  it’s not deep - athos isn’t trying to kill him, isn’t even trying to leave a scar, and that should be worse because it means he’s in no hurry.  a hundred ways to make holland suffer before the sun sets and he’s only beginning.

“give me the knife,” says astrid, and as he holds it out, his eyes drop just enough to catch lila.  paler than she was a moment ago, hands balled into fists, she takes one step forward and then another.  holland can’t say anything, isn’t stupid enough for that, but he can feel the danes watching her ( astrid running a finger along the flat of the blade, bringing blood to her lips like paint ), wanting her to try.  

he meets her eyes, narrowing his own just enough to say don’t.  for a minute, he thinks she will anyway.  it’s a look she’s seen from him a hundred times before, with less at stake, one she’s dismissed as many times as followed.  but she pauses, and athos lets go of his hair, pushing him forward, and by the time holland’s righted himself, lila still hasn’t moved.  she’s staring at the king and queen as if imagining how their bones would look as finely-carved pieces of jewellery, and surely they can see, but she hasn’t moved.  

astrid only gives her a cool look. “you know your way home.”

run along there.  

“i rather want to play with that one,” she says, when lila is gone. “shall we have her back, brother?”

“another time,” says athos, and his eyes drift, properly now, to holland. “as for you--”

( they see.  

they saw.

it’s the first time athos reapplies the curse, in the event you feel your loyalties wavering, and it hurts as badly as the first time all those months ago, as deeply as it will every time for the next seven years.  

i will kill you one day, holland thinks, and keeps his face as blank as he knows how through the bone-deep terror and the pain.  i will have you suffer. )

the next time lila comes back, holland doesn’t meet her eyes, watches somewhere a careful amount behind her. “athos or astrid?”

“astrid,” lila says, lips twisting into something grim. “i hope you’ll tell the king i haven’t forgotten him.”

the words sound too much like a warning, like a challenge - it’s another seven years before holland will see it met.

[somedayking-a]

📱for lila + any au you’d like!!

i.  i’m sorry.

ii.  i wanted you to be safe from them.

iii.  i didn’t have a choice.  ( but you have no right to judge me for that, you don’t know. )

iv.  you have every right to hate me.  

+ v. “  ön vejr tök,  ”    the story goes …    “  there is a king, with magic stronger than any magician who lived before.  strong enough to breathe life back into the world, and restore magic to its dying heart…  ”  /  @oflegendaries

FOUR THINGS MY MUSE DIDN’T SAY, ONE THEY DID