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thealienfantasy · 2 months ago

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Alien Fantasy-File 9: Recognition through the Blizzard

This is another story that was inspired by a post from Recklessly Tall Tales. This one right here: https://recklessfiction.tumblr.com/post/178327330499/expanding-on-my-post-on-extraterrestrial-fairy

2 Months and Days 30 Since Impact:

Looks like they finally finished building the Watch tower. After months of having to move from unknown area to unknown area like a bunch of nomads, it feels good to finally be able to sit down and relax. You know, provided those hulking aliens don't find us here too.

These past few weeks have been the absolute worst. Why did the higher ups decide THIS planet needed exploring? Why couldn't it have been like..an ocean planet or something? At least there we wouldn't have to worry about this blizzard completely messing up our comms.

How did the Captain lose control of the ship anyway? What, did the gravity bitch-slap our ship into orbit? We were barely able to treat the survivors that got wounded.

Speaking of surviving...God, never in my life did i think i'd start missing instant noodles. It's been pretty much a game of Russian Roulette trying to figure out which of these fruits won't end with my stomach going into turmoil. We were able to salvage some food from the ship, but i'm willing to wager that our ship rations only take up like 5% of our food right now.

Our ship isn't in good shape as of now. Because of this never ending blizzard, reaching HQ has pretty much been next to impossible. It doesn't help that a few days later, Those hulking aliens showed up and began trying to kidnap our crew members. The ships' weapons were barely functional after the crash. We were able to fend them off at first, But we soon had to flee and find somewhere to stay out of sight. And since we can't carry the entire ship, that means we had to leave our one safe shelter behind.

We did salvage some drones, so we were able to continue doing research of this planet. (As much research as you can do within a blizzard like this anyway.), But it didn't take long for those aliens to track us down. They didn't' seem phased at all by this blizzard. I guess they must've adapted to it. They kidnapped a few of our crew members. They didn't even try to "attack us", They spend most of the encounter trying to grab and take us. Unfortunately, we were severely outnumbered. And they were able to escape with some of our crew members.

The past few months has pretty much been a repeated game of these aliens finding us and us having to run away. Andy tried reasoning with them, but seeing as our translators have never picked up this language before. Yeah...

...That's how they got him too.

Most of the kidnapped crew were able to keep their communication devices. But once again, The Blizzard of this planet has made it difficult for us to decipher what situation they're in right now.

After weeks of running, we'd stumbled upon this spot - a dark area surrounded by high, rocky outcroppings. It wasn't perfect, but it was defensible. We'd immediately set to work, using whatever materials we could scrounge to build a makeshift fort.

"Hey!" I called out to a nearby crewmate. "How's the perimeter looking?"She gave me a thumbs up.

"As good as it's gonna get with all we've got. Those barricades should slow 'em down if they try to rush us."

I nodded, turning my attention back to the watchtower. It had been a pain to construct, especially with the constant threat of alien attack looming over us. But now that it was finished, we had a chance to spot the bastards before they were right on top of us.

The drones had been invaluable in retrieving supplies from the crashed ship. Every successful run brought us more materials to fortify our position. But the blizzard's interference with our comms meant long, nerve-wracking gaps between retrievals.

Suddenly, a shout from the watchtower jolted me out of my thoughts.

"Movement! There's movement at the entrance!"

Goddamnit...

I scrambled for cover behind the nearest barricade.

"Everyone to positions! This isn't a drill!"

My heart was pounding, I peered over the fortifications. Through the swirling snow, I could make out several large, lumbering shapes approaching. The aliens had found us again.As they drew closer, I could make out more details. They were humanoid in shape, but that's where the similarities ended. They were massive - easily eight feet tall and built like tanks. Thick, matted fur covered their bodies, And their faces...Eat your heart out Beauty and the Beast..

One of the aliens, slightly larger than the rest, raised a massive, torch-like device. It bellowed something in its guttural language, the sound carrying even over the howling wind.

"What the hell are they saying?" someone whispered nearby.I shook my head.

"Doesn't matter. Get ready to light 'em up!"

The alien leader roared again, and as one, the group charged towards our fort. Their massive frames closing the distance with terrifying speed.

"Open fire!" I screamed, and our salvaged weapons crackled to life. The hastily repaired turrets rattled as they spat out a stream of energy bolts. The recoil threatened to tear them apart with each shot, but they held - barely.

Flashes of light illuminated the snowy battlefield as our defenses engaged the alien threat.To my amazement and relief, the barrage seemed to catch the aliens off guard. Several of them stumbled as energy bolts punched holes in their armor. Their charge stopped and for a moment, I thought they had finally decided to give up.

Of course not. Even with our weapons pushing them back, they kept coming, using their massive bodies to shield each other from our fire.

one of our turrets finally gave up, collapsing and crackling.

"Shit! Keep firing! Don't let up!"

The loss of firepower was noticeable immediately. The aliens pressed their advantage, closing the distance to our walls. We were seconds away from being overrun.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the attack faltered. A piercing screaming coming from the alien leader bellowed again, this time with a note of... was that fear? Some black liquid was coming out of their body. Their blood presumably. The massive creatures began to fall back, dragging their wounded with them.

"They're retreating!" someone shouted. "Don't celebrate yet! " I growled, watching as the aliens disappeared back into the swirling snow.

As the adrenaline began to fade, I took a look at our situation. We'd repelled the attack, but at a cost. One of our few turrets was down, still crackling and buzzing.

"You there!" I shouted at a nearby group. "Get that turret back online ASAP! I want it repaired and reloaded before those freaks come back!"

As the crew scrambled to follow my orders, I allowed myself a moment to breathe. We'd survived this encounter, but for how long? Our resources were dwindling, our weapons were falling apart, and without most our equipment, sooner or later those aliens would figure out how to breach our defenses.

I gazed out at the endless blizzard, at this point i was starting to wonder if we should even bother contacting HQ. We've gotten next to no response. I turned back to the fort, ready to oversee repairs and plan our next move. I just hope the people they took are okay.What were those aliens planning to do with them anyways?

=================================================================

Captain Zor'nak trudged through the snow, Clutching the injury he had obtained from those stinging projectiles. The clerk whispering as they tended the wound. The icy wind howled around them, but it was nothing compared to the storm of emotions raging within his chest. He cast a final glance back at the small and unusual fortress, its crude watchtower barely visible through the swirling blizzard.

"Damn this blasted curse. Damn what heretic was responsible for turning our kind into....THOSE POOR THINGS!" He groaned.

The group of Polarians he'd rallied for this rescue mission huddled close, their thick fur providing some protection against the bitter cold. They'd come so close this time, nearly breaching the walls of the fortress where their transformed kin were hiding. But those strange, crackling weapons had driven them back once again.

Kel'thra, Zor'nak's mate, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"We'll free them, my love. We must not lose hope."

Zor'nak grunted in acknowledgment, but the frustration gnawed at him. He knew that beneath those small, fragile forms, their true Polarian selves were waiting to be freed. If only the curse didn't affect their minds so severely, making them lash out at their would-be saviors. As they trudged back towards their settlement, the sound of sobbing reached Zor'nak's ears. He turned to see several young Polarians, barely more than cubs, huddled together in distress.

"What troubles you, little ones?" he asked, his gruff voice softening.

One of the cubs looked up at him with sadness. "Will we ever get our brother back? He was the bravest warrior in our clan, and now he's... he's..."

"Transformed..." Zor'nak finished for her. Kor'vax had been one of the first to change after the strange meteors began falling from the sky. The once-mighty warrior was now trapped in the form of one of those small, furless creatures. Zor'nak knelt down, bringing himself eye-level with the cubs.

"Listen to me, all of you. We will not abandon our kin. No matter how long it takes, no matter how hard they fight against us, we will bring them home and break this wicked curse."

The cubs nodded, their sobs quieting somewhat. Zor'nak stood, his determination renewed. He would not let these young ones lose faith. As they continued their journey, one of the older Polarians spoke up.

"Captain, who do you think is responsible for this calamity? So many of our people have vanished and been transformed since those accursed meteors began falling."

"I know not, Grak'thul. Perhaps a coalition of malevolent spirits? Or maybe..." "It has to be the work of Kingdom of Endo! Those traitors! It can't be a coincidence that those meteors started falling at the height of the war!" Another elders spat out.

"Improbable. Their leader may be a warlock, but such work is something only a deity would be capable of.

"Maybe it is a punishment from the gods themselves?"

A murmur of unease rippled through the group. The meteors. Their members vanishing after the loud noises. These creatures appearing in their stead. The idea that they had somehow angered the gods was a terrifying prospect.

"But for what crime?"

"I don't know..." Zor'nak admitted. "But whatever the cause, we must not falter in our efforts to save our people."

As they neared the outskirts of their settlement, Zor'nak's thoughts turned to their most recent rescue attempt. They had managed to retrieve one of the transformed Polarians from the wreckage of one of the fallen meteors before the others had taken refuge in their fortress.

"Vex'ala..." he called out to a young maiden walking nearby. "What news of the one we brought back? Has there been any change?"

Vex'ala's face crumpled, her jaw quivering.

"No, Captain. I... I tried the courtship ritual, as the legends suggest. But...The one I believe to be my Sar'thal just tried to escape. He fought so hard we had to subdue him." "Same thing happened with the others we brought back sir. One of them almost tore off my mane."

Zor'nak's heart ached for his people. He knew the pain of watching a loved one trapped in a form that no longer recognized you.

"Do not lose hope! We will find a way to break this curse."

As they entered the settlement, Zor'nak paused, looking back in the direction of the strange fortress that seemed to appear there recently. Through the swirling snow, he could just make out the faint glow of their strange lights.

"My brothers, my sisters." he said softly, his words carried away by the wind. "We have not abandoned you. We will bring you home."

#humans are space fae #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #aliens #science #fantasy #The Alien Fantasy #deep space folktales

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

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Change of Heart

Pairing : Taehyung x OC

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first. ]

Pairing : Taehyung x OC

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Warnings : None. ( Some mild violence but mostly off screen )

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The Preserve had originally been an isolated island about 50 miles off the coast of the mainland. Over the decades, the land had been expanded with man made floats serving to support the extra buildings and complexes that cropped up to cater to the small human population that stuck around to help out.

The wolves still kept to the interiors, most of them having built huge cottage-villas which could house the entire pack, territories marked out clearly to avoid disputes. A few of the very traditional ones lived on the huge mountains that lined the northern end, opting to stay in their wolf-forms most of the time.

The island itself was beautiful, rich vegetation , a thriving fauna and a landscape that was lined with beautifully stark cliffs up high and private little coves and beaches scattered below.

Taehyung and his daughter lived on a beautiful beach side villa, which had its own vegetable garden , a staff of over 8 to take care of everything, a private jetty for trips to the mainland and a helipad/ airstrip.

True to his word, Taehyung did not stay around most days. He was busy with his campaign and I spent the first week recovering. The doctor visited everyday and by the end of the week, most of the internal injuries were healing well, the pain well managed with meds.

Luna had moved into my room, pretty much and I spent the days with her curled into my side, reading from her favorite books, stopping when she encountered a particularly difficult word, ebony eyes turning to mine for help. We read countless books, and she introduced me to all her best friends : Mr. Ted the bear, Kihyun the bunny and Momo the panda. The stuffed animals had a small baby carrier of their own and she liked carting them all around the house.

“She was really pretty. Mama....” Luna whispered one night, as we lay curled on the window seat in my room, a fur throw covering us up as we stared out into the rocky beach far below.

I felt my heart lurch in shared grief.

“Was she? What else do you remember about her....?” I asked softly.

“Her scent. “ Luna said quickly. “ She smelled just like you. Like home and fresh cookies with sugar sprinkles. And rainy puddles you can jump in.”

I bit my lips, mindful that Luna was just listing her favorite things. I didn’t know much about how weres scented other weres or humans. But i supposed it made sense that her mother’s scent should remind her of things that offered her comfort and joy.

But her next words threw me for a loop.

“Daddy didn’t like her much....” She said suddenly and I felt my throat close up .

“Oh-Oh?” I was genuinely shocked. Taehyung had looked devastated when he had told me about his wife’s passing....

Luna shook her head.

“My friend from school, Mina? Her mommy’s still alive and her daddy likes her. They kiss and stay in the same room. Mommy and Daddy never kissed. Mommy lived on the east wing.... That’s on the other side. Near the rose gardens.”

I bit my lips, feeling incredibly guilty for some reason. This information felt somehow private and not for stranger’s ears. I didn’t want Luna to get into trouble for saying this to me .

“I miss her sometimes. I’m glad you’re here.” She sniffled and i felt my heart crack in two. The girl was replacing her mom with me, I thought miserably. I couldn’t in good conscience let this happen.

But as the days stretched into weeks, with Taehyung out and busy most of the time, i couldn’t bring myself to leave. Luna did appear to be calmer, more grounded and happier with me around. She liked staying close to me, at touching distance and she often buried her nose into my neck, sniffing till I had to gently pry her off.

Although, absent physically, Taehyung called every day. He facetimed his daughter twice at least and I got a call every night at exactly nine. It was usually curt and formal but he did tell me what he was upto.

“The elections are coming up soon.... I need to work a bit more on the immediate reforms we’re planning to launch...I won’t be available this week, Luna’s keeping well?”

“Yes, she is. We made a modern recreation of red riding hood and the wolf today with play dough.”

Silence.

“Interesting choice of fairy tale, Mi Rae ssi...” He drawled.

I flushed at how my name sounded in that voice.

“It’s a bit different plot wise. In this case, the granny is just a meanie who likes to order Red about and the wolf is the one who rescues her.” I grinned.

He chuckled amicably.

“Bit of a stretch , that. But I’m glad you’re happy. I didn’t want to pressure you too much and i know its asking way too much of you . But Ms. Lee says that Luna is happier than she’s ever been and I do believe you’re the one I have to thank for that. “

I bit my lips. I wanted to tell him that Luna was getting way too attached. That I was afraid of what would happen when it was time for me to leave, but already i could hear voices in the background, people calling for his attention and I remembered that he was doing something important.

He was trying to build a better world for his little girl.

In the long run, all of this would be for Luna’s benefit only.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

it had been nearly a month since I’d last seen Taehyung . A whole three months since I’d moved into his villa. My paycheck as a nanny was three times what I was paid as a lab tech. But I hadn’t stopped working at the research facility either. I spent the days there, when Luna was busy with her school work . The vaccine had been successful but somehow, my father’s company had pulled some sort of nonsense with the patenting and not everyone had got the shorts.

I stared out into the murky blue waters as they crashed into the jagged black rocks that lined the private beach. The huge bay windows in the living space offered an unfettered view of the rocky beach.

Next to me, Luna was pretty much bouncing around, trying to find all her beach day toys. I watched her fondly, feeling something squeeze my heart when I thought about not seeing her again. The elections were done, the results were due any day now and Taehyung had already told me that he was looking to end this arrangement soon.

Luna had a mind like no other. A vibrantly curious child with the most incredible questions, it was clear that she adored her father more than anything else in the world. In the evenings, she liked to play near the small water inlet that fed into the Ocean. The water was shallow, barely an inch or so deep, the terrain covered in small smooth pebbles in every shade of brown of grey.

Luna and I spent most of the weekends exploring the small beach around the villa, foraging around in the coves while her caregiver watched me covertly from a distance. She clearly didn’t trust me much, but I tried not to let it get to me.

I wasn’t here to stay. Taehyung had sent me a mail the previous week, letting me know that I was no longer had to babysit, because he was planning to move to Seoul himself. He would be renting out a condominium there and hiring a full time nanny.

And that was fine. it wasn’t like i hadn’t seen that coming. I had a life of my own and i had to get back to it. My cottage near the research facility was fixed now and I was looking forward to getting back to my life, no matter how much it hurt to leave Luna behind.

I was a little upset that he had sent an impersonal mail to me instead of talking to me in person. Or maybe spoken about it over the phone at least. But I knew that he was just trying to make it easier for me to cut all ties.

Okay, fine, maybe I was a little bit bitter that Taehyung hadn’t even offered to hire me to take care of Luna . I wasn’t qualified , yes, but so far Luna had been a dream to stay with. She was so inquisitive and bright, so full of sunshine and happiness.

After three months of her unconditional love for me, the idea of not coming home to her vibrant laugh and endless giggles, it just felt so painful.

“Rae Rae, let’s gooooo....” Her voice broke me out of my thoughts . Despite endless protests from Ms. Lee, Luna insisted on calling me Rae Rae and I found it adorable.

I jumped a little, hastily moving to grab the sunscreen, the hat and gloves. While Luna did heal quickly courtesy her wolf-y genes, she was also incredibly prone to sunburn. The first few times, she had promptly shifted into her wolf form when i tried to put it on her, snipping my fingers angrily. The chemical was supposed to be unscented but her sensitive nose had clearly picked it up anyway.

It took a lot of bribing with delicious meat patties and steak bites, for the girl to shift back and let me apply it on her.

But now she was comfortable with letting me apply it on her when we went to the beach.

She picked up her backpack, a baby blue fur lined affair with twin bunny ears near the handle , and the small tote bag full of her collection of seashells and skipped out of the room happily. I finished packing the rest of her beach stuff : towels, napkins, hair pins and a change of clothes just in case.

We were just climbing down the huge stairwell, when Taehyung’s voice rang through the foyer, startling me badly. i hadn’t seen him in a long time and against my better judgement I almost half ran back to put some make up on at least. I probably looked like an ogre with smeared sunscreen and my hair uncombed and in a bun.

“Lu - Lu? Baby???” He called out, his deep voice pretty much reverberating off the walls .

“DAAAADAAAAAA”

I watched her almost tumble headlong the stairs in her rush to get into her father’s arms and I hung back, letting them have their reunion.

I waited till Taehyung called out for me, before moving to greet him as well.

The first thing that stuck me was how incredibly handsome he looked, hair now fully black, swept straight back from his forehead. He was dressed in skinny jeans and a loose black shirt, buttons undone to show the lines of his pecs and a pair of dangly earrings caught the light as he turned to stare at me.

“Mi Rae ssi....i see you’re all ready for Beach day?” He grinned softly.

There was something radiant about him, a definite lack of anxiety. He looked relaxed almost.

“You won?” i blurted out. “ You won didn’t you?”

Taehyung’s eyes glinted .

“Its not officially announced yet, but yes, the Commission called me today . They think I’ve won by a landslide.

Before I could rethink my impulse, I flung myself into his arms, genuinely thrilled beyond belief.

“RThat’s so incredible, Taehyung ssi...i’m so happy for you and-”

“Tae? Should I get the other suitcase?”

The female voice made me jolt, and I pulled away, arm still arapped around his neck, intensely aware of his hands on my waist.

Three feet away from us , stood an incredibly beautiful young woman. She was almost as tall as Tae, probably the same age as him and her eyes flashed red when she looked at me.

I flinched, stepping back like i’d been scalded.

“Just leave it sweetheart, one of my men will get it. Come meet my little girl.” Taehyung said casually, shooting me one brief intense look of.....anger? annoyance? I couldn’t figure it out.

Sweetheart? did he just call her-

Luna had shuffled to hide behind my legs now, her fingers gripping my waist as she refused to greet the newcomer.

“Luna, this is Ms Jihyun. She’s a very good friend of mine.”

Jihyun dropped to her knees, eyes flashing red again as she smiled a tight lipped smile.

“Hello, Luna. How are you doing?” She said seriously. Luna’s grip on me tightened.

“She’s a little shy.” I choked out, trying to tamp down the rising sense of heartbreak. No. i had actively fought against feeling this way. Every night here, I had told myself that I would not think about Kim Taehyung. Admiring him for what he did , for how hard he worked for his kind....that was one thing ....but this. This was madness.

Taehyung reached out around me to lift Luna up into her arms.

“How about we go to the beach with Jihyun and Ms Lee today?” He said casually, holding his hand out to me.

I almost did something stupid, like press my hand into his before realizing that he was asking for the bag i had over my shoulders. Wordlessly, I handed it over.

“I want to go with Rae Rae....” Luna said sharply, lips jutting out in a petulant little pout.

“Well, Appa and Ms. Rae need to talk about something and once we’re done, I’ll join you there okay?” He ruffled her hair softly and then gently placed her back down.

Luna gave me an imploring look.

“Are you leaving me?” Her lips wobbled.

I shook my head instinctively.

“Of course not baby, I’ll be right there. Just a few minutes, okay? Don't forget your sunscreen.” I smiled and Luna pouted again but moved to Ms. Lee’s side hesitantly.

Taehyung waited till the three of them began leaving before turning to me.

“Thank you.” He said quietly , gaze moving to me with the same intensity, and this time I knew what he was doing. He was trying to gauge what I was thinking and I remembered, weakly that Alpha wolves could sometimes sense moods, changes in a person’s body temperatures and things like that. It wasn’t like mind reading or anything but a perceptive enough werewolf could definitely guess what kind of mood someone was in.

I fought to keep my face neutral. There wasn’t much I could do about how clammy and cold my entire body had gone after meeting Jihyun. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to guess why I didn’t l;ike Jihyun there.

“It’s not you.” He said gently.

I swallowed.

“Sorry?”

“You’re beautiful. If we were.... the same kind of people.....I wouldn’t be saying this. But because of who we are.... I’m going to say it. It’s not a good idea.” He whispered.

I flushed, feeling like my entire body had been dipped in ice cold water.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said evenly.

He hummed.

“If you leave today, there’s a job waiting for you in the Research Center. It’s a level up from what you’re doing right now. I’ve asked them to put up extra security around your cabin and I’ve talked with the wolves here. No one will come anywhere near you. “

I nodded bleakly.

“Thank you.” I said quietly.

“You’re going to forget me and Luna in a few weeks. And I would rather that things end now, before Luna becomes more attached.”

I nodded.

“Can i talk to her before I leave?” I asked softly.

He hesitated.

“I don’t.... I mean, I would rather not have Jihyun be present for that. She’s.... well she’s someone I’m getting to know and she may feel -”

I wanted to kick myself in the face for ever having agreed to this whole thing.

“I understand. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to get the rest of my stuff and to say goodbye to Luna.” I said shortly.

Before he could reply, I brushed past him and ran up to my room. I had to get out of here as soon as I could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luna cried inconsolably and I was eternally grateful that no one else was there when I carefully unpacked the huge carton of snacks and toys , I’d packed for her. Taehyung had made things a little easier, by telling Luna that it wasn’t me who was leaving but it would be them. They were going to a new place so they would be leaving me behind because I had stuff to do here.

“I’m not going to be gone completely. I’m going to come visit you as often as I can alright and look....” I pulled out the small phone I’d brought her.

She stopped sniffling and held her hand out. I placed the flip phone in her hands.

“Theres just two numbers there. See the picture of the wolf? Thats daddy..... And see the one with the flower.....that’s me. If you want to talk to either of us, all you need to do is press this button.”

Luna hesitated.

“Daddy said, I can’t have any phones.” She said hesitantly. What a wonderful child, i thought fondly.

“Yes, but this isn’t the kind of phone that could hurt your eyes. It’s just a talking phone. Besides, your daddy already knows and he’s okay with it.” I smiled.

She nodded, turning the little device over and over in her hands.

“Daddy say’s we’re going to the city. Why don’t you want to come?” She said angrily and i sighed.

“Its not that I don’t want to come, baby. It’s just that my home is here. I help take care of the little pups here remember? Some of them get sick and I help make them better....” I smiled, ruffling her hair.

She nodded.

“Good girl...Now how about we go see the sandcastle you built yesterday...? See if it’s still there?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life went on and I found myself busy enough to not dwell on Taehyung too much. The vaccines were rolling out much faster now and most of the cases were milder . i spent the days in the research center and went home to my cozy cabin. Taehyung had been true to his word an an electric fence ran around the perimeter , twelve feet tall . A security guard stayed near the gate at all times, a beta werewolf named Minjun.

Two weeks after Taehyung had moved out of the island, a distraction arrived in the form of one Jeon Jungkook . He was a year younger than me and finishing his internship before becoming a radiologist. He was smart , handsome and an alpha wolf with a deceptively cute bunny like smile.

Jungkook liked following me around when we had free time and I found his incessant noona , noona...endearing. But I was also not an idiot.

Jungkook was looking for a fuck buddy and I was convenient. The only female in the research center. Werewolves didn’t do one night stands with each other, because being intimate always left a scent and it would make things messy. So weres generally went to humans for no strings attached sex.

It wasn’t that I minded , but a part of me was terrified i would do something stupid. Like call him Taehyung in the middle of us fucking.

But of course, stupid decisions were my forte.

So I did end up sleeping with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, you look miserable.” Jimin commented mildly, as I stumbled forward to the counter. I hadn’t slept much the previous night and had nearly missed the ferry to the mainland in the morning.

“I’m fine oppa. Just frazzled. Give me something strong but sweet...” I begged, riffling through my bag for my wallet. Outside, the rain poured in torrents. I was still dripping water from my hair and my jacket, although I’d been out of the rain for a whole five minutes.

“Taehyung’s been asking about you....Why don’t you pick his calls?” Jimin said casually and I flinched.

“I did pick his calls. a couple of times....” I muttered .

That had been a whole experience. Taehyung had called me two weeks back, frothing at the mouth about something.

Apparently, Ji Hyun the lovely girlfriend that Kim Taehyung like flaunting all over town, was also the older sister on one Jeon Jungkook. And because we had had sex the previous night, Jungkook had smelled like me when he visited Taehyung and Ji hyun. Even Luna had picked up on the scent.

How on earth was i supposed to know?

Taehyung had been so furious that I’d hung up the phone midway through.

“And, what happened?”

I shrugged.

“And then I got busy. Why? I’ve been talking to Luna... I even met her a couple of times. It’s not like I have any other reason to talk to him.... “ I protested.

Jimin hummed.

“He’s still seeing that model. Jeon Ji hyun? I heard her brother works in the Research center?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, sliding my drink across the counter. I stepped out of the line but stayed near the counter, staring at him. Damn it. Had Taehyung actually told Jimin about it?

“Jungkook? Yeah. He’s a doctor... He’s doing his MD , radiology and he’s here for exposure , apparently...”

“Alpha?” Jimin continued flitting about, making orders but his tone held a note of sympathy.

I shrugged.

“Yeah, he is. But we don’t talk much. We went out one night but then he’s been aloof ever since.” I shrugged again hoping that Jimin was buying my nonchalant act. i still didn’t know how much he knew.

Jungkook was a nice guy and I was a little peeved that he didn’t seem to want anything more than a friends with benefits thing. But that had less to do with him and more to do with the fact that men, in general, never seemed to consider me as a potential girlfriend.

But then, the poor guy was in probably the most crucial part of his education. Relationships were probably the farthest thing from his mind.

Jimin stopped when the last customer in the line left. He stared at me.

“Taehyung told me Luna called you one morning and Jungkook picked the phone.”

I froze.

“What?!” I hissed, completely thrown. This, I hadn’t known.

“You went out? With Jungkook? And he stayed over , I’m guessing....I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you guys did not play Jenga all night?” He glared at me. I flushed.

“Fine. We slept together. We are sleeping together....its just consensual sex between two willing parties, . It’s no big deal.” I said flippantly.

“You don’t think that’s why Taehyung has been calling you? That’s his potential brother in law right there. It’s too messy. I think you should stop. ” He frowned.

I rolled my eyes.

“Listen it has nothing to do with me. I’m not going to marry Jungkook okay? I’m not going to be calling Taehyung my brother in law either. Its not going to happen. i just had this...stupid king of crush on him and he knew about it. He turned me down too, did he tell you that. He told me him and I were too different.... meaning I wasn’t a were so he wouldn’t consider being with someone like me. ”

Jimin groaned.

“you know why he feels that way. Don’t make this about you. It’s not personal.”

“Then why is it spilling into my personal life? I have no obligation to him. I can sleep with who I want.....”

Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Taehyung’s a were. He’s not going to see it that way.”

“Well, I don’t give a damn how he sees it, I’m having sex with a handsome young man who is attracted to me. That’s a good time, right there and I’m not going to stop having a good time just because it offends Taehyung’s delicate sensibilities.” I snapped.

Jimin shrugged.

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I went back to my cabin that evening, I found Minjun missing from his usual place near the gate. The gate was still locked so I didn’t think too much about it, merely slotting the rusty old key into the huge lock and prying it open.

I made my way to the door, opening it carefully.

i nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw who was there.

“what the- Seo Joon?” I said in disbelief, stumbling back when the tall alpha stumbled to his feet from where he was lounging on the couch.

“Well, look who’s here....if it isn’t the slutty little bitch who wants to sleep her way through every were on the island....First Taehyung and now Jungkook.....you sure know who to pick, huh.....? All powerful, influential wolves..... “ He slurred.

I stared at him. This wasn’t good. I turned on my heel, ready to run back out but he was faster than me. I groaned when he slammed into my back pinning me to the door with so much force that the wood splintered,.

While my bruised ribs had healed, they still hurt a bit. And the force of his actions left my mind reeling from the pain.

“Get off me!! “ I screamed, “ MINJUN!!!!! MINJUN HELP!!!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU WHORING BITCH!!!”

He slapped me right across the face, the strength of it sending me crashing into the side table. I whimpered as I tried to get on my feet, fingers fumbling for my phone .

“it was you wasn’t it? I was supposed to be the deputy minister.... Taehyung’s supposed to be my fucking friend. instead i got fired like some lowly runt ...... It was you wasn’t it? you convinced him that humans are our fucking friends....”

I shook my head, frantic.

“No...i swear I’ve not spoken to Taehyung...i didn’t say anything... Seo Joon please don’t...” I screamed when he reached down and grabbed my hair, yanking me to my feet till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“Maybe I should fuck you too....since that's the thing people seem to be doing these days....Its because of your father isn’t it? That bastard has been all over the news, talking these past few weeks about how his precious daughter is doing a lot of work for the welfare of wolves....Maybe I should fuck his daughter too.... ” He began, reaching for my blouse.

I barely registered the nonsense about my father before a loud sound broke through the din.

The door swung open and the sound of gunfire made me scream.

I stared at the door only to see the security guard staring at us with wide eyes.

Minjun , panicked and completely overwhelmed , had blindly opened fire on both of us.

I felt the touch of the bullet to my shoulder, before the blinding explosion of pain.

But he seemed to have hit Seo Joon as well, enough times for the were to let go of me and I crashed to floor, clutching my shoulder in agony.

The sound of gunfire had attracted more people and through the throng I heard Jungkook’s voice.

“Noona.... Mirae noona is that you----???”

“Kookie!!” I croaked out desperately. Jungkook’s eyes went wide when he saw, me, pushing his way past the other wolves before letting out a snarl. The sound seemed to make the others cower and I remembered that he was an alpha too.

I gripped his arms when he reached me.

“Don’t tell Taehyung...” I gasped out, still clutching my shoulder.

“God, what the fuck.... We need to get you out of here...” He was already dialing for the ambulance. I waited for him to finish, gasping from the pain. Fuck, it hurt like hell.

“We’re going to get you to the research center first.” Jungkook said frantically.

I nodded, stumbling to my feet when he tried to lift me up.

“It’s okay...just...get me something to …” But he was already peeling off his shirt, wadding up to press against the bleeding bullet hole .

“Hyung is going to kill Seo Joon.” He said grimly.

For once, I didn’t particularly care.

My mind raced because I hadn’t thought about my father in years.

What did that tyrant want with me now??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Me trying to finish all my fics and not lose my mind in the process :’(

#taehyung #taehyung fics #taehyung sm #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #taehyung smut #taehyung au #taehyung x y/n #bts x oc #bts werewolf au #taehyung werewolf au

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hiddendreamer67 · 4 years ago

Text

Giant Mers are Good Mers

That's right, it's MerMay baby! Introducing my new bois. Caspian is a giant siren with influences of Mediterranean monk seals and leopard seals. Beckett is a lil' human who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This piece is a completed oneshot, but I've got a couple ideas for more oneshots with this pairing, including a few ideas for alternate universes (especially after seeing all the fun @ibis-gt seems to be having with AUs of their bois).

Word count: 6,001

Initial prompt idea: human was taken by a giant siren but then let go (on a whim / siren got bored) but human doesn’t know why they were spared so they come back to thank the siren. The siren doesn’t even remember doing that because it was such an insignificant event to them, but now it’s interesting because humans never came on their own.

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Beckett had always been a simple fellow. He grew up in WhiteBridge, on a small town farm with his three older sisters picking on him ceaselessly. While he loved WhiteBridge and its quaint charms, Beck found his true passion in books, and studied at Oxford for several years before scouring the globe for his passion. In his quest for knowledge, Beckett chose to join a month-long excursion out at sea, and found himself regretting that decision a few weeks later.

“Steady on there.” One of the sailors, Michelle, handed him a pair of earplugs. “You’ll need these where we’re going.”

Beckett eyed the little pieces of foam dubiously. “And just where might that be?”

“Siren territory.”

Beck hardly believed in such fairy tales, but to calm the sailor’s superstitions he inserted the plugs as instructed. Siren tales aside, Beckett found himself growing as twitchy as the sailors. The coastline hadn’t been visible for ages due to a large amount of fog accumulation. The stormy skies were foreboding as well, indicating that proper precautions would need to be taken. This far north, the weather reports often indicated rocky waves far beyond what should be normal.

Would Beckett sink, out here in the middle of nowhere? Was that to be his fate? The young man began to fret, hastening to make himself useful as the first rolls of thunder sounded off and the waves grew steadily higher.

And then, he heard it. Beckett paused, arms slack on the rope as he attempted to hear that haunting melody. Was the weather playing tricks on him, or was someone calling out to him.

“BECK! EARS!”

Beckett blinked, stunned to find himself standing on the slippery railing. When did he get up here? Beck hastened to climb down, noticing the rest of the crew had their hands firmly clasped over their ears, even with the ear plugs inserted.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Even with the double protection, the voice grew in volume, its booming voice penetrating into their heads. Every single person on board fell victim to its call, the ship’s captain turning the wheel to head towards the beckoning beast. Beckett climbed back up to the railing, plunging overboard into the crashing waves.

With a sputter, Beckett fought to keep his breath, legs kicking desperately against the current. Even in his desperate survival state, the voice called to him, and instinctively Beckett swam in the right direction to answer its call.

Every time the voice paused to take a breath, Beck would regain control for only a moment, his heart pounding as his fate flashed before his eyes with nothing to be done about it. Between one blink and the next, the sky grew darker, a looming shape breaching in the distance. Another blink, and Beckett’s face lost all complexion staring up at his demise.

A great sea serpent, half man half beast, towered with its human half over the pitiful human. With a single shift of its body, the beast created waves that threatened to pull Beck under. Those sharp features and piercing blue eyes were unforgettable, and subconsciously Beck realized this was the last face he would ever see.

Another blink. This time, when the serpent let out a hum, Beckett remained conscious but still out of his own control. His body was lax but his mind manic. The siren reached for him, slimy claws surrounding his form and making Beck shudder as he was raised 50 feet in the air in seconds. Beckett whimpered, coughing out sea water as his gaze was drawn down to the siren’s lips. The creature grinned and revealed its razor-sharp fangs. Taking a deep breath in, the siren revealed the cavernous depths beyond as it prepared to inhale its next meal.

Beckett pleaded nonsense pitifully, tears pouring down his cheeks as the haunting nothingness washed over his mind yet again. Would he even wake once more? Was the beast merciful enough to let Beckett go in his sleep?

When Beckett woke up, he thought he was dead.

He squinted, the sun too bright for his eyes. The sun? What happened to the storm? Stranger yet, the water that had soaked him to the bone was no more. Beck was dry, wrapped in blankets in a stranger’s bed.

“You’re awake.”

Beckett turned his head, his sore muscles protesting the movement. Beside him sat an older looking fellow, hair greying with age. “Who’re you?”

“The name’s Seymour.” Seymour introduced himself. “And who’re you?”

“Beck.” Beckett’s voice felt like he hadn’t spoken in days. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you tried awful hard.” Seymour assured him. “Found you passed out on the shore two days ago. Guessin’ you were part of some shipwreck? Though there wasn’t much wreckage to be found. Awfully impressive for you to have swam that far.”

Is that what happened? Beck frowned, trying to parse out the details. His body ached something terrible. He did remember swimming for a great distance. Had the siren all been a strange vision of his adrenaline-infused thoughts?

“...huh.” Beck settled back into the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. “I… didn’t know I could do that.”

“Well that, or an angel saved you.” Seymour chuckled. “You’re one lucky soul.”

Beck squinted in thought. If that’s what angels looked like, he could understand why all biblical depictions had humans cowering in fear.

(...was it an angel?)

Beckett spent some of the most confusing weeks of his life recovering from the shipwreck. Even as his physical form healed, Beck couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the events that transpired that night. He couldn’t get the notion out of his head that the giant sea serpent was real. It had all felt so lifelike, the claws and the fish breath and the dark melodious tones that haunted his dreams…

Seymour was kind enough to open his home to Beck, offering the traumatized lad a position maintaining his lighthouse while Beckett still fought to gather his wits. “Yer’ not the first.” Seymour assured him with a chuckle. “It’s no water off my back if you want to keep me company while you figure things out.”

You’re not the first. Beckett had cleared his throat, wanting to address that thought. “The other people who wash up on shore… did they ever… see anything?”

Seymour raised a patient eyebrow. “What do you mean, seen? Figure you lot have all seen a lot, what with the wreckage.”

“No, I mean, out at sea.” Beck felt foolish, twiddling his thumbs a bit. “Like a… like a merman.”

To his credit, Seymour did nothing more than a slow blink. “A merman.” He repeated.

“But, not a regular merman.” Beck winced at his own words. Just what was a regular merman? “A big one, like a hundred feet long, and pale white skin, and white locks of hair, and piercing blue eyes-”

“Kid.” Seymour cut him off. “I’ll tell it to ya straight. No, I ain’t ever heard nothing like that.”

Today, Beckett found himself on the cliffside, safely back from the edge as he watched the distant waves. His knees were tucked up to his chest, chin atop them as Beck sat lost in thought. Somewhere out there, Beckett’s giant captor- and later savior- was out there.

Why did the beast let him go? Even further than that, the siren had gone out of its way to give Beck a chance at life. There’s no way Beckett could have made it all the way to the shore on his own, disoriented as he had been.

Despite his better judgement, Beckett had to know the truth. With this foolish notion in mind, Beck set out a few months later, having rented a boat from one of the local fishermen. It took a lot of practice for Beckett to learn how to guide such a vessel, as every crest of a wave made the poor lad jump.

Seymour must think he was mad. Often the kind old man reminded Beckett that he didn’t have to conquer his fear of the waves directly, but Beck had just shook his head. Seymour couldn’t understand the debt Beck felt to the creature that had saved his life, and his curiosity kept him captive. Beckett wouldn’t be free until he had answers.

Of course, once he was out on the waters, Beck realized how foolish of a plan this truly was- he knew nothing about aquatic navigation. Every part of the ocean looked the same to him. Even worse, his memories of the last sea journey were extremely muddled. How on earth was he going to find the same location?

And even as Beck drifted in waters that may or may not be similar, the human realized he had no surefire way of gaining the siren’s attention. He settled for calling out often, hoping his carrying voice would be enough. Did the beast understand english? It was deceptively human-looking.

Beckett’s throat grew parched, and Beck sat down a moment to take careful sips of water from his dwindling bottle. The sky was growing darker, and a familiar fog had begun to roll in. An eerie chill began to creep up the back of Beckett’s neck. Suddenly, this plan wasn’t feeling so wise.

That’s when he heard it. The familiar song of his dreams was echoing across the water. Beck had forgotten the feeling, his limbs stiffening against his will like a marionette pulled taunt.

Blink. A gigantic fish tail, just the tip cresting the waves. Blink. Beckett found himself in the waves, gasping as he kicked frantically to keep his head above water. Blink. All too soon, Beck found himself clasped between those claws, water dripping from his locks as he stared at those terrifying chompers.

Oh god. This was a terrible idea. What should he do? What was there to do? All the blood left Beckett’s face, watching the siren lick its lips. It raised Beck higher, dangling the human by the back of his shirt above a now gaping maw. Beckett let out an unholy screech, realizing he had made a terrible mistake.

Beckett squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the words out of his lungs before he never got the chance again. “WHY DID YOU SPARE ME?!”

To Beck’s great relief, he didn’t find himself lowered onto the beast’s tongue. Instead, after the longest pause of Beckett’s life, he opened his eyes to see the siren’s mouth had gone slack.

“What?”

Beck’s eyebrows shot up into his scalp, shocked to hear the siren actually speak. Guess that meant it understood english, too. Beckett cautiously raised his gaze, meeting the siren’s eyes instead of its teeth. The creature looked confused, to say the least.

“You-” Beck cleared his throat, knowing he had to keep the siren’s attention lest he become a meal. “You spared me.” The siren’s brow furrowed further. Beckett frowned. “You… you saved my life? I mean, first you threatened it, but… 3 months ago? You- our ship, and the song, and… I woke up on the shore…”

Unfortunately, despite being the most momentous occasion of Beckett’s life, the giant sea serpent didn’t seem to have given the night a second thought. Beck couldn’t stop the sinking feel in his chest, knowing this whole journey was pointless after all.

The siren slowly shook his head. “That sounds unlike me.”

“It’s true!” Beckett insisted, especially because his life seemed to be on the line. “I was baffled too, but for some reason you spared me, and-and I don’t know why either! It’s been driving me insane. Why else would I sail all the way out here trying to find you?”

“You came looking for me?” This, at least, caused the siren to raise an interested eyebrow. “That would be a first.”

Beck nodded quickly. “Yes! I’ve been shouting for you all day. And before that I’ve been training for weeks, saving up for a downpayment to borrow Ben’s boat, which I’ll probably be losing now that I have no idea where that ended up…” Beckett grimaced, once again meeting the siren’s gaze. “Sorry, I’ve been told I have a tendency to sidetrack conversations in uncomfortable situations. Boat’s not important. Please don’t eat me.”

To both of their surprise, the siren let out an amused snort, the hot fishy air rustling Beck’s hair.

“I apologize for that.” The creature had the decency to look sheepish, even as its words curdled Beckett’s blood. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Wait, what?!” Beckett immediately began screeching, attempting to squirm out of the claws still holding him captive.

“Stop!” The siren hissed, his grip tightening painfully around Beck’s ribs. “You will fall with that behavior.”

Beck winced, continuing to struggle against the crushing appendages. “That was kind of the idea. I choose waves over teeth.”

“Waves over…?” The siren shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I will not eat you.”

Beck found that hard to believe. He squinted, judging the gigantic face before him even as the pressure stayed tight around his chest. “So, you were going to?”

“Yes.”

“But now you’re not.”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Because you’re quite interesting, little human.” The siren admitted. “Your question confuses me. Do you want to be eaten?”

Beck chose wisely to avoid that question. “My name’s Beckett.” He said instead. “Beck, for short. Not little human, or anything.”

The siren blinked. It must be strange putting a name to your not-food. “My name is Caspian.”

Caspian. For some reason, Beck hadn’t actually pictured the siren having a name. Or talking. Or generally possessing much humanity at all… the self-reflection made him feel a bit guilty.

“It’s nice to meet you, Caspian.” Beck greeted. He glanced around, realizing the sun had finished setting. “Can we circle back to the boat issue? I mean, I’m glad this hasn’t ended fatally, but it is getting late.”

“Hold on.” Caspian frowned. “You spent all that effort to reach me, only to leave? Little Beck, your story has holes.”

“No, no no no.” Beck quickly shut that down, hastily trying to avoid any possibility of a vengeful siren. “No that’s not it at all. It’s just, your time must be very valuable, and I don’t want to intrude. And also, contrary to popular belief, I'm not a great swimmer. Hence the boat.”

“Hmm.” Caspian seemed to consider this for several moments. The giant seemed to reach a conclusion, but Beck was uncertain what it was as he was raised up above Caspian’s head. “Climb on.”

“Climb on?” Beck repeated, confused.

“And hold on tight.” Caspian advised, opening his palm and tilting it so that Beck slid off with a yelp. “I was under the impression you need air to survive?”

“YES! Yes, that is- yes, I need that.” Beckett confirmed, quickly grabbing onto Caspian’s hair as best he could. Not the easiest task in the world with how everything, including himself, was soaked. Nevertheless, Beck was wise enough to prepare himself for whatever a massive sea serpent might have planned.

Without further warning, Caspian lowered himself into the water, only keeping the top of his head above the waves for Beck’s benefit. Beck hastily lowered himself onto his stomach, not wanting to slide off Caspian’s head as the mer began to swim through the ocean faster than a speedboat.

“Where are you going!” Beck shouted above the wind whipping at his face. He squinted, trying to see where the siren was headed but having no luck. Were they swimming to the boat? Had Beck really gotten so far away from it?

Unfortunately, the siren himself offered no answers. The night sky and fog did not help Beck’s visibility. In these conditions, he was practically blind.

After several minutes of this less-than-ideal water travel, Caspian came to an abrupt stop. Beck frowned, finding himself staring at a rocky cliffside shore. Was Caspian trying to return him to the lighthouse again? But none of this looked familiar…

Caspian raised his head above the waves, sending Beck scrambling to keep his hold. It didn’t matter, as those familiar claws came up and plucked the human from Caspian’s hair.

“Hold your breath.” Caspian advised. This was Beck’s only warning as he was cupped between Caspian’s hands, the mer diving beneath the surface.

Thankfully, Beckett was intelligent enough to take the warning to heart. He held his breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut to avoid getting saltwater in them. The pressure became quite intense as Caspian dove several dozen meters down with ease. It made Beck feel like his head would pop at any moment. Was Caspian trying to drown him? But why go through all the effort of telling Beck to hold his breath, if only to drag it out?

Just as Beck could take it no longer and felt on the verge of passing out, Caspian breached the surface. Immediately Beck began to suck in large gulps of air, snorting to get the water that got stuck unpleasantly up his nose.

Despite being above the surface, Beck couldn’t see anything. He tried not to panic, heart racing thanks to all the uncertainties of the situation. “Where- where are we?”

“Home.”

Caspian’s answer only brought on further questions. Home? What kind of home did a gigantic merman have, anyway? Slowly his human eyes began to adjust to the darkness, noticing that bioluminescent moss seemed to give the space just enough light to see the outlines of shapes. It appeared they were in some sort of underground cavern, the water lapping against a craggy water-worn shore.

“Ah, yes. Of Course. Home.” Beck tried not to think about the several deadly reasons a wild animal might welcome him into its living space. But thankfully, Caspian wasn’t just an animal. He could talk, he seemed half human- that had to amount to something, right?

Of course, Caspian had still planned to eat him. So. There’s that.

“You’re still not gonna eat me, right?” Beck asked, not about to leave something so important to chance.

“Right.” Caspian sighed, as if the question were a mild annoyance and not tied to Beckett’s entire livelihood. “But you have disturbed my hunting time. I’m hungry.”

“Not sure that’s entirely my fault…” Beckett murmured to himself.

Caspian lowered his cupped palms to the rocky shore, setting Beck down away from the water’s edge. “Stay here.”

“Wha-? Stay here?” Beck became alarmed, taking a few nervous steps to catch his footing on the slippery slope. “Where are you going?”

“Do not worry.” Caspian assured Beck, easing himself back into the water. “I’ll bring you back something to eat as well.” With that, Caspian dove back into the water, leaving Beck alone in this dark murky cave.

Beckett blinked, shocked to find himself alone in this enclosure. “I don’t think he knows what humans eat.” Beck grimaced, not eager to see just what Caspian would be bringing back for him. Would it be wriggling? Slimy? Would it be human? The thought made Beck want to throw up.

Beckett shivered, feeling chilly now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. He found himself in an unknown underwater cave off the coastline somewhere, still soaked to the bone in his wet rags. The icy temperature in here was freezing, and the water wasn’t any warmer. Was Beck going to die of frostbite here? How long was Caspian planning on keeping him prisoner?

Beckett walked up and down the shore, looking for any driftwood or materials to make a fire. He had no luck, of course, but even if he had Beck didn’t know the first thing about starting a fire. So with nothing to warm himself, what should Beck do? Beckett knew from all the books he’d read on environmental conditions that staying in his wet clothing was one of the worst strategies for survival, but standing around naked in the freezing cave didn’t sound any more appealing. Not to mention, Beck had no way of drying his clothes even if they left his person. He would just have to put the soaking wet rags back on eventually.

Making a foolish decision, Beck kept his clothes on in the hopes that his own body temperature would help dry them eventually. Coming from the man who went out to sea to search for his would-be murderer all day, perhaps Beck shouldn’t be treating himself as a good source for advice.

“What was I thinking?” Beck murmured, pacing back and forth to try and keep the blood flowing to his extremities. His fingertips were growing numb, and Beck shoved them in his armpits to try and keep them warm.

Should he try and escape? Beckett guessed there must be some underwater entrance to this cavern, but there was no way of knowing how deep he would have to dive to reach it, how long the tunnel itself was, nor how high he’d have to swim to reach the surface on the other side. Beckett wasn’t known to be a particularly decent swimmer. Even just the idea of getting in the water right now made Beck shudder, not eager to get soaking wet once more.

Beckett let out a yawn, the excitement of the day catching up to him. He was cold, and tired. Nothing sounded better than stripping off these clothes and lying down in a warm, dry bed back at Seymour’s.

Oh gosh, Seymour. What was the old man gonna think when Beck didn’t return home like he claimed? He knew Seymour had little faith in Beck’s sailing abilities, but Beckett had foolishly promised to be careful. Would Seymour mourn him? Worse yet, would Seymour try to send out a rescue? What if Caspian found him and wasn’t so merciful?

Beckett was dead on his feet by the time the water began to shift. Beck slapped himself out of his stupor, standing to attention in his semi-dry clothes as the giant merman emerged.

Caspian pulled himself partially up onto the shore, holding out one hand to Beck. As expected, none of this looked edible in its current form. There was a live octopus, still wriggling around, a half dozen oysters, a few slimy eels, and a few other squirming entities Beckett wasn’t certain how to classify.

“Oh, thanks.” Beck tried to keep the disgust off his facial features. Even with not eating all day, Beck didn’t have much of an appetite. But would Caspian be mad if Beck didn’t eat it? It’s not like Beckett asked for it in the first place...

“I was uncertain what you would like.” Caspian admitted, a soft frown gracing his features as he nudged the human with his fingertips, encouraging Beck to eat. “Will this be good for you? Do not be shy, I ate my fill already.”

Beck cleared his throat. “Well, uh, some of this is what humans can eat, but we don’t eat it… raw. Or alive, usually.”

“Hmm.” Caspian considered this for a moment, taking one of the eels between his claws. Caspian raised the creature to his lips. In one swift motion, Caspian used his fangs to tear off the eel’s head, sending a small spurt of blood spattering down.

Beck cried out, quickly covering his head with his arms to try and avoid getting caught in the rain. “COOKED! IT NEEDS TO BE COOKED!” Beck hastily corrected, turning a bit green as Caspian tried to once again offer him the bloody corpse. “It needs to be prepared right, too, I don’t think I’m supposed to eat a lot of stuff found in live fish, they usually gut ‘em and stuff, and I’ve never been one for sushi in the first place.”

Caspian licked his lips, clearing away the blood stains as he tilted his head like a pup. “What do you mean, ‘cooked’?”

Beck slowly uncovered his head, thankful Caspian seemed to have backed off for a moment. “Right, cooked.” Beck nodded to himself. “Guess you wouldn’t know what that is, living in the ocean and all. Um, do you know what fire is?” It was Caspian’s turn to nod. “Wait, you do? How?”

“Fire chokes out life.” Caspian explained. “It creates the smoke and the ash that destroys the shores.”

“Well… yeah, I guess it does do that, sometimes.” Beckett admitted. “But we use it in smaller, healthy doses. You use it to cook your food, usually heating it up and changing it to be healthy.”

Caspian seemed more confused the further this conversation went on.

“Unfortunately, there’s no fuel here anyways.” Beck gestured to their surroundings. “And I don’t know how to make a fire anyways, so-”

“No fire.” Caspian said sternly. He sounded more like a stern parent, banning experimentation with firecrackers in the house.

“No fire.” Beck confirmed. He glanced at the ceiling. “Probably wouldn’t have been the best idea anyways, all enclosed like this. But anyways, no. I can’t accept your fish. Thank you, it was very kind of you, I’ll be forever grateful, but if I eat that I will be sick.”

“...hmm.” Caspian looked- disappointed? Frustrated? It was hard to tell the mer’s emotions, but Caspian at the very least seemed to understand Beck’s meaning, as he pulled his handful of fish back to himself. With a thoughtful expression, giving Beck one last option to protest, Caspian tilted the whole mixture into his mouth, chewing it into a paste and swallowing with ease.

Gross. Beck kept this thought to himself, grateful he was not on the other side of Caspian’s abs himself as the pleased merman gave his stomach a few pats.

“Then what will you eat?” Caspain asked, laying down to be more at eye level with the little man.

“Well, uh, I suppose I can always eat after I get home.” Beckett chose his words carefully, still uncertain what Caspian’s intentions were. “My friend would usually make meals with me. Stew, most of the time.”

Caspian’s eyebrows furrowed. “I can make stew with you.”

“No, you can’t.” Beck corrected. Gently. “No fire, remember? Fire’s needed for stew, too. And we don’t have any of the other ingredients. Vegetables, seasonings, broth, cooked meat… stuff like that. And any we got in here would be soaked with sea water, and that’s not great for humans either.”

The giant siren seemed displeased with this answer, obviously intent on keeping the human alive. This, at least, was one positive note in a storm of negativity for the evening.

With a displeased hum, Caspian reached out his hand towards Beckett. Instinctively Beck flinched away, worried the siren had gotten bored and wanted to do away with him, but all that happened was a giant digit began carefully stroking the top of Beck’s head and down the length of his back.

“Uh...what are you doing?” Beck asked, still stiff as a board.

Caspian didn’t seem inclined to answer. Instead he tilted his head, curious blue eyes intently studying Beckett. “Can you sing?”

Beckett blinked. “Can I what?”

“Can you sing?” Caspian repeated, and after Beck gave a nod: “sing for me.”

“Oh, well, I can sing, but not very well, mind you.” Beck admitted, looking a bit sheepish. The stage had always been his sister’s forte. “Certainly not to your caliber. I don’t think you want to hear me sing at all, actually.”

“Yes I do.” Caspian insisted gently. “Sing.”

Beck let out a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for such a task. What song does one even use to serenade a siren? After careful consideration, Beckett selected an old nursery rhyme from his childhood, both for its brief length and easy melody.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star-” Beckett began, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat, trying to project a bit more even as Caspian leaned in to hear. “How I wonder what you are. Like a diamond in the sky, up above the world so high…”

Beckett had shut his eyes, trying to forget about any pressures to perform. A nice benefit to this impromptu concert is that Caspian had paused his petting to allow Beck to focus. “Twinkle twinkle, little star… how… er, ...up… ah…y’know what? I’ve forgotten the last line, actually.”

Beck grimaced, opening his eyes. Caspian was as difficult to read as ever, the siren’s face passive as Beckett awaited any sort of review.

“That was it?” Caspian clarified.

“Yeah, not a very long song.” Beckett agreed. “Meant for children, y’know? Just to… well I don’t know the point of it, actually, I guess it’s just something to sing.”

“Ah.” Caspian drummed his fingers along the rocks. “It was…”

Beckett waited not so patiently. “Well?” He spoke up. “I told you I’m a lousy singer.”

Considering the siren made no effort to disagree, Caspian held the same opinion, yet he wore a pained expression. Perhaps Caspian had held out hope for Beck after all? But then again, even if he were a renowned opera singer, how could a human voice ever possibly appeal to a siren?

“I thought everyone could sing.” Caspian admitted quietly.

For some reason, this bashful admission is what finally set Beck roaring with laughter. Beck clutched at his sides, doubled over with mirth as a concerned siren watched. Caspian let out a noise of concern, reaching out his hand to prod Beck in the side.

“No- I’m good!” Beck hastily assured him, pushing away the finger as if he had any chance of telling the siren what to do. “It’s just- ah, fuck. What a day, you know?” And with that, tears began to pour down Beckett’s cheeks, the poor exhausted boy helpless to stop them as he alternated between laughing and sobbing.

Now Caspian let out a whine, the trill noise echoing across the cavern walls as Caspian scooped the human up into his hands. Beck gasped, momentarily without air as he was forced against Caspian’s chest. “Shh, shhh.” Caspian hushed him, patting his back like he was a child.

Well, what did it matter? Beck felt like a child. He was tired, and hungry, and cold, and he just wanted to go home. Unable to work on any of those things, Beckett tried instead to take the comfort that was given to him, so overwhelmed by the day that this might as well happen.

Beck hiccupped, his tears still coming but too exhausted to keep wailing. Beckett leaned into Caspian’s chest, the smooth seal texture feeling surprisingly warm and dry for a creature that spent most of its life in the ocean. If he focused, Beck could hear a rhythmic thumping. It was Caspian’s heart, just on the other side of this ribcage.

“I wanna go home.” Beck murmured, more to himself than the siren who wouldn’t listen. “I just wanna go home.”

A rumbling sensation filled Beck’s ears, which he slowly recognized as Caspian’s singing. Beck closed his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to the call.

…

“...Beck?”

---

“-OI! Wake UP!”

Beck coughed, startled awake as he found himself once again doused in sea water. He blinked, disoriented to feel the surface beneath him was rocking like a boat. Before Beck could ponder that out, a bright light shined directly in his eyes, making him squint.

“Blimey, you look half dead.” Seymour whistled, taking stock of Beck’s appearance.

“I...what?” Beck frowned, looking around. They were on a boat. What happened? Last thing he remembered, Caspian had been coddling him like a wounded babe. “Where’s Caspian?”

“Who?” Seymour didn’t have a clue.

“Caspian! I- the giant siren!” Beck looked around, trying to spot anything in the darkness of night.

“Boy, I think you swallowed too much seawater.” Seymour shook his head, easing Beck back down. “Take it easy, you’re lucky to be alive.” Seymour pulled out an emergency orange blanket, wrapping it firmly around Beck’s shoulders. It was only then that Beck came to the startling conclusion he was naked, stripped of his wet clothes entirely. At least he could see them lying on the deck as well.

“The voice.” Beck insisted, staying down only because his head felt dizzy. “You must have heard him singing? He was singing. What’d I miss this time?”

Seymour had no answers, as far as giant sirens went. Instead, he explained his side of things. “When you didn’t come back yesterday, I came out to look for ya.” Seymour explained. “You must have a guardian angel after all. Caught you in my sights only by change with the spotlight, adrift in the waves. No idea how the hell you’ve got a speck of life in you, jumping in without a liferaft or lifejacket or nothin’. Holy hell son, ya got a death wish, there’s easier ways of going out.”

“I- what?” Beck frowned. “No, that… that’s not what happened.”

“Hypothermia can cause hallucinations.” Seymour swore under his breath. “Shit, you’re in a worse state than I thought. Never should have let you come out here alone in the first place, nevermind with Ben’s boat. He’s gonna kill ya, y’know, if you do manage to survive the night.”

“Didn’t mean to lose the boat.” Beckett rubbed at his eyes. “Got left behind on the way to the caverns.”

“To the caverns, he says.” Seymour rolled his eyes, handing Beck a warm thermos. “Drink. Sit. And don’t fall asleep.” With these last instructions, Seymour moved over to the captain’s chair, starting the motor and steering the boat back towards shore.

Beck stared at the waves passing by, sipping gently at the contents of the thermos. Tasted like hot lemon tea. Beck would have preferred hot chocolate, if shipwreck survivors were allowed to have preferences.

Was it a shipwreck? Did he jump in? No… no it was Caspian, wasn’t it? Dumb seal’s fault for it all. That, Beck was certain. Too bad he couldn’t charge the siren for Ben’s boat.

Before, Beck had barely escaped with his life, lost and confused about his potential giant savior. Now, he knew so much more than he had before. Caspian was real. Caspian’s name was Caspian. Caspian had intended to eat him, didn’t, and then let him go. Caspian had forgotten him.

Would Caspian forget him again? Why did that notion make Beck feel so uneasy?

It wasn’t like Beck owed Caspian anything, truly. The guy had saved his life twice now, but only after endangering it in the first place. But why did Caspian let him go this time? It seemed as if Caspian was intent on keeping him around like some sort of amusing lil’ pet. What had changed?

Beck’s mind was too tired to process through such things. He sipped more of the tea, growing drowsy.

“No sleeping!” Seymour yelled.

“Yes sir!” Beck jolted upright, regretting it when his head pounded. The sound of the waves had changed. Beck could hear them crashing against the shore, indicating they were almost to the dock.

Seymour expertly steered the ship into the harbor, a feat which took a good deal of skill in the middle of the night. Once securely fastened, Seymour offered Beck a hand, hauling the boy to his feet and keeping Beck steady all the way up to the lighthouse.

“Alright, in you get.” Seymour instructed, easing Beck into bed. He piled more blankets onto Beckett, disappearing briefly to grab a warm compress which he placed on Beckett’s forehead.

“I really did see him.” Beckett murmured, closing his eyes as the warmth lulled him into a deep slumber.

Seymour let out a low sigh. “I’m sure you did.” Seymour murmured, patting Beck’s arm.

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant mermaid #giant mers #giant siren #OCs #Caspian #Beckett #giant!siren!caspian #human!beckett

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tpwkjerii · 4 years ago

Text

as you wish | 2

your one true love was lost in a pirate attack five years ago, and now you’re engaged to a cruel prince. with all your misfortune, you didn’t expect three unconventional thugs and a painfully familiar pirate to save you from a dreadful future. (inspired by The Princess Bride)

pairing: pirate!seokjin x princess!reader

warnings: fluff and angst (!!), reader is forced into engagement and becoming a princess, mentions of death, kidnapping, murder threats, almost drowning, magical flesh-eating eels, heights, attempted murder, vminkook being vminkook lol, jimin is kinda mean (but he’s rlly a softy), combat/mentions of combat

genre: fairy tale/pirate au, semi established relationship au

word count: 3.8k+

a/n: i loved writing this :) pls leave comments as they’re greatly appreciated !!

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The gentle rocking of a boat lulled you back to consciousness. As you peeled your eyes open, you were met by the dark star-filled skies. You blinked to refocus your vision, and the clearing sight of a ship’s flag waving in the night winds reminded you of the situation you were in.

You shot up and looked down at your body, cursing silently when you realized that your hands were bound by ropes.

“ - no one could be after us?” a deep and smooth voice asked suddenly, causing your head to shoot up in panic.

The three men who kidnapped you were gathered together at the opposite end of the ship, examining the dark river behind them. You listened as they bickered, using this as your chance to devise an escape plan.

“As I told you hours ago, it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways, inconceivable -”

You angled your hand and tugged at the loose end of the knot. To your relief, the ropes loosened, and you carefully slid one hand out and freed your other hand. With the three men still arguing on the other side of the ship, you quickly thought of how you could escape.

There was no way you could beat these men in physical combat and it was impossible to call for help. And you were certain that you couldn’t wait until you reached whatever location they set out for since they would probably kill you once you arrived. As you looked out at the dark waters ahead of you, you realized that the only possible solution was to jump off the ship.

Now you weren’t the strongest swimmer by any means, but you were sure that drowning was a better alternative to whatever the three men had planned for you. With that thought in mind, you took a final glance towards the three bickering men, inhaled a deep breath, and jumped off the ship.

Your body was instantly met with the ice cold waters of the river, and behind you rang a loud, muffled scream and commands of “get her!”

Your legs kicked as you attempted to keep your head over the freezing water. You ignored the burning sensation in your throat and legs as you fought against the currents of the river. You swam towards what you hoped was the river banks and you cursed internally when you realized that the men were following you in their ship.

“Veer left!” you heard one of them instruct. His honey-like and deceivingly sweet voice indicated that he was the blond man who first spoke to you.

You continued to kick as hard as you could, but you halted to a sudden stop when a high-pitched shriek rang from a short distance away. Your blood ran cold as the shrieks grew louder and a black snake-like shadow, illuminated by the moonlight, became visible under the water.

From behind you, the blond man laughed. “Do you know what that is, your highness?” he asked, his growing volume indicating that their ship wasn’t far behind you. You breathed in shakily, your tired legs fighting to continue treading water, as he continued, “Those are the Shrieking Eels — if you doubt me, just wait. They grow louder when they’re about to have their next meal.”

Your breathing grew heavier as you saw the eels approaching you, their bodies splashing the waters around you. The eels’ shrieks were becoming louder and louder and the pure terror you felt as you watched them swim closer silenced any pleas or cries that could have left you.

“If you swim back now, I promise no harm will come to you. I doubt the eels will give you such an offer!” the blond man told you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move at all.

“I won’t warn you again! Either come back or die!” the man shouted at you, urgency evident in his voice.

Petrified, you make no noise or attempt to move. You couldn’t do anything, not with the loud shrieks of the eels ringing in your ears and their snake-like figures getting closer and closer to you. Your eyes widen when one sticks its head out of the water, it’s menacing eyes and mouth growing wider as it slithers towards you. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace for its great jaws to clamp down and send you to the afterlife, but the bite never comes.

Instead, two familiar and strong arms pull you out of the water and drop you onto the wooden deck of the boat. You shivered in your soaked dress that was clinging to every curve of your body as the cold night air blew against you. The freezing winds only made your shaking worse as your heart pounded in your chest. The eels’ shrieks weren’t nearly as loud anymore - they were now growing fainter as they retreated - but even the slightest noise reminded you of their terrifying jaws.

You were panting heavily as you observed the men before you once again. The dark-haired man who saved you from the eels and the red-haired man were back at the opposite end of the ship, steering the boat away from the eels and pointing to something in the distance, while the blond one was scolding you as he tied your shaking hands together with the rope.

“You think you’re brave, don’t you?” he snapped sarcastically.

Your gaze met his and you stared deeply into his brown eyes. “Only compared to some,” you barely managed to breathe out.

You could tell your words enraged him as he opened his mouth to shoot back a reply, but he was interrupted by the red-haired man’s shout.

“Look! He’s cut our lead in half,” he cried, pointing in the direction behind the ship. You used what little energy you had left to crane your head to see what he was pointing at. Indeed, there was someone trailing their ship.

In another boat much smaller than the one you were in, a man in black was standing upright. His hair and the top of his face, excluding his eyes, were covered by black fabric. Even in the distance, you could make out his broad shoulders, and his build painfully reminded you of your first love. But the very clothing of the man in black caused you to push such thoughts away. His attire signified that he was a pirate — the exact type of person who killed Seokjin in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter, Taehyung!” said the blond man, bringing your attention back to him and the red-haired man, who you now know is named Taehyung. “See!” the blond man exclaimed, pointing towards the high cliffs that your ship was headed for. “The Cliffs of Reality!”

The rocky landscape was illuminated by the glowing yellows and oranges of dawn, and you gulp at the idea of having to climb it.

“He’s getting closer to us, Jimin!” the dark-haired man shouted towards the blond - Jimin.

“Ah, Jungkook, we’re safe! Only we know where the harbor with the shortcut up is,” explained Jimin. His words were enough to comfort his two friends, and together they steered the ship onward and pulled into an obscure dock.

In one swift move, Jungkook brought you into his arms and held you upright. He pulled you up and off the boat, Jimin and Taehyung following closely behind you.

You gasped as you felt yourself being lifted up once again, and Jungkook laughed softly, his chest rumbling with the vibrations of his voice. “Sorry, your Highness,” he said while fixing his hold on you. You were chest to chest with him, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and your head next to his, but facing the opposite direction of him. “It’ll be quicker this way,” Jungkook continued.

Jimin guided you all past a few large rocks, revealing an obscure and steep stone walkway leading to the top of the cliffs.

“Whenever you're ready,” Taehyung said to Jungkook from behind him. Since the red-haired man was behind you, you were able to see the smile on his handsome face. His kind face made it hard to believe that he helped to kidnap you.

Jungkook responded, “Everyone steady?” a small laugh vibrating against your chest.

Taehyung’s boxy smile grew and he replied, “If you please.”

“I’ll climb with ease,” Jungkook continued the rhyme as he started up the high stairs.

“Ohh, good one Kookie,” Taehyung said with a laugh. Once again, his smiling face and warm voice could fool you into thinking he wasn’t actually one of your kidnappers.

“You and your rhymes,” Jimin muttered from the front, but you could tell by his tone that his statement wasn’t completely spiteful.

“Kookie likes them,” Taehyung defended innocently, and the brief yet heartwarming interaction almost put a smile on your face. Almost — you were still being kidnapped.

They continued up the stairs quietly for a few minutes, and Jungkook’s arms were still wrapped securely around your waist. You had no idea how he could be strong enough to carry you this entire time, but you did know that he was right in thinking that having you walk on your own would take them too long. The steps were extremely steep and difficult to maneuver — it would take only one misstep to fall to a rocky, watery death.

Soon enough, you reached a ledge that overlooked the waters. You tightened your grip around Jungkook as you realized how high up you already were. The boat was now barely visible and you could barely hear the waters crashing against the rocks.

“Jungkook, why don’t you go first,” suggested Jimin, and you felt Jungkook nod and remove his hands from around you.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you asked, panic clear in your shaky voice as you clutched onto him tightly.

“Hold on tight, Princess. We’ve got a rope to climb,” he answered with a teasing tone.

You gasped in fear. How the hell was he going to carry both of you up a rope?

Jungkook sensed your fear and laughed again, but his lighthearted mood brought you no comfort. “Don’t you worry, your Highness. I won’t let you fall. It’s not that far up anyways,” he said in an attempt to reassure you. But it still didn’t do much for your nerves. You only squeezed your eyes shut and clutched onto him.

You squeaked as you felt yourself being lifted higher and Jungkook’s arm muscles flexing under yours.

“He’s gaining on us!” Taehyung suddenly announced, causing you to peek one eye open. The same man in black who was trailing the ship was quickly making his way up the steep stone stairs, further fueling the curiosity in your head. Was this man trying to save you? Was he sent by Prince Donghae? Did he want to kidnap you for selfish reasons too?

Enough thoughts clouded your mind to give you a headache. You had no idea your life would ever end up like this, clinging to a random (and insanely strong) man while he climbed up a rope to take you god knows where.

“Faster, Jungkook!” Jimin cried from beneath you.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Jungkook grunted, a twinge of sympathy filling you as you heard his heavy pants. As strong as he was, he was definitely struggling to haul both you and him up the cliff. But any sympathy for him was shot dead as soon as you remembered that he was the one who kidnapped you in the first place.

The three men were quiet, all in intense focus to reach the top of the cliff before the mysterious man caught up to them, until Jungkook finally reached the top of the cliff. He breathed a sigh of relief as his leather-gloved hand gripped onto the hard, flat stone.

“Alright, Princess,” he started, his voice now gruff and slowed from exhaustion, “can you lift yourself up there?”

Forcing your eyes open, you craned your neck and looked at the top.

“Y-yes,” you responded, your heart beating loudly in your chest. You wanted to get onto a solid surface and off this rope as fast as you could, even if that meant perfectly playing into your kidnappers’ plans.

Using his other arm, Jungkook hoisted you up, allowing you to successfully lift yourself onto the flat cliff top. You rolled onto the ground ungracefully, breathing out deeply in relief. Behind you, Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung all hoisted themselves up.

They were all breathing deeply from exhaustion but managed to stand upright. You watched from the ground as Jimin pulled out a knife from his pocket and leaned down to the rope, placing it against the bound material and beginning to cut through it.

You felt a sudden rush of energy as you realized that if he cut the rope, the man in black following you would surely die. You hurried towards Jimin, kneeling to his eye level and saying frantically, “Stop! You’ll kill him!”

“It’s his fault for following us,” he muttered.

You cursed in panic and looked over the ledge. The mysterious man just started to climb the rope, which was about to be cut off by Jimin’s sharp blade. And with a loud snap, the rope broke. You watched in shock as it fell off the ledge, the frayed end a dreadful confirmation.

You froze in place. Did you just become an accomplice to murder? Tears pricked in your eyes at the thought of the painfully familiar man falling to his death, but they didn’t fall as Taehyung exclaimed, “He didn’t fall! He’s climbing!”

Your head whipped from Taehyung towards the ledge. You peered down, the sight before you verifying Taehyung’s words and allowing you to breathe in relief. The mysterious man was gripping onto the rocks tightly and slowly climbing up them.

“He had to have seen us with the Princess,” Jimin stated as he paced behind you. “It’s the only reason why he’d be following us this intently. He has to die.”

You turned around to shoot a retort towards Jimin, but you were cut off by his quick instructions: “Jungkook, carry her. We’ll head for the Joyeon frontier. Tae, catch up once you’ve taken care of the other guy.”

Your heart raced as you saw Taehyung nod and unsheathe his sword. “I’ll do my best,” he said with a smile.

Jungkook swiftly picked you up again as he added, “Be careful, Taehyung.” He walked away from the ledge with you securely in his arms and Jimin ahead of you. A part of you wanted to try and stay behind, the possibility of seeing the man behind the mask tempting you greatly, but the rational part of you knew that there was no way you could overpower Jungkook and Jimin.

You turned your head towards Jungkook, who was holding you in bridal style. He appeared younger than you, probably by only a few years, and you wonder how he got involved in such business in the first place.

Jimin and Taehyung also appeared to be slightly younger than you, and from the brief interactions you saw between them and Jungkook, you figured that they may have grown up together. Despite the fact that they were your kidnappers, you couldn’t help but feel curious about them.

“Jungkook,” you started, the name unfamiliar on your lips. He looked at you with a raised brow, confusion evident on his face as this was the first time you ever addressed him.

“How are you, Jimin, and Taehyung acquainted?” you asked.

Shock briefly passed in his face before he answered, “We grew up together. We’re practically brothers.”

You nodded in response. “What’s your business?”

“We do favors for some people, try our best to make a living for ourselves -“

“Ah, Jungkook, why are you telling her so much?” Jimin questioned, turning back to face you two with a straight face. “It’s not like she’s going to be our friend or anything.”

Your face dropped at his blunt words. Right. No matter how kind hearted they seemed, these three men were still your kidnappers who would probably still end up killing you.

“Ah, Jimin, there’s no need to be so mean,” whined Jungkook, giving you a pitiful glance. “Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen to you.”

A wave of relief flooded through you, Jungkook’s kind eyes and innocent smile soothing your nerves.

“Jungkook!” exclaimed Jimin, whose face was beginning to turn red. “Don’t say too much!”

“What’s the point, Jimin? Don’t you feel bad? She’s so nice!” Jungkook defended with a whine.

“We’ll discuss it later, we’re still being chased by that man in black — we have no time to lose!” Jimin stressed, his blush spreading as he quickened his pace.

Jungkook laughed and increased his face, your smile growing with his. At least you knew they weren’t going to kill you.

“Inconceivable!” exclaimed Jimin. “That man’s catching up to us!”

Jungkook’s head whipped around to look at the direction Jimin was facing. The younger man’s face dropped. “You don’t think he… killed Taehyung?”

Jimin’s face hardened, and you felt your heart tug at the distraught expression on their faces.

“Give me Y/N,” Jimin started, and Jungkook followed obediently. “Take care of that man and catch up to us,” the blond directed as he secured his grip on you. You wanted to mention that you could walk on your own, but one look at Jimin’s stern expression signified that it was best to stay silent for now.

While Jungkook rested at a nearby tree, Jimin led you away. This was the first time you were alone with the lond, and you wondered if he was secretly as softhearted as Jungkook or as playful as Taehyung.

“I don’t think your friend is dead,” you stated quietly, hoping it would reassure him. You knew very well how it felt to lose someone you loved and you wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone else.

Jimin’s face remained neutral as he responded, “You wouldn’t know how people like us and him are, Princess.”

“But I do,” you replied softly, looking away from him as you honestly continued, “I know very well how people can be. Before I was Princess, I was just the daughter of simple farmers. My mother died in the city attack, my father died of illness, and my love died from a pirate attack. I was alone, and the Prince knew that. I still do not know why he wanted me to be his Princess, but I have no one and nothing else.”

Jimin’s breath faltered and several emotions passed through him at once. This entire trip, you defied his expectations of you. You were bold, honest, kind hearted, and nothing like the rumors that spread amongst the townspeople. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say to you.

You shrugged in his arms, still facing away from him. “You have nothing to apologize about. I only hope you do not have to feel more pain in your life.”

Jimin remained quiet until he reached an empty clearing.

“We can wait here until Jungkook catches up,” he said as he set you down against a large tree. You nodded softly, your eyes drooping in exhaustion.

“Ok,” was all you whispered out before you fell unconscious once again.

Jimin examined your features with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he murmured to your sleeping figure.

Several minutes passed before a tall figure became visible in the distance. Jimin straightened, but his hopeful face fell when his eyes landed on the man in black and not Jungkook.

Quickly, the blond wrapped a black strip of fabric around your eyes and grabbed your wrists. You awoke with a startle, your vision completely covered as you asked, “What’s happening?”

“Nothing of your concern, your Highness,” muttered Jimin. His grip on you tightened as the mysterious man walked closer and closer until he was only a few feet from you.

“Did you hurt them?” Jimin questioned him, his voice darker and more threatening than you’d ever heard before.

“Not more than what was necessary to get to you,” the man replied, and the undeterminable familiarity of his voice caused you to draw in a shallow breath. The smooth gentleness of his words reminded you of Seokjin, whose death still pains you even two years later.

“So you killed them,” Jimin muttered, his breaths growing heavier.

“I did not,” the other man stated simply. Silence followed until he added, “Give me the Princess, and I will allow you to catch up with your friends with no more interference.”

Your thoughts wondered at his demand. Who was this man? Why did he want you? Was he sent by Prince Donghae? How was he so similar to Seokjin? Where did he c -

“No. Our business with the Princess is our business,” Jimin said flatly, his grip on you tightening. He pulled you slightly behind him as he continued, “I’m sure you understand what it’s like for your life to depend on something.”

“I do,” the man responded, “which is why I must take the Princess with me.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Jimin asserted darkly, his harsh grip causing you to whimper.

At that, the man moved towards you and Jimin in one swift move. Jimin pushed you to the ground away from them, and you braced yourself on the thankfully soft grass. You tripped on the edge of your dress as you scooted away fearfully and tugged off the fabric covering your eyes.

The masked man and Jimin were fighting, but none of them appeared to have the true intent to kill. The former had the upper hand, being larger in stature and greater in strength. He easily locked Jimin in a hold and pushed his body down.

“This will only take a moment,” the man said as he pushed a pressure point on Jimin’s neck. In a matter of seconds, the blond’s body fell limp and his eyes closed.

The man sighed heavily and stood up, keeping his eyes on Jimin’s unconscious for a few seconds before directing them towards you. You were shaking in fear and confusion as you examined the man in front of you.

Everything, from his voice to the curve of his lips, reminded you of Seokjin. What kind of sick trick was the universe playing on you?

“Come on, Princess,” he said as he approached you, his voice causing your face to waver again.

Still sitting on the ground, you gazed up at him as you asked,

“Who… who are you?” Your voice was softer than ever and your eyes were glassy from memories of Seokjin.

“I’m no one of importance to you, at least not anymore,” he answered stiffly, bending down to stand you up.

Not anymore?

“It can’t be,” you whispered as you stared into his deep brown eyes. “Are you who I think you are?” you asked tearfully.

“That depends,” he started, his breaths shallow and his voice airy, “who do you think I - ”

The distant cry of horses interrupted him, and both of you directed your attention to the hills behind you. You gasped in shock as you recognized the kingdom’s flags flying from the royal horses. And even at a great distance, you recognized the man commanding the group — Prince Donghae.

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usergreenpixel · 3 years ago

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Frev prompts, Part 7! 😁

61. (A reimagining of The Phantom of the Opera) An opera singer tries to make it big in Paris of 1800 after the death of her musician father.

Her childhood friend, a son of a formerly noble family who were the patrons of the musician, promised her father to look after his daughter, which this young man does when he is not involved with politics.

One day, while dropping by to congratulate the heroine on getting a breakthrough role, the young man sees a strange disfigured man in a mask singing with her in the dressing room before vanishing.

According to the singer, this is the Angel of Music sent by her father from above, but the man is skeptical. He heard the staff whisper about the strange phantom who has been haunting the opera ever since the Thermidorian Reaction and suspects that this is one of the revolutionaries instead, not a real tortured ghost.

Who knows, maybe the young man is onto something here.

62. After a revolutionary is executed along with his wife, their child becomes an orphan and is sent to live with maternal relatives as there are no other close family members to raise them.

Unfortunately, said relatives are estranged and didn’t have the best relationship with the parents of their nibling (apparently gender neutral for niece or nephew) so the wife isn’t looking forward to raising the baby.

The husband, who is also the protagonist, isn’t too happy about the situation either and old grudges and resentment resurface in him once again. Nevertheless, he knows the baby is innocent and wants to do the right thing.

Can he get over old grudges and raise the child with the love they deserve? Will his marriage have to be sacrificed because of it?

63. When the main character was a child, a fortune teller from a traveling troupe told them that they would find their true love on the road and will live happily ever after.

Years later, after being betrayed by their betrothed, they flee to Paris and meet an attractive stranger among the other travelers in the carriage. Convinced that the stranger is their destiny, the main character decides to find them in Paris, only to find out that the stranger is heavily involved with the revolution.

Is it really true love? Will the main character find their love interest in the city? And if so, will the prediction come true?

64. 1789. The main character, a foreigner who has been captured by pirates, gets caught up in a storm and washes up on a rocky beach in France.

Exhausted, dehydrated, hungry and injured, they only survive due to being found by locals. After recovering, the main character realizes that they are now stranded in a foreign country, far away from home and with no way to get back.

Nor do they want to get back, surprisingly enough. Instead, for some reason, the main character travels to Paris where a revolution has just begun. They don’t like to talk much about themselves but it’s crystal clear that the revolution is a subject of interest to them.

Why? What past is the main character trying to escape? And why does the revolution interest them so much?

65. In the 18th century the rather rigid system was still dividing the French into three estates - the clergy, the nobility and the commoners. That is how it has been so far. Morganatic marriages were quite rare as parents of nobles would usually arrange unions with “their own kind”.

However, every rule has an exception. The main characters are a married couple in which the husband is a noble from an old and powerful family while the wife is a former commoner. The two married due to love and to an onlooker this marriage is so happy that it could have been straight from a fairy tale.

But, as always, things aren’t nearly as easy as they seem and trouble appears in paradise with the revolution rapidly engulfing the country. Still remembering her roots, the wife begins to express her support of the revolution while the husband believes that there’s a better way to resolve the issues of France.

Will the spouses be able to see past these new differences or will the revolution tear this married couple apart? What choices will their children make in this situation? And how will this revolution affect the family?

66. The protagonist is a college student who has recently become independent and decided that they need to live apart from their family.

After searching for a suitable affordable apartment, the protagonist finally finds a place they need but they soon find out that they will have a roommate - a reserved slightly older man who speaks with a noticeable French accent. This roommate is quite friendly, reserved, pays his share of the rent and does his chores so the protagonist doesn’t mind living with him.

However, while cleaning the apartment up in the roommate’s absence, the protagonist is shocked to find old-fashioned clothes from around two centuries ago, all adorned with tricolor cockades. Moreover, the protagonist eventually finds out that the songs their roommate hums sometimes are all from the era of the French Revolution.

At first the protagonist tries to brush it off. Maybe the roommate is simply preparing for some role or just obsessed with the event. But when the protagonist finds out about the fate of the apartment’s previous tenant, they become suspicious of this mysterious roommate.

Apparently, the previous tenant, a famous scientist who had supposedly invented a time machine, vanished without a trace, only to come up murdered under mysterious circumstances later.

What exactly happened to the scientist? Is the rumor about the time machine true? What is the roommate hiding?

67. After the Thermidorian Reaction, one of the revolutionaries who were supposed to be executed managed to escape to Ireland with an Irish adventuress who also participated in the French Revolution.

To avoid persecution, the two invent new identities for themselves and are now masquerading as a married couple despite only being friends in reality. Still, this sham “marriage” is a happy one as the couple has built their relationship on mutual respect, equality and communication.

Four years pass like this but soon a new revolution is drawing near, this time in Ireland. Many people want independence and among those people is the adventuress herself. Being an experienced revolutionary, a fighter for justice and a good husband, her partner also joins the independence movement, hoping to succeed at least somewhere.

Unfortunately, the Directory is also backing up this revolution and sends troops to Ireland, troops who might recognize the couple.

Will the couple be able to keep their true identities a secret? Will this revolution succeed? And will these new adventures turn a sham love into the real thing?

68. The protagonist has recently inherited a house from their grandparents but they’re a college student and not exactly rolling in dough so they eagerly rent out the property to the crew of a French Revolution-themed TV series who coincidentally are looking for an old-fashioned house that could fit the setting.

Things get even more interesting when the protagonist finds themselves developing a crush on the lead performer in the series and decides to invite them for a walk around the neighborhood, seeing as the performer doesn’t know the area.

But during this walk the duo finds themselves transported to the epoch of the French Revolution and the protagonist is arrested for walking around in strange clothes and speaking another language as lawmen mistake them for a spy.

To rescue the protagonist, the performer teams up with the revolutionaries and joins their cause.

Will they manage to save the protagonist? Will the two be able to survive the revolution? And last but not least, will the protagonist’s crush lead to something or will the protagonist be disillusioned by the performer as they get to know each other better?

69. A policeman is investigating crimes during the French Revolution. So far, he has been doing his work diligently so when yet another case comes up, the Committee of Public Safety counts on the best lawman in the city yet again.

But when a revolutionary who the Committee wants out of the way shows up on the list of suspects, the lawman questions his morals and those of his superiors for the first time in years.

On the one hand, pinning the crime on that revolutionary will rid the country of a supposedly dangerous corrupt enemy. But on the other hand, the true culprit would get away scot free and the policeman would never forgive himself for allowing that to happen.

Something tells him that the arrested revolutionary is innocent and has been framed, so who knows. Maybe the Committee is wrong about him. Maybe, just once, the policeman should believe the suspect instead of blindly believing his superiors.

70. They say that if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. Unfortunately, the protagonist seems to have forgotten about this bitter truth.

When the protagonist saves a young man from getting robbed by bandits, they don’t expect to meet that man again but fate crosses their paths once again when the protagonist moves to Paris in 1794, only to get scammed by their landlord and accused of stealing.

Fortunately, that same man, now a member of the Committee of Public Safety, defends the protagonist, proves their innocence and later invites them to crash at his place as a sign of gratitude. All is good now...too good to be true.

Things seem to be looking up for the protagonist but with this newfound friendship comes a certain risk because now the enemies of this revolutionary man are out to get the protagonist by the virtue of association. In addition, the protagonist also finds themselves in trouble when they accidentally become a witness to a plot of the Thermidorians.

Will the protagonist manage to evade danger and warn their friend about the plot?

#french revolution #frev #history #frev writing prompts #writing prompts #creative writing #writing

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gerbiloftriumph · 4 years ago

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The Silence Between Snowflakes

(also on ao3) ~ 4/8 - A Rose Among Thorns

(extra thanks to @captmickey for helping me work through three or so variations of the breakfast scene)

~*~*~

Snow fell, fires burned weakly with a fraction of their usual fuel, and people huddled together for warmth. Alexander’s face was constantly drawn with nervousness—since he couldn’t leave the castle easily due to all the snow, he’d taken to hiding himself in odd corners again like he had in his first few weeks here, apprehensive about...something. Graham worried for his son. Maybe he feared he was somehow to blame for this bizarre storm? It felt like something Manannan would do, if he was even around to do magic anymore after whatever Alexander had done to him.

But it was just weather. Wizard or not, who had magic like this?

A memory stirred. Hagatha?

“It’s winter,” Graham said to his own thoughts. “Just winter. It happens.”

“Yes, dear,” Valanice said automatically. She tilted her head back and drained her mug, holding a book over her face with her other hand so she could continue reading at the same time. They were hunting for stories and descriptions of similar weather incidents, and so far they’d come up with…nothing much. There were a handful of droughts, and at least one surprise butterfly migration, but nothing like an eternal, endless winter storm.

The family was picking at breakfast, sitting close around the table. Yet another storm had blown up this morning and was whistling past the windows, making eerie noises as it spun through the crenellations. Alexander was downcast, turning his toast to crumbs more than eating it. Rosella was trying to convince him, without success, to challenge her to another Battle of Wits board game. Graham’s spoon knocked hollowly against his nearly empty mug. The sugar was long dissolved into his tea, which was cold by now anyway. He continued to stir absently, thinking. Planning. With no ideas.

If only there was something to plea to, or something to challenge, but this was snow. He had sent messages to the neighboring kingdoms for assistance in food and fuel, but no one had replied yet (if they’d even gotten his messages in the first place). Daventry felt cut off, standing alone. He watched the snowflakes skim almost horizontally across the window.

A flurry of knocks made Graham sit up. “Yes?”

Royal Guards Numbers One and Three entered. Heavy snow tracked behind No3 in wet clumps, a damp line in the carpet showing where she’d walked, and she seemed out of breath and shivering. No1 stood close beside her, at attention but with a certain energy that suggested he was going to reach out and catch her if she wobbled.

“Permission to report, Sire?” he asked, his gaze never leaving his subordinate.

“Granted,” Graham said, surprised. He glanced at his family—they were all staring at the guards, startled by their sudden appearance.

“We apologize for interrupting breakfast, Sire. But we appear to have a new neighbor,” No1 said briskly.

“New…neighbor?” Graham put down his spoon and shifted his chair to give them his full attention.

“Number Three, you may proceed.”

“Permission to speak informally?” she gasped. She had definitely had been running through the snow, which was practically impossible with how thick the drifts were getting out there. It was a wonder she hadn’t twisted an ankle.

“Granted,” No1 and Graham said, almost in unison.

“Okay. I was on standard patrol. In the lavender fields, to the west.” Snow dripped off her shoulders. “I was climbing the hill, you know, the one that overlooks the river? As I climbed the hill, I started getting a prickle in my fingers, through my gloves, like the temperature was dropping fast. And…” she stopped, looking at No1.

“Proceed,” he prompted, but the usual dry edge in his voice softened.

“Sir. At the top of the hill, you can see into the valley. Only. Only, there isn’t a valley anymore.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, sir, who’s ever heard of a floating castle? It’s something out of a story.”

“It isn’t floating now,” No1 said. “It’s definitely landed.”

“Almost on my head,” No3 squeaked, and there was a note of hysteria in her words. No1’s hand rose ever so slightly behind her back to keep her steady.

“Wait. Are you telling me a castle just…appeared? In my field?” Graham went to the window like he could see it through the snow-crusted glass, even though that window only overlooked the kitchen herb gardens now slick with ice.

“Not entirely impossible, Graham,” Valanice murmured. “Remember?” True, though rare: Valanice had been trapped in one such moving castle twenty-some years ago, although that one had most definitely stopped moving.

Graham nodded. “But they might be here by accident. I believe that sort of transport magic is fickle and hard to control.” And twenty years ago, that had been simply a single spindly tower. It was relatively easier to enchant on a small scale, as far as he knew. But this sounded….

“It’s a full castle, perfectly enormous,” No3 continued, confirming Graham’s thoughts. “It made such a noise, like a great crashing monster, and I thought…. I had to start running back to the castle, but the storm this morning, I didn’t expect it to blow up like that, and I was. Caught out in it. I slipped on the hill trying to get back up, and I rolled, and with the snow like it was, blasting up from the ground, I…I got so turned around, I got lost, Sire, in Daventry fields, I got lost!

“And it was so loud, the castle, all groaning and creaking, and you could hear it echoing around the valley as it settled, and I…I was so sure something was going to grab me in that storm and take me away and I couldn’t even see my own glove in front of my face, and it was so cold. It just bit right into my bones even through all my layers and. I ran and I ran, and I could hear that castle the whole time, this awful sound, like you couldn’t hear if something was coming up behind you, and you couldn’t see in that storm anyway, and I don’t know how, but I found the tree line, and…”

“And she found me,” No1 said, subtly shifting so that he was between her and the royal family. “She found the trail back to the castle, found me, and I’ve dispatched scouts. Reports are clear, Sire. You have new neighbors, crushing your lavender.”

The room was still and silent for a moment, other than No3’s nervous hiccups for air.

“You didn’t hurt yourself falling, did you?” Graham asked.

“No, no, I’m. Fine. Just.”

“Shaken,” No1 interrupted.

“Didn’t want to wait before telling you, though,” she added.

“Here, let me get you some tea,” Valanice said, standing.

“No, no, I’m meant to serve you,” No3 said nervously.

“And you have done so wonderfully. Come on, sit here.”

“It could definitely be an accident,” Graham repeated, mulling it over while Valanice hunted through the mugs on the side table. “They might not have come here intentionally, especially if the storm blew them in.”

“Maybe they need directions,” Rosella chirped. “And ‘welcome to Daventry’ cookies.”

“Welcoming hot chocolate would be more appreciated,” No1 said blandly. “Reports indicate that the castle is made of ice.”

“…Ice?”

“Frozen water, yes.”

No3 was still trembling, tea threatening to spill over onto her gauntlets. She was surely thinking about getting lost in the snow, slipping and falling and hurting herself on one of Daventry’s rocky outcroppings. No1 was watching her carefully, and he radiated a bristly protective determination.

“Did you sense anyone?” Graham asked her, gently. “The castle was loud as it was landing, but…did you feel like there was anyone watching you?” For some reason he couldn’t shake the idea of ice people, which was perfectly ludicrous. But then, so was a floating castle.

“I couldn’t say, Sire,” she said. “I was too, uh. Distracted.”

“What about the scouts?”

No1 shook his head. “No one has heard so much as a word from it, but the storm is still quite bad. We can’t get close enough yet to confirm. I…” He cut himself off and resolutely refused to say whatever was still on his mind.

“Who’s out there?”

“Two and Four are on the road—I insisted on pairs, Sir, to prevent one getting lost alone. Kyle and Larry are on strict orders to report back the moment anything changes.”

(Larry’s arm had been badly broken during the attack that had taken Alexander eighteen years ago, and it had never quite healed right. But he hadn’t been much good at patrols anyway, so he and Kyle mostly ran messages together these days. Their footing was the most secure on any terrain. They’d had plenty of practice over the years, and a blizzard wouldn’t faze them.)

“I wonder. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale,” Graham said. The goblins thought fairy tales were true. He blinked, wondering where that idea had come from. “I want to see it for myself.”

No1 stiffened. “Sire,” was all he said, but so dry and sharp he could have cut someone.

“This doesn’t feel like a coincidence, a castle made of ice and this weather,” Graham said. “If I can see who’s in there, who owns the place, maybe that will help Daventry.” There was a buzzing excitement in his skin. The possibility of some action spurred him onward. Maybe they weren’t at the mercy of the skies. Maybe this castle held some answer for the storms that plagued his country—maybe finding a way to move it on would change Daventry’s predicament.

At the table, quiet and uncertain, Alexander said, “Could I come with you?”

Everyone turned, and Alexander shrank down in his chair. No1 instantly started voicing a thousand concerns, but Graham cut him off with a nod, delighted his son was taking initiative. “Absolutely.”

“Sire, please, allow me to speak freely,” No1 said.

“You may.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Has anyone threatened us? Does it feel harmful?” Graham asked, circumventing the concern.

“It feels cold, Sire.”

“That’s generally what ice does,” Rosella said, leaning heavily on the sarcasm to match No1, but she had a sparkle of mischief in her eyes that belayed her enjoyment.

No1 very carefully didn’t look at her. “It may be true that no one has said or done anything yet, but there is a blizzard on right now. It is highly likely whoever owns the castle is lying low until the storm passes. Simply because we have not seen any signs of actual threat yet does not mean your safety is guaranteed.”

“I think this might be a small risk,” Graham said dismissively. “If they meant us harm, they could have taken us unawares in the night. A floating castle landing on top of us would have been a threat. This probably is a mistake. They could need us.”

“I must have at least until this afternoon to confirm,” No1 said, and there was a taste of weary resignment in his words. “I will not risk more danger to your family if I can at all avoid it. You cannot travel in this blizzard in any case.”

Graham thought about it, then agreed. “Continue to watch. If anyone does respond, I want to know immediately. In the meantime, I think I’ll check the library for anything about moving castles.”

The walk to the lavender fields, several hours later, was peaceful enough. The blizzard had died back, although more clouds seemed to be gathering over the distant field, over the intruding castle’s turrets. Graham idly wondered if something inside had to rest and rejuvenate before storming again, and he laughed at the idea. They had no proof the castle had brought the snow, and it felt like a leap to imagine so. This was just an illusion brought on by his own expectation.

Nothing much had changed between the morning and now. Actually, nothing at all had changed. The castle was there, unmoving, and nothing had responded to any calls or flag waving or anything. No one really wanted to go up and knock, but the castle hadn’t opened up for anything else yet.

Number One marched a little way ahead of Graham and Alexander, watching the roads for any hint of danger, his hand on his sword hilt. Beside him was No3, guiding them along her original route to the castle so they would see it as she had. Her back was stiff, and she had fallen into the natural royal guards’ swinging gait. If she had any apprehension about returning to the place that had frightened her, she certainly didn’t show it, moving with all the trained confidence she could muster. Her fear would not be her defining memory. Graham couldn’t help but smile, proud of his team and the effort they gave.

Behind them, No2 walked a little more slowly, snuffling miserably with the start of a cold. He, too, had his hand close to his sword, just in case. Kyle and Larry were a little distance further behind, to act as part of a signal beacon, with Number Four watching them from Daventry Castle’s battlements. And that was as large a delegation as Graham wanted, at least initially. There were more guards available and ready to assist should things turn sour, but he didn’t want to tip things over into a fight unnecessarily. Too many numbers could look like a threat. They would stay outside, perhaps in the courtyard, and talk, he hoped, and determine what his new and preferably temporary neighbors wanted.

In the back of his head, Graham knew this was a foolish idea, but he was starving for action. Desperate to protect his people. This was the first thing he felt he could do. No threats had been sent from the castle. The Daventry guards had been left alone. If anything, Graham thought the floating castle residents might be hurt, struggling, unable to reply even if they wanted to.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself so that he wouldn’t think too hard about what a bad idea this might be.

It was quiet. Graham didn’t sense that anything was necessarily wrong. Winter was a quieter season. However, the air carried a strange, deadened silence to it that you tended to get only when it was actively snowing. Like the world was muffled and waiting. But it wasn’t currently snowing.

As they drew closer, the lonely silence grew. The snowpack started to give way to icy patches that made Graham’s boots, normally so grippy, skid and slide. He and Alexander had to catch themselves several times, and even the royal guards, boots currently equipped with crampons for patrols, were unsteady. The chill in the air nipped at them all the more as they drew closer. Graham’s ears ached, and he yanked his cap down further, smoothing his hair over the tips of his ears. He could feel the cold bite through his gloves.

The ice palace gleamed ahead of them, catching every scrap of light and reflecting it back. It was a thousand shimmering colors, almost impossible to comprehend. Its outer walls sparkled with white, cool grays, light blues, foamy greens, but further in, toward the heart of the castle, it took on crystalline blues, deep navy, black. The tallest tower, jutting at crazy angles out of the center of the castle, was purest white, and it was nearly translucent in places. It seemed possible to trace the hint of stairs leading up to its top.

But despite the clearness of the walls in certain places, there were no signs of humans, no colorful clothes of royalty or servants. Just endless grays and blues. Graham couldn’t be sure if some of the blue shapes were moving in the walls or if it was a trick of the light reflecting as he walked and changed his angle ever so slightly.

Finally, they approached the hollow itself where the castle sat. No1, shivering so badly that his knees knocked together, his armor clanging, bowed and gestured for Graham to lead.

It felt to Graham like he and his tiny entourage was the only life for miles. Not dangerous. Just achingly lonely.

The gates of the castle towered high above them. Icy, frostbitten, solid, and silent. Graham looked them up and down, marveling at how they had been carved. They had been given the clear marks of wood grain, of knots, of metal. It looked like a perfectly ordinary castle gate recast in ice and snow. As his gaze dropped to the base of the gates, he sighed. The castle had, indeed, simply plonked down in his fields—it was crushing the roses someone had so carefully planted in rows here. The poor bushes were twisted and curled and pressed beneath the foundation. The impact had knocked all the snow off them, and they were gnarled and broken and black looking.

Gently, Graham knocked on the gates, rapping with his gloved knuckle. The clattering echo that erupted from his knock sounded like gongs and bells striking each other, bouncing and resounding and reflecting on each other again and again. It seemed to shake the whole place. No one within would be able to ignore it, but as they waited, no one responded, either.

Graham knocked again, a little more forcefully, with the same result: a tremendous lot of noise, and no human or monster acknowledgement from within.

After a little wait, he went to knock a third time, and then he realized something odd. “You know,” he said to himself, “It doesn’t feel cold here.” He peeled off his glove and pressed his hand against the gate. It felt perfectly ordinary, like wood instead of ice, despite what his eyes insisted. It was warm, almost like it had been resting in the sun of a spring day. As he stood still, considering, he thought it felt a bit warmer, but his hand felt colder. Almost like it was leeching his warmth away, leaving a chill spreading up his arm.

Curious, he ran his bare hand down the wood, sensing the strange stealing warmth, wondering if this was magic or something more mundane—but then one of the crushed roses curled against the gate caught the side of his palm. It was much sharper and more piercing than an ordinary thorn bite should have been, and he hastily drew back his hand with a muffled yelp of surprise, half expecting to see blood pouring from a gaping wound but not seeing anything amiss. The flower itself, petals and all, was somehow still on the vine, shriveled and dead but nevertheless frozen into place on its stem.

“Are you okay, si—Dad?” Alexander asked, his voice shivering with cold or fear, Graham wasn’t sure which.

“It’s the roses,” Graham said, and rubbed his hand. “Just got nicked, wasn’t expecting it.” He leaned back and tried to see over the top of the gate. If anyone was coming to respond to his knock, it had to be soon. “I do think the guards were right. This place is empty, don’t you think? I’ve never seen a castle so still.” Still of life, anyway. The walls caught every reflection, every movement from outside, and shone it back like a broken mirror.

“It could be a really small staff,” Alexander offered, though he seemed distracted, concentrating on something Graham couldn’t detect.

“For a castle? Maybe,” Graham said doubtfully. “It takes a lot to keep one running, though. It’s not like a manor house. Still. Maybe they’ll reach out to us, since our attempts to talk to them don’t seem to be going anywhere. Hopefully we’ll learn something new by tomorrow.”

Above them, the storm clouds were starting to turn a bruised sort of gray, and No1 gestured for them to return home quickly. “Come along, Your Majesties. I shouldn’t think you want to be caught in that blizzard.”

“Shall we?” Graham said, and waved his son ahead of him. Before turning to go, Graham looked at the gate once more, and wondered what was just beyond it. What did the courtyard look like? If the gate felt like wood but was made of ice, were the carpets and tapestries the same? Torches casting off ice chips while still casting off heat in little half-melted alcoves? What about the people?

He sighed, shook his head, and followed his son up the path, rubbing his (gloved again) hand absently as he walked. His royal guards snapped back into their places, leading and following with swords at the ready, as apprehensive as ever. The wind sprang up behind them, hastening their steps like they were being chased away.

The hollow in front of the gate was quiet. No one came to the door to see who had been knocking. The rose bushes trembled in the wind. The rose that had caught Graham turned icy and cold. Frost bloomed along the shriveled petals, forcing the dead and withered rose into a second bloom, sharpening and hardening the petals, until the whole stem was solid and clear and blue and cold. It was almost part of the castle, almost frozen into silence in the gate, but the wind twirled through the hollow. The rose slammed against the door and broke into a thousand glittering shards. The sound of the impact was like another knock, ringing clear in the deepening gloom as early winter night stole over Daventry.

But this time, something deep within the castle shifted.

~*~*~*~

Valanice woke before Graham, but she didn’t want to get up. The air outside the blankets nipped her nose. The temperature had dropped again, and it didn’t feel like anyone had stoked the fireplace. Perhaps it was too early. She pressed herself against Graham—he was as cozy as a bear, a proper furnace of his own. Nice in the winter, not so nice in the summer, but right now she wanted him to hug her close and keep her warm. Sleepily, he obliged, moving his arms to hold her as she wanted.

She smiled contentedly and snuggled deeper with a sigh, but then his hand grazed her shoulder, and she flinched away, annoyed. “Graham, your hands are like ice,” she complained.

“Mmm?” He pulled her closer. “But you’re so warm.”

“No, seriously, Graham, you’re freezing. Stop that.” Valanice batted him away, sitting up in bed, properly awake now, blankets pulled up to contain the warmth.

He sat up with her, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He stopped. Blinked. She looked at him. She looked down. He looked down.

His hand was encased to the wrist in ice. Not encased. Replaced, transformed, by ice. Deep and clear and white, like a carving. It glittered and sparkled, catching what little light there was in the room. He twisted it, bent the fingers stiffly—they could hear the ice crackle, like ice cubes dropped into lemonade on a hot day.

They looked at each other.

They screamed.

~*~*~*~

Nothing helped.

Graham nursed blazing cups of tea that no one else could touch. He wrapped his hand in a hot blanket. He drank gut-warming whiskey and poured the rest of the glass over his hand. He plunged it into a hot bath. He held it distressingly close to the fireplace flames. During this last attempt, he tried to joke that it was like roasting marshmallows for s’mores—he was already a Graham Cracker, after all. It was a terrible joke that no one laughed at. Nothing changed. The ice remained resolutely icy.

In fact, by the end of the morning, the ice had spread. Not much, not enough that anyone other than Graham would notice. It was fractionally beyond his wrist, moving up his arm. Infinitesimally slow, but creeping along nevertheless. He pressed against it with his other hand like he could stop it, and that achieved about as much as his melting attempts. Nothing.

And, gradually, a chill started to spread, too. It didn’t matter that he was sitting clothes-singingly close to the fireplace, that he was practically chugging hot tea. There was a shiver in his fingertips, and a bone deep cold ache was spreading up his arm. By noon he could feel it in his shoulder, although the ice was barely beyond his wrist. His fingers seemed to be locking up, too, getting harder to bend.

“It’s that castle,” Valanice said. Her voice shook. Graham glanced up at her. “We have to get in there and demand they reverse...whatever this is.”

“They do have quite the defense system,” Graham agreed. He tugged the blanket higher over his shoulder with his good hand, careful not to drag it through the smoldering embers on the edge of the fire.

“Sire, you cannot go there again,” No1 said sharply. He snapped into full attention, as though formality would carry him forward. “I will not permit it. I have some sway over matters of your safety, and I shall invoke those abilities now. You shouldn’t have gone in the first place. I accept blame for that decision fully, and you may retire me at any point after these events are concluded. I shall send a delegation in your place, as I ought to have insisted upon doing the first time.”

“And have Matt or Kyle or Roberta freeze like me?” Graham said, an edge to his voice, ignoring their titles in his frustration. “I think not. This already got me. I’ve got to see it through rather than risk it happening to anyone else.”

“Sire.” No1 only stood up straighter. Someone could have used him as a level to hang paintings precisely. “If they caused this injury to you yesterday, they’ll only be delighted to have you stroll back up to them so they can finish the job.”

“No one was even around to do something malicious in the first place, you know that!” Graham insisted. “I pricked myself on that rose. It was inattentiveness, not intentionality. I tripped a trap that wasn’t meant for me. It was my rose bush, for stars’ sake, part of Daventry! It’s probably a curse on the castle that infected my country, and the people inside could be as desperate for help as me!”

“You can’t know that for certain, though. This might have been a trial foray, to see if they could catch you easily. Daventry has its enemies. Perhaps more so now than ever.” No1 glanced sideways at Alexander, who was sitting ramrod straight in a chair near the door, looking for all the world like a sculpture himself. “This is a delicate time, Graham,” he said, his voice and his protocol dropping so the king alone would hear him. “Don’t risk anything unnecessarily.”

Graham held his gaze for a moment, and then looked down at the hearth, at the snapping flames. “You might be right,” he said softly.

“I’m sure I am. I’ll pull together a team now. Volunteers only: they’ll be told the risks. But, Sire, I think I’ll have more volunteers than I’ll know what to do with. They love you. They want to help you. Please, let them.”

No1 bowed smartly and left with a click of his sharpened heels. After he was gone, the rest of the royal family filtered out as well, Alexander running to find an alcove to hide in, Rosella following him, Valanice going to order more tea. Graham sat alone by the fireplace, feeling the silent emptiness of the room bearing down on his shoulders. He felt hollow, and the room felt bitter. Like he was sitting in an icy cavern even now.

The same questions.

What did that courtyard look like? The carpets, the tapestries—could they bend like fabric while still being as cold as ice? Were the torches hot despite their icy veneer? What about the people?

He wanted to go back. He wanted to see inside. He wanted to know. He yearned to know. Was everything made of it, and did it still work? Were there others with ice instead of flesh? He needed to know.

He swapped the blanket for his cloak.

#we gettin' plot now bb #i never never never ever liked graham yanking his family on a vacation with his new found traumatized son--so let's bring the castle to them #kings quest #King's Quest #King Graham #this post is protected by the royal guards #fic'ing #ch4 #alexander (king's quest)

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years ago

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The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 11/11

I can't believe we are at the end of this fic! I am immensely proud of it, and I am so thankful for those who were willing to go on the journey with me to re-imagine Someone to Watch Over Me. I feel like the original was just a germ of an idea, and this event gave me the courage to build an entire world around it. A world similar to canon, yet unique. World building has never been my strength, and this re-write stretched me and helped me grow. In that way, I am so thankful to the ladies in the csrt discord chat, especially @optomisticgirl who stepped in as one of my last minute betas. B, you are the queen of world-building, and you have no idea how many times you helped me in chats to work out my own world in this story! Character development was also a big challenge in this fic, and for that I thank @shippingtheswann, my other beta. Emma and Killian's relationship wouldn't be as rich if not for you! And thank you to @distant-rose for helping me with the Lost Boys, the pirate crew, and the Neverland mythos. (If you ever need any info on pirates and ships, she's your girl!) I was nervous to take the story into some dark places, but you cheered me on and helped me trust my instincts. And of course, tons of thanks to the mods of this event at @captainswanbigbang. I was contemplating abandoning this fic until I saw you were organizing this, so massive kudos for putting this on!

One final thing, and I'll shut up and get to the actual chapter. My original vision for this fic was to take it where people had been begging me to - with Emma reuniting with her parents and the fall out from that - yet with my own version of the Enchanted Forest and the curse. However, as I worked on the story, I realized I had bitten off way too much. Therefore, I decided to split up the story. Sooo, this isn't the end! There will be a part two, which I am already working on. I will not be posting it until it is complete. It is shorter than this story, however, so hopefully the wait won't be too long!

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape (all in previous chapters - this last chapter is mostly fluff)

Words: 6k and some change in this chapter

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma and Killian: Age 24

When Emma was a little girl, she had found a book of fairy tale stories at the school library. Inside was a picture of a little cottage by the sea made of a hodgepodge of stones and a thatched roof, and rolling all around it were hills of soft grass. She can no longer remember what story the illustration accompanied, but she does remember how often she would stare at that picture, thinking how cozy the family must have been who lived in that house. She checked the book out every chance she got, and when she was moved yet again to a new foster family and a new school, she had committed a grievous sin: she had ripped the picture out of the library book.

Well, it had felt like a grievous sin to her seven year old self. Especially when the sweet librarian, Miss Stacy, had reminded them gently on numerous occasions of the proper way to treat the books. Ripping pages was definitely not the proper way.

Somewhere along the line, she had lost that ripped page. Yet here, below her now, nestled in the dip of the hills and facing the sea along the shores of Avalon, is that dream house of her childhood.

“Killian,” is all she can manage to say.

“Do you like it?” he asks, dipping his chin and scratching behind his ear. How can he be nervous giving her such a gift? Henry yells in delight and races down the hill towards the cottage.

Finally, she finds her voice again. “Like it? I dreamed of a house like this. When I was a kid.”

“Truly?” he asks incredulously, eyes bright with hope.

“Yes!” she exults, throwing her arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. She shakes her head as she pulls back, cupping his face with her hands. “But we can’t live here. Won’t you miss the sea?”

“A pirate ship is no place to raise our son, and besides . . . “ he pulls her closer to the quaint home. Once they crest the hill, the land levels out, and the view is breathtaking. “ . . . there’s the sea right at our back door,” he finishes with a wide grin.

“Mama,” Henry cries as he comes flying out the front door, “can I pick out my room? There are three. Cause I want the one upstairs. Can I have the one upstairs?”

Emma laughs at her son’s barrage of questions. Killian reaches down and scoops up the wriggling child.

“Sorry, my boy, but you’re mum gets first choice.” He successfully cuts off the lad’s whines by tickling him. Then he sets Henry down upon his feet and ruffles his hair. “In the meantime, why don’t you pick some flowers for your mother? The field over there is carpeted with them.”

Killian points west away from the sea, and Henry eagerly scampers off. Emma calls after him to be careful.

“Don’t go too far! Make sure you can still see the house!”

“He’ll be fine, Swan,” Killian assures her, pulling her inside the house. “He never fell overboard on the Jolly despite your worrying, now did he?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Haha, that really puts my mind at ease.”

Killian winks at her, then gives her a tour of the first floor, which is bigger than she would have expected. There’s a small foyer, then a formal sitting room to the right and a formal dining room to the left. At the end of the hall is a kitchen that opens up into a family room with a stone fireplace identical to the one in the parlor. Next to the stove in the kitchen is a door that opens out onto a patio with an even better view of the rocky sea below. Between the hallway and the kitchen is another door that leads into the master bedroom. The bed is tucked right beneath the window, and Emma can imagine falling asleep to the soothing sounds of the crashing waves.

“There’s no indoor plumbing like in your realm,” Killian explains as Emma circles the room, her hand skimming over the furnishings, “but there is a stream practically in our backyard, and the kitchen is large enough to put a tub in one corner.”

Emma pauses in her explorations and arches a brow at him. “You think I’m going to complain about a lack of plumbing after six months on the Jolly Roger?”

Killian manages another nervous laugh. “So you like it?”

She steps close to him, resting both of her palms on his chest. “I’m more worried if you’ll like it. You won’t miss the adventures at sea?”

“As I’ve said many times, piracy is ten percent adventure, ninety percent sheer boredom.” He lifts one of her hands and kisses it. “I’m ready for a life with you and Henry. I’m ready for the family I haven’t had since my mother passed.”

Tears well in Emma’s eyes. It’s still hard to believe sometimes that anyone would choose her, put her first. Yet this man isn’t just anyone, is he?

“Besides,” Killian says, thumbing her chin, “the Jolly still belongs to us.”

“But are you really satisfied turning her into a merchant ship? Is your crew?”

He draws her close, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Mason has always wanted to go to the naval academy, and with a year or two on a respectable merchant ship, he can. Hawkins wants to go to university, and Curly is looking at a plot of land to purchase and farm. Starkey has a sweetheart in Camelot, though he’s tried to hide it. As captain of my vessel, he can now ask for her hand. They’ve all grown up, Swan, and they have dreams and plans of their own.”

“And they’re loyal to their first captain,” Emma amends with a smile.

“I don’t know why.”

“I do,” she tells him, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “Are you sure you won’t get bored doing ledgers, placing orders, or whatever else merchants do?”

Killian shakes his head and bops her nose. “Quit doubting me, love! Besides,” he leans closer and stage whispers in her ear, “don’t tell anyone this, but I rather enjoy keeping the ledgers.”

Emma finds the nerd beneath his swashbuckling swagger incredibly sexy for some reason. “Well then,” she teases, stepping away from him to saunter over to the large bed. She grasps one of the bedposts and drapes herself around it in what she hopes is a sexy maneuver. “In that case, Mister Jones, maybe we should christen this bed.”

Killian growls and pounces, yanking her close and claiming her lips hungrily. Emma’s just dropped to the bed with a giggle when Henry comes pounding inside.

“Watcha doin?”

Emma almost falls to the floor in her haste to push Killian off her and jump to her feet. “Um, Papa’s just . . . tickling me.”

Killian chokes as he tries to hold back a laugh, but Henry is oblivious. Their son sticks out his hand, and clenched in his fist are a bunch of small yellow flowers.

“Oh, well, I did what Papa said and got you some flowers, Mama!”

“Buttercups!” Emma can’t help the tears that spill down her cheeks. “Thank you Henry!”

She picks up her son as Killian steps closer. He embraces both of them, brushing kisses to the tops of their heads.

“Welcome home, my loves,” he tells them.

******************************

After removing his boots by the door, Killian tiptoes through the cottage, the light of the full moon helping him avoid the furniture, Henry’s toys, and Emma’s shoes which she always leaves wherever she happens to kick them off. When he gets to the kitchen, he’s able to light a lamp so he can find the supper that Emma promised to leave on the stove. The Jolly was late coming into port, and going through the inventory took much longer than he had anticipated. Luckily, Emma is used by now to that most unpredictable of mistresses: the sea.

“Killian?”

The sound of his name is weak, yet he can still make it out on the other side of their bedroom door. He crosses to the bedroom, opening the door as quietly as possible. Emma’s curled up on the bed, her hair lit gold by the moon, and she’s so still he thinks maybe he didn’t hear her after all. He wants to reach out and touch her, yet he doesn’t want to wake her.

“Killian? Killian?”

She stirs slightly, but it’s clear she is still half asleep as she mumbles his name.

“Aye love, it’s me.”

“Killian?”

“Yes?” He touches her lightly through the blankets.

She says his name a few more times, like a question, and he can’t help smiling at how disoriented she is. He’s learned over the past year that she does in fact talk in her sleep. She finally seems satisfied that he’s here, and that he’s Killian. Her body relaxes and she mumbles good on a sigh. He pats her gently again and turns to go, but before he can, she reaches out and manages to find his hook in the dark.

“But you’re not leaving?” she asks, still in that sleepy voice.

The question makes his heart swell. “No love, I’m not leaving.”

“Henry’s not leaving?”

He lifts his hook and brushes his lips across her hand, which clings to the metal tightly. “No, Swan.”

She lets out a little shudder and releases his hook. He bends, brushes a kiss to her brow, then turns back to the kitchen.

“Killian, have we done this before?”

The question has him frozen with his hand on the doorknob. He isn’t sure what she means by the question.

“I only just got home, Emma,” he tells her gently.

“Oh,” she murmurs, sleep finally beginning to claim her fully and slurring her words. “I guess I dreamed it, then.”

Killian tiptoes out and slowly closes the door behind him. He chuckles to himself as he sits down at the table with the food Emma had left on the stove. Yet as he takes a bite of the roast on his plate, he sobers. He hates the fears that sometimes plague Emma. He wonders how long it will take for the love in their little home to ease them.

******************************

Killian awakes the next morning to the banging of pots and pans, sometimes punctuated by curses in their small kitchen. He may have had second thoughts about the location of the master bedroom if he had been aware of the fact that Emma was completely incapable of moving about quietly.

“Can I have more strawberries, Mama?” Henry calls out, far louder than necessary, and Killian groans as he shoves the pillow over his head.

“Shhh,” Emma admonishes, in the exact same volume as their son, “you’ll wake up Papa.”

“Why’s he not up? He said he’d bring home more paper for me.”

“You know the ship doesn’t always arrive on time. Now eat.”

Killian flings aside the pillow with a sigh, knowing that getting any more shut eye is impossible. Yet as he buckles his brace and slips into his shirt, he only feels joy well inside his chest. He did get Henry more paper for his scribbles, and he can’t wait to hear what tall tales the lad will weave next. He can’t, at only six, truly write yet, but he feels with fatherly pride that it’s merely a prelude of what is to come.

Once he’s dressed, he grabs the parcels wrapped in brown paper and string that he’d hidden in the nightstand before he went to bed. He tucks them under his hooked arm, then bursts through the bedroom door. “Making an entrance,” as Emma would say.

“Papa!” Henry cries out, tossing aside his fork and jumping up from the kitchen table.

“Killian!” Emma admonishes, turning from the stove with a spatula in her hand. “I was trying to let you sleep.”

“A pointless endeavor, love,” he quips with a wink. Emma rolls her eyes and turns back to the stove. Henry leaps onto his back, trying to grab the parcels.

“Whaddya get me, Papa?”

“Well, get off me, you little monkey, and I’ll show you.” Henry slides to the floor, and Killian hands him the largest parcel. “Paper, as requested.”

“Yay! But what’s the other one?”

Killian hands him the small, compact, rectangular package and grins as Henry rips into it. The paper falls away to reveal a leather bound book with beautiful gilt-edged pages and hand painted illustrations in deep hues.

“That, my boy, is a book of tales from Agrabah where the air smells like spices and the sultanese keeps a tiger for a pet!”

“Wow! Will you read it to me right now?”

Killian glances over his shoulder at his wife. “Not until after you eat your breakfast.”

He ruffles Henry’s hair, and the boy obeys. Killian turns to the stove where Emma is purposefully keeping her back to him, though he can’t fathom why. He saunters up behind her and leans over her shoulder, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair.

“Mmm, something smells delicious.”

“It’s just pancakes,” she retorts, but she is unable to hide her smile.

“I wasn’t talking about breakfast,” he growls lower against her skin. He feels her shiver beneath him, but when he tries to grab her around the waist, she dodges him. She grabs the plate of pancakes and carries them to the table.

“Eat them before they get cold,” she says with forced cheerfulness, and he frowns. She sits next to Henry, sliding a pancake onto the boy’s plate, and Killian sits as well.

“I got you something too,” he tells her, sliding a small parcel across the table with his hook.

Emma still refuses to meet his gaze, fiddling with the string around the square package that could fit in the palm of her hand. “You know I never need anything but you.”

“Yet a man likes to spoil his bride. Go ahead, open it.”

She glances up at him from beneath her lashes, then tears into the paper with a tentative smile. It falls away to reveal a small velvet box, and Emma gasps before she’s even lifted the lid. When she does finally open it with trembling fingers, she breathes out his name. Killian slides off his chair and falls to his knees next to her. He pulls the gold ring with its simple jade stone reverently from the velvet and slides it onto the ring finger of her left hand.

“I promised you I would get you a ring the day we wed, remember?”

Emma nods, staring at the gem and turning it in the light.

“I know diamonds are the usual choice, but this immediately made me think of your eyes. Then the gold like your hair . . . “ he trails off worriedly. “Emma?”

She looks up at him finally - and promptly bursts into tears. Killian glances at Henry worriedly.

“Take your breakfast outside on the patio, okay?”

Henry nods and scurries off without argument, his brown eyes wide as he glances at his mother. Killian rubs his wife’s back and whispers soothing words, most of them nonsense. He hands Emma his handkerchief, and she wipes it across her eyes, then blows her nose loudly. She cocks her head at him, and the words out of her mouth are the last ones he expected.

“Did we have a conversation when you came home last night?”

“Um . . . yes, love. You said my name about a hundred times then asked if I was staying.”

Emma nods, twisting his handkerchief in her hands. “I thought so. Did I ask if we’d done this before?”

Killian laughs and rubs her back again. “Yes, you did. I wasn’t sure if you meant last night, our entire marriage, or since we were ten.”

Emma nods, but says nothing. He’s entirely confused. It isn’t like Emma to cry out of nowhere. Or refuse to look at him. Or dodge his touch. He’s beginning to become concerned, truth be told.

“If you don’t like the ring -”

“Of course I like it! It’s perfect!”

“What then?”

“Oh God,” Emma pants, hugging her middle and looking up at the ceiling. “Last night, I dreamed about this conversation. In my dream - my nightmare - you got angry and left.”

Killian’s brow furrows. “I can assure you, Swan, nothing you can tell me would ever make me leave.”

She levels him with a steady gaze. “You used to. Through the wardrobe.” He starts to open his mouth, but she lifts her hand to stop him. “I know it wasn’t intentional, and I’m not blaming you, I just . . . I just . . .”

He grasps her hand firmly in his. “Breathe, love, it’s okay. You just get scared sometimes. It’s okay. So do I.”

“You do?” her voice sounds so small and fragile that it breaks his heart.

“Aye, of course. It has nothing to do with love or trust. The wounds of childhood tend to linger.”

“But I do trust you!” she exclaims.

He draws nearer and cups her cheek. “I know that. That’s my point entirely. The fears are irrational, for both of us. Now, what is it you have to tell -”

He stills when Emma takes his hand and places it on her abdomen. It’s different somehow, and he freezes. He had noticed the last time they made love, but couldn’t quite put his finger on the change. Now he gazes into Emma’s blushing face - how had he not noticed the sudden roundness in her cheeks? The pieces begin to fall into place - her fatigue lately, that illness that seemed to linger far too long . . .

“Emma, are you . . . “

She nods, her eyes welling up with tears again. Her tears - of course! He swallows thickly.

“Emma you’re . . . “

She grins wider, cocking her head saucily. “I’m rather proud that I’ve rendered you speechless. I think the word you’re looking for is pregnant.”

A grin fills his face, a goofy, joyous grin. “Well, I was going to say with child, actually.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course you were, my old fashioned sailor who -”

He cuts her off with a passionate kiss, and when it ends, he scoops her up and spins her around with joy.

“Careful there, buddy. The morning sickness is mostly gone, but I make no promises that I won’t puke on you.”

“Wait,” he says, shaking his head, “how long have you known about this?”

“Well,” she hedges, “this realm doesn’t exactly have a stick you can pee on.”

“Sorry?”

She laughs, “Never mind. Let’s just say it took me awhile to figure it out, and then it took me a bit longer to get up the nerve to tell you. I’d say I’m at least twelve weeks along, probably more.”

Killian cups her face with his hand and locks his eyes intently on hers. “Do you honestly believe I would leave you over this?”

She bites her lower lip and shakes her head.

“Can’t you see now how happy this makes me?”

“Well,” she says with a shrug, “you spinning me around the kitchen sort of convinced me, I guess.”

He throws his head back and laughs before kissing her soundly again. But he doesn't do any more spinning.

No sense testing fate.

***************************

“I’m sorry, Captain Jones, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The midwife has the audacity to grab Kilian by the arm and try to forcibly remove him from his own bedroom. On the bed, Emma is crying out as her next contraction hits.

“I’m not leaving,” Killian says firmly.

“It isn’t proper for a man to be present,” the midwife argues, though her words are almost drowned out by Emma’s cries.

“Bullshit,” Emma interrupts the argument, her breaths coming raggedly as her

birthing pains abate for the moment.

“Mrs. Jones, it just isn’t done,” the midwife snaps back, aghast.

“Well it is in the realm I come from,” Emma tells her, “not to mention the whole

impropriety thing is ridiculous. He’s obviously intimately familiar with my vagina.”

The midwife’s eyes grow impossibly large, and Killian can’t stop the chuckle that escapes him.

“Mrs Jones! It isn’t ladylike to -”

“Yeah, well ladylike has never described me anyway.”

The midwife presses her lips together in a disapproving way as she draws closer to the bed. She lowers her voice, but the woman is seventy-three and hard of hearing, so Killian can hear every word.

“I’m aware that your husband isn’t the biological father of your son, so I’m going to assume this is a bit new to you. If your husband sees you in this state, well . . . it may . . . turn him away from you, if you catch my meaning.”

Emma’s face turns a deeper shade of red that has nothing to do with her labor, and her eyes blaze in a way Killian knows well. He grins wider, knowing that his wife is about to render this woman speechless.

“My husband wasn’t complaining about my pussy when he was between my thighs last night, so I think I’m safe.”

Yep, speechless. Killian can’t help winking at the midwife as he saunters past her. The woman looks like she might faint. Killian kneels beside the bed and brushes a kiss to Emma’s forehead. Her face crumples as she clutches desperately at his hand.

“She was trying to make you leave!”

“Nothing could tear me away, love.”

“Oh God!” Emma yells, drawing her knees up as another contraction rolls through her. Emma releases Killian’s hand and grabs onto his hook instead as she groans in pain. This one is stronger than the last, and just as Killian is about to lose his mind because he can’t help her, she collapses against the mattress.

“I didn’t want to break your one good hand,” she tells him with a wane smile.

“I appreciate that,” he quips back with a lopsided grin.

The midwife has pushed the sheets back and is examining Emma. “Well, Mrs. Jones, your contractions are longer and closer together, but the baby isn’t crowning yet. We’ve got a while still.”

Emma whimpers and shakes her head. “It didn’t take this long when Henry came.”

Killian puts his arm around her and whispers that he loves her. She drops her head wearily to his chest, and he kisses her sweaty brow. Another hour goes by the same way, and it feels like time has stopped altogether. Killian feels her labor is unceasing, so he can’t imagine what it must be like for her. Though she’s clearly exhausted, he’s amazed at her strength.

“I see the head!” the midwife finally says excitedly, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “Can you push for me when the next contraction hits, Emma?”

The look on his wife’s face is full of determination as she draws her knees up. He sees her tense when the pain comes again, but she bears down with a scream. She has to do the same thing again, and again, and yet again before the midwife laughs out that the baby’s head is out. The midwife shocks him when she pushes back the sheets further and asks if he wants to see. Killian does, and he blinks back tears when he sees their baby.

“It’s almost over, Emma,” he encourages her.

Emma pushes a few more times, and finally, cries fill the air. Emma laughs even as she collapses in exhaustion. Killian kisses her and murmurs over and over how bloody brilliant she is.

“It’s a girl!” the midwife announces as she rubs the baby down with salt to fend off infection.

“A girl,” Kilian breathes and kisses his wife again.

The midwife then washes the baby off with the water Killian had boiled for her hours ago. The little thing is red, screaming, and oh so tiny, but the midwife is all business as she cleans her up and wraps her in a blanket. The woman only softens when she gently places the baby girl in Emma’s arms.

“Oh Killian, she’s so beautiful,” Emma whispers as she brushes her fingers over the baby’s cheeks.

Killian lays down sideways on the bed next to his wife and gazes in wonder down at the tiny baby. She has a tuft of dark hair on her head, and her skin is damp and feather soft beneath his fingers. She’s ceased her crying, her eyes wide as she gazes up at Emma, as if she recognizes her mother instantly.

“She has your eyes,” Emma whispers with a smile.

“And your chin and nose,” Killian adds.

“And your ears,” Emma says, her thumb tracing over them.

“Poor thing.”

“Hey,” Emma admonishes, tearing her gaze away from the baby, “I love your ears.”

They just gaze down at her for several moments, Killian grinning broadly when the baby’s tiny fingers wrap around his pinkie. A tear slips down his face, and Emma reaches up to wipe it away.

“Do you want to hold her, Papa?”

He can only nod, his emotions overwhelming him. He gathers the bundle into his arms, holding her close to his chest and out of the way of his hook.

“What shall we name her, Swan?”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot, actually. I sort of had a feeling she was a girl, and well . . . there’s only one name that seems fitting. A name that I will always associate with love and home.”

“I know exactly what you’re referring to, my love, and I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

There’s a soft knock at the door, and they both turn their heads to see Starkey in the doorway with Henry in tow. Kilian grins.

“Henry, would you like to come meet your baby sister Martha?”

Henry’s eyes are wide as he draws closer to the bed. Emma reaches out and encourages her son to climb up and join them. He settles in next to his mother and leans over to look at the baby.

“She’s pink,” he observes, and they laugh.

“She won’t be forever,” Killian explains, “all babies are that way at first.”

“Even me?”

“Yes,” Emma teases, kissing his cheek, “even you.”

Henry gets bored of the baby fairly quickly and asks if he can go back down to the beach with Starkey. After he leaves, Emma and Killian cuddle together to love on Martha, until she starts to fuss.

“Okay,” the midwife says briskly, “Papa needs to leave so Mama can nurse.”

She let’s Killian stay the minute she sees Emma’s scowl.

Emma and Killian: Age 28

“Papa, again, again!”

Killian laughs as his three-year-old daughter makes futile attempts to move the rocking horse back and forth. “Okay, okay, anything for my cygnet.” He presses his hook down on the horse’s tail, setting it in motion again as his little girl squeals with delight.

Emma laughs too from her chair by the fireplace. “That’s the truth. You know the kids don’t need you to bring gifts every time you’re away.”

“It’s part of the inventory I own, love, I can do what I please with it.”

“You spoil us.”

“Happily.”

He winks at his wife as she settles back into her chair and sips contentedly on her mug of hot chocolate - another gift from his latest shipment. Business is booming with the addition of a second ship. Starkey is still the captain of the Jolly while Nibs has taken the helm of the Jewel II. The Jolly is what sets Killian’s business apart, however. With the pegasus sail, it’s able to bring exotic goods from far away realms that no other merchants can acquire. Though Hawkins, Mason, and Curly all left to pursue their respective dreams, Killian had no trouble replacing them nor acquiring a crew for Captain Nibs. Jones Shipping has developed a reputation for treating their sailors well, and Killian has been able to hire the very best at sea.

The Jones family enjoys frequent trips on the Jolly as well, with renovated accommodations that Killian made specifically to make his family more comfortable. Henry and Martha are just as content at sea as they are on land, though this little cottage of theirs is always a joy to come home to.

Killian continues to rock Martha on her new toy as his gaze lands on Henry, now nine years old. As usual, he wanted more paper and pencils, which he goes through at an alarming pace. His writing is incredibly engaging and complex for a boy his age, and Killian couldn’t be more proud. Henry’s no slouch behind the wheel of the Jolly, either, and can read the stars as well as any of Killian’s crew. No father has ever been more blessed than he.

Their domestic evening scene is disrupted by a knock at the door. Emma frowns as she rises to her feet, setting her mug down on the coffee table.

“Who could that be?”

When Emma opens the door, she lets out a pleasantly surprised gasp to find Tinkerbell and Tiger Lily standing there. Despite Martha’s protests, Killian joins Emma at the door with his little girl balanced on his hip. There’s the typical round of greetings, hugs, and exclamations over how much the children have grown, but Emma and Killian both get the feeling this isn’t just a social visit. Not at this time of day, and not by the looks of those nervous expressions on the fairies’ faces.

“I just brought home cocoa and tea from Agrabah,” Killian tells his old friends. “Would you like some?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” Tiger Lily says, “tea for me, please.”

“I’ll take some cocoa,” Tink adds, “remember how Wendy used to love it?”

“Yes, she sure did,” Killan says, his mind going back in time to a frightened little girl with leaves in her hair. He hopes wherever she is, that Wendy is happy.

“Um, Henry,” Emma says slowly, “why don’t you take Martha upstairs with her new rocking horse?”

Killian holds his breath for the lad to protest. His baby sister in his room isn’t his favorite thing in the world, but the boy must pick up on the tension radiating off the fairies because he immediately agrees.

“Come on, Martha,” Henry tells her as he hoists up the rocking horse, “I bet I can rock you even faster than Papa.”

Martha squeals in delight and eagerly follows the big brother she idolizes up the stairs. Emma settles in at the kitchen table with the fairies while Killian goes to the stove.

“What’s this all about?”

That’s his wife, direct as always. Tiger Lily sighs and cuts a quick glance over to Tink.

“Emma . . . “ she says slowly.

“We found your parents!” Tink interrupts, practically vibrating with excitement. Tiger Lily rolls her eyes.

“What?” Emm breathes, and Killian abandons the tea pot to rush to her side and take her hand. “Are you sure?”

“Well, lost princesses are more common than you might think,” Tiger Lily says dryly, “but in the case of the lost princess of Misthaven, it all adds up.”

“Adds up to you, Emma,” Tink put in. “The birthmark, the princess’s birthdate, the wardrobe - all of it!”

“Wait,’ Killian interjects, “did you just say wardrobe?”

He’s cut off by the whistling of the teapot, and he goes quickly to retrieve it from the stove.

“I think we need to start from the beginning, Tink,” Tiger Lily says as Killian sets out the tea and cocoa on the table. When he joins the women, he draws his chair as close as he can to his wife so he can put his arm around her and take her hand.

“You may have heard the tales about Snow White, her Prince Charming, and their battles with the Evil Queen,” Tiger Lily begins.

“Snow White and Prince Charming?” Emma asks. “You mean they’re real?”

“Says the woman married to Captain Hook and having tea with Tinkerbell and Tiger Lily,” Killian quips, earning him an eye roll from his wife. She’s told him the version of Neverland in her former realm - a ridiculous version, in his opinion.

“Yes, they’re real, silly,” Tink says with a shake of her blond curls.

“I’ve heard of them,” Killian says, “go on.”

“Well,” Tiger Lily continues, “you may have heard that though they banished the Evil Queen after taking back the kingdom, she returned when Snow was with child. She cursed the baby with an evil spell.”

“Yes,” Killian says with a shake of his head, “and it came to pass. The child came too soon and died.”

“No, she did come too soon, but the child did not die. Secretly, the Blue Fairy helped the court woodworker fashion an enchanted wardrobe -”

Emma gasps and clutches her husband’s hand tighter. “Killian! A wardrobe!”

“I know, love,” he whispers.

“The wardrobe was supposed to send Snow safely to a land without magic where the curse couldn’t touch the unborn child,” Tiger Lily says.

“It could only carry one,” Tink clarifies.

“But the baby came too soon, so they had no choice but to send the child through alone. The Evil Queen and her minions were mounting an attack on the castle, so they had no more time.”

Killian nods. “I’ve heard of that battle. It’s a favorite tale in every realm, though not one with a happy ending. The Evil Queen was slain, and everyone was led to believe that in the chaos, Queen Snow lost the child.”

“And you believe this baby was me?” Emma asks softly.

Tiger Lily reaches across the table and gently turns over Emma’s left wrist. “The Blue Fairy cast a spell over you in the womb so that when you were born, this mark would be upon you. So your parents would know you when you found them.”

Emma’s eyes well up with tears. “How did they know I would ever find them?”

“They had faith and hope. Even with the Evil Queen dead, her curse still remained until your 21st birthday.”

Tink jumps in, bouncing on her seat. “The best part, Tiger Lily, tell them the best part!”

Tiger Lily smiles indulgently at the blonde. “I think you’d like to tell them, so go ahead.”

“The Rose Fairy imparted a gift to you, Emma - that the wardrobe would bring you your true love, and that when the time was right, he would lead you home.”

Emma turns to Killian, her eyes bright with tears as she cups his face. “Our wardrobe, Killian, that’s why it appeared to us.”

He shakes his head in wonder. “Emma, I know how you feel about me, but true love? That’s the strongest magic of all. Surely someone more worthy . . . “

Emma’s face softens as tears slip free and roll down her cheeks. “Don’t you see? The wardrobe brought us together right when we needed one another the most. Right before I lost Martha, right before you lost your brother and Milah. Then it brought us together for good when you found Henry.”

Killian lets out a breath of wonder as Emma’s thumb traces the scar on his cheek. “We always find one another, don’t we?”

Tiger Lily and Tink both beam as they speak again.

“It’s funny you should say that -”

“Because it’s kind of your family motto.”

To Be Continued . . . . 😉

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @courtorderedcake @branlovestowrite @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @spartanguard @shireness-says @scientificapricot @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @snidgetsafan @ohmakemeahercules @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @delirious-latenight-laughs

#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs neverland au #cs canon divergence #magic wardrobe #fate #soul mates #angst #slow burn #childhood sweethearts

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real-jaune-isms · 4 years ago

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RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 4 Review/Remix

A pretty good episode this time, and only 30% pain and despair so things are looking up! But when it goes mean it goes real strong with the mean. Lots to think about here, and boy oh boy do I wonder what we’ll see next week!

For a nice touch of levity, we open on Robyn telling a funny story about a time Joanna lost a fight to try and pass the time. Maybe she’s trying to cheer Qrow up too, but as someone who gets very bored at work pretty often I get the appeal of talking just to keep sane. She sees Qrow is too lost in his brooding about Clover’s pin to listen to the story, and Jacques is too busy fussing over a fly buzzing around his head (the Pence jokes write themselves). Tough crowd indeed, though her joke about Ironwood needing to pay for cell block entertainment does get a smile and a chuckle from the sad old bird. She takes this chance to apologize, possibly again and we’re just seeing this conversation now, for what happened with Clover. Many would argue it is really her fault for getting trigger happy back in the airship when Qrow was the one under arrest, but that’s an argument not worth having because the blame soup was being stirred by way too many cooks to make a clear verdict. Qrow, however, blames himself for deciding to team up with Tyrian, which was certainly a bad move. It was a heat of the moment thing, and he makes it clear he really would have preferred working with Clover to re-detain Tyrian again, but Clover just wouldn’t let up on his arrest orders. The real pain though, he admits, is that he had really started to let his guard down around this guy and thought her could actually make a partnership work again without his Semblance tossing 1,000 monkey wrenches into the mix. Feels like a fairy tale dream, vanishing like a rose petal on the wind, like every other friend. I of course added the part about rose petals, because you know he meant Summer and the unity of STRQ she probably represents in his mind. Robyn knows a thing or two about having a Semblance that impairs your relationships. Not many people like being around someone they can’t keep anything private from, and she can call out and mistruthing with a touch of the hand. Qrow has to admit he hadn’t considered someone else having that kind of personal trouble like he does, but their conversation is ended by Harriet coming in to toss Watts back in his cell. She’s pissy at Qrow and says he shouldn’t have Clover’s pin, but he retorts he has no reason not to have it since he’s not Clover’s killer. She still has a hard time believing that since Harbinger was the murder weapon, but Robyn finally raises a very good point. Miss Hill is a literal walking polygraph and all they would need to do to prove Qrow’s innocence is let her out of her cell and take her hand. But they won’t do that because they don’t want to prove what’s really true here, they want to cling to a convenient story so they don’t have to admit what really happened. Cuz if they put those glasses back on and face the facts, that means reevaluating what side their on if Clover died because he refused to help detain a serial killer before arresting a former colleague and that’s the real problem. Hare had already threatened that if she was gonna open the cell she wouldn’t use her hands for a friendly shake, and the dig at her allegiances and her ignorance towards Ironwood’s sins almost riles her up to the point of taking Robyn’s bait. But Marrow calls her back down to sensibility and she leaves in a huff. Robyn lays back and sighs at how there was almost something exciting happening.

Cutting to an actually exciting scene, Yang Jaune and Ren are outside the city chasing the Hound through a mountainous canyon on their bikes. It can fly while they have to navigate the rocks, and their bikes aren’t handling the cold terribly well. Yang laments that none of them can fly, but that inspires Jaune to pull out his shield and get closer to Ren. He’s gonna get his teammate up there, and Ren immediately understands how. Leaping off his bike and onto Jaune’s shield, he’s launched through the air by the burst of Gravity Dust in the crest and uses his grapple line blade to wrap around the Hound’s leg... and get dragged through the air like Curious George at the end of a bunch of balloons. Still, he’s weighing it down some and can climb up the line to get in close... when he’s not getting swung around against the cliffside. To further slow it down, he shoots his other line around a big rock that gets dragged behind them for about 5 seconds before the Hound flies higher up and the line comes loose. Ren gets knocked around even more while Yang finds an inclined path that gives her enough height to start shooting at the Grimm. It handles this fairly well, by dropping Oscar from its mouth into its hands and flying ahead of her with a loud roar. Apparently one of its Grimm for all Seasons abilities is to call for backup, because dozens of Centinels suddenly burrow up out of the rocks and ground around them and several Teryx swoop in above. Navigating becomes that much more difficult for the blondes, especially when one Centinel spits acid and hits the thruster of Jaune’s bike. He thinks fast and leaps off his bike to launch off another Grimm in front of him and flip onto a rocky overpass where he almost loses his balance and falls back down. Luckily Yang instead zooms by and pulls him onto her bike where they continue their pursuit. She does a great job of bobbing and weaving around the insects, but a Teryx lands in their path. Jaune tosses his shield grenade in front of a large rock and they drive onto it to tilt it into a ramp, launching over the avian foe into a spin between two more big bugs. They bump on a rock, but the Grimm cannot touch them with Yang’s driving. Unfortunately, they have a far more dangerous problem: They’re heading towards the edge of a massive cliff. Yang tries to make a quick turn but instead flips the bike over and launches both of them off to go tumbling off the precipice. Jaune tries to plant his sword in the ground as an anchor, but he doesn’t keep hold of it with their momentum and they both fall with a very believable scream. Big props to Miles and Barbara for this and the dramatic performances soon to come. Ren comes swooping in for a massive save and grapples Jaune’s sword with one weapon and the poor guy’s leg with the other. Jaune grabbed Yang by the hand so she’s fine too, but an incoming Teryx might soon negate it all. Luckily, Ren instead negates all their emotions with his Semblance and the Teryx passes them by. Less lucky, Ren being here means he’s not hanging from the Hound. He let it get away with Oscar to save his friends, and you know he’s kicking himself for it.

Shifting scenes from that tense gloom, we see Weiss decided the safest place to take Nora for the time being is her own damn mansion. Whitley answers the door and is about to try and berate Weiss for this but she is having none of it. She holds him at swordpoint and insists that they are coming inside. Whitley is very against the idea of harboring fugitives after the hit the Schnee family’s reputation has taken in the wake of its patriarch’s arrest for war crimes, and Blake is quite frustrated that this is what he chooses to complain about. The staff is all gone, Willow has retreated to her room and assumable to the bottle, you gotta admit Whitley probably feels more alone now than ever and is... coping in less than ideal ways. Weiss still seemingly carries a chip on her shoulder of wanting to prove that she is doing something actually important and she made the right move by leaving home to be a Huntress, so she insists that Whitley has no right to nag them because they are saving the Kingdom here. At least, that’s what my 2 semesters of psychology classes would tell me. Ruby plays intermediary between the Schneeblings and lays down their very minimal terms. Let them stay here a little while so Nora can rest and recover, and then they will leave him to his sulking and riches. Whitley begrudgingly accepts and asks what he has to do, and Weiss seems to relish this chance to tell him to go to his room. Finally flexing her big sister authority without Papa around to veto her in favor of his adoring son. But like Willow said last Volume, Whitley has been stuck in this house just like Weiss and Winter, and they could certainly try to treat him with a bit more fairness and sympathy. I’m sure it hurt him a little inside to have yet another authority figure bossing him around without a care for his desires. Still, he’s not giving much reason to make us sympathize so I say wait a little bit to see if he’s got any softer moments to come. Weiss directs May on where to carry Nora, and Blake checks on Ruby while they have this quieter moment. Possibly because she wants the chance to talk to her too, Blake suggests Ruby should try calling Yang to make sure things are okay, both between the sisters and in general. But that’s just it. She did it 35 minutes ago. Okay not really, but I wanted to toss a Watchmen joke in. Still, as much as Ruby worries how that half of the team is doing, she’s already trying to call them and it’s not going through.

We fade back to our three battered teens as Yang collects what scattered pieces she can from her bike, the only one they still have. But like I said, it crashed into a rock after they tumbled off and it’s in no condition to run anymore. So Jaune is trying to call for help and transport back to Mantle, but either Ironwood shut down all communication in the lower districts or they’re just so far out in the tundra that a signal just won’t reach. The latter would make sense, and explain why Ruby couldn’t reach Yang. Giving up on the call, the three instead trudge through the snow in the light of the setting sun back more or less the way they came. Jaune is dragging the bike along while Ren leads the way to an outpost he saw while getting dragged by the Hound. Yang notes how low their auras have been drained due to protecting them from the cold this long, and like a kid on a car trip asks how much longer it will be. Ren has no immediate answer so she asks again and he gives a snippy “I don’t know”. She can tell there’s something more bugging him and tries to coax it out of him after sensing the hostility in his explanation that he only got a glimpse of their intended destination before he had to abandon Oscar in favor of saving them. He refuses to discuss his deeper feelings because he thinks it’ll just waste time. This riles Yang up and she demands to know what his deal is, to which he insists she not worry about it. The argument keeps escalating from there. Things aren’t going smoothly enough for Ren? No, they’re not going smoothly at all, but boohoo Ren, that’s part of the job as a Huntsman. He doesn’t think it’s a job they should have at all, they weren’t ready for it or to make the incredibly damming decisions they’ve had to since taking that position. Sure, they had a few lucky breaks and near miss successes, but then they entered this losing streak that they can’t seem to recover from because the losses are too drastic and every choice they’ve made has been the wrong one. Yang refuses to accept such pessimism and insists that even if they haven’t done everything perfectly they still had to do something because inaction would have made things worse. But how could they be worse than they are now, Ren demands to know as they freeze to death out here. Salem has the Lamp and Oscar, and they have nothing but the cold winds. They may not have an army but they have the Maiden, Yang tries to counter, but because they haven’t let her to open the vault for Ironwood all of Atlas is just a buffet waiting to be chowed down on and it will all be their fault when that happens. Yang rightfully asks him if he seriously thinks letting Ironwood try and float Atlas away to safety will work out for him or for the people of Mantle he’s abandoning, but he argues that they shouldn’t even be the ones asked to make that call. He’s trying to spit the hard truths no one else wanted to face, but this is way too harsh and mean, especially for Ren. What are these hard truths, you ask? That Ruby is still too young to be a leader, that he himself is an orphan from a town that doesn’t exist anymore (which I guess shows how unimportant he is for someone thrust into this decision making role), and that Jaune, who by the way has been trying in vain to get the two to cut the shit and quiet down this whole time, cheated his way into Beacon. A damn low blow there, bro. Bringing back the deep wound from Volume 1. And you can tell he regrets it immediately, but to say that would mean backing down from his point. Jaune doesn’t even address the personal callout and just says alright, you don’t think we should have the job, good for you. I’m still gonna keep walking and get out of the cold because like it or not we were given a goddamn job to do. Maybe not in those words, but the meaning was there. Ren and Yang silently let him take the lead, probably feeling the hot wash of shame distracting them from the arctic chill. Yang still takes one last dig at Ren though by asking if it’s his goal to push everyone away, implying he’s being an asshole and not even Nora is sticking by him. Well... in so many words anyway.

We get another change of scenery with a dramatic violin stroke like something out of a murder mystery movie. Oscar is regaining consciousness, and he hears Ozpin try to reassure him to stay calm and that it’s gonna be okay. When he looks up, however, he sees Salem leaning in a shadowy doorframe staring at a smoky apparition in her hand and welcoming back her long lost Ozma. Judging by the childlike laughter and general shape of her smoke display, I think she was manifesting a memory of her and Oz’s dead daughters to try and reminisce about the days when they were still lovers. Oscar realizes he’s being held in the air from the Hound’s mouth and tries to struggle free as Salem notes how young and weak this new vessel is. She’s not even acknowledging Oscar, just talking through him to Ozma. It’s been what may have truly been centuries or even a millennium since they’ve last met, and dear Oz has nothing to say to his wife? Oscar does his best Ozpin impression to try and fake it till he makes it, but Salem knows her man better than anyone and sees through it to grab him by the face and call his bluff. But he really is still a separate person from Oz, so maybe he can be more cooperative to her requests than that old wizard. She still wants to know where the Relic of Choice is, since Oz clearly must have used an extra layer of deception to hide it opposed to the others, and she wants Oscar to reveal the trick. But that’s not a memory he has access to, and he tells her plainly that he doesn’t know. She believes him, knows Oz would hold that one close to the chest longest of all, so she asks an easier question. How does she go about asking the Lamp questions? She gets the standard coverup answer, the Lamp is out of questions so it’s futile to even try, but she refuses to believe that one. Instead she blasts the poor kid with an evil magic rainbow laser and lets him scream himself hoarse for a bit. His chest has scorch marks, or at least his clothes do, and he fearfully tries to pull away from her “loving” touch. Lying so easily about these things, he truly was reincarnated into a like-minded soul... but sooner or later one of the two in this battered body will break and Salem will learn what she wishes to know. He tries to insist he won’t tell her anything, but that’s why she has backup. Hazel comes in to literally gut punch this 14 year old until he coughs up his guts or the truth, whichever comes first. And he justifies it all by saying this is revenge for his defeat at Haven and from the still unforgiven death of his sister.

Salem doesn’t stay to watch the savage beating, instead walking the halls of Monstra with her lovely new pet. Cinder has been waiting in this hallway for a chance to speak with her Mistress, but is distracted by her immediate discomfort in the face of the Hound. Salem claims it is an experiment that she is quite happy with the results of thus far, and wants Cinder to get on with whatever point she had so she can get out of the way. Cinder wants to search for Penny, she thinks she can make up for the past blunder and claim the Winter powers for herself. But Salem just laughs at this. “She thinks, she wants!” It’s like hearing a cockroach tell you about its hopes and dreams. Mommy Salami does not give a fuck what Cinder wants to do, she has done nothing to earn Salem caring about that. Cinder, to her credit, does not take this dismissal lying down and tries to argue that they are doing nothing to further their plans when Cinder could be achieving a great victory for her Mistress by securing their way into the Atlas vault. Salem does not slow her pace, and says when it is time to act she will tell Miss Fall what she needs her to do. Cinder tries to argue, and is met by the snarling maw of the Hound turning on its heels to send her shrinking back. Salem has been pretty damn patient with this bratty girl, but she will not repeat herself again. You are not going the the ball, Cinderella, you are staying here and doing what your godmother tells you to because if you don’t you will learn just how easily you can be replaced and forgotten. Cinder gives up her case and assumes the position of submission, which is to say taking a knee and repeating her self-depreciating mantra that without Salem she is nothing. This satisfies Salem and she walks away with her dog in tow, leaving Neo to glare at Cinder as if wondering who is really the domesticated little pet in this place.

Cut to Cinder immediately rebelling against her given orders and heading for the airship insisting she just wants to go check on something and then they’ll come right back before anyone knows they left. Neo just floats along behind her because like hell she’s staying in the Satan whale when it’s this bitch’s fault she’s here at all. We get the last unseen shot from the trailer as Cinder looks out over Atlas and rationalizes that Salem doesn’t know Team RWBY like she does, she wouldn’t understand how determined they would be to try and save the world, and so it falls to her to check out Amity Colosseum again and see if they’re up to something. Neo seems annoyed and disinterested at Cinder’s petty little scheme, but they’re both caught off guard by Emerald arriving behind them and offering to tag along to help. She’s been getting better with her Semblance and asserts that she would be very useful. Poor misguided lass, searching so desperately for acknowledgement and praise you’re never gonna get... Cinder seems pissed that she was eavesdropping, but she’s not gonna turn down the assist. Time for an evil girls’ night out~

Back on the ground, night has fallen as JRY have found the outpost at last. Jaune hits a heater to get it running and prevent their freezing to death as Ren broods out the window and Yang is outside working on her bike. The leader takes this time to address the tension with his teammate. Yes, he did make a bad decision and cheat his way into the Academy. But when he found himself in that bad situation he realized he needed help and he asked for it. He turned his situation around and got better, became the strong person he is now. Holding onto this ideal that being strong means doing everything on your own? That was literally the issue Jaune faced in his mini character arc back in Volume 1, and he came out of it humbled and ready to accept support from his team. From Pyrrha. But she’s not here anymore, and Jaune is. Nora is, team RWBY is here for Ren. So Ren needs to understand that he can let them in, because the more he hides from how he feels the worse it’s gonna feel and hurt him inside. Ren goes outside to sulk under a streetlight, but Yang has come inside now to say that she’s found the part she needs to fix the bike so with a little more tinkering they can get it working and ride back into the city once they’ve got some R&R. Yang does take the time to say she’s sorry Ren said what he did because of her argument with him, but Jaune dismisses it for the time being as all three of them being under a hellish amount of stress. He’s been where Ren was before, he knows how much it hurts. Yang turns back to the tool bench to work on the thruster, but she’s got some inner turmoil of her own to vent about. She wants to know if Jaune thinks “She” thinks less of Yang for making the choice she did and staying to help Mantle instead of going to help fix Amity. Playing the pronoun game like this can be tricky, and Jaune fairly assumes she means Ruby since the two of them did have the verbal disagreement before splitting off, and Yang did question her leader’s decision making and leadership. He assures Yang that her sister will always love and believe in her even if they have squabbles like this. But it would seem Vomit Boy lost the pronoun game, and Yang was not actually asking about Ruby. Judging by the purple cannister she’s wrenching into the battered thruster, she was asking if Blake would think less of her because of these recent actions.

A lot of people seem rather torn about this choice in priorities for Yang, but allow me to explain why I think it’s not that bad of a writing decision. If there is one thing that has been consistent in this Volume it has been the confidence of other characters that Yang and Ruby will endure this clash of ideals and remain loving sisters. Usually these sentiments have been given by characters who are siblings themselves and know the strength of that bond, like Weiss and now Jaune. We’ve never actually heard either sister personally express any anguish or regrets over that argument, but we can assume they’re both still a little sour about it. But they have been there for each other to a depth that few siblings have, as evident by Yang’s story in Volume 2 about how she had to step up in raising Ruby in a lot of ways after Tai went into grieving for Summer. They’ve been each other’s best friend and closest confidant for so long, I truly believe their bond is clad in iron and they know it too. Meanwhile, a lot of Yang’s recovery arc in Volumes 4 and 5 was dealing with being abandoned by Blake in a time of need and it continued into 6 as learning to accept her back into her life and find a way to make their partnership work again. Shipping or not, they do have a strong bond that has been renewed by dealing with their combined trauma and killing Adam. And when that happened they both promised they would stick together and back each other up, but now Yang has been the one to decide she wants to split paths and do something else. She has good reason to worry this might have upset Blake, and we the audience know Blake is worried about how she’s doing. So, when faced with a color that reminds her of her partner, it makes some sense that Yang would try and get an outside perspective of if she’s fractured their bond. And if you ship them, that more magnifies the interpersonal concerns than really changes the problems.

Regardless, Jaune realizes this is a problem he’s not quite equipped to deal with and decides he’s going to get some rest in one of the beds in the outpost. He gets the strong feeling he’s gonna need it cuz it feels like things will only get worse before they get any better. As we pan out past Ren, whom Yang promises she won’t let brood himself to death out in the snow, we see cracks start to form out on the ice. That can only bode poorly for these poor kids. Many folks think this is a frozen over lake with some scary aquatic Grimm waiting in the depths like a megalodon Grimm shark or the sulfur fish Grimm that apparently were the winners of a fan design contest this past year. Personally, I’m taking a note from the opening and saying it might be a cloister of Apathy since their gross grabby hands wrapped around Team RWBY when they fell through the ice at the end of the intro. But we will have to wait and see. Thanks for reading, hope to see you and your notes soon!~

Edit: this came out a week late and we did indeed see what it really was. Boy were we not ready for the truth...

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98prilla · 5 years ago

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Changing Tides

AO3

...

The water was still rough, but easily manageable for Roman, his powerful tail sliced easily through the water. It was a bit tricky swimming with his arms held above the surface, but he was careful, nonetheless. Logan swam directly below him, following in his wake for easier passage.

They reached the rocky shores of a craggy island. Up a grassy hill from the shore a small cabin stood, dark smoke visible through the night sky. Rain pelted down, clouds obscuring the stars as they surfaced.

Roman let out a low curse, then took a deep breath, keeping his hands cupped securely around the human. This song wouldn’t be meant to hurt or entrance him, but you never knew. He opened his mouth, a high, soaring note piercing the air, sweeter than honey and smoother than chocolate.

Instantly, they saw the door to the cabin open, light pouring from the doorway. Then a human figure ran down the hill towards them, tripping over his feet, rolling the rest of the way down the wet greenery before getting back up and hurdling the rest of the way to the shore and the two mers.

“What’s wrong?” He panted. That was the alarm call. He’d only ever heard it when they’d all decided on it and practiced, never in actual use. “Are you both alright?” he asked, looking between the two worriedly.

“We’re fine. But…” Logan trailed off, looking to Roman, who carefully uncupped his hands, lowering them to the ground to reveal the human within. His eyes widened at the sight.

“He fell overboard and got washed away. Lo healed him, but…” He didn’t need to say more. The figure resting in his palm was almost deathly still and pale, having lost even the energy to shiver, curled into a ball so tight he was practically folded in half. His lips were turning blue.

“Oh poor baby. He musta been so scared…” he breathed out, blushing at Roman’s grumbled ahem. “Not of you, you big goof, I meant the almost drowning part.”

“Patton, can you shelter him?” Logan asked earnestly. Patton bit his lip, looking between the two of them.

“Doesn’t he have a family? Shouldn’t you leave him along some heavily traveled dock or try and find the boat he fell off of?” Patton asked, frowning at their uneasy glances. “What?”

“It was… pretty clear from his behavior and speech that he doesn’t have the best family.” Logan replied softly after a moment. Understanding flashed across Patton’s face.

“oh. Oh of course. Of course I’ll help. I’ll get him inside, then, get him all settled in and cozy. You two should get home before this storm gets any worse. You can check in tomorrow, if you like, though I don’t know how much will have changed. He seems rather wrung out.” Patton replied, gently scooping the human into his arms. Though he looked barely taller than the kid and not nearly strong enough, he lifted the boy as easily as lifting a feather pillow. “By the way, do you know his name?” The two mers shook their heads a bit sheepishly.

“We didn’t really have the chance to ask.” Roman replied, blushing slightly at his own rudeness. Patton shook his head.

“That’s all right. I just hoped I’d have something to call him. He’ll just have to get better and tell me himself.”

The kid pressed against him, seeking out warmth wherever his frigid body could find it, and briefly his eyes fluttered open. He looked blearily at Patton, before his gaze shifted out to the mers, lingering near the shore. Roman waved before vanishing beneath the waves, Logan hesitating a moment before following suit. He hated leaving a patient in someone else’s care, even if it was Patton.

“no… no don’t… go…” he moaned weakly, eyes lingering on the shore.

Patton reached down to smooth back the kid’s hair, but he flinched back from the touch so violently it almost made Patton drop him.

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry. You don’t like being touched, I’m sorry. But I’m gonna get you inside now, get you warmed up, get you some dry clothes, ok?” The poor guy was already out again, but Patton kept murmuring to him anyway, trying to convey warmth and safety into his dreams.

…

He woke up slowly, head feeling like it was filled with molasses. He was still cold, but not nearly as much as he had been. His body wracking tremors were now only small shivers, and he pulled the blanket closer around him.

Blanket? He was curled up on a cushy chair near a roaring fire place, wrapped tight in layers of blankets, his clothes dry. Where was he?

He remembered everything suddenly, as he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Turning he saw there was a small offshoot hall, probably leading to a kitchen. Mermen. Merpeople. Was that real? Had that been real? How else was he here, if he hadn’t been scooped out of the ocean by a giant merperson?

“You’re awake!” He jumped at the voice, as a brown haired, blue eyed boyish looking man sat down in a chair across from him. He shrunk down as small as he could, pulling the blanket tight around his head, so only his eyes were visible.

“You’re probably a little confused. My friends found you and brought you here, so I could help take care of you. You were hurt. They fixed you up, but you were still very cold, and very wet, and you might be running a fever.” Patton leaned forwards, head resting on his hands as he looked at the kid, who drew back farther into the chair, breathing hitched. Patton leaned back again, hands up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your space. My name is Patton. What’s your name?” He asked. The boy didn’t answer. Patton cocked his head consideringly. They’d said he spoke English…

“Can you understand me?” Hesitantly, the boy nodded once, eyes gleaming from his blanket fort. “Ok… so you don’t want to talk right now?” Patton asked slowly. The boy nodded again, Patton let out a soft breath.

“That’s ok.” He paused for a moment, consideringly. “Are you hungry? Or thirsty?” He shook his head no. Patton noticed his eyes were darting around the room, trying to take in every detail at once, looking for all the ways out, any angle of attack from danger, anywhere to hide.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re safe, ok?” The boy looked hard at him, neither nodding or shaking his head, clearly distrusting. Clearly understandable that he would be. But his attention was already fading. He watched as the boy’s eyes drifted closed despite himself, and he was out once again.

Once he was sure the kid was sleeping, Patton crossed the room to him, placing a palm against his forehead. He still winced in his sleep, trying to pull away, but a second was all it took to feel that the he’d gone from too cold to a tad too hot.

“oh boy kiddo. You are really putting us through the ringer, aren’t you?” Patton sat on the arm of the chair, looking down at the kid’s face. Even in sleep, he wasn’t relaxed. There was a slight frown to his lips, and he could see his eyes moving behind their lids as he dreamed. He let out a whimper, hand squeezing into a fist against the blankets.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright. Nothin’s gonna hurt you.” Patton instinctively reached out, remembering to pull back an instant before his hand touched the kid’s hair. He didn’t know how to help him. How to make him feel comfortable, safe.

He got up, scanning through the bookshelf against the right wall. There were a plethora of scientific journals, as well as volumes of Shakespeare and booklets of plays. Those he’d gotten for Roman and Logan, since they couldn’t store them in their homes, he kept them here. He reached for his favorite, a collection of fairy tales, stroking its cover once before he sat back down on the edge of the chair.

Maybe not being alone would make the kid feel better. Hearing a voice, something warm and soothing and nonsensical. He tucked another blanket tight around the boy, before opening to the first page, clearing his throat, starting to read.

…

BANG

He flew out of the chair onto the ground. He was coming, he was drunk and angry and he was coming any second.

BANG

He was hiding in the lower deck of the ship behind a crate of supplies, praying he would pass out before he came down, before he found him.

BANG

He yelped as a hand gripped too hard onto his wrist, dragging him out from behind the crate.

“There you are, boy.” His rough voice spit, and he felt a hard slap across his face. “You didna finish your chores.” He slurred.

BANG

“I did! I did everything, I swear!” He doubled over, a fist to the stomach. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. A rough hand gripped his face.

BANG

“Don’t back talk me. You’re just as worthless as your mother.” That caught his breath, made him pulse with anger.

“She knew better than to stick around here, so at least she’s smart.” He spat back, already anticipating the blow, it slammed into him so hard he bit his lip, feeling blood well in his mouth.

BANG

He curled into the corner of the room, hands over his ears, eyes clenched shut, rocking back and forth. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, it was too much, it was all too much, any second he’d be dragged out from his hiding spot, any second he’d hear that harsh breathing, any second he’d smell sweat and alcohol, any second it would start all over again-

BANG

He needed to get out of here, he needed to move, he needed to run before he caught up, but he was frozen to the spot, frozen with fear, he couldn’t process anything, he couldn’t think anything, he wished he’d drowned in the ocean.

BANG

He ran. He stumbled to his feet, shoved open the door, and ran. The wind whipped his hair, lightning crashed across the sky, though at the moment the rain had stopped.

He’d ran across a field behind the house, up a higher hill, stopping at the top, panting for breath, climbing atop a large rock sticking up out of the ground. In his panic he’d brought the blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders with him, and he pulled it around him now, blocking out the wind.

He felt the panic still fluttering in his gut, still blurring his thoughts, but he didn’t have the will to run any further. He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. He couldn’t get the memories out of his head, he couldn’t stop spiraling, he couldn’t stop remembering, he couldn’t breath again, he couldn’t see, he was just a shadow, just a remnant of something that used to be a person, used to have a name, used to matter.

“Kiddo? What’re you doing out here?” Patton sat down next to him, but he barely noticed.

Patton looked at the kid with concern. He was shaking, breath coming in uneven and unsteady gasps. Panic attack. He kneeled down in front of the kid, trying to stay far enough out of his personal space, while also being close enough to speak to him.

“Hey, can you hear me, kiddo? I know it’s hard right now, but you need to breath. Can you breath with me? In,” He inhaled deeply, holding it for a long moment, “out.” He breathed. A few more breaths in and out, and he could see the kid start to mimic him, start to come out of his spiral. Finally, he let out a last shaky breath, wiping his cheeks with his sleeves, looking up at Patton, though not directly meeting his eyes.

“sorry.” He whispered, voice so small it melted Patton’s heart.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, kiddo. You’re perfectly fine.” Patton replied, keeping his distance, almost holding his breath now that the kid was talking.

“I didn’t mean to… i had… had a nightmare, is all. The thunder…” He trailed off, looking up at the sky. It was starting to lighten with dawn, the storm having moved off, clouds lingering overhead. He hugged himself tighter.

“Thunder scares you?” Patton asked. The kid shook his head.

“no. I thought… it sounded like… when he was angry.” Patton sucked in a breath.

“No one is going to hurt you here. Not ever.” Patton said firmly. The kid bit his lip.

“Were… were they real?” He asked, looking out to sea. Patton was confused for a moment, following his gaze.

“Oh! You mean Logan and Roman? Yeah, they were real. They saved you.” He replied. The kid let out a sigh.

“good. At least I’m not crazy.” He turned his gaze back to Patton. “How do you know them? You don’t look like a merperson, or whatever.” Patton grinned.

“I’m way cooler than that. I’m a Selkie. Right now, I look human, but when I put on my seal skin I become a seal, a harbor seal, to be exact.” He explained, rather proudly. The kid arched a brow.

“neat, I guess.” Patton cocked his head, getting to his feet.

“You wanna go back inside? Or we can sit out here, a while longer.” The kid shook his head, pushing himself up, not taking Patton’s proffered hand to help pull him up.

“Do you… have a name? Or something you want to be called?” Patton asked, as he held open the door for the kid, who hesitated a moment.

“virgil.” So soft Patton could barely hear him, then he was past him, curling back up into the chair, burrowing under all of the blankets. Patton vanished into the kitchen for a moment, coming back with a bowl of warm soup, handing it to Virgil before sitting back down in his own chair, cracking open his book. He ate all the soup without complaint, then promptly fell back asleep, though he seemed more relaxed now, at least.

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vannahfanfics · 5 years ago

Text

The Wonder of Small Things

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Momo Yaoyaorozu, Yosetsu Awase

Additional Tags: Mermaid AU

Hey guys, I’m still riding my MomoWase train LOL… This one is in accordance with @bnhabookclub‘s MerMay event, inspired by the prompt “It’s all right. Come here.” Happy reading, and thanks again to @bnhabookclub for hosting this event and accepting me into the server ^.^ I’m having so much fun already!

The early morning air was cool on Yosetsu’s skin as he tromped down the worn dirt path leading to the rocky shore, his cast nets slung over his shoulder. The clinking of the attached metal weights was the only sound in these pre-dawn hours; the sea birds were just beginning to blink sleep away from their beady black eyes and ruffle their feathers to shake away the dew that clung to them like diamond beads. There was that, and the scraping of his worn soles on the even more worn dirt of the path carrying him down to the sloshing sea.

Soon the earthen incline gave way to slick, salty rocks against which the frothing white waves continuously crashed in an endless melody. A wooden dock jutted out into the dark waters, secured to the last bit of earth before the rocky shore. The path Yosetsu traveled suddenly veered level to snake alongside the collection of smooth rocks, but rather than following it just yet, he carefully picked his way a few feet down the precarious shoreline. Mouth drawn into a taut line of concentration, he poked each rock firmly with the toe of his boot to ensure it would not dislodge before setting his full weight against it. In doing so, he gradually approached the thick brown mud barely visible at the base of the rocky slope. Just above the rolling waves, he stopped, setting a hand on his hip and gazing intently at the horizon. A smile crept up his lips as the first tinge of red began to bleed into the indigo sky, slowly following by the burning yellow sun.

Yosetsu always watched the sunrise before setting out to sea. He viewed it almost as a good-luck ritual at this point, a prayer for a plentiful catch. Besides, the sunrises off the rocky shore downhill from his solitary, modest cabin were more beautiful than that you could see from the grandest mansion, at least in his eyes. He loved the way the red, orange, and yellow spilled forth into the sparkling waves like paint poured over a canvas, bleeding together in colorful harmony. At the same time, it spread upwards into the black ink of the sky, like a battalion of soldiers forcing back the terrible demons of the night from whence they came to return light to the world. The golden-white sun bloomed on the horizon like a trembling bubble, ready to burst at any moment with energy but never doing so. Yosetsu’s smile grew with every inch the sun traveled up the blanket of night, marveling black turning into brilliant blue. As soon as the sun detached itself from the horizon with one final flicker, he then turned to pick his way back up the slope and tromp down the remainder of the path to the dock where his humble fishing vessel was moored. The sunset was beautiful, but a young man had a job to do, after all.

The little boat moaned and groaned as the waves playfully tossed it about. The white canvas sail flapped languidly in greeting at him. Yosetsu tossed his casting net into the boat before grabbing the mooring rope to untie it. Once he removed it from the post, he tossed it into the ship as well and carefully eased one leg into the boat. It rocked precariously with the addition of his weight, drifting closer to the dock; after taking a moment to ensure his balance was sufficient, he swiftly pushed off from the pier and drew his other leg into the small vessel. The force pushed the boat away from the wooden structure and out into the waves. Yosetsu grabbed a little paddle and stuck it into the water, then began to row out to sea.

His boat was little more than a dinghy fit for two, so he did not row far- only to where the water was about fifteen feet deep or so, with the land still clearly in view. He hefted up his anchor and tossed it into the water; in plunked into the waves with a tremendous splash before plummeting the short distance down to the seafloor, where it sunk into the thick mud and probably startled some scuttling crabs or perhaps disgruntling a flounder. Yosetsu picked up his casting net and spread it out with both his arms, hooking some of the salty thin rope with his teeth. With practiced movements, he then flung the net about a yard into the water. The heavy weights sewn into the rope caused the thin and light material to sink rapidly down into the depths and hopefully trap a collection of nice fish and crustaceans within the spiderweb-like netting. Once the tension slacked in the string in his hand, he swiftly reeled it in.

Water cascaded from the net as he hauled it over the side and splashed around as the trapped fish fearfully flapped about. Yosetsu grabbed one of the metal ten-gallon-buckets that stocked the boat and scooped some seawater into it before loading the acceptable fish from his haul into it. It seemed his daily ritual had again borne fruit; the net contained several sizeable crabs and a nice, fat trout, perfect for roasting over a crackling fire. He had only just begun, but he still grinned to himself at the possibility of a haul so good he could take a day off.

Yosetsu continued fishing until the sun had reached its highest point. By this time, he had stripped off his loose cotton shirt; the hot rays made the thin sheen of sweat glimmer on his tanned skin not unlike the light playing over the water. He had five ten-gallon buckets filled to their brims with a various assortment of fish and other sea creatures. He grinned as his eyes swept over the impressive haul, his mind whirling of the various ways he could salt and season and grill them over the next few days. Two-thirds of his catch he was going to take into town to sell to the local fish merchant and earn himself a pretty penny. Could probably get myself some new boots, he thought as he wiggled his big toe, watching the pink flesh and dirty toenail poke through the frayed leather.

There was a little more room in the last bucket, so Yosetsu decided to try his luck with one more cast. He flung the net out into the water and waited for it to sink to the muddy bottom, holding the string tight in his hand. His eyebrow quirked when he the thin rope lurched some in his grip. He grinned, thinking he had caught himself a nice fat monster fish. However, the string then lurched violently in his grasp, making him cry out and stumble over to the edge of the boat. He planted the sole of his boot on the edge and leaned back at a forty-five-degree angle, gritting his teeth as he gripped the rope tight with both hands.

“Nuh-uh. You’re not getting away from me, dinner!” he grunted through clenched teeth. The rope dug into the calloused flesh of his palms to tear away the roughened skin and bite the soft, vulnerable layer underneath. It began to burn terribly, and smears of red blood began to appear on every inch of the gray-white nylon he tugged back, but he refused to let go. His eyes went as wide as saucers as a massive, glittering red tail began to thrash at the surface of the water. He began to whoop and holler with glee. “Well dammit if that ain’t the biggest redfish I’ve ever seen!” he howled. The crimson scales gleamed in the white sunlight, sparkling like millions of fine-cut rubies. The shade was a bit vermillion to be a redfish, and he couldn’t spot the signature brown circular mark that identified the species, but if it wasn’t a redfish, then what the hell was it?

As it turned out, it was not a redfish.

Yosetsu went slack-jawed as the gigantic tail disappeared under the water, only to be replaced with the upper half of a human woman. She tugged aggressively at the white nylon netting twisted snug around her body, but her fine fingernails had no chance of rending the thickly woven rope. She had thick black hair that was voluminous even with the water streaming from the strands in rivulets, and pretty black eyes that shone like onyx pearls in her pale white face. He gawked at her shamelessly, the rope loosening in his hands from the shock. “A mermaid,” he breathed when his tongue finally decided it wanted to work, “I caught a fucking mermaid.”

Her head snapped to him once he spoke. Her gaze dropped to the thread of rope connecting the net proper to himself, and he hastily tightened his grip again lest she decide to try and spring away. Her eyes slowly trailed back up to his face; they were hard, calculating, distrusting… but gleaming with the tiniest bit of curiosity. Yosetsu flushed a little under her unyielding stare and bit down hard on his lip as he contemplated what exactly he should do.

Mermaids were urban legends, fairy tales, the subject of raucous sea shanties- yet here he was with one tangled in his cast net! If he hauled her in and showed her off in the nearby town, he was almost guaranteed to skyrocket into the highest tax bracket. He could sell her off to a zoo or a scientist or even the government for millions, and boom! No more hovel on the seaside, no more slaving in a dinghy to drag in fish all day- he’d be lounging in a hammock sipping piña coladas out of coconuts surrounded by pretty girls in bikinis! He giggled languorously at the colorful fantasy. Yet, when he looked back at the beautiful mermaid staring silently at him, the dream bubble burst over his head.

Guilt began to burn like acid in the back of his throat. What was he thinking? She was a living creature, no different than he. With her tail suspended below the water, it was like he was looking at a human girl. How dare he fantasize about profiting off her misery? He tried to ignore the whispers of dollar signs in his ears as he slowly crouched down, beckoning her over with a hand. “It’s all right. Come here.”

She tilted her head to the side as she eyed him warily. He couldn’t blame her; mermaid horror stories probably consisted of terrible tales of what humans would do if she were ever caught. Smiling gently like he would at a stray dog, he beckoned her again. “I promise I won’t hurt you. That netting must hurt, right? Lemme untangle you.” The mermaid hesitated for a moment, then slowly swam up to the edge of the boat. The waves had calmed down since early morning, so now he could see her vermillion tail gliding just underneath the surface; wispy pinkish-red fins adorned the scaly body. It seemed she even had a flair for fashion, as she had strings of colorful glass bits and dark green kelp wrapped around her midriff like a belt with lines of them trailing down around her like a shredded skirt. He was so busy staring at the interesting garment that he hadn’t noticed she had leaned up to rest her arms on the edge of the boat- that is, until she coughed politely right in his ear.

He scrambled back too fast and landed on his rump, rocking the boat tremendously. She giggled cutely at him, bobbing up and down with the boat’s movement. With pink cheeks, he straightened his headband and crawled back to the other side of the vessel to sit on his knees in front of her. When he procured his pocketknife, her dark eyes flickered to the chipped blade before looking at him nervously. “It’s all right. I’ll be careful not to cut you. I just don’t think I can untangle you with how much you thrashed around,” he explained softly. He waited until she nodded slowly in acknowledgment before getting to work.

He started with the netting around her chest. Due to her whipping and flapping around, most of the net had wound itself around her middle. It was drawn painfully tight, digging into her supple white skin, and there was a faint wheeze in her breaths as she struggled to breathe with the tightness. Yosetsu wormed the tip of his index finger beneath the thin rope to pull it up enough to slip the blade under, careful not to nick her, and slice through the nylon. He tried not to think about how expensive that net had been and how he would probably have to forgo new boots in favor of purchasing a new one. At least I got a good haul today, he lamented with a wry smile.

Once he had cut through a good portion of the netting around her middle, the mermaid released a long sigh of relief. Her body sagged down into the water a little and she drank in a few heavy breaths; Yosetsu waited patiently for her to recover from the strain, as he was sure it had been uncomfortable for her, then began to work at the netting around her neck. That was the most painstaking part, as he had to be exceptionally careful not to cut the artery or vein there. She craned her chin up as he diligently worked, but her black eyes remained fixed on him the entire time. It was quite daunting, actually, and a faint blush remained on his cheeks throughout the entire ordeal.

“Here we go,” he smiled as he pulled the loose netting over her head. For a second, he thought of the way a groom removed a veil from the face of his bride, and his blush darkened to a plum color. The mermaid seemed not to notice, for she was smiling giddily and shaking her cascades of black hair away from the clinging strands of the net. The afternoon sun had dried her hair out considerably, making it shine like threads of obsidian. Transfixed, Yosetsu could not help but reach out to touch it; it was incredibly soft against his fingertips, despite the incredible amount of salt it came into contact with daily. The mermaid didn’t shy away, only watched him with a blank expression. “Sorry,” he stuttered when he realized what he was doing and snatched his hand away. “It’s just, um, really pretty.” His heart thumped in his chest at the happy smile she gave him. She hadn’t said a word yet, so who knew if she even knew what he was saying? She was probably just reacting for his benefit.

He motioned for her to roll onto her side, and she did so, exposing that giant vermillion tail to his awaiting eyes. Rubies, he thought again as he beheld the magnificent appendage. He leaned over the edge of the boat to begin cutting at the netting. It was much less careful work due to the healthy hardness of her scale, so he finished quickly. With a small sigh, he dragged the last of the ruined netting from her body and deposited it in the small fishing boat. With his back turned, he fully expected her to disappear beneath the water and swim away into the depths, never to return. He frown when he heard no splashing, however, and turned back to see her still there. She had her chin propped up on her arms and was just gazing at him with a tiny smile.

“Um… I’m done now. You can go now if you want to,” he told her awkwardly. Her smile widened, and for the first time, she spoke.

“What’s your name?” The question threw him for a loop; really, at this point he thought her to be mute, or at least incapable of human language.

“Y-yosetsu Awase,” he stammered quickly. “What about you?” he asked and edged a little closer to her. “Do you have a name?” She made a series of clicking and chirping sounds that he supposed was merfolk language. He had no idea of how even to begin replicating it, so he just gave her a crooked smile. “Uh, that’s, uh, a pretty name.” She giggled airily and pulled herself up so that they were now eye-level. Her face was only a few inches from his. He could kiss her if he wanted to. Stop that, he scolded his shameless unconscious.

“You didn’t understand that, did you?”

“No. Absolutely not. Not a word.” She giggled again. He found himself smiling at how beautiful her laugh was. It reminded him of the bells ringing in the docks of the city harbor as they signaled the morning sail of the shrimp and charter boats. Her body bobbed up and down with the waves, occasionally bringing her face a few centimeters closer to his. Her black eyes continuously searched his expression, but he knew not what she was searching for.

“Well, then… Why don’t you give me a human name?”

One hears thousands of names in their lifetime, but as he gaped at her, he could not even think of one. Subconsciously, he glanced down and spied the peachy-pink color of her wispy fins.

“How about… Momo?”

“Mo-mo?” she echoed inquisitively. He flushed, thinking she found it ridiculous, but then she flashed him a toothy grin. “I like it. You may call me Momo, Yosetsu Awase.”

“You can just call me Yosetsu,” he corrected her quickly. When she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, he quickly explained, “Humans have two names, a first and a last. Humans usually only call each other by one, so… You can call me Yosetsu.” He figured it would be too much trouble to explain the intricacies and manners of given and surnames, so he just elected to keep things simple. She smiled cutely at him.

“All right, then… Yosetsu.” The conversation died, but not uncomfortably so. Yosetsu very much liked just looking at her. She really was a magnificently splendorous creature, and he couldn’t believe that thirty minutes ago, he was considering selling her off to the highest bidder.

She poked around his boat a little, inquiring about the various tools and such he carried with him. He found her delight and curiosity to be more refreshing than the briskest sea breeze and smiled all the while. She was like a charmed young child, entranced by even the most mundane of human artifacts. He gave her a cowrie shell that he had fished in with his net, and she reclined back in the water to watch the light play over its brown-striped surface with the purest look of rapture he had ever seen. It reminded him of how much he really took for granted in day-to-day life. How had the wonder of all the small things in the world just dissolved away? Although, he thought wryly, I do have my sunrises.

“Momo.” She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Will you… come back tomorrow morning? Before the sun rises?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The early morning air was cool on Yosetsu’s skin as he tromped down the worn dirt path leading to the rocky shore, but he didn’t have his cast net with him this time. The scraping of his worn soles on the even more worn dirt was the only sound in these pre-dawn hours; the sea birds were just beginning to blink sleep away from their beady black eyes and ruffle their feathers to shake away the dew that clung to them like diamond beads. There was that, and Momo’s greeting floating on the sea breeze from the shoreline.

Like every morning, Yosetsu ignored the veer in the dirt path to instead pick his way down the slick collection of rocks to stop just short of the splashing waves. Momo lay with her upper half sprawled over a large, flat stone with her black hair gathered over her shoulder, and the milk-white skin of her mostly bare back gleamed like limestone in the moonlight. Her crimson tail floated on the surface of the water behind her, those delicate pink fins rippling like fine silk in the swilling waves. “Good morning,” he smiled as he came to a stop beside her.

“Hello. What is it you wanted me to see?”

“Just be patient,” he instructed her breathily as he eased himself into a sitting position on the flat but slimy-wet rock. He eased off his boots and socks and set them aside so he could dip his bare feet into the cool water. He dug his toes into the goopy brown mud with a contented sigh, then looked over as Momo swam a little closer to him. She was eyeing him curiously, like he was going to bring out something at any moment. “Just look at the horizon,” he ordered, punctuating it with a point of his index finger. She blinked but obediently did as he asked, reclining against the rocks and staring out at the point where sky met sea. A smile crept up his lips as the first tinge of red began to bleed into the indigo sky, slowly following by the burning yellow sun, and he looked at her to see her eyes gradually widening.

The red, orange, and yellow spilled forth into the sparkling waves like paint poured over a canvas, bleeding together in colorful harmony. At the same time, it spread upwards into the black ink of the sky, like a battalion of soldiers forcing back the terrible demons of the night from whence they came to return light to the world. The golden-white sun bloomed on the horizon like a trembling bubble, ready to burst at any moment with energy but never doing so. Yosetsu had seen this image countless mornings; it had been burned into his mind like a brand, so he did not need to look at it that morning to marvel. No, instead, he marveled at the gorgeous mermaid beside him as she beheld her first sunrise. Her pink lips parted with an awed gasp while her black eyes shone gold as they caught the first rays of the morning sun. So enraptured was she that she didn’t even smile; she just stared at the sun as it inched up the sky, until with one final flicker it detached itself from the horizon to rise into the brilliant expanse of blue.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispered. He raised an eyebrow as a tear leaked out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. He wondered if he had been so moved the first time that he saw the sunrise. Probably not, because unlike Momo, he took the wonder of the small things for granted. She turned to him with a beaming, grateful smile so big it made her eyes scrunch up a little. “Thank you, Yosetsu. I’ll never forget this moment, never.” He blushed at the solemnness of her vow and scratched at the back of his head bashfully.

“Well… If you want to… You can see it every morning. The sunrise, I mean. I do it every day before I go out to sea.”

“Then I’ll be here every morning waiting for you,” she promised. He gave her a lopsided grin. She pulled herself up onto the rocks so that they were eye-level. Her face was only a few inches from his. He could kiss her, if he wanted to- and oh, how he wanted to. Her eyes flickered down to his lips as he experimentally leaned in a little closer. She did not retreat from his advance, only gazed invitingly at him with those eyes like black pearls.

“You know somethin’, Momo?” His breath ghosted over her face, and his lips hovered mere millimeters from hers.

“What?” The word was but a whisper, a flitter of wind against his mouth.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as he closed the minuscule distance and gently pressed his mouth to hers. His hands found her waist, just above the junction of ruby scales to skin covered by strings of glass shards and kelp wrappings, and tenderly caressed the soft flesh still gleaming with seawater. He only held the kiss for a mere moment, as fleeting as the crash of a wave against the shore. When he pulled back, her onyx eyes glittered as she smiled sheepishly and cupped his wind-roughened cheek in her hand. There, in the space where sky met sea met land, Yosetsu again marveled the wonder of all the small things in the world and was thankful.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @mhafandomman

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jbrentonparker · 6 years ago

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“A Wish” (A Fairy Tale Retold)

He went up the hill to the cliff overlooking the roiling sea with the intention of throwing himself off of it, but when he arrived, someone else was already there.

He stopped in his tracks, his arms full of crumpled letters, dog-eared books, and a pair of white cotton socks that the wild wind was threatening to tear from his grasp, and stared at the silhouetted figure that stood motionless at the cliff's edge. It was a woman, standing alone in the sea of heather that blanketed the rocky hillside for miles. Her hair whipped about her head in a tangled mass of gold, her dress straining and billowing against her legs like a sail about to catch the wind. She faced away from him, out over the ocean, and was so still and isolated that he might have thought her a specter if he had seen her in the gloom of night rather than the full light of day.

First incredulity, then hot anger rose in his chest, and his face flushed. Wrenches were thrown into plans he had spent the entire morning crafting, and he spluttered and swore to himself until he overcame his shock. With narrowed eyes and squared shoulders, he continued to wade through the dense heather up toward the woman, crushing the hardy little flowers underfoot.

The passion of the moment was somewhat spoiled when a crumpled sheet of hand written poetry escaped his grasp and was caught on the wind, tumbling end over end in mad cartwheels. With another oath, he chased it down, running awkwardly through knee high shrubs and struggling not to drop any of the other mementos he held. Finally, his heart pounding and his ears aching from the cold bite of the roaring wind, he pinned the paper beneath one foot and was able to squat down so he could just barely grab the edge of it with two fingers. Sweaty, red faced, and quite out of breath, he looked up and saw that his mad dash had brought him nearly back at the bottom of the hill―as opposed to at the bottom of the sea, which is where he had planned to be by now.

The passion and spontaneity of the thing had been thoroughly lost, and for a brief moment his determination wavered. He hadn't really thought much about the bottom of the ocean.

But the fire of pride wasn't so quick to burn out. He clung fiercely to that, and with grim determination to give that woman, whoever she was, a piece of his mind, he struggled all the way back up the hill for a second time.

"What,” he panted when he finally trudged up behind her, too short of breath to sound as fierce as he had intended, “are you doing here?”

The woman hadn't seemed to notice his approach until he spoke. She slowly turned her head toward him, as if reluctant to look away from the view of the endless, gray sea. She didn't seem startled to see him there, and only glanced at him briefly with pale eyes before turning back to the water.

“I'm going to jump into the sea,” she said in a soft, almost dreamy voice.

“You can't!” he snapped at her.

Now she did turn to look at him properly, her brow furrowing. “What? Why not?”

“Because, I'm jumping off the cliff today!” And he stomped his foot as he said it.

“Why?” the woman asked.

He swelled a little, adjusting his grip on the bundles of papers, books, and socks. “My lover left me.”

“So you're going to throw yourself off a cliff?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you see these here?” he said, jerking his chin at the treasures he clutched to his chest. “These are all the letters she wrote me, all the poems and songs and tender words that she put down on paper in her own hand for me to cherish. These are the books she used to read, the words of the authors she loved to quote, as if she understood what they meant. These are the socks she left behind that once covered the feet I would have dropped to my knees and kissed if she'd asked me to. These are the letters I wrote to her after she left, beseeching her to come back; begging to know why she did it; groveling and pleading and abandoning every scrap of dignity and self respect I ever had for myself because I couldn't stand to be without her. I never even sent them to her. I couldn't have if I wanted to. She's gone, and she took the man I used to be with her. I don't just have nothing left, I am nothing. I opened myself up to her in ways I didn't even know I was capable of, I laid myself naked and bare and exposed at her feet, and then she spit on me while I was down there. And now,” he drew himself up a little taller, his expression grew a little stonier, “I'm going to take all of these, everything that she has touched, every lovely lie she told me, and I'm going to let the sea take them, and me.”

“For a woman?”

His mouth dropped open, but he could only manage a few incoherent sputters. “I--you don't...” He trembled with barely suppressed emotion. “You don't understand! You don't know what it's like, to have everything taken away from you!”

“And this is her punishment, then?”

He didn't answer her.

“Would you rather she'd have stayed, even if it made her miserable? Even if it made you miserable? Would you have kept her forever, because she owed you, no matter what it cost you both?”

He only glared, but the woman wasn't looking at him any longer. The ocean below was gray and heaving, waves crashing with bone breaking force into the rocks that jutted out of the water like broken teeth.

“Why are you here?” he eventually asked her again.

“I told you,” she replied.

“No, I mean why are you going to kill yourself?”

“That is a sad story,” she said, the air wistfulness falling back over her. She fell quiet then, and he waited for her to continue.

A full minute passed, and then another. He gathered that she had no intention of elaborating, and with a huff of impotent frustration, he made to push past her for the edge of the cliff.

Then, quite abruptly, she began to tell him her story.

Our parents died when we were still quite young. My father was a fisherman, and one day the sea claimed him. My mother began to fade away after his death, as if she had lost her will to exist without him, until one day she was gone too and my brother and I were left alone in the world. As the eldest, it was my responsibility to look after my brother, but we struggled to feed ourselves from day to day. So my brother became a fisherman, like our father before him, and we were able to keep ourselves from starving. We were not prosperous. We were rarely even comfortable. But we got by. For years, we got by.

One day, my brother was fishing in his little boat on a part of the coast he had never been to before. He came by a small cove, hidden along the cliff side. It was difficult to get to, the waters were treacherous and full of crumbling rocks that threatened to dash his boat to pieces upon them. But what he found there was worth the danger, for though there were few fish, no other fishermen had discovered this hidden place, and the cove and tide pools on the shore were rich in the bounty of the sea. Almost every day he was able to bring back clams and mussels, eels, barnacles, sea cucumbers, crabs as big as your head, shrimp and scallops and star fish and once, even an octopus. It was thriving with life, and for the first time since our parents died, we did not go hungry, not even for one night.

Then, one day, he caught something different.

He was hauling up his net, and found it was heavier than it had ever been before. It was all he could do to keep the rope from being wrenched from his grasp and lost in the water. Inch by inch, he dragged it up, expecting to find the largest sea creature he had ever seen. But when he was finally able to haul it up over the side of the boat, all he saw was one solitary fish, no larger than a sea bass.

It was clear as soon as he laid eyes upon it that it was anything but ordinary, however. The fish glittered and gleamed in the sunlight, with scales of pure gold and eyes of silver. The weight of the thing threatened to capsize his boat as it flopped about, desperately caught up in the net. He stared at it in wonder, and realized he could sell a fish like that for enough money that he and I could live in comfort for the rest of our lives. But then, to his even greater surprise, it spoke to him.

“Please, dear fisherman,” it begged. “Please release me! I am an extraordinary fish, and if you do, I will grant you any wish you desire. The sun, the moon, the stars, they could all be yours, if you would but set me free.”

“Any wish?” my brother asked. “Wealth? Power? Happiness? You could grant me all that?”

“All that and more, good fisherman,” said the golden fish. “The only domain I have no power over is death, but the rest of the world is yours if you only give me back to the ocean. Take pity, I beg of you.”

My brother considered the fish's offer. He was never hasty. Neither of us ever acted in impulse. So measured, so careful. Look where it got us.

“I will release you,” he said finally, “but on one condition. I won't make my wish now. I have to consult my sister first, for she is all I have left in the world, and my fortune is her fortune as well. I will release you now and return home to ask her what we should wish for, if you swear that you will be waiting here for my return tomorrow.”

“I swear it,” said the fish, and my brother did as he promised and cut his net. It disappeared into the dark water, and my brother, hoping he had not made a mistake in trusting the golden fish, sailed back home.

As soon as he found me, he told me what had happened, about the fish and the wish it had promised him.

“Just one wish?” I asked.

“A wish for anything. The sun, the moon, the stars. Even happiness. Whatever we want, we can have--except for life. I know what you are thinking, I thought it too. But it cannot bring back the dead.”

“So we have a wish, but we cannot use it on the one thing we want? What else could we possibly wish for we would not come to regret? A wish is a dangerous thing to waste. Money can keep us fed and comfortable, but won't give us happiness. Happiness won't keep us fed. We could make ourselves a king and queen, and die in a bloody revolution when the land is stricken with famine. We could wish for a purse full of gold that never empties, but then be stricken by a disease for which there is no cure that money can buy. Just one wish, and a million ways to waste it.”

“Then what do you propose we do?” he asked me, and I thought long and hard about what the wisest course of action would be.

“I think,” I finally said to him, “that you should go back and catch the fish again. Bring it here, and we will put it in a bowl, and let people pay us to come and see a golden, talking fish. It sounds like a wondrous creature, I have no doubt that it will draw people from all over the world to see it. Right now our worst suffering is our impoverishment, but we need not use the wish to cure ourselves of that. We can keep the fish until we have become so rich that money is no longer any concern, and then we will decide what wish to make. When we have all the food and comfort that money can buy, when our minds are not clouded by constant hunger and the struggles of poverty, then we will make our wish. We can use for something wealth cannot give us, or better yet, save it for when we are in need of it most.”

My brother agreed with me that this was the wisest decision we could make. Having a wish a year ago could have saved our parents, and it seemed prudent to keep one on hand in case a similar need arose. So the next morning, before the sun had risen, he took to his sailing boat and made his way to the secluded little cove.

Waiting for him just as promised was the golden fish, the first rays of the morning sun glancing off its head that broke the surface of the water.

It swam up to my brother and asked, “What is your wish, good fisherman?”

And my brother threw his net over the animal. It fought, and was as heavy as it had been the first time my brother had struggled with it, but once again he managed to haul it up into the boat and dump it into a bucket of seawater.

“I apologize, my friend,” he said to it, “but we need the wealth and fame a creature like you can provide us with more than we need a wish right now.”

“I can give you wealth and fame if you wish for it!” the fish pleaded, but my brother only shook his head sadly and steered the boat for home.

“Your wish is too valuable to waste on instant pleasures or material wealth. We must save it for when we are in need of it most.”

The fish pleaded with him the entire way back, but my brother did not give in, though it pierced his heart to hear it beg so miserably.

It took the both of us to drag the bucket back to our house, and together we poured the fish and the seawater into a large glass bowl which we had placed in our back garden. We tried to make it comfortable, filling the bottom of the bowl with small pebbles and bits of seaweed. But even though it was the largest bowl we owned, the fish had barely enough room to swim in a circle. And it continued to entreat us to release it all the while, begging us to send it home to the ocean where it belonged, but we covered out ears and didn't listen.

Don't look at me like that. You don't know what it was like. We weren't heartless to the poor creature's plight, please understand. We weren't planning on keeping it like that forever, just long enough to make a comfortable living off its handsome scales and clever speech. And once we had decided the cleverest wish to ask of it. After that, we would have let it go again. We tried to explain that to the fish, but it only continued to plead and cry, big silver tears. Eventually we covered the bowl with a cloth, and we went back inside.

From then on, we spread the word to as many people that we could about our wondrous fish. First to come were our neighbors; then people from distant towns; then people from the other side of the country--people from miles and miles away who had heard about the golden, talking fish, and wanted to see it with their own eyes.

We weren't greedy and charged them only a small sum, but so many people came in those first few weeks that we had no doubt we would be able to live like kings in no time at all.

But the fish wouldn't cooperate.

We would lead people into our back garden and take the cloth off the bowl. The guests would gasp in delight, remarking how beautifully the fish's golden scales gleamed, how bright its silver eyes shone, and how it spoke just like a man. But when they fell quiet to listen to its speech, and they heard it pleading.

“Please please let me go, I beg of you! I am so unhappy in this little bowl, I long for the wide, open ocean. Staring out of the curved glass sides of this bowl is making me go blind. I can only swim in little circles, and my body is aching and twisted. And I'm so lonely. I miss the other fish, I miss the quiet of the deep water, I miss the darkness when I dive down deep. Here it is all too bright and loud, and the water in this little bowl grows so hot when the sun shines on it. I am going to die if you keep me like this, please have some kindness! What have I done to deserve this? Why are you doing this to me? Take some pity and let me go!”

On and on it went, and the people we brought to see it would grow uncomfortable and start muttering amongst themselves, casting us ugly looks as if we were torturing the creature預s if they hadn't paid good money to come and gawk at it themselves. You are looking at me the same way now, but you don't understand what it was like. We weren't trying to be cruel, we were just trying to secure our future. If the fish had only listened to us, if it had just cooperated, things might have been different. Like your lover, no? But people are so selfish. They only think about what they want.

Then, slowly at first, the crowds of people who came to see the creature began to dwindle. At the height of our fame we had a hundred visitors a day, and made money almost faster than we could spend it. We repaired the holes in the roof of our cottage, we mended the fences around our land, we patched holes and cracks in the wall and for the first time since our parents died the cold night air didn't seep into our home and make us shiver in our beds. We bought clothing that hadn't been frayed and darned a hundred times over. We ate until we thought our stomachs would burst every night, and were certain our troubles were over. But all those people who came, who helped make us rich, they never came again after they listened to the fish's words.

We went from bringing in a hundred people a day, to fifty, then twenty, ten. At the end, those few who did come only wanted to see if what they had heard about the fish's terrible condition was true, and they sneered and scolded us for how we were treating it. And then none at all would come. Word had spread about the unhappiness of the fish. Our neighbors turned their noses up at us. People in town wouldn't talk to us. We were shunned, even though we tried again and again to explain that we weren't going to keep the fish forever.

“Just let the poor thing go!” they would say to us in the streets.

“We will, we will,” we tried to assure them, “Once we've made a little more money, just a little more!”

“Greedy, greedy,” they said.

Sometimes one or two people would still show up, people who hadn't heard about the fish's sadness, or people who didn't care. We clung to the hope that we could convince the others to come again, and we kept trying, even as what money we had made in those first few weeks dwindled. We hadn't saved anything. We had spent everything we'd earned on making our lives more comfortable, always thinking that there would be more money later.

Two weeks after our last visitor, we spent our last penny. A week after that, we had eaten our last loaf of bread.

We were warm at night. Our clothes were clean and new. And yet again, we teetered on the brink of starvation.

We begged our neighbors for help, for a few spare coins, for a little meat or drink, like they had been kind enough to give us in the past when times were at their toughest.

“After the way you've exploited that poor creature?” they said. “You've only brought this upon yourselves.”

Intentions. Intentions don't matter to other people, do they? They only care about what they can see. Once you've jumped off this cliff, will your lover know what you meant by it? Or will she just see a silly, lovesick fool? How do you punish someone who doesn't understand what they've done wrong?

Where was I? Oh, yes. Selfishness. Of course.

My brother came to me once it was clear that our plans had gone irrevocably wrong.

“Perhaps we should make our wish now and set it free,” he tentatively suggested.

“No,” I disagreed. “We may need that wish yet. Let's not waste it until we have lost all hope.”

“All hope is lost,” he said. “Can't you see that? We're back where we started, only now we're miserable too. At least I'm miserable. We're hated and ostracized, and I don't even care about the wish any more. What we are doing to the fish hurts my soul. I never wanted to capture it in the first place. Can't we just make our wish and leave it in peace?

“We're not doing anything to the fish,” I replied angrily. “We're keeping it alive and fed, we're doing nothing to harm it.”

“We're making it miserable,” he said.

“We are miserable. We need to save our wish now more than ever. Do you remember what happened to our parents? We could have saved them if we'd had a wish then. You still have your boat. You can still fish, so we can still keep ourselves fed. All hope is not lost, not yet.”

So my brother returned to fishing to keep us fed. He refused to even go into the back garden any more, not wishing to see the golden fish in its bowl. I only went out there to feed it, running back into the house with my hands over my ears while it cried after me.

As the days stretched into weeks, my brother caught less and less in his nets when he went out fishing. The creatures of the ocean seemed to flee from him as he drew near, and even his secret cove where he had first discovered the golden fish grew barren. When he went out into deeper waters, storm clouds massed overhead and the waves roiled, threatening to drag his boat down. We had done something terrible by capturing the gift of the golden fish that had been given to us, and the ocean rejected us. Weeks passed. We became thin and stretched, and we laid awake at night while our stomachs twisted with hunger, driving the possibility sleep from our minds. We were driven to eating grass--we ate the leather off our own shoes just to make it feel like there was something in our stomachs. By then, even I realized we had no choice.

We went to the golden fish and drew back the cloth over the bowl.

“Have you finally come to set me free?” it asked us. It sounded so hopeful.

“We've come to make our wish,” we told it.

Have you ever been starving before? Have you ever spent so much of your life constantly, endlessly starving like we did? We were stupid with hunger, and we wished for an end to the one battle we were always fighting. We wished for enough food to keep us well fed for the rest of our lives, and thought that that was the wisest thing we could do.

And we got it. A mountain of good, rich food appeared right there in our back garden, filling every corner, crushing all the plants and almost our house under the weight of it all. The top of the teetering pile reached higher than the cottage's roof, it was the most incredible sight you've ever seen in your life. There were bundles of brightly colored carrots, in more colors than I even knew carrots came in. Did you know there are purple carrots? They're not as sweet as the orange kind, but they're so crisp when they're fresh. There were shiny tomatoes all on the vine, red and yellow and green. And apples, with rosy cheeks and sweet white flesh, and the juice dripped down your chin when you bit into them. Fat grapes were spilling over the other fruits like purple waterfalls; turnips and beets that could have been only just pulled up out of the earth; steaming piles of butchered meat so fresh it still bled; wicker baskets piled high with speckled brown and green eggs; huge metal milk cans at tall as my hip, full of warm, white milk with the cream still floating on top; and a thousand more things I didn't even know the names of. Overcome by wonder at the bounty, we quickly forgot about the little golden fish. We couldn't help but laugh, laugh and wonder why we hadn't done this right away.

As I said, we were stupid with hunger, and it didn't take us long to realize our mistake.

For one week, we ate as well as we ever had. The fish was somewhere out in the garden, surrounded by heaps of fruits and vegetables, and it was far from our minds. For by then, the rot had set in.

We brought as much as possible into the house, but there was just too much. We had nowhere to store it all, and before we knew it the meat was covered in flies and maggots, the vegetables dried out and withered in the summer sun, the eggs went rotten, the milk spoiled and congealed, and the fruit furred with mold and fungus. There was so much of the stuff, we couldn't even move it, we couldn't get rid of it all. The rot and mold in the air began to make us even sicker than before. It settled in our throats and lungs making our breath come in short gasps, making our heads spin, and we vomited up what few long lasting root vegetables we had managed to salvage. And once again--again, again, always again--we found ourselves starving. We were reduced to eating the rotting food in our garden, even though it only made us sicker. So please, try to understand why we did what we did. We never wanted to, we never planned to. We were wasting away to nothing, we had no other choice.

We found the fish again, eventually, once the mountain of food that had hidden it from view had rotted away to piles of sludge and slime that oozed into the earth. It too was thin and weak, but alive, just barely. It was floating on its side in the bowl, without even the energy to sink to the bottom. Its silver eyes rolled when it saw us, and somehow it managed to ask in a rasping voice, “have you come to set me free?”

And we were so very hungry.

It was barely enough to feed the two of us, and its beautiful scales broke nearly every knife I tried to use on it. We piled those scales up, hoping to use them as money since we had nothing else, but the next morning, we found their golden luster had dulled into flakes of lead. Even the little silver eyes crumbled away like so much dust.

My brother was forced to return to the sea yet again, but his luck was even worse than before. He didn't make a single catch, the sea was a desert for him. The ocean would grow dark and tumultuous when he set sail in his little boat, and he was afraid, afraid of what waited for him out there.

Even though all his attempts had been fruitless since we had betrayed the golden fish, he kept sailing out in his little boat, day after day, heading farther and farther out to sea, to deeper waters, in desperate attempts to catch anything at all. And then one day he didn't come back. His boat washed up on shore, shattered to broken bits of wood. I searched for him, walking up and down the shore, calling his name, hoping that I would find him half drowned but alive, hidden by a sand dune somewhere. But I never even got his body back. The ocean had claimed my brother, in payment for what we took. An eye for an eye, and I'm the only one left, blinded by what I thought was my own cleverness. We all think we're so clever, don't we? Now I have nothing left. I have nothing left to want. I have nothing left to wish for.

The woman fell silent, her thin, cracked lips pressed into a hard line. Her gray eyes were flat and dull, sunk deep into hollow sockets. Her golden hair, so thin and brittle, was being blown from her scalp by the wind.

The man watched her quietly for a long time, as she teetered there on the edge of nothingness. Then he glanced down at the things he held in his arms, the mementos and treasures of someone he had loved very much, the things he was prepared to die with. To die for.

“The fish wasn't yours to own,” he said, slowly. The woman's expression was blank, unfocused. She stared out at the sea without seeming to hear him speak. “It didn't owe you anything. You wasted a gift. And now you're here, because this is your punishment.” He paused, wrinkled his nose, and shook his head. “It wasn't even your wish. It was your brother's wish. It was his gift. You took it from him.”

He looked again at the love notes, the limp socks. They had a little lace cuff, whose stitching was just starting to come undone.

“I'm not like you,” he said.

Slowly, as if being drawn forward against his will, he began to edge toward the lip of the cliff, until the toes of his shoes hung barely an inch over the side. Beneath him, it was a hundred feet to the waves that crashed over the dark stones, the sea an angry, churning entity of white froth cresting on gray water. He opened his arms wide, releasing everything he held into the void. The books tumbled downwards, their covers spreading open, their pages fluttering like the wings of flailing baby birds tumbling from the nest. The unbound pages, the love letters and poems signed with kiss marks, were caught by the wind and whipped away, spiraling through the air on updrafts that could have carried them halfway around the world. A pair of white cotton socks spun, intertwined, in a spiraling descent into the sea foam below.

He watched the mementos of love lost disappear into the hungry waters, and took a deep breath of the chill, salty ocean air. Then he turned back to the woman. She was watching him, her eyes deep and uncertain.

“Are you really going to jump?” he asked her.

“You let it all go,” she replied so softly that the wind stole her words away as soon as they left her lips.

“It was never mine. Not really, I don't think.” He turned his face into the wind. It felt cool and good on his cheeks and brow. “I haven't forgiven her,” he said, as if he didn't want the woman to get the wrong idea. “I just... I'm not like you.” A beat of silence. “Do you think losing something can be a gift? Getting rid of something?”

“I've lost everything,” said the woman. “What do I do now? What else is there to do, except...” The waves thundered against the base of the cliff, churning and hungry. “I wish I knew what to do.”

He didn't answer her. He didn't have any answers for her. He just turned away from her, and started walking back down the hillside through the swaying purple heather, the cliff and the churning ocean and the woman with the golden hair behind him, teetering on the edge of possibilities.

#short story #writing #mywriting #writers on tumblr #fairy tales #my writing

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halloweentv · 7 years ago

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Netflix and chills!

v.2017

Celebrate Halloween on Netflix! Below is a list of Halloween themed shows and movies available on Netflix streaming that you can play for Halloween! Enjoy!

Stranger Things

S1 After a game of D and D with his friends Will disappears. His friends try to find him but instead find a mysterious girl

Takes place during Halloween and the boys dress as the ghostbusters.

Supernatural S4 It’s the Great Pumpkin Sam Winchester” Investigating two mysterious deaths in a small town, Sam and Dean discover a witch is sacrificing people to summon a dangerous demon.

Friends

S8 “The One with the Halloween Party” At Monica’s Halloween party, Phoebe becomes attracted to her two sister’s fiancé.

Frasier

S5 “Halloween” Niles hosts a Halloween party for the Library Association where the guests dress as literary characters.

S9 “Room full of heroes” Frasier has a Halloween party and asks his guests to dress as their heroes.

American Horror Story

S1 “Halloween Part 1 & 2″ the ghosts can leave the house on halloween night. Tate runs into some ghosts from his past. S3 “Fearful Pranks Ensue” the witches raise the dead on Halloween S4 “Edward Mordrake Part 1 & 2″ the freaks don’t want to perform on halloween in fear of a ghost coming to visit.

Freaks and Geeks “Tricks and Treats” - Lindsay spends Halloween making mischief with her new friends while Sam goes trick or treating even though he’s in High School now.

Parenthood S2 “Orange Alert” The Bravermen’s gear up to celebrate their favorite holiday, Halloween! Max wants to go trick or treating for the first time, so his parents do their best to prepare him for the night, since he is on the spectrum.

Parks and Recreation S2 “Greg Pikitis” Leslie enlists the help of Dave and Andy in order to catch a local teen vandal. Meanwhile, Ann struggles to make her Halloween party fun and gets help from an unlikely source. S4 “Meet n Greet” Ben is mad when Andy and April decide to throw a Halloween party at their house without asking him. Tom emcees an event for Leslie’s campaign but manages to also promote his company. Meanwhile, Ron and Ann give Andy and April an unusual wedding present.

13 Reasons Why

“Tape 2 Side B” Its Halloween in the present and Clay strikes back at someone who wronged Hannah. In the past Hannah thinks someone is stalking her.

Jem

S2 “Trick or Techrat” Jem and friends encounter spooky mishaps while preparing an old opera house for a Halloween concert

Fuller House

S2 “Curse of Tanner Manor” DJ attempts to throw the scariest Halloween party for Max. Stephanie works as a zombie at a haunted house.

Star Trek TOS

S2 “Catspaw” Kirk and the crew land on a planet with a spooky castle and witches.

Pac’s Scary Halloween

Sinister Dr. Pacenstein schemes to swap bodies with Pac during a Halloween party.

Pac Man and the Ghostly Adventures

S1 “A Berry Scary Night” Count Pacula attempts to drain the last yellow orb in Pac World on Halloween night.

S2 “The Shadow of the were-pac” Pac and his friends are confronted by spooky space ghost pirates.

The Real Ghostbusters

S1 “When Halloween was forever” An ancient spirit shows up in New York to make Halloween last forever. And Frankenstein is groovin!

S2 “Halloween II ½” While everyone is trick or treating on Halloween Sam Hain escapes.

S4 “The Halloween Door” Crowley wants to end Halloween once and for all and does so even without the help of the ghost busters.

Cult of Chucky

Chucky has some scores to settle with some old enemies.

Young Frankenstein

In this pitch perfect parody, the grandson of the infamous Dr. Frankenstein follows in his footsteps and creates a monster and puts on the ritz!

Tales of Halloween

Anthology series of shorts set on Halloween. Including trick or treating aliens and kidnappers in way over their heads.

Mr. Young

S3 “Mr. Candy” The gang are hungover from too much candy the previous night and struggle to put together the events from Halloween.

Cheers

S3 “Fairy tales can come true” Cliff meets the woman of his dreams at the bar on Halloween night but is afraid of meeting her when he’s not in costume.

S10 “Bar Wars V: The Final Judgement” Sam’s latest trick may have killed Gary, but is it really Gary who is playing the trick on Sam?

Charmed S3 “All Halliwell’s Eve” The sister’s go to the 1600’s to save a witch and her baby

Family Guy S9 “Halloween on Spooner Street” Stewie’s candy is stolen by bullies

F is for Family

S1 F is for Halloween” Frank secretly torpedoes Sue’s shot at a real job and a bully leaves Bill afraid to don his costume.

How I met Your Mother S1 “Slutty Pumpkin” Ted holds out hope of seeing the Slutty Pumpkin, a girl he met at a Halloween before. S7 “The Slutty Pumpkin Returns” Ted finally meets the slutty pumpkin again.

Girl Meets World

S1 “Girl Meets World of Terror″ Augie hosts scary Halloween tales and meets a monster under his bed.

S2 “Girls Meets World of Terror 2″ Riley and Maya discover the ghost a flapper living in the bay window.

S3 “Girl Meets World of Terror 3″ Augie does a scary time theater and shows what the world would be like if Riley and Maya never became friends.

Power Rangers S1 “Trick or Treat” Kimberly goes on a Halloween game showâ€¦cuz those exist. S1 “Life’s a Masquerade” Isn’t set on Halloween but has a cool Frankenstein monster in it. and costumes. S2 “Zedd’s Monster Mash” Tommy faces some real Halloween monsters after he’s kidnapped by Goldar.

Power Rangers Samurai “Party Monsters” and “Trickster Treat”

Power Rangers Megaforce “Raising Spirits”

Power Rangers Dino Charge “The Ghostest with the Mostest” and in Dino Super Charge “Trick or Trial”

Dreamworks Spooky Stories “Scared Skrekless” Shrek and Co tell scary stories “Monsters vs Aliens Mutant pumpkins” Ginormica and co battle mutant pumpkins! Dreamworks Spooky Stories Vol. 2 “Monsters Vs Aliens: night of the Living Carrots” Picks up right after the previous special Also included another MVA short, Megamind, and Shrek.

From R.L. Stine: Monsterville A group of kids find out a haunted maze at the carnival is more realistic than they thought.

Mostly Ghostly 3

As Max tries to help his ghost pals Nicky and Tara find their parents, he stumbles on an enchanted crystal–and an evil new plot by Phears.

Goosebumps

Good show for the season but the Halloween episodes in particular are S5 “The Haunted Mask” Carly Beth’s scary mask begins to change her. S5 “The Haunted Mask 2” A boy’s creepy Halloween mask won’t come off and begins to harm him. S2 “Attack of the Jack O'Lanterns” Jack O‘Lantern aliens terrorize some trick or treaters.

Goosebumps Movie

A teen moves to a new town and falls for the girl next door but soon finds out her dad is R.L. Stine and his book characters become all too real.

The Haunting Hour series

Another good show for the season. The halloween episode is S2 “Pumpkinhead” - a group of siblings fear the legend of a farmer who takes kids heads and turns them into pumpkins.

————- Glee S2 the class attempts to out on a performance of Rocky Horror for Halloween.

New Girl S2 “Halloween” Jess gets hired as a zombie at a haunted house. S3 “Keaton” Jess hosts a Halloween party and a Michael Keaton batman costume helps cheer up Schmidt. Spooky Buddies The buddies encounter the Halloween Hound and evade an evil sorceror on Halloween night. . Louie S3 “Halloween/Ellie” Louie takes his daughters trick or treating and encounter some punks.

Malcolm in the Middle S2 “Halloween Approximately” -Malcolm and his brothers build the ultimate stealth weapon. S7 “Halloween” - Reese and Dewey evade an old man they egged while Loos tries to get out of work so she can trick or treat.

My Babysitter’s a Vampire S2 "Halloweird" In a total “not rip off” of Buffy, a mask makes people turn into real-life versions of their costumes.

The Vampire Diaries S1 “Haunted” Matt takes Vicky to a haunted hous ebut the night takes a terrifying turn

That 70’s Show S2 “Halloween” The gang visit their old burnt down school while Kitty remincies about their first Halloween in the house. S3 “Too Old to Trick or Treat, Too young to Die” A Halloween episode filled with parodies of Alfred Hitchcock movies: “Rear Window”, “Vertigo”, “The Birds”, “North By Northwest” and “Psycho”.

CSI Miami “By the Book” A body is found that appears to have had the blood drained by a Vampire

Bones “Mummy in the Maze” A mummy found in a Halloween maze leads to an investigation. Bones has a Wonder-ful costume!

The Office S2 Halloween Downsizing leads corporate headquarters to order Michael to fire somebody by the end of October. Michael procrastinates until Halloween, when he still has not decided whom to fire. When he decides to fire Creed, Creed manages to convince Michael to fire Devon. S6 Koi Pond While on the way to a business meeting, Michael falls into a koi pond. The staff tease him so he holds an anti-bullying seminar. Pam and Andy go cold-calling to stir up some new business; they reluctantly use clients’ mistaking them as a couple to their advantage. S7 Costume Contest Michael freaks out when Darryl goes over his head by taking an idea to corporate. The employees partake in a Halloween costume contest in the office. Meanwhile, Pam tries to get the truth from Danny about their dating history. S8 Spooked Erin works to make a spooky, non-childish Halloween party, with help from Gabe. Dwight becomes friends with Robert’s son, and Pam and Jim debate the existence of ghosts. Meanwhile, Robert tries to figure out everyone’s deepest fears in order to culminate a ghost story.

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia S6 “Who got Dee Pregnant” The gang think back to their Halloween party to figure out who got Dee pregnant.

Pretty Little Liars S2 “The First Secret” in a flashback some backstory to the mystery of A is revelaed. S3 “This is a Dark Ride” The girls get aboard the Rosewood ghost train S4 “Grave New World” A clue suggests that Ali may still be alive so they crash a cemetery party to find her.

#netflix #Halloween tv #Halloween episode #Halloween special #Halloween movies #stranger things #supernatural #streaming

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so-fi-fi · 7 years ago

Text

Gereng Week 2017- Resurface

My second entry of @gereng-week is here! Be prepared though, this one is LONG compared to my last entry. Get some snacks and settle down!

Honestly, my thought process with this was as follows: resurface- resurfacing from water- water- MERMAIDS!!

So yeah, this is a fic that involves that stuff is what I’ll say ;)

Please enjoy!

EDIT: ok I don’t know why this didn’t show up but now there’s an under the cut. ugh im sorry for anyone who had to scroll through all of this it’s finally working now, although i cant seem to make it work for mobile so sorry in advance >>

It was a perfect day on the English coast; the sun shined, breaking through the clouds amidst a blue sky. It’s warmth was chilled by the wind that whipped through the rocky cliffs, billowing and blowing. Seafaring birds squawked overhead, landing on the rocks, checking their nests.

Arthur watched them, padding along the sand against the gentle waves. This was his absolute favorite spot to frequent, away from the crowdedness of his normal life. Plus, it served to fuel Arthur’s desire to study the ocean, to learn more about it. Ever since he took up a job working on a ship as a lad, the sea was something he became fascinated with. Despite the backbreaking labor and meager pay, Arthur had always looked forward to boarding the ship, feeling the breeze caressing his hair and salt spray filling his nose.

Now, as man, he could pursue this hobby more acutely. A dusty satchel slung over his shoulder, carrying multiple objects like magnifying glasses, dusters, and his pair of shoes that he’d put on once he left. In one hand, Arthur held a notepad, open and ready to be used once he found something to observe. He flipped through it absentmindedly, looking over some notes he took last week; shells and things that washed up on shore. Arthur tipped his head back, breathing in deeply, a slow smile curling on his lips. This must be the greatest he’s ever felt! Such unbridled freedom, his own world hidden away by sheer rock cliffs on all sides. Away from the blandness of society, the drab of work and hardship.

Watching the sand again, Arthur hummed as he spotted a particularly intricate shell resting between the dunes. Picking it up gently, he brushed his fingers over the smooth, jagged surface. He eyed it for a moment, before pulling a pencil from his pocket, balancing his notebook on his forearm so as not to drop the precious discovery. Arthur began walking absentmindedly forward over the beach again.

He didn’t pay attention to where he was going, feet shuffling over the sand, too engrossed in his notes to notice the terrain become slightly rocky. Turning to the side, Arthur stopped for a moment, holding the shell up and scrutinizing it against the sunlight. A sudden glint caught his attention in his peripheral vision, and Arthur turned his head instinctively towards the flash. Surely, it must be a trinket long forgotten, only now unearthed by the beating of the waves. Glancing at whatever it was without much thought, he returned his attention back to the shell.

Wait.

Arthur snapped his head around, neck complaining at the sheer force, taking in just what the hell he was seeing. His entire body froze, muscles tensed, and it felt like an entire bucket of icy water was just dumped- no, slammed over him.

Someone was stretched out on one of the rocks, lying on his stomach and basking in the sun. Except, Arthur realized it wasn’t someone, but something. From the waist down, a tail adorned with luminous scales curled lazily on the sandy stone, flippers slapping lightly against it with what must have been contentment. Gaze tracing back up and over the dorsal fin that protruded from the spine, Arthur saw that even the part of the creature which should have been human had otherworldly features; Translucent fins ran along the sides of his arms, the same appendages frilling from beneath his pale hair taking the place of ears, and a nose that seemed flatter and less prominent than normal. Yet despite the oddities, Arthur found himself entranced, eyes unable to break away from the glittering scales, sky blue and blinking underneath the light. Were they changing colors? Or was that just his disbelieving mind playing tricks on him?

Nonetheless, the situation finally dawned on him, and a fierce gasp ripped itself from Arthur’s chest. The sharp noise immediately alerted the creature to his presence, who let out a startled noise of his own, jolting up in surprise. Eyes wide and fearful, staring into Arthur’s for a split second, he scrambled off the stone, powerful tail propelling him into the water and out of sight.

“Wait wait wait- don’t go!” Arthur tripped over his own words, flingy all his possession to the ground and sprinting into the shallows.

Fear is what caused him to halt once the tide reached his knees, and he stared hopelessly into the water .

“Come back! I didn’t mean to scare you!” He cupped his hands over his mouth, voice reverberating across the ocean and up the cliff walls. Minutes passed with no sign of blue scales, and Arthur’s hands dropped in defeat at his sides; the waves he shouted at were empty.

Breath shaking, his legs gave out under the weight of pure adrenaline, falling to kneel and not giving a damn about his soaked clothing. Even if he could swim, pursuing the creature would be highly impractical, with his legs suited for land as they were. Arthur leans down and splashes salt water in his face, hissing as it stung his eyes, trying to bring himself out of whatever sick dream he was having. But when they reopened, there was no comforting pressure of the blankets in his bed, only the teasing calls of gulls. Arthur almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. He could hardly believe it, convinced since young that they were just a silly fairy tale, yet look what just happened.

He had just seen a merman.

Every week, Arthur returned to that same spot. Gathering whatever interesting things he could find, he plopped himself down on the rock the merman had been, and took his notes there. Every so often, his eyes would flicker to the waves gently crashing and undulating, hoping to see light hair and eyes resurface from their depths. Sometimes his brain would deceive him, a stray reflection on the waters making his heart jump in excitement, only to plummet back down to earth realising that it was just that: a stray reflection. Even with these frustrations, Arthur held steadfast, keeping this religious schedule on point, never faltering.

Soon, a full month had passed, the days trudging on. Arthur felt as if he were dragging his feet in the sand, feeling so lethargic from the disappointment. It must have all been a figment of his imagination, he was sure of it, sat there for another day without the encounter he so desired. He was wasting his time, wasn’t he? Letting this false apparition plague his life and warp it into a constant waiting game for nothing. Yet Arthur couldn’t move past it. All he could see was that merman stretched out on the rocks like a cat, peaceful and beautiful. The image wouldn’t let Arthur go, forcing him to continue on in his hopeless endeavour.

Arthur sighed, resting his chin in his hand, elbow propped up on his knee, watching the ocean unblinking. How many times had it been now? Was this the twentieth time? The thirtieth? Arthur didn’t know, he had honestly lost track. His chest puffed as he sighed again, even deeper this time, leaning his head down to rub the hand under his chin across his eyes in exasperation. In that moment, he was filled with so much frustration and despair, that Arthur was about to slam his notebook closed and march away from the beach. But when his hand dropped down again, something caught his attention among the waves.

No… it couldn’t be. Arthur didn’t dare to hope, hardly trusting himself to not be fooled by another object posing to be what he sought. Yet when he looked again, there it was.

A shadow was floating in perfect buoyancy underwater a little ways off to the side of the shore, facing him as if trying to watch without being seen. But Arthur has seen it now, and he knows exactly what it is. Or really, who it is.

Unable to contain his joy, Arthur darts up from where he was slouched, scooting closer to the shadow, and is immediately detected. It flees instantly, swimming further out to sea and away from Arthur’s prying gaze, but this time, he didn’t mind. Instead, Arthur whoops in triumph, flopping onto his back and ignoring the pain caused by its collision with the stone underneath. His laugh is genuine now, cheeks becoming sore as his face is stretched by a wide grin, staring into the sky and feeling an elation like no other. This wasn’t just a wild goose chase now, and he wasn’t crazy. Well, scratch that, he must be a tiny bit out of it for even giving this scenario the time of day, but Arthur found he really didn’t care a single bit.

He was relieved to notice that when he returned again, the shadow did too.

It went on like that for a couple weeks, with Arthur working amongst the rocks while the merman watched in hiding, obviously too wary to reveal himself yet. Arthur pretended to be too engrossed in his notes, when really he was fully aware of the presence below. Each time he visited, the shadow inched closer and closer to his perch. Arthur had to tense his muscles, reign in his excitement and restrain himself from full on flinging himself into the water, inability to swim be damned. He chuckled at that flippant idea. He’d probably drown.

Those weeks passed in silence and relative tranquility, just him and his very hidden, very nervous friend. It was around when spring began in full swing, days becoming warmer, that this pattern finally changed.

Arthur had his nose in his notebook as usual, when he heard a slight shift in the water below. Looking down to the source of the sound, his stomach backflipped. Two striking eyes, the same ones he’d hoped to see again, were above the water’s surface. They pierced him with an emotion Arthur couldn’t quite place. He could only stare into them, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, mouth slightly agape. The merman let out a puff of air, bubbles popping in the water, before his head submerged again. Arthur blinked, taken aback. Did he just…scoff? Such an expressive action, and from a creature that had been acting nothing but timid?

He didn’t see the merman the rest of his time there. But when Arthur returned a couple days later, sitting down on his usual spot, the head immediately surfaced like before.

The merman continued to watch him, silently observing. Arthur really couldn’t concentrate, not with that fierce gaze burning him. He wasn’t looking, feigning ignorance, but it was impossible to work when he felt like he was being dissected. Arthur only registered an intake of air before he could prepare himself for what happened next.

“Why you still come here?”

Arthur had to double take, hand jotting down notes stilling. He looked around, wondering who that could’ve been, when a flash of heat overtook him at the realization of who had just spoken.

His eyes slowly fall on the ones peering from the water.

“Did… Was that… you can talk?” Arthur was hesitant. Couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

The merman looked pointedly off to the side, then back at Arthur.

“Answer question” was the sharp response he provided, brows lowering.

Arthur’s jaw fell slack, but he quickly shook off his surprise when he saw the merman grow crosser.

“Um, well, I like to come out here. Find things I like and write things I notice about them down,” he trails off a bit, wondering if he was even understood, “but if you’d rather me leave, I can.”

Sinking lower into the waves, the merman looked contemplative. “No. It is okay. I am just confuse.”

Arthur felt more relieved than he would’ve admitted, glad that he wouldn’t be kicked out just yet. Now, that he was past the initial shock of this creature being capable of speech (even though it was halting and broken), Arthur actually took in what his voice was like. It was deeper than he’d thought it’d be, a low rumble from his chest. It had a heavy accent to it, although Arthur couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it came from, perhaps one from their original language? He didn’t know.

“Not like other humans,” the merman shot, borderline accusing, “humans not come here, always alone. You do a lot. Not bring others, not bring sharp things or boats. Just stay there on rock with…” his hand reached out of the water, pointing at the notebook Arthur held. Arthur noticed the fine webbing between each finger.

“The… the…”

Arthur watched as the merman’s face contorted in concentration as he tried to forms the words.

“Notebook,” He leaned forward, holding out the object so the other could see, “It’s something that you write in.” Arthur made a motion with his hand against the paper, pantomiming writing incase the merman didn’t understand.

“Oh.” The merman looked over it for a moment, then leaned back in the water, far off in thought. “Note-book… okay.”

A comfortable silence settled in, and Arthur cleared his throat, deeming the merman calmed down enough for him to ask what he wanted to earlier.

“May I ask how exactly you learned to speak my language? It’s fascinating, really.”

That same look of concentration returned. “I listen to humans talk at ports, that is how I learn. But I know better language of humans by seas east of here. My family talk to me in that language since young, so I know if am hunted.”

“Wow…” Arthur breathed in utter fascination. There was not just this one merperson, but more, entire families, teaching each other, learning, systems hidden underneath the deep blue of the ocean. It was unlike anything he’d ever dreamed.

He realized suddenly, that he hadn’t introduced himself yet. How rude!

“My name is Arthur, by the way.” He patted his hand against his chest, then gestured it towards the other. “I assume you must have one to, can you tell me what it is?”

“My name…?” The merman slinked into the waves again. It must be a nervous habit of his, Arthur mused. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable. “I never tell a human my name… You not understand sounds we make. But…”

His eyes narrowed, until he grasped something tangible to say. “Where I come from, there is name I heard humans say. I like how it sounds, I guess you can use it… It is Ludwig.”

Huh. Arthur tips his head, looking at the merman- no, at Ludwig. He definitely must have lived farther east in the North Sea, with a name like that. Arthur quite liked it.

“Well Ludwig, I’ll propose something to you,” He gave the other a wry grin, “If you allow me to keep coming back here, I can teach you more about my language, about my world- that is, if you want to.”

Ludwig tensed once again, the earlier calmness evaporated. “You just bring more humans. Hunt me. I know it.”

“No! I’d never do that.” Arthur shook his head fiercely, appalled by the very idea of it. “I’ll never reveal you to other people. I want to be friends with you, not cause you harm. You’ll be safe with me, you have my word.”

At that, Ludwig tilted his head. “My word?” He echoed, not understanding the figure of speech.

“Yes,” Arthur chuckled, finding it endearing. “It means you can count on me, that I promise.”

A long silence passed, Ludwig outwardly conflicted at the decision he had to make, until he finally looked up again.

“Alright, Arthur.”

His name was mangled and butchered on the other’s lips, but somehow that made it all the better.

Now when Arthur returned to that beach every so often, it was with a hop in his step. Joining Ludwig by the rocks felt like entering a whole other world, one of endless possibilities and wonder. The merman would float in the water beside him, listening as Arthur relayed what he had written, and watch as he took down fresh notes. Occasionally Ludwig would ask questions, curious about the trinkets Arthur had found on the beach, human objects that were foreign to him. He was always ecstatic to answer, teaching Ludwig bit by bit.

As for the shells, that was where Ludwig taught Arthur in exchange. He had a vast knowledge on a wide variety of them, explaining where he had seen them on the ocean floor. Arthur would listen intently to his limited english, rapidly jotting down what he said, eager to learn anything he could.

On one of these visits, Arthur showed Ludwig a particular shell, and he gasped.

“I know these! Not too far from here. I know where they are. You should swim with me there and you can take some, yes?”

Arthur’s mood immediately turned sour. He placed the shell down and wrung his hands together, unable to look at Ludwig’s excited expression.

“Um, well, I don’t know.” He dodged the question, not wanting to reveal the fact that he couldn’t swim out of shame. “I think I’ll stay put. You can get some if you want.”

Ludwig frowned, but didn’t press it. “I go alone then. Stay put.” He mimicked Arthur’s words before flitting away.

Arthur smiled, but it was hollow, too disappointed in himself.

After a while, Arthur started bringing books as well, deciding it would help Ludwig pick up english faster. He would read out loud, glancing every so often at the other, who would rest his chin on crossed arms against the rocks, eyes wide with wonder. Ludwig asked questions about what came up in the books too, gently interrupting Arthur every couple of minutes. One of his favorite memories of this, Arthur laughs to himself as he thought of it, was when he had to explain marriage to the confused merman.

“Wait, humans put a- it is called a ring?”

“Yes, Ludwig, it’s called a ring.”

“Humans put a ring on their finger to show they are in marriage?”

Arthur chuckled, loving the way he worded things. “Exactly. It’s to signify the bond.”

“Why can’t you remember? Human memory is really so bad, you need a ring?”

“I guess you can say that.” Arthur grins as Ludwig’s bafflement only grew.

Eventually, Arthur began talking about himself, his own life, as Ludwig started to prod more and more. He focused the most on his time working on the ship, and revealed how it was the origin for his love of the ocean. Ludwig seemed very pleased when Arthur described it to him, listening intently to every word. Arthur only thought it was fair that since he had talked so much about himself, that Ludwig should do the same. So, he started inquiring as well, interested to hear how the merman had lived previously.

Although he was reclusive, Ludwig eventually opened up and talked about his family, albeit not in great detail. Arthur found out that he had been raised by a brother from youth, that he never knew his parents.

“He is the one who taught me language of the humans.” Ludwig’s lips twitched into a smile as he talked, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Why did you decide to come up north, then? Didn’t you want to stay with him?”

It was a question asked in innocent curiosity, but Arthur didn’t miss the way Ludwig’s face darkened. He immediately got the hint.

“Actually nevermind. If you’re not comfortable you don’t have to answer that.” Arthur was quick to go into damage control, mentally kicking himself for not being more considerate.

“It is alright.” Ludwig answered, monotonous. He looked away, hiding his face. “I think I will go early today.”

Arthur sighed, really wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

Luckily, that altercation didn’t affect their relationship. When he saw Ludwig next, the merman was as bright eyed as he’d been before, showing no sign that he had lost trust in him.

Thus their ritual carried on as usual. Arthur continued to come to the rocks, and Ludwig continued to resurface from the water without fail. This easy rhythm really started to grow on Arthur, who found himself lost in thought most of the time about what he would bring next, or just simply daydream.

That’s where he ended up now, at his desk in the small bank he worked at, hand propping up his head as he stared off into space.

There was a sharp snicker from his side.

“So, who’s the lucky girl?”

Arthur turned, snapped out of his daze to see his coworker, Hannah, shooting him a sly grin, eyebrows quirked.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, please! You know exactly what I’m talking about!”

“Really, I’m afraid I don’t.”

Hannah sighed, exasperated. “Arthur, you look like you have one of cupid’s arrows shoved up your arse. So c’mon! Tell me! Who is she?”

Internally, Arthur completely blanched, but managed to keep a cool exterior. “Oh no. No- it’s nothing like that. Just lost in thought.” He grinned, playing it off with humor, although the heat that slowly crawled up his neck didn’t help his case.

“Lost in thought, huh? Seems like you’ve been lost in thought a lot these days.”

Jesus- If her lips curled anymore, her face might break. Might as well just ignore her, so Arthur just rolled his eyes playfully and put his attention elsewhere.

But when Arthur really stopped to think about it… Did he give off that impression? When people looked at him, was it so obvious to tell? Arthur hadn’t been thinking of a woman, or anything romantic in the slightest. He had just been replaying the image of how Ludwig looked the day before-

Oh.

Well, that couldn’t mean anything. A misunderstanding is all it was, nothing more.

Those intruding thoughts were already shoved to the back of Arthur’s subconscious by the time he left his job that day. He returned home briefly, slipping on some more comfortable clothing; trousers and a loose shirt, then grabbed his satchel by the door. Before making the journey down to the beach, Arthur strolled through town to a local fishmonger. He’d made a habit of bringing fish for Ludwig after the merman revealed how he didn’t have a steady source of food at the moment. He had of course assured that it was no big deal, but Arthur’s mind was set when Ludwig chewed into a gold necklace he brought to show the other, metal denting underneath powerful jaws.

Arthur entered the pescatary now, bell above the door joyfully announcing his arrival. The owner’s eyes lit up behind the counter at seeing him.

“Arthur! Back once again I see! The usual?”

“The usual!”

“Perfect!” He laughed, setting to work on the order. A hearty and welcoming man, he treated customers as friends and family.

Arthur waited patiently for the fish to be packaged, fiddling with a loose button on his jacket.

“Say, lad, you’ve been buying so much fish now. Why’s that?” The man asked Arthur inquisitively, genuine curiosity while he continued to work.

“Oh, um…” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, “A friend of mine added more fish to his diet. He’s pretty busy so I offered to do the shopping for him.” Phew, that smooth lie seemed pretty believable.

And believable it was. The owner shot him a quick smile. “Ah, sounds like you’re a good friend.”

“I hope I am.”

The package of fish was presented to him, and Arthur quickly paid for it, stuffing it into his satchel.

“You have a good day now!”

Arthur gave the owner a small wave in response to his jovial parting call, pushing past the door and leaving the small shop, eager to go back to that beach.

On his way, he began to contemplate the situation he was in. People were starting to notice that something was different about him, which meant that Arthur had changed somehow. He didn’t get it. What did they see? Could they detect something? Could they worm their way into his head and watch his thoughts like a reel of film? It made Arthur anxious to think about that, briefly wondering if he was putting Ludwig in danger. If someone was determined enough, they could follow him down to the rocks and discover the merman. He doesn’t know how he’d ever live with himself, if he broke that promise to Ludwig, if he couldn’t keep him safe.

However, fretting about possible events wouldn’t stop them from coming to pass. Better to not think about it. Although, Arthur made a mental note to be mindful of how he came off, to try and be more discrete from now on.

When he returned to their spot, sandy rocks looking the same as ever, he whistled sharply and called Ludwig’s name.

It took about a minute before his head appeared out of the ocean, blonde hair sticking to his forehead, frills twitching; thing’s that Arthur had come to love.

Arthur grins, unwrapping the packaged fish and taking one out, holding it up high and waving the tasty treat.

Ludwig’s eyes crinkled, his smile hidden by the water, and submerged again. Arthur took this as a cue, winding up before chucking the fish into the air. In a flurry of water and power, Ludwig breached, tail shining and catching the light making a wonderful display. He snatched the fish, teeth sinking into it with a mighty snap, turning in midair as he fell back into the waves. Arthur laughed, a bit wet from the splashes the show produced, but thoroughly amused, clapping his hands.

Walking closer, Arthur resumed his usual position. He watched, waiting for the to finish eating. Ludwig came back to the surface, staring at him for a moment, and then his muscles tensed. He propelled himself once again, springing onto the rocks next to Arthur, clinging to the smooth edges to stable himself. He found a comfortable position, tail resting down the side and trailing into the water.

Arthur was glad; he always enjoyed when Ludwig joined him like this. The merman’s physique was still so awe inspiring, even after all this time. He had noticed more features, little details that he hadn’t seen before, like how the underside of Ludwig’s tail was lighter than the top. The fins along the backs of his arms as well as the frills on the sides of his head could move and swivel independently, and closed like fans when not in use. It seemed that he was doing the same to Arthur now, gaze flitting up and down the expanse of his body.

“I apologize for getting you wet.” Ludwig nodded towards the wet spots on Arthur’s shirt.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.” Arthur shot back, waving the apology away.

They began talking about innocuous things, a quiet back and forth. Arthur was quite impressed hearing the merman speak. Ludwig’s english had matured in leaps and bounds during their months together, and now he could form full sentences, sounding at ease when he spoke. His vocabulary had become more advanced from all the books he heard read aloud, so much so that Arthur was considering bringing down some paper and pencils and attempt to teach Ludwig how to read and write. That would be a considerably high feat, but maybe it could be done; Ludwig seemed to be a quick learner. Anyway, currently something else came to Arthur’s mind. He wondered, with him having taught the merman to speak better english, could it be possible for him to pick up Ludwigs language too? Arthur remembered Ludwig’s comment from long ago, about him not being able to comprehend the sounds that they make. But, hey, it’s worth a try, right?

“Hey, Ludwig, why don’t you say some words in your language? I’d really like to learn some.” Arthur asked the merman, who looked a bit surprised in return.

“Well, you see, that is difficult. How we talk is not like the human concept of language. There are a series of sounds that communicate single things.” Ludwig explained, gesturing towards him. “I do not think you would be able to make these sounds.”

“I can try,” Arthur looked up at him, “please? I want to connect to this part of you.”

That won Ludwig over. Arthur saw triumphantly as the merman’s resolve crumbled under such words.

“Fine… but do not say I did not warn you.”

Ludwig thought for a second, and then breathed in through his nose. The sound that released from the base of his throat startled Arthur, who clasped a hand over his mouth, bursting into laughter. Ludwig was completely right, that was nothing like human language. What Ludwig did seemed closely related to dolphins, but certainly not english! It was a higher pitched clicking noise, different from the baritone he usually spoke in, foreign and strange to Arthur’s ears.

“No no,” Arthur cut himself off, placing his fingers on Ludwig’s forearm when he saw the ashamed look on his face, “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just- wow. You really weren’t kidding!”

Ludwig shook his head. “Yes, I was not. Anyway, that is what we do when greeting one another. Like a ‘hello’.”

Arthur gave a small “ah” and then pursed his lips. It was very outlandish, but maybe there was a way he could at least try to replicate those sounds, if only a little bit. Enough that Ludwig could understand him and the sentiment behind such an action.

“I think I know a way I could imitate you.”

The merman’s eyes widened. “Really? How so?”

He contemplated his plan once more, before saying “Can you repeat what you did, and slower this time?”

Ludwig obliged, chattering again, but at a much slower pace, stretching out each and every syllable.

Arthur concentrated on the sound; one long click, followed by three, rapid shorter ones. He played it over and over again, until it was an endless record in his mind. Once he grasped it enough, he placed the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth and pushed.

In doing this, Arthur was able to produce a clicking sound similar, but in no way the same as what Ludwig had done. He made that greeting noise back at the merman, feeling slightly embarrassed when he actually heard himself, how ridiculous he must seem.

But immediately, Ludwig gawked, mouth dropping open in what Arthur hoped was the good kind of disbelief.

“Um, was it okay?”

Ludwig’s expression went from utter shock to pure joy, and Arthur had never seen him so absolutely ecstatic like this.

“I-you-” Now Ludwig himself could barely speak, like he had just completely forgotten english. “I mean- it is not authentic, but I can understand you. It is more than okay, it is great.”

Arthur couldn’t suppress a wide smile of his own, his chest swelling with pride.

“I’m glad.”

Following this, Ludwig then agreed to teach Arthur some of the different chatters and what they meant. By the end, Arthur was able to understand and replicate the sounds for greeting, parting, friends, family, and mates. All the while they laughed and joked, a light atmosphere settling over them during such a relaxed moment. Arthur made fun of himself and how terrible he must sound, while Ludwig assured him that he’s definitely the same way in english.

The sun began to set, and it was with a heavy heart that Arthur realized he would have to go soon, leaving the merman for days to come. It made him yearn for something impossible, something that would never be reality. The boundaries between land and sea could never be crossed.

“You know…” Arthur breathed, deciding to voice these thought, “sometimes, I really wish I were a merman, too. That way, I wouldn’t have to be separated from the ocean.”

Or from you, Arthur silently added, but there was no way he could say that outloud just yet.

He felt Ludwig shift beside him, moving a bit closer, and he froze when he felt something press against the top of his head. Arthur glanced up from under his eyelashes, seeing Ludwig’s pale shoulder but no more, when he realised what was happening. The soft rub that followed only confirmed it; Ludwig was nuzzling him, nose buried into his hair. Despite his conscious raving about how wrong it was, Arthur closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“I do not know,” the vibrations of his voice sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine, “I think I like you like this, with two legs. I do not want you to change.”

It was simple and to the point, but to Arthur, it was the sweetest thing that anyone had ever said to him.

“I really wish you would swim with me.”

Arthur blinked, looking down at Ludwig where he floated. They were in the heat of summer, the sun’s rays unbearable, and Ludwig preferred to stay in the water all the time now, afraid of drying out. He tipped his head in confusion.

“Whenever I ask, you always come up with an excuse.” Ludwig frowned, brows furrowed.

Arthur just sighed. Looks like he couldn’t put this off any longer. It’s true, Ludwig had been asking him incessantly to join him in the ocean, and Arthur had brushed it off each and every time.

“It’s not an excuse that I’d be far too slow.”

“You know I do not have a problem with swimming slower.”

“Yes, but I can’t breathe underwater like you.”

“But you can hold your breath underwater.”

God, there was just no way out!

“Look, Ludwig…”

“If there is something wrong, you can tell me. I will not judge you.” He met Arthur’s eyes seriously. “I rather you tell me the truth.”

Arthur wished he would actually drown right then. Nonetheless, he was pinned into a corner, so might as well spill his guts.

“Well… the truth is I- basically I can’t… I can’t swim.”

He was going to just melt in embarrassment, wanting the cracks in the rocks to swallow him up. However, Ludwig didn’t look phased at all, perhaps even a little relieved.

“That is it?” He said lightly. “That is a relief. I thought by the way you were acting that it would be far worse, but this is no problem.

“No problem?!” Arthur couldn’t believe what he was hearing! Didn’t Ludwig understand the implication of the fact that he cannot swim? “Are you crazy?! I’ll drown!”

Ludwig just gave him an amused smile that was very uncharacteristic of him, really more of a smirk.

“Arthur. I am a merman. Your chances of drowning with me are very low.” He became more earnest as he continued. “I will hold onto you. You will be safe with me… you have my word.”

At hearing his own words from all those months ago being thrown back at him, something flared in Arthur that he couldn’t quite name. The fact that Ludwig remembered what he said, took it to heart, and used it to reassure him in turn spoke volumes. Unsaid emotions.

Safety.

He’d be putting his life at risk, but he’d be putting it at risk for Ludwig. That made all the difference.

“Fine, okay I’ll do it.” Arthur conceded, feeling better already as the merman’s whole body immediately brightened up. “But seriously, don’t let go of me.”

Ludwig nodded enthusiastically. “Of course.”

In order to save at least one layer of clothing from getting soaked, Arthur tugged off his shirt, folding it neatly and placing it on one of the stone. After this, he sat down once again, and shifted to the edge of the shoreline, legs dangling in the water. Ludwig swam up to him, holding his arms out.

“Okay, now just slide in and I will catch you.” He reassured.

Arthur breathed in and out, calming his nerves. He was determined. He would do this, take this leap of faith and push himself. Counting to three in his head, Arthur blocked out his instincts that screamed for him to run from the death trap that was the ocean.

On three, he slid off the rocks.

It was immediate. Arthur threw his arms around Ludwig’s neck, holding on with a vice like grip, fingers clawing into the skin of his back. He smashed his face into the other’s neck, feeling gills pressing against his cheek. Arthur didn’t dare to look around, to actually see the water he could feel lapping at him, teasing and begging him to let go, to drown in their depths. But then, another feeling interrupted the water; Ludwig’s arms wrapped securely around his waist, holding Arthur to his chest. With a soft swish of his tail, Ludwig pushed them away from the shore, and they began drifting along the waves.

Minutes passed, and suddenly, the water shifting around them was no longer menacing, but gentle. Arthur unstuck his face from the crook of Ludwig’s neck, turning his head only to gasp when he saw the wide expanse of the ocean. Ludwig was drifting on his back, natural buoyancy keeping them afloat, allowing Arthur to rest atop him. He picked his head up farther, looking around in awe at the sheer beauty of it all. Arthur snaps his gaze back to Ludwig’s, abruptly realizing how close their faces were, noses almost touching. Ludwig stared at him through lidded eyes, his smile small and soft, taking in his reaction to what was essentially his home. Unable to utter a single word, all Arthur could do was smile back, throat constricting and chest tightening. He released his arms from around the merman’s neck, letting them fall into the water, feeling it tug him, caress him.

“Can you hold your breath for me?” Ludwig’s voice gently rumbled.

Arthur was in a daze, couldn’t think straight, so all he did was nod and suck in air.

His eyes reflexively shut against the bite of salt water as Ludwig submerged them, scrunching fiercely. Though once they adjusted, Arthur peeked through one, and both eyes flew wide open. It took all his willpower to hold in another gasp to prevent him from losing his slowly depleting supply of oxygen.

A world sprung alive underneath him, vivacious and full of movement. Seaweed swayed at the bottom, reaching up with long fingers towards the sun that broke through the waves, dotting the seafloor with patterns of light. Fish swam among them, looking for food along the plants and rocks. And littered around the formations on the floor were shells, dozens of them, all different shapes and sizes. Each had something unique, that set itself apart from the others. It took Arthur’s breath away, which unfortunately, was literally happening. He tapped Ludwig’s shoulder, signalling that he needed to go back up. Even though he wished he could stare at them for hours, analyze each one, he knew it would be hard to do if he were dead.

They broke through the waves, Arthur panting and grateful for the air that once again filled his lungs. He glanced up again at Ludwig, who still had that damn look on his face.

“That was… amazing.” He murmured, not disconnecting his eyes from Ludwig’s own.

“I am happy to hear this. I knew you would like it.” Ludwig grinned sweetly in response. It made Arthur’s heart jump.

“Hm. This kind of makes me want to take you into town. Show you how humans live.” Arthur gave him a lopsided, lazy grin. “Though I’d have to carry you everywhere.”

Ludwig’s smile dampened a bit. “Yes, I cannot go with you. But I am grateful that you can at least come here.”

That was true, and Arthur was quite happy that he could too. His grin became delicate, genuine and pliant, full of fondness. He tucked his head underneath Ludwig’s chin, letting the ocean lull him.

“Though I must ask, if you can’t swim, why did you work on a boat?”

“ Oh, quiet!”

Arthur hadn’t seen a storm this big since he was younger. The weather stations had issued a warning for his area, stating that the ocean would be vicious due to the ferocity of the impending thunderstorm. He couldn’t see Ludwig the day it hit, having to hurry home and seek out shelter from the winds. All night he was cooped up, windows boarded, making sure none of the doors were open. Arthur knew he’d be fine, but he was a nervous wreck all throughout it anyway. All he could think of was Ludwig, out there alone, facing the full wrath of the storm. The warnings of the weathermen echoed in his ears.

The ocean will be particularly rough, so port towns are advised to keep indoors!

God, he was going to vomit, puke up everything he ate that day because he was so terrified for the merman. Arthur couldn’t get the image out of his head of Ludwig being smashed against the rocks they meet at, his element turning against him.

Eventually, the power went out, which Arthur had already prepared for. He took some candles up to bed and read a book by their light, hoping it would take his mind off of the merman’s safety. Arthur couldn’t concentrate on the words, no matter how hard he tried. The wind howling and banging against his windows, the thunder echoing in the distance, all were grave reminders of what was at stake. He just ended up reading the same passage again and again. Arthur threw the book onto his nightstand. He grabbed the candle, blowing it out before burying himself under the covers. Tossing and turning for hours, Arthur hardly got any sleep at all, mind always drifting back to that horrid worry. It was only from exhaustion that his eyes finally shut for good.

Dawn broke in eery silence; no violent sound of rain. Arthur bolted out of bed, throwing open his window to see the outside world. There was hardly any damage, only some downed trees, but the power was still out. Arthur frantically got dressed and ready for the day, going a mile a minute through his morning routine. He ran right out the door, not bothering to grab his satchel or anything. Luckily, his work had closed for a couple days due to the storm, so Arthur could run right where he wanted to go. And run he did, practically sprinting down to the secluded beach.

When he finally reached the familiar shore, he noticed the debris scattered about the sand, but the ocean was calm again. Jogging to the rocks, he stood atop them and shouted for Ludwig, each time growing more and more desperate. He called and called, but there was no sign of the merman. Arthur felt panic begin to settle in, starting to hyperventilate as his worst fears were coming true. Yet he continued to shout, willing Ludwig to hear him. Minute passed, but to no avail. It seemed the merman wasn’t here. Cold, hard fear crawled along his skin.

Suddenly, the water rippled, and Ludwig exasperatedly surfaced, giving Arthur an incredulous look. Arthur felt numb with relief.

“Arthur? What are you doing here so early? I was not expecting you, that is why I was not here.”

Arthur just couldn’t respond, and just flung himself off the rocks instead, practically jumping on top of Ludwig.

The merman made a surprised sound, yet embraced Arthur, who after the initial splash of water, wrapped every limb he could around the other.

“God, Ludwig. Are you okay? I was so worried about how you would fair in this storm. Please tell me you’re okay. You’re not hurt, are you?” The questions were rapid fired into Ludwig’s shoulder, and Arthur was pretty sure he didn’t catch any of that.

“What? Arthur I am okay. I was safe in my den last night. I could tell the storm was coming.” Ludwig still sounded confused, but he reassured Arthur, tone soft.

Besides the relief, which was immense, another feeling bubbled up. One that had been suppressed and ignored, but everything that had happened had led up to its realization, to this moment. Now it all made sense; how people saw his change in mood, the warmth he felt inside, and that crushing panic that ensued when Arthur thought Ludwig to be in danger. The waters were no longer murky. They were clear, and reflected the truth perfectly. Arthur now understood.

“Hey, Ludwig?” He asked slowly, raising his head from the other’s shoulder to look at him face to face.

“Yes?”

“Do you know what humans do to show someone they love them?” Arthur’s voice had gone low, barely reaching above a whisper.

“No, I do not.”

Arthur continued to stare, teetering on the edge, but then finally falling in and committing. It didn’t feel real, but he leaned in, neck craning, lips inching closer before finally touching Ludwig’s gently, brushing lightly against them. Only lasting a second, Arthur pulled back, not wanting to be too forward with him, for he’s obviously never dealt with this type of interaction.

Ludwig looked contemplative, running his tongue over his lips briefly, keeping his gaze on Arthur.

“That means… you love me?” He asked, tentative.

A smile graced Arthur’s face, elated. “Yes,” he whispered, “it means I love you.” Just saying it, finally admitting it, felt like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Ludwig’s eyes went wide, and then he leaned in, mimicking Arthur’s earlier action. The press of his lips a bit too hard, a bit awkward, but Arthur could honestly care less. He guided the other into an easy rhythm, softening the kiss, mouth pliable.

They parted, Arthur opening his eyes to see Ludwig’s pale blue ones boring into his own.

“Then that means I love you too.”

“Seriously! You gotta tell me! No way you didn’t NOT get a girlfriend!”

Hannah had her hands planted firmly on his desk, inserting herself into Arthur’s space and demanding an answer.

Arthur only sighed, twirling a pen in his hand, other one propping his chin up, a dreamy smile on his face. Really, he looked more like a schoolgirl than a grown man!

“You know what? I think I did.” He responded lightly, laughing as her mouth flew open.

“What?! Oh my god, you’re giving me the details right now!” She pounced on him, ripping him to shreds with her questions, and Arthur could only grin.

#gereng #gereng week #aph germany #aph england #hetalia #HOOO BOY #this is practically late but ya kno #ive been so busy lately #this is about 8000 words what have i done #ludwig beilschmidt #arthur kirkland #axis powers hetalia

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spacklefritz · 7 years ago

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Shifting Tides - Chapt One

A/N: Hey everyone, guess who’s back ^_^ So I’ll probably spread the updates over the course of three weeks (one for each week). Hope you enjoy! Also, just letting you know, you can also view the fic on ff.net Rating: T (for any swearing that may occur) Summary: No matter what she did, she always felt the pull of the land. Somewhere free from her father’s domain. It was an impossible dream, until it wasn’t. Mermaid AU

Somewhere far beyond the crashing waves, Somewhere upon the shore, where men wander, There is a place that calls, A siren song of old it chants, Freedom awaits you here.

She didn't know what started her fascination for the land and all its inhabitants. Maybe it was, because as vast as the ocean was, it always seemed so empty. Her father's kingdom was a sprawling structure of reefs and volcanoes, underwater mountains that looked nothing like and yet completely like the structures Above. Her father, Jude Heartfilia, King of the Underwater Pacifica, ensured she was fitted with the finest of baubles, but none could entrance her as her trinkets from Above.

Each nightfall she'd swim to the shores of the nearby village, and watch, entranced, at the light from the bonfire. It rose high as the people danced around it. Warmth radiating outwards, she wished she could reach out and touch it. There was nothing like that in her kingdom, so bright and strong. Yet so fragile. One bucket of water could vanquish it and nothing would remain but the smoky scent. Like a dragon blowing steam. But the dragons were long dead, slain into extinction by the very people she watched.

How could something so cruel, dance with such life, cheer with such raucous laughter? The merriment of these humans was something otherworldly. Her people did not laugh like this, not to mention her father, who didn't even smile.

A chill ran down her spine despite the warmth from the fire and she cleared her head of those thoughts. Humans weren't to be trusted. They could only afford to live so carefree because long ago, their ancestors wrought havoc on the Other Kind. She should not have this fascination. But even when she thought this, her heart felt as if tearing asunder.

No.

She had a duty to her father, and to her kingdom. She had a duty to marry and bear heirs like her mother before her. For that was all her father thought good of her. She did not have time for this...small moment of joy. That was not in her future.

You could swim away, far away. A voice whispered. But what good would it do? Where amongst the seven oceans could she swim, where would she be free?

Her gaze flickered back to the land.

You could head for the land.

The mermaid gave an indelicate snort. Yes, and she would surely die. She was a mermaid and needed the saltwater to survive. Her history spoke of these things, mermaids swimming out to shore, never to be seen of again. It was a cautionary tale told to the inquisitive young, some families even added the gruesome deaths that awaited the wayward guppies. Her father, himself, spoke of these things to her. He said them in a very plain tone that broke no arguments, had no histrionics, it was simply, this is what would happen if she were to go that way.

That's not true. The voice tried to argue and the mermaid thought back to when she was much younger and the tales her mother used to tell. About merpeople and humans intermarrying, about how a merperson could walk on land, or if the heart of the human was true, they could join them in the sea.

Ravings of mad woman, her father would tell her later. Gibberish from a woman who claimed she was from the lost empire of Atlantis. The latter was usually said with such venom that made her wonder, in hindsight, why her parents had gotten married in the first place.

Still, in her heart of hearts. She wished her mother's tales were true.

You could find out. It would be a grand adventure.

A sigh escaped her, on that final thought. An adventure.

Just then, the footsteps of humans sounded. Feet on pebbles. The mermaid swam to the nearest rock, hiding behind its craggy surface.

"We need to be careful next time, Natsu." It was a firm voice that put her in mind of her father, but it wasn’t harsh.

An irritated grunt sounded.

"Don't mind him too much Erza. Everything turned out okay in the end." A soft voice sounded. Its tone pleading.

A shuffle, some movement of sorts.

The mermaid peeked out from her spot and spied a red-haired woman glaring at a man and a woman who stood before her. They both seemed to shrink beneath her gaze.

"It doesn't matter if it turned out okay, it was still reckless."

A snort sounded and the woman zeroed in on the pink haired man. He dressed back a little and said, "all I'm saying is that, you were right there with us swords blazing."

The woman cleared her throat, "Yes, well, let's just take this time to rest and recuperate."

The other woman giggled. “you just want to spend more time with Jellal, right?”

The red haired woman, Erza – she remembered them saying, turned as red her as her hair and sputtered. The pink haired man let out a boisterous laugh.

Erza looked between the smiling woman and the man and cleared her throat.

“we should head back to the festivities.” She looked out at the sea, “don't spend too long out here. There's something…. Different in the air.”

Lucy inhaled sharply. Surely she want referring to-

“Yes, yes, we’re doing that.” Laughter still danced in the younger woman's eye. She turned to the man, “Natsu, are you coming?”

“Nah, I'm gonna stay out here a little longer.”

“Don't stay out too long. You know better than others what lurks in the sea.”

Natsu gave a sharp grin, teeth shining white in the moonlight. “Anything that's out there I can handle.”

It was true, Natsu thought as he sat on the beach. Whatever was out there posed no harm. It was curious and had a sense of wonder around it. It could be some simple, sea creature but Natsu highly doubted it. The mind seemed too complex.

Some humans, like Erza, could detect the minds of the Otherkind. But he wasn't human. He was an Elemental, or at the very least, partly. He wasn't sure, considering he'd never met his birth parents. Instead, he was raised by one of the strongest Otherkind known to humans.

He was raised by a dragon.

But people insisted they were extinct. A tiny flame flickered at his hand.

Then what were his memories, he wanted to argue, had argued and still did. Anyone who believed the old man was dead could shove it.

Igneel was one of the greatest dragons that ever lived and he’d sail the entire oceans to find him. And then he would question him. Why the hell did he leave him all by himself? What was Igneel thinking? How could he still be alive and not say anything to him?

He let out a frustrated sound and scrubbed his hand through his hair. He wouldn't dwell on this. Dwelling and brooding led to nothing but frustration and moody silences. He could be doing so much more with his time. Maybe he had spent too much time on the land. They already docked their ship, hidden beyond the rocky cliffs that surrounded the cove to the east of the village.

Magnolia was a small island, its few riches plundered by Crocus. The people here were willful and strong, and wouldn't stand for the injustice. Eventually, they'd manage to scare the Crocus officials, and reclaim their land, but Crocus was a much bigger country and managed, to steal from them legally. Hiking taxes and tithes to be paid. Naturally, Magnolia had to fight back, giving birth to Fairy Tail. They'd intercepted some of Crocus' ships carrying their bounty, and taken what was rightfully theirs.

This past haul, was enough to last them about a month, so the two weeks on land wasn't that long in comparison, but the itch was back in Natsu's bones. Magnolia was his home yes, would always be a place to return to, but he couldn't stay. He'd heard something about a dragon sighting in the Southern Isles...maybe Igneel would be there.

They also had some goods for trading from the remainder of their spoils. If he could round up, around nine others, that should be enough to operate the cog ship they owned. But then, everyone was just getting to settling down for a rare moment of peace. This was the biggest haul yet, and if they played their cards right, it would provide a starting point to bringing back thriving establishments in Magnolia.

Aaaagh! Natsu scrubbed the back of his head.

It was times like these, he wished his old man was back with him. He looked out at the horizon, then snorted. If the old dragon was with him, then he would never have been in this problem.

Letting out another frustrated sound, he shouted into the air. "Oi, Igneel! Where are ya?!"

He flopped back on the sand and closed his eyes. Automatically, his senses reached out, and picked out the sea creature, could almost see its head tilt in its curiousity. Moreover, he could feel it watching him.

#nalu #ftfanfics #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail #mermaid au

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