#she is objectively still gideon and there's still softeness in her but my god

[nona-gay-simus]

All joking aside though, I absolutely hate hate hate how much of Gideon's new identity revolves around her father. I Get It bc I mean she has nothing else left and she basically spent her life dreaming about being the daughter of someone important, but my god I miss the Gideon at the end of Harrow. It just seems like her entire moral compass was turned around because The Worst People in The Universe gave her two scraps of positive attention.

[velvet-apricots]

Baby Talk

In which Gideon Ofnir talks to his newborn baby daughter.

“Your skull is so soft you know.”

Naught but a day before, the Elden Lord’s first child was born. Not to a god, but to her trusted eyes and ears, her spy and the man who had once been her voice. She, Fyra, lay in her bed, seemingly resting, while he, Sir Gideon Ofnir, The All-knowing, held their baby daughter.

“It won’t harden until you are at least a year old.” Gideon continued, his fingers touching their daughter’s soft white hair, “And your skull won’t close until you are two.”

It was clear that Gideon did not know how to speak to a baby. He had never been near one, and his foster daughter, Nepheli Loux, had been a teen when she came under his care. He was certainly trying. His voice was soft, and he was smiling, but what he was saying was... Rather odd.

“And you have no object permanence.” Gideon said softly, “Why, I can cover my face right now, and you won’t know I am still there.”

The child, Lyra, made a little coo.

“Yes, that's right. No idea at all. Silly little thing you are.” he lifted his hand and covered his face, “I have now vanished.”

Lyra made a few little sounds, her hands waving a little as her eyes, golden and red like his, looked around. Her face screwed up then, and she made a loud cry..

Gideon removed his hand from his face. “Shhhh. See? I am right here. I never left.” he kissed her forehead, and Lyra calmed down, returning to making soft mewls and coos.

“I have never seen a man be so terrible at speaking to a baby.” Fyra said, awake for the whole scene.

He looked up at her, as if startled. “There is no wrong way to speak to a baby.” Gideon said defensively.

“Oh really?”

He faltered slightly. “Well… I assume so. She doesn’t know what I am saying, so I could read to her an incantation book and she would be equally enthralled.”

Fyra hummed. “I can just imagine it. She will be three, and she will be looking at you from her bed covers, wide eyed and saying ‘Daddy, tell me about forbidden rites.’”.

Gideon chuckled. That sounded perfectly fine to him.

[chemicallady]

Dr and Dr Reid

Part I , Part II.

A/N : Hello everybody! It's me again with the second part of my Dr&Dr series! I hope you will enjoy it! If you like this idea, tell me something about it. If is too boring, I’ll moving on another subject ^^

Couple: Spencer Reid x Researcher!Reader

Category: little angst

Warnings: descriptions of dead bodies and decomposition.

Summary: BAU is involved in a casa in Golconda, Nevada. Reader is an expert in tools' marks for the local FBI settlement and Spencer isn't aware of it.

*****

January 17, 2007

Golconda, Nevada.

After a seven hours trip by car, you are already done. God only knows how are you supposed to work after that. Nevada’s unpleasant weather is drying your lungs breath by breath, while you’re reaching the area under federal surveillance. Your supervisor have asked you to keep the tools’ marks on a dead body in order to determinate the object used on the victim because, if you will be lucky, you eventually use the results for an article or your thesis. If the Feds wont have any problem with that. 

The point is that... Well. The victim is not like you have figured out. You are an expert on skeletal remains but in front of you there is a full torso, coverd in tattoos and with a huge wound on the top of the sternal bone. No head, no legs or arms but a lot of dead meat. The view is awful but the smell is the worst. It’s taking your breath away. 

You put a hand over your mouth and apologise, but you need a moment. Leaving your kit under the tend, you move some steps along the path and start to breath slowly with your mounth. It's too hot for your first dismembered body, but you can't let go this opportunity. Some agents are already look at you with a glaze of pity and you can't accept it.

You are strong, you can do it.

Or at least you can try, you attended a lot of authopsy before. 

Back to the tend, your supervisor is talking with an old man and an awsome guy, both with the FBI badge. You look at them while you're wearing your gloves and this beautiful, fit special agent keeps his sunglasses off and look back to you.

With a blush, you start to work. The coroner gives you the permission to take some photos and apply a paste on the cervical bone and on the broken omerous. You are waiting it to be dry when the two agents approce you.

《 Hi ma'am. I am Special Agent Morgan and this is Special Agent Gideon. Can you tell us which tool was used on the victim?》

《Ah-Well; I need some minutes more but I believe that is more that just one....》 you slow while you're speaking, looking at the guy who are join the party right now. 《....tool.》

Morgan follows your eyes and looks at Reid, who seems to be really surprised by your presence. 《Hi pretty boy, don’t be shy. We are speaking with the expert to find out what was used on this poor guy. She is... I am sorry, I didn't catch you name.》

Because he didn’t ask. You open your mounth to answer but Spence is faster. 《She is (y/f/n). She is a PhD candidate at UNLV.》

《You really know everything . , says a young agent, following him. She is a slim brunette, sassy. You like her at the first sight.

Spencer blushes, 《I met her several months ago.》 He is speaking like you aren’t in there with them and that piss you off a lot. Then finally he speaks to you directly. 《Hi (y/n). Is a pleasure to meet you again.》

You are speechless. 《Yeah, whatever》 you cut the conversation, took off the paste and look at the marks closely. You dont wan’t to meet  Spencer’s eyes because the afternoon is too hot and dry to pretend to be nice on him and faking a smile. 《In my opinion the murderer used two tools for dismember the victim's body: a serrated knife and a hand saw. I can be more specific after a visual confrontation if you ask to》

《Thank you miss (y/s/n), you are really helpful.》

Morgan smiles to you and you answer as well, before rise up and go to your supervisor, ready to reach the morgue for working on that traces.

Gideon moves on the car and Spencer is left with Emily and Morgan. 《She hates you》, she says, with a smirk. 《What did you do?》

For the first time in a while, he seems speechles.  «Nothing», is the short answer he gives to them. ‘I was an asshole’ would be the real one. Or at last, what he feels. 

****

You hear that the criminal- the guy who is called Unsub by the FBI’s agents- had taken a couple of hostages before disappear again. One of them is the sceriff herself. Than, you recive a call from you supervisor, who ask you to go to another location in the nearby, supporting the BAU squad after they clean the scene. 

«There are probably human remains involved. Go and check with Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner.»

You start to believe that maybe the FBI needs you or maybe you need the FBI if even the boss is so hot like Aaron Hotchner is. You are young and always look at the bright side, even while you are keeping humans ribs off a lot of handmade garden decorations and it’s so gross even for you. You love Halloween and macabre arts project, but this is too far.  

And Spencer is here as well. The two of you don’t have a proper conversation since you have reached Golconda because both of you are working, but now, in the middle of the country side, while you are puking your guts out, on the burned grass of the garden, he is the one who offers help to keep your hair back. 

This isn’t you first crime scene, but the best part of your job is working on cold cases, if it’s need. You are a researcher (almost), a lab rat, not an investigator. You are use to bones and sometimes mummies from the desert, not to the harsh smell of blood and rotten meat which infested the shed in the backyard. There is a surgical room and a body inside, but they saved the sheriff at least. 

A light breeze is caressing your face and makes you feel better. You are greatful to Spencer when he offers a bottle of water to you. 

«When the work comes to the lab it looks nicer», you tell him, receiving a soft smile in return.  «If it’s true that I’ll never forget the first time, I’ll be ashamed forever...»

«You don’t have. It’s a normal response of your body in front of a situation which is fondamental -»

«Thank you Spencer. I approciate your scientific enthusiasm, but.... Chill out.»

You sit on the ground, tying your hair and keep a huge breath.  «How’s going on?»

«Better. Thank you for the approciation Dr Reid. You should go back to work before your sexy boss notices that you are wasting your time on me.»

«I am not wasting-wait. Did you just say that Hotch is sexy?»

«Hell, he is.»

Spencer looks confused for a moment, after looking around him, maybe to spot the subject of the conversation. That gives you time to reach for a chewing gum on your pocket. 

The silence between the two of us is really unpleseant, but you dont have nothing else to say. Is Spencer’s turn and he doesn’t disappoint you. Not at all.

«I know why you are mad at me.»

«Do you know, Dr Reid?»

He sighs.  «Can you stop, please? I dont like when you are so formal with me, I believed that we had passed it.»

«Yeah, well. You’ve stopped answer my letters and phone calls without having the decency to give me a solid explanation.... So guess what? We hadn’t passed over anything.»

He lowers his head, aware that he is in the wrong.  «I just.... My job is demanding...»

A small, bitter laught leaves your lips.  «You really believe that you’re the only one in the world who actually has a demanding job? C’mon you can find a better excuse. If you cared, you’d answered. Aren’t you able to write a message? with... 3 bachelors and 3 PhDs?» 

You’re being mean, you know that, but he hurts your feelings. You two had 3 intensive months of letter’s exchange. You wrote the first one a week after you got his address at the conference in Vegas. A four pages letter, in which you explained to him your PhD project and shared with him throughts and stuffs. He replayed with a 14 pages letter. That’s how it started. He told you about his mom’s issues, his scholar experience and how was growing up in Vegas. You shared with him your experinces, moving away from home, how your family is, how you are fond of cats and dogs. You talked about your own pet, with him ...

That’s how you two became intimate.  

It escalated fast. 

After a month, you gave him your number and the two of you started to call each others, first twice a week, than more and more. Even just to sei ‘hi’ and know about how the other feels in that specific moment. From you, it was enough to hear his voice to be happier. 

He helped you in the bad days and made the good days better.  

And you fell from him, because Spencer is a nice guy. At least, he looked like a nice guy untill letters and calls stopped. And he disappeared from your life in a couple of weeks. You hadn’t a news from him since ten days before Golconda’s case. The Destiny is involved for sure, because you believed that you wont see him again. 

But there you are, sitting next to him. In silence. 

Is too much for you. And no, he doesn’t know why you are so mad at him. You are mad at yourself, because you don’t let people in, usually. You were hurt so much in the past that know you are tired of being everybodies fooled.

Guys are nice ‘till they are not, your mom always says. 

That’s true. Men are all the same in the end.  

That’s why you get on your feet, taking away your gloves. You almost forgot you’re still wearing them.  «I need to go back to the morgue. Bye, Dr Reid.»

«Is better this way. (y/n)», he says, in a rush. You look at him standing fast and you rise a elbow. No clue about what he is saying.  «Maybe my job is not too demanding for me.. But it will be for you. Trust me. Is better for you not being involved with me... I wasn’t aware that our relationship could be that deep.»

«Relationship? We don’t have anything. This is so stupid and... Selfish!», you almost yell, angry at him because it doesn’t make any sense!  You calm down when you feel a glaze on you. SA Morgan is looking at you two, but he immediatly turns away when you notice him. «Have a nice day, Dr Reid.»

He watches you helplessly as you walk away. «Dont say anything», the warns Morgan, who is approching him with a smirk. 

«Can I say that she is on fire and you look dumb, pretty boy?»

Spencer sighs, scrolling his shoulders. «It’s a long story.»

«Yeah? Such a pity that we don’t have time. Gideon found our man, we need to move now», he says, before teasing Spencer a little. «You’ll have time for your love business after we close the case.» 

«There is no ‘love business’, Morgan. We are... fine. Friends. I guess we were...»

«You sure? That little bird probably thinks otherwise», Mogan says, claps him on the shoulder.

Spencer sighs again, looking you in the car, waiting the coroner to go back to the morgue. For a second, your glazes meet, but you look so... deeply hurt. And he understands that- again- he makes a mistakes on another, just because he wants to preserve someone who is dear to him. 

But yes, he has no time now, but he have to apologize to you. And he will.

As long as they close the case. 

[dryslippers]

Still Alive - Chapter 3

Desire and Decorum - Ernest x MC (Kate Harrison)

Summary: The day has arrived. Kate is getting married and has finally accepted her fate. She knows Mr. Sinclaire is only in her memories... but is she right?

Warnings: Major character death. This is a sad story, it may be heartbreaking more in future chapters.

Notes: Sorry if there are grammatical or any kinds of mistakes. English is not my native language (☹) I have changed Countess Henrietta to a good person. (I know you hate her, I hate her too, but I see a soft side in her😂🤦‍♀️ She has an important role in this story.) And as you know, all the characters belong to Pixelberry. 😊

Words: 2150

@regencylady1810

-----

1 week later

“Are you done? We cannot stay here more than this.”

“Sorry, just a few more minutes.”

Briar crossed her arms and looked at Kate sternly, “All right. I wait until those few minutes are over.”

“A few minutes, in private.”

Briar rolled her eyes and approached Kate. “Kate, you’ve been here for several minutes now. We will be late.”

Kate sighed, her shoulders slumping. She did not even want to arrive at the cathedral. “I have a lot of things to tell him, but I’ve been speechless since I saw this.” She pointed at his name.

Ernest Sinclaire

“It… It is real. He is really gone.”

Briar wrapped her arms around her and rubbed her back. She wished she could end this nightmare, unfortunately it wasn`t a dream. “He is always in your heart. He is not gone completely.” 

Kate put her head on Briar`s shoulder. “I want to talk to him. I want to hold his hands today, not that dog`s.”

Briar chuckled. “I was thinking dogs are the best creations ever. Let’s name him something else, like… donkey?” She chuckled again, but Kate remained silent. Briar thought it would cheer her up, but Kate just hold her tighter, not looking away from his name.

“You still want to have those few minutes?” 

Kate nodded. Briar smiled at her and left. Left her alone, with him. With his name.

Kate stared at his grave for a few seconds, and then she began. “I… I miss you.” She blinked rapidly to hold her tears back, but was unsuccessful. “It`s… the day. I am marrying that dog, no, that donkey, in a few hours. Can you believe it?” She wiped her tears with her hands. Soon they were replaced with new ones. “You promised me you will end him. You promised me that we`d be the winners in the end. Do you remember? I… I don't want to win anything. I just want you back. I want to be with you.” She remained silent for several seconds, choosing her words before speaking; she knew he was really hearing her words. “Sometimes I… I want to join you. Anywhere you are. I haven't told anyone about this but… something tells me good news are coming. Something tells me I should not leave this world. Maybe it’s-” 

“Kate? We really have to leave now.” 

Kate sighed, knowing it is finally time to depart. “Come and take me. Save me. I don't want to be his.” Then, she put her hand on his name. 

“I'm waiting for you.”

———

Kate was in her room, waiting for Briar to bring her dress. She cried all the way to Bath, which made dark circles under her eyes, but she really did not care for her looks. She wasn't marrying the love of her life, so what was the point of looking good?

While she was pacing in the room, she heard a sharp knock on the door. ”Briar, you know you do not need to knock. Come in.”

“It’s not Briar.”

It was her grandmother. Kate’s heart skipped a beat. She really did not want to talk to her. For the rest of her life.

“Can I come in?”

“You will, even if I say no.”

The Dowager opened the door slowly and entered the room. She closed the door quietly and looked at Kate apologetically. “You... you are not ready yet...”

“I am waiting for my dress. The one Duke Richards chose.”

Dowager Countess sighed. She took a step forward but stopped when she saw Kate’s eyes burning with hatred. 

“Did you come to see if I am ready or not?” 

“No. No, I... wanted to apologize. Again. If... if I only asked you about this engagement before announcing it-” 

“Ernest would have been alive now.” Kate spun around so she could hide her tears. She did not want to show her weakness to her grandmother. 

“Yes. And you would be marrying him instead of-” 

“Thanks for checking on me but...” She wiped her tears and turned around to face her grandmother. Her brows were knitted in a frown.  ”Apology not accepted.” 

“Kate, plea-” 

“I really can’t understand! After all you've done, after killing my love, you are asking for forgiveness?” 

“I will-”

Before she could finish her sentence, Briar opened the door without knocking. She was holding a dress. “Oh, pardon me. I did not know you were here...” 

“She was leaving.”

Lady Grandmother began to exit but turned back to Kate. ”Kate, you know I love you. Let me know if you want to talk to me. About anything.”

Kate inhaled a deep breath and blew out slowly to control her anger. She was furious. 

“Never.”

-----

After Dowager Countess left, Briar helped Kate wear her dress. Kate looked in the mirror immediately. 

“Well, I wasn't expecting anything better.” 

“It is...” 

“Red. The color of Karlington.” 

“I wish I could do something. Oh, I should have brought one of your blue dresses.” 

“I am becoming duchess of Karlington.” She whispered the next words. ”Duchess Richards.”

Briar ran her hands through Kate’s hair. ”You have to say it, right?” 

“Say what?” 

“... I will.”

Kate looked at Briar’s reflection in the mirror. Briar turned her head to look at her in the mirror too. 

“What is the point of saying I will not? He will make me say those words. You know him, don't you?”

Briar sighed. As she opened her mouth to talk, Kate rushed over to the door. 

“What happened?!” 

“I... I need to see the Countess.” 

“Countess?” 

“Yes. I just remembered, she is the only one who can stop this disaster.”

-----

Kate did not think about her idea. Well, her ridiculous idea. Truth be told, she knew it was stupid, but she wanted to take every chance she had. even by ruining someone else`s life. 

“What?” Countess Henrietta’s eyes widened. She was shocked by Kate’s proposal. 

“Please, Countess Henrietta! If you reveal your secret-” 

“What has gotten into you, Kate?! I did not keep this secret 25 years to reveal it like this! In a wedding!” 

“But it is not a good wedding! You did want to stop it, did you not?” 

Countess held Kate’s hands in hers and gave them a light squeeze. “I did, and I still want to. But this is not a good idea. I cannot object because he assaulted me 26 years ago.”  

“You can! And he had an affair with Mr. Sinclaire’s wife, remember?” 

“So what?” 

Kate looked at her with wide eyes. 

“So what?! Well, I think it is enough to show the real Duke Richards to everyone!” 

“It is not, and we can't do that.” 

“But why?” 

“Because we have NO PROOF!”

Kate jumped a bit. Countess Henrietta gathered herself and tried to wash her anger away. 

“Look, Kate, I have no proof. I do not have a diary or journal and-“ 

“But he has! I am sure Duke Richards has written something about his son in his journal!” 

“When I told him I was with child, he said he had nothing to do with it. Even if he wrote something about it, how can you find his journal now?” 

Kate exhaled and glanced away. She knew it was stupid, but she thought Countess would do something. She just needed help. 

“Look, Kate. No one will believe Edmund is duke’s son. He even does not look like him; he's a copy of me! And... and you do not have a proof for his affair with Mr. Sinclaire ’s wife either. Both of them are dead and you... ” She could not find the right words, but Kate could.

“I were no one to them. I never met his wife, and I never was engaged to Ernest. Legally.” Kate’s shoulders slumped. She retraced her steps to her room. “I’m a fool. I don't know why I thought we could stop this with those stories. They are real, but as you said, we have no proof.” 

“Accept it, Kate. I know it`s hard, but… this is your fate.” 

Then, she disappeared into the hallway.

-----

She was standing there, her arm in Prince Hamid’s. She was going to walk down the aisle. She was going to marry Duke Richards. 

“Lady Kate? Are you sure you want me to do this?” 

Kate smiled at him. “I am. You are one of my close friends. Besides, Mr. Sincliare would be happy to see you walking me down the aisle.” 

Prince Hamid lifted his eyebrow and cleared his throat. 

“...Mr. Sinclaire?” 

“He is here. He is waiting for me there. You will see him once we head in.” She was back to being the Kate who believed Ernest was still alive. Even when she was going to marry the Duke. 

“Of... of course. He is always in our hearts.” 

They heard the music, and then the doors slowly opened. Kate walked down the aisle...

As she was walking, her eyes met many familiar faces. Briar, Annabelle, Mr. Harper, Sir Gideon, and... 

Him. It was him. It was Mr. Sinclaire.

She could not believe her eyes. She blinked rapidly, and after that, she saw him again. He was really standing there. He was watching her. 

“Prince Hamid... I told you! Can you see him?” 

“Who?” 

“Er... Ernest...” 

Prince Hamid sighed. “He is Duke Richards, my lady.” He whispered.

Kate turned her head to face him. “No! Not there! He is standing next to him! There...” She pointed at... nothing. “But he was-” 

“My lady, I'm afraid it was just... an imagination.” Kate looked around to find him, but he was nowhere. Not long after, Kate was standing in front of Duke Richards. Her hands were held by his. 

“You look gorgeous, my dearest.” 

She closed her eyes and remained silent. 

“I am so happy we are finally getting married. True love always wins.” 

“STOP!” She yelled, and everyone stared at her with wide eyes. She locked eyes with her friend, Annabelle, who just shook her head. 

“Par... Pardon me. If you would please start, Bishop Monroe.” 

“Of course, my lady.” Bishop Monroe took a deep breath. He knew it wasn't the right marriage. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together in the sight of God...” 

And when she saw him again, she didn't hear any more words. He was really standing there. Again. This time behind her husband-to-be. She gaped. She could have sworn He was looking directly at her, his hands in his pockets. 

“Ernest?��� 

Bishop Monroe stopped but continued after Duke Richards glared at him.

Kate locked eyes with Ernest, unable to say anything. She was the one who told Prince Hamid he is waiting for her, yet she could not believe he was real. She knew he was gone. He was dead. But he was looking at her. Yes, she knew he died in her own arms, she knew he was sleeping in his grave. But… was he back from the dead? 

“Are you back from the dead?” She asked, followed by a long awkward silence. She had not heard a word; she was just looking at him. 

“Why are you staring at me? Why don't you say anything? Talk! You came to save me, did you not?” 

“Lady Kate...? Are you... with us?”

Kate shook her head, turned it to look at Bishop Monroe. 

“I... I am. You are not with me! Just look at him! He is here! He has come to save me! To end this disaster!” 

“Who is here, my lady?” 

“Mr. Sin-” Again, he was gone. Kate’s eyes were filled with tears. 

Why does he disappear when I want to show him to the others? Is he afraid? Then what is he afraid of? She wondered.

“He was there...” 

“Ah, for goodness sake, can you end this now?” Duke Richards glared at Bishop Monroe for the sixth time. 

“Of... of course, Your Grace.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Duke Tristan Richards of Karlington, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife? Will you love-” 

“I will. Go to the next part.” 

Bishop Monroe sighed and continued. “Will you, Lady Kate of Edgewater, have this man to be your wedded husband? Will you love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?” 

Kate’s eyes looked for Mr. Sinclaire. She knew he was still there. She knew he was watching her. But he was nowhere to be found. She locked eyes with Countess Henrietta, hoping she had found a proof for her secret. However, she just shook her head and glanced away. 

“I...” 

She kept silent, waiting for someone`s voice. She did not know who she was waiting for. Her mother, father, or maybe Ernest? She turned her head and saw everyone waiting. They were waiting for her answer. At that moment, she believed they are all gone. Her family, her love, they would never come back. No one would rescue her. No one could. Even herself.

“I will.”

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Get Inside You, Boy

Author: Culumacilinte

Year: 2008

Rating: R

Pairing: Howard/Spirit of Jazz

Asleep in his bed, Howard Moon shifted fitfully, rolling onto his side and bunching up his pillow under his head.  His lips moved imperceptibly, muttering nonsense syllables.  In the cold moonlight filtering through the window, a sheen of sweat glimmered on his forehead, making damp curls stick to the skin.

A voice sifted through his dreams, interrupting a particularly pleasant image of Mrs. Gideon sorting bookmarks while Howard looked on with a fond smile.

Howard Moon…

He whimpered a little and his knees drew themselves up to his chest, his slumbering brain focussing harder on the image of Mrs. Gideon.

Wake up, boy!  I’s talkin’ to you.

Mrs. Gideon looked around, the lines of a frown twisting her smooth, creamy brow.  ‘Howard?  Did you hear that?’

Dream-Howard shook his head nervously and adjusted his monocle.  ‘That’s nothing, Mrs. Gideon; nothing to worry your head about.’

Mrs. Gideon gave him a brilliant smile, laying a hand on his arm.  ‘Oh, you are so kind to me, Howard.  How is your novel coming, by the way?  The first draft was absolutely riveting!’

Her approval and recognition, even when it was nothing more than a dream, sent a glow to Howard’s heart and his face broadened in a dazzling grin.  Both grin and glow died, however, the instant the voice spoke again.

Shut up, girlie!  The voice was more insistent now, and was beginning to sound decidedly irritated.  This boyo’s mine.  Wake up, Howard Moon; get your fine ass outta them dreams and listen t’me!

Beneath his sheets, Howard trembled, clutching his comforter tight around him, his brow contorted in pig-headed persistence that he stay asleep.  The Howard in his dream trembled too, but he had nothing to clutch to him, and so instead put a comforting hand on Mrs. Gideon’s shoulder, trying his best to look manly and confident, a proper son of Leeds.  She, however, seemed not to have heard the voice at all and continued blissfully sorting her bookmarks.

‘Go away!’  Howard hissed, ‘Leave me alone!  I was having a good dream!’

The invisible voice chuckled cruelly.  Leave you alone, boy?  That ain’t never gonna happen.  You’s mine, baby, and when I call, you’s gonna answer me.  Y’ain’t got no choice.

Fists clenched at Howard’s sides, and he stared determinedly down at the ground.  ‘I have a choice, sir!  I am Howard Moon, Man of Action!  They call me Monsoon Moon; I’m a maverick!  You try and tell me what to do, and I’ll come at you like a skipping rope!  Like a-’

But the voice cut him off.

Mmm, yeah, you’s a maverick, peachy-face; but what kinda maverick, Howard Moon?  You know the answer.

Howard’s face fell; there was no denying it now, and both he and the owner of the invisible voice knew it.  ‘Jazz Maverick,’ He muttered, defeated.  The voice cackled exultantly.

That’s right!  You’s the Jazz Maverick, Howard Moon, and when the Spirit o’ Jazz tells you to wake up, you damn well wake!

The last word was almost a shout; or as close to a shout as the raspy voice of the Spirit of Jazz ever got, and Howard shot up in his bed with a yell.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did… there was nothing.  Just darkness, and a square of blue rippling across the bedsheets where the moonlight came in.  He sagged against the headboard and closed his eyes, exhaling a quavering sigh of relief.

‘Thank god,’ he muttered into his chest.

‘Who ya thanking there, boy?  God?  He ain’t got nothin’ t’do with it.’

‘Augh!’

Howard’s eyes snapped open.  There at the foot of the bed stood the Spirit of Jazz, legs crossed and arms out in that familiar, overly-dramatic pose, white suit and top hat almost luminous in the darkness.  His eyes glowed red against the cool darkness of Howard’s room.  Howard was swamped with a sensation of complete and utter horror, any relief he had felt at seeing the room empty lost in an instant.  A prickle of goose bumps broke out on the skin of his forearms.

‘Missed me, have you boy?  Been a long time since I visited you.’

Howard trembled.  ‘What are you doing here?’  He asked quietly, ‘Haven’t you already troubled me enough?’

The Spirit of Jazz laughed raucously, baring disturbingly black teeth.  ‘Enough, sweetness?’  He echoed, ‘I ain’t never had enough, Howard!  And I been robbed o’ your fine self for so many years, after all...’

‘What do you want?’

He had begun to pull himself together, Howard.  At least, his voice shook less, and the look in his eyes was calmer, but inside, he was trembling like a tiny little girl from Leeds, albeit a tiny little girl with a moustache.  The Spirit of Jazz sneered at him, strangely pink tongue running over those black teeth.  He’d been inside Howard Moon; he knew this man, and he could practically taste his fear.  He could taste it, and he found himself to be particularly partial to the flavour.  He leered at Howard.

‘You knows what I wants, boy!  Surely y’ain’t that stupid.’

‘Oh, god...’  Howard’s voice was nothing more than a whimper, several pitches higher than any grown man’s ought to be, and he shrieked and screwed his eyes tightly shut as the Spirit of Jazz swooped down upon him.

‘Don’t kill me, please!’ He sobbed, ‘I’ve got so much to give!  I’ve- I’ve-’ But nothing happened, and feeling a slight sense of anticlimax, he unscrewed the left eye slightly.  He fairly leapt at the sight that met him, however; the Jazz Spirit was kneeling on the bed, straddling Howard’s legs laid out in front of him, arms propped up on either side of Howard’ torso, skeletal face scant inches from his.  At the moment, he was looking decidedly disappointed.

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ He said, voice- for once- devoid of delighted mockery.  He took a moment, and then seemed to regain his steam, exhaling a harsh rasp of a laugh against Howard’s skin.  ‘I wants you, boy!  I wants to get inside you, wear you like a soft lady’s glove.’

That tongue flickered obscenely against his teeth, and red eyes went wide and mad.

Howard drew back- or rather, he tried to, but found that the headboard of his bed was rather in the way.  He continued trying anyway.  ‘If you don’t mind, sir,’ he said weakly, ‘I’d really rather prefer it if you didn’t.  Um, that is, there’s a lot of things need doing at the zoo tomorrow, and I need to get my sleep...’

He trailed off weakly, and the Spirit of Jazz shook his head at him, seeming almost rueful.

‘Pathetic,’ he muttered, ‘You’s a jazz boy, Howard Moon, and you’s worried about workin’ at some dumbass zoo?   Y’see why I’s here?  You needs remindin’ ‘bout who you is, boy.’

A panic was blossoming in Howard’s chest now, but he tried to pull himself up regardless.  ‘Perhaps you could hoodwink me when I was a young man, sir, but Howard Moon is a man of action!  I’ll not be taken in that easily.  I-’ he stumbled somewhat, ‘I suggest you make your exit now, sir; you’ll be finding nothing you want here.’

The Spirit of Jazz chuckled again, and his grin was dark and cruel.  ‘Ahh, now see- that’s your problem, boy.  You thinks you’s gots a choice in the matter.’

And before Howard could react- could object or say anything- the Jazz Spirit surged forward and crushed his black lips to Howard’s in a brutal kiss.  

Howard let out a muffled cry, and the Spirit of Jazz disappeared against his lips, leaving nothing more than a lingering taste of ash and the wail of trumpets in his head.  Then, in the darkness, Howard’s eyes flamed red.

His whole body relaxed, suddenly warm and heavy with the feeling of good Louisiana whiskey, and a voice spoke inside his head.

There now, ain’t that better, boy?  You’s mine, you’s always been mine, and you likes it.

Howard nodded dreamily as his body slid back down to lie flat, one knee bent lazily.  He stared at the ceiling with crimson eyes, and one hand slipped down over the faint convexity of his belly, then up again to toy with a nipple though the fabric of his shirt.  He sighed faintly, ‘Yes...’ whispering out in the heavy air, and his voice was tinged with a raspy, Cajun twang.

You wants me, doncha boy?  Wants me all up in you?  A chuckle, It’s your lucky day, sweet cheeks.

The smell of dead cigarettes and cheap booze consumed Howard’s mind, the scent of the dirt and grime of a hundred people’s lives, accented inexplicably with the chemical tang of lemon cleaner.  He recognised that smell- the smell of The Blue Aubergine way back when, when Howard was a jazz legend in Yorkshire.  He had a guitar in his hands and his fingers were flying at incredible speeds, the incredible sounds of his jazz stylings carrying to the darkest corners of the pub.  The crowd was going wild, loving him, and he was their master-

Just like that, boy...

His hand gripped harder at his chest, fingers digging bruisingly hard into the scant muscle of his pectoral, and he groaned deep in his throat, his other hand tracing with maddening slowness down into his boxers.   A breathless laugh, exultant and rapturous, tripped from his lips as a hand stroked down the length of his half-hard prick.  Had it been Howard, he would have got things over with quickly and quietly, but this was the Spirit of Jazz, and he was a sadistic bastard.  He wanted to hear Howard moan, to see him arch up against the touch of his own hand, to want until he could stand it no longer.

And so he was slow, and in Howard’s head, a wild improvised trumpet solo built to incredible heights.

That’s right!  That there’s the power o’ jazz, Howard Moon.  Gets inside ya, gets under your skin, makes ya tingly.   Don’t nothin’ else make you feel like that, do it?  I knows you, boy; you wants me.  I’s jazz, and jazz is your lifeblood, ain’t it? You’s beggin’ me for it, baby.

Howard moaned, biting down hard on his lip as the hand snuck lower, cupping hotly at his bollocks, heavy in his hand, and further still to stroke over the tight ring of muscle there.  A shudder traversed its way up his spine, and the voice of the Spirit of Jazz cooed in his ear.

Oh-ho!  Y’likes that... So you’s that kinda man, hmm, Howard Moon?  Y’likes bein’ told what t’do, do ya?

In some far corner of his mind, Howard Moon tried desperately to reassert himself, pulling with all the strength in his Yorkshire bones.  He was a man of action, he told himself squarely.  A man of means and influence, the kind of man others looked up to; not someone who enjoyed taking orders from anyone, much less a Cajun freak in blackface!

That finger was still there though, rubbing back and forth in the crease of his arse, and when it pushed itself in, just past that first barrier, all his resistance crumbled.  He whimpered, straining against the feeling of his own finger inside himself, cool and strange and not nearly there enough.

Y’want me to fuck you, peachy face?  That what you want?

‘G-god, yes!  Please, yes...’

The Spirit of Jazz said nothing more, just laughed cruelly inside Howard’s head, on and on, ringing in the jazz club as the double bass thrummed in the background and the saxophone soared bluesily above the crowd.

The hand scrabbled on the bedside table for where Howard knew the lotion was, and then one finger, two, three were inside him, and Howard’s mouth went wide and slack, his eyes glazed with pleasure.  The angle was awkward, but Howard’s breath stuttered in his chest nonetheless when the Spirit of Jazz curled his fingers tight inside Howard, stretching places deep inside him.  When the other hand left off toying with his scant chest hair and slid down to slick itself over his cock, he fairly moaned, his hips bowing off the mattress into the touch of that hand- his, and yet somehow not at all.

The hand pumped, and the fingers inside him fucked Howard mercilessly, curling and stretching, his whole body pretzellling to try and get them deeper, harder.  But it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t good enough, and the Spirit of Jazz growled through Howard’s throat, working him faster.

Oh, yeah… the voice purred against Howard’s ear, That’s what you likes, ain’t it?  Ya likes to be fucked hard, Howard Moon, like a little bitch.

Howard groaned desperately.  ‘I- no, I-’

Say that so’s I can hear it, bitch!

‘Please!’ He choked out, arching frantically against the Jazz Spirit’s touch.  He couldn’t bring himself to say anymore, but the Spirit of Jazz felt it in his body, saw it in his mind, and he ran an invisible tongue across invisible teeth, leering invisibly at Howard.

Whatever you says.

The hand worked him harder, the other twisting inside him, and Howard’s vision fuzzed out for a moment from the sheer pleasure of it, his back arching.  He was so close, almost there, almost… there-

The trumpet solo rang out over the crowd, spiralling madly upward, twisting and turning in midair before finally, insanely, hitting a triple high C.  There was a hush, and the throng stared; for several slow-motion moments, the note hovered still, high and pure and utterly uncorrupted.

And then Howard collapsed onto his back, mouth wide open and gasping for breath, two lines of white painted across his stomach.  The Spirit of Jazz materialised beside the bed, leering down at him, his suit utterly pristine, hat still firmly in place.  Exhausted, Howard shook his head, looking away, trying to ignore the presence beside him, but the Jazz Spirit cackled into the night air and settled himself on the edge of the bed, almost daintily.

‘You liked that, boy?’

Howard didn’t answer, and instead pulled the blanket over himself, suddenly extremely conscious of his own nakedness.  It was cold in his room, colder than he could ever remember it being.

The Spirit of Jazz crowed with delighted laughter.  ‘Oh-ho!  And now’s the time for the psychological torment, hey?  Oh, baby, you’s a good time, Howard Moon.’

‘Go away,’ Howard muttered into his blankets.  It was too late for him to recover any measure of dignity, but he would not further prolong his torment.  He would not play along with whatever sick game the Spirit was playing.  That laugh scraped over his skin, though, a harsh rasp in the darkness, and Howard could feel the unnatural burn of his eyes.

‘I’s always here, boy!  I’ll go away, sure thing- I gots other things t’do- but I’s inside your head, Howard Moon.  Every time you listen to one o’ them old jazz LPs you loves so much, every time you falls asleep… I’m a-gonna be there, just waitin’ for you.’

‘Please leave; I can’t deal with this right now.  I have… things to think about.’

The Spirit of Jazz let out a bark of laughter.  ‘Ha!  Sure that’s what you gots t’do.  I’ll leave, sugar, but you ain’t seen the last o’ me; you sure’s hell ain’t.’

There was a sound like the last, futile flicker of a dying candle, and when Howard turned over in his bed, the Spirit of Jazz was gone.  He couldn’t sleep though, not even now, in the warm, comforting emptiness of his room.  Howard knew it was true, what he’d said, and inside his head, the Spirit of Jazz laughed and laughed and laughed.

[lunarowena]

The Sun Always Rises

Trying to get back into the habit of writing anything again, figure I might as well use PoE writing prompts. For @pillarspromptsweekly​ prompt #0008, I rolled Edér, Temple, Sunrise. Cross posted at fanfiction.net.

The forest was peaceful below. Lillian sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the walkway, surveying Hearthsong beneath her as she scratched the ears of her wolf, Gideon. The rest of her companions were still sleeping inside the Celestial Sapling but she, well, she and sleep hadn’t been getting along for a long while now. But that did mean she got to see some beautiful sunrises. Since she had been young, watching the sun come up had been one of her favorite things. No matter where she traveled, what new bird song or foliage or mountains surrounded her, it was always the same sun casting light in beautiful new ways. Today the rising light painted soft clouds in orange and pink, looking almost appetizing. It was times like these she felt like saying a prayer, not that the god of light would hear it. He hadn’t heard anything in fifteen years and it was only as she’d gotten older that she’d started actually caring about praying instead of reciting what she was told. She smiled to herself. If Edér were here he’d tell her to pray anyway, probably, that it was the act that counted more than the god listening.

She looked up as Gideon gave a small whine to see the man himself approaching. “Think of him and he arrives. You’re up early.”

“You’re up earlier.” Edér sat down on the other side of Gideon and gave him a scratch under the chin. “Who’s a good, fluffy, boy?”

Lillian sighed and shook her head. “You do know you are the only other person he tolerates that from?”

“Tolerates? He loves it!”

She had to admit he wasn’t wrong. Gideon looked thrilled with the double attention, his tail thumping loudly.

“You should teach Itamuk to like pets this much,” he said in mock seriousness to the wolf. “Oh, sorry, did I stop?” he asked as Gideon just licked his hand as a response.

“It’s a heavy commitment,” she said, trying to keep a straight face, “once you start you can never stop.”

“Somehow I think I’ll manage to carry this burden,” he said as he switched to stroking the wolf’s back. “Speaking of burdens,” his voice softened, “you are up early. More trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah.” She looked away out at the forest. “Same old dream. Pillars of Adra towering over me. Came out here ‘cause I didn’t need to wake anyone else up. Besides, I like watching the sunrise.”

“It is pretty,” he agreed. “Matches your hair.”

Lillian snorted. “My hair is nowhere near that orange!” she objected as she turned back to him, “And congratulations on being the only person who thinks I’d look good in pink.”

“Who says you look bad in pink?”

“It clashes awful with my hair.”

“Well, the sunrise looks nice, don’t it? Tell you what, after we stop Thaos and get back home, you should throw a big, fancy party at Caed Nua and wear a fancy, pink dress and you’ll look beautiful. Although I won’t tell you so since I guess I’m not allowed to compliment you without being told I’m wrong.”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed. Gideon wagged his tail more vigorously.

“There, that’s better. You were looking all… broody before. And thinking about me apparently?”

“About Eothas, really.”

Now it was his turn to sigh and look off into the distance. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about Eothas, too.”

She studied his profile in the early sunlight and waited for him to continue, but he seems to be waiting for her to prompt him. “What about?”

“Y’know how yesterday in Teir Evron there were all those symbols of all the different gods in the floor?”

“Yeah.” There was a reason it was called the Council of Stars. When the group had walked into the temple room, the floor had lit up with constellations.

“There was a symbol for all the gods, except there weren’t one for Eothas.”

“Really?” She tried to wrack her brains, but to no avail. She hadn’t paid a large amount of attention to picking out all the gods from the floor, just noting that they were all – or if what Edér said was true, mostly – there. “But Woedica was there. I know Woedica was there. How could Woedica be there but not Eothas?”

“She’s less dead? I dunno.” He sighed and his hand on Gideon’s back came to a standstill. “I joke about my dead god a lot because it’s how I… make do, I guess. But part of me’s never believed that he’s really dead. I mean, the sun still rises in the morning. If Eothas, the god of light and rebirth was dead, would the sun still rise in the morning? And the candles, the candles down in the Temple of Eothas in Gilded Vale were still burning when nobody’s been down there in over a dozen years. How else is that possible? But to be completely missing from the rest of the gods…”

“And yet the sun always rises in the morning,” she finished softly as her hand found his on Gideon’s back. They sat in silence that way for a bit, staring off at the sunrise.

“We could ask our friendly, neighborhood priest what it means,” she said, “if he wasn’t so…”

“Insane?”

“I was going to say ‘ornery.’”

“I think I just gotta assume it means what it looks like it means,” he said.

“What I was thinking about,” she said slowly, “before you got here, was about praying to Eothas. And the futility of it. And how I thought you’d tell me to do it anyway because it was the act, and the belief, that mattered more than if he was really listening or not. You’ve said before that you still follow him because you think he’s worth following.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Redemption is always worth believing in.” He moved his hand away from hers and started stroking Gideon again. “So maybe he’s dead but the sun is still rising and redemption is still worth it and that… that has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe.” Lillian started stroking Gideon again herself. “Maybe it means that all these things don’t exist because of Eothas. That they can exist without him because they’re still worth it.”

“Maybe.” He looked back at her and gave a forced grin. “I guess time will have to tell. But first we need to worry about getting you sane again. Then we can speculate all we want about my dead god and the meaning of life.”

“It is a bit early. I don’t know how I could possibly talk about the meaning of life before breakfast.”

“Well, the sun’s mostly up now.”

“So it is. Time to wake the others and get breakfast?”

“Hmm. Or we two – three,” he said glancing down at Gideon, “could get breakfast and make Sagani deal with Aloth in the morning.”

“That idea is too tempting to pass up.”

Edér stood and then offered a hand down to Lillian. “After you, my lady.”

She grabbed his offered hand. “Edér, we are not at Caed Nua I will smack you.”

He grinned. “I’d like to see you try. Now when you’re threatening to shoot me, that’s when I’ll be afraid.”

“Then don’t do anything that’s worth shooting.”

And so the two bickering friends walked off, the bright sun shining in the sky above them.

[thegeminisage]

Top five video game characters of all time

this is a blessed ask thank you

i’m limiting myself to one per series or they’d all be final fantasy characters

5. jessamine kaldwin (dishonored)

absolutely shamelessly Tapped That and did not give a fuck about propriety

raised her daughter and ruled a kingdom all (mostly) on her own like a total badass

wanted to save all her citizens from the rat plague, not just the wealthy

as the heart, does nothing but shit talk people and complain, which is the biggest 2017 wintertime mood

that one post about her wanting to see daud age a decade every month is canon i don’t care what anybody says

4. flowey (undertale)

i could go into how the skeleton game is actually super deep and this is one of the deepest characters but tbh i don’t need to say a word. ^ that’s his main form & how he appears to you first, pretending to be friendly. this is how he looks later:

aww! it’s a cute lil adorable flower WHO WANTS TO MURDER YOU. find me a more iconic look, i dare you. OH THAT’S RIGHT YOU CAN’T

3. fenris (dragon age)

dumb looking bishie hair (it’s objectively horrible but it grows on you)

voiced by gideon emery who has that like Iconique™ deep growl

has kickass magic markings all over his body that let him phase through solid walls - instead of using this to rob banks e uses it to pull out the still-beating hearts of slavers right through their chests and crush them in his palm

because: he was a former slave but he got the magic markings that made him that dangerous and used them to ESCAPE and eventually KILLS his former master but he also has AMNESIA i do love a good amnesia story.

nobody say anything. i was into dragon age first. i loved him first

also, he’s had a terribly hard life and people like to portray him as angsty and bitter but he’s actually very kind and protective and soft if you aren’t a complete dick or your name isn’t anders like even if you romance him as a mage, and he fuckin hates mages especially anders

the first time i ever heard of riz ahmed it was because someone fancast him as this dude and it’s still my favorite one

2. groose (legend of zelda: skyward sword)

i have a whole tag for how much i love this motherfucker

every time he’s on screen is a genuine delight like he’s such a ham you always have to laugh

when he was a one-dimensional nice-guy bully he was annoying but once you hit mid-game and he starts getting a little depth he almost immediately becomes endearing

one of the most-developed zelda characters ever, period, of all time, except maybe BotW zelda, who nearly got this spot - like he has a genuine will to do good and protect others which is a huge 180 from where he started, it’s incredible

Dat Pompadour

please watch this video it’s one of my favorite video game cutscenes of all time

the scream from that video (at about :18) is my alarm tone.

1. lightning farron (final fantasy xiii)

this is My Girl, you guys. god where do i even start

pink hair

PINK HAIR!!!

at MINIMUM 25% of the reason i dyed my own hair pink tbh?

main character of a three-game trilogy which is mainly about her development and her relationship with her sister

ROMANTIC INTEREST? not here. fuck that! it’s because she’s aro

lightning doesn’t have time for romance she’s busy TOPPLING THE GOVERNMENT to SAVE HER LITTLE SISTER like lightning is a former soldier who full-on defects solely for that purpose

(later she then decides to kill what amounts to “god” in that world to save her little sister and you know what? “god” is right to be afraid)

also, she doesn’t like the guy her sister is dating, so he really has to earn that respect. like he does, in the end, after fucking it up a few times, because he is mostly a good guy, but like also before that happens she does fullly punch him in the face (in this particular instance he kind of had it coming)

you can’t really see it in this pic but for the most part her armor is not the horrible Sexy Girl armor a lot of game girls get (the third game has like optional sexy armor but fuck that) it’s like badass looking and functional

refuses to acknowledge the fact that she has feelings at the start of the first game, but then in the end it comes back to bite her in the ass because she’s been shutting her loved ones out, and she has to learn to FEEL HER GODDAMNED FEELINGS before it’s too late

spoilers but her real name is not (lmao, surprise!) lightning. it’s claire. a three-story trilogy about a girl named claire who learns to cry. i’ll see myself out

anyway lightning is the best i love ff13 so much please watch the best trailer ever because every single person reading this will probably like ff13 too because it’s impossible not to 

no seriously i started out determined to hate it but my heart softened starting with that trailer

thanks everybody for your time

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Interconnect (ao3 link) - Chapter 7 Fandom: Flash, DC Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart

Summary: Fate has decided that Leonard Snart and Mick Rory are soulmates.

Yeah, okay, they’re good with that.

(for @coldwaveweek2017)

A/N: Instead of doing different fics for coldwave week, I decided to do one with multiple chapters, each based on the various days.

Chapter 7: Free Day

—————————————————————————————–

“Mick!”

Mick barely looks up from the medbay bed he’s been on the last few days, ever since the Legends flew the Waverider to STAR Labs after killing Savage. He’d been on 24/7 Gideon watch ever since they’d realized exactly how badly he was taking Len’s death.

Hell, that was even why they were here, at STAR Labs, instead of travelling the timeline fixing things the way Rip had originally wanted to. The other Legends were worried sick about Mick and didn’t want to go without him, so they’d overruled Rip and demanded they stay until Team Flash gave them an answer about how to fix Mick.

Not that they could.

It wasn’t something that could be fixed.

A lifetime of Len’s voice in his ear – gone.

Finished.

Exploded.

Mick always thought they’d go together.

“Mick!”

He shudders a little. He can still hear him sometimes, the echo of him.

“Mick! Damnit, you know how I hate it when you ignore me!”

That –

That wasn’t an echo.

Mick looks from side to side, making sure no one is paying attention to him, not even Gideon, and leans over to the plate of food he’s been uncharacteristically ignoring. “…Lenny?” he whispers to the fork.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for ages.”

“What, really?” Mick asks, alarmed. The Time Masters had talked about time-lag – about people growing old without realizing it – stuck in a loop –

“Yeah. It’s been, like, hours now.”

No, just Len’s typical ridiculous drama.

“I thought you got blown up,” Mick says. He’s still a bit wary, but – this feels right.

“I did,” Len confirms.

“Okay…and?”

“And what?”

“If you got blown up, you’re dead,” Mick points, quite reasonably in his mind. “If you’re dead, we can’t talk.”

“Uh,” Len says. “Actually…”

“You’re dead?”

“No. I mean, not really. Sort of. Has Barry ever discussed ‘the Speed Force’ with you?”

“…no?”

“Have him do that. And tell Cisco he owes me a rescue. And – oh, shit, gotta go.”

“What?! No! I just got you back!”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately, in the Speed Force, everything is the Speed Force, and said Speed Force doesn’t exactly appreciate me getting around the whole ‘death’ thing by talking to you.”

“...are you talking to me using Death as an object?”

“No,” Len says. “I’m not dead, I told you. Also, animate things don't work, you know that, and I'm not willing to try with possibly-animates. That being said, she did let me borrow her necklace so I could talk to you.”

“She? The speed force?”

“No, Death. Keep up.”

“I’m confused.”

“Yeah, this shit’s a mess. I’ll explain later. Shh, warden’s coming.”

Mick obediently shuts up.

Then he gets up.

“Gideon!” he roars with an energy he hasn't felt since Len's nattering voice cut off. “I need Barry Allen and Cisco Ramon, now!”

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

"Lisa," Len says. "Mick and I have a major life announcement to make."

"You're already married, neither of you can get pregnant, and you've already come back from the dead once," Lisa says, not looking up from her magazine. "Hit me with your best shot."

"We've decided to take someone into our little family," Mick says.

"Oh, adoption. Uh-huh," Lisa says, eyes still firmly on the pages. She even turns a page. "Sure you are."

"Why so skeptical?" Len asks.

"You're too wrapped up in each other to raise a kid," she says dismissively. "And you know it. So what is it really?"

"It's not a kid," Len says. "It's a dragon."

"Dragons don't exist."

"Cheep," little Smaug says.

Lisa pauses and finally puts the magazine down.

Len beams at her.

"Is that a mechanical dragon?!"

"Smaug here's an AI," Mick says. "Bleeding edge future tech from the year 3000."

"3004," Len corrects.

"Right."

"You - that - it can think?"

"He was gonna be discontinued," Len says.

"We decided to step up," Mick agrees.

"Oh god it can breathe fire, can't it," Lisa says flatly. It's not even a question.

"And ice," Len says cheerfully, and reaches over to tickle Smaug's belly.

For all that he has exposed mechanical parts - fancy looking gears and cogs and circuits which are probably more decorative than functional - the majority of Smaug is covered in a very realistic synthoskin that replicates the feel of baby-soft scales.

Smaug gurgles happily.

"If it's a computer, why is it acting like that?"

"He's an AI," Len corrects her. "And, well, he's not full grown yet. Still building up that processor power."

"It's a baby. A baby dragon AI."

"Yep."

"Yeah, no, I'm out," Lisa declares, throwing her hands up in the air and walking out.

They wait until fifteen seconds have passed and Lisa's stomps have mostly faded away into the distance.

"How long do you think we can pull this off before she realizes we only have him on loan until the time aberration's fixed?" Mick asks.

"At least a week," Len says confidently. "C'mon, let's go scare Team Flash."

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

The door flies open with a crash.

Everyone in the room spins around to glare, their eyes filling with anger, the larger members of the group starting to stand and crack their knuckles with anticipation of a beating.

"Hi, there," the man at the door says. He's wearing a blue parka, rather unseasonable for the weather outside, and he's smirking like he knows something they all don't. "Please, don't let me interrupt your fascinating discussion."

"Oh, you interrupted all right," one of the biggest guys replies. "Who the hell are you?"

The new man's smirk widens. "No, no," he says. "Please, keep going - I'm sorry, were you talking about the evil conspiracy where the Jews run the world, or was it the way witches manipulate the world using their own persecution and deaths to win minor rhetorical arguments? The arguments are so similar I can scarcely tell, sometimes."

"Oh, great," one of them sneers. "One of you people."

"We've got a right to be here," one of the other members of the group bleats. "We're exercising our right to assembly and free speech. In fact, you're oppressing us by interrupting, which is the exact opposite of what you claim to value."

And then he smirks, satisfied and smug that he's made his point.

"Oh, no, no," the new man at the door says. "You mistake me entirely. I've donated literal diamonds to the ACLU in support of the idea that there isn't anything legally wrong with non-violent free speech, even where I think the content of that speech is disgusting. But here's the thing you assholes overlooked -"

"What?" a member sneers.

The man at the door pulls out a gun that glows a cold blue light. "I don't much care about what's legal, personally, and since I'm not the goddamn government, your ‘rights’ don’t mean jack shit."

"Captain Cold," someone gasps, putting the pieces together at last.

"The supervillain?! But he's from Central."

"He," Len says, "is on vacation, and beating up neo-Salemists - or neo-Nazis, honestly we never really cleared up which ones you are - is really just a perk."

The room erupts in chaos, only to be silenced when Len fires off a blast to the ceiling.

"I know this isn't going to help your unwarranted sense of persecution," Len says, musing. "But I just wanted you to know that I'm a queer black Jew who's also cursed, so, you know - yeah. I'm 'one of them' as one of you so eloquently put it."

The room flees for the back entrance only for a gout of flame to emerge from the gun of the large man standing watch there.

"Having all the fun without me?" he asks the gun in his hands.

"Hardly," Len tells his own gun in return. It's a big room, and Mick's getting over a sore throat; there's no need to shout. "You know that what's yours is mine."

"Yeah," Mick says, grinning at his prey. He's probably regretting their promise to Barry that they wouldn't kill or permanently harm any of them, but hey, that's life. Beating them up will be nearly as satisfying, and then with luck the lesson (don’t be a bigoted shit or else) will be absorbed in a wider scale. "Yeah, I know."

And then they move.

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

“Aren’t you supposed to be mad at me?” Mick asks muzzily. They’ve been weaning him off the good drugs, but he’s still not entirely with it all the time. Illegal clinics are good for strong drugs, though they do have a tendency to cut it off too fast.

The clock on his bedside table huffs in offense. “I am,” it says. “But you know what these places are like! They’ll cut you off the drugs the second they think they can get away with it, which they won’t if they think you’re hallucinating.”

“Why would I be hallucinating?”

“Because you’re talking to random objects?”

“No random,” Mick says. “They’re you.”

“Sweet, but irrelevant when your medical practitioners have a very cleaned-up version of your medical history.”

"...oh."

"Anyway, what does me being angry at you have to do with anything?"

"Well," Mick says, marshalling his thoughts. "First off, you weren't yelling."

"Of course not," the clock sniffs. "I'd wear out my voice for all the yelling. Besides, I'm more the cool, calm, slinky sort of bad guy..."

Len's imagining himself as a James Bond villain again, Mick knows it.

The term 'slinky' gives it away, really.

"Second," Mick says, and the clock pauses in its daydream - no, Mick's not sure how he can tell, but he can - to listen. "Second, there's what you were talking about."

"What about it?"

"You were talking about your secret Harry Potter fan theory," Mick points out.

"So?"

"That's not 'angry person' conversation."

"I could list hockey stats instead," the clock offers, mild tone not hiding the bite.

"Harry Potter is fine," Mick says quickly, because it is. It's just weird, that's all.

It's not until Len has gone off in a flounce to yell at his latest crew - he's hooked back up with Scudder and Dillon for some godforsaken reason, which is only going to end with somebody dead, Mick knows it - that Mick gets it.

Len isn't talking just for the sake of talking.

He's chatty, yes, and he loves the sound of his own voice, but he doesn't monologue. He's a dialogue sort of guy - quips and puns and stuff like that.

No, that monologue was for Mick's benefit.

So he wouldn't feel alone, trapped in a hospital bed.

Mick snorts, fond smile spreading over his face as he shifts around a bit to get comfortable.

Len was honestly ridiculous sometimes.

Mick's not alone.

After all, Len's always there, all around.

Always.

[smartgirlsaremean]

Expanded universe ask game for fanfic writers!: Avonlea Books + 5?

OOPS MY HAND SLIPPED

Previously on Avonlea Books, Belle and Gold attended a launch party for her first children’s book. They were engaged to be married.

TEN YEARS LATER

Warmth and savory smells washed over Henry as he let himself into the Park Avenue brownstone. He’d barely had time to take off his coat before there was a thundering of footsteps in the hall, and three small bodies launched themselves at him. Grunting, he stumbled slightly on impact, but tried his best to hug all three kids back at the same time.

“Mama! Papa! Henry’s here!” yelled the youngest of them, her big brown eyes shining.

Henry reached out and ruffled her dark hair. “Hey, Aunt Miranda. You ready for some turkey?”

She nodded and grinned. “Papa bought two! He said with this many people and your hollow legs, we’d need enough food for an army. Do you really have hollow legs, Henry?”

“That’s just an expression, Randy, it means I eat a lot.” Henry put an arm around the boy nearest him and squeezed. “How ya doin’, Jake? Ready to get your butt kicked at Mario Kart?”

“Yeah, right,” his kid brother snorted. “I’m the best. I beat everybody.”

“That’s not true,” piped up eight-year-old Gideon. “Mama beat you last night.”

Jake frowned at the other boy. “I let her win.”

“You did not!”

“I did too!”

“You can’t argue with me, I’m your uncle!”

“Nuh-uh! You’re younger than I am, and uncles are older. Right, Henry?”

“Uh…well, Gid is Dad’s brother, Jake. So…I mean, yeah, he is our uncle.” Gideon stuck his tongue out at his nephew, and Jake scowled. “But that doesn’t mean…”

“Gideon, be nice to Jake.” Henry looked up to see that Belle had appeared, her face stern. “We’ve talked about this - just because you’re his uncle doesn’t mean you can boss him around.” Jake made a face at Gideon and Henry sighed. He loved them both, but they were so…competitive. Adolescence was gonna be a nightmare. “I wondered where my helpers had gone,” Belle continued. “Who wants to peel potatoes.”

“I do!” Jake said quickly. “Can I use a real knife instead of the peeler?”

“Not til you’re older, sweetheart. Come on, I’ll get you started. Gideon, will you help Miranda change her dress again?” Belle eyed her daughter’s outfit, which was covered in flour and butter and God knew what else. “Actually, Randy, darling, don’t worry about a dress. Put on some of your play clothes and you can change right before dinner. Honestly,” Belle confided to Henry as Gideon led his sister upstairs, “I don’t know why I thought the dress was a good idea. She’s the least dressy person I’ve ever met.”

Henry smiled and put his arms around her when she hugged him. “Your dad and grandpa are in the study,” she said. “Jefferson and Grace should be here any minute.”

Henry swallowed around a suddenly dry throat, smiled, and headed down the hall. He’d known Grace for years - her dad worked for his, and had once worked for Belle - and they’d been friends since middle school. They’d even shared a high school graduation party. She was cool, if a little weird, but that wasn’t surprising considering that her dad wore top hats and smiled like a Cheshire cat. He’d gone to school in Boston while she’d stayed in New York, and for one reason or another they had dropped out of touch, never quite managing to be at home at the same time, even during the summer. And then he’d run into her in Atlantic City on Spring Break, and…well, he hadn’t remembered her being quite so pretty. Or so funny. Or so…everything.

He took a breath and reminded himself that the last thing he needed was his grandfather figuring out he had a thing for Grace. Roderick Gold might be ruthless as a businessman, but he was an equally devoted family man, and the merest whiff of a possibility of a granddaughter-in-law would have him on high alert. Not that Henry’d even had the nerve to send Grace more than a couple of friendly emails, but that wouldn’t stop his grandfather from speculating.

“That’s a pretty good location, but when you retire aren’t you supposed to stop working?” his dad’s voice sounded fondly exasperated, and Henry walked in to find his grandfather and father hunched over some papers at the desk.

“I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in eight years,” Grandpa said dryly. “I’m quite looking forward to spending a few hours a day in a dark shop surrounded by inanimate objects.”

“Hey,” Henry said, drawing their attention.

“Hey, Henry,” Grandpa smiled.

Dad stood and walked over to pull him into a hug. “The roads weren’t bad, were they?”

“Nah, just a little wet. Did you guys finally pick a place for Grandpa’s store?”

“Yeah, it’s a few blocks away from the Greenwich Village store, so I can still bug him if I need to.”

“You’ve just done fine without me,” Grandpa pointed out. “You could probably have done even better if you’d taken the CEO position, though.”

“Nah, I like the VP spot better, you know that. Smith’s doing fine.”

“Is anyone from Belle’s side coming this year?” Henry asked. He didn’t know his step-grandmother’s family very well, but Joan was a hoot and Maurice was nice.

“No, they’re spending the holidays with Joan’s family.”

The doorbell rang and Dad waggled his eyebrows at Grandpa before heading to the door. Henry grinned when he heard his other grandparents’ voices. Grandma and Grandpa Nolan were very nice, and he loved them, but they always treated his Grandpa Gold like he was a tamed beast ready to snap its tether at any moment. Gold rolled his eyes and limped out into the hallway to welcome his guests properly.

Henry took a deep breath and looked around the study. Belle’s books had a place of honor just behind the desk - the two best-selling kids’ books that had made her name and the four others that hadn’t done quite as well. There was also a chess table set up to one side, the pieces in the middle of a game. As he looked over the game, trying to determine who was closest to checkmate, he heard the doorbell ring again.

He hoped there would be enough room for everyone, and that Ruby and her grandmother got here soon. Ruby had taken over the diner when her granny retired, and she always brought pie. Really, really good pie.

“Hi, Henry.”

His hand jerked and he knocked over one of the pawns on the board. He reached for it, trying to right it, but he missed and sent a few more pieces flying. “Shit,” he muttered. Panicking, he tried to duck down to pick up the dropped pieces, and his head hit the board, sending everything scattering across the floor.

“Are you okay?”

He turned to look at Grace, who looked like she wanted to laugh. “Yeah, I just…wow, Grandpa’s gonna be pissed.”

She pressed her lips together and fought a smile, her blue eyes sparkling, and Henry flushed. “It’s good to see you.”

He smiled mutely and gathered the pawns to set them back on the board. Of course he had to act like a complete idiot around a cute girl. His dad and grandpa had been the same way. Why couldn’t he have inherited his Grandpa Nolan’s smooth charm?

Grace seemed determined to talk to him, though, so that was good. “Are you still majoring in creative writing?” she asked.

“Double majoring. Creative writing and business management.” Henry gathered the pawns and set them back on the board. “How’s biology going?” Grace was going to be a veterinarian, which made sense because she was crazier about animals than anyone he knew, except maybe Ruby.

“Not bad. A lot of labs and late-night cramming sessions.” She bit her lip and looked behind her. “Look, you didn’t…you didn’t tell anyone that we met in Atlantic City, did you?”

“Uh…no. I mean, it’s not like I was supposed to be there either,” he pointed out. Neither of them were twenty-one yet, and it was sheer luck that they hadn’t been caught. Spring Break was supposed to be for good times and minor rule-breaking, but he knew neither of their parents would see it that way.

“Okay, good. It was nice to see you and everything, but if Dad knew…”

“Yeah. It’ll be our secret.”

Grace smiled. “I like that. Our secret.”

“Yeah.”

She leaned past him and looked at the board. “Who was winning?”

“No idea.” She was too close, and Henry leaned away. “Probably Grandpa, though. He’s the chess master, after all.”

“Yeah, but I bet Belle has ways of distracting him.”

“Don’t go there,” Henry warned. “Just don’t.”

“They have two kids, Henry. It’s not like you don’t know…”

“I can pretend they hatched out of eggs, can’t I? I mean it’s bad enough with my parents, but…”

“I think it’s sweet. They’re obviously still crazy about each other.” She shook her head. “I’ve always hoped I’d find someone I loved as much as Belle loves Mr. Gold.”

A soft smile worked its way onto Henry’s face. “Yeah, me too. Or my parents. They’re still pretty distressingly into each other. Of course, they did meet stealing a car, so I don’t think I wanna copy them too closely.”

“And I’d rather not fall for my future husband while he’s putting me out of business.” Grace looked thoughtful. “I guess what I like most about your parents and grandparents is that they’re friends, y’know? I mean they love each other, but they also really like each other. That’s important in a relationship, don’t you think?”

“Uh…yeah, that’s…that’s important.” Henry realized he was holding his breath and released it. “I was, uh…I was wondering if you…”

“Hey, kid, Grandma Nolan’s looking for you.” His mom poked her head in the door. “Hey, Grace.”

“Hi, Mrs. Gold.”

“God, call me Emma, please. Henry, come out here before she drives your grandpa crazy,” Mom said, and Henry couldn’t quite keep the slight grimace from his face. “Or…is this bad timing?” Her eyes turned speculative and she glanced between them with a sly grin.

“It’s fine,” Henry said hastily.

“‘Cause I can make your excuses, tell everyone you’re in here entertaining a pretty young lady all by…”

“Oh my God,” Henry groaned. He moved to the door, but Grace stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“We should get coffee tomorrow. Catch up.” Her eyes searched his. “That’s what you were going to ask me, right?”

“Yeah. Um. Cool. I gotta…” At her nod and smile, he walked to his mother, who was smiling widely.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

“Your grandpas are gonna be thrilled,” she teased.

“Why do I come back here?” Henry asked the ceiling. “Why do I torture myself like this?”

“Because you love us,” his mom pointed out, taking his arm.

He tried to scowl, but he couldn’t, because she was right. They were weird and mixed-up and complicated, but they were his family, and during the holidays there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

[imgilmoregirl]

The Dark Children (Chapter 6)

AO3 Link

Agathe’s eyes were lost on the beautiful landscape that you can see through the large windows of the library as she brushed Colette’s hair. Lady Belle was sat on the other end of the place, trying to teach Chip how to make some maths he was struggling to understand, her voice reaching them in a soft motherly tone that was getting the maid more and more angered at each second. She had been fighting with herself not to cry ever since Mrs. Potts entered the kitchen before the breakfast, saying that their lady was feeling ill and shouldn’t be distressed.

The maid wasn’t a fool, she knew what a morning sickness were and what it meant, so if that was the illness Mrs. Potts was talking about, she would have to use the potions Lady Heart had given to her and she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to. Agathe was desperate, but yet she wasn’t willing to kill a child to get what she wanted.

“You’re hurting me.” Colette said with a groan of pain.

“What?” She asked, blinking at the five-year-old girl, who was staring at her like she was the greatest idiot she had ever seen in her life, looking a lot like her father doing it.

“You’re hurting me with the hairbrush.” The girl bounced. “My head is aching.”

Belle lifted her head, looking up at them when her daughter’s complaining reached her, she dropped the feather she was using to write inside the little bowl of ink and stood up, walking towards them with a preoccupied face.

“Is something wrong here?”

“Mama, can you brush my hair?” Colette asked, taking the hairbrush from the maid’s hands and giving it to her mother. “Agathe doesn’t know how to do this.”

“Come here, darling.” Belle said, holding her hand and glancing a little furious at the blonde woman. “Are you alright, Agathe?”

“Of course I am, milady.”

Usually, Belle didn’t sound so harshly like she just did, so the maid guessed that something should be bothering her. Or maybe, a negative voice whispered on the back of her mind, it is just her hormones playing with her and in the next few months you’ll have to deal with that stupid lady being cruel to you. Use the potions.

“Well then I advise you to take care with the way you treat my children.”

"I'm sorry, milady, but I can guarantee you that I was doing it right,” Agathe defended herself, glancing annoyed at the little girl. “Colette is just a little whining today."

"I am not!"

"Get me some tea, Agathe.” Belle asked, breathing in and praying to all the gods she knew to not lose her nerves. “I'll finish it."

"Of course, milady."

Going back to where Chip was, finishing his maths, she sat on the chair beside him, positioning Colette right in front of her and brushing her dark-brown curls with care, as Agathe left the library. Belle wanted to cry. It had been four days since Gideon and Rose left to the party and since the travel to Snow’s castle took exactly that time, they should be arriving there by now and the party was going to happen that night, but what was bothering her had nothing to do with her older children, but with herself.

Tying Colette’s hair in a ponytail, she turned around to get the parchment from her son’s hand.

"Let me see it, Chip." Belle said, analysing the lesson. "You did it very well, sweetie."

"Can I play now, mama? Please, I've been on these lessons the while afternoon."

"Just because you were having issues with that, but now that you're done I think you can go, but take your sister with you. And be good with her."

"Alright." Chip mumbled taking the little girl’s hand and dragging her out of the library. "Come on, Lette."

Sighing she reclined against the chair, closing her eyes and thinking about making a trip to see Ruby. She needed some rest from her personal problems and her best friend had never failed in cheering her up. Maybe they could disguise and go to some taverns or interesting markets, see what kind of adventure they managed to get, because after all there was a quite long time since she made something really impulsive. Yes, she was definitely going to write to Ruby and leave the castle for a week or so when Gideon and Rose came back.

Belle was grabbing a new parchment when Agathe entered the library again, placing a tray on the table and serving some tea. The lady was distracted, but it was a quick look with the corner of her eyes that prevented her from the fact that Agathe had a small bottle and was about to pour something to her cup.

"What is it on your hand?"

"Oh - " Agathe jumped, looking down as if surprised and a little terrified. "Just a potion. Mrs. Potts said that you were feeling sick this morning."

"Headache. Terrible one, but it's better now, so please don't put anything on my tea." Belle replied, peeved. "When I get sick, my husband gives me the right potions and he would freak out if he saw you in his lab."

"Yeah, you're probably right." The maid, said handing the teacup to her before walking away.

But, Belle however wasn’t easy that day. "Agathe. Give me the potion."

“What?”

"The potion.” She repeated, stretching her hand. “I'll take it back to its place."

The maid opened her mouth in surprise, not knowing what to do, because she couldn’t just give Belle the stupid abortive potion for two reasons: if Rumplestitskin found out what it was, he would kill her without thinking twice and second, she was going to need it later, since she hadn’t the chance of putting it on the lady’s tea now.

"I actually was thinking if I could use it, since you won't.” Agathe tried to excuse herself. “I’m not feeling great too."

"Ok."

The sound of Rumplestiltskin coming in, made Agathe disappear behind some shelves, pretending to be interested in the books as he took a sit beside his wife, touching her face very gently.

"Feeling better, my love?"

"No." Belle admitted, before adding in a confessional tone: "Rumple, I'm bleeding again."

"Oh, darling.” He whispered hugging her and bringing her face to rest on his chest, stroking her hair repeatedly. “It's alright."

Agathe smiled for the first time on that torturous week. Belle wasn't expecting a child. Thank gods she didn't waste her potion, because it still might yet  be needed if she didn't get to her master, before he had the chance of trying impregnating his wife again.

But no matter what happened next, today Agathe was feeling that she had won that game.

Rose didn’t remember about wearing a golden gown before. That was her mother’s colour, her mother’s thing to always appear wearing a dress that looked like it was made with the gold her father spun in his wheel, but Belle had insisted that she should wear that for Neal’s birthday. The gown had been brought to the Dark Castle by one of the most famous seamstresses in all the realms and adjusted perfectly to her body.

She felt pretty that day, with the auburn curls falling free around her shoulder, only some parts of it tied up in small braids that adorned her hair. After her quick meeting with Roland and Ronnie that morning – that unfortunately wasn’t as great as she expected because apparently Queen Snow’s maids were instructed to not leave her alone, what got her missing Mrs. Potts and Agathe – she went to the chambers they gave to her, took a long relaxing bath and started to get ready for the night. Now that she was ready and could look at a full mirror since the royals seemed to know nothing about the power those things could have, she was feeling like she needed her mother to be there and give her some last advice before the party.

Belle was her guidance for everything. Rose spent a lot of her time learning magic from her father and sharing secrets with Gideon, but her mother was her whole model for life. Her reading habits came from the times Belle would take her to the library and talk about the books like they were the most powerful objects in the world, the way she held her head up and smiled fiercely even when other people weren’t being nice to her were learned from the Dark Lady’s own attitude. But there she was alone left to be her own judge, expect that she still had Gideon to lean on, so Rose went out of her chambers, seeing a pair of maids start to follow her again. That was so irritating that she couldn’t even begin to explain.

Not even knocking on the door, she entered the room, slamming it shut behind her to keep the stupid maids outside.

"How do I look like?" Rose asked, pointing at herself.

Gideon slowly turned around, all dressed in black and silver, but with less leather than he used to. His coat was made of a thick fabric and moulded his body perfectly, letting the muscles of his arms in evidence and the silver stripes that rounded his neck and went down until the hem of it giving him a special glow in contrast with his green-gold skin. He stood up from the chair he had been sitting holding out a hand for his sister to take before he spun her around to get a full view of her gown.

"Gorgeous, but you always do."

"Thank you, brother.” Rose grinned. “You don't look bad too."

Ignoring the comment, he waved a hand in the air and made a beautiful necklace appear between his fingers, one that had a golden rose full of rubies encrusted in it and walked towards his sister, stopping behind her to place it around her delicate neck.

"Here. Now you're perfect."

Touching the pendant, she smiled, murmuring a stunned thanks to him. Enlacing her arm on Gideon's she let him take her out of the room, guiding her to the giant ballroom that was set in the middle of Snow's castle. From the top of the stairs that lead to the party, Rose could see how much that place was already crowded, with people talking and dancing. Those balls were usually just a dream for her when she was younger and her parents were invited to events like that, but she was sent to playrooms with the other children. Her father always complained about having to attend any kind of party, but he mother made him go, so Rumplestiltskin just faked smiles and accompanied her.

Rose wasn’t much of a social girl, but she thought that the balls were a great excuse to use fancy dresses, look gorgeous and dance, which was a thing she definitely loved doing. So, as they slowly stepped forward on the staircase, she smiled widely, hearing the butlers play their trumpets before announcing their names, warning all the guests of their presence in the ballroom.

"Gideon and Rose, the Dark Prince and Dark Princess."

"I liked this,” the girl whispered for her brother. “But nobody calls us that."

"In the Dark Realm, they do."

Narrowing her eyes, Rose felt a little betrayed with the fact that Gideon knew their father’s little kingdom but she didn’t. Rumplestiltskin usually made monthly trips to there, checking how the mines and the workers were doing, however he never let her go with him. He took his wife in some occasions because he hated being apart from her; he took their maids and butler to do some work with him in another situations, and of course, he took Gideon there too, since he was his heir – and Baelfire wanted nothing to do with it or anything else, he just wanted his comfortable cabin in the woods to go back to after his longs trips around the realms with Emma -, he needed to learn everything about how to rule and protect it. And she was left aside, feeling like she was just a child, like Chip and Colette, never older enough to discover new things.

"Papa only takes you there, never me." Rose whined.

"Jealous?" Gideon chuckled.

"Angry." She replied, then laid eyes on the young man that was making his way towards then, looking extremely handsome in his dark green coat. "Roland!"

The side-smile that crossed his lips made Rose’s heart skip a beat. He held out a hand for her to take and she hurried to free herself from her brother’s embrace to take it.

"May I have this dance?" Roland asked, both to her and to Gideon that nodded, uncappable of saying denying it when his sister looked so happy.

"Of course." Rose answered, letting the boy take her to the centre of the ballroom, where some couples were spinning around with the sweet melody a group was playing in one of the corners of the hall.

Watching them for a moment, Gideon sighed looking around in an attempt to locate someone he knew, but before he could find anyone a whisper came from the opened double doors that led to the gardens.

"Gid!" He wasn’t sure if he had heard it right the first time, but when he turned around he was sure that he did. "Gideon!"

Roderick was standing there all shy and hesitant, his dark hair straightened on the top of his hair and his black clothes matching the dark-grey coat, somehow enlightening his eyes. Gideon gesticulated for them to go to the gardens where no one would see them and Roderick went out, being followed by him until they were outside and his boyfriend took his hand, leading him through the shrub labyrinth. Bending over, he let their lips brush very softly and slowly, unlike most of their kisses.

"You look handsome, Rod." Gideon said, caressing his neck. "Those clothes fit you."

"Out of the poor commoner clothes for a day, thanks to you."

The outfit he was wearing had been provided by Gideon, that insisted in bringing him there and giving him, some clothes made by his father’s favourite tailor – not that Rumplestiltskin would ever get to know that the said tailor had been payed to make two outfits for this party, not one. Roderick didn’t own anything like that, his family barely had what to eat most days and their salvation had been his relationship with Gideon, who never let them wish for anything, providing for them when Roderick’s parents couldn’t.

Yet, looking down at him under the weak lights that reached them from inside the castle, Rumplestiltskin’s son had no idea how he got so lucky to get Roderick in his life. He had inhered a bit of his father’s issues with self-loathing and even though he tried not to show it to everybody, he was insecure with his appearance, because he knew that there was a reason why people called his father a monster and it wasn’t just because of his reputation as a devilish dealmaker. Belle had secured him many, many times that he was handsome, but he was pretty aware that not everybody thought like her.

"I don't understand why you like me."

"Fool." Roderick whispered, stroking his cheek. "It is me who don't understand why a powerful beautiful sorcerer like you, heir of the Dark One would ever look at a ragged boy like me."

Shooking his head, Gideon attacked his lips, shutting him up as his tongue slip between them making its way to find his. Things always seemed better when Roderick was around, he felt safer, like he could take the world if he wanted to, he just had to wish so. Maybe, he though, before they met, he didn’t have found himself and that was what was missing when he was alone: the right courage to be who he really was.

"I love you, Roderick."

"I love you too." The other boy answered with a sweet smile on his lips. "Now tell me, what do you wealthy kids do?"

Stepping away Gideon shared a grin with him. "We dance, drink, eat all sort of good things and sneak to our rooms with our partners at the end of the party."

"Can't wait for this moment." Roderick assured. "What do we start with?"

"Let's start with the drinks."

Then, they went back to the party.

If there was something that bothered Rose with keeping her relationship with Roland in secret was to have to pretend having no feelings for him when they were around people, so she was really grateful to be dancing with him, because nobody would suspect about anything when it was a ball and everyone was doing it to. She liked being held with such a care by him as they slide around looking into each other’s eyes.

“I can’t believe I’m having the chance of dancing with you in public.” Roland said in a stunned tone.

A small, sweet laugh left her mouth. “I don’t believe we’ve ever danced before.”

“And what a shame, huh? You dance very well.”

The smile that played in her lips were brought by the memories that came up to her mind. Rumplestiltskin and Belle on the dining hall of the Dark Castle, looking incredibly in love as they danced to the same song that always played in those occasions, remembered watching them like this ever since she was a child and remembered the Dark One offering her his hand, leading Rose just like he did her mother, giggling at how clumsy she was at first.

“My parents love dancing, so my father started to teach me when I was very little.” Rose told him. “Sometimes you’ll just walk into the hall and see him and my mother lost into some old tune. I think it’s beautiful.”

“You make it look so.”

Gods, she wanted to lean on and kiss him when he sounded so soft a seemed to be so lost in her eyes, but Rose couldn’t do it, so she kept dancing satisfied to have his arm around her waist. Things were too good to be truth, of course, because they were interrupted on the next moment, be the owner of that pretentious party, Prince Neal.

“Roland! It is good to see you, friend.” The blonde boy said, showing them his charming smile. “I hate to interrupt, but I believe the lady promised me one dance.”

“Hey, Neal, happy birthday.” Roland greeted, pulling away from Rose and passing her hand for him to take, positioning them for the dance. “Don’t tire her too much, because I intend to have a second turn.”

Rose sighed a little frustrated with the fact that her boyfriend was going away, but she couldn’t let a friend down, so she kept smiling to Neal as they started to move exactly like she and Roland were doing a moment ago. What she wasn’t expecting was that behind the smirk on Neal’s lips were a question that was going to make her blush.

“Well that sounded slightly inappropriate don’t you think?”

Wanting more than nothing to roll her eyes and ask the prince what kind of stupid attitude was that, Rose forced herself to only give him a clever answer. “I’d rather have the good sense to think that he was talking strictly about the dance. I’m a lady afterwards and my mother taught me to be sensate.”

“Of course.” Neal nodded. “But as much as I like to be dancing with you, I came here to offer you a deal.”

“Sure, because everything people can thing about doing with Rumplestiltskin’s daughter is talking about deals. So typical.”

Ignoring her sarcasm, Neal continued his speech as if she hadn’t said a thing. “You see Rose, my parents are getting really old, since they don’t use the same dark magic some people do around here, to keep young.”

“And who would be those?” She asked, exaggeratedly pretending to be curious and surprised. “I would be shocked to hear their names.”

Again, he ignored her.

“I shall be crowd next year, when I celebrate my twenty-one birthday, so today I should pick a bride to be the queen by my side. I think you would be the right choice.”

“Yeah?” Rose laughed. “And why out of every beautiful rich princess in this ballroom would you pick me, Neal?”

“Easy. You’re the Dark One’s daughter, a seer that could prevent us from bad times, not to say that you have a strong power and looks fertile.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. So that was what this was about? Neal getting a freaking marriage? And what kind of sick talk was that? Why were women supposed to seat in thrones as a beautiful object, obeying their husbands and giving them heirs? Were Snow and David agreeing with this or they had no idea that their son was choosing her?

“I look fertile?” This time she guffawed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you could ever have said to me.”

“Your mother gave birth to four babies, and whatever child we might have would inherit you magic, so - ”

“Dear gods, stop talking.” Rose almost begged, rudely pulling away from him, uncappable of keeping dancing with Neal for another second. “The answer is no.”

“Why?” The prince seemed confused, like being rejected was never an option on his mind.

“Why? Neal, you’re talking about me like I am a merchandise and that I am certainly not.” She assured him with that strong, fierce look of Belle’s shining in her eyes. “Listen, I am Rumplestiltskin’s daughter, and you’re an idiot if you I thought I would accept it. Actually, if my father heard your little speech, you would be dead by now. So, no, I won’t be your queen. Go dance with another girl.”

Leaving him staring back at her on the centre of the ballroom, Rose walked away looking for any kind of drinks when she saw her brother and his boyfriend Roderick, flirting and talking near the doors. She went straight to their direction, aware of the frown in her face that Gideon immediately noticed when he locked eyes on her.

“Was Neal bothering you?” He asked.

Grabbing the silver cup that he was holding, Rose drank the wine that still had left in it. “Yeah, he proposed.”

“What?” His eyes got wide. “You accepted?”

“Do I look like a desperate idiot, Gideon?” Rose rolled her eyes. “I have dignity.”

Still, she couldn’t believe in how much Neal had been stupid. It seems her brother was right all the time and he had become too presumptuous through the years, she just hadn’t realised that yet.

“You were curious about what happens in those parties?” Gideon asked Roderick. “Well that is it.”

“A smug prince is always selling himself around?” Roderick questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Almost always.” Her brother shrugged.

“Rosie!”

“Oh, gods.” She muttered under her breath, wanting another sip of wine more than anything, because she recognised that voice and as much as she liked the owner of it, she knew when a great big moment of small talk was coming. When Rose turned around the beautiful pale girl dressed in a green gown, was already making her way to them. “Robin, long time no see, redhead.”

Zelena’s daughter hugged her briefly, before she looked up at Rose’s brother, carefully analysing him. “You look good today Rosie. And Gideon, if you want to have a talk in the gardens with me later, I’m free.”

Roderick narrowed his eyes, glancing at his boyfriend. “She is a princess?”

“No and we’d better get something to eat, right?” Gideon said, quickly excusing himself. “See you later, Robin.”

Back when they were children, Robin was one of her favourite persons to play with. She was always at Regina’s castle spending some time with her cousins when Rose and her family made visits so the two of them always end up having good moments together – some that she didn’t like to comment too much, like the time they set fire to Veronica’s chambers – but some that she always liked to remember.

“Your brother is hot.” Robin contemplated, observing Gideon and Roderick walk away in the crowd. “You know, my mom still has a crush on your father.”

“The two things I didn’t need to hear today.” Rose complained.

It wasn’t a secret for anyone that Zelena had a crush on Rumple, but as she got older, Rose started to realise that a lot of women had interest in her father and that her mother wasn’t the only one that thought his peculiar appearance to be attractive. However, she knew no other person would be capable of loving him the way Belle did, accepting his flaws and standing by his side even at his darkest moments.

“The dance is already over?” She heard Roland ask as he approached them, only noticing Robin when his hand was already stroking Rose’s arm. “Hello cousin.”

“Hi, Rol. Where is Ronnie?”

“I think I saw her near the left windows.”

Robin nodded, saying goodbye to them as she went to look after Veronica. Rose wasn’t sure, but she thought that she suspected about them being together, even though none of them had told her anything or acted romantically in front of her. She was just perceptive, she guessed.

“Do you think someone would notice if we leave just now?” Rose asked Roland.

“No.”

Taking his hand on hers, they walked to the gardens were nobody would see them and she used her powers to make them materialize on the chambers the King and the Queen had given her. She thought that it was good to be there, out of everyone’s eyes reach, without all those people faking smiles and talking about amenities nobody was really interested in. It brought her relieve, so when Rose snapped her fingers, changing her golden dress to a simple comfortable nightgown, she was totally sure that balls weren’t her thing.

“A lot better.” The girl breathed out, climbing up the bed.

“You’re not intending to go back there.” Roland pointed out.

“I’m not much of a social person.” Rose shrugged, tapping a hand on the empty space beside her. “Come here.”

Taking off his boots with a wave of magic, Roland laid by her side, looking at her eyes and playing with her hair.

“Roland, why do you like me?”

“What kind of question is that?” He asked.

“Just answer.”

“You’re fascinating.” He said without hesitance. “You’re fearless. You are not scared of facing the world.”

“I knew there was a good reason why I liked you.” Rose smiled, happy to hear the big difference between what Roland thought of her and what Neal did. It almost got her making a decision. Just almost. “I think Queen of Sherwood suits me.”

If Regina heard that, she was going to assure Rose that she wasn’t going to be replaced so soon, but she didn’t care, because the girl didn’t intend in taking that title soon either, she just wanted Roland to know that she was considering it and that he would always be her first choice. She kissed him, clutching against the boy and feeling a wave of excitement settle on her womb as their lips started to work hungrier and their hands travelled between hairs and clothes.

“Rose - ” he groaned, feeling the effects of having her in his arms like this start to show on his body and suddenly sat on the bed, inhaling deeply. “I need to stay away from you.”

Rose tried to not look down, to the place where his desire for her was obvious, because she wasn't ready to face it, even knowing that she wanted him too. She touched his shoulder and looked at his eyes, instead.

“Stay here tonight and just hold me,” the girl asked. “Please.”

Roland thought that she was definitelly crazy, because she was seeing that he was struggling to calm himself and banish the forbidden thoughts that he was having about her right now, from his mind and still she was asking him to stay there. That was unthinkable.

“If someone realises that I am here, they’ll talk bad about you.”

“Oh, they will talk bad about me tomorrow anyway.” Rose chuckled, kissing his cheek. “Stay here.”

And how could he deny her when she sounded so sweet and pleading? Roland laid back against the pillows, bringing her with him, letting Rose lay her head on his shoulder. “Alright.”

She felt his chest rising and falling as he breathed difficultly, but the safe sensation of his arms around her were so perfect that she tried not to think about anything else and very quickly he fell asleep.

Rose was back to the dying king's chambers, seating in a wooden chair by his side, feeling her hands shaken with fear, concern, rage and angst, all at the same time. The pink dress she was wearing, looking nothing like the one's she used to have home. On the bed, the king coughed repeatedly, but kept looking at her with eyes full of disgust, like she was the most horrible thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

“You’re a demon’s spawn. The daughter of a monster.” He almost spitted. “You shouldn’t exist!”

A different agony from everything she had ever felt seemed to smash her heart inside her chest at these words. “So why don’t you tell your men to kill me?”

The next look that crossed his face confused her, because it wasn't the angry one's he had shoot at her since he discovered who she was. It almost seemed to be regret.

“Because you look like her.”

A loud scream left her mouth when Rose's body shook, coming back from the vision and waking her, making her sit on the bed, trembling and crying. She didn't know why but she felt pity for him and this time the vision hadn't even reached his death.

“Rose, what is it?” Roland asked, sitting by her side and rubbing at her back as he yawned.

The door of her chambers was open and Gideon entered there, as if the wind had brought her desperate scream to his ears wherever he was and he just came running there, what probably had in fact happened, since the only thing he was wearing was trousers and a black nightvest. A dark-haired boy followed him inside, wearing pretty much the same thing.

“Oh, sweetie.” Gideon whispered, bringing Rose to his lap, before glancig harshly at the boy by her side. “Get out, Roland.”

“But she - ” he tried to say.

“I told you to get out!” The Dark One's son screamed, sounding exactly like Rumplestiltskin himself. “And I don’t want you sharing the same room my sister does.”

“But we didn’t - ”

“Get out, mate.” The dark-haired boy advised and Roland finally gave up and left the room.

Rose was aware of the conversation happening, but she was still too out of her mind to say anything. Now she knew that whoever that king was, she was going to be there at his dying bed, because it was very clear now, that he was speaking directly at her. A demon's spawn, he called her.

“What was it this time?" Gideon asked softly. "Lucy?”

"No. Just the king" Rose said. "It will happen sooner than I expected."

[rock-and-compass]

Rock and Compass Watches Once Upon A Time – 6.13: Ill-boding Patterns

Overview

Killian struggles with the weight of the unfortunate discovery that he killed David’s father and the ramifications of telling Emma the bad news. Gold tries to reach out to Gideon and steer him towards a better path. A flashback to the past involving Balefire and Beowulf suggests that this won’t necessarily be an easy thing to do.

Discussion, thoughts & things that could be significant

Ill-boding patterns – The title of the episode literally invites us to look at the patterns being highlighted in the story. Rumple’s history with Beowulf and Baelfire inform his choices with Gideon. He tries the same memory potion spiked tea on both sons, he gives both his trust only to have it backfire, the sword Hrunting is important in both stories and in the end, Rumple does something dark to save his son from having to do it – once by force and once by choice.

To the first Ogre War - The flashback must take place very shortly after Rumple became the Dark One and before he turned into an overbearing tyrant who had the villagers terrified. Slim window of opportunity…

The Magic Sword – Beowulf’s sword, Hrunting, is the same one Emma found in Gold’s shop and the same one sought out by Gideon as the weapon with which he can defeat the Saviour. It is imbued with light magic and is said to be very powerful -  Although the sword doesn’t really live up to expectation on any of the occasions we’ve seen it in use, except for that one time when it injured the Evil Queen. Obviously the light magic in effect, but is that the reason it didn’t also injure Regina (as it should have – Jekyll and Hyde established that what harms one, harms the other). Maybe this sword is more judicious than a regular blade?

A Blue Creation – The sword was made by The Blue Fairy. My god does this woman have a long, long history! And why wouldn’t she have spoken up about the sword earlier? She’s a nun now, maybe she didn’t know about it. You’ve got to wonder why they don’t bring Blue into the inner circle a bit more; she knows a lot of stuff that could make all their lives easier.

Who so ever holds the …. Beowulf says that whoever wields Hrunting will be hailed a hero. Is this the basis of Gideon’s misguided belief - The legends that are attached to the sword? It is also interesting that in this story an external object is given the power to grant a heroic status, rather than the actions of the person using it.

Cowards vs Hero – so many comparisons of cowards and heroes throughout the episode and not just concerning Rumple and his sons. The opening scene concerns an unnamed piece of cannon fodder and his inclination to flee the battle. He is then inspired by the very tall, very imposing, very stereotypicaly hero Beowulf to be brave and fight. Cannon fodder ends up dead. His confidence in Beowulf’s confidence (in his sword) was misplaced yes, but it reinforces the idea that being brave doesn’t necessarily bring reward and more importantly, being brave is often not an easy choice. Both very important messages throughout the episode. Beowulf himself, seems like the picture of heroinism but we find out later that he is much more attached to the personal prestige of being a hero rather than the altruistic worth. He is devious and manipulative and resorts to some very cowardly acts to try to maintain his status – sometimes heroes are not what they seem and no amount of magic hardware can make them one.

That certain crutch – throughout the episode we see three examples of characters needing an external crutch to be a “hero” – For Rumple it is the dagger. It allows him to defeat the ogres and go from being the town coward to being a celebrated hero. Beowulf, who believes that his ownership of Hruting automatically entitles him to be considered a hero, and Gideon, who believes he needs the same sword to fulfil his destiny to be the saviour of the Dark Realm. In each case, the person’s faith in the object is misplaced; being a hero is about internal choices and actions and by choosing to do the right thing rather than the easy thing. Yep that message is really getting smashed home isn’t it.

Finding courage - Killian too is drinking to try and find some courage, although to be fair, I don’t think his mid-morning tipple is so much about courage as it is about processing what he’s learnt about himself. He’s processing what it means for him and for the people he is closest to – Emma and her family. He knows he’s got to tell Emma, even though he could just keep his mouth shut and noone would be none the wiser, but this is never really a viable option for him. When, at the end of the episode, Hook throws back that final shot and goes home he is clearly resolute about telling Emma the truth because it is the right thing to do. Killian Jones has never been a coward and so for him it’s not really a coward vs bravery thing, it’s more that sometimes doing the right thing takes bravery, particularly if there is an easy way or a short cut on offer…

A safe secret? – Killian thinks that no other living soul knows the truth of his murder of David’s dad. So naturally this means that someone else knows. Regina must know; The EQ gave David the coin. But who else might know? And if Killian doesn’t come clean about it, who will be the one to spill the beans? 

The Black Fairy – Rumple makes such a point about her being ‘trapped in another realm’ that it’s clear that she is going to appear sooner rather than later. Where is she trapped? And why is she trapped? Is it just the limits of inter-realm travel? How did she get through to steal baby Gideon? And who is going to help her gain entry into Storybrooke. The Wish Realm is looking awfully suspicious right about now – like some sort of key to unlock passage? Fake Robin – FRobin is also looking pretty suspicious with his attempts to open the town line, and his suspicious comments about not liking children and having a partner in crime who is competent with magic….

Retconning Rumple – While the flashback slots neatly into a slim window of opportunity in Rumple’s backstory, it does add a noble layer to Rumple’s darkness that is not as easy to accept given what we already know about him. In this new addition to the story, Rumple is already enamoured with the power of the dagger but not necessarily completely under its spell. He likes it, he wants to use it but with persuasion from Bae he is convinced to forego it. He voluntarily hands the dagger over to his son – something I don’t think we’ve ever seen him do again. Balefire cops it big time in this flashback to prop up the revisions to Rumple’s story – He becomes something of a hypocrite, particularly after taking such an anti-magic stance and clearly positioning himself as Rumple’s moral superior,  when he commands his father to kill Beowulf and then begins to consider the possible benefits of having a tame Dark One at his beck and call. Rumples use of the memory potion to restore Bae’s innocence is done out of lov,  but is it necessarily right to mess with a person’s mind like that? The price for the intervention is large; it sets his relationship with Baelfire on a very specific course – cements the dagger as a point of contention between father and son that is never overcome and really, leads to the Dark Curse and Storybrooke and where we are today. I will concede that this addition to the story actually provides some textual scaffolding to Neal and his inherent weaknesses and his willingness to use very dark magic to resurrect Rumple as a means to getting back to Henry.

Who’s got the dagger – There is a lot of dagger swapping in this episode! It’s a timely reminder of the power of the dagger. I still think we are ripe for a change in Dark One (particulalry if Robert Carlyle is leaving the show).  

A young master – Gideon’s magic is strong. He should be a formidable opponent and yet somehow, I just can’t take him seriously… and I keep thinking why isn’t Belle the one trying to help him? She is clearly a soft spot for him and is going to be more successful than Rumple in reaching him. Despite my finding Gideon unconvincing, he is written incredibly ruthless. He is prepared to harm his godmother to get what he wants, he is clearly willing to kill Emma to achieve his purpose. though I can’t help but think that all the efforts to protect his soul from corruption are too late? The intent is already there. You need darkness to make these terrible decisions in the first place – surely his heart is already spotty? I don’t think Rumple can ‘save’ his son; Gideon needs to choose a better path for himself. Isn’t that the point. 

A box of potions – this box of black potions could have many uses, many possible concoctions. I wonder if we’ll see more of its uses than just the sucking magic spell.

Inside Regina’s wardrobe – Very interesting costuming for Regina – A red pantsuit, (classic early Regina) covered by a very light beige trench-coat and hat. Have we ever seen Regina wear something this close to white before while in Storybrooke? It just strikes me as odd, for a woman so frequently in black. Is it to be taken as a sign of her authentic change?  While wearing the coat she is all about doing the right thing – she wants to help Frobin - she’ll even help him get out of Storybrooke if that’s what he truly wants. That being said, I still find her response to Frobin really weird – she seems to flip-flop between accepting that he not Robin Hood and yet still hoping that she can still somehow force the transformation. Most inexplicable is her assertion that meeting Frobin in the Wish World was some kind of test, that was meant to see if she can move foreward with her life… if this was the case, then wouldn’t meeting Snow and Charming in the Wish Realm have been a test to see if she could like, maybe not kill them? She really does have an impeccable knack at making everything about her. I liked that when she was talking to Zelena they were both dressed in singular colours – Green for Zelena (for her “wickedness”) and Red for Regina – the red is so interesting when used in conjunction with Zelena because it really plays with the allusion to apples and reminds us of Regina’s fondness for red apples and the fact that they were frequently her weapon of choice. And I still haven’t forgotten that the colour of magic used by the robed figure in Emma’s original vision was red. Yup I’m still suspicious.  Okay, sure, when she’s discussing the Evil Queen with her sister she does have the decency to own that she is responsible for the Evil Queen’s past actions, but she also maintains a certain degree of separation – a “her and me” mentality because they are separate. Plus she still cultivates that deep persecution complex where everything that happens is somehow all designed to rob her of happiness. And until she starts wearing her past and doing constructive things to make up for it, beyond hoping for personal gain, I’m not buying any depth of change.

Resistance is futile - Once you give in to the darkness it’s almost impossible to resist. Hmmm, I can think of a couple of people who did resist it but that’s not the point.  The point is that those who use Dark Power find it difficult to stop doing so. Is that why Hook’s redemption is so much more convincing than Regina’s? Because he is not a slave to dark power and is actively making the choice to change? Whereas Regina, who has used Dark power to get what she wants for so long is like an addict going cold turkey. How long will she stay on the wagon? Rumple of course is a functional addict. He fully admits his need for power and has no intention to give it up.

Bullseye – Frobin suggests that Zelena has a “target on her back”. The comment comes out of nowhere and seems to have no substance so I’m thinking we are perhaps supposed to take this as foreshadowing? Ill-boding pattern indeed.

Hard way vs Easy way – Rumple’s story is an exploration of the choice. Bae encourages the hard way (defeating Grendal without magic) but ends up using the easy path of dark power to kill Beowulf. And he also chooses the easy/hard way (depending on how you look at it) when he chooses to help Gideon by usurping the Blue Fairy’s magic to reforge the sword. It’s an odd one; I get that he does it to help his son avoid darkness (which  is a debatable topic in iself) but he willingly drains Blue of her magic. Why is Gideon’s need greater than hers?  And of course, you could argue that Gideon needs to make his own decisions – even if they are bad. He’s a grown man. He shouldn’t need the cotton wool.  We also get reminded that Regina took the easy way to redemption with her split personality – rather than work through her dark urges, she decided to cleave them away from her.   And we also see Killian succumb to temptation and take the easy way of not telling Emma the truth about his past before he proposes to Emma. None of these ‘easy ways’ is going to turn out well, that’s not the lesson from this show (and I stand by this expectation even in the light of today’s developments with Regina and her other half!)

Think again – Before Blue is drained of her magic she outright tells Gideon that “killing Emma with that blade won’t make you the saviour you think.” It sounds like Blue, who did make this sword, knows what she’s talking about. It’s clearly a warning that all of this is not what any of them thinks. Twist coming.

The Proposal – Killian is obvious in his intention to tell Emma the truth when he first arrives home. But Emma inadvertently finding the engagement ring makes him veer off course somewhat.   For the life of me I can’t work out why they wouldn’t have shown Emma finding the ring! It would have only been a short scene, it would have tied the two ends of the story together beautifully – Show, don’t tell, isn’t that the first rule of writing? Hook’s desire to confess the crime is mistaken for endearing nervousness and uncertainty. She makes the proposal easy for him, reassures him of her feelings and lets him know that she will say yes. It’s understandable that he got caught up in the moment and pops the question; the woman he loves wants to marry him, she handed him the freaking ring! The beautiful bittersweet rendition of the Captain Swan theme acts as a warning that this is not as nearly settled as it seems. Hook’s expression as he and Emma hug is the real kicker though; he knows he’s made a mistake and it won’t be easy to just live with it – and that truth is going to get out the only question is how. Will Killian come clean and admit the truth by his own volition or will someone else force confession? Either way, angsty times ahead for Captain Swan.  

[jxcksonxveryoc]

Broken Promises

A starry night, bright lights in heaven's black, stretched until the sea met the sky. Underneath the brightest star sat a blonde woman on a comfortable rocking chair. Her refinement making her look much younger than her actual age. Her shoulder-length golden hair rested on her shoulder while her mismatched yet dazzling green and blue eyes roamed the sky. It was quite a routine for her to sit under the stars, usually with a cup of fire whiskey or a good novel but today it seemed as if the stars kept calling to her. Despite her full attention on the velvety sky, she was aware of her husband sitting down next to her. "Melania," Came Arcturus's soft voice. "It's quite late my love," his hand reached out to hold the soft palm of his wife. Melanie turned to meet her husband's grey eyes with an amused smile on her face. "It depends on your point of view. Somewhere in the world, the sun just came up," she turned back to look up at the sky, not seeing her husband's adoring look.

Arcturus too decided to entertain his wife and himself as he turned back to look at the sky. "When I see stars. I see tradition. The honor of our family. What do you see?" he curiously asked, wanting to know Melania's point of view. "I see fate. My mother used to say that while you are alive, the stars sing your destiny but once you die, you sing back at those you love," she answered her eyes becoming silvery as she thought of her deceased mother. "There will be another star," Melania broke the comfortable silence between them. The raven-haired man beside her sat up straight as his interest peaked. "But the stars won't know her name," she frowned making her husband squeezed her hand. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked in concern.

After many years of marriage, Arcturus had learned that even the sanest woman like Melania can say odd things sometimes. And just like her intelligent claims, her odd ones should not be underestimated as well. "It depends on her my love," The blonde female sighed. "She will write her own destiny. She will sing to the stars. Now her future relies on the choices she will make," Her eyes twinkled with something Arcturus couldn't quite put his finger on but he was sure, if Melanie had any say, the girl will have a good and secure feature. She stood up, her green velvet silk grown hugging her body. "We should go inside now," she smiled. "I promised Andromeda I'll tell her a story,"

Years passed yet Arcturus nor Melania forgot their conversation neither did they speak about it anew. Arcturus grip on his cane tightened as he watched his only son; Orion in pure amusement while he paced while his wife was giving labor, to the heir of the Noble and most ancient house of Black. "You sure you don't need to use the washroom little brother," Lucretia Prewett grinned teasingly at her younger brother while she held her six months year old twins, Fabian and Gideon on her lap. Orion paused in his steps only to give his sister the fakest smile. "Funny coming out of you sister. Didn't you pop off three of your own," He crossed his arms. "Exactly. You're not the one popping out the kids. Your wife is. So get your ass down," she sang. "Lucretia!" Irma gasped at her niece's foul language while Alphard was trying to control his laughter. "Apologies Aunt Irma," She muttered while her brother and cousins knew that she was not sorry at all.

To ease his worries, Orion picked up Fabian and started entertaining his nephew, earning a distraction for himself. Almost half an hour later, a sweating Melania Black came outside. Being a principled Healer had its perks, such as delivering all your grand children. Everyone stood up at the sight of their mother, aunt, wife, sister-in-law, respectively. Orion immediately ran inside the delivering room. Walburga's cheeks were sanguine, her dark curls were all over the places as she took deep breaths, trying to calm herself after the painful experience. "Meet your son and daughter," she managed to smile tiredly.

Orion walked forward to the crib, being careful not to make any sound. Two kids lyed down together. His son was holding his twin's finger as tightly as possible. This made him chuckle. All sounds of his family were tuned out as he watched his children sleeping peacefully. "There beautiful," Irma smiled brightly as she looked at them. "Of course they are. They are my nephew and niece after all," Alphard grinned cheekily. Walburga scowled at her brother and desperately wanted to throw a vase or a piano at him. Melania handed the girl to Pollux while the boy to Arcturus. "Have you decided what to name them?" Cygnus asked while watching his father cradling his niece. "Sirius Orion Black," Orion decided after a few moments. "And the girl?" Druella raised her brows at him.

All eyes turned to Walburga since Orion had already named their son. "Nova," Walburga muttered. This was her first and possibly last female child. Her name had to be perfect. "Nova Adhara Black," she destined. Everyone smiled at the beautiful name chosen for the baby girl. Walburga was right, Nova was the only female. Two years later, Walburga and Orion had son; Regulus and they decided not to have more children. Slowly as time passed, Walburga and Orion got bitter and bitter. Despite having three children, she didn't have a maternal bone in them. To them children were their duty and no one said anything about affection.

Regulus was the perfect son. Never objecting to anything his parents say. Sirius on the other hand had gotten rebellious. He took pleasure in annoying his family and didn't care about the consequences, one of the reasons he wasn't fond of Regulus. Nova was their golden thread. She and Sirius were best of friends, both of them had an unbreakable bond. She used to keep his feet on the ground and he was the reason she allowed herself to feel free and dream. Most of the teams, she was covering up for her twin or taking the blame on herself. Despite being only two years apart, she was a maternal figure to young Reggie.

The youngest Black adored her. She was his protector. Unlike Sirius, she never made fun of him for not standing up to their mother, she understood not everyone can be brave. Diverse from Walburga and other perfectionists in the family, Regulus never hesitated to ask her help. She said and he quotes: "Perfection is found in accepting your imperfection,"

The Best days, the three Black siblings have are when Walburga and Orion are not at home and Alphard Black is babysitting. Like right now, Alphard was passed out on the sofa from the excessive amount of fire whiskey the trio had managed to make him drink while the rain floats in gentle waves, as if gravity is a soft music from the Earth, a sweet beckoning serenade. Nova giggled as she splashed down on the puddles while her brothers danced. She stopped doing but she was and looked at her brothers with a soft smile on her face. They looked so happy. Sirius and Regulus had joined their hands as they played merry-go-round. "Promise me this is forever," Nova called out their attention. "Promise me that all three of us, we'll always be together. No matter what happens. We'll always have each others back," she took a deep breath. "I promise," Regulus and Sirius agreed together.

Grins broke out on their faces before continuing to dance in the rain. For the next two years, The trio fulfilled their promise. They always had each other's back until the time came where Sirius and Nova had gotten their Hogwarts letter. After a long lecture from their parents, the two finally boarded the train. Noticing his sister's anxiousness he turned to look at her with an adoring smile. He kissed his middle and index finger and put them forward, Nova doing the same before she linked the four fingers together. "I'll be here for you," Sirius assured. "Forever," Nova nodded with a smile before they continued to find a compartment.

Finding an empty compartment, both of them sat there. Only several minutes later, the compartment door opened to show a boy with messy hair and hazel eyes, alongside him was a girl with medium brown hair and light eyes. "Hello!" The boy grinned. "Don't mind if me any my sister sit here?" he asked. Sirius shook his head with a smirk forming on his own lips. "Of course not," he pointed to empty seats as Nova gave them a shy smile. "I'm James Potter and this is my little sister Jane," he teased. Jane rolled her eyes at him. "Just 9 months," she groaned. "Still younger," James quipped making Sirius laugh.

Nova was feeling a little uncomfortable. Sirius was busy engrossed in a conversation with them. She might be acting a bit unrealistic but it was supposed to him and her(and Reggie). "What house will you be in?" James asked the quite girl. "Gryffindor," Sirius answered for her. "Maybe," Nova frowned trying to get rid of the bubbling feeling in her stomach. Nova took out her novel and kept reading it for hours while Sirius seemed to have found best friends in the Potters. He didn't even look back for her while they were on the boats. Thank God, Narcissa found her. She and Lucius were more than happy to sneak her into their carriages.

Narcissa and Nova parted but not before the elder pressed a kiss on her younger cousin's cheek. Sirius finally noticed his twin's absence. He turned around and gave her a wink, which she returned with a small smile. "Black, Sirius," Minerva called out. Sirius strutted to the stool. "Gryffindor!" the hat roared. While Sirius proudly sat with the lions, Nova shared a look with Andromeda and Narcissa. "Black, Nova," The Brunette felt her throat getting dry as she walked to the stool. There was no excitement on her face. All her life she thought that she is very similar to Sirius but sitting on the stool with the hat on her head made her realize she's not. Sirius is brave, brave enough to feel the wraith of Walburga and Orion, while Nova wasn't. "Slytherin please Slytherin," she muttered. "Are you sure? Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would do good for you," The hat wondered but Nova didn't budge.

"Slytherin!" The hat shouted as the Slytherins roared with cheers. Nova released a sigh, she didn't know she was holding and sat next to Narcissa who pulled her into a hug. The younger Black turned to the Gryffindor table to see Sirius's eyes on her. It was supposed to be them three. He had promised forever so the difference in dorm rooms shouldn't matter. She sent him a smile but he looked away. "I thought she was normal," Jane muttered out loud. "Whatever," Sirius frowned. "I don't need her," he spat. Guess Forever isn't always.

[imgilmoregirl]

AO3 Link - FF.Net Link

Notes: Oh, I was starting to think I wasn't going to get to post this chapter today, because ao3 was just off, but thankfully it is back. I''m so sorry for the delay, I've been trying to keep all the fics updated, but all I can manage to do lately is a biweekly chapter for each. Anyway, we are getting to the climax of this one and I think I'll get to end it with about 30 chapters or so.

Chapter Nineteen

Nothing felt better than being back home. Belle hadn’t realised how much she missed the Dark Castle until she was there again, having a nice, cosy bedroom to sleep on, a library full of her beloved books and her husband’s lovely company. He was delighted to have her there again and hadn’t saved efforts to make her feel welcomed and happy, bringing her new gowns and filling the whole household with colourful flowers.

It wasn’t a surprise for her however, to have woke up to an empty bed. Her husband had the frustrating habit of sneaking out as soon as she fell asleep, as he didn’t need much rest himself and preferred to spend most nights working, but what really got her mesmerized was to sit on the bed and look around just to find out that he had filled the desk with all kinds of food she loved. The lady stretched herself, slipping off the bed and walking to where her husband was sat, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"What is all of this?"

"Breakfast," the Dark One answered, pulling a chair for her, to sit by his side. "I wanted to thank you."

Lifting an eyebrow, Belle picked a piece of bread, taking a bite of it and delighting herself when she felt the flavour of the carrots mixed in it, a luxury they didn’t have at Roderick’s shack.

"For what?" She asked after a second of tasting.

"Coming back home and believing me above all."

She reached for her husband’s hand, caressing the thick scaled skin and giving him a sweet smile, because she knew she hadn’t been the only one suffering during the weeks they spent apart. At least, she had their children with her, but he had no one and he didn’t even know she was with child for quite a long while. Deep down, Belle felt like she needed forgiveness too.

"I've never stopped believing you, Rumple. I had a moment of shock, my heart broke, I was sensible and I wasn't thinking clearly. But a part of me had always known you hadn't laid with Agathe."

He nodded, lifting a hand to touch her face and she leaned against his palm, placing the half-eaten piece of bread back to the silver plate. That was the part of marriage she would never regret, his devotion and his care for her, she could have never expected to have such a good husband. Now, it seemed fun to think that there was a time, where she would believe her fate laid on being the wife of some brute like Gaston.

"When we were alone in that room,” Rumplestiltskin started, “you said there were things you wanted to discuss."

Breathing in, she took his hand away from her face, kissing his knuckles and trying to think about the right way to start this, but she guessed there was none, so the words that slipped through her mind were the first ones she could think about.

"Yes, it's about the dagger."

His eyes became wide with shock, because she usually never spoke about that object. Few had been the times when he and Belle discussed its power and he knew how much she feared the price of the magic and always begged him to use it the less he could.

"My dagger?"

"What else could I be talking about, Rumple?"

The Dark One shook his head, saying: "Go on."

Worrying at her lip, Belle felt her heart start to race, actually she felt too conscious of everything happening with her body in that second, her hands still gripping at her husband’s, the weight of the belly nestling their baby, her toes touching the soft rug. What she was about to say, could change everything and a part of her feared how Rumple might take it.

"Once you told me one could only be freed from it with death. Are you sure there is no other way?"

"You want me to not be Dark One anymore?" He blinked.

"It's not that, Rumple, I love you just the way you are, with darkness and all, but... The years are passing," Belle said. "Our children are growing up. We will see them go and we will stay."

Moving his hands down to her stomach, he cradled it as if it somehow brought him hope as he stared into her blue depths and she recognised the fear shining in his eyes. He hadn’t considered it and thinking about eternity like this, made him feel terrified.

"I thought we agreed we would always begin again," the imp said, weakly.

"Yeah, I thought it would work for me, but now I know it won't," she explained, cupping his cheeks and bringing him close. "I want to grow old with you, my love. I want to have grey hair, wrinkles and backpain."

"You want to be human," he marvelled.

Belle nodded. She could have accepted immortality – and even being happy with it – if it wasn’t for the fact that they couldn’t just freeze time for the whole family, their children would want to live their lives and they couldn’t keep them from having their own natural adventures.

"I do, but I don't want you to watch life fading from me and our babies, as I don't want to leave you to a lonely eternity. I want you to be with me until the end."

"But I'm cursed, Belle," Rumple cried. "Generations tried, but no one ever got rid of the dagger."

"We will,” she guaranteed. “Together we can find a way."

It was clear in the very expression on his face that he didn’t believe in this, but she needed to, because watching the kids grown and staying behind had been consuming her and she didn’t know if she could take a life like this, if didn’t find an answer. But hope, it kept her going.

"Belle..." the Dark One murmured.

His words were stopped by a kiss, eager and sweet at the same time, Belle leaning forward in her chair to reach for him, throwing her arms around his neck and getting as close to him as possible.

"Even before this baby is born, we will find an answer, alright?"

"Anything for you, sweetheart,” Rumple promised, “anything."

"I need to make some research then," the lady smiled, pulling away from him and leaning back against her chair, taking her bread back and splaying a hand on her stomach.

Rumplestiltskin’s glance fell to the little mound over her nightgown. Usually they would have already started preparing things from the child’s arrival at this point, but with the time they had been apart, nothing had been done yet, not even a blanket or a single little piece of clothing.

"And I need to start planning for the nursery," he pointed out and by his little smirk, she could tell he was already planning to buy some customized furniture.

"Will you get me some new books first?" Belle asked, blinking her best puppy eyes at him. "We still have time for the nursery."

"Sure," the imp smiled, standing up and kissing the top of her head. "I'll go to the market with Gideon."

He left their chambers and she started to eat again. Belle’s eyes were focused on the gardens, watching some squires run along the green grass, the first signs that the Spring would soon start to bloom some flowers and make everything beautiful again, vanishing with the vast destruction the last Winter left.

"Mama?" Rose’s voice came from the door.

"Hey, come in, Rosebud," she smiled, stretching out a hand for her. "Do you want to eat? Your father brought breakfast for a hundred people."

A sweet laugh came from Rose as she took a seat beside her mother, eyeing the great amount of food that covered the desk. Definitely much more than they had in Roderick’s house for all three meals of the day, but you couldn’t quite compare the banquet the Dark One was able to provide with what commoners used to get.

"No, thanks, I've already eaten," the girl said. "Can we talk about something?"

"Sure, what is in your mind?"

Rose caught her lower lip between her teeth, looking down at her hands, appearing to be nervous and unsure of what she was about to say, what Belle thought to be odd, as it wasn’t the kind of attitude she used to have.

"How old were you when... Well, when you and papa first shared a night together?"

Belle almost choked with her tea, her cheeks getting as red as apples, because it wasn’t something she would ever expect her daughter to ask. They didn’t quite discuss this kind of things and she didn’t know what to say, so she thought she should start by knowing why Rose was suddenly interested in that.

"Where did this question come from?"

"Curiosity?"

Narrowing her eyes, Belle caught the way her daughter’s face started to become pink too.

"I was nineteen, now tell me the truth."

"I gave myself to Roland," the girl mumbled in the lowest tone possible.

She let her teacup fall back to the saucer and pulled them aside, trying to process the information, but the only thing her brain screamed at her was that her daughter was still a child, a teenager who didn’t know what she was doing or what she really wanted for her life.

"Rose!"

The girl shrunk.

"Please, don't kill me and please don't get stressed, the baby..."

"Is fine," Belle guaranteed. "Oh, Rose, have you at least taken any potions?"

Truth be told, she didn’t even want to think the mess it would be if her girl got with child right now. She was way too young and irresponsible to be a mother as was Roland. Rumple and Regina would freak out and some fireballs would be thrown around as an attempt to solve the situation. Oh, it didn’t sound right.

"Yeah, I did," Rose confirmed and Belle sighed in relief.

"Right that makes me breath again. Your father would kill Roland if it didn't end well," she assured. "And let me add, Gideon came from my very first encounter with Rumple, so you better be sure you protected yourself."

Rose buried her face in hands, making a sound of despair.

"I did! Oh gods, for a moment telling you really sounded like a good idea."

"Ah, my dear, I don't want you to think I'm judging you, because I'm not one for it, but you're sixteen, you're still a child for me," Belle explained, reaching for her hand, squeezing it between hers. "This world is cruel with woman who makes their own choices and I don't want you to suffer. My own father called me a whore until the day he died."

She couldn’t lie, her choices had led her to a very happy life, but they also determined how she was going to be seen by the whole world. Very few people saw Belle by who she really was without judging her, without whispering about her being the beast’s whore and as much as she tried to ignore it, sometimes those things still hurt a bit. Even more when it came from family, like her father.

"I know, but Roland and I will get married someday and we don't plan on telling anybody about this," Rose said and her eyes shined with the blind hope of the believers.

Her heart was pure and she could not be a virgin anymore, but she was still an innocent.

"Let me tell you something," Belle started. "You will become a great woman, my sweet daughter. You have what is needed to be a patient, fierce queen, you have a heart of gold and a brilliant mind. You're a seer, the heiress of Rumplestiltskin and a descendent of the royal bloodline of Avonlea. Don't you ever let anybody put you down or tell you what you do and always make sure you're in control of every situation."

Nodding, Rose smiled, some tears falling from her eyes as she reached to hug Belle.

"Right, thank you, mother."

"Now,” the Dark Lady said, pulling away from her, “you must take care to not let your father see you wandering around there, but the last section of books at the back of the library contains some of my secret books. You may find them very useful when it comes of love-making."

The way Rose’s eyes became wide, was completely amusing. Belle laughed at her surprised expression. She still felt like Rose was too young and shouldn’t be taking this step just now, but if she could then she would instruct her and not let her girl be just another of those unsatisfied women she had known back in Avonlea.

"Are you really willing to help me with it?"

"I can't stop you, can I?" Belle shrugged. "Sometimes being a good mother means you need to conduct your children through their own paths instead of trying to force them on the one you chose."

"Thank you," Rose smiled, standing on her feet again. "Ah, can you please don't tell anything to papa?"

A little smirk crossed the lady’s lips.

"I can't promise anything."

"Mama!"

"I would never let him kill Roland, that much I can promise."

If there was something to be missed in the Dark Castle, it certainly was the huge library. Rose had been there the whole morning, hearing the children playing in the gardens with their father, as Rumplestiltskin probably had already arrived from his short to the market. She had heard her mother talking to Mrs. Potts about having asked him to buy her some books, but she wasn’t quite interested in that as she needed to make her own researches and was currently going through her mother’s secret section of books when she heard the steps coming from the doorway and emerged from behind the shelves, seeing Gideon walk in and let himself fall in the rocking chair beside the windows.

"How was the walk to the market?" Rose questioned.

He lifted his weary gaze to her and rubbed at his own eyes with one hand, the other playing with the cover of a book left on the table near him. It was one of their mother’s favourite corner to read, all of them had been rocked in that chair, while the one and only Dark Lady read aloud to them. They had always felt home in there, and well, in the whole library too.

"I didn't tell him," the brother confessed.

"Why?" She inquired. "Gideon, papa is not going to be mad at you. It's time for the truth."

Rose knew how much he always felt anxious to think about telling their parents about his relationship with Roderick, but Gideon had already done half of the service, as Belle already knew and approved it. She was sweet with him and only showed her son loved and acceptance, so Rose couldn’t quite understand why he was so afraid of speaking to their father. Of course, Rumple and Belle were really different and he probably would overreact at first, but it would pass.

"Maybe it is not just the right time yet."

"You're so stubborn," the girl exclaimed. "He'll start to looking for brides again if you don't solve this soon."

"I know, Rose."

Gideon’s voice was deep and tired as he rocked himself back and forward on the chair. He was all dressed in black today, as if his clothes reflected his humour, his brow narrowed in concern, because they may be back home, but their problems hadn’t been erased and Rose unfortunately, knew it too.

"I had a vision, clearer this time," she confessed. "Ella locked in the same place, the man looking down at her and then a grave."

"Do you think she is going to die?" Gideon inquired, shivering at her words.

The girl shook her head, playing with the book in her hands and feeling more unsure of things than she ever did.

"I don't know, but someone surely will."

Rumplestiltskin would never keep important documents at the library, there was a hidden door on the laboratory that opened to a closet full of the most dangerous stuff he had, like the dagger and all the registers from the Dark Realm. It was locked with blood magic and only him, Belle and their descendants could open it, but not even the children knew about this place, so as the Dark Lady took all the most recent parchments from inside there and displayed them on her husband's desk, taking a look at the inscriptions.

"That's all?"

"The mines are closed, milady, there isn't much to register," Mrs. Potts explained seeing how disappointed Belle seemed with the fact there had been no changes at all.

Of course, they weren't selling anything, so there was no gain, but the fairy dust was still being extracted and nobody attempted to steal it, which she thought would happen as soon as they intercepted the deliveries. Something was definitely wrong; their ghostly dealer was smarter than they thought.

"I see," Belle nodded. "I think we'll need to go to the Dark Realm again, just to make sure we're seeing everything clear."

"Lady Belle, I don't think master will allow you to travel between realms in your condition, I think he will want you to stay here safely until the child is born."

Oh, he surely would, Rumple had already spent too much time away from her and he wouldn't be willing to let her go anywhere that put her into danger, even more now that they agreed they should stop beginning again.

"Mrs. Potts I appreciate your concern as I appreciate my husband's, but I'm not ill," the Lady remarked. "However, I don't think we should worry about this just now. I'm doing some more important research about the Dark One's power."

Mrs. Potts arched an eyebrow to her, a question shining in her eyes, but before she could manage to say something, Chip stormed inside the lab, even though he knew this area was totally forbidden for children, but judging by the bright pink tone of his cheeks and how incredibly tired he looked Belle thought there might be a good reason for him to break the rules.

"Mama, there is a carriage outside!"

"Who could be here?"

They weren't expecting any visitors, so a bit worried, she sent Chip back to the dining hall and took all the parchments back to their places, before locking the room and going downstairs with Mrs. Potts on her heels. She met her husband at the hallway, accepting the arm he stretched out to her and walking by his side to the front gardens.

"Visitors..." Rumplestiltskin complained.

But his annoyed tone didn't last much, as the carriage's doors were opened by the butler accompanying the people inside of it and Baelfire slipped of, helping his wife to come along. A big smile stretched on the imp's lips at the sight of his first-born. Bae didn't come to visit so often and he always enjoyed to see him. And Rumple needed to admit that noticing how his boy was starting grown grey hair, he felt as desperate as Belle did that morning, time was passing and soon Baelfire would be gone.

"Papa," the boy exclaimed, throwing his arms around him, hugging Rumple tightly.

"Oh, my boy, I've missed you!"

"Me too," Baelfire smiled, pulling away from him, "but I wasn't expecting to see you all here. Gideon sent me a letter saying you two were having some problems."

So, there was a reason why Baelfire was there, Belle thought. She knew Gideon was inclined to take all decisions to make things better, but she didn't imagine he would call for his brother. Now, she could see how terrible the whole situation really was.

"Yeah, but not anymore," she answered.

"Mama Belle," Bae smiled giving her  a quick hug and then pulling away to take a look at her when he felt her bump pressing against him. "You two can't stop growing the family, huh?"

"This is the last one, I promise," Rumplestiltskin said.

Belle giggled a little, greeting Emma and peeking a look inside the carriage, expecting to see their great-granddaughter hidden inside, but it was actually empty.

"Where is little Lucy?"

"Spending some time with grandma Regina," Emma explained.

Belle made a tiny sound of disappointment because she loved settling things in the playroom for Lucy and Colette to spend some time there with their dolls, she would style her hairs and watch them in wonder. It was always nice to have both around, but she actually thought it should be a nice thing for her to spend some time with her other grandmother who was also going through bad moments.

"Oh, that's good, Regina is missing Henry like crazy and I bet having Lucy around makes her feel better," Belle said, before gesticulating to the castle. "Come in, we'll be more comfortable talking inside, your siblings will be happy to see you, Neal."

"I'll take the baggage first," Neal suggested.

"Don't be silly, Mrs. Potts and I will get it for you," Belle answered shaking her head at him, before turning around to look at her husband. "Take your son inside, I'll be there in a minute."

Rumplestiltskin touched her face, ignoring the other's for a brief moment.

"Are you sure?" The Dark One asked. "I don't want you doing any efforts."

"I'll carry Emma's shawl," Belle smiled.

He kissed her on the lips, causing both Bae and Emma to look away from them, but not Rumple nor Belle could pull away from long instants as if it was going to be their very last kiss and they weren't going to see each other in a few seconds, then the imp departed from her gesticulating for the visitors to follow him inside.

Going straight to the carriage, Belle saw that the butler already had two bags in his hands and was just waiting for instructions.

"Could you place these suitcases in the left tower, the second room on the first floor?"

"Of course, milady," he said.

She nodded and brought Mrs. Potts along to check on the things that had been left inside, where the travellers had been resting.

"Alright, we have some leather bags and..."

The lady's words were interrupted by a hand on her shoulder and she turned around to see the chestnut-haired woman standing behind her, a black cloak hiding most of her also dark dress.

"Hello, Belle."

"Oh, you're the Lady from the market," she whispered in awe, furrowing. "How did you find me?"

Eyes falling to Belle’s slightly swollen middle-section, the woman shook her head in disapproval, as if the fact, she fact a live growing inside her, was something horrendous and it made the air got caught on the Dark Lady’s throat, because she recognised the other woman as a threat.

"I see you haven't taken my advice about freeing yourself from this little problem, right?" The lady scorned. "Well, that doesn't matter much now, with or without child, you'll serve for any purposes."

She gripped at both Belle’s arms and Mrs. Potts immediately came to her side, starting a fail attempt to push her away.

"What are you doing? Take your hands off her!"

"No, no,” the woman smiled and made a flourish, making the maid be throw away, hitting her back against a three. “You're not interfering in my plans."

Belle felt her heart race, she tried to reach for the knife she had hide underneath her shirts, but she couldn’t manage to free herself and she knew that against magic, she couldn’t do anything.

"Rumple,” Belle yelled. “Help!"

But it was too late.

Her scream reached him even inside the castle, her voice being loudened by the spells casted around the property and if she was still inside the gates, she would have been safe, however Baelfire’s carriage was parked outside and there his magic couldn’t protect her. The Dark One stopped in the middle of a conversation, startled to hear the despair in his wife’s voice and in a slip second, he was teleporting himself to where she was. Or at least, where she should be, because the only one he found was Mrs. Potts, fallen to the ground.

He looked around desperately before reaching for the maid, helping her to stand up again and noticing how shaken she was, eyes budged and hands trembling helplessly. She looked about to faint.

"Where is my wife, Mrs. Potts?" Rumplestiltskin queried. "Where is Belle?"

"That woman took her," the maid told him. "She is powerful. Very powerful. Oh, master, I think she might be a huge threat."

The imp emitted a strangled sound. This couldn’t be happening again, he couldn’t have just found her again to lose Belle this way. But, apparently, another search was about to begin.

Belle woke up disoriented. She was lying on a cold floor, her face pressed to it and her bump smashed beneath her weight. A loud, painful sigh left her and Belle sat up, feeling her whole body ache, as if she had been kicked and punched many, many times before being throw inside there and by her kidnapper cold behaviour she wouldn’t be surprised if that was exactly what happened.

"Hello, cellmate," a voice beside her, said.

The lady averted her glance to she woman in the cell next to her, who was leaning against the wall, the brown dress she wore – something Belle had never seen in her before as it seemed to be a piece of peasant’s clothing – was crumpled and ragged.

"Ella? Where are we?"

"I have no idea, but I have been here for a long, long time."

Too long, Belle’s thought’s echoed as she rose on her feet, grabbing the bars between their cells to help herself to keep up and Ella arched an eyebrow at her baby bump when she saw the lady’s dress falling to frame it.

"Henry is looking for you," Belle told her.

"Bless him, my only love,” Ella smiled weakly, “but I think his quest is pointless, we can't be save."

Looking around, Belle shook her head at her. They were in some kind of dungeons without windows, the only passage for air was a small opening in a large woodened door further ahead, very far away from where they were.

"No, I can't accept that," the lady said. " A woman brought me here for some reason, but I'll escape."

"Who are you talking about?"

"An old lady in black, with chestnut hair."

"Oh, alright,” Ella nodded, understanding, “she calls herself Lady Heart, but her name is Cora, however she is not the only one we need to worry about. There is a redhead, looking for something she thinks some sort of woman might have, some kind of energy she needs. Her name is Mother Gothel."

Belle furrowed at the information. Usually she knew every single person in those lands that had powers, because Rumplestiltskin liked to know who he needed to be careful with, as people was always trying to get his powers. But even if the first name she recognised – although she had thought Regina’s mother was dead – the second one was a puzzle for her.

"So, we are here because of some energy we might have or not?"

"At least this is what I guess from what I've been hearing lately," Ella shrugged, folding her arms. "Untighten your dress, you won't want Gothel to see that you're with child or gods know, she will get it from you."

Belle let her hands rest above her bump for a second and for a second, she considered ignoring the advice, but then reached for the laces on her back and started to untighten then, making the dress seem larger, hiding the curve of her belly.

"This child won't come for long and we will find a way of getting away from here, I promise you, Ella."