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thedevillionaire · 3 years

Text

The Twentieth

Okay. ~5,000 words of Underworldian stuff that happens. Well, primarily one thing, really, but not all at the same time. Sort of. Ask me anything, thank you so very much for reading, and...well, here we go.

--- This was not at all how he’d planned for the day of their anniversary to unfold.

In the back of his mind, in corners he’d quite deliberately not lingered for a moment longer than absolutely necessary, he’d known that trouble was possibly oncoming as early as the night before last, the descending fog of nascent illness as recognisable as it was unwelcome. But it had been…at least a year, perhaps close to two, since he’d last felt this way, and he was hoping that he was wrong, and that what were seeming like potential signs of bad news weren’t actually signs at all.

They were.

Cerberus sniffled.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He’d tried, he really had. Discounting those signs as unimportant even as he took precautions because of them, he’d risked nothing, pushed his luck with nothing. He’d even gone to bed several hours earlier than usual last night, and fallen asleep almost immediately on top of that. Unlike his bonded, who’d had a late night and come home at some uncertain hour from one of those social catch-up things she so enjoyed that he was…less inclined towards, even in times when he was feeling entirely well – not that he’d given that as the reason for his disinclination to participate, of course.

Hardly relevant, anyway.

And he’d slept soundly enough that he’d not woken to notice her join him – in fact, he’d been so sapped of energy that from the moment the warmth of the hearth and bedcovers enveloped him, he was out – which just made it all the more ominous that he’d woken feeling like he’d got no rest at all, bone-tired as if no respite had been granted, with a constant, dull headache that so far had refused to resolve, and yesterday’s mild discomfort at the back of his throat sharpening significantly into an active and intrusive concern.

Getting caught in that ridiculous downpour on the way here wouldn’t have helped matters either, he thought bitterly. Although brief, it had been intense, and sudden, and heavy, and though the mercy of Teleport could not have been a more welcome escape, the short time spent in headblurry indecision about whether or not he should utilise it had nonetheless been long enough that his coat had been soaked through. The refuge of the radiant heat of his Office was helping somewhat, at least, and most of his clothing had dried by now – though his hair, which he’d tied back with a loose bow of slender black velvet ribbon to keep errant strands from his face, was still noticeably and uncomfortably damp against his neck. Less so than had he left it unbound, but still…

If he’d ever regretted choosing to walk rather than taking the lazy option before – gods, the damn irony of thinking that the walk would possibly benefit him tonight, of all things – he was sure he’d not regretted it as much as he did right now.

He sniffled again.

Fuck.

---

Closing the folder of Requiem’s surprisingly competently done assignment, he sighed and added it to the small stack of completed works, vaguely wondering if he’d been too generous with the grading. Although he knew the content backwards and could in fact get away with paying very little serious attention, his mind was nevertheless, for the most part, almost entirely on other things.

This was supposed to be the night where, once respective regular mundanities and commitments were out of the way, he would take his beloved to indulge in whichever of the things she most loved to indulge in while on a Visit, utterly at her behest, and completely guilt-free for her with no mandated set goal to achieve, no limitations on immersion, no regulations at all; just an unscheduled and spontaneous trip to the mortal plane, a high-end cocktail bar all dress codes and decadence, and a veritable array of delicious, oblivious Takings there for her pleasure – ahh, darkling, a smorgasbord! – all eyes upon her because nobody, not in the Underworld and certainly no mortal, can compare, and despite his usual personal antipathy towards bothering with the mortal realm, he knew of certain excellences all the same, and he’d put his own preferences aside and simply present her with the glories and spoils she deserved, watch her dance from the shadows and delight in it.

Darkling, I will give you the world.

He’d had every intention of doing precisely that.

And it was also really starting to feel like he was definitely not going to…not going to let this happen, damn it. You’ll be fine, stop putting unnecessary emphasis on transient discomfort, it’s nothing, you know these things pass, just…

He sniffled again, more sharply this time, claimed another tissue and blew his nose, trying to disregard how doing so did nothing much to stop the continuing drip and irritation.

Just get on with it. Honestly. Vaporising the tissue, he took another sip of the honeyed tea that wasn’t doing nearly as much to counteract the sting in his throat as he’d hoped it would, and returned his attention to the job at hand. He noted with distaste as he opened the new folder that yet again it seemed that Hellion hadn’t bothered to proofread the simplest of…

Oh gods.

His breath caught, thoughts ceased, focus helplessly crumbling.

“Hh-hh…”

He rolled his eyes at the inevitability of it, and grabbed another tissue, and another, as the insistent need made itself unstoppably and urgently known.

“Hh-TSCHH-uu! *snff!* Huh-TSSCHH-uu!”

Therion, across the room and in the midst of cataloguing a stupidly confusing array of recently rediscovered and yet unsorted secondgen scrolls, glanced back over his shoulder at Cerberus briefly. “Gesundheit,” he commented offhand, not remotely surprised by this development. Given the constant sniffling that had been going on for the last couple of hours or so, he’d pretty much been expecting that to happen sooner or later. No matter how infrequently the Demon king may catch cold, symptoms were symptoms. Sounding like shit there, boss, he thought, but decided against voicing it.

Cerberus managed a quick thankyou before the demanding urge once again overtook him, and he inhaled deeply, desperately, the force of the sneeze almost doubling him over.

“hhh-AHHTSSCHHUU!”

Therion glanced over again. “You okay, man?”

Cerberus, with a strong sniffle, cleared his throat and made an incidental sound of dismissal. “Mm, fine,” he murmured, which he knew at this point was a complete lie, his head pounding. “Pardon me.” He blew his nose, sniffling again immediately. Ugh. “It’s, um…it’s nothing.”

He returned his attention to Hellion’s paper.

It was, however, no matter his assurance, becoming undeniably something.

Fuck.

---

The hours had somehow simultaneously dragged and flown by, some goals achieved, others – and, to be honest, the ones he’d most been counting on – unfortunately not so.

Cerberus sighed heavily, put aside the last of the assignments he’d reviewed, and, having had quite enough of honeyed tea for one day, poured himself a substantial glass of cognac from the decanter on his desk.

On the plus side, he’d got through a decent amount of the papers, all things considered. On the minus, though, his oncoming cold, rather than resolving into the insignificance he’d hoped for, had instead settled in undeniably, pouring into his head like cement, and he pressed the back of his hand firmly against his nose with enough force for pain to overtake irritation. He vaporised yet another bunch of used tissues, sniffling again, and tried to take his mind off Kia and what she might be thinking, expecting, dreaming, anticipating…

..and what he feared he was not going be able to deliver.

Acceptance of such, however, was still not something he was willing to entertain quite yet.

Damn it, it’s one night. Surely you can at least delay this ridiculousness for one more night. With a lengthy, determined sniffle and heavy exhalation, Cerberus, elbow on desk and hand against forehead, lost himself in a mix of annoyance and self-pity for a moment before an intense rising fury at the situation overtook it, and he frowned, sat up straighter, and drained the glass of cognac entirely.

Do. Better.

With a brief shake of his head, he rubbed his nose and opened the next assignment in the pile, read the name. Ah, Cenotaph, he noted with a slight satisfaction. Shouldn’t be dreadful. Although he nearly always…

His thoughts were jarringly interrupted by the intrusive ring of the telephone, and despite him dearly wishing he could palm this off to Therion, the phone was on the desk, and proximity demanded he be the one to answer. And to make matters worse – apparently that’s possible, and of course it is – he could feel the rising, inexorable need to sneeze again.

No. This is not happening. Just… The idea of being defeated by such a simple, base physical weakness infuriating, he sniffled with sharp determination, crushing a hand clutching a tissue against his nose, and answered the call.

“Demonics.”

Aera took a moment. “Cerbie? Okay, wow. What are you doing in Office?”

I…work here? Cerberus couldn’t quite parse what her intention was, what sort of answer she was expecting. Was that rhetorical, or…? “I don’t… What do you…” He sniffled again, his breath catching momentarily, but he fought the urge back once more, and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand. “What?”

“‘Debodics’,” Aera said in mimicry of the congestion destroying his consonants, her tone flippant and biting at the same time.

Frowning in annoyance, his patience worn thin enough as it was, and in no mood to engage, Cerberus snarled a curt, “I’m fine,” and wiped his nose.

Aera scoffed. “You’re seriously going the denial route? Hate to break it to you, but you sure don’t sound fine.”

“Do you have a point?” Cerberus asked tersely, internally cursing his inability to comprehensively prove her wrong – not that she was necessarily wrong, but that was hardly the issue.

“Godssake, Cerbie, you’re such a…” Aera began, but recognised she was probably wasting her time and decided to just let it go. She knew his pattern with this sort of thing, and so she backed off a little – though by no means completely. “Okay, fine, alright, I could be wrong, maybe you’re not sick after all. So, you know, if you’ve been crying or punched in the face or something, go right ahead and clear that up for me.”

Cerberus, exasperated and increasingly distracted, just wanted an end to it all. “Damn it, Aera, can you please try to tear yourself away from the apparently fascinating state of my health for a moment and just tell me what the hell it is you want? *snf!* And you could be a bit more pleasant to me, you know,” he added pointedly. “It is my anniversary, after all.”

Aera gasped lightly in realisation, the date having escaped her notice completely. “Oh, shit, it is too! Ah, fuck, sorry, happy anniversary. But, no, anyway, this call does actually have a point. I think I might have left a scarf in your Office yesterday. Do you have it? It’s blue.”

You couldn’t have just asked that immediately? Cerberus glanced around the Office perfunctorily, not seeing anything of the kind. “N…” His breath caught again and he scrubbed his hand roughly under his nose, sniffling sharply, and took a moment before trusting himself enough to answer her. “No.”

“Really? What the hell have I done with it, then?” Aera wondered, partially to Cerberus but mostly to herself, before returning her attention to the conversation at hand. “Oh, and bless you.”

“What?” Cerberus frowned in confusion, his head clouded enough that he wasn’t entirely certain that he hadn’t missed or forgotten something that surely he ought not to have been able to miss or forget. “I…I didn’t sneeze.” It was…inescapably true that he needed to, but he’d not…

Aera chuckled briefly, quietly. “You will.”

She hung up.

The freedom afforded him by that disconnection, one staggered, desperate inhale was all it took. And in the moment, he didn’t even care that she’d been right. At this point he just wanted relief.

“hh-HH… Ahh-HEHTSSHhuu!”

“Gesundheit,” said Therion again, smiling grimly to himself. He usually minded his own business about this sort of thing – not that it came up much – and indeed still considered staying out of it altogether now. But he hadn’t known about the anniversary factor before, and playing substitute Leader for a few days was hardly the worst fate in the world, and if not tonight it was almost certainly going to come to that fate soon enough anyway, so…

He put the scrolls aside, walking over to stand opposite where Cerberus was seated at the desk. “Hey, man…”

“Huh-AHSSCHuu! *snf!*” Cerberus groaned. “Gods. Excuse me,” he murmured with a heavy sigh, his head and sinuses throbbing. He sniffled wetly, blew his nose, excused himself again, and looked up at Therion somewhat hazily. “Mm?”

Therion half-smiled, casual, non-committal. “Happy anniversary, dude. Didn’t mean to listen in or anything, just…you know. Overheard.”

A small smile of appreciative thanks crossing his face, Cerberus sniffled again and nodded in otherwise silent acknowledgement.

“Just a thought, though,” Therion continued. “If I had a choice between going home to my mad-hot bonded… How many years now, man?”

A heartbeat. An eternity.

“Twenty.”

“Fucking what?!” Therion stared at Cerberus as if he was out of his mind. “Fuck, man! Congrats and shit, but for real? If I had a choice between going home, like, immediately or staying in Office for a few more hours marking shit I could pretty easily get my Understudy to do, actually? I’d be out of here in a fucking microsecond. But, you know, you’re the boss, man. Do whatever. Just saying.” Reaching across the desk, he picked up Cenotaph’s paper and scanned its contents quickly. “I mean, this looks pretty good, I guess, but, you know, Kia probably looks better.” He grinned as Cerberus gave a dark smile in response, and paused only for a short time, but enough that the pause be noted. “Seriously. You know she’d spoil the fuck out of you.”

Cerberus sighed again, regret, bitterness and castigating self-reproach evident in his eyes beneath a haze of sickness he really could no longer deny. Yes, I know, of course I know, but... “The spoiling really was suppo… hh-HH…” He hastily took another few tissues from the box, burying his face in them just in time to catch another fierce sneeze he had no chance of stopping. “AHHTSCHUU! Goddamnit. Pardon me.” He wiped his nose, sniffling again immediately – disturbingly liquid, entirely ineffectual, and with a weariness behind it that he could not disguise. Looking back up at Therion, he returned to his point. “I’d really intended the providing of spoils to be my job tonight. And this…utter ridiculousness—” He made a vague gesture towards his face. “—was supposed to have improved, not worsened, damn it.”

With another heavy sigh, disappointment palpable, he capitulated. “I don’t suppose you keep any cold medication in Office, do you?”

“Sorry.” Therion shook his head. “Go the fuck home, man. I got this.”

Standing, Cerberus nodded briefly in reply, giving Therion a firm pat on the shoulder as he passed by. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and vanished.

---

And naturally half the damn Underworld seems to be here.

Well, he most certainly was not going to queue.

Ignoring the mixture of hushed mutterings and soft gasps from the others in the Healing centre – none of whom he recognised but it was evident from the expressions on the faces of the…many people staring at him that the reverse was not the case – Cerberus walked to the front of the line with only the most cursory of glances at those who he had no intention of waiting either for or behind, greeted Riviera at the front desk perfunctorily and, abruptly beyond caring to hear any more of the continuing intrusive sussurance, froze the entirety of the waiting room’s occupants under Stasis with a crisp wave of his hand.

Dear gods, shut up. I will set you all on fire and I won’t regret it for a second.

He sniffled strongly. “Aldiss, please,” he said to Riviera, who had already Mindsent the Healing Leader in anticipation of precisely that directive.

“On her way,” Riviera replied. She indicated the Stasis-held others. “Um, is that…are they…?”

“Entirely temporary, just expedient. I’ll undo it soon enough.”

Aldiss appeared beside Riviera at the desk, Mindsending her :Cover me for a bit. Room 5, burns, not serious, mostly dealt with already,: and Riviera duly vanished.

At a loss and clearly awaiting clarification, Aldiss turned her attention to Cerberus. “Alright, what are you doing here?”

Cerberus frowned. Why is everywhere I am apparently a surprise tonight? “I’m ill, obviously. Why else would I be here? I need cold medication.” He sniffled again, as if in emphasis, though not intentionally so, and wiped his nose.

“Again? Already?”

Again? There IS no again. I literally just got here. What the hell is going on? Cerberus briefly wondered if he could be hallucinating this entire sequence of events, so little of it seemed to make any coherent sense. “What do you mean ‘already’?” He winced as his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, which did little more than cause him a different kind of discomfort, a convulsive cough following in short order, his nose running again as a result. He sniffled sharply, repeatedly. Gods. For fuck’s sake. “Excuse me.”

“I’m not giving you anything more if you’ve taken the other lot already.”

“Damn it, Aldiss, do I sound like I’ve taken anything?!”

Aldiss did have to concede that point.

Thoroughly exasperated, Cerberus exhaled heavily in annoyance. “Why is everything always such an ordeal in this place?” And suddenly another strangeness occurred to him. “Wait – what other lot?

“The meds Kia picked up, obviously.”

“What?!” Cerberus, a fresh fear striking him – one he was entirely unprepared for, one that actually managed to distract him from his own discomforts for a moment – stared at Aldiss in unconcealed horror. “Kia’s unwell?!”

With a wry smile, Aldiss shook her head. “I swear I never personally get to experience it, but rumour has it you’re actually quite a clever man, Cerberus, so try and stay with me here, alright?” She looked at him with a certain sardonic encouragement. “The meds Kia picked up for you.”

Unfortunately, this didn’t make much more sense to him, if at all. “But what reason would…” He sniffled again. “Why would she do that?” He rubbed and wrinkled his nose against a building itch, took a tissue from the box on the desk, then another, and tried to stay focused.

Aldiss, in mildly amused bafflement that he could actually be this oblivious, stared at the Demon king as if he was a complete imbecile. “Because you’ve got a cold?”

Annoyance clearly evident despite the hitch in his breath, Cerberus frowned at her. “Yes, Aldiss, we’ve established that, but Ki…Kia doesn’t…” Ah, fuck. Bringing the tissues to his face as the itch became sharply definite, he turned away hurriedly. “Huh-ATSSCHH-uu!” He groaned, sniffling immediately, the force of the sneeze bringing to the fore anew the pulsing headache he’d almost, almostbeen able to forget, his breath still a little shaky as he excused himself. He claimed another tissue and wiped his nose, sniffling again, and took a moment before returning to his earlier point. “Kia doesn’t know about *snf!* this yet.”

“Yes, she most certainly does,” Aldiss countered. “What, you didn’t think she’d notice?”

“Well, of course she’d notice now, damn it, Aldiss,” said Cerberus in open irritation, “but I wasn’t nearly this…”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Cerberus. How long have you been together?”

“As it happens, it’s our twentieth anniversary tonight,” Cerberus replied, a bitter and rueful undertone unmissable despite increasing congestion, “which I am attempting not to completely ruin.” Another sharp sniffle. “Apparently a futile pursuit,” he muttered resentfully, and pressed the back of his hand against his nose in an attempt to see off a newly threatening, vibrantly insistent itch.

“Twenty years and you think she’d miss a thing? She knows you. She knows you really well. How do you not…”

“Ahh-HEHTSSHhuu!”

Aldiss sighed as Cerberus, thoroughly losing the battle, sneezed again, wetly and powerfully, and she passed him a handful of tissues as he murmured both an apology and a thankyou. Looking out at the significant number of people yet to be seen, she allowed him some necessary moments of recovery, then made her point. “Listen, I’m sorry you’ve managed to catch cold for your anniversary but you do have both medication and a devoted bonded waiting at home. Please go there. Kia’s probably wondering where the hell you are anyway, since – if I can I remind you – she knows you’re sick. Oh, and you can undo your…stopping people in time thing or whatever it is now, too, thank you very much.”

“As always, Aldiss, it’s been a delight.” Releasing his Stasis hold with a short wave, the murmurs and mutterings picking up precisely where they’d been cut off as if there had never been a break, Cerberus turned his gaze briefly upon his unbidden rapt audience, disregarded them all equally, internally cursed himself for having even bothered to come to this ridiculous place, inclined his head in crisp farewell, and promptly vanished.

---

Leaning back against the loungeroom wall in weary resignation upon his Teleported arrival home, Cerberus stopped still, his attentions resolutely redirected in an instant at the entirely unexpected sight of his beautiful lifebonded reclining languorously across the couch, dressed – or almost dressed, it could technically be said – in diaphanous babydoll chemise and finest lace lingerie, soft brunette darkestness falling silkenwild around her shoulders, a vision of breathtaking boudoir fantasy he was quite thoroughly unprepared for, and he paused for a moment to simply gaze at her, enchanted.

:Darkling, you are perfection.:

Kia looked up slowly, and with a sultry, indulgent smile, dropped her book onto the coffee table and stretched before sitting up just a little, beckoning him to join her with crooked finger and open invitation.

“Took your time, sweetheart,” she said, gently teasing, and opened the bottle of cognac, pouring a glass for them both. “I’d almost decided to start without you.”

“Love, I…” Cerberus began but was torn from his words unstoppably, unable to do anything about the sudden, desperate need overtaking him, and, expression crumpling and focus destroyed, he had no choice but to give in to it. “Huh-TSCHH-uu! Ah-HEHTSCHuu!” He pardoned himself with haste, groaning quietly.

“Aw, bless you, hon. Come here.” Kia repeated her beckoning motion. She regarded him a moment, frowning in puzzlement. “Where’s your coat?” She’d not seen him leave the house this morning, but she was entirely certain he’d have worn one.

“Hmm? Oh, um…” Cerberus sniffled, wiped his nose and glanced down at himself, not having given any particular thought to his outfit – his standard fine linen shirt, brocade waistcoat, tailored black pants – since leaving Office.

Which was, of course, where he’d left his coat.

“Got rained on. Earlier, that is, not… A while ago, anyhow.” He sniffled again and tried to focus. “In Office. The coat, I mean, not where the…rain was.” He sighed in exasperation as anger at the situation overtook tiredness again. “Honestly, it would be nice if I could at least form a damn sentence!” Gods, what the hell is wrong with you. Get your damn shit together. “Sorry, love. I, um…used Teleport after that, though, so I’ve not really been outside since.”

“Well, coat or not, you were supposed to have given up and come home ages ago.” Kia laughed gently. “You know, like a normal person. Why are you always so stubborn about this stuff?” She caressed his face affectionately as he sat beside her, curled an arm around the back of his neck, and kissed him with warm promise. :And don’t you even dare say a word about not wanting to give your cold to me,: she Mindsent preemptively. :Yes, I know, no, I don’t care, and there is no way I’m not kissing you on our twentieth anniversary.:

“Anyway,” she continued in satin murmur, tracing a finger along the angular contours of his jawline and kissing him again, “you know I’ll spoil you.” She looked at him directly then, sapphire eyes narrowing in challenge. “You do know that, right?”

“I…” He did, but between the desire not to need her to – at least not tonight – and rather for him to be, as he’d so very much intended, the one fulfilling any fantasies, and the desire to just try and forget failed plans and expectations and immerse in her…frankly stunning sanctuary, and his head was far too clouded to explain himself right now, and technically he had left Office early anyway so he wasn’t that late really, especially considering he hadn’t realised that he’d been expected, but what did any of this even matter when this goddess before him was so…very… He sniffled again, claiming a tissue and wiping his nose firmly, and wished he was at least a little more functional because she was so incredibly breathtaking, and that was all he could think about in the moment, really, aside from feeling like he was fairly sure he was going to sneeze again – which, when combined with the first and…infinitely preferable reason that he couldn’t think straight, provided a particularly strange contradiction in where his attentions were directed, and now he couldn’t with certainty remember exactly what she’d asked him anymore, and she was just…gods, she was everything, and his head was a mess and he…definitely had to…

He blinked rapidly, his breath hitching in escalating intensity, and turned from Kia to bury his face in crooked elbow. Gods, fuck, just…

“Huh-TSSCHH-uu! Ahh-HUHTSSHhuu!”

The force of the sneezes combined with the pounding throb of sinus-heavy headache to set the room spinning, but despite that had done very little to quiet the insistent irritation he just could not seem to escape tonight. Another staccato breath and fuck ano… hh-HH ..another and a Mindsent apology because he was entirely unable to voice one, doubling over in thrall to desperate demand, powerful, possessing. “Hhuh-AHTSCHUU! Huh…hh-TSSCHH-uu!”

“Oh, sweetheart, bless you.” Kia indicated the medications she’d collected on the table, though she wasn’t sure there was much point, his ability to focus entirely and…mesmerisingly hijacked. “You should probably…”

Cerberus, with a brief shake of his head, held up a finger in a gesture indicating that she had to wait a moment, the relentless need not done with him yet, and he inhaled deeply, unable to do a thing about it other than succumb once more, and he sneezed again – undeniable, absolute, violently ferocious. “Hh-hhAAAHTSSCHHUU! ..uhh…” A quiet groan and he pressed the back of his hand against his nose, sniffling fiercely, more than a little breathless. “Damn. Sorry.”

“Wow, bless you!” Kia said with softriveted, emphatic appraisal, and flashed him a wickedwarm grin. “Impressive. You should get a prize for that kind of effort.”

“Gods, love.” Smiling wryly despite himself, Cerberus managed a brief disbelieving laugh before having no choice but to give in to sharpburning sensation, his breath catching abrupt, deep, jagged, pleading. “hh-h-huh-TSCHH-uu! Huh-TSSCHH-uu! *snf!* Huh… huhhTSSCHHUU! For fuck’s sake! *SNFF!* Ugh, sorry.” Sniffling repeatedly, he excused himself again with clear irritation even as Kia offered him a tender blessing. He took a fresh multitude of tissues from the box and blew his nose, muttering under his breath that in any reasonable world he’d get to kill at least one person over this, and if…

“Oh, look!” announced Kia with cheery brightness, breaking into his thoughts and picking up one of the medication vials. “You win drugs.” She handed the vial to Cerberus with a kiss to his cheek, effectively short-circuiting his rising fury at the situation, and trailed a languid hand down the length of his arm, dropped her voice to a sultry purr. “I’ll even throw in the glamorous assistant.” She semi-curtseyed, winked in play.

With a soft laugh and a sigh both appreciative and self-effacing, Cerberus accepted and took the meds as proffered, curling an arm across Kia’s shoulders, drawing them closer together, and leant his head against hers, Mindsending a heartfelt, sincere :I adore you.:

“I’m so sorry, darkling.” He ran an index finger under his nose, sniffled quietly, exhaled with dismayed heaviness at the thought of having let his beloved down, in any way. “I really did mean to give you everything you desire tonight.” He sat back again; smiled at her, a little sadly. “And I truly do wish to bring you the world you deserve. All the worlds, come to that.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I know. And I know that you’re, like…literally able to do it, which still just amazes me and will forever, I swear, you’re incredible, but…really, you don’t need to be disappointed. See, I want you—” Shifting her position smoothly, Kia moved to sit on his lap, her legs astride his, and caressed his face in her hands, kissing him with passion burning. “Mmm. I want you—” Another kiss. “—to think for just a minute—” And another. “—from a different view.” Reaching behind his head, she untied the velvet ribbon constraining his hair, allowing it in release to cascade over his shoulders. She wove a gentle hand through freed midnight, tucked a few stray strands behind his ear. “If things were reversed, if I was the one who’d come home sick tonight, what would you have done?”

Cerberus chuckled wryly, softly, as he recognised her viewpoint. He didn’t pretend otherwise. “Anything you wanted, love, as always.”

Kia gave him a knowing smile. “Mm-hm.”

Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed him again, slower, deeper. “So, then, babe,” she purred, tracing a trail of kisses down his neck, shoulders, chest, “you should know that you are everything I desire, everything I dream of, and the only way you could ever let me down is to not be with me tonight, and now I am going to order you into the bedroom and you are going to do exactly what I say and that is pretty much what would have happened even with you in perfect health with your perfect plan, because you should know—” She broke off again, kissing him with a craving undeniable, abandoning speech for silksultry Mindsend.

:that all I want:

One hand now twining through his hair, the other first toying with then smoothly untying the topmost bows on her chemise, allowing it to fall away, and she pulled him closer to her again, deepening the kiss at his involuntary resulting moan.

:is…this.:

Another kiss and her hand reaching down, loosening clothing and caressing him to urgency, and he moaned again, curling one arm around her waist and another behind her head, holding her around him and returning her kiss with a fire straight from his soul, feeling her breath quickening, demanding, as she pushed back against him, heat rising. A soft growl, a gasp, a sharp inhalation as they joined together, and she met her beloved’s famed emerald gaze eye to eye, consummate, profligate, incendiary.

“Oh, and sweetheart? Tonight I am going to make you wish you caught cold more often.”

---

#inopportune timing mm-hm count on it #snzfic #my writing #my OCs #cerberus #cerbia #cerberus and kia #and she's absolutely right 😉#bit of a slow burn but we get there #supernatural soap opera

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scotianostra · 4 years

Photo

On July 5th 1560 The Treaty of Edinburgh is agreed between England and France bringing to an end the siege by English troops of French forces occupying Leith. (some places say July 6th)

Two events in 1560 combined to create the environment for the signing of the Treaty of Edinburgh. In February, the Treaty of Berwick was signed, which led to English troops entering Scotland. And in June, the Catholic Mary of Guise, mother of Mary, Queen of Scots, and co-Regent of Scotland, died. That latter event signalled and end to Catholic resistance in Scotland. The Treaty of Edinburgh was then concluded on the 6th of July, 1560.

With the assent of the Scottish Lords of the Congregation, the Commissioners of Queen Elizabeth I and French representatives in Scotland agreed to formally conclude the Siege of Leith, abolish the ‘Auld Alliance’ between France and Scotland, establish a new Anglo Scottish accord, and maintain the peace between England and France that had been agreed by the Treaty of Cateau-Cambresis. Also included in the Treaty was the agreement for Mary, Queen of Scots, and her husband, the French King François II, to give up Mary’s claim to the English crown and to recognise Elizabeth I as rightful Queen of England. The earlier Treaty of Berwick was signed on the 27th of February, 1560, between the representatives of Queen Elizabeth I of England and the Scottish Lords of the Congregation.

The result of that treaty was that an English fleet and an army came to Scotland to help expel the ten thousand French troops that were defending the Regency of the Catholic Mary of Guise. The reason Elizabeth was so keen on that treaty was because she feared that France intended to rule Scotland, which would have threatened her realm. In addition, she feared greater unity between Scotland and France, and in particular, Mary Stewart’s claim to her throne. Mary had a strong claim to that throne, through her grandfather, James IV, who was married to Margaret Tudor, sister of Henry VIII. Catholic Mary was therefore a legitimate relative of Henry VIII, unlike Protestant Elizabeth, who was illegitimate, at least in Catholic eyes, because they saw her father’s marriage to Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth’s mother, as being illegal. Ipso facto, she was not the true Queen of England.

In addition, when Mary had married the then fifteen year old Dauphin, François, on the 24th of April, 1558, when she was herself just fourteen, the two countries had signed an accord. That agreement stipulated that the crowns of Scotland and France would be unified if there were children of the marriage, and the crown of Scotland would be given to France if there were not. From a French point of view, because Mary had legitimate claims, they wanted her to be the Queen of England, Scotland and France. Voilà!

Another factor concerning Elizabeth was the desire to further hasten the Reformation in Scotland, which is why the Scottish Lords of the Congregation were trying to get the Catholic French expelled. For Elizabeth, if Scotland were Protestant, that would make it an ally and help protect England. Armed conflict ensued and the English arrived. French troops retreated, and fortified the port and town of Leith against the combined force of English and Scottish Protestants. And so began the Siege of Leith.

With the death of Mary of Guise, on the 11th of June, 1560, the figurehead of the Scottish Catholic resistance was removed. Mary of Guise had been ruling as Queen Regent on behalf of her absent daughter, Mary, Queen of Scots, who was at that time also Queen Consort in France. In Mary’s absence, the Lords of the Congregation acted on Scotland’s behalf or more properly, their own behalf. Some were confirmed Protestants and couldn’t see past their religious fervour, but some were just chancers who saw an opportunity to claim power for themselves. The terms of the treaty were drawn up on the 5th of July by John de Montluc, Bishop of Valence, Charles de la Rochefoucault, Sieur de Randan, Sir William Cecil and Nicholas Wotton, Dean of Canterbury and York. It was concluded on the following day, the 6th of July, 1560. Nobody asked Mary, Queen of Scots, if that would be OK.

After the Treaty was signed, the French and English armies left Scotland and left the Scottish Protestant nobles in charge – properly delighted with themselves. Later, in August, the ‘Reformation Parliament’ of 1560 met and ratified the acts that would establish the Protestant Kirk in Scotland. It prohibited the practise of the Latin Mass in Scotland and denied the authority of the Pope, in effect implementing the Reformation across Scotland. The detestable John Knox was one of the leading figures during the rebellion against Mary of Guise and French Catholic control of Scotland. The signing of the Treaty and the removal of the French enabled him to return from Europe to lead the fight to make Scotland Protestant. Ultimately, he and his Calvinist successors succeeded.

On the 5th of December, 1560, the eighteen years old Mary, Queen of Scots, was widowed and, as Charles IX had no real incentive to support her, she was increasingly isolated in France. The French also had more to do with their own affairs after the outbreak of the Wars of Religion. And so, on the 19th of August, 1561, Mary had little choice but to accept an invitation to return to Protestant Scotland as Queen. Now, don’t forget, the Treaty of Edinburgh had not been ratified by Mary, Queen of Scots. She was the reigning monarch and it needed her ratification, but as somebody might have said, “Ach weel, it was lackin’ only a signature and hersel’ still a wee bit lassie, just.” Mary was put under considerable pressure to ratify the Treaty, but she had no intention of so doing. She viewed the Lords of the Congregation as rebels and traitors against herself and her mother, Mary of Guise. Another reason for not ratifying the treaty was because it officially declared Elizabeth I Queen of England, effectively ending Mary’s claim to that throne. When all was said and done, Mary had to accept the terms of the Treaty, but she never signed.

#scotland #scottish #France #england #History #mary queen of scots #The Stewarts

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riathel · 5 years

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Thoughts about Shelley and the Unresolved Questions of Season 12

Well, I am writing a meta post about the Timeless Children and why I think it adds such an interesting complexity to the Master’s relationship with the Doctor, but in the meantime, while I process that finale, I wanted to write about something I’ve noticed this entire season.

The connection to the Shelleys and to Byron.

To TL;DR this post: I think that next season, we’ll get an answer to who the Kasaavin are, it will tie into Percy having had the Cyberium in him (and it having been around Byron’s house), and we’ll get some huge development for Yaz, the Master and the Doctor, as they’ve all been in the Kasaavin realm.

Let’s recap all the times we’ve lingered around Byron and the Shelleys this season, shall we? This includes some very brief history lessons, and I will be including links!

Episode 2: Spyfall Part 2

We meet Ada Lovelace, who has a connection to the Kasaavin. She sees them in her dreams, she’s the one to rescue the Doctor from their realm. Brief history lesson: Ada Lovelace was an absolutely BRILLIANT mathematician and the parent of computers. She was also the only legitimate child of Lord Byron and his wife. She died in 1852 at age 36, taken far too young. I’ll post the scene here for benefit:

[Kasaavin realm] ADA: Please be assured all this will pass. I shall be recovered momentarily. DOCTOR: When you say recovered, what do you mean? ADA: The paralysis will fade. DOCTOR: You don't look paralysed. ADA: Not in this realm, but in my earthly aspect. DOCTOR: Right. What's your name? ADA: I am Ada. DOCTOR: And what do you think this realm is, Ada? ADA: I believe it to be my mind. Though I have not met another here before. DOCTOR: Then what do you think I am? ADA: I presume you are a consequence of my thoughts. DOCTOR: No. I'm the Doctor, and I'm very real. But you've been here before? ADA: Many times. When the paralysis subsides, I find myself fully back in my body, restored in the physical realm. If you are real, do you have your own solution for egress from here? DOCTOR: No exit strategy. Before I leave, I need to work out what this place is. Oh! Those fragments of light or energy, why are they surrounding you? ADA: They are always here with me. They place a word in my mind. Kasaavin? (One of the light creatures appears.) DOCTOR: Ada, step away. ADA: Do not be afraid. This is my guardian. DOCTOR: This is their realm. This is where they're from. But how did you bring us here? Unless... You can't be. But you must be. What, gateways? We go through you and arrive in your realm? I say realm. It's not a planet, not really a void. A separate dimension? Are we beyond our... my universe? ADA: Little of what you are saying makes sense to me, but I am concerned you'll be marooned here. When my guardian has returned... DOCTOR: They're not your guardians. ADA: I can offer you my hand. We may leave this place together. DOCTOR: I don't think that will work. ADA: How will you know if you do not try? Decide, Doctor.

Later in the episode:

DOCTOR: If you're Charles Babbage, then you're not just any old Ada. You're Ada Lovelace, daughter of Lord Byron and Annabella Milbanke, one of the great minds. ADA: I am Ada Gordon, madam. DOCTOR: 1834. Of course you are. Well, maybe one day, who knows, you might meet a nice Earl. This changes everything! This isn't an accident. Ada Lovelace in Babbage's house? You're clues. You're important.

Charles Babbage has the Silver Lady (aka the Kasaavin device) in his house, but Ada is the one who has been being visited by them.

DOCTOR: Ada, when was your first paralysis? ADA: I was 13 years old. That is when I was first transported to the place where we met, and I first saw an apparition. DOCTOR: And over the years, the paralysis recurs with the same effect? ADA: Yes. No doctor has ever been able to diagnose the cause. DOCTOR: Well, this Doctor may be able to. An apparition, from this machine. BABBAGE: Correct. DOCTOR: So, they take you, Ada, multiple times from here and they study you in their dimension, which means they can't be in this dimension for long. But maybe they gain an ally, a mastermind who builds them a machine which stabilises them in this world long enough for them to send spies and to spread their work and start a plan. 'Cause I've seen the map in his hut. Multiple Earths. Except not. Not multiple Earths. Multiple time periods. These creatures aren't just alien spies on Earth, they're spies through Time, through history, starting with you.

Or, at the very least, the Doctor assumed they were starting with Ada. Maybe they started earlier - with her parents. Or maybe the Master found out about the events of The Haunting of Villa Diodati with the Cyberium - but we’ll get to that in time.

Again, Spyfall ends with a neat-ish conclusion as to them being focussed on “computing history” and “human DNA”

DOCTOR: I know what this is. A temporal map, showing every significant person in the development of computers through history, starting with you, Ada. This is the plan. See? BOTH: No. ADA: Wh... what is a computer? DOCTOR: Oh, forget you heard that word, otherwise I've just disrupted the whole of history. Again. Okay. Ah, my brain's fizzing. Good. The Kasaavin posted an agent on every person on that map, because that's what spies do, what Barton does. They gather all the data. Where does the DNA fit in? Kasaavin, technology, DNA. How are they all connected? Oh! Human DNA. That's what they were testing.

Episode 8: The Haunting of Villa Diodati

Gif by itberice.

This is the big episode, where I started to notice it especially. Huh, a bit a coincidence they’re doing Byron when Ada was his daughter. Interesting.

DOCTOR: Okay, so there was a spot of rain, and gale-force winds and a super-long walk. But I got us here, didn't I? And Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, soon to be Shelley, screamed in your face. Quality historical experience, that. Gold. YASMIN: (sotto) On that night that inspired Frankenstein. FLETCHER: If... you'd be so kind. GRAHAM: Blimey. DOCTOR: Excuse me, Yaz. I was very clear about the rules. RYAN: Nobody mention Frankenstein, and don't interfere. YASMIN: And nobody snog Byron.

This is because, as Tumblr has already noted, Byron is a thot/fuckboi.

BYRON: She walks in beauty, like the night. DOCTOR: Of cloudless climes and starry skies. BYRON: I'm intensely flattered you're familiar with my work, Mrs Doctor. DOCTOR: Just Doctor is fine. I'm quite into Shelley's stuff too. He about?

Then enters the Lone Cyberman (aka Ashad). It is scouring the villa for Percy, to obtain the Cyberium, and cannot find him. When it starts charging up, it begins to quote Percy’s poetry (specifically Queen Mab book 2 and Queen Mab book 3)

CYBERMAN (glowing with energy): There's not one atom of yon Earth, but once was living man. (Book 2) The sword that stabs his peace; He cherisheth The snakes that gnaw his heart; he raises up the tyrant whose delight Is in his woe. (Book 3)

As the episode progresses, Ashad gets the Cyberium back from Percy (who has been dying with it). Even more interestingly though - the Cyberium wants to choose the Doctor.

DOCTOR: And it chooses me. Interesting. Time Lord magnetism. Looks like I'm the true Guardian. (The Cyberium passes into the Doctor.) CYBERMAN: Surrender it or I will execute you. DOCTOR: I'd be very careful with those execution threats. I can feel it already, fusing to me. It feels very at home. Recognising great host material. Not to big myself up, but I don't think it'll vacate me without a fight.

But now we know - she’s not just a Time Lord. So can the Cyberium sense that? Did it know? Or perhaps, even if she were just a Time Lord, it would have preferred her... Anyway, this deviates too hard into my other, upcoming post. I think this episode, the Villa episode, was VITAL in determining what will happen next season.

Episode 10: The Timeless Children

MASTER: Look upon my work, Doctor, and despair.

This is an homage to Percy Shelley’s sonnet, Ozymandias, which contains the iconic lines:

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Oh, cute, what a fun little addition, I first thought when I heard it in the finale. (It now occurs to me, while writing this, that the Master might have quoted Shelley to the Doctor because he knows she loves his work. My poor shipper heart.)

Then I thought - hang on. That’s a lot of “coincidental” involvement with the Byrons & Shelleys in this season, especially when the rest of the plots have been so deftly woven with surprises.

The Master mentions to Ashad/the Cyberium that he has the entire Matrix in his head and then he ends up absorbing the Cyberium into him, linking it with him in ways that will have consequences we haven’t even seen yet. It all sets up such a juicy, interesting thread into the next season.

Summary:

What does it all mean? Who can say? I hope this will give us some answer for what the Kasaavin are, where their universe is (is it beyond the Boundary? is it another Boundary?), how the Master found them (was it in the Matrix? did the Time Lords know about them?)

Most importantly: I think Yaz will play a huge role in the next season, given she was in the Kasaavin realm, as will the Doctor and (I suspect/hope) the Master again. This Kasaavin plot-line is still left unresolved, and I will be incredibly interested to see what Chibnall’s plan contains.

This could all just be a very cute, season-long homage to Byron/Shelley... but... it’s very suspicious. Especially given they have an entire two episodes focussed on them/their progeny.

If anyone has any other examples of Percy & Byron or descendants in season 11/12, please add them through reblogs! :D I worry that I haven’t gotten every single moment, or that I missed a couple of them.

Links to biographies:

Ada Lovelace Mary Shelley Percy Shelley Lord Byron

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #dw spoilers #thirteenth doctor #dhawan!master #best enemies #ashad #spyfall part 2 #the haunting of villa diodati #the timeless children #dw meta #just a fun little meta post about something i found really curious!#thoschei #thirsacha

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smileyoongle · 5 years

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•••(ＡＢＴＳＯｎｅＳｈｏｔＳｅｒｉｅｓ)•••

nσtє: thíѕ wσrk íѕ purєlч fíctíσnαl. thє fαctѕ ѕtαtєd hєrє mαч σr mαч nσt вє truє. plєαѕє dσ nσt tαkє σffєnѕє tσ ít. mαч cσntαín ѕlíght mєntíσnѕ σf dєαth αnd вlσσd. αlѕσ, wíll prσвαвlч єnd up вєíng ѕupєr lσng вut wσrth ít. чσu mαч prσcєєd.

Pairing: Demon Yoongi×Reader

ƤƛƦƬ ƬӇƦЄЄ: ƇƦƛƔЄ

-(Mɪɴ Yᴏᴏɴɢɪ- Dᴇᴍᴏɴ)-

Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒｏｎｅ

You stared at your thighs, your fingers clenching around the thin lace that covered your body. The room was dark apart from the moonlight that shone from the windows, your eyes constantly going over the black mark on your wrist.

It wasn't just any mark though. Only those who were chosen by demons had it. And you had a bigger and more prominent mark. Because you weren't just chosen by any demon. You were chosen by Min Yoongi, one of the two sons of the present high lord who ruled the world. He went by the name Asmodeus all around the world.

The world that was once under humans had now become a feeding ground for demons. They ruled the world, all countries having their own demon kings. But Min Yoongi?

He was the future high lord, the king of all demons. And to become a king, he needed a queen. A human queen so that humans didn't rebel against the king's rule. You didn't know how you ended up here but all you knew was that the black ink on your wrist had been there since you were 13.

You still recalled how you were wandering around the dark forest, collecting all kinds of flowers and stones that caught your eye even if it was forbidden for humans to enter the woods after dark.

That's when you had met him, the pale skinned man with piercing black eyes who stood at a distance and stared at you while you struggled to pick a flower which was situated deep in the bushes. He approached you slowly, making sure you had his attention when he spoke.

"What are you doing here in the forest, little one? You should be at home." His gentle voice had you staring at him in curiosity.

"I will do what I want. Being at home is boring anyway." You retorted, crossing your arms and glaring at the flower that was too stubborn to come to you. You heard the man chuckle, the sound resonating in the stretch of the woods.

"Brave thing, aren't you? Do you know who you're talking to?" He asked, tilting his head to the side and bending down to your eye level. You narrowed your eyes, goosebumps rising on your skin when you saw his black eyes. They were completely black, unlike yours. But they were pretty. As pretty as a deer's.

"I don't know who you are. I just want that flower." You stated, pointing at the black rose that held a certain sparkle to it. The man turned his head to see what you were pointing at. He immediately shook his head at you. "That flower isn't just any flower, little one. If I give that to you, you will be indebted to me." He answered making you frown in confusion.

"What does that mean?" You questioned, your lips pouting in disappointment. He smiled, pausing for a moment before answering.

"It means you will have to fulfill a wish of mine. Will you do that?" He asked in response, making you nod your head furiously. You didn't know that the black rose was gonna bind you to him. It was sacred in the demon realm and they brought it with them. If you accepted it from the hands of a demon, it meant that you were willing to sell your soul to him.

The black eyed man flicked his wrist, sending black smoke in the direction of the rose. You gaped in awe as the rose came off it's stem and towards you, held by nothing but the smoke. Before the rose could reach you, the man held it in his own hands.

"Don't forget your promise to me, little one. I'll come for you someday." He said, handing you the rose. You grinned at him, squealing in excitement when you held the rose in your hands.

And that's how you had sealed your fate. The man's face was a blur to you but you knew it was him when he appeared at your doorstep on the day of the choosing.

You had taken the sacred rose from the hands of Min Yoongi, the demon prince at that time. He had chosen you to be with him.

The door to the big lavish room opened, revealing your to-be husband walking inside with a delightful smirk on his lips. His eyes danced over your body, humming on seeing the white lace that barely covered you. It showed off your skin but this was what you were given to wear.

"Are you ready to fulfill my wish, petal?" He cooed, placing his knees on the bed as he crawled to you. Your breathing grew heavy, your cheeks heating up as you looked away. A soft gasp escaped your lips when he placed a finger on your chin, turning your face to look at you.

You hesitantly looked at his eyes, noticing that they weren't completely black anymore. His hot breath fanned your lips, his other hand snaking around your waist and pulling you into his lap. "Answer me, petal. Let me hear your pretty voice." He said, caressing your cheek as gently as he could. His touch had you clenching your legs together, your body burning with want. "Yes.." you replied, a hushed whisper making its way to his ear.

His eyes darkened in response, the same eyes that you had seen when you first met him. He brushed his lips against yours, making you close your eyes immediately as you clenched your fists by your side. He seemed to notice, his hands now holding yours and placing them around his neck.

"You and I will be one after tonight, petal. Inseparable and together for eternity." He purred, pushing the straps of your lace gown down your shoulders as he laid you down on the plush bed.

After a night of sweet whimpers and moans, your life had become his. Your soul had become his and you had become his. Inseparable, as he called it. But nothing could have prepared you for what was coming.

The next day was his coronation, the high king had finally stepped down after 1000 years of being a royal. You had been dolled up by all the human maidens in the palace, a silk black gown adorning your curves. You were on your way to the ceremony when you heard his voice from within a room nearby. It was Yoongi's voice. You'd recognise it anywhere now.

"She's just a silly mortal. One that I'd gladly give away once I've been crowned."

Your eyes burned with rage and tears. Your heart that had thought Yoongi was going to love you for your entire life felt betrayed to no extent. Since the moment you met him, he had haunted you in your dreams, talking to you and making you warm up to him. He made you devote yourself to him, just to break it all in a second.

With a choked sob, you held your gown and raced down the corridors, ignoring the looks that were thrown your way. You locked yourself in a strange room situated at the corner of the palace. It seemed like an attic with all the dusty furniture and bookshelves.

You pushed yourself against a wall and cried your heart out, concluding that you couldn't stay here. So you waited until you heard the emptiness in the corridors, the indication that everyone had gathered in the ceremony hall for the coronation. And when you were sure that there was no one around, you ran outside the gates, glancing behind you just once to see if anyone was coming to find you.

Your steps faltered when you saw him staring at you from a window. Your vision was blurry but you could make out his blank eyes piercing through you. Your heart was in your throat, your eyes widening when you heard him in your mind.

"Come back, Y/N. We can talk about this."

So demons can talk to their chosen ones telepathically? Interesting. You found yourself shaking your head, wiping away your tears furiously.

"Never." You answered, bunching up your gown again and turning around to run far far away from him. You didn't turn back to look at him. You didn't want to. His voice kept echoing in your mind, your tears continuously falling as you ran to wherever your feet took you.

You hated him.

You'll always hate him.

____________________________________________

Six months and Yoongi didn't leave you alone for a second. Every demon's throat you slashed, his voice was there to make you think twice. If it wasn't for Jimin then you would have surely ran back to him.

You pushed open the door to your dainty cottage, the warm air greeting you as you quickly pushed the heavy coat off your shoulders. The door closed behind you, the snowy wind stirring up a storm outside. The weather was acting up for sure. You hissed and looked down at your collarbone, not being able to look at your torn black shirt. There was a deep wound etched into your skin, blood seeping down into your clothes. You had no idea how you made it back home without passing out. Your chest heaved as you plopped down on the couch, wincing and cursing at the demon who attacked you. As if things couldn't get worse, the black mark on your wrist began to burn, sending you into a spiral of whimpers and cries.

You weren't oblivious to this, the mark on your wrist burned almost always. But it intensified whenever another demon was in your vicinity. Jimin told you that it burned all the time because you had rejected your soulmate. It made sense. Mates were supposed to be emotionally and physically attached. Unfortunately for you, you had let Yoongi claim you physically. Good thing you didn't marry him otherwise, you would have probably gone insane by now.

Jimin knew every single thing about demons. He took you in when you were roaming the streets in search of a place where Yoongi couldn't find you. Jimin had been a demon slayer since a long time, finding solace in killing them as revenge for his family's death. He understood you and your heartbreak, giving you his shoulder to cry on when you needed it. He protected you from anything and everything, never giving you a chance to complain. This time, you were just unlucky that you had decided to go and buy more supplies all alone.

"Jimin?" You cried out, looking around the house for any signs of him being home. The day wasn't in your favour at all, first being attacked by a demon and then this stupid mark. You were scared that there was someone else in the house because if that was the case, then you were dead. The loss of blood was making you dizzy and you didn't think you'd be able to stay up longer. Heavy footsteps padded through the house, Jimin's panicked face coming into view. You sighed in relief, drowning away all the negative thoughts at the sight. He looked okay, apart from the concern lacing his features which was probably for you.

Jimin's eyes fell on the gash on your collarbone, his feet immediately dragging him towards the cabinet at the end of the hallway. "I told you to let me come with you!" He bellowed, making you wince. You couldn't blame him for worrying about you. You were a very clumsy person and sometimes felt like you were a burden on Jimin. He was constantly trying to keep you safe, leaving himself out in the process. This only made you guilty.

Jimin sat down beside you, placing a bottle of rubbing alcohol on the table along with various other things. He tore the remaining piece of cloth and tossed it to the ground, your cheeks heating up at your exposed shoulder. You bit your lip and looked down, craning your neck to the side and wincing when you stretched the injured skin a little.

Jimin inspected the bloody cut, shaking his head in disappointment. "I'm gonna have to stitch it up. I'm surprised you even came back safely." He stated, his voice soft but firm. You sighed, nodding your head and sitting back comfortably.

Your eyes closed on their own accord, your eyebrows twitching at the feel of Jimin's eyes on you. As much as you wanted to sleep the pain off, you couldn't. The process of cleaning up your wound was a little more painful. You were hissing every time Jimin touched your skin.

Stupid demon.

"I don't know if you have noticed but recently we have been getting too many demons on our tail." You begrudgingly opened your eyes, frowning at Jimin. He was right and you knew that. This past month had been harder for you both, dealing with a demon almost every day. It was as if they were on the lookout for you. If that was true then you wouldn't be too surprised. Of course, the demon community was mad at you for killing their kind without any mercy. But could you really do anything? They barely treated your kind like humans so why should you be the one to let them off the hook?

You're killing them only because your hatred for Min Yoongi is greater than your love for humans.

You scowled at your conscience for speaking like that. Truth was definitely bitter. You just wanted to show Yoongi that you could survive without him. "I noticed but I don't think there's anything we can do." You replied, your voice shaky due to how weak you felt.

Jimin dabbed the alcohol drenched cloth on your skin, trying to get all the blood away before picking up the surgical needle. "It's not a coincidence, Y/N. Lucifer has been sending people out to hunt us. He's trying to get us to stop and in return, he is killing five humans every day."

Your breath hitched at Jimin's words. Lucifer? As in...Jeon Jungkook?

You pursed your lips, ignoring the dull ache in your heart. Your wrist continued to throb but it was better, nothing too unbearable. Your mind raced with thoughts, theorising your own assumptions. Jungkook was Yoongi's brother, you knew that very well. They both had different mothers, unfortunately competing for the throne. The high king had laid down a condition, that whichever brother found his mate first would get to take the throne. That day when you ran away, you took away Yoongi's chance of being the high king. It was a little sad but you weren't too bothered, considering that he was only using you.

"What do we do then?" You asked in a hushed whisper, a sudden chill running down your spine. A very cold feeling washed over you, strangely not making you feel uncomfortable. Your heart started beating faster, your wrist burning once again. Jimin bit the inside of his cheek, looking at you to make sure that you were stable enough to listen to what he had to say. He didn't want you to lash out on him. This was the only way to stop the killing of innocent humans who were dying because of you and him.

"We...we need to go to the palace and make sure that... Jungkook doesn't get the throne. It's rumoured that he has found his mate."

You visibly stopped breathing, your eyes frozen on Jimin's face, trying to see if he was joking. At least that's what you were hoping for. Jimin's eyes were dark with no traces of this being a playful suggestion. He was dead serious and you felt your heart sink. The thought of going back to him was traumatising. You didn't even want to see him again, his face only fuelled the anger within you.

You know that's a lie.

You swallowed thickly, your throat closing in and making you feel like you were breathless. "No.." you mumbled, shaking your head furiously. Jimin's eyes softened, his hands holding yours gently and squeezing them. He leaned closer to you, preparing to give you the most convincing speech ever. Because that's who Jimin was. The righteous human who saved his kind from the wrath of demons.

"Y/N listen to me. We need-". You yanked your hands out from his and stood up, taking steps backwards until you were out of his reach. At this point, you didn't want to listen to anything he wanted to say. There was nothing that could convince you. Not now. Not ever. Jimin tried to talk again, gesturing to your open wound and requesting you to sit down but you continued to shake your head, sniffling and mumbling 'no' again and again.

"No! There's nothing you can say that will make me wanna go back there. He lives there, Jimin. And I hate him. I'll never give him the satisfaction of using me to get whatever he wishes. I've been dying inside every day. All because of him."

"And I'm sorry for that."

Your heart stopped, your mind clicking on all the reasons why you felt so cold. You immediately turned around, your eyes meeting his. The sigil on your wrist became numb, no more burning. And you concluded that it was because he was here, right in front of you. He looked better than you saw him last, his hair black and shiny and his lips pink and plump. He wore a black turtle neck along with an overcoat, his hands tucked into its pockets. His eyes, that you remembered to be emotionless, were showing you just how sorry he was.

Betrayal. That was all you could think about. And the next thing you knew, you were facing Jimin with your fists clenched and your teeth grinding. "You let him in. Why?" Your voice was firm, surprisingly because you were on the verge of crying. The man who you were in love with was standing before you while you pretended to hate him. But the truth was, you'd never be able to bring yourself to hate him as much as you wanted to.

Jimin closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking at you with a tired expression. He placed his hands on your shoulders and you sensed a terrifying energy in the room, your eyes glancing at Yoongi who was eyeing Jimin's hands. Jimin was careful not to touch your wound, the burning pain heating up your skin. Your head began to spin uncontrollably and you could tell you were going to faint very soon. Maybe you should have gotten yourself treated first. "Y/N, I know you don't like this idea but this is the only way to stop Jungkook. Please."

Your lips quivered, your head throbbing as you swayed a little on the spot. Jimin's eyes widened and he helped you sit down on the couch, catching on to your weakness. Yoongi was right behind you, his hands itching to yank Jimin away from you but he couldn't. So many misunderstandings but you didn't even want to listen to him. Your eyes began closing, your body going limp as sweat beaded on your forehead.

"He's a monster. Don't make me love him again."

Yoongi's fists clenched, his body frozen on the spot as he watched you faint. The cut on your neck was fresh and heavily bleeding. Yoongi had somehow convinced Jimin to help take down Jungkook but you were stubborn. He didn't blame you though. It was his fault for not prognosticating jungkook's intentions. Jimin looked up at Yoongi, his eyes filled with questions about the future. What now?

"I'll convince her." Yoongi muttered, making Jimin nod sternly.

_____________________________________________

The long corridor stretched out in front of you, taunting you with the memories from the day Yoongi was going to be crowned. You couldn't tell if this was real or not but the fuzzy darkness in your eyes told you that this was a vision. As if someone was trying to show you something. You found yourself growing angry, knowing that this was all Yoongi. Suddenly you started moving towards the room from inside which you had heard Yoongi's voice, your eyes meeting his but it seemed as if he couldn't see you. You realised that you weren't really there, you weren't in control of anything. Yoongi's dark eyes stared blankly at the wall before him, his hip resting against the edge of a huge table. The noise of footsteps made you turn your head to the door, your own body coming into view. You saw yourself all dressed up, halting beside the room just as Yoongi began to talk.

"She's just a silly mortal. One that I'd gladly give away once I've been crowned."

You saw the horror stricken expression on your face, reminding you of the pain you had felt in your chest. And just like that, you were gone, your sight turning back to Yoongi who was suddenly grinning. Something wasn't right. Yoongi seemed too robotic and besides, why was he talking to himself? You sensed your own fear when his face morphed into someone else, his soft features being replaced by a much sharper jawline and big doe eyes. Jungkook.

You watched him walk towards the door, his head peeking outside at your running figure. "Poor brother. Looks like you aren't gonna be crowned today." You heard him say, a devious chuckled leaving his lips and you found it replaying in your mind like a record player. What had you done?

Your eyes opened all of a sudden, your chest heaving as you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom. Your cheeks were wet, you could feel that but your worries were worse than that. You rejected your mate and on the basis of what? A string of words you heard. That weren't even said by him.

"Please tell me you don't hate me anymore."

Your breath hitched, your eyes looking at him as he stood near your bed. You swallowed thickly, pushing yourself up and resting against the pillows. Jimin wasn't here. At least not in the room. You noticed that your collar didn't hurt anymore, your fingers carefully tracing your skin to find nothing there. The wound was gone.

"How do I believe that whatever I saw was true?" You enquired, bunching up the blanket in your fingers. The bed dipped beside you, Yoongi's hand holding yours in it. You felt a rush of cold energy, your body suddenly aching to be touched by him. He still made you feel all hot and bothered. He placed a finger under your chin, pushing your face up so that you'd look at him. You saw the way his eyes held so much love in them, tears springing to your eyes at the thought of you having deprived yourself of what could have been a happy life.

"Why would I want to lose the one thing that means the world to me?" On the outside, it might have seemed like Yoongi's words were sincere. They were sincere, really. But the meaning was a little more deeper than you could comprehend. When Yoongi saw the convinced look on your face, he pressed his lips against yours, laughing mentally at the thought of his poor brother who was soon gonna die. This is what he wanted. This was a competition, after all. A competition, not for the throne but for who finds love first and Yoongi couldn't wait to watch Jungkook lose.

Taglist: @btsarmysvtcarat @min-t-posts @vannilacake @andestea @lemonjoonah @bangtann-boys @hoseokslefteyebrow @cadet-lea-05 @kawaiimusiccollection @pearylove @bee-diggity @jooniescupcakes @risefallrise

If you can't tell already, this is chapter one. There'll be a chapter two in a couple days or something. Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged! Okay bye ily!

-XX

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maximumphilosopheranchor · 4 years

Note

Hello!Can you give information about philip ii’s court and people that surrendered him in general?

Hello!

Sorry for the delay. I was pondering a lot drafting my answer how to respond to your question the best because firstly it’s too broad a matter to deal with it here, and, secondly, Philip’s biographies I have read don’t provide as much detailed information on the court under Philip as I would like. Also, I have to say - I haven’t done with reading about Philip and this is something I look forward to learn more about in future.

Anyway, here’s what I gathered. It covers the order after Philip’s return to Spain in 1559.

“The ‘court’ in Madrid had several functions. At the centre was the king, served by his household. There were satellite households, of the queen, the Infantas, and other immediate members of the royal family. Their combined personnel, adding on the staff in the stables and the guards, amounted to a small army. The theatre of their activities was the enlarged and reformed Alcázar [the royal palace, formerly fortress]. The king as chief actor brought three other spheres of activity into this scenario: the functioning of government, the management of diplomacy and ritual, and the direction of public entertainment. Fixing the king’s residence in Madrid gave for the first time in Spain’s history a permanent location for all these functions. (..)

Since the adoption of Burgundian ceremonial in 1548 the size of the royal household had grown enormously. The main component was the king’s household, divided into five main units: household, kitchen, chapel, stables and cellar. Each unit was headed by a nobleman in charge of its administration. The household guard formed an additional unit. Other immediate members of the royal family had smaller households, all financed by the king. The most drastic innovation of these years was the large and expensive retinue which Elizabeth Valois brought and insisted on maintaining, although many of the servants were sent home a few weeks later. The Venetian ambassador felt that it was because ‘the Frenchmen were very ill-dressed, dirty, careless and disrespectful’. Elizabeth’s demands inflated the queen’s household into an entity almost as large as that of the king. (..)

The king’s court in his last dozen years suffered from a lack of social gaiety, due in part to the king’s poor health, in part to his absences and travels. But for the first twenty-five years of the reign there was no lack of vitality. (..) Three factors explain the vigorous life of the royal circle. Most nobles took the court seriously; the queens contributed enormously to social life; and the king himself had an active interest in music and entertainment. (..)

No European court could exist without a client nobility. The Spanish nobles continued to have immense military and economical resources, but these were threatened by rising costs and a high death-rate among heirs. The court offered hope, because it presented the chance of employment and influence, as well as contacts which could lead to marriage. For those who liked such things, there was also the life-style, a welcome relief after the monotony of the provinces. As Madrid grew, more and more nobles gravitated there. ‘It is terrible,’ the king commented, ‘that they all want to leave their estates and become residents of the court.’ A courtly society came into existence, with its own special rules and, later, its own literature. The court of the king, like the courts of the great nobility, was a theatre not only of ritual but also of entertainment, leisure and diversion. (..)

The contribution of the queens to court life was fundamental. Elizabeth of Valois from the beginning tried to reproduce the gaiety of the Renaissance court she had left behind. She enjoyed parties, masked balls, buffoonery, spectacles, outings to her palaces, and picnics. (..) In jousts, she played the part of liege lady to the three young court princes: Don Carlos, Don Juan of Austria, and the prince of Parma. It gave them a romantic scenario which in turn influenced their chivalric ideals. Elizabeth also contributed to the cultural life of court by her love of music, plays and art: she extended her personal patronage to Sanchez Coello and to the Italian Sofonisba. Anna’s [Philip’s fourth wife] role was more subdued and coincided more closely with that of Philip. In the absences of the king’s court, the queens had their own social life in Madrid. Anna loved comedies. In February 1571, she ‘enjoyed herself in the apartments of the princess [Philip’s sister Juana] at a comedy that she ordered to be performed there. At four in the afternoon the Infantas [Philip’s daughters] went to join the queen and enjoyed the play as though they were much older.’

The king’s sisters also played a crucial role. When the empress Maria came to reside in Madrid, she contributed powerfully to the prestige of a city which, during Philip’s absence in Lisbon, had no king. She set herself up in apartments in convent of the Descalzas, where she periodically put on musical entertainments. All visiting dignitaries to Madrid were obliged by protocol to make a formal visit to the empress before calling on any other official.

(..) In his youth as well as during his years abroad, he [Philip] had delighted in jousts and tourneys. The Amadis of Gaul was one of his favourite books (he later approved it as a set text for his son Philip when the latter began to learn French). Whenever possible he presided over tournaments at court. (..) The essential feature of the ‘court’ in Madrid was the royal household. If the king was away, he took most of his household with him. This turned the Alcázar into an empty shell, populated only by its staff, some government officials, and the household of any remaining member of the royal family (..) Practical factors, such as the sheer cost of moving around the kingdom, were beginning to distance European rulers from their subjects. Complex ceremonial further helped to isolate the king. Philip was deeply concerned for his people, but had little effective contact with them. He felt that his accessibility on feast-days, which he tried to maintain all his life, was adequate. (..) As often as feasible, he had his lunch ‘in public’. But this involved no more than lunching (alone) in one of the large reception rooms of the Alcázar, where members of the court and public might see him. (..) He made a rule of being accessible to private petitions while going to or from Sunday mass and deliberately walked slowly, so that people would have a chance to catch up with him.”

Henry Kamen, Philip of Spain

As you can see although Philip had made Madrid the capital city in 1561 he didn’t reside there permanently. He traveled considerably within his Iberian realms and moved among his country palaces which he improved, rebuilt or built - the Pardo, Aranjuez, Valsaín, also known as El Bosque de Segovia, and later, of course, El Escorial where he spent much time after 1571 - and which were located not far from Madrid. In his far distance journeys through the Iberian peninsula the large part of the court went with him but to his country palaces he usually took with himself a small entourage.

“Although Philip made Madrid his permanent administrative capital in 1561 he spent less than half his life there. He resided in his Aragonese lands for several months in 1563-4 and 1585-6, with a shorter visit in 1592; he toured Andalusia in 1570; and in 1580 he left for Portugal and spent three years away from Madrid. Teofilo Ruiz has stressed in A king travels that these long, slow royal progresses involved immense preparation and lavish urban spectacles that often left the king exhausted, and that each of them was ‘inextricably linked to the exercise and experience of power’. At other times the king travelled informally, moving rapidly between his country houses with a small entourage and sometimes alone as he tried to escape the bustle of his court, because ‘tranquility’, according to a Venetian ambassador in 1565, ‘is His Majesty’s greatest entertainment and relaxation’.”

Geoffrey Parker, Imprudent King: A New Life of Philip II

Beside Philip’s wives, sisters, and children at his court in various time periods lived also other his family members: Philip’s illegitimate half-brother Don Juan of Austria, Philip’s nephews Alessandro Farnese, the Duke of Parma, and Arch-Dukes Rudolf, Ernest, Albert and Wenceslas.

On the men who surrounded Philip at the beginning of his reign.

Philip’s closest friend and one of the most important advisers was Ruy Gómez de Silva (1516-1573). He was a Portuguese nobleman and had served Philip’s mother as a page. He and the Castilian nobleman Fernando Álvarez de Toledo, the Duke of Alba, were Philip’s most influential household officers. According to Patrick Williams:

“Technically, his power-base derived from his office of sumiller de corps [court officer in charge of supervising the dressing and undressing of a king and everything to do with the royal bedchamber], in which capacity he controlled the working of Philip’s household, but in reality he owed his political power to his personal relationship with the monarch. Philip had come to trust Ruy Gómez’s judgement and recognised that he needed his moral and practical support as he entered into his kingship. It may indeed have been to prevent Ruy Gomez from exercising too great an influence over Philip that Charles had placed Alba and Gómez in equally strong positions at the head of Philip’s household – Alba as his mayordomo mayor [chief officer of a household] and Ruy Gómez as his sumiller de corps. In England the two men began a struggle for influence that continued until Ruy Gómez ’s death.”

Patrick Williams, Philip II

Apart from this and other posts Philip also created Ruy Gómez the Prince of Éboli and Duke of Pastrana.

Philip’s the second perhaps closest friend after Ruy was Luis de Requesens (1528-1576), the son of Philip’s governor Juan de Zúñiga and his wife Estefanía de Requesens both of whom Philip held in high regard. Unlike Ruy Gómez who was 11 years older than Philip Luis born in 1528 was almost of the same age as Philip and they grew up together, he was Philip’s chief page. He never acquired such power as Ruy Gómez but Philip relied on him greatly and entrusted him important missions which often included controlling the behaviour of someone whose judgement Philip doubted. Philip created him the Grand Commander of Castile and he served Philip as a diplomat and soldier, as lieutenant general to Philip’s half-brother Don Juan suppressing the Morisco revolt, as viceroy of Milan and the Governor of the Netherlands (1573-76).

Among Philip’s personal confidants were also Gómez Suárez de Figueroa, Count and later Duke of Feria (his first representative to Elizabeth I), and don Antonio de Toledo.

Beside Ruy Gómez and the Duke of Alba important statesmen at the beginning of Philip’s reign (not counting those he left in the Netherlands) were: Philip’s secretary Gonzalo Pérez, Francisco de Eraso, secretary of the Council of Finance, Bartolomé de Carranza, Archbishop of Toledo, Fernando de Valdés, Archbishop of Seville and Inquisitor-General, Philip’s confessor Bernardo de Fresneda. During the 1560s a very influential figure was Cardinal Diego de Espinosa whom Philip appointed a member of the council of State, president of the council of Castile and Inquisitor-General. As very important government figures during the second half of the 1560s emerged Philip’s secretaries Antonio Pérez and Mateo Vázquez who was also Philip’s chaplain.

If you have means or access I recommend you to check Maria José Rodriguez-Salgado’s article 'The Court of Philip II of Spain' in R. Asch and A.M. Birke (Eds), Princes, Patronage and the Nobility: The Court at the Beginning of the Modern Age, c.1450-1650 and The Courtier and the King: Ruy Gómez de Silva, Philip II, and the Court of Spain by James M. Boyden.

#Anonymous #ask #Philip II #Philip II of Spain

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narniaandplowmen · 4 years

Text

Mysterious Fathoms Below (3/8)

Fandom: OUAT Pairing: Captain Swan Also on AO3

Rated: General Audiences Complete Full Fic is 12005 words

Summary: When a storm throws Killian overboard, a mysterious mermaid who saves him. Now it is up to him to save her and bring her back home.

[first chapter] • [previous chapter] • [next chapter]

CHAPTER 3 - Buttercup Mark

“A two-minute swim,” Killian huffed. “Sure, for a mermaid it is.” It had taken him almost ten times as long to reach the coast, and another couple of minutes to find a place that wasn't made out of gold where he could actually climb on land. He was soaked and cold and frustrated. And, he had to admit, curious. Why did that mermaid save him? And what had she meant with her parting words? “Excuse me,” he approached a young boy carrying a bucket and a mop. ”Have you seen a splendid ship docked here, named the Jolly Roger?”

~ ~ ~ ~

“I-I'm sorry Captain, w-we thought you were dead, Captain, I- we-”

“It's okay Smee,” Killian replied in an annoyed huff. He turned and continued inspecting the Jolly Roger. It would cost quite a lot of gold to repair the damage the storm had brought. The mast was broken and the rudder was almost splintered. He thought back at Emma. “Smee. How do you contact a mermaid King and Queen?”

“Why, captain?”

“Don't ask me why, Smee. Tell me how.”

~ ~ ~ ~

A merman hurried through the hallways of the underwater castle. He passed rich statues, beautiful curtains, immense portraits without even a passing glance. He only stopped when the giant doors to the throne room were right in front of him. “I bring news for the King and Queen. It's urgent.” The doors open and reveal a gigantic room. Gorgeous pillars holding up a shimmering roof covering two towering thrones, seating a black-haired woman sitting proudly next to her blonde husband. Only those who look carefully would be able to see the bags underneath their eyes, the weight on their shoulders and the grief in their hearts. “Your Majesties. A pirate has arrived at the Sunrock. He said he wanted to speak to you. He said it was urgent. He said it was about-” the man swallowed, fearing his message was just false hope. “About Princess Emma.” the King and Queen rose at once. Gossiping voices filled the room. It had been a while since news about the lost princess had reached the castle. Most of it was false anyway, but the King and Queen refused to give up hope. The punishment for false information was severe, ranging from steep fines to eternity in prison.

“Who is this pirate? Bring us to him!”

“He- He said he would return in two days, my Queen. He said, that if you would see him, he'd be at the Sunrock at dawn.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Mr Smee looked at his Captain in shock. “A magic bean? How did you get that?”

“Let's just say, Mr. Smee, that someone owed me a favour.”

“If we sold that-” Killian could almost see the gold coins in his eyes. “We- we'd be rich! We'd be able to repair the ship a dozen times over!”

“Aye, but we could be even richer if we use this bean to pick up a little package.” Smee grinned.

“Well, Captain, where are we going?”

“Anaheim.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Emma threw the shell on the floor. Again a dead trail. That stupid merman really did not want to be found. He was good. Better than the previous bastards she had caught. But she liked a challenge. What was she missing? She read through the information again, but her buttercup mark, as well as the memories of the events following the previous storm, kept distracting her. She sighed and got up. This was no use. She should never have saved that blasted, lying, human pirate. He knew nothing about her, or her life, or her parents. For all she knew, he could've overheard her name somewhere, recognised her mark and made something up on the spot to save himself. Of course, Emma had heard tales of the lost princess of Atlantia. Many girls her age had dreamed that they were the one. Emma had allowed herself to dream too, once. But she had been found many realms away, left in a kelp forest. She was lucky someone had found her, or her life would have ended right there. A soft little dinner on a green platter, for any interested shark to devour. Emma huffed, grabbing a piece of cloth to cover her buttercup mark. Her? A princess? She looked down at her tail, absentmindedly tracing the small lines over her fin. The result of her punishments in the orphanages, too many to count. For speaking before her turn, for fighting, for stealing food, or talking back at the supervisors. For not selling enough, for selling too many. There was always a reason to be suspected of stealing or misbehaving in any way. No, Emma wasn't a princess, she was a simple, ordinary orphan with a job and a fugitive merman to find. A stupid, lying pirate would not change a thing about that.

~ ~ ~ ~

There was already someone on the island when she arrived for her weekly sunbath. It was the pirate, casually sitting in the sand and throwing dice. “What are you doing here? And how did you even get here?” Emma asked, with a disgusted voice.

“What is it love, not happy to see me?”

“I brought you to your ship. Whatever you need I am not giving it to you.”

“Well,' Killian smiled. “It seems like I have misplaced myself again. My crew and I were looking for- treasure.”

“And you were wondering if you could steal some from me?”

“No.” the pirate replied, rolling his dice again. 2 sixes and a four. “I know well enough you don't have any to spend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Emma Swan. Bail bond mermaid. Orphan. Late on rent.”

“Did you spy on me?” The dice again rolled over the wet sand, resulting in a five, a three and a two. The black-haired pirate cursed underneath his breath, apparently having lost the game against himself.

“You are not the only one capable of doing research,” he replied.

“You come to my realm, on my island, just to insult me?”

“No, I came to your realm, to your island, to offer you a deal.”

“I am not stealing anything for you, filthy-”

“I am well aware of your opinion on me. Now, at last here me out. I can get you a large sum of money, enough for a whole year of rent, if you can get me and my crew back to the Enchanted Forest by dawn, tomorrow. Right around the SunRock, that would be great.” Emma raised an eyebrow.

“And where would you get that money?”

“Ah, a pirate never reveals his secrets.”

“Why should I trust that you will actually pay me?”

“You can't. But right now, I am your only bet at gaining anything. And it shouldn't take you longer than an hour.” Killian got up and walked towards a small boat dragged on the sand. “Just think about it. I will be back here tomorrow, an hour before dawn. Enjoy your sunbath.” With those words, he dragged the boat back into the sea and rowed away.

“Fine. I'll do it.” Emma said, even before Killian could open his mouth. She had received a not-so-friendly visit from her homeowner about the rent. She needed that money, now. And, as much as she hated to admit it, the pirate was right. He was her only bet. There was no chance she'd find the fugitive merman in time, and that would still leave next month's rent to be paid. “Let's go to your ship, I'll make you a portal and you better pay me after we arrive.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“She is beautiful! Our little princess,” the King smiled upon his newborn daughter. “

She has your hair.” his wife replied.

“But she has your tail.” he countered, hugging his wife tight. Suddenly, the seafloor started to shake, and the castle with it. Black waves upon waves entered through the now shattered windows and the newly forming cracks in the floor, swirling around, snatching the infant from its parents.

“No!” The Queen's scream has not yet died away before a black-tailed mermaid enters the room, cackling. '

“I told you I would destroy your happiness. Well, here I am, to fulfil my promise. You didn't think I would forget about it, did you?”

~ ~ ~ ~

Snow and her husband looked at each other, nervously. The two days were over and almost the entire court had gathered at the SunRock. Ruby, her loyal friend, dove up behind her. “Do you want more privacy?” she whispered.

“Yes.” The mermaid Queen could not say more, in fear she would break down in front of the crowd. In the past twenty-eight years she had tried so desperately not to lose hope, but each false report of someone promising they'd seen their daughter was a huge blow to the royal couple. Yet, with every report, they could not help but hope. Twenty-eight years and three days, it had been since the Sea Witch had created her terrible storm, stealing their child and laughing, laughing about it. They had captured her, removed her magic and chained her up, but she refused to talk. The princess had disappeared, and the royal's happiness with it.

A shark with red stripes appeared, chasing away the curious crowd. Snow smiled, recognising the over-dramatic flair of her friend. Even though by now many people knew of the shape-shifting abilities of the Queen's best friend, they still feared the shark when it appeared. Suddenly, a surge of magic disturbed the water and a huge pirate ship appeared nearby the rock. The Queen was extra grateful for her friend, for the ship would have injured some of the crowd gathered to potentially see the mermaid princess for the first time. The King and Queen locked eyes, held hands and waited.

~ ~ ~ ~

“You want to find your child again, dearie?” A golden merman locked in a cage giggled. 'You know me, I'm always willing to make a deal!”

“What do you want?” The desperate couple replied.

“Hehehee! You. Want help. From me? What a delightful turn of events! Hmmm. Yes, yes, I know what I want! That magic squid of yours. The one whose ink got me locked up in this cage?”

“I am not going to kill him.” Even though the Queen's face is filled with tears, her voice is unwavering. “He is my friend.”

“Oh no, dearie, you don't have to kill him. Squid was never really my favourite meal, you know. I just want you to- empty the cartridge.”

“What?”

“Well, get rid of its ink, of course! You must realise, that black stuff is horrible for your clothes. I was wearing my good shirt when you caught me!”

“And if we do it. Can help us find our daughter?”

“Your daughter? Oh, she is lost for the next twenty-eight years, of course.”

“What?”

“Part of the curse, you know. Nothing I can do about that”!

“Let's go. He is of no use.”

The King started to turn around, grabbing his wife's arm to take her with him.

“Wait wait wait!” The golden merman looked panicked.

“What do you want, Rumplestiltskin?” The Queen sounded tired. The golden creature closed his eyes, waving his hands as if seeing through them.

“Someone will find your child, at her twenty-eighth birthday. He will bring her back to you. She will have a perfect little buttercup mark, on her left wrist.” He opened his eyes again and giggled. “H ow ridiculous! Why would an adolescent mermaid, who thinks she is an orphan, ever believe someone telling her she is a lost princess?”

“Can you help, or not?”

“Of course I can help! I can make you a trinket, hmm, let's make it a crown! Seems fitting, no? And then, when you place it upon your head, he will understand. How about that, for a deal?”

~ ~ ~ ~

“Now, pay up.” It was the first time Emma spoke after agreeing to create the portal. Killian looked down at the mermaid beneath him, then at the SunRock a few dozen meters away. The King and Queen were there, as promised. Emma did not seem to have noticed them yet. “I brought you to your stupid SunRock, now I want my payment. You have wasted enough of my time.”

“Calm down lass, your payment is coming.” Killian jumped down into the water. Emma turned, suddenly noticing the mermaid guards around the nearby rock.

“What is happening?” Emma panicked. “Where did you take me? What did you do?!”

~ ~ ~ ~

Emma prided herself on being a fast swimmer. But she was carrying a bag of diamond necklaces, which did not necessarily improve her speed. She knew the neighbourhood well, she and Neal had made sure to discover all the best hiding spots before attempting their heist. But something had gone wrong, and now she was being chased by a whole police force. They knew. They knew she was coming. It was Neal, it must have been him. There was nobody else that knew of their plans. And why else wouldn't Neal be waiting at their rendezvous point? He had betrayed her. Emma had no time to wipe away her tears as she turned a corner, and another one. She was fast, but the mermaids chasing her were faster. Before she knew it, she was locked up. One and a half years in prison. No probation. From that moment on, Emma had decided never to trust anyone again. She had become a bail bonds mermaid, chasing cheating husbands and stealing business managers. But, even though her job got her into constant contact with the police, she never trusted them. Or anyone. Ever again.

~ ~ ~ ~

Calm down, lass, calm down!” Killian saw the panicked look in Emma's eyes.

“Where did you bring me?” Suddenly, a knife was pushed against his throat.

“Technically,” he answered, trying to stay afloat without pushing himself further into Emma's knife, “you brought us here.” Suddenly, a two faces dove up out of the water next to them A man and a woman, looking at her with an emotion Emma could not place. Emma glanced at the crowns firmly placed upon the mermaid's and merman's head. She lowered her knife and awkwardly nodded at them.

“Your- Your Majesties?”

“Emma?” the woman replied, her voice disbelieving.

“How- How do you know me?” Suddenly, she turned around to face Killian, again pointing her knife at him. “Is this because of your ridiculous notion that I am some lost princess, just because I have a mark similar to that of the royal crest?”

“So it is true?” the merman looked at her incredulously.

“May we- may we see your mark?” the Queen added, pleading. Hesitantly, Emma held out her left arm. Before she knew it, the Royal couple of Atlantia engulfed her in a tearful hug.

“What is happening?”

“You're our daughter, Emma.” the teary-eyed Queen replied.

“No.” Emma pulled back. “I am an orphan, found in a kelp forest. I am not your child, I am sorry for wasting your time.' Emma started to turn around. The King held out a silver trinket. A tiara.

“Please. Just put it on, and you will understand.”

“I am sorry, Your Highness.” But before she could dive, the crown was already placed upon her head and everything went black.

~ ~ ~ ~

A black-tailed mermaid, crashing a Royal wedding. “ I will destroy your happiness if it is the last thing I do.”

Black waves and a mother's cry as a baby is swept away.

Orders shouted at soldiers, to search each and every realm.

Royal visits to each on-land country, asking for their daughter.

Promised rewards, a captured SeaWitch refusing to talk.

Tearful nights, political advisors stating the hopelessness of the situation.

Requests to stop the expensive search, a vetoed protest by the King and Queen.

False information and deceptions.

A twenty-eight-year-long search for their missing daughter, for the lost princess of Atlantia.

For her.

~ ~ ~ ~

Killian Jones smiled and turned as he saw his blonde saviour embrace her parents. “Get the anchor, Smee.” he said, after climbing back aboard.

“But Captain- the gold? Treasure? Reward?”

“We're going, Smee.' Killian turned and started shouting commands to his crew. He knew he would be welcome at the royal mermaid family at any time. And, if he was honest, he would not mind getting to know the newly found princess a bit better.

#ouat #killian jones #ouat ff #cs ff #cs au #ouat au #emma swan #mermaid!emma #reposting #mysterious fathoms below #onceuponadisneyqueue #q #written by me

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imgilmoregirl · 7 years

Text

Vowed For Eternity (Chapter 21)

AO3 Link

Lost Love

Slowly departing from her son, Fiona turned around, her breath getting caught on her throat. Malcolm. The last time she saw him, Blue had turned him into a pre-teen again, but now he was just her man once more and she didn't think twice before running towards him, jumping into his arms and smashing his lips into a kiss. He caught her with a suffocated laugh coming up through his throat.

It was unbelievable and yet it was real. His body was back on its form, a short beard had grown on his face and scratched hers slightly as they kissed. Fiona pulled away looking deep into his blue eyes and running a hand through his light-brown hair; there were tears streaming down her face and he cupped her cheeks, staring down at her in awe.

"I can't believe it's really you!"

"I can't believe you are here," Malcolm answered.

Behind them, Rumplestiltskin cleaned his throat, uncomfortably moving from one foot to the other as he cradled his daughter and tried not to look into his parents’ direction.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I would like very much to get home to my wife," he said, urging to get out of there.

Fiona turned around, the most radiant smile filling her lips as she took Malcolm’s hand in hers and dragged him to where the former Dark One was still awkwardly standing. It was in that moment that Rumple got his first good sight of his father. He could recognise some of his own lines in the man’s face, but he shrunk with uncertainty.

"Malcolm, this is our son, Rumplestiltskin” Fiona introduced them, “and beautiful baby daughter, Colette."

Laughing with delight, Malcolm approached him, tapping a hand to his back as he analysed his face carefully. Malcolm had only seen him once in his life, right after Rumple was born and they were happy for just a little while before the Blue Fairy came and destroyed their hopes.

"You're a fine lad," he said, eyes dropping to gaze at Colette. "And look at this, I'm a grandfather!"

"Aye," Rumple smiled weakly, before the need of getting out of there felt too big to be ignored and he insisted: "Uh, Belle is waiting."

"Of course," Fiona agreed, leaning her forehead against Malcolm’s shoulder. "I can't wait for you to meet her and Baelfire."

Belle woke up to the sound of her son crying. She slowly sat on the bed, rubbing her fists at her swollen eyes, still reddish from the long the she had spent weeping against the pillow after her father told her that Blue had taken Colette. The whiny sounds of the babe filled the room, but for a long moment, she didn’t find the strength to stand up and attend to Baelfire’s needs, feeling too shattered to do anything other than start crying again.

It was a good surprise when a golden cloud of smoke appeared by her bed’s side, bringing her husband in. She gasped when she saw the little bundle he had wrapped in his arms and Belle quickly reached for it, stretching her arms to receive the babe from him.

"Rumple…" she murmured, nuzzling her nose to Colette’s brow. "Oh, my love, you found her."

"Did you ever doubt I would?"

"No," Belle assured, still hearing Baelfire’s squeals. "You came just in time. Mind to get Bae for me?"

He nodded, turning around to make his way to the crib, where the babe was fussy around, waving arms and legs in the air with a certain despair. Rumple picked him, supporting the head and watching as his movements got less agitated.

"Don't cry, my boy,” he murmured, “everything is alright."

Walking back to Belle, he handed her the second child and she gave the twins a meal, until they were both sated and with eyelids closing, ready to go back to sleep. Rumple helped her straightening her nightgown and sat by her side as she cradled the children, one in each arm, looking at then with a stunned smile.

"They are perfect," Belle whispered.

"And they are all ours."

His hand caressed Baelfire’s little head gently, thinking about how much things had changed along the last months. It seemed it was in another lifetime, that he had come here to Avonlea to make a deal with the king, asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage in exchange for the kingdom’s safety. A family had never been on his plans, nor did truly falling in love with the princess or losing the darkness that lived inside him for so long.

Rumple could still remember about Belle’s frightened face as she was walked down the isle to become his wife, the moment when he decided he could never act like the monster he was, near her. It changed everything and each decision they had made since then had led to this moment and he would never regret any part of their story, although he knew he still needed to make it up for a lot of his mistakes with her and their children.

"Yeah," she agreed in a low voice. "Alright, you get Bae to the crib and I'll take Lette."

Nodding, he took the little boy from her arms and placed him back inside his crib as she did the same with their daughter and for some minutes, they stayed there, just admiring the incredible sight of the two small lives they had created together. Then, Belle turned around, palming a hand to his cheek and stroking him with her thumb, causing Rumple to close his eyes and lean against her touch.

"Your skin feels so soft now," she marvelled. "You look so different."

"Don't you like it?"

"I do, but I'll take some time to get used to this new you. Although I didn't love you any less than I did when you were the Dark One," she guaranteed, stealing a sweet kiss from his lips. "You're so handsome."

He kissed her again, probing from this mouth which’s taste was the only one he needed to feel for the rest of his life – one he now knew, could end naturally, without any dagger’s power keeping him from getting old beside her – and was all he would ever want. Rumple encircled his arms around her waist, spreading butterfly kissed through her face.

"Come to bed my beauty,” he invited, feeling weary, “you need to rest before one of those two beautiful twins wake up in need of you."

"You might be right," Belle giggled, dragging him with her and making his chest her pillow for the night.

He held her as close as he could as he relished in hearing the silence of night as her heavy breath filled the room. And for the first time in too many years to count, there were no voices in his head.

Fiona's magic took them to her chambers at king Maurice's castle; it was no surprise for her that Rumple hadn't followed them. She took a seat in the chaise by the fireplace silently watching Malcolm wander around the room with a stunned expression.

"So, where exactly are we?"

"Avonlea," Fiona explained. "Our daughter-in-law is a princess."

"Oh," he blinked, "she is?"

He slid to the empty space near her, taking Fiona’s long, slim hands in his and rubbing at her fingers. It had been too long since she had been allowed to have this kind of gentle contact with anyone. Fiona had been locked in the Dark Realm, then in Rumple’s cage and only recently, with the arrival of her grandchildren, she had rediscovered some joy in this life.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Very kind, smart, a good mother for what I saw these last few months."

"It's good to know that even though Rumple had a terrible life because of us, he still found happiness."

She so agreed with him, because there was nothing better than seeing her son happy and getting the great future he deserved, after all the suffering he had been through, but Fiona couldn’t help feeling slightly sad when she noticed he was already a grow man and she had lost all the precious moments she should have watched as his mother.

"Sometimes I still dream about what it would have been like if we got a chance of raising him," Fiona confessed "I feel so guilty for not being there for him."

Malcolm brought her hands up, pressing a long kiss to her knuckles, just like he used to do before, in a time where all she felt was in love and reckless. It was good to know that somethings hadn’t changed through the years they spent apart.

"Once, a fairy told me that life has a tricky way of doing perfect things," he said with a small grin. "We may have been denied the future we wanted, but now we are here, after hundreds of years. If we hadn't being separated from each other the lad wouldn't have met the princess and those twins would never exist."

"You're right," she murmured, locking her lips with his and slowly moving herself to let her curves mould to his body. "I missed you, Malcolm."

One of his hands covered the back of her head, while the other rested firmly on her hip. None of them had expected to see the other again and being there in each other’s arms knowing their son was safe and their whole family would be alright, Fiona decided she could never receive a greater blessing than that.

"And I missed you too,” Malcolm assured her. “I love you, Fiona. I will always love you."

When she kissed him again, tears were falling to her eyes to bath his face. Everything was perfect in that night and she felt pretty sure there was nothing better in life than loving and being loved.

Rumplestiltskin finished lacing Belle’s bodice and gave her a worried glance. She looked happy and healthy, the babies were fed and asleep with a nurse looking out for them, but yet, he didn’t want to leave her chambers. It was about time to end their journey in Avonlea and he wasn’t complaining about that, because he hated living under other people’s roof and leaving like he was in doubt with them.

He longed to be back to the Dark Castle, where he could finally set up a decent nursery for the children and fix somethings before he and Belle started to really live their independent lives again, however that meant he had to have dinner with king Maurice and his parents which he wasn’t exactly excited to.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay another day in bed?"

"No, Rumple, I've told you a thousand times," Belle said rolling her eyes at him, clearly tired of that question being asked over and over. "You locked me in here for a week and I'm eager to know your father. Fiona talked a lot about him."

He furrowed. The mention of Malcolm not helping to calm his nerves.

"I don't know if you should do it," the former Dark One mumbled.

Belle certainly didn’t understand his point, because her eyebrows narrowed amusingly with confusion as she splayed her hands on his chest, tracing the patterns of his golden waistcoat.

"Do what?"

"Meet Malcolm."

"Why not?" She asked, still looking puzzled. "Your mother showed him the babies and you two have been talking the whole week! Even my father said they were nice people."

Yeah, stupid king Maurice, he though, just when he needed him to complain about his parents and say they were all freak people and that he wanted them very far away from his castle, the man said he liked them and invited them to dinner. Things couldn’t be more ironical.

"Aye,” he agreed, “but I don't truly know them, Belle. I know they are my parents, but it doesn't feel so!"

"Calm down, my love. Look at me," she pleaded, digging her fingers onto his hair and petting it. "It's alright to feel uncertain, but they are willing to be a part of this family, so we should try."

Breathing in, Rumplestiltskin nodded. His wife’s sweet voice was soothing to his nerves; he loved how her faith in people seemed to never fade, no matter what they did in their past, or anything else. Belle was the most forgiving and loving person one could ever met.

"Yes, I guess you're right."

"Let's go," she encouraged him, taking his hand and dragging him out of the room.

They crossed the corridors, seeing people bow respectably for them when they passed, whispering greetings and congratulations over the birth of their children and for the first time he felt that they were not fearing him, which was strange, but in a good way. He never thought he would feel so happy for not frightening the others with only his appearance.

When they reached the hallway that led to their destination, Rumple saw his parents coming from the opposite side they were and Fiona immediately smiled.

"I thought you would already be at the dining hall," Belle said, stepping forward to take a good look at them.

"We got late," Malcolm explained, smirking at her as he glanced back to his son with an arched eyebrow. "So, this is your wife, lad? She is a pretty lady."

Rumple nodded. Belle blushed.

"Thank you, sir. It is really nice to finally meet you."

"I can tell you the very same,” Malcolm said. “I'm already in love with my grandchildren, they are beautiful and I'm glad my son has someone like you by his side."

Passing an arm around her waist, Rumple allowed his wife to lay her head on his chest, marvelling at how tiny she was without her high heels. It was something he rarely payed attention to, but he really appreciated her small features.

"Well, I couldn't be happier and I can't wait to go home," Belle guaranteed. "Have you two thought about where are you going to live?"

"Your father was kind to offer us a cottage on the village," Fiona told them.

"Really?” Belle gasped, finding herself almost unable to believe those words. Her father had hated Rumple from the very start and he didn’t think good of Fiona until some days ago when she helped to rescue Colette. “Oh, that makes me happy. It seems he truly changed his mind about you all."

"I'm grateful he did," her mother-in-law assured.

It seemed the good surprises weren’t soon to end, which was good, because the hell of a year they had, all of them needed some time of pure peace and happiness.

"Should we go on and have a nice dinner with the king then?" Rumplestiltskin suggested.

And as Belle agreed, the four of them followed their way to the king’s dining hall, where they would have a great time and worry about nothing.

#rumbelle fic #gift fic #rumbelle #mine #writing #rumplestiltskin #belle french #ao3 #dark castle

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itkmoonknight · 7 years

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Episode 24:

It’s the first CLASSIC and MODERN run for 2018, and the High Priests are on song to review another two great issues featuring our boy in white –

CLASSIC RUN: The Defenders Vol. 1 issue #50

MODERN RUN: Moon Knight Vol. 3, issue #3, Resurrection War, Part 3 of 4

Another very fine podcaster has also lent his vocal talents as guest narrator for the show – this episode, we’re pleased to have Connor McKenna – host of The Immortal Iron Fist Podcast – Sons of the Dragon! Be sure to check out the Iron Fist Podcast too – if you’re a fan of character focused podcasts, then the Iron Fist podcast is a MUST!

Also, with this, we have one bit of exciting news for your Loony needs…. more Moon Knight in animated form! Very, very exciting indeed!

So sit back, grab your issues and get your Khonshu on!

OVER THE MOON:

BARE BONES – guest narrator, Sons of the Dragon- Immortal Iron Fist podcast

Defenders Vol.1, issue #50 – “Scorpio Must Die!”

Released August 1977

(writer) David Kraft

(artist) Keith Giffen with inks by Keith Giffen, Mark Royer, John Tartaglione & Dave Cockrum

(colours) Don Warfield

(letters) Gaspar Saladino & John Costanza

(editor) Archie Goodwin

Having crashed through the roof of Scorpio’s New Jersey hideout, Hulk stands enraged with the newly formed Zodiac crew in front of him. Already angered at having to chase Moon Knight, Valkyrie and Hellcat across New York (as seen in the previous issue), and recognising Scorpio from a previous tussle, the Hulk is ready to smash anything and everyone in his way.

Scorpio introduces his newly created Zodiac members: there’s Leo – a huge, dark figure with a flowing mane and ever-sharp claws; Sagittarius – a nimble archer; Aquarius – a laid back, yet deadly opponent with water cannon; Taurus – a stocky thick-set man with retractable horns on his fists; Gemini – a mysterious entity which can split in two; Cancer – an armoured gladiator with weapons to boot; Aries – a hunch-backed battering ram; and Libra – an intangible observer. All members stand before the Hulk, and all ready to take him down.

What ensues is a non-stop battle as the Jade giant launches himself at his enemies. The other Defenders can’t help but jump into the fray as well. Their intent is to save Jack Norriss but in order to do so, they will need to go through the Zodiac.

Each Defender pairs off against a Zodiac member – Hulk vs. Aries, Moon Knight vs. Taurus, Valkyrie vs. Leo, and Hellcat vs Gemini.It’s a battle royale as each team vies to gain the upper hand.

As they continue to exchange blows, Jack Norriss sees the Fury LMD quietly slip away. Norriss calls out for him, but the Fury LMD tells him not to follow him as he tries to find Scorpio.

Back at the battle, Aries manages to surprise the Hulk, and he rams him from behind, sending the Hulk hurtling through the wall and into the Passaic River just outside the warehouse. Angrier than ever before, the Hulk leaps back and crashes into the hapless Taurus much to Moon Knight’s delight.

Elsewhere, Nighthawk – having gained more strength with the onset of twilight – slowly resists the chains which bind him and with his new found strength he manages to finally free himself from his shackles.

Scorpio – having realised not all the Zodiac members seemed present – returns to the Zodiac chamber and finds Pisces near-dead, the product of a premature activation. Concerns are raised even more when Scorpio searches frantically for Virgo, the only female member of the Zodiac and whom Scorpio had hoped to gain as a life companion. He finds her stillborn in her Zodiac chamber, and it’s too much for Scorpio to bear.

Meanwhile, The Defenders and The Zodiac continue to tear Scorpio’s warehouse apart and just as Aries is about to surprise the Hulk again, Nighthawk swoops in and intercepts him. With renewed vigour and with the superheroes finally acting as a team, The Defenders stand galvanised and ready to end it once and for all. Surprisingly, it’s a little help from Gemini which finally tips the scales. The dual-identity villain has a change of heart after speaking with Libra (who still hasn’t lifted a finger but watches the battle intently), assists in containing Leo from Hellcat. After this small victory, it doesn’t take long for the rest of the Defenders to defeat the remaining members – again showing how effective teamwork can be. With the threat now over the only remaining thing left is to bring Scorpio in.

In another room, away from the battle, Scorpio is found by the Fury LMD. He is sitting in the dark, listening to sad, melancholic music. Still broken at having discovered his love, Virgo, killed, Scorpio now starts to entertain dark thoughts. He pleads to the Fury LMD to give him his gun and being an LMD, Fury does so, as all LMD’s do not have free will against their masters.

As Moon Knight and Jack Norris race across the warehouse, they hear a single gun shot and head towards the noise. They find the Fury LMD sitting silently next to the dead body of Scorpio.

Moon Knight Vol. 3, issue #3 – “Resurrection War: Phase III – Halfshadow”

Released March 1998

(writer) Doug Moench

(artist) Tommy Lee Edwards & Robert Campanella

(colours) Melissa Edwards

(letters) Ken Lopez

(editor) Mark Bernardo

Moon Knight is still taken aback at having faced Black Spectre and hearing Black Spectre’s words echo that of his dream. Moon Knight tries to get answers from him but is unsuccessful as the hulking Black Spectre continues to spout nonsense. Moon Knight tells him of his dream but the villain does not believe it, and slowly but surely, he gains the upper hand against the rattled Moon Knight. A blow to the back of the head; an uppercut and finally a king hit from his mace is enough to floor Moon Knight and leave him groggy. Unable to regain composure and facing the same result in his nightmare, Moon Knight is suddenly saved from the killing blow as Black Spectre reels from an arrow shot through his arm. It’s Stained Glass Scarlet and she now returns the favour in saving Moon Knight from certain death. She showers Black Spectre with arrows from her crossbow and now on the defensive, the injured villain escapes through a trapdoor in the floor and onto a speedboat below.

With Black Spectre gone, the abducted councilman saved and Knowles’ henchmen despatched, Moon Knight and Stained Glass Scarlet ponder over the forces which appear to have controlled Black Spectre. Moon Knight suspects Morpheus, but with all that has happened recently, he’s open to the theory it may be an even worse darker force at play.

Meanwhile in Cairo, we see none other than Bushman colluding with a shadowy figure. It appears some plans have been set in place for sinister means. Bushman questions the dark figure as to his motives – he knows Black Spectre has been promised New York; Bushman himself is being paid by half a dozen terrorist cells; but he’s yet to figure out how the shadowy figure benefits from their well laid plans.

The figure – who looks suspiciously like Morpheus – reproaches Bushman for thinking to bomb the UN conference building. It’s revealed that all of them appear to work for Set – the God of Death – and it is Set who will influence the UN conference delegates; it is Set who will fill them with hatred and chaos, which will result in global catastrophes.

Back at New York, Moon Knight drops by Detective Flint’s office. Probing Flint for clues as to why Black Spectre is free when he should still be serving a twenty year sentence, Flint let it be known that there are bigger problems ahead. Terrorism has turned its ugly head towards New York and the UN Conference in three weeks appears to be the target.

Moon Knight takes leave of Flint and returns to Grant Mansion where he pleads with the statue of Khonshu for answers. Moon Knight suspects the God Set, and amazingly before his eyes, the idol of Set which he holds in his hands melts away. Suddenly, he hears a voice, “It IS the dark god of chaos…and he is free”. At the very same time, in Cairo, Bushman storms the museum of antiquities and steals the unearthed statue of Set amidst explosions and a hail of bullets. In parallel, as Bushman leaves with the statue, Marc bows before his statue of Khonshu and pleads again for more answers. He’s unsure of his state of mind…is he dreaming? Or is he still dead and dreaming of his resurrection?

Out of the shadows comes Simon Darkover to Marc’s utter surprise. Darkover, who apparently died not long ago, stands before Marc and tells him of Set and his growing power. Darkover pleads to Marc to stop Set. “You mustn’t allow Set to become the Dreamer” says Darkover. With no warning, a huge, monstrous hand comes out of the darkness and claims Darkover, and with an array of gut wrenching sounds it claims him. Darkover croaks, “Set is….Death” before he disappears forever.

Marc then finds himself looking at HIMSELF in bed with Marlene, as he wakes from a nightmare. Back from the dream realm, Marc is convinced Morpheus is at play as he finds the idol of Set now back intact, much like how the statue of Khonshu previously exploded, then appeared back whole upon Marc’s resurrection. Marlene heads to Ravencroft Asylum where she requests to see Morpheus. The hapless ward points her to him, in an empty cell. He still is under Morpheus’ illusion, but not so Marlene.

With Morpheus on the loose now confirmed, Marlene and Moon Knight search for answers. Black Spectre has disappeared, and Moon Knight’s dreams have stopped. The lovers contemplate whether Morpheus is serving Set or if indeed the gods such as Set or Khonshu even exist. Perhaps they are constructs of man, and it is man who gives the gods power.

Finally, in Cairo, Bushman and Morpheus confer over their upcoming plan to attack the UN conference. Morpheus has made contact with Black Spectre and has been notified that Moon Knight is back. Bushman is confident that the three of them – Bushman, Morpheus and Black Spectre – are more than a match for the lone White Knight. Morpheus cares not of Moon Knight – he’s more invested in the ancient war between Dark and Light. Morpheus believes them all pawns to Set and Khonshu. Black Spectre’s lust for power and Bushman’s greed for money have bound their souls to Set. Similarly, Moon Knight is a pawn to the god Khonshu, and that of light and order. Morpheus truly believes they are all controlled by these higher powers, and soon all the pawns will face off in a final battle – the Ancient War – which lies just ahead!

Show Notes:

The Immortal Iron Fist Podcast – Sons of the Dragon Website

The Immortal Iron Fist Podcast – Facebook Page

The Immortal Iron Fist Podcast – Twitter

The Defenders Vol. 1, issue #50

Moon Knight Vol. 3, issue #3

What’s Next For Frank Castle On ‘Marvel’s The Punisher’?

Beyonder Begins Battleworld – 4 New Episodes, Marvel’s Avengers Secret Wars

YouTube Clip: Moon Knight preview on Marvel’s Avengers: Secret Wars

Where to Hear Us!

ITunes: ITK ITunes

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YouTube: ITK YouTube

Drop us a line!

Blog: www.intotheknightpodcast.wordpress.com

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Tumblr: Knight Shifts Blog

Episode 24 – Look at that…Moon Knight on a Chimera! Episode 24: It's the first CLASSIC and MODERN run for 2018, and the High Priests are on song to review another two great issues featuring our boy in white -

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