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myupostsheadcanons · 6 years ago

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I know you @highwayham asked about DBD headcanons on another blog... I’ll get to that soon.... I was working on this one for you the past week.... So I am quite ahead of the game.

My personal headcanons for all the DBD killers.

(gets a bit fanfic-ish in places, but damn my fan fic writers soul. (i haven’t done the final proofing, but go me) )....

The Doctor

The Anti-Freddy.

Herman’s madness and electro-shocks automatically wake people up/take people out of Freddy’s dream realm.

It is nearly physically impossible for him to go to sleep.

Water is his weakness. Submerging him in enough water would burn out his own powers. It will put him in a coma if he is fully charged when submerged.

Herman didn’t think Freddy was real for the longest time. He thought Freddy was some made up joke the others were pulling on him. Or some Invisible Man that the others were putting too much stock in.

When he isn’t driving through crazy town, he’s generally snobby, rude, haughty, and uptight. He has this air of acting “better than you” that drives most of the other killers bonkers.

OCD... the only killer that manages to keep his whites mostly clean on a trial.

Herman and Myers especially don’t get along. His madness powers would make The Shape’s voice in Myers head louder and angrier. And The Doctor being a Psychiatrist rather than a Medical doctor didn’t help either.

Herman and Evan often fight over who’s in charge. Evan is loud and violent, and easy to ignore. The Doctor is more demanding and a perfectionist, on top of being sadistic, so more people still side with Evan.

The Nurse

Sally doesn’t like that her “role” among the group is being the nanny.

The Trapper will call her “The Nanny” instead of “The Nurse” (she makes sure to give him extra scares by casually hiding behind corners on him)

In fact, The Trapper is perhaps her most frequent patient.... for stepping in his own bear traps.

The Nurse and The Doctor kind of get along. She was so use to having to deal with asshole men doctors while she was alive... what’s one more now that she’s dead?

Her, The Doctor, The Hag, and The Clown handle most of the medical needs among the group. (The Hag knows Apothecary, The Clown has some understanding in that field as well and helps the two women make any meds. The Doctor has enough knowledge through his experiments on humans and medical school to help, but isn’t as skilled/knowledgeable as The Nurse)

The Spirit

Rin didn’t understand English when she first arrived. Julie (The Legion) knew some Japanese because of being a massive weeb, and tried to help translate pieces of what was being said to the others. (often just fucked up on the translation completely.. basically think Lopez from RVB. or Peggy Hill levels of bad)

Rin is polarizing. One moment she is calm, collective, and interested in being around people... the next she’s screaming at everybody, even those that did nothing, and would even attack other killers.

The Spirit often hangs around The Nurse, neither talking to one another. If she’s not creeping on other people in the group.

Work is too much.... work.... When it comes to doing chores or requests, she would suddenly vanish or be last in line.

Rin tends to creep on Myers the most. She likes that Myers doesn’t talk, or give a shit... and she saw him without his mask a few times.... so... long siiigh.... (he’s just confused by her)

She fucking hates Freddy... He grabbed her inappropriately only once and she kicked his ass... he’s been leaving her alone now.

She doesn’t like The Doctor either. Outside of being pushy and treats her like a pest: his powers make her even more unstable and volatile.

The Wraith

Unless the killer is a colossal Asshat, he’ll get along with them. (Basically, The Doctor, Freddy, The Legion, and The Spirit are among his “doesn’t get along with” list)

He’s been around The Trapper the longest out of the killers so he’s use to Evan’s brand of Asshattery.

Him and Amanda tend to casually hang around with each other the most. He knows where the best stuff in the scrap yard is and they have similar interests in tinkering. (mlm and wlw solidarity)

Bubba, Max, and Evan come to Phil and Amanda whenever their equipment needs to be fixed.

Phil also likes to spend time with The Hag. He talks to her about the magic he learned from his homeland and helps her gather herbs.

He really just wants to be useful.

The Hag

Lisa knows the most about herbs and plants. Which ones are safe to eat, or what effects they cause when ingested. The Clown likes to get her advice when making new potions.

The Hag, The Huntress, Bubba and The Hillbilly are in charge of the Homestead end of things. (Farming and Cultivating... growing food, animal husbandry and butchering... Actual cooking the meals is on rotate among all the killers (at least those that at minimum know how to boil water)).

Lisa knows Rune Crafting, and recognizes that Myers has a spell/curse placed on him. She doesn’t tell any of the other killers she knows this.

Her Teleport spell can pull Freddy out of the dreamworld... if she has hold of him when she activates it. She almost did it twice, but he managed to break her grip and is staying away from her now.

The Nurse, being a super natural creature, is more accepting of The Hag’s witchcraft, apothecary, and homeopathy than The Doctor is.

The Hag and The Doctor get in frequent arguments based on their different world views.

The Trapper

The “Bad Boss” of the group.

Is an ass to anybody that doesn’t do what he wants. (One part, Biff Tannon, One Part Al Bundy)

The other killers often forget that he is book-smart (came from a rich family, actually went to collage) because of how big of a douche bag he acts.

Evan relies too much on the few people that know what they are doing to do everything (The Nurse, especially)

Evan’s orders are easier to shirk/get around, because they are often bad orders that make no sense. It also doesn’t take much to “suck up” to him and get him to forget about something they’ve did wrong. Which is mainly why people side with him over The Doctor.

His “cronies” are The Hillbilly and The Clown, and (with some arm twisting) The Wraith and Bubba.

He’s mainly buddy-buddy with The Clown because Kenny makes the best fucking bathtub gen in the realm.

He becomes a CHAD-DORK around Amanda (She knows this, is not interested in him, but gets him to do whatever she wants).

He is very particular when it comes to self-grooming. When he is not “working” / killing he likes to keep himself clean. He showers twice a day, and spends a lot of time shaving... to the point he’s practically bald all over his body.

He uses a straight razor to shave, a very sharp one.

He gets annoyed when the other killers don’t groom themselves on a regular basis. He understands it is dirty work, but there is a time and place to be dirty. (zombies and undead not withstanding, being dead/rotting can’t be helped).

The Huntress

She’s the most “efficient” of the non-magical killers.... all aside from:

Her near-constant singing and talking would annoy some of the Killers (who believe silence was the key), until they saw her sling a hatchet and down a survivor.

She has no personal-space bubble. Will kiss people on the cheek/mouth in greeting (if they don’t flinch/push away from her)... it surprises most of the others that first time because it isn’t a common practice in America, where most of the killers are from, nor in modern society outside of one’s actual family.

Doesn’t shave. She thought it was an odd grooming custom when she was watching Amanda shaving her legs and armpits in the bath. Men only shave/trim their beards cleanliness. She sees no reason for a woman to shave.

Anna goes out of the way to talk to the “outliers” of the Killer Group. (The Spirit, Myers, The Legion, and Bubba). Even if it is just to say “Hello.” and get no response in return.

Anna has child-like interests. Likes to talk about fairy tales and folk legends. Collects odd knickknacks (buttons, paper clips, caps off pens, pieces of ribbon, beads, rocks...). Play dress up with other Killer’s clothes (try on their masks and play with their weapons). She jumps in mud puddles and catches bugs/small animals with her bare hands to show others.

She first caught Bubba and Myers attention by showing them a frog she caught and pulled its legs off in front of them (Bubba then ate the frog). Myers was just...enthralled... he was going to kill the frog if she handed it to him and she just did it.

From then on Bubba liked to join her on any weird quests she would have (like as if he was her little big-brother). The Wraith would follow to make sure they aren’t getting into trouble.

The Huntress got pretty good at guessing what Bubba is saying. It helped that when she first came here she didn’t know English and had to often pantomime what she wanted to the others as well.

She wants to be a helper, but her brand of help tends to lean towards “s-mothering”....

The Hag, The Clown, The Wraith, The Nurse, The Pig, and The Doctor are the ones she actually treats like her elders....

The Trapper and The Hillbilly are on “peer” level with her. Myers was... until she realized he was a walking disaster, and actually knew the least out of the whole group.

So... The Legion, Myers, Bubba.... she latched onto them as her special “projects”

(The Spirit and Freddy are in the “no” zone)

The Hillbilly

Is a slow talker and mumbler, but not dumb (actually he’s rather average, just uneducated. he believes he is stupid because he was told he was his whole life)

He can’t hear out of one ear because of his deformities and the loud chainsaw. People often have to repeat things because of that.

Max could be found either at The Trapper’s side, or at the homestead in the barn with the goats and pigs (he feels safe in there)

He makes Amanda new pig masks when ever they get old or damaged.

The Hag watches his back, making sure the others don’t treat him poorly.

Max and Bubba do get along, even though it is difficult for Max to understand what Bubba wants.

The Legion tend to antagonize him and Bubba at the same time with their trivial prattling about Max being a “rip off”.

The Clown

Is the actual “boss” of the group, but doesn’t claim to be. Even though he knows damn well he is.

Kenny would hear what the Trapper wants done, and often tweak the orders to be more feasible when relaying them to the others.

Kenny’s big loud personality stood out. He was better at working a crowd than Herman and Evan.

He can get the more “outlying” killers to listen to him.

He got where he was because he showed up rather late in the game. Nothing was getting done, there was little to no cohesion among the factions. Half the team barely listened to The Trapper, the other Half tended to do whatever the hell they wanted.

He managed to get The Legion to act less like little shits to the rest of the killers all the fucking time.

Myers would trail behind Kenny, or low-key stalk him. The Clown could never manage to pin him down to confront him about it. The others told him not to bother. After The Legion came, Susie eventually told him it was because Myers really liked clowns as a kid. Kenny began to think of Myers as a “stray cat.”

The only killer that Freddy actually kind of likes and would take “requests” from. They both have a dark sense of humor and are practical jokers. The Clown’s potions also make people easier to put asleep. (Kenny just knows not to be a total dick to your “coworkers” or you’ll be spinning your wheels in the mud the whole time)

The Legion

For the longest time the four of them stuck together, not interacting with the other killers outside of being trolls or antagonists to them.

Frank and Julie were the “spokes persons” whenever they had to make “demands” to the other killers.

They did not to approach any of the killers alone.

The Spirit was the first of the killers to hang around with them as a “friend”. They were close to her age (of death) and as condescending as she was. They also helped her with her English.... kind of.

Myers and Freddy had tried to “pick them off”....

With Myers, they over stepped their boundaries when it came to his comfort zone and he wanted to get rid of them. He knocked Frank unconscious, broke Joey’s arm, and was about to moire Julia before Anna and Bubba were able to pull him away (Susie ran to get help).

Freddy did so for his own sadistic pleasure. After several days of sleep deprivation, and Susie needing to be waken from a coma: The Doctor and The Nurse eventually stepped in to get Freddy to leave them alone.

The Huntress and The Clown took responsibility of The Legion after the attacks (Along with Myers, Bubba, and The Spirit... all those in need of “special attention” or those that are in the habit of isolating themselves (it is also why Kenny became “frenemies” with Freddy, to keep him from completely turning on the group))

The Legion’s love of Slasher Movies made them experts on Lore regarding Bubba, Myers, OG Freddy.... only up until the mid-90′s.... they never got to see the Halloween reboots: H20/Res, or even the RZ remakes, nor FvJ, Jason X or the Remakes of F13 and Elm Street. They think Amanda was another one of the “in house” killers like The Trapper, The Wraith, and The Nurse.

They never been in a Hot Topic. Because there wasn’t one where they lived. Most of their gear was stolen from concerts, bikers, and sports supplies stores.

The Internet was barely functional in the 90′s... to hear Amanda talk about modern technology and smart phones in the 2010′s, it is moon speak to them. (it is moon speak to most of the killers)

The Plague

“Avoid like The Plague” became serious business.

She only speaks Ancient Mesopotamian. Refuses to lower herself to speak the tongue language of these barbarians.

Freddy’s the only one that can communicate with her due to conversations in the “mind/dream” realm being more mental-emotion based than literal-verbal language based.

She still treats him like he is a worm and a viper. Does not trust anything he tells her.

Prolong exposure to her presence will cause sickness and wounds to become infected more easily.

She was banned from being around their social/common spaces, and food and water sources by the other killers due to her infectious presence.

Spends most of her time at the killer camp encased in a tomb in isolation.

Bubba

Best cook (don’t question the mystery meat...)

Anna is like the cool sister he always wanted. She’s nice to him, looks after him, and can skin a whole dear in under 20min.

Bubba doesn’t like The Legion. They would tease him more than the others. It doesn’t take much for him to go into a tantrum, or run off and cry, so they saw an easy target. (They knew when the fucked up when Anna has to get involved.... we’re sorry team mom.)

The Nurse and The Spirit scare him. He gets the heebie-geebies every time they look at him. Freddy is the worst.

Amanda

Amanda has a crush on Anna, but Anna is so obvious.

She tried to be nice to The Legion when they first arrived, but they were too immature and antagonistic.

The Wraith’s cloaking is about the extent of “supernatural” she could handle. It took her a long time not to freak out over The Nurse and The Spirit still creeps her out. Freddy... lives up to his name as The Nightmare.

At least most of the killers are just big men... she could handle dealing with men.

She is aware that there is a rivalry over her between some of the men. Phil, she’s pretty sure he’s gay, even if he won’t say it... But Evan, Max, and Herman are always trying to do favors for her... (she suspects it is because she’s the most ‘normal’ adult woman among the sausage party)

She stays clear of Myers out of principle. She watched the Halloween movies, knows what he is capable of and that reason rarely worked with him. If she had him in a proper trap-house, he’d be at her mercy, but roaming free like this? no.

Her and The Clown only sort of get along. He’s too loud and handzy, like an old drunk at a bar. She put his arm in a trap that he couldn’t break free of. He had it on for three days before he apologized to her.

Freddy

The best scout... rarely does it though.

Freddy was better at avoiding any chores around the compound than Rin and Myers... until The Legion let slip that Freddy was a gardener/grounds keeper in his past life...

He used his powers on all the killers, at least once, just to test their reactions or to see what was inside their minds. Those with traumatic pasts were easy to get to.

Those that couldn’t fight back he stayed on them longer.

Until they started grouping up against him.

The Nurse, The Spirit, and The Doctor became the “vanguard” against his meddling. They could either physically attack him in the dream world or cancel out his powers all together. (The Doctor could even pull people out of a coma)

He isn’t friends with any of the killers. The Clown is the closest, and that’ll be an associate/coworker at best.

Freddy knows what The Clown is doing, and his dislike of The Doctor and the incompetence of The Trapper made him more willing to follow along with Kenny setting himself up as a back-door boss.

Michael

Was the last of the killers to “crack” and come into the group (stalking and observing didn’t count)

Nobody knew what his name was until Amanda showed up. He was just “The Shape” to them. “Holy shit! That’s Michael Myers!”

Nobody knew his Middle-Name until The Legion wouldn’t stop calling him “Audrey”

He ignores Evan and Herman, more so when they get into cockfights over leadership. They both tried to “appeal” to him at some point to join their side.

Within the first two nights of coming to the realm, he got into a fist-fight with Evan, they both ended up rather bloody and beaten out of it. They even managed to pull their masks off in the fight. At the end of it, Evan was all “You’re just some punk kid. You ain’t worth my time.” and left Myers to his isolation after that.

Herman showed up in the realm after Myers. He introduced himself, got nowhere with the questions, and began to preach at him about “dissociative disorders”.... things Myers heard far too much about from the doctors at Smiths Grove. But this doctor was dangerous, and he only had to be hit once by the doctors madness effect to realize not not to start a fight with him and to keep his distance if possible.

There was something about The Hag’s magic that sends him on edge. It makes the hairs prickle the back of his neck whenever she activates a teleport (he didn’t even have to hear or see it go off... he’d just know) . There was a lot of things about The Hag that The Shape part of his brain responds to, like they knew one another somehow....

When all the killers go on team missions, The Clown would be assigned to keep an eye on Michael (not necessarily to work as a team, but for buddy-system safety reasons). Kenny would often address him as “My Boy” instead of his name or “The Shape” ... Michael doesn’t mind it too much.

They first tried teaming The Spirit up with Myers, but he would refuse to work with her and she took every opportunity to shirk responsibilities (she basically reminded him too much of Judith)... so nothing got done.

Freddy once attempted to put Myers to sleep, it only put the “Michael” part to sleep, but The Shape fully took over and went into berserker mode. (The Trapper, The Hillbilly, The Doctor, The Nurse, and The Huntress were needed just to pin him down and they had to lock him up until he passed out)

Myers almost drowned once (the survivors had a water trap made for The Doctor, when they set it off it dropped half the killers into a lake along with it. The Doctor managed to get a hold of The Hag and Teleport out of the way). Anna had to drag him out of the water and give him mouth-to-mouth. She was then determined to teach him how to swim. (after he got over the pneumonia from having his lungs full of dirty pond water). He found the whole thing embarrassing... especially the lessons, having to be half necked in the water with Anna, who only had a pair of shorts on and had her arms around him....ffffff.... not to mention The Spirit was watching....fml.

Because of that, Anna was the first person he said something to in 15 years (even if it is 90% “yes” and “no”... everybody (besides The Legion) thought he was mute, but when Anna asked “can you breathe?” and he gagged out a “yes” it surprised them all.)

She convinced him to eat meals around the others more often after that. He stuck close to Anna, Bubba, and Kenny the most. He didn’t mind The Wraith that much either... Still don’t like The Spirit. And he only goes around The Nurse if he has to (after a week being sick and in Sally’s care... he’s just done with ghosts.... Rin, Sally, Freddy.... gtf away)

He would be one of the better killers, if he didn’t play around so much with his kills. Anna showed him how to kill people/animals faster... it actually made him play with them even more because he then knew what to do to prolong the process.

Myers and Anna are both Bi-Ace.... love and friendship isn’t in Myers vocabulary... they got stuck in an endless “repay a favor” loop after her rescuing him and giving him lessons.

They have to work around each other when on a hunt. He personally thinks she is too noisy and annoying on a hunt, and she thinks he takes too long fooling around. (he often has to change his killing style to go around hers, which he does not like to do).

When they are paired together on a mission, they would eventually start fighting with each other... it startled the survivors when they heard Myers tell her to “Shut. the. FUCK. UP!” about the singing and telling him to hurry up. She then got so mad she was cursing him out in Russian... The Survivors still joke about them being an old married couple.... to their faces even. Laurie especially).

#dead by daylight

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fanficofpureimagination · 6 years ago

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Invisible

Steve Rogers x Female

Request: Can you please write a one shot where Steve Rogers meets a deaf girl with the power of invisibility? I appreciate it. -Anonymous

Word Count: 1,000

Warning: Depression and loneliness. This is a sadder one shot, but it ends hopeful!

A/N: I did this in more of a fic format, so I can go more in depth with her thoughts. Hope you like it!

I stood my eyes closed and invisible, completely hidden from the world. In this space I am alone.. Some days I just close my eyes in my invisible state and it’s as if I’m floating. I’m floating in my own sensory deprivation tank of my abilities and disabilities. Was it a curse to have this power? To cut me off even further from humanity? Feeling is to be alive, right? And yet I can’t hear. And if I want no one can see me, as if I don’t even exist at all.

I open my eyes again to see the chaos in front of me. I was at my local coffee shop when a man, or I believed him to be a man, came inside and began releasing hell upon us. I of course retreated to my metaphorical and also quite literal state of invisibility; my perpetual state of nonexistence. I waited for the chaos to end, but it didn’t. I could only watch as people were thrown, tables shoved, dishes shattered, some even killed.. Like a silent movie without subtitles, I watched the decaying world around me. And now I still continue to watch, helplessly.

I then watch as a ship drops from the sky into the street beside the shop. I see them exit and make a run for the distraught city of mayhem, the Avengers. One even makes their way into the shop, killing the beast that caused the anarchy. Captain America, I believe. He motions to the people in the shop. I can’t read his lips as he moves, but it’s along the lines of ‘you are safe now.’ I want to believe him, but the world has been on the verge of disaster too often. Especially when they’re around. Then the man in the iron suit walks in and begins talking with the Captain. After a minute, he looks in my direction an infrared motion sensor lighting up on a screen on his arm. The iron man raises his hands that glow with bright light that I know would obliterate me into true nonexistence. I remove my invisibility shield and am left in the open as people around me hold their hands to their mouths and step away. Untouchable. Unreachable. Iron man lowers his hand. He and Captain America are confused and begin speaking to each other. The Captain begins speaking directly to me next. I point to my ears hoping they’ll understand. He just smiles and poorly signs, ‘I am Steve. We want to help. Follow.’

I understand, but I am still confused. Why would they help me? How would they? I sign to him ‘Why?’ He takes a minute to comprehend then signs, ‘abilities. You leave when you want. Please.’ I still don’t know how they’ll help, but I decide to follow them. We go to their ship as they all gather back on. The city is in ruins, but the threat is gone nonetheless. We fly to their tower that stands tall against the city’s skyline.

Soon everyone exits waving at me or smiling. I don’t know what Steve told them, but the smiles seem genuine and kind. He leads me to the kitchen signing, ‘wait.’ He leaves momentarily and returns in a casual t-shirt and sweatpants. ‘Hunger.’ He signs. I nod and he begins searching for something to make me. He begins speaking and I see his embarrassment after he remembers. He leaves again and gets a piece of paper. He writes for a minute then hands it to me. ‘We would like to help you with your abilities. You’re very special. Although until everyone is ready to talk with you, I’ll be keeping you company. If that’s okay. P.S - I’m sorry my signing is awful. I mean no disrespect.’

I just smile and write back. ‘You are better than most... I’ve never used my abilities except for hiding. I never knew it could be used for more.’

‘Of course! Nat will be so jealous of you. And Wanda will definitely be able to help you better than I can.’

‘I would appreciate it.’

‘What’s it like. Having your ability?’

‘Lonely,’ I write and quickly regret as he just makes a sullen face and begins writing a long response.

He was still writing minutes later. I was worried. Then he handed it back with a smile. I began reading as he continued making food. ‘You know I wasn’t always like this. I was a scrawny nobody from Brooklyn who was constantly bullied. I didn’t have many friends or family. It felt like the pain was never going to end. But then I found a mission for myself to enlist in the army, because if I couldn’t save myself I was going to save others. That’s what drove me. You have to find that drive in life. That’s what propels you to a better tomorrow. I remember how scared and lonely I was too. Now I may be projecting, but loneliness doesn’t last forever. Emotions are waves that are constantly going in and out. You have to find that balance and push yourself even when you are uncomfortable. What you are feeling is normal, but I think we can really help you here. All these people were brought together, not just because our abilities or genius intellects, but our pain and struggle. Our willingness to survive the hard moments in life. To become better people not just for ourselves, but for others. For those innocent lives who struggle daily for a multitude of reasons. We recognize our unique positions to aid those people and truly make a difference. And we always have room for another survivor.’ The tears continue to drip from my eyes to the paper as I finish his letter.

I turn to him and smile through my tears wording, ‘thank you.

He smiles back and signs, ‘Just you smile more, and I’ll learn sign soon.’

‘Thank you,’ I mouth again.

“You’re welcome,” he returns and I embrace him.

One Shot

Masterlist

#one shot #captain america #steve rogers #avengers #infinity war #marvel #mcu #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #tony stark #iron man #black widow #scarlet witch

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romaniassexdungeon · 7 years ago

Photo

Credit to @phyripo for the header image.

Oh look, I’ve finally finished another fic inspired by a Pogues song! This time it’s NedRo, based on ‘Haunting’ and the tone is rather… different compared to my other fics. Whilst most stories in the series are rather angst-filled (though there are happier ones scattered in there to mix things up) this one’s… well, I don’t want to say funny, more stupid and terrible. And most of it’s in verse. Because I hate myself. This took months to write and I’m so glad that it’s finally finished and I get to share this monstrosity with everyone.

I’m sorry.

Also Ned's name in this is Siemen. Blame Phyripo. Also thanks to her, @peteradnan and @tikola-nesla for reading extracts of this terrible thing and letting me ramble.

It’s probably better to read it on AO3

Siemen – Netherlands

Isabel – Belgium

Luca – Luxembourg

Alin - Romania

“Sit down on that stool hear the cant of a fool,

And a strange tale I'll impart to ye…”

“Opa, will you tell me a bedtime story?”

A big fat ‘no’ wasn’t going to be an acceptable answer here, was it?

The last thing Siemen wanted to do was read anyone a bedtime story, but two pairs of bright green eyes were staring right back at him in the gloom of their shared room and he knew he could spend an hour arguing with a pair of screaming children, or he could just tell them a damn story. At least this way, he could be downstairs with a glass of wine in ten minutes.

Isabel and Luca’s room was a mess of toys and clothes and Siemen wasn’t sure he’d ever seen two people with so many possessions. When he was a child, he had a few toys and books and a little bike. That was all. How did they even have time to play with all these toys? Especially since he’d never seen Luca play with anything except an iPad and that one plastic cash register.

Okay, maybe he was a little proud of Luca for that one. Especially when the kid short-changed a teddy bear for being rude to him.

He stared down at his grandchildren in despair. They… really wanted a story, didn’t they? Was there not something they could watch instead?

No, a story was always the best thing to send a child to sleep with. That was what his daughter insisted when she caught him letting the children watch Watership Down until they fell asleep (the TV show, not the film – he wasn’t a monster).

“Okay,” he said, voice cracking, “what book do you want?”

“Can’t you tell us a story from when you were young?” asked Isabel. “You’re so old! You must have interesting stories, right?”

It was illegal to dropkick a small child out the window, right?

“What did you do when you were little?” asked Luca.

“Respected my elders.” A fat lie but oh well. It was a lie his family told him to get him to behave. It didn’t work but they could sleep easily.

“Did you have TV?”

“Yes but only a few channels,” he sighed, “and it was small and grainy.” And if anyone knocked the aerial then the image was fucked and he’d miss the end of Floris in the time it took to fix it.

“So what did you do when you weren’t watching TV?” asked Isabel.

“Rode my bike.” He smiled, remembering the long summer days wasted cycling by the beach in the sun, maybe taking a picnic with him and spending hours just looking at the sea.

If he was being honest, he had to ride his bike everywhere, because he grew up in the countryside and everything was stupidly far away.

It was how he discovered-

That’s it!

“What about a story a friend of mine wrote?” he offered. Anything to stop them asking questions about his personal life. Even his wife – God rest her soul – could only recall approximately 5 facts about his life. And that was before the dementia set in.

The kids perked up.

“Well, he wrote poems,” Siemen clarified, “but story poems.”

Luca’s face lit up. “Ooh, like Dr Seuss?”

No, nothing like Dr Seuss. “Oh, sure. Like that.”

Leaving an excited pair of grandkids to their chatter, Siemen hauled himself up to shuffle into his room. He always tried to keep everything as organised as possible, a habit that now served him well in his old age. For example, he knew – under his bed – was a battered old suitcase where he kept old mementos regarding a certain someone.

There were two books in the suitcase, one a heavy scrapbook containing preserved leaves and twigs, the other was a notebook on the verge of falling apart.

The unpublished poems of Alin Radacanu, his final volume.

Hand written by Siemen Morgens, upon the poet’s insistence.

Most of these could only be described as ‘sexually menacing’ and certainly not appropriate for adult human beings, let alone children. There was one though…

When he hobbled back to the bedroom, Luca had climbed on the bunk bed to fight Isabel. Again. It was almost perfect, like Alin had planned to have his poem read aloud – for the first time – to a pair of fighting kids.

He snarled and began with a growl.

“Sit down ya wee bastard,

I’ve a tale of disaster,

And romance all to tell ye,

About a young man,

His name was Siemen,

And a strangely attractive ol’ tree.”

The kids jumped, Luca falling off the ladder and Isabel looking at him in utter confusion.

“Dr Seuss never swore in his books.”

He would if he ever met Alin. “I said it was like Dr Seuss, but not entirely. Now, if you promise to not tell your mother about the bad words, I would like to continue, please.”

The kids nodded, eyes sparkling at the thought of hearing ‘bad words’ with cool Opa Siemen. And keeping a secret from mum.

“One night, a cold night,

A night full of fright,

He set off on his little old bike,

Off to a party,

His attire classy,

As the rain it speared like a pike.

If a journey could kill,

Oh, this man hated hills,

He much preferred land to be flat,

He was a Dutchman,

So hills he would ban,

If he had the power to do that.”

“Why don’t you just get a taxi?” asked Isabel.

“It was the 1960s and I lived in the countryside. We didn’t have taxis like those fancy fuckers in Amsterdam. Also I was poor.”

Luca laughed at him.

“You shut your bitch mouth.”

“The rain was too much,

The trip dangerous, as such,

And the hill a steep torrent of mud,

So this man turned around,

For shelter was bound,

Before he got knee-deep in sludge.

At the foot of the hill,

Trapped in a chill,

Our hero sat, sulks by a tree,

But lo and behold,

Gnarly and bold,

This tree was in fact me.

Now a prankster I am,

And I can’t spare a damn,

So as slick and as sly as an oyst-

-er, I bent down to his ear,

And in words loud and clear,

I simply said to him: moist."

“Your friend isn’t very good,” Luca commented.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Well, no.”

“Then shut up.”

“He was up like a cat,

Or poker to the back,

And let out a terrible shriek,

His face deathly white,

Oh, what a horrible fright!

Simply too fearful to speak.

When nobody was seen,

Except for this tree,

This young man decided to run,

Away from ground haunted,

By ghosts he was taunted,

I, the living tree, he did shun.”

“Your friend… is a tree?” Isabel raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Mum was right; you’re a senile old bastard.”

“I swear to you it’s tr- I’m a what?”

Isabel shrugged. “Her words, not mine.”

Siemen glared at her for a long moment. “Can I continue?”

They nodded.

“Good.”

“Back on his bike,

Almost flew into a dyke,

In his haste to get away from me,

Shaken and shook,

Without a backwards look,

At me, the twisted old tree.

For weeks, I, alone,

Just stood and bemoaned,

The loss of a potential new friend,

I want him back now,

My soul he will plow,

Will my loneliness ever just end?

Then one silent night,

A strange speck of light,

This man had come back to me,

Though he was scared,

My power he feared,

A new friendship, could this possibly be?”

Luca raised an eyebrow. “You went back to the scary old tree?”

Siemen shrugged. There was a time where he’d been less sensible, almost reckless. And maybe he just wanted to prove to himself that ghosts weren’t real because, dammit Siemen, you weren’t raised to be such a gullible fool.

“If you had found out ghosts were real, would you not want to find out more?”

“Ghosts aren’t real, though.”

“Well, you are wrong. Very wrong. Wrong and stupid.”

Luca began to cry. Because that is what happens when you call a seven-year-old stupid, Siemen.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it!” he hissed, “please don’t tell your mother.”

“Give me €20.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Luca cried harder.

The little fu- “Fine! Here!” He – incredibly reluctantly – opened his wallet and fished out a twenty.

He already knew that smug smile on Isabel’s face meant bad news.

“You’ll have to pay me to not snitch too,” she said slyly. Why did his daughter have to go and have 2 kids?

With a growl, he handed over another twenty. “Can I continue my story now?”

“Sure thing, Opa!”

“He kealt at my root,

His glare was acute,

And demanded to know what I was,

Malevolent spirit,

A vision too vivid,

Or was he a cruel laughter’s cause.

I spoke to him gentle,

A voice thin and fragmental,

I begged him to hear my sad tale,

I meant him no harm,

No need for alarm,

I am but a man, cursed and frail,

Though his eyes showed his fear,

Siemen’s ‘yes’ was sincere,

He wanted to know tragedy,

This blight called my life,

My well-deserved strife,

The price of noxious vanity,

Alin the annoying,

A poet so trying,

A genius hated by all,

Though his rhyme was sublime,

And looks so divine,

He was regarded as quite the arsehole.

He made a bet with the devil,

Their power was level,

And he simply won’t ever die,

He put a gun to his head,

And in one shot was dead,

In blood did that idiot lie."

“This moron killed himself to prove he was immortal?” exclaimed Isabel.

“Well how else do you prove it?”

Isabel thought for a moment, then scowled when she couldn’t come up with a reply. Ha! That’s what Siemen thought!

"The devil punished this poet,

Eternal life? He’d bestow it,

Let this man live his mistakes,

Trapped in a tree,

Trickle of time oversee,

Alone in a silent heartache.

Well now I have Siemen,

Promised to be my friend,

He’d come back to visit again,

And the next day he came,

My heart was aflame,

This feeling spread like a bloodstain."

“Eugh,” Luca pulled a face. “A tree fell in love with you?”

“A tree that used to be a man, mind you.”

“It’s still weird. I mean, you couldn’t fall in love with a tree back, right?”

Siemen fell silent. His grandchildren looked at him in horror.

“Well it’s more about personality, you see.”

“And what kind of personality did Alin have?” asked Isabel.

“A horrible one.” They both raised their eyebrows. “Not really. Well, he was very strange, but I couldn’t help liking him. He was funny, and witty. And, well, I don’t know.” He could feel a blush creeping onto his face, and wanted to punch every single one of his blood vessels. “I just found him charming.”

Luca stared at him for a good minute. “Wait, are you saying this actually happened?”

“Of course.”

“You’re senile.”

“Sinterklaas isn’t real.”

Five minutes of crying, and a €30 bribe later, Siemen turned back to Alin’s poem.

“Our friendship, it grew,

To the town’s harsh ado,

Their tongues, like me, were thorny,

Though we broke the taboo,

Our hearts painted rouge,

The truth was he made me so-“

Sieman stopped. Why, Alin? “Oh no, that’s a bit too rude.” As were the next few verses, it seemed. And this was supposed to be one of the cleaner poems.

“We sat in the sun and he told me poems,” he explained, in the hopes of distracting his grandchildren from the prospect of something with a rude word in it, because holy fuck did children love rude words and he couldn’t have them asking their mother what ‘horny’ meant. “We talked about our lives and grew closer. He had a lot of interesting stories, though I’m not sure just how many were actually true.”

He desperately scanned the poem for something that was’t complete and utter filth, vaguely remembering just how disgusted he felt hearing it from Alin’s voice all those years ago.

Ah! Here we go!

“Our cruel reputation,

Across this flat nation,

The madman who French-kissed a tree,

I go naked in winter,

His lip has a splinter!

And his step-child a family of bees!”

Well, it was cleaner than the last seven verses. Isabel still looked disgusted though. He couldn’t blame her. It took him a week to get that splinter out. And that was just the one he got on his lip.

“Our time was a blast,

But it could never last,

He was a human and I just a tree,

I had stood here for years,

Cried cold, lonely tears,

What I wanted was my soul’s release.

What I ask of you dear,

I make this quite clear,

To go set me free at last,

Take your little axe,

Plunge it into my back,

And chop me up quite fast.

I know you will miss me,

With ice where you kissed me,

But the only way to break my cruel curse,

Is to chop me down,

My spirit set down,

Your axe shall be my own nurse.

I’m ready to die,

My soul has run dry,

And my bark has grown dark and inky,

So cut down this tree,

And let me be free,

In fact, I’ll find it quite- God fucking dammit Alin!”

“He’ll find it quite what?” asked Isabel.

“…Stinky?”

“That’s not the word! We’re not idiots!”

Siemen had had quite enough at this point. “It is the word now shut up and go to sleep!” And he left the kids to their protesting, turning off the light and creaking downstairs to find that wine bottle. After locking up the unpublished poems of Alin Radacanu somewhere innocent eyes couldn't find them, of course.

#nedro #aph netherlands #aph romania #APH Belgium #aph luxembourg #hetalia #Hetalia Fanfiction #pogueverse

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 7 years ago

Text

Locked Away in a Tower

Rating: T

Genre: Angst and fluff

Word Count: 6576

Summary: Prince Simon of Watford has been kidnapped and guarded by a dragon for a year. Sir Basilton is sick of watching others fail to rescue him. Based on "supernatural kiss" prompt.

Read on AO3

AN: Hoooo boy is this long! Once again, Theo let her fic writing spin out of control. I wrote this in one sitting and murdered my eyeballs but it was worth it. I don't exactly know what supernatural kiss means, so I hope this is correct. Either way it was fun. Enjoy! :D

Everyone knows the story. It’s spread throughout the land.

In the kingdom of Watford, there’s a wizard king named David. He rules his people with an iron fist. Everyone fears his wrath. Though he had made good reforms to the kingdom, he’d hurt many in his way. But his son is another story. Prince Simon was kind where his father harsh. He used his great strength to help others rather than demand respect. He became a knight at only 17, a feat only achieved by one other; The son of the former royal family, Basilton Pitch, his bitter rival in school.

But there were those who wished to hurt King David. At age 20, someone kidnapped the Prince, and locked him away in a distant castle, leaving the King only a map and a note as a means to taunt him. To keep Simon from escaping and prevent brave men from attempting to rescue him, a terrifying dragon was on guard at all times. The kingdom was outraged to lose their beloved prince. Many blamed the Pitch family, claiming they took him because they wanted the kingdom back. But there was no proof. Only rumours and panic.

King David kept the true location of the castle to himself so his enemies would not go after his son. Knight after knight was sent, all returning unsuccessful. It became the impossible quest. The great trial for all knights of Watford. Though the King would not send one of his greatest knights, the only one who matched his perfect son. Me, Sir Basilton, and I’m damn well sick of it.

I yell as I plunge the sword into the practice dummy. I don’t know who I want it to be. King David, for once again refusing my request to be sent out. My father, for being even remotely happy about the Prince’s disappearance. The dragon, for keeping Simon hostage for a year. Simon, for getting himself bloody kidnapped. Myself, for being so bloody useless.

“What did that poor thing ever do to you, Basil?”

I turn to the snide voice. Penelope stands in the doorway, wearing her ridiculously bright coloured clothing to match her hair. Her patchwork cape waves behind her in the breeze. She thinks being a court magician means she has to look as eccentric as possible. As a magician myself, I thoroughly disagree.

“It pissed me off,” I mutter, using my left foot to violently kick off the hole-filled straw man from my blade.

“I didn’t know dummies were capable of causing so much rage.”

I sheath my sword. “What do you want, Bunce?”

She walks towards me. “I’m worried about you, Baz. You haven’t been sleeping again, have you?”

I growl, walking briskly past her into the castle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on, Baz!” She follows behind me. “It doesn’t take magic to see that you’re a complete disaster.”

She’s right. I have bags under my eyes, my hair's a mess from tossing and turning, and I generally look like shit. A year of unending worry certainly does a number on someone.

“I’m just concerned about the kingdom. Without the Prince’s tempering influence, I’m worried King David will go on the warpath.”

“Those aren’t your worries, those are your father’s.”

She’s right again. Mine are more along the lines of “terrified the boy I’m in love with is going to stay locked in a tower for the rest of his life, or get burn to a crisp by a temperamental dragon.” But I haven’t told Bunce that. And I’m going to keep it that way.

I whip around to face her. We’re standing in the stone hallway. My voice is very loud in the empty cavern. “Why are you interrogating me? Have your ideas about Pitches changed? Trying to find out if my family really did kidnap the prince? Going to report back to your King’s Champion brother?” I'm spitting vitriol, like I always do when I'm scared.

Penelope shakes her head, making her purple curls rattle. “No. Just concerned for a friend.”

My resolve softens slightly. Ever since Simon’s disappearance, Bunce and I have gone from enemies to mutual respect to tentative friendship. Despite my outburst, I know she’s one of the few people who truly believes my family has nothing to do with all of this. (She's smart enough to know we've gained nothing from it expect more ire from the Court.) We’re both scared for Simon too. Bonding through fear, I guess.

I reach out to place a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Bunce. But I’m perfectly alright.” Just terrified about the safety of the man I love. No problem there. I try to convey with only a look for her not to ask further. I can’t bring myself to say it out loud.

She sighs, knowing to back off. “Alright. To be honest, I’m a mess too. I’ve been pouring over my mother’s books about dragons. All of them say they’re non-violent creatures. They only attack as a last resort. Someone must be controlling it, making it guard Simon and attack knights.”

“So it’s under a spell. Know a way to break it?” Bunce is the most brilliant witch I’ve ever met. If anyone knows, she does.

“Without knowledge of the specific spell, no, definitely not. There’s universal curse breaking stuff, but those are a long shot.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Like what?”

She scoffs and throws me a smirk. “Well, there’s always true love’s kiss. But I don’t think you want to snog a dragon.”

I scoff myself, and start walking down the hallway again. “I would prefer not to have my lips burned off, thank you very much.”

We laugh together and keep moving forward. But my mind is far away. It’s at a desolate castle, where a now 21 year old man with blue eyes and bronze curls is being kept, guarded by a terrifying dragon. I just hope he’s okay.

“We need to launch a large scale assault. My subjects are getting very restless. They're threatening not to pay taxes now!” Lord Wellbelove shouts.

They’re all sitting at the large table in the King’s war room. King David sits at the head, elbows on the table with fingers locked together. His golden circlet is askew, and there are stress wrinkles all over his face. The constant state of panic in the kingdom has not helped to King’s mental or physical health.

“And what, have our entire army burned to the ground?” My father retorts.

“Oh be quiet, Malcolm. You just don’t want your scheme to fail. Everyone knows you stole the prince.”

“And where’s your proof? Because all of you have been accusing me for a year without a shred of evidence.”

“Then why shouldn’t we send the whole army, hm?”

“Because we shouldn’t leave the city unprotected! What if our enemies get word that Watford is unguarded? The vampires will overrun us.”

My father has a point, of course. But since it’s coming from him, they all assume it’s a plot. It’s infuriating. We love this kingdom just as much as they do. Just because we dislike the king doesn’t mean we’ll destroy Watford in the process.

“We’ll send another knight, if you all insist,” the King mutters.

Everyone turns to look at him. His expression is as hard as stone. I resist the urge to jump from my spot at the door and throttle the bastard.

“Who can we send?” Lord Wellbelove says. “Every knight has tried and failed.”

“I haven’t.” I step forward. Everyone turns to look at me. Both Father and King David glare at me for completely different reasons.

“Sir Basilton, what do you mean?” A lord interjects.

“I mean that I have not been sent to try and save Prince Simon. Which baffles me, considering I am one of the best knights.”

Premal, Bunce’s infuriatingly smug brother, steps forward from behind the King. He sneers at me. “The King has been cautious because of the suspicion of you and your family. You and the Prince have never got along, not since you were children. Why would you want to help him? And what if you kill him for revenge? How many times has your aunt accused our ruler of causing the late Queen Natasha’s untimely demise?”

I tighten my grip on my sword handle. My blood is practically boiling. “Do not assume I share my aunt’s views. I serve the kingdom, and rescuing the heir would be in service to the kingdom. So please, allow me to go.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise-” the King starts. But he’s quickly cut off by another lord.

“Why not? Sir Pitch is correct, he’s one of the best knights in Watford.”

Lord Wellbelove stands up. “Also he’s a fire mage, like his mother. I think that would be quite useful against a dragon.”

There are mumbles of agreement among most of them. King David’s lip tightens. He glares at me, but he knows he can’t refuse me now. He sighs angrily.

“Very well. You shall set out tomorrow at first light, Sir Basilton.”

I bow gracefully. “Thank you, your highness.”

The meeting ends shortly after. I receive mixture of nods and glares as they all exit. Father pats my shoulder. As I leave, Premal grabs my arm. His stare would’ve caused weak people to shiver. Luckily, I’m not so easily intimidated by the likes of him.

“If you hurt Simon, I swear to Christ, Pitch, I’ll-”

“Don’t worry, Sir Bunce,” I say, snatching my wrist away from his grip. “I could never hurt him.”

I saddle my horse at dawn. Premal reluctantly gave me a copy of the map. Father wished me luck (he probably thinks a Pitch saving the Crown Prince will help our status). The king merely shook my hand and mumbled good tidings. Mordelia gave me her favourite toy, saying it would protect me. I promised to come back. I hope I don’t have to break that.

“There, all set, Ivory,” I murmured to my stead. “We’ve got a long road ahead.”

“Don’t I get a goodbye, Basilton?”

There’s Bunce again, dressed in ridiculously patterned pyjamas. (All her clothing is terrifying).

“Depends. Are you going to insult me?”

She rolls her eyes. “We always insult each other, it’s our thing.”

I cross my arms with a sly smirk. “Then I don’t need to give a goodbye to a stupidly clothed bespectacled witch.”

She walks to me with her hands on her hips, staring up with a frown. “Well, I don’t need one from a freakishly tall asshole knight.”

We both stare for a bit, then break out into giggles. It takes my mind off the situation for a second. But when we stop, reality sets in. Bunce looks scared. I can’t blame her. She’s lost Simon and I don’t think she wants to lose me either.

She throws her arms around my torso, crushing her face into my breast plate. I make an oomph sound before hugging her in return.

“Find him, please,” she whispers, “and don’t die.”

I stroke her hair. “I will, and I’ll try not to, I promise.”

She pulls back and sticks hand in her robe pocket, pulling out a long white wand. “Take this.”

“Bunce, I have a wand-”

“I know. But you’ll want this one more. I, uh... acquired it from the royal vault. It was Queen Natasha’s.”

My eyes widen. I remember it now; Seeing my mother wave that wand, making fire dance all around the throne room for me. I’d giggle and clap at all the pretty lights. I cautiously take it from Bunce and put in my saddle bag. I clasp her hand one last time.

“Thank you, Penelope.”

She squeezes my palm in return. “Now go bring our boy home.”

I don’t verbally acknowledge what she says, but I know what she means. Of course she’s too smart not to notice what I feel. I nod and mount my horse, riding off into the distance.

I make camp in a forest that night. Ivory is tied to the tree. I lay my pallet out, next to a makeshift fire pit. Cautiously, I take my mother’s wand out of the bag. It’s a gorgeous thing, crafted from fine ivory and covered in swirled carvings, a smooth black leather handle at the thicker end. I point it at the wood pile and barely whisper the spell.

The fire roars to life. I chuckle. Of course it’s a powerful tool, especially in the hands of a fire mage like me. Like my mother was.

I remember the first time I set something on fire with magic. It was in school, in my first class of second year. We were all supposed to light a small twig. I did it without problem. But Simon made the stick explode. His magic was always powerful yet volatile. I thought he was an idiot then, unworthy of being the Crown Prince. Though deep down, I felt my stomach turn at the way he smiled sheepishly and blushed from embarrassment. I miss his smile.

“You better still be alive, you wonderful git,” I mutter.

After a light dinner, I tuck into bed for the night, still worrying as I nod off.

“You absolute idiot!” Simon shouts at me. “You unleashed a chimera?!”

“It wasn’t me! It was already here!” I roar, hoping he’ll believe the lie.

“I don’t have time to argue with you, Pitch. Just pick up your damn sword!”

I growl, but do as he says. We launch ourselves at the beast. Simon’s technique is frantic but effective. He slashes and cuts, spilling the monster’s blood. I try to be more precise, looking for a single weak spot.

“Stop dawdling and just hit it, Baz!” he yells.

“I’m trying to be effective!”

“Well you aren’t help- ah!” The chimera gets him in the side, sending him to the ground. He groans and clutches his head. The beast stops attacking me and goes straight for him. My heart seizes. I just wanted to scare Simon, not actually hurt him. It hits me like a ton of bricks in that moment. I don’t want anyone, including myself, to cause him any harm.

But I don’t have time to sort through my feelings. The chimera gets closer to Simon. I charge at it, burying my blade in it’s neck to the hilt. I pull down and blood spills out of it in one large gush. With a last wet gasp, the beast collapses. Simon blinks rapidly and groans as he sits up. I’m panting, covered in chimera blood.

“You saved me,” he says. For once, he doesn’t look at me like an enemy. His gorgeous blue eyes are wide, pink lips hanging open. He looks admiring and in awe. I realise how much I want him to always look at me like that. But, for someone scared of so little, I’m terrified of what he’d say if I told him.

“Don’t kid yourself, Princeling,” I sneer. “If you died while I was here, your idiot father would most assuredly blame me and my family. I don’t need another reason for him to hate us.”

The look goes away, replaced with a scowl, and my heart breaks. He gets up and starts to walk. “Fuck you, Pitch.”

As I watch his back move farther away, I know one thing to be true. I’m in love with Prince Simon, heir to King David, impossible golden boy, and my sworn enemy. My life is a living hell.

I wake up with a gasp. The sun is rising in the east. The fire has died. My face feels wet. I touch my cheek, and see tears on my fingers. Of course I’m thinking about that day while going off to save Simon. Six years later and it’s still fresh in my mind.

What if I do rescue him? Will I tell him then? The prospect makes my heart stutter.

“No,” I say to myself, “no time for silly feelings.”

Most importantly, I have to save the Crown Prince. Not Simon, the boy with a big heart and an even bigger smile. Because I’m a knight and it’s my sworn duty to protect this kingdom. My stupid undying love comes second to that.

That’s what I’ll keep telling myself.

The castle is enormous. A large crumbling fortress sitting on a cliff side. Crows and ravens caw as they circle it’s tallest tower. I leave Ivory tied up in a nearby wood. I make one last check to make sure that my armour is secure, my sword is at my side, and my mother’s wand is up my sleeve.

“Don’t worry, Simon,” I say, “help is on the way.”

I cautiously walk across the rickety old drawbridge, hand ready on my sword. The only sounds are the birds above. I enter the front door as quietly as possible. The whole room is pitch black. Pulling out the wand, I light a small fire in my hand. It illuminates only the first few feet in front of me. The floor is cracked with vines growing through. No one has truly lived here for ages, obviously. I walk more towards the centre.

“Hello?” I whisper. “Anyone in in here?”

I hear no response. Not a human one anyway.

The growl to my left of me is guttural, certainly animal. I freeze in place. Slowly, I expand the fire as I turn on the spot.

It’s hanging on the wall, Large, scaly, and bright red. I can only see part of it’s face. That long reptilian snout poking out in front of me. It’s lips pull back to show sharp white teeth, barely visible slit pupils narrowing under the firelight.

I back up a bit. “Oh god.”

Smoke pours from it’s nose holes, mouth starting to open. I hear it take in a breath.

“Shit-”

I dive out of the way just as the column of flames shoots out, hitting the ground with a thud. The dragon’s breath lights a series of old torches along the opposite wall. I see the beast more clearly now. It’s bright scarlet with a bit of a metallic bronze sheen. Large bat wings with sharp joint tips extend from its back. A pointed tail slashes back and forth angrily.

I unsheathe my sword and assume battle stance, slipping my wand into my belt. “Come on you overgrown lizard! Give me a real fight!”

The dragon roars, shaking the foundations of the castle. It launches forward with claws bared. I barely dodge the attack. It slides across the floor and growls. It tries to hit me again and again with it's front claws, but I parry each attempt. This beast fights with no technique. Just desperately hoping it’ll get me with a stray slash. But it’s absolutely relentless. I feel my lungs beginning to ache and my arms getting sore.

It backs away. I take a moment to breath, sword falling. The dragon opens it’s mouth, and I see fire building in it’s throat.

I whip out my wand as the fire barrels towards me. When it hits the ivory tip, the flames burst out to surround me. My arm wobbles slightly as I hold the massive amount of fire back. I can’t do this for long. It sucks away too much of my magic and strength.

The onslaught ends. I wave my wand to clear the remaining flames. Just in time to see the monster jumping towards me.

It tackles me to the ground. I hold it’s front talons away from my face with the flat of my sword, using both hands to push with all my might. It’s scaly head turns to stare down at me with one reptilian blue eye.

Wait. I know that blue.

It’s not special. Not navy or cornflower. Just, blue. The same blue I’ve spent years studying and committing to memory.

My voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Simon?”

The dragon’s eye expands. It stops pushing against me. Slowly, it lets me sit up. My head is spinning. My heart is pounding. It can’t be, right?

“Simon, is that you?”

Impossibly, the dragon’s face softens. It’s pupils expand and its lips hang a bit open. I fully sit, watching the beast back away slightly. It stares at me with wide, wondering eyes. That only confirms my fears. I’d know that look anywhere.

No wonder the knights before always found a dragon but no prince. They were one and the same.

“Oh god,” I whisper, “it’s really you.”

I go to my knees and drop my sword. The clanking noise rings in the otherwise silent room. I tentatively reach out towards him. He pulls back with a growl.

“It’s alright, Simon. It’s me, Baz. You know who I am.”

He calms down, and walks towards me. I carefully place my hand on his face. He turns into my touch, nuzzling my palm. His scales scrape against my rough hands.

“Who did this to you?”

He whimpers, eyes big and pleading. He looks so sad, so broken. A few tears leak out onto his face. I run my thumb across his cheek, wiping them away as best I can.

“I’m so sorry, Simon,” I say. “Who would do this? To you, of all people?” I hold the other side of his face, cradling it softly. “I wish Bunce were here with her brilliant spells. She’d know what to do. She’d know how to break this awful curse...”

My voice trails away, mind flinging back to only a few days earlier.

“There’s universal curse breaking stuff, but those are a long shot.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s always-”

“True love’s kiss,” I whisper.

Simon looks as close to confused as he can manage. I stare at him straight in the eye, clutching his face tighter.

“Simon, for both our sake’s, I hope this works.”

I scrunch my eyes close, hold my breath, and snog a dragon.

His lips (really just the very tip of his huge dragon mouth) are hot and scaly. They’re scratchy against my closed ones. I hold him in place, but he doesn’t really move. He’s completely frozen. Bit by bit, I feel the rough scales dissolve under my touch, replaced with soft skin. His head becomes lighter and smaller, until I’m cupping his jaw. Before I know it, a warm mouth is moving against mine. I tangle my fingers in his rough curly hair. I love the way they feel against my touch. Because they feel like only Simon could.

I pull away, blinking rapidly. There he is, kneeling right in front of me, naked save for a long red cloth bunched around his waist. His tawny skin is covered in filth, bronze curls all matted and tangled, and lids heavy over his tired blue eyes. He looks beautiful. He looks so alive.

“Baz?” he rasps out. "I-is it really you?"

I smile, salt water stinging my eyes. “Yes, Simon. It’s me. You’re safe now.”

“Oh, Baz!” He throws himself around me, burying his face in my shoulder. I feel his tears soak my tunic. One of my arms is tight across his back, the other smoothing his hair.

“It’s okay, it's all okay now,” I murmur into his ear. “It’s going to be okay. It’s all right, love.”

It takes awhile for Simon to calm down. He cries in my embrace on and off for what feels like hours. But when he regains most of his composure, I wrap him in my thick cloak and gently carry him bridal manner. He clings to my neck like he’s scared I’ll vanish if he lets go. I make sure to take my sword and wand as we leave. (Don't want to be defenceless if I have to protect him.)

I go to where I left Ivory. Grabbing my pallet with one hand, I lay it on the ground and place Simon on top. As I pull back, he tugs my sleeve.

“No,” he whines, “please don’t go.”

His voice is so small, like a terrified child’s. I shed my armour quickly. The pallet is not meant for two. But I don’t care. I lay next to him, holding his side with one hand and tangling our legs together.

His face is all scrunched up, like he’s still in pain. There are still some stray tears. I rub them away.

“You’re alright now,” I say softly.

“I was there for so long,” he sobs. “I-I was so scared. I was horrible. I was an animal, a beast, a monster, I-”

“Stop it, Simon. That wasn’t you. That was the curse.”

He opens his eyes slowly with that awe filled expression. “Which you broke.”

I freeze. We’re both magicians. We both know about the power of true love’s kiss, and certainly what it means. There's no point in denying it now. I sigh heavily. “Yes, I did.”

He tentatively brings a hand onto my side. I shiver as he traces me with his fingers. “For how long, Baz?”

I cup his cheek. I can fit most of his face in just one hand. “A long time. Almost since we met.”

He gasps and tenses slightly. But I can feel as he slowly relaxes. He smiles. I’ve really, really missed that smile. He moves closer, tucking his head under my chin. He tentatively kisses my chest, making me shudder.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into my tunic. “F-For finding me, for saving me, for... everything.”

My heart almost beats out of me. I’m overwhelmed with relief and love. I lean down and press my lips to his hair. “You’re welcome, Simon.”

We fall asleep like that, tangled together on the dirty old pallet. And I couldn’t be happier.

Simon wakes up sometime in the afternoon, when the sun is bright in the sky. Saying he was beyond exhausted is an understatement. He sits up with a start, panting and sweaty.

“Baz!” He shouts.

I run over to him. “I’m right here, Simon. It’s okay.”

He grabs my hand and breathes deeply. “I dreamt I was back in the castle. T-That I was still cursed.”

“You’re not cursed. Not anymore. You’re out of there and you’re okay.”

We hear a low grumble. Simon groans and clutches his stomach. I raise an eyebrow. “Hungry?”

He nods vigorously. “Very. I think I only ate birds as a dragon.”

I chuckle and stand up, not letting go of his hand. “I’ll cook something up for us. There’s a stream nearby to the west if you want to wash up, and there are some clean clothes.” I gesture to pile next to the pallet.

He squeezes me once and nods. “Okay.”

His hand slowly falls from mine. I watch over my shoulder as he picks the garments up and walks away. He flashes me one last soft smile.

Simon returns just as I finish cooking the rabbits I’d caught. He rolls up the sleeves on the brown tunic (I am three inches taller). His damp curls stick to his forehead. I watch his mouth water at the sight of the rabbit.

I slide one off the spit and hand it to him. He sits down next to me and bites into it greedily, moaning in delight. I chuckle, just happy to see him like this. It reminds me of our days at school when he’d devour whole plates of sour cherry scones.

“God this is good,” he groans with his mouth full.

“Glad you approve of my mediocre cooking skills,” I reply.

“Well, I’ve just missed food without feathers.”

We both laugh, but quickly fall into awkward silence. I cautiously put my rabbit down.

“Simon, do you know what happened? How you were cursed?”

Simon scowls, fingers digging into the meat of the animal. “It’s one of the few things I do remember clearly.” He puts his meal down, picking at his pants angrily. “It feels like so long ago. I got in a fight with my father. I found out that he wasn’t just harshly taxing the rich, but the townspeople too. I told him it was too much for them. Then it all just, spun out of control. He accused me of undermining him, of trying to usurp his throne. I tried to reason with him but he was beyond it. He put me under a sleeping spell. Next thing I knew, I was in that bloody castle. He told me it was time for me to disappear so he could do his work. Then he, he... changed me.”

I reach out and grab his bicep. He’s shaking so badly. I steady him as best I can. Little by little, the shaking subsides. His head falls onto my shoulder.

“It’s all a bit of a blur after that. I remember the constant urge to attack anyone I saw. Lots of swords and fire and blood. I ran on pure instinct. Sometimes, my consciousness would take over, but only a for a few minutes. Like little glimpses of reality through the haze. It was so awful!”

I wrap my arms around him in a side hug. “I know, I know. But it’s over now. You’re safe. I’ll never let him or anyone else hurt you ever again.”

He grips my forearms. “What I don’t understand is why. Why would he do it?”

“Why else? Control. The people love you, Simon. They’d choose you over him in a heartbeat. He needed you gone in case they decided to rebel and rally around you. But I guess just killing you and saying you vanished wouldn’t have been good enough. So he made it seem like you’d been captured. Panicked over their beloved crown prince being taken by an unknown enemy, the people and nobility would need a strong ruler, like him.”

“But, he sent knights after me.”

I sigh, tracing circles on his shoulder. “Yes, he did. He needed to make it look like he wanted to rescue you, I guess. Maybe he thought we’d all give up after the first few tries, but he underestimated your popularity among the people. The lords never stopped demanding he send knights because their subjects never did.”

He looks up at me, expression filled with astonished hope. “They... never stopped?”

I brush some of his soggy hair away from his eyes. “Never. Neither did I. I asked to go after you all the time. I guess King David knew I was a skilled enough magician to break the curse, so he prevented me for as long as possible.”

He turns so we’re facing each other, caressing my bicep with one hand. “I doubt he thought you’d break the curse like that, though.”

We both break out in giggles. I cradle his soft face, covered in those beautiful freckles and moles. “As did I. Nor did I think you’d feel the same way.” An awful fear bubbles in my stomach. I pull back slightly, hands falling away. “Do- Do you feel the same way? It’s alright if you don’t, I’d understand. I’m not going to force you.”

He shakes his head violently. “No! I mean, yes, I-I do. When I think about it, I have for awhile. I mean, maybe not as long as you. But when I look back, at all the things I thought about you, they were angry, but also admiring. I’ve always admired you, Baz. More than I was supposed to.” He moves to hold my jaw in his warm hands. “I like this, Baz. I like you. I like being near you, knowing that you’re okay. Every time I resurfaced, I thought about how much I missed Watford, and Penny, and especially you. So... yes, I’m pretty sure I feel the same.”

I smile so hard my face nearly splits, moving to grip his shoulders. We lean together until our foreheads are touching. “Thank you for telling me.”

He giggles. “Thank you for saving me.”

We both move forward and kiss for the second time. It’s a thousand times better than before, because it's wanted, not needed. I know how he feels, know that he cares about me. I snake my arms around his back and press him to me. I never want to let him go.

We only separate when the need for air takes over. Simon places his head in the crook my neck, hugging me tightly. “I missed you so much, Baz.”

I stroke his hair, inhaling the scent, smoke and cinnamon. “Me too, Simon. Me too.”

We ride back to Watford as soon as possible. It only takes a day and a half at the speed we go. Simon wears my hood and cape to hide his face as we go through the outer city. He doesn’t need to be swarmed by crowds now. He needs to see someone in particular.

Using the hidden stairway and servant’s passages, we arrive at the doors of the throne room. I can hear people talking inside. Another council meeting. Simon pulls down his hood. He straightens his back and holds his head up high, looking like the powerful royalty he is. He takes a deep, shaky breath. I grab his fingers.

“You don’t have to do this now,” I say.

He squeezes my hand, but nods solemnly. “Yes, I do.”

He lets me go and pushes the double doors open. The room goes silent. Everyone turns to look at Simon. There’s some gasps and a lot of dropped jaws. Father is stunned. Lord Wellbelove seems primed for a heart attack. Bunce stands near the back, grinning ear to ear. And King David looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“S-Simon?” he squeaks.

“Hello father,” Simon says coldly. “We need to talk.”

Simon paces back and forth in our quarters. He’s mumbling to himself, running a hand through his hair repeatedly, the other picking at the hem of his embroidered tunic. His long green robe trails behind him on the dirty floor.

“What if I mess up? What if I get the words wrong?”

I sigh from my spot sitting on our bed, trying to rub off a stray scuff on my new wrist guard. (I just polished it yesterday!) “You won’t. You’ve practised it a hundred times.”

“But I’ll get up there and get tongue tied and the Lords will realise I’m too young and I can’t do this and-”

“Simon!” I stand and grab his wrists, halting him in his tracks. “Stop panicking! You’ll be a wonderful king. You’ve proved that already so many times. The whole court is behind you. Perfect words or no words at all, they will crown you.”

Simon sighs and nods. “I know. I’m just... really scared.”

“And that’s natural, love. But no matter what happens, be assured that your King’s Champion will protect you.” I pat the hilt of my sword. Simon chuckles.

“You can’t use your sword to solve all my problems, Baz.”

I shrug. “Well, I could try kissing them away. Worked six months ago.”

Simon breaks out laughing. I love his laugh. It’s so happy and cheerful. Even after everything he went through. “I think that was a one time thing, love.”

We lean forwards until foreheads tap, fingers intertwining. “You’re going to be great, Simon,” I whisper. “I know it.”

He rubs his nose against mine. “Thank you.”

He kisses me softly. I move my mouth slowly against his. It's long and languid, utterly filled with love. It makes me feel a bit drunk, and very happy. I’ll never get tired of kissing this man. He pulls away but keeps our lips close together.

“I love you, Baz,” he says.

“And I love you, Simon.” I move back so I can look at his beautiful face. “No matter what you are. Prince, wizard, knight, dragon, king. Whatever you are, wherever you are, I’ll always love and be there for you. I swear on my sword.”

He smiles, making his blue gaze sparkle. He grips my hand. “Thank you, darling. I promise the same, you know. To love and protect you from all that would want to hurt you. For the rest of my bloody days. I swear on my throne."

I trace a finger down his jaw to hold his chin. He swipes his thumb over the back of my hand. Though we are not married, and may never be, it's okay. These are as good as any wedding vows. “Thank you, my love.”

There’s a knock on the wooden doors. Simon turns to them. “Enter,” he says.

Bunce pops her head in. She’s in her most subdued formal outfit, a navy robe with stars on it. Very classic wizard. The silver forehead tiara (signifying her position as Head Court Magician) is slightly off kilter in her mound of purple hair.

“It’s showtime, boys.”

Simon takes a deep breath. I hold his hand tightly. He looks at me with a soft smile, speaking under his breath.

“Let’s do this.”

Two members of the King’s Guard push open the throne room double doors. The trumpeters sound their instruments through the grand hall. Everyone stands and turns. We walk forward slowly. Simon is at the front of course. Bunce and I stand behind him, forming a moving triangle. That’s how it’s supposed to be. A king, his champion, and his magician. The three pillars that hold up Watford. I’m so glad to be a part of it, especially for Simon.

Everyone watches us. Father and Aunt Fiona nod to me with subtle smiles. Mordelia waves wildly until Daphne stops her. Lord Wellbelove is grinning, Lady Agatha right next to him. Even Premal, who rejected former King David when he learned of his deception, looks beyond pleased. He trusts Simon to rule well, and he's very proud of his little sister. He wasn’t even mad when I took his job. (I may actually grow to like him.)

We arrive at the throne. Simon walks up the few steps, while Bunce and I stay at the bottom. The royal priest stands there.

“Prince Simon,” he says, “do you come here to take up the throne of Watford?”

“I do.”

“Recite the oath of kings to accept the crown.”

Simon straightens. “I, Prince Simon, do swear to uphold the laws of this land, rule the people kindly, defend it from enemies, and make sure it prospers under my watch. From this day until my dying breath, I promise such.”

I smile slightly. I knew he wouldn’t mess up.

“Kneel before the throne.”

Simon takes one knee, bending his head forward. The priest takes the large gold crown, covered in green and purple gems, from the satin pillow. He slowly places it on his head. It fits like it’s meant to be there. Simon carefully stands, and I see him breath out slowly.

He turns to face the court. I turn as well. My eyes flick to him. He smiles and nod.

“All hail King Simon,” I shout. “Lord Protector and one true ruler of Watford. Long live the King!”

“Long live the King!” Everyone yells back. “Long live the King! Long live the king!”

They erupt into cheers and claps. Simon steps down to my level. I feel his hand slip into mine. He’s grinning so wide. It makes my heart race.

I swore to be by his side no matter what. To love him no matter what. And I certainly meant it.

AN: Got you with that twist there, huh? Yes, I'm very sneaky, I know. Like M. Night Shyamalan before he was shit, haha. Seriously this was so much fun to do. I loved writing it. I really hope you all enjoyed it. I certainly did :) Feel free to request more kiss fics here. Though I have a lot right now so there may be a wait.

PS: I had no idea what Natasha's wand is supposed looked like. I gave my best guess. PPS: This is how I imagined Penny's tiara, except with a green gem in the centre.

#snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #the mage #royalty au #fairytale au #mysnowbazfic

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