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hide-in-imagination · 5 years

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“Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Christmas Sucks (or perhaps not)” - A Simbar Oneshot

Helloo ⭐️ I finally finished this! I’m so excited, it’s been so long since I wrote something so light, and it’s also the first time I write a Christmas story, so I hope you like it. The title is supposed to be read at the rhythm of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’, by the way. And this story is an AU so some stuff is different from the show.

Now, I know it’s still November, but I wanted to show you guys this and see what you think. I don’t plan on posting it on my other sites for a while, so consider yourselves beta readers! I’d really love to know your opinions.

Without further ado, enjoy!

Christmas was the most depressing season.

Anyone who said otherwise was either lying, selling something, or was just too carefree.

Ámbar envied the last bunch, she really did, because she dreaded Christmas season. Where most people bought eggnog and tree ornaments and counted down the days to meet with their families and have a nice time, Ámbar bought herself a bottle of liquor and made her own countdown by drinking one good-sized glass every day.

Don’t take her wrong, it’s not like she hated Christmas or something. (And who could really hate getting presents? Even if you didn’t like them, you could sell them and get free money). She wasn’t an old grumpy lady, too bitter to find joy in anything. She was quite young in fact, only 25, with a college degree, a great job—basically at the best time of her life.

It wasn’t that Ámbar hated Christmas; it was that Christmas was the time of the year in which everything that was wrong in your life got highlighted like a neon sign.

Christmas season was the time when everyone was supposed to be happy, and excited, and just, well, be jolly. And it was that social dictamen of having to be happy that pointed out the stuff you weren’t so happy about. Like, for example, the fact that her parents were out in a business trip (as always) and only sent her a Merry Christmas through text message, or the fact that she couldn’t stop wondering if her biological parents were out there making Christmas arrangements with an offspring they did keep, or the fact that she would have to endure a Christmas dinner party with the cousin that she despised, or the fact that all her friends were going to be spending the holidays with their boyfriends while Ámbar hadn’t had a lasting relationship since a douchebag cheated on her with the previously mentioned cousin.

The icing on the cake? Her ex-douchebag would be there too because he was still with her cousin.

Honestly, the rest of the year Ámbar didn’t give a shit about all of that. Yes, her parents traveled a lot and had always placed some very high expectations on her, but they loved her, and they had spoiled her rotten in the material department, so she had always had pretty much anything she wanted. Ámbar always knew she was adopted so she had had years to come to terms with that and she was okay with it. The thing with Matteo (a.k.a the douche) had been a long time ago and it’s not like that relationship had been very profound to begin with. Her cousin Luna had apologized profoundly, many times, and even though Ámbar still found her obnoxious, she had buried the hatchet. And last but not least, Ámbar didn’t even need a boyfriend. She was happy for her friends that had one of course, but she was perfectly content on her own. She loved her job and having a relationship would just take time off her busy schedule.

Ámbar liked her life, it was a pretty good life, but like she said before… Christmas. The goddamned you’re-a-fucking-failure-if-you’re-not-conventionally-happy Christmas.

Considering her reservations, one would wonder why she was even going to the Christmas family dinner anyway. The truth was that, albeit her feelings about Christmas, she went every year, and the reason behind that was that it was her grandpa who held it.

With her parents always traveling for work, Ámbar had in big part been raised by her grandpa. He wasn’t like the typical grouchy old man who did nothing but complain and yell at the television. Her grandpa was the life of the party, an eternal young soul; in fact, she swore he had more spark inside him than her. She loved him with all her heart, and ever since she had moved out of the house to her own place, she made it a point to visit him at least once a week and attend the Christmas dinner party he threw every year at her old house. (No matter how painful those could end up being.)

So, like every year, she made her way to her childhood house earlier than everyone else to spend some time with her grandpa. Christmas carols were already playing softly when she crossed the front door. Her grandpa saw her immediately and received her with a strong warm hug that she happily returned. The instant he let go, he grinned widely at her and told her she looked absolutely beautiful, making her blush. Ámbar had put on a sleeveless red A-line dress with a bow on the chest (no one could say she didn’t have Christmas spirit like that, right?), accompanied by black heels. She hadn’t done anything with her hair (why bother, she gathered) and instead just let her blonde strands fall freely over her shoulders. She thanked her grandpa with grace (she knew there was no use in trying to convince him that she didn’t look that different from usual) and told him he looked very handsome as well with his black pants, white shirt, golden vest and bowtie.

She also praised him for how beautiful the house looked. He had done a really great job with decorations; every wall was filled with tinsel garlands, Christmas ball ornaments, and lights of different colors. There were also some Santa Claus dolls scattered around, and the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room was as huge and shiny and beautiful as always. She had also seen on her way in the lighted reindeer he always put at the front yard of the house. Ámbar remembered how she loved to climb on top of it when she was little as if to ride him (not when the lights were on, of course). She had continued to do so until her weight was too much and she had actually sunk its back a bit. She had cried when she noticed, but her grandpa had told her that it was okay, that now that dent made it even more special.

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Over time, all the guests arrived at the house, slowly filling the place. This year, it consisted of three pairs of uncles and aunts, including Luna’s parents (whom Ámbar greeted kindly because they were actually very good people and she didn’t blame them for their daughters’ mistakes), one older cousin with his wife (who was pregnant, Ámbar noticed, and she congratulated them happily) and one older cousin with her four-year-old son and husband. (Last year, their son had thought it was funny to throw ball ornaments at her back when no one was looking. She internally prayed something like that wouldn’t happen again.)

Ámbar stayed talking with her grandpa until the staff he had hired for the event announced that dinner was ready. Her grandpa invited everyone to go to the dining room and take a seat at the large table, impeccably set and filled to the brim with different choices of salads and drinks.

Ámbar immediately pondered which would be her venom of choice for the night. Getting drunk at friends’ gatherings was normal, it could even be the point of it, but getting drunk at a family event could almost surely mean humiliation for the rest of her life. Therefore, Ámbar always kept her consumption of alcohol to one glass during dinner and one afterward. Just enough to endure hours of pointless small talk and, if lucky, manage to have fun.

Just as everyone had taken their seats, the front bell rung. Her grandpa told everyone to remain sited while he stood up to go open the door. He loved playing host. And considering that there were only two people missing in the reunion, it wasn’t surprising that he wanted to receive them.

“Luna!” Grandpa’s voice resounded vibrant and happy. “We were waiting for you!”

Talk for yourself, Ámbar thought.

Indeed, after about a minute of muffled conversation, Luna appeared through the dining room’s doorway. Late, as always. Ámbar swore her cousin was always running from one place to another, she seemed incapable to plan ahead and organize her time. Judging by how some brown strands had broken loose from the side braid she had put her hair in, that day was not an exception.

What did surprise Ámbar though was that Luna didn’t only arrive with Matteo like she said she would but also with another guy by her side. Did her little cousin have a harem now?

As Luna greeted everyone and apologized for being late, Ámbar observed the new guy. He was tall but not monstrously so; about 1.80 she’d say, with brown hair and eyes. His skin was tanned and he had a boyish look to him. While Matteo wore a grey vest and black-tie combo, the stranger wore a dark green checkered shirt over black fitted jeans. It made him look more casual, but not less groomed for it.

Luna, clothed in a pink dress so very like her, introduced the guy as Simón, a friend from College. Simón greeted everyone with a friendly smile and an awkward wave of his hand. His voice was smooth and nice. It was clear he felt weird about being there but tried to hide it. Not like anyone could blame him, being surrounded by other people’s relatives that had nothing to do with him. As everyone greeted him back politely, his eyes made a quick scan around the room. When they connected with Ámbar’s, Simón’s smile faltered a little.

It was a flash reaction, but Ámbar noticed. She felt a little proud of it too, but then she remembered that most people there was middle-aged and deemed that catching his attention was in fact not an achievement.

The trio sat down and it was only then that Ámbar noticed there had been three empty seats on the table. Apparently, Luna had told their grandpa in advance that her friend would be coming— And thank god for that, because grabbing another chair, plate, and silverware just for him while everyone else stared would’ve been very awkward.

After the food was served, one of her aunts, the one that liked to call herself sociable but Ámbar would actually call nosy, asked Simón why he wasn’t spending Christmas with his family. ‘If I may ask’, she added all politely at the end, as if she hadn’t already voiced a question that could very much make him and everyone else uncomfortable if his family had kicked him out of the house or something.

Luckily, Simón didn’t seem fazed at all. He just casually explained that his family had been stranded on another country due to a snowstorm, and since it had been with such short notice, he hadn’t been able to join them over there.

“Well, we’re more than happy to have you,” her grandpa said with a warm smile.

Ámbar felt a little twinge of comradery towards the stranger. The number one unwritten rule of the social dictamen of Christmas was that you were supposed to spend it with family. Just the fact that he had ended up on his own was sad, but it was also sad that apparently his whole family had gone on vacations without him. Did they have a bad relationship or was he just busy? Maybe he had a demanding job that he couldn’t abandon for a couple days? Maybe someone had to stay to take care of the pets? Did they even have pets?

What did she care anyway?

Well, since the whole ordeal would last a good couple of hours, she had time to kill— might as well spend it making up scenarios in her head about the guy.

And if she was 100% honest, he wasn’t a pain to look at. Not underwear-model gorgeous or sex-appeal-off-the-charts-let’s-have-a-one-night-stand-with-him hot; but he was cute. She liked his smile. And he seemed to smile a lot. It seemed genuine too, not a I’m-surrounded-by-strangers-smiling-is-my-self-defense kind of smile, but a real, happy one. It probably helped that no one tried to smother him with questions after the rude one her aunt made, allowing him to just enjoy the food and converse with Luna and Matteo. He seemed to really get along with them.

At one point, his eyes connected with hers and Ámbar rapidly moved her gaze away. Had he caught her staring? Well, she wasn’t exactly staring, it was just short glances she threw his way from time to time out of curiosity, but maybe he’d think she had been staring and that would be very embarrassing.

For the rest of the dinner, Ámbar made a point of not looking in his direction unless absolutely necessary.

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By the time he talked to her, Ámbar had already picked the names of the three imaginary dogs he owned, had pinned him to be a social worker working in a very difficult case of child abuse because of which he couldn’t leave the country (the jury was still out, but she had faith he could win it), had picked imaginary jobs for his parents which allowed them to spend on plane tickets and accommodations abroad, and had deemed him single for at least six months now.

(The last part was only for her own amusement.)

After dinner, everyone had moved back to the living room to chat and joke around merrily. For about half an hour, Ámbar had done small talk with her relatives, but after the third comment from her aunt Susan about how at her age she was already married with children, she excused herself and moved to stand next to the snack table.

It was as she was nursing her already half-empty glass of wine that Simón came to stand by her side.

“Hi, can I join you?” He asked shyly. “You’re the only one who looks my age and I don’t feel like being the third wheel all night.”

Ámbar looked over his shoulder and yes, indeed, her little cousin and Matteo were flirting and being all adorable for some, cringe-worthy for others.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, showing a welcoming smile to make him relax. She spun toward the table to grab a small silver tray and offered it to him. “Christmas cookies?”

“Oh, thank you,” he smiled and grabbed a gingerbread man.

Ámbar put the tray back and played with the glass of wine in her hands only to have something to do with them. She stared forward, pretending to be appreciating the cheery view of people talking and laughing around the Christmas tree— Anything to not show she was nervous. Especially when she could see him staring at her from the corner of her eye. Was he checking her out? Did she want him to?

“So, um, Ámbar, right?”

Ámbar finally turned to face him. With his eyes focused on her, the fluttering in her stomach got a little stronger, but she managed to keep a casual demeanor.

“Yes. And you’re Simón?” She said more like a question than a statement, even though she had already memorized his name. He didn’t need to know that.

Looking a little more loosened now that she hadn’t ignored him or told him to get lost, he smiled at her and offered a hand in greeting. “Simón Álvarez. Very nice to meet you.”

Ámbar placed her glass in her left hand to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you too,” she said half chuckling, amused by the formal gesture. Judging by the way his smile widened, it had been the intention.

“So, where are the rest of the Álvarez?” She asked curiously and took a sip from her drink.

“In London,” he replied. “My mom had always wanted to go there, and everyone got excited with the idea of experiencing Christmas season covered in snow like in the movies, so there they went.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Looks like that backfired spectacularly.”

He laughed. “Yeah, it did. Well, it did for me. Them? I think they’re having a blast. They’ve sent me like a hundred pictures and my little sister won’t stop posting Instagram stories.” He chuckled and then sighed. “I wish I was with them.”

“Why aren’t you? I mean, why didn’t you go with them?” Ámbar asked and felt herself fill with anticipation. She’d finally get the answer to the question she had been turning around in her head all night.

“I would’ve loved to, but I had a concert with my band and I couldn’t abandon them.”

Okay, that is so not what she would’ve guessed.

Now the original question was answered, but Ámbar had a thousand new ones.

“A concert?” Was the first one that left her lips.

“Yeah. Not like a huge thing, we’re not very known… yet,” he added, whether out of confidence or to try and convince himself of it, she didn’t know. “But still, every opportunity is important and it’s amazing to connect with the audience. You know that they’re there to see you, that they could’ve chosen any other thing to do but they chose your music, and when they sing back the lyrics to you it’s just…” He took a deep breath and exhaled contentedly. “It’s really magical. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s great.”

All the excitement with which he talked and the sparkle in his eyes was captivating. Ámbar didn’t know if she loved something that much. She found herself wishing she did.

“So, you play?” She asked him, wanting to hear him talk more.

“Yeah, I play the guitar and sing too.”

Sing?

“Really?”

Simón chuckled lightly at her surprise. “Yes, really. Why?”

Because you can’t look like that and sing, that’s unfair, that’s illegal.

Stuck in denial (and even almost a little angry because, seriously, it wasn’t fair), she blurted:

“But Luna said you two met in College.”

It was only after it was out of her mouth that she realized how bad that sounded.

Lucky for her, he just laughed.

“You can study music in College, you know?” He said with an eyebrow raise. Thank god her foot in mouth seemed to amuse him.

“Yes, of course, sorry. How silly of me.” God, was she blushing? She’d better not be blushing.

“Nah, it’s okay,” he said laid-back. “It’s funny to be pinned as a College dropout who turns to music to rebel against the system.”

She wondered what he’d think about her version of his life where he was fiercely battling to take a six-year-old girl away from her physically abusive dad and alcoholic mother.

Not like she was ever going to mention that.

“I never said anything about rebelling. In fact, you look the complete opposite of a rebel. I’d know,” she said bringing her glass to her lips, “I was one.”

A glint appeared in his eyes and he crossed his arms, turning to face her completely.

“I’d ask more about what I look like, but I’m more interested in what you mean by you being a rebel,” he said, everything in his manner telling her that she had his full attention.

Ámbar just dismissed it with a shrug. “It was a phase I had in high school. Black clothing, dark makeup, dyed hair; you know the drill.”

He rose his eyebrows impressed. “Really? And what pushed you to go full emo?”

“Punk,” she corrected. “And it was a mix of things. A lot of changes in my personal life, including Luna stealing my boyfriend—”

“Oh.”

“—But mostly it was discovering that no one really like me.”

He frowned and his arms fell to his sides again. “What do you mean?”

Ámbar paused, considering whether she should tell him or not. It was a long time ago, but it was personal, more than she’d like to admit. And it wasn’t a very cheery conversation topic, she didn’t want to bum him.

She could’ve just said ‘forget it’ and talk about something else; it would’ve been easy... But something in his expression, in his gaze, told her it would be okay to tell him.

“I was popular in high school. Every girl wanted to be me, every boy wanted to get with me… I was very proud, and selfish. After the whole thing with Matteo, I found out that many people knew about his cheating and no one had deemed to tell me, not even the girls I thought were my friends. Everyone was even rooting for him, encouraging him to cheat on me because I was a bitch and I deserved it.” She took a sip from her glass, swallowing the bitter taste that remembering that time left in her mouth. “So I thought ‘Fuck it.’ If they think of me as a mean girl, then I’ll be one. I don’t need any of them.”

Simón stared at her looking deeply dismayed.

“Ámbar, that’s…” One of his hands reached up as if to touch her forearm, but he seemed to think better of it and lowered it again. “That’s terrible. I can’t believe not even your friends supported you.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. Eventually, I came to realize that I pretty much deserved it. I wasn’t exactly nice. I manipulated people to get what I wanted, attacked people who got in my way…”

He shook his head. “That’s not excuse for everyone to stab you in the back,” he retorted emphatically. “If they had a problem with you, they could’ve come straight to you and say it instead of laughing secretively at you getting cheated on. No one deserves that.”

Her eyes searched his for long moments, looking for any kind of falsity or pity, but all she found was sadness and anger on her behalf.

No one had ever said that to her before. There was always a ‘but’: ‘Yes, Matteo shouldn’t have done that, but…’ ‘Luna made a mistake, but…’ ‘Ámbar, I know what I did was wrong, but…’

No one had ever taken her side like that.

After a while, she cleared her throat and lowered her gaze. The moment had stretched too long and the energy in the air had changed in a way that she couldn’t keep his eyes anymore.

“Well, it’s in the past. It helped me figure out who I am and who I wanted to be, so I think everything turned out for the best.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Ámbar,” he told her genuinely. Then he paused, and she was about to change the topic completely when he added: “But I agree. You grew into a very amazing woman.”

Ámbar’s eyes jumped back to him, wide. His expression was earnest, just as before. It didn’t budge under her gaze nor showed it was a joke.

She felt herself blush and deflected on instinct. “You don’t even know me.”

“I’ve seen enough,” he replied easily, almost with conviction. “But feel free to tell me more about yourself,” he told her with a playful twinkle in his eyes, matching his smile. “Maybe you’ll change my mind.”

The obvious intent behind his word had Ámbar fighting to quench a smile of her own. “Or maybe I’ll bore you to death.”

“I’m willing to take my chances,” he told her, staring into her eyes.

The question was: was she?

Ámbar drank the last of her wine and turned to leave the empty glass on top of the table. She turned back around, playing with her fingers. She took a breath, opened her mouth—

“Oh my god, you guys, look!”

Ámbar almost jumped at the high voice, haven momentarily forgotten that there were other people in the room. She turned her head to see her cousin Sara smiling excitedly with an arm raised.

Ámbar frowned and looked up to where she was pointing.

Immediately, her heart stopped in her chest.

Hanging above her head, between her and Simón, was a green bouquet with white small berries that could not be mistaken as anything else but mistletoe.

Oh, come on! Ámbar screamed internally. Who hangs mistletoe right next to the snack table?! That’s like pushing literally everyone to kiss!

Then again, that might have been the strategic idea behind it. She could totally see her grandpa thinking it’d be funny.

Be that as it may, it didn’t change her current situation.

Ámbar lowered her gaze toward Simón and their eyes met. She could see his gaze drop to her lips and then move back up. He kept his eyes locked to hers, searching. A silent question.

Ámbar could feel her heartbeat going at a thousand beats per hour. He hadn’t moved a muscle and yet she was already that affected. She had been affected the whole evening if she was honest, and that scared her because she wasn’t usually like that. He was just a guy, she didn’t even know him, not really, and yet… And yet.

It felt like an eternity passed like that, with both just staring at each other, but it was probably no more than a couple seconds; it was her heart going into overdrive what made everything else seem in slow motion.

Then something changed in Simón’s eyes. The intensity disappeared and was replaced by something that looked like understanding. Ámbar saw him let out a breath (which made her realize that she too had held her breath at some point) and then a sweet smile formed in his face.

A second later, he leaned down and placed an equally sweet kiss on her forehead.

“There.”

Boos and complaints could be heard around the room, calling him boring, but Simón just laughed and appeased everyone with a smile.

Ámbar was left reeling. A lot of feelings mixed within herself: relief, disappointment, confusion, giddiness...

She thought he was going to kiss her. He clearly wanted to; she could see in his eyes. But he didn’t. Were many others would have, he chose not to take advantage of the situation.

That was what pushed her forward to grab his face, pull him down and kiss him on the mouth.

‘Woooo!’s sounded around them, but Ámbar lost focus on everything that wasn’t Simón’s lips on her own. He had been caught by surprise, but soon his mouth was moving with hers, discovering, tasting, and his hands rose to hold her waist gently.

It was the most tender kiss Ámbar had ever been given. She melted against the softness of Simón’s lips and got drunk on the smell of his cologne. Everything felt so wonderful she almost lost herself and deepened the kiss, but thankfully, her brain maintained at least some part of its functions and she was able to remember that they had an audience. And not just any audience— her family.

Reluctantly (and embarrassed, because she didn’t know how long the kiss had been but it most probably had been longer than necessary), Ámbar pulled away and opened her eyes. She immediately found his gaze and saw that his eyes were staring back at her with something that resembled awe. She became aware of his heartbeat under her palms, seeming to be trying to break free of its confines and reach her. Her own heart seemed to have similar thoughts.

It was the heartbeats that made her realize she still had her hands on his chest (they had fallen there at some point without her conscient knowledge) and his hands were still around her waist. Rapidly, she snapped out of it and took a step back, breaking the intimate embrace. She joined her hands in front of her and turned to everyone with a very practiced smile, speaking with a grace and casualness that she definitely wasn’t feeling.

“Okay, tradition’s fulfilled, show’s over, you can all go back to your lives now.”

She received a couple chuckles but people did just that, getting back to whatever they were doing before the public display they forced on her. Maybe she got looks from some of them, maybe not; to be honest, Ámbar had mastered long ago the ability of looking at a crowd without focusing on anyone in particular, avoiding eye contact flawlessly.

Even after everyone’s focus was somewhere else, Ámbar kept her eyes forward, unable to turn around and look at him. Awkward silence fell between them and she found she couldn’t bear it, so before she could stop herself, she started rambling out of control, words and words running out of her mouth in seemingly one breath.

“Why do people have to kiss under mistletoe anyway? I mean, where did that tradition come from? What does it mean? Does it bring good luck or something? Why would it? It doesn’t really make sense, does it?”

Simón, from his part, seemed barely articulate.

“Uh, I… I don’t,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t know, I’ve got no idea.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Silenced stretched between them again, still awkward.

Simón broke it this time.

“I, um… I think I like it though. The tradition.”

Slowly, they turned their heads and met each other’s gaze. After about three seconds, both broke into a fit of giggles.

It was a nervous laugh, but it was the good kind of nervous. Ámbar hadn’t felt like that in a very long time, and suddenly, that wasn’t scary anymore. She liked it, and the fact he seemed to feel the same made her inexplicably happy.

When they stopped laughing, they just smiled at each other; simple and easy. Simón offered the tray of cookies to Ámbar and she grabbed one gratefully. He grabbed one for himself and both enjoyed them at ease.

So, okay, maybe Christmas wasn’t the worst time of the year…

Or maybe it just depended on who you spent it with.

…

#simbar #simbar fanfic #simbar fanfiction #simbar fic #My Writing #short writings

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artemisegeria · 5 years

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Two Kinds of Magic

Title: Two Kinds of Magic

Rating: G

Word count: 5684

Warnings: None

Summary: One year. Wanda was given one year to escape her fate and avoid a marriage she didn’t want. She never expected that attempts to elude her suitors would lead to a life-changing friendship.

A/N: This is my belated contribution to Scarlet Vision Appreciation Day 2019. Since there was no official theme or event, I debated for a while what I was going to write for the occasion. Then, I came across this prompt on Tumblr:

“Story idea: The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them.

You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key.

Secondary plot twist: The woman is a shapeshifter. She is the cat.”

I diverged somewhat from the initial prompt, but it provided the inspiration I needed. I hope you all enjoy.

Once upon a time there lived a young woman, who was her father’s pride and joy. Her father was a powerful magician who wished for his daughter to follow in his footsteps, but she and her twin brother were born without magic. So the man spent many years trying to devise a way to imbue them with power. Using ancient forgotten books that he uncovered, he created a stone that would act as a reservoir for ambient magic. After absorbing some of the power that surrounded the land, the stone could be used to give power to anyone the man chose.

He gave the power to both his children. They both took well to it, the boy able to run faster than the eye could see and the girl able to manipulate matter, see people’s thoughts, and alter reality itself. It suited the man that his daughter was the one to receive the greater and subtler abilities. He told no one of what he had done and commanded his children to do the same.

One day tragedy struck. The boy fell ill, his fever ran high, and he was gone within two days. Not even his father’s great magic could save him. His daughter mourned her brother’s loss terribly. The man was sad for a time, but he considered the death of his son a tolerable loss. After all, he still had his daughter, who was the more skilled and a worthier successor.

The man eventually grew tired of his daughter’s grief. He thought it was extravagant, but he held his tongue. Over the years her grief did ease as she grew in stature and her father taught her more about how to use her powers, always reserving his own secrets for himself. When he was not training her, he kept his daughter merely as an ornament in his hall. He was also a cautious man, so he encouraged her to use her gifts only as he saw fit. He always made sure she knew whence her gifts came and that they could be taken away again.

But one day he realized that he could not keep her with him forever. He began to think on how he could best control whom she might marry. Eventually, the solution came to him, and a slow smile spread across his face. He determined that it was time to take advantage of her powers. The only thing that remained was to ensure his daughter’s willing compliance.

One day he gathered all his landed friends and their sons, for he would not see his daughter married to a lesser man. He carefully arranged their seating from largest to smallest plot of land, with himself at the head, to be certain that everyone knew his place. He did not even pay any attention to the workman from the local smithy who was fixing one of the suits of armor that lined his great hall to show what forces he could outfit at need. He commanded his daughter to sit at his side, silent and smiling and wearing her finest dress.

“My friends, you have seen my daughter grow into a beautiful young woman. It is now time for her to be married, but she cannot marry just anyone. I must know that whoever is to wed her is clever and persistent and worthy of her many charms. So I have devised a test. Starting tomorrow, every day for the next year there will be a cat with a key tied to its collar somewhere in the area.” He held up a small box. “Whoever is able to capture the cat, completely unharmed, will receive this box, which contains a treasure far greater than its size, and my daughter’s hand in marriage. If after one year no one succeeds in trapping the cat, my daughter will be free to marry whomever she pleases.” The man only offered that concession because he was confident that one year was sufficient time for one of Wanda’s suitors to catch her.

This suited his daughter, who had equal faith in her wits and her ability to evade capture. She did not like the stares and smiles of the young men on offer. They had all grown up together and she had no desire to wed any of them. But she smiled and smiled to please her father, at least for now. She did start briefly when she met the eyes the workman who was at the edge of the room, but he quickly looked away.

“May the best man win, and remember, no harm is to come to the cat. If a hair on its head is damaged, the deal is forfeit. Now let us eat.” The young men all sought her favor throughout the meal, trying to incline her toward them. They made would-be witty remarks and gave her airy compliments, though none of them had ever tried to get to know her. She bided her time and smiled and smiled. Let them think that she could be won over.

After everyone left, her father told her to rest up for the next day. She complied, excited for the next day. For what her father had not revealed was that the cat he encouraged the young men to capture was Wanda herself. It suited her to obey, for her father never told her where exactly she should wander or for how long. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for to explore beyond the manor’s bounds with her father’s blessing.

The next morning her father reminded Wanda not to let herself be caught too easily, but to allow her suitors to see her cat form from time to time. She nodded, trying to hold back her excitement. She’d never had the luxury of having the whole day to herself. Her father affixed the magical cord that would adjust to her size and a bright silver key to her neck. He spelled it to remain in place for the entire year. When she underwent the familiar shrinking, she allowed herself a moment to adapt to being much lower to the ground. The smells were so much more intense and the colors muted.

Wanda spent the first few days exploring the forest outside the estate. For though she had wanted her freedom for so long, she found that she was shy about going into town. The sight of so many people was terrifying as well as thrilling. The young men had already laid some very obvious traps near her home that she easily avoided. She wondered if any of them had any inkling that the cat they are supposed to trap is the object of their affections. She doubted it.

Every night when she returned, her father seemed both relieved and disappointed, but it was very early. Wanda’s evenings were filled with needlework, music practice, and spinning, for her father would not have her forget her duties as the lady of the house, even though she was occupied during the day.

Over the next few weeks, Wanda began to explore farther afield. Her new vantage point allowed her to easily observe the goings on in the market or the village square from the shadows. She enjoyed the sights and sounds of all manner of people going about their days. When she saw one of her suitors, she backed deeper under an awning or ran the other direction.

On one such day, two of Wanda’s suitors surprised her. They saw her at the same moment and began to run toward her. She cursed the silver key that stood out bright against her dark fur. Fortunately, the men were more concerned with stopping each other from getting to her than apprehending her. She slipped easily between their legs and ran into the first open door she saw, hoping to avoid detection.

Wanda found herself in a small smithy. There was a fire pit built into the wall on one side of the space. The other side held shelves that contained a number of finished dishes, knives, and tools. The room appeared empty, so she let herself breathe for a minute.

Until a figure emerged from a curtain in the back of the shop. Wanda beheld the strangest man that she had ever seen. His skin was a deep red hue, interlaced with shiny silver patterns. She almost forgot that she was still being chased and backed out the door, but the man smiled at her in a friendly fashion. “Hello there.” His voice was slow and measured, just as his footsteps toward her were. Wanda still puffed up her fur and hissed at him, the cat’s instincts sometimes taking over when she was in this form.

The stranger paused. She saw his gaze fall to the key at her throat, but he only said, “I mean you no harm.”

She was still trying to think of what to do next when one of the young men who was hunting her cleared his throat at the door. “You, fellow, have you seen a small black cat come by here. It has a little key around its neck. I’ll see you get a handsome reward.” Wanda had to wonder why her pursuer did not have a more pronounced reaction to the blacksmith.

She prepared to run again when the strange man inevitably gave her away, but he surprised her again. “My apologies, sir, but I have seen no such cat.”

The man’s footsteps had no sooner stomped away before her other would-be suitor was at the door with the same question, also without a notable to reaction to the blacksmith’s strange appearance. The red man gave the same response. The suitor promised to sweeten the reward even more if he kept an eye out for her. “Of course, sir.” He walked away, apparently satisfied, but Wanda could detect the faintest trace of irony in her protector’s voice.

A few minutes later, he stepped outside. When he returned, he said, “Neither of those men are anywhere in sight.”

Wanda considered what to do. She knew that she was taking a risk revealing herself, but she desperately wanted to understand. So she moved deeper into a shadowed alcove at the back of the shop and resumed her usual human shape. The man’s eyes widened as he looked at her, but he was no more surprised than she was. For before her stood a tall man with blond hair and fair skin that she would easily pass over. No sign of red skin or unearthly markings. Though he did look somewhat familiar when she thought about it.

“Why didn’t you give me up to them and collect your reward? Did you know I was human? Why were you talking to me? Who are you really?”

He paused for only a moment before answering, “First, I did not like the look of them, and your mannerisms seemed to indicate that you did not wish to be found.” He ticked off the answers on his fingers. “Second, I did not know that you were human, but animals understand much more than most humans give them credit for. Finally, I am Vision, the blacksmith’s assistant.”

Wanda tried to rephrase her last question. “No, I mean, this is not your true form. Glamours do not work on cats.”

Vision bowed his head. “Ah, I have never had to explain myself to anyone before.” He paused again, raising his head but looking over her shoulder. She tried to catch his eye, for this was something she had experience with, but his gaze remained distant, his body perfectly still and tense.

She cleared her throat until he finally looked her in the eye, his expression set in a tight line. “Neither have I. No one but my father knows what I can do.”

Smiling slightly, Vision said, “I suppose I am in much the same position. My creator is the only one who knows my true identity.”

“Creator?” She did not understand. She knew there was something different about him, but he seemed as much a man as any other.

“Yes,” He paused for a moment, glancing at her before gathering himself, but his explanation flowed smoothly, as if he had practiced the words many times. “I am a construct of elemental magic and metal. Master Stark long wished to create life. His many experiments led to my birth, or creation if you prefer, and I have worked with him ever since.”

“That explains the skin and the disguise.” She was impressed at the seamless appearance of the glamour. He only gave a tight nod.

“Yes.” Vision shifted, just slightly, as if uncertain what she would do next. He glanced toward her and away several times while she tried to absorb what he said. The last time he did so Wanda recognized him.

“Wait! You were there on the day my father made the announcement.”

“Yes.” Guilt clouded his expression. “I suppose I should have told you that when you first transformed.”

She shook her head to deny the need for an apology, but something was bothering her. “Why didn’t you try to catch me yourself? I know the key caught your eye.”

“Well, when I saw you that day, you did not seem enthusiastic about the prospect of your father’s challenge.” His gaze cleared, and his stance relaxed. “I had no wish to force a woman into marriage. When I saw you as the cat today, I felt even more strongly that such a betrothal was unwanted.”

“Oh.” Wanda had little experience with strangers, but somehow she was inclined to believe him. There was no artifice in his gaze, no hesitation in his words.

They fell silent for a time, and it was only when Wanda looked out the shop window that she realized how low the sun is in the sky. “I have to go.” He nodded. She was about to leave when she turned back abruptly. “May I come back tomorrow?”

Vision only blinked at her for a moment. “If you wish.” She smiled and gave him a little wave.

When she returned home for supper, her father asked why she looked so happy. Wanda merely shrugged and replied that it was a beautiful day. Her father was still suspicious but made no protest as she studiously turned to her chores.

The next day she donned her cat form again and traveled toward the blacksmith shop. She only transformed when Vision greeted her and she saw that the shop was empty. “Good morning, Wanda.”

“Good morning.”

They stared at each other for long moments. The awkwardness began to build so much that Wanda was tempted to leave. Vision finally said, “I’m sorry. I am not used to visitors. May I get you something to drink? Do you need anything else?” He smiled tentatively at her, and the look won her over.

“Don’t do anything special on my account. I’ll just sit here and watch you work if that’s alright.”

“By all means.” He gestured to a chair that was set up in the back of the shop.

And so it went. Over the next weeks Wanda’s visits became more and more regular. Sometimes she arrived early in the morning until they finished their lunch. Vision didn’t need to eat, but he took a midday rest and sat with her. Other days she would come in the afternoon and stay until she had to return home at sunset. She would spend the rest of the time exploring the town and the next town over.

The first time the blacksmith entered the shop while Wanda was present he looked slightly surprised, but only smirked and whispered something in Vision’s ear, which was met with a thin-lipped expression and a brief headshake. Vision introduced her to Anthony with a firm look at the latter. Wanda used all her training as her father’s daughter to maintain her polite expression. At least he did not disturb them for the rest of the day. The next day Vision handed her a dress that he had borrowed from the blacksmith’s wife, for even Wanda’s simplest dress was made of the finest threads and fabrics, marking her as nobility.

When three months had passed, Wanda had finished exploring the limits of both of the nearest towns, and the new sights did not match the attraction of watching Vision work quietly and talking to him about everything under the sun. It was still a novelty to have someone genuinely interested in her feelings and opinions. Most of the people she met were only interested in her as a proxy for her father’s favor or her father’s wealth. And then there was her father who was only interested in carrying on his own name and legacy.

It was fortunate that few people she knew ever ventured into the blacksmith’s shop, having servants to run their errands and considering the simple metals beneath them. But occasionally an overgrown boy who knew nothing of war would come in to see the swords on display and dream of glory in battle. Wanda would hide in the back storage room, waiting for them to pass. When Vision signaled that it was safe to come out, she would always find the shop in disarray. She would help to set everything to rights despite Vision’s protests.

One day a farmer came into the shop to have his plough repaired. Vision told him it would be ready in a day or two. An idea struck her that perhaps she and Vision could combine their magics and put their special skills to use. They experimented with infusing their magic into the metal at various stages of heating. Eventually they came to a result that resisted all their attempts to damage it. When the farmer returned, he was very impressed. He offered to pay twice the agreed upon price of two chickens, but Vision refused with a smile.

Word began to spread of their knives that stayed supernaturally sharp, horseshoes that never rusted, and dishes that cleaned easily. There were some townspeople who recognized Wanda from the few occasions she had been outside under her father’s watchful eye. When they saw how nervous she was at the recognition, they pretended not to notice her. They felt for her, and it helped that she and Vision always saved their best pieces for those who could not afford them. The townspeople in turn adopted them as their own and vowed to protect them.

At the six-month mark, Wanda’s father began to grow more frustrated at her suitors’ failure. He wanted them to have to work to win his daughter’s hand, but he thought the task would be complete by now. He vastly overestimated their competence. The men’s traps continued to be laughably easy to evade. Wanda fulfilled her end of the bargain by spending a little time walking around as a cat before heading to the shop and spending the day there.

One day while she was standing beside Vision waiting to add her magic to the knife he was molding, Vision asked, “What are you humming? It’s lovely.” Wanda flushed, glad that she could blame it on the heat of the fire. She had not realized she was humming out loud.

“It’s a lullaby. My mother used to sing it to me and my brother.” During the lunchbreak that day, Wanda found herself telling Vision all about her lost loved ones and her father’s refusal to recognize their deaths or accept her mourning. Vision listened sympathetically, offering her his full attention without any meaningless reassurances, before discussing his own lack of family in turn. Anthony tried, but he was always busy with his family and his next project. Vision was accepted as a part of the household, but he was still separate from them.

After those admissions, Wanda and Vision became even closer. They had no secrets from each other. Wanda told Vision how she had always wished to explore the world, but when she had the opportunity, she ran from it. Vision told Wanda of how he feared that he would never be fully human, how people would shun him if they knew what he truly was. Wanda assured him that, though she could not guarantee anybody else, he would always have her. Vision assured her that there were many types of courage and that the world would be waiting for her when she was ready.

When nine months had passed since the challenge began, Wanda’s father held a ball for all her suitors and their families. Wanda was finding it more and more difficult to tolerate her suitors. They continued to pay no heed to her thoughts and feelings; they made no attempt to learn who she really was. During the dancing, their hands gripped her too tightly and they trod all over her feet.

Wanda felt guilty for complaining so much to Vision, but he only listened attentively before offering her his hand, saying perhaps he could do better. She accepted his offer with bemusement. Close as they were, they seldom made physical contact. He held her delicately as they twirled around the shop. They were soon laughing when they stumbled over a stray tool, paying more attention to each other’s eyes than their surroundings. They righted themselves and continued. One of Vision’s hands held onto hers and the other rested on her upper back. Wanda leaned into him when he smiled fondly at her. It was already half-dark when she left the shop that day, having to run home to avoid her father’s wrath.

The next three months passed far too quickly for Wanda’s liking. She knew there was a chance that her father would renege on his word, though he did take his promises seriously. She did not know what she would do if her father refused to let her out of the estate. Having had a taste of friendship and freedom, she could not go back to being her father’s perfect statue and protégé. Vision distracted her with proposing new uses for her magic. She allowed herself to forget how time was running out and simply enjoy his company and offer her own new projects.

When Wanda entered the shop on the last day of the bargain with her father, she was exuberant. She could barely contain her excitement at the thought of being on the edge of freedom. Vision picked up on her mood, grasping her hands. “What will you do after today?”

“I will marry whoever I please, on my schedule.” She tried not to look directly at Vision as she said it, but her eyes were drawn inexorably toward his small smile. The rest of the day was spent quickly glancing at each other and way, grinning all the while. It was almost like her first day in the shop, but that day the space between them was filled with exhilaration rather than awkwardness. Wanda felt a warm fluttering in her stomach as they sat side by side at lunch. When their hands brushed as they laid out some newly finished nails, they did not pull away from each other.

When it was time for her to leave, Wanda impulsively kissed Vision on the cheek. She giggled at his utter surprise. “See you tomorrow, Vizh.” She barely heard his reply when she skipped out the door, preparing how to tell her father that she had found the man she wanted to marry.

Unfortunately, on that day, Wanda was paying too little attention to her surroundings. She was almost home when she walked directly into her least favorite suitor’s arms. She twisted in his hands, trying to claw and bite at him, but her father was standing at their front gate. He uttered a spell to immobilize Wanda as he congratulated the man who had captured her. He ushered the man inside, telling him to wait in the main hall while he put Wanda in her room. He allowed her to transform back into a human before locking her away in her room.

Wanda considered her options for some time. She knew that she was at risk of angering her father, but she had been so close to freedom. She refused to give it up. Perhaps if she convinced her father how deeply she felt for another, he would have pity on his only child. Past experience of her father would suggest otherwise, but she had to try. If that failed, she would think of more drastic solutions.

Alas, her father would not listen to her pleas. He got along well with the suitor. He felt that the young man would preserve his wealth and his lands, appreciating that he came from an ancient family and would be a worthy father to his future grandchildren. Chaperoning several meetings between Wanda and her future husband, her father cared not at all that he and Wanda did not have anything to talk about, if Wanda could even get a word in between the man’s listing his accomplishments and assets.

Days passed. Wanda soon realized that there was no hope to change her father’s mind. Her father and her future husband spent all their time planning a grand wedding, complete with a golden carriage and over a hundred guests. After her third escape attempt, her father used the stone that he still carried with him until she was officially married to remove her powers. The loss left her instantly cold and weak, but she continued to make new plans.

Meanwhile, Vision worried. At first, he thought that Wanda regretted the affection she had shown him. He had almost thought that she had been talking about him when she said she would marry someone she chose for herself, but perhaps he had been mistaken. No one could truly want to marry him. But word had spread from the servants in Wanda’s household, to whom she was always kind, to the other townspeople that Wanda’s father was holding her against her will and forcing her to marry. One of their most frequent customers told the whole tale to Vision, who resolved to rescue his friend.

Two days before her wedding was to take place, Wanda was pacing her room, trying to think of a solution to get out of her prison. Her father had reinforced the bars on her window and across her door with his own magic. Without her powers, she had no idea how to get through them.

After a time, she collapsed on her bed, having worn herself out with worry and restless movement. A soft humming at her window caused her to open her eyes and sit up. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Vision? What are you doing here?”

“When you did not come to the shop, I thought you had changed your mind about our meetings.” His gaze dropped until Wanda approached him and touched his arm briefly. He met her eyes directly, sincerity and hope shining out of him. “But I was told that one of your suitors succeeded and you were trapped here. I had to ensure that you were well.”

“I’m not,” Wanda assured him heartily. “I’ve been trying to run away, but my father stole my powers.”

He winced, knowing how much Wanda valued the powers that helped give her some control over her own life. “I am sorry I cannot do anything to give you them back, but I will run away with you.” Wanda smiled her first true smile in days. “I cannot offer you the life you deserve, but I will share whatever I can call my own with you. I will always stand by your side.”

“I don’t want anything more than that.” She looked around her room with slight regret. She wished she had a little more time to pack some of her belongings, but time was of the essence. Her dress was not inconspicuous either. She sighed. She supposed she would have to continue borrowing from Pepper before they left. At least she could be sure of him and their bond. “I’m ready when you are.”

He reached for her hands and clasped them briefly. “Wanda, I-.”

A bright burst of light hitting Vision’s chest cut him off mid-sentence. He immediately fell to the floor, skin going cold and gray when his glamour vanished, wide unseeing eyes becoming white. Wanda cried out and sank down next to him. “Vizh?” She shook his shoulder hopelessly before finally turning to her father. “How could you?” The tears falling thick and fast blurred her vision, but she could glimpse his sneer.

“I’m merely making it easier for you to do your duty.” He looked down and nudged Vision with his foot. “What is this thing anyway?”

“This man’s name is Vision. I love him.” Wanda leaned over him, caressing his cheek with the tips of her fingers. Her tears were still flowing freely, but her father remained unmoved.

“I have warned you before about feeling too deeply. You see? It has brought you nothing but pain. Now get up and compose yourself. We will be rehearsing your wedding ceremony in twenty minutes.”

“No!” Wanda draped herself protectively over Vision’s body. She was not ready to let go yet.

“Yes.” Her father’s voice was firm and implacable. “If you continue to act hysterically, I will stop your tongue until it is time to say your vows. If you even think of causing a scene, I will make your life more miserable than you can imagine.”

He started to levitate Vision’s body away from her, but Wanda still clung to him. In a last move of desperation, she kissed his lips, as she was never able to do in life. At first nothing happened. However, a cry soon tore from her father’s lips. The stone that he so carefully crafted flew from his hands, glowing warmly. Energy began to spill from it. The scarlet tendrils threaded their way between Wanda and Vision, flowing through their mouths and twining around their bodies.

Wanda could feel a surge of power deep within her as the magic ceased its glow. Even more startling was that the stone had nestled itself in Vision’s forehead. A warm wave of crimson was spreading out across his body. Even her father was transfixed by the sight of Vision’s body rising higher, becoming upright with his arms wide open.

Hope was a relatively new emotion for her, but Wanda dared to dream that Vision would open his eyes and recover. When he finally did so, he looked confused for a moment, but floated down to her side, tenderly brushing her tears away. Eventually he rose and lifted Wanda to her feet. Looking down at her with some pure emotion that she was afraid to name, Vision asked, “Shall we?” His gaze was serious, enquiring if she still wished to leave with him, still wished to abandon the only life she’d known.

Wanda beamed at him with no reservation. “We shall.” They had both forgotten about her father until he stepped in front of the window, blocking their path.

“You will not move one inch, young lady.” He moved forward threateningly, but Vision refused to drop her hand. Instead, he tried to angle his body in front of her. But Wanda would not have it. She knew Vision meant well, but with the return of her powers, she would not have anyone push her to the sidelines in the name of protection. She pushed forward, so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. Vision nodded slightly at her and she could feel his acceptance that she had to do this.

“Father, I’m leaving.”

Her father scowled and squared his stance. “I swear I will-.”

“You will do nothing to me.” Red swirled around her fingers. “I’m leaving. Now stand aside. Let your would-be son-in-law inherit for all I care.” She prayed that her father would listen to her for once. Though he had not been a kind man, she did not wish to hurt him. She just wanted to be free. Apparently, her father saw the determination that was burning through her because he did move aside.

Not without one final barb. “I disown you. You will never get one acre of my lands or one coin from my coffers.”

Wanda would mourn the loss of her last family member another time. She steeled her spine and her voice to reply, “You have given me and taken away from me enough. I need nothing from you.” She held onto Vision as he phased them out of her room. She would not look back.

When they were beyond the boundaries of her father’s estate, Vision floated even higher, only the slight glow of the stone illuminating their path. Secure in his arms, Wanda began to relax. She almost didn’t realize that they’d stopped until Vision asked, “What happened back there, Wanda? The last thing I remember is talking to you, and then I was in the air and you were collapsed on the floor.”

“My father hit you with this, and you…died.” She tapped the stone that now resided in his forehead. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you being gone, so I kissed you. The stone gave me back my powers and healed you.”

Though taken aback, Vision smiled at her faintly. “Thank you for saving me.” But his smile fell almost immediately. “Although I cannot help but regret that I missed our first kiss.”

Wanda lifted her hands to his neck, massaging his skin. “Maybe it shouldn’t count since you didn’t feel it.”

“That sounds like a fine idea.” He brushed a strand of her hair, which was floating in the breeze, behind her ear, and his hand lingered, threading through the waves. “Would you care for a second try?”

Wanda pulled Vision’s head down until their lips were a hair’s breadth apart. “Absolutely.” Their second first kiss was everything either of them could have wished for. Wanda and Vision remained together for some time, letting any thoughts about their future fall away below them, their embrace keeping them warm.

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ai-chaaan · 7 years

Text

I Squawked my Confession

Leo X MC Inspired by @rizosrojizos @lainy-lane

It’s been a while since the Princess stopped meeting with her potential Suitors–or rather, influential Suitors. She personally requested Giles to cease the arrangement of meetings for such purposes. Though It was her Only major purpose as the princess. But Giles didn’t back down. He stepped down from that duty ..only , and Only after shifting that burden to Leo.

“Tch …. That Giles.. What have I gotten myself into .. haaah..” Leo gave a long exasperated sigh. The conversation he had with Giles , came back slowly in his mind. “The Princess is quite close to you, so this will be easier. Plus you have a way with the women.. though I hate to admit it. You will make sure, that she has a potential Suitor ,she likes by the end of spring.”

“Why did I accept? Did I think It was fun?”

While trying to persuade the princess into getting married, he discovered that he had feelings for the princess , but he never spoke a word about it. But he also didn’t miss the fact, that the Princess liked him back. It has been like this for a month now. A stalemate.

A soft knock on the door startled him and he almost jumped out of his chair. Not that he was speaking any of his thoughts out aloud , but the very thought of them, made him sensitive.

“May I come in Sir?” a voice rang from outside the door. “This is for you Sir, I have a Par—- ” The door flew open. “Give that to me. Thank you for your hard work. ”

Leo turned around as the door made a soft click. Closed. He was finally at peace.

A sudden excitement shot through him. An excited grin appeared on his ever so handsome face.

It was his much anticipated book. A book written by a person, who spent his entire life researching about the existence of any life outside the world. His first few editions were not popular as this one.

Anybody could tell, that Leo wore a satisfied grin for the next few days on his face.

Giles found this chance , –misinterpreted rather. He arranged for a Party at the Castle.

Leo managed to get the Princess to say yes. That was always easy. But the hard part came later, when she turned down the Suitors one by one.

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

The ballroom was full of Guests. Potential Suitors mainly. The princess danced her first dance with the Archduke of Preafica.

Tired , mentally, she began chatting with a few ladies.

Leo spotted her and jogged his way up to her, wearing his usual grin.

The Ladies started swooning almost immediately , leaving the princess alone. Leo exchanged a few words of pleasantries and winked at an attractive Land Lord’s daughter before turning his full attention to the princess.

When he turned , he found the princess half pissed ,half amused. She arched an eyebrow , signalling him to speak up.

“Why must the princess, stand in the corner and leave out all the fun?” He smirked ,feeling nervous, beneath that smirk.

The princess didn’t answer and stared at him with the same expression. “Let us dance ,your highness ,if that will please you” He gave her his sweetest smile.

(That worked . She seems to be willing to dance)

“Why not? Mr Ballroom Flirt” she said in a sarcastic tone.

(Hot. She is so hot when she is like this)

His smile broadened, and the princess planted her heels on his foot. (That hurt)

He smiled fondly at her. He knew why she was reacting like that. How adorable she was when she is jealous. He almost wanted to kiss her.

But.He.Refrained.From .Doing.So.

“Why don’t you take this chance to try and speak with Louis?” Leo spoke gently while twirling her during the dance. “He is not like other ‘pestering , hungry’ suitors ” he laughed softly, amused by how the princess had described her potential Suitors.

“That is quite an attractive offer ,Leo"she smiled up at him.” (She can’t be serious.. or maybe –) “But that’s not happening, for he is pre occupied “she shot a glance at the direction where louis was dancing. Leo turned.

“What the hell?!” The words came out faster than he could process the whole situation inside his mind.

There he saw Louis was dancing with a creature like Lady–(No you can’t call THAT a Lady!!) She had LARGE beady eyes.Her head was big ..TOO big. And she had three fingers only.

She wore a gown which exposed one of her legs from her thigh, which revealed her grey skin.And she danced ever so elegantly, you won’t want to believe your eyes.

Leo gulped. “She..she looks exactly like the creatures I was reading a book about .. I can’t believe it.. ..she is an Alien..” He glanced down at the Princess his expression clouded .

“So what ? She seems to be enjoying her dance.” She spoke casually. “And look ! She is staring at Louis with such loving beady eyes” she added, almost swooning at the couple.

“It’s an Alien, princess , An ALIEN"Leo barked.

Cold sweat dripping from behind his neck ,he scanned the ballroom, there were more of them dancing and eating here and there. Some of them snatched ladies hand fans and purse bags and brooches.

One of them , especially taller than the others grabbed hold of a random guest and started dragging him along with her , when he protested she bit of his fingers and threw them out of her mouth like she’d eaten some junk.

As if that was a cue, all the other aliens started abducting people and breaking plates and wine bottles .And the next moment he turned to look at Louis, all of a sudden, a small hat-like floating vehicle showed up on which the Alien escaped with Louis grabbing him by the arm.

Leo knew that he couldn’t save Louis so, he made a quick decision, instead of mourning for his doomed friend. He grabbed the princess by her wrist and started running across the hall dodging all the flying plates and ornaments and wine bottles. He soon reached the door for the exit ,but he skidded to a stop as the door flew open on it’s own and a few spaceships hovered over their heads.

“Leo , what do we do now?” asked the princess, now getting a hang of the entire situation. “We will hide in some spare room ,but we need to keep running” he spoke half panting ,half gasping.

They ran past the corridors and just as they were going to enter a room, A spaceship blocked their way ,it had the Steiner Crest upon it .

“Hand over the princess, Sir Leo. For if you do as you’re told, I will stop this chaos at once.” Albert appeared out of the space ship, with a serious look on his face.

“You can’t be serious!! YOU did all this?!” Leo was utterly shocked. “But why would you do that?” Asked Leo with anger in his voice.

“I am doing this not for my own gain. You should know it. It would be a prosperous event if Wysteria and Stein could enter into a friendly relationship following the king and the princess’ marital relationship.“said Albert in his usually crisp tone

Right after albert finished reasoning his actions, another spaceship crashed in the way, overturning Albert’s ship completely. Leo seized this moment to escape and as he did so, he swore that he will seek revenge.

Now in an empty chamber, the princess was resting on the sofa, panting hard, from the escaping process. “Leo , I know this isn’t the time for me to be saying this, but I don’t ever want to loose you. I want us to stay together"she fessed up in a ragged voice. Leo covered the distance between them and taking hold of her hands, he started speaking. “Princess I,.. I feel the same way ..what I mean is ..that I squawk you.”

“What?”

“I squawk you– I SQUAWK- – -–”

Leo jumped out of his bed only to find Sebastian poking his head and “SQUAWK– -” . . “Fuck you!!–” (gah- It was a dream ,A strange one and I am glad it was a dream – ––or maybe not) Leo glared at Sebastian shoving him out of his bed. Sebastian landed on his bedside table confused by Leo’s morning greeting.

#midnight cinderella #headcanon #otome game #reblog #leo x mc

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uschi-the-listener · 7 years

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Chapter 1: The Mill, The Millers, Rose, and the Straw

There's an old story about a girl who could spin gold out of nothing but straw.

It started out all about love and abundance and creativity, then somebody made a silly joke that took off, went viral. But it got into the wrong hands and became a dangerous misunderstanding. A sense of humor is important. And then, lessons were learned about appearances being deceiving. And that friendship can turn out to be a real lifesaver. And that even the best old stories can go horribly wrong.

I'm here to correct all that and set the record straight. It might take a while, because there's a lot of backstory.

Okay, well, I do have to play around with it a little. I don't know any names or places, just the story. So we'll call the girl Rose because I like the name Rose, and I won't get tired of writing it. Okay? Okay. So, even if little elements of the story are a little... oh... interpretive... the rest is absolutely true. You'll see. You'll get it. Give me a minute.

CHAPTER 1: The Mill and the Millers.

So. Rose was born into the Miller family, so she was Rose Miller. Her parents owned a prosperous grist mill at the edge of town. They were a hardworking couple, and happy and loving. When their little daughter was born, they planted climbing roses outside their cottage in her honor, and took some time off because they could afford to. They had it all covered: they had a windmill to use the wind energy when it was available, and it's an interesting contraption that can use the wind at selective speeds to do what needs to be done. They had a water mill that had a mill pond and a race, so that when it was spring and fall and the water ran fast, they could double their output by using both wind and water power. On days when none of that was working well, they had two oxen, Nate and Wilbur, who walked around in a circle, pulling the huge millstones to grind the grain. It was a less controllable method and needed a lot of watching, but Nate and Wilbur were such pleasant, cheerful cattle that they were worth the trouble.

Mr. and Mrs. Miller and little Rose worked hard, grinding grain that the farmers brought them into groats, meal, or different grades of flour. Sometimes the farmers brought it with the straw still on, so they had to thresh and winnow and toss the grain in the air to blow away the chaff. Mostly, the farmers wanted their straw back, for the many uses straw can have on a farm: making mattresses, making bedding for the animals, creating crude 'corn dollies' for the harvest holidays to encourage a good harvest. It could stand in as carpet during the winter months, and you could thatch a small cottage with it if you didn't have anything more substantial for a roof.

But sometimes, and it was often enough so that the Millers always had more than enough for their needs, the farmers left the straw behind. If they didn't want it, the Millers could use it or pass it on to another customer who needed it. But the fact is, and this is important, there was always plenty of straw around, and it became an important plaything for little Rose.

Even as a toddler, Rose wanted to help out at the mill. Toddlers can't do much, and a mill can be a bit dangerous, as what they do involves heavy bags of grain and grindstones and moving the various stages of ground grain from one place to another. But the Millers were wise parents and gave Rose little jobs like fetching water, entertaining the kids that came along for the ride when their parents brought the grain, and sweeping up excess straw so the wagon wheels didn't get tangled up in it. But it did leave a lot of time for Rose to do other things.

Mom and Dad Miller taught her to read and write and sew and knit and do other activities that kids in that time and place needed to know. We don't need the details here. But she was a bright and nimble girl with a spirit of creativity that her parents wisely fed.

Once, when Rose was 6 or 7 and at loose ends, Mom taught her how to make little straw people. Basically, you take a fistful of straw and bend it in half to make a sort of big hairpin shape. You take another piece or two of straw and wrap it around the rounded end of the hairpin shape and tie it to make the doll's head. It helps if you soak the tying straw in water first so it's tough and flexible, but if you are in a hurry for a baby-doll, you can just use dry straw. After that, you separate out a little of the straw on each side of the bent shape, and cut it about halfway up to make arms of a reasonable length, then tie them at the wrists. You tie off a waistline then, and separate out legs for a boy, and tie the ankles, or leave it alone for a girl in a long skirt, or just tie feet in the middle of the bundle.

Rose was, of course, charmed, and made families and neighborhoods and villages of little people, each of whom became more attractive and sturdy and elaborate as she became more practiced at the art. She began, as every artist does, to see possibilities that nobody had mentioned about the medium. Can I make a dog? A horse? A bird? A table and chairs? A little bed? Can I use colored thread to make faces and buttons and fancier clothes? How about decorative stuff, like stars you can hang in the window, and fancy lacy mats to go under a lamp or a bowl on the table at dinnertime?

Rose branched out and was able to make just about anything by the time she was 12 or 13 or so. By the time she was 15, everybody in the village was aware of her talent, and it was a rare home that didn't have one or another decorative, useful, or entertaining object made by Rose's skillful hands. Her parents recognized her artistic obsession, such as it was, and made sure she had time every day to pursue it.

One day, she was sitting on the bench outside the windmill, making a fancy sort of sunburst to hang on the door, when a passenger riding along with one of the farmers hopped down and stood by her, watching her hands weaving and tucking, stitching and tying, as she created the beautiful, golden straw object. He leaned closer and she was startled when she finally noticed him. The man stepped back again and asked her, "Young lady, would you be willing to sell that sunburst to me when it's finished? I'm a long way from home and my wife is sick in bed, and I wanted to bring something back for her when my business was finished, something to cheer her up. Up until today, I didn't see anything I wanted to give her. Such a bright yellow straw sunburst would be just the thing. She can't go outside any more and she misses the sunshine. How much would you sell something like this for, if it were for sale?"

Rose was a little startled. Nobody had ever offered her money for her creations before. People sometimes gave her cookies or colored thread or other little tokens of appreciation, but never as payment. She worked on these things from love and fascination and the sheer joy of making something from nothing that was beautiful and brought a smile to the face of the recipient. She had to think about this.

Finally, she said, "Sir, I don't know what I would charge for anything. I'm really just playing; this is fun for me. I'm not sure it's right to sell something I'm willing to give away. Let me ask my father about this." And the man, a kind, good soul, said, "It's okay to profit from doing what you love. And I would be ashamed to take something so beautiful without some kind of exchange. My business today was profitable and if your father agrees, I'm willing to give you one small gold piece in exchange for this sunburst. Will you ask him?"

Of course, Rose agreed, and Dad agreed, and everybody parted ways happier and feeling richer and as though they had all got the best of the bargain. Which is true; it's possible to have a winner and a winner, especially in creative endeavors. And it gave Rose an idea.

The next day, Rose rounded up some of the toys and mats and doilies and ornaments she had made that were lying unused around the cottage. She set up a little table made of a board and a few bricks near where she sat while she wove and braided and sewed her projects, also near where the farmers and their wives and children had to pass for the necessary transactions that must occur for grain to be unloaded, milled, bargained for, and loaded up again. Everyone could see the things on the makeshift table as they went by. If anybody stopped to chat, Rose would explain about the man with the little gold piece, though she made it clear that nobody had to pay in gold for anything, as she was going to continue making things, anyway, whether anybody bought them or not.

Rose and her parents were a friendly, popular family and dealt fairly with their customers. Nobody took it amiss that Rose was beginning to sell what she had given freely before, and many thought it was very enterprising and just what a dutiful daughter ought to do to help out her parents. Rose did some of the mill work, too, but she was not very big or strong yet, and she was still in school, so creating things to sell was beyond the requirements for any young girl.

And, indeed, the villagers thought of Rose as an asset, and were proud of her, and sent some of their little ones to sit with her and learn how to make things as well. And the families who benefited by her patient training would give her a chicken or some vegetables or a nicely embroidered handkerchief or other small object to acknowledge their privilege.

One day, a teenage boy saw what she was doing and, as they do, began mocking her for "wasting her time playing with bedding." Rose bristled and ignnored him, but the little girls who sat with her and worshipped her as their patient and talented teacher stood up for her, saying things like, "Well, you know, she makes more money doing this than you've made in your whole life!" Which caused the rascal to begin the quip, "Oh, Rose can spin straw into gold! She does magic! Maybe she's a witch!" At which, the little girls threw dirt clods and called him names and chased him off, which didn't faze him in the slightest. He ran off, laughing, and calling after himself, "Straw into Gold! A witch, a witch! She spins straw into gold!"

And after he was gone, nobody ever thought of him again. Nobody knows his name and he is lost to history. I wouldn't even bother to make one up for him.

But the damage was done. It was funny, thinking of plain little Rose as a witch with magical powers, and the joke spread. "Rose can spin straw into gold! (ha ha ha!) She's a witch, but she's a good witch!" And the joke spread throughout the village, whose standards for humor were enthusiastic but not very high.

The kingdom where Rose lived was, unbeknownst to the locals, undergoing some drastic changes is governance. The wise, good old king was very old. He was older than Rose's grandparents, who had retired years ago. He had three grown sons, two of them, intelligent, stalwart young men, sensible and attentive to their heritage of statecraft. Either would have made an excellent successor to the throne and their old father was beginning to think of retiring and allowing his oldest, with the assistance of the second, to take over the governing of the kingdom.

The third son, the youngest, differed much from his older brothers. He was not interested in anything but pleasure, and fun, and going on trips to neighboring kingdoms to ogle the princesses there. He was not very bright, and it was rumored that a fever in his infancy had changed or broken something in him. He was not intelligent, sensible, or kind, and didn't learn anything easily. He was handsome in a bulky, rather effete way, but he was nearsighted and too vain to wear spectacles. Of course the king and queen, his parents, loved him, but they knew he did not have a noble nature and would not be likely to ascend to the throne as king. His brothers agreed to protect him, marry him off to a local princess, and indulge him until such time as he found his way in life and perhaps went to live with his princess's family.

And then, disaster struck. The old king died suddenly in his sleep and the kingdom went into mourning. His oldest son, well equipped to take over the reign and begin to govern, despite his grief, was sick with a bad cold, which turned into pneumonia. His lungs refused to support him, and he died after a brief illness. No one expected that, especially his mother, the queen, or his younger brothers. The second brother, though less prepared for regency, was still prepared to step up and be the king, though it was with great reluctance that he stepped into his beloved older brother's shoes. He tried to interest his younger brother in learning how to be a wise and prudent king, just in case, and so that he would have someone with whom to consult that he could trust, but that turned out to be a pipe dream. The youngest brother was not interested, refused to cooperate, and asked if he could go on another of his trips out of the country after the funerals.

Of course both the Queen and the new Prince Regent, soon to be crowned king, refused such an insensitive and outrageous request, which left the youngest brother, who we will call Jacob, annoyed and disappointed. This one incident was indicative of what kind of person he was, and his entire personality could be surmised from his behavior at the death of his father and oldest brother.

The second brother, Charles, grew into his new place in the world and began to reign successfully, having paid close attention to the lessons he and his brother had learned from their father, who set them an excellent example. And part of that example was to take care of himself and take time out when possible to get exercise, eat well, and be a good example to his subjects. So he would take a day now and then to play sports or go hunting with some of his vassals.

One day, while hunting, his horse tripped over a root in the path, broke his foreleg, stumbled, and fell. The young king also fell, under the horse, broke his neck, and died on the spot. Leaving only the aged queen and his feckless younger brother to run the government.

Young Jacob immediately began to make plans to travel outside the kingdom as he had wished to when his father and older brother had died. He was not bright, but he knew that now that he was going to be the king, nobody could stop him. So he went. He raided the treasury on his way out, took a retinue of retainers with him, and left his grieving mother to make of the government whatever she liked.

The kingdom was in disarray, but in order to avoid panic and chaos, much of the catastrophic nature of recent events was concealed from the public. The subjects knew, of course, of the deaths of the king and his sons, but nobody knew of the true nature of the youngest, Prince Jacob. The court allowed the public to believe that he was traveling on urgent business to generate support from the surrounding kingdoms at this time of grief. Not knowing that a king's place is in his kingdom, the public was sad about the deaths, but not alarmed.

Jacob didn't come back for the coronation. He didn't come back when his poor old mother died of grief. In fact, he never bothered to come back at all until the day he sent for funds and the Minister of the Treasury informed him that his funds were almost gone; that he could have enough money to come back, but then there would be nothing left until tax time, unless he sold something. Of course, he came steaming back, feeling angry and hoodwinked, to find that, indeed, the treasury was nearly empty. There were one or two coffers of gold and jewels, but certainly not enough for any more of his expensive luxuries or excursions. He could find no evidence that he had been robbed and ignored the fact that he had been treating the kingdom as his inexhaustible wallet.

So, he spent much of his time in the throne room, brooding, scolding his hapless courtiers, and trying, with his inadequate brain, to figure out what to do and where to get more money so he could go on as before. Everyone around him was beginning to feel afraid, insecure, and started to try to reacquaint themselves with relatives living in the far reaches of the country or outside it. It was a frightening time.

As the king was leaving the dining room one day, walking toward the throne room for more brooding and abusing the court, he happened to overhear one of the servers whispering to another about the rumor of a girl in the kingdom who could conjure gold from mere straw.

Immediately, he summoned the entire serving staff to the throne room to be questioned. Not knowing what this was all about, the serving staff quickly kiss their families goodbye and prayed for a miracle. They assumed that something had been wrong with their service or the food or something else that couldn't be helped now, and that they were all going to die on the spot. Thankfully, that didn't happen. For the first time in a while, in that kingdom, something, briefly, went right for somebody.

The king first summoned the Head Server to approach the throne, and demanded the full story about the girl who could make gold appear from nothing. The poor server bowed again and again, nearly cutting himself in half, and stuttered out the meagre information he had had about this rumor. The server didn't believe in magic, but he was an intelligent man and realized quickly that the king very much wanted to believe in it. To save his skin, he embroidered the story and said something along the lines of, "Oh, yes, Sire! She is known far and wide as The Girl Who Can Spin Straw into Gold! She lives at a famous grist mill at the outskirts of the city and everyone knows about her! Her name is Lily or Gardenia or something and she can make huge heaps of gold, in no time at all! Nobody knows how she does it because she will shut herself away in the mill overnight and in the morning, the straw is gone, and there are just heaps and heaps of gold in its place!"

The king found this very exciting and hopeful. As mentioned earlier, he was not bright or sensible and was a big spender without ever having worked a day in his life. To him, spending money was simply what one did, and it was up to someone else, some vague entity, "The People," to supply it. Right away, he recognized the possibilities and sent out runners to find the Millers and their magical daughter.

At the home of the Millers, things were not going well, either. Rose's mother was heavily pregnant, and too old to carry the pregnancy easily. She was forced to spend much of the time lying down, with a midwife checking on her several times a day. Rose's father and Rose herself were both working harder and longer hours as a result, but Rose's father insisted that she spend less time working as she was still growing and though strong for a girl her age, was not as strong as her father. Unfortunately, her father was no longer young, either, and the work began to take its toll. He advertised for a hired man with experience doing mill work and finally found a young man named Jack to help him with some of the work.

Jack was charming, always a suspicious attribute in a hired man. He was able to convince Mr. Miller that he would be the ideal employee and knew everything there was to know about running a grist mill, when in fact, he knew nothing about milling and had been chased from his own village for his lazy drunkenness and unwillingness to work. He had been living "on the parish" until even the long-suffering and forgiving parish ran out of money and patience. So, Jack moved on to the next village and the next, looking for a job where the work was light, well paid, prestigious, and without too much oversight by the owner. The mill was not his ideal situation, but he hadn't been able to find anything else where the owners weren't already aware of his deficiencies.

It was Autumn, and the mill pond and race were in full operation, supplemented by the windmill. Both Jack and Mr. Miller were kept busy grinding grain, bagging up the groats and meal and flour, and Mr. Miller spent much of his time working directly with the customers. Rose helped out wherever she could, and cheerfully set aside her straw crafting activities until there was more time to spare. She was also doing the cooking, cleaning, and taking care of her ailing mother as much as possible, between the visits from the midwife.

Jack was becoming more and more resentful and felt as though he was not only not getting enough pay for this kind of work, but that he was being taken advantage of. Rose didn't do much, Mr. Miller was always somewhere else, and Mrs. Miller was utterly useless. Jack was beginning to think that he should maybe be the owner of the mill, since he did so much and profited so little. He and the new King had much in common and would have seen eye to eye, if either of them had been able to recognize another person's feelings or needs.

On the day the runners came from the king, Jack had been ready to quit, empty the cashbox, and leave. He was completely disgusted with the work and the mill and the Millers, especially as Mr. Miller had begun to see what kind of man he had hired and had warned him about losing his situation if he was caught sleeping in the straw one more time during peak work hours. Mr. Miller was currently engaged in attempting to mend the mill-race. When he asked Jack for a hand, Jack pretended to comply. Instead of helping, he gave Mr. Miller a slight push. He fell in, was pulled under the water, and Jack left the scene quickly without attempting to help him get out again.

And the runner arrived, asking if this was the mill where the Girl Who Spun Straw into Gold lived. Jack had heard the joke, sourly and with resentment that it turned out not to be true. But, feeling very clever, he said, "Why, yes! But she can be very dangerous if you cross her. Give me 50 gold pieces and I will disarm her and fetch her to you. Come back here early in the morning, just after dawn, and I'll have her ready and waiting for you."

So Jack sold her to the king's runner for 50 gold pieces. He went to bed in the straw in the stable next to the oxen as usual that night. Just before dawn, he took an old horse-blanket and headed toward the cottage. Rose was still asleep, so he threw the blanket over her head and tied it around her arms with twine so she could walk but not fight back

Rose, of course, kicked and screamed. Jack was a big man, and held her still and stuffed part of the blanket that was over her head into her mouth. He handed her over to the runner with instructions to ride like the wind and not untie her until they reached the King.

And Jack left before Mr. or Mrs. Miller woke up and became aware of what he had done.

CHAPTER 2: The Palace, the King, and the Dwarf.

It didn't take long for the runner to transport Rose to the Palace. He didn't untie her, but locked her into a closed carriage and whipped his horses to top speed. They reached the Palace in under a day. No stops, no water, no bathroom breaks.

During this time, Rose managed to wiggle free of the twine and the blanket, but couldn't get the carriage door open. There seemed to be no way out of it. It had been locked from the outside.

TO BE CONTINUED.

#straw into gold #grist mill #fairy tale

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