#the terror sled dog au

[thegarrisonafterdark]

plucky medical sled pup is, somehow, least annoying

[magpiemorality]

Of Princes and the Pure Of Heart

Fantasy AU. Prince!Kid!Roman & Woodsman!Adult!Virgil. 

Part 2/3.

Roughly 3k words. 

Sometimes family is a loner in the woods; the young prince he rescues from near death; and a soppy dog.

Warnings: Eating venison, mild angst

Previous | AO3

***

The days blurred in an entirely pleasant way. It had been unbelievably long since Virgil had shared the house with anyone, and Roman was a fantastic change of pace. He was excited and interested in just about everything, even if he was still very quiet. It suited them both, Virgil thought, to be close to someone who also craved closeness, but who didn't need you to say a damn word if you didn't feel like it. 

Virgil had never once considered having kids of his own, partly because he didn't think he could and partly because he didn't think he'd ever get the chance to. When he'd lost- when he'd found himself suddenly alone the idea of anything beyond the boundaries of his land had disappeared, along with the thought of trying to break out of his isolation. Like he'd said to the boy, there was a comfort in it that he'd long enjoyed; safe and peaceful. But now with Roman running around with the dog, and sticking close to his side to seek cuddles whenever he desired, Virgil was forced to confront the fact that maybe he'd just got used to loneliness, and had deliberately forgotten anything else. 

He smiled to himself, stretched out on the couch with Roman sprawled over him, and stroked the boy's silky head. Roman snuffled and turned his head so the other cheek was pressed against Virgil's chest, utterly relaxed. It made Virgil's heart melt, and he couldn't stop the silly grin on his face from taking over. He wouldn't have tried anyway. 

They'd spent the morning out gathering firewood, from one of the forest piles he had- not the one he'd found Roman by because he wasn't sure the boy was ready for that yet- bringing the logs back on the pull-sled and setting them in the barn to dry out for future use. Roman had been struggling to carry more than a couple at once, but Virgil had been unbelievably proud of the way he'd persevered and kept going, taking two trips to Virgil's one each time and looking at him for quick approval whenever he carefully placed his load onto the new pile. 

That was another thing; the boy was an absolute sucker for praise. All he required to keep him in the highest of spirits was a ruffle of his hair and a smile, or a gruff 'doing good, kid'. Virgil, not so different himself, was perfectly happy to provide, spoiling the boy with affection as much as he could, feeding him up and spending long hours with a needle and thread tailoring some of his old clothes to fit the young prince so he could join in in comfort. Boots had been a bit more of a problem, but Virgil privately thought it was utterly adorable the way Roman stomped around in the too-big pair that was the smallest he'd had, inside stuffed with socks to keep them on. 

He was pretty gone on this kid. It would be a mighty shame when spring came and the snow melted, and Roman would have to make the choice of what to do next. 

Virgil hoped he'd stay, but he wouldn't fault him if he wanted to go, either. He'd just be very sad. 

From his cosy position the boy yawned, lifting a hand to rub at an itch on his cheek before subsiding back into stillness. Virgil would have to think about dinner soon, and getting dog out for a walk, but for now he was more than content to stay right where he was, convinced that this must be a slice of paradise he'd somehow captured, fragile but beautiful, to keep as his own for as long as it could reasonably last. 

***

Roman took the dog for a walk (or, really it was the other way round because the dog knew her way around and Roman just had to chase after her, his laughter ringing through the still air) while Virgil tidied up a bit. The domesticity of it all appealed to him greatly, and he hummed to himself as he worked. He wondered if Roman thought he was being a good parent, or if he wasn't much compared to the life he'd had before as a member of the royal family... Okay he was going to try and not wonder about that again because it made his chest ache nastily. 

"There was a deer!" Roman gasped as he burst in the door, sitting on the mat to pull his snowy boots off, eyes round and glittering with awe and cheeks flushed from the cold. Virgil tutted as he left the door open and the dog tried to get in, throwing the old towel at the boy. 

"Don't forget to rub her down before you let her in. And close the damn door, kid, we're not all covered in fur like pooch there!" He growled at him, and from the way Roman grinned without a hint of shame, racing back outside to do as he was asked, he figured actually maybe he was doing okay. 

"Tell me about the deer," Virgil urged, ladling the stew out into Roman's waiting bowl and following with his own to sit at the table. "You ever see one before?" 

Roman bounced in his seat, blowing on each hot mouthful before bolting the food down, starving the way Virgil remembered being at his age. It made the woodsman grin, eating considerably slower while Roman tried to wolf his meal down and tell the story at the same time. "We didn't have deer at the palace except for as dinner sometimes, but it was so pretty!" Blow to cool; spoonful in, chewed and swallowed. "I didn't notice at first because it was super still-" Blow, swallow, wince because it was too quick, swallow slower. "But it just stood there looking at me. Dog was really good too, just sat down and waited, and it last for-" Another small mouthful, gesture with the empty spoon to illustrate the point. "For ages. And then it just walked away. I think it was a she, because she didn't have horns and you said-"

"Antlers, for deer," Virgil corrected him mildly. 

"Right, antlers. But she didn't have any so, but she was so pretty!" He dropped his cheek into his hand with a sigh, elbow propped on the table so he could still eat, gaze distant as he remembered it all over again. Virgil grinned around his spoon and kept eating. 

After dinner Roman did the dishes, just about tall enough to reach over into the sink and scrub everything. Initially Virgil had expected him to reject the idea of having to work at all, like every prince he'd ever heard or read about, but Roman had been nothing but enthusiastic and willing to help out. It probably helped that he could sneak the bowls down to the dog to lick clean before he washed them up properly, while Virgil pretended not to notice. Or maybe he was just a thoroughly good kid. That was a theory that got more and more credible the more time the woodsman spent with the prince. 

"Hey, Roman, c'mere kid," Virgil called from the bedroom when he heard the boy finish putting everything away. The prince trotted in with an inquisitive look, and Virgil patted the bed next to where he sat. 

Roman hopped up and curled his knees under himself, leaning his weight into Virgil's side unquestioningly, and the woodsman put his arm around his narrow shoulders, showing him what he was holding in his other hand. "This was mine, when I was young. It was given to me by someone very special who said it would bring good luck, and protection, for as long as I wore it." Someone who is lost to me now, he didn't say, but Roman could clearly read it on his face because he looked back at the woodsman seriously. Virgil held the pendant out by the leather cord, letting the wood and amber dangle. "I'd like to give it to you now, if you want it. I haven't worn it in a while, but it's- it's still special. To me." 

Virgil swallowed, wishing he could feel the confidence of his age but remembering only the terror and betrayal of the youth he'd been when he'd taken it off for the last time. He wasn't going to tell Roman that part though, how the charm hadn't worked when he'd needed it to most, because he'd learned in the decade or so since that the power it actually held was in believing. Believing it could help. Believing it was special. Believing that the one who gave it to you was gifting you something truly special just because it was them giving it. 

He hoped it would hold true for Roman. And maybe he hoped that it would be something for the boy to take with him when- if he left in the Spring. To remember Virgil and their time together by. 

Roman was transfixed by it, brushing his fingers over the charm before cupping his hand so Virgil could drop it in. He inspected it closely while Virgil held his breath, and then sat up to pull it over his head and settle the pendant onto his chest. Virgil's breath whooshed out as he was hit with a fierce hug, and he laughed weakly, allowing himself one sniff as he hugged the boy back as tightly as he could. "Thank you, Virgil," Roman whispered, voice muffled by the clothes he'd buried his face in. "Thank you so much." 

They both clung to each other as they got ready for bed, Virgil keeping a hand on the boy as much as he could, laying it on his head or shoulder, thumbing some dirt from his cheek, helping him when he got tangled in his nightshirt. And Roman did the same, pressing against him side to side as they brushed their teeth, kicking his feet up over his lap while he lay on the bed and admired the pendant again, jumping onto his back as Virgil walked past to go stoke the fire for the night and hanging there as the woodsman just continued on with his task without pausing, just reaching one arm back to support him. 

He was nearly asleep on Virgil's shoulder when they got back to the bed, and Virgil carefully twisted to slide him off onto the mattress, rolling him into place and snuffing the last candle. 

In the darkness he felt Roman curl into him as usual, and felt his sigh shift the blankets. "I want to stay here forever," the prince said softly, which- oh. 

"Okay," Virgil croaked, trying not to show how overwhelmed he was by emotion at that declaration. "That's- that's great. That's really great," he barked out a laugh, cheeks a little damp, and turned to press a soft kiss to the top of Roman's head. "Sweet dreams, Roman." 

"Sweet dreams, Virgil."

***

Winter passed quickly. They celebrated the midwinter with a feast and some games that Roman remembered, and even the dog got a treat or three. Roman's family apparently had a custom of gift giving and he'd managed somehow to carve a decent sketch of the deer he'd spotted into a strip of tough bark that Virgil immediately and very proudly placed on the mantel to be admired. He had to apologise for not having got anything in return, but Roman was all smiles when he waved it off and argued that Virgil had already given him so much. 

They'd gorged on some eggnog Virgil had rustled up, curling up under a blanket by the fire while Virgil read a story from the small amount of books he'd had packed away. When Roman's head finally drooped as far as it would go, Virgil picked him up and carried him to bed, belly and heart equally full. 

But after Midwinter came the lengthening of the days. Normally such a relief, but with spring came travellers, and questions. At least he didn't have to fear Roman choosing to leave anymore, but instead they had to hope that the search for the missing prince had been abandoned after so long without success. Otherwise there was going to have to be a serious and probably unpleasant discussion about safety and secrecy, and Virgil would have to hold off on the surprise trading trip to the village he'd planned for after the first snowmelt. 

They'd cross that bridge when they came to it. 

For now Virgil was enjoying the unexpected benefits of living with a kid, which included snowball fights; hot cocoa just because; extremely competitive games of cards; teaching someone about the world around them on long walks with the dog; the sound of laughter or breathing or movement in the house that didn't belong to an animal but another human; and hugs. So many hugs. He'd never thought he was a particularly affectionate man but hell did Roman prove him wrong... 

Virgil hadn't felt this carefree in years, and even Roman had commented that he didn't look so old these days. Virgil had had to chide the boy and remind him that he wasn't actually even middle-aged yet, let alone old, and they'd had a little chase around the house when the cheeky kid had innocently exclaimed surprise at that fact, culminating in a tickle fight that Virgil easily won. 

Yes, the peaceful isolation of Winter was idyllic to say the least. It made the jarring shattering of that peace all the more terrifying. 

It came in the form of a voice. Two voices, actually, ringing out through the trees when Virgil was out checking his woodpiles and Roman was back at the house with their lunch. One was high and loud, and the other softer and lower and sounding a lot more cautious, cutting into the louder voice regularly. 

Virgil ran. He darted through the trees back to the house and slipped inside. Roman looked up from peeling the carrots and wrinkled his nose. "How come I have to take my shoes off whenever I come inside and you do- hey!" Virgil grabbed the peeler from him and bent down, hands on his shoulders, hoping Roman would get the urgency. 

"I need you to hide. Someone's coming. Go!" He urged, and thankfully- he had the best kid, honestly- Roman immediately did as he was asked, slipping back under the bed where he'd hidden once before. Virgil took over the cooking, making sure to hide as many signs of a second inhabitant as possible. It was a lot harder than it had been when Roman had first shown up; the boy was fully entrenched in life in the house now. His things were everywhere, little signs that usually made Virgil smile but now just made his heart race faster. 

There was only so much he could do before he heard the same loud voice shout upon spotting the house, and then feet pounded towards the door and he braced himself. 

A fist rapped sharply on the wood and Virgil flinched. Deep breath in, hold, out, he reminded himself, before going to pull the door open a crack and peer out at... 

Roman? 

No, that wasn't possible. Roman was under the bed. So who...?

"Hello! Is he here? Can I come in?!" The Roman-impostor asked brightly, trying to see into the house. Virgil's mouth moved silently, fish-like, until the second person caught up, out of breath and wheezing when he reached the door behind the strange boy. 

"I'm so sorry," he apologised, leaning on the doorframe and tugging the boy back against him. "He's not supposed to just run off and bother people, but I've never been able to stop him." 

What. "What- what is this? Who are you?" Virgil asked, more bewildered than belligerent. He'd expected the same guards, maybe armed, returning to search the house again. Not this child and his minder looking sheepish and friendly and tired. 

The minder held out his hand, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "My name is Logan, I'm the tutor. This is Remus, he's... we're looking for his twin brother. Remus says he knows he came this way?" Virgil was stunned, but before he could react he heard a creak from inside and a small voice. 

"Mister Logan? Is that you?" 

"Roman!" Remus replied instead, squeezing through the gap Virgil had left between the door and himself, dashing inside and gasping when he saw Roman. They collided in a tight hug, and Roman promptly burst into tears. 

What was going on. 

Behind him Logan cleared his throat, offering a sympathetic smile when Virgil turned back to him with wide eyes. "Maybe we can come inside and clear this all up?"

Next

[razieltwelve]

The Christmas Conspiracy (RWBY AU Snippet)

Weiss looked about furtively and then hurried to unlock the door to her apartment. Ever since she’d stumbled across what could easily be the biggest conspiracy in the history of the world, she’d felt as though she was being followed. It would have been tempting to simply walk away, but she hadn’t become one of the finest investigative reporters in the world for nothing.

The door opened, and she stumbled inside before slamming it shut behind her. The sensation of being watched grew stronger, and she rushed to turn on the light.

She wasn’t alone.

“Hello, Weiss.” A tall figure in a blood-red cloak was sitting at her dining table. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Of all the gods she could have investigated, of all the gods she could have potentially angered, why had she thought it was a good idea to pick this one?

“I…” Weiss turned back toward the door only to stumble away. A corgi was standing between her and the door. It was an incredibly cute and cuddly corgi, yet it somehow managed to radiate so much menace that she could barely even think. Simply breathing was becoming hard, and she clutched at her throat.

“Zwei,” the figure murmured. “Be nice. I asked Weiss to sit down. She can’t sit down if she suffocates from terror.”

The fear passed, vanishing like smoke on the breeze. For a split-second, the corgi was gone. In its stead was a colossal beast, a hell hound whose head seemed to vanish into the clouds. Black flame roiled over its body, and the spectral shadows of the Abyss shimmered around it. And then the corgi was a corgi again.

Weiss swallowed thickly and sat down at the dining table.

“It has come to my attention,” the cloaked figure said. “That you have come into possession of certain… information.”

Weiss licked her lips. They were incredibly dry. In fact, the air itself seemed parched. “I…” She forced herself to speak. “You don’t scare me.”

“Oh?” The cloaked figure shifted slightly, so Weiss could see her eyes. Silver starlight greeted her. “Would you like it better if I did scare you?”

Raw, unbridled terror struck Weiss like a physical force. Her eyes widened in shock, and every muscle in her body froze. Her mind shut down, and the last thing she felt was her heart bursting from the sort of primordial fear that only one of the Greater Gods could generate.

And then the figure leaned back. The fear vanished.

“Weiss, I’ve chosen to be… polite. Don’t make me regret that decision.”

Weiss nodded slowly. 

“So…” The figure gestured and a pack of cookies appeared on the table with a glass of milk. Weiss realised that they’d come out of her pantry and fridge, and she felt a brief surge of indignation before squashing it. Absurd. She had bigger things to worry about than some cookies and milk. “Why don’t you tell me what you think you know, Weiss?” 

Weiss wrapped her arms around the charm to Pyrrha that she wore around her neck. She’d worn it since she was a child, and the warmth it radiated had always comforted her. It was ice cold now, yet another reminder that the being in front of her was no mere god. “There is no Santa,” Weiss murmured. “It’s all a sham. You’re Santa.”

“And who am I?”

“You… you’re Death.”

“Yes.” Death chuckled softly. “So you thought to yourself that you would expose a secret that I was keeping. At what point did you think that would be a good idea? I am Death, Weiss. I see everything. I know what everyone is doing.” She smiled thinly. “He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. The words in that song aren’t exaggeration, Weiss. From the moment you worked it out, I’ve known.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Weiss trembled.

Death stared at her again with those starlight eyes. It was like staring into another universe, like seeing every single thing she’d ever done or failed to do laid bare. “I could. It would be easy. It would take less than a thought, and you’d be dead. It could look like an accident. No one would ever know.”

Weiss felt a surge of pride that she hadn’t burst into tears. She’d always wondered how she’d face her end. She was, apparently, meeting it with some small measure of dignity.

“But I’m not going to do that.” 

“What?”

“You put all the little clues together, Weiss. You worked out that Death is Santa, but you never stopped to ask the most important question. Why?” Death reached down and lifted her dog onto the table. Zwei glared for a moment before settling as Death scratched his back. “Why do you think I pretend to be Santa, Weiss?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“The gods are part of the world, Weiss. But we prefer to limit our intervention. We gave you free will. It would be hypocritical if we never let you use it.” Death dipped one of her cookies into the glass of milk before taking a bite out of it. “But the thing is… the mortal world is full of both the best and the worst of what mortals can do. There is so much suffering here, so much sorrow, so much pain. It is… unpleasant. As Death, I see more of it than any of the others. But there is goodness in this world as well, just as there is goodness in mortals. Christmas is a time to celebrate that goodness.”

Weiss nodded slowly.

“When you think about it, the idea of a jolly fat man flying around in a sled pulled by magical reindeer is a bit silly.” Death chuckled. “But the idea of bringing joy and good cheer to all the children of the world, to everyone who has done their best to live a good and decent life, well, that’s not silly.”

“But why you?” Weiss asked.

“Because I can. Because I see into people. I know who has been good, and I know who has been bad. I can be anywhere I want to be. I can be everywhere.” Death smiled. “And because it’s nice, at least one night a year, to not be feared. I am Death, Weiss. What I do is not done out of cruelty or malice. Death simply is. It is part of what makes you mortal. It is part of the world itself. Yet with few exceptions, I am only ever greeted by fear and hate. It can get a little… tiring at times.” Death sighed. “The only people who ever visit my temple, Weiss, are the ones who are doing everything in their power to avoid me, or the ones who want me to pay their enemies a visit.”

“So what now?”

“I’m going to give you a choice, Weiss.” Death stood up. “I want you to think about all the good that Christmas does. I want you to think about all the joy, friendship, and warmth it brings to people’s lives. And I want you to think about how much of that would remain if people knew that I was Santa.”

“And?”

“And now I’m going to leave. I’m going to let you choose whether you keep that knowledge to yourself, or whether you tell everyone.”

“Are you serious?” Weiss blurted. “Do you know how big a story this would be? It… I’d win prizes. I’d be the most famous reporter on the planet, I’d…”

Death smiled. “Weiss, I can see into people. You’re a better person than you think.”

And then Death was gone, along with her dog, the cookies, and the milk.

Weiss sat there. It would be easy to pick up the phone. She could have the story on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. It really would be the story of her career. Not merely a story about a god, but one of the most famous gods of all. But then her mind drifted to all of the Christmas displays she’d passed on the way home, all the children eagerly lining up to take photos with Santa at the mall, and all the people doing their best to stay friendly and cheerful because it was the holiday season.

“Damn it…” Weiss muttered. “Well played. Well played.”

X     X     X

Weiss trudged into her apartment. It was Christmas eve, and she’d only just gotten back from work. She’d kept quiet after all. She hated to admit it, but Death was right. The world really was a better place with Santa in it. She had just shrugged off her coat when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey!”

“AAHHHHHHH!” Weiss stumbled back and would have tripped over her couch if Death hadn’t reached out to grab her. Seeing Death’s hand around her wrist, Weiss screamed again. “AHHHH!” She thrashed. instinctively, she began to say a prayer to Pyrrha. “Noble Pyrrha, protect me from harm -”

“Relax,” Death said. “I’m not here to punish you.” 

“Oh.”

“You didn’t say anything,” Death said.

“I…” Weiss sighed. “You were right.”

“Still,” Death sai. “You did give up a lot of fame and fortune to do the right thing. It kind of seems like a shame.”

“Yeah, well, it turns out I’m a decent human being.”

“Would you like a gift?” Death asked.

“Can it be a billion lien?” Weiss asked.

“Heh. No.” Death grinned and scooped Weiss up into her arms. “Hold on.”

And then they vanished.

They reappeared high over the city. 

“AHHHHH!”

“Hmmm…” Death chuckled. “You’re screaming a lot more than the last time.”

Weiss found herself clutching onto Death for dear life. “Yes! Because mortals can’t fly, and we’re really high off the ground!”

“Yep. In fact, we’re exactly thirty thousand feet above the ground. You’d probably be enjoying this even less if I wasn’t using my powers to help you out.” Death smiled. “Now… look down.”

“Do I have to?”

“Trust me. Look down.” 

Weiss looked down. They were floating high above the city, and the clouds had somehow cleared to give them a perfect view of it. “It’s… beautiful.”

“It’s going to get better.” Death’s lips twitched. “You mortals look at everything around yourselves, but you don’t see. Weiss, it’s time for you to see.”

And Weiss saw.

She saw the lights of ten million souls for the first time. Every single person in the city below them was made of light, and she could see them all. They were countless different colours in countless different shapes. Some were small. Some were large. Some were a blazing, brilliant white. Others were a tranquil blue. And still others were a dazzling gold. The distance didn’t matter. It was like they were right there beside her.

She saw the wind, and the spirits that rode on the breeze.

She saw the stars above them, each of them a hero from ages long past.

She saw the blades of grass, the drops of water, the stones, every single thing, she saw it all, and she saw it not with the eyes of a mortal, but with the eyes of a god who had been there when Creation was young.

She saw it all.

And it was so beautiful.

She’d always thought the world was chaotic. But now she saw. Everything, everything was connected. Everyone was connected. They were all pieces in the puzzle, all notes in the song, all brushstrokes in the masterpiece of the gods’ design.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Death asked quietly.

Weiss was weeping too much to reply.

“But it gets better.”

As the clock ticked over to Christmas Day, a wave of light and radiance swept through the city. It was, Weiss realised, a wave of emotion, the joy and warmth of Christmas made manifest, a sight only the gods could see.

And her.

“It’s not an award, and it’s not money,” Death said. “But I hope it is enough.”

Weiss scrubbed at her cheeks. “I…”

Slowly, the vision faded. Her sight was mortal once again. And they were back in her living room.

“Weiss,” Death said. “The world can be an ugly place. It can be full of horror and suffering and woe. But it can be so beautiful too. It can be full of kindness and joy and love. The gods see both what is worst and what is best in you all.” She tapped a spot over Weiss’s heart. “You saw with the eyes of Death, Weiss. Do you understand now why I was so confident that you would make the right choice?”

Weiss nodded.

“Merry Christmas, Weiss.” Death grinned and then vanished.

Staring around at her empty living room, Weiss found herself laughing. She’d never been more right and more wrong about anything in her whole life. “Merry Christmas, Death.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

A little Christmas challenge. I wanted to write a snippet for Christmas, and I gave myself an hour to get it done. Mission complete! This took me just over 45 minutes in a single sitting, excluding the time I took to proofread it afterward. 

More importantly, I hope you all have a Merry Christmas. Like Death said, the world can be such an awful place, but it can be a truly beautiful place too. I hope, for all of you, that the world is a beautiful place full of kindness, joy, and love. Merry Christmas.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

You can find my original fiction on Amazon here.

[myxcenterxstage]

Random v: Sail On / the Terror AU thoughts...

- from being raised by her Uncle Charles, Pris is a keen observer, resourceful and inventive.

- Pris is an avid reader from being on long voyages with nothing else to do but read books on science all day

- Pris has traveled on ships and had observed how sailors command them, but she herself has no experience actually working on them. So she'd need to shadow someone to learn how sailors sail ships.

- Wihh the above comment of Pris being resourceful and inventive, in the even th e HMS Terror / Erebus get stuck in ice I imagined her proposing to train Neptune as a sled dog and volunteering herself and someone else lightweight to see if they have explore ahead of the explorers traveling on foot to get better distance.

- Pris will literally spoil Neptune & Jacko & the ship cats

- Pris finds herself having more fun on Erebus but feels safer on Terror

- From sleeping in the slops room, Pris quickly enjoys replacing her bonnet with a sailors cap

[thegarrisonafterdark]

"why do you want to die? you don't want to live, look at you"

what if .... terror sled dog au

[thegarrisonafterdark]

idk if anyone who follows me here is into artfight but I'm doing it this year and the terror sled dog au is fair game :U