#those bloody kings should really stop pointing swords at that poor man

[ivyithink]

here on this fine day to spread my agenda: uhtred's actually a good dad to aethelstan. edward can have his other children, but aethelstan is uhtred's little boy. uhtred is his mom, dad and cool uncle all in one and i think that's beautiful actually

for those who choose to reblog/comment! if you’d be so kind to take a moment and write a few words in your tags/comments, I’d be very grateful!

I’m messing around with some stuff and your input would be super helpful! can you please say:

1. when you saw these pieces, did you immediately notice anything weird/off about them/their quality? did you notice it when looking closer at them or specifically looking for it after reading this question?

2. was it distracting/annoying/unpleasant to look at? or did you just take it as part of the piece/chosen texture and were fine with it?

please be honest, I swear I won’t take offense at anything you might say, I just want to know your opinion!

thank you so much to those who indulge me in this request!)

[yetanotherfanficblog]

Elation, Trepidation, Dejection, Destruction

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Characters: Captain Jifuya, Male Xaela Aura Dark Knight Warrior of Light, Yotsuyu goe Brutus (mentioned)

Rating/Warnings: Mature (Mentions of past Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, and Slavery, Slight Gore, Minor Character Death)

Summary: Hien refuses to judge Jifuya, and the Warrior of Light decides to take matters into his own hands. It is not the first time the Dark Knights have had to punish crimes that weak little lordlings would not, and it will not be the last.

Also on Ao3

It was with slowly dawning horror that Enkhjargal heard Jifuya unfold his story - of buying Yotsuyu from her abusive parents, of using her as a doll for his lecherous customers, of his eagerness, even, to specifically exploit her trauma, a story he told not with regret, but simply with fear that he might finally face consequences. Enkhjargal cast a look at Gosetsu. It was Gosetsu's choice, first, but surely, he'd understand this man could be no part of-

"...I see," Said Gosetsu, as Jifuya still cringed before him, "Then I shall recommend that you be assigned to a new post."

Enkhjargal took a step backward, a look of shock at Gosetsu that he quickly stifled. The practice of taking prisoners in war or camp raids was one thing, but this type of slavery, buying and selling of a person? He had seen Gosetsu's code in action, respected it. Did the code truly stop here? With allowing this buyer and seller of unwilling young women to continue as if his sin had been nothing?

Perhaps he only meant to leave the judgement to his lord. Yes. That must be it. Certainly, Hien would have the wisdom to deal with this properly. It was... not the best way to deal with it, frankly, in Enkhjargal's mind, but perhaps allowing Hien to serve justice would make Doma stronger in the long run, even it delayed the justice Jifuya so clearly deserved by a few hours.

---

"I would not presume to defend the life Jifuya led before he joined the Front," Said Hien, "Nor will I condemn it. Frankly, it is not my place to judge. I will only say this: the Jifuya I know has ever been a man of courage. That he should feel driven to flee bespeaks the depth of his terror. Even now, Yotsuyu casts a shadow over the realm..."

Enkhjargal narrowed his eyes. Had Hien just suggested that he would not condemn or judge bloody slavery-

No. Not here. Not like this. Confronting Hien right now is unlikely to change his mind.

But we must do something.

It won't be the first time we must dispense justice because some pampered noble lordling either couldn't or wouldn't.

And it certainly won't be the last.

He will be alone at some point. We only need to find out when, and where, and be there when he is.

Bide your time until then.

---

Enkhjargal kept his body language as casual as possible as walked out of the House of the Fierce - to get some fresh air, he had told his comrades. It wasn't even completely a lie, although mostly he meant to put as much space between him and Hien as possible, before he said something he might regret.

But before he did, he spoke to the sentry at the entrance of house of the Fierce, where it lead out to the fields of Doma once again.

"Have you seen Jifuya since he got back?"

"Oh! He stepped out again. Don't worry though, sir, he ensured me he was coming back this time. He's only off duty for a bit, at Lady Yugiri's suggestion."

"Hm. Do you know where'd go at times like this?"

"Well. I know he sometimes likes to head out past Monzen, to gaze at the Castle. Even though it's in ruins, it's still a grand view."

Enkjarghal nodded, "Very well. Carry on, Sentry."

The Sentry bowed as Enkhjargal strode past him, out of the House of the Fierce.

When he rounded the bend, he pulled out his whistle and blew a short blast. A few moments later, his Yol swept down the sky. Enkhjargal leapt upon her, and pointed her west.

---

Not his place to judge? By the twelve, it is EXACTLY his place to judge! What is the bloody point of having lords and kings if they will not judge the sins of the common folk and ensure their kingdoms protect the weak and prevent the strong from abusing their power? What in the Seven Hells is Hien thinking? Why are we freeing Doma if it will only perpetuate the sins of the Empire against the poor and orphaned and destitute? Will he create a hundred, a thousand new Yotsuyus, poor young folk, orphans and destitute, driven to hatred and desperation by their treatment of the hand of rich old lechers and greedy landlords and cocky soldiers, because he refuses to do his bloody duty?

The voice screamed at the back of Enkhjargal's mind as he flew his Yol toward the river, and Enkhjargal let it. It was right, as usual. Whether Imperial or not, Eorzean or Hingan or Xaela or otherwise, too many of these nobles and monarchs and generals were such selfish, shortsighted fools, interested in the path of least resistance, or their own comfort, and as always, it fell to the bloody warrior of light to fix it.

And fix it he would, one way or another.

His black-scaled tail twitched restlessly, angrily behind him as he flew on. ---

A few moments more, and he landed his Yol, patting it gratefully on the neck before taking a bit of Dzo jerky from his pack, holding it out letting the Yol nibble it from his hand.

"Wait here, my friend," he murmured, "I shall not be long."

He walked toward the river bank, and soon spotted Jifuya, staring out toward the ruins of the castle as the lookout had suggested. The man did not notice him. Enkhjargal's hand went to the spare dagger at his waist. He could end it now, with a well-aimed throw, or a shove of the dagger at just the right point on his spinal column-

No. Jifuya should KNOW. He should see it coming. He should face the weight of his sins, as we have. As all should.

So Enkhjargal walked closer, drawing his sword, ensuring the sound of scraping metal was just loud enough to be heard.

Jifuya leapt with a start and turned around.

"Oh!" He said, breathing a sigh of relief, "Hello, Lord Enkhjargal. I didn't expect to see you out here. I come here sometimes. Staring at the castle helps center me when I'm feeling a bit out of sorts."

"I know. I heard one of your comrades mentioning it. I had hoped to find you here."

"You... You hoped?" Jifuya said, his face confused.

"Yes. You and I have something to discuss."

"Oh! Of course! Anything for the hero of Doma," Jifuya said, smiling graciously, simperingly, "B... But what could you have to discuss with me?"

"Your Profession."

"My-"

"Before you joined the resistance. Was Yotsuyu your only victim? Did you kidnap your other girls? Buy some of them from slave markets? Seduce a few of them off streets, convincing them their only option to avoid homelessness was to work in your dens? Or did you simply buy them all from lecherous, greedy old monsters eager to pawn a daughter or a wife to pay off gambling debts, or just to move on to their next pretty plaything?"

"Wha- What?"

"ANSWER ME," Enkhjargal said, his voice rising in volume just a bit, infused with the dark anger of his other half, as he stepped closer, now towering over Jifuya.

"I-I- I was a legitimate businessman, I had the full sanction of the Em- I mean- I... I got my girls from a variety of places! But I- It was Imperial times! We all had to survive, one way or another-"

Jifuya stopped, cringed, looked up at Enkhjargal. Enkhjargal stared back.

"S-Some of them were there by choice..." Jifuya continued, whimpering.

"SOME of them," Enkhjargal repeated his words, stone-faced, monotone, putting just enough emphasis on the first to remind Jifuya of what it implied, that even more were there against their will.

If the man means to dig his own grave, who are we stop him?

"I. I know what I did to Yotsuyu was... not my best moment," Jifuya said, "But- But- I have heard what you've done! You fought her! Rumors say you can even stare into the past of your enemies! You've seen her sins firsthand! You KNOW she's a monster!"

"I am not here to judge her, Jifuya. I am here to judge you. But how, I wonder, did she become a monster? I have seen enough of her past to know she was not born that way."

He took yet another step closer to the Doman. Jifuya tried to step backward, but his foot nearly slipped off the enbankment. He looked back at the water, and Enkhjargal wondered for a moment if he was planning to try his luck in the swift current. Yet still, he turned back to look up at Enkhjargal, cringing.

"No, she was made a monster," Enkhjargal continued, "By neglectful, hateful parents. By a cruel, callous slavemaster who saw her pain and saw in it a way to put more gil in his pocket."

"I...I already said I felt shame-" Jifuya began to stammer.

"No you didn't," Enkhjargal said, his voice a low hiss, simmering with rising fury, "You said you were afraid of your past, not sorry for it."

"I-I- I'm saying it now! I'm sorry! I swear!"

"Remorse given at the last possible second out of fear is no remorse at all."

"P-Please! Hien already passed judgement! HE forgave me, sh-shouldn't you?"

"He is not my lord," Enkhjargal said, "And thus I have no reason to be bound by his judgement."

"It's a shame, really," Enkhjargal continued, "Maybe if he had done what a king should and put you on trial for your crimes, you could have gotten something softer, something that still served some sort of justice. Maybe exile, or a prison cell, or hard labor. Or restitution paid to Tsuyu and any other of your living victims. Some sort of thing to ensure that craven, beastly men like you will not be tolerated in his new kingdom. But instead, he'll let you go free."

"B... But he DID let me go, right? I'm free. He said so..." Jifuya's voice barely sounded as if it came from a human now, broken and whining as it was.

"Yes. He did. But Doma wouldn't be the first nation I've travelled in where the upper class are either too cowardly or too complicit to reign in the wicked and corrupt. And you know what I've done in those countries?"

"W-What's that?"

"This."

Enkhjargal raised his weapon, and as he did, dark crackles and swirls of aether played around every inch of his body, around his massive sword, as his inner flame finally unleashed, fueled by the anger and rage he'd being feeling every since he found out Jifuya's crime, ever since Hien refused to judge him.

"Oh Kami!" Jifuya cringed back, "Warrior! Please! Show Mercy!"

"The same mercy you showed Yotsuyu? Your other victims?" Enkhjargal answered, coldly, as he swung his sword downward.

Jifuya opened his mouth to scream, but Enkhjargal gave him no chance to sound the alarm.

The pieces of the former slaver's body fell silently into the River, the swift current carrying them out of sight in an instant.

---

"They might find out, you know," His Dark Double, Sometimes called Fray, sometimes Esteem, murmured at his shoulder, as Enkhjargal stood at the edge of the riverbank, still staring into its churning waters.

"No," Enkhjargal said, his mouth set in a grim line, "They'll never suspect me, I'm a hero, a bloody icon. Surely I would never harm as innocent a soul as the brave Jifuya, decorated Captain of the Great and Noble Doman Godsdamned Resistance. Besides. He already tried to run once, who says he didn't do it again? He must have slipped off into the night, too afraid of Yotsuyu - or feeling too guilty at a reminder of the weight of his sins."

"You have a point," Esteem said, with a dark chuckle.

"Besides, if they do find any part of his body," Enkhjargal continued, "They'll likely assume it was someone who died in the assault on Doma Castle. Even if the fish don't eat it first, the water should wear down the meat enough that no-one could tell for sure that it was him - or that he died quite some time after the end of that bloody battle."

"So that's one problem taken care of. But there's one left. How do we deal with Hien?"

"We watch, and we wait, like we always do," Enkhjargal answered, "I thought he had the strength to lead, but if he was too cowardly to judge Jifuya properly, perhaps I erred. So we watch. And if need be, we take action."

"Yugiri will not be happy, if it comes to that," Esteem noted.

"She won't," Enkhjargal said with a nod, "But I have hopes she won't let her love for her lord blind her should he continue to allow such gross oppression, and for all her loyalty, Yugiri's always been a friend of the oppressed. A Lord can only rule as long as they have the consent of their people."

"Hmph. We both know people consent to some messed up things. In exchange for a peaceful life, many would simply ignore the corruption which festers beneath the surface. Cast aside that which is dirty and broken. Speak not of things which would disrupt their dreary little lives."

"Many. But not all."

Enkhjargal could feel Esteem's smile at his shoulder, bemused, slightly bitter, but warm and genuine all the same.

"That we still have that optimism after all this time," Esteem said with a note of wonder, before switching thoughts, "Very well. As always, I shall follow your lead. But if the truth of the matter comes out as I suspect it will, and if you need help..."

"I shall clutch my crystal to my breast, and remember,” Enkhjargal said, fiercely, every word the truth. 

"Good."

And with that, he felt Esteem simmering no longer. He turned from the riverbank, and strode back toward his waiting Yol.

---

NOTE: Text in italics is meant to be the words of Esteem in Enkhjargal’s mind, ala Dark Knight job quest text in-game.

[purplehairedwonder]

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 1

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3062 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Donquixote Doflamingo, Penguin, Shachi, Bepo, Disco, Eustass Kid, Monkey D. Luffy, Nico Robin, Usopp, Silvers Rayleigh, Jean Bart Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he’s 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law can’t help but resent Monkey D. Luffy for offering a glimpse of something he’s repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Seven Years Later

Law grumbled to himself as he wound his way through Grove 1 toward Doffy’s auction house. He disliked being sent on errands like this, but he had little choice in the matter. His grip tightened on Kikoku as he glanced behind him to see Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo following a half step behind him. He nodded and kept moving. He was here to do a job, after all.

Sabaody was particularly lively today, with the presence of the so-called Supernovas, ten super rookies with bounties over 100,000,000 berries. Law had never had a bounty of his own, as he’d been the subordinate of a Warlord since he was 17, though he’d often wondered what it might have been had Doflamingo not found him that day in the North Blue.

Though, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. His position had earned him a certain amount of infamy, even without a bounty.

Shachi had the wanted poster for each Supernova, keeping an eye out for any information to be had. Law’s crew had proven itself adept at intel gathering over the years, so they were often sent on such missions. Though today’s job wasn’t reconnaissance, that didn’t mean there weren’t any rumors to dig up while in the lawless zones of Sabaody—especially with such interesting figures on hand. Getting a preview of the next generation of pirates to enter the New World could be valuable.

As they moved in the direction of the auction house, Shachi pointed out some of the Supernova, including X Drake from the North Blue and Mad Monk Urouge. Law took note of each one with passing interest; while they might seem impressive after making their way through Paradise, he doubted most of them would last in the New World. Over the years, many rookies had made their names before arriving at Sabaody only to fall quite spectacularly in the second half of the Grand Line. Law had learned to keep his expectations low and had thus stopped paying so much attention to the rookies until they did something to earn the attention.

Penguin threw Law a confused look as they headed for the front door of the auction house rather than the back entrance, but Law shook the other man off. Penguin shrugged and followed his lead; these three had been dealing with his moods since he was a teenager, so this was hardly anything new. The guards at the auction house gaped as they approached, scrambling to greet them.

“C-corazon!” one stammered as another grabbed the door. “We didn’t know to expect you today!”

“Please, come in! Should we get Disco for you?”

Law waved them off. “No need. And no need to tell Disco-ya I’m here either. I’ll find him after business is done for the day.” Law couldn’t stand the slaver and wanted to spend as little time in his presence as possible.

“Of course.”

The guards bowed Law, Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo into the auction house. Law took a seat toward the back, draping his arms over the back of the bench, the others filling in around him. He handed Kikoku to Bepo, who took the nodachi without a word, and casually surveyed the room. When the Celestial Dragons waltzed in, Law ground his teeth but said nothing. It wasn’t part of his mission today.

“Well, well, well,” a gravelly voice said from behind Law. “It looks like there are some big names here today. First Celestial Dragons and now the second-in-command of the Donquixote Pirates. I’ve heard some nasty rumors about you, Corazon.”

Law turned his head to see a ragtag group of pirates standing at the back of the auction house. The redhead in the garish pants was clearly the leader; he stood out front of the others and exuded arrogance.

“Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid,” Shachi murmured. “He has the highest bounty of all the Supernova. His first mate, Killer, is also on the list.”

Law considered this then proceeded to flip the rookie captain off, smirking, before looking away. He heard Eustass laugh.

“Shit manners though.”

“Politeness won’t get you far in the New World, Eustass-ya,” Law said without looking back. The New World tended to humble people like Eustass Kid, Law knew from experience.

“Yeah?” Eustass had stepped down to stand adjacent to Law’s row of seats. “I suppose you’d know all about the New World, working for a government dog.”

Law glanced his way but turned his attention back to the empty stage. Petty taunts rolled off him; he’d heard far worse over the years, often from his own Family.

“What, nothing to say?”

Law rolled his eyes. “I’m busy.”

Eustass snorted. “You look it.”

Law nodded toward the stage. “You see the Jolly Roger on the wall there? If you know who I am, then you know who owns this place.” He gave Eustass an unimpressed look. “I’m here on business.”

Whatever Eustass was going to say was drowned out as the emcee took to the stage to introduce Disco and begin the auction. Baring a few teeth, Law made a shooing motion at Eustass to dismiss him. The rookie captain growled lowly but headed back to his crew to observe.

“Was that a good idea?” Bepo asked, glancing at the rookie crew and back toward Law.

Law shrugged, unconcerned. “He’ll be missing a heart before he can try anything.” And maybe a few other limbs. Being around the slave trade put Law in a foul mood, and an outlet would be welcome. The sooner the auction ended, the sooner Law could find Disco and finish his job.

Law paid little attention to the auction until Disco brought out a pirate who bit off his own tongue, choosing death over slavery. The scene was bloody and the auction house descended into horror, but Law couldn’t blame the poor son of a bitch; he briefly considered the day Doffy had found him and his own terror at being reclaimed by the Family. What would have happened if he’d tried a stunt like that?

Doffy probably would have stitched his tongue back together with his Fruit and then taken out Law’s disobedience on Bepo, Shachi, or Penguin. He had made it clear over the last seven years that neither would Law be the architect of his own death nor would he get out of the Family again so easily.

The weak do not choose how they die, he thought with distaste before turning his thoughts back to the present.

The auction was briefly back on track when Disco brought out a mermaid, but the room fell into utter chaos once another Supernova (Monkey D. Luffy, Shachi noted amidst the confusion) came blasting through the wall… and then proceeded to punch one of the Celestial Dragons in the face.

Now that might be deserving of attention, Law thought with no little amusement before noticing Disco fleeing from the stage. As the Straw Hats jumped into action against the guards and the occupants of the auction house fled for the front door, Law knew he couldn’t put his task off any longer. He grabbed Kikoku from Bepo, the only warning to his crew that he was on the move.

He opened a Room and switched places with the podium on the stage, moving the moment his feet hit the wood in pursuit of the slaver and auctioneer. The chaos behind him barely registered as he followed the man backstage. He jogged past guards running toward the stage. He knew he got a few open stares, but he ignored them now that he was on the hunt for his prey. His status meant no one would dare stop him here anyway.

Law stopped at the door to what seemed to be Disco’s office. The man stood at his desk and was fumbling with a Den Den Mushi.

“No need to call Joker, Disco-ya,” Law said, leaning against the doorway.

Disco jerked badly, the snail slipping from his fingers and clattering to the desk. He whirled around. “Corazon?” he squeaked. “What are you doing here?” Then he seemed to collect himself. “Shouldn’t you be helping get the situation under control? This is Joker’s operation.”

Law shrugged, uninterested. “I’m here with a message from Doflamingo, not to clean up your messes.”

Disco paled. “W-what kind of message couldn’t he send over Den Den Mushi?”

Law lifted his free hand and opened a Room.

Disco gaped like a fish out of water at the small blue dome encompassing him. “P-please, no! Corazon! I’ve been loyal! I’ve done everything Joker asked of me.”

“And he’s grateful for your cooperation,” Law replied, straightening. He withdrew Kikoku from her sheath, the sword humming in anticipation. “But he’s decided it’s time to move on to newer ventures.”

“N-newer ventures?” The auctioneer couldn’t pull his eyes from the nodachi in Law’s hand.

“Nothing for you to worry about, Disco-ya. It’s just business.”

The man’s scream was drowned out by the rest of the chaos in the auction house.

-----

Returning from his completed errand at a more leisurely pace, Law paused as he felt a wave of Conqueror’s Haki rush through the auction house, causing his skin to prickle, followed a few moments later by an explosion. He frowned. Who was on hand that could use that? Could one of those Supernova…?

He hurried back to the stage to see the auction house guards unconscious. The only people standing were the Straw Hats—more of whom had appeared while Law was taking care of his task—the Kid Pirates, Law’s own crew, and…

“Dark King Rayleigh,” Law said, lips lifting in a smirk. The Family’s spies had put the man on the island, though he was running a ship coating business these days—when he wasn’t gambling. Law wasn’t expecting to run into the living legend, though.

The older man, mermaid on his back, turned back toward the stage. His eyes landed on Law, and he raised an eyebrow. With a quick Room and Shambles, Law switched places with the podium and was once more standing with his crew.

“Whoa!” Straw Hat Luffy gaped. “That was so cool! And what’s up with the bear?”

“What?” Bepo started.

Rayleigh simply turned his gaze to Law’s new position. “Now, now. Don’t use that name when so many Marines are around. Not all of us have immunity from the government.”

“Luffy,” a female voice said. Law glanced to see Nico Robin, the Demon Child, standing near the Straw Hat captain. She was eyeing him warily. “That’s Corazon. He’s the second-in-command of the Donquixote Family. Be careful.”

“Donquixote? The Warlord?” the one with the long-nose squawked.

“See the Jolly Roger on the wall?” Nico Robin said. “This auction house is owned by Donquixote Doflamingo.”

The gathered pirates looked between the symbol on the wall and the damage throughout the building before turning to Law, stances turning defensive.

Law raised his hands. “I’m not interested in a fight.” He’d done what he’d come here to do. He was ready to get off this shithole of an island, even if that meant returning to Dressrosa. “But you all might want to get moving. The whole place is surrounded by Marines.”

“Marines?”

“They surrounded the place not long after the auction started,” Law replied. “I don’t know who they were here to catch, but the attack on a family of Celestial Dragons only riled them up more.” He couldn’t help his lips turning upward at that. “I’d recommend leaving before an admiral arrives.”

“What about you?” Straw Hat asked.

Law shrugged and gestured to himself and his crew. “Government dogs, remember?”

Eustass snorted and turned toward the door. “Well, I have no interest in facing an admiral today. I did get to see Straw Hat Luffy pull some crazy shit, though, so I’m satisfied.” He threw a hand up in a wave. “We’ll even lend you guys a hand and clean up outside on our way out.”

Law snorted as it was clear Straw Hat Luffy took that as a personal affront, immediately following the other pirate, voice rising in indignation. He watched as the remaining members sighed long-sufferingly and trailed their captain. Law received a few more suspicious looks as the pirates and their friends passed him, but Law had no intention of getting involved—fighting against the Marines was against the rules for the Warlords and their subordinates, after all.

It wasn’t long before Law could hear gunfire and yelling coming from outside the auction house. He thought he could make out the sound of gleeful laughter as well.

Law’s lips curled upward in spite of himself. “Monkey D. Luffy, huh?”

Another D, Cora-san…

Law turned back to Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo. They were watching him curiously.

Law frowned at them. “What?”

“Nothing,” Penguin said immediately.

Law narrowed his eyes. “Out with it.”

The trio was saved from having to answer when Law’s Den Den Mushi started ringing. Law sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course he would be checking in for an update. Law pulled the snail from his pocket and answered, knowing how the man got when Law took too long to answer.

“Doffy.”

“Corazon. Is the job done?”

Law blinked at the immediate question. Doffy was usually chattier when he called; it was one of Law’s least favorite things about him—among many least favorite things. “Yes. Disco-ya’s no longer a concern.”

“Good. Don’t set sail yet, though. I need you to stay on Sabaody for now.”

Law grimaced. “For what?”

“You may be needed in Marineford soon.”

Law glanced at the other three, bemused. They shrugged in return. “Why?”

A snort. “Haven’t you seen the paper?”

“I’ve been a bit busy with the errand you sent me on,” Law replied irritably.

“The Marines have set Fire Fist’s execution. They’re summoning all the Warlords to be there.”

Law felt his stomach drop as the implications hit him. There were some hissed breaths to his side as the others came to the same conclusion Law had.

“Do they want a war?”

“Seems that way.” Unsurprisingly, Doffy sounded practically giddy at that. He was a warmonger and profiteer, after all. “Which is why I may need you.”

“Right,” he said blandly. A war between the Marines and the Whitebeard Pirates was exactly the last thing he wanted to get pulled into.

“Corazon.” Doflamingo’s voice had a warning edge to it.

Law pursed his lips but knew better than to argue. “We’ll stay on Sabaody and be ready to sail.”

“Better.”

Once the call ended, Law sighed and dropped the snail back into his pocket. “Guess we’re not leaving after all.”

“This is going to be ugly, isn’t it?” Penguin asked.

“No doubt.” Law rubbed a hand over his face before looking toward the auction house entrance. “Sounds like things have quieted down. Let’s head out.”

When the four reached the entrance, Law let out a surprised huff as he surveyed the scene. There was mass chaos, as Marines were littered across the ground as well as rushing around the help the wounded. The Straw Hat and Kid Pirates seemed to have already fled, though.

“Looks like the rookies did some damage,” Law chuckled. “Not bad.”

A few Marines looked up to see them and yelled, scrabbling for their weapons. “More pirates coming from the auction house!”

“Stand down, idiots!” one of the commanders called back. “They’re with Donquixote. Leave them alone.”

Law’s eye twitched at that, but he didn’t argue as he led Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo down the steps. He paused at the sight of a large slave left abandoned outside the house. After a moment, Law blinked; he knew this man.

“Pirate captain Jean Bart,” he greeted.

The large man looked down at him, startled. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s called me that.”

“It would be a shame to leave a man like you in shackles,” Law said, forming a Room and using Kikoku to slice through the collar around Jean Bart’s neck. It fell to the ground with a harmless clank.

Jean Bart put a hand to his neck, eyes wide in disbelief. “How?”

“Devil Fruit,” Law replied simply, making a small Room in his palm before letting it go.

“Why? They,” Jean Bart said, nodding back toward the Marines, “said you work for Donquixote Doflamingo.” Or, Law translated, they said you work for one of the biggest names in the slave trade.

“It’s complicated,” Penguin said.

“That, and I’m happy to fuck over the Celestial Dragons in any way I can,” Law replied with a shrug. He glanced around, noting the Marines gaping at him for daring to free a Celestial Dragon’s slave. He saluted them with a smirk before turning back to Jean Bart. “If I were you, I’d get out of here quickly; shit’s about to get ugly.”

“You don’t want me to serve under you in return for my freedom?” After all, why free him if not to get something in return?

“You wouldn’t be much freer under me than here.”

The former captain frowned at him. “You don’t serve Doflamingo willingly?”

“Like we said, it’s complicated,” Shachi added.

Jean Bart looked between them. “I see no collars on your necks, no man riding on your back. Nothing could be worse than that.” He shook his head. “I have nothing but the rags on my back. My crew is either dead or enslaved. My family is long dead. Where would I go?” He swallowed. “If you’d have me, I’d serve under a man who would free a slave that others ignored and gladly taunt the Celestial Dragons to do it.”

Law glanced back at Shachi, Bepo, and Penguin. They looked back at him steadily, as if to say, Your choice, Captain.

Law’s crew—though they were part of the Donquixote Pirates, their original name of Heart Pirates had stuck as a nickname among the Family considering Law held the Heart seat—had grown from the original four Doflamingo had taken from the North Blue, but Law was always hesitant to bring on anyone new considering Doflamingo’s use of his crew to assure Law’s good behavior. Somehow, he’d still found a loyal group who willingly followed him despite his warnings to the contrary; he had no idea what he’d done to deserve them.

“All right,” Law said finally. “Let’s get back to the ship.”

Next Chapter

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Twenty: The Retrieval

Chapter Nineteen

Word Count 3k

Warnings: mentions of rape, blood, gore, little fluff

When night strikes Wessex, still no sign of Ivar or his brother's. You can feel yourself getting weaker and weaker as the hours go on. You know that they are searching for you, they just don't know where you are. Hopefully your best friend sent that letter to Kattegat and it gets to them by morning. If not, you have no idea if you will survive another day of torture. When the meeting with the people was over, your people were absolutely furious and did not approve of anything that is going on. King Harald was outraged, so he took all of his anger out on you. At this point, every inch of skin is either cut or bruised. You can barely breathe, barely even see. You just hold onto your stomach and weep. 

King Harald comes in a few hours later, you are not certain of the time. 

"P-please..n-no more."

Harald chuckles, "No more of what? Beatings or the sex?"

"Both." You stuttered. 

Harald "Okay, fine. I will make you a deal. No more sex, if you give me one of your dragon's." You chuckle so hard that blood comes up.

"Go to hell." You mumbled as you spit the blood out of your mouth. 

Harald "No? Are you sure you won't accept my offer?"

"They are m-mine. My babie-s. No, you cannot have one."

Harald tisks his tongue, "Such a shame. But at the same time, it is not. Because this means, I can still use you hmm?"

"Just leave me alone." 

Harald "Aw poor child-"

"I am not a child! I am a queen! I am Ivar's queen! Have you forgotten?!"

Harald "Oh of course not. Ivar and I are very close allies-"

"Well not," you gasp for breath, "anymore now that you have done all of this to me."

Harald gets into your face, "Do you really think that he loves you, Y/n? Do you really think that he cares about you or that child in your belly? He is just as wicked as I am." You let your head fall to the ground. You try not to listen to his words because in all honesty, they hurt. You love your husband, you miss him more than anything. But you can't stop replaying what his last words were to you. And those are what make you feel like King Harald is telling you the truth. 

"Even if he does not, I still have my child."

Harald "Ah yes, that little baby in your belly. You still think it is still ali-" you slap him across the face, hard enough for spit to fly out of his dirty mouth. He looks down at you and laughs in your face. "You still have fight in you. I like that!" He grabs you and rips the only piece of clothing that you have left on and takes you. You try to fight back but it is no use. He is much stronger than you now. You cry and cry as he takes you, screaming out in mercy. But he does not give it to you. When the time comes, if the time comes, he will not get mercy.

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

Morning arrives in Kattegat and the news carrier comes to Ivar immediately as he sits on his throne. Hvitserk sits beside Ubbe, hanging his head down. His hair is ragged and his eyes are bloodshot. Ubbe is staying strong, he needs to for his brother's. 

Ivar "What is it? Have you found her?!"

"My king? Oh no! I just have a letter for you, my king."

Ivar sighs, "Alright. Give it here." Hvitserk takes a huge gulp of ale and shakes away his nerves. He feels like every waking minute, could be another minute of your life withering away. 

Hvitserk "What does it say, Ivar." Ivar reads and does not say anything. His eyes just wilt with tears.

Ubbe "IVAR! What does the letter say!"

Ivar looks up at his two brother's standing in front of him, waiting for answers.

Ivar "She is in Wessex. It was her friend that we met when we got her dragon's back Hvitserk. She wrote in detail of her condition." Hvitserk rips the piece of parchment out of Ivar's hands and reads it for himself while Ubbe hovers behind him.

The letter:

"Hello King Ivar, my name is Thyra. I met you and Hvitserk when you came back to retrieve Y/n's dragon's back in Spring. I am her friend and as her friend, I am begging you to bring as many warriors and her dragon's to Wessex, England. King Harald Finnair and the King are torturing Y/n to get information about her dragon's. King Harald has beaten her to the point where she can hardly be recognized. Her skin is bruised, so badly that it is blackened. Her eyes are almost swollen shut and her clothes are ripped to shreds from being sexually assaulted by someone. In my opinion, it has to be King Harald. She told me that she is with child, but I fear that that is no longer the case by her current state. Please come as soon as possible. She does not have long."

~Thyra

Hvitserk fell to his knees and fainted. When he awoke, Ubbe is screaming at Ivar to get his act together and get his men to Wessex. 

Ubbe "What are you waiting for!? You know where she is! Let's go get her and bring her back home!"

Ivar "We are too short of men, Ubbe."

Ubbe "We will not fight today, but we need to save your wife!"

Ivar "Yes. I will go and ready our ships and soldiers. Wake him up." 

Hvitserk "I AM UP! YOU SERIOUSLY WERE CONSIDERING NOT GOING TO WESSEX?!"

Ivar "I am king. I have to look out for my men. I fear that many of them will lose their lives today if we fight to get Y/n back. And we are short on soldiers."

Hvitserk "You are not her husband. You sure as hell are not acting like it!"

Ivar "I am her husband!"

Hvitserk "THEN GO TO WESSEX AND SAVE YOUR BLOODY WIFE!"

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

The three dragon's fly above the ships as they set sail to Wessex, England. Hvitserk prays the whole time there that you are still with him. That his child is still with him. He has not heard from you today, which makes him very uneasy. 

Ubbe "Look ahead of you brother, she is not too far now."

Hvitserk "What if she-"

Ubbe "She's not. Don't think such a thing. You will see her soon." Ivar stands by himself and looks ahead of him. He is worried to see your state. He is worried that you won't be the same after he brings you home to Kattegat. He fears that you will not love him any more. Could he truly blame you?

…

Hvitserk walks over to his brother Ivar and sits down beside him. Ivar does not say a word. He does not feel like he has the right to do so. So Hvitserk takes that step.

Hvitserk "Why are you acting like this, Ivar? I thought that you have changed."

Ivar "I have changed. Y/n changed me for the better."

Hvitserk "Really? Because you have been acting like you old self for the past three days."

Ivar "That is because, when I am scared...I turn it into anger. And Hvitserk, I am terrified. I am terrified of seeing her like how Thyra described. I fear that I am going to break down when she needs me to be strong. I fear that we might be too late."

Hvitserk "As do I, brother. But we need to be strong for her okay?"

Ivar "Yes."

Ubbe "We are coming up to the castle. We are here brother's." When they look up and see the castle coming closer and closer into their view, they get their warrior faces on and get ready to get their girl back.

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

You pass out from all of the pain that you are in. King Harald ended up not leaving you alone until three rounds later. Even when you are still, your legs shake from overstimulation. The blood is just a reminder that it would take a miracle for your baby girl to still be alive. 

When the three brother's arrive at the gates of the kingdom, Ivar uses the dragon's flames to burn the gates down. Raising them since they were babies, has its perks. When the gates burn down, the people are frantic at the sight of them. The dragon's fly ahead and land on top of the castle, while Ivar and his army flood every inch of the kingdom. 

Ivar "I AM IVAR THE BONELESS! THESE ARE MY BROTHER'S! I AM YOUR PRINCESS'S HUSBAND AND KING, WE ARE HERE TO SET HER FREE. DO NOT FIGHT US!" The people calm down and almost turn to excitement. Ubbe runs to the doors, as well as Hvitserk with a few of their personal guard's. When they enter, they are confronted with the two men that are responsible for all of this. 

Harald "Ah, finally-"

Hvitserk "Where is she?!" 

Harald "Go find her for yourself. I must warn you though, dear Hvitserk...you might not recognize her." Ubbe looks at him.

Ubbe "Go get her, I'll take care of these two. Watch your back." Hvitserk nods and kills every man that comes his way. He is filled with such rage and hate that he has no empathy for anyone but you at this point. He climbs to the top but you are not there. So he ran back down, ending up in the darkest and coldest parts of the castle. He finds old bones on the stone floors and some animal corpses. He walks on and finds doors that only keys could open, but luckily for him, his sword is made from the strongest steel that could ever be made. When he broke down the first door, no one was in it. He broke down every door except the one that you were in. When he reaches the last door, he hesitates and tears start to fill in his eyes because he knows that you are in there. Hvitserk took a deep breath and broke the door down. When he stepped foot inside that cage, he sees you in the corner. There is so much blood surrounding you, that he can barely see the floor beneath you. He walks over to you, scared out of his mind because he feels like you should have woken up by the door being broken into. 

Hvitserk "Y/n? Baby?....sweetheart."

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

When you awake, you feel a pair of gentle hands on your shoulder. And then you hear the voice of a man that you have been needing for what feels like forever. You look up and see Hvitserk hovering over you. 

"..Hvitserk?"

Hvitserk chuckles through the tears, "Yeah, kitten. It's me, I am here. We are all here." You pull him into your arms and hold him as tight as you could and sobbed uncontrollably. 

Hvitserk "You're okay...you'll be okay."

"I...I can't..I can't get up..I can't move. He-"

Hvitserk "I know. I know, I'm going to carry you all the way back home, okay?"

"Hvitserk...the baby-"

Hvitserk "She is fine. You both are fine, let's get you home." He lifts you into his arm's. Once you get off of the floor, the pain is excruciating. You scream and cry from every inch of your body that is causing you this feeling. 

Hvitserk "I know..I know, we will heal you, I promise."

"I feel like every part of me is broken."

Hvitserk "You will be healed..I promise. We will get through this."

"M-my dragon's!"

Hvitserk "They are here. They are all here, Kitten." You sob into his chest from relief. It feels like a dream but it is, thankfully, your reality. The reality that you have been praying for for four days.

…

Harald "I am almost glad to see you, Ivar...old friend."

Ivar "I am not your friend."

Harald "Oh so harsh. I am surprised it took you this long to find her."

Ivar "It took us this long because we sent warriors to all of your kingdoms but couldn't find her there. But we did find a lot of your valuable warriors and killed them." Harald scowls. "So do not be surprised when you go home to Vestfold and Rogaland...there is a bloodbath waiting for your return." 

Harald "Well I have to admit, that saddens me. But then again, I have gotten so much use out of your wife that I cannot stay mad at you-" Ivar attempts to charge but Ubbe stops him with his arm.

Ubbe "Not today. Remember our mission of today. Bring her home. Get her healed. And then-"

Ivar "He will burn-" He stops what he was going to say when he sees his brother carrying his wife in his arms. It confirmed one of his worst fears: you being so badly beaten that you are almost unrecognizable. 

Ivar "Y/n?" You look over your shoulder and see your husband.

"I-...IVAR?!" Hvitserk puts you down right in front of him. You wrap your weak arms around his neck as he holds your frail body up in his arms. 

Ivar "I missed you so much...I-I am so so so sorry. Please forgive me!"

"I do. Just please take me h-home." He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips extra gentle. 

Ubbe "Hey.."

"Ubbe…" He walks over to you and hugs you gentle but with so much happiness and relief.

Hvitserk "Alright, let's get her out of here-"

Father "Y/n...can I have a word."

Ivar "NO! YOU HAVE SAID AND DONE ENOUGH!" 

Father "I want to apologize-"

"Apology not accepted. Hvitserk.." 

Hvitserk "Yeah, c'mere." He lifts you up and takes you out of the castle. When you are out, you see your dragon's flying ahead. 

"RYUU, ELDR, NEITH..!!" They hear you and land in front of you and Hvitserk. "Ahh my babies...oh I have missed you!"

Hvitserk "They have missed you, Y/n. They haven't eaten since you were taken...haven't slept."

"I am here now...everything will be okay now. Hvitserk...go get King Harald."

Hvitserk "Y/n?"

"...I want to see him burn." Hvitserk smirks and kisses your lips, then lifts you up so that you can lay down on Neith. 

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

Hvitserk returns and looks at Ubbe in a way that only Ubbe would know.

Ubbe "Hvitserk.."

Hvitserk "She wants him to burn for what he has done-"

Ubbe "Now is not the time."

Hvitserk "It is. Do you really think that we can all live in peace until this bastard is dead?!" Ubbe nods in agreement. 

Ivar "Now?"

Hvitserk "Now." 

Ivar walks ahead, "Well...it seems that my wife would like to see you one last time." Harald chuckles. 

Harald "I guess she just can't get enough of me!" Hvitserk wants to chop his head off with one clean slit to the neck but he knows that it will be more justified your way.

Harald stops right in front of Ivar and whispers, "Her pussy is just perfect. It is such a shame that you can't enjoy it yourself Ivar...I pity you." Ivar clenches his jaw and watches the man walk past him and out the door. 

Ubbe "Do not listen to him, Ivar. Do not let him win, hmm?" Ivar agrees and walks on.

…

You see the man walk in front of your boys, heading for you and your dragon's. 

Harald "Man...they are so much more incredible in person!"

"Yes they are...but they are not yours."

Harald "They will be one day, you'll see."

"...Ivar." Ivar takes out his dagger and puts it in Harald's throat. He began to gag and gasps for breath. He is choking on his own blood, as you have done for almost a week. Ivar and his brother's step back because they know what is coming next. Hvitserk gives you the 'now,' you look down at your dragon's and smirk.

"DRACARYS!" All three of your dragon's fire at King Harald and do not stop until they see the ashes fall to the ground. Ivar walks up and sees his wife on top of her dragon and smiles.

"Take me home."

Ivar "Gladly." Your father comes running up and startles Ivar and his men. They grab their weapons in preparation for an ambush.

Father "Y/n..please-"

"I will not forgive you-"

Father "I had no other choice! King Harald threatened my life... my kingdom."

"I am your daughter." He does not know what to say because he knows that you are right. Nothing else should come before you and your life. Even his kingdom. 

"I am leaving, and you will let me if you do not want your fate to end up like your friend over there." He looks down at the pile of ashes next to him, on the white snow. 

Father "I am sorry Y/n. For everything."

"No you are not. You are only sorry that I am going home, and leaving you with our angry people. So do not take me for a fool, father. Because I am no such thing." Ivar looks at you with admiration. Hvitserk does the same. Ubbe is observing with a clear mind and is ready to strike if your father attempts to cause you harm. Your father just stands there and takes your words. His eyes shedding crocodile tears. 

"I need to go home, before I don't make it home-"

Hvitserk "Y/n-?" He notices you starting to lean forward on Neith and grow even paler than before. He rushes to you and catches you when you fall off of her. Ubbe grabs your father and throws him on to the ground. 

Ubbe "Go back to your people, before I do not allow it!" Your father runs away as fast as he could. Ivar watches Hvitserk hold your body in his arm's, so weak and frail that you couldn't even hold up your own body anymore. 

Ivar "We need to get her home!" 

Hvitserk "I will put her in the boat! Hang in there, Y/n.. stay with me baby, come on. Stay with me." He said that all the way to the boat. He and Ivar held you in their arm's the whole way back to Kattegat, hoping and praying that you will pull through.

@hvitserkmarcosource @a-mess-of-fandoms @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @jzr201 @conaionaru @ivarzeitgeist @herestherealproblem @heavenly1927 @saldelys

[weirdponytail]

Eragon: Book vs Movie. Set & Scene 1

SCENE 1, SET

Brom flipped through the thick packet, one leg crossed over the other. He was sitting in a folding actors chair, a troubled expression on his face.

“Wait, so you just want me to read this?” The old man turned to the Shadow behind him. “Just, read this out loud while things happen around me?”

“Correct.”

Brom sighed. “Alright then,” he opened his mouth to begin but then closed it. One of the other lines had caught his attention. “Oh dear. She isn’t going to like that. Um, might I suggest-”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Out of nowhere, a burlap skirt came flying at high speed to promptly smack the Shadow right in region it’s face should have been. Brom sighed again and covered his face with his hands. “AND YOU CAN KEEP THIS SHIT, TOO! WHAT ARE THESE, MOULDED LEATHER TITS?!” A hard leather…shirt…thing…followed the skirt and struck with considerably more force, two rocks falling out of the moulded…breast region.

The elder Dragon Rider followed the trajectory of the clothing to see Arya fuming on set, wearing her usual leathers instead of the movie getup their employers had insisted on. Durza was a few strides behind her, howling with laughter at the ‘torture’ the directors were putting the elf through. He was practically crying, braced on his knees. Every time he seemed to be close to stopping, the shade would glance at the script of the first scene and start up again.

“Arya, come on.” Brom started. “I know it’s demeaning, and your mother will probably kill all of us involved if you don’t get to us first, but it’s only a few minutes for this scene. Then you can get back in your clothes and, as a bonus, your contract says you can kick Durza in his nether regions after every take.”

Durza stopped laughing.

Arya crossed her arms and glared at the Shadow. “Make it twice.”

“I have no objection to that.” The Shadow threw the elf the clothes.

The woman turned to change and came face to face with the shade, stopping her. “I swear, little elf, if you even think about doing that, I’ll change the script back to the way it really happened.”

Arya smirked. It was hard to take Durza seriously when he was wearing such ridiculous amounts of makeup and color changing contacts. She leaned in until their noses were almost touching and hissed, “You probably like it, masochist.” Then slipped around him and sauntered off. She could feel his eyes on her back and threw a one fingered salute over her shoulder. “And stop staring at my ass!” 

Durza coughed, caught in the act, and turned back to the Shadow. “I also have an issue with my…wardrobe.”

“Your contract renders all your complaints moot.”

“But does it really have to be covered in glitter glue?” Durza lifted his armored shirt in dismay. “And why must I wear this padding? I’m not chubby, why do you insist on making it look like I am?”

Brom stifled a sarcastic chuckle. “I know you think you’re a vampire with the new costume, Durza, but you really need to look in a mirror.”

Durza scowled at the Rider before growling “I’ll be at my starting point.” And whipped around with a swirl of his new cape. He passed by the trailer just as Arya was walking out, trying to tug the hem of her skirt further down her legs to cover as much skin as possible. “Nice legs, elf.” He casually remarked and quickly took off in a sprint before she could wind up and punch him all the way to Daret.

The ground began to shake as Nar Garzvog lumbered up to the Shadow, his clan of Urgals in tow. “Misty One, where do you wish us to stand for our part?”

The Shadow waved the Kull off. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you, we won’t be needing you. We’ll be using these men.” It pointed towards the group of six-foot chub monsters with blue sharpie on their faces. “Much cheaper, and less stench. Go on, get out.” It snapped its fingers and the clan disappeared in a poof of sulfur smelling smoke.

“Now, Arya, please take your place. We need to begin. Brom, if you would please?”

Brom cleared his throat and picked up his script as Arya hopped onto the horse provided. “Remember, Arya, just grin and bear it.”

“Yeah, that’s what politics is all about. I’m going to kill Nasuada for suggesting this to raise war funds.”

“Ready? ACTION!” 

SCENE 1 FOREST CHASE 

Brom cleared his throat again and began in his best ‘Badass Storyteller’ voice.

“There was a time when the fierce and beautiful land of Alagaesia, was ruled by men astride mighty dragons…

“To protect and serve was their mission. And for thousands of years, the people prospered. But the Riders grew arrogant, and began to-” He stopped, flabbergasted. “Now wait just a minute, this isn’t correct at all! We never fought each other, Galbatorix went bloody insane for the Stars sakes!” He twisted around the glare at the Shadow. “What kind of hack is this? You’re ruining an already fragile history!”

“Keep reading.” The Shadow snapped. “History doesn’t make money, drama makes money. I own you until this film is complete, so keep. Reading.”

Brom sank into his chair, grumbling. “This is so beyond my pay grade. Achhem, But the Riders grew arrogant, and began to fight among themselves for power.

“Sensing their weakness, a young Rider named” Brom paused, and took a moment to slowly and carefully pronounce the tyrant’s name, “Gal-buh-tor-ix betrayed them. And in a single bloody battle, believed he had killed them all. Riders, and dragons alike.

“Well, you got something right.” Brom griped, but turned back to reading when the Shadow mouthed ‘own you.’ “Since then, our land has been ruled by Gal-buh-tor-ix. He crushed all rebellion including the freedom fighters known…as the Varden.

“Those that survived fled to the mountains. There, they hoped for a miracle that might even their odds against the king.”

Brom threw the script down. “Now that I’m done with this mediocre pile of shit, let me tell you something! The Varden has never openly had an army verses army war with dear old Galby until Farthen Dur, you illiterate fool!”

The Shadow opened its mouth to reply but a whoop from out in the forest cut it off. “Oooo, Brom is getting maaaaaad!”

“ARYA, BE QUIET!” The Shadow yelled. “You aren’t done yet, Brom! CUE THE CHASE SCENE!”

“Wait, what?” Arya raised an eyebrow then let out a startled yelp as three of the new ‘Urgals’ lunged from the bushes and slapped the three horses on the rump, sending them off at a breakneck gallop. “OH FUCK YOU!”

“Read!” The Shadow snapped.

“Fine! Our story begins one night, as Arya, an ally of the Varden, rides for her life. Carrying a stone, stolen from the king himself.” Brom looked up with a sour expression. “I STOLE THAT, BY THE WAY! NOT YOU!”

“I’m not arguing!” Arya yelled back, trying to reign in the very spooked horse catapulting through the woods with one hand while frantically flipping through the script with another

“CUE DURZA CLOSE UP!”

Durza glanced down at his script and raised his eyebrows, then jerked back as a camera suddenly shot up inches from his face. “Oh! Um…HSSSSSS-“ He managed a few seconds before shoving the camera away. “THAT WAS NOT MANLY OR SHADELY AT ALL!” Laughter from the direction of his elfin companion could be heard. “I WILL HAVE YOU TORN TO PIECES FOR LAUGHING, ELF!”

She ignored him, finally reaching the correct page of the script. “Ah! Human stand ins get shot-”

Two of the new Urgals popped up, holding loaded crossbows level with the two stuntmen currently taking the place of Glenwing and Faolin.

“We’re sorry.” The larger one said sincerely. “It’s nothing personal, really! But they said they wouldn’t wash the sharpie off unless we do what they say.” They both fired.

Two very shocked and very dead stuntmen hit the ground. Arya stepped her now calmer horse around the bodies and settled her chin on her fist, scanning the script again. “And then…then what, Urgals, Urgals, uh…oh here. I get tackled off and throw down a hill.” After a moment of silence, the woman straightened, a deadpan expression on her face. “I should have read this before hand.”

She could hear the thudding footsteps of the Urgal running towards her and quickly clambered to a crouch on top of the saddle. “Fuck it, I’m jumping.” With that, Arya dove off the horse to the drop at the side. Moments later the Urgal landed on the poor animal. “PETA’s gonna sue yo-OW FUCK SHIT OW, SON OF A BITCH WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU WAIT FOR A VALUABLE PRISONER OW TO BE AT THE TOP OF A HILL WITH ROCKS AT THE BOTTOM TO TACKLE THEM?!”

Brom turned to the Shadow. “I’d like to know that as well.”

The Shadow waved it off. “Semantics. Don’t need it.”

“Oh for the love of- This isn’t even the Ancient Language!” Both looked up to see Durza standing on his ‘cliff,’ about to set the woods on fire. “I can’t summon a flame with this!”

“Light the forest on fire.” The Shadow commanded. “You must use the words provided.”

“But that won’t even work!”

“Then set it on fire using the Ancient language in your head.” The Shadow snarled. “I don’t have time for this!”

“That is incredibly dangerous, and my contract-”

“Says you’re a total pussy and that you enjoy romantic comedies and light bondage in the fine print, now SET THE FUCKING FOREST ON FIRE!”

Durza complied, but only while shooting the Shadow the bird.

Right on time Arya cleared the permitted ‘fire circle of doom’ area and skidded to a stop before she ran into the opposing wall of flames. “So, what, we doing this again?”

“Unfortunately.” Durza strode through the fire. Well, not exactly strode. He had to wave his hands in front of his face to prevent the heat from melting his makeup. He cleared his throat and put on his best ‘rape face’ as the script asked. “Give it to me!”

“D-” Arya paused, her previously prepared dirty joke flying out the window as she saw the blocked text. “Wait, this thing says I have my sword out. Why the hell don’t I just stab you in the chest?”

“SEMANTICS!” Came the yell from off scene.

“Riiiggghht.” Arya shoved the script into the leather bracer on her arm. “Achhem, well. Time to be a bitch.”

“There’s a time when you aren’t a bitch?” Durza remarked, appearing sincerely puzzled.

“Shut up.” The elf shifted into a fighting stance. “Durza!”

Durza switched back into his movie persona. “And I’ll let you live.”

“Is there anyone who trusts the words of a shade?” Arya scoffed. “Oh, that’s very true. Hey, do I really have to teleport this?”

“CONTRACT!”

Arya huffed and pulled the ‘stone’ out of her bag. “Fine. This is going to hurt like a bitch.” Seconds later she was on the ground, blinking stars out of her eyes. “Ooowwww…”

Durza chuckled, “Where did you send it?”’

The elf notice where his eyes were. “What, would you like me to hitch my skirt up a bit more for you?”

“What can I say? I like the hot, sweaty leather look.” He grinned. “The light bondage part of the contract wasn’t lying.”

She scowled. “Poor Durza…How will you tell the king…you’re a total freak? Ahhem, I mean, you failed.”

The two then paused, pulling out their scripts. They spent a few moments reading before Durza started laughing and Arya started swearing.

“What the hell is this?!” She yelled. “[ACT LIKE YOU’RE HAVING AN INTENSE BUT PAINFUL ORGASM]?!?! This is TORTURE?!”

The Shadow materialized in the fire circle. “We just need you to act in pain. The orgasm part is afterwards.”

“Excuse me,” Durza raised his hand. “what is a ‘force choke?’”

“Pretend you’re choking her with your fingers but don’t touch her.” The Shadow made a ‘get on with it’ gesture.

The two looked at each other.

“I’m totally okay with this.” Durza shrugged.

“Yeah, well I’m not!” Arya snapped. “No way am I going to roll around in pain then pretend to bask in post orgasmic bliss in front of YOU of all people!”

“Well, we can do something about that first one.” Durza suddenly stomped on the elf’s stomach. 

“OW!!” She reflexively curled into a ball. “YOU BASTARD!”

Durza looked over his shoulder at the Shadow. “We have the rolling around in pain part down, but I’m not the guy to call to get that second part. You’re going to need this guy, Faolin, he lives-” Arya managed to roll up and land a particularly damaging punch on the shade’s crotch. “OW!! YOU BITCH!” He collapsed and began rolling around in pain, clutching his wounded merchandise.

The Shadow sighed. “Alright. That’s a wrap. SOMEONE TELL ERAGON WE’RE HEADING HIS WAY!”

“Someone warn the poor boy.” Brom rubbed his temples before packing up his chair and helping Arya up. “Tell him we already have wounded. It’ll be a miracle if nobody dies before this is over.” They stepped over the dead stuntmen and made their way towards Carvahall, Durza crawling behind them.

~~~~~~

(Set & Scene 2)

[imherongraystairstrash]

The Broken Heart pt. 4!

Hi guys! I’m sorry I haven’t posted in such a long time :( I’m working on a lot of new fics, so I’m hoping I can post a lot of them in the upcoming month! I hope you guys enjoy part 4!

As the Enclave needed to sort things out, some of the guests ended up staying at the institute for longer than they would have desired. This did mean, however, that Ella and her friends were able to catch up with Ben, who had been a childhood friend they had missed. After only an hour, all of the awkward small talk had ceased to exist. It felt as if time had never passed; as if those three years had been consigned to oblivion.

Since Alex was eighteen years old, he was technically old enough to attend the meeting, but he decided to stay with everybody else, as he said it would not be interesting if he were all alone. The group had taken to playing cards as a means of passing the time, and it was quite violent and interesting indeed.

“HAHA! Take that Lightwood!” Carstairs said, throwing his card down.

“Take what? This queen of swords?” Alex pulled out said card and placed it in front of him.

Ella groaned as she was forced to pass, due to lack of kings and aces. “What’s the point of having a parabatai, if all he does is ruin your chances at winning?”

“I told you not to bet all of you beans,” Alex said. Yes, instead of coins, they were betting beans. It really shows how dire these times were.

“How was I supposed to know Matty was going to start with such a high card?”

“That is what you get for underestimating me.” Matilda said.

“I didn’t underestimate you! I just did not count on you sabotaging me.”

Matty smirked and looked at her cards. It may seem mystifying that they should play something as ordinary as cards when there is a potentially serious threat about to arise, however, they were shadowhunters. They were used to their parents going out into the night, and risking their lives. They grew up hearing stories about their siblings, and all of the times they had almost been killed. This was normal for them.

“Does it really matter, though?” Ben said, referring to Ella despair over losing her ‘wealth’. “What would you have done with your beans anyway? Made a stew?”

“Careful, don’t ask her too many questions or Ella will begin to malfunction. She’s not very bright.” Alex said.

Ella threw a twelve of steles card at him. “I need my beans,” she explained, “because if not I’ll lose the game, and will therefore be in debt, meaning I’ll have to pay it off.”

“What must you do to pay it off?”

“One of us can tell you to do anything, at any time or place, and you will be obligated to do said thing.” Jocelyn said, matter-a-factly.

“Once, I had to climb to the roof of the institute and scream ‘This is for my lord and savior angel Raziel’ while jumping for roof to roof, until I reached my house, then jump though the window and tell my parents I am going to run away and pursue a career in acting.” Matty said, ducking her head in shame. “The worst part is that papa believed me.”

“Oh. In that case, I take back what I said about it not mattering,” said Ben.

Everybody nodded gravely, and one would assume they were speaking about a topic far more serious than a game of cards.  

“Do you think we will have to patrol every night?” Ella said, after another round.

“I bet we will not have to do anything, because there will be little to no precautions taken.”

“I find your optimism inspiring, Alex. I really do.”

“He’s right, though. Enclave has a tendency to ignore issues until one group of Nephilim come along and take matters into their own hands.” Matty said while she recorded the scores.

It took a moment for her to realize that a silence went over the room. She looked up, perplexed, and found everybody staring at her.

Ben had stopped mid shuffle, his expression stunned.

“What?” Matty asked.

“How out of character. You’ve become rebellious, Tildy.” Jesper said.

“Oh. Sorry?”

“Matilda, how many times have I told you not to apologize for no reason?” Jocelyn said. “Honestly! Taking blame for things that are not your fault only lowers your self confidence.”

“I would apologize for apologizing, Joss, but I take it you would not be too pleased.” Matty smiled.

“Good call.” Jocelyn said, picking up the cards Ben had just dealt. “Bloody hell, Benjamin, give me some good cards for once in your life, will you?”

“Psst, Ben! Don’t apologize,” Alex whispered.

“Actually, an apology from Penhallow would be much obliged.” Joss said, examining her nails.

“I am truly, sincerely sorry, Ms. Fairchild.”

“Your half hearted apology is not accepted, but I will give you points for effort.”

Ben bowed his head.

…

They were finishing up the round when Matilda noticed her father, Henry Fairchild, by the doorway smiling at them. Matty got to her feet and walked over to him.

“Is everything all right, papa?” She asked, matching his smile with one of her own.

Everyone  had always told Matilda she looks much like her father; her face, chest and shoulders (basically her entire body) were splattered with freckles and Charlotte always tells her they share the same open and kindly face. The only notable difference between them (excluding the fact that they are of different gender and age, of course) was that Matty’s hair was blond and that she had not been blessed with her father’s wonderful eye colour. She had always hoped they would magically change one day from another but alas, they remained dark brown.

She never had reason to dislike her hair colour, however, for it reminded her of her brother, Matthew. And there was nobody Matty looked up to more than Matthew.

“Yes, but it is getting late, and we were going to head back home.”

Matty nodded. “That sounds wonderful; though I do enjoy the company of my cousins, extensive human interaction can be quite…tiresome.”

Henry gave her a tired smile, for it had been a long night. “I agree. I would rather work on my experiments.”

Matty chuckled. “Is there any news from the meeting?”

“Not yet, darling. It is far too late and most of the shadowhunters are too tired to make rational decisions.”

Matty nodded, “Yes, that makes sense. Well, I’ll get Joss so we can leave.”

“Call Ben as well, his sister was asking for him.”

“All right, papa.”

…

Alex and Jesper only stayed a while after the Fairchild sisters and Ben left. Though Charlotte is not the consul anymore, she was still a very influential figure and most Nephilim still looked for her opinion in a certain manner. So, after the Fairchilds departed home, it was only a matter of time before the shadowhunters began trickling out of the institute and back to their respective homes; the Conclave will meet once again tomorrow to discuss the manner at hand.

For now, much to Ella and the boys’ dismay, no measures have been put in to ensure the safety of London.

“What a waste of time.” Ella said. “To think, we stayed up all night to hear for nothing.”

“At least you got to pass the time by playing cards,” Cecily said, a very exhausted Gabriel trailing behind her. “We had to listen to the meeting go in circles for hours.”

“I guess I have an exciting adult life to look forward to.”

Cecily smiled. Nobody knew how she managed it, but Cecily always looked at least 20 years younger than her actual age. Once, when Ella and Alex were little, a young man approached her thinking she was around his age.

“You are aware I am old enough to be your mother, right?” Cecily had said.

The poor man had turned the color of a ripe strawberry, the color deepening while he apologized.

Now, Cecily tugged on her evening coat and motioned to her son.

“Stop playing cards and let’s go, Anna.”

“Anna?!”

Cecily froze and turned slowly to face Alex, horrified.

“Mam, did you just call me Anna?”

“What? No! I was talking to your sister.”

“Anna is not even here!”

Cecily kissed her lips and looked around the room.

“Christopher, I can somewhat understand, but Anna?” Alex shook his head.

“Both of your names start with an ‘A’,” she argued.

“You named me,” Alex rebutted. “Besides, I’ve never heard papa call you Christopher.”

“He better not, I am his wife.”

“You called my brother Gabriel once.” Gabriel said, snapping out of his semi-asleep state to join in the conversation.

“I said I was sorry about that.” Cecily said, exasperated.  

“Somebody is getting old.” Will said.

Cecily turned her head and turned her piercing stare at Will.

“Somebody is looking old.” She replied before turning back towards her son.

“I’m sorry bach, it has been a long night. Now stop playing cards and get over here, Alexander.”

Alex unfolded his long limbs and got to his feet. “Farewell, comrades.”

“Farewell.” Ella and Jesper waved, not really averting their attention from their game.

“How old are you? Just say ‘goodbye’, you psychopaths,” Will said.

“We are connecting with our English roots.” Ella said.

Gabriel shrugged at Will. “Children these days.”

…

Long after Jesper and Alex had gone home, Ella lay in her bed that night and stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. She kept tossing and turning, not able to get the image of that demon-thing out of her mind.

The time has come.

What did that even mean? It wasn’t that the words frightened her— on the contrary; they made her want to laugh for how silly and unthreatening they were. The time has come. Whoever was targeting might as well have been a joke. Expect they weren’t. They had taken Owen. It did not matter if they ended up finding him. The act of taking a child, Ella’s nephew, hit differently. She knew her parents felt the same, as did James and Cordelia. They had been in enough conflicts to know that coincidences such as these seldom exist. The Herondales have been a target for longer than anybody could imagine. Ella sighed and kicked her sheets away from her. She hadn’t realized how hot it had become until now. She sat up straight and knotted her hair at the apex of her head, feeling a wave of relief hit her as the air of neck. She fell back into her pillow and wrapped her legs and arms around the discarded sheets, hugging them for comfort. For now, she’ll just lay here and try to sleep.

…

Here’s a snippet for part 5:

“ELLIE!”

Ella felt her entire body jolt awake.

“Lucie?!”

Tagging:  @celias @tsccreatorsnet

[shieldofrohan]

I was struck by your idea that there may be a Jonsa political marriage in TWOW or early in ADOS because I could NOT figure out why they made all those parallels between them and Ned/Cat in the show without addressing it. But, your idea worries me because in s7 they compared J/D to Rhaegar/Lyanna, and while I can't imagine Jon being unfaithful, Dany falling in love with Jon was what brought her North. So how does that/the love triangle we saw on the show play out if Jonsa is already married?

Hello @esther-dot! First of all thank you for your ask, people don’t ask me anything usually so your ask made me really happy. 

I wrote a long answer I guess, sorry :

First let me say that: I think we are giving too much credit to show. After S4 the show kind of stopped following the books. I mean look at the S5 Ramsay/Sansa nonsense. D&D made it clear that GRRM gave them some important scenes for them to work with so I see the show as a slide-show of some scenes from books tbh. For example the arrival of the Knights of the Vale was sth you can find the hints of it in the books. Or the trial and death of Baelish by the hand of Sansa. Even the death of Daenerys was foreshadowed in the books. But the plots to get to those scenes were all D&D if you ask me. So they had to fill the gaps and they did it how they wanted. 

At this point I really can’t see a version of Asoiaf without a jonsa plot. Jonsa is the most foreshadowed plot in the books. The hints are starting in the prologue of the AGOT and they keep going in the AFFC and ADWD, and you can even find hints in other books of GRRM. Jonsa foreshadowings are surrounded by marriage and children imagery. So not having a jonsa marriage or kids seems unlikely to me. 

I am looking at the j*nerys foreshadowings and they are all about them being enemies. For example these two chapters that follow each other:

“No. Dany shivered. No, no, oh no.“Are you deaf, fool?” Reznak mo Reznak demanded of the man. “Did you not hear my pronouncement? See my factors on the morrow, and you shall be paid for your sheep.” “Reznak,” Ser Barristan said quietly, “hold your tongue and open your eyes. Those are no sheep bones.” No, Dany thought, those are the bones of a child.”

[A Dance with Dragons; Daenerys]

*

Burning dead children had ceased to trouble Jon Snow; live ones were another matter. Two kings to wake the dragon. The father first and then the son, so both die kings. The words had been murmured by one of the queen’s men as Maester Aemon had cleaned his wounds. Jon had tried to dismiss them as his fever talking. Aemon had demurred. “There is power in a king’s blood,” the old maester had warned, “and better men than Stannis have done worse things than this.” The king can be harsh and unforgiving, aye, but a babe still on the breast? Only a monster would give a living child to the flames.

[A Dance with Dragons; Jon]

***

The next morning Xaro’s galleas was gone, but the “gift” that he had brought her remained behind in Slaver’s Bay. Long red streamers flew from the masts of the thirteen Qartheen galleys, writhing in the wind. And when Daenerys descended to hold court, a messenger from the ships awaited her. He spoke no word but laid at her feet a black satin pillow, upon which rested a single bloodstained glove. “What is this?” Skahaz demanded. “A bloody glove …” “… means war,” said the queen.

[A Dance with Dragons; Daenerys]

*

As they did their count, Jon peeled the glove off his left hand and touched the nearest haunch of venison. He could feel his fingers sticking, and when he pulled them back he lost a bit of skin. His fingertips were numb. What did you expect? There’s a mountain of ice above your head, more tons than even Bowen Marsh could count. Even so, the room felt colder than it should.“It is worse than I feared, my lord,” Marsh announced when he was done. He sounded gloomier than Dolorous Edd.Jon had just been thinking that all the meat in the world surrounded them. You know nothing, Jon Snow. “How so? This seems a deal of food to me.”

[A Dance with Dragons; Jon]

***

Dizzy, Dany closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she glimpsed the Meereenese beneath her through a haze of tears and dust, pouring up the steps and out into the streets.The lash was still in her hand. She flicked it against Drogon’s neck and cried, “Higher!” Her other hand clutched at his scales, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. Drogon’s wide black wings beat the air. Dany could feel the heat of him between her thighs. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst. Yes, she thought, yes, now, now, do it, do it, take me, take me, FLY!”

[A Dance with Dragons; Daenerys]

*

Jon clasped the offered hand. The words of his oath rang through his head. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.

[A Dance with Dragons; Jon]

***

I really try to see some romantic hints in those but I can’t find them. So why did D&D choose to do j*nerys instead of jonsa? Let’s face it: Their main audience are locals and Dany lovers. People were waiting them to bang... (ew). And when he was asked about Grrm’s intentions about Jon and Dany, Alan Taylor (director) said that he can’t tell what Grrm said because it is a S8 twist. So even the most j*nerys shipper director couldn’t confirm that j*nerys was sth Grrm told them about. What Grrm told them was a S8 twist, which turned out to be Jon killing Daenerys. I bet they chose the route of a romance instead of them being enemies (Dance of Dragons 2.0 ?!?!?!) so they could shock the audience with the final twist (a poor choice i must say).

So what I am trying to say is that: j*nerys is probably not a book thing. Or at least it can only be one sided in the books. Look at the S7-8 Jon Snow.. they made him so OOC to be in love with Dany... I am sure that Book!Jon won’t be in love with Dany. To be fair, I even can’t see Jon in Dragonstone or etc. Traveling during a White Walker threat is not a good idea. He won’t have such a time to go to DS and fall in love with someone like Dany. Dany is a combination of Cersei, Joffrey, Stannis, Selyse and Melisandre... Can you imagine Jon falling for those? No I don’t think so. I mean there is even dragon glass in Skagos... why would he bother to go DS? And we know that Dragons don’t like North and I can’t image using the fire threat to beat the ice threat... So her dragons won’t be the main forces against the Others. 

I tried to explain why Show!J*nerys was so forced to please the audience and how it was a fan service plot. But still an one-sided j*nerys can happen in the books. There are more foreshowings for this tbh. I am imaging an Aerys-Joanna-Tywin kind of triangle in the books. 

I mean look at this: (I have examined the Jon chapters that follow Dany ones in the ADWD and there were some interesting things. Maybe i’ll write a meta about them one day but for now let’s focus on one hint that I found interesting)

“I want to know. I never knew my father. I want to know everything about him. The good and … the rest.” “As you command.” The white knight chose his words with care. “Prince Aerys … as a youth, he was taken with a certain lady of Casterly Rock, a cousin of Tywin Lannister. When she and Tywin wed, your father drank too much wine at the wedding feast and was heard to say that it was a great pity that the lord’s right to the first night had been abolished. A drunken jape, no more, but Tywin Lannister was not a man to forget such words, or the … the liberties your father took during the bedding.” His face reddened. “I have said too much, Your Grace. I—”

[...]

How beautiful, the queen tried to tell herself, but inside her was some foolish little girl who could not help but look about for Daario. If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly.

[A Dance with Dragons; Daenerys]

This is Daenerys’ wedding chapter and she learns about her father’s jealousy about Tywin and Joanna’s marriage. 

And bonus: she also wishes that Daario to take her away like Rhaegar did with his Stark lady. So in her wedding chapter she mentions the love between a Targaryen prince and a Stark lady. 

But she also knows that no one is coming for her. 

And Jon chapter follows this chapter. And he talks about: his dislike for Selyse and Melisandre, kinslaying, daggers in dark, the grey girl. So he won’t like Daenerys either, kinslaying is an important hint (both for Dany-Viserys and Jon-Daenerys) and I bet that Grey Girl is Sansa. 

Now we know that Dany is Aerys 2.0 with dragons and she will end what her father has started by burning down KL. So in this triangle Dany is Aerys. 

And who are Joanna and Tywin? 

The first J+T pair she’ll meet will be Aegon and Arianna probably. They are cousins too and Aegon chose not to be just a consort to his aunt by marrying her, so he’ll probably choose Arianne to gain Dorne’s support. I always consider Aegon (fake or not) and Arianne as a warning for Daenerys about Jonsa. Aegon has parallels with Sansa and Jon (secret identity with different hair color and secret Targ parentage etc). And Arianne has parallels with Sansa (The girl in the tower trope). So those two will be a test for Daenerys before she meets with Jon and Sansa. But her main test will be with Jonsa.

Jonsa fit into Joanna/Tywin pair more. They are cousins and they grew up together and after them being reunited they will be very important for each other. 

And let’s not forget about the fact that Tywin was the Hand of Aerys and he betrayed him and his son Jaime killed Aerys in the throne room... We are all aware of the parallels between Jaime and Jon already. But Jon was also her adviser and she wanted to rule the 7K with him. But in the end he betrayed her. I believe that Jon’s Ygritte arc might be useful for him to lure Dany into some false trust. But him sleeping with her and loving her and later lose her in his arms sounds like a cheap copy of Ygritte/Jon plot and it makes no sense. 

I think Dany will be taken with him and he’ll use this but it doesn’t mean that they will be lovers. Because it seems like Grrm is going to use RLJ in Jon’s romantic life (like he planned in the original/first outline with Jon-Arya romance). And RLJ has no effect on j*nerys. They can still f*ck and marry... 

I mean Grrm even put an uncle-niece marriage (Jonnel-Sansa Stark!!) in the Stark family tree to show that Starks have no problem with marrying with their uncles/aunts etc. Grrm only considers the marriages between siblings and parent-children as incest. So j*nerys is not a doomed love. But for jonsa; RLJ makes everything smooth. Therefore RLJ must be used in jonsa plot.

So Dany is the Aerys of the triangle and no Targaryen prince will come for her because they are busy with their Stark ladies. (Rhaegar- Lyanna and also maybe Jacaerys and Sara Snow?) 

To explain the early Jonsa political marriage, I must say that I was inspired by the Grand Northern Conspiracy. According to this theory, Howland Reed is the keeper of Robb’s Will about Jon and he is also the one who knows about RLJ. 

It does not go north with Galbart Glover and Maege Mormont, who expressly carry false letters, and is often feared lost at the Twins in the chaos following the Red Wedding. Another possibility, however, is that the document was secreted away in Hag’s Mire and has now been retrieved by Lady Stoneheart. Who in turn, for a real kicker of an ironic twist, delivers the suspected proof of Jon’s kingship to Greywater Watch for safekeeping, care of Howland Reed, who then knows more of the crowns Jon’s entitled to than any other man living in the world of ASOIAF.

https://zincpiccalilli.tumblr.com/post/52748381148

Let’s accept this theory and say that Howland has the Will. Without his proof other lords can’t just announce Jon as the KITN. I believe that Howland will be present at Winterfell to show the Will. But Howland was also a friend of Ned Stark. And he is loyal to House Stark. He kept RLJ as secret for years to protect the Starks and Jon from Robert’s wrath. But Robert is dead and he has no reason to keep this secret anymore. And I can’t imagine him sitting quietly while other lords declare Jon as the King while a true born Stark (Sansa) is sitting right there. He wouldn’t betray Ned’s memory like that. So he’ll spill the tea with RLJ too. And after that maybe Sansa will finally have some agency for her choice of husband. So them together will be the one answer of North’s all wishes. 

And let’s not forget that GRRM said he knows which characters will end up married. But in the show there was no marriage. So I am still waiting a marriage. 

And even with an early Jonsa marriage, Jon and Dany might still meet. Imagine S7 with a married Jonsa. Jon leaves Sansa to fight a battle. It would be a great parallel with NedCat. Ned left Cat while she was pregnant to go to war. And maybe there will be rumors about Jon and Dragon Queen just like how Ned betrayed Cat. But like Ned, Jon would be loyal to Sansa and North too in truth. 

Maybe Jon will gain Dany’s trust and help her against Aegon. And return she’ll accept to help North. But in the end I don’t think that Dany will come/or stay in North. Also in the Jon chapter that comes after Dany one, Jon was warned against Dragons:

“Salladhor Saan?” “The Lysene pirate? Some say he has returned to his old haunts, this is so. And Lord Redwyne’s war fleet creeps through the Broken Arm as well. On its way home, no doubt. But these men and their ships are well-known to us. No, these other sails … from farther east, perhaps … one hears queer talk of dragons.” “Would that we had one here. A dragon might warm things up a bit.” “My lord jests. You will forgive me if I do not laugh. We Braavosi are descended from those who fled Valyria and the wroth of its dragonlords. We do not jape of dragons.” No, I suppose not. “My apologies, Lord Tycho.”

[A Dance with Dragons; Jon]

Maybe Dany will want sth more from Jon and will be jealous of Jon and Sansa just like her father was jealous of Tywin and Joanna. Maybe Jon will betray her in most unexpected time just like Tywin betrayed Aerys. 

Btw I am still waiting for a battle between Daenerys and Jon in Trident after he betrayed Dany. (You know Dany dreamed about a fighting against an usurper in ice armor in Trident... Jon will be the Usurper because he’ll be the King of North and Dany will see North as a part of her Kingdom.)

So my timeline would be like this:

- Jon and Sansa reunite and take North back

- The Will and RLJ happen and they unite their claims by marriage

- A dance between Aegon and Daenerys and she loses a dragon

- Jon gains her trust only to use her and pacify her to protect the North during the Dance

- Him refusing the bend the knee and them becoming enemies

- Daenerys loses one of her dragons

- Daenerys and Euron being a chaotic duo for Westeros

- Daenerys burns down KL and marches to North for revenge

- North (aka Jon) vs Daenerys in Trident

- Daenerys dies and Drogon gets hurt

- Jon refusing the throne so he can go back to North (the Duncan of Dragonflies jumped out)

- Bran becomes King

- Jon returns North to fight against the Others etc. (I refuse believe that he’ll be punished and sent back to Wall? Grrm literally has to kill him to free him from Night’s Watch so I don’t see him returning there)

- Epiloge. 

***

Well I talked too much about too many things but I hope my answer was not such a bullsh*t :) 

Thanks again for the ask. Let me know your thoughts. 

[delicioussshame]

Have some weird, very dub-con fic featuring some AU version of canon!SQQ is SY and some version of LBH, whichever he is.

Shen Qingqiu breathes, still as the mountains hosting Qing Jing Peak. For now. “You heard me.”

Luo Binghe’s yes on him are scorching. “Are you certain? I won’t allow you to take it back.”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t let himself be moved. “Yes.” It’ll be worth it. Luo Binghe has made what he wants very clear. Shen Qingqiu won’t risk his sect just to preserve his dignity.

“Then prove it.”

Shen Qingqiu steels himself before he climbs the step to Luo Binghe’s throne and seals his fate with a bloody kiss, chaining himself to the king of the demon realm but hopefully freeing his disciples in the process.

The lord’s red eyes burn into his when he pushes back.

It takes all he has not to shudder.

Luo Binghe’s fingers on his face are searing as they trail from his hair to his still bloody lips. He wipes a drop of blood and holds his fingers to Shen Qingqiu, expectant.

Shen Qingqiu’s can’t believe he’s surviving the humiliation as his tongue extends to lick the blood off like Luo Binghe demanded.

A few moments later, the blood lights every single nerve of his body on fire. His legs give under him, and only Luo Binghe’s quick reflexes stop him from ending up sprawled on the floor. Instead, he ends up sitting in Luo Binghe’s lap, trying to regain control as the pleasure fades into pleasant embers.

Luo Binghe’s smile could almost be described as nice if it wasn’t for the intensity of his expression. “You’re mine now.”

Shen Qingqiu stays silent as a statue.

Luo Binghe digs his fingers into Shen Qingqiu’s hair, disturbing his hairstyle and pulling a strand of it to his lips.

Shen Qingqiu focuses on keeping his breathing regular and blocks everything else.

“Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have to be so worried. I always take care of what’s mine.”

Shen Qingqiu can’t help himself. “You don’t have to pretend. I know why I’m here for.” He doesn’t claim to understand why he of all people struck Luo Binghe’s fancy when people like Liu Qingge, Liu Mingyan and Qi Qingqi are around, but he can guess. Luo Binghe is probably looking forward to put a high and mighty cultivator like him in his place. He heard Luo Binghe doesn’t have the best track record with their kind.

Luo Binghe frowns. “Whatever you’re imagining, put it out of your mind. I won’t mistreat you.”

“Of course not.” If he can’t hide his disdain at this blatant lie, so be it. Luo Binghe can’t really believe him this naïve.

Luo Binghe sighs. “I suppose I will have your heart in time. For now, your body will do nicely.” He stops the rebuke that was going to fly off Shen Qingqiu’s lips at the notion that he’d ever give his heart to a demon with his own lips.

Once he’s done kissing Shen Qingqiu’s breath away, he caresses his lips with his thumb, eyes glued to his mouth so intently Shen Qingqiu almost can’t stand it. “I can’t wait to see those lips wrapped around my cock.”

Shen Qingqiu feels his blood rush to his cheeks at this comment. As hard as he’s trying to keep his composure, he’s not used to being treated this way. No one would dare to disrespect the lord of Qing Jing Peak by ordering him to… do this to them.

He’ll have to handle it. Shen Qingqiu gave himself to Luo Binghe. This much is to be expected.

He inhales deeply before he starts lifting himself from Luo Binghe’s lap, steadily ignoring the frightening bulge under him.

The floor is startlingly cold under his knees.

He can hear Luo Binghe’s breath catch. “I dreamed of seeing you like this at my feet.”

Shen Qingqiu bites his tongue hard enough to chase the lingering taste of Luo Binghe’s blood with his own, unmindful of the sting that is sure to follow, and empties his mind as he pulls Luo Binghe free from his clothes.

He falters when he sees what he’s supposed to serve. He can’t possibly… Not even a woman could take this without pain.

Then again, Luo Binghe probably doesn’t care if he’s in pain.

The embers start burning again when he puts his hand on Luo Binghe’s cock. Even if he knows the arousal isn’t natural, it feels like it is. It feels like wrapping his hands around that ridiculously large length fills him with desire. He can see how easy it would be to lose himself in this, to let Luo Binghe feed him lust until it becomes unnecessary.

Luo Binghe gasps at the feeling of Shen Qingqiu's warm flesh on him. Shen Qingqiu ignores how lewd the sound is. He keeps moving his hands, barely big enough for the task. Maybe if he closes his eyes, he can pretend this is someone else. A man he wouldn’t mind kneeling for.

Not that there is one. Even if there was, he wouldn’t dare risk provoking Luo Binghe’s anger. He bets the demon king doesn’t share.

For the moment, he needs to keep his mind on what he has to do now if he wants Luo Binghe to keep his end of the bargain. It’s just that there’s no way his cock is going to fit into his mouth without choking. He doesn’t think anyone could.

He starts by licking along the length before pressing light kisses on it. He can’t help feeling lost. He’s never done this before. If Luo Binghe wanted a talented partner, he should have chosen someone else. Shen Qingqiu would have happily passed.

Though from the moans coming from over him and the hand petting his face, he’s not doing too bad.

Shen Qingqiu tries to take the head in his mouth and immediately chokes.

Luo Binghe’s voice rings into the room, consoling tone so insulting Shen Qingqiu wants to bite him off. “I’m sorry about this. I know you’re doing your best. Let me help you with this.”

When Shen Qingqiu tries again, he can tell Luo Binghe did something to him. When he pushes into his throat, Shen Qingqiu feels nothing but more unnatural pleasure at the drag of his cock inside him. Somehow, this feels more perverse than Luo Binghe using his blood to make him feel good. This is him modifying his body to make it easier for him to use Shen Qingqiu as he wishes. It’s obscene. Still, there’s nothing he can do but go along with it. No amount of desire he doesn’t understand will make him okay with what he’s doing at the moment anyway.

Luo Binghe pushes him off gently. Shen Qingqiu blinks, confused. It can’t be over already? This would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Luo Binghe didn’t even come once.

As if he could guess what Shen Qingqiu is thinking, and he sure hopes he can’t, Luo Binghe answers him. “You’re just as beautiful like this as I imagined, but I would be a poor partner if I didn’t make sure you came before I did.”

Shen Qingqiu ignores how rough he sounds when he answers. “You don’t have to trouble yourself.” He would much rather get this over with.

“Nonsense. It’s no bother.” As if he cared for Shen Qingqiu’s well-being besides making his point.

Shen Qingqiu shuts up. He lets Luo Binghe helps him up and doesn’t protest when he leads him to his bedroom through a portal he can seemingly open at will, courtesy of the malevolent sword he’s never seen without. He even cooperates when Luo Binghe undresses him slowly, probably revelling in Shen Qingqiu’s embarrassment and humiliation at the spectacle he makes.

“You really are stunning. Getting familiar with your body will be a privilege.”

What privilege? A privilege isn’t taken. And it’s not like all he would have to do is decide Shen Qingqiu will feel good for it to happen. He can have him pant with uncontrollable lust with a thought.

Not that he hasn’t. Shen Qingqiu can do nothing to hide how hard he already is, the blood now running through him having made sure he would be receptive to Luo Binghe’s touch. It takes but a few strokes of his hands and a few brushes of his lips on his skin for Shen Qingqiu to bite his lips and did his nails into his palm, all to try and keep his reason.

His mind is in chaos when Luo Binghe finally slips a finger inside him.

It won’t hurt, had said Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu had believed it. It wouldn’t, as long as Luo Binghe didn’t want it to. Which meant Shen Qingqiu had better be amiable or risk being torn apart from the inside. Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t put it pass him.

But for now, it felt good. Too good. Those fingers rubbing inside of him gave birth to a hunger he had never felt before, a desire to be filled completely alien to his nature. His only response to Luo Binghe adding a finger is an urge for more, now, please. He watches with horror as his legs spread open, seemingly of their own accord, to make room for Luo Binghe, who can’t seem to stop staring where his fingers disappear inside Shen Qingqiu.

No amount of pleasure can’t stop him from trembling in fear when Luo Binghe finally stops teasing him and presses the head of his cock against his entrance. There’s no way it will fit. It just won’t.

His muscles relax all at once, leaving him limp on the bed, once more courtesy of Luo Binghe’s blood. If his body is more ready to receive Luo Binghe, his mind is only more nervous at this demonstration of how much power over himself he surrendered to a demon.

Those thoughts are wiped right off when Luo Binghe finally pushes in, finding no resistance. It’s so good Shen Qingqiu screams and arches into it. He can’t comprehend whatever Luo Binghe is whispering to him, or anything he himself is saying, too busy being overwhelmed by Luo Binghe’s everything. His cock hits him right where it counts each time. Luo Binghe’s hands feel delicious everywhere they touch. Luo Binghe’s lips ignite a passion in him he didn’t think himself capable of. All he can do is let him have him however he wants, even long after Shen Qingqiu himself came. This too should hurt, but no. Luo Binghe’s cock is still perfect inside him even after he’s coated his insides with his essence. Shen Qingqiu could let Luo Binghe do this all night without issue. He might even ask for more after.

Luo Binghe kisses him constantly, smothering his cries and licking off the tears leaking from his eyes.

When Luo Binghe comes for a fourth time, he pulls out of Shen Qingqiu, soiling the sheets beyond repairs in the process.

The pleasure recedes. Shen Qingqiu comes back to himself.

If he weren’t so deeply, profoundly exhausted, he would tense up all over. This is worse than he even thought possible. Like this, Luo Binghe could take anything from him and Shen Qingqiu would thank him for it. There’s nothing he can do to protect himself from this assault from within himself.

“Better than I even imagined. You’re worth giving up Cang Qiong for.”

Those words should calm him, but they’re only a chilling reminder of why he’s doing this. “Will I be allowed to return then?” Luo Binghe had said yes, but if he changed the terms, there isn’t much Shen Qingqiu could do to stop him.

“Would you prefer to stay? I would love to keep you here.”

“No.” That’s all he’s going to say. He can’t undo all the work he did by telling him the prospect of being with him a second longer terrifies him.

“Too bad. Sleep then. I will bring you back tomorrow morning.”

It won’t end like this. It would be too easy. “When will I see you again?”

“Whenever I feel like it. I expect it won’t be too long before I have you again.”

Shen Qingqiu won’t be sleeping tonight, not with this threat looming over him.

Or he wouldn’t if odd fatigue wasn’t coming over him, pulling his eyelids closed and his limbs down both into the bed and into Luo Binghe’s embrace.

His last conscious thought is that Luo Binghe is very warm.

[shiroxichigo]

HichiIchi Week: Day 2 - Sun And Moon

Hello and welcome back to HichiIchi week! For day 2, I'm serving up a bit of my classic "enraged/dark Ichigo". If you know me, then you know I'm a sucker for making the hero (although pure in motives) also have a taste for the "dark side" we'll say. Lmao

In this case, I like exploring the idea that Ichigo likes fighting. He's a warrior. He fights to protect, yes, but his soul manifested into a blade, and not a shield. That's a bad summary but I think you get what I mean??

Anyways, happy reading!

Rating: T

Summary: The sun burns hot and the moon is dark and cold. The sun is the centre of our galaxy while the moon merely flows with the Earth. Without the sun, the moon cannot shine. But without both, the world would never be the same. / Ichigo, enraged, enters his Inner World, looking for the only person he could fight to relieve some of his anger.

Ichigo shook with rage, his hands tightly balled into fists to the point that his knuckles had turned white.

"Are you alright?" Old Man Zangetsu asked.

Ichigo was expecting this question when he entered his inner world, but all the same, he didn't want to answer. "No."

The old man frowned, and the look stung Ichigo with guilt just like he knew it would, which was why Old Man Zangetsu wasn't who Ichigo was looking for today.

The Old Man didn't deserve his rage. No one really did, but if he didn't find a way to calm down, then Ichigo was certain that he was going to rush after the bastards who hurt his sister and beat the first poor soul he found into a bloody pulp.

He flinched at the thought. That wasn't him. This wasn't him. He refused to let rage consume him and hurt those around him.

So he knew he had no choice except to turn to the one person that could keep up with him in this state. The person who claimed to be the embodiment of Ichigo’s darkest instincts: his Inner Hollow.

"What are you doing here?" Old Man Zangetsu pressed.

Ichigo turned a sad frown towards the man. He supposed he could fight his Zanpakuto - Zangetsu would be strong enough to handle him… but Zangetsu didn't deserve his anger, and Ichigo wouldn’t be able to bring himself to fight at the level he needed to in order to get his anger out.

Not that Shiro really deserved his anger either, but he would be easier to fight, Ichigo wouldn't feel as guilty… no, Ichigo would definitely feel guilty afterwards, but the Hollow would urge him on in the meantime just enough to make Ichigo forget about holding back. That’s what he needed: to completely let loose.

His inner world was scorching today. He knew it must've been tied to his anger. The air rippled from the heat, and the sun was almost too bright to look at.

“Ichigo, I’ll ask you one more time-”

“Step aside, Zangetsu, please,” Ichigo begged.

Zangetsu frowned. “Why are you here?”

Ichigo sighed and glanced around his inner world. “I’m here to fight,” he simply said.

Zangetsu straightened his posture. “You never come here to fight.”

“I know…” Ichigo sighed.

“And you’re not here to spar?”

Ichigo blinked.

The old man held his curious and somewhat disappointed expression. “You said you were to fight, not spar. There is a difference, Ichigo.”

“What do you mean?”

“To spar is merely training, but I can tell from the emotions burning through your inner world right now that you’re not looking to train. Allow me to warn you, Ichigo, drawing your sword with the intention to harm is not the action of a protector.”

Zangetsu’s words, though wise, only served to further ignite the anger burning in Ichigo’s chest. He spoke with a growl, “Don’t you think I know that!? That’s why I’m here. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. This isn’t who I am.”

“Then relax.”

Ichigo grabbed his sword and plunged it into the skyscraper beneath him. “Don’t you think that if I could relax, then I would have done that already!? Can’t you see what I see outside? You saw what those bastards did! And I’m doing…” Ichigo gulped, unsure if he really wanted to admit this or not. In the end, he decided it was the only way to plead his case to Zangetsu. “I’m doing everything I can right now to stop myself from chasing after them. They don’t have powers like me… it wouldn’t be fair. I’d…”

“You’d what?” Zangetsu pressed. “Kill them?”

Ichigo flinched at the word ‘kill’. “No, I would never do that! But... me going after them would be worse than killing them.”

Zangetsu sighed, and the world descended into silence, other than the wind.

Ichigo removed his sword from the building beneath him and then slowly dropped to his knees. He was still shaking with rage. He needed to release this energy before it tore its way out of him, but if Zangetsu wouldn’t help him, then what could he do? He couldn’t summon Shiro, at least, Ichigo didn’t think he could.

Then something caught his eye. Where he had stabbed into the skyscraper, and where there should have been rubble from the building, was instead something orange. Where there should have been a hole instead looked like a crack in a mirror. And in this mirror was an inverted version of Ichigo’s inner world.

Ichigo raised his Zanpakuto and thrust it into the ground again.

Zangetsu’s eyes widened. “Ichigo, what are you doing!?”

Ichigo ignored him, placing his sword on his back and using his hands to tear open the crack he’d made in the world.

"Ichigo, you mustn't go to him!"

But Ichigo’s ears had become deaf to reason. He dove into the inverted world, landing on an orange skyscraper. When Ichigo turned to look back at the crack, he watched as it sealed itself up.

Ichigo knew that should worry him, that perhaps he had just made a huge mistake, but he only felt satisfied. This inverted world was oozing with Hollow spiritual pressure. He knew that Shirosaki wasn’t too far away, and therefore his goal was within reach.

This world was much colder than Ichigo’s. It didn’t simmer with his rage, but instead, it was almost cold enough for Ichigo to see his breath. It reminded Ichigo of Hueco Mundo, especially with the moon sitting high in an endless black sky.

Ichigo took a few steps and heard the sound echo. This world was also much quieter than his own - there was no wind or any signs of life.

A ping of sadness struck Ichigo’s heart. He wondered if Shiro felt as isolated as Ichigo felt now. It was so quiet and still like there was no one else here. Except, Ichigo knew that Shiro was somewhere in this world, but Shiro never had Ichigo around. That only saddened Ichigo more.

Ichigo kept walking. He lept from skyscraper to skyscraper, looking for any sign of white on the orange and black buildings. Eventually, Ichigo came to a tower that looked nothing like any of the skyscrapers around it.

The tower was made entirely of gray stone. It had large, slightly-tinted-red windows. It was then that Ichigo noticed the moon only reflected in the red windows, not at all in the skyscrapers. The windows on the skyscrapers were only black. They didn’t even reflect Ichigo’s face back at him.

This world was cold and empty, but Ichigo also found it somewhat beautiful in its own eerie way. He chuckled: this world was most certainly Shiro’s home.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to come for a visit,” Ichigo heard Shiro speak before he spotted him sitting on the edge of a balcony. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of his majesty gracing me with his presence?”

Ichigo couldn’t help but smirk. He found it funny that Shiro was referring to him as ‘majesty’ when it was Shiro himself who looked like royalty sitting up in his castle. He sat - or rather, he was almost laying down - on the railing of the balcony. He had one arm hanging loosely over the side of the railing, his sword hanging from the black bandages Shiro held in his hand.

“I’ve come to ask for a favour,” Ichigo replied.

Shiro quirked a brow. “A favour?” He sat up, yanking on the bandages around his sword and catching the hilt, all in one swift motion. “And what could I possibly do to help you?”

Ichigo didn’t miss the bitterness in Shiro’s voice. He phrased his next sentence carefully, “Well, it’s not exactly a favour. I’m just here to see if you’d like to fight.”

Shiro’s lips twitched into a smirk. “You want to fight me, hmm, King? Are you sure about that?”

“Positive,” Ichigo answered, determined. He drew his sword.

Shiro snickered. “And what if I refuse?”

Ichigo was stopped dead in his tracks. He never expected Shiro to actually refuse a chance to fight him. It just didn’t seem like something he’d do.

“A-Are you refusing?” Ichigo sputtered out in question.

Shiro cackled and shoved himself off the balcony. He landed gracefully on his feet. He swung his sword in his hand, slowly, back and forth like a pendulum in a clock. “That’s not what I said, King. I asked you what would you do if I refuse?”

Ichigo tried to read Shiro, searching for an ulterior motive in his question.

“Why don’t you just tell me what you mean?” Ichigo questioned. “Is this one of your riddles?”

Shiro chuckled. “Aww, King, but where would be the fun in just tellin’ ya what I mean when you could guess? You’ve got brains. You can figure it out.”

Ichigo scowled and pointed his sword at Shiro. “Are you going to fight me, or not?”

Shiro shook his head, his lips shifting into a disappointed scowl. “Nah. I’m not gonna fight ya. I don’t feel like it.” Shiro turned away from Ichigo and placed his sword on his back. He hummed as he moved towards the doors of the tower.

Ichigo inhaled sharply, his anger reaching the boiling point. He rushed towards Shiro with a growl and swung his sword in a diagonal motion. Shiro spun around, meeting Ichigo’s blade with his own. If this was anyone else, Ichigo would have been surprised by Shiro’s reaction time.

“Why the hell not!?” Ichigo snapped.

Shiro chuckled and pushed Ichigo back a meter or two. “Did you just attack someone with their guard down?”

“Don’t insult me, Shiro,” Ichigo spat. “You didn’t drop your guard, not for a second. Your hand didn’t even leave your sword.”

Shiro cackled. “So, you’re not as dumb as you look. Gonna answer my question now?”

“You…” Ichigo suddenly felt numb as it dawned on him. “You… knew I would attack you even if you said no?”

Shiro tilted his head, a crooked smile on his lips. “Why so shocked, King? After all, I know ya better than anyone.”

Ichigo’s grip tightened on his sword, and he could feel sweat clinging to the back of his neck. “You’re wrong. You don’t know me.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Don’t insult me, King. You and I are more alike than you think. You know why you came to me? Truly? Because I already know your little secret. You like the rage."

Ichigo gulped. “No, I don’t-”

Shiro cut off Ichigo’s denial with a loud laugh. “Oh, yes you do! You could have cooled off in any number of ways. You could have showered, read a book, took a nap… but no, you came all the way to this world just to fight little ol’ me. You wanted that rage to boil over.”

Ichigo fell into silence.

“You wanted to let your anger control you. It’s the same reason that humans break things when they’re upset. But if you let your anger out in the real world, people would see what you really are…”

“Shut up.”

“You’re a monster, King.”

“Shut the hell up! That’s not me! You’re the monster!”

"It's easy to blame me, huh?" Shiro cackled. "It's easy to say that all your rage and hate is my doing, that you wouldn't dare strike someone for some reason other than to protect your loved ones, right? But here's what you fail to grasp: I am you. I don't exist if you don't exist. Don't you get it?"

“I said shut up!” Ichigo roared and rushed towards Shiro again.

Shiro cackled and met Ichigo’s blade with his own. He struck Ichigo’s sword with twice the force Ichigo had and sent Ichigo’s blade flying from his hand. Before Ichigo could recover his sword, Shiro threw his blade into the skyscraper in front of Ichigo to block his path.

Shiro ran at Ichigo and knocked him onto the ground. He pinned Ichigo against the orange building and grabbed Ichigo’s wrists.

“Get off of me!” Ichigo shouted.

Shiro grinned in his face. He remained still as Ichigo’s spiritual pressure lashed out around them. Shiro shook his head, “Oh, King… You’re such a fool.”

Ichigo struggled to break free, glaring murder at his Inner Hollow. “Shiro, I swear to-”

“Shut up, Ichigo.”

Ichigo flinched and went silent. His name combined with Shiro’s tone (which had shifted from amusement to anger) stunned him into silence.

“Now relax,” Shiro’s tone softened, if only a bit. “Yer gonna get yourself killed if you keep raging like this. It isn’t becoming of a King, but more like a spoiled brat.”

Ichigo opened his mouth to speak, but Shiro cut him off.

“You don’t get to barge in here and demand that I deal with your temper tantrum. I get it, some humans hurt your sister and you're pissed. And you’re not satisfied with just telling them off but that’s all you can do. Your human world has laws that you have to follow, and you have morals that you can’t break. So, your next logical step was to find someone that you can fight and blow off some steam. Then you realized that your anger was too strong to shove on your friends, so you came to me, thinking that I’d be more than thrilled to fight you just because you asked. You didn’t expect me to question you. That about sum things up?”

Ichigo blinked and released a small sigh. “Yeah,” he huffed, “that about sums things up.”

Shiro chuckled. He loosened his grip on Ichigo’s wrists, but he didn’t let go. “Shoulda just been honest with me, King. You can’t hide shit from me, even if you want to.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to explain anything to you.”

Shiro’s grip tightened on Ichigo’s wrists again. “I’m not a tool you get to use, Ichigo. You should know better than that.”

“You’re right…” Ichigo admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Shiro’s grin widened, and he finally released Ichigo’s arms. He slid a hand over one side of Ichigo’s face and through his hair before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Ichigo’s forehead. “I thought I meant more to you than that.”

“I already said I’m sorry…”

Shiro snickered and placed kisses down Ichigo’s neck. “Mhm…” He moved his lips to Ichigo’s ear. “But maybe I oughta remind you anyways…”

Ichigo shivered, and Shiro considered that a victory. He sealed his lips over Ichigo’s. Shiro didn’t give Ichigo a chance to fight for dominance, sliding his tongue between Ichigo’s lips before Ichigo could react.

Shiro heard Ichigo groan, and Shiro could feel the vibrations as he gently squeezed Ichigo’s neck. Shiro leaned back, a string of saliva connecting his and Ichigo’s lips. He chuckled at the flushed look on Ichigo’s face. “Feel better?”

Ichigo panted. “Fuck you.”

Shiro laughed and climbed to his feet. He retrieved his sword from the skyscraper and stepped back from Ichigo. “Alright, grab yer sword. Now I’ll fight ya.”

Ichigo groaned, this time from annoyance, and tried to ignore the pinpricks of arousal spreading across his body. Of course, now Shiro wanted to fight. But Ichigo climbed to his feet and grabbed his sword anyways.

He did feel better, actually. Now he met Shiro’s grin with a smirk of his own as their swords struck.

[themockingcrows]

Two Fates, Two Kingdoms Ch. 17: Arrival

Characters: Dave Strider, John Egbert, Jake English, Dirk Strider This chapter is SFW AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2606711/chapters/48021910

Surviving the trip to Dersian soil was hell, but surviving the trip to the castle and having an audience with the king may be an entirely different one.

    The long string of decent luck finally ran out for the trio once the mountain was finally behind them and they’d reached signs of humans once more. Exhausted, bloody and worn to the bone from stress and cold, they had stopped briefly at a travelers inn at a crossroad to seek directions before deciding that they needed to recover before starting out again even if only for a single night. Dave had been the one to conduct business, speaking calmly in the heavy hiss and consonants of his mother tongue despite the fact he had to ask the owner to repeat himself more than once to his own shame. After so long in Prospit, hearing someone speaking aloud in an accent from outside the capital city was difficult, but the man obliged him well enough and seemed patient enough once he realized they had enough to pay for a simple room. Prospitians or not, business was business. Hopefully they’d be leaving early instead of potentially spooking other customers.

    Each had washed, had eaten, and eventually shed their outer clothes to crawl into the uncomfortably short bed that only suited Dave. Jake and John were stuck with their feet poking out over the foot-board, but it hardly mattered when they were all unconscious within minutes anyway. Fatigue had bitten them squarely in the ass, and the strain from the elements and the stress of travel had nearly broken them. Dropping their guard was foolish, they knew, but it was a risk they were willing to take after such a close call as the troll on the mountainside.

    Early in the morning there came a knocking at their door. Presuming it was a mention of breakfast, or even of them needing to clear out early ahead of other guests to avoid making a scene, Dave was the one who crawled out of the warm nest of blankets to go and answer the door in his underclothes neither John nor Jake so much as moving a muscle as he padded quietly around them to open the door.

    A blade pointed squarely at Dave’s chest, making him lock up before the realization kicked in. This was real. This was really happening.

    “John,” he croaked, not daring to turn his head, eyes wide as he took in the clustered group of men in rough looking uniform in front of them. “Jake. Wake up.”

    “Hgh… Five more minutes,” came a quiet mutter in Prospitian, which only seemed to agitate the armed men further. Dave lifted his hands up, begging peace, showing he wasn’t armed. How could he be, dressed down as he was? Where would he so much as hide a blade that was accessible?

    “Wake up. Don’t grab weapons. Just get up,” Dave said urgently back in Prospitian, chin lifting and eyes narrowing when a blade rose from his chest to his throat close enough for him to feel the scratch of the sharpened edge and the cold of the steel near his carotid artery. “Their Dersian isn’t their first instinct. I was telling them to get up,” he said in his mother tongue, sighing quietly when the blade didn’t lower.

    As requested, John and Jake jolted upright and froze in place like deer in the path of a hunter when they fully took in the scene, looking briefly at one another before slowly raising their hands up to show they weren’t bearing arms either. There was too much at risk to act up right now, too much pressing against Dave’s throat.

    “We don’t mean harm,” John said in common clear as he could. “We’re travelers. We were attacked by a mountain troll crossing from Skaia, check our clothes and weapons if you’d like, there’s signs o-”

    “Quiet,” one man barked in Dersian before looking to Dave. “What would bring a Dersian to travel with a Prospitian pack? You don’t look like a half blood to me, nor a Skaian. Spying at the border?”

    “You’d not believe me even if I told you,” Dave insisted. “But no, we’re not spies. I’m trying to return home, and these two are my friends. My guardians. If we were spies we’d be doing a piss poor job staying at an inn like this,” he said, as if they hadn’t done just that stupid of a thing on their actual journey in the first place.

    “The innkeep alerted us to spies, and a suspicious Dersite. Tell us what we’ll not believe, it may be worthwhile to hear before taking you in for questioning,” the man with the blade at Dave’s throat said as he gently nudged him to the side in the doorway, allowing the others inside where they began to loudly tell John and Jake to dress themselves. Though both princes were at least a head taller than the largest guard, they knew now was not the time to display force if they wanted to survive with everything and everyone intact.

    “...I’m trying to return home to the capital city,” Dave said. “I was kidnapped quite some time ago now.. And these two are helping me get home to the castle.”

    The man was quiet for a moment before he started to laugh, speaking hurriedly to the others in Dersian that John and Jake couldn’t even hope to catch before pushing him into the room with the others with the blunt side of the sword.

    “Pull the other one! Speak to why you’re truly here with them, traitor. Who exactly ARE you?”

    Dave stepped back when prompted, but it seemed like he’d had enough. They’d already fucked up once and this had happened. Even if he wasn’t believed, he was tired of not speaking who he was without shame attached.

    “My name is Dave Strider, youngest prince of the Dersian throne. I demand you lay down your arms immediately and escort my party and I to the capital city. I’ll see to it that you’re rewarded for your actions once I speak with my brother, and that any punishment you may have obtained for leaving your proper posts be dealt with and excused as well,” Dave said smoothly, chin up and shoulders back. His pronunciation was sharper now, the words hissing and roiling as he spoke with full formality instinctively, eyes sharp and dangerous.

    His conviction seemed to at least slow the guards and keep their attention, not used to formal speech being used very often even in their positions. Not that degree of formality at least. Some of those words were antiquated and generally associated with nobility. ...Or damn good actors. When he didn’t change his posture, the guard before him squinted suspiciously and looked him up and down before letting out a laugh.

    “That’s a high order you’re claiming. Do you have any proof to that claim, or are you just someone trying to commit the crime of impersonating the crown?”

    Dave’s stomach dropped uncomfortably, but he remained hard and agitated, taking a step forward and gesturing at his collar with an aggressive scowl.

    “Do you see this? I’ve worn this since the day I was taken. I’ve been through hell in the land of the brightest sun and you accuse me of impersonating? It must be common knowledge the youngest prince was abducted, I refuse to believe I was kept a secret this long. If you assume me dead, you’re quite wrong. I am very much alive, I am very much tired, and I very much want to get back home with the two people who helped me to escape that God forsaken land so I can speak with my family and put their minds to rest.” He snorted and spit at the guard’s feet, looking ready to lurch forward and strike if questioned. “I will repeat myself. I demand to be taken to the capital city with my companions, and I demand an audience with my brother Dirk. If I’m a fake, let my family be the judge. They’d put me to death and make a show of it if they decide I’m not who I claim to be, make an example of me.”

    The guards exchanged looks, confused, uncertain. The slightly antiquated expressions had turned up again, but the rest was just anger and fire, a gleaming red eye and the look of a man who was used to being obeyed despite wearing a slave’s collar. John at the far end of the room was grateful he was clothed for how uncomfortably his body reacted to the sudden shift in Dave’s reactions and personality, hard as stone despite the circumstances. He casually covered himself with loosely crossed hands as he assumed a waiting stance, glancing to Jake and lifting his brows.

    Dave really had it in him. He looked forward to seeing him like that in full regalia, proud and standing tall as he could, the horrors he’d been through upon first entering Prospit far in the past.. And perhaps himself on his arm, if the powers that be decided to be truly kind.

    “I think you’re full of shit,” the man nearest Dave said, continuing to stare him down despite the fact he was scantily dressed and fierce as a beast in a corner. “But on the other hand… if we take you to the city instead of to our own commanders, you’d be our ticket to a bit of leave in the city before you get dealt with.”

    “We’re going all the way to the capital city?” asked the man nearest Jake. “That’s so far!”

    “Would you rather just turn them in then go right back to work, or go to the capital and enjoy a night at one of the finer whore houses in the area?” asked the first, apparently blowing the second’s mind as his thought process caught up and came around.

    “Ohhh… Ohhh! Oh, good idea!”

    “Get dressed, coats as well,” the man by Dave said. “You’ll each be bound  and transported as captives for the trip, same as anyone else would be. We’ll hand you over to the castle guard and then you’ll be their problem, and we’ll  have a quick break no matter what happens,” he hummed.

    Well. It could be worse, Dave decided as he finally backed down and started to dress, muttering softly in Prospitian in annoyance specifically to piss the guards off further. It was fairly obvious they didn’t speak it well, if at all, and what they couldn’t catch made them uneasy.

    “We should never have stopped here,” Jake sighed softly, gesturing to his baggage to show what he was going to be picking up before shouldering it. “Are we even going to get to eat before they take us out of here?”

    “Do we get to eat? You arrived before we had a chance to,” Dave asked as he sat and tugged on his socks and boots.

    “No. We’ve already eaten and need to move if we want to make decent time before anyone notices we’re gone. We’ll give you something later in the day if you don’t cause problems.”

    Could definitely be worse. At least they’d eaten supper last night.

    “Maybe we can just sleep during the transport.. Are we going by cart? Horseback? ...Walking?” John asked softly in common.

    “Walking too slow, and you two are too large to share a horse with,” the leader sniffed. “We’ll be putting you in a cart and securing you to it.”

    “Sleeping it is then,” Dave sighed in Prospitian. “...I’m so sorry, you two.”

    “Why sorry? We’re being delivered to the capital city. We’ll just need to get an audience with your brother and then it’ll be a simple hop skip  and jump to you being back in your old room and in your proper finery once more,” Jake said with a tired grin. “Er. ...I assume you’ll have a better chance of convincing others of your identity once in the castle proper as opposed to just random guardsmen?”

    Dave smiled warily. “I certainly hope so. If nothing else the fact I’m still in my collar should earn a bit of interest. They’d not want one of their kinsmen to bear your sigils or signs of captivity while on home soil.”

    John frowned. “And if they remove them?”

    “...I’ll figure it out when that happens,” Dave said. “But I promise even if they take the pendant you gave me away I’ll commission a replacement in the future when this is all becoming a bad memory instead of reality.”

    “Stop speaking swill and let’s move. Your belongings are forfeit, bring them along if you want a chance to get them back,” the head guard insisted with a gruff nod of his head. “Lans, go get a cart secured and hitched up. Commandeer if needed. Doesn’t need to be fancy.”

    Another man gave a salute before trotting off, leaving Dave and John to pick up their baggage and warily await instructions. There wasn’t much to it really. Conversation seemed to grind to a halt both to their pseudo-captors and was discouraged between them as well as they exited their room and walked through the main area of the inn, pointedly trying to make eye contact with the owner who turned them in on their way outside. The cart they wound up with was a hay wagon, balancing on two wheels as it was hitched to one of the sturdy looking geldings the men rode as their personal mounts, a feisty looking soft gray beast with-

    “Good Gods above and below John, look at it’s eyes!” Jake gasped, startling back a pace till he was pushed from behind by one of the men bringing up the rear and protecting against them running.

    The horse was working its lips at the air as if it were making a show of displaying its flat teeth and pink gums, watching them with no fewer than four eyes. They blinked in synchronization no different than if the creature had only two, and they watched his surroundings to a tee. John couldn’t help but stare. They’d seen bits of Derse already, yes, but something about seeing a horse made it all the more surprising. Perhaps it was because horses were so well known for being beautiful but looked so alien up close already? John couldn’t quite place where his disquiet was coming from, but Dave’s hand stroking his silently was soothing.

    “Shut up and drop the bag. Get into the cart, sit with your wrists behind you,” the guard behind Jake barked in heavily accented Common tongue, thumping his travel bag once more till it was slipped off and hit the ground in near unison with Dave and John’s.

    As promised each were bound with rawhide strips tightly enough that they’d be far from comfortable but not too tight to cause damage. Only as gentle as they were required to be with prisoners, especially when one of the prisoners might, albeit in only a very slim chance, be precisely who he claimed to be. The most they were able to do, separated out to avoid potential escapes, was touch legs in the common area they all inhabited with their limbs. John and Jake stacked up so Dave could slip his lighter legs atop theirs comfortably, though the brothers took a light hearted moment to act as if they were going to shove their boots into one another’s faces. A crowd had gathered at the front of the inn to see them off, wanting to get a look at the strange Prospitian criminals and the odd collared Dersite who seemed so comfortable settled in with them instead of begging to be released from his captors. Used to staring by now, Dave closed his eyes and leaned back with a sigh.

    This was not how he’d imagined returning home. It seemed their luck had been too gifted in the beginning and it had run out at last. Or, perhaps, this was another stroke of luck in itself? They had armed guards escorting them to the capital city. There was no wondering how they’d get in without drawing attention and a crowd all on their own, no sneaking, no trying to understand how to get inside the castle itself to plead his case and get his rights restored and his rightful place recognized in time to keep his friend and lover safe.

    “Gifts come in threatening packages,” he muttered in Dersian, eyes flicking open briefly when they began to move with a creak of the wheels and the excited thud of hooves stamping in place, soon watching the curious faces of his homeland grow small in the distance as they trundled down the road away from them towards uncertainty.

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

    Compared to the journey up the mountain, and the terror filled moments of fleeing Prospit proper, this leg of the journey proved the easiest. Jake and John were uncomfortable with the bonds behind their backs, arms stiff and wrists already sore, but Dave was rather used to it by now and knew how to relax his arms and posture to make it easier on himself. Nothing was asked of them aside from quiet when they grew too loud in their soft conversations or complaints when the chill grew stronger. The early morning snow shower they traveled through had the Prospitians shivering despite their warm coats, teeth chattering in their mouths as they shuffled and shifted trying to keep warm and keep the blood going to their cold fingers.

    They were fed, though sparingly. They were watered whenever they stopped and given the option of relieving themselves, being given turns while under armed guard with minimal privacy, one man at a time before being re-secured to the sides of the cart. The guards allowed them to use their sleeping bags come evening by the fire to avoid the Prospitian’s catching their death, though they were secured together like a trio of dogs while the other men took turns at watch. Run ins with wildlife were minimal, as they stuck to well worn paths and avoided certain patches of woods. All in all, it could have been far worse of a journey from the countryside towards the mountains that guarded the Dersian capital city.

    Dave felt a knot in his stomach form as he watched the windows with their soft glow in the twilight sky take shape in the mountain’s face, the castle carved within full of life. His family was so close.. Would they recognize him? He’d changed in his time away, changed a good deal, but it was still him. Dave was still a prince of Derse, even if Prospit had done its best to chew him up and spit him out.

    “When will I be able to see about pleading my case as to my identity,” Dave asked in louder Dersian towards the man whose horse was pulling their cart along. “I am who I say I am. Too long a delay, or too much longer in your bonds, or harm coming to my companions and your spontaneous leave will not end well for you.”

    “Hold your horses sire,” the head guard insisted without looking over. “We need to get to the castle itself first. I’m sure the guards there will have their own method of doing things. There’s probably been imposters galore since the crown prince disappeared.”

    “And my companions?”

    “Not my place to guess. They’ll probably be in the dungeon at first, or some other holding site.” He snorted. “You wouldn’t expect anyone to keep two Prospitians out of bonds in the castle so they could wander around free doing whatever they pleased while a fucking war is on, would you?”

    Dave glanced worriedly towards John and Jake, but was met with determined faces. They trusted Dave to figure it out and help them. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.

    “Don’t worry about us,” John said softly in Prospitian. “We’re big boys, we can handle whatever happens. We’ll be in your home, I trust you to keep us safe.”

    He knew that. He knew it in his heart, but hearing it aloud and seeing them both smiling tiredly at him was comforting all the same. Dave nodded to them, before looking towards the castle and city below once again as they continued closer and closer, trying to guess the path they’d be taking. They’d not come to the front gates, there was no way they’d do something that brazen and risky. It was a relief when the cart and horses went towards a side entry nearer to the guard houses, falling into line with carts and wagons bringing deliveries for the castle proper, words being exchanged as quickly as angry stares and confusion. Dave steeled himself for the gawking and lifted his chin stubbornly, trying to channel his older brother. Trying to channel his father’s steely stare.

    All too soon they were being led through the gates in silence, continuing the path with the delivery wagons towards the foot of the castle till at last they came to a halt and were allowed to stand up. John and Jake were bound differently this time, the cold clasp of metal sliding around their necks before being secured to each other by a few feet of lead once their guards were exchanged for those of the castle post-explanation. The rawhide was exchanged for better fitting cuffs, ensuring they wouldn’t be of much use even if they somehow separated themselves from the conjoined state they were in. Dave was freed and allowed to walk ahead of his companions, bags left behind and the hazy sunlight being left far behind as they entered the castle with its natural glowing crystals embedded into the ceiling and walls. Even in the lower levels and passages it was beautiful, and every step made Dave feel more and more relaxed.

    He knew these halls. He knew this stone, this smell, this texture. He extended a hand on his blind side and trailed his fingertips along the wall as they walked, mind wandering to memory and comfort before they stopped.

    “Prospitians go left and down,” the lead man said in softly accented common. Upon closer inspection, he seemed to be of Skaian origin most likely, taller and bulkier than Dave but nowhere near as tall as John and Jake were. “...You go right,” he continued, gesturing to Dave.

    “Why do I go right?” Dave asked, knowing damn well the others would be headed to a prison cell for holding.

    “The king does not visit the cells, and he needs a bit of time before you can make your case as to your identity,” came the reply in Dersian. “You’ll be in a waiting room until he has time.” A damn dirty lie, Dave knew Dirk visited the cells when he felt like it. No doubt he’d be visiting Jake and John if they remained there for any length of time just to get a good look at them behind bars. Perhaps to decide if he wanted them interrogated or not, irregardless of Dave’s wishes.

    He was the king, and with it came the ability to override one’s siblings for better or worse.

    “Wait a moment,” Dave insisted before he turned around. The men following at John and Jake’s heels looked antsy for a moment, but Dave hugged each of his companions tightly before looking up to John’s face with a smile. “I’ll try not to take too long. Be patient for me, it won’t be forever. You have my word,” he said in easy Prospitian, making all around them look on edge. With his peace said, Dave turned around with a nod and a lift of his chin once more. “Lead on, then. We’re ready.”

    At least he’d gotten a chance to wash the blood and filth off his body at the inn..

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    The cell wasn’t as bad as they were worried it would be, though there was far more stone and more of a chill to the air than they’d anticipated. The chain binding them together like a conjoined leash was not removed once they were placed into the holding area, leaving them needing to stay within a few feet of each other at all times. At least one could sit comfortably enough while the other stood and walked a few paces in any direction, giving them at least a semblance of comfort. Instead of being corralled in with others, they were kept separate. Whether it was for more control over them, or to keep the other prisoners ‘safe’ from them, it was hard to tell. Perhaps it was simply due to the luck of being an enemy of the kingdom that they were given their little bit of privacy.

    “I’m nervous,” John admitted, pacing slowly in front of Jake who was relaxing against the wall comfortably as he could be. “What if he gets hurt, what if he gets executed. What if his family doesn’t recognize him? What if they recognize him but he can’t help us? What if they just send us home?? Father wou-”

    “John will you settle down, you’re more tense than a half starved hunting dog. Everything will find a way, and I doubt Dave will have trouble explaining to his family who he is. They’re close, right? Or they were?”

    “Close enough I guess. But-”

    “John, I’m being serious about the settling down, much more pacing and I’ll start hearing the clinking through this collar in my sleep!”

    John grimaced and stopped his walking, rattling his wrists behind himself a few times before shuffling his shoulders. The metal ring around his neck moved with him, slick and cold.

    “This is what Dave’s dealt with for ages now, and he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Seems more bothered by the idea of having it off, but I’d give anything to have it off already. I keep thinking it’s going to suddenly close tighter ‘round my neck and choke me somehow.”

    “It is a bit of a snug fit, isn’t it,” Jake chuckled.

    “..How are you so calm?” John marveled, finally taking a seat beside his brother on the low bench, leaning his upper back against the stone wall as well. “You seem relaxed, like this is some kind of stop on a vacation instead of us being taken prisoner by an enemy. We’re in prison, Jake! Prison! People get executed when they go to prison sometimes! We’re wearing irons, Jake. How are you able to be so calm during all this?!”

    “Because it’s a bit of an adventure, isn’t it?” he asked with a grin. “I told you, I’m confident in Dave, same as you are deep down. You know we’ll be okay in the end.. But until then, look at where we are compared to how things would have been had we stayed home! We’d never have known how things went potentially. We’d have been safe at home, I’d have been needing to learn how to keep pushing back against the Dersian army, you’d have been heartbroken and miserable-”

    “I’d have survived,” John insisted, convincing not even himself. It was the most insincere thing he’d said in days.

    “But here we are, out of the castle, in a castle we’d never have set foot in otherwise!” he continued with a smirk. “Yes we’re seeing the worst part of it right now, but we’re still being treated rather nicely? We’re not in subhuman conditions, things are clean in here. They seem to take decent care of their prisoners.”

    “We probably just have special privileges because of what we stand for,” argued John, not sure why he felt so argumentative but just tense enough to want to keep doing it anyway.

    “...What special privileges would we have, John. If anything, shouldn’t we be kept in worse conditions? Or treated the same as Dave was when he was first captured?” Jake asked with a lifted brow. “They may be keeping us nicely because there’s a chance Dave is who he said he was, which we know is a fact. But they still could have chucked us personally to the mud puts and they didn’t so far. This is a fairly comfortable adventure compared to the snow and the terror from before, and it’s better than it could be. I’ll be relaxed as I feel so long as things are like this. ...Do you suppose we’d get to meet Dave’s family once he proves who he is and tries to follow through for us?”

    “Why would you want to meet them? I mean. His sisters perhaps, but-”

    “His brother is of most interest to me,” Jake admitted quietly. “He’s in a position I was in myself not long ago, but more so. I’d like to see how he handles it, if I ever get the chance.”

    “He handles it well enough to keep the war going and his country organized, so. I suppose better than you would have,” John joked, trying to lighten up despite his nerves. He elbowed Jake good naturedly and caught one in the ribs in return.

    “You’ve got me read correctly, he’s far more focused than I no doubt. All the more reason to meet the fellow, then! Besides, he’s family of Dave’s, and I’d like them to know we did our best to care for him.”

    John winced a bit. “...How do we explain his eye. Or the scars. Or-”

    “We explain them however Dave himself decides to explain them,” Jake reminded. “We don’t need to speak for Dave anymore, remember? He’s home and can do a damn fine job of chatterboxing for himself!”

    Reminded once more, John sighed and sank down where he was settled with a soft jingle, shuffling his shoulders to make the metal ring around his neck move a few times purposefully. It was the closest connection he had to Dave right now, wherever he’d been taken to see his family, and the most he could do to relax his mind.

    “...Leek,” Jake said suddenly.

    “...Carrot,” came John’s automatic response.

    “Tomato.”

    “Orange.”

    “Ooh, a toughy,” Jake hummed. “Ah. Ginger!”

    It wasn’t the best way to pass time, but John could at least appreciate his brother’s quick thinking on a childhood game to pass the time better than anxiety eating at his stomach would have done.

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

    There was no reason for Dave to be anxious. This was his family, his brother for fucks sake, and yet the idea of seeing Dirk after all this time was mind numbingly nerve wracking. He wanted John to hang off of for a moment, wanted to hear Jake’s voice to lighten the mood, wanted something that had become familiar in his time away from home to psych him up for the first hard taste of home he’d be getting. He couldn’t stop touching his hair, the space beside his blinded eye. When all else failed and he’d paced the room a few times, Dave settled comfortably as he could into a chair and subconsciously toyed with his collar, rubbing his fingertips along the inside edge and flicking his thumbs along the bottom over and over and over to soothe himself.

    Dirk kept him waiting for quite a while, long enough he wondered vaguely if he were being observed from somewhere tucked out of sight. He wouldn’t put it past Dirk, nor anyone else. He was under suspicion right now, after all. Turning up to the castle proper as a prisoner with two Prospitians? If only they knew precisely who John and Jake were, they’d have a fit. Dirk surely would once he knew.

    Dave perked up when the door finally opened again, standing quickly to his feet and smoothing the sides of his shirt down again, chin lifting and attitude flaring forward once more to present himself as well as he could given the circumstances. Dirk didn’t look that different. Thinner, sharper in the face, more tired.. But still Dirk. He could see the angles of their father in his cheekbones and the shape of his eyes from their mother, the strong nose and jaw that now held a thicker scruff of sideburns. He stared silently from the door, regalia missing in favor of a more casual outfit given the time of day and this situation being unforeseen and unplanned for, and eventually lifted a hand to signal he was not to be followed. The door closed behind him with a firm click and the shuffle of waiting feet taking position to stand guard before Dirk finally opened his mouth.

    “You look like shit.”

    “Yeah, well, you should have smelled me a few days ago. Or now, even. Do you have any idea how awful it is trudging through snow up a mountainside only to be nearly maimed by a troll?” Dave retorted immediately, slipping in another sentence before he could even slow his mind enough to think. “You’re no prince charming yourself right now, Dirk, are you even sleeping?”

    “You do realize it’s the King of Derse you’re speaking to, correct?” he asked, and all at once Dave’s blood turned to ice. Golden eyes looked him up and down appraisingly as Dirk paced closer, circling like a predator at a distance. “You turn up out of the blue with the enemy at the front door, wearing their collar, looking like this, and claim to be my brother.”

    “I’m not claiming to be your brother. I am your brother, and you’d be blind not to see it.”

    Dirk darted a hand out quickly to snatch Dave’s bangs and lifted them, squinting at the paleness over his pupil and parts of his retina before letting go. The same hard hands grasped at his wrist next, lifting it to look at his arm, then his chin, making his head turn this way and that, collar jingling each time.

    “I know you’re my brother. You just look like shit and I’m shocked you turned up looking like this to see me after so long and in such a stupid way. The Dave I knew would never have turned up with Prospitians unless they were his captives. Not the other way around,” he said, poking the collar with a fingertip and remaining in place when Dave flinched back from his touch.

    “Dirk. Look, I’ll explain everything, but I need you to understand something very important right now: those two mean a good deal to me, the men I came here with. They’re brothers. They helped me escape, they took care of me while I was captive. Kept me safe from everything they were able to,” Dave hurriedly explained, words more than a little frantic and coming in even more of a rush than Dirk had been used to deciphering from his younger brother’s non-stop talking. “Dirk, they need to be kept safe, and they need to be brought upstairs with me immediately.”

    “Why in the world would I do that? Do you know how that would look?” Dirk asked, finally showing some expression by wrinkling his nose as if assailed by a foul odor. “They’re my prisoners, good people or not.”

    “Dirk, they’re the crown princes of Prospit,” Dave hissed between his teeth. “They gave everything up to come here, apparently even their own freedom. They’d face death if they went home at this point no doubt, I don’t want them just sitting in the dungeon any longer than they need to be!”

    Dirk blinked a few times, staring as if hoping for Dave to either say something different or to repeat himself in a less confusing way. Surely he’d heard wrong. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to choose his words before finally sighing and covering his face with one hand. Here came the migraine again, augh. He could taste the warning bit of copper and bile already at the back of his throat.

    “Are you meaning to tell me. That you brought. Two Prospitian princes. The only Prospitian princes. To our front fucking door like a couple of puppies?” Dirk asked. “Is that seriously what you’re telling me you’ve done? Those two men downstairs are the enemy princes, just.. Sitting in our dungeon without complaint?”

    “To be fair, when things were going sour in Prospit and they realized I needed to flee, they’re the ones who decided to come with me instead of just sending me off,” Dave explained. “To ensure that I’d make it safely. And..”

    Well. He’d already let loose one explosion. Might as well toss the other out in the open early, to avoid the questions and strange looks when he could be reunited with his lover again. Wetting his lips, Dave threw the words out before he could think of it again.

    “The younger one is my lover. We exchanged a vow on it already,” he pushed on, taking a step back when he saw Dirk’s eyes flash in warning, quickly dodging a fist that was coming to welcome him home. “The blue eyed one. His name is John and he means the world to me.” Another dodge, another shift to keep his sighted side in the best position to sense what was coming, compensating for the blind half. “If anyone lays a finger on either of them, or if any harm comes to them, I’ll hold you personally responsible!”

    The third punch landed not to the face but to the shoulder, forcing Dave back briefly before he could readjust himself. His other shoulder was grasped tightly before Dirk began to shake him roughly, hard enough he felt something in his neck and back of his head burn uncomfortably and the room start to spin.

    “Are you out of your fucking mind?? Dave, are you out of your fucking mind?! Are yo-”

    Dave stopped hearing Dirk about then, when the room started to go dark. He felt his legs giving out, could see brief flashes of Dirk looking worried over him, and as if underwater heard him shout something towards the door. He saw Dirk’s face close to his own before everything finally went blank.

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    When Dave next opened his eyes, it was as if he’d been transported back in time. The room was freshly cleaned, but there was no denying it was his own quarters, kept remarkably unchanged from the last time he saw it. The books he’d been reading last were on his desk beside a sketch he’d been working on, pen still nearby. His head ached and his throat felt dry, but the world wasn’t swimming any longer. Dave’s shoulders still ached from where Dirk had grabbed him before shaking him an-

    “You’re awake finally,” said a soft voice in Prospitian that sent Dave jolting upright fast enough his head throbbed. “Easy, easy. We’re here now. It’s okay.”

    John was settled beside Dave on the mattress, albeit atop the blankets. He realized he’d changed clothes and now wore a rather plain looking purple ensemble, feet bare and-

    “...You’re in a collar,” Dave realized, reaching up to touch his own. “A real one.”

    Instead of the slim metal from before, a more lasting item had been settled around John’s neck, bearing the symbols of Derse in small cut stones. When Jake came close to his other side, similarly decked out, Dave gawped. Somehow seeing them like this was shocking, despite knowing that he himself had been wearing the same items for Prospit in the past. That he still wore some of the items from Prospit, being thankful they hadn’t been removed in his sleep.

    “Yes, it was part of the conditions we were given,” Jake said. He seemed jolly, excited even, by how things were going. It was hard to figure out what was going through his mind. “We’re still prisoners, and will be for quite some time apparently. But we were told you made such an impassioned plea that your brother’s decided we’re your responsibility until things are settled differently.”

    “My responsibility?”

    John smirked. “You’re supposed to keep your very large pets out of trouble. You know. No raiding the kitchens, no furthering the causes of war, no assassination attempts. The usual. I assume no licking ourselves in public either.”

    “Or leaving, for that matter,” Jake said. “I’m quite used to staying near you two as it is, I don’t mind keeping up our chumly attitudes and remaining close bosom buddies in near quarters!”

    “Why the clothes, though,” Dave asked tiredly, sitting upright for a moment before turning to plant himself against John’s side comfortably. “Yours were in fairly good condition.”

    “Our clothes were foul, and there was something about looking the part of a prisoner, blah blah.. Honestly I’m just glad nobody pierced our ears here like yours were.”

    Dave smirked but didn’t look up from where he was relaxed. “You’d look quite nice with piercings though, John. Both of you actually. Perhaps the top edge of the ears instead of the lower, gems to match your eyes..”

    “Will you be expecting me to service you as well as John then?” teased Jake as he leaned closer, earning a sputter from both his brother and Dave himself but continuing to lean. “We could take turns, surely.”

    “Down, boy. Heel,” laughed Dave, lifting a hand up.

    “Ahh, the magic words! I am powerless and inhibited,” he sighed dramatically, lifting a cuffed wrist to his forehead. “Realistically I assume the clothing was because they’re not used to chaps of our stature and just grabbed whatever they had on hand.”

    “..That’s right. I can see about getting you two properly measured and outfitted into real clothes soon. I’ll let you pick your own colors though, no offense but purple doesn’t really suit either of you that well.” It was strange for him to think of just how many things were suddenly swapped around now. Instead of his guardians being his guardians any longer, he was responsible for their needs and wants, their upkeep, their comfort, their safety. Would he even be able to do all that on his own? Or would they be stuck here miserable, wishing they’d remained at home in Prospit instead of following to this land of stone, fierce beasts, and twilight?

    “Really? I think I look pretty handsome as is in it,” John said, leaning back to display his chest and arms better, giving a little flex when he noticed just how rapt Dave’s attention was on him.

    “You look good in everything, but purple looks… strange on you,” Dave said, opinion changed. Surprising how fast ones thoughts shifted when surrounded on either side by attractive fellows in similar clothes. “I think the gold looks nicer.”

    “I’d worry we’d stick out too badly, but I think we do a fine enough job of that on our own just standing about,” Jake chuckled, sitting back to give John and Dave more room. “Do you feel better now that you’ve rested, though? Is it time to ask after a tour, or is there more official business to be had now that you’re home?”

    “I don’t know yet,” admitted Dave. “I assume there will be much to do, but I also don’t know what Dirk has in mind. I’m assuming he’d rather I make my grand return when I look a bit less.. like this,” he finished lamely, gesturing to himself. Suddenly remembering the attempted punches, Dave canted his head curiously. “Did Dirk give any other instructions to you two? Any other messages?”

    “Not really, no. Just to lay low and keep our heads if we want to keep them. Stay in your room, I assume till other quarters are prepared and you could be updated again. He said you’d get a chance to get washed up and proper after resting. How did you wind up fainting anyway? Too overwhelmed?”

    “We uh. We fought a bit, and he shook me quite hard,” admitted Dave with a smirk. “He was glad to see me, I can tell. But I told him about us, and he didn’t take it that well.”

    “I’m astounded he allowed John within ten feet of you then. Or was able to speak to John so calmly. Fellow really is interesting isn’t he?”

    “He probably has other things planned for later. I think.. I think this is his way of saying sorry,” said Dave with a soft chuckle. “Less an apology and more of a return to some kind of routine, since I doubt he felt bad about shaking me in the first place. But still his way of saying sorry for going that little bit too far.”

    “Where are your sisters at? Do they know you’re here?”

    “I’ve got no idea John, the only person I saw was Dirk and then I passed out. I’m sure they’re around. Now that I’m back I can’t be a secret from my own damned family very much longer. Once I clean up, I’ll go ahead and find them I think.. I’d love to introduce you to everyone, and show you around. There’s so many things I need to show you and tell you and-”

    “Is it warmer in some of the places you want to show us? This whole ‘we don’t have shoes on hand to fit you’ think is bullshit, my toes are freezing off,” complained John, lifting a foot up as he spoke. “Look. It’ll be a stump soon, due to stone induced frostbite.”

    “Well, one of the places is the baths, and that entire area is steam and hot water from the spring, sooooo…”

    “Right, so we’re going to the baths now,” Jake said with a clap of his hands, looking thrilled. “Lead the way!”

    Well. At least there were no immediate regrets about getting him back home so far.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

The Sleeping Prince and The Fair Folk Boy

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 13359

Summary: In a fantasy land, two kingdoms are at odds. Two boys defy their lands hatred, but is it enough to defy a terrible curse? Based on Maleficent AU request.

Read on AO3

AN: Is it plagiarism when you're ripping off yourself? Idk. Yeah, I know the title sounds like The Sailor and The Siren, but it's not the same story, obviously lol. Apologies for the weird time jumps and scene jumping, it's how it worked out in the end. But I hope you like it! :)

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Once upon a time, there were two kingdoms. One was human, called England, and one was magical, called Watford. The humans feared the magical creatures, for they were large and scary and had great amounts of power. Human knights attacked the magical kingdom, but were always defeated by it’s protector, a fae woman named Natasha. With one beat of her mighty wings she soared miles. Fire flew from her hands with ease, scorching knights until they fled. Natasha was a great hero to her people and a great foe to all those who opposed her.

After decades of fighting, the king of England was growing older. He wished to see the dreaded Natasha fall. Any man who succeeded in defeating her would be granted the princess’ hand in marriage and become the next ruler of England. Many were fearful to even attempt to face such a fearsome foe. But one man stepped forward. Sir David, a commoner who ascended to knighthood through skill alone. All the other knights, all noble born, looked down at him.

“I shall defeat Natasha,” he announced.

The other knights laughed heartily. “Oh really?” One of them said. “Shall you defeat her with a farming plow?”

David scowled at their pompous guffaws. “I shall do it, you will see.”

And so the common knight went to the magical kingdom, intent on defeating Natasha. But he did not do so with might or valour. No, Sir David used tricks. There were darker creatures who were banished to lurk in the woods around Watford. They held no love for it’s protector. David bribed them with his finely made shield, and told the dark creatures to bring Natasha to him and inform him how to kill her. They happily accepted, and told the knight that iron harms fair folk just before they left.

Soon, the great protector of Watford was brought to Sir David, bloodied and weakened. Natasha was hardly a worthy adversary in this state. But Sir David cared not for a fair fight, just the reward he was promised.

“Do not do this,” Natasha said gravely. “It will only end in tragedy for you.”

Sir David did not heed her warning. He drew his iron sword, ready to plunge it through her inhuman heart. But Natasha refused to let the human win. She wrenched her arm free and slammed it to her chest. Her body erupted in flames. But Natasha did not scream. She silently looked the human in the eye as she died. Soon, there was nothing left of the great protector, save for her infamous wings. Sir David scowled, but he refused to award posthumous victory to his sworn foe. He wrapped the wings in black cloth. As he tucked them under his shoulder, he looked to the dark creatures.

“Do not speak of how this was done,” he said. “Or I shall send my armies to slaughter you all.”

The dark creatures agreed. Sir David turned and marched back to England, nary a second thought to how Natasha died.

He returned to the castle. He stood before the king, the court, and all the knights that had mocked him, and threw the wings to the ground. Everyone gasped. They all recognised their enormous span and shining feathers.

“I have defeated Natasha, your majesty,” Sir David announced.

“So it seems,” the old king replied.

“I expect my reward.”

He smiled slightly at his knight. “And so you shall have it.”

Sir David was soon wed to the old king’s daughter, Princess Lucy. The old king passed shortly after. King David ascended to the throne. He made sure to have the grand wings put in a special room, so he may always gaze upon his trophy. He ruled the people of England with an iron fist and strong ideals. He taxed the nobles as harshly as he could, putting their wealth into virtuous ventures. Building schools, improving roads, new lodgings for the poor. Though a good sum went to the crown as well. David justified this as the nobles finally paying their dues to the people. However, many suspected he desired revenge on all the high borns who had mocked and scorned him. The truth most likely sat somewhere in between.

Only three months into his reign, Queen Lucy was with child. She was overjoyed to have a baby, and David desired an heir. Six months later, a healthy baby prince was born. He was christened Simon Snow. Simon for his great grandfather, and Snow for the storm that ravaged the kingdom the day he was born. He was strong and healthy. A perfect heir for England.

The king and queen presented their son to the court and kingdom. Everyone was overjoyed. They presented gifts of great wealth and craftsmanship for the new prince. David was pleased at the offerings. The nobles were honouring their future king as they should. Among the strangest of the guests was Ebb, a goat herd who lived far from the castle.

Ebb ascended the dais, head held high and smile radiant. “Your majesties,” Ebb said with a courteous bow. “I have come bearing the most special of gifts for the young prince. More precious than any gold or silver.”

“And what would those be?” David asked.

“I bring magic, for I am of fair folk and I possess powerful spell casting.”

David’s muscle all locked up. He was wary of magic for many good reasons. “We have no need of magic in this kingdom.”

“I harbour no ill will, your majesty. I wish to show the court that fae and humans can live in peace. I can bestow three magical blessings upon your son.”

“How do we know you will not harm him?”

Ebb looked affronted almost, taken aback by such a thought. “I would never harm an innocent babe, your majesty. I swear on the roots of Watford’s great trees.”

David did not look convinced. The queen, known to be the tempering voice of the throne, leaned towards her husband. “Darling, she wishes to help our Simon. The fae have not attempted harm for awhile. Do not turn her away.”

The king was still uneasy, but he listened to his wife. A ruler sometimes had to attempt peace. David sheathed his blade and sat. “Very well, bestow your blessings.”

Ebb bowed deeply. “As you wish, your majesty.” She walked over to the golden cradle and leaned over the edge. Prince Simon looked back up at her with large blue eyes and a giggling smile. Ebb gave a joyous grin in return.

“Dear, sweet Simon,” she said cheerily. “I first give you the gift of courage. You shall always have strength in the face of any adversity.” David was pleased by this blessing. Ebb tapped her sparkling finger just beneath Simon’s left eye, and a little mole appeared on his skin. The baby burbled and smiled.

“Second, I give you the gift of kindness. Your heart will always be open and caring.” Lucy was very happy about this one. This time, Ebb touched below Simon’s left ear, and two moles appeared this time.

“And for my last gift, I-”

With a loud boom, the doors at the end of the hall flew open and the room went dark. Every noble went silent. The king and queen were frozen in the seats. A terrifying silhouette loomed at the entrance. Horns protruded from its head and large wings spread out, and King David’s heart stopped. He knew of fairies and dark creatures and magic, but he hoped that ghosts were not real as well. But as the silhouette flew closer, it was clear Natasha had not risen from the grave. Though this woman looked similar, she had none of the late protector’s powerful grace, and her black hair sported a shock of white that Natasha never had. Whoever she was, she scared Ebb, making the other fae back into a dark corner.

“Who dares trespass on this sacred day?” Queen Lucy asked.

“Lucy, do not speak to it,” the king hissed.

“I am Fiona of Watford,” the woman announced. “My sister was Natasha, protector of our fair lands. She was killed a year ago.”

David stood, a hand on his sword handle. “I see not what this has to do with your presence in our court.”

Fiona scowled and pointed a finger at the king’s face. “I learned that you were the one who killed Natasha, taking the wings from her corpse as a trophy. This desecration of my sister’s name and body shall not stand. You will be punished for your crime of murder!”

David inhaled sharply. He silently feared what punishment a fae could bring, but he could not reveal his deceit to his court, even to avoid whatever magical retribution this Fiona would bring. “You have no standing in this court, and no right to dole out punishment as you see fit.”

“Silence!” Fiona waved her hand and the roof exploded in green flames. Nobles screamed and held each other. “You use my sister’s death to further your own standing! I have every right to exact my vengeance!”

The king drew his sword and pointed it the fae’s face. “If you wish to duel, I am more than happy to face you. You shall fall just like your sister.”

Fiona sneered at the blade, obviously unimpressed at the king’s weapon. “I will not waste my strength on fighting you, pitiful man. No, I wish to give to you what you gave me. Or rather what you took.”

The fae looked down at the golden cradle. Queen Lucy gasped, a hand pressed to her chest. “No, please! Have mercy!” she shouted.

“Did your husband have mercy when he killed my sister!?” Fiona roared. “When he murdered our land’s protector in cold blood, broke her husband’s heart, and left her young child motherless?!” She looked the king in his quivering blue eyes. “No, and I shall have no mercy either.”

David yelled and tried to rush the fae, but with one flick of green fire from her fingers, he was kept back. One more flick and the rest of the court was kept at bay. No one could approach her. And no one could save Simon.

Fiona looked down at the little prince. He was only a year younger than Fiona’s own nephew. The nephew that was now living with no mother or father, because a human wanted a crown.

“Listen well, humans,” Fiona boomed, “the prince shall grow up charming and handsome, beloved by all who meet him.”

Her grey eyes slid over to a gift from the kingdom of Umbria, who were famous for their fine textiles. It was a gold plated spinning wheel. The needle glinted in the sunlight.

The fae woman stood straight, facing the king and queen. The green fire roared from her hand, curling and twisting around the throne room. “But before the sun sets on his eighteenth birthday, he will prick his finger on a spinning wheel, and fall into a sleep like death from which he will never awaken!”

“Fiona, no!” Ebb shouted, walking forward with saky steps. Being a fae, she could push back against Fiona’s magic. But no one could truly break it.

Fiona was beyond shocked to see Ebb, for she knew the woman. Ages ago, Ebb had lived in Watford with her twin brother Nicodemus. Fiona had loved Ebb more than the sprawling trees loved the sun. But one fateful day, when Nicodemus and Fiona were wandering in the twisted woods, Nico was torn apart by dark creatures. Even Fiona with all her power could not save him. Ebb was shattered, too grief stricken to stay within Watford. When she left, Fiona was shattered too.

“You are in no place to demand things of me,” Fiona sneered.

“He is but a child, Fi,” Ebb said. “An innocent, undeserving of such a horrible, inescapable fate.”

Fiona considered her words. Deep down in her heart, she knew her old love was right. But she needed to avenge her sister. She only contemplated for a moment, and knew she had an answered.

“Very well,” Fiona said. “The prince can be awakened, but only by, true love’s kiss.”

Ebb gaped at her former lover. Of course she remembered those words. When Ebb stood at the edge of Watford, Fiona had asked her if true love was real. But Ebb was young, grieving, a deep dark part of herself blaming Fiona for not being able to save her brother’s life. So with tears in her eyes and heart lodged deep in her throat, Ebb had simply walked away. And now Fiona was using those words once more.

Fiona looked over the whole court with her head held high. “This curse will last until the end of time. No power on Earth can change it.”

The green fire roared to a fever pitch, and flooded the entire room. Nobles were knocked off their gilded feet as they screamed to the high heavens. Fiona gave one last furious look to the royal couple as well as to Ebb, then soared out the door. Ebb looked over the cradle. She saw three new moles on Simon’s rosy right cheek. And that was how the prince came to be cursed.

Drastic measures had to be taken to ensure the young prince’s safety. King David ordered every spinning wheel in England to be broken and burned, the blackened remnants locked away in a dark dungeon. To protect his heir, he entrusted Simon to the magic of Ebb, no matter how much his queen protested. She was to keep him to hidden and safe for eighteen years and a day. He sent his armies to hunt down the dread Fiona. But she had already created tall, thick walls of thorns together. So Watford should never suffer the tainted touch of humans again.

Ebb took the infant prince to her cottage in the middle of the woods where none may find them. Though she knew not exactly how to be a mother, she did her very best for him. She did not use magic, fearing any sort of thing that would attract attention to the hidden prince.

Simon grew from a babe to a child in that cottage with Ebb. He played among the trees, rolled in the moss, and cuddled Ebb’s beloved goats, all far away from the castle he remembered not. Ebb told Simon that his blood parents had passed away so she had adopted him. Simon knew of no reason to distrust her.

The blessings Ebb had given to Simon did come true. He was unafraid in the face of adversity or danger. Which was a wonderful thing, even if it did lead to more than a few scrapes and bruises for the young boy. Ebb tried to keep him out of harm’s way, but it was a difficult task when Simon feared so little. Simon was also unbelievably kind. He thought all deserved love and care until proven otherwise.

One day when he was eight, Simon brought a baby bird with a broken wing home. He held it up to Ebb with big teary blue eyes.

“Please, Auntie,” Simon pleaded. “Please we have to save it!”

“We will do our best darling, darling,” she cooed.

Ebb helped Simon wrap it’s leg in bandages and give it food. He stroked the little bird’s head all the way through. And that night, he insisted they put it in a basket next to his bed so he could sleep beside it. In the morning, when the poor creature passed from it’s injuries, Simon sniffled and cried all day. He cared not that he had only known it for a few hours. Only that it was a living thing who had died in pain. He felt that pain himself, because his heart was so big it could encompass the whole kingdom.

As the years went on, Simon’s curly bronze hair became wild like vines, his blues sparkled, and his mole and freckle covered cheeks dimpled with his smile. He made every room brighter with his presence. Ebb watched as he grew into a charming and handsome young boy, just as Fiona said he would. She tried to forget what other things Fiona had put in his future.

A week after his eleventh name day, Simon was running through the woods, playing with his new puppy, when he spotted something strange in the darkness. A flash of raven black and glitter of silver. Simon stopped in his tracks and gazed among the trees.

“Is anyone there?” he asked. There was a rustle of leaves. Simon caught sight of a grey eye between the branches. “I see you! You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” a quiet voice replied. He sounded young, barely older than Simon himself.

“Then come out and say hello.”

“If I do, then you’ll be afraid.”

Simon puffed out his relatively small chest. “I’m never afraid.”

The strange boy stayed away for a long moment, the only sound around them a whistling in the leaves. Slowly, he stepped towards Simon and into the light. Simon had been right. The boy was young, but he was very strange. He dressed in only a white tunic and brown pants, his feet bare on the dirty forest floor. Even more bizarre, a pair of magnificent black and silver feathered wings protruded from his back and curled around his sides. From beneath his thick, wavy raven hair, two small dark grey stubs pointed upwards. They matched the shade of grey in his eyes. When Simon finally saw his whole face, it was sharp and wore more signs of age than him, but was still that of a child.

“Hello,” Simon chirped like a bird.

“Hello,” the boy replied, voice far more serious.

Simon’s head tilted to the side, bronze hair spilling down like a waterfall. “Are you one of the fair folk? My auntie tells me stories of them.”

"Yes, I am." His wings fluttered slightly, like an uncomfortable bird ruffling.

"Oh." Simon bared a grin brighter than sunshine. "That's wonderful." He stuck his dirty, calloused hand out insistently. "My name is Simon."

The fae’s eyes went round with shock. "Have you no sense? You're never supposed to give a fae your name."

Simon frowned, lips almost forming a pout. “But my auntie says it’s always polite to give people your name. Why wouldn’t I be polite to you just because you’re a fae?”

He thrusted his hand out more insistently towards the other boy. The fae looked at the limb like a snake winding in the grass, ready to bite him. But Simon was not deterred. He kept his hand there. For he was very brave, and very kind. And very slowly, the fae boy finally accepted Simon’s friendly hand.

“Hello, Simon,” he said.

Simon shook the boy’s rough hand vigorously, his grin stretching to his ears. “Hello. Do you have a name? Do faes have names?”

The fae rolled his stormy eyes very expertly for someone so young. “Yes, I have a name.”

“May I hear it?”

He looked apprehensive, his hand slowly falling from Simon’s. His long arms hid beneath his wings. Simon stepped towards him, still grinning. It was a smile with not a single hint of malice or deceit. No power on Earth could resist.

“My name is Baz,” he said.

Simon’s grin miraculously became even brighter. “Hello, Baz. Would you like to play?”

Baz looked down at the leaf covered ground. “I shouldn’t.”

“Oh. Are you okay?” Simon stepped closer and looked over Baz for any injuries. When he stepped closer, the fae jolted like he had been struck by lightning. “Sorry! Are you hurt?”

“I am not harmed. It’s just...your necklace...”

Simon looked down. It was a cross Ebb had given him for his ninth birthday, made from twisting dark metal. “What’s wrong with my necklace?”

Baz looked at it not with disgust or even fear, mostly with discomfort. “It’s iron. Iron burns faes.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Simon lifted the cross above his head and threw it as far as his arm could manage. It soared into the distance, gone forever. He once more turned Baz with his bright grin. “Can we play now?”

Baz looked beyond shocked at Simon. Simon couldn’t understand why. The necklace was hurting him, so it had to go. Someone mattered far more than something.

“I-I could,” Baz started. “But I-”

“Then let’s go!” Simon jumped like an eager bunny. “C’mon c’mon, let’s have fun!”

Baz looked up once more. And finally, he smiled as well. “Okay. We can have fun.”

Simon jumped a few more times, then he took Baz by the wrist. “Let’s go!”

And so the two boys ran through the woods together. Their feet crunched on leaves and broke fallen branches, letting their presence mark the world. Simon showed Baz how to toss a stick for his dog, Goldie. He encouraged Baz to scratch behind her furry golden ear and let her lay across his lap. Baz demonstrated his dominion over nature, making pretty flowers instantly bloom in in the soil. He told a rapt Simon the proper names of all the wonderful flora. Simon plucked a bright violet from the ground and offered it to Baz, and the fae graciously tucked it behind his pointed ear. The boys raced each other to reach the top of a tree, but Baz won on account of his large wings. His prize was a ripe plum Simon carried in his pocket. Baz silently gave half to Simon, the kindness going unacknowledged save for a small quirk of Baz’s lips.

The two boys sat together on top of the tree. The twilight sun set the sky on fire, illuminating everything in scarlet and orange. Simon sat close to Baz but Baz would not allow them to touch.

"Simon!" A distant voice called out. "Simon, it's time to come home!"

"That's my auntie," Simon spoke through his last bite of plum.

"You should go to her," Baz said.

"Yeah. Wanna play again soon?"

Baz looked over at the smiling Simon. His hair glowed gold in the dying sunlight. Baz gave a tiny smile back.

“Okay.”

“Hooray!” He leaned forward, the light of his grin reflecting off Baz’s face. “Shall I find you in the woods again?”

Baz let little puffs of air from his nose. “Come to the woods, and I shall find you.”

Simon nodded so hard his curls bounced. “Alright.” Suddenly, he threw his arms around Baz’s shoulders in a squeezing hug. The fae’s muscles locked up in shock. “Bye, Baz.”

“Goodbye, Simon.”

And so Simon swung down the tree. When he was about halfway down, Baz leaned over the side, looking down upon him.

“Simon,” he yelled, “do not tell anyone about me, please?”

“Not even my aunt?” Simon asked with a confused frown.

“No, not even her. Faes aren’t supposed to be out of our lands. If anyone finds out I’m in the human kingdom, I may very well be hurt.”

That made Simon’s eyes go wide and heart hammer painfully. He wished to never see anyone hurt, especially his new friend. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone. This will be our secret.”

Baz nodded, strands of black falling in front of his face. “Yes, our secret.”

Simon descended the last half of the tree. Goldie barked and jumped until Simon scooped her up in his arms. He looked up to the tree again. Baz was silhouetted by the sun. It made him appear even more majestic. Simon waved with his entire arm. Baz waved subtly back. And he watched as Simon dashed away.

Simon met with Baz in the forest the next day, and the next, and the next. They saw each other on every day they could, and through the turns of the seasons, Simon and Baz never tired of one another. Sometimes they would run through the woods, their giggles ringing through nature. Other times they would play in the leaves or the snow depending in the season. On occasion, when they tired of running and playing, the boys simply wandered as they pleased, speaking of things they saw or did.

“And this plant is called the willow tree,” Baz said, brushing his hand through the hanging little leaves. Simon listened as he walked along the edge of the cliff. Baz looked concerned with his every step, but Simon was a child of this land. He knew how to walk upon it.

“Why do the branches hang so low?” Simon asked. He cared little for the answer honestly. He mostly enjoyed hearing Baz speak. He had a nice voice. It had started to deepen recently, for Baz was already 14 years of age. It was strange to Simon that such an incredible magical creature was only a year older than himself.

“I was always told the willow was created when a fae lost her child. The tears she cried hit the soil, which made the first tree grow. So now the branches hang low and weep just as she did.”

“Hm, interesting.”

Simon spun around with his arms out, just as a large gust of wind blew against him. His balance was completely thrown. He stumbled and wavered, and then his feet were no longer on solid ground. Simon was in such a state of shock that everything moved slowly. He watched the cliff fall away from him and become smaller and smaller. He silently wondered if his aunt and Goldie would be okay when he was gone, and if his parents would great him when he reached the heavens.

As Simon contemplated his grisly fate, he felt something stop his fall. The air was knocked from his lungs, making him cough. When he looked up, Baz’s face stared down at him, haloed in the fall sunlight. His stormy eyes were wider than should be possible.

“Did I not say you should be careful?!” Baz said, anger and fear blending together in his voice.

Simon shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I thought I would be safe.”

“Obviously you were not.”

“But I was.” Simon put his arms over Baz’s bony shoulders. “You were here to catch me, were you not?”

Baz narrowed his eyes, but his arms tightened around Simon’s back. “You were lucky I was.”

“Can I not always count on you being here to save me?”

Baz did not answer. He simply sighed and shook his head. Then he flew them back to the ground, this time far away from the edge. He stayed close to Simon’s side. Simon did not mind. He preferred Baz close to him.

“Shall we make a pile of leaves and jump in it?” Baz asked.

Simon grinned. “I’d certainly like that.”

They did just so, the worries of Simon’s near death faded to a background thought.

As the seasons turned, Simon started to grow as well. His voice deepened like Baz’s, his chest became broader, and soon he towered over his aunt, who he used to have to strain his neck to look up at. However, Baz remained taller than him. It seemed when Simon gained any sort of height, Baz willed himself to outgrow him. Baz had more unique changes too. His wings became so large they dragged on the ground behind him. And the little grey stubs on his head grew up and up, twisting into true grey bone horns.

“Do all the fae have wings?” Simon asked as they sat upon a hill, gazing at the sparkling night sky.

“Most do,” Baz replied.

Simon’s head lolled to the side, eyes roaming over Baz’s profile. While Simon had grown more outwards, Baz had stretched and elongated. Everything about him was long and graceful. His nose and cheekbones were sharper than swords’ edges. He was incredibly handsome. That was an objective fact. Simon very rarely saw himself, save for a reflection in the pond, and he wondered if Baz thought he was handsome too.

“Do they all have horns?”

“No. Only people from my family do.”

“May I touch yours?”

Baz recoiled at first. His eyes slowly slid to the side. Once he saw there was no malice in Simon’s words, he nodded. Simon reached forward. He slowly traced every swirled ridge of of the grey bone, learning it’s pattern with one finger, while Baz sat incredibly still. Simon soon reached the top, and accidentally touched the very tip.

“Ouch!” he said, immediately putting the finger to his lips.

“Careful,” Baz hissed. “They’re sharp, you idiot.”

“Well, I’m aware of that now!”

Baz shook his head, raven hair falling in his face in a lazy wave. “Give me your finger, Simon.”

Simon held his hand out. Baz placed his own over it. He closed his eyes, lips moving so minutely it could hardly be see. Silver fire twisted from his skin and onto Simon’s. The human felt the smallest of stings, and then it was simply a pleasant warmth, like sitting next to the stove. As the fire pulled back, so did Baz. Simon looked down at his skin. It was now unmarred once again. There was no sign of any scratch whatsoever.

“Wow,” Simon gasped. “You are incredible.”

“I am of the fair folk, it’s normal,” Baz said.

Simon grinned and pressed his arm to Baz’s. ‘Well, then all fair folk must be incredible, if you’re the standard.”

Baz let out a small laughing breath. “I suppose that’s a reasonable conclusion. That opinion may change if you met other fae.”

Simon looked up at him, chin resting on his still bony shoulder. “I’ve yet to meet any others.”

Simon knew it was a loaded statement. He knew what he truly wanted to say. Ever since he had met, he imagined the place someone as as incredible as him came from. Baz looked distressed for a moment. But the expression was so fleeting Simon barely had time to acknowledge its existence. Baz quickly turned to him with a slightly strained smile.

“We’ll see,” he said softly.

“Okay,” Simon sighed. He started to doze against Baz as they looked out at the stars. For Simon felt calm with Baz next to him, always had, always will.

A few more seasons passed, and as the snow melted to spring again, Simon was rapidly approaching his eighteenth name day. He was nearly a man of age. An adult who was meant to be independent. He was thinking of leaving home to find wonders abroad. Simon thought it was a marvelous idea. Baz was not so enthusiastic.

“What can there be abroad that you cannot find here?” he asked.

“Lots of things!” Simon replied. He tossed a cherry in his mouth just as Goldie returned with her stick. “There could be so many things beyond the woods. New people, new experiences, new foods.”

Baz rolled his eyes as he threw the stick for Goldie. It went much further than when Simon tossed before. “You can make your own new foods here.”

“I disagree. I’ve used every ingredient I can.” Simon shoved both his hands in his trouser pockets, and kicked at some dirt. “I just wish to see something new and possibly exciting, Baz. Is that so wrong?”

“No,” Baz sighed. “I suppose not.”

They continued playing with Goldie, throwing sticks, petting and scratching to her little heart’s content. But unfortunately, the sky decided to open up above them in a mighty crash of thunder. The rain hit them with a hard pitter patter. Simon put his hand up to uselessly protect himself. But hen Baz lifted his wing above Simon’s head, he no longer needed to.

“I should get home,” Simon said, looping the rope leash around Goldie’s neck.

“Yes, you could.” Baz’s thin lips twisted for an unknown reason. “But I know if somewhere it won’t be raining.”

Simon’s eyes were wide. “Really?”

“Yes, if you would like to go.” Baz offered his hand out.

Simon grabbed it without any hesitation. “Absolutely.”

Baz’s grip tightened. He smiled as he pulled Simon deeper into the woods. And Simon followed with incredibly eager steps.

Eventually, the men reached a terrifying site. Massive thorns of towering height, twisting together in an impenetrable thicket. Simon was both fascinated and scared of it. He instinctively recoiled. Goldie whimpered, pawing at her face.

“What is this?” Simon asked.

“It’s meant to protect the fae from humans,” Baz replied.

“Do the fae need protection?”

“Sometimes.” Baz made an arc with his hand, silver flames trailing from his fingertips. A small part of the thicket winded away and pulled into the ground. “Come along, Simon.”

Simon and his loyal hound followed Baz in. As they walked, the rain lessened and lessened until there was none at all. They ducked under the last thorny vine, and finally entered Watford. Suddenly, all breath left Simon’s lungs.

There were no words to describe Watford. It was a place beyond simple spoken ideas. Everything was made of wondrous magic. Glowing flowers, twisting waterfalls over crystal cliffs, flickering multicoloured lights, and trees that bared perfectly shaped fruit. Simon walked forward, and ground glowed softly under him. He gasped at the sheer fantastical nature of it. No wonder Baz was so marvelous. He came from somewhere beyond anyone’s imagination. It certainly went past anything Simon dreamt of.

“By all the gods,” Simon whispered.

One of the colourful lights came close to Simon’s face. And it wasn’t a simple light at all. It was the smallest little pixie, with large glowing eyes and translucent butterfly wings. They smiled at Simon for a brief second then fluttered away. Simon giggled as he watched them fly away.

“Do you plan to stand there all night?” Baz asked with a teasing lilt.

Simon scoffed, but it was with a grin. “Do you plan to show me more?”

Baz tilted his head, almost point with his horns in a way. “Follow me, Simon.”

And so he did. Simon and Goldie followed Baz deeper into Watford. There were more creatures than the little pixies. A giant made from mossy roots stood guard by a cliff. Fish women swam beneath the glittering waves. Little trolls ran up to Simon and Baz. One held out a red flower towards Simon. He kneeled, and graciously took the tiny bloom.

“Thank you,” he said.

The troll seemed to blush, though Simon wasn’t sure how trolls blushed. They ran off back towards their friends. The whole group of them ran towards a mud pit and started splashing about. Simon felt before he saw Goldie tug on her leash. She whined and whined pathetically. Simon looked at Baz for assurance.

“It should be fine,” Baz said. “It’s just mud.”

“That suggests anything here is normal,” Simon chuckled.

“It’s normal for me.”

Simon smiled, affection burning in his gaze. “But nothing about you is normal, Baz.”

Baz scoffed and looked away, but a dusting of rose colour appeared on his cheeks. Simon wondered how he could be embarrassed by something so true.

Simon slipped the leash off Goldie. She happily bounded towards the mud. As she splashed, the trolls squealed with delight. They happily rolled and tossed in the dirty pool. It looked so fun. How could Simon resist? Baz tried to call after him, but it was too late. Simon was already throwing himself into the mud. The trolls splashed him, and he joyfully splashed back. He was still the rough and tumble kid at heart. It wasn’t something Simon would never be ashamed of.

In their little filthy kerfuffle, a stray comet of mud flew towards Baz. And it hit the fae man square on the cheek, creating a small splatter. The trolls immediately froze. All wore an expression of terror. Simon didn’t know what they had to fear. It was only Baz. He almost immediately started snorting with laughter, throwing his head back in giggles. Simon was so caught up in his amusement he didn’t see Baz flick his fingers. A large amount of mud splattered across Simon’s entire face. Simon stopped laughing using both hands to wipe the dirt from his eyes. When he could see once more, he saw Baz grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear.

And Simon smiled back.

When Simon and Goldie were done with their dirty escapade, Baz lead them to more places in Watford. Like the floating mountain tops, singing moss, and dancing vines. He pointedly kept Simon away from one side of the kingdom. Simon thought it must be dreadfully boring over there. They came across a tree whose branches twisted like smoke from a fireplace. Simon left a mud covered Goldie to sleep at the bottom. Then he swung up to the top, and Baz flew to follow him, just as they did all those years ago.

Simon sat and surveyed the majesty of Watford. It was dreams made real. He somehow felt happier here. Maybe it was because Watford was so incredible. Maybe it was because Baz came from here, and Simon liked anything associated with Baz.

“This is wonderful,” Simon said wistfully. “I love it here.”

“What if you stayed?” Baz asked. Simon whipped his head around to face him. The fae’s face was serious. There was not a hint of humour. He meant it.

“Really?”

Baz nodded slowly. “Yes. You could stay in Watford with my allowance. That is, only if you want to...”

“Yes, yes!” Simon threw his arms around Baz’s shoulder, face eagerly pressing into the side of his neck. “I would happily stay forever.”

“You can, Simon.” Baz smiled, softer than Simon had ever seen before. “And you will. You’ll be safe and have unlimited excitement here for your entire life.”

Simon’s grin was so wide it was painful. His heart felt full enough to burst. “Thank you, Baz, thank you so much.”

Baz’s face fell for but a second. He placed a hand on Simon’s arm. “You’re more than welcome, Simon.”

As he imagined what life could be like in this wonderful word, that small voice in Simon’s head reminded him of something. Or rather, someone, who right now was probably up late wondering where her darling ward was. Simon’s arms drooped slightly around Baz.

“My aunt,” Simon said. “I have to tell her before I go. I can’t just leave her without a word.”

Baz’s face fell for longer this time. But he nodded. “Yes, you’re right. You should talk to her.”

Simon nodded as well, but his arms stayed around his friend. “After we watch the sunrise though, okay?”

Baz squeezed his forearm and leaned his head on top Simon’s, silky hair brushing the human’s scalp. “Yes, let’s.”

The two young men sat together while the sun crested over the horizon. It was a strange, lovely reversal of the day they first met. That was one sort of beginning, and now this would be another. Simon desperately looked forward it.

Eventually, they had to descend. Baz helped Simon keep his balance all the way down. Goldie was still a bit tired but awake enough to walk. All three walked back to the wall of thorns. Baz parted it and led Simon through once more. They took a moment just outside the border.

“I’ll be back very soon,” Simon said.

“I await your return,” Baz replied.

They parted with one more hug. Baz watched until Simon could not be seen through the thick trees. Simon didn’t look back. That was good. He did not see the terrified look on Baz’s face.

Simon ran through the woods. It didn’t take him long to know where he was again. These were his woods after all. When he came upon his cottage, Ebb was dozing off in her rocking chair. She had obviously been waiting for Simon all night long. Simon carefully walked up towards her.

“Auntie?” Simon whispered, placing a light hand upon her shoulder. Ebb startled awake with wide eyes. “It’s alright, Auntie, it’s just me.”

Ebb let out a long sigh, hand to her chest. “Oh Simon, love, you gave me such a scare. Where have you been all night, darling? Why are you filthy?”

Simon looked down at himself and Goldie. Both were still a lovely shade of muddy brown. “Um, Goldie and I were having fun by the river. We both got so tired, we just passed out next to a tree.”

“Hm, I see.” Ebb stood, using her staff to help herself up. “Come along, you should get cleaned up for your birthday breakfast.”

Simon’s mind reeled for a moment. He had forgotten that it was his birthday, far too caught up in the wonders he saw last night. He was eighteen today, finally an adult. And an adult was meant to strike out on his own.

“Auntie,” he said, wiping dried dirt away with a rag, “I have something to tell you.”

Ebb was chopping up cherries at the counter. “Oh? What is it, love?”

Simon took several deep breaths. Every pull of air calmed his burning worries. Until he was finally able to say it. “I’m leaving home. Today.”

Ebb dropped the knife. It clattered on the wood. Her back was straighter than a tree trunk. She slowly turned to look at Simon. Simon expected shock, but Ebb looked scared.

“What?” she said, voice small and shaky.

“I-I’m leaving, Auntie. I’ve got somewhere to go. It’s not too far, but it’s interesting. And I promise I’ll come visit. I’ll-”

“No, no, no.” Ebb leaned her head in her hand, glassy eyes flitting around. “No, you can’t go. It’s too early, you need to stay here, you need to stay hidden. I have to bring you back to your parents I-

“Wait,” Simon said sharply, stepping towards Ebb with utter shock in his gaze. “Did...did you just say I have to go back to my parents? You told me they were dead.”

Ebb looked over Simon’s confused face but a few times before she sighed, head hanging low. She patted his hand kindly, just like she had his whole life. “Simon, I think you need to sit down. There’s much I have to tell you.”

Simon sat, and Ebb spun her tale. She tried to be as concise and kind as possible. But Simon still ran out of the cottage with tears in his eyes, too distressed to look at his aunt, and angry enough that he had someone else to see. He ran through the woods, until reached the terrifying wall of thorns.

“Baz!” he yelled. “Baz! Come out!”

“I’m here.”

Simon jolted like he had been struck by lightning. He spun around to see Baz behind him, in all his tall winged glory. Simon was breathing heavily as he looked at his old friend.

“Did you know?” Simon accused. “Did you know that I-I was cursed? That I have been since I was a baby?” Baz didn’t answer, but Simon kept babbling. “My aunt, she said a bad fae did it. I-I can’t remember her name, it was like-”

“Fiona,” Baz said with no inflection.

Simon’s head lifted up. Baz looked calm, save for a slight tension in his lips. Simon’s mouth hung open. “Do you know her?”

Baz nodded, but so incredibly slowly, it was like he barely moved at all. “Yes.”

“How?!”

Baz laced his long fingers together in front of him. “Fiona is my aunt.”

Simon felt like he had been punched square in the stomach. He stumbled back, fists clenched incredibly tight. “You’re...you’re aunt? Have you known I was cursed this entire time?!” Baz nodded once again. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I wasn’t allowed,” Baz said, voice strained.

“Allowed?”

Baz looked down at the ground, as if looking at Simon pained him. “When I was twelve, my aunt sent me out to keep an eye on you. She wanted to me to make sure you stayed alive, so the curse could...come to fruition.”

Simon stumbled even further away, a hand pressed to his face. His whole world was crashing down and shattering into a million miniature pieces on the forest floor. “So that’s why you approached me? Because I was your target? And what, you pretended to be my friend so I would stay close?”

“I never pretended.”

Simon shoved his face in Baz’s, snarling like Goldie when she was angered. “Real friends don’t lie for seven years, Baz!”

“I never lied!” Baz yelled. His voice was bordering on desperate.

“No, you just withheld the truth.” Simon wrapped his shaking around himself. “Which is so much worse. Because you let me think you cared, like an idiot.”

“I do care!” Baz stepped closer. His calm facade was starting to crack like ice in the spring. “I care so much, Simon, even though I was not meant to.”

He offered his hand out, silently requesting for Simon to close the distance. But Simon backed away, shaking his head vigorously. “If you truly cared,” he choked out, “you would have told me.”

Baz opened his mouth to say more, but Simon turned and ran. He couldn’t bear to look at Baz, his oldest and only friend. Or so he thought.

Simon ran without thought. He just wished to escape his feelings, to not think of all the good memories that were now tainted. His feet brought him through the trees and brush. Until he eventually reached the stables, where Ebb kept her horse. Simon’s impulsive mind immediately supplied an idea. He looked to the distance, where the castle sat atop a high hill.

He mounted the horse with nary a second thought.

The castle was a long ride, but Simon was not deterred. He kept going until he reached the castle gates. The guards would not let him pass, no matter how much he yelled that he truly was the prince. Eventually, he annoyed them into bringing him inside. They lead him by a rough grip on his arm, through towering hallways with fantastical carvings. It was incredible, but in a far darker way than Watford.

They eventually reached a spacious room, with stain glass windows overlooking the town below. Tall men all stood around a table with their backs turned. One bore a golden crown upon his brunette head.

“Your majesty,” the guard said, “this urchin came to the gates. He claims to be the prince.”

The crowned man stood straight backed and slowly turned. His blue eyes were wide and his brown mustache was turning grey. He surely had to be the king, and therefore surely had to be Simon’s father.

“Father!” he shouted, wrenching himself from the guard and running to him. He threw his arms around the armoured man with no shame. “It’s me, Simon. I’ve come home!”

The king looked upon his son in utter shock. He barely recognised the man his boy had become. Yet it was all to familiar in such a painful way.

“You look just like your mother,” David said, holding back any emotion from his voice.

Simon smiled brightly, but his father would not return the affection. His face stayed like stone. Simon was confused. This was the first time he had met someone so immune to his sunny disposition. And he never thought it would be his own father.

“That damn fairy,” David growled. “She brought you back too soon.” He looked over Simon’s head. “Take him to his room. Lock him in, don’t let him out until after the sun sets.”

“What?!” Two guards grabbed both of Simon’s arms and hauled him backwards. Simon struggled but it was no use, they would not let go. “Father! Father!” he called.

But David turned back to his war council without another word.

Simon was dragged through stone corridors again. He kept fighting the guards to no avail. “Where are you taking me? What’s going on? I want to speak to my father!”

“King David is busy,” a guard replied mechanically.

“With what?!”

“A final attack on Watford. To destroy the fairy threat once and for all.”

Simon gasped and started flailing even more. “No! No, he can’t, that’s wrong!”

“They cursed you, your highness,” the other guard said. “That was wrong. They forced the king to send you away and break the queen’s heart, may God rest her soul.”

Simon immediately stopped struggling. His lips hung open in shock. It shouldn’t be so painful. Simon had been raised believing his parents were dead for eighteen years. Yet, knowing it was really true, it was like an ice cold blade through his heart.

The guards opened a small door and shoved Simon inside. Then they quickly locked it behind him. Simon rushed and pounded on the door.

“Let me out!” he yelled. “You can’t destroy Watford! It was one fae who did this, not all of them!”

No one answered, because no one was listening. Simon’s hits slowed to low thumps, and then he slowly fell to the ground. He couldn’t get out. The father he had just met was about to destroy the place he had just fallen in love with. And he didn’t even fully understand why. Ebb had said he was a prince who was cursed as a baby, but Simon had fled before she explained what the curse even was. The simple word “curse” itself was enough to send him running in tears. Now he wished he had stayed to hear. He wished he wasn’t alone right now. As angry as he was at him, Simon desperately missed Baz.

Simon sat with his back against the door, the setting sun glowing through the gauzy curtain. He softly scratched on his index finger without thinking. Why did it itch so much?

Far off from the castle, there was a different fight brewing. Baz was standing before his aunt, rage burning his heart and voice.

“This is ridiculous, Fiona!” he roared. “You created the curse, you can remove it!”

“It is not so simple, Basil!” she yelled in reply. “I created that curse to last until the end of time and so no power on Earth could change it. I put that in the bloody spell! I can’t alter it even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to!”

“It’s not right!”

Fiona shoved her face in Baz’s. Though he was taller than her now, she was still more intimidating. “Natasha’s death was not right! That bastard king took her away from you, and her death killed your father with a broken heart. The king deserves to be punished!”

“Yes, the king does, not Simon.” He clenched his fist and squeezed his eyes shut, willing back his tears. “He’s not like that man, Fiona. He’s not cruel or greedy. He cares without hesitation for everyone and everything. He doesn't deserve such a horrible fate.”

Fiona looked upon her nephew’s desperate face, and was thrown back to standing at Watford’s borders, watching Ebb walk away. “It doesn’t matter now, Baz,” she muttered. “The curse was placed years ago. It can’t be changed now.”

Baz let out a shaky breath. He tried to calm the storm in his mind but as the sun fell further and further it only became worse.

As the sun set, Simon paced around his room. The itch in his finger had graduated to intense pain. He squeezed and poked and scratched but nothing relieved it. And he swore he saw something green under his skin. His head was getting foggier. Simon could barely hold onto his thoughts. They floated away like dust on the wind. All that remained was the desperate urge to escape.

Simon started to run his hands against the wall, searching for any exit. His fingers caressed a tapestry and he felt the edge of something hard. He scrambled to lift the cloth and pull at the the lip. A small door opened to a winding staircase. Simon swore he could hear whispers in the dark. They beckoned him forward. Simon could not resist. His feet walked forward before his mind could catch up.

He went down the stairs at the same time Baz was following his aunt, even as she attempted to storm away.

“You told me there was a way to break it, Fiona!” he yelled. “When I was little, you said there was one way.”

“And that it was impossible,” Fiona hissed.

“Yes, but I must know!”

Fion spun on her heels, scowling deeply at her nephew. “True love, Basil!”

Baz’s eyes went wide. “True love? That is all?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s so simple.”

“No, it isn’t.” Fiona turned back and stretched out her wings. “True love doesn’t exist.”

She flew off into the sky, and Baz still followed.

All the while, Simon was making his way through the castle he barely knew. He did as the whispers told him. Turned every corner, walked down every hallway. Deeper and deeper he went, until there was no more dying sunlight, only darkness.

He walked down a very narrow hall. A large oak door stood at the very end. Simon tried to go in, but the infernal thing was locked. That is, until a wisp of green fire worked into the mechanism, and forced the door to open. Simon walked inside.

“Please Fiona, there must be some possible way!” Baz shouted.

Simon came face to face with a miles high twisted pile of wood and metal. An unknown force pulled him forward. It was the same force that took a mess of broken pieces and pulled them together into a mismatched spinning wheel. It’s silver spindle glinted, even though there was no natural light.

“There isn’t!” Fiona replied over the raging winds in their ears.

The feeling in Simon’s finger was beyond maddening. And the spindle was right there, the glint making it oh so tempting. Somehow he knew it could relieve the pain. One touch and it would vanish. That’s all he needed, one touch. So Simon walked forward.

“It cannot be so hopeless!” Baz felt like a child, but he was utterly desperate.

Green fire curled from both the spindle and Simon’s. Pulling together, drawing Simon closer. The strange whispers told him he had to. That it was the only thing he was meant to do.

“Everything is hopeless sometimes, Basil!”

The flames burned brighter. Simon reached out.

“Not this. This is the one thing that can’t be!”

Simon’s finger pressed against the needle, and a single drop of blood welled on his tawny skin. Green fire exploded outwards as the prince fell to the ground, entering a sleep indistinguishable from death.

Fiona inhaled sharply and froze in the air. Baz very nearly crashed into her.

“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong.”

“It’s more than hopeless now,” she said simply. “It’s pointless.”

Baz’s stomach felt like it was falling to the ground miles below. “You don’t mean...”

“It’s done, Basil. The curse has been fulfilled.”

Baz looked to the west, where the sun was setting beneath the horizon. Simon’s eighteenth birthday was just ending. And Baz had not been able to keep him safe. He felt tears roll down his sharp cheek. Baz did not even acknowledge them, let alone wipe them away.

“He’s gone,” Baz choked out.

Fion stared at her nephew in disbelief. Cynical and jaded as she was, she assumed that Baz thought of the prince like most fae thought of humans, just a brief distraction in his endless life. But Fiona recognised the broken pain in her nephew’s face. She knew it well. It had sat in her from the day Natasha died and onwards, maybe even since Ebb left. It was from the loss of someone you loved.

“Baz...” Fiona reached towards him. But he backed away from her.

“No,” Baz hissed. “Don’t touch me.”

He turned and flew off into the distance, towards the human castle.

Simon was found by a servant. He was brought to a bed of ivory and gold in highest room of the tallest tower. David ordered both the guards who were supposed to be watching him to be imprisoned and later executed. The king spent far too long standing over his son. He watched the deep, slow rises of Simon’s chest. It truly looked like he was merely sleeping. But he would sleep forevermore, never to take the throne in David’s place.

David looked at his generals, standing in a line on the other side of the bed. “Ready the troops,” he said. “We set off for Watford in the morning.”

They nodded once. Together the men marched out, leaving the sleeping prince alone in his gilded room. Once the door was closed, the window slowly pushed open. Baz clambered inside. His wings had trouble fitting but no mere glass covered hole would stop him.

Baz stood over him, just as David had. But unlike the king, he was not stone faced. He looked upon him with sorrow, lips and eyes trembling at the sight. Ever since he and Baz met, Simon had been such a being of endless energy. Now, he was so quiet and still, and it felt so wrong. Simon should not be sleeping for eternity in this golden bed. He should be running in fields and climbing trees and throwing mud. He should be alive.

Slowly, cautiously, Baz stepped closer. The words bubbled up from his throat before he could stop them.

“I’m so sorry, Simon,” he whispered. “This never should have happened. My aunt told me she cursed you because you deserved to suffer for your father’s crime of killing my mother. She said you were the evil in the world. But from the day I met you, I realised that couldn’t be true. How could someone so kind hearted be evil?”

He delicately placed his hand on Simon’s arm. His skin was still hot, but far cooler than ever before. “I should have told you about the curse and why I met you much sooner. But I was afraid. I knew that if you found out the truth, you would rightfully run away. Call me selfish, but I couldn’t bear that. You’ve always been the best part of my life. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Without thinking, Baz reached forward, brushing stray curls from Simon’s face. “Fiona says true love isn’t real. I don’t know if she’s right or wrong. All I know is that my life felt so colourless and empty before you. The whole world is so much brighter when you’re in it. You are-...were, the sun. And I’ve been helplessly crashing into you since we were children.”

Tears flowed freely from Baz’s eyes. He cupped Simon’s cheek. “I know you can’t hear me, but I have to say this.” He leaned down, brushing their noses together. “I love you, Simon. I believe I have loved you almost since we met. I’m not sure if this love is true, or how this curse is meant to be broken. Maybe it’s truly hopeless. I just wish I could see your smile one last time.”

Baz slowly raised his head. He knew it was incredibly unlikely, but he was still disappointed that Simon remained asleep, peaceful and beautiful. Maybe Fiona was right. Maybe true love wasn’t real. Or maybe what Baz felt for Simon just wasn’t enough. He tried to will the tears away, but they kept flowing.

He knew this was truly goodbye, the one he never wished to have. If only Simon had stayed in Watford last night. If only he did not care for his aunt so much he had to go. If only Baz had been able to remove the curse before all this had even happened. None of that mattered that now. It was too late.

Before he turned to leave, Baz wished to do one more thing. He focused on that one mole on Simon’s cheek. He had thought about kissing it since he was twelve. This was to be his last time seeing his human. So Baz leaned down once more, and gently brushed his lips on the side of Simon’s face.

“Sweet dreams, Simon,” he whispered.

Baz quickly stood and turned away. He could no longer bear to look at his eternally sleeping love. He would fly away and forget him. Live for as long as possible until the pain went away. But it felt so burning, he feared it would never leave. He would mourn for Simon for the rest of his very long life. Baz wished he could tear his heart from his chest.

“Hello, Baz,” a familiar, beautiful voice said. Baz gasped. His body froze in place while his mind processed the shock. He had already accepted that he would hear that voice again, let alone with so much kindness in it. Slowly, Baz turned, and was met with blue eyes, bronze curls, and a smile like sunshine on a summer’s day.

“Hello, Simon,” he said shakily.

“I was having the most wonderful dream,” he sighed. “We were sitting on our tree, watching the sunset. I couldn’t stay a word, but you were saying such sweet things.” His head raised off the pillow slightly, tilting a bit to the side. “I dreamt you told me you loved me. Was that part of the dream, Baz?”

Baz’s shaky legs finally gave out, collapsing next to bed. He kneeled beside Simon, hands on top of his. “No, Simon, that was real. Everything I said was real.”

Simon kept smiling. He reached out and curled his fingers into Baz’s silky black hair. “Good. Because I love you too.”

Baz did not know how life could from so dark to so light in such a short time. He let out a breathy laugh like a summer breeze. Tears kept falling, but they were from joy now.

“Simon...” he said, the only word that mattered.

And then Simon kissed him.

It was soft, simple, a mere press of lips. But Baz still felt like he was in heaven. He melted against Simon’s mouth. Baz ran his hand up Simon’s strong arm. Simon pulled slightly on Baz’s hair as he did some wonderful thing with his chin. It was glorious. All the sadness and fear vanished in an instant. Simon was warm and alive. Baz would never let him go again.

When they separated, they did not go too far. Their foreheads stayed pressed together. Simon and Baz’s tears mixed together and their smiles matched.

“I’m sorry Simon,” Baz whispered.

“I heard it all, Baz,” he replied. “Don’t worry, I forgive you. You were scared, I understand. And the curse wasn’t even your fault, love. I’m sorry. I didn’t know my father killed your mother, I’m so so sorry.”

Baz shook his head frantically against Simon’s. “There’s no need for an apology, love, you bear no your fault either.”

Simon just had to kiss Baz again. He had never considered kissing as even a mere concept before, but kissing Baz felt so unbelievably right. It was perfect. It was all he ever wanted for the rest of his life. But he knew he couldn’t have it here.

He reluctantly pulled off Baz’s incredible mouth. “We have to go,” he said.

Baz nodded. He took Simon’s hand tightly. “Let’s go to Watford. Just like we planned.”

Simon nodded vigorously with his bright grin. “Yes, let’s.”

Though Baz was strong, he would not being able to carry Simon’s weight to the ground so far below. So the men went through a dark and twisting servant’s tunnel. Their hands never let go of each other. Soon, they exited into the grand throne room, where a large balcony was off to the side. It was low enough. Baz tugged Simon forth. As they ran through the grand room, the sound of metal scraping against metal rang through the hall.

Simon looked around in confusion. “What-”

“Simon, look out!”

Baz shoved Simon out of the way with a burst of silver flames, just in time for a large iron net to fall upon Baz. He howled in anguish. The iron net turned orange with heat, burning the fae’s sensitive skin.

“Baz!” Simon screamed.

“We have the fairy bastard!” A foreign voice said. “Get him!”

Men in thick, heavy armour poured in from every side. One bore a helmet covered in golden paint. Simon recognised his blue eyes, for they were the same as his own.

“Please don’t hurt him, Father!” Simon yelled.

King David glared at his through his helmet. “He is the son of the enemy. He will fall just as his mother did.”

“No, please!” Simons struggled but the guards kept dragging him away.

Baz felt weaker with every passing second. The pain was making him delirious. He faintly heard Simon’s pleas. His care was endearing in it’s own morbid way. Through his agony blurred vision, Baz saw the human king kneel down next to him. His eyes were near sadistic in their fury.

“You thought my knights would not notice a fae entering my kingdom?” he growled. “I first assumed it was your filthy aunt coming here to finish Simon off. But you’ll do. No matter what, I shall have revenge for the curse you put upon my son.”

“I...didn’t do that,” Baz forced out. “I was only...a baby, when my aunt...cursed him. And I just, saved him!”

The king scoffed with utter disgust. “Mostly likely an accident. None of your family would ever care about mine.”

Baz stared piercing deep sea coloured daggers at David. “You, you sent your own son away. How much...do you care?”

Fire raged in the king’s eyes. He stood straight as he drew his sword. Just from looking at it, Baz knew it was pure iron. It could kill him in one blow. And he knew Simon would know too.

“Father, please,” Simon sobbed. “I love him, and he loves me!”

David looked on his son with disappointment. “Don’t be a fool, son. These creatures are not capable of love. He was probably going to use you in some way after you escaped. Once he’s gone, you’ll understand.”

The king raised his sword high above his head. Simon tried as hard as he could to escape but could not break free. Baz met his eyes from under the chains. He gave a weak smile to him. It’s okay, he told Simon with no words, I love you. Simon wanted to look away, but he stayed steady, to show Baz he wouldn’t be alone.

“No!” a far off voice joined in. “You shall not hurt him!”

Everyone looked to the right just before a blast of white hot fire hit the king in the side. His armour protected him from the burn, but not from the impact. He soared over them in an terrifying yet impressive arc. The knights rushed to aid their king, completely forgetting about their young prince. Simon ran to Baz immediately.

“Get this thing off,” Baz said, very strained.

“I am, don’t worry,” Simon replied frantically.

Simon hauled the heavy net off with great heaves. When Baz was finally free, he immediately scrambled in to Simon’s arms. Their hands digged into each other for a moment, desperate to hang on.

“So,” their saviour sighed, standing over them, “he was where you ran off to all the time, Simon?”

Simon looked up, and let out a soft, childish laugh. “Yeah. Baz said I couldn’t tell anyone about him, sorry.”

Ebb smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. “Oh, I’m not mad. I’m just glad someone could break the curse.”

Simon went to his feet and threw his arms around his beloved aunt. She laughed and hugged him back. “Thank you, Auntie.”

“You’re very welcome, my darling. I’m glad I got here when I did.” She pulled back to give Simon the same look she did when he broke a pot. “I would have been here sooner if someone had not stolen my horse.”

“Sorry, Auntie.”

Ebb held both sides of his face tight with affection. “All is forgiven, love. Let’s get out of here.”

Simon nodded. He held Baz’s hand again. Ebb and Baz, the two most important people in Simon’s life, looked at one another for a brief moment. Ebb knew immediately who he was, of course, but she cared little. They exchanged a smile and nod. That was all that needed to be said.

“Gah!” Ebb screamed. Her back arched as she fell to the ground. Simon and Baz froze in their tracks. King David stood behind them, an iron chain hanging from his hand. It dragged along the floor with grating screech. No one could see his face, but they all knew the king was scowling.

He whipped his chain again, aiming for Baz. But the fae extended his wings and flew back just in time, taking Simon with him. Simon clung to Baz for dear life. However, his leg hung looser than the rest of him. So David threw the chain towards his son. It wrapped around his ankle twice. Simon looked up at Baz, utterly terrified.

“Baz-”

David tugged, and Simon was pulled forward. Baz held his arms so Simon would not be torn away from him. Simon felt he was being ripped in half, but he would not let go. Neither he or Baz wanted to lose each other again. But David was just as stubborn in his hatred.

“What’s that?” a knight shouted.

“Get down!” Another added.

A enormous crash blasted through the room. Shattered glass flew in and rained up the knights like falling stars. A giant, gaping hole stood where a window once was. And through the whole came a terrifying beast, with large bat like wings, a black scaly body, and twisting grey horns.

“A dragon!” one of knights screamed. “Run!”

The dragon roared so loud the stone walls rattle. It took a deep breath, then let out a huge stream of green flames. It spread out over the entire floor. Every knight smartly turned tail as the fire licked right at their heels. The two thrones caught flame, burning like green funeral pyres in the dark. David was in such shock that he let the chain go slack. Simon frantically unwrapped himself. Baz dived down to pick up a still barely conscious Ebb, then flew the three of them further away. They all prayed this dragon wasn’t after them as well.

David drew his sword, his stance strong and defiant. The dragon approached, baring its long fangs. The king screamed and brought his blade down, but the dragon simply batted it away with one massive claw. Though there was a slight burn on it’s scales. David went for his chain. The dragon simply breathed more fire at his hand. He howled in pain then dropped it with a clatter. David scrambled backwards until he was pressed against the wall. The beast pressed its talons to his chest. Baz looked more closely at the creature. He gasped, for the dragon had deep sea grey eyes.

Slowly, the dragon started to shrink down. Soon it was the size of an adult woman. The black scales melted down into a loose robe the touched the ground. The wings became feathered, and along with the horns, became small enough for a person. Fiona rolled her neck as her face finally became normal once more. She ripped the king’s helmet away in spite of the burn the iron caused, for she wanted to see the king’s terrified face.

“Hello, David,” she growled. “It’s been a long time.”

“Fiona,” he whispered in shock. “What are you doing here?!”

“I came to save my nephew initially. If he did truly break the curse like I assumed, I knew you wouldn’t let him leave. Imagine my horror to see you play tug of war with your own son. I knew you were horrible to fae, but I didn’t think you would harm your own blood so quickly.”

“I was trying to save him!”

“No!” Fiona shoved her face into his. “No, you weren’t. You’re not the hero here, and neither am I. Stopping you from killing your son wasn’t a noble act. It’s the start of my long overdue penance for cursing an innocent baby.” She looked over and up at Baz, Simon, and Ebb, all staring at her with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, to all of you. What I did was wrong. I don’t ask for forgiveness. I only wish you to have happiness.” She squeezed harder on David’s throat. “Which means this is over, Davy.”

David growled like a caged dog. “He is my heir, your nephew is the enemy!”

“No!” Simon shouted. Baz slowly lowered them all to the ground. Simon stomped up to his father, scowling in his face. “Baz is not the enemy. He’s the one who saved me, who loves me, not you. You sent me away and it killed my mother. Then you nearly killed both Baz and Ebb today. I don’t want you in my life. Not now, not ever.”

The king tried to speak again, but Fiona choked him even more, his voice turning into a gasp. “Silence,” she hissed. “I know the idea of such love is unbelievable to you. Your heart has been consumed by darkness for years. Mine has been too. But Simon and Baz’s are not. They have a love strong enough to defeat my magic. As long as I live, which is a very long time, I won’t let them be hurt anymore. Especially not by either of us.”

Fiona finally dropped David, letting him clatter to the ground in a heaving heep of iron. She turned her back on him with ease. She felt disgust at him, but not anymore than she felt at herself. Fiona looked at Simon. He took her hand before she even opened her mouth.

“It’s alright,” he said. “No more apologies. There have been enough today. It’s all done now.”

Simon smiled at her, but Fiona did not feel absolved. She knew she would have to live with the guilt forever. It was the least she deserved. She nodded to Simon, and he nodded back. Baz ran up and fiercely hugged his aunt. He held on tight, for he still loved her. And she was relieved.

“We should go,” Ebb said from behind them all. She looked to Fiona, and have a small smile. Fiona smiled back. They had saved each other’s nephews. Though all may not be fully forgiven, they were at least grateful to one another. It was the start of healing.

The group walked away, towards the balcony, one low enough for Baz and Fiona to fly them down. Baz put his arm around Simon’s waist, wing protecting his side. Simon leaned against him like a strong oak tree. They stepped out into the open air. He looked out at the night sky. The stars were glowing beautifully tonight. Right now, Simon was sure he and Baz could shine among them.

In all the carnage, one decorative fire bowl remained. And in the shield’s shiny bronze surface, Simon saw the deranged face of his father rampaging towards them, sword held high.

“Baz, watch out!” Simon screamed. He violently shoved him out of the way, right into Fiona and Ebb. It all felt like it was happening so slowly. David charged through the open space with no sign of stopping. His crazed eyes met Simon’s for a single brief moment, before he tumbled over the edge. Falling to his death by his own design.

All four sat there in shock for a long stretched moment. Simon and Baz stared at each other with mouths hanging open. Simon slowly went to his feet. His steps were shaky as he leaned over the stone edge. There on the distant ground laid the limp corpse of the king. Red pooled around his head. Simon could not see, but he knew his father’s eyes would be distant and vacant, empty of his soul.

One arm went around his shoulder. Another held his waist. Baz and Ebb held him up while he processed all that had happened.

“Why?” Simon whispered.

“He could not admit defeat,” Baz said.

“He never would have let me go.” Simon turned to Ebb with tears in his eyes. “Would he?”

Ebb slowly shook her head. Simon sighed. He was some complicated mix of relieved and grief stricken. His father was a horrible man. But was still his father in the end. At least in his stubborn, arrogant death, he gave Simon safety.

“I suppose England needs a new king,” Simon said, trying to supress the heaviness in his heart with a simple truth.

Baz’s hand gripped Simon’s shoulder. “Do you need help?”

Simon turned to his love. Baz smiled softly, nothing but kindness and caring in his eyes. Simon reached up and cupped his face. “Thank you.”

The mean leaned forward and touched their foreheads together. Their breaths mingled and their smiles matched. “Always, my love.”

And so, once the dust settled and the treacherous late king was buried, the details were sorted. The council of lords would control the throne until Simon was of age. Simon agreed to take his place as king on one condition, that Baz be allowed to rule by his side. The council was hesitant but decided it was better to have one fae king than no ruler at all.

In three years time, after many meetings and readings and arrangements, Prince Simon and Baz were declared Kings of England together, united in crown and marriage, equals in every way. For the first time in its long history, one of the fair folk sat on the throne of England. And two warring peoples were finally brought to peace.

On that same day, Fiona brought down her walls of thorns. Watford no longer needed to be protected from humans. But Fiona did not stay there. She went to the royal castle along with Ebb, for they both were new advisors to the kings. After years of apologies and crying and contemplation apart, Fiona and Ebb had found love together once again. They were not exactly as they were before. But they were happy.

Simon and Baz ruled together with fairness and compassion. They helped all people, promoted peace, and brought in an age of prosperity. The citizens of Watford and England adored them, and they cared for them. But Simon and Baz adored each other more than anything else. Their love was nothing but true and never wavered, not once. Simon stood by Baz when the occasional ignorant human proclaimed a fae didn’t belong on the English throne. Baz let the years take him, sacrificing his fae immortality so he could grow old along with Simon. Even as the years passed, as their hair became grey, Goldie passed after loving them all her life, and their adopted children grew to adults, they still looked at each other they were the only people in the universe

After many decades passed, Simon and Baz defied yet another tradition. The kings did not rule until they died. Rather, they abdicated the throne to their daughter at age sixty. Both wished to live their final days in Watford, among its wonders and serenity. They were happy there for a long time, spending quiet days together among the twisting trees and glittering waterfalls.

Eventually, as all living things do, King Simon and King Baz passed away. Fiona and Ebb, still unaging together, found their nephews forever asleep on a bed of magical moss, hand in hand and smiling. Simon and Baz’s aunts were first to weep over their deaths. And when the news spread, both lands mourned the passing of their beloved kings. Ebb, Fiona, the royal children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren held a private funeral in the woods where Simon and Baz grew up. The great kings were buried together under the first tree they raced to climb, back when they were mere boys who played in the forest. It’s said their childish giggles can be heard in the wind whistling through those branches.

And that is the tale of the Sleeping Prince and the Fair Folk Boy.

———————————————

AN: No lie, I cried a bit when I wrote the ending. I get emotional over people being together forever even after death okay?! So yeah I'm a crybaby. I hope you all liked it! I hope it all made sense too. It took awhile to figure out how to fit the elements of Carry On into Maleficent, and I still feel like everything isn't 100% good or totally in character, and it sucks I couldn't find a way to work in Penny or Agatha. But hey if I didn't post something until I totally liked it, I wouldn't post anything. (I have anxiety, is it obvious yet?) I do mostly like how this turned out though. It was challenging but fun, and a good start to the 2019 requests! Feel free to send me a request on my tumblr, but I've currently got ten other requests in my inbox, so it may take awhile, sorry. Anyhow, hope you all liked it (you already said that stfu Theo jfc) and I'll see you peeps again soon :D

[toasttz]

From the Tabletop #4

So, I have to confess the teaser paragraph from last time was complete and utter clickbait. None of those things happened. Not really anyway. Not sorry. I should also note that the aforementioned aquatic city of Flotsam was another homebrew location - when I brought it up last time I referenced it like it was a canon location. My apologies if anyone was confused on that. Anyway, last we left our circle, we deduced that our next stop would be Great Forks, a large city that is not easily-accessible by the water (there's a river but Scarlet's ship is a xebec, which is pretty large all told). But then our GM decided to be far, far cheekier than something that simple and we ended up in the islands at a tourist trap named... Grate Forks. Really, I'm only surprised that I was surprised. Being that we were on the beach, we decided to make the best of it. Gwyn and Scarlet set up a stand to sell off-brand sunglasses which, between the two of them, was a big hit. We were also encouraged to join a surfing contest for the honor of meeting the Big Kahuna. I honestly forgot who won (I was worried it would be a roll I would be terrible at, like Ride, but it turned out that had Scarlet entered, I likely would've had an edge, due to her being Performance-based), but long story short, we became local semi-celebrities overnight. Speaking of overnight, Scarlet was suddenly kidnapped by some goons and presented to "The Boss Lady", who had some choice words for Scarlet's attempting to get in on the off-brand sunglasses racket. For her part, the pirate attempted to explain that she was a legitimate businesswoman (mostly true, as she had a guild license at this point) and had no idea she was hurting anyone (completely true). She also joked how being tied to a chair was cause for "an extra charge" and the goons hesitated in hitting her as she encouraged them to in a... not PG-13 manner. Ultimately, Scarlet avoided a fancy new pair of concrete slippers by challenging the Boss and her men to a duel the next day, which somehow worked. The resulting duel was so hilariously one-sided I legitimately wonder if the GM expected us to actually win it. Scarlet was probably the best combat-ready character on the field and she was simply unable to land a hit. Now, admittedly, I was being conservative with my essence and charm use, so had I buffed my rolls I probably would've done more, but I also would've burned essence and eventually lit up like a Christmas tree to everyone in the damned town. So Scarlet nimbly parried and was just unable to manage a hit. Magpie faired worse and Volkenstein, much worse. The Boss Lady, his mentor/adoptive mother, and a Lunar, essentially dribbled him like a basketball both in the figurative and literal sense. Should've drank his milk. Anyway, having been laid out, Scarlet and the Boss Lady began talking over the defeated bodies of the others. Eventually, we came to an understanding and the battle ended via civil discourse. Ultimately, it was decided we could hang around provided we didn't try to set up shop again. We agreed to these terms and ventured further into town. Whereupon a Dragon King with an annoying voice decided to petition us for help. Turns out, some ruins on the far end of the island were under siege and Dragon King eggs laid within and were in danger. After a group huddle, we decided to go for it and help the sadsack out. This resulted in Scarlet being mis-identified as a high-ranking naval officer, which she decided to just roll with. GM: Hey, what color is Scarlet wearing right now? Me: Red. What color did you expect? GM: Okay... This worked rather well, as I was able to BS my way through their questioning, mostly because Volkenstein and Magpie couldn't speak a language they knew, so I was able to control the flow of conversation. Not helped, at all, that Magpie was doing everything she could to antagonise the DragonBlood liaison as much and as often as possible. God help me, I don't know why, but she did. We never saw anything of that barbarian persona anywhere else, just when she was being a complete asshole. Upon arrival, Scarlet actually became somewhat sympathetic to the DB's plight. Their commanding officer (recently given a field promotion due to many ranked deaths) was terrified beyond consolation and after a peptalk from Scarlet, she ALMOST talked their entire outpost into departing the area, leaving it to us to control the area without even lifting a finger. And then Gwyn had to talk. Completely undoing everything I had done in one fell swoop, he petitioned the stars for a sign, resulting in the image of a sword pointing down at the ruins. Gwyn interpretted this as we have to stay. All of us. And then it got worse when Magpie decided to practice medicine. This just escalated tensions further because, as said, Magpie couldn't stop being an asshole for this stretch. We also found a moonsilver sword run through a corpse and into a wall, which Scarlet managed to retrieve with a pretty solid strength roll. And then all Hell broke loose. Before we knew it, we were dealing with Not-King Ghidora, Volkenstein had hijacked a warmech, I was trying desperately to avoid getting killed by Volkenstein being a dumbass in his warmech, and then both sides went to killing each other en mass as a Lunar landed atop the mech and began hammering away at the cockpit. Admittedly, I missed a good deal of the setup to this due to poor timing in choosing to step away to use the restroom, so I could've been the one to get the mech, but, meh. Bad luck on that one. Thankfully, Volk did not, in fact, hit the "KILL EM ALL" button as he had presence of mind to ask the mech's AI if that was a good plan and ultimatedly decided it wasn't. As an aside, it was around this point in the campaign that serious fatigue with the One Piece plotline really began setting in for me. I like Scarlet as a character and she had some pretty cool moments, but it was starting to drag on a while and I had other character ideas in mind - one of which I should hopefully get to before too many more posts. Anyways, deciding to save Volk's dumbass, I rushed the Lunar (who I had no idea was a Lunar at that moment) and ran him through with my sword. Around the time his head turned like an owl's 180 degrees to look down at me, and noticing that my sword did sweet FA to him, did I realize my mistake. The man looked down at me (an impressive feat as Scarlet was supposed to be very tall for a woman) and asked if I knew the man in the cockpit. I immediately denied it and told him I would simply take my sword back and leave. He accepted this and I fukken legged it in the opposite direction. Scarlet leaped to the ground and found a metal hatch, leading to a shaft which went deeper underground. Figuring things couldn't be more fucked under than above ground, I had Scarlet plunge down, whereupon she found a massive, metal warship, with a mech all my own awaiting me. Using aforementioned moonsilver sword, I was able to activate it and found a means to the surface via elevator to join the fray, where Volkenstein - who I feel the need to reiterate was IN A GOD-DAMNED WARMECH - was getting his ass beat. Stepping in, I essentially cut Ghidora in half, bringing the battle to its very bloody end. Riding high on our victory and the acquisition of a metal carrier ship - lovingly named the Black Turtle by Scarlet - and two mechs, we sailed back to Grate Forks proper... only to completely forget we needed the rings the DBs had and had to go right back. God-damn it, I can be so fucking stupid sometimes. In the return trip, we procured the rings and the Dragon King eggs, which were promptedly delivered to the quest-giver. Turns out there were more aboard the Black Turtle, but the circle's collective response to this was to shrug and claim the ancient rite of "finders-keepers". At this point, our best leads took us to Malfeas next, so I split a portion of my crew and non-combat NPCs (like Esha Mae) to stay in Grate Forks with the Red Lion (my xebec, as I realize only now I never mentioned the name of my vessel prior), as the circle and combat-ready NPCs boarded the Black Turtle to make way for the Wyld as a shortcut of getting to Hell. Play Exalted long enough and sentences like that start sounding completely normal. While sailing through the Wyld, a rather unexpected thing happened as Gwyn noticed someone was... swimming after our ship. And gaining on us, no less! The assembled Oath Warriors, Gwyn, and Scarlet have a look and realize it looks an awful like like Valentinian in his full artifact armor, screaming Scarlet's name like a man possessed. A vicious battle ensued, as Scarlet became increasingly skeptical that this man was, in fact, her Valley. With some effort, he was felled, fading back into the mists of the Wyld, pretty much confirming that this entity was an "idea" of a version of Valentinian, not Valentinian proper. Faux Valentinian: All I wanted was gratitude for my sacrifices... Scarlet: Oh, poor Valley... Don't... don't ask me to explain the Wyld here. There's a reason it's "The Wyld" and not "The Normal". Before we knew it, we arrived in Hell, which is where I'll be calling it today. Join me next time as we: find Valentinian again! Sell both Volkenstein and Magpie to ne'er-do-wells! Go to a theme park in Hell! Nearly die! See you there!

[madaboutasoiaf]

He sniffed at the wide, floppy sleeve of his tunic, where it was his custom to keep a sachet. It could not have helped much. The tunic was filthy. All the silk and heavy wools that Viserys had worn out of Pentos were stained by hard travel and rotted from sweat.

Dany really did try to reach out to Viserys.

While her handmaids prepared the meal, Dany laid out the clothing she’d had made to her brother’s measure: a tunic and leggings of crisp white linen, leather sandals that laced up to the knee, a bronze medallion belt, a leather vest painted with fire-breathing dragons. The Dothraki would respect him more if he looked less a beggar, she hoped, and perhaps he would forgive her for shaming him that day in the grass. He was still her king, after all, and her brother. They were both blood of the dragon.

Perhaps he would forgive her? She did nothing wrong, and yet she wants to mend things and have him be her brother.

“I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair,” Viserys spat back at her. He grabbed her arm. “You forget yourself, slut. Do you think that big belly will protect you if you wake the dragon?”

She says in ADWD, when he’s hallucinating, that she loved him once. He deserved that love once, but now he’s just her abuser and she can’t get back the man who was her brother, who took care of her when they had nothing. Pretty much every exchange they have has her in fear of “waking the dragon” or Viserys being violent towards her.

His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she’d hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.

It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. “You are the one who forgets himself,” Dany said to him. “Didn’t you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails.”

“for an instant Dany felt like a child again.” Dany still is a child. She’s only fourteen and pregnant.

Viserys scrambled back to his feet. “When I come into my kingdom, you will rue this day, slut.” He walked off, holding his torn face, leaving her gifts behind him.

Drops of his blood had spattered the beautiful sandsilk cloak. Dany clutched the soft cloth to her cheek and sat cross-legged on her sleeping mats.

“Your supper is ready, Khaleesi,” Jhiqui announced.

“I’m not hungry,” Dany said sadly. She was suddenly very tired. “Share the food among yourselves, and send some to Ser Jorah, if you would.” After a moment she added, “Please, bring me one of the dragon’s eggs.”

She tried so hard to reach Viserys, and couldn’t. No wonder she’s sad. All that anticipation of him liking the gifts, forgiving her, being her brother and he’s hurt her and had to be told to leave.

Irri fetched the egg with the deep green shell, bronze flecks shining amid its scales as she turned it in her small hands. Dany curled up on her side, pulling the sandsilk cloak across her and cradling the egg in the hollow between her swollen belly and small, tender breasts. She liked to hold them. They were so beautiful, and sometimes just being close to them made her feel stronger, braver, as if somehow she were drawing strength from the stone dragons locked inside.

She clings to the dragon eggs for comfort. They were the only thing to give her comfort after she first wed Drogo, the eggs and her silver. Dany uses her  identity as the blood of the dragon as another source of strength and courage, and the eggs are closely related to that, both as a representation of her sigil, and for what they will become (as signaled in her visions from the very beginning of the book).

“He had planned to take your dragon’s eggs, until I warned him that I’d cut off his hand if he so much as touched them.” For a moment Dany was so shocked she had no words. “My eggs... but they’re mine, Magister Illyrio gave them to me, a bride gift, why would Viserys want... they’re only stones...” “The same could be said of rubies and diamonds and fire opals, Princess... and dragon’s eggs are rarer by far. Those traders he’s been drinking with would sell their own manhoods for even one of those stones, and with all three Viserys could buy as many sellswords as he might need.” Dany had not known, had not even suspected. “Then... he should have them. He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother... and my true king.”

Viserys tries to take the eggs, and even though they are Daenerys’ source of strength and bravery, she would have given them to him, because he is her brother. Jorah doesn’t understand, and Daenerys tries to explain.

“My mother died giving me birth, and my father and my brother Rhaegar even before that. I would never have known so much as their names if Viserys had not been there to tell me. He was the only one left. The only one. He is all I have.”

Viserys is her only family, and she is still trying to hang onto the boy he once was, the person she loved. He abuses her, but he’s family. He kept her safe, and looked after her, and she struggles to reconcile those memories with the man who now hurts her. Viserys and her unborn baby are Dany’s only blood ties, and Dany desperately wants a home and a family.

Viserys laughed. “They can’t kill us. They can’t shed blood here in the sacred city... but I can.” He laid the point of his sword between Daenerys’s breasts and slid it downward, over the curve of her belly. “I want what I came for,” he told her. “I want the crown he promised me. He bought you, but he never paid for you. Tell him I want what I bargained for, or I’m taking you back. You and the eggs both. He can keep his bloody foal. I’ll cut the bastard out and leave it for him.” The sword point pushed through her silks and pricked at her navel. Viserys was weeping, she saw; weeping and laughing, both at the same time, this man who had once been her brother.

I’ll never understand why people judge Dany in this scene. Viserys threatens her unborn baby, he threatens Dany. He’s holding a sword against her belly. History has taught Dany that Viserys is capable of being very violent. She is terrified for her baby, and this terrible threat is what shows her that Viserys is no longer the brother she loved, that the boy who helped raise her isn’t there anymore.

Drogo needs the translation of what Viserys said, his threats, so Dany translates. That is all she does. She doesn’t give any order, she’s not complicit, and what happens afterwards is not anything she wished for.

“What did he say?” the man who had been her brother asked her, flinching. It had grown so silent in the hall that she could hear the bells in Khal Drogo’s hair, chiming softly with each step he took. His bloodriders followed him, like three copper shadows. Daenerys had gone cold all over. “He says you shall have a splendid golden crown that men shall tremble to behold.” Viserys smiled and lowered his sword. That was the saddest thing, the thing that tore at her afterward... the way he smiled. “That was all I wanted,” he said. “What was promised.”

She had gone cold all over. This whole scene is trauma upon trauma for Dany. That sensation, that feeling of cold, is her knowing it’s going to end badly, and it shows that she isn’t in on it. It’s out of her hands now. It was out of her hands the moment Viserys drew the sword and broke the taboo.

When the sun of her life reached her, Dany slid an arm around his waist.

Drogo is her protector in this scene. Yes she reaches for him, but think about what just happened, not what is about to happen. Viserys held a sword on Dany and her unborn child, her child with Drogo. The point of it pressed close enough to prick at her skin, and only Drogo’s actions ended the threat. Drogo represents safety for Dany and her baby, even though he also represents doom for the man who was once her brother.

Ser Jorah had made his way to Dany’s side. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Turn away, my princess, I beg you.” “No.” She folded her arms across the swell of her belly, protectively. At the last, Viserys looked at her. “Sister, please... Dany, tell them... make them... sweet sister...”

Two things here. First, Dany has her arms folded protectively over her belly, thinking of the child Viserys was going to kill. The sequence of events would have her in shock. Second, Dany would not have been able to successfully intervene, even if she overlooked the threat to kill her and her child. Dany tried to stop it, before it went too far. She offered him her dragon eggs, and begged him to put down the sword, and instead he wielded it against her, a khaleesi of the Dothraki, and the Dothraki will never overlook that.

Varys said as much earlier in AGOT.

“By now, the princess nears Vaes Dothrak, where it is death to draw a blade. If I told you what the Dothraki would do to the poor man who used one on a khaleesi, none of you would sleep tonight.”

Dany had done everything she could for Viserys. She’s his victim here, and he’s no longer the brother she loved, but her abuser who hurt her again and again, and escalated it to an attempt to hurt not just her, but to harm her child. Dany has nothing to apologise for with Viserys, and she never did.

[moonraccoon-exe]

*epic music* In a world of Lucis where Insomnia hasn't fallen there are still the Glaives to protect the country. They are powerful. They are celebrated as heroes. ...or are they? While disliked by many citizens and living in awful slums (seriously, have you seen the place, where they have to live?) there is one great princess, an oracle destined to help even the greatest heroes. Will she achieve her goal to kick the kings ass for letting them live like that? (Insert your ideas here,have fun ^^)

I don’t know if it’s because you started it with “*epic music* In a world of Lucis where Insomnia hasn’t fallen..”, but I suddenly could see and hear this as a movie trailer, and suddenly see myself into it, ahahah. I have a cape and I’m a raccoonie watching this all from afar, and not I’m in doubt of what will happen, oh gods, what now, what is going to happen now? :O

Such an epic scenario, buddy!

It may sound simple at first, but you know what this implies?

This could oh so easily transform Regis and the throne family into the villains haosidskf

This could either show us villain, bad person Regis, or give us the idea that Reegis will be the bad guy but it turns out it’s not his fualt at all that the Glaives are seen that way. But the first one has SO MANY POSSIBILITIES.

Oh gods, duuuuude! This story sounds so epic; a bad, evil king Regis that despised the own people that protect him and his kingdom/capital city, and mistreats them, only to end up being faced by the Oracle herself, future savior of the Glaives, releasing them from the bad treatment they’re given.

Aoajsdo´sjg, dude  (」°ロ°)」

The idea of an evil Regis is SO COOL on its own. We’re so used to wise, good Regis, giving him this twist to become the villain is SO EPIC. We see this man over-aged from having given so much of his energy to the Crystal, and we feel so bad because he looks so wasted and haggard, and we feel so bad because he limps and he looks so fragile...but in reality he’s this evil and very bad king that basically has the Glaives as slaves. The worst sort of villain, the one you can feel so much pity and sympathy for and who looks so harmless, but is an absolute ass.

And then Lunafreya kicking in  ヽ(♡‿♡)ノ

Imagine her receiving the news, though. Like, the Glaives’ status and treatment is one of those utterly frustrating cases in which no one but the people of Insomnia really know about. To the world, to the television cameras, and to the tourists, the Glaives are the praised and so admired heroes that receive flowers and medals and are seen on pedestals...but it’s all just one giant lie. One giant theatre play set up to make the rest of Eos believe one thing, when in reality the Glaives are but abused people.

And what’s worst is that the Glaives can’t do anything about it! Their homeland was destroyed, and they were taken in by the king into the Capital City, and who would have suspected it would turn out to be for this? So the Glaives have no option; they arrived not knowing, they walked themselves into the cage, and even though they could leave, there is nowhere they could go...

...not to speak about the rumors, but don’t believe me...

...rumors have it that when a Glaive has tried to leave the capital city, they mysteriously disappear. And even quieter rumors have it that it’s on the king’s orders, but shh, we’re not allowed to talk about that...

[Hnnngnnhfnfnghfg-]

[Okay, it’s not too long, actually, but I’ll put the rest under a cut YOU SHOULD GO THERE TO READ ABOUT THE REST OF THE STORY AND HOW NOCTIS COMES IN APSJDOSFG]

So Lunafreya knowing about the Glaives’ reality isn’t only a concern, it’s an absolute impact! King Regis? The saint, good, the admired and so gentle king? Mistreating the Glaives, keeping them in poor refuges and shitty places, paying them in the form of barely basic necessities and not a single cent more, despising them, and allowing the people to spit on their faces?

Not only would Lunafreya know about the reality that the Glaives live in, she would also have her world turn 180 degrees upside-down! King Regis! King Regis who she trusted with her life! A maniac villain!?

There are many things that Lunafreya can tolerate...but a group of people being mistreated and abused, lack of justice, that’s not one of those things.

So off she goes, our Oracle and princess, straight towards Insomnia and nothing’s going to stop her, not until she frees this people, not until justice is served!

And off goes Lady Lunafreya into a journey towards Insomnia to punish the evil and free the oppressed! Epic battles! Magic encounters! Explosions!

And the possibility of a very naïve king Regis that’s not actually the villain, he just had no idea the Glaives were being mistreated and the final boss turns out to not have been the evil boss, just a very distracted king that thought that the reports about the Glaives living in shitty conditions were a joke because “lmao why would anyone treat such incredible warriors like poop haha nice try to fool me, Cor”.

Ahahahaha! I mean, it’s a possibility! I’m sorry, I’m trying to keep the idea of evil Regis but I can’t. Have you seen this man to the eyes, dear gods, he can’t step on an ant even if he tried ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡

But yes, I LOVE the idea of a villain Regis for real! Just imagine how EPIC of a story that would be! GODDAMMIT now I want an entire videogame for this story; Lady Lunafreya, princess and Oracle, with the mission to free the oppressed Glaives, and fighting a villain dark lord Regis. HNNNGGGGGGGGG.

Imagine the EPIC journey into Insomnia, though, but later in the story! First time Lunafreya visited, she was trying to be diplomatic and face Regis in law and speech and not battle. But Regis, when he realizes that he’s caught and that Lunafreya knows about the treatment he gives to the Glaives, of COURSe and because he’s a villain here tries to kill her, and sends troops after her, so she has to run away of Insomnia only while she plans how to go back in,a nd andasndojgsdn after a journey and strategy and companions, final dungeon is an Insomnia that’s going after her, and at some point we learn that Regis sent the Glaives to some jails or such, and the first mission besides not dying is freeing the Glaives, AND WHEN LUNAFREYA FREES THEM FROM PRISON ALL THE GLAIVES BURST INTO REBELLION.

AND IT’S CIVIL WAR, PEOPLE. INSOMNIA CITIZENS AND CROWNSGUARD THAT HATE GLAVES VERSUS THE MINITORY THAT ARE THE GLAIVES PLUS THE INSOMNIA CITIZENS AND CROWNSGUARD THAT SUPPORT THE GLAIVES, AND LUNAFREYA.

AND MOTORCYCLES. BECAUSE CROWE HAS TO PARTICIPATE AND- OHMYGOD *OBSCENELY GRUNTS* I NEED A SCENE WITH THE CITY ON FIRE AND CROWE SAVING LUNAFREYA AND TAKING HER ON HER BIKE AND IT’S THIS EPIC RACE, SHE GOES MAX SPEED AND THEY AVOID MISSILES AND BULLETS AND MAGIC AND WOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

And while this goes on, Lunafreya and one of the Glaives WHO ABSOLUTELY IS NYX and who’s guarding her, go to the Citadel for the Final Boss Fight aND OHMYGOD IT TURNS INTO A SUPER EPIC BATTLE AND THERE’S MAGIC FLYING EVERYWHERE AND BLUE SPARKLES AND ZOOM AND SWOOSH AND WOOAH AND BAM AND BOOM AND WOOOOOOOOOOH ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ

WHERE IS NOCTIS THOUGH.

IS HE THE SORT OF PRINCE THAT PRETENDS TO BE ON HIS DAD’S SIDE, BUT ENDS UP TURNING TO GOOD AND HELPING LUNAFREYA AND NYX-

-OR IS HE THE ACTUAL REAL FINAL BOSS

AND WHEN YOU DEFEAT REGIS YOU THINK YOU’VE WON

AND RIGHT WHEN LUNAFREYA IS ABOUT TO CELEBRATE WITH NYX

A SWORD COMES STRAIGHT THROUGH NYX’S BODY AND HE DROPS TO THE FLOOR

AND FROM BEHIND COMES THE LUCIAN PRINCE

“Dear princess, oh, dear, fool Lunafreya...did you really think the king was the one on control? Oh, fool, fool Oracle. He was but a puppet. I’m glad he’s out the way. Now, I hear you have a complaint?” *steps on an agonizing Nyx’s injury, as a clear threat* “I’m all ears.”

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

*SHORT CIRCUITS*

*STARTS COMBUSTING*

*MOONRACCOON.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING PLEASE DO NOT REBOOT IT WILL JUST CRASH EXPLODE COMBUST AND BURN IF YOU DO*

Evil Regis and SUPER EVIL NOCTIS THAT MAY OR MAY NOT MURDER NYX AOSPJDPSGDFIGH

WITH HEROINE LUNAFREYA

FINAL BOSS BATTLE HEROINE LUNAFREYA VERSUS EVIL PRINCE NOCTIS 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

*after some seconds calming down*

*couhgs* Uhm, eh, I got...a bit over excited, but basically YES to all of this. SUCH AN EPIC SCENARIO, and it has SO MANY possibilities, all super epic!!

*groans and slowly slips off chair*

There is a GODDAMN REASON I think I have the DAMN BLOODY BEST inbox and anons in the world, YOU PEOPLE HAVE SUCH EPIC STORIES HOW DO YOU DO THAT

THIS DAMN STORY. *GRUNTING AND MUTTERING LIKE A BEAST* THIS DAMN STORY IS SO EPIC AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY FEELINGS HNFGDNNFG

*throws chair out the window*

UUUUUUGH. Seriously, thank you so much for sharing this story/idea with me. I had no idea it would trigger me into so much, hahaha. It’s just SO EPIC, and it has so much potential and holds so many possibilities!! I’m absolutely in love with this idea. I’d read the hell out of this story would anyone write it!

Thank you, dear anon! I’m loving this soooo much! 

[menagerie-rpg]

「 ZAHARA KALPAR 」

STRATUM: Three AGE: Twenty-six OCCUPATION: Tightrope SUGGESTED FCS:  Shanina Shaik

CREATURE FORM.

KELPIE is a solitary sea creature described as a powerful black horse, historically attacking any human that nears the river the Kelpie inhabits. They can change their size or give themselves gills and fins in water.

ABOUT.

You’ve always been used to being alone, placed on a pedestal far above anyone’s reach. Be a god, admirable yet untouchable, your father always crooned. But not only do you resent the notion of blue blood — you’ve got a gun for a mouth and a heart of steel. Soft and restrained, they expect you to be. Yet, these are the very shoes you fail to fill in. You do have a gentle side, you know this. But how can you exemplify kindness, when you have to bare your teeth at an early marriage forced upon you? How does one become a dainty flower, when their environment has them growing thorns to survive?

BIOGRAPHY.

All under the cut.

The world has heard too many stories about cruel monsters and rebellious princesses trapped in gilded cages of their parents. They cannot listen again. She’s a vile creature, violent and unpredictable, ready to destroy all those who find themselves on her path. Or is that just another story? A false myth created to scare disobedient children?

There is a famous saying that you should never judge a book by its covers, but whoever said it probably forgot to mention one important thing. If you truly want to know someone’s secrets and desires, don’t focus on false rumors and gossips. Instead, you have to turn all the pages to the very beginning.

Her birth was a pure miracle - she only lived in her mother’s womb for seven short and unpredictable months. So how did she survive? No one truly knows, but it doesn’t even matter now. She was the girl who battled oblivion and won. Chances of survival were practically zero to none, but she, oh she was always ready for a fight - it’s no wonder she left bloody trails on her mother’s thighs, preventing her from ever having children again.

She came out of the hospital wrapped in the finest silk blanket, decorated with golden roses and red strings - for good luck. Her parents named her Zahara and it’s a name that oftentimes tickled the roof of her mouth but a name that always tasted so sweetly on her tongue; almost like a mixture of honey and vanilla. She remembers each time when she struggled to pronounce it, battling with her own tongue and front milk teeth.

The wealth of her family practically knew no limits - they were the perfect aristocratic family, beautiful descendants of kings and queens that bled only in the shades of navy blue. Enormous  portraits of unfamiliar people decorated the walls of their spacious villa, hauntingly beautiful marble statues always stood in their lavishing gardens and of course, even their staircases were decorated with gold - now those were the true signs of great riches. They lived in absolute splendor, playing their little games and enjoying in their own golden cocoons, hidden from all the prying eyes and curious strangers.

( She lived in those wonderful gardens, a pretty little jasmine growing strong with each new day, waiting to be plucked one day by a man that her parents deemed appropriate ).

‘’You’re the most special flower in the world, Zahara - a desert flower. You’ll always be above everybody else, never forget that. You live on the new Olympus.’’

No, wait! She didn’t live. She was trapped. And always so alone. Only the cold statues in those gardens were her friends. Don’t you know those musical boxes that when you open them, a pretty little ballerina appears and starts dancing? Well, don’t you know that the ballerina dreams of an escape? That she’s tired of being on display and dancing each and every time? No, you don’t know.

You should have seen Zahara’s mother with stark white pearls around her long neck and diamonds on her wrists - a true queen. It’s a shame that Zahara was the complete opposite of her parents. Even as a child, she simply didn’t fit into their perfect puzzle. Maybe a piece of her was chipped away, somewhere and somehow forever lost. On the other hand, simplicity attracted her.

There was nothing wrong with having scrapped knees or playing in mud after rain. She just wished to be like the rest of the world, but her controlling parents didn’t even want to hear of it.  Perhaps it’s because she had no brothers of sisters and being an only child is always a curse - you’re not allowed to disappoint, make mistakes or even die. You have to perfect, no matter what.

She loathed it all - from fancy dresses to acting like a fair maiden that only knew how to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Thankfully, god or another mighty force had blessed her with a sharp tongue and with the right words she knew how to cut people, piercing their flesh ever so slowly.

‘’It’s a dinner party, Zahara. You must attend! I will not allow you to make a fool of me again by not showing up. You did that the last and i won’t let you do it again.’’

‘‘What’s the point, mother? Is father making you say all these things? I’m sure you can win this game of chess without your precious rook.’‘

‘‘Zahara, if i have to, i’ll drag you there.’‘

‘‘Come on, mother. We both know you don’t have it in you. I’m just surprised that i still haven’t seen bruises on your face. Father hates disobedience, right? ‘‘

Then, another form of trouble and worry knocked on her door - this time, her parents wanted to find a suitable husband for their precious and wild flower. Only eighteen, but they were already ready to sell her to some man, like a cow whose only duty was to produce more offsprings. But instead of weeping like a child or praying for a higher power to rescue her, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

Each suitor came with a pretty smile and big promises, but Zahara always managed to get on their nerves and make them leave her house in a rush. The things she did to them were almost funny but truth be told, those were just clever attempts of a poor girl to rescue herself from chains of marriage.

She didn’t want to belong to a man. A girl like her wasn’t born to wear a veil on her head and obediently listen to every order. Just because someone had a sword between their legs didn’t give them the right to control her life.

‘’…but i can make you happy! I can show you all the wonders of the world and a married life.’’

‘‘You must truly be desperate to say such things or maybe you think i’m just that foolish. You don’t care about me. You’ve only known me for one day. Even in fairy tales, they wait a bit longer to fall in love and live happily ever after. You just want my father to be your father-in-law. A part of me understands it. You can’t help yourself. It’s stronger than you. But women mostly marry because they’re desperate of foolish. Men marry because they want to have a trophy or earn a lot of money. It’s a superficial world we live in and i’m not blind. Do you really think that i don’t see the way you smile around my father? The way each and every suitor smiles around my father? He’s a powerful man, but power is a dangerous thing. I don’t want to be involved in all this mess, but i have no choice. I have to sit here and watch your hideous face for hours. Life is cruel, isn’t it?’‘

However, her parents weren’t planning on giving up and it didn’t take them long to find a man that simply didn’t care about her insults or snarky comments. A self-centered and pompous gentlemen, with big hands and even a bigger ego, he was a true nightmare for Zahara.

So she still had to fight for herself ( clearly, no one else wanted to do it ) and on the night of her special engagement, she ran away from home. All the pretty and lavishing baldachins had to be saved for another time, but she didn’t make it too far. She stopped near a saltwater creek, drawn by glimmering water and soft moonlight. It almost seemed like the water was calling her.

‘’Come home…’’ Faintly and unknown whispers swirled around her.

                   ‘’I’m home. I’m home.’’ She answered.

And finally, her heart was at piece. She had never felt so calm and happy in her life. It was a shame that she had been trapped all of her life in her father’s prison with gilded bars. Too bad an opportunity had never presented itself to her to visit this place. Ancient Greeks called it river Zara, but this was her home.

The water however did strange things to her body, almost immediately turning her into another creature, most similar to a horse but with gills as well. Petrified and worried, she got out of the water almost instantly, rushing home and hoping that her legs wouldn’t betray her.

But when she explained the strange incidence to her parents, they looked perfectly calm. Not even slightly disturbed  by the fact that their only daughter transformed into some horrendous creature.

‘‘It runs in our family – it’s time for your the hear the tale of cryptids and how your life will never be the same again… ‘‘Their explanation was fairly short and simple, but it hurt more than anything else she had ever experienced in her life.

‘‘You knew? You knew of this? And you never bothered to tell me? So many years, so many lies? For what? Why didn’t you tell? I had the right to know! I had the –’‘

‘‘That’s why we wanted to find you a suitable husband as quickly as possible. We can’t protect others from you forever. We have to find someone else to do it instead of us.’‘ All this time she had thought that they were trying to protect her from the world, but instead she was the main villain in the story, the monster. The big bad wolf. No, the big bad horse.

That was the final straw for Zahara. Not wasting a single second, she ran away once again, this time never looking back. But trouble followed her every move and staying undercover in such a dangerous world was the hardest task for Zahara. She wasn’t used to being alone, taking caring of herself and being careful - the gilded walls of her home took her independence away.

And on one fateful night someone actually captured her - unfortunately for her she wasn’t being careful at all. She just wanted to swim and enjoy in the warm water, and then she suddenly found herself in a cage. Apparently, the man was desperate for some money and so instead of killing her and making the world just a little purer, he sold her to menagerie ( another word that was twisted her tongue ).

She found herself on a new path but this time – she actually had to behave properly and play by the rules if she wanted to leave her cage. She had once been placed on a pedestal high above the rest, but now she’s chained to one. Such a dazzling star; brought so low.

[misssophiachase]

Robin Hood + Klaroline. This was my Klaroline AU Week contribution which never made it to the deadline (not surprisingly).

Everything I do

"Get off your lazy backside," Klaus chided, poking his youngest brother in the leg with his archery bow. He was stretched out against one of the larger elm trees in Sherwood Forrest.

"Must you bother me, Niklaus," he scoffed, pushing his bow away and sending him a dirty look in the process. "We've been riding non-stop for weeks and my backside is incredibly sore; the least you could do is allow me some form of rest."

"You'll rest once we have King Richard back safely in England," Klaus insisted. "Until then nothing else matters, least of all your sleeping schedule, Kol."

He really shouldn't have been surprised given his younger brother hadn't changed since they were children growing up in the nearby village in Nottingham. Their mother had done well in raising them but Kol always was the exception to the rule. He called it ambition, Klaus called it a grossly exaggerated sense of entitlement.

Unlike Kol, Klaus had worked hard for all he'd achieved. He hadn't always been the outlaw that people knew today after all. He'd once been a nobleman with multiple parcels of land and business interests until he'd been called away to fight in the Crusades.

Upon returning from the Holy Wars afar, Klaus had discovered his land stolen by the greedy Normans who had invaded and seized power from the Saxons. His personal revenge had soon made way for a deep sympathy to the people who had much less and were being cruelly punished for their lowly stature in Medieval society. Finding Richard and bringing him home would be the only way to right all the wrongs inflicted on their people.

"You know, just for once it would be nice to not have to listen to the Mikaelson sibling squabbles," another voice interrupted, a hat pulled over his face as he lay on the ground nearby.

"I'm sorry Lorenzo, are we interrupting your reverie?" Klaus shot back sarcastically. Just once he would have liked his men to have been far less opinionated and more bloody merry.

"Well, now that you mention it Niklaus…"

"It's best not to poke the bear," Lucien offered, busy feeding his hungry horse with one hand and running the other soothingly along her chestnut mane. "Surely you should know that by now."

"Remind me why I choose to be in your company?"

"Only because we're related, unfortunately," Kol muttered.

"It's because no one else would put up with your grumpy ass and incessant mood swings," Enzo chuckled.

"Well, excuse me if I have other things on my mind, like trying to save England from Prince John and his Norman aggressors. I still can't believe our reconnaissance mission to the north has yielded nothing of Richard's whereabouts."

"We all thought it would," Lucien said. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Klaus."

"How can I not? It has been months and we still don't have anything to take down John or bring Richard home to his rightful place on the throne."

"It takes time," Enzo murmured. "We just need…"

"Enough time has passed," Klaus growled, impatiently. "It is time we retaliate and show John just who and what he's up against."

"How exactly?"

"Now we're back from the north, I suggest we go to his castle and make ourselves known. I've been craving some action after weeks of frustrating dead ends."

"Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham are already well versed in your escapades brother, in fact the whole of England is given that whole robbing the rich to feed the poor motto."

"And even if they didn't this is ludicrous," Enzo scoffed. "Last time I checked we did not have the man power to overthrow his army. That is a suicide mission if ever I heard one."

"Afraid your hair might get a little messy in the scuffle, Lorenzo?" Klaus joked. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure?"

"It's lying dormant until we have the information on Richard's captors we need," Enzo argued. "You realise the Prince is hosting a masquerade ball tonight, you wouldn't want to get within an inch of him surrounded by all those Norman sycophants."

"A ball? And you're just telling me this now, Enzo? What exactly is the occasion?"

"Only because I didn't want you running off half cocked into a roomful of vengeful Normans," he muttered. "You may annoy me daily but I wouldn't wish that fate even on my worst enemy."

"You're just full of compliments today, aren't you? But you didn't answer my question."

"John's ward, Lady Caroline, is arriving today." His ears pricked up at the mention of the beautiful maiden he'd heard much of but never witnessed in person.

"I couldn't think of a better reason to go to the castle. I would feel rude if I didn't at least introduce myself and welcome her personally to town."

"I think he's been eating too many of those berries in the forest," Lucien snorted. "She would never look twice at a Saxon outlaw and you know it, Klaus."

"I think you underestimate my charm and wit, Lucien," he teased.

"Well, one thing I wouldn't underestimate is how bad you smell," Kol groaned, holding his nose. "And not to mention the fact that hole riddled ensemble isn't exactly ball worthy."

"Well, it's a good thing we have such an accomplished seamstress for a sister then."

"Leave Rebekah out of your silly games, Niklaus," Enzo chided. Klaus wasn't really surprised given the obvious but undeclared feelings between the two.

They'd known each other as children but Enzo had always considered himself unworthy of her love or her hand in marriage. As much as his childhood best friend frustrated him immensely, Klaus couldn't imagine a better suitor for his sister but he was no matchmaker and given the increasing danger they faced with John in charge, her safety was of upmost importance.

"I have no intention of risking her safety, Enzo," he promised, his blue eyes glancing into his brown ones sincerely. "But I seem to think Rebekah will like the challenge of creating something for the ball."

"As much I enjoy sitting around and discussing clothing," Kol groaned. "How exactly do you intend on overthrowing the current regime on your own?"

"Well, being handy with a bow and an expert swordsman should hold me in good stead," Klaus boasted. The three groaned in response, obviously not as impressed with his take on things.

"Are you daft? It's definitely the berries causing this false sense of security," Lucien reiterated.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Enzo is correct," Klaus winced. "Walking in there on my own would be foolish but I have a better plan."

"Tell me it doesn't include a chaperone; you know how much I hate dress-ups."

"And you wonder why you don't meet any ladies, Lucien?" Kol grinned, Lucien taking him by surprise and throwing a stray rock in his direction. "Ouch."

"My disguise will be the perfect cover to discover John's plans for Richard and England."

"How do you plan on disguising that," Kol asked gesturing to his face. Klaus happened to think he had a pretty face not that he was willing to discuss that particular thought with his men.

"Didn't you hear Enzo? It's masquerade, Kol, I can disguise myself however I like." Klaus could attend undetected, search the castle and its inhabitants for information and maybe even fit in a meeting with Lady Caroline. It seemed too long since he'd entertained a woman, let alone one with a title and royal connections.

Unfortunately, being on a mission didn't lend itself to female company, not that Klaus minded for two reasons. The first was his mission to reunite Richard with his people and expel the Normans from his beloved England. The second, of which he had never spoken, was strangely much more difficult given it involved an emotional entanglement from two years earlier he couldn't acquit and probably never would.

"It's almost midday, we need to depart if I am to secure a costume for this evening." Klaus didn't bother to look back, just bounded towards his chestnut mare and mounted flawlessly, securing his sword in the saddle pocket. He could hear the myriad of rowdy protests from behind but kept riding, Klaus figured their lazy backsides deserved it. Anyway, they would catch up sooner or later, they always did.

Later that evening…

The castle was abuzz with activity; Klaus had arrived in disguise letting his eyes wander around the ominous structure. Knowing the inner workings of the castle as well as its entry and exit points would be vital information for future missions.

Crowds dressed in various, bright and imaginative costumes filtered into the grand hall. How they could celebrate when they were causing such suffering to the Saxons was unfathomable to Klaus. Maybe he'd never been poor but would never treat those beneath him any differently.

Although his outfit wasn't as grand as some given their meagre budget, it was equally if not more creative. Although slightly biased, Klaus knew his sister's talents would rival even the most experienced of dressmakers.

While Kol had ridiculed the final product, unsurprisingly, Klaus was pleased with her choice. She could have been more vengeful given their lively and sometimes adversarial childhood but Rebekah had created a stunning, deep, green ensemble. He was the forest, and given his affinity to Sherwood it seemed fitting even down to the wooded, brown mask she'd created from its trees.

Klaus wandered around the room, sending a few brief nods to other guests, so as not to arouse any suspicion. John rose to speak and welcome the guests milling around the ballroom. He wouldn't have cared except for the breathtaking blonde by his side, attired in a dazzling mixture of azure and emerald fabric. Her mask was feathered and perfectly embodied the peacock she was portraying.

His breath hitched in his throat and there was no denying the dizziness he was experiencing was accidental. He could recognise a beautiful woman obviously but what struck him the most was those blue eyes beneath the mask which seemed eerily familiar.

2 years earlier…

His accident had all happened so quickly. One minute he was immersed in battle and the next he'd fallen from his horse, the blood from his opponent's sword gushing freely from the wound. He didn't remember much after that. He'd woken groggily in the confines of a medical tent, other casualties from battle lying nearby in various states of injury.

"It doesn't hurt that much," she teased, her hands applying compression to his wounded abdomen. Although the natural lighting was poor and the pain had dulled his senses, Klaus couldn't miss the mischievous smile his nurse was sending his way.

"Have you been stabbed lately milady?"

"Only silly boys who indulge in silly wars find themselves in that predicament."

"Then why are you tending to my wound?" He asked curiously, noting the wisps of blonde waves that were peeking out from beneath her white scarf. "You know if I'm such a silly boy."

"Even silly boys need someone to care for them," she replied stoically, applying the bandage tightly and making him wince in pain. Somehow looking into her expressive, blue eyes seemed to make it a little less overwhelming. Her pale skin was the colour of porcelain and Klaus immediately wanted to touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked. "Besides how would I be able to face your mother?"

"She has passed unfortunately," he murmured, thinking about how kind and nurturing Esther was to him and his siblings. He noticed her playful expression grow serious and immediately wanted to ease her awkwardness. "But I hope that means you will continue to inflict pain on me with your bandage application."

"That you can count on Sir," she responded, her glorious smile returning and banishing any pain in the process. "Especially when you dare to critique my technique."

"Did you always want to be a nurse?"

"I did," she admitted. "But it was not a path my parents wished me to follow."

"I can't imagine why with that technique," he joked. "Although if you're not a nurse then why are you tending to soldiers in the Crusades? Did you volunteer your services?"

"Has anyone told you that you ask too many questions?"

"Call it boredom," he said. "I've never been a very good patient."

"That much I have gathered," she smiled. "But I must go. I have many other officers to attend to today, Sir."

Call him greedy and a little jealous but Klaus didn't want his beautiful and feisty maiden to be tending to anyone but him. "Can't you stay a little longer?"

She seemed to be weighing up her options given the adorable way she was biting her bottom lip. "But your wound has been redressed, what would I do?" If Klaus were to be honest the options were infinite.

"Could you read to me?" He asked. "It is one of my favourite past times and I have missed it immensely during the crusade."

"And what would you like to read?" He didn't speak, just gestured to his belongings nearby. She made her way towards them, rifling through his bag and extracting a faded, leather bound notebook. She gave him a curious look before sitting again at his bedside. "There's no title, what is this?"

"Please," he begged. "Just read it." She didn't argue, just opened it slowly to the bookmarked page. 

"Today, my son Niklaus… Your name is Niklaus?"

"That's my full name, only my family still call me that, mainly to irritate me. You may use Klaus, that's what my friends call me."

"But we have just met, how can you call me your friend so soon, Sir?" Klaus knew he wanted to be much more than friends with her but he would take anything he could procure.

"What is your name, friend?" He asked, sending her a cheeky grin. She faltered slightly, her smile disappearing briefly before responding in a hushed tone.

"Elizabeth."

"And your friends call you Liz?"

"No, just Elizabeth."

"That is a beautiful name." He gazed into her eyes as she did his, dark blue on light. He took a mental picture knowing her eyes would be an image he'd never forget. She coughed, breaking the moment and lowering her eyes. He could make out a slight blush crossing her face and was incredibly pleased that he seemed to be having the same effect on her as she was on him at that moment.

"Now, where were we?" She murmured, her finger grazing the page to recover her spot.

"Today, my son Niklaus came into the world and even though I have one child already my heart is brimming with love. He does have a fierce tendency to cry for attention but that only makes me love him more."

"I'm with your mother about crying for attention," she laughed, her blue eyes dancing wickedly. "I can tell this journal is going to be a page turner."

Klaus didn't respond, mainly because he was so overwhelmed by his feelings for this amazing woman he'd only known a short time. He didn't know it then but that was when Klaus fell in love for the first time.

Elizabeth tended to him again and every day he fell deeper in love with her. She shied away from anything too personal, something that intrigued Klaus but he had no intention of scaring her away. Their time spent together was too precious.

A week later he'd woken, his excruciating pain a mere memory. Klaus believed it had less to do with the healing process and more to do with his nurse. He was feeling buoyed by the thought of her company again but she never returned to his bedside. Apparently she'd been called away to tend to others further afield. Klaus wanted to believe that was true and she hadn't the time to say goodbye but after no further contact he'd given up on ever seeing his angel again.

Klaus shook his head, determined to focus on his task given blue eyes were a common feature and it was just his memories playing tricks. Dinner passed without much incident, although he could have done without their crass behaviour and mindless boasting. England was suffering and they were celebrating that fact.

Dinner had long since finished and Klaus made his way towards the hall determined to procure some intelligence from his excursion into enemy territory. A nearby courtyard loomed in the distance alight with the warm glow of white candles. He made his way outside, relishing in the fresh night air.

What he wasn't expecting was the beautiful maiden he'd been staring at during dinner to emerge unescorted. She was an immaculate creature and Klaus knew the rumours about her beauty had been much under exaggerated.

"I didn't realise anyone was out here," she said, noting his presence.

"I can leave milady, if you wish?" She shook her head, making her way towards him and noting his ensemble.

"Do you have a passion for botany, Sir?" He didn't respond immediately because it wasn't just her eyes or those blonde waves that seemed familiar anymore, it was the playful and high pitched intonation of the word Sir that he recalled all too well. A waft of her vanilla scent was enough to confirm his suspicions. How was his nurse Elizabeth the Lady Caroline?

He felt his chest constrict unsure of just how to proceed. Obviously the silence had been longer than he thought because she continued. "Botany is the study..."

"Of plants," he finished. "I know, milady. You could say that I love the environment, especially the tranquillity that comes from a leafy forest." She faltered slightly, whether it was because she recognised his voice or the stories his mother shared through her journal about his childhood.

"I knew someone once who felt the same way," she murmured, her gaze downcast. Even with her mask fastened to her face, Klaus could make out a slight and telling blush.

"And who was that?"

"You wouldn't know him."

"Oh really?"

"I think you'd be surprised actually," Klaus murmured, beginning to lift his mask before he noticed the sudden gathering of hostile guards nearby. His identity was obviously discovered. They all seemed angered but Klaus could say the same thing given he was just about to admit everything to Lady Caroline or Elizabeth as he knew her more intimately.

"And why is that exactly?"

"Trust me," he murmured before making a run for it, his hidden sword now drawn. He might never escape alive but somehow after coming into contact with her after all this time, Klaus could actually live with that fate.

TBC?

On FF HERE