#to a more magic-cure-all Shimmer

[angelicyoongie]

The Ivory Fang (Il/finale)

— pairing: mermaid taehyung x (f) reader — word count: 8.2k — warnings: (soft?) yandere — summary: You have run out of options when it comes to treating your mother's illness. When a mysterious man offers you a solution that might save her, you decide that nothing is too strange if it means it'll lead to a cure – not even finding and striking a deal with a mermaid.

Part 01 - 02

The bones above you rattle as you dare to step closer to the pool. Your body trembles under Taehyung's intent gaze, the sharp points of his fangs peeking out as he smirks. There's no doubt in your mind that he would be able to rip you to pieces in seconds with teeth like that, yet, you can't run away now. There is nowhere for you to go but forward and Taehyung has all of the answers you have so desperately been searching for.

"Your request?" Taehyung prompts. His fin flicks lazily up and down, keeping his shimmering tail floating just above the water.

"You know what it is," You find yourself growing angry amid of your fear, annoyed that you were sent on a wild goose chase so far away from your mother. "Why could you not grant my wish on land? Why drag me all the way here?"

Taehyung's icy eyes light up at your vexed tone, openly finding pleasure in your displeasure. He taps a finger against his cheek, dragging out the silence to seemingly shake you further before he says, "My magic is stronger at the island. Your.. situation, requires a great deal of it, so it must be done here."

"Magic abides by certain rules, an order, which must be kept if you want your wish to be successful. So I will ask you again, human, what is your request?"

A brief thought strikes you about faeries and their ability to twist your words into something foul as you look down at Taehyung's mischievous smile. There was a folktale your mother used to tell you when you were young, to teach you to always speak the truth. You followed your mother's will, scared by the implication that a creature could twist your words, until you realized that sometimes - lying was kinder than telling the truth. But perhaps there had been something valuable in her teachings nonetheless. Maybe a mermaid's magic, much like a faerie's, can twist your request into something terrible if you allow space for it.

You take a moment to formulate the request in your mind, making it as perfect and concise as possible without leaving any room for trickery. "I want you to cure my mother of the sickness that is eating away at her body and make her healthy again."

The mermaid tilts his head, exposing the gills along his neck as he considers it. "Very well. And what may you be willing to sacrifice for me to grant your request?"

The answer slips out just as easily as it did the first time Taehyung asked you.

"Anything."

"If it is something of equal value then..." Taehyung pushes himself back from the edge of the pool, the distance making it easier for him to once again scrutinize you from head to toe. You're not entirely sure what he's looking for or what he finds, but he seems to deem it acceptable. "Hmm, fine. I shall grant it."

The mermaid suddenly submerges himself underwater, swimming into the depths of the pool. You shudder as you look over the edge and realize you can only faintly see Taehyung's tail shimmering down below, the water far deeper than you were expecting. You hastily retreat as you notice Taehyung's form becoming more visible, the mermaid clearing the distance in only a few seconds as he breaches the surface. He has something clutched in his hand, something mushy and soft that strongly resembles algae. The only difference is that this seaweed is glowing, a faint light emitting from it as soon as it comes into contact with air.

Taehyung spares you no explanation as he swims over to the other side of the pool, to the same spot he was lounging before you revealed yourself. You watch in fascination as he finds a large shell, placing the algae into it before he starts mushing it up even further with what looks to be a white crystal. You wince as he tears a lock of hair from his head, uncaring, as he adds it to the mixture. There are a few more things added into it that you can't make out from where you're standing, and for your self-preservation, you think it best to stay where you are.

The mermaid eventually makes his way back to you, his concoction held safely above the water's surface. "Come closer, human, I need you for the final part of the potion."

You hesitate for only a split second, wary of closing the distance. But the guilt of knowing that you're only prolonging your mother's suffering finally pushes to you take a few more steps forward, falling to your knees at the edge of the pool.

"Very good," Taehyung purrs. "First, I need back what I gave you." The fang.

You had completely forgotten about it in the midst of everything else. You feel a jolt of panic as you rummage around the loose pockets of your trousers, not finding anything. Did you lose it in the sea? Patting yourself down, you let out a tiny sound of realization as you remember the hidden pocket in the back, the one your mother added for safekeeping coins.

"Here," You place the fang by the edge of the pool, watching as Taehyung picks it up with a carefulness you never would have associated with a creature like him.

You shrink back as he suddenly raises a webbed hand towards your face, your heart hammering in your chest as you get a good close-up of his awfully sharp claws. You squeeze your eyes shut as he makes a swiping motion, sure that those talons are going to cut your throat wide open. Instead, only feel a light tug at your hair, much like a knife cutting through it.

You open your eyes just in time to see Taehyung adding a few strands of your hair to his brew, grinding it down to nothing with his crystal. He whispers low under his breath as he stirs, speaking a tongue you have never heard before. You wonder if it's magic or if it's simply the language of mermaids. It feels old though, like perhaps it is older than time itself.

Taehyung places the shell in front of you as he finishes his incantation. "You must drink this and think of your intention – your request – as you do so."

The brew looks murky green and slimy, definitely not at all appealing. It makes your stomach turn to know that you'll be ingesting his hair, but if this is all you need to do, then that is a small price to pay for your mother's health. You grimace as you pick the shell up, balancing it carefully between your hands as you bring it up to your lips. The smell that hits your nose is repugnant and you have no doubt that it will taste even worse. You take a deep breath in through your mouth, using the moment to steel yourself and think of your mother before you tip the shell forward.

Nothing could have prepared you for the absolutely horrid taste that hits your tongue, some of the slimy potion pooling in your mouth despite your best attempts to quickly swallow it. As the final gulp passes down your throat and you heave for air, desperate for something to scrape the nasty residue off your tongue, you feel a heaviness settle around your wrists and ankles. The sensation weighs you down for a moment, tight around your limbs, before it disappears just as quickly as it arrived.

"What was that?" You croak, touching your unblemished wrist.

You freeze as a webbed hand suddenly covers yours, your breath catching in your throat at how wet and off his touch feels. The sharp points of Taehyung's claws are digging into your skin, just short of slicing into your arteries.

"It was your end of our deal. The only thing of equal value to saving a life is to take another. Killing you would be a pity, so chaining your life to mine seemed a better option."

You swallow thickly, unease spreading through your body like wildfire. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Well, if I call, you come. If I ask you to do something, you do it."

"So, I'm your servant," You conclude. "That's... fine. I'll aid you whenever you find yourself in our town."

Taehyung is silent for a long moment before he lets out a small chuckle, one that sounds like he just watched a kitten trip over its own feet. "Oh guppy, I do not think you understand. You are chained to me and my magic that rests on this island. You cannot leave."

"No!" You whip your head up, flinching as you find Taehyung's face much too close to yours. "But– But my mother? How will I know if our deal has worked?"

The mermaid shrugs, indifferent to your distress.

"Trust, I suppose. Desperation. If you ever attempt to leave, the spell will break and your mother will revert back to her sick self again. It is up to you whether you are willing to chance it."

You think you should have seen this coming – how cruel a deal with a magical creature can be. If you stay here you can't confirm that Taehyung is holding up his end of the deal but you also cannot risk going back to check on the odd chance that it actually breaks the spell and dooms your mother. You have no choice but to trust him – to hope that the magic that binds you, also binds him.

Taehyung senses your quiet acceptance, his claws drifting from your wrist to your cheek. You don't fight it as he lifts your head, forcing you to meet his gaze. The mermaid seems to revel in your misery, his eyes gleaming with something hungry and dangerous as he stares you down. His claws draw blood as he slinks closer, the small pinpricks leaving streaks of red trickling down your face.

Taehyung's breath ghosts over your lips as he leers and says, "Now human, what should we do with you?"

Servant was perhaps too kind of a word.

The mermaid puts you to work right away, sending you out to different parts of the island to collect items he needs. He often leaves you with vague descriptions, forcing you to make the trek multiple times when the plant or leaves you have plucked aren't the ones he's looking for. He never allows you to rest or eat until your task for the day is done.

You hobble into the cave, winching with every step as your bloodied and bruised skin makes contact with the hard rock underneath. Taehyung sent you out to find a red fruit today, one that grows at the very top of a tree. You haven't done much climbing since you were a child and certainly never that high up, so each branch you picked to take you further was chosen with caution. Your feet were already scraped and bloodied by the time you had made it halfway up the trunk and the rest of your climb wasn't made easier by the sap-like texture dripping out of the bark, causing every step to feel like it might be your last.

Your legs are shaking with pain by the time you step into the cavern, the crudely woven basket on your back so heavy it threatens to drag you down with each step. Collapsing near the pool's edge, you heave it off your shoulders to give to Taehyung. The mermaid hasn't spared you a single glance since you appeared, his attention locked onto the new concoction he's working on. It isn't until you loudly clear your throat that Taehyung turns around, propelling himself to the other side of the pool in a few seconds with a few strong strokes of his tail.

He hums contently as he takes stock of all the fruit you gathered, rummaging around to make sure that they're all in good condition. Taehyung pierces into the flesh with his claws, red juice dripping down his hand as he holds up the fruit to closer inspect it. His cold gaze moves over to you once he deems it satisfactory.

"Did you eat one, human?"

"No," You shake your head. To say you hadn't been tempted would be a lie, but you were afraid of disobeying the mermaid's orders. What if it affected your agreement?

"Good."

Taehyung lifts the basket on top of his head, balancing it there as if it weighs nothing as he returns to the other side of the pool. You massage your sore calves, trying to ignore the hunger gnawing at your stomach. You're not sure how long the mermaid takes before he makes his way back to you - you suspect he always drags it out longer than necessary because he likes to see you squirm – but you feel ravenous by the time he places your dinner in front of you. Your food is always the same; fresh fish cut into thin slices along with blue, plump berries. While it never looks like much, it always fills you up until you think you might burst.

You try not to grimace as Taehyung's webbed hands wrap around your legs, dragging your feet down into the water of the pool. The first time it happened you had kicked the mermaid so hard it left him stunned. In retaliation for your fear, you weren't allowed to eat for two days.

You quickly learned your lesson that it was best to just let Taehyung do what he wants unless you were willing to face the consequences.

You focus on eating your berries as Taehyung drags his hands over the soles of your feet, the mermaid murmuring words you don't understand. You suppress your whimpers as the wounds on your feet begin to knit themselves back together, the skin scarring and smoothing over in just under a minute. You often find yourself wondering if this is Taehyung's strategy for an obedient servant; while he's the one who's breaking you down, he's also the only one who can patch you back up, ensuring that you always come running back.

Fear has kept you from talking much, worried that one wrong question might cause the mermaid to anger and sink his claws into you. But the past weeks on this island have left you feeling restless and starved for more than just food. At this point, you're simply desperate for some interaction. So, against your better judgement, you say, "How does that work?"

Taehyung pauses his movements, "How does what work, human?"

"The thing you're doing to my feet, the, uh, magic?"

"That is none of your concern," The gills on Taehyung's neck flutter as he huffs.

"Right," You murmur, not stupid enough to push when it's clear that he's unwilling to elaborate.

"Are you the only mermaid living on this island?"

You pull your feet out of the water the moment Taehyung is done healing them, scooting back just in case you have annoyed him with your questions. The mermaid regards you silently for a moment, his normally stoic expression wavering just so.

"I am. We are lonely creatures, much too possessive to be able to share the same home," Taehyung says. His nose wrinkles as he adds, "There are some.. exceptions, of course."

"Such as?" You wonder.

"Two of my brothers are a bit more attached than what is considered normal for us. I pity the creature they will choose as their mate."

Mate? It seems odd that such solitary creatures would have partners but maybe this is a good thing for you. If Taehyung starts looking for his mate, he likely won't have time to torment you and send you out on such pointless quests anymore.

"Do you see your brothers often?"

"No," Taehyung answers simply. "The moment we leave the pod, we are on our own. I only hear about my brothers through whispers of others, never directly from them. Such is the life at sea."

The mermaid quirks his lips, showing off the sharp points of his fangs as he notices the surprised look on your face. "You seem shocked that I am willingly giving out information, human."

"I–I suppose," You stammer, flabbergasted. Frankly, you didn't think you would ever get that much out of a simple question, that you would actually learn something about how mermaid society works.

Taehyung gently pushes himself away from the edge of the pool, floating on his back as he drifts closer to the middle of the water. The soft echo of his voice between the cave walls leaves your mind spinning as he confesses, "You are the first creature I have spoken to in years, guppy. Us monsters get lonesome too."

You stand with your hands on your hips just a little ways off the path your feet have forged, staring down the bush full of ripe, blue berries as you consider all of your options. You are well aware that you will get into trouble if you eat some, that you will be defying Taehyung's orders, but you are just so hungry.

It is only midday and you know that you have hours left to go until you have completed the task Taehyung has given you for the day. You need some fuel if you are going to be able to keep going until then. You're sick of feeling like your stomach is either trying to eat itself or almost bursting at the seams, sick of every little aspect of your life being controlled. You know that this is the sacrifice you have made to cure your mother – and it is worth it – but surely it can't hurt if you eat a few berries, just enough to quell the worst of your hunger?

Determined, you reach out to the bush and pluck a handful of plump, blue berries. Their hue is a little more purple than the ones Taehyung normally serves you but that likely just means that they're a little overripe, if anything. You pop them into your mouth, shrugging as the same, familiar mellow taste hits your tongue. You're tempted to grab a handful more to snack on but you decide you better not push your luck too much. First, you need to see if Taehyung notices the few you did eat.

You steady the basket on your back, beginning your trek back to the clearing a little way up the mountain. You've already been there once today but the overflowing basket you brought back apparently wasn't enough. No – the mermaid needed twice that.

You use the billowy sleeve of your dirtied blouse to wipe your face and neck as you near the base of the mountain, surprised by the amount of sweat that's pouring out of your skin. As you follow your own trail upwards, you find it hard to catch your breath despite your leisurely pace, the world slowly beginning to tilt on its axis the more you move forward.

The temperature on the island is mild today, certainly not hot enough to give you a heat stroke, but the symptoms seem to plague you all the same. You stumble to the ground as you reach a cluster of trees, seeking refuge in the shade they're offering. You leave your basket next to you, using the trunk of the tree for support as you try to catch your breath. Your mouth feels awfully numb, a bitter aftertaste blossoming on your tongue the more you try to swallow it away.

"Shit," You groan as your vision begins to blur. The moment you touch your face, you become aware of the weird itching that has begun spreading under your skin, like a thousand little pinpricks stabbing into it over and over. You frantically rub your face, closing your eyes as the movement makes your stomach turn dangerously.

"Sweetie–"

You lurch forward on your hands and knees as you hear your mother's voice calling out to you, the sound so close yet so far away at the same time. Your eyelids feel like swollen boulders as you force them open, your gaze unseeing as you attempt to make out the indistinct shapes of trees and bushes in the darkness.

That can't be right, wasn't the sun shining just before you closed your eyes?

You crawl forward, feeling along the ground as you attempt to make out what direction your mother's voice is coming from.

"Please help me–"

You veer a strong left, using a large rock for support to get up on your trembling, unsteady legs. You stumble forward into the night, swaying with each step as you hurry after your mother's shadow, her cries for help ringing in your ears. You never gain on her no matter how hard you push your body, no matter how loud you try to call out to her. There is hellfire raging inside of your body, making every step much harder than the last.

You slump over a fallen log for support, attempting to soothe the thunderous pounding in your chest before you continue to follow after your mother. The sound of snapping twigs catches your attention, your head turning in the direction it's coming from just in time to see something walk out of the trees. The creature walks unnaturally and jerky, its limbs twitching oddly with each step forward. The darkness shrouds everything but the creature's outline, how big and imposing it is as it hobbles forward, its claws glinting in the faint moonlight.

A demon.

You slide off the log, biting back a cry of terror as you begin to drag yourself in the opposite direction. Your legs are too weak to hold you up, your knees buckling whenever you attempt to put any weight on them. Sweat is streaming down your face as you dig your fingers into the earth, heaving yourself forward with all the energy you can muster. The sounds of the beast behind you grow louder and louder, and dread settles heavily in the pit of your stomach as you realize that you can't escape it. You flip yourself over with shaking arms, vision swimming as you stare up at the canopy of leaves above you. Tears flow down your cheeks as you remember your mother, still lost in these woods, soon to be alone with the same demon that's hunting you.

"Please," You whisper, tongue barely forming the words as you see the blurry figure of the beast above you.

You try to plead more, to ask for mercy as the demon's claws descend towards your face; but just as you open your mouth to do so, everything goes black.

There's a steady stream of grumbling close by as you regain consciousness. You can't pick out much over the sounds of rocks grinding together, but you do hear the words stupid and human repeated more than once. Your attempts to open your eyes are futile, a thick paste holding them closed. You begin to panic as you realize you can't even move your limbs to remove it, your fingers merely twitching by your side.

"Human, you are finally awake," The familiar sound of Taehyung's voice halts your racing heart and calms it from driving you into a frenzied panic.

A wooden bowl is pressed against your mouth, a cool liquid trickling down your throat as Taehyung carefully pulls on your chin to part your lips. The taste is awful, so bitter and rotten at the same time that you have half a mind to stop swallowing it and just let it flow down your chin to avoid drinking it.

"You have to drink it all," Taehyung says, as if reading your mind. "Unless you want to remain paralyzed from the toxins for the rest of your life, of course."

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, a gurgle that weirdly reminds you of a cat's purr, as he sees you consume every drop. He removes the bowl from your lips as it empties, but his cold finger remains on your chin, the tip of his claw tapping against your cheek. "There was a reason I told you not to eat anything I did not give you, human. Most of the plants here are poisonous in their pure form."

"You are lucky I found you when I did, your foolish hallucinations and running around exacerbated the effects. You would be dead if I had reached you a few breaths later."

Hallucinations?

You can't remember anything past eating the berries before your trek up the mountain. The little feeling you do have in your feet seems to prove Taehyung's statement true, though. They feel scratched up and achy, like you've been running on uneven ground for hours. The mermaid lets you stew in the realization that he saved your life as he moves around, all too aware that you can't respond with your swollen tongue.

You eventually drift off to sleep to the sounds of Taehyung grinding herbs together, the mermaid murmuring words of the old language as he works.

The next time you wake up, you can finally open your eyes. The thick paste that was keeping them shut is gone and as you take stock of the rest of your body, you notice that your hands and feet move according to your commands. Even your mouth feels back to normal, your tongue no longer heavy and thick behind your teeth.

You roll your head to the side, finding that Taehyung is still kneeling next to you, right where you surmised he was earlier. His icy, piercing gaze is still as unsettling as always, but it also feels oddly comforting as he looks you over from head to toe, making sure that you're alright.

"Can you move all of your limbs?" "Yes," You croak, wriggling your fingers and toes to confirm that you can.

"Do you still feel like the fires of hell are inside of you?" Taehyung asks as he places his hand on your bare stomach, your muscles jerking at the feel of the cool and slightly sticky texture of his skin against yours.

"No," You murmur, "It's all gone."

Even if you do not remember anything of your hallucinations, you do recall the awful burning sensation that was all under your skin, scorching your flesh from the inside as the poison ate away at you.

"Good," Taehyung removes his hand to push himself to his feet, his movements just as unnatural as that time in his shop.

Without the cloak covering him up you're able to see just why he moves the way he does – the bones in his legs are twisted, jutting out in odd directions. You wonder if it's because Taehyung is half fish, that perhaps his anatomy does not line up correctly whenever he uses magic to transform his tail into legs. You know better than to ask though, no good will come out of antagonizing Taehyung with silly questions when he just nursed you back to health.

It's odd to think about, but it is true. Despite making your life a living nightmare for the past month, he still saved your life. Whether it's out of the good of his heart (you doubt it) or him not wanting to find a new servant, you'd rather not know. You're not sure which truth would be worse.

"What was the paste for?" You ask instead. "To make sure you did not start bleeding out of your eyes," Taehyung replies simply.

"Oh," You gulp.

Eager to steer the conversation over to something else, to make you forget just how bad this whole situation could have turned out, you pivot to another question that has been lingering in the back of your mind.

"Why–" You clear your throat, "Why did you pick me? I can't be the only human desperate enough to seek you out for a deal?"

"You would be surprised, human. Not many of your species are as, hm, selfless, as you."

The mermaid picks up a bowl you hadn't noticed before, the contents sloshing around as he hobbles back to where you're lying. You advert your eyes to the sky as Taehyung moves closer, finding it difficult to watch his stilted movements without it triggering something primal in your head, something that just wants to flee from the unnatural sight before your eyes.

"Drink this."

You glance back at Taehyung as he presents you with the bowl, once again kneeling by your side. Your arms shake as you lift it to your mouth, your head as heavy as the mountain you're in the shade of as you strain to lift your neck. The taste is still as awful as the first time Taehyung made you drink it but you diligently swallow down every drop, confident that something in it must be aiding your recovery since you already feel so much better.

"I did not always have magic," Taehyung explains as he takes the empty bowl back. "I made a deal with a sea witch. I was too young to know what I was asking for, what the witch was asking of me in return, and yet I accepted it without question."

"Mermaids have long lifespans, we live for twice as many moons as you humans do. I did not think it would matter much if I lost a few turns of the seasons, but the witch wanted so much more than that. It feeds of my life force, my very essence. I am a child of the sea, made to swim and hunt in it for centuries, and yet it tells me that half of it is already gone - eaten by the witch in an attempt to prolong its own existence."

You recoil as Taehyung lets out a small hiss, revealing his fangs as he thinks back on his mistake. He gives you a sour look as he notices your poorly concealed fear, as if you should already be over that by now.

"D-did you try to break it?" You ask, voice trembling.

"Of course," The mermaid rolls his eyes. "I did not just ask, I begged–" He heaves a deep breath, gaze blazing with anger at what you can only assume is his indignance of having to sink so low, to subject himself to something he considers to be beneath a creature like him.

"It did not yield to my pleas. The witch told me that it was only a creature with a will of steel, a heart of gold, and a selfless mind that could break my deal – my curse. Another mermaid would never possess such qualities and neither would other sea creatures. It only left humans."

Taehyung's deep baritone voice seems to go even lower as he stares you down and says, "I have visited countless human settlements before yours, seeking a human that would fit the witch's description. Not a single human ever entered my shop before you."

You shudder as the mermaid uses his claw to push a lock of hair away from your face. "What does that mean? You tricked me?"

"Perhaps," Taehyung hums, grinning in a way that shows off all of the horrible teeth in his mouth. "Or perhaps we simply took use of each other. You need me to keep your mother healthy, as I need you to break my curse. Your determination to save your mother even when you were at death's door showed me that you are precisely what I have been looking for – that you are the creature that the witch spoke of."

Taehyung cradles your face in his cold palm, his eyes shining with a different hunger than before, "Well done. You have passed my test, guppy."

You swear under your breath as you dump your basket into the soft sand, the grains still warm between your toes from the setting sun. With all the berries and herbs you have been picking lately, you forgot just how heavy firewood could be. You grumble as you pull the crudely chopped branches out on the sand, stacking them until they form a small bonfire.

The fire catches easily this time, roaring to life with the help of some big half-dried leaves. You still remember your first night on the island vividly, just how cold and scared of the unknown you were as you curled up to sleep near the flames. It never crossed your mind that you would still be here, months later, sitting in the same place and repeating the same motions. Not even in your worst nightmare would you ever dream that this would have become your life – your new normal.

You pat your growling stomach, staring out at the quiet sea as you wait for your dinner to show up. The setting sun has barely moved in the sky before Taehyung breaches the surface, throwing two fat and heavy fish up on the shore. You ignore the grisly sight of their missing heads, the identical teeth marks along their necks making it quite clear who the culprit is. Using two sticks, you skewer the fish, leaving it to roast over the flames.

Taehyung has pulled himself up beside the fire by the time you're done preparing your food. You made the bonfire near the water on purpose, just close enough that the waves lap at your toes whenever the current grows stronger. The proximity lets Taehyung leave most of his heavy tail in the sea, the dancing flames reflecting off his white scales.

"Is this another one of your human inventions?" The mermaid shoots the roasting fish a weary look, his lip curling with distaste as he notices how the scales burn and blacken.

"I suppose so," You shrug, turning the branches so that the fish cooks evenly. "We have always relied on fire for food and warmth. Surely you must have seen humans use it before?"

"You seem to forget, guppy, that no human has ever approached me before you did. I did not waste my time watching them, not when one would eventually find its way to me."

Taehyung experimentally reaches out a claw towards the bonfire, holding it close until the very tip begins to glow red. You let out a strangled sound as a thin line of smoke begins to rise from his claw and grab his wrist to pull him back, away from the flames. Taehyung's finger sizzles as you shove it into the damp sand near his torso, your eyes wide as you look at him in disbelief.

"Are you trying to hurt yourself?!"

"Peculiar," Taehyung murmurs as he lifts his finger, staring at the burned spot at the edge of his otherwise pure, white claw. "I could not feel it."

"Oh by the deities," You groan. "Perhaps your claws are too thick to allow you to feel pain but you can still burn. Be watchful of the fire."

Taehyung's bright cold eyes snap to your face immediately, "Are you showing concern for me, human?"

"No," You hastily reply. You can see the flash of Taehyung's teeth out of the corner of your eye as he grins, clearly not believing you as you busy yourself with the fish.

You can't pinpoint when the shift between you and Taehyung happened, exactly. Perhaps it was after he saved your life, or maybe it's simply a silent understanding that you both have something to lose if you don't cooperate. More likely though, you think it's just loneliness. The only creature you can talk to out here is Taehyung and the same goes for him. The days and nights get awfully long when you have nothing but your own voice to listen to.

Taehyung has seemingly realized that too, and in turn, he has grown... kinder. He still makes you gather things around the island every day and doesn't let you eat until your tasks are completed, but they have grown easier than before – and have become quicker to complete. There is still a bone-deep uneasiness that flares up whenever you're around him, a survival instinct that never dares to go dormant, but the visceral fear you used to feel as Taehyung showed his fangs or flexed his claws has dulled down enough to be manageable. At least, that's what you like to fool yourself into believing.

You move the now cooked fish away from the flames, giving it some time to cool down before you dig in. You rest your head on your knees, looking at how Taehyung's tail leisurely moves back and forth with the current. Glancing past it, you can't see anything but open water, Pearl Bay is too far away to be visible in the distance.

Hesitating, you trace out indistinct shapes in the sand as you carefully ask, "Do you think your magic would still work if you left the island and I followed you? Perhaps it's the proximity to you and not the island that counts? We could try–"

"No."

The silent anger in Taehyung's voice makes a chill rush down your spine. As you dare to turn your head to look at him, you find that his features are set in stone, hard, as he glowers at you.

"But–"

Your next words are replaced by a cry as Taehyung suddenly grabs your wrist and yanks you forward. You fall to your knees, your face oh so close to the mermaid's exposed fangs as he snarls, "You cannot leave this island. Ever. Do you understand?"

The fear racing through your body renders you speechless, your mind much too occupied by the flecks of dried blood on Taehyung's sharp teeth to formulate an answer.

"I said–" The claws around your wrist begin to hurt as they dig into your skin, drawing blood, as Taehyung leans in closer, "Do you understand, human?"

"Y-yes," You stammer, "I'm sorry, I understand."

"Very well," The mermaid releases you the moment you utter your compliance. He makes sure you watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, licking your blood of his claws with a tongue that seems abnormally long. "Do not ask foolish questions again."

You can only nod in return, shocked by the display. His gaze flickers to the forgotten fish by the fire. "Eat your food."

You know a command when you hear one and you're not dumb enough to disobey Taehyung when he wants something. You fumble for the closest stick, heart pounding, as you grab one of the fish. You bring it to your mouth without much thought, biting into it before you can displease him further.

You yelp as the still fiery hot scales burn your lip, your eyes watering as you reach up to touch the wounded skin. You can tell it's going to blister and it's going to hurt for days, if not weeks, until it heals. Still, you chew and swallow the burning piece in your mouth, wincing as it moves down your throat.

Taehyung makes a clicking sound that resembles a tsk, turning your head back to face him once again. He stares at the burn on your lip, cocking his head as he assesses it.

"Be watchful of the fire," He echoes, half-mocking.

You hold your breath as he mirrors the same position as only moments before, his breaths almost mingling with yours. As Taehyung closes his eyes and whispers a few words of old under his breath, you're struck with a reminder of how handsome he is. You usually can't look past his fangs or piercing eyes, but like this, he simply looks like a beautiful, normal man. Someone you no doubt would have been drooling over if he had lived in your town.

Taehyung's cutting gaze demands your attention the moment he opens his eyes. You lose the ability to blink as you hold his gaze, heart stuttering with something other than fear as he says, "You are no use to me broken, guppy. I will continue to mend you and keep you whole. I can promise you that much."

You freeze up as Taehyung's cold lips press against yours, the kiss firm and unyielding as he pulls your bottom lip between his own. You make a noise in the back of your throat as Taehyung's tongue darts out to swipe across your burn, the sting instantly melting away. Before your body can make up its mind on whether it wants to push the mermaid away or pull him closer, Taehyung inches back, disconnecting his mouth from yours.

It takes you a moment too long to realize that Taehyung just used magic to heal your burn, the skin unblemished and smooth. You touch your lip, swallowing thickly as it tingles from Taehyung's kiss. You're not quite sure if the relief you feel is because your wound is gone or because you finally had the barest taste of intimacy after so long. You think it's for the best if you don't look too deep into yourself for that answer.

Taehyung seems pleased with himself as he watches your reaction. The mermaid's smirk spells trouble, the flames of the bonfire reflected in his eyes as he glances at your mouth.

"Interesting," He says, licking his lips, "Very peculiar, indeed."

You waddle out into the ocean, sinking slightly into the soft sand beneath with every step. As the water reaches your knees, you feel the weight of chains wrap around your wrists and ankles, slowing you down. The pressure around your limbs grows tighter the more you dare to move forward.

You stop when the water laps just below your belly button, glancing down at your wrists as if that would expose the invisible restraints that are hurting you. 137 steps. You have been pushing yourself one step forward every day, attempting to figure out just how far Taehyung's spell reaches, and you think you've finally found it.

The magic that is weighing you down is pulsating, squeezing and constricting your limbs in a way you know would bruise horribly if you could see them. It feels like a breaking point, like if you just push forward a little more, the distance will snap the chains right off. This must be the border you can't move past without risking breaking the spell and dooming your mother.

You retreat a few steps back, not willing to take any chances. The pressure from the chains lessens just a tad, as if urging you to go back to shore and rid yourself of the pain. You stay in place though, staring longingly at the faint, small outline of Pearl Bay shimmering in the distance. You've found that you can only see it on particularly nice days, when the sun is beating down and there's not a single cloud in the sky.

You have no idea how long it's been since you made your journey from Pearl Bay to here. The weather doesn't change much and the seasons certainly don't. Days bleed into nights and into days again, and you lost count many full moons ago of when you arrived at the island.

Sighing, you adjust the loose shirt hanging off your shoulders.

While you have never left the island since that day you stepped ashore, you know that Taehyung has. The moment the clothes on your back became too tattered, you found a rucksack filled with drenched clothing, all different styles and sizes. The mermaid never confessed to bringing them but you know there is no other explanation for how they just 'suddenly' turned up on the beach. It's all very strange. Taehyung has been meeting your every need lately, almost predicting them before they even arise. He has been acting a lot more than attentive than you're used to and that paired with his increased affection, you're not sure what to make of it.

As if your thoughts were a beacon, you hear a soft splash behind you. Strong arms wrap around your waist, pushing you further into the sand below as you bear the added weight of a mermaid hanging off your back.

"What are you doing, guppy?"

You shiver as Taehyung's cold cheek rests against your bare shoulder, water dripping steadily down your back from Taehyung's drenched hair.

"Not much," You say, turning your gaze to the spotless sky, "Just thinking." "Very well."

Considering how quickly Taehyung accepts your vague explanation, you can tell the mermaid has something else in mind – something he deems more important to do.

Barely a second passes before you feel the touch of his lips against your shoulder, your breath hitching as he leaves a trail of kisses up your throat. You lean your head to to side, allowing him easier access to your skin.

After that night Taehyung healed your burn, you don't think there has been a single day that has passed without the mermaid initiating some kind of physical intimacy with you.

The kiss seemed to awaken something in Taehyung; a feeling he only seems to crave more and more with each passing day.

To say that you mind it would be a lie.

Perhaps it's a sign that you're slowly losing your mind – but being held and kissed after so long feels nice. You know it's crazy to enjoy it with a creature like him, but what other option do you have? He's the only semi-human being around here and, well, his handsome face and toned muscles do make it quite enjoyable. There are still parts of you that find Taehyung's touch off, that makes alarm bells ring whenever you're held a little too tightly, but you've found that the more you ignore them, the less they bother you.

You let out a soft moan as one of Taehyung's longest fangs scrape across your skin, the sting immediately soothed by his tongue. He has taken it upon himself to experiment; to try out different methods in order to drag as many of those delicious sounds of you as possible.

You can feel your control slipping as one of his hands slips under your shirt, moving up, up, up.

Hastily grabbing it, you pause his movements just under the swell of your breasts. The intimacy is nice but you don't think you're ready for this yet. You're worried you might never want to leave if you let yourself sink that far into depravity.

"Taehyung," You murmur, catching the mermaid's attention. He nudges the back of your neck with his nose in response, breathing in the fresh scent of herbs and salt that always clings to your hair.

"What do I need to do to break your deal with the witch?"

Taehyung's grip tightens, the points of his claws digging into your skin possessively. "Why do you continue to ask me this, human? I have already told you that I do not know."

Because this is the only thing you know will distract him enough to forget about touching you more.

"Did the witch ever tell you when we would have to seek it out?"

There's a reluctant pause, a low series of perturbed clicks and grinding teeth before Taehyung tightly responds, "No. The sea will call for us when the time is right."

Your questions have their intended effect though, Taehyung's hands slipping away from your body as he detaches himself from your back. You hear him fumble with something behind your back, seemingly just as keen to distract you from your questions as you were to distract him from taking things further.

"I have something for you, guppy."

A string gets passed over your head, a necklace of sorts falling into place just below your collarbone. You pick up the heavy pendant attached to it, eyes widening as you recognize what it is - the ivory fang you had returned back to Taehyung. It glistens under the sunlight, its surface smooth and even.

"What is this?" You murmur as Taehyung peers over your shoulder, his chest flush to your back.

"It is mine," He reveals. "I lost it in my first battle. The shark had it coming for encroaching on my territory, but it did put up a decent fight, I shall give it that."

"That's, um– impressive?" You're not sure what the right thing to say is, you have never had to fight a shark before after all, but the mermaid seems pleased with it nonetheless, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck.

"Why are you giving it to me, though? What... what does it mean?"

"It means that you are mine, my little guppy," Taehyung purrs. "I have decided to bestow you the honor of being my mate."

Mate? That can't be, that's.. that's not possible.

"Tae–"

The mermaid wraps you back up into his arms before you can protest, spinning you around so that you are face to face with the creature that has decided you are his to keep. His icy gaze is narrowed, his handsome features set with determination.

"Even if the sea witch lifts my curse, you will still be mine," Taehyung declares as he pulls you tight against his chest. "Your mother will perish if you leave me and so there is nothing back there for you now."

He leans down, his cold lips moving like gentle waves against your ear as he says, "You belong here, with me – forever."

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed the final chapter of TIF! it was nice to once again revisit the tcs-universe and it was fun to write a "softer" mermaid yandere story 🤧 i would love to hear what you think about the chapter – comments and reblogs make my day!! 🥺💖

if you enjoyed the story and would like to support me, you can do so here! 💖

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Plastic heart - (4)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

The OG Barbie movie made me believe in magic.

---

“Give me the rollerblades.”, you stomped up the stairs to only notice then, that weird Barbie was headed out.

“I would but we’re all gathering for the sending away party are we not?”, she asked you but in the state that you were in, you were sure your plastic heart was melting. Atleast that was what you hoped your body could do, so it could shed this uneasy feeling. To become a rain cloud so you could pour it all out.

“Who are we sending away?”, you asked feeling out of touch with everything going on.

“Stereo. She’s having a crisis.”, you heard the answer and began to zone out. So that was what she meant before. If she was leaving, then you possibly had a chance now, a thought gripped you.

But the anger that Ken displayed flashed in front of your eyes again. As much as you loved him, he didn’t.

“Tell me where they are and I’ll get it myself.”, you brushed past her. Your only need right now was to forget.

“In the trunk. Don’t forget to read the instructions.”, she bid you farewell as she went on her way while you trudged ahead to find your cure.

The house was dark and eerie. No one could explain why dark clouds swirled around this particular house or maybe it was an aesthetical add on. There was only one trunk, placed in the center with ominous lighting over it. The fear was beginning to take root.

Why would you need instructions for rollerblades?

As you popped open the lid, it let out a hiss and smoke began to bellow from within it. As you seated away the grey wisps, you caught sight of a shimmering pink rollerblade set that looked brand new.

You reached for it and picked it up, the metal rim gleaming almost as if you heard voices telling you to put it on.

In it’s place was a small post it note with something written on it.

In bold font, it was labeled as ‘instructions’

Go to the tunnel of dreams and use the rollerblades to venture further in.

At the heart of the tunnel, you will be shown your deepest desire that could fix your broken heart.

If you chose to accept it, a path will open that will take you to it.

That seemed much more simpler than the box of chocolates. You began to wonder why she didn’t give this to you in the first place.

So you took the skates, the instructions and exited weird Barbie’s house, the cold air was making your smooth skin shiver.

Malfunctioning was the worst experience, so much so that you had had enough of it. You just wanted to go back to your routine, forget Ken and start making cakes again.

‘The tunnel of dreams’, a vintage poster that looked faded was stuck on to the side of a big gapping hole that you were sure was the just the main sewer tunnel. Except it looked it wasn’t in use.

You looked back at Barbie land, you could hear faint cheers and fireworks, no one was going to notice you had gone. You inhaled deeply and then put on the blades. There was nothing here that could make you stay and if you truly were to get your heart’s desire by doing this. Then there was no better bargain.

The wheels glided smoothly against the plastic floor of the pipe, the dark enveloping you until you could see a small light at the end, which began to glow brighter as you approached it.

The buzzing white light was actually coming from a small vintage TV, it’s screen flickering with different ads of different barbies. As you came to a halt in front of it, the screen flickered and it played an advertisement about you.

"Great potential combined with impeccable skill to make the most profound dishes from all around the world. This Barbie has it all, the house, the intellect, the resilience to survive in the most cruel places, *with a drumroll* ‘the chefs kitchen’."

"But not everyone can have everything. This Barbie however does not have a Ken accessory and the one Ken she loves never truly sees her for who she is. "

"So go follow your dreams and establish your careers by adding her to your collection!"

*Each item sold separately

Now that didn’t make anything better. The screen glitched to have a noisy black screen as you stood there taking in the information. But from the darkness came a voice, starting soft as a whisper to soon becoming a commanding echo.

“Is that what you dream of?”

“Is that who you are?”

“What do you long for?”

"Speak it out at once."

The silence had vanished and as the voices echoed, the TV came alive playing pictures of your life here.

What did you long for?

You didn’t know anymore.

Say it

What did you want?

Say it

You covered your ears and began to crumble as the space around you became overwhelming.

The noise, the swirling wind, the jarring lights from the TV that began to flick images from your mind, all of them full of Ken and a few from the bakery. As the foundation of your life began to shake, it cracked all the unnecessary thoughts until there was only one that echoed along with the voices outside.

You wanted to feel like yourself again.

To wake up and wear your outfit and smile like this was who you had always wanted to be.

So you said it softly, first. Unsure.

“I want to be me.”

But it was lost in all the chaos around you, so you began to yell.

“I want to be me.”

“I want to feel like me again.”, you didn’t know you had that in you, a commanding presence to change this storm. And as you peeled away your hands to stand up straight because now you knew your demand. Your true desire.

If you didn’t value who you were? Deriving satisfaction or attention to fill that void from an outside source was never going to prove to be useful.

So as you said it, without a trace of doubt, without Ken’s face appearing in your mind, there was a new conviction.

You were going to put yourself first.

And with that everything stopped instantly. The chaos died and with it your skates began to glow. A bright pink that filled you with a warmth that felt good.

As you began to feel like everything was finally piecing itself together, it only began to fall apart. There was a tear in the dark floor that made it look like you were tearing out of your barbie box. The tear grew and grew until it swallowed you, causing you to fall through.

A choir began to sing around you, as you felt the grip on gravity on your legs.

Never let them know where you are from

Never go in search of your Barbie form

Keep this and you can return when you wish

But beware the tempt of reality, for it will change you

The more you crave to be real, the more it will sever your ties to your world.

All it takes is a wish to come back

If you choose to come back

All it takes is a wish to come back

Will you choose to come back?

With that, as the voices faded, you felt solid ground beneath your feet and immediately, a jarring sound of car horn.

“Oy get off the road!”, a man shouted  from with a yellow car that had taxi written on top of it.

As your eyes began to adjust to this unknown world, buildings stretching up all the way up into the sky, strong smells swirling around you, you panicked to skate away when a pair of strong headlights blinded you. You scrambled to the sidewalk and bumped into another woman, who only turned to shout at you.

You backed into an empty alley way as you watched the crowd pass by.

Feeling scared but strangely, feeling set free too.

---

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[solkatt-arts]

We got more from what I'm calling the Intertwine-verse!

Quick facts about this verse of G4(/G5) that is unlike the canon:

- Alicorns cannot be made in this universe, therefore Celestial, Luna, Cadence, Twilight, Flurry and Luster never become full alicorns. However, by being crowned a royal by Sterling and Gold (alicorn's blessing), the pony in question will gain potent magic that amongst other things gives the pony a longer lifespan (up to 300 years extra). The magic is likely to manifest like how Sunny Starscout’s alicorn powers do.

- The lifespans of royals goes back to normal once the magic is taken away between G4 and G5. When the magic returns later on only Sunny gain the alicorn's blessing since she is the one to bring Luster's crystals back together. She is likely to be the last pony to gain the alicorn's blessing for a long time.

—————

Here's some Intertwineverse history

Gold Lily and Sterling were alicorns born long before Equestria’s beginnings. Similar in age but never acquainted in childhood, both were chosen to save the pony tribes from freezing to death.

Gold Lily chosen for her calm empathic and kind nature. She knew the unease of new unknowns, about being forced to face the dread but come out on top. The young alicorn had a way of easing the anxiety of change for others. How to welcome progress in a way that could only compared to the hope of a new dawn.

Sterling chosen for her reassuring but stern nature. She always put emphasis on the inevitability of a setting sun, nothing could ever last forever. That did not mean the past was no longer epochal in how it teaches us our most valuable lessons. Sterling had a way with closure and letting the past go that could only compare to the sun’s last light fading behind the horizon.

The two young alicorn first met only days before their departure to what would later become Equestria. Without yet knowing each other, they both knew their destinies were intertwined. They both felt it the moment their eyes met.

Gold and Sterling earned their god-like powers after restoring balance to the world by defeating Discord with the Elements of Harmony early in Equestria’s history. The god of chaos had made a rift so prominent that the two princesses had to learn how to manually raise the moon and sun. No longer could the day nor night make it through its natural cycle without them moving the celestial bodies.

After about 700 years of royal duties, Gold and Sterling began looking for apprentices. Someponies to take over the hardships of ruling Equestria, all this in hopes that the two of them could focus on finding a way to restore or undo what Discord’s magic had caused. Two young and promising unicorns named Celestia and Luna are chosen to train under the princesses until they are ready to take on the princesses' roles.

The unicorn sisters rule over Equestria for almost 300 years before taking on their own apprentices, Sunset Shimmer and Twilight Sparkle. Sunset Shimmer mysteriously disappears and leaves Twilight to train under Celestial and Luna on her own.

A jealous Opaline Arcana has watched Gold Lily and Sterling be the most powerful beings in Equestria for almost a thousand years. She decides she is more worthy of all that power and goes to take it all for herself. On the day Twilight Sparkle is about to meet her future friends Opaline makes her way to Ponyville where not only Celestia and Luna are, but Gold Lily and Sterling too.

With the help from the Elements of Harmony, Twilight and her friends defeat Opaline and banish her to the sun. Before being blasted away Opaline swears revenge on Twilight and her friends.

Gold Lily and Sterling leaves Equestria to search for the cure to Discord's chaos magic once again, feeling that Equestria will be safe in Twilight and her friends' hooves.

Twilight rules for a little more than 300 years before passing the throne onto Luster Dawn. (Cadence passes the throne onto Flurry Heart)

Gold Lily and Sterling manages to find an ancient draconequus artifact that restores balance to nature to the point that ponies no longer need to change the seasons, weather or day to night. Unfortunately they have to pay their immortality for the artifact. They retire to live out their last days back in their homeland.

When Opaline returns a thousand years after her banishment, she finds out that not only is Twilight long dead, but magic has disappeared too. Luster Dawn had had a moment of weakness not long before passing away in which she feared that once Opaline returns, she’ll have no one to stop her from taking everyone’s magic (and taking over Equestria). So if no one has any magic, there’s none to take. Luster separates the magic into one crystal for each of the three pony tribes. She orders her apprentices (one from each tribe) to hide the crystals away where they won’t be connected nor found.

Generations of misinformation and mistrust later, Sunny Starscout brings magic back together with her friends and Opaline is free to finally collect it. She is later defeated by Sunny and her friends.

[annikin-annotates]

Lady of the Lake

Hi y’all! I’m so glad to be writing this for my dear kindred spirit for her 1,000 followers celebration! I hope you all enjoy the One Shot I’ve created using Hozier's Butchered Tongues as my base. Congratulations my dear @arcielee, you deserve all the love you receive, I hope this lives up to your expectations!. 

Let me know if you would like to be added to my taglists!

Happy reading.

Pairing: Aemond x Siren!Reader

Word Count: 3,069 (Nice)

Warnings; Blood, mentions of death, thoughts of ripping Aemond limb from limb. Minors DNI 18+

Chosen lyrics; They are buried without scalp in the shattered bedrock of our home.

The lake had been covered in misty fog, its eerie tendrils dancing just above the surface of the water, if one looked close enough they could see water sprites at work. Humans believed that magic was gone from the world, but if they only looked a little closer they would see that it was still here, barely; like the final embers on a candle wick. 

She lived beneath the surface of a pond, a safe haven under the ever changing waters of the stream that flows into it. It was always quiet in her small pond, the blue gills and catfish her only company. Though she would not say that it was entirely awful, it may be secluded and quiet but it was always safe, and being safe meant staying alive. 

Trees twisted and wrapped their way around one another, strangling one another for a chance at seeing the sun, oh how she longed for the sun’s warmth. The dense dark green thickets surrounding the edge of the lake, pointed thorns dipping into the water, another reminder of the cage she had put herself in. 

She slipped below the surface once more, sinking to the mossy floor, her head resting on a mossy rock, staring up at the underside of the lily pads. She spent the rest of her day hunting catfish and playing with the small water spiders that skimmed across the surface of the water.

She spent her night curled up in a patch of Hydrilla, its green tips making a space in the water. She stared up into the inky expanse and wondered what it was like above the surface. She wondered if perhaps one day, she too could walk amongst them. She had walked on land before, some centuries ago when she was only a girl.

Back when humans knew and respected the creatures that dwell out of sight, the rulers of nature. For a time they had lived in peace, silently walking amongst them, helping when needed, fighting in wars that were not ours, and aiding the sick with cures and magic long forgotten by mankind.

Somewhere along the path, we had become a threat, a danger to humans, they began to push them back into the woods and lakes, away from civilisations. Her mother was forced from her job as a maid in a keep not far from where she dwelled, it was not long after that, they began to cull them. All her family were snuffed out within a night, now all of them laid at the bottom of the God’s Eye.

All except her. 

She shook the thoughts from her head, she couldn’t bear to think about it any more. She reached a webbed hand toward the starry sky, the rippled surface obscuring the true beauty of it. Her arm came to rest by her side, disturbing the sediment as she sighed, an air pocket travelling all the way to the surface.  

Shimmering sunlight awoke her from her slumber, she sat up and stretched her arms and leant forward to stretch her back, the dorsal fin waying with the current. Perhaps today she would sun herself on the boulder in her lake, enjoy the sound of birdsong and they trickling water. The warmth of the flat rock warmed her cold flesh, her tail swishing in the clear water beneath her. 

The sun had just begun to beam down into her pond, refracting different colours like light onto a thousand precious gems. She spent time braiding her hair down the length of her back, small river flowers delicately weaved into it. She hummed the melody of a song her mother used to sing to her when she was young, the same one she would use to lure men to their watery graves. 

The sound of approaching hooves sent her beneath the water again, resurfacing in the safety of the water reeds. Directly across from her was a lithe man knelt by the running water of the stream, drinking handfuls of water. He was marvellous to look at, his deep green clothes and gold trimmed armour and his hair that looked like spun silver fluttering in the gentle wind. 

A familiar primal feeling came over her, it was stronger than she had ever felt before: have him, have him, devour him, feast upon his bones, it chanted. It frightened her, but she followed the feeling, diving below the water once more only to look at him from between the reeds. She could see all the features of his face now, a strong chin and pronounced nose and eyes that glittered like amethysts in the sun. He was handsome, but she could taste the sadness permeating from him, the wish to be anywhere other than where he was, she empathised with him. 

‘Come and find me,’ she whispered, edging him closer and closer to the water ‘Let me free you from your burdens,’ she cooed, watching him fall deeper and deeper under her spell. 

He was within her grasp, she surfaced from beneath the water, scaled chest glimmering in the sunlight, a webbed hand extended for him to take. Their fingers ghosted one another, his hands were soft and warm while hers were cold and slippery, ‘Come to me, my sweet,’ she hummed melodically. She could practically feel her teeth sinking into his flesh, tearing him limb from limb, the thought sent her milky eyes rolling back into her head. 

A woman with long dark hair grasped his shoulder, pulling him from her carefully laid trance, “You mustn’t venture too close to the water, my Prince,” she said firmly. By the time he had flicked his eyes towards the other woman and back to the water, she was gone. 

“Why?” she heard him ask, standing from the waters edge, his eyes hadn’t yet left the spot where he saw her. 

“Dark creatures lurk below the surface of these waters,” the woman replied, though the conversation had become less clear the further they ventured from the water. 

The woman in the water haunted him for days after returning to Harrenhal, the word she spoke to him ringing in his ears, ‘Let me free you from your burdens,’ she had said. She was slowly consuming him, mind, body and soul, and he had no desire to break free from her hold. He would never forget the feeling of being lured by her, both horrifying and euphoric. 

He saw flashes of her everywhere, peeking around corners, the melody of birdsong and in his dark haired lover. He saw her in the pursuit of his own high, chasing her from the recesses of his mind, Alys’ face slowly morphing into the face he saw below the water. Aemond could almost feel her talons ghosting along his skin, leaving rippling heat in its wake.

The feeling of fangs pressing against the column of his throat sent him into a frenzy of thrusts, his large hands guiding the body above him. The melodic song he had heard from her, guiding him like a boat through a tempest, had driven him over the edge. ‘Aemond,’ Alys moaned, though he heard only the melodic voice of the woman in the water. 

He didn’t dare look up at her, instead he slipped from beneath her, choosing to stand at the windowsill, looking over the God’s Eye, wondering about her. Slender fingers and soft lips trailed over his shoulder and down his arm, and yet it did not stoke the fire that burned deep within him as it usually did. 

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Alys asked her nose softly nudging the nape of his neck, her hands never leaving him.

Aemond thought for a moment, “Yes,” he replied, a cold edge to his voice. 

Alys pulled away from him, recoiling from the coldness of the  response “I see,” she said, clearing her throat. “I shall leave you be, my Prince,” she continued, making her way to where her clothes lay. She dressed silently and left through the servants corridor, to remain unseen. 

—

Muffled dragon cries woke her abruptly from her slumber, she broke the surface of the water, a panicked gasp tearing from her as she looked helplessly at the sky. She looked around her, as flickering embers and ash fell from the sky, she couldn’t stay here. Today would be the day where she would face her fears and leave the safety of her pond.

She heaved herself up through the bramble that surrounded her pond, thorns pricking and scratching her tender skin, half blind from the sun. Her legs wobbled as she took a few steps before breaking out into a stumbling run, similar to that of a newborn foal. She cried out in pain as she began to run, nothing good could come from two dragons warring above, she needed to clear out of the pond, she could return when it was safe. 

The pain in her legs and feet was extraordinary, each log she cleared felt as though she was stepping on shards of glass when she landed. It was so loud, the overlapping shouts of soldiers, the clanking of armour and screeching of metal on metal, it was cacophonous; it reeked of self assured destruction. Every bone inside her wanted to turn around and leap back into the safety of her pond, but now wasn’t the time for hiding, it was the time for running. 

She veered deeper into the forest, but something made her stop to look up at the sky, to the dragons wrapping themselves around one another. She turned away once more, determined to find some other body of water to bide her time, when an ear piercing screech sent her to a screeching halt. Her breath heaved in her chest, her lungs working overtime ‘He needs you,’ a pleading voice whispered.

It was enough to send her careening towards the waters of the God’s Eye. 

The larger of the dragons was falling towards the lake, its throat had been ripped open, flames escaping the wound. If its rider was to stand any chance of living she would need to rescue him, humans didn’t live long once they entered her domain. She threw herself head first into its frigid waters, disappearing into its depths untraced. Her eyes only needed a minute to adjust to her surroundings once more, the world around her becoming a little clearer, and it would be any moment before that scaled beast would hit the water.

The crash was unimaginable, sediment and rocks flew past her as she braced herself by a sunken boulder, she could hear the sound of the heart drumming in his chest. It was now a race to find him before The Stranger did, she at the very least could follow his heart beat. She had no idea why she was putting herself in danger for a human who was supposed to be her next meal, she was designed to consume them - not save them. 

She dove deeper and deeper into the lake, the sunlight filtering away, total blackness enveloping her. Though she could not see very well above the water in the sunlight, she could see perfectly in the dark. She did not dare look at the bedrock of the lake, in fear of discovering corpses she did not wish to see. She could see the roiling bubbles ascending to the surface and the immense heat emanating from directly beneath her, she wasted no time in diving again. 

She very quickly discovered the corpse of the beast, resting peacefully in the bedrock, her rider still saddled. She stopped directly in front of him, watching his hands shake as he struggled with the chains. Malicious thoughts slithered into her head; she could feast for ages on both dragon and rider, she would have no need to think about the surface for a long time. It would be so easy, all she had to do was wait for him to drown.

No. He didn’t deserve this, at the very least she could unbind him and send him to the surface, what happened to him beyond that was not her problem. Against her better judgement, she rushed him, shoving his hands away from the ropes around his waist and ripping them away with her nails. He struggled and thrashed in her grip, using all his might to get away from her.

‘Stop struggling! I’m trying to help you!’ She hissed. He ceased his struggling immediately, having become sluggish and slow, the lack of oxygen finally taking its toll on him, leaving him weak and defenceless. Everything in her screamed at her to devour him, to gut him like a fish and swallow him whole.

A helpless groan left her as she threw his arm around her broad shoulders, heaving him up towards the rippling light of the surface. They wouldn’t be looking for his body yet, but she didn’t have long before they would be descending upon them, she’d be damned if she would die for a human. With one final forceful push of her tail, she was able to push his lithe body halfway up on to a secluded bank, her heartbeat thundering in her chest.

He wasn’t breathing. Gods, he wasn’t breathing!

With the last of her strength she threw herself up onto the bank, kneeling beside him; his heartbeat was there, but faint, she needed to work quickly if he was to survive the day. His body felt as though it was made of lead as she dragged him away from the water, the further away they were from the water, the less temptation there was. 

He had taken water into his lungs, which meant she needed to get it out as soon as possible. She opened his mouth, placing her own on his, pulling the water from his lungs mouthful after mouthful, spitting it onto the lush grass. He had other wounds, cuts and scrapes but it was nothing she couldn’t use her magic to heal. With a final mouthful of water, air rushed into his lungs, sending him bolt upright coughing and hacking. 

The movement sent her toppling over into the grass, where he descended upon her, blade against her throat. Her slender taloned fingers spread out across his face, daring to take his other eye. 

“I saved your life, and this is how you repay me? By slitting my throat?” she asked, half daring him to do it, maybe then she would get some peace. His face seemed to shift in that moment, furrowed brows relaxed his clenched jaw loosening. 

“You are right, I am sorry,” He replied, taking the blade from her throat.

The woman in front of him was full of contradictions, she was both dark and light, sharp edges and softness, terrifying and beautiful. She had almost lured him to his death one day and then saved him the very next. She held no fear in her eyes, even as he had held the blade to her throat, her beautiful, supple throat, he shook the thoughts from his head. 

“Stop looking at me like you wish to swallow me whole, and let me heal you,” she bit at him, a gentle push sending him into the plush grass. She struggled with taking his chest plate, the leather straps far too finicky for her liking she took a sharp talon to the supple leather, slicing into it. 

“No, leave me here,” he told her, trying to force her hands away. 

“You will die if I don’t tend to your wounds!” she said through gritted teeth, pulling the chest plate away and straddling him, pinning his arms underneath her legs. Her hand hovered over the gaping wound in his shoulder, a calming blue light emanating from her palm. She watched the wound pull the deep red ichor back into his body, skin stitching itself shut, leaving no trace that there was ever a wound there. 

I’d like to see his witch heal him in such a manner. 

—

They took shelter in a cave deep in the woods outside Harrenhal, out of the sight of prying eyes and away from hands that would do them harm. In the time they had spent in the cave, she had learnt that the Prince's name was Aemond and that he was not one for conversation. 

“I wish I could leave all of this behind,” Aemond whispered, his voice laced with pain and exhaustion. She sat cross legged across from him, a pleasant prickling feeling crawling up her legs from sitting in one place. 

She tilted her head to the side slightly “Why can’t you?” she asked, her brows furrowed.

“I have a duty to my family, it's a matter of honour,” was the silver haired Prince's response, his jaw twitching as his arms came to rest across his broad chest. The dim embers illuminating the way his lip twitched upward as she leant forward, to press him further.

“Your family would rather send you to die than allow you to leave?” She responded, her voice laced with disbelief, she shook her head. It slowly became clear to her about what happened just hours ago, when he demanded she leave him to die. He had wanted that fate, he would have preferred death to failure. 

Aemond pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice taking on an edge “It is about honour, as I said,” his response did not invite any further conversation between them. And for a while there was nothing but the crackle of logs on a fire and the sound of their breaths. 

“Run away with me, it's not safe for either of us here. We can board a ship tonight and be gone by morning,” she offered, they could board a ship for Essos or Yi-Ti and never be found again. She would forsake the waters of her home for him, if it meant that he could live the life he desired. 

“No,” was Aemond's immediate response, face contorting into a scowl. She was beginning to break down the barrier of duty and honour he had surrounded himself with, for without those virtues, what would he become? 

She stood from her perch on a boulder, allowing the silk shoulder cape Aemond had given her to cover herself to slip away. Exposing the mounds and valleys of her body, the scales on her legs and cheekbones catching the firelight. “Come, My Darling. Please just give me your hand,” she cooed into his ear, running her delicate fingers over his shoulder and up the column of his throat, stopping to stroke his jaw. 

And so he did. 

Thank you to my darling @sylasthegrim for beta reading this! And creating the wonderful header/moodboard!

Please reblog my work if you enjoy it! it helps keep fan fiction alive <3

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: A non-linear and incomplete series of vignettes. 3635 words.

I: Once upon a time

1986

Once upon a time, there lived a little witch. A very special kind of witch, in fact. Where her coven viewed the world in black and white, she not only saw shades of grey, but an entire rainbow of colours. Where her sisters saw an enemy, she saw an ally. Where the witches who walked the earth before her saw danger, she saw people in crisis.

Oh, yes, you are a very special kind of witch. The kind of witch to fight tooth and nail to heal a bat, save a town, and rip your memories from the locked away part of your mind straight back into consciousness.

When you were made whole again, you and Eddie slipped into a warm bubble of rosy oblivion. For hours, you didn’t talk, didn’t think, didn’t do much of anything except hold each other and press featherlight kisses to lifelines on palms and blue veins on wrists.

It would have been easy to waste days there. You could have withered away, happy at last. Alas, Eddie was far more attentive to your biology than you were, so you left the bed bubble and made your way back into the real world.

Here lies a non-linear and incomplete series of vignettes of that real world, once upon a time.

II: Did it foretell of fate?

1986

Eddie’s hair seemed to shimmer as you twirled a lock around your finger. “Your hair is more normal now, like, in the 80s, than it was when we met.”

He was upside down on the couch, legs running up the backrest, and head hanging off the seat. You were lying on the floor, face to face with him.

“Do you think it means something? Is it an omen? Did it foretell of fate?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “You make fun, but I know you are totally in awe of witchcraft,”

“Being awesome doesn’t make you immune to my wit,”

“I think it’s cute that you think you’re witty,” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I said be careful or I’ll turn you back into a bat,” you stated, loud and clear.

“You wish you were that powerful, but it takes at least three of you to do that.”

It made you think. As you sat up and peered off into the distance with glazed over eyes, Eddie huffed. You launched into action, pulling grimoires and moon dust, parchment and white baneberry out from boxes and bags.

To avoid being told to hush, Eddie left you to your work. He tried to distract himself with television. Then, with eavesdropping on Forest Hills. Eventually, his curiosity couldn’t be put aside.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen bench turned apothecary.

“I think I can do it,”

“Do what?”

Instead of an answer, Eddie got a sickly-sweet smile and a sly shrug. He knew what it meant instantly.

“I don’t want to be a bat!”

“Oh, but you were so cute,” you cooed.

He was nervous, despite having the upper hand. Witches may have found the cure to vampire death, but you didn’t keep the magic dust on you at all times. He could rip you apart before you had a chance to conjure witchfire. Still, he took a step away from you, trying to act casual.

“What are you actually doing?”

It was always fun to mess with him, you thought. But in this case, you were telling him the truth. “Seriously. I think I can turn you back into a bat. Not permanently. And not in the way the curse did. You’d still be you. You’d be in total control. It’s just… shapeshifting… really…”

Eddie thought on it for only a moment before deciding he still didn’t like it. “I don’t like it,”

“It could be useful,”

“It could go wrong,”

“Eddie, think about it.” You put the vial of bat claws down. “Sunlight didn’t burn you when you were a bat. That alone is enough reason to try.”

There was little function in it. Eddie didn’t see how being able to go out during the day as a bat would be any more advantageous than not going out at all. However, there was a sparkle in your eye he adored, and you had been right – he was entirely in awe of your magic.

“If it makes you happy, my little witch,” he resigned.

You beamed, wrapping yourself around him in the type of hug that made Eddie feel alive.

III: Glass houses

1986

“Too bad the library was destroyed. There so much I want to show and tell you about,”

“I have been watching the television while you sleep… I’m learning.”

You looked up at Eddie from where you were studying maps and ley lines. “Yeah? Equipped to walk out that door and be a twentieth century man?”

“Naturally. Watch.” Eddie stood from the couch and began to mime. He opened the door to an invisible refrigerator, pulling out a can. He cracked open the tab and chugged. He then pulled a face akin to disgust. “This New Coke is not as satisfying as the original!”

You burst into a fit of laughter, much to Eddie’s happiness. “Oh, shit, Eds. You might even be ready for the twenty-first century with that type of scathing satire.”

Eddie dropped back to the couch. “You may joke all you want, but I can hear what the humans out there are talking about,”

“And New Coke is what the residents of Forest Hills are concerned about? Not the huge craters running through the town center or the constant attacks from supernatural creatures?”

“They also spend a great deal of time talking about the Chernobyl disaster and how it never would have happened here in the U.S., and in the same breath lament the demise of the Space Shuttle Challenger as if it were not another manmade horror.”

You glance up at him again, his gaze is on the television screen. “We haven’t escaped that, you know…” Eddie looked to you, tilting his head. “The hypocrisy. The contradictions that are just so… human. Neither you nor I can look at the humans and judge them for being that. We aren’t better than them.”

There was a flicker of amusement on his face. The vampire in him disagreed. Eddie’s heart conceded, and at the very least he conceded that - “Those in glass houses,”

“Something like that,” you nodded. “What else have you learned about the world?”

“There was a war in Australia,”

“You mean the World Wars?”

“No. Although, I do know about those, and I’d like to hear more. But the one in Australia was human versus emu.” Eddie delivered it so casually that at first you thought he was trying another joke. When you didn’t reply, he looked to you. “Do you not know about the Great Emu War?”

IV: Without you, I’m nothing

1986

Eddie lounged on the floor, back to the couch and legs spread wide. You settled between them, letting him take you by the hips and pull you close enough that your spine was pressed to his chest. His hands found a resting place around your waist.

Candles lit and incense burning, you shuffled the tarot deck while speaking your intentions into the atmosphere. “I ask for guidance in making this decision. I need to confront my coven, but…” You paused, choking on a feeling. “But I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know what’s the smart thing to do.”

Laying out four cards in a row, you continued, “Option A is I go alone. Option B is Eddie comes with me.”

You felt Eddie’s hands move against you a little at the mention of his name. Turning to him you explain that the first two cards represent the pros and cons of option A, likewise the last two are the pros and cons of option B.

“And this one…” you said, placing a single card above the row of four. “…is the advice we seek.”

Eddie snaked his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. “Do we leave that to last?”

You nodded then took a deep breath in, holding it until you flipped the first card over. The Emperor sat on his throne, golden crown upon his head. “He represents structure and stability. He rules with force and strength, but is also a sign of protection. As a pro for me going alone, it’s signifying that the safety and stability of the coven won’t be jeopardised. I won’t be seen as a threat to anyone’s leadership or authority…”

“That seems to be a very valid point,”

“Yeah,” you agreed with Eddie as you turned the next card over. “Well fuck.”

Eddie picked the card up and studied it. “He looks… calm,”

“He is… He’s there by choice, or at least, by the choices he has made. He has a different perspective from his position but his future is short. This card represents surrender or sacrifice. Being a martyr. Sacrificing yourself for the greater good.”

Eddie put the card down then held you tighter. “Next one,”

“Next one is the pro of you coming with me.” A man wore a victory wreath and rode a white horse. “Six of Wands,”

“Is he a king?”

“No. But he has been successful in his adventure. His accomplishment is being celebrated by these people here,” you explained, pointing to the image. You consider the card. You don’t feel self-assured as it suggests, and cannot see a version of events that lead to public recognition, as it foretells. You move on.

You almost laughed when the Five of Wands was revealed. The people fought each other, sticks raised but no blows hitting, chaos ensuing.

“Violence?” Eddie guessed.

“No, pointless chaos. See how their weapons aren’t actually hitting each other? It symbolises a lack of purpose in the conflict. It represents how people come from different backgrounds or perspectives, or have different history, and that makes it hard to find common ground. It breeds tension and disagreement and conflict.”

There was a clear narrative forming, the cards guiding you in a way they never had before. You wondered if renegade fate had shared a helping hand yet again.

Hand hovering over the final card, the ultimate advice in the reading, you closed your eyes for a moment. Please, you thought, please.

“This one looks… important,” Eddie commented.

“Well, it’s one of the more detailed images,” you replied. A snake, a sphinx, Typhon and Anubis.  An angel, eagle, a lion, and a bull. And at the center of all this rich symbolism was a wheel.

“Esoteric.”

You snorted, nodding. “Very. The Wheel of Fortune is so open to interpretation, but its core message is that life has a hum. It moves forward, in seasons or cycles. There is both good and bad. And there is little to do to stop any of this. Luck may play a part. As does our friend fate,”

“That does not seem helpful,”

“Not in terms of helping to make a decision between option A and B, but it does prophesise a turning point, so…” You shrugged, taking one last look at the hand before collecting the cards and shuffling them back into the deck.

Getting up, you walked around the space blowing out candles. Eddie watched you, recognising the expression on your face. He stood and opened his arms, inviting you to him. Like a moth to flame, you immediately stepped into his embrace.

“Have they told you a story?” he asked.

You looked up at him, surprised.

“You’ve told me before. About the cards. How not to read them in isolation. There is always a larger picture. A story.”

The feeling of regular forgetfulness was soured. It sent an icy chill of fear and grief through you. Every single thing you couldn’t recall would be scrutinised. Did I just forget that because I have lived hundreds of years? Or was that memory cut out of me?

“You’re coming with me,” you said definitively. “I’ll tell Kelsey I’m coming, but nobody else,”

“Okay,” Eddie whispered. He would have followed you anywhere.

Letting go of Eddie, breaking the hug, you looked at him. “This is dangerous. You understand that, right? You’ve never seen the real damage witches can do to vampires. Witchfire isn’t the worst thing they can yield anymore,”

“I know. But to… level with you…” Eddie was doing his best to pick up modern phrases and colloquialisms; it made you smile. “Without you, I’m nothing. If I die, so be it. I’d rather death than any sort of life separate to your.”

He pulled you back into him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then a trail down the bridge of your nose, to your lips.

You kissed him back hard and felt yourself float as he picked you up and took you to the bedroom.

V: A benevolent spirit  

1986

The intersection of science and magic is where you and Eddie often found yourself. A union between creatures who had never walked alongside each other often meant new discoveries in the natural and unnatural worlds. For example, a witch and a vampire walk into a graveyard…

“I recall you, on multiple occasions, dismissing superstition as myths,” Eddie tried to argue, pulling at the ill-fitting clothes he was wearing.

You had forbidden him from dressing in one of his new Walmart outfits, citing lore. “It is disrespectful to the dead,” you’d said, making him wear whatever was lying around the trailer. “Do you want to be haunted?” you asked him, now in the old cemetery out on the edge of Hawkins.

“Vampires can’t be haunted,”

“Are you sure?”

Eddie shrugged.

“Because that is a bad sign,” you noted, pointing at the wildflowers that were dying under Eddie’s bare feet. The rot was coming from him, drying out petals and killing the plants.

Eddie looked down, seemingly alarmed. Every step he took away from the decay only started a new outbreak. “Make it stop,” he demanded.

“I can’t,”

“But I’m not wearing new clothes!”

“No, but you did sit on the headstone when I told you not to. And refused to hold your breath when we came in. Actions have consequences,”

“I don’t have a breath! … This has never happened before,” he whined, speeding up to trail close behind you.

“You probably just never noticed before,”

“I would have,” Eddie said, but you both knew it to be a lie. Before you, Eddie wouldn’t have cared about graveyard etiquette. It was in a vampire’s nature to laugh at the laws of the here and the after. They existed somewhere between and beyond those states, cheating death and laughing in the face of life.

1836

The village had buried Faely at daybreak. She had died before her first birthday, born into the world with a sickness beyond the repair of witchcraft. Though, rules had been broken trying.

You held vigil that night, leaving an offering of rosemary at the cemetery gates, then sitting at the foot of Faely’s grave. Eddie had watched you, deciding if he should approach you or not.

“Here, where the dead rest, a witch will smell fresh roses when a benevolent spirit is near,” you spoke out loud. “But if it is something else, then the scent of death comes, as if none of these bodies were buried at all.”

Knowing you were speaking to him despite never turning around, Eddie moved. He knelt on the dirt next to you. “Something else being me?”

“Or anything malevolent,”

“I mean you no harm, little witch,” Eddie said quietly.

You looked over at him. You had yet to cross the line with him. No secrets or kisses yet shared. It would happen and you knew that, even then.

“I know.”

Eddie held out his hand.

The wildflowers already blooming around Faely’s grave were dying under Eddie’s presence. Yet, you let him entwine his fingers with yours and keep you company.

1986

Eddie watched you locate the oldest headstones in the cemetery as if you had some sort of innate homing device for them. You spoke to the dead and asked for permission to take some of their graves’ dirt with you. Small jars filled, you looked up at Eddie and smiled.

The lightning rolled in, splashing bright but silent bolts across the sky. You stood up, felt the lack of humidity in the air. No rain would fall. No storm would come.

“What is it?” Eddie asked, walking back through the grounds with his eyes firmly in the sky. “That’s not normal lightning,”

“No,”

“It’s happened before,” he remembered, the scene slowly losing its fogginess in his mind.

“Normally, I’d say twice is only a coincidence and three is a pattern, but… I guess this is what happens when we’re both here at the same time.”

When you passed back through the cemetery gates, you left rosemary. Sitting in the car, you looked up through the windshield to the dark and settled sky.

“I don’t think we should do this again,” you told Eddie. “I don’t want to know what the universe does if it thinks this is a pattern.”

He stifled a laugh but shut up quickly when you frowned at him.

“We have pushed our luck so much… Do you think fucking with it all is funny? Like being careless hasn’t ruined us before?”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s… Of all the things to break the world, it is simply a vampire and a witch being near dead bodies at the same moment in time? That’s what makes it mad?”

You started the car and pulled onto the road. “There is nothing simple about a vampire and a witch doing anything together. Being anywhere together. We need to be more careful.”

1836

As spectacular as it was to watch, and no matter how comforting having Eddie with you to hold vigil was, lightning without thunder felt wrong somehow.

When you returned to the village in the morning, the coven had assembled. The light in the sky had caused anxiety. “Something against the laws of nature has happened,” Gillian announced. Her expression wasn’t one of fear, but it wasn’t set in certainty or peace either. “We need to be more careful.”

VI: The mess of you

1986

It was strange how you could miss something you didn’t know you had and lost. You felt so homesick for Eddie, so touch starved, and empty that rediscovering sex with him was making you cry. The first few times, Eddie wiped away your tears. That was short-lived.

You were on your knees, bent forward with your face hidden in your folded arms. Eddie’s hips collided with you at a mercilessly slow pace, drawing out both pain and pleasure from your insides. With each thrust, your tears came faster and faster. He ran his hand down your spine, the pressure forcing you to arch, contorting your body more.

He folded over the top of you, mouth to your ear. “Why are you hiding from me?”

The only response you could give was a string of babbling sounds. It felt so good. He felt so good.

“I want to taste your tears,” he whispered. Eddie kissed at your neck, scratching his teeth along the surface of your skin. “I want to see you cry.”

In a blink, he had you flipped onto your back, legs wrapped around his waist. His hands were clamped around yours, pinning you down. You couldn’t hide. Couldn’t cover your mouth. Couldn’t maintain any poise, even if you had wanted to.

The wetter your face, the harder Eddie fucked you. It was something about the mess of you, the release, the vulnerability. He set a perfect pace and didn’t let it fall until you were growling like an animal and begging for softness. Then, he gave you softness.

VII: Slit the throat of fear

1986

“I’m so…” How to quantify your emotions… “I don’t know. I don’t think there are words to describe… this.” You racked your brain for the right sounds and syllables. “And, I don’t want to say it wrong. I don’t want to make all these feelings seem smaller because there aren’t big enough words, you know?”

Eddie knew. He was going through the same process, except there was no imperative for him to come to an eloquent conclusion. He didn’t need to explain to anyone else what was happening inside his mind.

You continued, “Part of me wishes it was just anger. If I was just pissed off beyond belief that would be easy to handle. They would understand that. But… It’s not that…”

“You are sad,” Eddie said softly.

Hearing him say it made it worse. Your face pinched into a deep frown and he took you in his arms again. “It’s all so sad… This is fucking miserable for everyone,” you agreed, mumbling into the crook of his neck. “It feels like someone died,”

“Grief,” Eddie stated. “You’re in mourning. And grief has many faces. Misery. Hopelessness. Anger.” He wasn’t especially wise, but now armed with his memories of his human life, he spoke from experience.

You sat up and let Eddie’s words seep into your own understanding of the situation. “It’s not just different faces… It’s… different shapes. I thought this once before but it makes more sense now. This feeling, this grief, it’s been shaped by what I know, the betrayal and the hurt and the… fuck… the paralysing fear of what I have to do now… It’s shaped and sharpened it into a blade.”

Eddie considers your metaphor. “Well then, my little witch, let us use your grief dagger to slit the throat of fear and bravely face your coven, and the world if we must."

End Note: This chapter took me so long to write. I just couldn’t figure out how I wanted it to go, so a huge thank you to @courtingchaos who workshopped some ideas with me, ultimately leading to the little change of pace structure. Also thank you to @jo-harrington, @munson-blurbs, @vintagehellfire, @rip-quizilla, @pastel-pillows, and @word-wytch for giving me historical, fluffy, and tarot ideas. And @vintagehellfire, for the graveyard scene.

Full disclosure, “slit the throat of fear and be brave” is a lyric from Let Me Down Easy by Gang of Youths. I had already written the grief as a knife metaphor, and when I listened to the song again it kind of just fit.

For those of you who celebrate during the holidays - I hope it is joyful. To those that cannot or do not - I hope you have a peaceful time. I appreciate you all so much and will be thinking of you and this safe place we have built together. xo Rhi

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[onceupre]

Here’s some lyrics for an ending theme for Once Upon Precure:

Magical Fairytale Fantasy

(I like to envision it to the tune of Healin Good’s Miracle tto Link Ring!)

Dewdrops sparkle on the shimmering leaves

A flock of birds fly along the breeze

A perfect day for a perfect time

Lets go, even more, nonstop!

The big bad wolf can’t chase us here,

After all, he’s invited!

All together, we wont be unnerved

This picnic with all our friends!

The fairytale fantasy! Vivid colors are all around!

The lake is trickling, the breeze is mellowing as butterflies disperse toward the sky!

The fairytale fantasy! Let’s make the most with what we can!

Our time together will be full of splendor so long as you hold onto my hand!

Our hearts are full of wonder

And a pinch of magic!

We’re living our lives, forget the curfew times because together we’re “Pretty Cure”!

The swans swim along the lakebed view, families of bears join our picnic too! Everyone now has a full belly, and a heart full of fun memories!

The sun will start to shift along, it’s golden rays still shining down

Forever on, we’ll have some fun, and keep this party going!

The fairytale fantasy, with all our friends we’ll truly see

This world is truly a spectacle to see when everyone lives in harmony!

The fairytale fantasy, make sure the fun never ends! Because when you’re here, i see it crystal clear, our meeting was destined to be!

A tale as old as time, these moments; so sublime

I know it stands the test, as time it never rests, because we’re all “Pretty Cure!”

The sunsets, the sky turns red, soon it’ll be our time to rest. But if the sun is up, the fun will never stop, and our day out will surely last!

The fairytale fantasy! Let’s make the most with what we can!

Our time together will be full of splendor so long as you hold onto my hand!

Our hearts are full of wonder

And a pinch of magic!

We’re living our lives, forget the curfew times because together we’re “Pretty Cure”!

[storeboughtmashedpotatos]

My Savior

Once upon a time, in a world filled with magic and adventure, there lived a young shapeshifter named Nimona. Nimona was known for her mischievous nature and her ability to transform into any creature she desired. She was a force to be reckoned with, but deep down, she longed for someone who could understand her, someone who could see past her chaotic exterior and embrace her for who she truly was.

One fateful day, Nimona's path crossed with a kind-hearted girl named Y/N. Y/N was a brave and compassionate soul, always seeking to help those in need. She saw the good in everyone, even in Nimona's wild and unpredictable nature. Y/N was captivated by Nimona's unique abilities and the way she fearlessly faced any challenge that came her way.

As they spent more time together, Nimona and Y/N's bond grew stronger. They laughed together, shared secrets, and supported each other through thick and thin. Nimona found solace in Y/N's presence, feeling a sense of belonging she had never experienced before.

But life is never without its trials, and tragedy struck when Y/N fell gravely ill. Nimona was devastated, her heart breaking at the sight of her beloved girlfriend in pain. She vowed to do whatever it took to save Y/N, even if it meant risking her own life.

Days turned into weeks, and Nimona tirelessly searched for a cure. She traveled to distant lands, sought the help of powerful sorcerers, and faced dangerous creatures, all in the hopes of finding a way to heal Y/N. But despite her best efforts, time was slipping away, and Y/N's condition continued to worsen.

One night, as Nimona sat by Y/N's bedside, tears streaming down her face, she made a desperate plea to the universe. She begged for a miracle, for a chance to save the person she loved more than anything in the world.

Suddenly, a soft glow enveloped the room, and a mysterious figure appeared before Nimona. It was a wise old witch, known for her ability to grant one wish to those who were truly deserving. The witch listened to Nimona's plea, her eyes filled with compassion.

"I will grant you one chance," the witch said, her voice gentle yet firm. "But be warned, the price will be great."

Without hesitation, Nimona agreed, willing to sacrifice anything to save Y/N. The witch handed her a vial filled with a shimmering liquid and instructed her on how to administer it.

Nimona rushed back to Y/N's side, her hands trembling as she carefully poured the liquid into Y/N's mouth. And then, she waited, her heart pounding with hope and fear.

Minutes turned into hours, and just as Nimona was about to lose all hope, Y/N's eyes fluttered open. A weak smile graced her lips as she looked up at Nimona.

"You saved me," Y/N whispered, her voice filled with gratitude and love.

Nimona held Y/N's hand tightly, tears of joy streaming down her face. In that moment, they both knew that their love had conquered all obstacles, even the darkest of times.

From that day forward, Nimona and Y/N cherished every moment together, never taking their love for granted. They knew that life was unpredictable, but as long as they had each other, they could face anything that came their way.

And so, in a world filled with magic and adventure, Nimona and Y/N's love story became a legend, reminding everyone that love could triumph over even the most heartbreaking of circumstances.

[hellcatalex1]

Part 3- Together (Unbinding the Curse)

Astarion x Female Elf Durge

Post game, One year after the fall of the nether-brain, Spawn Astarion.

Triggers: blood, adult language, adult themes, nightmare, trauma.

Gale nods and steps aside, allowing you and Astarion to approach the pedestal. The box seems to pulse with a quiet energy, as if it were alive and aware of your presence. Astarion’s hand hovers above it, his fingers trembling slightly, betraying the emotions he’s trying to keep in check.

You place your hand on his, grounding him. “Whatever happens, we face it together, remember?”

He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. Finally, he nods, and together, you lift the lid of the box. Inside, nestled in a bed of velvet, is a small, crystalline vial. The liquid within shimmers with an ethereal light, shifting between shades of silver and violet. It’s beautiful, but there’s something about it that makes your skin prickle with unease.

Gale leans in, his eyes wide with awe. “This is it. A phylactery of ancient Netherese origin. It’s said to contain the essence of a long-dead archmage, one who sought to transcend mortality itself.”

Astarion’s breath hitches. “And you think… it could do the opposite for me?”

Gale hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “The Netherese were obsessed with bending immortality and mortality. Their magic was unparalleled. If this phylactery holds even a fraction of that power… then yes, it could cure your vampirism, or at the very least, alter it.”

You feel a surge of hope, but it’s tempered by caution. “What are the risks?” You ask.

Gale’s expression darkens. “The magic within is volatile. The phylactery was designed to bind a soul to it, preserving the owner’s essence. If Astarion uses it, it could merge with him in unpredictable ways. There’s no guarantee of what he’ll become… or if he’ll survive the process.”

Astarion’s gaze locks onto the vial, the conflict evident in his eyes. The chance for a life free from the curse of vampirism that has haunted him for centuries, but at what cost? He could be free… or he could lose everything, including himself.

You tighten your grip on his hand. “Astarion, you don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”

He shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. “How long have I waited for this moment? The chance to be free, to walk in the sun again, to live without the constant hunger gnawing at my soul? I can’t just walk away from it now. But…” He pauses, his voice softening. “I promise I won’t rush into this decision."

The room is thick with tension as Astarion weighs his options. Finally, he looks to you, his expression resolute. “What do you think? Should we take this chance?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you consider his question. You think back to everything you’ve been through together, the battles, the close calls, the quiet moments of tenderness..... and then Cazador. You’ve always been stronger together, but this… this is different. This is a risk that could change everything.

“I think…” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “I think this is a decision that can’t be rushed. We need to understand exactly what we’re dealing with. If there’s even a chance this could help you without destroying who you are, then we should explore it. But we do it cautiously, step by step, with all the knowledge we can gather.”

Astarion nods, relief washing over his features. “You’re right. We’ve faced too much to throw it all away on a whim.”

Gale looks between the two of you, then gestures toward the phylactery. “There may be a way to learn more before we decide. The phylactery is linked to the spirit within. I could attempt to communicate with it, to see if it’s willing to share any knowledge. It’s a delicate process, though, and there’s no telling how the spirit will react.”

“Then let’s do it,” Astarion says, his voice firm. “We’ll gather every piece of information we can before making a decision.”

Gale nods and begins to prepare for the ritual, drawing intricate runes around the pedestal and muttering incantations under his breath. As he works, you and Astarion step back, watching him with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

Shadowheart, who has been silent until now, finally speaks up. “This is dangerous, but I understand why you’re doing it. Just know that whatever happens, you have my support.”

Astarion glances at her, surprised by her words. “Thank you, Shadowheart. That means… more than you know.”

She gives him a small, genuine smile before returning to her usual stoic expression. “Just don’t do anything reckless, alright?”

“No promises,” Astarion replies with a wink, though there’s a seriousness in his tone that you don’t miss.

Gale finishes his preparations and takes a deep breath, turning to face the three of you. “I’m ready. This will take all of my concentration, so I’ll need complete silence. If anything goes wrong… well, let’s just hope it doesn’t.”

You and Astarion exchange a glance, then step back to give Gale space. The air in the room grows thick with tension as Gale begins the ritual, his voice rising and falling in a strange, melodic chant. The runes around the pedestal glow with a soft, golden light, and the phylactery begins to pulse in time with Gale’s words.

As the ritual continues, the light from the phylactery intensifies, filling the room with an otherworldly glow. You can feel the magic crackling in the air, and a sense of dread creeps into your chest. This is no ordinary magic, this is power beyond comprehension, and it’s dangerous.

Suddenly, the light from the phylactery flares, and a ghostly figure begins to materialize above it. The figure is translucent, its features shifting and indistinct, but you can make out the shape of a humanoid man, tall and regal, with eyes that burn like twin stars.

Gale’s voice falters for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure. “Great spirit,” he intones, his voice steady. “We seek your knowledge. Tell us, what is the purpose of this phylactery? What power does it hold?”

The spirit’s eyes flicker, and when it speaks, its voice is like the whisper of a thousand souls. “This vessel holds the essence of my life, the culmination of all my power. It was crafted to preserve my soul, to grant me eternity beyond death. But in the hands of another… it can do more. It can transform, it can enhance, it can elevate… or it can destroy.”

Astarion steps forward, his gaze locked on the spirit. “And if I were to use it? What would happen to me?”

The spirit’s eyes narrow, its form shifting ominously. “You seek to escape your curse, to walk in the light once more. The phylactery can grant you that, but it comes at a cost. The power within is too great for any mortal to wield without consequence. You would be changed… perhaps beyond recognition. Or you may be consumed entirely.”

The room falls silent as the weight of the spirit’s words sinks in. The choice before you and Astarion is clearer now, but no less daunting. The power to be free from the curse is within reach, but it could come at the ultimate price.

Gale finally breaks the silence, his voice subdued. “We have our answer. The risk is great, but so is the potential reward. Astarion… the decision is yours.”

Astarion looks down at the phylactery, his expression unreadable. Finally, he turns to you, his eyes searching yours for guidance. “What do you think, love? Do we take the chance, or do we walk away?”

Your heart aches with the enormity of the decision. You think of the life you’ve built together, the love you share, and the future that could be waiting for you. But you also think of the risk, the possibility of losing Astarion, of him losing himself.

After a long, agonizing moment, you take a deep breath and speak the words that have been weighing on your heart. “I can’t make this choice for you, Astarion. But whatever you decide, know that I’m with you. Always.”

Astarion’s eyes soften, and he pulls you into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m grateful every day that you’re by my side.”

Astarion holds you for a long moment, his breath warm against your ear, before finally stepping back. He gazes at the phylactery with a mixture of longing and trepidation, as if the weight of centuries is pressing down on him all at once.

“This could be the end of everything,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Or the beginning of something new.”

You reach out, gently touching his arm. “Whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.”

Astarion nods, his resolve hardening. He turns back to Gale, who is watching with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “I’ve made my decision,” Astarion says, his voice steady. “But I need to know more. How do we use the phylactery safely? How do we ensure it doesn’t destroy me?”

Gale frowns, clearly thinking through the possibilities. “The ritual would be complex. We’d need to draw on the phylactery’s power carefully, channeling it into you in a controlled manner. If we’re not careful, the energy could overwhelm you, or even shatter your soul.”

“Then we need to be careful,” Astarion replies, his eyes glinting with determination. “We’ve faced worse, haven’t we?”

Shadowheart steps forward, her gaze serious. “If you’re going to do this, we’ll need to make preparations. We can’t just rush into it without knowing the risks. We should seek out more knowledge, find someone who understands the Netherese magic better than we do.”

Gale nods in agreement. “There is a sage in Waterdeep who specialize in ancient magic. We could consult them, gather all the information we can before we attempt anything. It’s not a decision to take lightly.”

You look at Astarion, feeling a pang of relief that he’s willing to approach this with caution. The thought of losing him to this ancient magic is too much to bear.

“What do you think?” you ask, searching his eyes. “Should we find these sages and learn more?”

Astarion considers this for a moment before nodding. “Yes, it’s the wise thing to do. We’ve come this far, we can afford to wait a little longer. If there’s any chance of doing this safely, we need to take it.”

Gale claps his hands together, clearly relieved. “Excellent! I’ll make inquiries right away. We should have some answers within a day or two. In the meantime, we can rest and prepare ourselves for what’s to come, you are all welcome to stay here in my tower."

Shadowheart crosses her arms, her gaze lingering on the phylactery. “This is a dangerous path we’re walking. But if it means giving Astarion a chance at a better life, it’s worth the risk.”

The four of you agree to set out the next day to seek the counsel of the sage. For now, there’s nothing more to be done but wait. You retreat to your shared quarters in Gale’s tower, the weight of the decision still heavy on your mind.

Inside the room, the atmosphere is different, more charged with the unknown. Astarion seems restless, pacing the length of the small space. You watch him for a moment before standing and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll find the answers we need,” you say softly.

Astarion stops pacing and looks at you, his eyes reflecting a thousand unspoken thoughts. “You’re right,” he says finally, his voice tinged with both hope and fear. “I just, this is the closest I’ve ever been to truly being free. And yet, it’s terrifying. What if we can’t control it? What if I become something monstrous?”

You step closer, cupping his face in your hands. “You won’t,” you say firmly. “You’re stronger than you know, Astarion. We’ll take every precaution. We’ll make sure you come out of this whole.”

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes as if drawing strength from your presence. “I trust you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking. “I trust you more than anyone.”

You pull him into a tender kiss, letting the connection between you speak the words that neither of you can fully express. When you finally pull back, Astarion seems calmer, more grounded.

“Let’s get some rest,” you suggest, guiding him toward the bed. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

He nods, allowing you to lead him. As you lie down together, he wraps his arms around you, spooning you from behind. The chill of his body against yours is comforting, a coldness you have gotten used to, something that was unique to him.

But sleep doesn’t come easily. The weight of the decision hangs over you like a storm cloud, the potential for both great reward and terrible loss swirling in your mind. Every time you close your eyes, you see the phylactery, glowing with that strange, ethereal light, and Astarion, standing on the precipice of a future that could be either wondrous or disastrous.

Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and you drift into a fitful sleep, your dreams filled with visions of ancient magic, swirling shadows, and Astarion’s face, torn between hope and fear.

Click here for part 4

[silkendandelion]

The Artifact, Dayedan (Tav) x Astarion Drabble

I love the way Astarion calls the artifact a “pretty thing”, so much that I combined it with the angsty idea someone wrote up about loving someone so much you would live for them, regarding Astarion’s vampiric immortality.

You don’t need any context, not really, except maybe that my Tav is an artificer and this short little thing takes place during the epilogue

~*~

Dayedan hands over the present, haphazardly folded inside a piece of velvet. He never was very good at presentation, Astarion muses, though he admires the azure fabric, soft and cool as he peels back the corners to reveal a replica of a familiar artifact.

“I know it may seem a little tainted, what with who used to live inside the thing, and everything we’ve been through. But you called it a pretty thing once, and I… want you to have them. Pretty things, I mean.”

“You’re a sweetheart. It’s absolutely gorgeous, darling. Is it magical? Did you enchant it?” He turns over the shiny polyhedral in his hands, gently, fingertips tracing the runes on its plates.

“A—little. It’s just a magic mouth spell, a modified knock. Give it the magic word. It will only respond to your voice.”

“Magic word?” He blinks. “Oh—Please.” He tried with a flirtatious rumble, but the sculpture lay quiet.

Remembering his words from before, he tried again, more excited. “Sledgehammer!”

He grinned, delighted, as the artifact began to glow a sunny golden along its creases, and its silver plates bloomed open. The plates, like petals, fell open to reveal a tiny Dayedan, shimmering, starlike and blue like a weave duplicate.

“Oh,” Astarion pondered the tiny figure with soft eyes, restraining himself from touching the image only barely when it began to speak.

‘I hope the angle is all right, I’m almost out of reagents—oh crumbs, is it going already—hello! Hello, Astarion, my love. I… had written a poem for you, but I don’t think poetry is what you want to hear. Not anymore. Also, I’m not ready to risk you leave me when you find out what a rubbish poet I am.’

Astarion smiled down at the little image as he went on.

‘So I’ll just say I love you, then… I love you, Star. I’ll never love anything as much as I love you. You deserve every day you get, even if it’s under the moon, and while that doesn’t change my promise to help you walk in the sun again… I understand how flawed of a wizard I am. If we—can’t find a cure, or if something happens to me, I want you to hear my voice in this box, see me in my youth, so that I—’

Click. Astarion pressed the runes on the plates and the artifact quieted, petals closing to cradle the magical figure.

“Wait, it wasn’t done. You—”

“I don’t need to hear anymore.”

Dayedan watched him cradle the artifact to his chest, his smile soft even as tears gathered on his white lashes. No, no, it wasn’t meant to make him cry—

He grunts awkwardly when Astarion pulls him into a sudden hug, too tight, the artifact still in his hands as he presses his tears into Dayedan’s hairline.

“Selfish of me, I know. You worked so hard on the spell, I’m sure. But I just can’t listen to you talk about… my going on without you. I—it won’t be for a long, long time. I’ve got plenty of time to get there.”

Dayedan’s shoulders relaxed, returning the hug when he felt Astarion nuzzle the rest of his tears into the collar of his robes. He would catch his tears for as long as they had, every time, he knew.

“You have to promise me you will, I won’t accept anything else.” He says into Astarion’s cheek.

“Just two selfish elves, aren’t we?”

“Mm-hmm.” He nods, pressing a kiss to his skin.

And Astarion was silent so long, Dayedan might have wondered if he’d fallen asleep in his neck, if not for the tremor in his cool hands where he gripped him around the middle.

“I promise.”

Dayedan feels a kiss on his own cheek, the words whispered into his skin as the vampire continues.

“Thank you. For the lovely gift and for… everything.”

[logically-asexual]

Love like you

summary:

Betterfly finds himself in a confrontation with Shadybug and Claw Noir inside the Agreste Mansion of the alternate universe they traveled to. Nathalie is in her bedroom processing the fact that Gabriel has finally lost it. Their journeys unexpectedly cross when Betterfly akumatizes Nathalie by accident.

Read on AO3

Chapter 6 (last)

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words: 2,730

Nathalie stood in the center of the room, with renewed energy thanks to the rooster miraculous, in a golden long-sleeve dress, with a short but wide bell skirt, which from the hips below was covered in shimmering, dark blue and green chick feathers, giving it a fluffy appearance that contrasted with the skin-tight top. Under it she wore black tights and dark gray high boots. Her hair was held up in three red ponytails lined up from the top of her head to the back. A red mask over her eyes was shaped like a beak forming a hook over her nose.

She now had the power to cure any human illness or wound, which was as much as she could ask from Orikko, though not enough yet.

The sun had been gone for a while now, leaving the room only illuminated by the warm chandelier above. There was no wind that night. The curtains on the windows and the trees outside them remained unmoving. The only disturbance in the air around her was her own steady breathing.

In front of her, to her right stood Hawk Moth, still only wearing the butterfly miraculous. To her left, Betterfly. Nathalie nodded at them, indicating that she was ready to start.

Hawk Moth carefully lifted his cane in front of him and opened the knob at the top. A white butterfly fluttered out of it and onto his open palm. He covered it with his other hand and looked back at Nathalie. She thought he was looking for another confirmation that she was willing, but he turned away before she could make another sign of approval.

He closed his eyes and infused the butterfly with magical energy. Then he let it go, extending his arm in Nathalie’s direction so the insect would fly towards her. It landed on her thumb ring and was absorbed into it.

“My Nathalie,” Hawk Moth began, “you have given your best efforts for a cause that seems further from reach the more you chase after it. You have worked yourself to the bone, and in return the one you promised to help has harmed you and ignored you.”

It was hard to make out his expression under the mask, but the tone of his voice was sorrowful, and his eyes grew apologetic as he dug deeper into her heart.

“Now you’re angry at the world for letting it come to this, at yourself for not stopping it sooner, and at… me… for getting lost in the havoc I alone created. You’re desperate for escape, but not without first making sure our mistakes are undone. I’ll help you.”

Nathalie’s hands closed into fists as she felt the frustration fester within her.

Another butterfly flew toward her, with the same end to its trajectory as the previous one.

“Nath,” Betterfly took his turn, “despite everything you’ve lost and despite every disappointment, your hope for a better world perseveres. You are grateful for the many lessons and sweet moments of your journey and you won’t let go of your belief that love will make everything alright again. Because of this, you’re determined to find the way to happiness, for you and your loved ones. I’ll help you, too.”

A shiver ran down her spine. Her fists were held so tightly they began trembling, as did her clenched jaw. A knot in her throat made it hard to swallow back the tears accumulating.

Nathalie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her skin tingled as she felt the power inside her increase. She knew she was ready. She knew her power to heal wouldn’t be at the cost of her own health, the healing would be permanent, and there would be no limit to how many times she could use the power.

The only restrictions were that all memories of the disease, including the traces of side effects induced in the past, wouldn’t be erased like they would with the Wish, and that Nathalie had little time before the miraculous would stop fueling her and would start exhausting her own energy, as it happened ever since she wore the peacock brooch the first time.

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in a slightly changed costume. The skirt now was full length, made of fully grown feathers, which, as well as the rest of the dress, were now white shimmering in gold against the light of the room. Two wings, also white and gold, extended wide and tall behind her.

She stepped towards Hawk Moth and took his left forearm in her hands. She held it with one and with the other pulled a feather from her wings.

Gabriel’s skin wasn’t visible, but she placed the feather over where she knew the handprint was and hoped it would work even through his magical suit. The white feather appeared to dissolve into his arm. Then Hawk Moth took a sudden deep breath, like he had been drowning and only now he reached the surface.

Nathalie looked up at his eyes. He quickly recovered and smiled at her.

She stepped back and took another feather, now for herself. She decided to place it on the center of her chest, where she used to wear the peacock brooch. In came the same rush of fresh air, though her damaged lungs struggled to take it. She coughed a few times, and then… nothing. Her breathing went back to normal.

Still she found that her akuma and kamiko had been retrieved.

Gabriel, after dropping the form of Hawk Moth, helped her back to the couch. His alternate counterpart followed them and the three of them sat down together. Of course the unspoken question of whether it had worked was on everyone’s mind.

Nathalie took Gabriel’s arm again and pulled back his sleeve. The black handprint was there. She observed it carefully for a minute, before a sob mixed with laughter broke out of her mouth.

“It’s no longer spreading,” she told Gabriel, as his own face trembled with excitement. “You’re going to live!”

Gabriel grinned, a rare broad smile that actually reached his eyes and revealed his teeth. Then he blinked and his hands went to her arms. “Wait, what about you?”

“I’m fine.” Nathalie took a deep breath as if to prove her statement, to him and to herself. “We’re alright.”

Gabriel embraced her with crushing strength, stood up and spun around with her still in his arms. She held on tight with her arms around his neck while tears of joy spilled out of her eyes.

When one of Nathalie’s feet accidentally knocked over a teacup from the coffee table, Gabriel put her back down and apologized to the other Gabriel, who reassured him with a smile just as cheerful as theirs.

“Father? Is everything alright?” Adrien’s voice called from outside the room.

“Yes, don’t worry about it,” his father answered. “Go to sleep, I— I’ll take you to school tomorrow.”

There was no answer after that.

Nathalie held alternate Gabriel’s hand in a gesture of sympathy, but he didn’t seem to need comforting, as he looked at her with that bittersweet gaze that characterized him, knowing that he would struggle today, but he was doing the right thing for a better tomorrow.

“Thank you,” he told her, “I’m glad I can count on your support, in every universe.” After a pause, he turned to Gabriel and added, “and thank you, too. I used to think that bad feelings could simply be eliminated with hope and that that was the only solution, but now I understand how negative emotions are also… part of the process, and not just as a step in the way but as a driving force for change. Well, as long as you don’t get lost in them and you steer them properly.”

In response, Gabriel just frowned. Maybe because he wasn’t used to receiving compliments that weren’t about his work, or maybe because he wasn’t sure if this was really supposed to be a compliment.

“We should leave,” he whispered to her. “Can you stand?”

“I think I will need some training to get my strength back.”

He nodded and picked her up, just like he had done many times the past months, except this time Nathalie swore he was holding her a little closer.

With the miraculous packed, Orikko and Nooroo fed, and Gabriel ready with both of them to cross the portal back home, both Nathalie and him gave their last goodbye to Betterfly.

“Thank you, for your help,” her own Gabriel said to the other, who waved at them as they stepped through to the other side.

Nathalie’s room was dark and dead silent.

Gabriel helped her sit down on the edge of her bed and detransformed. Then he opened her bedside drawer, pulled the miraculous out of his pocket and threw them all inside. He added the rooster talon and the purple brooch to the pile before shutting the drawer again.

Nathalie didn’t say a word, but watched him cautiously.

Once he was done he leaned on his hands on the bedside table, with his head hanging forward.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I can’t believe I hadn’t known you felt that way, that I had hurt you… Maybe a part of me did know, but I didn’t want to accept it, I… I’m sorry.”

She gently pulled his arm to make him face her. “What matters is that you see it now. And what we do next.”

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow,” he pleaded. “My head— I have… much to think about.”

She agreed and they stayed quiet for a moment. She didn’t take her eyes off him, but he kept glancing around the room.

“You should go see Adrien. He was very worried about you.”

She didn’t want to think about her carelessness, how she had once again failed to think how her actions could hurt the kid that trusted her. “How did you find me?” she asked instead.

“Apparently Ladybug and Cat Noir were worried about you after the house fell apart. The security footage led me to believe you’d been kidnapped. But I could see that you were actually having quite a good time.”

Nathalie lowered her head at the accusation. Though it was true. She had liked being away from the mess here. A lot of it felt like a dream come true. Except it hadn’t. She was back here.

“I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have stayed that long.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

She felt ashamed, even though she knew she had no reason to. It was a strange feeling, as if by kissing that man she had both been unfaithful in some way to Gabriel as well as violated Gabriel’s boundaries, when she had done neither of those things. Technically.

“Or you could have at least let me know you were leaving.” Despite his apparent anger, he moved to sit next to her. “You can talk to me, too, you know? I… I know I didn’t pay enough attention to you before but I’m going to change that and… and perhaps some of this could have been avoided if you had told me what you were thinking. I would have listened.”

Nathalie knew he wouldn’t have, but there was no point in arguing with him now.

“You didn’t have to go find some poor replacement,” he added after a pause.

“That’s not what I was doing.”

“Then what were you doing?”

Nathalie bit her lip. “I don’t know. Taking advantage of a chance I knew I wouldn’t get again.”

“A chance for what?”

The red of her face deepened with every question putting her on the spot. Now it was him staring at her while she avoided his gaze.

A chance for what? A new start? Being listened to? Feeling understood? Wanted? Some kind of connection that actually felt real? To fill the void where her heart should be?

She didn’t know what she was yearning for, only that she had had it within reach and then lost it.

Then Nathalie realized something. Suddenly she truly understood Gabriel’s longing for Emilie, in a way she had never before.

From an outside perspective with Gabriel’s situation she knew that it was wrong to abandon one’s present life for the idea of another, better one. When it was Nathalie with the opportunity at her fingertips, though, she grasped how hard the choice really was. If she was honest, despite telling Gabriel that she wouldn’t stay, she wasn’t sure how long that resolution would have lasted if it hadn’t been for Monarch’s interruption.

For an answer she couldn’t articulate more than, “I… don’t know.”

“Very well,” he sighed. “You don’t need to do that ever again.”

“Sir?”

“Now that we have life ahead of us, it’s… time to face our reality.”

If he still had the miraculous on she would wonder if he had been reading her mind somehow. Probably Gabriel and Nathalie were just more similar than she had first thought.

She frowned. “Do you mean you’re—”

“There’s no point anymore. We have a new opportunity and I see now how fragile that is. Now we can do anything we want, but perhaps we both should stay within what was given to us, instead of chasing other lives that… we were never meant to have. So…” He fully turned towards Nathalie and held her hands in his. “Anything you want. Come to me for it. We’ll take this reality and make it what we want. You just have to ask.”

“Gabriel, I… Are you sure?”

“I mean it.”

“… Anything?”

“Anything that requires no magic.”

Could it be true? Could they be happy here? The part of Nathalie that rejected the other Gabriel’s offer believed that it was possible.

Most of her behavior was dictated by reasoning, to organize, plan, and execute, but that was just the surface of who she was. Underneath it led her heart, which admired and trusted the man next to her unconditionally. Even deeper was her nature: to seek belonging and participation in something bigger than her, to offer her service to a valuable cause.

If Gabriel offered her a new cause, a realistic one that would allow her to stay by his side and be of use to make him happy, then…. that checked all the boxes, and Nathalie would be all in. The question was whether Gabriel really wanted her in.

She noticed that since they arrived they never turned on the lights. She could barely make out his features in the darkness, but the well studied image of his face was so clear in Nathalie’s mind that she needed no help from her eyes to see him.

So she stayed turned away from him as she murmured, “Will you kiss me?”

She expected him to be appalled, to yell at her, stomp out of the room and slam the door behind him, sealing inside her bedroom whatever kind of friendship they had to never be seen again.

She felt him let go of her and stand up from the bed.

Her head lowered even more as she fixed her eyes to the floor. The shame of this situation could be tossed to join her collection of regrets.

Then he appeared in her field of vision, and then her field of vision was just his face, with it pressed close to hers and his lips on her own.

He held her still with one hand on the back of her head and the other on her shoulder. He kissed her firmly but slowly, with patience. The circles he drew on her shoulder and periodical pauses to let her breathe grounded her. It appeared to Nathalie that he wanted to prove to her that this was real, in contrast to earlier, which felt like a distant memory even while it was happening.

It didn’t say “goodbye”, but “let’s continue this tomorrow, and every day after that.”

As Gabriel pulled away and stood back to his height, he guided Nathalie’s chin up to keep her sight on him.

“Get some sleep. I’ll tell Adrien you’re home.”

He left before Nathalie could snap out of her stupefaction, which she did with a small grin breaking out on her face.

They were home. And for once throughout their existence, Gabriel and Nathalie were thankful for that.

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[thecreaturecodex]

Ha-naga

Image © Bad Moon Art Studio, accessed at their gallery here

[Sponsored by @justicegundam82, who's been having me convert monsters from both Epic Level Handbook and Serpent Kingdoms for a while. And this one is from both! I do find it interesting that the greatest of the nagas, rather than being neutral or being posited as an ancestor or patron to all nagas, is explicitly chaotic evil. I'm going to be working this into the Age of Monsters/Great Game stuff, believe me. Also, thanks to this excellent art, I gave my version both disintegrate and Still Spell]

Ha-Naga CR 20 CE Aberration This human-headed serpent is enormous, its head the size of an entire human, and its body as long as a caravel. Its scales shimmer in color but default to a pearlescent white.

Ha-nagas are the most powerful and magically gifted of the naga lineages. It is a shame, therefore, that they are universally evil. Every ha-naga is self-absorbed to the point of megalomania, and they respect nothing else besides the gods, and even those only grudgingly. Most ha-nagas like to view themselves as divine incarnations, extinction level events, civilization destroyers, and other over the top entities. They have the power to back these claims up on a practical level. Spirit nagas view ha-nagas with a combination of envy and awe, and most ha-nagas have one or more nests of spirit naga minions.

In combat, a ha-naga would rather avoid violence altogether with its mesmerizing gaze. Most ha-nagas have charmed victims to slow down dedicated enemies with, and they do not hesitate to allow said charmed victims to be slain in its stead. If a ha-naga’s mind-controlled allies turn on it, they merely become additional targets for its spells. Ha-nagas tend to like big flashy spells that deal damage over a wide area, and then focus fire on any healers or fellow casters left standing. If they are allowed the freedom of an open-air location for combat, they take to the skies, flying gracefully like a snake swimming through water. Their slam attack is a grasping loop of their coils, and their stings contain venom that causes flesh to decompose within seconds.

Ha-nagas are enormous, and as such require enormous lairs. Abandoned and ruined cities are a favorite, with the ha-naga nesting inside of a temple complex, coliseum or other monumental building. They are very tactile creatures, and often sleep on mounds of treasure in the way that dragons do. Dragons are the only creatures ha-nagas feel remotely threatened by, and some ha-nagas make a habit of eliminating all of the dragons within a comfortable radius of their lairs (and stealing their hoards) before settling down in a location for good.

A ha-naga is about 100 feet long. Their lifespans are best measured in centuries, and a ha-naga can survive two or three millennia if not slain in combat.

Ha-Naga CR 20 XP 307,200 CE Colossal aberration (evil) Init +12; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +36, scent Defense AC 34, touch 14, flat-footed 22 (-8 size, +12 Dex, +20 natural) hp 372 (24d8+264) Fort +19, Ref +22, Will +23 DR 20/good; Immune charms, compulsion effects; SR 31 Weakness corrupted Offense Speed 60 ft., fly 120 ft. (perfect) Melee slam +22 (4d6+9 plus grab), sting +22 (2d8+9 plus poison), bite +22 (4d4+9) Space 30 ft.; Reach 20 ft. Special Attacks charming gaze, constrict (4d6+13) Spells CL 19th, concentration +30 9th (5/day)—meteor swarm (DC 30), wail of the banshee (DC 30) 8th (7/day)—fire storm (DC 29), horrid wilting (DC 29), power word stun 7th (8/day)—greater arcane sight, greater teleport, regenerate 6th (8/day)—disintegrate (DC 27), greater heroism, heal (DC 27) 5th (8/day)—baleful polymorph (DC 26), cone of cold (DC 26), nightmare (DC 26), wall of force (DC 26) 4th (8/day)—cure critical wounds (DC 25), divine power, freedom of movement, scrying (DC 25) 3rd (9/day)—dispel magic, displacement, lightning bolt (DC 24), slow (DC 24) 2nd (9/day)—alter self, mirror image, resist energy, scorching ray, spiritual weapon 1st (9/day)—cure light wounds (DC 22), identify, mage armor, magic missile, shield of faith 0th—bleed (DC 21), detect magic, ghost sound (DC 21), light, mage hand, message, read magic, stabilize, touch of fatigue (DC 21) Statistics Str 28, Dex 34, Con 32, Int 31, Wis 29, Cha 33 Base Atk +18; CMB +38 (+42 grapple); CMD 58 (cannot be tripped) Feats Agile Maneuvers, Arcane Strike, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Empower Spell, Eschew Materials (B), Extend Spell, Flyby Attack, Lightning Reflexes, Quicken Spell, Skill Focus (Stealth), Still Spell, Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +39 (+51 when jumping), Bluff +35, Diplomacy +35, Fly +39, Intimidate +38, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, planes) +34, Knowledge (history) +37, Perception +36, Sense Motive +33, Spellcraft +37, Stealth +41, Survival +36; Racial Modifiers +12 Stealth Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Draconic, Senzar, Undercommon SQ camouflage, compression, flight, metamagic mastery Ecology Environment any land or underground Organization solitary Treasure double standard Special Abilities Camouflage (Ex) A ha-naga gains a +12 racial bonus on Stealth checks. It does not need cover or concealment to make Stealth checks. Charming Gaze (Su) Range 60 ft.; effect charmed (as per charm monster) for 20 days; save Will DC 31. The save DC is Charisma based and includes a -2 racial penalty. Corrupted (Ex) A ha-naga is treated as an outsider with the evil subtype, as well as its actual type, for spells and abilities affected by creature type. Flight (Su) The fly speed of a ha-naga is a supernatural ability. Metamagic Mastery (Su) A ha-naga does not need to increase the casting time of a spontaneous spell in order to modify that spell with its metamagic feats. Poison (Ex) Sting—injury; save Fort DC 33; duration 1/round for 6 rounds; effect 1d8 Con damage; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Constitution based. Spells A ha-naga can cast spells as a 19th level sorcerer. It treats spells from the cleric spell list as being on the sorcerer/wizard list. It does not gain any of the other class abilities of a sorcerer, such as a bloodline.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 31 - The Bachelorette

Everyone takes a goddamn breather.

On AO3.

Which is when Gale and Shadowheart find y’all.

“What’s all this about a pass?” Shadowheart says, scenting blood in the water.

“That is where we find my people and the cure for these parasites,” Lae’zel says. “We leave immediately.”

To a chorus of negatives.

Astarion groans, because he’s Astarion. Gale questions the wisdom of setting out on a different venture with other priorities already in play. Shadowheart’s lungs have been magic-ed closed again, and while she can stand, walking is pushing it. Wyll just looks troubled (you remember his gut-churning horror over leaving the demon woman and the defenseless who might stumble into her path).

“Why don’t we at least rest here tonight and figure everything out tomorrow morning?” you say.

And then they’re all looking at you, and you wish you’d kept your stupid mouth shut.

“You found a potion?” Gale says. “I couldn’t find you after that mess down there.”

When you ran away. You ditched them. You couldn’t do anything to help, but you should have stayed; they were there on your idea.

“I didn’t want to be in the way,” you say and gesture to Shadowheart. It’s only halfway a lie. “I don’t know about medicine here. I’m sorry. Are you gonna be okay?”

“After some rest and once wiser opinions prevail,” she says and shrugs.

Fuck a duck.

Y’all are starting to draw a crowd, too. Both tieflings and druids. After what just happened, it makes your skin crawl to have so many eyes on you.

“We should probably make camp, then,” you say.

And one by one, the others agree. Now that everything is wearing off, all the adrenaline petering out, the exhaustion comes knocking.

Y’all set up on an outcrop above the druid circle. The chanting stopped. No more green haze swirling in a vortex around, what you can now make out, is an antlered idol. Rath calls a huddle outside the stone door, and he must announce what happened. Some of the druids slump in relief. But others lean in close to whisper. You catch at least two throwing glares at the steps up to the tiefling cave.

You hope they keep themselves armed, tonight.

So that’s one part of this dumpster fire banked. The tieflings can’t stay forever (don’t want to now, for obvious reasons). And as long as they plan to pack up and hit the trail, the goblins need to be dealt with.

But there’s no looming forced march, now. You’ve cut the hair holding the sword of Damocles. If nothing else, you accomplished that.

It’s only late afternoon, but y’all’s group is done. Even Lae’zel, after muttering and (you assume) swearing, takes a moment after she removes her armor to run her clawed fingers through her hair.

Then she busts out her cleaning kit, including that goddamn wheel.

You manage to join Astarion in setting up your tent as far away as possible (which puts you both near the ledge of the little promontory y’all are on). The sun shimmers over deep, blue sea out beyond the drop of the cliffs. The wind carries the scent of salt and water and growing things. It’s nice. You hesitate a moment, and then slip off your repurposed boots and roll up the legs of your trousers to give yourself shorts as best you can.

Then you find the closest tree and flop down.

Soft wind traces through your toes as you wiggle them. You scrunch them into the soft grass and sigh.

“You picked what I think might be the most beautiful spot here.” Wyll, heading up the slope from main camp holding two cups. He hands you one as he comes to a stop beside you. “May I join you?”

You beckon to the open spot of grass. He sinks down. Sighs. Glances at your bare legs and feet and then, with a smile, starts toeing off his own boots.

“Mmm,” he says and takes a sip of what smells like wine. “That’s much better. Good thinking.

You nod. Give him a silent toast and take a sip. Try not to grimace.

Wyll chuckles. “Not to your liking, I presume?”

The wine tastes like all wine does to you: intensely bitter. “Hints of cherries” a label might say. “Subtle smokiness.” It’s all bitter. Rotten, bitter grape juice. A slander to perfectly good juice, even.

“I don’t like alcohol,” you say. Because it doesn’t end at wine.

Beer? Sparkling, bitter wheat juice.

Whiskey? A burning, bitter punch to the back of your throat.

Vodka? Right out; you took a single sip and gagged into the sink.

This, finally out of all things, earns a startled look out of Wyll. “None at all?”

You sniff the wine. Try another sip. Still bad. “Nope. I’ll drink it if it’s mixed with other stuff that covers it. But even then, I can still taste it.”

You can’t tell if his expression is perplexed, pitying, or just amazed. He sets his own cup down right on the grass and leans back on his hands. “So what do you drink, where you come from?”

“Water. Tea.” A thought occurs. You try to keep your voice nice and normal and level. “Do y’all have coffee here?”

“Yes, actually.”

oh my god oh my GOD.

That thought must be showing loud and clear on your face, because he holds up a halting hand. “But it’s rare along the Sword Coast. You mostly only find it in port towns.”

Motherfucker.

You’ve heard the name Baldur’s Gate from some of the others. Astarion is maybe from there? Maybe he knows a place. Maybe you’ll have a reason to go there after all this brainworm bullshit.

“To my recollection, coffee is rather bitter,” Wyll says.

“Not with enough milk and chocolate.”

“Your people drink milk?” he says.

You pause. Right. Because that’s a genetic thing. One that might not be present over in Faerun (but they make cheese?).

“Historically, my mother’s people handle dairy very well,” you say. “My dad’s, not so much, but there’s enough Wh—of my mother’s side over there that my dad never had any issues. None of his side does, far as I know.”

Your fourth cousin might—little five-year-old spitfire. But she’s the only one.

Then you register what he didn’t ask about, and you have to breath calm and move slow so you don’t give your damn self whiplash. “Do you know what chocolate is.”

Please. Please. If there’s one good thing in this whole shitmess, please.

“Oh yes. Again, port cities, but my home town had at least once shop,” Wyll says and you want to kiss him on the mouth. He catches that expression, too. His good eye sparkles. “You’re a connoisseur, I take it?”

You got no idea how the fuck a French word translates, and you don’t care.

“I don’t care who I have to kiss, marry, or kill, if this place has chocolate, I am going to get it.”

His eyebrows lift. He gives a sort of “hmm” lip gesture and nods.

“Noted,” he says.

You both sit in silence for a moment. You’ve probably made this awkward. You get real excited about few things, but when you do, hoo boy.

You take another sip of the wine to try to cover it, and because he was nice enough to bring it and hospitality is written on your bones. He finally takes pity and gestures for the glass. You almost don’t give it back (it’s so rude). But then he gives you a look, and he’s still got that playful glint. He’s not mad. He’s not even annoyed. You hand it over.

“I wanted to tell you,” Wyll says and nonchalantly pours your wine into his. Is that something people do? Wine does seem important to everyone else; probably bad form to let it go to waste like that. “The way you handled that situation back there, with our gith friend. You did well. Not everyone could stand up against her like that. It was brave.”

It really wasn’t. She was attracting attention; would have attracted more, and with what y’all just did, that seemed a bad idea.

You shrug. “Was just trying to keep us all outta trouble.”

Wyll nods. Sips his wine. Stares at the blue sky a moment, where a crow circles far overhead. You wonder if it’s one of Bird Lady’s.

“Well. I’m glad to see the leader of the group I’m joining has a practical head on her shoulders,” he says.

“I’m not…” you start to say. Oh jesus fuck.

He gives you a knowing look. “Especially when that practicality includes protecting people.”

His praise sends a flicker of warmth through you. Quickly doused by cold shame. You’re not a protector. You never saved anybody but yourself. You were good and practical about that, leaving everyone else behind, leaving them to take the blame when you ran off into the night—

You give a tight-lipped nod. Wyll seems like a genuinely good person. There’s no way he’ll understand your bullshit, let alone sympathize with it.

He gives a formal kind of bow, and heads back down the slope towards the campfire, where Gale has two pots sitting over raked-out coals.

The leader. Christ’s sake. The only damn thing you’re fit to lead is a parade of your own mistakes off the edge of a cliff. Why in the fuck these people keep saying that is beyond you.

Though, a little voice whispers. That means you made yourself important, right? Enough to keep around?

Only so long as you keep performing well enough. Only so long as your shitty plans pan out. The second one doesn’t, the second they see how goddamn inadequate you actually are…

Fuck. You should have kept that wine. Slam the rest back just to take the edge off the constant, churning anxiety in your gut. You fiddle with the glowing ring on your pinkie finger.

A scrape as Astarion emerges from his tent with a small stool he one hundred percent did not have before. He sets it down, wiggles a bit to make sure it’s not going to tip over. Glances over to you, and then down to Wyll’s retreating back.

“Making friends, are we?” he says.

You shrug.

“The Blade of Frontiers,” Astarion says. “I might have heard of him once or twice back in Baldur’s Gate. In the lower districts, mind you. The taverns there care more about quantity rather than quality, if you know what I mean. I didn’t think we’d end up inviting obscure monster hunters into camp.”

“Wait, he’s what?” Astarion had been coiled tight when Gandrel identified himself. The look in his eyes as his fingers inched up to the hilt of his knife. “You don’t think he’s here for you, is he?”

“Oh darling, is that concern I hear?” When you only throw some plucked grass at him, he snorts. “No. I expect someone of his caliber wouldn’t be manipulated by the likes of Cazador. Though one can never be too certain, I suppose.”

Wyll, now seated at the campfire, sits enthralled by Gale and a lecture of some kind. He seems affable. Courteous. And very competent.

Unless that’s the point. He saw you as the leader and came to chat. Be friendly. Exactly like someone would do if they were trying to make themself appear non-threatening. He could be playing a long game. Either lull y’all into a false sense of security to grab Astarion in the night, or simply ingratiate himself well enough to try to turn y’all against the vampire spawn.

“Though I suppose having a mindflayer parasite dims the odds of that,” Astarion continues. “Hardly enough time to receive a summons and get himself abducted and brainwormed.”

“Or the shitbag who turned you already knew him, he already got himself abducted, and then that shitbag contacted him. How do y’all communicate over long distances? Is that a vampire thing at all?”

A pause. His whole tone lifts up into a teasing lilt. “You are concerned. Or at least planning something no doubt sinister in that devious little mind of yours.”

You turn and find him a lot closer than we was, looming over you. He’s changed out of his armor and into that silly, frilly shirt. He peers down at you with the sun lighting his hair into a white halo around his face.

“There’s not much we can do right now, I reckon,” you say. “If he’s just some wandering guy hunting this demon woman who got brainwormed like the rest of us, he seems like a good ally. I think we ought to wait and see.”

Astarion taps one long finger against his lips. Watches the camp a moment. And then, all silky, “And if he were a threat?”

You shrug again. “We’d have to deal with it, yeah?”

“Mmm. I have to admit a certain level of curiosity, my dear. Why go through all this plotting and planning to protect a vampire spawn? Even one as beautiful as my good self? We’re monsters, you know—though maybe you don’t.” And if that isn’t a backhanded insult. “Exactly the type of dangerous creature heroes like our good Blade put down. Yet here you are.”

Astarion is a grade-A ass. A for asshole. He left you high and dry after biting you. He tried to bite you in the first place. He’s rude and a thief and very clearly rolls his eyes whenever you do something halfway decent for somebody. You shouldn’t care. Were y’all back on Earth and all of these people normal humans, if you met this man at work or something, you wouldn’t give two shits about him.

Maybe it’s the brainworm connection. Maybe it’s just the first layer of foundation in shared fucking trauma. You’ve only known these people a little over a week, but already, the idea of losing one of them makes you nervous. And not just because you can’t boil a potato over a fucking campfire. It’s because, well…you might like some of them. Sorta. Very tentatively.

Even this pompous jackass.

You ain’t telling him one word of that, though.

“Pretty sure it’d fuck group morale beyond all repair if we go around letting each other get murdered or kidnapped or whatever,” you say. “Sets a bad example.”

That probably sounded really callous, didn’t it? Or maybe Astarion don’t care about stuff like that (he was down for letting Lae’zel go full ax murderer on that idiot man earlier).

The man tilts his head in a sort of nod. Then stands there for a couple of seconds, staring at you. Long enough to become uncomfortable. Long enough you open your mouth to ask if you got a bug in your hair.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” he says.

“Ain’t nobody let Gandrel know who you were. I doubt anybody’ll just stand by if somebody else—Wyll—tries to stab you.”

He actually gives you a fake little pout. “Oh, will you swoop in to defend me, darling? It might be a bit tricky without a chasm to shove him into. Though if you could get him up here, to the edge of the cliff…”

Okay. Wow. Fucking asshole. Maybe Gale had a point kicking him out in the dirt.

Before you can string those words together, he squats down next to you, face level with yours. His eyes are such an interesting shade close enough to see them. Most days, they’re a dull crimson, kind of brown in the right light at the right angle. But all up in his business like this, in full daylight, they’re the color of fresh, arterial blood.

“I do think it’s…sweet,” he says and boy howdy, that last word is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. “Not many would offer to take on a hero for my sake. Even if I’m reasonably certain you’d find a way to kill him without getting your own hands dirty.”

“I ain’t said a single goddamn word about killing—” you start.

And then he reaches towards you. Both brain and body sort of trip over their own feet, and you sit there like a jackass as his fingers brush your hair. Pluck up a blade of grass. Accidentally brush your ear on the way out.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s been bugging me for several minutes. And it sounds like dinner is nearly ready; I couldn’t on good conscience let our dearest leader show up with foliage in her hair. Even if she was the one who put it there.”

When—oh. Right. Throwing grass just blows it back at you most of the time.

Then Astarion stands, dusts off his hands, even as Gale’s voice rings out that supper is, indeed, ready.

He waits for you to climb back to your feet. You step past him to start downhill, and notice he don’t follow.

“There’s really no point in continuing the ruse anymore,” he says and waves dismissively at the gathering below. “I’ll stay at my tent, I think.”

You get it. If you couldn’t eat food no more (wait, what the fuck happened to all those meals he took back to his tent in the first days?) you probably wouldn’t want to sit around and watch everyone else enjoy it. Still. Isolating himself ain’t gonna help none of y’all.

“You sure?” you say.

“Quite. I have a few things I need to attend to.”

Well, you can’t force him. “Right. I think we’re gonna eat up and then figure out what to do, next. Want me to come get you for that?”

His head tilts again, the barest twitch. He looks…odd. Then he’s all smug and smarm again when he grins. “If you like. However, I’m rather beginning to trust your judgment, darling. Careful you don’t take on too many burdens, though?”

Goddamnit, he’s doing it, too. None of them should be doing that. They don’t know you like you do; they don’t know how much of a fuckup you really are, and you’re in too deep now to admit it.

Astarion glances back at you. His chin lowers a touch; gives his eyes a hooded look. “Do feel free to seek me out should you need someone to help alleviate any of those burdens, hmm?”

What a bizarre way to phrase that. And it’s not like he’s volunteered to help with literally anything else (that wasn’t murder). Still. If he wants in on the planning?

“Yeah,” you say and hope it doesn’t sound as weirded out as you are.

Guy is such a nut.

Notes:

Astarion: *seductively brushing Eleanor’s ear* Do let me know if I can alleviate you. Eleanor: *mii channel music playing* Why does he talk like that? My poor girl has the romantic intelligence of a potato. 😂

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[mischiefandmedicine]

Very Full - Chapter 16: The Night We Met

Summary: Melara returns home and reflects on her life.

Word Count: 3,244 words.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, sadness, talk of pain.

Soundtrack Link

This Chapter's Music Inspiration:

The Night We Met by Lord Huron

Very Full MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter

A/N: Reminder that I do not own the rights to the lyrics. Yes, I connect the story a lot to songs. I enjoy the idea of a life soundtrack.

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

In the shadowed corners of the Avengers compound, amidst the hum of ceaseless vigilance, there lingered a softer, more human melody. It was in these hallowed halls that Saoirse, young and wide-eyed, watched her Melara grapple with an existence that was at once both radiant and ravaging. Even at her tender age, Saoirse sensed the undercurrent of sorrow that threaded through her mother’s days, a silent partner to the chronic pain that never quite receded into the background. And her argument with Loki only seemed to make matters worse.

Melara, whose spirit was as vibrant as the music she conjured from the depths of her being, carried her affliction with a grace that belied the tears Saoirse often caught glistening in her eyes. The pain, a cruel tax levied upon her mother’s every breath, seemed to fuel a creative fire that blazed through the notes and lyrics of her songs. To the world, Melara’s music had soared, a phoenix rising with wings unfurled from the ashes of her suffering, gaining adoration and acclaim as it climbed the charts.

Yet, for Saoirse, the music was a double-edged sword. It was the lullaby that had rocked her to sleep, the anthem of her childhood. But it was also the siren song that heralded the slow unraveling of her mother. Melara’s melodies were spun from the threads of her agony, and they shimmered with a beauty that was heartrending. The more Melara’s fame grew, the more her songs resonated with souls across the globe, the heavier the toll it seemed to take on her.

Saoirse, though only seven, bore the heavy mantle of the silent observer from the comfort of their space within the compound. She had neither the words nor the means to articulate the helplessness that gnawed at her small heart. She could only watch, her violet eyes a mirror to the torment and triumph that warred within her mother.

The days melded one into the other, each marked by Melara’s fierce determination to rise to the demands of her flourishing career despite her condition. Her mother would smile, would perform, would shine under the spotlight – only to return to their quarters with a pallor that makeup no longer concealed and a weariness that sleep could not cure. Saoirse would listen to the soft sobs that escaped from behind the bathroom door, the sound muffled by the rush of water and the walls that stood between them. Occasionally, Saoirse could swear she even heard her father’s name escape from her mother’s lips in her sleep, a fever dream she had every night, no matter how good the day.

Saoirse understood, in her own way, that her mother was fighting a battle that went beyond the physical. Melara was striving to leave a legacy, to carve out a piece of eternity through her art, perhaps to defy the impermanence that her illness whispered of in the dark hours.

Yet, for all her mother’s strength, there was an ever-present shadow that lurked behind the smiles and the curtain calls – a specter that grew bolder with each passing day. It was a shadow that Saoirse, young as she was, recognized as the harbinger of loss. Try as she might, Saoirse’s magic was not strong enough to summon her own father to rescue her mother from the torment.

The compound, with its heroes and its healers, became the stage upon which Melara’s dual life played out. And in the midst of it all was Clint, the quiet sentinel who watched over both mother and daughter. His presence was a constant, a reminder of the life that continued beyond the confines of fame and pain.

In those days, the compound was more than a refuge; it was a witness to the cost of greatness to the price of a mother’s love, and to the silent understanding of a child who saw too much too soon. It was a place where Saoirse learned the language of unshed tears and unspoken fears, where she came to understand the resonance of her mother’s music, and where she first glimpsed the inexorable approach of an ending that seemed written in the stars.

In the wake of her tempestuous farewell to Loki, Melara found herself adrift in the quiet aftermath, her emotions as raw as an open wound. The Avengers compound, once a bastion of strength and solace, now echoed with the hollow remnants of her shattered connection. It was there, following a shared song with Clint, whose empathetic ear and gentle strumming offered a semblance of peace amidst the silent chorus of her own heartbreak.

But the respite was fleeting. The next day, the call to return home to Wisconsin, to the roots and the reality of her life before the grandeur of stages and the acclaim of crowds, loomed over her. It was a homecoming tinged with disquiet, a journey back to the origins of her dreams, now colored by the fatigue that clung to her like a shadow. She would return to the place where she met Loki, the place where Saoirse was born, and above all, the place where she had fallen in love with the disjointed family that they had created.

The flight back to Wisconsin, though, was a quiet affair, Melara’s gaze often drifting to the clouds beyond the window of their private jet, lost in the thoughts she could not voice. Saoirse, ever perceptive, nestled close to her mother, sensing the unease that vibrated through her. With a tenderness that reversed their roles, Melara soothed her daughter, her gentle caresses and whispered assurances painting a veneer of normalcy over the canvas of her anxiety as Saoirse laid her head in Melara’s lap.

Evelyn, the matriarch whose wisdom and love had shaped Melara into the force of nature she was, awaited them at the airport. Her keen eyes, missed nothing, noting the telltale signs of her daughter’s weariness. With Saoirse in tow, she offered a warm embrace, her words for her granddaughter laced with a knowing that spoke volumes.

“She looks tired, doesn’t she?” Evelyn whispered to Saoirse, careful to keep her observations from reaching Melara’s ears. It was a dance they had perfected over time, a way to acknowledge the struggle without adding to its weight.

Saoirse, nestled against her grandmother, merely nodded looking up at her, her young heart aching with the understanding that her mother’s vibrancy was dimming, the flame that had once burned so brightly now flickering uncertainly.

The return to Wisconsin was bittersweet. Melara’s smile, as she breathed in the familiar air, was genuine, but it was a joy tempered by the knowledge of what – and who – she had left behind. In her mother’s house, surrounded by the artifacts of her past, including the one picture anyone had of her with Loki and Saoirse, Melara seemed to walk the line between gratitude for her roots and the restlessness of a soul that had tasted the stars.

As night fell, Melara tucked Saoirse into bed, her voice soft and soothing as she sang Saoirse’s Asgardian lullaby for what seemed like the millionth time. It remained a part of their bedtime routine as a mother’s promise to her child that, no matter the storms that raged, her love would remain an unshakable fortress.

Evelyn watched from the doorway, her heart heavy with the silent knowledge that her daughter was battling more than just the exhaustion of travel and the demands of fame. There was a deeper weariness in Melara’s eyes, one that spoke of battles fought in the depths of her soul, of love lost and the relentless march of time.

As Melara kissed Saoirse goodnight, her touch lingered, a silent prayer that the dawn would bring renewed strength and clarity. And in the quiet of the house, as the echoes of Melara’s lullaby faded into the night, the three generations of strong women found solace in the shared sanctuary of family, a bond that time, distance, and even the gods themselves could not sever.

Melara and Evelyn retreated from the sanctity of Saoirse’s room, heading for the living room that was steeped in the soft glow of evening. They settled into the well-worn couch, an island in the midst of family photos and mementos of a life rich with memories. Evelyn’s gaze, filled with the weight of unspoken concern, found her daughter’s weary face.

“Love, you’re pushing yourself too hard,” Evelyn began, the words wrapped in the warmth of maternal care, yet firm with the insistence of one who knows the toll of overextension. “As a widow who raised two kids by herself, I can tell when someone is overdoing it. Why not stay here for a while after the concert? The compound isn’t going anywhere.”

Melara’s laugh was a shadow of its usual mirth, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of a cushion. The layers of makeup did little to mask the tell-tale signs of fatigue that her mother’s keen eyes so easily discerned. “Mom, I’m fine,” she lied, a practiced smile dancing on her lips. But Evelyn was not to be dissuaded.

 “I can see it, Melara. The way you move, the hollowness in your eyes. Something’s not right, and I think you know it too,” Evelyn pressed, her voice a tender yet unyielding force. “Do those fancy Avengers doctors even know what they’re doing?”

The dam within Melara cracked, her defenses waning in the face of her mother’s astute observation. She could not fight with her mother. “I’ve been feeling drained, mom. The pain is never-ending now and even sleep has become a stranger to me,” she confessed, the veneer of strength crumbling.

Evelyn reached out, her hand enveloping Melara’s. “Singing shouldn’t be a crutch, love. It’s your gift, but it should not be done at the expense of your health.”

Melara’s eyes, so often a wellspring of determination, now glistened with the sheen of vulnerability. “It’s the only thing besides Saoirse that’s keeping me going. If not for the music, I’d have nothing to counter this…this endless ache.”

They sat in silence, the generational divide bridged by a shared understanding of suffering and the solace found in art. Evelyn, her heart heavy with a mother’s love, sought the words that might anchor her daughter to the shores of rest and recovery.

“Think of it this way: you need to be with family. We can take care of you too, Melara. Let Saoirse spend time with her cousins, let her feel the roots that ground us all. The world can wait, but this,” Evelyn gestured to the walls that contained the essence of their family, “this is where you can heal.”

The conviction in her mother’s voice was the balm Melara hadn’t known she needed. It was a permission of sorts, an affirmation that stepping back from the limelight was not a retreat but a necessary respite. After moments that stretched like lifelines, Melara nodded, acquiescing to the wisdom her mother offered.

 “Alright, Mom. We’ll stay a while,” she agreed, her voice a murmur that carried the weight of her world.

Evelyn pulled her into an embrace, one that spoke of homecoming and the quiet strength that the bonds of family provided. Melara allowed herself to be held, to be comforted in the arms that had always been her sanctuary.

As the night deepened around them, the two women remained in the living room, their conversation a delicate dance of hope and healing. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Melara allowed herself to imagine a life not dictated by the demands of burgeoning powers, but by the simple rhythms of home.

With the stillness of Evelyn’s Wisconsin home, under the watchful gaze of family history, Melara and Evelyn forged a new understanding, an agreement that anchored Melara to the present, to the promise of days filled with familial love and the gentle respite of her mother’s house. It was a promise of tomorrow, a vow to face the uncertainties not alone, but with the strength of generations that flowed through their veins.

After much talking, the comforting words and the warmth of the embrace from her mother, Melara excused herself under the pretext of needing fresh air, but the truth was, she sought solitude with the night. The porch, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, became her refuge, the guitar her only companion as she settled into the wicker chair that had known many such nights.

Her fingers strayed over the strings, a familiar song bubbling to the surface, one that spoke of love, loss, and the bitter sweetness in between – a song that Loki had once said captured the essence of the stars. As she began to play, the melody filled the silent expanse around her, the notes a poignant echo of the life she had built and the love that still lingered in the recesses of her heart.

I am not the only traveler, Who has not repaid his debt. I’ve been searching for a trail to follow again, Take me back to the night we met. And then I can tell myself, What the hell am I supposed to do? And then I can tell myself, Not to ride along with you. I had all and then most of you, Some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met. Haunted by the ghost of you, Oh, take me back to the night we met. When the night was full of terrors, And your eyes were filled with tears. When you had not touched me yet, Oh, take me back to the night we met. I had all and then most of you, Some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met. Haunted by the ghost of you, Oh, take me back to the night we met. But as the song progressed to the last notes, thinking of Loki and their epic story, a sudden sharp twang cut through the melody. Melara paused, looking down in the dim light to see a string snapped, its frayed end the result of the tension that had built unnoticed. A wry teary smile touched her lips – the guitar had its limits, it seemed. Her fingers brushed against the broken string, and she flinched; the metal was unexpectedly hot to the touch, as though her own inner turmoil had transferred to the instrument.

The broken string, the heat from her touch – they were more than just physical occurrences. They were metaphors for her life, for the path she had walked upon, where the fire within her threatened to consume not just her own peace but also the things, and the people she cherished. She was losing control.

A wave of emotions crashed over her, the memories of Loki’s face against the backdrop of stars upon his throne, the sound of his voice, their last conversation – it all rushed back with a vengeance. The song she played, once a calm to her soul, now felt like a dirge for something she feared was slipping away. The heat from her fingers, a cruel reminder of her condition, and the fire that burned within her – sometimes a beacon, sometimes an uncontrollable inferno.

With a sigh, she set the guitar aside, the silence more fitting company to her thoughts. She wrapped her arms around herself, the night air cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that still radiated from her fingertips. In the quiet of the night, with the broken guitar string a tangible representation of her fractured reality, Melara looked up at the sky, allowing herself to grieve – for what was and what could no longer be.

In the stillness of the night in her hometown, on the porch of the house where she had grown up, Melara made a silent vow. A vow to fight, to hold on, not just for Saoirse or for the music that defined her, but for herself. Because even with a broken string, the song was not over; the melody remained, waiting to be reborn from the ashes of the moment.

As she rose to return inside, the porch seemed to hold her for a moment longer, the night whispering its own silent song of resilience. Tomorrow, she would face her mother, her daughter, and the world. But tonight, she faced herself, her own heart, and the haunting melody of a love that refused to be quelled by distance, duty, or the ravages of time.

***

Loki, his features softened by the cosmic dimness that surrounded them, turned towards Saoirse, a question in his eyes, mirroring the brightness of the stars above. “Why,” he began, his voice carrying the stories he wished to tell of Melara, “did you find yourself drawn to the shadows, listening in on your mother’s solitary moments?”

Saoirse, reflecting the resilience she had inherited, met his gaze with an unflinching honesty. “The shadows were where the unspoken truths lay hidden,” she replied, her voice steady. “In the light, Mom was invincible, the star that outshone the darkness. But in the shadows, she was human, vulnerable. I needed to understand her, all of her, not just the brilliant façade she showed the world.”

Loki considered her words, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. “And what did you find in those shadows, daughter?” he asked, the title ‘daughter’ hanging between them like a bridge over the vast chasm of time they had lost.

“I found strength, even in her tears,” Saoirse said. “I found that the same fire that burned in her music burned in her spirit – it hurt her, but it also made her Melara Grace Brandt…my mother. I eavesdropped not to uncover secrets, but to know her heart. To hear the lullabies of her soul that weren’t captured in her songs.”

Loki’s expression softened, the mask of the god slipping to reveal the father beneath. “You carry her fire,” he observed, the pride evident in his tone. “And her heart. You are as much a part of her story as she is of yours.”

Saoirse nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the bond they shared through Melara. “Her music was her legacy, but her struggles, her quiet moments, they were her gifts to me. They taught me that even stars feel the cold of space, that even the brightest light can falter. I needed to see her humanity to accept my own.”

The god of mischief, known for his silver tongue and grand tales, found himself at a loss for words, once again, at the hands of his beloved daughter. In his daughter’s revelations, he saw the reflection of Melara’s essence, the very things that had drawn him to her in the cosmic dance of their lives.

 “Then you have seen what many fail to see in a lifetime,” Loki finally said, his voice carrying a reverence that was rare and true. “You have witnessed the entirety of a person, the light, and the shadows, and loved them all the same. I hope that someday you will see the same in me.”

Saoirse, with the wisdom of one who has been beyond the veil of illusion, simply nodded. They sat together, father and daughter, united in their understanding of the woman who had changed their worlds forever. In the silence, filled with the music of the cosmos, they found solidarity, a moment of peace in the tumultuous narrative of their lives. For they both knew what came next.

---

Taglist: @mischief2sarawr

[hexcoremagician]

𝗩𝗜𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗥𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗘.

"IT IS ALL A MATTER OF FREQUENCY."

Tarot

credit for the right image which inspired this headcanon

Viktor has been reading tarot cards ever since he was very young. As the son of a fisher woman, he picked up the art from dock workers one day, and kept on reading tarot well into his Machine Herald years. For him, tarot is the universe reaching out and guiding him. Sometimes, if he is hitting an intellectual wall, Vik will read tarot cards to see if he needs to take a break, or if he needs to think up another angle.

Tarot is his first connection with the Arcane, and his love of tarot, stubbornness that the Arcane could solve his health, and belief in Jayce's (@futureforged) work with magic is why he was willing to throw everything away so easily to support him.

The HexCore: Viktor's Desperate Search for a Cure and His Eventual Magical Augmentation

Viktor knew at an early age that he was very sick, especially since the first ten years of his life was full of constant illnesses. With his feeble limbs, deformed leg, and constant muscle pain and fatigue, he had an inkling that he was going to die at a young age.

Only a year into Jayce and his HexTech Dream, he found out that he had Stage 3 myleoma. In the years following the invention of the HexGates, he would seek to create a device that could cure him of his affliction. And hence, the HexCore, his pride and joy, was created.

After the Council Chamber Incident, where Jayce put the HexCore into his chest to keep him alive, the fact Viktor was teetering on the verge of life and death gave the HexCore just enough energy to completely transform him by embedding itself into his chest. A ripple effect occurred, and all of his organic tissue was changed, fighting off the cancer and other ailments inside of him. Despite the fact his body, save his chest and right hand and leg, was still normal flesh, it still held magical properties from the HexCore. This didn't last for long, as only a few months after being saved, Viktor would run away to Zaun and start his Glorious Evolution, being more in tune with the Shimmermetal.

The invention was something that could think and learn, using artifical intelligence and the Arcane, the runes printed on its sides. Later, when Viktor was more well-versed in the magic and the void, he would understand why the HexCore didn't save him without a sacrifice of blood: some runes were missing. Those few missing runes led to his body being augmented with Shimmer and Sky's life force, which started a chain of events: the more the HexCore thought and learned, the more of Viktor's body was changed with Shimmermetal, stopping at his head and neck, as he requested.

The HexCore also makes Viktor age slowly - if he even ages at all - with him being stopped at the age the Core was implanted into his chest. Even with his skin being made of ShimmerMetal, the HexCore can be seen through him: it will pulse with his heartbeat. When he uses magic, his eyes will briefly flash purple.

His lifespan is now extended, as the HexCore acts both as a battery and is constantly upgrading itself while inside of Viktor.

Because of its continuous growth, Vik can learn all sorts of magical concepts and apply them - he becomes a true master magician.

It also powers his entire magical system and bodily functions, feeds his spells, and whispers to him. The HexCore has an imprint of Rio's consciousness - due to Time-wonky things thanks to the Machine Herald copying her consciousness into his HexCore and it rippling through time - and that in combination with Rio's biological matter from Shimmer, it is fiercely protective of Viktor. The HexCore will think selfishly and protect Viktor above all else.

TL: DR; Viktor is made of the Arcane, and wields it in tandem.

SCIENCE AND MAGIC: electricity and the void

Viktor can wield the powers of the void and electricity. He uses his intersection of knowledge between science (electricity) and the arcane (the void). This makes him especially deadly.

He can use magic without the use of his staff, though he prefers having his staff around, as it is a powerful tool for him, and amplifies his powers, plus it is a cheap way for him to also imbue electricity into his spells.

The Void is used as his own personal pocket dimension, and he is capable of sending objects there to retrieve at a later date. He will also send allies there to protect them in rare cirumstances.

Famously, he keeps about ten V Coil towers there that he can summon to his current location, so he can trap individuals with his powers at a few movements of his staff.

He also uses his inventing skills to create gravity traps, siphon power from others, and call down ion storms.

His most powerful asset, and why he gets invited to join the Black Rose: Viktor can mimic frequencies of other beings through his study of science and the Arcane, and can undo especially dangerous enchantments, such as in the case of LeBlanc's (@blackrosesmatron) struggle with Mordekaiser. Viktor can mimic Morderkaiser's frequency, undo the sigil, and place it upon his armor to lock him away, meaning the Iron Revenant can never resurface, and is thus trapped forever.

His inventions, after becoming the Machine Herald, also invoke both the Arcane and science.

Viktor can also turn himself into electricity and can use it to teleport away, often having him disappear in the blink of an eye.

[truearchangel]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂

For all the gold that Michael wears, his magic is actually blue with specks of gold dust woven into it. The color of it is reflected in his wings too which are pure white with a blue shimmer to them. Though his halo is pure gold. As stated previously, Michael is the strongest Archangel in the clouds, second to God himself as his right hand, and the only angel to ever beat Lucifer and Satan both. This makes his power level rather incredible, though it is far from bottomless. Like all angels he has the same weakness to Angelic Steel or direct hits to his soul that pierce and shatter it. Though someone will be hard pressed to do either.

Michael’s greatest ability is of course his swordplay. Though he can use standard sword fighting with a longsword and a shield, he prefers fencing. He has training in other areas such as the bow, close hand combat and magical combat, he’ll always default to the sword first. He has the title the Sword of God for a reason.

Like all angels, Michael’s magic is rooted in his angelic status. His magic is pure and holy which makes it quite deadly for most sinners / demonic souls to interact with. The light he can produce from his soul with barely an effort is blinding and burning, damaging to everyone and everything around him that isn’t also holy in nature. The burning nature of their magic is a reflection of the literal star that was used to create them. A light that is overly powerful and unsafe for even the angel themselves to use in such a raw way. For that reason, Michael won’t use the full force of that power unless it comes down to a matter of life and death on his part.

Like with Lucifer, the main power that Michael was born with was the ability to create. They were meant to help God form the universe, Heaven, the Garden of Eden, and of course the humans. Lucifer was always better at that, at making the things that God actually wanted and forming the way his visions were meant to align. Michael had a horrible habit of overthinking every little thing he created and making it either too much or too little. Together, the two of them were always stronger. Combining their magic allowed them to make grander and more world shifting things. A closed circuit unifying itself. Alone, he never felt like quite enough when using the magic and after Lucifer fell he just never bothered using it again. It hurt far too much.

With that part of his magic locked away, Michael relied more heavily on his other abilities. As a being of pure light, he can manipulate the light around him. Twist it into solid form, make it brighter or even absorb it entirely. The ability to use it as a physical weapon or a shield is perhaps the most impressive aspect of what he can do with it and Michael will take full advantage of this in a fight where he doesn’t have a weapon. Something rare considering he can summon his sword on demand.

As with other angels, Michael can heal people too. The severity of the wound will depend on how much energy it does take to heal it. If someone is quite literally dancing with the Angel of Death, he’ll struggle a lot more to save them. If the wounds are only shallow or a few scratches, healing them takes next to nothing to accomplish. Holy wounds are quite easy for him to cure as well, considering he can just absorb the holy light in them and then patch the wound shut with his own magic. Healing a sinner or demon with holy magic might not be ideal. Considering the base nature of his magic, doing that might cause more damage than actually cure. Basic first aid is a skill he also has, and would be what he relies on first when healing a demonic being.

The ability to teleport is another skill Michael has. Either with a portal or just standard magic, he can move to any places he wishes to. He doesn’t have to have been there before, his magic won’t take him somewhere that is unsafe and a portal can’t open itself in the middle of a wall. If the place he wants to go is unsafe, his magic will move him to the closest location that is safe for him to be in.

As a being that is capable of manipulating its form, Michael can shapeshift though not to the same degrees as his twin. He can’t change his entire physical form, though with practice he might be able to accomplish that. He never enjoyed the feeling of changing his body so it wasn’t a skill he focused on developing much of. He can make minor changes to his appearance, like giving himself ears and a tail or hiding his wings and halo. Little things that help with survival depending on the area he is in. Like taking a strictly human appearance on Earth.

His standing in Heaven is significant. Michael is the person closest to God, who serves directly at his side and does whatever He needs. This comes with a burden to shoulder, heavy titles that earned through his devotion and struggles to continue to uphold to the level he believes the Heavenly Father wants. The power that he has, that he tries not to take advantage of, comes with the understanding that everything he can do has to be used to benefit Heaven. (That's what it’s for, isn’t it?) He doesn’t believe the things he can do, the power he has, strictly belongs to him. Every bit of him he sees as something God created and God granted to him, and therefore should be used in service of the Heavenly Order. Though he will still always reject requests that are for him to use his creation magic. It will never feel the same to use it without Lucifer beside him.

[des2dream]

The Beast Who Denies His Beauty

A group of fairies scurried into the night. Each of them batted their wings as fast as they could while making sure no one was left behind. Panic had formed in their chests. Fear was painted in their eyes. They fled as if something was chasing them. As if something was trying to get them. Or someone! When they knew that they gained enough distance from whatever was on their tail, they hid at the top of a bell tower.

"What are we going to do?! How will the kingdom be able to survive?!" one of the fairies cried.

"We will all seek help. We will spread the word. We will look for ways to find a cure. We will not let this tragedy take over!" said the eldest fairy in the group.

"I need all of you to return home and inform everyone about the situation. They all need to know! Even those BEYOND our lands need to know! We must come together to put a stop to this! I will remain here and start looking for any solutions. Don't leave anyone behind, keep yourselves hidden, and please stay safe. GO!!!"

The eldest fairy watched as the rest of the group fled into the night. She looked down from the bell tower and found that she was in the presence of a small village. Within that village, there was a gathering surrounding a small house. She went to investigate and found that everyone in the gathering was fawning over a newborn baby girl. She looked into the newborn's eyes and a sudden spark of magic exploded in her heart. The eldest fairy clenched her chest and stared up at the baby in astonishment and disbelief.

"What is this? A sign? This spark is telling me there is something about you....and I don't know if it's good or bad. Whatever it is, I should keep my eye on you. A spark like this is too strong to be ignored." she whispered.

Once Upon A Time,

There was a poor couple who lived in a small village. They didn't have much as they only got by being cleaners working in the homes of higher-ups. They were called, "scum", "dirt folk", "desperate souls", and "unworthy". Though, luck seemed to be on their side when the couple gave birth to a baby girl and her beauty was a gift to behold. Her hair was as black as the night sky. Her citrine-colored eyes shimmered like the Sun. Her skin compared to the softness of wool. Her looks gained attraction on the day of her birth and when news spread to the higher-ups that there was a beautiful baby in the village, their children wanted to see her. At first, they were disgusted at the idea of "scum" being able to birth such a glorious infant, but the children were amazed and indulged in the new baby. When asked what her name would be, the couple decided to name their child, Nomi. A name that meant beauty.

Everyone in her village will tell you that her complexion is a lovely sight, but not even looks could save her from the unfortunate circumstances that came with it. As she grew from a baby to a young girl, her parents took advantage of the attention Nomi received and started charging everyone a pretty penny to see her leaving them with enough money to buy clothes and accessories to make their daughter even more beautiful. It's because of this money-making scheme that allowed Nomi to receive gifts from other lands and was even given the privilege of getting invited to fancy parties hosted by famous Dukes and Duchesses.

One of the Dukes wanted his son, Lord Adrian to marry her as he insisted that his son deserved only the best and there was no denying that Nomi was the best in the public's eyes. Her parents were hesitant at first, but the idea of being related by law to such high nobility was an offer they could not refuse! It would solve all their problems! No longer would they have to scrub floors while being looked down upon in-between insults! No more having to search through trash looking for scraps to eat! They could finally live in LUXURY! It was then decided that Lord Adrian and Nomi were to be wed once Nomi had become of age.

Lord Adrian was a sight for sore eyes. A dashing smile, short but luscious dirt-blonde hair, gorgeous hazel eyes, and an outrageously expensive wardrobe. Most women would consider him to be a fantastic future husband, but he proved to be awful company as he and Nomi were made to spend lots of time together in the meantime. He was snobbish, conceited, had little to no consideration for the less fortunate, and would often brag to his friends. He'd continuously rant about how the gods have truly blessed him with all the good things in his life. Inherited riches, popularity, and a beautiful soon-to-be bride. "Truly, there is no one else who is greater than I!" he'd say almost all the time.

As days turned to weeks which turned into months that eventually became years, Nomi had grown from a young girl to a young woman. A young woman who had been fed up. Fed up with Lord Adrian. Fed up with her parents marrying her off for riches. Fed up with the attention she never asked for. Fed up with EVERYTHING! On the day of the wedding, she couldn't take it anymore. She never made it to the altar. All she could do was run. Where to? Anywhere as long as it wasn't back there! She ran far and far. So far that she led herself into The Dark Forest unaware that it had been rumored to be CURSED. Those who come in....never come out. The sun was blocked from all the blackened leaves in the trees. The atmosphere was eerie and cold. It wasn't a safe place to wander about, but Nomi couldn't stop running.

It didn't take long for her to realize she was in unfamiliar territory and found that she got herself lost. Her wedding dress was torn, sticks and twigs were tangled in her hair, she was covered in dirt, and she was exhausted. She stopped at a nearby tree and rested her back against it while trying think of what to do. Unbeknownst to her, on the other side of the tree someone else laid their back against it practically cursing in their frustrations. Nomi looked to see who it was and found herself standing face-to-face with a seven-foot tall stranger. However, something was off about this stranger. Fangs, shaggy fur, a long tail, sharp claws, and jaded (but fierce) eyes. This was no stranger. It was....a BEAST! The two looked at each other for a brief moment before Nomi let out a terrified scream. She tripped on the roots of the tree and scrambled to get some distance between her and that monster, but for some reason the beast wasn't chasing her.

He kept his back against the tree staring off into the sky. Not even his tail moved an inch as it was slumped down against dead leaves and twigs. When his eyes shifted to Nomi again, he looked over at a bush and walked up to it.

"There isn't much to admire in a place such as this," he said as he picked up a wilted rose before slowly making his way towards Nomi.

"But, I hope this will suffice for a fair maiden who is lost on her way."

He slowly gave her the rose and slumped back against the tree staring back into the sky. Nomi was befuddled! Why hasn't this beast torn her to shreds by now? As a child, she recalled the stories that the children of the higher-ups would whisper among themselves saying how beasts were born without hearts making it easier for them to tear apart their victims bit by bit and drag them into their dens to feast on their remains. Those stories were enough for Nomi to lie awake at night. Yet, here she was completely unharmed. Still breathing. Still untouched. She rose up from the ground and took one step forward.

"Aren't you going t-to.....kill me?" she asked as she trembled.

"Why should I?" the beast asked her.

"What satisfaction would that give me? What have you done that would warrant me to take such action? Is....is that what you want?"

"NO!"

"If that's the case, then I cannot give that to you. Though, I have no doubt any other threats in this forest will be willing to fulfill that desire."

Nomi remained befuddled. This behavior was unbecoming of a beast....not like she ever did research on how beasts were meant to behave. All she ever heard were stories and rumors. If this creature wasn't going to harm her, she could at least make the best of her current situation and start a conversation. She made her way back to the tree and sat down just a few feet away from the beast. She took a deep breath before opening her mouth to speak.

"Thank you......for the rose.....and not tearing me to pieces! Usually, you hear tales of beasts doing unspeakable things to their victims. I'm sorry, I was intimidated by your appearance. One can only think of what would happen if they saw any sign of danger. Um....well....you aren't like any beast I've heard of before."

"That's because I wasn't always a beast. I used to be....something else. No. Someone else!" the beast replied softly.

"It's been so long.... I can't remember who I was supposed to be, but I know I wasn't meant to be this! You see....it's a long story. One that I can't fully put together and I...."

"I'll be willing to listen," said Nomi as she moved a little closer to the beast.

"Sit down with me, please. I'd like to know how you're feeling."

The beast was hesitant at first, but with nothing better to do he slumped down beside Nomi before placing two fingers atop his forehead.

"I know I lived in a different forest. It wasn't dark or dreary. It was lively! There were birds singing, flowers blossoming, and the sun was shining. The leaves in the trees came in multiple colors as each season passed. There were lakes and waterfalls with the prettiest lily pads. I remember there were....people? Yes! The people who lived there were so happy! I was happy too....but, it was about something else. Someone told me something that made me so happy it made everyone start cheering." he said as a smile crept onto his face.

However, it only lasted for a brief moment. As he continued his story, the tone in his voice turned grim.

" Then, the people were scared. They kept yelling about intruders and I think they got me. One of them shouted something at me before I woke up here and I became....this! I can't remember what they said. I think they cursed me and I don't know how to fix this. I can't leave The Dark Forest no matter how many times I've tried. At this point, I've accepted my fate. I will remain here for the rest of my life...."

Nomi frowned. Despite knowing very little about this creature, she felt bad for him. How long had he been trapped here? Why would someone put a curse on him? What of his family? Or friends? Was anyone looking for him? Have they stopped looking? She gazed up at the beast's eyes and took pity on the emptiness she saw through them. She also took notice of his blank expression along with his tail that still laid there against the dead leaves. His face was just as pale as his white fur. Before Nomi could respond, the beast turned to her direction.

"You wanted to know how I'm feeling? I'm not sure. A part of me is angry that I'm cursed to be like this. Another part of me is frustrated that I can't remember everything that's happened to me! It's like as the years go by, I forget more and more. Then, there's another part of me that's saddened by all of this. Being alone for all these years puts a damper on your high spirits. How I'm feeling right now? Well, I'm puzzled. You were scared of me and now you're sitting next to me. How did you stumble into a place such as this? You don't look like you belong here. Your eyes.....they're full of innocence....and also sadness. What led you to come here?"

"My parents were about to sentence me to a cruel fate and used me to make themselves happy! I'm never going back! I can't!"

"So you decide that this is a much better fate?! To be trapped here with nothing but darkness and loneliness?"

"I'm not alone now....are you?"

"....No."

The two remained to sit next to each other for the rest of the night enjoying each other's company. When morning came, Nomi offered to help the beast lift his curse much to his uncertainty. With very little memory of what happened to him, he had no idea what could cure him from this horrendous state. Nomi recalled that he had been taken by intruders so the logical option would be to find them. But how? Did they end up in The Dark Forest as well? Did they just leave the beast to stay in the forest before taking off somewhere else? Were they even still alive after all this time? Exactly how long had the beast been cursed for?

Suddenly, Nomi felt something explode in her heart! It almost felt like some sort of....spark! She clenched her chest and gasped for air while kneeling down. The beast quickly rushed to her side.

"Are you alright, Fair Maiden?" he asked worryingly.

Nomi replied with a nod, but she still held her hand over her chest.

"If you want to help lift the curse, then you must travel deep within the forest." a faint whisper traveled through Nomi's ears.

It came from the voice of someone who didn't sound like a threat, but a voice that resembles that of a mother guiding her children almost like how Nomi's mother would comfort her into attending those fancy parties as a way to "make friends". Nomi felt a wave of shock, but lowered her defenses once the voice spoke again.

"Do not be alarmed! I am here to help you. While I cannot be here physically, I can guide you through this endeavor you are undertaking. You want to find out who did this? You must travel deep within the forest. Have no fear! I will be with you the whole time!"

Nomi looked towards the endless darkness behind the dead trees. She could feel her body shaking and heart racing. It wasn't until the beast held her hand that she was able to calm down.

"You went silent for a moment. Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

"Yes! I think I know what to do. We need to travel far into the darkness to find the people who cursed you!"

As the next few weeks came and went, Nomi and the beast traveled into the farthest parts of The Dark Forest. Nomi had grown used to the voice guiding her now becoming dependent on that guidance to help her along the way. There were days when she thought about her parents. She wondered how they were dealing with the fact that their daughter left the altar and never came home. She wondered if they even cared about the fact that she was gone. They constantly used her as a way to appease Dukes and Duchesses. They knew about Lord Adrian's problematic behavior and yet they still wanted her to marry him no matter how unhappy it made her. They bought her dresses that were always itchy, shoes that were too tight, and jewelry that was too heavy to carry. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if they even loved her at all.

The beast wasn't aware of the voice Nomi had been hearing, but he trusted every word she told him when it came to directions. Despite being in The Dark Forest for a long time, he didn't exactly have the courage to travel deeper with the knowledge that the forest contained dangerous creatures and he had already fought a few over the years. But, he would be willing for fight even more to protect the one person trying to help him. The beast was befuddled! Why would this stranger want to help him? Previous strangers he encountered in the forest would either run from him or try to kill him. He was a hideous creature! A monster! A BEAST!!! Why would this one person be willing to help him after one meeting?! Still, it wasn't like he didn't appreciate Nomi's help or her kindness! He was happy that he could vent about his struggles to an open ear. He was happy that someone was around to actually listen instead of running away without saying a word or running at him with a sword or pistol.

In the weeks that Nomi and the beast spent together, it gave Nomi more time to see the beast as more of a person. He looks out for her whenever there was any sign of danger, searched for any herbs, berries, and water to keep her healthy during their travels, and allowed her to sleep next to him providing his warm fur to keep her from the cold. There were also times when they'd come across helpless animals that were either sick or harmed and without question the beast would rush to their aid. She specifically remembered the conversation they had when the beast carried an injured fawn onto his back.

"You must really love animals, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes," said the beast.

"When it comes to animals, I feel as if there's some kind of understanding I have towards them. Perhaps, it could be a connection! I'm not sure why, but it's there. I've been helping them for the longest time since I've been in here. I suppose it gives me a sense of purpose."

He searched through the many herbs he collected in hopes that one of them would help the fawn's injury. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he picked up some calendula and asked Nomi to place the poor creature down in a pile of leaves before tending to it's wounds.

"None of them are like the dangerous creatures that roam in the forest. None of them deserve to be in here. I think just like you, they also got themselves lost. I can tell how they're feeling with all the sounds they make. It's a shame I can't talk to them the same way you talk to me. I can't hear their distinct voices. I can't hear their kind words. I can't hear their charming laughter."

"Distinct? Kind? Charming? My, my! Such an interesting choice of words." Nomi giggled.

"Interesting, no. True, yes." the beast smiled back at her.

Nomi felt a stroke of heat across her face every time she thought back to what the beast said. His eyes were so warm in that moment. So gentle. So caring. So sincere. Spending all this time with him made her more convinced that she had to break his curse. The thought of him being forced to stay in The Dark Forest any longer gave her the motivation to keep going. As the two reached the entrance of an unknown cave, Nomi heard the voice of her guide speak to her once more.

"The answers you seek are close! Stay close! I sense there may be danger ahead!"

"We have to go in there, okay?" Nomi said nervously.

"You can hold my hand if you like....so we don't lose track of each other."

The beast took no hesitation in holding Nomi's hand and she could've sworn she felt her heart skip a beat as he did. Hand in hand, they walked deep into the cave until the beast's ears perked up at something amiss.

"I hear something. Get behind me." he whispered.

As they crept deeper into the cave, they could see a bright light in a shade of orange. It had only taken several more steps to discover someone igniting a fire with just the palm of their hand! They were completely hidden underneath a dark cloak and shaking in the cold.

"You! Who are you?" the beast called out to them.

The dark figure turned around in shock revealing to be a lonely man trying to keep warm with the fire burning from his hand. He looked old, withered, exhausted, and weak.

"What are you doing here?! Get out!" he charged towards the two.

"Find your own cave to wallow in! Can't you see I-"

He stopped once he got a closer look at the beast. He gasped before backing up a few steps. His face turned pale. His pupils shrank. His mouth fell agape.

"It-It can't be! No! How?.....Is that really you?"

"I don't know who you are, but what are you doing alone in this cave? Are there more of you? How can you do that with just your hand?" the beast asked while still holding Nomi's hand and tightening his grip.

Nomi stood there in confusion until her guide started yelling in her ears.

"LUCIUS!!! LUCIUS!!! LUCIUS!!!"

The withered old man took several steps closer to the beast as the flame in his hand grew larger and his eyes narrowed.

"You....You......YOU!!!"

"Look out!" the beast cried before grabbing Nomi and dodging a large burst of fire in their direction. They both hit the ground in a thud! Nomi's arm was bleeding, but she was more focused on what the voice yelled at her.

"Lucius?" she repeated.

"I don't understand! Lucius?!"

"Maiden Nomi!" the beast cried when he noticed her arm.

The old man slowly walked up to the beast with another flame burning in his hand.

"After all this time, you can't find it in yourself to recognize me? I guess that's to be expected. What I didn't expect was for you to still be alive. Quite unfortunate if you ask me!"

He threw the fire again only for it to be repeatedly dodged by the beast. Nomi crawled in a different direction as she watched in horror. The word, Lucius still echoed in her mind. The beast looked at Nomi. Then, back at the old man. He stood up and made the bold choice to move closer to the attacker.

"So, you're saying you know me? Tell me! Did you do this to me? Have you taken me away from my home and turned me into this monster? Why?!"

The old man let out a chilling laugh. A wicked smile pierced his face.

"It really has been that long, huh? You have always posed as a threat and what better way to deal with threats than to....get rid of them? I wanted to have you killed, but the others didn't want any blood on their hands. The Dark Forest was a nice substitute and turning you into one of those horrid creatures was just the icing on the cake!"

The beast stood there in shock, but he still had questions.

"Then what are you doing in the forest?!" he demanded.

"Your beloved followers weren't exactly on board with you being taken so they retaliated. I fell down in here with you and no matter what comes in, never comes out. I hoped that the others would come for me.....wishful thinking....."

"Change me back! You clearly have the power!"

"HAHAHAHAHA!!! I have been wasting away in this damn forest for EIGHTEEN YEARS searching for escape routes! Do you seriously believe that I remember the cure let alone the actual curse itself?! What makes you think that we even took the time to see if there was a cure for you?! We wanted you GONE! If the curse is eating you up this much, then I will gladly put you out of your misery!"

Laughing maniacally, the old man shot flame after flame at the beast. He was able to dodge all but the last flame and was shot out of the cave. Nomi screamed! The beast was down! Nomi turned around and shook in terror when the old man approached her!

"As for you, this is between me and the wretch! If you value your life, I suggest you leave." he said.

"Are you crazy?! Stop!" Nomi pleaded.

"If you can't save him then what of Lucius? Is that the name of someone who can? You must know! What is Lucius?! Who is Lucius?!"

"Idiot...I am Lucius! Holder of Excruciating Light! That wretch will stay a beast and he will die a beast! Now, get out of my way!"

The old man who had now been revealed as Lucius grabbed Nomi's bleeding arm and threw her to the side. Her cries echoed through the beast's ears and he managed to get up off the ground.

"Maiden Nomi!" he cried.

He charged at Lucius and pinned him down only for Lucius to burn his shoulder to break free. The beast used his sharp teeth to grab Lucius's cloak and sent him flying in a different direction. The old man landed on a large rock, but started laughing again. He melted the rock with both of his hands and molded the residue together to make a shield once it cooled down back into rock form. Nomi could only watch in horror as the two fought. Lucius was covered in scratches and the beast was covered in burns. Flames that were thrown and dodged countless times have made their way into the trees causing a forest fire. The animals who were nearby fled for their lives. Nomi couldn't bare it any longer! This needed to stop!

"Enough! Enough!" she yelled.

"This fight is pointless! Just leave us alone! We won't bother you anymore, I swear!"

Lucius turned his head in Nomi's direction with a cold but empty look in his eyes.

"I guess you don't value your life after all," he sighed.

"What a shame."

With just a flick of the wrist, he launched a massive fire ball directly at her! Nomi had been frozen in place unable to run or scream. Her life flashed before her eyes. Was this truly The End? She closed her eyes praying that the hit would be quick and painless. A loud scream erupted through the forest....A scream that didn't belong to Nomi. She opened her eyes and looked down to see the beast laying in front of her. He was unable to move and there was a massive burn on his chest. It didn't take long for Nomi to realize what had happened. He jumped in front of her! He took a hit for her! Tears filled Nomi's eyes and Lucius stood there in silence. He wanted to feel victorious, but there was a sudden emptiness inside. He looked down at his hands and then up to the sky.

"I've completed our mission, but it feels empty without you," he whispered.

"I don't feel the need to celebrate. I have no one to celebrate with. You never came back for me. Did you even try?! Did you even care?! I did my part, now you do the rest....."

Without a second thought, he ran into the flames leaving his cloak behind. Nomi hadn't noticed as she held onto the beast tightly than ever before. She could tell he was fading fast, but she wasn't going to let him go. The beast looked up at Nomi. Though he was in terrible pain, he chose to smile at her.

"Fair Maiden, I'm-I'm sorry you had to see me like that. In such a violent manner. But, I guess that's expected of a monster," he said in between coughs.

"I never really got to thank you for all that you've done for me. You stuck by me all this time when you could've left me by that tree when we first met. I-I'm sorry you had to go through all this trouble for me. I'm sorry I put you in danger. I'm sorry you got stuck here in the first place! S-Someone as good as you, doesn't deserve such a fate. You deserve to be surrounded by people who love you not surrounded by f-fire."

Nomi placed her hand to his chest trying to tend to his wounds, but the beast stopped her by taking her hand and instead placing it on her cheek along with his hand.

"Nomi.....There's something I need to tell you and I also apologize that it took me this long up until now to say it. The time I spent with you has been the most treasurable moments of my life. You made me feel as if loneliness wasn't possible. Like the word didn't exist! We were in constant darkness, yet you were my light and despite being covered in dirt, I think you're absolutely beautiful. Inside and out. I guess this is my way of saying....I love you."

"Stop! Stop please!" Nomi cried before tightly holding on to the beast again.

"Don't talk like that! We're going to get through this together! It can't end like this! You don't deserve this either! You are not a monster in any way, shape, or form! You've managed to keep going all these years and I won't give up until you're cured. I don't care if I never get out of here. I need you to be okay! I need you to live because I love you too!"

She leaned down and gave the beast a short but loving kiss as tears continued to flow from her eyes. She watched him smile back at her before his chest slowed down and his eyes shut. For a moment, there was silence. The flames were still burning, but the air felt cold. Not a single sound could be heard except Nomi's cries. Suddenly, the flames disappeared into the air leaving the trees restored. A large beam of light lit up from the beast's body and levitated off the ground. Though Nomi was taken by surprise from what was hapening, the voice that had been guiding her returned in a much happier tone this time.

"Fear not, dear! Everything is alright now."

Nomi looked up into the sky only to see a beautiful woman with long flowing hair, a silver dress, and massive wings on her back. This was a fairy!

"Who are you? What's happening? Where are you taking him?" Nomi asked only for the fairy to levitate her as well.

"Shhh! All in good time. Let's go somewhere more friendlier. I do not wish to explain things here." she said.

The fairy levitated everyone out of The Dark Forest and flew them to a lush green garden underneath a gorgeous tree covered in pink flowers and leaves. Nomi carefully placed the beast down in the shade before looking directly at the fairy's eyes.

"Please, I don't know what's going on and I need answers! Are you the voice I've been hearing?" she pleaded.

"Yes," the fairy nodded.

"My name is Adelina and I am your bonded fairy."

"Bonded fairy?"

"Yes. Didn't you feel a spark within you while you were in that forest? I felt it the day you were born. Fairies rarely bond with humans so that's why I decided to keep my eye on you. When you and the prince met with each other, I took my chances and guided you believing that you could be the key to breaking the curse and you did, my dear!"

Nomi recalled the moment when she felt this explosion in her chest before the voice spoke to her. Was that the spark Adelina was talking about? Had she really known her since birth?! And what did she say about.....?

"PRINCE?!!!"

"Yes. The Prince of The Enchanted! After all these years, he can finally return to his throne."

"I....I don't understand."

"Watch and then you'll see, dear."

Adelina made Nomi watch as the beast's body lit up so brightly that they had to avert their eyes from blindness. Sparks of magic surrounded his body and healed all of his wounds including the hit on his chest. Most of his shaggy fur disappeared with only a few left on his knees, elbows, and the back of his hands while his messy hair resembled the paleness of his white coat. His claws resorted to nails as his fangs resorted to flat pearly whites. His beastly appearance now resembled that of a young man. Nomi was speechless! Adelina smiled at her with tears in her eyes.

"Most of us thought that this day would never come. We thought The Kingdom of The Enchanted couldn't survive without their ruler, but the fairies and I have been working endlessly to find a cure.....with no results. When I felt our bonded spark again, I flew to see where you were and I found that you ended up in The Dark Forest. Something within me felt that perhaps the prince didn't need to be cured by magic from wizards or even the ones responsible for their troubles. Turns out, it was the magic of a certain kind of spark that kept you and the prince together. The spark of love!"

The once frightening-looking beast now transformed into the enchanted prince slowly opened his eyes and looked around. He stared at the pink flowers on the tree and felt as if he's seen them before. Pictures flooded in his mind of a young boy who used to play underneath the tree in the cool shade. He would laugh as the birds sang and nearby animals would join in. The sun would shine down on all the flowers as they blossomed into the prettiest sight in the garden. That boy has been there many times before. That boy....was him!

"Hello?....What am I doing in my garden?" he asked.

His eyes traveled until they stopped at a girl with hair as black as the night sky and eyes that shimmered like the Sun.

"Nomi.....?"

He was taken by surprise when Nomi jumped him in a big hug. She held onto him even tighter than before and he happily did the same to her.

"Let us rejoice!" Adelina cheered.

"The Prince of The Enchanted has returned!"

When news broke of the prince's return, the citizens of the kingdom were thrilled. They all gathered not only for the coronation of him becoming king, but for the royal wedding with their brand new queen. The Kingdom of The Enchanted had now been at peace once again and the married couple could now live,

Happily Ever After