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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years ago

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Bad end rewrite concept - Arwen

Fae are a fickle type of being, once they turn 18 they have a yearly “mating” season that lasts from a day to a full week (similar to a period but once a year) only activated once the fae finds their “mate”. in the case of Mal, who is a dark fae and has yet to meet her “mate”, has never had her “mating” season.

both light, dark, and “regular” fae all have this “mating” season after they turn 18 and find their mate, but unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, FG and Jane were unaware that Jane had found her mate in Gil, so when the young fae turned 18, and that time of the year came around, she wasn't exactly...prepared for what was happening.

FG had explained once about the fae mating season to jane, but...faes usually don't know they’ve found their mate until they reach the once a year “mating season” and her mating season ended up being only just a week after her 18th birthday.

as both Jane and Gil were unprepared for the situation, along with them both being pretty much unknowledgeable about sex.ed and Gil wanting to get rid of the pain Jane was under(less painful more just really uncomfortable), had unprotected sex. and around two months later, Jane noticed her period was late...and she hadn't had one the previous month. panicked she quickly confided in Evie and (y/n), who calmed her down and (y/n) went out to get her friend a pregnancy test.

minutes after Jane took the test, Evie gently showed her the stick, with two pink lines.

Jane was pregnant as a result of the mating season.

while she was terrified of both her mothers and Gils reaction, with the support of her friends she told them both. Gil was ecstatic, but knew that they were both very young and having a child might not be the best idea at the moment. her mother was just as supportive, blaming herself for not properly preparing her daughter for fae mating season.

another month of talking between Jane, Gil, and her mother, the two young adults decided to keep the unborn child that was growing within Jane. FG was ecstatic that she would soon have a grandchild and did her best to help jane through her pregnancy, even though she had never gone through it herself she was a fairy godmother, not just a fairy.

six months later, out came a red cheeked little girl, to which the two new parents named her Arwen. they soon discovered while Arwen looked completely human, she had inherited her mothers fae genes, her eyes, while normally honey brown like her fathers, became iridescent when she was tired, and then when angry, like when they saw Arwen's first temper tantrum, glowed and turned blue with purplish pink magic flowing through her iris, her pupil turning to a thin pink slit. her teeth, specifically her canines and lateral incisors, where fangs, sharp enough to rip through skin if she wanted too. she was a sub-type of fea known as “wild fae” who had connections with nature and life

her magic burst forth wildly when she was only two months old, Jane staring wide eyed as her ,not even a toddler, child hovered her father upside down in the air in front of her, clapping happily as her father stared at her in shock and awe. it was almost effortless for Arwen, doing things even fully grown faes had trouble with sometimes, such as lifting an entire human into the air with no incantation.

FG was just as perplexed, in the end only suggesting that those born of true love/between a fae and their mate, had extremely powerful magic. an example being Maleficent herself, while she was a dark fae she had been born from fae mates and therefore had powerful magic, sometimes not even needing a verbal spell to cast her spells.

content with FGs answer but still in shock, Jane and Gil did their best to raise their magic rampant half fae child.

but one day...a bit more than one year after she had fled Auradon in shame of her failure, Mal returned. with vengeance.

she quickly took control of Auradon and the isle, spelling Jane and killing Gil with the Ember Mal had stolen back from her father, upon learning about Arwen, she ordered the newly spelled Jane to bring her daughter to her, what she would do with it she didn't know, it all depended on how powerful Arwen was.

Jane obeyed, taking the hardly over a half year old Arwen to Mal. but as she looked into the iridescent eyes of her only child, Jane was freed for a moment, and in that moment she raced off to the other edge of the enchanted forest, and left her child in a bush. in tears she left Arwen in her peach baby blanket with a spell to keep her warm and fed, along with a note.

-to whoever finds Arwen, please please take care of her and protect her. Mal wants her, and i cant bare to let my child into her clutches, i cant let her die. tell Arwen her mother loves her and to be strong.

-thank you, Jane-

just as Jane entered the castle that Mal had taken, the spell Mal had placed on Jane returned. Mal was confused, the baby wasn't with jane, so where was she? Jane took Mal to where she had left Arwen, only for her to be gone.

the two faes stood unaware that a woman that was thought to be dead already had the child, and she vowed that she would protect Arwen with her life.

(y/n) took Arwen away from Auradon and to a nearby country, luckily finding a cabin the middle of a forest, she rebuilt it and raised her friends child alone in that forest, waiting for the day that Auradon and its people would be freed from Mal’s clutches.

four and a half years later, Arwen is 5 years old, she knows her parents loved her very much, she knows her mother was forced to give her up to protect her from the evil Mal, she knows her father died to protect her, she knows that she loves her auntie (y/n).

she knows she is powerful, she knows she controls the forest around her, she knows she commands the animals before her.

she knows one day she will get her mother back and avenge her father. but for now, she is only 5 years old, and her auntie wants her to have a happy childhood before she gives it up to war.

so she will, for now.

yep...Arwen! so i posted this concept art for bad end rewrite and with the addition of Arwen, the timeline and story of this concept change. this is the original timeline and story which originally started around the end of D3 and took maybe a couple months for the timeline to run through, but now starts a bit more than a year after D3, and spans over a good couple years, im debating on weather or not to have it go to where Arwen is a teen and fights along side (y/n) and the others or too have her still be 5 when Mal is defeated. depending on what i chose the story will be changed, so ill decide on that later.

her magic is pretty nature like in concept, she can control nature and command animals, and when she was a toddler she “tamed” an entire wolf pack that now waits on hers and (y/n)s command.(her favorites are Artimus and TC) when she uses more of a...physically? visible? magic it flows like water and smoke, colored like her eyes when she is tired (aka its iridescent)

again she has very sharp teeth (and at the moment is missing one of her front teeth cuz she's five) and i added a new eye thing for her, when she gets angry, her eyes turn blue with purple/pink glowy stuff and her pupil becomes slanted and glows pink/purple

more of her info can be found on the other concept art i posted of her so ill just stop here cuz its 5am and im tired~

Again inspired by the Dream smp and @disneyfan50 “true defender” fic, and also thanks to disneyfan50 for helping me find a name for Arwen

#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #bad end rewrite #concept art #arwen #janexgil #jane descendants #gil descendants #oc #child oc #magic #fae #art #my art #i suck at drawing wolves forgive me for those two at the bottom lol

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iridescenceartandwriting · 4 years ago

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CJ, The Unnatural Wolven of the North. Most Wolven are born with their wolves, raised learning how to handle them and the transformations. Not CJ. One of the few who are bitten by a Hellhound while working an assignment with his partner, CJ battled the grief and a whole kingdom of Hounds as he weathered the First Changes all on his own. His friends thought him lost, dead, or captured for years before he finally came back to the House in the wake of chaos brewing across the continent.

CJ has such an odd aesthetic, and I love him for it. You get the traditional dark forest werewolf vibe, but he also loves his baggy stolen clothes, warm drinks, and quiet campfires under the stars (as long as the weather holds...)

The Rest of the Cast:

Odell:

Priya:

Rodina:

Gillidu:

Jin:

Jooeun:

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 6 years ago

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600,000 volts

Another Fae AU side story. You get three guesses as to what this one is about and your first two don’t count.

He’s in over his head.

Phoenix is in over his head, and he can’t stop talking. That’s usually his response to being in over his head, because usually when he’s in over his head he’s in court and he needs to keep talking and stalling until he can come up with something for his client’s sake, but at this point the better response would really be to shut his own fucking mouth. It definitely would have been best to never bring out the letter, to turn around and walk right back out of the records room, let von Karma take the DL-6 evidence and keep this other trump card safe--

“You instructed Yanni Yogi to commit murder. You wrote this letter.” He’s still talking, and he should just run, turn and run now, but von Karma’s glare is a basilisk’s withering killing eyes, his face a smile more terrifying than Maya’s shark mouth, a Medusa, and gazing upon him has turned Phoenix to stone.

He didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it, that first morning in court, when he stepped behind the bench ready to face the one that stole Edgeworth away, took him and changed him like in a faery story, only to see that von Karma was as human as anyone. That von Karma is more human than Phoenix. Monsters that steal children and turn them into tools of monsters can be human, too, and that’s the goddamn rub of it -- that after Dahlia, Phoenix was sure of these things, of the labyrinthine plots of the fae and how to recognize one before he had a chance to See them, was sure that he would have to save Edgeworth from the claws of the fae the way Mia saved him. And then it became plain before his eyes now that no magic was needed to make the Demon Prosecutor into a demon. Von Karma is human, only human.

“Oh, don’t worry. People don’t die from this, usually.”

Human with a fucking stun gun in his hand, and that puts him one over Phoenix, who’s human with no one by his side. Maya hated the records room when they came yesterday to dig up the summary case files for DL-6, hated the forest of iron shelves and iron cabinets that kept evidence safe from magical tampering and choked the breath out of fae girls who wandered in with lawyers. So she didn’t come, he told her she didn’t have to come, and now he needs her.

“Now give me that letter.”

The door is somewhere far away in the maze, somewhere through cold crushing iron, and he doesn’t have a summoning ring and doesn’t know if it would even work this tempered by magic, but he yells for Maya anyway, does the only thing he knows how to do when in over his head, call on someone more powerful to save him from mistakes that are his own fault.

(In his nightmares he chokes on a necklace in his mouth and Mia isn’t there to save him.)

“Maya!” he screams, and his back is literally against a wall, now, but he can knock some binders and boxes off the shelves, throw them forward into von Karma. He drops some of his own evidence, the DL-6 evidence, everything Phoenix desperately needs -- and Phoenix lunges, trying to duck down to grab something, anything, out of that pile, but from the papers, somewhere in the files something circular etched to page, a hand emerges, purple skin and long white claws.

Her voice echoes as from a distance, because she is, she’s somewhere far away and not here and she can’t get through to here, she has a tiny window through which she is grasping in vain. “Nick? Nick!”

He hits the ground hard, trying to cover the evidence with his body, keep something clutched away from von Karma. The letter, crumpled in his hand, he shoves towards Maya’s claws, but she has something else curled in her hand, and then the sparking end of the stun gun connects with her hand. She screams, a horrible sound like the screech of a large bird, and her hand withdraws, the letter in von Karma’s hand, his murder plan, still on the ground by von Karma’s feet.

And Phoenix, fallen, nowhere to run, nowhere to send the evidence away, and the stun gun comes for him next, and the world goes bright, badly bright, and then dark.

“Nick! Nick!”

He wakes with claws digging into his shoulders, Maya’s screech at his ear. “Nick!”

He groans, weakly reaching up and flailing, trying to swat loose Maya’s grip. “Mrgh -- Maya--”

Her face floats right in front of his eyes when he opens them, her red eyes wide and her wide mouth twisted in fear. “Nick! Nick! Are you okay?”

Clearly not; he is lying on his back on the cold floor of the records room, staring up at the shelves and the fluorescent lights, and Maya who so badly wanted to be anywhere but here is now here, for his sake, for him and that stupid letter that he thought--

The letter!

“The letter!” Phoenix sits upright, the side of his head colliding with a metal shelf. “The one from Yogi’s house -- is it -- did he--”

When Maya frowns, her entire face goes with it, split across the bottom by her mouth, and her eyes are flat red but he can still see the depth of sadness within. He sinks back into himself, wants nothing more than to just lie back onto the floor and let it swallow him. “It’s gone,” she says. “The DL-6 drawer is empty -- I put away the other stuff on the floor and it was all other things--”

Phoenix puts his head in his hands. “Dammit,” he says. “Dammit!”

Mia saved him and he couldn’t do anything for her; Edgeworth saved him, so very long ago, and now Phoenix can’t do anything for him. Von Karma is human, only human, and Phoenix is more, should be more, has more on his side and none of it does any goddamn good--

“I’ll kill him,” Maya says through gritted teeth, her long snake-like tongue flicking against her long teeth. “I’ll go find him, and I’ll kill him for you--”

“No!” Phoenix yells. Maya stops with her mouth open, her second inner rows of teeth visible now, too. “No. We’re doing this the right way, the legal way.”

“My sister’s way,” Maya says. She turns her head, her chin high.

“Von Karma himself knows things that no one else does,” Phoenix says. “We need him to get to the truth. And since you can’t get accurate testimony from the dead...”

Maya shakes her head. Her hair, which had so far remained human in appearance, the one bit of glamour still anchored to her, has started to disperse into wispy smoke. They spoke at length yesterday about the information contained in the DL-6 report, about the fae woman the police consulted. About how the reports said that she called up the soul of the dead to speak with him, and he named Yanni Yogi as the killer, but that made no sense to Maya, who knows no way to call back a soul once gone, to glean any information from someone passed on. If there was a method of that, and she thought there might be, it was lost even to the Court a long time ago, but if her mother had recovered that way, she should have come back to the Court and taught her daughters. And Phoenix could plainly see the place between sad and bitter where Maya usually sits when it comes to her mother was tilting more towards bitter, and he dropped the subject. Whatever her mother did, she named the wrong man, and then she disappeared.

“If we do this your way,” Maya says, “my sister’s way, I grabbed one thing.” She unfolds her hands, showing a tiny evidence bag and within it, a squished bullet. Phoenix remembers that she had snatched something away before she was forced to withdraw her hand. “They took this out of Gregory Edgeworth’s heart,” she says, squinting down at the tiny label on the bag. “DL-6 Incident, evidence number seven.”

Phoenix feels sick. This one bullet is the cause of all of their grief; without it, where would they be? Without it, who would Edgeworth be, without being stolen away and twisted like he was a changeling? He would be safe and no thanks to Phoenix who can do nothing but fail, again and again and again.

“We’ll win, with this,” Maya says, curling her claws back tightly around the bag. “It’ll be enough.”

“God, I hope so,” Phoenix mutters. He can’t find it within him to hope, but then he is jostled from the thought by Maya grabbing him by the face -- the sharp tips of her claws don’t touch his skin but he feels as though he has just received a hard static shock from each of her hands -- and shaking him.

“It will be enough!” She still has the bullet in her hand and Phoenix feels it pressing into his face, pressed beneath his cheek and her palm. “It’ll be enough! It has to be, so it will!” He reaches up and grabs her wrists and pries her hands from his face. The bullet falls into his lap. “Did my sister teach you nothing of magic! When you cast a spell, you have to know it will work for it to work!”

“This isn’t magic, Maya,” Phoenix snaps back. “This is law, and we need evidence! We need more than that!”

She bares her teeth at him, the long full rows of them, speaking through them in a strained hiss. “And if you aren’t certain, you will never get more than that!” She closes her mouth and her eyes, apparently trying to re-center herself, reign her hair back in from how it has spread into a huge cloud of black smog hanging from them both. “My sister knew law, and she knew magic, too. What did she always say about smiling? That the worst times--”

“--are when lawyers need to force their biggest smiles,” Phoenix finishes.

But he doesn’t really feel like smiling, and Maya apparently doesn’t, either, opening her eyes and sighing. “There’s magic in that, too,” she says. “In everything she ever did.” She shakes her head, and her hair, now back close around her head, does not move with it. “She was so strong, and I -- all I can do is grab a bullet.”

A lump forms in Phoenix’s throat. Mia was a brilliant lawyer and strong in magic and they are each half of her, but still not measuring up. Maya picks up the bag and after considering it for a moment longer, offers it to Phoenix. “So it’ll be enough. It has to be.”

#roddy fanfics #fic: the seelie of kurain #fae au extras #fae au tag #not a new chapter because my brain is scrambled eggs but it wanted to write this and i had to go with it #i've been so unmotivated and uninspired so when i was given this in the shower i had to go with it #anyway this scene was always going to be different bc the question was always 'wouldn't maya just eat vk when he pulled out the taser'#that's the question for so much of this au actually i look at everything in the trilogy and ask myself:#'why did this plot not break when maya decided to eat one of the key players. how do we get around her love of eating people'

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cyberneticlagomorph · 6 years ago

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Mellifera

Hozier echoes throughout your room like mutinous heterodox hymns in abandoned churches left to the elements. Arcane and profane songs leaking through the rotted gaps in the roof and walls, spilling out into the empty air. Your vision is stained with the gold-black hue of His voice, and the sinfully sweet taste of His words. Your agitation melts away away away, leaving you fluid and fae as you dance in very little, body bending in impossible shapes, twirling, swirling to the rhythm as you sing along. Your crystals form deadly fans that chime with each and every syllable, every movement.

A hundred years in the future and you have His Last Album on repeat, His songs got further and further from human understanding as his career continued. Now, just playing His songs out loud summon things, beautiful things, wondrous, illegal magic that changes your room into a far flung forest full of impossible, unimaginable things that know every lyric, every note and key. You feel at home here, and you're sure He did too.

You're late for your audience with the Queen of Candyland. But still you dance, as the next song plays and the ceiling above you becomes the canopy of a night-dark forest, letting in beams of moonlight to dapple the mossy floor. An uncountable number of rainbow hued shooting stars streak by and cast stained glass shadows on everything around you. And still you dance. Feet leaving the ground as your magic kicks up, voice multiplying, radiating. A cacophonous choir of voices that don't do His words any justice. But still you sing. But still you dance.

Your secretary, Hououmaru, has to coax you out of the music's thrall. You aren't exactly happy about that but you have shit to do, and you can't spend all day listening to the Last Album. Even though you really want to. Your butler sees to the state of your hair, applying some new color while you shove some toast into your waiting maw and take your meds. Your seamstress, Nui, brings your clothes along as you teleport to your castle in Wonderland, still in your underwear. You can't be bothered to take most of this seriously, but you're still taking your full security detail over there with you. Better not tempt fate after all. You have to take the carriage over to Candyland, you're still far too drained to teleport yourself plus security over there on your own steam. But you're not incapable of defending yourself, as evidenced by the Vorpal Sword at your hip.

Your arrival is watched by a thousand eyes. Candy people and animals cower at your approach, and some part of you stings with guilt. There's little you can do about that, but it still hurts nonetheless. You guess you should be... happy, proud of yourself even, to have people cowering in your wake. But you aren't, it just makes you feel like a bully kicking down sand castles. You don't look out of the windows for the rest of the ride, contemplating sinking down low in your seat before remembering that Nui would eviscerate you if you wrinkled this outfit. So you just shut your eyes and sit very still until the carriage comes to a stop. There is mild concern from your entourage that you might be feeling ill, and at the moment you can't exactly refute that as you take one look at the Candy Queen's castle and feel your heart and stomach switch places.

Flanked by your security detail, sword at your side, countless tricks up your metaphorical sleeves and you feel no safer. Candy Guards stand stone-faced and silent in the halls, ever-present but unmoving. Eerie and discomforting. The throne room is no better, here is where you realize how grossly outnumbered you are. You can feel Rae behind you, silently counting the guards in here, adding their number to the ones you saw when you came in. She leans in to inform you of the seventy possible assailants you might have to claw your way through to get home. Seventy against four. You've never been much of a gambler but you like those odds.

Mellifera, the Candy Queen, is slow to address you, relaxed in her throne, honey-gold eyes half-lidded as if she were bored to the brink of dozing. Still, you are respectful and bow low at the waist, with your detail following suit.

"Stand, supplication does not suit you, Thief-Prince." she purrs in a voice as warm, rich and sweet as hot milk and honey. She is a magnificent creature, with translucent dark brown skin, twitching antennae, faceted black eyes, and fluttering wings at her back that cast stained glass shadows just like the falling stars from the song you'd so carelessly danced to. Her hair is opalescent white, full of sparkling sugar and sprinkles. She smells like raw honey, and a soft buzz chases the tails of words spoken with yellow painted lips. Beneath her skin is an endless maze of honeycomb, and floating just above her head is a crown of chocolate and amber that seems to perpetually melt, but the drips vanish before they can stain anything.

She is horrifically, horribly beautiful in every way. And yet as you think back to the night you two faced each other in battle, her face twisted with fury, she was beautiful then too. She sits up straight, an action that causes her obvious pain, Jeanne's parting gift, fondly remembered. Your ear twitches at her not-so-subtle insult.

"Thief-Prince?" you ask, voice level, calm. Too calm. Rae puts a hand against the small of your back, and your unconscious bristling ceases instantly, "I had no clue that retrieving lost property counted as theft in your lands, Lady Mellifera."

She gives you a smile, warm and sweet like brown sugar. It's wry but genuine and you don't like it, the way she looks at you when she does it. It makes you feel sorry in the wrongest of ways.

"There are many things you are clueless about, dear Thief-Prince, but your naivety is not what I wanted to discuss." she rests her chin in palm of one hand, head tilting just a little as she watches you squirm at her digs. You frown and lean back against Rae's steadying hand, the flames of your ire dying down to embers. She wants you angry and you aren't about to give her the satisfaction.

"Are we going to get to these discussions any time soon or do you intend to bore several millenia off my lifespan with this petty attempt at a squabble?" it comes out way more nonchalantly than you intended but that somehow adds weight to your words another tone just wouldn't have. Still, she laughs at you, a nasal snort that seems out of place coming from someone so clearly alien.

"Very well, we'll 'cut to the chase' as you Earthborn mongrels put it." she does air quotes, like the passive aggressive asshole she is. "I'd like to propose a peace treaty between my land and yours, we could become great assets to each other but that isn't possible if we are at each other's throats."

She shifts in position, resting her cheek on her fist. "And don't worry about the subjects of mine you slaughtered and devoured like animals, they'll be replaced soon enough."

You blink, bewildered, and she catches your shift in expression immediately, "You learn quickly not to get too attached to anyone around here," Mellifera doesn't even sound sullen, and simply shrugs as if this were something as small as a papercut. "Go on, kill them, my guards, I know you've been itching to. I'll just make more."

Her words hang in the empty air like the obvious threat they are. Unconsciously, you shudder, and she smiles again. That same damn smile. "So, what do you say?"

Your words falter, failing you as you struggle to process this fresh hell you've found yourself in. Finally you swallow thickly, the overpowering scents of sweet things turning your stomach as fast as the thought of the implications behind all of this.

"I'll... consider it." you say, softly, softer than you should. She seems elated nonetheless and wiggles her antennae in a pleased way that might have been cute under different circumstances.

"Wonderful, I'll send you a copy of the treaty to inspect at your leisure, then we can further discuss any specific edits or additional terms you may deem necessary." you instantly regret your words but it's too late to go back on them now. You'll play her games, just for a little while.

"Take this, as a hopeful gesture of peace between our two countries." Mellifera gestures at a shape draped in plain white cloth, the covering is pulled aside to reveal a marvelous cage of golden mesh, inside is a swarm of bread-and-butterflies. They flutter here and there on wings made of bread and toast, shimmering with butter, honey, or even jam. You can smell their warm, doughy scent from where you stand but can do little more than just stare in awe.

Hououmaru nudges a box into your hands, you nearly drop it in your carelessness and are left awkwardly holding it out towards the Candy Queen,

"We have brought a gift as well, Lady Mellifera, may it please you." the word please is accented and scummy, try as you might to sound professional you're quickly losing your nerve. Mellifera rises from her throne and makes her way towards you. Your security detail gently bristles like dogs on leashes, hands hovering near weapons just in case. None of the candy guards move, as if they too didn't care who lived or died. After all Queens can be replaced just like anyone and everyone else. Unease curls low in your belly, toothsome and vicious, as the Queen approaches. You are reminded of how fragile Candyland natives are by the way she limps towards you, still feeling the pain of your wife's bullet in her ass. It's a miracle she can walk at all, honestly.

Inside the box is a walking tea pot, not one of the feral ones that have moved in around the Brillig, a custom made one filled with tea from the river you'd stolen from her lands only nights ago. A petty, backhanded gift to repay her for the poisoned plants her least favorite daughter gave you a long while ago. After she opens the box, Queen Mellifera smiles that brown sugar smile at you again, the one that makes you feel sorry for things you haven't done. As if every injustice in this world was somehow your fault, but it's ok, she forgives you.

You really don't like her smile. You really don't like her. Childishness and invasion of your country aside, she makes you deeply uncomfortable as a person. Someone who has such a flippant view of death and sacrifice is clearly not to be trusted. She doesn't trust you, that's obvious. But still, here she is trying to kiss your ass and act like eons of tension between your home and hers has never existed. Something dark and cruel tells you that everyone would have been better off if you'd slaughtered her during the Battle for the Brillig. You almost never listen to that dark, cruel thing. If you did, you'd be out hunting down the twenty some-odd scientists that had escaped your initial siege of Delta Facility by some twisted facsimile of a miracle.

Mellifera thanks you for the gift, handing it off to a nearby guard. You two stand, locked in an uncomfortably quiet staring contest, as if you could decipher what the other was thinking just by sight alone. Mellifera searches your face for answers before that eerie smile dims into a thin grim line,

"If you have more to say, say it. If not, leave." she straightens to her full seven something foot height, and you refuse to give her the satisfaction of looking down her nose at you, stubbornly levitating up to look her in those cold black eyes, unsettled by the way they reflected your face a dozen times over. You barely see her move, barely have time to draw your sword as her own blade makes a sweeping arc towards your throat. It's over in a blink but there you both stand, blades barely biting into the skin of each other's necks. Blue running over her blade just as honey-gold runs over yours.

She smiles again, a different smile. She's impressed, and a little smug. You aren't smiling. With eerie synchronicity, you sheath your blades and fall back behind a wall of guards. "I grow tired of your company, Thief-Prince." she presses a sleeve to her wound and turns to leave, her free hand flying up to wave you off, "Until we meet again!"

"Until we meet again," you reply, ignoring the blood staining the collar of your dress. You leave with your gift in tow and find a jar of honey waiting at home, a note taped to it's lid and stamped with Candyland's royal seal.

"your pound of flesh -Melli" is all it says.

#action post #ic #nudesandbongos #pusillanimxus #literalpolicedog #queen mellifera

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kurokoros · 7 years ago

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Come Walk in Strange Woods

I’m going to start focusing more on original works this year, and this is a little something that I wrote for class last month! Enjoy!

The trees whisper amongst themselves in hushed tones, low, indistinguishable voices a hum in the silence of the night, echoing through the stillness of the forest. Their gnarled branches twist together like thorns—sharp, mangled, and bare of leaves—winding and curling overhead until the sky above is nearly blacked out by the copse of wicked spines, only thin slivers of the waning moonlight flickering through the bare trees. A thick, rolling fog hangs low over the highlands, twisting between the trees like ghosts and settling over the tall grass, the night hazy and near pitch black.

A biting chill creeps through the air, fallen leaves rustling as a breeze sweeps through the rolling hills. Seamus pauses in his work, pulling his wool coat tighter around himself to ward off the cold. He buries his shovel deep into the earth, grip around the handle tightening as his gaze sweeps across the hills. He shivers as he squints into the darkness, searching for any movement near the edge of the copse, lurking spirits searching for mischief. The lantern above him dims, the flame flickering and distorting the shadows on the trees. A gale rushes around him, rustling his dark hair, and he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his coat, threadbare gloves doing little to protect him from the cold.

Absently, he glances over his shoulder, steadfastly ignoring the body laying near his feet, sheet-covered, but ever present in the corner of his eye. Seamus squints down at Balmuir, the town nearer to the loch. Lights reflect off the water. Wisps further across the loch flicker, moving unnaturally, almost alive as they dance across the water. He turns away quickly, the lights a mere trick of the night.

He was always warned as a child not to follow the Faerie lights, lest they lead him astray. The wisps are tricky things, always drawing travelers from the safe path. Lost souls, they’ve been called, stolen away by the Fae, left to roam eternally in the Strange Woods. Though that’s only a legend.

At his feet, the covered body of Alan Norris seems to move as clouds drift above the trees, light rippling across the grass. Seamus swallows, squeezing his eyes shut for only a moment, unable to look at the sheet covered body. Alan Norris was a good man, too kind to be out here, waiting to be buried the next morning, slowly rotting away as Seamus digs his grave.

Seamus exhales heavily, the cloud of his breath winding high into the air before disappearing like smoke. He rips his shovel from the soil, a spray of dirt splattering across his shoes, and continues his task. The hole in the ground is no deeper than a shallow groove through the hillside, not nearly enough for a body. Killian did a piss poor job starting it, always a slacker. Seamus’ muscles strain as he forces the spade into the earth, the ground frostbitten, unwilling to yield.

Silence leaves a dull ringing in his ears as he works, the only sounds his grunts and the scuffing of the spade as it scraps along the compacted dirt. His hands tremble as he works, due to the cold or his own nerves, he doesn’t know. He never wanted to stand watch over the dead, to guard their mortal souls, lest they come back for him. The woods unnerve him this late into the night, and every little sound makes him jump, but he owes Old Alan Norris this much. The man practically raised him, took him in, gave him work when there was nowhere else to go. For ten years Seamus took care of the old man’s flock, herding the sheep until he was near nineteen, and that was barely three years ago. He was a good man. And Seamus promised to keep him safe. He promised not to let them take Alan’s soul.

“Ya bloody idiot, Alan,” Seamus mumbles, spitting onto the ground at his feet. He casts a long look at the body of his friend, sneering when he looks away. He tosses a scoop of dirt to the side, red clay peeking out from the steadily growing hole. “How come did ye hae tae go 'n' die alone in that hoose. Did ye think th’ yer sheep wid keep ye company?” A bitter smile pulls at his lips, his hair falling into his eyes as he shoves the spade back into the earth. Splinters bite at his skin through his gloves and the digging is slow, but Seamus needs something to do to keep his hands from shaking. Norris was an old man, he has to remind himself, nearing eighty down on his farm, surrounded by nothing but his flock, no one around for miles and no family left. His death wasn’t unexpected, not conventionally. Alan Norris always seemed so young at heart, spry for his age. Seamus was a fool to think the man would live forever. “Ye stubborn wee bastart.” He clucks his tongue, sweat dripping down his temple. Seamus snorts, shaking his head almost fondly. He glances down at the sheet covered body, throat tightening at the sight.

“Rest in peace, ye arse.”

A sharp sound splits the air, a clang ringing in his ears as his shovel glances off a rock. He jolts back, the shovel nearly slipping from his fingers as the metal edge scrapes against the ground near his foot. Seamus spits on the ground, swearing under his breath. Gritting his teeth, he tightens his grip on the handle until the wood pricks at his skin, the rough carving leaving splinters beneath his fingernails. His stomach churns as the slow rotting smell of Alan Norris curls through the air around him, his scarf doing little to block the scent of decay.

Being one of the Late Wake has always been dirty work: watching corpses in the wee hours of the night, protecting them from the fabled Cat Sìth and the wildlife, digging graves and pretending not to see the strange lights that flicker over the water and in the trees. Seamus always thinks he knows what to expect on these nights: solitude, the eerie sounds of the forest, the rotten smell coming from near his feet. That’s what the grave diggers before him said when he first joined the watch earlier this autumn. They said it was the smell that got to them. The smell and the eyes in the forest: watching, waiting, wanting for something. He’s always ignored those eyes and the lights across the water. It’s paranoia and nothing else. He’s never seen anything out here, nothing that wasn’t a trick of the light or a figment of his wandering thoughts. That’s what Seamus has always told himself to get him through the long nights. Nothing has ever happened on his shifts.

He knows the legends of the highlands, though he never did believe in them himself. The Late Wake watches the bodies to keep them from the animals, wild dogs and feral cats, not the Faeries. Seamus never has much believed in the Fae, The Fair Folk rumored to steal children from their beds, exchange them with something with the same faces, something not quite right. He’s heard all of the stories, and while he doesn’t put much stock in them, he isn’t about to spit on them either. Seamus knows the importance of a soul. Riddlers, Thieves, Tricksters: that’s what the other boys call the Cat Sìth, the Faerie cats come to steal a soul before it can be laid to rest, left to wander and rot in the highlands for an eternity, no rest for the lost. It would be a cruel thing, to let a soul be stolen by the Fair Folk.

Seamus drops his shovel to the ground and returns his hands to his pockets, shaking his head slowly. He shrugs his shoulders closer to himself, the collar of his coat pressed close to his numb ears. It hasn’t begun to snow yet, but it will in a matter of days. The cold is good for the smell, but not the digging. With the ground as hard as it is, he’ll be here all night digging, Alan Norris’ funeral set for the morning.

Cursing, Seamus leaves the grave he’s been digging, edging closer to the lantern, the heat from the flames warming his weary bones. A sigh of relief slips from his lips, his hands drifting from his pockets and closer to the fire. It chases away the cold as best it can, only a small flame, but he wouldn’t dare make it larger. It’s bad luck.

As he warms his frozen fingers over the fire, Seamus hears an odd sound from behind him, the snap of a branch, so faint it nearly escapes him. The Roe deer, perhaps. Nothing strange. It happens a second time, but again he ignores it. The deer will keep to themselves, afraid of him and the fire and the smell swirling through the highlands.

A sigh comes from behind him, almost a trill, and Seamus stills. He can feel eyes on him once again, an unnerving presence at his back, practically daring him to turn around, to face whatever is in the woods. Seamus squeezes his eyes shut, wishing the feeling would go away, but it persists, his chest going cold.

Don’ let ‘em take me, Alan Norris words from days ago echo in his ears, desperation still clinging to the phantom words. Reluctantly, Seamus pulls away from the flames, taking a half-step back, but not quite turning. He waits, holding his breath and listening, but the beating of his heart and the blood roaring in his ears prevents him from hearing anything at all.

From the corner of his eye a white light shines through the blackness, illuminating the fields. Seamus turns slowly, drawn towards the light as it beckons him to turn around.

A large, black cat sits atop Alan Norris’ body. Large as a common dog, the cat blinks at him, green eyes slitted and mischievous. Its tail twitches, long and sleek. It moves like a shadow, there but not, seeming to flicker in and out, fading to nothing before retuning to a near solid form. A white spot sits in the center of its chest, the blackness nearly swallowing it whole. Intelligence flickers in the cat’s eyes, something cunning.

Cat Sìth.

The Faerie cat kneads the body beneath it, as if trying to leech the last bit of warmth from the corpse, long since frozen. The flickering light at the Spirit’s side gains Seamus’ rapt attention, glowing brighter as the cat’s tail continues to twitch. The shimmering light seems to pulse with a phantom heartbeat: a soul. Alan’s soul.

The Cat Sìth grins at him.

The smile reveals a row of sharp, menacing teeth, canines flashing in the light. It’s more sneer than smile, and Seamus’ blood runs cold in his veins as the Faerie’s tail twitches, lazy and pleased, very much the cat that got the cream. The glowing soul hovers a breath above Alan Norris, trapped between the corpse and the cat. For a moment, the light flickers, going faint at the edges, looking more like smoke than the wandering lights cast over the water.

The Spirit’s green eyes glow in the darkness, almost amused as it arches its back, claws digging into the fabric covering Norris. The soul rises higher, brightening the closer it gets to the cat, burning so brilliantly that Seamus almost has to look away, blinded. Seamus doesn’t breathe, breath stolen as the cat reaches out with one paw for the phantom light, tail twitching in time with the pulsing of the soul.

“What the Devil,” Seamus breathes, taking a single step forward. He reaches out with one hand, unsure if he wants to reach for the creature or not. His fingers tremble in the air, from the cold and the prickling sensation at his neck, an icy finger dragging don his spine. The cat’s eyes on his rip the air from his lungs, his heart lurching into his throat, choking him. “What the Devil,” he repeats lowly, tongue sticking in his mouth, thick and heavy.

His skin crawls the closer the cat comes to the soul of Alan Norris. The sheet covering his face is pulled back, the corpse more ghastly than Seamus remembers: skin sallow, the laughter lines on his face twisting his lips into a near sneer; glossy eyes gazing vacantly back at him. The corpse of Alan Norris stares back at Seamus accusingly, as if knowing even in death what’s happening, what Seamus has allowed to happen because of his carelessness. He promised.

Don’ let ‘em take me, Alan’s empty eyes say. Don’t let him wander in the Strange Woods. Don’t let him be lost.

Green eyes lock with his, the cat still smiling. Its paw hovers near the pulsing soul, near touching, teasing. It cocks its head to the side, blinking at him slowly, unfazed by the sound of Seamus’s voice. The cat doesn’t speak, doesn’t move save for the swishing of its tail, slow and steady.

A riddle sticks to his tongue, a song, Seamus struggling to remember how to stop the Sìth, how to ward it away.

Something to his left glints in the light, the curved edge of the iron shovel still buried in the dirt. Iron. The Fae burn when touched with iron, the metal scaring away wicked spirits, sending them back to the forest from which they came. He drops his hand back to his side, cold sweat sliding along his palms. Wetting his lips, he keeps his eyes on the Spirit. His back straightens, his jaw clenching, teeth grinding together as his nails dig into the thin skin of his palms.

When the Spirit blinks, Seamus lunges for the shovel, his long legs tangling with the grass. He stumbles in his urgency, heart pounding wildly in his ears. Stooping, he scoops the abandoned shovel from the dirt, fumbling as he lurches upwards. The tool rests heavy in his hands, the iron end flashing silver in the light, a warning. Seamus doesn’t think of the consequences, shouting as he swings at the cat. He could be punished by the Fae for this, but he promised Alan they wouldn’t take him. The blade of the shovel cuts through the air, a hollow whistle ringing in his ears. There’s no resistance as he slashes at the space where the Spirit sits, no thud from the body or strain from the weight, and when Seamus looks to the place where the Cat Sìth rested atop Alan Norris, the creature is gone.

There’s no light from the wisp hovering over the corpse, no dark mass lying in the grass, wounded and screaming. No blood stains his shovel, only clay and dirt clinging to the iron edge, the blade the same as when he found it in the shallow grave. Seamus’s head snaps towards the forest, eyes searching wildly for the Faerie. The copse is quiet, the darkness too thick for him to see through, but no shadows move from the corners of his eyes. His arms drop back to his sides, the shovel making a dull thumb as the blade hits the ground. Seamus’ fingers loosen around the shaft, the shovel nearly slipping from his grasp. Splinters slip against his palm, clinging to the mottled fabric of his gloves and prickling at his skin, but he doesn’t feel a thing.

Almost as if it was never there, the Cat Sìth is simply gone. A trick of the light, it seems to have disappeared back into the shadows from which it came, a figment of his mind. Seamus blinks rapidly, mouth going dry as he stares at the empty space where the Faerie once was. His pulse thrums in his ears, Seamus gasping for air until his heartbeat slows. His hands return to shaking. A sudden chill creeps into his bones and settles there, so deep he isn’t sure it will ever leave.

The highland has gone silent again, even the wind seeming to disappear. The tall grass goes still around him, too calm, too quiet. Clouds black out the moon, a silver glow rolling through the hills before disappearing entirely, the only light left the lantern hanging behind him. His shadow stretches across the grass, cutting across Alan Norris and disappearing into the dark.

Seamus’s shadow flickers, the flame behind him going out for an instant, dimming to embers before flickering once more. He spins on his heel, snapping around, and the flame roars back to life. The light blinds him, a screeching sound coming from everywhere at once. The shovel slips from his hand, dropping to his feet, and Seamus’ hands fly up to cover his ears in a feeble attempt to block out the screaming. It stops as suddenly as it began, the night returning to a silence sharp as a knife, unnatural in the way the hills cease to breathe.

Gasping for air, his gaze snaps up to the lantern hanging several feet above the ground. The glass case creaks as it swings precariously from the iron hook Seamus placed it on some hours ago. The wooden stake it’s attached to seems to groan, bending under some unseen weight. A shadow moves above the lantern, and his eyes rise higher, a slim shape taking form atop the wooden post.

Seamus stumbles back as the Cat Sìth hisses at him, green eyes narrowing dangerously. It arches its back, fur standing on end, and the whit spot on its chest seems to grow larger when the creature begins to growl at him, long and low. Alan Norris’s soul hovers in the air beside the Cat Sìth, its tail curling around the little light greedily, nearly smothering it. The cat grins at him once more, too wide and too bright, and Seamus can do nothing but stare at that satisfied smile.

Seamus grits his teeth, hands curling into fists, and he has the sense to lunge for the cat again. “Fuckin’ com’on then ya wee dick,” he snaps at the Fae, irritation bubbling in his throat. The anger is easier to swallow than the fear, the sick feeling crawling beneath his skin. He always did have a bit of a mouth on him, it used to get him into trouble when he was younger, it still does most days.

The Faerie leaps from the post, the lantern swinging violently. The glass case nearly slips from the hook, but holds firm as the Cat Sìth lands silently on the ground only a few feet away. It watches Seamus for a moment longer, tail bristling when he takes a step towards the creature. Before Seamus can reach it, the Fae is already gone, racing across the hills and towards the woods.

Seamus gives chase, ripping the lantern from the post and fumbling for the shovel he dropped. The Cat Sìth is nearly gone by the time he starts towards the trees, Seamus tripping over himself in his hurry to catch the creature. He curses as he races across the hills, the Cat Sìth disappearing into the shadows, only a faint light there to guide him through the trees. Norris’s soul pulses, the little flicker growing fainter as the Fae bounds through the trees, twisting and turning, a part of the forest itself. Seamus stays to the worn path, the familiar trail leading deep into the forest, not daring to stray, lest he be unable to find his way home.

The Cat Sìth veers to the left, leaping atop a fallen tree just off the path. It stops there, turning around to watch Seamus stumble towards it in the dark, the lantern jostling too much to provide much light. The Fae settles there, the soul still hovering beside the creature. It waits almost teasingly, watching until Seamus in only a dozen feet away before grinning that crooked smile again and darting into the trees.

Again, the Fae waits for him, prowling along the edge of the forest, just out of reach. Its green eyes flash in the darkness, the color turning near silver as the light of the stolen soul grows, so bright Seamus couldn’t miss it if he wanted. It beckons him, just as the wisps from the stories in his youth. They’ve always been told not to stray from the worn path, not to follow the lights, not to lose their way.

Seamus takes a half step towards the edge of the path, a twig snapping beneath his boot. A cacophony of voices rise from the trees, whispers he can barely make out, the words nonsense to him. The trees begin to quiver, bending and leaning in every direction, almost as if they were dancing—trembling with excitement or fear he wouldn’t know. The voices grow closer and closer as the trees begin to shake violently, the wind picking up and whipping the dead leaves across the ground until they begin to swirl around him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, the forest playing tricks on him. The whispers rise around him, indistinguishable other than snips and phrases he can’t connect, none of them making sense.

His eyes snap open wide and the forest falls silent once more. The voices disappear and the leaves still, the trees standing tall around him, as if they had never been moving to begin with. His fingers twitch suddenly, scrapping along the shaft of the shovel, a loose thread on his gloves catching on a rough splinter. His eyes narrow in bewilderment as a phantom, icy finger runs along his spine, the ghost of a breeze making him shiver.

Come, the woods beckon him, a voice hissing in his ear. The Cat Sìth blinks at him through the darkness, tail flicking back and forth lazily, its gaze burning against his. The soul beside it dims, like a candle blowing out, so faint he can hardly see it. Come, the trees whisper again, echoing around him until the word is a garbled mess of voices both familiar and strange.

Holding his breath, Seamus goes still, not daring to move as his fingers freeze against the handle of the lantern, the iron so cold it burns him. Around him is nothing but naked trees winding high into the air, dead leaves littering the ground in warped shapes. There’s nothing else in sight. Just dying trees and the Cat Sìth staring back at him.

A low, mournful sound splits the air, a single note that disappears as quickly as it comes. The Cat Sìth yowls, the sound a woman’s scream, shrill as it comes from all around him. Seamus’s skin erupts in goosebumps, his breath catching in his throat at the piercing sound. It stops as suddenly as it begins, the Cat Sìth going quiet, standing as it grows impatient. Again, the trees call out to him, softer this time, almost cooing as they urge him forward, Seamus standing on the edge of the path.

The Cat Sìth turns away suddenly, seemingly bored with his hesitance, and the Fae leaps into the undergrowth. The wisp flicks back to life, the only light in the dark, growing fainter as the Cat Sìth runs farther and farther away.

Come walk in strange woods, the forest seems to say, voice like honey, soft and sweet and a liar’s tongue.

Distantly, Seamus thinks he might hear the voice of his mother calling him back, his sister and brothers calling his name. Something grabs him by the back of his shirt, pulling him back, but the grip is weak compared to the thorny branches that seem to wind around him, yanking him towards the forest. The forest continues to whisper around him, lost souls flickering through the spaces between the trees, phantom lights beckoning him to give chase. The Cat Sìth seems to snicker as it races away from him, Alan Norris’ soul clutched tight in its grasp.

Don’ let ‘em take me, Alan whispers in his ear.

Seamus steps off the path.

The voices of his mother and his family grow louder behind him, desperate as he steps into the forest. Blood roars in his ears, drowning out the voices. Tree branches like spindly fingers grasp at his clothes, dragging him deeper into the woods. Seamus allows them to yank him further into the trees, letting them guide his way as he starts after the Cat Sìth. A thousand eyes seem to stare at him through the trees, Spirits watching as he loses himself to the forest.

#my writing #originals//#cat sith #folklore

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morganlegaye · 8 years ago

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Hi there. Anything you could tell us about your original book?(the setting or a vague summary of the story and/or the characters maybe) Really excited about it. : )

Sure!

Bear in mind I haven’t entirely mapped everything out yet, and my thought process is more…. webbed, then linear, if that makes sense. Why I’m a tiny bit frustrated with it since I’m not seeing as clear of a picture as I wish I did. One day it’ll all come together I’m sure, but right now I’m like *shakes fist at it*

Anyway.

It’s an Arthurian novel, with the focus being on Niniane and Morgaine who will eventually have a romance. Niniane is a faerie who was cast out of the Otherworld for bringing her former lover Merlin into it, who ended up stealing magick from them and creating the druids in order to take fate into his own hands (instead of relying on the creatures who could naturally preform magick) and save his brother. Niniane is bitter af that he used her, and spends most of her time on Avalon as an outcast from her own realm wanting to get revenge on him and earn her way back to her home.

Morgaine and Morgawse are daughters of Vivienne, who was the only faerie who left the Otherworld (although willingly) with Niniane. They are both half, however both have different fathers and grew up separately. Morgaine’s father is Uther, but is believed to be Gorlois, and thus she has another ‘half sister’, Elaine, from her assumed father’s side who had her before his first wife died. Both Morgaine and Elaine are servants in Uther’s castle, as since Vivienne had already died (due to Uther’s desire to bear a son with his ‘true’ wife, and magick has a price a life for a life blah blah) by the time Gorlois fell in war, they would have become orphans if not for Uther’s ‘kindness’ to see them fed and clothed since Gorlois had died honorably in the war, and Uther did not want to see any of his knight’s children starve.

Morgawse’s father however is unknown; some man that was passing by in the woods once that Vivienne seduced and laid with for the purposes of reproducing as she was feeling lonely. Morgawse grew up in Albion because of that, and has always been surrounded by magick and is therefore very skilled unlike her younger sister. She becomes very close to Niniane after her mother’s passing, and helps her with her quest to get the Holy Grail.

Alriiiight so, the Holy Grail! It’s basically what motivates both sides (Niniane and Merlin). Both have had visions that the cup would only ever be found from one of the knight’s in the ~true ruler~ of Camelot’s court. Merlin believes that to be Arthur, Niniane believes it to be Morgaine as she is the older sibling, despite being unknown to most people. The cup has the power to sustain life, and as the druids had been dying out early due to the “curse” (which I will explain in a second) Merlin believes it will save his people and in turn, save the old religion as he believes both religions are meant to exist harmoniously, and not that one will wipe out the other eventually.

See, the Druids have about half a human lifespan (30-40), save Merlin who was granted an extended (although not immortal) life by Niniane – before he had stolen the magick, of course. The reason for the half existence is the “curse” the faeries put on the magick (per Merlin’ s side of the story) although the truth is that humans are just not meant to wield fae magick. Since Merlin already had an extended life, the magick merely disfigured him and made him always look like an frail old man for the rest of his days, but he kept watching the people around him die, and that made him angry and vengeful.

There’s two separate druid clans btw, The Sapine Druids and the Camelot Druids. Camelot Druids follow Merlin, yet the Sapine Druids live in the Sapine Forest and mostly live off the land. They understand that they stole the magick and seek to make amends. They are rather humble and simple folk and accept their “curse” and seek to do good with the gifts bestowed upon them. Unlike the Camelot Druids, they do not seek quarrel with the faeries and mostly try to stay away from them.

BUT ANYWAY BACK TO THE GRAIL.

Niniane, on the other hand, believes the cup will allow her to return to the Otherworld without dying in the process, as one cannot cross over without dying unless they have been invited, which she has not been as she had been banished. She wants to return a) so she can take it over so that b) magick doesn’t end up dying out, which it is the longer the faeries stay in hiding in order to only preserve themselves from the inevitable spreading of Christianity.

Annnnnd that’s about all I got for now, lol.

#at magick's end #anonymous #ask

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elexuscal · 8 years ago

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Fusion, Freedom, Reinvention

Relationships: Ruby/Sapphire Summary: They met under the stars, and that was the start of everything-- stealing glances, strolling through the forest, kissing under the moonlight. Theirs is a fairy tale romance-- of magic and glamour, of debts and blood, of love and sacrifice.

(Part of the SU Fae AU, The Crystal Court)

They first met at mid-autumn, a time of truce for their two Courts.

Under the full moon, the Sovereigns of Summer and the Witnesses of Winter met in a stone circle upon the moors. Space was malleable there, and time too; those who passed the rocks found themselves in a field which seemed to stretch for infinity, its ground carpeted in crisp fallen leaves, the night air lit by the glow of will-o-the-wisps.

Ruby was a soldier, her skin like embers, her hair flames.

Sapphire was a seer, her skin frosted, her single eye a crystal of ice.

Fae are not clumsy. They are elegant by nature, light on their feet, as insubstantial as air.

Somehow, though, Ruby collided with Sapphire.

There was a hush.

A silence which was not just the absence of sound, but a complete vacuum of it.

Sapphire stared down at herself, at where some of her skin had melted and boiled away.

“My apologies,” Ruby stammered, through fear and half-frozen lips.

“It was determined,” Sapphire said, and waved it off. Already, the frost was creeping back up her skin.

The vacuum filled in, as all at once the Gentry continued on with their business. The soldier and the seer watched each other for one more moment, and then they too, carried on.

Fae do not say thank you. Those words are too shallow a thing-- just a trinket, a distraction behind which to hide.

Nonetheless, Ruby was grateful. Sapphire could have had her executed with a word. Instead, she had spared her.

There was a debt there, and debts have to be repaid.

They met again at the next truce, at mid-spring. Again it was held at the same rock circle upon the moors. Now the ground beneath their feet had sprung fresh new grass, and the air thrummed with the call of cicadas.

Someone had brought human musicians for entertainment. With the insect buzz as the beat, their flute and fiddle wove a tune that captivated the Fair Folk, and set them all to dancing. The Fae spun across the grass, exchanging partners as they went. There was a pattern, but one too subtle and too complex to be determined by mortal eyes, all politics and power, pulling at the dancers as the moon pulled at the tides.

Ruby sought Sapphire out. A single dance was not worth the price of a life, but it would at least begin to settle the score.

“Would you like a dance?” Ruby asked, bowing deep.

Sapphire considered for a moment, the curtsied in return. “I would.”

They orbited each other, careful not to touch. Still, they could feel one another, the burn, the chill.

The music got faster, and the dancing sped to match.

It was dizzying, and delightful, but despite it all, Ruby found herself still catching glimpses of the human musicians. Her eyes felt pulled towards them. They were in a sorry state. The fiddle player’s fingers were raw, the blood dripping down his bow onto the new earth below. He was the luckier of the two. The woodwind player’s flute had grown into her skin; already her face was covered in bark, leaves sprouting where her eyes should have been. It should have been amusing, and yet…

Ruby only just bit back a wince.

Sapphire saw the sympathy on her face. Knew the trouble that would be inflicted upon her, if another member of the Courts saw that sympathy.

“Look at me,” Sapphire said, and pulled Ruby’s gaze to her. “Keep your eyes on me.”

So Ruby did. She was an easier thing to look at, anyway. Sapphire was as beautiful as the freshly fallen snow.

And for her part, Sapphire felt herself drawn towards Ruby like a moth to the flame.

And so it went, through the seasons, the years, the decades. Each autumn and spring, the Courts of Summer and Winter would come to a truce, and Ruby and Sapphire would seek each other out.

If there was a chance, they would dance.

In time, even that was not enough.

They found other ways to meet, away from other Fae eyes. Sapphire would See into the future, found the times she would not be missed. Ruby would wait until her betters were occupied, by the Hunt or other such proceedings, and sneak away.

They’d meet in forested groves; at the edges of oceans; on mountain peaks.

They learned to weave better glamours, ones which better hid their natures. That dampened Ruby’s flames, and thawed Sapphire’s ice. It allowed them to pass through the world unimpeded, helped keep them hidden from watchful eyes. It let them grow closer, too. Disguised, the two could bare each other’s touch for at least a few moments.

Unbound by Court politics, Court ceremony, Court hierarchy, they could speak freely. They discussed whatever topics crossed their minds, like clouds drifting through the sky. Their lives. The seasons. Animals. Humans.

They were fascinated by humans, as all Fae were. They could not stop themselves from visiting human townships, any more than water could stop itself from rolling down hills.

They had to be careful. Humans were wary of the Fair Folk-- and they were right to be wary, both of them thought. They kept their towns well warded. Even in human guise, the pair were careful to avoid iron, and hazel, and rowan, and bread, and the ringing of bells at twilight.

They were careful, too, not to let their natures overwhelm themselves. To not have Ruby’s sparks go wild, and leave a barn burned down. To not have Sapphire’s frost encroach, and leave the crops dead in their fields.

At first, it was merely practical. The Courts would not care about such destruction-- they’d revel in it, in fact-- but they would care about the nature of the perpetrators, if they caught wind. A lowly, untitled foot-soldier and a high seer? That was scandalous enough, though not unheard of. But to take a lover from an opposing court? Treason. It would never be tolerated, more than reason for anyone, fae or mortal, to extract a very high price indeed for the keeping of such a secret

Then, it was indulgent. Humans were curious creatures, delightful to watch. Ruby liked to see their children playing in the streets, shrieking and laughing with unbridled delight. Sapphire liked to watch the women weaving, creating cloth from wool, like a conjuring. Both of them loved human songs, and sought out any chance to hear them.

Then, it was indulgent. The humans had their own lives, their own personal concerns, their own private dramas. They were intriguing despite how small, blind and feeble they were-- or perhaps because of that. They were like characters in a play. The farmer’s wife, her belly swelling with child. The widowed midwife who tended to her. The carpenter’s apprentice. The barman. The tailor. The goatherd.

Some of the humans left gifts for the Fair Folk-- offerings of milk, butter, and food. These were not the treats of fae, not sparkling wine made from starlight, not pastries spun from rainbows, not the sweet fruits that grew from the trees of the other worlds. They were mortal meals, made of meat, and of fat, and of grain, and they filled the Fae up as nothing had before.

They left gifts for the humans, in exchange. A charm on a wine cellar, to keep it cool, even in the height of summer. A spell on a hearth to keep it hot, even in the depths of winter. And together, a casting of their very own, to keep the blight at bay.

Sapphire and Ruby spied uponafter all of the humans, but their favourites were most certainly the young lovers.

They followed the lovers, hiding from them using charms of invisibility, or else disguising themselves as birds, or frogs, or hounds. Followed them through the town square; flew above them as they wandered the fields; watched them at night from the windows. Saw the tender ways they touched one another. The gifts they exchanged freely, without any expectation of returns. The compliments they whispered in each others ears. Sweet nothings, the humans called them. Oaths and promises which were not binding, spoken only for delight.

Ruby and Sapphire wished they could do the same.

Centuries and centuries, these meetings had been going, when the words were spoken.

“I love you,” Ruby pledged.

“I love you too,” Sapphire returned.

And then they cried into each other’s arms, because The Fair Folk cannot lie, so they knew these words were true.

They were discovered soon after.

They did not know how. Perhaps some sprite had spied them, and reported it to gain favour. Perhaps their glamour had failed at a key moment. Perhaps the Court had stolen some human from the village, who’d let something slip. Perhaps one of the Queens had simply felt the magical imprint the pair had left behind in their wanderings.

All they knew was that when the next Spring Truce came, there was no feasting, no songs, no dancing.

The two were dragged to the centre of the Stone Circle, the Gentry of both Courts gathered around, cheering, shouting, jeering, taunting.

“Traitors!” they cried.

“Spies!” they yelled.

“Defilers!” they hooted.

“Silence!” ordered two voices, one crackling with heat and the other with cold.

The Queens appeared before their Courts.

They sat in their thrones. Summer’s was made of brambles that shone like burnished gold. The ripest of berries hung among the thorns. Winter’s was carved from ice, and beneath the surface one could see indistinct shapes moving.

Already thrown to the ground, Ruby and Sapphire bowed to their lieges.

“What have you done?” Summer demanded.

Ruby explained.

Neither Queen understood.

“Why did you do this?” Winter demanded.

Sapphire explained.

Neither Queen understood.

The last question the Queen’s asked in unison: “Will you renounce one another?”

Ruby and Sapphire locked eyes. The Fair Folk cannot lie.

Together, they answered: “No.”

Still neither Queen understood.

And so they could not allow it to stand at all.

“Warrior Who Charges Headfirst Into The Blizzard,” said Summer, “get to your feet.”

Bound by her True Name, Ruby stood.

“Seeker and Keeper of the Spark of Truth,” said Winter, “rise.”

Bound by her True Name, Sapphire stood.

The Queens had created them, and so knew their true natures, their True Names. Those Names wielded power, and when spoken, direct demands could not be denied.

And the Queens demanded that that night, when the moon was at its peak, that Ruby must kill Sapphire, and that Sapphire must kill Ruby. And all would see what was to become of those that betrayed the intended order.

The sun was setting.

Ruby and Sapphire were not placed in cages, were not locked away. They was no way to escape, ringed as they were by Courtesans on all sides. They were allowed to stay together. To share in the agony until it reached the inevitable time when they would be forced to end each other.

“There must be some way,” Ruby said, her voice a fierce, desperate whisper.

“There is none,” Sapphire said, resigned. She could See the future in front of her, solid as ice. There were three possibilities. Sapphire could kill Ruby. Ruby could kill Sapphire. Or both would kill each other at the same time.

Ruby cried, her tears boiling.

Sapphire cried, her tears freezing.

Those Kindly Ones around them laughed.

“There has to be something,” Ruby said, as the sky turned purple, and the moon began to rise.

Sapphire shook her head. “We cannot deny our Names.”

Ruby stared down at her hands, shaking.

Then the answer came to her.

She looked up, met Sapphire’s eye, and said, “What if they were not our Names?’

The moon climbed higher and higher in the sky, the time drawing closer.

It was not a dark moon. It was not a new moon, a single crescent of silver. Nor was it a full. It was in the most powerful phase of all.

Half dark, half light.

The Queens returned, and the Fae encircling the two lovers drawing nearer. Their smiles were as sharp as knives, and their eyes glinted like wildcats’, ten times as cruel.

The lovers stood up.

None of the onlookers spoke, waiting to see what would happen.

Sapphire held out her hands, and Ruby took them.

There was no glamour here, no magic concealing their true natures, dampening them. The heat burned through Sapphire’s skin, melting it. Instantly it boiled away, and Sapphire could all but stop herself from crying out in pain. Ruby too was rocked, as Sapphire’s fingers grew into long icicles, bursting through her gloves and piercing into Ruby’s flesh, embedding themselves there. She struggled to stay on her feet, as though buffeted by a winter wind.

Through the pain, they spoke.

“Seeker and Keeper of the Spark of Truth,” said Warrior Who Charges Headfirst Into The Blizzard, “I pledge myself to you, wholly and completely. I give you my power, to use however you wish.”

“Warrior Who Charges Headfirst Into The Blizzard,” said Seeker and Keeper of the Spark of Truth, “I pledge myself to you as well, wholly and completely. I give to you my power, to use however you wish.”

The Gentry were screaming now, crying with voices that howled like wolves, but all the lovers could hear were each other’s voices. All they could see was each other’s faces. They pressed themselves close, feeling their skin freeze and boil and melt, and the pain was exquisite.

The next part, they spoke unison: “Let me change you, and in doing so, be changed myself. For now and forever.”

Lightning flashed.

The Faerie that stood there was something entirely new.

Her legs were too long, her fists too large, her hips too wide, her waist too small. Her chill had been softened by spring; her heat tempered by autumn. She glowed, lightning racing up and down her body, and so none could touch her, unless she permitted it. She had three eyes, and with them, she saw the Kindly Ones around her for what they truly were.

Most Fae turned their eyes away, unable to bear the sight.

The Queens of Summer and Winter cried out to the new one. Ordered the new one to stop. To halt. To destroy themselves-- herself-- there and then.

But the Names they called out were not hers. Not anymore. And she would not be bound by them.

So The One Who Forged Herself Of Love ran from the Courts, and did not look back.

#steven universe #fanfic #su fanfic #garnet #rupphire #fae

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feyre-archerons-scrapbook · 8 years ago

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Endless Autumn - Lucien x sweetheart fic chapter 3

Part 3 of my interpretation of the story of Lucien and his doomed sweetheart.

We know Lucien first and foremost as Tamlin’s closest friend, and emmisary to the Spring Court. We know that he had a lover who was taken from him, but we don’t know much else. This is my interpretation of Lucien’s life in the Autumn Court, surrounded by his brothers and High Lord father, and the female who set his heart ablaze.

Previous chapters:

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2

Find me on AO3

I haven’t got my hands on ACOWAR yet, so this story is not influenced by any new knowledge about Lucien, the Autumn Court, or his lost love. Once again thanks to @rhysand-vs-tamlin for being my beta reader.

Three months passed. Three glorious months of stolen kisses, secret meetings, and standing beside fireplaces throughout the castle; watching as she worked, utterly entranced by her delicate fingers, her soft plump lips…her voice.

She would tell me stories about her time in the village, or of growing up in the cottage, and then ask me to tell her about my adventures in the other courts of Prythian. I obliged as best I could, and she loved hearing about them.

But it was also three months of looking over my shoulder.

The conversation at the dining table had scared me, there was no point denying it. Everyone in this castle had noticed that my attitude had changed in a very short space of time; my days as the wayward son had given me a reputation that was clearly difficult to escape. Now, every creaking floorboard could be a brother, Gagnon, or my father there to spy on us. Every shadow brought me out in a cold sweat. I couldn’t help hearing Tamlin’s words over and over again; be careful.

But Thea wasn’t worried in the slightest.

And she would gaze up at me with those emerald eyes, and my own fears would melt away into nothing. She wasn’t worried, or if she was, she certainly didn’t show it. She would take my hand as she rose from the hearth, and pull me towards her for a kiss so perfect, I wondered if she was real.

One night after her work was done, we arranged to meet in the servant’s stairwell, in the kitchen. When she arrived, I tugged her into the darkness, away from prying eyes, and kissed her until we were both in danger of losing our breath forever. When we parted, her soft giggles made my heart flutter and my entire body heat up, all at the same time.

“I’ve missed you,” I whispered in her ear.

Her voice was masked by the busy clattering of pots and pans on the other side of the wall as she giggled, “We saw each other this morning,” and patted my chest.

“And I don’t know how I coped in those few hours.” I rested my forehead against hers, my hands around her waist. Her fingertips gently stroked up and down my chest, and I felt like my body was going to burst into flames. “Thea, shall -”

The swing door to the kitchen burst open, slamming against the counter. “Where’s that runt, Lucien?” came a voice round the corner. Gagnon.

I rolled my eyes and took a step further back in to the shadows. Thea nestled closer to me.

“I don’t know, sir,” one of the cooks replied, his voice slightly shaky. “He doesn’t come down here very often.”

Gagnon growled under his breath. “Well, what about Harven’s girl? Seen her lately?” I heard his shoes begin sliding along the weathered stone floor, stalking the vast island that dominated the centre of the kitchen.

“Erm, she was here until a few minutes ago.”

“Damn,” Thea mouthed to me. She gripped the arms of my cloak, her knuckles white.

“Winnow?” I whispered, my eyes locked on hers.

She leaned in to listen to the conversation round the corner and shook her head once.

“Where did she go?” Gagnon barked at another nervous faerie. He came to a stop and clicked his heels together.

The faerie dropped a wooden spoon against the side of a saucepan and stuttered, “I…I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of things to prepare for the High Lord’s banquet tomorrow, sir, so I didn’t pay attention to where she went. Ask Harven himself?”

“He’s away,” Gagnon snapped.

“Have they done something wrong, sir?”

“What?”

“Thea and Lucien. If I see either of them, why do I say you’re looking for them?”

Gagnon made a blustering noise and began moving hurriedly, “Don’t tell them. I’ll find them myself.”

With that, the door slammed back on the other side and he was gone. The kitchen staff all sighed heavily, and returned to their tasks.

“That’s the fifth time this week he’s been on the hunt for Lucien,” the head cook said, slapping a towel down on the counter with a whip crack.

“What’s he after him for?”

“And what has Thea got to do with anything?”

“The hell if I know.”

A heavy saucepan fell from a counter top and clattered to the floor, making Thea jump and squeeze her fists tighter on my cloak. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, her heart pounding. “Before he comes back.”

“Shall we go up to my room?”

“No,” she whispered. “Let’s get out of this castle.” She took my hand and said, “Take me to the southern edge of the forest?”

We winnowed to the base of a hill that crested above the treeline. Nightfall gave the forest a very different feel to daytime. The golds, reds and browns of the foliage were submerged in inky blues and blacks, and though there were a sprinkling of stars in the sky, the bright white light of the moon was the main attraction. It cast shadows that stretched across the ground like the fingers of a giant hiding in the forest.

This vista seemed tailor-made to frighten, to intimidate trespassers – especially with the castle looming high above in the distance – but I felt calm, peaceful. I felt like no one would ever find us here if we didn’t want them to.

Thea tugged my arm gently and I turned around to see her walking towards a rocky outcrop. “Come. Sit.”

I followed her up the small hill, and removed my cloak, laying it on the ground before her. She smiled and sat, and when I dropped down beside her, she snuggled up to me and placed her head on my chest. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her close. She smelled of blackberries and spice.

“I like it here,” I said, “It’s quiet.”

“No brothers,” she smiled against my skin.

“No Gagnon,” I groaned.

“Yes, he’s becoming a real nuisance, isn’t he?”

“That’s very generous of you, my love. I would’ve said much worse.”

She laughed under her breath, and released a sigh. “Can I ask you a question?” she said, as a wolf howled in the distance.

“Of course,” I replied, dropping a kiss in her hair, “Ask me anything.”

“You could have any female you desire, Lucien, someone who your family would approve of. Why do you suppose you fell for me?” She lifted her head up and looked at me, her eyes searching my face.

“Well, if I’m honest, despite you being the most perfect female I’ve ever laid eyes, on,” I breathed, cupping her chin, “It wasn’t your beauty that won my heart. It was the way you teased me, the way you…you fought toe-to-toe with me.”

“How do you mean?”

“I have always been a cocky, self-assured bastard - I’ll be the first to admit it - and that attracted the kind of females who just wanted to appease me. The kind who would agree with my every thought.” I brushed the back of my finger down her cheek. “You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite, Thea, from the very first moment we met.”

“You talked down about yourself, I didn’t like that.”

I shrugged, “When you have a family as consistently cruel as mine, it becomes very easy to believe what they say.”

“Well, they’re wrong, Lucien. You have the kindest heart, and the safest arms.” She sighed again and gave me a soft kiss, before returning to her place against my chest. The warmth of her body against mine was another memory to treasure. “And the best kisses.”

“Thank you, my love.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes, looking at the view, taking in the quiet of the night. My heart was overwhelmed with the love I felt for her, for the words she said to me.

Then, something occurred to me. “So, I know your father, but I don’t remember your mother. Tell me about her,” I said.

She snuggled further into me and spoke, “Well, she was a wonderful mother; as kind and caring as anyone could hope for.”

“I can imagine.”

“And she was high fae.”

“What?” I gasped, and led her to sit up and face me. “Really?”

She nodded. “That’s why my appearance isn’t as pronounced as, say, Karin or Gagnon, or my father. Mother came from the Winter Court, and she met my father when the High Lord hosted a feast for Calanmai.”

“She, erm, wasn’t the maiden, was she?” I asked, only half-joking.

Thea smiled and dropped her head, “No.” She looked back up at me. “But the celebrations, the bonfire…mother said it made for the perfect distraction when she found my father. They met, fell in love instantly, and eventually I came along.”

I shook my head, “Why did I not know any of this this?”

“Because it was kept a secret. Mother lived in the village, away from my father, because the High Lord hates mixed couplings.” Her eyes seemed to well up with tears in an instant, and her hands began shaking. “He hates half breeds even more, says they’re even lower than ordinary faeries.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, taking her hands in mine.

“It’s not your fault. You are not like him,” she said with a shake of her head, “Besides, I’m grateful to certain members of your family, Lucien.”

I knew immediately who she meant. “My mother.”

She nodded. “She kept everyone safe and hidden from the High Lord and his sons. It’s because of the Lady of the Autumn Court that my father still has a home, that I have work within the castle, and that my mother has a space in the grounds of the Court in which to rest.”

“Your mother died?”

“Yes.”

I winced, “Nothing sinister, I hope?”

She shook her head. “No, she fell ill and came to the end of her life.”

“Oh, Thea.” I pulled her into a hug, and felt her body melt against me.

“Everything happens for a reason,” she breathed against my skin. Her strength was quiet, reserved, but it seeped into me with the force of a lava flow. I was in awe of her.

She withdrew from my arms and rested those long, delicate fingers against my cheek, her thumb gently caressing my skin. Her eyes seemed to study me, covering every inch of my face, as the moonlight illuminated hers. “I love you, Lucien, seventh in line to the Autumn Court.”

I chuckled under my breath and turned my head to kiss her palm. “I love you too, Thea. I loved you from the moment I saw you.”

A smile slowly spread across her face, brightening her skin even more. A single tear dropped onto her cheek; a tear of happiness, of love. I wiped it away with my thumb. “You know, if you hadn’t stumbled upon me by the lake, I would’ve found you instead.”

“I know you would have,” I whispered, my voice struggling to escape as I covered her hand with my own. “This was meant to be - you and I - of that I’m certain.”

“I think you’re right,” she nodded, and looked away from me, toward the treetops, the blue-tinged castle and the hills beyond. “Our lives were entangled before either of us was born, Lucien.”

“You say that with great conviction, my love.”

She turned back to me. “I have no doubt. From the moment you were born, from the moment my mother and father met, everything has been leading up to this point; to you and I.” She turned her body to face me fully, and lifted my hand, pressing her palm against mine. As we both stared at our fingers entwining, she murmured, “Now the only question is where we take it from here.”

I immediately felt that force tugging at me, just like it had the first time we met. It pulled at me like a rope tied around my chest, determined and unyielding. Thea began to lean in, her eyes locked on mine, but I couldn’t wait. I slid my hand around the back of her neck, bringing her lips crashing into mine.

The kiss turned that heat inside me into a raging inferno, threatening to engulf me, consume me with pleasure. She tasted so sweet, but her hands that now roamed down my back were anything but. Our lips remained together, but she shifted to her knees, her hands moving to my chest and insistently pushing me down until I was lying flat on my back against the rock. A wicked grin spread across her face, a laugh erupting from inside her.

I laced my fingers behind her head and pulled her lips back down to mine, passion pulsing through me as she smiled against my lips and moved to straddle me. Our tongues danced to a frantic, exhilarating tune that fell into sync with our hearts, and she ran her fingers through my hair, tugging it. I pushed up off the cold ground with one arm, unable to contain my need for her as we separated, then kissed again.

I laid back against the rock, overwhelmed with my need of her. My hands began to shift down to her waist, but kept going, reaching her legs that sat either side of my hips. I gathered up the fabric of her dress, and shuddered a breath as my fingertips made contact with the bare skin of her thighs. A sound I hadn’t yet heard from Thea – a moan of desire, of yearning – escaped her lips, absorbed by my mouth. It sent a shockwave rippling through every inch of me. We came up for air and stared at each other, breaths once again coming in gasps, panting. Her deep green eyes – eyes that I was sure sparkled as they looked down at me – were hungry.

“Lucien,” she breathed, and reached down to unbutton the top of my tunic. She dipped her head to my neck, and placed a slow, agonizing kiss at the base of my throat.

I stuttered a breath, my fingers slipping up into her hair and releasing it from its braid, sending her soft, luminous red hair cascading over her shoulders. “Th…Thea,” I whispered, and sucked in air as her kisses moved up my neck towards my ear. “I…”

She grasped the open collar of my tunic as she trailed her kisses higher, before her lips brushed my ear lobe. “I want you. Now.”

My eyes shot open, to find her licking her lips just above me. I glanced around. “Here?”

She shook her head and leaned back in to kiss me. Her mouth covered mine, claiming it, her tongue sweeping across mine as her fingertips brushed my cheeks with almost cruel delicacy. Then she pulled away, leaving me wanting so much more, and patted my chest. “I think we should go somewhere a little more private.”

She shifted off me effortlessly and stood up, holding her hand out to me as I rose to my feet. I kissed her again before I said, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

We walked down the hill and back into the forest, barely able to keep our hands off each other, until a fox deep within the maze of trees screeched, making her jump. Her laughter was infectious, and helpfully swallowed up by the rustling of the leaves above us. We rounded an ancient oak tree to be greeted by a large, cosy stone cottage. A faint plume of smoke rose from the chimney, the small windows casting blocks of soft orange light across the wide pathway that crossed in front of the house.

“Thea… Is this your home?”

“It is.” She took my hand. I must’ve looked concerned because she laughed again and said, “Don’t worry, my father has gone away for a few days. We have the place all to ourselves.”

Heat rose up inside me, and as she led me up the wooden steps onto a porch, I couldn’t contain it any longer. I pressed her up against the stone wall and covered her mouth with my own, my hands roaming over every inch of her beautiful body as she grasped the cool stone. I broke away and turned her head to breathe into her ear, “We’ve waited so long, my love. Are we really doing this?”

I felt her breath catch in her chest, her heart pounding faster, harder than I had ever felt it before, but she didn’t say anything. She simply gave a wicked smile and slipped out of my arms, opened the cabin door and stepped inside. With her back to me, my body frozen with anticipation, she glanced over her shoulder, clicked her fingers, and her dress slid like silken sheets off her body, revealing her to me completely. “I’m all yours, Lucien.”

She didn’t need to tell me twice.

#Sam scrapbooks #lucien #autumn court #fan fiction #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #sarah j maas #my writing #original character #acotar #acomaf #acowar #pre-acotar

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katrinawritesthings · 8 years ago

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OT5; resume game; PG

listen... more d&d au

“When did you even get an antimagic spell?” Key asks. She sounds more impressed than anything by this point and Jonghyun snorts.

“Two levels ago, when you told me it was useless, remember?” he asks. Jinki doesn’t even have to look up to know that Key is blushing and Jonghyun is smirking. “Also,” Jonghyun adds. “If this works, then I’m technically the one that beat him, and the rules that all of you fuckos set up say that that means that I get to decide what to do with him. So don’t hurt him.”

part 1

ao3

As the small group of adventurers advances further into the forest, the phoenix elf spots a clearing in the distance. She signals to the others and as one, they sneak quietly through the trees until they have a clear view. Set up in the loose grass and small boulders, a group of six humans lounge lazily around a fire, laughing and talking with smug pride. None are watching the trees and they have bags and boxes full of what appear to be the stolen artifacts from the city’s museum.

“I can get one between the eyes from here,” Yavè says, hand confident on the crossbow under her robe.

“We’re supposed to capture them alive,” The Double M-C growls. Their bear claws flex at their sides and Yavè sighs, crossing her arms.

“You’re right,” she mutters. “I can get one through the leg from here,” she offers instead.

“We can just… walk up and ask them to give the stuff back nicely.” Skell’s words are small, but louder than they have been, his growing confidence and experience showing in his actions. Yavè rolls her eyes, but Ace nods slowly.

“Let’s do that, but more… intimidating,” it says with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk in The Double M-C’s direction. The half-bear grins slowly back, lifting one big bear arm to point at the tree creature.

“I like that plan,” they say. “Come on.” They head off towards the clearing, leading the party with no stealth straight through the trees. They growl in the back of their throat and rustle the trees as they pass. Ace stomps its heavy oak legs extra hard against the ground, so the earth trembles slightly with each step. Yavè pulls off her hood and casts an illusion on herself, turning her already fiery colored hair into what looks like real flames and giving her eyes a deep red hue. In the clearing, the humans all startle and look around in a panic.

All at once, the party bursts through the trees. With an enormous, earsplitting roar, The Double M-C bares their claws and their fangs in a display of power that sends one human stumbling to the ground in fear.

“Draw your weapons and fight, theives!” they bellow, towering over the humans and snarling down at them. On their right, Ace thumps its huge wood club menacingly into its palm. On their right, Yavè draws a fire-tipped arrow and trains it expertly on the furthest human.

From the back, Skell scoots forward silently. Peeping his pink-haired head out from behind The Double M-C’s furry elbow, he waves gently and gives them a small smile.

“But, you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to,” he calls.

(“Jonghyun.” Minho hisses. Their hand is clenched around their dice, eyes closed as they take a deep, steadying breath. Jinki watches with the utmost amusement as they open their eyes and turn to face Jonghyun’s pout. “Will you please. For once. Let me do this.”

“What?” Jonghyun whines. “I’m not stopping you.”

“Yeah, but you kind of ruin the effect,” Taemin says. It shrugs lazily in its pillow pile. Key nods and Jonghyun grumbles at all of them, holding his pillow tightly under his chin.

“Minho, roll for intimidation with an advantage. Jonghyun, persuasion,” Jinki says, pausing their hundredth argument for just a moment. Both of them glance at him; Minho rolls two dice and Jonghyun grabs his.

“Twenty-four,” Minho says, and then, “I’m a big giant bear person,” they whine. “Like, half of my points are in intimidation. Let me intimidate people.”

“You can intimidate people,” Jonghyun huffs. He jiggles his die in his hand and tosses it into what he calls his lucky cup instead of the stimmy cup he’s been casually throwing them into the whole game. “I just want them to know that they don’t have to fight. They can just surrender. I’m helping.” He frowns at the outcome of his die and tips it back into his little tray. “Nine,” he tells Jinki. Jinki nods at both of them, picking up his own die to roll for the humans while Jonghyun and Minho keep up their bickering. They’re cute. As he rolls for each human, he snorts and smothers a grin in his hand at a particularly bad number.

“Okay, so,” he says, interrupting whatever point Minho was bringing up.)

Almost every human yells and stumbles back in terror. The sight of the half bear, half human, a monstrosity on their own, is enough to have them trembling in their boots. Two of them back up even more, turning around to flee, but their leader catches them by the elbows.

“Stay here and fight, you cowards,” they snap. They seem to not have been affected as much by the party’s entrance. They’re a seasoned veteran at this kind of thing and have seen worse, as evidenced by their firm stance. Their companions, however, have hands that shake as they reach for their weapons. One of them doesn’t even draw a weapon at all; with a glance at their leader, and a meaningful glance at Skell, they slowly slip sideways, slinking behind one of the larger boulders.

Skell’s eyes light up in delight and at his first opportunity, while the others are fighting, he jogs over there to meet them.

“Are you hurt at all?” he asks, holding out a worried hand to the shaking thief. “I can heal you,” he offers brightly.

(“Oh my fucking god,” Minho mutters.)

“You know, I’m sure you have more fairy in you than just your hair. Your smile is dazzling.”

“Yeah. And your sweet spirit is positively angelic.”

“We can’t thank you enough for convincing those hunters to leave our village alone.”

“Ooh.” Skell smiles wider, cheeks flushing as pink as faer hair, and nuzzles up to one of the many tall, handsome, suave boys speaking to fae at the bar. The village is celebrating their party’s victory over the attackers in the inn and fae’s having a lovely time surrounded by admirers. Fae draws invisible little lines on one man’s broad chest and looks up at him through faer lashes. “Tell me more about how pretty I am,” fae says.

At the other end of the bar, The Double M-C snorts, shakes their head, and returns to the story they were telling to the group of young children gathered around them. Yavè rolls her eyes and asks one of her own crowd of admirers to get her another drink. Ace sits moodily in the corner, arms crossed and frown directed towards the tallest of Skell’s babes. As they all go about their business, from the entrance, a--

(Jinki stops suddenly in his description when Taemin slips him a folded up note. He takes it, glances at Taemin’s little grumpy face, and reads it.

“I’ll give you five dollars if you make your hot self-insert bartender kick them out,” it says.)

“Okay, we’re just gonna barge in there, take out the bodyguards, kill the lord, get out, and--”

“What the fuck? No, we can’t kill him.”

“That’s what we’re supposed to do, we’re supposed to kill the asshole so the village can live in peace from his reign.”

“Okay, technically, maybe they want us to kill him, but they didn’t say we had to. We’re gonna tie him up and throw his ass in his own garbage jail.”

“Oh my god, this is going to take forever.”

“Well sorry I’m not a murderer--”

“It was your idea to take this fucking sidequest in the first place--”

“The people needed our help--”

“Lets just fucking get in there already oh my god--”

(“Hey, uh, real quick,” Jinki interrupts Jonghyun and Key’s hissed argument with the most amused hand between them. They frown at each other for another moment before turning to Jinki. “Are you two having this conversation, like, in the game?” he asks. He gestures at the little ambush setup they have on the table between them.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Key says. “Yavè is liking Skell less and less by the moment.”

“Of course,” Jonghyun says. “Skell thinks Yavè is being a big anus.”

“Ace wants to hurry up so it can eat,” Taemin mumbles.

“Yeah, and I feel like I’m like. Really worried, waiting at the inn for them to come back,” Minho adds. “Can y’all please hurry up and finish breaking the law?” They’re pouting really hard and Jinki chuckles softly.

“Okay, well,” he says, getting back to his point. “Since you two are arguing out loud, then, uh.”)

As the two’s bickering grows louder and more intense, the secret door behind the lord’s office is swung suddenly open. Three of his bodyguards, huge and intimidating, glare menacingly down at the party, swords drawn.

“Shit,” Yavè hisses.

“She was the one that wanted to kill you,” Skell says immediately, pointing at the elf.

(“I’m not taking you to the movies this weekend anymore,” Key hisses at Jonghyun.)

“I hate,” Ace growls as it sucks down one of its last healing potions. The magic of the drink bubbles and fizzes inside of it as it heals its wounds, but it doesn’t feel nearly as satisfying as they usually do. Ace peeps out from where it took cover behind the rocks to watch the other three try yet again to harm the warlock.

Yavè fires a perfectly aimed arrow from her crossbow, then casts her volley spell to duplicate it hundredfold. Every magic arrow rains down on the warlock with grim accuracy, but with a great acrobatic effort, they dodge and weave through the brunt of the attack. The ones that do strike him are taken easily, their magical force lessened and their damage partially healed by his many protective spells.

The Double M-C, freshly healed by Skell, hurls themselves again towards the wizard with a fierce roar. A reckless charge, they’re able to get closer to the warlock than anyone has yet so far, but still are blasted back by his powerful magic at the last moment. As they tumble back towards the rocks and pillars of the cave, their roar is one of defeat.

At the third round of repeated failures, Skell sneaks a peek out at the wizard from behind his own rock and huffs. “This is garbage,” he mutters.

(“Alright, listen, wait, Jinki,” Jonghyun says. Jinki turns to him with a hum of curiosity, trying not to grin too wide as his frustrated little pout. He shouldn’t be having this much fun with this, but the others are just having garbage rolls today and it’s way too funny. This really shouldn’t be that hard of a battle. Jonghyun reaches over to their little figures on the table and pokes the warlock gently.

“This fucko,” he says. “He’s like. Some scrawny old fuck that’s been living in a cave for too long, right?” he asks. Jinki snorts. That’s one way to put it.

“Basically, yeah,” he says, because it’s not like Jonghyun is wrong.

“He’s gonna be splattered all over the cave when I’m through with him,” Key mutters darkly. Jinki throws an amused smirk her way. Her patience ran out several turns ago.

“And, like,” Jonghyun says, ignoring her little comment. “He doesn’t have any actual weapons, right? Just his hands?”

“Yeah,” Jinki shrugs. “He had a staff but you all burned it, remember.”

“Mmhmm,” Jonghyun hums. He pouts at the little wizard figure, finds his own figure, counts the little spaces of distance between the two. “Okay,” he says. “So, I’m gonna-’’

“Wait, are you actually gonna attack him?” Minho asks. Their eyes are huge as they look at Jonghyun and Jinki honestly has to agree. What the fuck. Jonghyun curls up smaller under everyone’s disbelieving looks, but picks up his little figure anyway.

“It’s not like you guys are getting anywhere,” he mutters. “Jinki, I’m gonna cast an antimagic sphere on myself, run at him, like, full speed, and then just. Jump on his back.”

He hops his little figure across the table, struggles for a moment with balancing it on top of the wizard’s, and then just kind of sets it behind him. Jinki stares blankly at him. Holy shit. The other three are looking at Jonghyun in much the same way. Oblivious to their silence, Jonghyun fixes up the two figures on the board and then looks up at Jinki.

“What do I roll for that?” he asks.

“Um,” Jinki says. Uh. He doesn’t know. Constitution maybe?

“Are you serious?” Taemin asks. Jonghyun huffs at it with a little nod.

“Yeah?” he says. “All this fucko can do is magic. Just walk up to him and capture him gently while I’m blocking all of his spells and shit. I wanna get out of this cave.” He jiggles his die impatiently in his hand as Jinki flips through his guide book to figure out what attribute is best for this.

“When did you even get an antimagic spell?” Key asks. She sounds more impressed than anything by this point and Jonghyun snorts.

“That doesn’t--”

“They are the rules,” Minho sighs. Key huffs and crosses her arms in defeat.

“It won’t work anyway,” she grumbles. “Nothing has been working today.”

“Roll for dexterity,” Jinki mumbles, pointing vaguely in Jonghyun’s direction. He slowly closes his book as he finishes reading. Dexterity now, and then it’ll be constitution every turn to stay on. Yeah. Jonghyun tosses his die onto the table and when it settles, everyone kind of just stares blankly at the first twenty anyone besides the warlock has gotten all session.

“Plus four,” Jonghyun adds, pointing at the numbers on his character sheet.)

Skell takes a deep breath, casts an antimagic sphere on himself, sprints across the cave, jumps effortlessly onto the wizard’s back, and clings there.

(“Like a cute little koala,” Jonghyun adds, poking his figure with a grin.)

Skell clings to the wizard like a cute little koala.

“And I owe all of this to you, Skell. Sweet, sweet, lovely Skell.” Jo’s wicked smirk turns wider, more natural, more charming, a shadow of the old smile he used to give Skell before he turned into an asshole. Now it just feels like a mockery. He walks up to Skell and caresses his face, laughing softly when Skell jerks away. On the rocky mountainside cliff they’ve been backed up on, Skell stumbles, almost losing his balance, before Jo tuts and yanks him a single step away from the ledge.

“Don’t leave me yet, babe,” he chides. “You still have to watch me take the orb and harness its darkness to take over the world.” He backs up lazily towards the Darkness Shrine and holds his hands out, relaxed and confident and smug. “You should have listened to your little friends when they told you not to trust me,” he says.

(“Yeah. Jonghyun,” Minho says. Jonghyun rolls his eyes, squeezing his pillow close to his chest. Jinki props his chin in his hand lazily as he watches the other three glare at the soft little bub.

“Remember when I told you that your hot new boyfriend was just using you?” Key asks. Her voice is light and casual with just enough bite to get her point across.

“Remember that time a few days ago when he literally just suddenly screamed and grabbed his head and took, like, thirty points of psychic damage for no reason at all, and Jinki said that obviously the gods were displeased with him for something?” Taemin asks. It doesn’t do as good of a job at keeping the annoyance out of its voice.

“But no,” Minho says dramatically. “Jo’s great. He’s soooo romantic. He helped us fight sometimes. He just gets intense headaches every once in a while. Nothing’s wrong with Jo.” They lean really close to Jonghyun, trying to stare him down as he stares blandly at the table. “Do you think Jo’s gonna let us fall to our deaths, or will his charming gentleman’s heart grant us the mercy of killing us first?”

“Alright, can you, like, get out of my space, please?” Jonghyun asks. He’s perfectly calm and pleasant, flapping a gentle hand at Minho until they sit up straight with a huff. “It’s fine,” he says. The other three groan, probably because he sounds exactly the same as he has sounded for the past in-game week of them telling him that Jo was bad news. “It’s still fine,” he says. “It’s always been fine.”

“Explain to me how this is fine,” Taemin huffs. Jonghyun huffs lightly right back.

“I mean, if you would let me do my thing instead of whining at me, you would see,” he says.

“What thing,” Key scoffs.)

“Jo, honey,” Skell says sweetly. He takes several small, shuffling steps forward through the snow and the rope binding his feet, smile playful on his face. Jo pauses in his dramatic reaching for the orb, turning to look at him with a cocked brow.

“Stay back, cutiepie,” he says. “I would hate to have to kill you first.”

“Oh, I know, baby, but,” Skell pouts. “Can I have one last favor?” he asks. “Pretty please? For me?” He bats his eyelashes prettily and Jo laughs. He thinks it’s absurd that Skell still thinks that he actually ever cared. Still, the little pink haired human is absolutely adorable. One last request couldn’t hurt.

“Sure, kitten,” Jo shrugs. “What is your dying wish?” He hops off of the shrine with his arms crossed in front of him. Skell smiles, bites his lip, giggles cutely.

“Let us--”

(“Oh, wait, Jinki--he has more than fifty hit points, right?” Jonghyun asks quickly. Jinki cocks a brow, checks his notes, and shrugs innocently. Telling is cheating. Jonghyun huffs. “Come on, Jinki, you know I don’t want to accidentally kill him,” he pouts.

“How the fuck…?” Taemin mumbles. Jinki sighs and shrugs again, but this time with a little nod. He can’t say no to that face.

“Yeah, he has more than fifty,” he says. Jonghyun smiles bright and wiggles happily.

“Okay, anyway.”)

“Let us tie you up right now,” Skell says clearly.

(“Really? That’s your fucking plan?” Key hisses.

“Shh,” Jonghyun hisses back.)

Jo looks at Skell blankly for a moment, and the bursts into loud laughter. He holds his stomach, bends over, wipes a tear from his eye.

“Wow,” he says when he composes himself. “I thought you were going to ask for a final kiss or something.” He grins, steps forward, pecks Skell’s cheek, and backs up. “Not gonna happen, babe,” he grins. Skell just smiles pleasantly back as Jo turns back to the shrine.

Two steps up, Jo stops suddenly, stiffens, clutches his head, and screams, just like that time a few days ago. As soon as that happens, Skell pushes all of his concentration into another spell that hits Jo with force. Mid-scream, mid-horrible writhes of agony, Jo stops, frozen in place by the magic.

Skell turns quickly back around to his other three companions.

“Hurry up and get yourselves free, this freezing spell only lasts for a minute and I don’t know if a second one will work,” he says.

(“Holy shit,” Minho whispers.

“I told you it was fine,” Jonghyun grins.

“I thought you didn’t like to hurt people?” Key asks. She’s staring at the five damage dice Jonghyun rolled onto the board with wide eyes, and Taemin is giving Jonghyun the same look. Jonghyun shrugs, a sweet little smile on his face.

“I don’t like liars,” he says. His pleasant tone is betrayed by just a touch of a hard edge.

Jinki had known about Jonghyun’s secret curse plan the whole time, but it’s at that moment that he really remembers that chaotic good players play by their own rules just as much as the evil ones do.

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers again.)

#jongtae #jongyu #jongho #jongkey #jonghyun #ot5 #dnd au #pg #fantasy #listen this au is Important nd i keep thinking about it lmao #jong just : ) making friends and being nonviolent #they take the group of thieves back to the town to chuck them in jail but skell '''accidentally'''' loses track of the one that didnt fight #like '''oh darn :/ guess hes gone :/ too bad :/ but i rly think :) things were looking up for him :) hes rly gonna turn a new leaf :)#minhos just like Oh My God #his lawful good ass cant Stand jongs chaotic good ass #key doesnt mind as much bc sometimes they can be chaotic together but She Just Wants To Murder #and ace just wants to be skells favorite boo #also rip in pieces jo skell was playin u the whole time #jong Knew he was shady from the start nd had like a whole List of secret notes to jinki about his secret curse and secret plan #i forget what its called but the spell was basically just #''''u can give someone one command a day for a month and they dont know u did it but if they disobey they take a Lot of psychic damage'''#skell: dont lie to us okay honey?? :)#jo: uwu of course babe #jo two hours later: ha ha what?? no im not planning anything shady at all lmao #The Spell: hello i am here u fuckin liar #jinki: hmm wow guess the gods just hate u dude #everyone else@skell: >:vvvv #jong@jinki for following the plan: ;))))

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