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thecandywrites · 3 years ago

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Blood For Gold Chapter 21

Oh but we aren’t done, let’s unravel this spiderweb completely shall we? All the aces that everyone thought they had are pulled out, and what they thought were aces, just might end up being jokers instead. Also this picture of this dagger? That’s Kushi, before and after it turned to platinum, before it disintergrated into black ash.

@punkhorse96 this is where we come right to the brink of losing everything and this story ALMOST becomes a tragedy only for LOVE TO CONQUER ALL. And save the day and bring it back from the brink of destruction and taking the highroad keeps you from being involved in the tragic “accidents” on the low roads from the head on collisions between the other players in the game. Enjoy Darling, one more chapter to tie all this up in a neat little bow.

Also I would like to make a note- because this mentions pregnancy and in a sense, abortion too- I want to make something clear. I am pro choice. I believe that children can be a blessing, but they above all else, are people and they deserve to be wanted, deserve to be cared for by loving and caring parents who want them and parents who are ready and willing to have them. And not be viewed as the bad consequence for having sex.

Blood For Gold

Chapter 21

“What’s going on now?” Demsey asked you.

“Something between Benny and Sierge that they need to work out.” You answered him.

“Demsey, do remember that favor I asked of you? How you would help me escape the Palace of Windsor?” You prompted, as your tears welled in your eyes because having Demsey so close but knowing that the best thing to do for him was going to be to get worlds apart from him was breaking your heart just thinking about.

“Yes, I have not forgotten.” Demsey reassured you.

“I need to call it in. The moment we return, I need you to bring that trunk down to the stables, I was given Charlico as a gift, and I’m leaving with Heavencrest and Charlico. Because the moment we get back and can get packed, everyone is leaving the Palace of Windsor and my family is going to be going to Mirador to help sort things out.” You informed him.

“Absolutely, I will ride back immediately and meet you in the stables.” Demsey reassured you.

“Thank you.” You thanked him before your parents came and pulled you back to them as they insisted on having a family meeting to discuss what they were going to do as once again, urged them all to go to Mirador and formulate a plan there and that you would have room in Mirador’s stables for everyone’s rides and plenty of rooms for them to stay in even though they weren’t as lavish as the rooms at the Palace of Windsor but your family insisted that even if they had to share beds and roll out bed rolls on the floor, they were going to stay together but in this moment, you just wanted to be free and have space from everyone.

Demsey rode the fastest horse he could rent and immediately went up to his room and hastily packed his own things into his own trunk and put them with yours and waited anxiously in the stables as your family came back as you hurriedly packed everything you could not live without and put them in a separate trunk and instructed the servants to take the first trunk to the stables and all the others to go back to Mirador with your parents since they would be taking carriages back to Mirador before you got dressed in a simple, comfortable shirt and pants along with your flying leathers and practically ran towards the stables once Yalin gave you Charlico’s papers of ownership and breeding lines and a note to the stable hands that Charlico’s saddle and whatever other tack you wanted would be leaving with him.

“So what happened in there?” Demsey asked as he tried to help you get Charlico and Heavencrest saddled up to be loaded up.

“My case against the Morrigans got dismissed from every court in England.” You told him.

“How in the world did the Morrigans get your case dismissed?!” Demsey demanded.

“Because it wasn’t them that did it, it was the Dowager Queen who was the one who dismissed both my case against the Morrigans and the Morrigan’s case against me in both the public and private courts and barred us from ever going to court to protect the Crown from any damage that this case would bring to it through Gregori, Yalin and Ramsey and she herself got to see and hear all of the evidence and acted as judge and jury and ruled in my favor. The original contract I had with Edward Senior was upheld. And the Dowager Queen awarded me everything that the Morrigans have as recompense for the hurt they caused me in their conspiracy and attempt to murder me and they were branded as mad and insane for trying to murder me via mourakatili and were sent to the asylum to be fed poison to make them honestly insane.” You answered.

“Oh, but that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Isn’t that more or less the outcome you wanted?” Demsey asked in confusion because you were still manically trying to saddle and load both animals up and you were still crying and clearly in distress.

“Factually, yes, but at the same time, no, not at all, because I finally found out why they tried to kill me to begin with and it’s so much worse than anything I could have imagined. The day I married Edward Senior, Ramsey, in a panic said only minutes after I married Edward, told his father that I was his perfect bride but because I was just then married, I was unavailable because his parents had threatened him that if he had not found a bride that season, he would be cut off in every conceivable way and sent into the army and have the rake beaten out of him one way or another. But he just thought I would marry Edward and live out the rest of his natural life with him and in five to ten years when Edward would die naturally of old age, then he would be ready by then. But what no one realized was Gregori’s desperation to see Ramsey married and father to a legitimate heir as soon as possible was so great, he conspired to murder Edward Senior so that I could be Ramsey’s wife that much quicker. Because it was Gregori who bribed Edward’s doctor- Dr. Rickets, to poison Edward Senior with Wolf’s Eye which when you take it, it makes you delirious within a couple months, and within a few more months, it will put into a further delirious rage to the point your heart beats so hard so fast, your heart beats itself apart, causing your heart to fail, and that led to Edward’s own madness and in his madness, he abused me. The entire Royal Family including Charlotte, Yalin, Ramsey and myself were completely unaware of Gregori’s involvement and plotting and all of them were mortified to learn of this news and as recompense, they gave me Charlico for free, although I still feel I paid for him with my own blood, but none of that seems to matter to anyone else so the real murderer is walking free because he’s the King’s brother and heaven forbid he face any punishment for his actions.” You hissed as you wiped your angry tears away as you did your best to get Heavencrest’s saddle cinched correctly as your tears blurred your vision.

“The Morrigan's thought I had poisoned Edward Senior, wanting to get out of the marriage which of course wasn’t true because before the poisoning- Edward Senior had been nothing but good to me and I was happy and content with him and I had no reason or motive or cause for such a thing but they thought I was a typical moura, who just wanted the highest payout as quickly as possible and in retaliation and wanting to avenge Edward Senior, hired the same doctor, Dr. Rickets, to obtain mourkatili and poison me with it so that I would be buried right next to Edward Senior. Dr. Rickets tried telling Gregori but Gregori was already on holiday with his family in Dorierra trying to find another “me” for Ramsey and didn’t get his letter in time for Gregori to step in and Dr. Rickets added Jade’s Crown to the mourkatili to make it less lethal but more addictive and told the Morrigans all they needed to do was put a thimble full of it into a pot of hibiscus tea to hide the color and once I would have a sip, I would become addicted and would request to drink it more and would choose to drink myself to death, which that plot very narrowly succeeded.” You revealed with a bitter laugh.

“But because it was Gregori who is guilty of the conspiracy, it’s being covered up, buried and dismissed and all evidence of Gregori’s guilt, once it was made aware by the Morrigans and myself and my family, it was then quickly destroyed and Dr. Rickets ended up going to the asylum with the Morrigans and has the same fate as them.” You revealed as Demsey was half tempted to try to burn the palace down himself as rage almost blinded him but your hurt kept his mind with you in the moment.

“However, the complication was that Richard’s mistress, Myra, her children by Richard were brought up in Broadcove as servants because Agnes insisted that only the children she bore to Richard should be his heirs and treated them as such because she was the one who had control of a good portion of the wealth since a lot of it was in her name, that term was agreed on so that Agnes would continue go along with everything like a good wife and Richard of course had to agree because Myra has no nobility at all herself, just her beauty and personality to recommend her and Agnes had the breeding, nobility, connections and dowry to boot. So, of course Richard married Agnes but kept Myra as his mistress and it is those connections and that dowry that enabled Edward Senior and Richard to invest it and multiply it and turn it into the massive wealth they did and with Agnes working her own contacts like a concierto does an orchestra, that’s why they have as much power and influence as they do. But Agnes was always resentful on account of Myra so she abused those poor innocent children because she hated how Richard loved them more than the children she bore to him and even though they were his bastards, they were made in more love than Jane and little Edward ever were and she demanded that if they remain in the house that they were to earn their place as servants or be put out into the street because she could not bear the humiliation of Edward’s infidelity made public and she would turn all of her connections on Richard if she didn’t get her way so he had no choice but to agree and Myra was lucky she got a room, much less a suite of rooms at Broadcove in the opposite end of the house from Agnes, Jane and little Edward.” You explained.

“And if that wasn’t bad enough Agnes even sent one of them to their early death, the eldest son Myra bore to Richard, the second time I was served mourkatili in tea form, she insisted that to “prove” it wasn’t dangerous, for the poor boy who served it to me, she insisted that he taste it to prove it wasn’t poisonous, I tried to stop it but he did as she commanded and dropped dead the moment that poison touched his lips and she tried to pin it on me to Myra saying that I insisted he drink it. So of course Myra came to me and demanded to know what the poor boy had done to me that I should be so cruel as to kill him and when Richard found out, of course he believed Agnes at first and came at me and had me tied down so he could beat me and I couldn’t fight back, I was too drunk on mourkatili to fight back anyway before Jane intervened and told them the truth and Jane had to show them the truth that had been caught via her own messengerari that was in the room and when Myra saw it, she apologized profusely and did everything she could to heal the hurt that Richard had inflicted but when Richard saw it, he never did apologize to me but instead turned on Agnes, her bruises and cuts were twice as bad as my own. But that didn’t stop Agnes because the third time Agnes did it, it was Myra’s youngest boy who was only six.” You broke down crying as Demsey came and tried to hold you but you resisted him, because you wanted to leave as soon as you got this all off your chest because you wanted and needed him to know the truth.

The whole truth.

“And I of course drank down every drop of it to keep him from having any to protect him and Jane, once again had to intervene, so she and her father decided that only she would serve me the mourkatili because I would not make her drink it and that all of Richard’s other children by Myra would be kept to her apartments in the north wing and would only be let out when they were in the company of Myra or Richard, so they became like caged animals, just like me and must like Myra.” You revealed as Demsey stared in horror.

“And Jane, sweet Jane, she got her ladies maid to go to the market for her to get me ipecac and she would try to dilute the mourkatili and try to add what she had heard would help lessen the impact of it or help to try to neutralize it. And she purposefully “tripped” and crashed onto the floor when she couldn’t dilute the tea and it of course stained the rugs and the floorboards underneath but she couldn’t do it too often for fear her parents would get suspicious but she did everything she could in those limited, forced circumstances to try to do what she could to save me, so even though the fact of the matter is she did serve me poison, she isn’t responsible for it. And I hold no grudge against her or blame. And of course, when I got to leave Broadcove, Myra pleaded with me to take her children as my own servants because she knew I would be good to them and treat them with kindness, much more than they were being given at home and I could not refuse her. But of course, they are their father’s children and they of course, kept reporting on everything I did to their father. So even when I left Broadcove, I couldn’t escape the Morrigans.” You divulged.

“But why not dismiss them entirely then?” Demsey asked.

“Because they have been good to me despite that and I couldn’t fault them for their loyalty, nor can I find fault in their service, they have always been respectful and obedient and they did everything they could to be courteous and cater to me and it was only three months into my widowhood when they saw for themselves what kind of person I was that they switched their loyalties to me and told their father to “fuck off” because if he really did love them like he claimed, then he would not have put up with their indentured servitude or mistreatment at Agnes’ hands and refused to spy on me after that and it’s because of those circumstances that in an effort to mend things with me, the King made Myra a Maquise, a station higher than a Count or Countess and basically told everyone the cover for this whole fucking fiasco was ‘that Agnes and Richard went on holiday, got sick with something to make them go mad while Jane and I have been at Windsor and that they bribed Dr. Rickets to poison me with mourkatili and thankfully my brother’s dragon was here to cure me and that they are all guilty of madness and attempted murder and have since been sent to the asylum. And that Marquise Myra Bellafont, moved with pity, has taken in Jane and little Edward and is now their loving caregiver’.” You informed him.

“So that’s why I am leaving Broadcove to Myra and all of her children as heirs of it because while Agnes has always treated them with animosity, they have never treated Jane or little Edward that way or even Myra, let alone me. So they will leave Mirador as my servants and enter Broadcove as masters and I have been awarded everything that the Morrigans had, all wealth and property and I am leaving a business or two to Myra and her children to run so that they can keep up Broadcove and care for their needs and anyone who says otherwise or attempts to reveal the truth will be promptly killed or sent to the asylum themselves.” You explained.

“But if that wasn’t enough, Richard did hire a mage to cast a spell over all of Mirador so that no messengerari would work and send any message out and bribed four of the post masters in the Royal Mail Service to destroy every piece of mail going in or out to me and Mage Bellfast had to conjure them all up because they had all been burned in an effort to be destroyed. That’s why that table was covered in mail from my friends and family. Not even your letter to me a few days before the ball to warn me about who was going to be there and who meant me harm could reach me.” You explained.

“And that was the other reason why the Royal Family couldn’t let this go to court because to prove that their Royal Mail Service had been corrupted, couldn’t be tolerated.” You answered.

“And what’s even worse is now I can’t go home to Dorierra either because I got the classification of tavnit, which means “no master”. And even if I were to go back to Dorierra, I can’t stand to go back into the bride system. But I also can’t stand to go home to Mirador where my whole family now has dollar signs in their eyes and now they are all clamoring for a piece of the giant money pie I’ve just been handed and the temptation to just let your sister inherit all that I have so that you can assist her in how to run it all so I can be free of even all of that is too tempting for me right now and so the only place that leaves that I can go and be truly free in every sense, is a colony because justice is a joke and loyalty is fickle at best in this country and the less people around me who can use me for their own benefit, spy on me to others who would use that information as blackmail against me and betray me, the better.” You insisted bitterly.

“Do you think I would ever do those things to you?” Demsey asked.

“No, never, because you’re actually a very good man, with upstanding character and morals but you deserve a highborn lady at your side to be the perfect wife to you and help you and stand by you. And as much as I want to do that, I can’t.” You cried as you put your bags onto the saddles and tied them down.

“Why not? I told you, I don’t need an heir and a spare, all I want is you to be happy. And if a colony is where you think you’ll find that then let me go with you. Where you go, I go. To hell with England.” Demsey insisted.

“No, England is still your home though, and Whydah I’m sure has no equal. You have everything here, you have your business which should be booming with the new soap recipes which Leumeni has offered to share if he could have the chance to court Kiera properly. You have your title as Duke, you have your family and friends, and I’m not worth giving all of that up for.” You argued.

“Yes you are! To me, you are worth more than anything this world has to offer me.” Demsey argued further as he once again tried to reach for you to pull you into the comfort of his embrace as you desperately put your hands on his chest and shoved him away with what was left of your strength in that moment.

“Demsey please! You can’t love me without knowing the truth about me! I am a murderer! I’m the one who gave Edward his fatal blow!” You cried out as Demsey was dumbstruck by such a revelation as he subconsciously took a step back as your heart broke to see such a reaction from him before you grabbed your last bag and tied it to Charlico’s saddle.

“A millenia ago, when mouras first touched down on the ground, the reason we knew we could turn things into gold was because at a banquet, a drunken man tried to rape a moura woman. The moment his touches grew desperate and violent, just touching her, her body, in an act of self defense, turned him into a statue of gold. That’s how we found out we had that power. Once she touched him again, he turned back to flesh and blood but the act of being a solid gold statue killed him and he dropped dead. Then we learned to master that defense mechanism and learned to control it. It was our blessing and our curse. From there, moura women were hunted like game, like trophies and when mouras grew cloaks, when you took a moura’s cloak you were considered bonded with them. And men of all kinds hunted us, and once we turned their enemies into statues of gold, to be melted down into bricks and bars of it and once that is done once it stays gold for a year, touching it again will never let it revert back to it’s original flesh, so the gold was kept in the ground for a year and a half just to be safe while the person was considered “gone missing”, or the women turned their own body weight of mud and rock and bricks into gold, then they were released. But that meant that no moura would ever have rape or any abuse attempted on them because the perpratrator would be turned to gold themselves. But when the gold plague came, that power died with it. And suddenly we didn’t have that protection, or that curse. Until only recently, and I mean recently as in only the last one hundred years. There have been only four mouras born in the whole world, who can now touch that moura gold and turn it into moura platinum. That’s what I am. I’m a platinum moura. The moment Edward’s flesh touched mine as he tried to rape me, he dropped dead as a platinum statue, he broke the bed and the crash was heard through the whole house and I had to have the bed burned and bribed Dr. Rickets to say he died of a heart attack, which having a heart that needs to be beating for you to stay alive, if it stops, you’re dead, still kind of happened. But because of the mourkatili, it means that that very platinum is poisonous and lethal if you touch it but when I touch it again, it turns to black ash, the same black ash from the Gold Plague that killed billions of heavenly moura, that’s why my hands were black when you came in and why there was so much ash on the floor because Mage Bellfast, as payment for conjuring up my mail asked me to turn a brick of moura gold into moura platinum. I tried and failed because Grevu cured me. And when Mage Altissia informed Mage Bellfast of that, he cast a spell on me and pulled the mourkatili that was in my hair back into my body and re-poisoned me so that I could have that power back. I tried stabbing him after he put that spell on me and I tried stabbing him with Kushi and Kushi turned from gold to platinum in my hands but the mourkatili made me weak again and I collapsed onto the floor and when I stood back up and picked up that gold bar and the moment I touched it, it turned from gold to platinum and I gave it to him and he at the time had the good sense of wearing gloves and when he got to hold it, he kissed it. And when he kissed it, his body instantly dissolved into a heap of ash with the bar of platinum falling onto a heap of his clothes and ash and it killed him and when I went to pick up Kushi, the moment I touched it, it turned back to gold but also into ash as well and it disintegrated into my hands and all the jewels that were imbedded into it, fell through my fingers like pebbled sand at the beach. I destroyed Kushi because it had been made with moura gold and when I touched that brick of moura platinum, it did the same thing. And now I can’t touch anything made out of moura gold or else the same thing will happen to it and for all I know the ash is just as poisonous now as it was when it first appeared in the Gold Plague. That’s why I have the tavnit status and that’s why I’m not welcome back in Dorierra because I have no use for the stable masters and once again, I am a lost cause.” You confessed.

“Do you still love me now? Knowing that I can kill you if you touch me? That I can turn everything that happens to be moura gold and turn it into poisonous platinum that will kill everything and anything it touches?” You asked rhetorically.

“That’s why as soon as I’m packed, I am going to go back down to Grevu so he can heal me yet again so that I am free of this curse too and then I’m leaving for the farthest colony I can find from here because the more space between me and this whole horrible situation and circumstances, the better.” You told him.

“But I know you would never do such things to me, at least on purpose. I promise to remove everything gold from Whydah so that you can’t possibly…” Demsey tried to offer.

“Demsey, that is not the only reason I can’t marry you and that you can not come with me. You deserve a wife who is faithful and honest with you in all things. Demsey I am pregnant. I am with child as we speak. I’m a month along already and even if we got married today, the baby will come too soon after the wedding and your reputation as well as my own would probably be ruined beyond repair and I can’t do that to you, I won’t do that to you, I refuse to do that to you. It’s not right and I refuse to do anything that can be in any way harmful to you. That’s why Grevu cured me the first time, he could tell I was falling pregnant and cured me to protect me and the baby, but because of the pregnancy and because of Grevu’s magic, protecting the baby from all harm, even now with the mourkatili in me, the baby is fine, it remains unharmed and the rest of my womb is being protected from reabsorbing it’s poison and this babe was made in love and passion and I refuse to harm it either. It’s an innocent in this situation too and it’s not only my responsibility and obligation to take on the consequences of my own actions and I have no one to blame for my state but myself and I am ready and willing to take it on and the only saving grace I have is that the baby is in no way the offspring of the Morrigans. And I love you too much to try to push onto you a baby that isn’t yours. It wouldn’t be honest or right. And I can’t ask you to take me and this baby on, knowing that.” You insisted as you finished then went over everything to make sure everything was attached and secure and wouldn’t come flying off when you would fly to the colonies in just a few moments.

“And the father of the baby has completely disappeared, no one can find him. And what’s worse is he was a whore in a whorehouse, that’s who the father of this baby is. Two months ago, when you gave me that note back that Calla was able to sneak to me. I went to The Gold Finch, that is where I met Yalin, she told me about The Red Velvet Rope and she told me which days to go and which days to avoid the place because that was Ramsey’s favorite whorehouse and at the time she didn’t want us to meet because she knew Rasmey would use me, then ruin me. I met the manwhore there and I got to be with him three times, that first time, a second time right before the ball at Havenfield and the third at the Masquerade Ball at The Midnight Peacock. That’s who I was with right before you found me at the bar, he was why I didn’t feel like dancing because we had both told the other that we were going to be pursuing other people and that never again would The Red Velvet Rope be in our lives and then the bastard made an enormous bet on me on Kamoba and apparently won a small fortune and as always, he took the money and ran because since then, he has vanished into thin air and no one has even heard of him, let alone knows of him and of course The Red Velvet Rope absolutely insists that no one by his name or appearance has ever worked for them, ever. But the place wouldn’t be a good whorehouse if it didn’t serve it’s lady clientele pregnancy warding tea to counteract the consequences of it’s use which I made sure to drink both before and after each trip to The Red Velvet Rope. Except for the night of the Masquerade Ball, I was too heartbroken over losing him that I forgot to drink any and that one time was all it took, even with the mourkatili in my system which mourkatili is supposed to kill fetus’ but thanks to Grevu’s magic, the baby is perfectly fine and healthy and shows no signs of being disformed or anything. And I would never do you the dishonor of trying to pass off a baby that isn’t yours to your very face and I would hate myself for trying to live that lie and that guilt would eat me alive, more than mourkatili ever could. That’s what I meant by you deserve better. Do you still love me now? Don't these truths kill every ounce of love you thought you had for me? Don’t..don’t answer those questions. Hopefully all these truths will help you dismantle any affection you’ve built for me and hopefully you can find someone worthy of your love and affection who will do right by you, who isn’t a whoring murderer.” You offered as you finished with the last of it before you went back to Grevu and asked him to heal you again as Demsey sat on the now empty trunk as his own sack of clothes and personal items laid down at his feet and processed everything as he watched you get into Grevu’s tent with him as you hugged Grevu tight and tried to tell him goodbye as he wrapped his neck and wing around you protectively as you cried into his chest but thanked him for intervening and trying to protect you and save you and the baby before he seemed to glare at Demsey.

“It’s not his fault. He’s not the one to cause my hurt.” You tried to excuse to Grevu.

“Just, please, heal me, one last time, so I can carry the baby safely ok? Thank you, thank you for preserving this little miracle of life.” You pleaded with Grevu who put his nose into the neck of your flying leathers and snorted softly before you had to let him go and go to a corner and throw up again and just the sound of you being sick and in agony as once again, the mourkatili colored your hair, but just the ends of your hair this time instead of all of your hair as you readily grabbed it and cut the colored ends off and laid them on the ground for Grevu to burst into flames to destroy for good and it was enough to break Demsey out of his stupor and move him to action as he knelt next to you and once you were done, he handed you his handkerchief to wipe off your mouth.

“Audra, my love for you transcends everything you’ve told me and will transcend a million things more. I don’t care if you were working at The Red Velvet Rope as a whore yourself, and I don’t care if you couldn’t know who or what was the father of the child you’re carrying and I don’t care if you don’t even have a penny to your name. I love you. I will always love you. And I will happily love the child you’re carrying as if it were my own. You speak like you’re the only one to have ever sinned. I’m imperfect too and I don’t want the perfect wife. How boring would that be? I want you as my partner in life, no matter how or what kind of name you want to attach to it, I want you, any part of you or all of you if you’re willing to give it to me as perfectly imperfect as you are right now and forever.” Demsey professed.

“You want to hear my deepest darkest secret? Shortly after seeing you on the train, I used The Red Velvet Rope too because I could not get you off of my mind and I thought at the time that if I rutted with a moura, that would help me be less distracted and then I met another moura, with the same first name and the same looks as you. And my fantasy was that I was actually being intimate with you instead of her and I met with her three times as well, that first time shortly after returning the note to you from Calla, the second, right before the ball at Havenfield and then again at the Masquerade Ball. I went to that ball and I immediately rented a change of clothes so that no one would recognize me in my own clothes in an attempt that you would not recognize me but that she might and sure enough, like moth to a flame, she found me again and it both broke my heart but filled me with relief that she was going on the straight and narrow and she confessed that she was going after an orc in the gentry and I feared it was my brother because shortly after just giving Sierge the smallest, most miniscule of details about her, he has been looking for her ever since and he claimed he found her and agreed that her resemblance to you was uncanny and I tried to kiss her goodbye and cut things off clean with her at the ball, but it was like she was a drug that I was addicted to and I went one last round with her and I haven’t seen her since. She also bet on me for the Kamoba and apparently won a small fortune in turn but again, she, just took the money and ran and not even Sierge has been able to find her since, even with his almost super powerful sense of smell, and that was also why I was in no mood to dance at the Masquerade Ball and why after that, I found you at the bar and why it wasn’t fair to you at all that I was in your presence but yet it was her that was on my mind. So I’m just as much of a whore as her and I have been just as unfaithful and just as secretive and deceitful and I’m sorry that we live in a society where such things are like a death sentence to a woman and her honor but are expected from most men and it’s not fair and it isn’t right. But I swear- on my life, I would never, ever, hold such things against you and I would keep these revelations just between us and take them to my grave and I will do anything you ask of me, except for leaving your side. I want to help you, I want to love you and care for you if only you would let me. You are not the only one with sin or fault, I’m just as guilty as you, I’m just as imperfect and flawed. But she is nothing compared to you and is a sad counterfeit of the real you and I would much rather have you than a hundred of hers. You will always be infinitely more precious to me. Please, if you must insist on going to a colony, then let me go too. You don’t even have to marry me if you don’t want to, I don’t have to be a Duke, Sierge or even Tzane can take the title and the business for all I care. Just...let me love you and care for you the best way I can. I know how to make soap anywhere, with my own two hands, it doesn’t have to be England or Europa, I don’t care where we are or where we go, as long as we are together. That’s all that matters to me, we’ll find a way to keep each other. I swear.” Demsey offered before you took your small canteen on your hip and swished your mouth out real quick before you finally kissed him, climbing into his lap and wrapped yourself around him and held him tight as you both cried tears of happiness and relief as an overwhelming flood of emotion overtook you both.

Then as if you both seemed to realize it at the same time, that each other’s taste was...really familiar.Not in a way that it was familiar from the night before but much farther back than that. Almost too familiar in an uncanny way.

“Wait, this, other Audra, the first time you met her, did you try to call her Audrey and she corrected you by saying it’s Audra- Draft?” You questioned him as suddenly, something clicked in your head.

“And I replied, ‘call me Demsey’.” Demsey answered as he gave you the most bizarre look before you both started laughing.

“Oh my gods, we are so stupid! Ugh! The Abbess at the Red Velvet Rope, told me I was going to be seeing a guy named Draft. That’s why I said “Draft”, not as my last name, but that was to address you, who I thought was named Draft.” You confessed.

“And it was on the 12th. At like, 3 o’clock in the afternoon? I told my abbess on my side of the place that I just wanted a rut with a moura and she offered an Audrey and so that’s why I called you Audrey and I thought the Draft thing was you saying your name was Audra Draft, Miss Draft.” Demsey confessed with a sigh of relief as he held you as finally your own personal scent was so wonderful and comforting and familiar! How had he not made the connection before now?

“And then we both returned on the 23rd at about the same time and met again, you were wearing that gorgeous navy suit jacket with the cream pants and that vest with cream and navy paisley.” You realized.

“And you wore that sexy as sin black lace dress that had me nearly losing my load just from the looks of it. Which, you do still have that right?” Demsey asked.

“Yeah, it’s back at Mirador.” You confirmed with another laugh.

“And that was you? At the Masquerade Ball, and it was me that you were quitting Mr. Draft for?” Demsey asked as he just couldn’t stop laughing as all of a sudden everything clicked into place as to why he was so outrageously attracted to you as he tightened his hold on you.

“Yeah, and obviously it was me that you were quitting Miss Draft for?” You asked with a laugh of your own.

“Yeah.” Demsey confirmed.

“So this is actually my child you’re carrying, this is my babe that Grevu has used his magic in protecting this whole time?” Demsey asked in awed astonishment and wonder and gratuity that even when you thought it was the child of a manwhore, you would would bear it and cause no harm to it and you’d be juast as loving and doting and safeguarding it which pleased him greatly and really proved to him the exceptional character you had as you nodded yes before he happily grabbed your face and kissed you with so much passion and so much feeling it was almost overpowering.

“Ok, new change of plans, I am marrying you as soon as I possibly can, I have a ring for you actually here, in my pocket, when you had that attendant hand the journal that I had written in back to me and that one line that you loved me back was all I needed to know, I figured you would be a while and I immediately rode to the closest jewelry store and bought you a ring and raced back and I barely made it back before we came inside the throne room. I am taking you home to Whydah and only keep whatever servants you’re really attached to back at Mirador but otherwise, leave the rest to whoever you want and I will never leave your side again and I pledge my heart, mind, soul and absolute fidelity to you from this day on.” Demsey vowed as he got the ring from his pocket and slipped it onto your finger.

“Likewise. Although I would like to make one small suggestion.” You offered as you wiped the last of your tears away.

“Name it, it’s yours.” Demsey answered back.

“If we ever get to the point where we need a break from being Duke and Duchess Voyambi, we can take breaks and go out on the town and Mr and Mrs. Draft.” You proposed which got him to smile wide and laugh.

“That sounds perfect. And we can continue to make bets in Kamoba, as Mr. and Mrs. Draft.” Demsey suggested.

“Perfect. Now, get what you need, load it onto Charlico because right now, he is yours, because it is only right that a mated pair of griffins be owned by a mated pair of people and fly Charlico home to Whydah.” You ordered as you looked at the aquamarine teal stoned ring with a halo of diamonds around it with so much pride and happiness and now that you knew that it was actually Demsey to save you from everything and that you had no more reasons to try to escape anything, because what you wanted and what you needed was already yours and already in your embrace and being married to Demsey and carrying his children was all you wanted and it made the sting of all the revelations earlier today melt away and you felt strengthened and fortified and so supremely happy because you were happily and freely choosing Demsey just as much as he was happily and freely choosing you, as “complicated” as the circumstances were.

“Yes Ma’am.” Demsey giggled as he kissed you again.

“Good dragon, very good dragon. I owe you everything. Thank you so much.” Demsey happily cooed to Grevu who happily wrapped his head and neck around you both and happily soaked up your affectionate petting and scratching just as a servant came into the barn.

“Is Duke Demsey Voyambi in here?” He called out.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Demsey said as you untangled from him as Grevu lifted his head to reveal you both and together you walked hand in hand to the servant who looked relieved to see you.

“And Sultana Saharazat! Oh good, I’ve found you too. Your bets on the Kamoba battles, they have returned along with their payouts.” He said as he handed Demsey a thick letter full of bills and then handed you a large parcel of bills too as you noticed the letters on top as addressed to Mr. Draft and Miss Draft.

“So who did you bet on?” You asked him.

“You, you beat out Benny, I bet on you to win the battle and you did.” Demsey said as he took the letter and showed you before you took the letter and showed him.

“You bet on me too?” He cooed to you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed the crown of your head as he read it.

“And with the pay out being one in 20 that you would win your class, I now have at least 2000 pounds here.” You giggled as you opened it to reveal the stacks of pound notes before you put those into the saddle bag with Heavencrest but kept the note and put it into your pocket.

“Would you come to Mirador with me today though? I still wish to have your input and sensibilities on how to handle all of the wealth and businesses and how I should alot what I’ve just inherited and who it should go to, but I do have one thing clear in mind, all businesses need to have unions for the workers, everything has a union back in Dorierra and when Jane told me that you were pro union, it of course makes the best sense, earning money is of course the goal but not at the price of the lives of your workers.” You suggested sweetly as he simply pocketed his own winnings but put the actual letter in a bet into his pocket where your ring had once occupied.

“Of course, I would be delighted to, and I’m honestly happy and relieved we agree on this.” He reassured you before Benny came rushing in with Sierge carrying a whole bag full of money since his bets were structured in such a way that they compounded so he just won over a hundred thousand pounds for Benny beating The Saharan Viper and The Copper Cobra along with your heir father, his wife and his mother.

“Grevu! Lift this curse off of me right now!” Benny demanded of Grevu as you and Demsey watched her pass you curiously as you snickered a laugh.

“Shut up Audra! You just won the world! You have no right to laugh at me!” Benny spat angrily as Grevu growled at her before he got up and balled himself up, like a cat curling up on a rug before a fire and turned away from her as your family was coming into the barn to leave too.

“Aw, does “the happy heart beat” not make you so happy Benny?” You asked her in a teasing, almost taunting tone.

“Don’t you dare say those words to me, there is nothing happy about this situation at all!” Benny said.

“Happy heart beat?” Demsey repeated.

“In the far east- in the emperors harem, that’s how pregnancy is diagnosed and what is said when it’s discovered. It’s a way of diagnosing pregnancy. Dr. Chu told me, that’s why I told Sierge to follow Benny and stay with her.” You revealed.

“And thats...” Demsey began as he looked at you questioningly.

“Yup.” You eagerly nodded with a bright smile.

“Oh good you have not left yet.” Your mother blew out a breath of relief at seeing you as all of them were carrying small packets of money, won from them betting on you for winning the Kamoba tournament.

“No, Demsey is coming to Mirador with us, since he’s been running his businesses with great success in the English market, I want his input to help me decide what I should do with all of the Morrigan’s businesses and help me decide who should get what.” You explained as you happily stood with your arm around his waist as he stood with his arm around your shoulders and happily held the other to your side as Benny just rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Axal! Get your ass down here and have Grevu take this curse off of me this instant! He cursed me last night before the night Kamoba games and I refuse to live another moment under it!” Benny screamed down the barn which got everyone to stare at her in confusion except for you and Demsey who were content to just stand back and see how this was going to play out.

“How did he curse you?” Axal asked with a barely contained grin.

“He just...did! I just need him to lift it!” Benny hotly demanded.

“Right. I don’t believe you. Unless you can give me solid proof and evidence that he did and show me how he cursed you, I’m not getting involved at all.” Axal dismissed as he waived her off and began to walk away.

“He got me pregnant!” Benny desperately confessed as everyone gasped and stared at Benny in shock as you couldn’t help it, you snorted and snickered a laugh which soon infected Demsey too and the others around you.

“Wow! You had sex with Grevu? By heaven above, Sierge’s dick isn’t enough for you that you had to fuck my dragon?! How did he even fit…?” Axal began to ask.

“No! I didn’t fuck your dragon, his cock would split me in half! No, I...he made the seed that was already in me take root and now his magic is protecting that root and I need him to lift his protection of that root so I can remove it!” Benny finally confessed.

“And whose “root” is it?” Axal asked.

“Who knows, it could be mine, it could be Viscount Whiteales or any of the other orc gentlemen you were schmoozing with at the Kamoba lunch and dinner feasts, it’s hard to tell with a whoring slut like her.” Sierge said as everyone ‘ooooh’ed’ with another snickering laugh as Anavia and Loreiris tsked and shook their heads.

“Your mother will be so disappointed in you. You knew penilie- vaginal sex was forbidden for this very reason, is this why you couldn’t get the dowager status?” Loreiris asked.

“Yes, it’s cost me everything! Now Grevu, take it back!” Benny demanded.

“But what about that leverage you were going to use against Audra when and if she could not get you that Dowager status? Surely you can’t fault her- for you- not getting it, because we were all there to hear how she wanted all of us to have that status and didn’t single you out to not have it.” Loreiris pointed out.

“You were going to betray Audra after everything she did for you?” Your mother scuffed in disgust.

“No, I wasn’t, I swear!” Benny said as real fear came back into her eyes.

“But you told me that you were going to.” Loreiris insisted.

“And me,” your heir father insisted.

“And me,” his wife Maradiem added.

“And me,” his mother Anavia added.

“It was just something to say for the Kamoba, I didn’t mean it!” Benny pleaded as your whole family began coming towards her and began to surround her as everyone was glaring at her before she was pushed back so that her back hit the wall.

“What is going on now?” Yalin and her children asked as they came into the stables to see your family off and saw Benny as she ducked and dodged through your family to get to her.

“Please Mama Yalin, you have to help me! Grevu cursed me so that seed took root in my womb and his magic is protecting the root and I need it removed before I could ever go back to Dorierra!” Benny pleaded.

“Well whose seed was it?” Yalin asked.

“Sierge’s.” Benny finally confessed.

“Are you sure? You were seen practically hanging all over all the other orc families yesterday, it could have been any of theirs, after all, you were offering all of them the leverage you had collected for Gregori against Audra and Demsey so Audra could be with Ramsey, but obviously, you see how that didn’t go so well.” Loreiris said as she gestured to you and Demsey as well as to Ramsey who was between Axal and Octavia.

“So you were going to try to sell that leverage to the highest bidder?” Yalin asked Benny as she pulled away from Benny and fixed her with a disapproving glare.

“No!” Benny shook her head no.

“That’s not what she told everyone else, I specifically overheard her tell Kate Whitesale and her brother that she would give that leverage to them so that Kate would be the next Duchess Voyambi and that Benny would be the next Viscountess Whitesale since Sierge was the second son and heir to nothing and had no power or wealth to his name because it all rested with Demsey and how getting that leverage came with ‘the unfortunate side effect of Sierge’s attentions and affections which you did not at all return’.” Loreiris paraphrased.

“I overheard those exact sentiments too, you offered the same thing to the other orc families that day too and swore up and down how you had Sierge’s unwanted and unreciprocated attentions and affections and how you needed “saving from him”.” Axal insisted.

“Oh dear, did you get caught in your own web?” Yalin asked Benny as she shook her head and looked so profoundly disappointed.

“Well, unfortunately, I’m afraid I can’t help you. Because the right thing to do was once you saw that whatever leverage you got by whatever means you used, was no longer wanted or needed, you should have been a good friend to Audra and forgotten all about it. Because I never asked you to get that leverage and I never wanted it used against Audra. Who has clearly already had enough horrible tactics used on her.” Yalin offered.

“And I never asked you to get leverage on her either. So your leverage was and is completely useless to me.” Ramsey insisted.

“Nor I.” Charlotte chimed in.

“No but your father did!” Benny insisted to Ramsey and Charlotte.

“Right, the same one who hired a doctor to poison an old man to death, how did that turn out by the way?” Ramsey sarcastically mocked her before turned to his mother.

“Horribly. I fear your father faces some intense discipline and will be forced to pay recompense with interest for years and years to come.” Yalin answered.

“And once it is known that you are with child, that classifies you as “fallen” and no man in nobility in any country either here or anywhere else in Europa wants a fallen lady, no one will want to claim you. I suppose if you have anyone at Dorierra will take you on- in such a condition, that would be what’s best but for fallen ladies, there are few choices. Maybe the father might be induced to take you, if he will have you but only if you had not betrayed him or tried to cast him off before hand. But with the fortune Sierge just won from the Kamoba, he could have any number of ladies.” Yalin said as she gestured to him.

“And with that fortune he could buy any number of the businesses I just inherited, so it’s not like he’s left with nothing, no fortune or income or power or influence, he could be a man of industry and wealth that might even exceed his brother and he could always claim his own title of nobility, it might not be as high as a Duke but it’s better than nothing, after all we are all Maquis now right?” You pointed out to everyone else who had agreed on staying in England.

“But he’s the one who gave me the leverage against you in the first place!” Benny said as she pointed at Sierge accusingly as everyone then looked at Sierge.

“Look, you and your hands and mouth were very persuasive but I only told you what you wanted to hear. It’s not like anything that I told you was necessarily completely true or at all accurate or even current. Because what’s that saying? Something only ten percent true is still 100% misleading? You’re not the only one who knows how to work other people and you weren’t subtle about the fact that you were working me, but thanks for the inside info to bet on you against the Saharan Viper, even as dirty as you played her, I now have enough money to buy any bride I wanted from Dorierra if I ever wanted one, or I could just as easily court and marry any eligible lady here in England. So, all in all, thanks Benny for doing me the backhanded favor.” Sierge winked at Demsey with a smug smile himself a shrug from his shoulders.

“But the fact that you’re not just willing, but desperately wanting to kill my unborn child because it just happens to inconvenience you and puts your treachery on display and exposes you for who and what you really are. I don’t know if I want you as a wife. I can’t trust that you wouldn’t hurt any other children I could ever give to you if I were to take you as my wife, for any number of reasons. So go ahead, let Grevu lift his protection from you and “uproot” the little sapling and destroy it before it can sprout any further as you so chose to phrase it. You’re free of my attentions and affections as of this moment and every moment to come, exactly how you wanted to be, right?” Sierge questioned rhetorically as even you could see the beginning of tears start to make his eyes glassy as he tried to remain composed as even you could feel how profoundly hurt he was by this betrayal too.

“Yes, you know why? Because you never once respected me! Or women in general. You treated me like a pet, a toy, you feel a woman’s place is in the home, birthing heirs and too stupid for anything else, helpless and weak and completely dependant. I am so much more than you could ever comprehend, let alone appreciate. And being forced to be bonded, much less married to a stupid, honorless, pig headed, stubborn, egotistical, selfish, much less completely incompetent, lackluster lover, who is as reckless with honor as he is money. You are ruination itself! And you will lose all of that wealth as quickly as you got it!” Benny roared angrily as everyone blinked in surprise.

“Wow, been holding that in for a while now huh?” Calla asked Benny.

“Yes, and I’m done, Leumeni, Coravien, come on, we’re leaving. we are going home to Dorierra, we can still catch the train.” Benny barked at her brothers.

“I’m not leaving with you. I’m free, remember? Unlike you, I got dowager status, so I don’t answer to you. Besides, everything I could ever want and need is right here with me in England. Not in Dorierra.” Leumeni answered back calmly as he looked to Kiera who happily took his hand and held it tight.

“And you’re more than welcome to stay at Mirador while you find a fine house of your own.” You offered to him.

“Thanks, I’ll take you up on that.” Leumeni smiled happily.

“Me too, if Demsey will take me on as a partner in his soap business, I’ll give him every soap recipe I know and we can have the same soaps and things here that we do at home. Besides, I’m a Marquis here in England and the King offered me a living of ten thousand pounds a year, which I understand is a lot and the other orc ladies here are actually really pretty. So I’m staying too.” Coravien answered his sister back too.

“Yeah can I get in on that soap thing too?” Leumeni asked.

“Absolutely. I’d be happy to have you on board.” Demsey readily agreed as you smiled happily at him as you squeezed him into your side and being so proud to have such a wonderful man as your fiance.

“And London needs a proper moura restaurant,” Storren pointed out.

“Yeah, I ain't going back either, I’d love to open a good moura restaurant. Give that Savoy I keep hearing about a good run for its money.” Brima grinned.

“And my place is with Tzane, I ain’t going back either, not until I marry Tzane and we go back together to gather all of my things from Dorrierra so I can fully move here, Whydah is from what I hear a large home, big enough for more than one couple.” Calla shrugged.

“Mama Yalin?” You called out.

“Yes Audra Dear?” Yalin asked, happy and elated that you were still speaking to her in such an affectionate way, having feared that Gregori had completely destroyed your relationships with their entire family.

“Would it be possible to get a marriage license for Demsey and I to get married sooner than later, he has asked me to marry him and I’ve accepted, and I would like to get married within the week at least so that all the members of my family who wish to return to Dorierra can see me get married in the moura tradition before they leave to go home to Dorierra?” You asked her hopefully as you raised your left hand and turned it so she could see it as everyone gasped excitedly and cheered to see it before offering their congratulations to both of you.

“Surely you can postpone your departure from England for a day or two can’t you Benny? You could still go back with my family when they want to go back.” You offered rather sweetly, if not just a tad smugly because what you had told her in the Kamoba battle was coming true, just the way the gods and goddesses had told you it would.

“Only if Grevu will lift this curse off of me first.” Benny decided.

“Grevu, go ahead, do as she asks. Lift the protection.” Axal decided before Benny marched down and kneeled in front of Grevu who blew a red smoke over her and then inhaled it all back in a moment later.

“Thank you, you overgrown rat with wings.” Benny snipped as she turned away from him before Grevu spitefully growled and knocked her down onto the floor on her way out with his snout as Benny cursed in pain before she felt the pain seep and radiate from her lower belly as she clutched it as everyone else just shook their heads and carried on with business of getting ready to leave as Siege simply walked out of the barn and towards the carriage with his other siblings and their partners since his parents had left Buckingham palace to their London home right after the “court” was ajourned.

“You ready Demsey Darling?” You asked Demsey as you both got into Heavencrest’s and Charlico’s saddles respectfully.

“Absolutely Audra Dearest.” Demsey grinned before he put the helmet on before Heavencrest and Charlico raced to reach to the skies as Demsey and yourself flew to Mirador to discuss business with your family and friends, including Marquise Bellafont because you wanted her to tell her children herself of their own freedom and rise to nobility since the King and Queen had quickly signed off on her nobility so she could show it to her children herself.

Once you arrived home, Rose, Myra’s eldest daughter, was the first to greet you.

“My Lady, you would not believe what the papers have been saying about you.” Rose began.

“Rose, I love you dearly, but I need you to go back inside and get dressed in your Sunday best, your mother is coming with really fantastic, exciting news, and get all of your siblings and tell them to do the same.” You excitedly told her.

“Really?” Rose asked you.

“Yes really, and after today, you and your siblings are servants to no one, not even me.” You hinted as she gasped as she looked from you to Duke Demsey who was nodding in confirmation with you, wearing a similar smile.

“Excuse me then,” Rose happily excused herself as she rushed back into the house and called all of her siblings together and repeated what you told them as they all quickly left and got dressed in their Sunday best and packed everything they owned before their mother arrived and eagerly embraced her children and revealed the truth and then repeated what the King and Queen had told her what the story should be as they all agreed to the story before they came back to you as all of them hugged you tight before you presented them with your winnings.

“Now, this is all I was able to win in the Kamoba battle, take this money, go to a really good dress shop or even a few of them, put this down as a down payment on your new wardrobes. I want every member of your family to dress and appear as lofty as your station permits. I have some jewelry I wish to bestow upon all of you. Although I will insist that all of Agnes’ jewelry be given to Jane along with anything else Jane has any sentimental attachments to and I understand if Jane would like to inherit her mother’s connections and will use them how she sees fit.” You insisted.

“Oh of course, of course.” Myra readily agreed.

“Now it will take time to save up some money for decent dowries for the ladies. But once everyone else gets here, and we all discuss together how we are going to divide everything. I’m sure by the end of tonight, all of us will be satisfied with the outcomes.” You reassured them.

“Thank you Audra, you’ve been so good to us, is there anything we can do to repay you?” Rose asked as she hugged you again.

“Just stick to the story that the King proclaimed, be kind and good to Jane and especially little Edward. He will miss his parents, but hopefully when he grows up, he will learn to accept things. And I want all of you to have the same freedom I’m going to enjoy, and that is to choose for yourselves what your lives will be, who you marry and marry for love if you can at all possible, if you even want to get married that is. But choose happiness, whatever that may be and I will do my best to find some kind of tutor, so that all of you get the same education and same learning and gain understanding of business so that you handle your new acquisitions well and not squander it or let anyone take advantage of you either. You are neither servant or slave to anyone’s will but your own from this moment on.” You urged them before everyone seemed to arrive as you introduced your family to Myra’s children.

You all crammed in around your table as several ladies had to take on the laps of their partners as your steward from Broadcove, Mr. Chattingham, who was so happy to hear of your own victory and in a way, Myra’s victory over his own former masters was key in knowing all the businesses that Edward Senior, Richard and Agnes had, and doubted much had changed in the year since his service to them ended and had incredible insights on what businesses would be best for each of your brothers as well as Myra’s sons as you and Demsey insisted that each business would have a union to protect it’s workers as Mr. Chattingham named who Richard had hired to specifically root out union organizers within his businesses as you knew already who you were going to be immediately firing before you hand them over since your parents had gotten word before they left that a messenger from the King along with Scotland Yard had been dispatched to all of the banks and other businesses and was in the process of having it all turned over to you and put into your name as it was immediately a prerequisite that the unions would be brought in and stay in place or you would not hand any of them over because even in Dorierra, every Dorrieran man was in his own union with the stables so such a thing was not new to you or anyone from your family as even Sierge offered to buy a business himself so that he had something other than his family’s soap business and his soon to be brother in law’s restaurant, but something to call all his own before there was a knock on the door.

“Hi, I’m Mage Amaryllis, Mage Altissia informed me that there was a spell on this house to disable the messengeraries? And she asked me to come and lift it.” She offered.

“Yes, thank you so much for coming, please, do whatever you can.” You invited her.

“Thank you.” She said before she found the absolute center point of the house and closed her eyes before moving and gesturing around herself as you saw what looked like magic shackles begin to break around the messengeraris in each room before she did a pulling down motion from the ceiling and all of a sudden it felt like a fresh breeze flowed through the house as the very air felt lighter and less stuffy or still or smothering.

“There, much better, things should be working much better and much smoother from now on.” Mage Amaryllis smiled.

“Thank you so much, how much do I owe you?” You asked.

“Nothing, the King and Queen have already paid me and I just came from Broadcove and have already lifted this same spell from there. But if you ever do need anything else, either magically or otherwise, here’s my messengerari address as well as my own home address here in London, write or call any time.” She said as she handed you a card with her name and contact information written on it as she had another one for Myra before everyone else also took a card from her before she saw herself out before Myra and all of her children did the same as you assured them that they were all definately invited to your wedding whenever you got a chance to plan it and execute it.

“Ok, I need to try something.” You told your family as you left the dining room and went to the living room took the keypad on the messengerari in the livingroom and punched in the address to your other friends back in Dorierra and smiled excitedly as your friends faces then began to fill the surface as they were equally surprised and happy and excited to see you.

“Demsey!” You called as he came in before you took his hand and introduced him to your friends.

“This is Duke Demsey Voyambi, I’m marrying him as soon as our marriage license comes through and it will be a love match this time.” You informed them proudly as they all gasped and gushed and squealed and offered you their congratulations.

“So like, how soon is soon?” Jenniverre asked.

“Probably a few days,” Demsey answered.

“Oh that’s more than enough time, who wants to fly to London with me?” Jenniverre asked everyone who was on the group call.

“Oh give me an hour to get packed, do you have a room where we could stay?” Jenniverre asked.

“Yes. Is there any way you guys can bring some figs? Like bushel baskets full or even saplings?” You asked hopefully.

“Yeah, why?” They asked.

“Pregnancy cravings.” You answered in Marinai with a bashful blush and smile.

“And? Was it at least good?” They eagerly asked.

“Oh, how divine is the god’s blessing!” You said as you waived your hand above your head which was a marinai euphemism for meaning ‘sex so good it’s as if you were having actual sex with the gods’ which got them all to giggle and laugh salaciously.

“Oooh, of course of course, yeah, you got it, we’ll stop by the greenhouses.” Adrilody confirmed.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can get packed and saddled up, we’re flying in, see you soon! I can’t wait!” Jenniverre squealed as she and the others quickly got off the call.

“As if this house wasn’t full enough.” You chuckled to Demsey.

“Well Whydah is huge, they are just as welcome there too, any friend of yours is a friend of mine, just as any enemy of yours is an enemy of mine too.” Demsey offered.

“Thank you.” You thanked him appreciatively as you stood on tip toe as he ducked down to kiss you easier as he couldn’t help but palm your lower belly reverently.

“What does ‘savacia’ mean?” Demsey asked.

“Pregnancy cravings.” You answered.

“Wow, this early?” Demsey asked.

“Oh yeah, moura’s can tell almost instantaneously when we get pregnant, morning sickness hits early but really only lasts a week at the most, usually only a few days, Grevu hid my morning sickness by making you and Axal start throwing up and I was so distracted with the mourkatili poisoning and Dr. Chu did say that I would have cravings but what’s usually the go to thing that those who have been cured from mourkatili is actually- vegetables, like celery, usually rhubarb. So for me, the figs were a surprise and I didn’t think anything of it.” You murmured.

“Who said “savacia”?” Your mother asked as she came into the living room from having walked down the hallway from the bathroom that was in the hallway.

“I didn’t. Calla?” Benny asked her as she came down from claiming a room of her own upstairs.

“Nope, I did.” You volunteered.

“The figs! Figs are your savacia?!” Your mother exclaimed excitedly.

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I really wanted to get married, rather quickly, to the father.” You answered as you nodded over to Demsey as everyone came rushing in and congratulating you again.

“So I was right?! You are pregnant!” Benny gasped as a smug smile threatened to overtake her face.

“Yes I am, about three and a half weeks along.” You confirmed.

“So I was right about you getting pregnant at the Masquerade Ball.” Benny beamed, feeling vindicated that she her hunch was right.

“Yup, but not by any manwhore as you so claimed, but by him, he just changed his clothes and went under our assumed names we gave each other so as not to cause any suspicion and we’ve been secretly courting for say, the last two months would you say? Keeping it so secret and hidden away was especially hard on both of us, especially when I was being pursued by the Raymonds, wasn’t it?” You readily supplied your family as Demsey didn’t dare disagree with you because that sounded like the perfect explanation for everything as he found himself smiling brightly because that should have been the truth because he had every intention of telling you he wanted to court you at the ball at Havenfield but he got interrupted by Ramsey in the art gallery.

“So hi, I’m Audra Draft, pleasure to meet you.” You said to Benny as you offered your hand to shake hers as she looked both disgusted and disappointed by the fact that her “leverage” wasn’t even real leverage at all as she crossed her arms under her bountiful bosom and scowled at you before you let your hand drop.

“You! You lied to me!” Benny accused Sierge who was just grinning smugly himself, proud of his brother for finally connecting the dots so to speak but he wasn’t about to disagree with those sentiments.

“Yup, it’s true, I did lie to you, because what kind of brother would I be if I actually gave my brother up for something as meaningless as what you talked up our exchange to be? Demsey only gave me Audra’s assumed name, to protect her and her honor and I respected him enough to respect his wishes in protecting her and her honor. Something which you’ve been hell bent on destroying since the beginning. And I wasn’t going to let you actually have anything capable of destroying me and my family.” Sierge tossed back as Benny narrowed her eyes dangerously at him.

“But since she’s pregnant, she’s not “fallen” too?” Benny demanded.

“No, absolutely not, I’m the one that got her that way and I have every intention of making her an honorable and upstanding lady and no one would dare question me or my word about the matter and it’s still early enough that when we take our honeymoon to anywhere she wants to go, it’s not uncommon for new brides to come home pregnant from their honeymoon.” Demsey reasoned.

“Just think, the same could have been for you, if you hadn’t insisted on “uprooting my seed” as you so “delicately” put it.” Sierge murmured from his corner across the room.

“So? How was it? Was it good at least?” Axal murmured in your ear.

“Oh how divine is the gods blessing!” You repeated with the same way you did before which got your whole family to cheer and laugh as Benny scuffed in disgust.

“You know, maybe you should go back to Dorierra, you’ve beaten The Saharan Viper in Kamoba of all things, surely any man would think twice before harassing you on the train.” Your mother suggested with a forced polite smile.

“You will have to hurry, the last train leaves in an hour and a half.” Tzane suggested as he looked at the time from the clock in the room.

“Fine, I will.” Benny said as she went back upstairs and got repacked as you called your carriage around and got Benny’s things loaded up as she used her remaining fee she had been paid just for coming as Leumeni and Coravien saw her off.

“Well now, shall we go out to dinner? To the Savoy perhaps?” You suggested to everyone else once Benny rode away in the carriage.

“But I’ll need you to help me get dressed,” you urged Demsey before taking him by the hand and leading him upstairs to your bedroom to finally strip out of your pant suit since you had long since peeled yourself out of your riding leathers and the moment the door was shut Demsey’s hands were already all over you, practically ripping these clothes off of you.

“So what does “ah-shamala-show-in” mean?” Demsey asked as you helped him get undressed to a degree too as you walked him towards a chair for a quick sex session before dinner.

“It means ‘oh how divine is the gods blessing’ in the literal translation. But it’s a euphemism in marinai that means ‘sex so good it’s like having sex with a god’.” You giggled as you got him into the chair and readily seated yourself on your now familiar friend and began to ride him with gusto.

“Ah, that makes everyone’s reactions much more understandable. And may I just say- the feeling is very much mutual.” Demsey happily replied as he drove up into you with equal passion as he held you so close and looked up at you like you were a goddess he would be devoutly worshiping for the rest of his life as you welcomed his affections with open arms, literally, as your moura marks were lighting up the room brighter than any candle or fire could.

“Gods I just should have told you sooner, I should have been able to tell you at the ball at Havenfield that I wanted to court you.” Demsey confessed as nipped at your ear after kissing up the column of your graceful neck.

“I have a feeling you were about to before Ramsey cut you off.” You smiled as your fingers carded through his hair and scratched deliciously at his scalp while his own fingernails raked down your back as his cock was exactly what your body had been craving this whole time as you were almost beside yourself in happiness that you actually sexually craved your soon to be husband and were almost helplessly attracted to him on every level.

“I should have been rude and insisted on saying it anyway.” Demsey confided.

“Well in my mind and heart, you did and obviously, you have my answer.” You giggled before you kissed him soundly.

“You can say that you wanted to keep it quiet out of respect for Ramsey and of course Gregori and Yalin and you wanted to make sure that I had my choice of any bachelor of my choosing but seeing me being openly courted by another just cemented our feelings for each other and simply as a ruse you pretended to be interested in your other options.” You reassured him just before you found your release and, for the sake of the others in the house, you kept your keening cry of bliss down by biting down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder and whimpering while your body shuddered in delight which only spurned Demsey to finally release his precious seed into the only “field” it belonged in as he held you so tight.

“I am never, ever- letting you go.” Demsey professed as he nuzzled the crux of your neck and shoulder and breathed in deeply, cementing this wonderful smell of you in his mind and was so relieved that the woman who he had fallen in love with and the woman he had fallen into lust with- were the same woman and supremely relieved that any stigma or jealousy you may have felt when you found out about the “other Audra” was now done and over with and any he had felt had melted into nothingness. This was so much better than he could have ever hoped, or imagined or even feared and once you both recovered he, very patiently and lovingly helped you get dressed in a gown that you insisted matched what he was wearing so that you looked like a proper couple before simply putting your hair up in a simple bun to hide it’s rather shortened nature.

You returned downstairs to where your family had gathered and had to take a few carriages to the restaurant before they happily got one big table put together as Demsey invited his parents back for the meal to see for themselves and they were so happy and overjoyed to have you in the family even if they were disappointed that Benny had chosen not to stay with Sierge but they were relieved and pleasantly surprised to hear the news of your “secret” courting of their son and realized that was why you were polite with Ramsey but were not returning his efforts and realized that Demsey had actually played that circumstance cleverly and were thrilled to have Leumeni and Coravien added to the family soap business as well as Leumeni, Calla and Storren added to their family and eagerly talked to Brima and Coravien about the other orc ladies that were in the gentry before as they of course had their own ideas about the wedding as Demsey made sure to insist that it should be as soon as your friends could arrive and that it should be rather small, with only family and close friends because your wedding to Edward had been so big and such a huge ordeal that you didn’t need or want that big of a wedding which you readily agreed with which his parents could not argue with as it was readily agreed that the London home would be better equipped to handle such an affair then since the majority of the guests would be at your own home as Amara and Storren also announced their courting, along with Kiera and Leumeni and Calla and Tzane as their weddings would be much more planned and prepared because Calla, Kiera and Amara wanted the bigger, grander weddings which you and Demsey did confirm you would be back from your honeymoon in time to attend and you were all relieved when Demesy’s parents gladly accepted the cover that the King had insisted on, especially with you and Jane especially providing off the cuff “details” that added more “authenticity” to it and made it sound closer to the gospel truth as it was accepted as such as Jane was given the most sincerest sympathies for the sudden loss of her parents and their sanity but the fact that she was protected because of her being at the Palace of Windsor as you continued to eat dinner with Demsey on one side of you and Jane on the other, just as it should be.

#Blood For Gold #Blood For Gold Chapter 21 #regency era orc period drama #regency orcs #orcs #orc love story #orc romance #Mouras

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technospotatoes · 4 years ago

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C!SAM - Redeemable Qualities Analysis (Dream SMP)

Hallo! I’m back with another brain rot post for ya’ll instead of doing my schoolwork :]

Recently, I’ve been doing some thinking and theorizing with some friends on discord following Quackity’s huge lore stream (if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend you watch it). I woke up this morning with a head full of many thoughts about C!Awesamdude and where his story could take us. Seeing as how there is going to be lots of change in the future with the server, there must be changes in these characters as well-- evil to good, good to evil, and the like. With these changes comes my thought: “can these characters be redeemed?” Here are my thoughts on how this applies to C!Sam.

Please let me know your thoughts and theories, I’d love to discuss with you! As always, strap in, it’s gonna be a long one :]

I hope you enjoy!

Author’s note: I want to start this off by saying that all of the contents being discussed are fictional, and are from the Dream SMP universe. I do not support the actions of these characters, but merely have interest in analyzing them through a lens of psychology and for entertainment purposes. Content of this post will contain spoilers up to 3/25/21 of the DSMP lore. I will also talk about ATLA a little bit ;)

Content warning: mentions of torture, manipulation, death, possible psychological trauma

(pls be safe ily)

What makes a redeemable character?

Redeemable characters are some of the most pleasing and favored characters in modern media. Their stories are rich with emotion, and they can even evoke some form of catharsis within the most skeptic consumers. Redeemable characters are memorable and inspiring, and without one, a story can feel empty. Before we apply this character trope to the Dream SMP and C!Sam, we need to answer a basic question in order to fully understand the complexity of redeemable characters and how they are so universally significant.

What is a redeemable character?

Simply put, a redeeming character or characteristic counteracts or corrects something negative. From a storytelling standpoint, a redeemable character is someone who has roots in good qualities, turns bad, and has the ability to revert their wrong choices to become a better person.

Examples of redeemed characters in popular media include:

Zuko - Avatar the Last Airbender

Boromir - Lord of the Rings

Kylo Ren - Star Wars

Severus Snape - Harry Potter

Zuko, for example, starts his story off as the villain. He tirelessly hunts down the protagonist, and will stop at nothing to achieve his goal to please his father. However, as the show progresses, we learn that Zuko wasn’t always bad. He was only driven to his path of villainy because of his fear of failure, of his father (the firelord and true antagonist of the show), and of a greater punishment than what he had already received. With the help of his uncle, Zuko learned to push through and accept his past, while also making amends with his wrongs and coming to the realization of who the true enemy was; ultimately choosing peace and unity over destruction and fear. Zuko’s story is so appealing because it was drawn out. It was raw, it was real, and it was a genuine telling of how damaged people can heal, change, and come to accept themselves. Because he went through the process of redemption, he was not only able to be loved by those around him, but also by his audience-- And I believe that this can be the same case with any redeemable character.

So how does this relate to C!Sam? How could he possibly be redeemable if he is not evil?

C!Sam has become increasingly interesting to me in the DSMP lore, and he has shown how complex his character is-- in contrast to many first impressions that people have of him. Based upon his actions from the past, and his willingness to remain neutral in times of conflict, we can conclude that he sustains both “neutral good” and “lawful neutral/good” qualities. This means that Sam is a reliable character, driven by his own personal values, and is devoted to helping others (when he sees fit). Evidence of these qualities emerge…

When he sided with Pogtopia during the Manberg War to maintain good relations with Tommy and Tubbo.

When he saved Hannah from the Egg

Created Sam Nook to assist Tommy in building his hotel

Built Pandora’s Vault for Dream

Showed concern for Ranboo after one of his denied prison visits

Sam’s moral code is deeply rooted with good intentions; he keeps an eye out for his friends, maintains his relationships, assists in builds/projects, and also serves as a “stable adult figure” for some of the younger members of the server. In contrast to his logical outward appearance, C!Sam lets his emotions drive his decision making-- which can lead to many severe consequences depending on how he acts. However, recently Sam’s actions indicate that he is experiencing a flip in morals.

Below are incidents that have led to C!Sam’s recent change in moral code.

Incident 1: Trapped with the Egg

Many weeks ago, during the height of character involvement with the Egg lore, C!Sam was lured into a trap by BBH and Antfrost. He spent about a day trapped in close contact with the Egg, and after he was saved by Puffy and Tommy, he was clearly changed. It is likely that the Egg is behind these sudden changes in character motivation for Sam… similarly to how it corrupted BBH, Ant, and Punz. Whether this is the case with Sam is unclear.

Incident 2: Tommy’s death

C!Sam and C!Tommy’s relationship within the DSMP lore is one of my favorite things to talk about. After his victory over the disk war and finally landing his nemesis in prison, Tommy was left empty, without much to do. He decided to take upon a new project to incite a new era of peace, and was able to enlist the help of Sam with building his hotel. Throughout this process (and under the watchful eye of Sam Nook), Tommy and Sam were able to develop a bond with each other through their work, along with their interactions at the Prison.

Sam has made it clear that he intends to defend Tommy no matter what-- but after his untimely death at the hands of C!Dream, Sam was deeply wounded. He felt as if he failed his promise to keep Tommy safe, and he made it clear that the blame for the “security issue” and C!Tommy’s death should be placed fully on him. No matter how selfless and responsible this makes his character appear, this event will only serve as the basis for severe consequences in moral change in the future.

Incident 3: Confrontation with Quackity

Following the large emotional impact of Tommy’s death, C!Sam is very vulnerable, because he is still within the stages of grief. C!Quackity came to Sam for a partnership, to take advantage of Sam while he was low to gain the upper hand. It’s no question that Q’s character is a talented manipulator, we can see that clearly in his interaction with Sam. Q restates again and again that Sam failed, further cementing Sam’s existing guilt and desire for revenge for his failure. Sam gives in to the manipulation, and somewhat reluctantly allows Quackity to torture Dream to get information and to get payback for what he did to Tommy... which completely goes against what his responsibility of Warden entails.

As Warden, C!Sam is supposed to uphold the law and rules of visitation, but because of his leniency with Quackity (in breaking the rules) and because he is still emotionally raw, he no longer defends good from evil, but is now biased against it. C!Sam probably wants Dream dead, but as Warden, his opinion shouldn’t matter. Because Sam fully blames himself for failing Tommy, he's lost the "lawful good" in his character, meaning Warden Sam (as a set of morals) truly doesn't exist anymore.

Incident 4: Ponk’s mistake

To recap a stream briefly, Ponk did a prank on Sam a couple days ago, and stole a few of the expired keycards to Pandora’s Vault. Rightfully, Sam was very angry, and not only took back the keycards, but also imprisoned Ponk. However, where this interaction should have ended, C!Sam only took it to the extreme. (TW!!!!) Out of anger and frustration, C!Sam tortured Ponk for his wrongdoing by setting him on fire, and amputating his arm (END TW!!!).

This only proves my point from Incident 3. Warden Sam is fading, only bits and pieces of his morally neutral character remain within him for basic tasks. His encounter with Quackity had a huge impact on his psyche, not only is he allowing the torture of the prison occupants, but he is doing it himself as well. C!Sam is now starting to believe that pain and torture are the only solutions for punishment, which is the complete opposite of what he believed before Dream was imprisoned.

In short...

C!Sam is losing his grip on moral and mental stability because of his emotional insecurity due to his psychological trauma. Because of this, I believe that it is entirely possible for Sam’s character to explore the route of evil and unlawful values-- which furthers the possibility for a redemption arc. Even currently, Sam is eligible for redemption as well.

If C!Sam is willing to acknowledge his wrongs from today and improve himself upon them, he will likely become a more memorable, lovable, and even more human character than we’ve seen in the SMP before.

SIDENOTE!

IRL Sam recently posted in his discord talking about his character. Here are a few key things to keep in mind as the story goes forward:

“There is a LOT of things in the plan for me as a character and a very big change is coming about for me as the story moves along.”

I believe this change could be a villain arc, or a turn towards evil that incites the possibility for redemption.

“My character is playing a role that I think is VITAL for the server and a role that I like to think was a good one for me to pick up and accept.”

You can read the reddit post I referenced for this here (ty to my friend on discord for providing me with the link <3)

TYSM FOR READING!! <3 <3 <3

#dreamsmp #awesamdude #ponk #tommyinnit #tubbo #mcyt #captainpuffy #dsmplore #dream smp lore #dream #dream smp analysis #QUACKITY #my work

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cant-blink · 4 years ago

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Half-Life, Ch. 5

Summary: The consequences of Gigan’s actions makes itself clear.

He can’t move.

He can’t see.

He can’t hear.

But he was aware.

He was aware of the terrible pain that plagued his body, so intense that he couldn’t even scream. He was aware of every second the half-life used him for, every second his flesh was gouged and violated. He was aware, that every time he attempted to move even the slightest bit, it brought painful seizures through his entire body, especially of his legs and tails. His feet would kick the air uselessly, his tails have already run dry of their poison gasses but still kept contracting nonetheless.

He was aware, that for the very first time, he was at the complete mercy of everything around him.

His fifth brain has been severely damaged, shredded by the half-life’s tail and made worse through the mating. The same brain that allowed him to control his massive body was now destroyed, and it left that body feeling alien to the dragon.

Never before has he sustained such a terrible injury. It’s not often he received any injury at all, as his hardened scales usually proved enough to protect him from damage. Even in those few fights that proved more serious, it never got this bad. The extent of his injuries were usually torn wing membranes, maybe even a broken neck. Wounds that were always relatively easy to mend. Until that half-life showed up and now...

He felt so weak, and it was hard to stay conscious, much less stay focused on what he needed to do. He still had stored energy left in his stomach; he just needed to tighten the right muscles to free it into his system. But in the process of doing this, he sent another agonizing spasm through his whole body. He couldn’t even cry out, enduring this as it at least released his emergency reserves.

Some of that energy escaped his body, forming a faint barrier around him, red flame-like wisps coming from it. Keeping him safe from the outside world. He honestly didn’t want that energy to be wasted on a barrier, but he had no say in how his reserves were used. His body spent it on a pre-determined list of priorities that his old creators deemed fit.

The first of those priorities was to stopping the flow of blood from escaping his wounds. Blood being drawn is not something he was used to, but here he was losing too much too quickly. His body was in a state of panic, urgent in trying to get itself back together. But his energy stores were limited in how much he can carry; he didn’t even know if he would have enough to fully stop his bleeding, much less repair his damaged brain.

But he had to repair it; he can’t move without it and he needed to get out of here. Fly beyond the cloud of space dust and its atmosphere, to unfiltered cosmic rays. If he can’t, he won’t be able to complete the healing process. And... and...

It struck him.

He could very well die from this.

Bleeding. Humiliated. Disgraced. Defiled. Pathetic. At the claws of a half-life. Surrounded by lesser lifeforms. He’s never imagined what his death would be like, as it seemed like an impossibility. But this? This was not how he wanted his Death to be. He will NOT give this half-life the satisfaction of knowing he did this to him!

Without thinking, he attempted to get up, but his muscles tightened painfully before his legs kicked once more. More horrific pain swamped his nerves from his injuries. Why was his body not paying his damaged brain any attention?! He deemed that more important than his blood!

In his panicked mind-set, he failed to realize that he needed that blood to transfer the healing energy throughout his body. He was already losing too much, and the more he bled, the slower the process. But the thought never occurs to him as he kept struggling against his own body.

It was the burden of agony and exhaustion that finally stopped his attempts to move, his body once more settling into twitches. That violent fit has just undone what healing has occurred, dislodging clots and causing blood to flow freely once more.

He can feel it, trickling down his scales.

He can’t...

He just can’t...

He laid there for another moment, twitching. Enduring. Trying to calm. It’s all he can do; just try to stay alive long enough to see this through to the end. Hopefully soon, he’ll be able to take matters into his own teeth...

Blood still escaped his wounds by the time his reserves ran dry. No, no, this can’t happen to him. He already is going through enough pain as is, was he really going to have to resort to... to...

He didn’t have any real choice in the matter and he didn’t even have time to brace himself mentally before an acute piercing pain came into his chest. It was as if the half-life had stabbed right through him, and he instinctively tried to struggle, only to provoke another seizure that only worsened his situation. He felt no sign of the half-life, no resistance of his blade in his flesh.

No, what he was experiencing was his own body sacrificing his Gravity Beam sacs, deteriorating the organs and reducing them into the same energy he would become when cocooning into his asteroid. Except this time, it was piece by piece, with his pain receptors fully intact. There was no pleasant numbing to ease the process.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had to go through something like this. At least back then, he was certain he would’ve been able to watch the process and see the results to make himself feel better. Here, he couldn’t observe the progress being made, nor estimate how much longer he’d have to endure this torture. Was this even worth it?

Wave after wave of added torment pierced through his chest, and each one made his focus waver that much more. His heart was racing so fast, from fear and from working hard to transport this new source of energy with what little blood was left. But even that was starting to weaken. It was harder to think, before thought disappeared completely. The pain was becoming dull, including the constant throb of the active chip. Wait, no... The sensation of the chip, the thing that plagued his dreams and life, was gone now.

An irrational sense of happiness flowed through him; the pain was gone, the chip was gone. Have he succeeded in healing? Was this happiness his reward? Was it time to rest from the ordeal? He didn’t know. All he knew now was a sense of bliss as his crests gave him the biggest dose of euphoria that he’s ever felt.

Before that too faded into nothingness.

"Scoli, I need another glass. Right fuckin' now."

"Hello to you too." The centipede grumbled before glancing up. His mandibles opened in clear disgust. "You couldn't have cleaned up better?"

"Not in the mood, Legs," Gigan hissed, taking the glass just as the other kaiju finished pouring his drink. He takes a swig, savoring the taste and letting it work its magic. "Y'know, I put so much work into that guy and this is how I'm rewarded?"

“A bad lay, huh?” Scolopendra muttered in feigned interest.

“You have no idea,” He took another gulp. “Y’know, I had my suspicions that it would be his first time and yeah it was, and wanna know why?”

“Not really.”

“He had NOTHING between those legs. His damn Masters didn’t even give him junk, how fucked up do they have to be to not think of that?!” He continued to vent between drinks. “As fucked as MY Masters were, at least they left the rest of me intact. Even the bastards who did THIS-” He gestured at his own body. “-left well enough alone. But damn, that dragon can’t do shit. No wonder all he does is kill things, he literally has nothing else better to do with his time. Can’t eat, can’t drink, can’t fuck.” He shook his head. "I'd almost feel bad for him if he wasn't such an asshole. But I'd probably be an asshole too if I couldn't enjoy anything. How he managed to live like that for so long, I have no idea."

"Maybe it doesn't occur to you that if he doesn't have those abilities, then he probably never cared. Can't miss what you never had."

"Well, I've been trying to change that. Show him that yeah, killing is fun, but there's more to life than THAT."

Another gulp and a moment of silence, as Gigan finished his drink and pushed the empty glass towards Scolopendra for a refill.

“Credit though, it was fun at first. Those throats of his, damn.”

“I don’t need to know the details.”

Gigan continued anyway. “He shoots lightning out of his mouth, and I tell you, that kind of energy made him feel real nice.”

“Gigan!”

“But it would be nice to fuck him properly. Maybe I can find a race that has the knowledge to do some surgery on him. Get a proper hole on him so I don’t have to keep making one myself. Heh.” A smirk came to his face. “Imagine that, get him custom-made just for me. Maybe throw in a stomach too.” He chuckled a bit but that died when he saw the look the centipede gave him. It wasn’t one he was expecting, scolding and with great disapproval. He maintained eye contact as he took a sip of his refilled drink. “What?”

“... What the fuck, Gigan?” Scolopendra started.

“What?” he responded with a defensive hiss.

“I asked not to hear about it, but... But what the fuck do you mean ‘keep making one myself’? What did you do?” Well, at last, the damn bug had interest in what he was saying, even if it was with obvious disgust.

“I told you. I made a hole. Between those legs.” The stinger of his tail clicked with emphasis and the look the centipede gave him was growing even more judgmental. It was enough to make him laugh. “Oh, stop acting like you care. If he were any other bitch, I would’ve done much worse. And had a free meal after.”

Scolopendra shook his head. “Would’ve actually preferred if you ate him like the rest of your ‘bitches’. Always made me feel better pretending it’s a legit hunting method of yours.”

“Eh, this job is making you soft, you’ll get over it,” the cyborg continued dismissively. “Anyway, the whole thing would’ve been fun, but apparently, the dragon couldn’t handle it. Damn thing passed out on me.”

“Passed out? Or died from fuckin’ being impaled?”

“Noooo,” Gigan drawled, taking another gulp. “He was still bleeding when I left.”

“Oh, okay, so he’s dying. Good to know, considering he’s the reason I’ve been giving you drinks in the first place. But now that he’s bleeding out...”

Gigan gave him an unamused look, which Scolopendra met with his own. The moment of silence was thick before the cyborg gave one last gulp to finish his drink before slamming it back on the bar with force. “Fiiiine. I’ll go check on him.”

“You do that,” the centipede grumbled, just wanting any excuse for the cyborg to leave his establishment. “We’re also closing soon, so don’t bother coming back.” He watched the blue kaiju raise a blade in acknowledgement as he left before the centipede pulled out the communicator from beneath the bar. He pressed in a few buttons before speaking in a soft whisper.

“Hey, boss. Gigan, y’know, that idiot cyborg we banned? Yeah, he just left... Mhm... No, I told him to leave but he brought GHIDORAH in here... Yeah, THAT Ghidorah, how many Ghidorahs do you know? Now that monster knows our location, what now?” He nodded a couple of times before- “The Strawberry cloud?” He lets out an audible sigh. “I’ll get things packed up here.”

..............

“Huh? ..... Nothing’s wrong, I was just hoping we’d move to the Pineapple cloud instead... Wait, we can?”

For the first time since Gigan showed up, the centipede smiled.

What the actual hell was this?

Gigan glared at the sphere in front of him, and beyond, Ghidorah lying on the ground. He almost walked right into it and would’ve if it wasn’t for the red firey tendrils that pulsed through it alerting him to its presence. He lifted a claw and gave the sphere an experimental tap.

A spark courses up his blade and into the flesh of his arm and he flinched away. It actually wasn’t bad, although probably enough to kill off small species, like their old Masters. But it does nothing to discourage him, as his visor locks on the motionless form of the dragon. The fact that the dragon thought this would be enough to protect him; maybe from those tiny aliens, but definitely not from him. It was enough to push his irritation out of his mind to be replaced with smug amusement.

He’ll show him how useless this was.

Lifting his claw high, he struck the sphere with strength, sparks erupting from the impact. His other claw followed, slashing into the same spot to weaken it. He continues, increasing the amount of force with each blow until he can make out a crack.

A smirk grew on his beak, and his visor began to glow before a blast of his laser shoots at the weakened spot. On impact, the beam scattered into smaller extensions of itself, increasing the area of damage. It proved enough and the shield shattered. The red wisps of energy flung outwards, dissipating into the pink haze around them.

With a chuckle, his eye settled back onto the dragon lying in a puddle of his own blood. At least it looked as though all that twitching from earlier has stopped. Coming closer, he took notice that Ghidorah looked... thinner somehow. Yeah, he was definitely thinner, he can even make out the shape of the bones in his tails. Something was wrong, very wrong.

“Ghidorah, you awake?” Probably not, given the lack of a reaction to his precious forcefield being destroyed. Those six eyes were still open, still glassy and unfocused. Even those crests have lost their glow. He gave one of those faces a light kick with his foot. Nothing.

The damn thing doesn’t even breathe, so he couldn’t use that as a means to check for life. Does Ghidorah have a heart? A pulse to check? If he bleeds, he probably has some equivalent to such, right? He pulled up the files in his memory bank of what his Masters knew about the wyvern, but beyond the origin of his existence and the mind-control chip, they had nothing else. No anatomy, nothing.

It took a moment before Gigan abandoned his efforts to dig deeper, and he decided to test for life the only way he knew how. He kneeled down beside the dragon and with a blade, he sliced a cut through a patch of scales that was still free of blood-stains.

He scanned the wound for a few seconds before realizing, the dragon wasn’t bleeding.

....

Shit.

#ghidorah #king ghidorah #gigan #godzilla #gigadorah #gigan did an oopsie

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

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Establishing an Ethical Dilemma: The Clone Wars’ “Downfall of a Droid” vs. RWBY’s “Gravity”

On today’s episode of Metas No One Asked For we’re going to talk about how The Clone Wars’ sixth episode “Downfall of a Droid” managed to do everything RWBY’s seventh season “Gravity” failed at.

(Apologies in advance for the very shitty picture quality.)

In each show we start off with an incredibly difficult situation: if Anakin and his troops leave then the Separatists will gain this area of space. If they stay and fight they’re likely all be killed. If Team RWBY leaves a good portion of a city will perish. If they stay and fight they (including that city) will most likely all be killed. Now, in comparing these episodes we need to acknowledge that RWBY is setting up immediate consequences whereas The Clone Wars is setting up long-term consequences. It feels like Team RWBY has less of an option to retreat because their immediate consequence is that a good portion of Mantle will die. It feels like Anakin has more of an option to retreat because the impact of letting the Separatists gain a foothold won’t be seen until later in the war. Those long-term, mostly invisible consequences simply don’t resonate with us in the same way that the deaths of large swaths of minor characters we’ve seen throughout the volume does. It feels worse for Team RWBY to retreat because we’ve seen the Mantle citizens on screen throughout the season. They feel more real to us than the nameless, faceless people who will die later on if the Separatists gain this advantage. But both situations require sacrifice in order to keep the war going and both situations require sacrifice in order to save the immediate people around you. Ironwood wants to save everyone in Atlas and the people he’s evacuated from Mantle. Obi-Wan wants to save Anakin, Ahsoka, and the who knows how many clones on these ships. Both situations ask the question, “Even if you’re personally willing to take a nonsensical, terrible, borderline impossible risk to save others, how can you doom those around you in the process? The people you’re speaking for - as civilians or as subordinates - do not get to make that choice for themselves. In the name of the unlikely possibility that you’ll save people in the future you’re taking the far more likely risk of killing others here and now.”

Despite taking up only six minutes of screen time (the real emphasis is on losing R2. This battle is just the setup for that) The Clone Wars manages to provide a more complex and balanced account of the ethics of this situation than RWBY managed in multiple episodes. It is made abundantly clear that, despite coming from a noble place, Anakin is in the wrong here. He’s trying to risk too much on the basis of nothing. He’s in the same position Team RWBY was in, just insisting loudly that they have to fight because it’s the right thing to do, and he’s called out for that by the story itself. Obi-Wan, Anakin’s Master and superior, tells him not to go through with this.

Ahsoka, his padawan, agrees. This is how you have a much younger, much less experienced character being better than their elders, by actually allowing them to act as the more mature party in a scene. If Ahsoka, who thus far has been characterized as equally reckless and desperate to push the war as far as she can as fast as she can, thinks this is a dumb move, you know it’s a very dumb move.

“Suicide is not the Jedi way.” We could also say that “Suicide is not the huntsmen way.” Doing the “right thing” means absolutely nothing in the face of your own death and the death of everyone following you. What have you achieved here? Satisfaction of some sort for being a Good Person? Congratulations, you can feel smug about that in the afterlife while ignoring the deaths/detriment to the war weighing on your conscious. Here Anakin’s superior and his subordinate call him out on this selfish behavior. He’s not a bad person for wanting to defend this sector but, as someone in a position of power, he does need to do better. He needs to make the harder choice here, prioritizing the lives he can realistically save over the Happy Ending he wants.

However, in the face of their criticism Anakin just digs in his heels and, to be frank, comes across as delusional at best, downright dangerous at worst. Again, despite this choice defending (some) others, he’s being selfish: “I can’t let them do that.” He’s prioritizing his own conscious over the logic of the situation and the lives of his men. And he’s appropriately called out for that too.

This is a flaw that Anakin needs to work on, not something heroic the audience is meant to praise. So far he’s in nearly an identical position to Team RWBY, insisting on a suicide mission despite everyone else around him laying out precisely why that’s a death wish and, therefore, a very bad move. Emotionally we understand why Anakin wants to fight, but the story reminds us that what we want is not necessarily what we (and everyone else) needs, even if it seems so at first glance. The generalized “defending this sector is a Good Thing” simply can’t hold up against the undeniable danger of choosing to fight. To him. To his men. To his padawan. To the war. Anakin’s noble desires mean nothing in the face of an impossible situation. He simply has no way to win.

The difference between this scene and RWBY’s - the key, crucial, AMAZING difference - is this line right here:

At the very end of the scene we establish that Anakin does have a plan. He’s not risking everyone’s lives on the illogical hope that they’ll win because they’re the good guys, he’s banking on an actual strategy he’s come up with. Now, in a show where this dilemma is more central to the story we’d want to hear precisely what this plan is and weigh it against the established dangers. However, as said this fight only takes up about 5 minutes of screen time in a 7 season show. This dilemma is only setup for the primary conflict of finding R2, so we’re able to skip the explanation and instead have the plan function as a fun reveal for the audience. How will Anakin get them out of this situation? We’ve already established that he can, now it’s just a matter of showing how. Unlike Team RWBY, Anakin is able to justify this choice to everyone around him. The people he’s asking to fight beside him and risk their lives. He’s able to prove that this battle isn’t as impossible as it seems.

Crucially though, even the audience isn’t investing blind trust in Anakin. Later on, his strategic nature is worked into the surrounding plot. We’re shown how good he is at coming up with plans, thus lending support to the audience’s belief that he’s truly come up with a way to beat Grievous here as well as providing in-world support for why others would trust him to this extent. Not only did Anakin provide a concrete, smart, doable plan to justify going on this “suicide mission,” he has a track record of using this sort of strategy successfully in almost every battle. In contrast, the last time Team RWBY implemented a plan was... volumes ago? They don’t use strategy to beat the Ace Ops. They don’t fight together at Haven. They kept hitting Tyrian head-on until they lost. The closest thing we’ve gotten to strategy lately is the Nuckelavee battle which amounted to “Hold him down so we can hit him as opposed to just hitting him.” There’s been very little lately to convince us that Team RWBY can get themselves out of tight situations via intellect like Anakin can. More significantly, Anakin didn’t just rely on his reputation as a smart guy. There was no, “Trust me because I’m just that good” which, again, is what Team RWBY demands of Ironwood: trust us despite our disloyalty and our lack of a plan. Trust us despite everything telling you you shouldn’t. Anakin has been faithful to his allies, proven his ability in the past, and - though it happens off screen - is able to lay out logical reasons for taking this risk. For all his playful arrogance, he knows he’s not going into that battle unless he can provide a persuasive reason as to why he’ll win.

Despite having a plan, despite successfully pulling it off, Anakin still makes mistakes and still needs a great deal of help from others throughout this episode. His impulsive move to go after Grievous means Rex has to rescue him and results in him losing R2, a MAJOR consequence for him. Later on, Anakin needs to be rescued by Ahsoka and Rex again. At no point does the story insist, “Anakin is capable of soloing everything because he’s one of the main characters.” Or worse, show us how much help he needs and then retconning it later (looking at you, “We don’t need adults” scene).

Anakin is not only shown to have flaws but exists in a story that continually calls him out on them, allowing him to grow. In his despair over losing R2 he starts threatening this ship captain. In a story like RWBY that behavior would be excused because the audience knows the captain is a bad guy. AKA, the sort of situation we got with Cordovin: it’s totally fine for Team RWBY to steal from her because she’s racist, attributing a connection between these two actions when, in reality, there is none. Here though, Ahsoka reminds Anakin that he can’t treat people this way simply because he’s upset/doesn’t like them. The captain acting like a slimy asshole does not justify threatening him with a lightsaber, in the same way that being a racist asshole doesn’t justify taking headshots at Cordovin and destroying her city’s primary means of defense. Here, The Clone Wars allows for even main characters to make mistakes and acknowledges those mistakes in a way that neither demonizes them nor acts like those mistakes don’t matter. Or tries to present them as heroic.

At the end of the episode we get to see precisely how much R2′s disappearance is still eating at Anakin,

but crucially he’s not risking his life, the life of his padawan, his subordinates, and the war efforts in order to search for him based on... nothing. Anakin has nothing here. Nothing to go on except his personal belief - “I know it” - that R2 survived and him hearing a droid beep on the ship. Which, as Ahsoka points out, sounded just like any other droid. Logically there’s no reason for anyone to believe that R2 survived and thus no basis for risking so much in order to find him. When Anakin is told to continue the war efforts, he does. He might not like it, but he follows orders. He recognizes that these orders are smart based on their current information. Up until there’s proof of R2′s survival, he can’t drop all his other responsibilities to go on an aimless search for him.

Why is Anakin heroic here? Because he has faith in R2 while likewise continuing his duties as a Jedi/war general. His conflict is that he wants to go looking for R2 yet knows that he can’t. He has a duty to those around him and he’s made promises he has to keep. A less responsible, less mature group - like Team RWBY - would ditch their superiors and follow that hunch of theirs, risking a great deal in the process, which the story would then reward them for by revealing that, of course, the character they assumed had to be alive actually was. But that doesn’t mean they were right to be reckless in the first place. Or that their faith was well-founded and not just denial. In the previous five episodes we have seen Anakin disobey orders, most notably in “Rising Malevolence” when he teaches Ahsoka how to do the things she believes in (like searching for survivors) without outright butting heads with her superiors. They find a middle ground. A compromise, searching for survivors in a pit-stop fashion and then agreeing to catch up with the rest of the fleet when they don’t find anything. It’s only Ahsoka suddenly sensing Plo Koon that changes their minds. Now, with evidence, they have a reason to continue their pursuit, disobeying orders in the process. Even then we end the episode with Anakin joking about how if he’s going to get in trouble for this, so is Ahsoka. Their easy-going banter implies that their superiors are level-headed people - they understand the emotional reasons why they searched for survivors in the first place and are no doubt persuaded by their reasons for staying - but they still disobeyed orders. That comes with consequences and everyone involved will shoulder those consequences together.

We get a similar situation regarding searching for R2 at all. Once again, Anakin’s personal feelings are at the forefront of his decision making. His emotional investment in R2 as an individual blinds him to the larger picture. Indeed, that investment is presented as both a flaw and a strength. Allowing R2 to keep his memory is a HUGE threat to the war effort and (again) Anakin is called out for risking so much. At the same time, Ahsoka establishes that this choice isn’t entirely selfish one - I personally want R2 to stay as he is because he’s my friend, no matter how many lives that risks - but a practical one as well. R2 having that information makes him a great asset, demonstrated beautifully when he’s chucking assassin droids out of airlocks (established as deadly a few minutes earlier) and R3, the newer model with faster computing, can’t even open a door. Admittedly, Goldie’s competence is complicated by him being a traitor. We don’t know how much was a mistake and how much deliberate sabotage. However, Ahsoka is still correct that R2 is far more competent than the average droid and that’s at least partly due to him developing via maintaining his memory. Ahsoka’s words invite Obi-Wan to weigh the pros and the cons here. Is R2′s assistance and his individuality worth more than the threat he poses if they lose him? Obi-Wan, who previously claimed he was “just” a replaceable droid, implies that it is because he doesn’t order Anakin to wipe his memory if he finds him. He may still order R2′s destruction later because, as established, they’re not on a rescue mission, but he is starting to see this droid as more than just a tool. The main take-away though is that the story skillfully creates a situation where, for a time, the same action feeds two different motivations. Obi-Wan wants to find R2 for the Republic’s safety. Anakin wants to find him because R2 is his friend. Here he’s allowed to follow orders while still doing what he feels is right and we get to see how happy that makes him.

Then when the situation changes and Anakin’s orders no longer align with his desires... he puts those desires aside. A least for a time. Because he’s a Jedi. He’s a general. He’s in the middle of a war that’s far bigger than himself. Obviously the story eventually rewards his faith/desires by returning R2 to him, but that’s not because Anakin immediately risked everything else in the process. He took no action until he had evidence that R2 was nearby, very conveniently held in the same place he was ordered to find. The end of “Duel of the Droids” is very explicit about both sides of this debate: Anakin did risk the lives of everyone under his command (indeed, two Clones died) and Ahsoka agrees that he was reckless in disobeying orders, even if it was done under the expectation that they’d finally found R2. Anakin pushes back that R2 is more than just a droid, he’s a friend, and he had faith that Ahsoka would carry the mission without him. We as the viewer can push back further with Ahsoka taking on Grievous alone and nearly dying: she never would have been put in that position if Anakin hadn’t left the mission to find R2. And on and on. They’re both right in regards to some aspects and wrong in regards to others, and still other parts have no “right” answer, providing a complex look at this highly debatable situation and allowing the viewer to draw their own conclusions. For all his (uh, rather massive lol) mistakes to come, here and now Anakin is a great protagonist, someone who is heroic while also allowed to be flawed. To me that’s far more compelling than giving us “heroes” who continually harm others in the name of “what’s right” and only get by via the grace of the plot.

TL;DR: I’ve only watched six episodes of this series and already, from a writing perspective, RWBY could only hope to be half of what The Clone Wars is

#RWBY #rwde #the clone wars #TCW #Star Wars #mymetas

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tcnks · 4 years ago

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THE ROOM IS ON FIRE AND SHE’S FIXING HER HAIR—

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“Sometimes he looked at her and thought, Gosh, I wonder what’s underneath all that anger, all that hard glossy armor? Maybe there’s just an innocent, wounded little girl in there who wants to come out and play and be loved and get happy. But now he wondered if maybe that little girl was long gone, or if she’d ever been there at all. What was under all that armor, all that anger? More anger, and more armor. Anger and armor, all the way down.” — The Magician’s Land, Lev Grossman.

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Nymphadora Patagonia Teodora “Fabiola” Black Tonks. Or, understandably, just Tonks. One of the most excruciating moments of a young Tonks’s life was the dissociative experience that came from hearing Professor McGonagall read her entire name aloud (Baptismal name included, as if they didn’t have enough to deal with, though her dearly departed Godfather’s addition had thankfully not made the cut) stony-faced and with suspicious volume, at the Sorting Ceremony. It was a humiliation that took years to live down, which is probably why a repeat offense at her Auror Academy graduation ceremony broke down her last, tired, moments of resolve. Only her nearest and dearest can get away with anything other than just Tonks these days. NICKNAMES: Dora. Peuchen. Dorita. Estrellita. (An increasing array of absurd petnames that she bears with varying levels of grace.) AGE: 29 BIRTHDAY: April 6, 1973 GENDER: Demigirl. PRONOUNS: She/They BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood. SPECIES: Metamorphmagus (Wixen).

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Andromeda Dorea Tonks nee Black. FATHER: Edward “Ted” Álvaro Sepulveda Tonks

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Daniella Pineda BUILD: Small but athletic. HAIR: Variable. HAIR COLOR: Variable. EYE COLOR: Variable. SKIN COLOR: Variable. DOMINANT HAND: Left. ANOMALIES: (Everything) Tattoos; a mish mash of stick’n’poke, magical and non-magical tattoos that have been amassing over the years. SCENT: Roasting coffee beans, oranges, cinnamon, honey. ALLERGIES: Unemployment. Children under the age of four. FASHION: Eclectic. Entirely dependent on her moods. NERVOUS TICS: While she’s gotten much better at controlling her Metamorphmagus abilities over the years, it still takes a tremendous amount of effort to prevent her emotions from influencing them. This means that there are definite tells to be found in her appearance as to what her mood is, particularly in times of high emotional stress. The rule of thumb has always been that the darker her hair is, the moodier she is.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: A flat located above Dogweed & Death Cap, Diagon Alley. BORN: Porthmeor, Cornwall. RAISED: A cottage right on the waterfront, Porthmeor, Cornwall. PETS: None that are hers, specifically. She recently gave a dog to her parents in the hopes it might absorb some of their attention. CAREER: Former-Auror. Current Head of Security for Club Raven. EXPERIENCE: Auror’s Academy Graduate, 1994. Eight and a half years as an active duty Auror before suspension. EMPLOYER: Cavalier Avery. POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Light. BELIEFS: Alastor Moody was (and still is) the greatest auror of their time. That blame falls as much on the shoulders of those who fail to take action as those who commit the crime. That neutrality really isn’t an option when there is a choice to be made about human rights. MISDEMEANORS: She is an officer of the law. FELONIES: .. In the name of the law? (No.) DRUGS: She really does care about her career. SMOKES: Has never once made it through an entire cigarette. ALCOHOL: Yes. DIET: A steady diet of leftovers that her father’s filled her freezer with. LANGUAGES: Spanish, English. A creative combination of both. PHOBIAS: She is terrified of losing her abilities or the prospect of failure. HOBBIES: Finding trouble wherever she goes. Fixating on work. Annoying Moody. Terrorising her cousins. TRAITS: + Vibrant / - Tactless: Loud. Energetic. Brash. Annoying. There were many ways in which Tonks’ existence could be quantified, but subtle was not one of them. Over time Tonks has taken to wearing her loud reputation like her own coat of arms; her very best and worst attributes flaunted with a deliberateness that seems almost too knowing, too on the nose, to not be covering for something. Arrogance and recklessness, hot-headed impulsiveness and a particularly caustic brand of wit wielded with a blunt charm that she’s grown increasingly fond of throwing in the face of the people who would whisper behind her back about just where here loyalties lie these days. The flippancy with which she greets the world, like she’s in on the joke that the rest of the world hasn’t quite caught the punchline of, only seems to grate on those who wish she’d treat the importance of her position with a little more respect. Tonks lives her life at full volume, with little regard for the opinions or delicate feelings of others who would ask her to reign it in, just a little, for their own comfort. + Driven / - Reckless: Nobody could ever say that Tonks did not possess an iron will, when it came to the things she wanted in life. Underneath all that vibrant glossy armour she wears like a warning sign, Tonks’ honourable qualities lurk: she may not always enjoy the banal, everyday routine of being an Auror, just as she may not think much of the people in charge, but Tonks is dedicated and steadfast in her job and worked tirelessly to get there. She has proven, time and again, a willingness to make the hard choice and put the greater good over her own reputation or honour. It takes a certain kind of steel to say precisely what is on your mind, to act even when duty and honour and all those boring noble virtues they try to instil in young Aurors tell you not to. She has never lacked for that sort of courage: the kind that requires a certain amount of defiance and a whole lot of audacity (and the willingness to circumvent every rule of authority, when your real loyalties and values are tested). Tonks has been forging the steel in her spine since she was old enough to frustrate her parents with her own headstrong opinions on what she wanted from life and how that differed from their hopes for her, and if she did not flinch (often) beneath her father’s gentle disappointment than there was certainly no one in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who could make her cringe. And that was the truth of it: what people called boldness was only a matter of knowing what you wanted and being unafraid of what it would take to get it — and there was no length that Tonks was not willing to go to in order to do what’s right. + Insightful / - Nosy: If there was one thing that Alastor Moody taught her during those long years in the Academy, it was the value of deeds over words. The department may have been overrun, of late, with those too preoccupied by political ambitions to see the bigger picture and be willing to ruffle feathers, but Tonks has always been more insightful than she’s given credit for. Her knack for reading a room and the intentions of the people in it had been honed by her naturally suspicious mentor and years spent studying faces intently, all their little quirks and shapes, in order to recreate them in the mirror. For better or for worse, when put into a tight corner Tonks does not falter and she does not hesitate. Those who would call her impulsive would probably be correct, but she vastly prefers decisive and while her approach doesn’t always end well, she’s resourceful enough to almost always land on her feet running. The talents of a fighter, however, are not the talents required of a diplomat and lately her propensity for digging her nose into things that the higher ups have deemed off limits have landed her in hot water within the department. While Tonks has always considered her talent for thinking on her feet, acting decisively without wasting time on the buffering, to be her strongest asset, she fears that in order to return to the job she worked so hard to get, it will be inaction that is required of her this time around. Trading her autonomy for one man’s whims again is not something Tonks relishes the idea of, especially when there are dire consequences for turning a blind eye to what might be coming.

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Porthmeor Cove, Cornwall. SPORTS TEAM: The Holyhead Harpies / La Rojas. GAME: Quidditch. Football if her dad is the one asking. MUSIC: Smashing Pumpkins. MOVIES: Jurassic Park (for sentimental reasons obviously.) FOOD: The free kind. BEVERAGE: Coffee. COLOR: Varying shades of pink, magenta and red.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Hufflepuff. WAND (LENGTH, FLEXIBILITY, WOOD, & CORE): Red Oak, 13 3/4″, Bendy, Dragon Heartstring. AMORTENTIA: Woodsmoke, Jasmine, Bourbon, Honeysuckle. PATRONUS: Jackrabbit. BOGGART: Herself, without her abilities. Barty Crouch Jr.

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good. MBTI: ESTP-A MBTI ROLE: The Entrepreneur ENNEAGRAM: Seven ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Enthusiast TEMPERAMENT: Choleric. WESTERN ZODIAC: Aries. CHINESE ZODIAC: Ox. PRIMAL SIGN: Hippopotamus. TAROT CARD: The Chariot, The Hierophant. TV TROPES: Blue Collar Warlock, Revisiting the Cold Case, Boisterous Bruiser, Allergic to Routine, Heroic Resolve, Old Cop/Young Cop. SONGS: Sabotage - The Beastie Boys / Reptilia - The Strokes / Tonight, Tonight - Smashing Pumpkins / I Am The Highway - Audioslave / Time to Pretend - MGMT.

#&. DEVELOPMENT

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 5 years ago

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The Price of Privilege - Part 12 (A Kyungsoo Series)

Genre: Angst / Romance / Arranged Marriage / Royalty AU

Characters: Kyungsoo X You

Description: The time has come to marry the man your family has selected to take your hand. As royalty, these important matters are arranged for you, but when you meet your soon to be husband, he is nothing like you expected.

The Price of Privilege [M]: - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 , part 9 , part 10 , part 11, part 12 , part 13 , part 14, part 15

Prince Baekhyun led himself to his own bed. You followed only with a soft pressure against his back and the occasional shush to work against his quiet protests.

It could wait. Whatever was consuming him so entirely could be put to bed for now and be dealt with later. After some rest. After some food. After some comfort from a friend. Not everything had to be dealt with alone. Not everything had to be hopeless and never ending.

He laid on his side on the large bed and was asleep as soon as his head reached the pillow. Still, you ran a rhythmic hand over his back as his breathing evened out and he let out a few low moans before he went completely still and quiet.

The silence seeped in like a fog and you sank to the floor, leaning beside his bed and laying your head down on your arm that still touched his back.

It was still.

It was quiet.

The silence coated over your head and made your ears ache with how loud it was.

It was probably the silence that brought on the numbness, but the longer you sat there with your head down and your eyes closed, the less you felt.

The less you felt of it.

It and the guilt from it all. The ever pervasive dread in the pit of your stomach that did not let up. The pain and anguish caused by the choices you had made. The consequences of what you had done to him; his desperate and desolate cries in that dressing room. The silence was changing it and you began to feel nothing.

It didn’t hurt.

You had trouble breathing through your nose and your face was wet.

The arm that you laid on was wet.

The bed below your arm was wet.

It didn’t hurt. You felt nothing and it was absolute.

You were numb. The tears were annoying but nothing else.

They would end.

As everything did.

The friendship you had with May.

The brief love you had known from Kyungsoo.

The silence throbbed and the numbness unfolded.

Like waking up from a dream.

No matter how vivid and real the dream had felt, you were waking up now. And just as easily as you let yourself feel that dream, your reality was taking precedent. You would let it go just as easily.

It had all been a dream and it was time to wake up now. The memory of his love faded into the numbness and you let it go with the dream.

It was time to live in the real world now.

You would not hold onto that dream any longer.

—

You opened your eyes to the sunlight leaking through the tiniest opening in the curtains on the far window of this unfamiliar room. The stiff hardness below your body brought on an ache in your muscles when you moved your shoulders and you realized you were on the floor with a pillow below your head and a blanket over your body.

The memory of the evening before returned as you blinked away the bright sunlight and sat up in the empty bedroom.

Baekhyun was nowhere to be found, but you did notice a yellow post-it note stuck to a cell phone that sat on the bedside table.

‘I got this for you. -B,’ was scribbled on the note by what you assumed was Baekhyun’s hand and you picked up the cell phone to unlock it.

The lock screen wallpaper on the phone was a picture of you, passed out on the floor of his bedroom with your mouth open and an arm laid over your eyes.

You had a waiting text message from a number saved under the name ‘Pretty Baekhee.’

‘Servants came looking for you early saw you on camera. Wedding stuff. Isn’t your family coming today? Sorry if i was weird last night.’

You felt lighter today. Despite the sore back from the hard floor and the headache from not getting nearly enough sleep, it would have to do.

The dreams were fading.

You wanted to ask him about last night. You wanted to ask him about what he said about his mom. You’d typed out the question three times, each time deleting it before giving up.

‘Are you okay, Baekhyun?’

Your message sat there for a moment before you saw a few dots at the bottom of the screen as your message was received and you could tell that he was typing out a response.

Only the action stopped for a while, picked up again, and stopped again. You stared down at the phone for a long while as nothing happened.

Finally you felt a vibration in your palm that told you he had responded to you.

‘Yep, never better’

His reply was too short, too forced, and too flippant to be genuine. Especially with as long as you saw him typing for. He must have have had own little battle before deleting whatever he was too afraid to say. But what could you do? You couldn’t even be honest with him. Why did you deserve anything in return? You definitely couldn’t force him to talk with you. The idea of having someone to talk to felt so foreign to you, yet you yearned for it.

‘You can talk to me sometimes, if you want to. We could talk to each other. Friends talk sometimes.’

This message was not met with typing. This message was received, read, and then it sat there on your screen for ages as you looked down for any signs of life from him.

You’d given up on seeing him respond to it as you busied yourself with finding your way back to your own home so you could shower, change and get ready for the day.

He’d said that your family was due to arrive today and you recalled seeing a schedule of events before the wedding that had a royal dinner with both families and all wedding parties present.

This would be a grand event. You would have to remember to eat something before you got into your dress since you would likely be much too anxious to eat anything at the dinner.

You’d have to see him. Did you have the courage to look into his brown eyes and see all of that pain? Even worse was the thought of seeing those eyes vacant and hollow.

No matter.

It would be an ordinary day for both of you. Business as usual. Fancy restrictive clothing; hold your head up high. Accept curtsies and bows. Show deference to the influential. Eat three bites, place fork down, sip wine.

Look into his eyes. Ignore the pangs of guilt. Smile, but not too wide and don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Just an ordinary day.

Halfway through your food, the phone you’d hidden inside the waistband of your jeans vibrated and you excused yourself for the bathroom to read the text message from Baekhyun. The servants bowed at the waist as you walked by them. When you were passed, they simply resumed their work of readying your evening gown for tonight. As soon as you were out of the room you heard them resuming their low talking as they worked together and gossiped and giggled about something amusing. You swallowed away the envy.

‘Thank you for this. Talk tonight?’

It felt nice. The smile that reached your eyes was genuine.

Right there in that moment, hidden away in your bathroom with a house full of servants waiting to preen and pluck, truss and string you up, you made a decision for yourself.

You would talk to Baekhyun. You would trust him. You would have a friend and there was nothing in the world that could stop you from having a friend. A real one.

You had never owned your own phone before but you had watched May do it plenty of times to know that somewhere inside this keyboard was a selection of little faces.

You found them easily enough and scrolled through to find the happiest one. One with a large toothy grin and little moon eyes and you sent out your very first emoji to your friend. The happiness you felt inside of your chest made you want to type that little face many times in a row, but you stopped yourself and just sent one. You didn’t need to go crazy.

You hid the phone in the same shelf inside your walk in closet, just far enough back to be invisible to anyone who did not know where to look and you left the peace and quiet of the bathroom to get ready for the evening.

As these things go, there was an abundance of waiting before anyone required you to move.

The dress’s fabric was thick and shockingly scratchy whenever the ruffled hem tickled against your calves. Whoever picked it out obviously didn’t give a damn about the person wearing it. You recognized the thick glasses of the stylist from the dress fitting and her eyes roamed over your body in approval. She stopped at your neck. Her concerns ended there. They did not include the look in your eyes as you tried to ignore the itch in your skin when that stupid rufffle snagged on your pantyhose with every single step you took.

“This dress itches.” You said to the nearest ear to you and the servant girl looked at you for a moment; bowing her head in apology.

“I’m so sorry, your highness. It’s sponsored for the event by the designer himself.”

“What’s the problem?” The stylist had a whiff of your annoyance as you reached down to scratch lightly over your hose, careful not to snag anything with your nails.

“I beg your pardon, Ma’am, she says it’s itchy.”

You felt like a naughty child that was acting out, but you honestly did not believe you could stand wearing this for the entire evening. The stylist looked up from the dress at last and looked into your eyes for a good five seconds before she spoke again.

“He is Her Royal Majesty's favorite designer and she has selected this piece personally for you to wear tonight. It is an unimaginable honor.”

You could feel yourself losing the battle and the steel trap in her eyes held your own for longer than most of the hired help would even dare. “Perhaps a drink would help, your highness.” At last, she dropped her eyes and you gritted your teeth and nodded your head once.

A shot of alcohol arrived on a tray and you tossed back the bitter clear liquid.

It was an ordinary day.

The dinner was beginning. Faces were blurring together with the occasional important face popping into your vision.

You were presented into a dining room, a different one than you had visited before, this one larger and more grand.

All of the faces you had grown accustomed to during your time in this place were present. Only Baekhyun smiled at you when you made eye contact and you smiled back at him. The others nodded with tired looks in their eyes and you did the same to them. You looked around carefully and slowly, knowing who’s dark brown eyes would be the final ones for you to touch when you reached your seat.

As the groom, and the most important participant of this ceremony aside from you, Prince Kyungsoo would be seated at the top of the table, near the head. Near where his father, the king, was scheduled to appear and where his current wife, Queen Hong would be seated beside.

Next to them, you would see the face of your father, who had just arrived, you heard from the maids this morning. He was bringing along his newest wife. She was younger than you and her pregnant belly would have swollen enough to make her hold in a grunt when she stood up and again when she sat down.

You wondered if at last, your father would have the son he’d always desired and you wondered if that baby boy would ever know what it felt like to have a real friend.

You’d arrived at your spot and your view of the floor showed you black shoes connected to ankles and black pants standing exactly where you expected to see him.

Just an ordinary day.

There was a touch required here. His hand — the same that you’d felt before with his rounded fingertips and electric warmth as they etched a deep cut pathway across your bare skin. The passionate touches and heavy breaths of that far away dream world that still teased you.

You had to let it go. It was gone.

He held his hand out, palm down and you did not even hesitate. You had to still be breathing, right? You’d yet to collapse onto the floor at his feet so you must be awake.

Years of practice — you worked on muscle memory in front of this broken man with your broken heart still somehow pumping blood to every cell in your body on this very ordinary, very unremarkable day just like any other day.

The palm of his hand was moist below your fingertips and you bent at the waist and the smooth skin of the back of his hand was heated when you pressed your lips to it.

You’d meant to drop his hand quickly. It was done and you meant to let go. But he...his thumb moved with the lightest brush. Either a flinch or a mistake, he had given the smallest squeeze over your fingers. A ghost of a memory that had escaped. Remnants of the dream. It slowed you down and you looked into his eyes for a moment.

You remembered to breathe. You remembered the small smile you pushed onto your face, for the sake of the show.

He looked at your face now. The beautiful eyes of Prince Kyungsoo were holding on to yours with an unreadable and heavily guarded wall built around them.

He breathed in and out and in again and he blinked once before his head dipped and he bowed just once. It was his part.

No more would come from him until the dinner was over and he had to look at you again for the farewell.

There was a predictable flow to these things. You remained standing until your cue to sit and it came after your father entered, the King of your small nation who’s drought and famine ravaged population depended on this fortuitous union for, not their prosperity, but for their survival.

He was in a good mood. You could tell by the puff of his chest as he walked and the tight grip of a hand over his wife’s arm to steady her waddle. You looked at his hand noticing how tightly he held on, an outright protective stance it appeared and you wondered if they had been see the doctor about the sex of the baby yet. A boy would be an heir. A boy would be cherished and well loved at home. A boy wouldn’t have been sent off to an unfamiliar place and married off to whichever foreign prince would open up valuable trade routes and lower export tariffs on vanilla and coffee beans, your nation's biggest exports.

His beamed a wide smile to see you and you offered a deep bow as a greeting, mirroring many of the others who stood in this enormous dining hall.

There was a pause of breath before a loud voice announced the King and Queen’s entrance. The room responded and heads were down until the pair were well into the room and seated at the head of the table.

It was your first time seeing King Lee, Kyungsoo’s father and you had never expected the man to be so very old. You would not be surprised to learn that he had reached the triple digits, now that you were actually looking at him and you regretted not having been able to ask May anything about him before you found yourself in front of him. He was old enough to require a wheelchair which was pushed by a servant to the head of the table and he lifted a shaky hand midway to signal that the guests should be seated.

He stared ahead at the table with eyes that clouded over so much that you wondered if he was able to see through them and it became abundantly clear why you had seen none of this man since your arrival when his first words whispered over his shoulder to his Queen was a question as to why there were so many people here today.

His presence today was formality only, because Queen Hong’s voice spoke up over the sound of the senile old man’s heavy breathing and occasional coughing and soon he gave up and grew more interested in the glass of wine that was kept topped off at his place setting.

You found yourself reaching for your own wine glass with a similar fixation to keep the itch from the gown drowned under a haze of red tinted alcohol.

Halfway through dinner, the conversation shifted from mild pleasantries into rocky waters that made you put your fork down and look across the table at the profile of your father’s face as he reacted to the news that you were sure he had heard already.

A spy, from his own house, caught red handed by a member of this royal house.

“Such a shameful thing,” your father exclaimed with a slow shake of his head. “We can assure you, we were just as shocked to hear about the maid’s illegal activities as I’m sure you were. Just terribly shocked and disgusted. It’s a good thing she was caught so quickly. I don't tolerate traitors in my kingdom.”

His focus shifted to you and you felt the dryness in your mouth turn your tongue scratchy and sticky.

Beside you, Kyungsoo had been steadily sipping on his wine glass when he tipped it back further, emptying its contents into his mouth and he placed the glass back down on the table with a hard thud.

Below the table, his leg bounced up and down in a regular rhythm.

“She was certainly acting alone. I trust that mess has been cleaned up well?”

“Oh, we won't discuss such grisly details over dinner, but yes, the problem has been dealt with.”

The wine glass was being refilled and he angled himself toward the servant pouring the bottle.

“Bring me something stronger,” he said.

A servant returned with a glass and the bottle on a tray and Kyungsoo grabbed both the glass the the bottle to place in front of his full plate.

The rest of the dinner went by in a similar manner. By the end of it, you were quite literally itching to get back to your home so you could get out of this stupid dress and get away from the pervasive dark silence that sat beside you steadily drinking enough whiskey to put an entire soccer team to bed.

If you had any guts at all you might have reminded him that his wedding day was tomorrow and he had to be able to stand at that alter long enough to agree to this entire disaster with the words ‘I do.’

He couldn’t really do that if he was unconscious.

You’d been watching his face with a sort of disconnected feeling surging through you when a comment floated above your head and pulled you out of the trance.

“—too much to ask for, but it may be possible that their affections for each other run much deeper than mere familial obligations. What do you say, Prince Kyungsoo? Are the rumors true? Would you say you have fallen in love with her?”

Queen Hong was talking in that sickly sweet voice of hers and a curious crowd murmur could be heard around the large table. Kyungsoo had gone still beside you, but his fingertips still touching that damn whiskey glass.

He lifted his glass to his lips and slowly took a drink as he stared ahead at the centerpiece on the table. A large bouquet of hydrangeas in pink and off-white colors and some spots of chartreuse around the blooms. He wasn’t making any move to respond, and you wondered if he had even heard the question. Was he too drunk to reply. Did he intend on ignoring a direct question from the queen herself?

“Answer your mother, boy.” A low gasping voice called out and Kyungsoo’s eyes snapped up to where his father commanded a response from him. He let go of the glass and rubbed quickly over his face, ridding himself of the startled expression at being called out by the old man who hadn’t spoken a single word since the start of the meal. As he brought his hand back down you caught a tremble in his fingers as he sat up straighter and fisted his hands together down in his lap. You saw pinkness form on the back of his neck and on his ears at the embarrassment.

The old man’s outburst brought a wide smile to the Queen's face and her eyebrows wagged in delight at seeing Kyungsoo squirm so much. This was clearly her idea of a fun time. She was very amused now and you were very much not.

“Yes, Your Majesty, I’m… I’ve f-fallen…” he cleared his throat and you felt a sickness surge up hot inside your stomach as a startling force of anger took over.

How dare they demand this of him. How dare they talk to him in this way, like some amusing sideshow act that they could poke and prod at with a stick whenever they pleased.

Your hands were shaking and you used it to your advantage as you reached too quickly for your wine glass and tipped just so to send the whole thing flying over your plate and spilling the red liquid down the front of this ridiculous dress you were wearing and all down your itchy, itchy legs.

“Oh, my goodness,” you called out and you were descended upon by servants who dabbed with napkins and grabbed at your wine glass and dinner plate where an uneaten filet swam in a blood red lake. “I fear I may have celebrated too much tonight.”

“Yes, perhaps you have,” Queen Hong said with a touch of disappointment in her voice and a shrug of her eyebrows. You were surprised to see them move. You’d thought for sure they had been rendered immobile by all the Botox. “You may be excused. Kyungsoo you may escort your fiancé back to her room for the evening. I trust there will be no incidents of any kind at tomorrow’s ceremony.”

You bowed a farewell and you both exited the room together. You were hyper aware of the fire hot heat of his hand that rested over the small of your back just until you were both clear of the dining hall and then it vanished from you entirely.

You stood in a hallway and the walls spun a little bit.

You were decidedly more drunk than you had admitted to yourself and you fought it with a few hard blinks to get the walls to stand still.

There was a presence here. Kyungsoo stood with his back against the wall opposite of the one you occupied and his eyes were closed up tight as he leaned his head back against the wall. His hands were fisted into tight balls at his side and his cheeks were bright pink from the large amount of whiskey he had consumed. You were sure that he had had half a bottle at least, just at dinner alone.

After almost an entire minute, he leveled his head, and without looking at you, turned and walked away with an outstretched hand touching the wall with his fingertips as he walked.

His steps were not very steady but neither were yours. You knew this because you followed him. You were kind of unsure of where exactly you were in the palace and you figured he would probably head back to his place and you knew the way from there.

He turned a corner and there was another hallway.

Five steps into this one he stopped and spun around in a half circle with big black eyes wide on you and a hand still touching the wall to steady himself.

Would he speak?

Would he yell?

Would he cry?

His mouth opened up and no words came out, but you could see the pressure inside him making his chest, shoulders, up to his chin even vibrate with pent up tension.

But he did not speak a word. Instead he walked faster now in the opposite direction from where he going down that hallway, he walked passed you without relying on the wall this time he breezed passed you and you watched him go, giving the man some space before you resumed your following footsteps from further away.

Now you really didn’t know where you were. There was a huge wall of glass windows that overlooked one of the gardens and the night time exterior lights shone down on expertly manicured hedges and remarkable blooming flower beds.

You hoped you were at least sober enough to find this again. You quite wanted to see what it looked like during the daylight.

He walked for ages. He must have known you followed him, but made no attempts to speak with you or even look at you and eventually you recognized the large framed work of art from outside of his home. You heard the loud slam of his front door and the pervasive silence that followed that sound.

And it did not hurt.

You felt nothing. Not even the itch from the skirt ruffle. Not even the stickiness from the red wine that had soaked into your panty hose. Somewhere far away, you thought you heard a haunting sound somewhere inside that hallway, but you spun and forced your legs to move quickly. Back towards the familiar. Back to where you called home. Back to the place where the low echo of that single scream could not touch you.

You’d had enough time to get out of the dress. You’d grabbed a change of clothes and headed toward the shower with the wet tights halfway peeled off of your legs when you heard the pounding on your front door.

It was three swift knocks.

Followed immediately by three more.

An urgency was betrayed and you pulled the comfy sweats over your still sticky legs and pulled a t shirt over your head just as you pulled the front door open.

Kyungsoo stood there and he had not changed his clothes at all. The tight necktie still in place at his neck and the crisp suit jacket buttoned up from the dinner.

To the outside observer, the man was put together.

To you… you could see all of the pieces as clear as day. He was breathing hard as if he had run over after screaming his head off inside of his locked up living room and his eyes held tight onto yours with their vice grip when you opened the door.

“Did you watch it?”

His question was cold and it hit you hard against the chest. You took a step back. Away from this.

There was nowhere to go. He took a step inside your home and you retreated again, unable to look into the blackness of his eyes for too long and keep your wits about you.

“Kyungsoo,” you said his name and it felt dirty in your mouth. You had lost your right to say that name with your traitorous tongue, but you had nothing else to call him.

His body had a tremor to it.

“Did you see? Did you watch the tape? Did you see what I did to my own mother?”

Your head was shaking back and forth, not because you were going to lie to him and pretend like you never watched it, but because he had it so wrong. What he thought, what you had thought before you watched it, none of that was shown on the tape.

You reached your hands out cautiously outstretched in his direction and his hands surged and he swatted your hands away quickly, his body still shaking and trembling with every step he took as he paced back and forth.

The door behind him clicked shut and he sneered at you now, his teeth bared as he pulled his lips into a humorless grin.

“Did you see what I am capable of? What I did to her? What I can do to you too?”

He took a step into you now, and his hands reached for you, having swatted down the comfort you attempted to issued out in vain, this time when he reached for you it wasn’t with any sort of comfort or affection in mind.

You felt his strong grip reach for your shoulders and he squeezed down hard enough to cause a surge of pain through your arms and he shook roughly, demanding with his words and his actions that you speak, that you do something, or say something, anything to explain yourself. To explain this.

“No, Kyungsoo. Stop. Please.”

His grip tightened and you felt the tears prickling in your eyes.

“Tell me!” He screamed up close and shockingly loud and you flinched away from it when he shook you again. “Tell me you — saw it!”

You heard his voice breaking now and his words lost their stability. His anger was changing and his hands loosened their tight hold.

“Why won't you just tell me? Why won’t you just do it. Just fucking do it, tell everyone what really happened to her? Tell them I’m a monster — destroy me. They’ll execute me. They’ll kill me for this.”

The tears were falling down his face as he spoke and the whites of his eyes were bright red.

“What are you waiting for?” His eyes screwed shut hard and he released the hold on you, slipping down onto his knees, his hands followed your arms as he sank down to the floor and he let go of you completely when he covered his face with both of his hands.

“I watched it, Kyungsoo. I watched the tape.”

You’d found your voice when the painful grip of his hands let you go and he sobbed into his hands on your floor.

“Kyungsoo, there’s nothing there. It didn’t show you doing anything at all. It was nothing.” You felt a desperation in this. Like you couldn’t get the words out fast enough to convince him of the truths you had found.

“No,” he said from below his hands. “No,” he repeated. His head was shaking back and forth steadily as he denied what you said to him.

“Kyungsoo, I swear it. You can have it back. I promise you, there was nothing there.” You felt desperate to stop this — to stop this pain you felt choking you from the inside. You had trouble breathing and the tears made it hard to see, but you left him there in a heap on your living room floor and you ran to the bathroom — to the walk in closet with the hidden shelf and the spot where you kept the tape. It was still there. You gripped it in your hands and you ran back to where he sat on your floor with his hands fallen down to his sides and desolation on his wet face.

“Here,” you bent down to him, shoving the tape roughly into his hand and he looked at you in confusion before looking down at the tape and he was reeling with it.

“No, it’s not possible. I remember —I remember it happening.”

He was lifting himself, the tape in his hand as his tether to the past which he had been so certain of. The past that you were now denying had any evidence to back it up with.

“I remember the sound of it.” His focus was far away and he lifted a hand to run a circle over his ear as he spoke of the wretched memory. “I remember the sound of — the sound of her bones cracking — of her crying out in pain from it.”

The tears fell freely, dripping steadily off his chin and disappearing into the black of his suit jacket.

“—the sound of the air squeezed out of her, it happened right here, I’ve been living with it for fifteen fucking years—the sound of my mother, of my m-mother dying because I didn’t get my way and I threw a fit...” his hand beside his head pulsed his fingers open and closed as he put words to the horrors that happened in his memories.

His eyes suddenly focused again on you.

“Why did you do this to me?” His words competed with his heavy breathing and you wrapped your arms around your stomach with the painful question. Everything hurt. Everything ached. You could hardly breathe through the immense pain inside of you.

You felt all of this.

You felt like you were the one being crushed by this pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered and he lifted up the tape and squeezed down hard inside the palm of his hand. You heard plastic cracking.

“Why did you do this to me, if this thing was nothing. Why did you do that? I—” He gasped an inhale, “I loved you. You destroyed me, for this. For what? Nothing? For fucking nothing?”

“Kyungsoo, I’m sorry. I was trying to save May.” You were begging now. You felt the warmth of his hand as you frantically reached for it and the mention of her name stopped his breathing for a second as his face changed and screwed together in a fresh wave of pain.

“M-May,” he said below his breath and he stumbled away from where you reached for him; breaking himself free of your touch. “May.” He repeated again softly and he looked down in his hand at the pieces of the tape that sat inside of his fingers.

He retreated again and again until his back hit your closed door and his head was shaking back and forth.

“No,” he whispered and his eyes closed as he inhaled a deep chest filling breath of air and he lifted his eyes, planting them squarely on yours.

“This — This is wrong. I have to stop this. This wedding can't happen. I won’t let it happen. I don't care what happens to me, but we won’t be getting married tomorrow.”

There was a terrifying conviction inside his eyes as he spoke to you and it made you gasp out loud to see it.

It was impossible. Everything had already been arranged, and agreed upon by the governments of both countries.

They had both of your signatures and royal seals.

If either of you failed to show up, the missing party would be promptly located, dragged into the wedding hall and forced at gunpoint to state the words of agreement to the union.

This wedding was inevitable. It always had been. The only thing that could stop this wedding was something you did not dare to speak out loud, for it was something more horrifying than anything you could even imagine.

In the midst of your genuine shock at his declaration you didn’t notice the sound of your front door opening and you came into action only when you heard the loud slam of the door closing after he’d left your home.

When you opened the door back up to chase after him, he was already gone and the hallway you ran down in your desperate search showed no signs of him.

He had simply vanished, along with all of the fire and rage, ire and violence that threatened to destroy every cell inside his body and destroy you along with it.

The Price of Privilege [M]: - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 , part 9 , part 10 , part 11, part 12 , part 13 , part 14, part 15

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kingofthewilderwest · 5 years ago

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So I’m speaking from my own personal spin, but I love how Fiddleford McGucket can feel like such a musician.

Characters are often incidentally musicians. Writers throw it in there without thought to how music interplays with their life. You could blink and miss it. It doesn’t frame the character’s interests or personality, and if not for one minor scene, you wouldn’t think they had musical background.

But irl, I often meet people who have (as I affectionately call it) “Musician Brain.”

For some diehard musicians, music is embedded in our personality. You can’t take the musician out of us. We’re constantly thinking and acting out music even when there isn’t an instrument near us. Music gets entangled in quirks, subconscious behaviors, habits, actions, life choices, thought processes, and more. I feel like most fictional musician characters lack that “vibe” or “quirk”. But one thing that entertains me about McGucket is that he can be read as a That Dork With Musician Brain.

I mean like...

The two things Ford buys when McGucket arrives in Gravity Falls are microchips and banjo strings. Sure, Fiddleford might’ve said he needed them. But Ford’s charging to the store because he’s excited and grateful Fiddleford is here, and wants to purchase gifts to make him feel at home. Apparently, the comforts of home aren’t complete without music. That banjo came to the dorms back in the day, didn’t it? Ford probably saw that banjo in the dorms.

It was Important Enough(TM) to be mentioned in Journal #3: Ford set up the ground rule “no banjo playing after eight.” Why? Because otherwise, there would be banjo after eight. Wonderful, beautiful, skilled banjo music. Late at night. When Ford wanted to fucking sleep. There’d be that musician. Still playing. The fucking banjo. After eight. The fact Ford mentions this information early in his journals also means... this was dealt with right away. It had to be dealt with right away. Either because Ford had already experienced this phenomenon ahead of time (college), or because they’d already run into this problem in Gravity Falls... of banjo being played... after eight.

Have you noticed that at all of McGucket’s work stations, the banjo is there? He sets it up beside him during the journal research period. He has it by him in his Palo Alto garage. He’s even got the freaking banjo with him inside the gobblewonker. The banjo is literally part of his work environment. If Fiddleford wanted a real break from work, he could store his musical instruments anywhere. He’d leave the work station, play music, come back. But the instrument needs to be IN EASY REACH. That’s no accident. It’s there to fiddle with while he’s working, while he’s mulling over a problem, while he’s taking a one minute break... etc.

Fiddleford, while idly thinking, automatically starts doing MUSIC THINGS. For instance: hamboning on his knees while doing math calculations. (I know GF made hamboning quasi-linguistic, but if we wanted, we could suggest that before shit hit the fan, Fiddleford used hamboning as the musical thing it is.) No wonder Ford commented in the journal he could “put up with” Fiddleford’s eccentricities. It would be something that needed... tolerance. I’m imagining a quiet day in the lab, and then... whack-a-whack-a-whack-whack-a-whakkk. Try concentrating on your mind-grueling advanced research while the guy next to you is smacking up a rhythmically complicated groove using himself as a drum! Did Fiddleford get glares for that? I’m betting Fiddleford got glares for that.

Granted, flashbacks with Fiddleford don’t cover his happiest life period. He’s tense, on edge, anxious, not smiling. But maybe there’s something to be said that the one and only time we see young McGucket at ease smiling... is when he’s playing his instrument.

By the way. It’s not just one banjo. In Palo Alto, McGucket didn’t have one instrument he could play in his “home office.” He had two, set up, right there. Two instruments. One garage. I can tell you for a fact, once the instruments start multiplying, you’re usually a lost cause.

SPEAKING OF BANJOS MULTIPLYING. When you open the front cover of Journal #3, you get blueprints labeled “From the Desk of Fiddleford H. McGucket.” Most is professional. The raccoons are eyebrow-raising. But most is professional. And then we get to the Gideon Bot, which, for NO REASON AT ALL, has a storage chamber dedicated to a “prize banjo collection.” What. What is that doing there, Fiddleford. I know that wasn’t Gideon’s idea. Why are you amassing banjos in a giant tyrant robot?

Need to keep this guy awake through a long night? Drown him in coffee and blast those bluegrass records.

The science bros plan a serious expedition to an alien spaceship crash site. This will be an aweing experience, especially for Fiddleford, who’ll be seeing it his first time. The expedition is serious work, key to their endeavored scientific breakthroughs. It’ll be a several day rigorous hiking trip through uncivilized wilds, through forests and caves and more, through dangerous paranormal areas. They’ll only be able to carry bare essential supplies with them. There’s no room for anything besides bare essentials. What’s a bare essential? That Fiddleford can’t live two and a half days without? That he absolutely needs to bring? Apparently? His fucking banjo. He brought his fucking banjo.

Speaking of bringing banjos where no banjo should go... let’s try “parachuting through the air into the evil layer of a dream demon for a last stand apocalyptic rescue mission.” Yeah, McGucket uses the instrument like a weapon. That hurts my soul - musical instruments aren’t weapons. You could suggest it’s for self-defense that the instrument came. But... there would’ve been three hundred other things in the Mystery Shack better equipped for self-defense. And yet you parachuted hundreds of feet through the air with a banjo on your back.

No apocalypse shelter is complete without your musical instrument!

Can’t move into the new home without the banjo, either! Basically the only thing he brought, too.

Ever thought about how, post-memory loss and life collapse, the one quality possession he manages to keep with him... is his banjo?

And he still plays and practices music consistently! He mentions in “Land Before Swine” he has an “hourly hootenanny.” It’s a self-scheduled time for music that he’s presumably repeating most days.

Speaking of “Land Before Swine”, McGucket says he loses musical spoons to a dinosaur. It’s to note that spoons are sometimes used as percussion, including in American folk music. This isn’t McGucket speaking nonsense. This is him knowing stringed instruments and percussion.

Mental health struggles, self-inflicted memory loss, and a poor living situation have taken their toll on McGucket through the decades. But that can’t destroy how music sings through his soul. When he plays, “the age lift[s] off his face,” and Ford can see “the Fiddleford who had been [his] friend so many years ago.” McGucket is relaxed, happy, and at peace with his instrument, so much that his identity sings together with the strings. Ford recognizes his friend of old - his friend back before shit hit the fan - because that man playing banjo is who Fiddleford is.

In a way, music is what demonstrates resolution to Fiddleford’s character arc - both his growth arc, and his relationship with Ford. He starts the story as a man smiling on his instrument, playing music contently. He goes through many issues once he starts research in Gravity Falls. And then he ends the story as a man again smiling on his instrument, playing music contently. Smiling on the banjo is the bookmark start and the bookmark end, showing he’s grown back emotionally after all the struggles. Not to mention... music’s sorta the resolving moment where two old, close friends find peace. Ford and Fiddleford have had decades of guilt, pain, and consequences from their mistakes. A key symbolic moment of their relationship being mended - fully mended - is when the two can listen to the banjo together.

Again, this is my own spin, but I live for how Fiddleford McGucket comes off as so musicianny to me. As a composer who’s constantly carting a pennywhistle in my satchel... who hums with my electric toothbrush because it vibrates on middle C... who curses the fact I have apartment neighbors because otherwise I’d have my viola out at 4 AM... I’m damn charmed to encounter a fictional character who I feel emanates musician vibes, musician quirks... Musician Brain.

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courtorderedcake · 5 years ago

Text

Hallow Chapter xiii - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch / ?? - In which they will always find each other, but it may cause an argument

Waking up next to her should have embarrassed him, should have absolutely mortified both of them from the impropriety of the action, even clothed. It felt right, though, or even safe, but it was another strange magic that he didn't want to ask about. There had been a moment of uncertainty when she woke up, her eyes alert immediately as she looked at him, then relief until he whispered a rough good morning. Panic had set in, and her eyes screwed shut as she tensed, whispering to herself. Not knowing what to do, he rose to leave, only to have her grip his wrist.

Her eyes were wide, but the fear was easing. "No. I just, I just need a moment. I thought it was real. Sometimes you feel so right, and I forget where we are. Wait, have you and I… We haven't been intimate, have we?" Her voice raised in its pitch, and Killian choked out a cough. His face burned and he would not look anywhere but the ceiling.

"No!" Emma blushed as well, and he looked at her shyly for just a moment before looking at his feet. “No. Nothing like that. You just sleep better next to me, and I… I sleep better too.”

"Oh. That's… Thank you for doing this, then. I feel tired to my bones. It never stops, this exhaustion."

"What could I do to make it easier for you?" he whispered, and she laughed, closing her eyes to pinch at the bridge of her nose. "Emma?"

"It's just - I don't know how to deal with this, with you, this early. You're so kind, so nice! And it makes me feel…" Her eyes opened in irritation, hand touching his cheek as something lurked just below the surface, hiding what she wasn't saying. Gently letting her fingers trace through his stubble, she searched his face.

Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss to her palm, whispering to her contentedly. "Makes you feel what exactly?"

"We could have been -"

Lilly rapped at the door frame, completely nonplussed by his presence in Emma's bed, or their current closeness.

"Isaac and Cruella ask of you tomorrow," she drawled, before picking at a long fingernail. "You'll need your strength, and to be ready. I couldn't persuade them, and I'm sorry."

Emma was up in an instant, pleading with her friend. "Please Lilly. You told me we were friends, I can't keep doing this. Last time made me forget, and I -" Killian could barely hear as they walked to the small bunk Lilly kept. She didn't sleep in the house, which Killian found strange, but Lilly herself was strange. She had appeared shortly after Emma, but had always been Emma's shadow and caretaker. It was just normal, along with her disappearing for months, sometimes years. Standing, he crept to the door frame, straining to hear.

Emma called for him, told him to let himself out and she would meet him at the library. Not willing to miss this chance, he waited instead, listening to the women argue.

"I don't know either, but Cruella is demanding another session," Lilly was hissing. "You still have to fulfill your promises, and yeah, I do regret this, Emma. But what choices do I have? Neither of you are exactly the picture of suffering!"

"We are! This isn't real, and I can't stand the thought of what will happen when it's over. I made a promise, but it wasn't for this. It never included -"

"Oh boo hoo, he's happy. He's not a villain. You get to live ages together. Is that really what you want me to bemoan with you? Complaining that you are both content?" Lilly's voice was raised, anger lacing each word. "And you, you are the one spending time with him! If you are that scared, stay away from him and make it clear that you aren't -"

"That's not fair," Emma's voice wavered. "You know that's not fair. This is not a reward fitting the consequences - "

"It’s not? Or is it because you are scared you feel something for him?" Lilly wasn't visible, but he could hear the triumph in her tone.

"I - This isn't him. It's confusing, and I hate it. I don't know if this is some trick, or -"

"Oh Emma," Lilly laughed darkly. "Do you think that any of us have that much control? It's his memories, or his thoughts, because you're giving him power here. It's whatever he is underneath, mixed up with anything you added. Your memories and his are one giant pool, and you're just going to have to wait it out. This is on you. You helped sustain his memory of whatever her name was for far longer than - "

"Milah. Her name was Milah," Emma snarled. "This is the furthest we've ever gotten, because we keep finding each other - and whenever we do, everything falls apart. I am getting weaker every iteration. I can't keep giving you my power and sustaining this without completely losing myself - then who will bring him back? Who will bring me back?"

"I won't let them do that, Emma, I will protect -"

"Could you honestly stop them? If the answer is no just stop. Lilly, I'm scared."

Killian listened, confused but with a strange feeling of expectation as he tried to understand the vague feeling of anger he held. He shifted, able to peek around the corner without being seen.

"Then tell them that! Tell them you refuse sessions until you've had time to rest."

"I have. I know I have. I never should have brokered this deal, it felt off. Killian was the reason I said yes to it, and even he was acting bizarre. I know you wanted to think it was you, but he was the tipping point."

Lilly looked at her oddly, her face paling. "How was he acting bizarre? When did you talk about it?"

"He was - he brought it up that I should take the deal. I asked and he said you had told him, but he was just, his mannerisms were so strange. He acted like -"

"Like Cruella?" Lilly asked, her voice going low, and serious. "Emma, I didn't tell Killian anything. He came to me and said he was drugged, darted with kraken's ink and a potent dose of belladonna. If he wasn't the Dark One he would have died ."

Killian felt like he'd been dipped in cold water at the mention of a darkness, his spine turning to a column of ice. The feeling passed as quickly as it came.

"Instead, he said he woke up to find out that you went under. He was furious, said that he should have protected you, and I begged him to take the draught to reach you in sleep like I had. He did after yelling at me for being an idiot, and now he's here. He has never known what is happening with my people or me, never agreed to let you do this. If these aren't your memories -"

"They're his. That's the only explanation. I wouldn't be surprised if some of yours are mixed up in these too, but I can't remember a lot that came before any longer."

Lilly shifted nervously, grimacing. "I guessed as much, but this is insane - What are you going to do? Being in his head with the Darkness - If you really are forgetting more each time, or all of it, how do we know this is really him, or if the Darkness can get to you or - "

"I'm going to tell him everything. He's real. I trust him." Emma said firmly, taking a few steps towards his location. "I'm absolutely sure the Darkness isn't here. It's just him." He froze, but Lilly stood, shaking her head with a small smile.

"'Just him'." Lilly laughed. "You don't just trust him, you love -"

"I know. I know Lilly. Gods help me should I ever escape, he will never feel the same," Emma muttered, her blushing face making the green in her eyes so bright when they met his as he stood from his hiding spot.

Stepping out of her room, he ignored her sputtering protests and roughly brought her lips to his. She melted into the kiss, hands going from fluttering in surprise to gripping his shoulders to pull him closer, his tongue chasing hers tentatively.

Lily groaned, throwing her hands up. "Gross," she muttered, and sat in a dining chair with a huff.

"Well, hi," Emma sighed out, murmuring against his lips. His forehead touched hers, and she smiled up at him radiantly.

"Good morning."

"I have wanted that for so many, many mornings, so yes. It is a good morning at last," Emma whispered, her fingers holding tightly just below the hair at the nape of his neck, their next kiss broken by Lilly's loud throat clearing.

"I don't know which I like worse, you pining after each other or you pawing at each other. Just mate and be done with it, Fiore I beg thee," Lilly groaned. Emma giggled lightly and Lilly grumbled as she made her way out the door. "I'll be back in one hour to plan. Get your fill of face sucking until I return. If you forget after Cruella makes her move, it's likely going to take a while before it happens again."

"Lilly?" Emma called after her friend.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for looking after us. If I forget again, remember how happy I am that you are watching out for me," Emma said with sincerity. Killian felt a twinge of anger he could not explain, an itch at the back of his mind that tried to move forward.

Lilly looked sad, but blushed bashfully. "Don't thank me, Emma. Besides, what are friends for?"

She left, lingering in the doorway for just a moment while Emma tightly hugged him, before shutting the door quietly behind her. Killian had the vague memory of a dragon burning down a castle, Emma calling the dragon a traitor as it flew, asking it why, begging it to stop while using its name - Lilly.

The thought never passed his lips, Emma sending him to the floor to press herself against him.

"I've wanted to kiss you again so badly here, so many times when you told me that the lives we were together in weren't real -"

"Emma," He pulled away abruptly, concerned. "I understand that both you and Lilly buy into this idea that we all are cursed, but I need you to understand that a future together means letting that go."

"But - you don't believe me? Please, I'm not crazy, I -"

Killian shook his head, gently smoothing her curls. "No one said anything about you being crazy, love. Please, just listen."

"You are accusing me of imagining this then, that's it? And Lilly's just what, tolerating me or placating me?" Emma looked at him with clear upset, pulling off of him and back to sit on her heels. "Don't be pedestrian -"

"I need you to hear me out, please." Sitting up, he grabbed for her hands with his own, his hook against her thigh. Her distrusting look of appraisal did not send him comfort. "Milah wrote me letters, she said she saw the way you looked at me and how I looked at you, but she wanted you to be better. She thought both of us deserved a chance where you were healthy of mind."

"I wish you had just remembered." Emma pulled her hands from him, rising to her feet. Killian reached for her, but she shook her head and turned away from him. "You never trust me, or yourself. Don't you feel any sense of this being wrong? Please, Killian."

"If I humor you, will you please consider treatment of some sort? It pains me to see you go into fits, even if it brought you to feel something for me. I don't want to take advantage of that."

"Fine, you want to humor me? How big is this island?" Emma stood, glaring at him with her eyes narrowed. Fire flashed behind the green of her pupils. "Why have your brother and Elsa only shown up when you think they should? And Olaf, that sweet boy, why has he disappeared? Why can't you remember why you have a hook for a hand, or why your father and Nemo have gone without a trace, or even how old you are or what day it is?"

"I - That's - That's preposterous, and insulting to my family -" He stood, shaking his head.

The island was large but had strange terrain, that was true. The Blackwater was rocky cliffs, pine forest, and dark ocean with stone buildings. The Baelfire was shrubby inland swamp and bog with beautiful flower fields. The beach and town were peaceful sandy coves that lead up to apple orchards and pumpkins, all within at most a half hour’s walk in any direction... Why did he not remember the cartography? He was raised to be in the navy, as Liam was, he should be able to say with certainty. And yes, his brother. Liam and Elsa had taken over the Blackwater when Father had gone. Nemo and Father did not check in with him, they were grown men who were probably sailing the warmer coasts. Olaf had to have gone to some school or back to Elsa's kingdom, that was easy enough.

His hook caught the light, and he tried to make out the memory of why it shot pain through him. A shard of something had pierced him, but the memory being foggy was just a side effect. As for his age, he'd stopped caring to count, and as for the day, it was a Saturday because the library opened whenever he felt like it. The library opened whenever he felt like it, but later than usual on Saturday's, and rarely on Sunday's. The pervasive feelings of something not being right or wrongness in some thoughts or feelings regarding memory was just her casting doubt.

"I knew Elsa when she was alive. I know of Liam, from her, from my home, and you. I tried to keep Milah alive for as long as I could. Please, just listen."

"Don't you dare twist her death," he hissed, pointing a finger at her, and advancing slightly. Not Milah. Emma couldn't -

"I'm not twisting anything, Killian. I hated every minute of not being able to keep your memory of her alive. I tried so hard, and it took so much magic just - "

He moved toward the door, now furious himself. "Enough."

Emma blocked his exit, grabbing him roughly to turn him as they moved outside. "Why won't you just believe me? Why can't you trust me, this one time without me being pulled apart to prove it to you? Why can't you just trust yourself enough to know that this is all wrong? You promised me!" Emma screamed at him.

"I thought I could handle this, and I was wrong. If I'm tied into your madness, I refuse to play into it like Lilly does. I can't, I can't do it, and this is why. I'm sorry, Emma." He pushed past, and he heard her frustrated cry as she sat on the stairs leading to the cottage.

He would swear that he heard her say something else as he left, words swallowed by the trees and his own anger.

"I'm so tired of hearing you apologize to me, Killian."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

A day passed by, and Killian steadfastly held onto his anger with Emma despite the nagging voice of reason that tried to corrode his stubbornness. Three parts of his whole argued cyclically : If (A very small if, at that) Emma was mad, he had still promised to help and support her, but had instead acted in anger over something she conceivably couldn't help. If she wasn't mad (a large if), it could be that she brought up his family to push him out of anger, some sort of resentment for her own situation with her orphan past and adoptive family, meaning he had every right to be angry despite her clear emotional distress. If she wasn't mad, and somehow what she was saying was all true about past lives, living ghosts, and false memories (the largest if, by far), he had presumably left her before and she was terrified of the consequences of that abandonment.

It's easier to fight with himself when he's opening the dusty bottle of rum, ignored since Emma had eclipsed his lonely routines.

"Emma! Please love, answer me, I remember and I am sorry -"

Red claws raised, the woman who is not a woman lets Emma crumple at her feet, Isaac and Lilly watching dispassionately from their mounts.

"Too late puppy," she giggles.

He isn't graceful when he throws Emma over his shoulders, running into the woods away from the laughing false queen as she blows her horn. A fox calling a human hunt, his memory laughs at an unamusing joke at their expense. Killian tries to hide them, tries his hardest to nestle them in the gnarled roots of a creek bank. Emma blinks awake, looking at him as a stranger while he begs her to be quiet. When she says his name again, it's with a veneer of defeat.

"It's alright Killian. You won't remember dying here, and it doesn't hurt for long." Her hand tries in a feeble attempt to staunch the bleeding, face going paler as seconds fly by. "A little pain, then it's like falling asleep."

The black and white dogs - no not dogs, foxes - find them with ease. Killian pulls her from hiding to run, and Emma obliges even in her injured exhaustion. They duck behind trees and bushes, hooves growing louder by the second. Emma is calm, her face set in marble, completely impassive unlike he's ever seen her. This is his fault.

"I'm so sorry I left you alone, I didn't -" he tries, but she stops him with a slow shake of her head. She takes his hand as hoofbeats shake the ground. They're going to die, they are going to be killed - no. They're going to be separated, this is what happens when they are taken away from the other, violence to make it easier to rip them apart.

"I'm so tired of hearing you apologize to me, Killian," she whispers, stumbling slightly. The arrows in her back don't feel real, but nothing does because it isn't , and the next volley that hits him hurts for just a moment, before he's waking up to Liam saying someone's washed ashore. The nightmare forgotten in a child's curiosity, lost within another dream.

His head pounded as he woke from too much drink, groaning at the feeling of being so hungover. He couldn't focus, even as his hands pressed into his eyes to abate the throb of his skull. His hand throbbed too, the cut pulsing and angry.

Pulling his hands back slowly in confusion, he looked hard at the gash that halved his palm, the way his fingers have stiffened into a claw like hook, the swollen flesh red and angry. Blinking, he stared in disbelief, until the illusion disappeared before his very eyes and the silver metal of his hook lay heavy on his knee. It shot a not so phantom pain through his arm, and Killian felt ill.

From his home it is a ten minute sprint to the Blackwater, the doors pushed wide open into the courtyard that is being reclaimed by evergreen and moss. It smells like rain, clouds thick in the sky, making it look like a blanket of eggshell and gray set out to block the sun. Liam shouted after him when he ran past, greeting him in confusion while Killian searched for the room he knows he does not remember.

Is a room still a room if it isn't remembered? If a tree falls in it and no one is there to hear, does it still exist?

The door handle was an elegant french curve, but was placed high on the door at just below his chest level, his stomach turning at the memory brought back to this place. He hadn't opened the door since he was twelve, his height not catching up with him until later. The handle was where he would have remembered reaching for it, remembering opening it to see his pale mother waste away in her quiet room until the day she wore her death shroud.

Liam called down the corridor, but Killian pushed the door open regardless, its blurred images and blank areas making bile rise in his throat. The bed was clearly defined, its canopy like a mouth and where Killian had always looked first no matter what. Nothing else in the room could draw his eye from his mother in her pink velvet bed with its many tassels and golden pull cord. The pull cord appeared, falling down from the ceiling to the bedside, his sudden memory of it bringing it into the tableau. Liam reached from behind him and sighed, closing the door.

"Don't do that to yourself little brother," Liam said, solemnly. "Leave her room closed, there's nothing but bad memories of her in there."

Killian couldn't help the insane bubble of laughter that burst from his mouth at the word 'memories', leaving a stunned and purpling Liam behind as he ran from the Blackwater to Emma's cabin. It took ten minutes to get there, and he panted out laughter at the absurdity of the truths Emma had laid out, calling her name. She didn't answer, leaving him to look for her behind her cottage, the beach down the trail, or anywhere else she preferred to go when she needed quiet. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air. A storm was rolling in, his nerves less important than finding Emma. He looped around again, surprised and then not at how easy it was to loop the island. This time he saw a flash of gold in the cliffs that lay just past her cabin.

Emma was pressed tightly to a ledge, sitting to lean against the rock as it crumbled from her scrabbling feet, one hand holding on to a root tightly and the other holding her opposite shoulder. The light muslin gown she wore was dark red under her hand.

"Emma?" he yelled up at her, her wide eyes meeting his. She pressed fingers to her lips in a wince, looking up at the cliffs as if expecting something. Killian began looking for a way up to her, the green smoke pouring over the edge catching him off guard. It swirled over the rocks, its mass forming a shape that resembled a clawed talon.

There was no explanation for how it picked Emma up, and flung her off the cliff face to the hard packed earth below.

Sprinting towards her as fast as his legs could carry him, he ran to where she lay sprawled on her side, her pale dress bright against the dark sand. Panic set in when she did not react at his touch. He brought her into his arms, rubbing her cold limbs. They warmed, and she sputtered, making a small keening noise when she moved. Her breathing was shallow, but she cracked a smile when her eyes opened to meet his own.

"Maybe we should reexamine the idea of you being mad, because I believe that it may be spreading," he whispered, leaning her over so she could cough.

"Killian," Emma sighed in relief when she had caught her breath.

"Darling, I don't know what is happening, but we're going to be alright. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, I'm sorry that I betrayed your trust by leaving you like that. I won't let anyone - " Two figures appeared on the far side of the beach, walking towards them as the sky turned to grey ash. Emma shook her head, panicking.

"I can't keep them from us, I'm too weak. I used everything I could on you and Milah," she whispered, her shoulder very clearly broken as she winced from trying to hold his hand.

Knitting his brow, he looked at their village leaders, Cruella and Isaac, then back to Emma. "Don't worry, it's Isaac and I'll just tell him -"

"No. You don't understand, we don't have time. I'm - Killian, I'm done for here. You don't need to die, you can hide, it will be easier if you hide. I don't want them to punish you. You're defenseless here, and they're going to drain me. Please, find me again. For now, you must go." Emma gave Killian an apologetic smile.

Isaac moved from behind her, wrenching her away with tremendous force. Lilly appeared from down the cliffside, the sky darkening to pitch as she tried to loosen Isaac's grip. Cruella surveyed the scene with a cruel smirk, her profile like ink on silk, eyes predatory as she strode towards him.

"Isaac, it seems that we have some resistance. Emma, isn't it about time you forget about your problems for a bit? Lilly, Killian, don't you want your friend to relax?" Cruella purred. Her words were like mulled wine and honey, and Killian felt his head go fuzzy.

Killian nodded, compelled to let Emma go into Isaac's grip, as Lilly hesitated.

"Please Lilly, don't do this. Please, we're friends. Killian and I have to go -"

Isaac interrupted with a wheezing noise, clamping a hand over Emma's mouth. "Lilly, do you want your cut or not?"

Lilly nodded solemnly.

Emma cried behind Isaac's palm, eyes flickering to look at them all as he searched for a way out as she struggled. The earth shook, the sky almost as dark as pitch, lightning and thunder assaulting the beach. Killian noticed he didn't feel discomfort, not even worry. The warmth in his chest made him feel tired, even as a place in his mind screamed that he needed to focus on Emma, get Emma out -

He let his eyes slowly meet her own, watching as Isaac removed his hand, letting go of Emma, her back arching and fists balling. Her eyes wrenched shut and she trembled, silently screaming, as magic poured out of her into Isaac's slowly moving palm. Isaac sighed, eyes fluttering, and stepped away.

Lilly raised a rock in front of Emma, holding what looked to be a mere smoothed lava stone, but in reality was a magical artifact, and Killian watched as again magic flowed out of Emma's body, curling tendrils softly wrapping around the stone and making it glow slightly. Before Lilly could pull away, Cruella threw her aside, standing in front of Emma with their noses almost touching. Killian felt his heart beat faster, and that voice calling on him to do something, do anything, was so loud now.

"Cruella, don't -" Isaac started, but was thrown aside with a flick of her red fingernails, disappearing into the air. Lilly charged the woman from the side, and Cruella simply laughed, and snapped her fingers, Lilly crumpling nearby.

"Now then. Let's make the best use of this meeting, my sweetly dreaming little princess.” With her black and white hair blowing in the wind, she turned to Killian with a wide grin that made the angles of her face dark with shadows. Her red amulet seemed to smolder, green smoke pouring from around her. "Lover boy can watch so he can see what it is he's up against every time he ruins one of these dreams. It doesn't matter how many you destroy, I'll make sure that she is happy and get what I want. You won't take her from me, puppy."

Emma made a small noise of protest, but Cruella's long fingers sprung out to wrap around her neck. Emma’s eyes shot open, wide and completely white, powerful magic pouring off her while her tears reflected on her cheeks like diamonds.

Killian took a step toward them, and another, stumbling on the now uneven sand. Looking toward the village, he could see it breaking away, floating in places as it caved in on itself. As if the information was always there in his mind, he knew with a dulled realization that his brother, his family, were all long dead or never there.

Cruella's cackle made his head snap to look at Emma, watching as the magic that was like rays of sunshine was being pulled into Cruella's body, the light swirls of it going dark as it touched her. Emma's fists went limp, her fingers uncurling and head beginning to loll, her own magic mixing with the dark of Cruella's, going more of a gray before dimming. Cruella let her drop to the sand, the small patch of beach they all were on the only thing left on a stark white canvas as she disappeared in a cloud of dark black smoke. His legs still felt leaden, but Killian moved in a clumsy and scrabbling crawl towards Emma, finding her barely breathing, her nose and ears bleeding slightly. The beach shrunk further as he cradled her closely, Lilly's unconscious body disappearing.

Fractures appeared around them, the whiteness creeping up with speed. Emma's eyes flickered open briefly, dull and tired, looking up at him with confusion.

"Who…?" she murmured, before falling back into unconsciousness.

The white had crept up all around them, Killian’s foot falling off the crumbling edge he now balanced on, Emma's legs almost pulling him away and into the nothingness. He gathered her closer, pulling her onto his lap, before they fell into the white abyss. It darkened quickly, smoke and debris making them spin, Emma's body tucked into his own.

Stroking her hair he kissed her forehead, whispering softly that they would be alright, their descent either slowing or bodies growing used to the velocity. She didn't answer or stir, her breathing at least steady, but he felt her nose begin to drip again and tore off a piece of his shirt to hold there. She struggled then, frustrated that her nose was blocked most likely, waking briefly.

"What….?"

"Emma, I don't know -"

"Emma? Who…? Who is Emma?" she asked, confused.

"You're Emma, Princess Emma. That's your name, please -"

"I'm Emma? Who are you then? Where are we and why can't I see you?" She touched his face, slowly running her hand over his cheek. "I know you."

"Yes, love. You do. I'm -"

And then he gripped nothing, the hand on his cheek replaced with a gentle stirring of cold air, silence falling around him in the vacuum of where the princess no longer was. He shook his head, suddenly confused. The princess, he'd called her that hadn't he? Memories assaulted him one after the other without mercy.

Yes, the princess, the sleeping princess, her body next to his in the Kitsune cathedral, raised on a dais of marble. Lilly begging him to wake her, his own fears after waking from some attack confirmed, warning that the imprisoned Kitsunes had made their play, and Emma -

Emma was in danger of wasting away, becoming a husk of what she was. She lay so still, he could see the memory of her pale face and body dressed in the crimson color of the apples in their orchard, the square cut of the neckline barely moving. The Darkness had rejoiced and asked the Dragon princess to take the shard, but Killian had fought for her, made the draughts himself from the library to join her, and when he failed, she brought him back again and again.

How many times had he failed her? How many times did she have to whisper for him to remember or to find her, always to find her? That this time he was her savior and the guide out of this place?

Isaac's voice hissed right in his ear, "Come then, villain. We will let you be the hero." Killian fumbled through the smoke, searching for the man flailing through darkness. The world spun faster and faster, the crack to the side of his head mercifully stopping its wandering.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The real losers in this terrible scheme are as always, the Other's prey: its own kind taken mercilessly. They don't know the secret of their cull, the Other hides her falsehoods from them with care. They believe that the Other is a force of good.

Emma knows better.

An empty husk cannot reveal the Other's secret and her deceit. If Emma were to wake and tell tales of the Other taking more magic than needed, of creating these hollowed out husks to gorge itself, of the monster that waits in shadow to feast, or of its rigging the system to snub even what was once called friend - the result would be turmoil.

It's been easier to fix the game every single attempt, the process growing smooth, but this has been the easiest yet for the Other to win. Usually, the Other's pet, the Author, shares this stolen magic with the island after the unlucky victim burns out, grinding to nothing. They hollow, empty themselves, become hungry ghosts that fall together to have something in their lonely attempts to fill themselves with life. They go willingly to their ends for ideas of glory and duty, of the chance to be a savior; they believe they know the heaviness of the title. It's trickery, trickery that Emma herself has fallen for - a sacrifice that is supposed to be just a marginal chance in a lottery, but this time Emma is here instead. It's a welcome gift the Other cannot believe has fallen into its lap, a hen house full of plump chickens unlike anything the Other dared to dream of, a never-ending meal for its gluttonous creation.

In this place, realities are mixing together and Emma is losing her mind, sometimes even within memories that are not her own; minds immersing in each other in overlap. It is almost too easy for the Other to win this game.

Emma's magic keeps coming without end, magic that is draining steadily to break this curse that Regina and Queen Snow have bungled. A spell that is both broken and at the same time not; cast wrong in the midst of war, cast by a distraught friend turned foe knowing that she must do something to prevent more death. It is a blade with a double edge, the spell meant to banish and preserve under a barrier, its power never anticipated being fought against. The many cracks in the spell have given way to create effects in the spell's makeup, rippling out into a terrible fate that no one could have foreseen. How do creatures made mostly of magic themselves survive without it? The barrier decays slowly, but the magic within leaks free through the cracks. The creature claws at it haplessly, and the Other simply held out until their lucky day.

The chance that Emma can give them freedom is too great to pass up, even if just for a few of them. No one could ever suspect the greater good is only for the few.

Emma falls again, and she is sure the Other is somewhere, smiling as it drains her, and pushes her one step closer to being devoid of everything.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The smell of tobacco and the feel of velvet registered in Killian’s mind as he stuttered to waking, the confusion and memories of what had passed hitting him in blurred increments. He was sitting in a wingback chair, the velvet arms a taupe color that complimented the quilt that covered part of the back. The room he was situated in was tall and rounded, stretched tall with shelves that seemed to go on for a great while. Windows dotted the circular walls where bookcases stuffed with tomes did not, and beams stuck out here and there as if they had been jammed in by a giant's great hand. The wood was wrapped thickly in rope that served as pulleys, dreamcatchers and strange charms hanging from any other unclaimed space. Scrolls, crystals, and sculptures sat in disarray all over the shelving. Beside him a fireplace crackled merrily, and across from him sat a chair matching his own, where Isaac looked on expectantly.

Killian attempted to spring up from his chair to throttle the smaller man, but reddish smoke appeared around him as Isaac yelped. The smoke formed heavy chains that pulled him back to his seat, Isaac looking at him from behind hands raised to protect his face.

"Wait, wait!" Isaac gasped out, and Killian struggled against the manacles. "Hold on -"

"Where's Emma?" Killian yelled, and Isaac lowered his hands. Killian tried again to lunge at him, Isaac flinching back slightly, but could not move farther than just above his seat. He growled, and Isaac laughed nervously.

"All in good time. Are you settled? We have a lot to discuss, my boy." Isaac sighed. "Tea? It's a dream, so I can get you any kind either of us has in our memory -"

"Where," Killian gritted out, "Is Emma you rotten---"

"No tea then. Okay. Well." Clapping his hands on his lap, Isaac looked at Killian with a patient smile. "How much do you remember?"

"Emma is asleep under your bloody rites, which she was tricked into because you are all well and good in some madness about sacrifices -"

"Yes well, living is quite important to us, as a species and just as a whole biological imperative," Isaac said with a bit of nervous amusement in his tone.

"You're killing your own kind, you wanking imbecile -"

"No, no, no - I'm not. That's not the intention or my purpose. I didn't even know about the hungry ghosts until a few cycles ago. Even then, Cruella is the monster. I want the Kits to go back, I don't like doing all this," he gestured, and Killian narrowed his eyes. "I'd rather be writing other things, you know."

"Writing?" Killian blinked, his confusion making Isaac grin.

"Yes, writing. I can write fantasies that happen in the dreamscape or if someone has altered perception. I write three strengthening tasks for this ritual normally, but… Emma has made that a bit more difficult." He pressed his fingers close together as if to pinch, in a gesture showing a small amount. "She's doing most of the work, I give her a few vague notions and boom - she's drowned the page in what she wants or expects to happen, or what you want or you expect to happen."

Killian let his shoulders sag. He thought for a moment, before asking quietly, "How long have we actually been here?"

"Just over a week. It's incredible, really. We've pulled you both from each other's minds so many times. You won't believe how many dreamcatchers I've had to make, but Emma, she fights that like it's nothing. A mere parlor trick." Isaac made a noise like a scoff, rubbing his temples. "Usually a Kitsune would have burned out around the third dream. Now, I've lost count how many iterations we've been through, some stacked on top of the other. The main formula remains the same, though: She dreams, we drain her magic that is heightened by the fantasy, and then it restarts. With Emma, it was hard to get her to restart initially, especially when you entered the picture. We started having to, well. Kill you both."

Blanching, Killian could not hide the shock on his face. Isaac laughed lightly, trying to pat him on the knee as he reared back from the man's touch.

Tutting slightly, Isaac shook his head. "Oh, don't be too upset. It only hurts in the dream and only for a moment… at least for you that is. I have no idea about your lady. She's entirely beyond my understanding, and her magic is unpredictable to the extent of creating chaos on already unstable magic."

Killian was floored, almost collapsing as if to melt into the armchair that mirrored Isaac's. Isaac continued on as Killian laid his head in his hands, one hand, no longer a hook, scratching at his scalp softly. He ached for Emma to be there to hear this, process this with him, possibly from the fact she currently shared his mind.

"Which, I mean, I can understand, it's old, esoteric magic work, but not failure proof. Like the separation of your little friend the Darkness. That took skill, and I was lucky to get it out on the first go, especially since you were quite the unexpected guest." Isaac gestured as if flicking off dirt. Killian stared at his hands, watching them shake.

Isaac cleared his throat, suddenly aware he was no longer being attentively listened to. Killian’s eyes snapped back and he continued on.

"But not my book, alright, and that's what - I mean as a researcher you must understand, I'm floored. The book has some of the strongest magic in these worlds, realms, and planes - and here, your 'Lass' is, fighting it off as if it was a glamour. Some people remember once or twice, but not everyday, and bringing herself to you or you to her! You weren't even supposed to fall asleep the first time, but you must have done something - a potion or draught maybe?" He rubbed his chin, thoughtful, before shaking the idea away.

"Regardless, there should have been no second time, but she just summoned you in like you were supposed to be there. We kept trying to stop you from saving her, or whatever she wanted. It's just incredible. It's not, it's just not feasible that she can break through in every pocket of memory, or time - we were completely blindsided by Milah, Liam, and Erica? No, Elsa, that's right; Emma's mind or magic - haven't figured out which yet - will not allow you to not have good memories, nothing could fight my quill with her giving the ink. If one of us stepped in to try and correct her, give her a little punishment by way of hurting you in some way, she would find a way around it. She's fascinating."

"So why are you letting this happen? Are you going to give her to Cruella?" Killian gripped the arms of the chair, heart racing again at the thought. "I won't let you -"

"Cruella?" Isaac let out a bark of surprised laughter, shaking his head. "No, no. Cruella isn't a friend of mine. We are… We rely on each other with a mutual vehement dislike. Cruella is just a leech that can shapeshift and manipulate, like her imitation of you to convince Emma or her thrall on the beach there. That won't work again on you, or at least not very well, her thrall is a one trick pony. Cruella has a great love of the finer things in life, and I helped her get them with my quill. She used me as she uses anyone within her reach. I haven't stopped since finding out about her trickery, because it would be a suicide mission. She'd make me a puppet or chain me away."

"You still should have said something you coward! How can you just sit there -"

"Because I don't have the trust of Mal and Zorro like Cruella does. Understand, Dark One, that they may rule this island on the surface, but it is that Kitsune She-Devil who pulls the strings and has everyone under her thrall." Isaac looked sad for a moment, but it quickly left his face as if he remembered himself. He cleared his throat and began again.

"Cruella, Maleficent, Regina and by proxy, myself, had plans to kill Snow Whitehart of the United Realms before she could take her place as queen. Maleficent and the traitor, Regina, backed out after Maleficent found herself with child, and Regina's precious Daniel Equi was killed by Goblins. They ran to the crown, and Regina's punishment was banishing her two closest friends to an island they cannot leave. Eternity is a long time on an island that you cannot escape. I don't care to stay, and I wouldn't mind to go." Isaac drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair before turning himself to sit sideways, head resting in his palm while his elbow pressed into the place his fingers had been.

Killian cocked his head confused. "You're safe here though, with plenty of food and that library -"

"Not exactly 'safe'. We're - both Kitsune and Dragons - Elemental beings. Not having magic stung as the spell began to decay from our attempts, but it's been fixed since we came up with the Harvest. We'd all rather not find out what happens when there is no magic as we are creatures that rely on it for survival," Isaac laughed darkly.

"I'm not in the lottery because I'm integral to keeping up the magic supply they divvy up. Que sera sera, as they say. Some of us have made peace, some gripe about the sacrifice, but Cruella has never known calm in her life. Especially now, since she's gotten quite a taste for Emma's powers, more so than ever. Hollowed out Kitsune after Kitsune doing her feeding, it's a shame." The same sad look crossed Isaac's face, like a cloud darkening where sunshine had been. Isaac rubbed his palm over his eyes and forehead, as if to rub it away, grunting slightly.

"Cruella wants to break out of this cage with her monster and do whatever it is her Goddess complex entails, and who should saunter into her web but a magic buffet that can do just that. Right now she's probably realized that we're talking, and looking for a way to prevent her prey from leaving. I truly think Emma will be left here a husk if Cruella has her way, taking all of her magic and letting her be the last piece to her collection of enraged spirits. I'm sure the princess has plenty of anger to feed that creature." The man shuddered, grimacing and closing his eyes tightly.

Killian blinked, turning his head to the side slightly to question Isaac. "What creature?"

"You haven't seen it then, the hungry ghosts all together?" Isaac raised a brow, sitting upright. "Oh, so you don't know about Cruella's pet! When you see that beast, you won't forget it. Cruella keeps it… hungry."

"How do I stop her? How can I protect Emma?" Killian almost pleaded, worry lacing the words.

"I think if Emma has nightmares in succession, she can escape with you. Cruella won't like it because you'll expose her avarice and her plans, but me, I'm not greedy. I'm simply curious. If I had my way, I'd want you both to stay so I can study her magic." Isaac waved his hand, with a flourish and the manacles that bound his wrists fell away to smoke. "I want to see if I can contain it like your dark little secret, or see if we can create a power supply from longevity, so if she were to stay - "

"Stay?" Killian interrupted.

"Yes, stay. We're secured against Goblin filth, you don't have the Darkness in you here, she doesn't have to go to war. She's safe, like her parents probably wanted. I'd let her sleep a few days each week, and she could have memories of her family there or dream of whatever she wanted. Emma's happy here, and once Maleficent gets wind of this, she won't have anymore of this distress with Cruella. Cruella will be lucky if she gets to experience distress, Mal will probably eat her in a single bite." Isaac let out a delighted laugh, turning again in his seat and giggling at the thought. He wiped tears from his eyes, throwing them aside.

Raising a finger and wagging it, he turned his head to look at Killian. "But, more importantly, you're happy here, and you're free. No need for that nightmare business or any unhappy thoughts. That's the other option, you see; you could give in. It's a paradise. There's always the off chance she truly does free us, as that would be preferable. I'm just looking at odds that say not good. The least favorable of course goes unsaid, but I'm inclined to think you like my alternative."

"I couldn't. Emma is fighting this with every bit of strength she has. She's made it clear that she can't possibly - she doesn't want to be here." Killian took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "She wants to actually find her family, be free of this, save her people and -"

"And now she has friends here, " Isaac shrugged, "You could be the hero for once, not the villain. I mean, don't you want that? She doesn't seem so clear when she figures out that this is really you. You could be a little selfish, Lieutenant."

"Those feelings - She doesn't really feel that way." Killian looked away, but could feel Isaac's smile without needing to see it. "And I can't do that to her, I can't lo - I can't enjoy her friendship only to have her realize that I…"

"You're going to give up a chance to see what it could be like if she and you were something more?" Killian tried to protest but Isaac silenced him with a noise.

"Ah, ah! The dear little princess obviously reciprocates your," Isaac coughed, laughing slightly as he made a strange gesture with his fingers, enunciating, "'Hidden Feelings'. And why wouldn't she? Without your Darkness, and her desire to die trying to save a kingdom that will war for ages after this, you two are pretty well matched."

Swallowing hard, Killian looked down at his boots. "No."

"Hm. Well, what do you say we give you both a few more days. Emma can't be taken out yet, she's still dreaming what is written. After that, she will be back to the waking world, hopefully with the barrier broken." Isaac sat up again, letting out a loud gasp. "Saaaaay - man to man, how about I do you a little favor? I'll make it so she knows who you are, and if all goes right, that she won't remember a single bit of this."

"Why? Just her and I, of what it could have been if we were just ordinary? Why would I do that to myself?" Killian looked at Isaac, his narrowed eyes easily showing his incredulity.

"Because she won't remember, and because once that toxic sludge climbs back on your bones, you'll at least have had a moment of happiness with her, before her inevitable end. Even a husk is a better option than what awaits her out there if she fails. That's a heavy risk, and I would wager that with your little dark conscience there, you might not be able to bet on anything but what it believes is the winning horse." Isaac shrugged once more, Killian's chest aching. "Regardless of if you want her to see you like this one last time or not, she's going to dream. Take it, or you can leave it."

"No tricks?" Killian said slowly. "What dream will she have?"

"No tricks. I don't know what her dream will be," Isaac shrugged again, scratching his balding head. "Whatever she's thinking of strongly, enough to enter the slumber."

"How can I trust you? What about Cruella?"

"You can't. I could just write another ending, make another dreamcatcher, tweak and twist things as much as I can against her magic making you miserable while keeping you trapped - but, I do prefer happy endings, the happiest for everyone being the barrier’s destruction. As the Kitsune leader, I'd prefer them to stop being turned into mindless zombies, and to be able to get good rice wine again." The reddish smoke appeared again, morphing into a red porcelain decanter patterned with a golden dragon. Two small cups without handles followed after it as they bounced down to Isaac. He offered some to Killian, but Killian shook his head. One of the cups vanished in a puff of smoke.

"I've been desperate for it, and they make the best batches in the Eastern mountains. As for Cruella, who knows what that witch is doing at any time; best to believe it's malicious and plan for the worst."

He threw back his glass, shivering with glee as it went down. The decanter and cup dissolved into nothing.

Killian hesitated for a long moment, leaning forward to place his face in his hands and scrub hard at the back of his neck. "You swear to me that she won't remember? That this, whatever this is, once we are out of here she'll be okay? That I can give her a chance, that she can maybe find someone worthy of her once she saves her family?"

"Wow, you actually believe she can succeed! You of all people know I can't guarantee safety for the princess. I'm doing the best I can as it is. If you want to stay around and protect her, feel free to risk it. I have no idea." Killian scowled at the man, who cocked his head mockingly. "Are you sure that you want to waste this obvious devotion you have for your lady love?" Isaac grinned.

"Isaac. Answer me. Will she remember?"

"Yes, yes. She won't remember. You'll have your precious memories, and only you." Reaching forward, Isaac offered his hand. "Deal?"

Killian hesitated, before reluctantly shaking the man's hand.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Falling out of the dream from Isaac's push was like going from a pillow bed to a vat of tar. The Darkness attacked him instantaneously, the feeling of it like a great ripping and writhing mass as it reclaimed every inch of him that had reprieve. Its voice was shrill, sensations overwhelming all at once, its attempts to force him to stop his endeavors disarming.

TAKE THE SHARD! TAKE IT, TAKE IT, TAKE IT NOW! TAKE IT OR ELSE - TAKE IT AND FREE US, FREE US SO WE MAY HAVE OUR LIFE BACK IN THE SHADOWS

It went on, never ending. The voice could scream for as long as it needed. Killian did not find he cared.

Emma lay still, hands folded at the waist, a satin wrapped bouquet wilting against her bosom. His attention elsewhere, the Darkness shrieked in fury. Killian let it, let it begin breaking him again, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers cracked as he pulled them away, but he ignored them. Laying on his cot next to her, he laughed quietly to himself, the Darkness trying desperately to keep him in its clutches without success.

DON’T YOU DARE! COWARD!

Its snarling howls fell away, the falling sensation abating as he landed in a soft seat while a balmy late spring day appeared out a large open window next to him. Flower petals fell over a courtyard, the garden spectacular in its beauty. The walls were high on the other side, huge windows allowing a view from multiple stories of what could be nothing but the palace.

Orchestral music played somewhere nearby, the polished floors gleaming in the light of a chandelier. Standing up from the plush, velvet wingback chair, Killian walked towards the sound of the music. A hand clapped him on the back, the familiarity of it and the warmth spreading through him and bringing back so many memories, and Killian readied himself as he turned.

"Younger brother! It's about time you saunter into your own bash." Liam grinned at him. Killian felt a deep pang of loss followed by gratitude for the ability to see his brother again. Emma's doing, no doubt. He quirked an eyebrow swallowing back any sadness with a smirk, and let himself have the moment.

"Do my ears deceive me, or does my ancient and senile brother actually refer to me correctly as younger?" he quipped. A servant brought by a drink assortment, Liam taking a tumbler while Killian waved the man away.

"Don't despair, Killian. This courtesy lasts only for tonight - nothing about your award ceremony can be little, especially when it coincides with a chance to mingle with your pick of lovely women vying for your attention." Liam sipped his drink, walking in the direction of the music, Killian walking next to him. His brother was in full regalia which explained his own, but he couldn't place what ceremony they could be at together at the palace. In his time in the Navy, Killian had only seen the old grounds, not the always growing and subtly shifting palace Emma knew. It had been in construction secretly during war time, Liam only seeing the beginnings of it and construction concepts.

"Brother," Liam said sternly, and Killian fell from his thoughts.

"Hm, yes?"

"I said," Liam sighed, rolling his eyes. "Are there any in particular that you have a fancy for? I've heard rumors, but they cannot possibly be correct."

"I, well..." Killian’s face heated, thinking of the princess. The thought occurred to him that Milah may be in this dream too if he wasn't careful. He licked his lips, but Liam interrupted, giving his arm a squeeze.

"I know it's been difficult with what happened to Milah, but if you truly have moved on, even to as much as being open to someone -" Liam turned him, holding a hand on both of his shoulders as he searched Killian’s face. "I am beyond happy for you, not to mention proud. Especially if she's a higher status than us, which by the way - having to hear news by way of Elsa's gossip is very unbecoming, Lieutenant. I should hope that as a Captain you learn to communicate better."

Killian swallowed hard, his brother's pride and praise so long unheard. Whatever this was could not be a memory, Liam and Milah erased within the same terrible days, and being named Captain was impossible considering his war crimes. This was at one time his dream, in some ways. A promotion at the palace complete with pomp, all while his brother and loved ones looked on. Before Milah the dream had included adoring women in droves, until he danced with a finely dressed lady who was his one and only 'true love' like some boyhood fantasy.

Liam led him to a curtain, drawing it back to reveal an opulent ballroom. Trumpets sounded and dancers stopped twirling, those at tables standing while others simply had their attention drawn to where Liam and him stood.

"Presenting Killian Jones, savior of the realms. Long may he live!" a voice called out, the revelers repeating it with whoops and shouts.

He stepped forward, Liam falling a step behind as they made their way to a table in the front of the room. Elsa hurriedly snuck her elbow through Liam’s as they walked, and Ingrid already stood there with Anna. Another blare of trumpets came louder and longer, and the voice called out again, much more excitedly this time.

"Their Majesties, King David and Queen Snow of the United Realms, and her Highness, Princess Emma. Long may they reign and may their lives be longer still!"

While the revelers repeated the announcer’s words, the King and Queen appeared waving, sitting at the head table with them. Emma was the spitting image of the King in so many ways, his eyes and hair, the soft smile, but her mother's beauty and fine features were very present. The Queen had the same nervous brow furrowing as Emma, looking around at everything as if she was confused. She met his eyes, and her own narrowed. Opening her mouth to say something, she quickly stopped when Emma appeared, looking bashful.

"I forgot my note cards," she whispered under her breath, taking a seat next to him, and her mother sighed exasperated. Emma continued on, talking to her parents. "I'm sorry, I have just been out of sorts today - I can't figure out my up from my -"

Shifting in her full gown, its champagne fabric crinkling, she glanced at him with a polite smile, turning back to her mother to begin again before whipping her head back to look at him with wide eyes.

"Your Highness," Killian nodded, amused. Isaac had promised him recognition and was not to be out done, apparently. Emma retaining her memories of him would make this fantasy an entirely different sort of dream.

Emma stared at him with her mouth slightly parted, unable to speak. Her mother coughed, breaking the spell as Emma nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry Mother, I was saying I'm out of sorts today. I will introduce the new Captain with the generic toast and if you and Father want to add to his accolades, you can do so," she said calmly, back to ignoring him once again. Killian frowned slightly, but played with the small spoon in the place setting to stave off the wait until she would have a moment. "I think his brother wants to give the majority of the toast anyway, so no large fuss."

"Emma, are you okay then? Nothing else that we should confer about before this? We can push off toasts until after dancing and talk just you and I; you can talk to me about anything. I miss you so much," The Queen took Emma's hand in her own, squeezing it. Her eyes met his and she quickly looked back at Emma. "We can go right now; we don't have to even stay -"

Emma giggled, delighted. "I am not the only one out of sorts today then. When have you been one to tease like this?"

"Emma, I don't know what this is or -"

"I'm fine. I promise you that this is the last time I lose my note cards or smear ink on my dress from trying to get out of memorizing a speech." Emma gave a firm nod, and gave a squeeze back before she removed her hand from her mother's grip. "Let's get this over with so the new Captain can parade his awards around and we are closer to a foot rub."

Winking at the Queen, Emma turned to him.

"Hi!" she said, smiling brightly.

"Princess, I can't say that I haven't waited for this moment since -"

"I suppose that I must have seen you around during the war efforts, and I've heard of your heroics, but I admit that it is my mutual pleasure to meet you, Captain. You seem so familiar to me, but I owe you my life so many times over. I suppose that must be it?" Emma looked up at him, and his heart sank. There was no recognition there but the faintest notion of what they were to each other.

He smiled back, unable to help himself even as a strange sort of sadness ran through him. "I'd save your life as many times as you would let me, Princess."

"Oh, you are a silver tongue. I'm sure you are delighted by the turn out tonight," she snickered.

He shrugged, his smile going sad, the grief of losing this promised chance Isaac had failed to give them finally setting in fully. "I had someone, but they're gone now. The war took her."

Emma stiffened, her smile wiped clean away. "I'm so sorry. If I had known, I would have never -"

"It's fine love. I've been fortunate enough to find someone else who is so far more remarkable than anyone I dare to guess is also present with us. She doesn't remember me, which is a shame. I will win her heart again without fail and without trickery, as I have in the past. Hopefully, I'll remind her of everything that has come to pass between us." Reaching for her hand, she watched entranced as he lifted it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. The moment he touched them to the soft skin, she shivered, and something lit in the full pools of jade her pupils had become.

"After all," he whispered, smoothing over where he had kissed with his thumb as he lowered her hand. "I will always find her."

Emma looked stunned, her breathing slightly ragged as she tried to suck in a hiss of air in her tightly threaded gown. Turning to her mother who was talking with her father in a tense discussion of some sort, she choked out a whisper.

"Mom, Mother, I - you're right. Let's do the toasts after dancing and dinner, with dessert. It's unconventional, yes, but I need - I need a moment." Her mother looked alarmed, but Emma raised a finger. "I'm fine. Nothing is wrong, no code words dropped. I just - it's very warm in here isn't it? I think dancing will give me some air, or I can slip outside. I just need more time to compose myself."

"Alright, but Emma?" The Queen's tone was nothing but concern, her eyes no longer flicking to look at him, but darting to the corner of her eye like a Bogey-Man lay behind her. "If any of this feels wrong, strange, or just off, tell me. Do you understand?"

Emma nodded. The Queen stood, grabbing the King's arm and dragging him upwards. He shot Killian a look that was unmistakably displeased, but brushed it off almost immediately in a display of grateful hosting.

"Guests of honor, toasts will be held at dessert to lend more time to celebration. Please dance, and dinner will be served as soon as the time arises," the Queen announced, clapping her hands. The lights of the ballroom began to twinkle as she took to the dance floor with the King. The orchestra played louder once more, a slow and haunting tune that swelled beautifully as they spun.

"Princess?" he asked, leaning over far closer than he should. She smelled so lovely, the urge to kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulder where it peeked out from under the pleated neckline making him grit his teeth.

She stammered out something that wasn't quite a word, color creeping onto her cheeks. Taking a breath while he chuckled, she managed another try. "Yes? Yes, what is it that you need -"

"I would like to ask you for this dance, or several. I have no need , except to admit to you that I ask because you are beautiful beyond measure tonight." He stood, offering his hand. Although her face heated further and she gaped at him in shock, she took it quickly in her own without hesitation.

Her hand fit perfectly in his own as he remembered, and like so many times before he spun her into a waltz. It was hard to keep from pulling her too close the way he was accustomed too, already too informal and too forward here as it were. The court had so many risks, what he wouldn't give to be back in the village, the forest, the street fair, the tavern, so many lives layered together, or to have her remember -

"You dance like a magician," Emma said in wonder. More were joining them on the dance floor, but Emma swept them away in her radiance. She seemed to shimmer as if she was something imagined, even as he was sure she was real and so much more importantly, her. His Emma.

"Oh?" he grinned, twirling her. She laughed brightly at what here would be considered absurdity, a frivolous move that did not belong in dancing. If it was unbecoming, neither cared. "Do I now, princess? Pray tell?"

"You haven't stepped on my feet once, Captain. You anticipate my every move as if you are a seer. Even when you did whatever that spin was, I feel as though I'm floating on air in your lead. I have not danced like this in hundreds, probably thousands of dance partners, and rarely do I give such praise." Emma subtly shifted, moving her body slightly closer to his own. He hummed, leaning in slightly.

“Much better, with a partner who knows what they're doing,” Killian whispered into her ear, and she beamed up at him.

"I don't know what it is about you, but you're so familiar, like I know you. Like I should know you, and I feel like I'm drowning just by being in your presence. I… I've never known anything like this, Lieu - I mean Captain, sorry." They stopped, no longer spinning. They had ended up near the curtains where he had entered, sequestered away from the majority of prying eyes. Pressing her hands to his chest she traced a pattern in the heavy fabric. "You mean something to me in a way that hurts me to be away from you. Like knowing you're here makes me feel so safe, so cared for. Something is there, a deeper emotion; I just can't grasp it."

"Princess, I should -" he started, but Emma swayed towards him, closer still.

"Maybe we should stop dancing, I'm a bit dizzy…" Emma whispered, looking up at him with reverence.

Killian touched her face gently, bringing his forehead against her own. "We've stopped, darling."

"Oh. So we have." Her lips brushed against his palm, one of her hands reaching up to play with the hair on his neck, tugging slightly at the tie of his queue. "This feeling, this familiarity as if I've been through a hundred lives with you finding me…?"

"Yes?" he whispered, her fingers pulling him to her, bodies pressed tightly together even against her golden gown and his uniform.

Emma's touch moved around his neck to his jaw, her thumb's soft pad stroking the scar of his cheek. "Is it lo-"

"Lieute - Capt - Whatever you are !" the king hissed as he clapped a hand roughly on Killian’s shoulder, a grin on his face that was dangerous, his eyes wild. "A word, if you will."

"Daddy, please -" Emma started as the King pushed between them.

Her father's eyes flashed darkly, and Emma stepped back in surprise. The king composed himself, failing to cover his curled lips. "Emma, stay there and dance with someone else, but not like… Whatever the hell this was."

"I regret this interruption too, but I am nothing if not gracious, except dashingly handsome." Emma giggled at his humor, her father's glare at her causing her to cough instead, while Killian brushed off the King’s hand. He bowed before Emma, kissing her hand as her face flushed with red. "I await my next dance with you Princess, with hope that you will not suffer through thousands more partners before I return."

She laughed prettily, and curtsied. The King caught his shoulder as he rose, pulling him to stand and gripping his elbow like he meant to break it. Dragging him across the ballroom floor, only a few onlookers seemed to notice as everyone else danced. The Queen stood up, taking a few steps from her seat, Ingrid and Anna rising as well. Liam and Elsa were waltzing, and Killian tried to memorize the happiness on their faces. A stampede of wild horses could not distract them from gazing at each other, laughing as they turned. The King pulled him into the hallway briskly, passersby gasping and bowing as Killian was dragged past.

"Oi, er, your grace -"

"Shut up. Just shut up," the King gritted out, before opening a door and throwing Killian inside.

He'd been brought to a study, or small library he guessed, the walls paneled and bookshelves built into the rich wood. Several busts sat on shelves or rested on pillars, a globe and realm switcher sat opposite each other on either set of a large desk that was covered in scrolls. There were no windows, but the realm switcher emitted a light golden glow along with a few spread out wisp filled lamps. The King pushed past him, knocking him hard on the shoulder.

Killian examined his options, choosing to apologize and appeal to the status of the crown instead of battering the obstinate man with a chair and enjoying his time with Emma. He felt she might approve of one method over the other, even without bias involved.

"Your Majesty, I did not mean to offend, I had heard how lovely your daughter was -"

"Come off it then, Jones. Do you think even your status as Captain can buy access to the throne?" The King turned slightly to sneer, pushing around scrolls on the desk. "We aren't Arendelle, we are the crown. There are standards here, not sheer desperation; especially with the knowledge that your kingdom is doomed, causing a royal to settle for a Navy sea dog."

"Do you mean… Liam and Elsa?" The King’s eyes flicked up, and he shrugged. Killian took a steadying breath, now regretting his choice in options. "I assure you, sire, that pairing is very much a fine match from any purview except for yours. Her family and I were overjoyed -"

"Yes, because your title has been lost under your drunken coward of a father's yellow streak. Do you think I want that attached to our family?" He pointed a finger, the nail long. "You didn’t want it attached to you and your brother enough to enscript to the war as fast as you could."

"My father abandoned our house to my brother, who has worked tirelessly to make sure that the people of the Blackwater and surrounding areas are safe." Killian balled his fists, his patience thinning further. Emma had mentioned her father was stubborn and overwhelming when it came to anyone courting her, but this seemed off for one of her dreams.

"You look and act just like him, you know." the King chuckled with malice. He drummed on the desk "That's my major reservation. When I saw my daughter with you all I could think is, 'There goes another coward. When will he abandon her, and break Emma's heart?'"

Killian stared at the King, examining him closely. He seemed to blur and shimmer slightly, even after Killian blinked. In every other dream, the pattern had been the same: They would not separate if it was pleasant, as long as they had met, unless someone stepped in. Someone who had long fingernails, who spoke in words meant to bleed someone dry, and who did not use her own face.

"You are not Emma's father, are you?"

"So perceptive, my little hero. Pup caught the scent, and followed my trail. It's so much easier to convince you of being not worthy of her when there's that glorious Darkness rattling around in your head." The King leered at him, advancing with a swish of his hips, a black streak appearing in his hair.

"Cruella." He nodded, stepping backwards to pick up a previously spotted fireplace poker. Like most items in the realms, it was made of a hard obsidian instead of iron, and would crack easily after a few hard blows. He was at a great disadvantage, let alone being on her preferred playing field of the dreamscape.

Dramatically gesturing to the empty room, Cruella's laugh ran out of the King’s mouth.

"Hello puppy. Fancy meeting you here." The smirk settling on the King’s face was suddenly much redder, and unmistakably not his. "I got a whiff of that hairbrained scheme you, Lilly, and Isaac cooked up to stop me, and thought I might drop in. Good thing I did too, now I can see how tight I have to make your leash to keep you from taking Emma away from me."

"What did you do to her? She doesn't remember me at all!" Killian lunged, the King seeming to shimmer as the woman giggled.

He appeared next to Killian, patting his cheek, before reappearing in a wooden chair behind the desk, puffing on a long cigarette and throwing the poker aside. Killian dropped the ash she had left in his palm with disgust, now defenseless.

"Well puppy, you kept me from what I wanted, which is to say… your sweet little puppy love, Emma." She giggled again, green smoke coming from the King's nostrils. "You make her remember that there's something better than our perfect paradise for you two. You made her feel things other than happiness and sweet dreams, making us both suffer. She barely gave me any magic after trying to keep you from your fears. I've been trying to plague you with nightmare after nightmare, but you keep coming back to ruin her happy dreams by making her accommodate you. Milah for example, or your brother Liam, or Elsa, or your sweet mother Alice - Every time I try to torture them, kill them, crush them in ways to destroy you, she saves you from their torment. Emma deserves happiness, isn't that what you told poor Isaac?"

"This isn't happiness you bloody leeching witch - "

"Oh, but it is - when you aren't here to ruin it. So when you and Isaac chatted, I placed a curse of my own on poor sleeping Emma." She grinned, eyes narrowing at him. "Should anyone try to rescue her, the only way out will be through her worst nightmares, and I will torture her every step of the way until she goes mad at the sight of you. You're a prominent feature of her fears, so trust me, it will be easy. All I have to do if you keep meddling is let the curse run its course, nightmare after nightmare until she never wakes again and begs for happy thoughts."

"You wouldn't. You need her magic -"

"Fun little tiddy bit, love." Cruella let the ash of her cigarette rain on the desk. " Your fear made Emma's magic weaker, because she expended so much to keep you comfortable. But her fear is delicious, and so much easier to take. When she was scared for you, it blew me away. True nightmares only, of course. Absolutely mouth watering. When you are in a nightmare she is in, her fear is like finest champagne."

"You can't have her." Killian raised his voice, and she cackled harder.

"Oh but I will. Every second you are in her dreams will be an endless loop of nightmares, and I'll take every bit of her magic, until she withers into a husk, angry, afraid and alone." Her smile was her own, under the king's eyes. She stood, and was suddenly trailing a finger down his shoulder at his side. "Or you could leave. I could even try and give you that shard…"

"Damn the shard," He lunged, and she was back at the desk, giggling while taking a long pull of her cigarette. "I won't stop until Emma is free of this. Emma has Isaac's dream to go through, and then your buggering curse. I will be here for her, and I will get her out of here. She will wake up."

"She will never love you. She won't even remember this, and you, you monstrosity, you will never be able to love her." Cruella sneered through David's face, nails scratching the table.

Killian laughed, and the king's face turned to fury. "It doesn't matter. The future isn't something to be afraid of if I love her right now - and I do." The confirmation of this fact took him by surprise, but it was irrefutable. Warmth spread through him, then a fierce heat that furthered his determination. "Regardless of everything, I love her at this moment. Regardless of everything, this is who I am under the Darkness, trying to protect her, trying to break through against all odds. "

"You absolutely horrid little beast -"

The door creaked, and Cruella's form of David snapped back into place, nothing but the small red choker indicating the deception. Queen Snow entered the room, and Killian bowed.

"Ah, my love, this is poor timing I'm afraid." The king's voice was tinged with anger. He pointed at Killian. "This man is an imposter and a Goblin spy, we'll need to call the guard -"

"Oh, my!" Snow picked up a heavy bust, ready to throw it at him. Killian flinched slightly, braced for the impact. "Is Emma safe?"

"The princess should be -" Cruella turned towards the Queen in the king's form, just as she took both hands to lifted the bust above her head making to throw the heavy marble. Killian prepared himself, but instead watched as she brought it down on her husband's skull with a sickening crack. Cruella crumpled, her true form revealed as she began to fade away.

Killian blinked as Snow panted, wiping dust from her hands.

"Your Majesty, I - Um -"

Snow drew a sword, stalking towards him with fury in her eyes like flame, so much like Emma's, the blade pressed against his neck. She spoke lowly, the edge there sharper than her sword.

"That is not and was not my husband, Captain Liam has been dead for years, you are most definitely not a lieutenant, and this, this is a sleeping curse. My Daughter's sleeping curse. So start talking, Dark One. And don't you dare skip anything."

#Courtorderedcake #15th #February #2020 #February 15th 2020 #Hallow #CSSNS #CS AU #CS FF #Captain Swan

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soniaspeaking · 5 years ago

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Hello, all! Welcome back to Sonia Speaking, a blog about cinematic storytelling. I’m continuing my series on Memento’s screenplay and why it is so incredibly effective. Today, we’re going to discuss the second sequence. The second sequence (hereafter referred to as “Sequence 2”) generally runs from the Inciting Incident (usually around page 15) to the Act One Break (usually around page 30). These first thirty pages are essential to get right! The brutal truth is that many readers (producers, coverage writers, etc) will pass on your script if something dramatic and interesting does not happen by page 10.

A quick recap: by page 15 of Memento, we see the actual moment that Leonard has decided to kill Teddy. Now, the way Memento contextualizes its inciting incident is interesting because we technically have already seen Leonard make this decision in the opening scene. However, what the inciting incident gives us is the empirical reason Leonard decides to kill Teddy: that infamous tattoo that says, “John G raped and murdered my wife.” The primary goal of Sequence 2 is to move the protagonist from the inciting incident into a psychological position where the protagonist is fully locked into their journey by the Act One Break. The secondary goals of Sequence 2 is to layer in other characters and provide foreshadowing into the future obstacles and complications to be encountered by the protagonist.

The real challenge of Sequence 2 is to create that deepening sense of thematic resonance. Memento is ultimately a study in ideas about the individual’s (in)significance and the visible and invisible consequences of our actions. On the surface, Leonard is a very “cool” character who has ingeniously figured out a system to work around his handicap. But underneath, he is a tortured man who is steadfastly holding onto his belief that he matters. Because he knows that if he loses that belief, he is and will become utterly nothing:

LEONARD The world doesn’t disappear when you close your eyes, does it? My actions still have meaning, even if I can’t remember them. My wife deserves vengeance and it doesn’t make any difference whether I know about it.

Sequence 2 is the spot to place the thesis statement for your screenplay. What is the larger, grander statement your narrative is trying to make about humanity and our shortcomings? Not only that, but it is essential that this thesis statement is inherently tied into your protagonist’s personality and development arc. It is one thing to include a thesis statement. But without the direct connection to your protagonist’s core and essence, it will not feel organic and cohesive.

Another important goal of Sequence 2 is to layer in sub-plots and introduce other characters who foreshadow Act 2 obstacles. During Sequence 2, we meet Natalie (who will become a major player soon enough). But the other important character we meet is Sammy Jankis, through the black-and-white scenes that provide insight into Leonard prior to his wife’s murder. Sammy is a fascinating character because he serves as Leonard’s foil. A “foil” is a character with contrasting qualities to highlight specific themes and the protagonist’s development. Sammy had the same condition as Leonard, but was unable to maintain a system for remembering. In this sub-plot, past-Leonard’s goal is to determine Sammy’s condition as valid or false.

Ultimately, the most prominent goal of Sequence 2 is to psychologically position your protagonist so that they are completely and utterly committed to their journey by the Act One Break. Like every moment of the screenplay, this needs to be a choice made in the face of imminent danger (both physical and psychological danger). Take a look at what happens on page 29-30 of Memento:

TEDDY Leonard, you need to be careful.

LEONARD Why?

TEDDY The other day you made it sound like you thought somebody might be trying to set you up.

LEONARD Yeah, well I go on facts, not recommendations, okay?

TEDDY Lenny, you can’t trust a man’s life to your little notes and pictures.

LEONARD Why?

TEDDY Because you’re relying on them alone. You don’t remember what you’ve discovered or how. Your notes might be unreliable.

LEONARD Memory’s unreliable.

Teddy snorts.

LEONARD No, really. Memory’s not perfect. It’s not even that good. Ask the police, eyewitness testimony is unreliable. The cops don’t catch a killer by sitting around remembering stuff. They collect facts, make notes, draw conclusions. Facts, not memories; that’s how you investigate. I know, it’s what I used to do. Memory can change the shape of a room or the color of a car. It’s an interpretation, not a record. Memories can be changed or distorted and they’re irrelevant if you have the facts.

TEDDY You really want to find this guy?

LEONARD he took away the woman I love and he took away my memory. He destroyed everything; my life and my ability to live.

TEDDY You’re living.

LEONARD Just for revenge. That’s what keeps me going. It’s all I have.

This is incredible screenwriting because the essence of Leonard’s character (which was established from page 1) consistently carries through from one moment to the next. Here, he has completely committed to his journey, as if there was any question of that. Even with the danger of a potential set-up and even after being implicitly offered the choice to leave this behind, he commits because that is who he is.

Thank you for reading and please leave comments for discussion. Check back here next week for a post about Sequence 3.

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starrysplanet-blog · 5 years ago

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{How “Daria” Guided Me Throughout My Teenage Years?}

It is weird knowing that on September 16th, I will no longer be a teenager. It has felt like an eternity of being like this. I can safely say that I was no ordinary teenager. I still have my virginity, have never smoked, drank or done drugs. Some would probably shrug me off as boring or not very adventurous. And perhaps a part of this is true. Yet, if there was one cartoon that I could relate to and continue to relate to despite having passed my High School years and going onto university. That would be none other than ‘Daria’. It may seem typical nowadays to say “Daria is my spirit animal” or “Oh wow! I’m like Daria!”. Especially writing this on Tumblr where every girl says it. Personally if I was being realistic, I would say that I am more of a Jane Lane but I like to refer to myself as Daria’s and Jane’s love child at times. I was so used to shows for teenagers that aimed itself around sex, drugs, alcohol, smoking, relationships, and fitting in. That I became so self-conscious of my own being. Before turning 16, I was introduced to none other than Daria. Daria and I met unintentionally as I was at Best Buy and the DVD cover intrigued me. I had asked my mother if she ever watched it and she said ‘yes’ and offered to buy it for me. Something that I gladly accepted because I am obsessed with cartoons, television shows, and films. I knew nothing about Daria so I was in for a treat. Being home-schooled throughout High School made matters worse because I felt like a lot of teens my age were out adventuring and experiencing things that I was missing out on. Yet Daria changed my perspective. Here is how Daria guided me throughout my teenage years...

{The Unusual Protagonist}

I feel like it is safe to say that Daria is an unusual protagonist. She isn’t easily bought through shallow experiences nor doubts her self-worth through what is the social norm. She sort of hates the world and how it views her as a whole. She is often misunderstood and can be perceived as ‘cold’, ‘careless’, and ‘miserable’. Assumptions that are challenged throughout the cartoon and are constantly debunked. These assumptions are mostly debunked in the episode ‘Misery Chick’, which is the season one finale. When a former football player Tommy Sherman returns to witness a goalpost in his honor. Whose fame is made clear by his habit of crashing into goalposts and waking up from an induced coma just in time to win the states championship. He is immediately revealed to be an unpleasant person who irks both Daria and Jane. When Jane notes, ‘Maybe he won’t live that long’ after Daria notes that it annoys her how he will be seen as a hero for the rest of his life. Tommy Sherman is ultimately killed by his own goalpost. This incident shakes up everyone and Daria is given a surge in popularity due to being called ‘Misery Chick’. Everyone relies on Daria at some point in time in the episode to cope with what exactly happened because they believe that Daria understands perfectly how they feel because she is miserable, all the time. Along with this, Jane ignores her due to being disturbed by how her words became true. An act that saddens Daria because she is her friend. This episode is valuable to Daria’s character development because the end sequence humanizes her. It makes us see Daria for who she is and not the fact that she seems miserable. Daria proves herself to be a self-aware protagonist who knows how others perceive her. She knows how everyone in this episode has seen her. And she sums it up in a brilliant quote, “You know what I have been hearing? ‘You know how I feel, Daria. You’re gloomy. I knew I could talk to you Daria. You’re always miserable!’. Tragedy hits the school and everyone thinks of me. The popular guy died and now I am popular because I’m the misery chick. But I’m not miserable, I’m just not like them.” This quote is amazing because it shows that Daria accepts the fact that she is not like them. She clears up the assumptions of being careless, cold and miserable. She does care because she doesn’t want to be considered the Misery Chick or lose Jane as a friend. She’s not cold because despite everyone running to her for advice due to this assumption, she is never rude or distasteful. And she’s not miserable.

Daria’s self-awareness becomes a main focal point of a lot of plots. While other characters can be mindless or shallow. Daria is usually always aware of what is going on and what is happening. She is able to read her family’s situation like the back of her hand. While Daria may seem like she is rejecting the social norms purposefully or trying to be different. She is, in fact, not. Her actions are caused by her not wanting to become like her mother or father nor does she wish to become like her sister. She is perfectly content in where she stands and doesn’t feel the need to change it. This makes Daria relatable, especially when she experiences situations that are common for a teenager. The pressures of fitting in, social norms, insecurities, introverted awkwardness, crushes, uncertainty, and stress with school. Daria isn’t the typical protagonist who has a wide circle of friends. In fact, her only real friends are Jane Lane and Trent Lane (who she has a crush on). Daria is easy to be open to, shown by how everyone opens up about their feelings to her, every once and a while. Especially Trent. Daria isn’t perfect and she proceeds to prove this time and time again by acting embarrassing around Trent. Saying things that can come off wrong. Putting off others. And being too realistic to the point of unreasonable consequences. Shown in Season 2′s first episode ‘Arts ‘N Crass’ where Daria and Jane are forcefully placed in an art contest. Deciding to work together as Daria will write a poem and Jane will paint the art piece. They decide to take a more realistic approach of teenage life by bringing awareness to eating disorders. This immediately disapproved by the school staff and is forced to change. Standing their ground, Jane and Daria deliberately destroy their own creation to avoid it being used against them in the art contest, as it was already being put it against their wishes.

Daria is someone that is not going to rush her life. When Daria finally is adventuring into college, she applies to two different colleges. When she is rejected from one, she is not disappointed. A quote that has always stayed with me throughout my life from Daria is one where when asked what her goals in life. Daria responds with, “My goal is not to wake up at forty with the bitter realization that I wasted my life in a job that I hate because I was forced to decide on a career in my teens.” A common fear for mostly every teenager. While Daria looks forward to her future, she is not really grounded in her path.

Not to mention that compared to Fashion Club & other characters, Daria sticks out with her unusual fashion choices that she wears simply because she likes it. There is no other exact explanation.

{Daria and Jane’s Friendship: Female Friends Done Right}

It is common to witness female friendships in cartoons and television shows circle around the usually girly things. Boys, fashion, drama, and people they dislike. Daria and Jane are the complete opposite. Usually conversing in their bedrooms or over pizza about deeper conversations, common interests, and their thoughts about the world. The neat concept of it is that you get two different outlooks in a similar perspective. Jane is more humorous while Daria is more blunt. There is rarely any petty drama between Daria and Jane as they have a well understanding of each other. They are not easily torn apart or separated. Their sense of humors and teasing are well-balanced and it rarely feels awkward. While they have their differences. It is not uncommon to see Daria and Jane get along almost perfectly in every episode. The cartoon introduces Daria’s crush about Trent, almost immediately. And while this seems like it would be an issue in Daria and Jane’s friendship as Trent is Jane’s older brother. The cartoon does the complete opposite and has Jane being completely supportive of it. She even reassures Daria that everything is cool when Daria freaks out over acting like an idiot. The show shows that Jane and Daria are great friends by showing the typical drama between female friends with the Fashion Club. How Quinn and Sandi are willing to backstab each other at any point in time, Tiffany is clueless and basically tells Quinn and Sandi what they want to hear, while Stacy is the innocent bystander who focuses on fashion than the drama. While they spend time competing, Daria and Jane spend time seeing each other as worthy equals. It shows that sometimes you just need that one special person. It is no wonder why when Daria and Jane had a big fight and unfriended each other over a stupid boy, Mystik Spiral came to the rescue with the great song ‘Freakin’ Friends’ that helped them realize how they were being. (I tend to ignore the seasons with Tom Sloane because Trent and Daria were meant to be together! Damn it!)

{It’s Okay To Be Different}

I feel like the main message with Daria is showing how it is okay to be different. Daria isn’t alone, miserable, or unhappy because of her differences from the world she lives in. She ends up getting into a college that she liked, she has a loyal best friend, she ended on good terms with everyone (including her own sister), and she may have a relationship with Trent in the future. Every character has a message within themselves. Quinn is a warning to girls to not be so attached to your looks that you become fearful of not having anything more to you. Jane shows that you don’t exactly have to have a good or healthy family life to become an awesome human being who can find a passion and work hard to get into a college that you want. Trent shows us that it is okay to be slower than others in development and not have a certain idea of who you want to be. Helen & Jake are examples of two people who have never left their generation point of views and are miserable due to their lack of will to adapt. Brittany shows that someone can be gullible and arrogant yet also lack self-worth and not be able to make a decision that would better themselves. And Kevin shows that Kelso really did this character better! Jodie shows a different side to Daria as her and Daria could never be friends due to how similar they are, yet how easy it is to ignore her personality when everyone focuses on her skin-tone and how diverse she is. With the character designs, clothes, personalities, hobbies, and interests. These characters almost feel real and can make everyone feel like there is one character for them to relate to, one way or another. It didn’t have to be interesting with the concepts of sex, alcohol, drugs, and smoking. Nor make it seem overly entertaining to party. It makes you feel like it is okay to not be extroverted or have a large circle of friends.

And this is why Daria will always be my favorite cartoon of all time and helped guide me through my teenage years. As it helped me focus on more things than my appearance and what I could give.

#daria #jane lane #quinn morgendorffer #trent lane #text post #Thoughts #writing #cartoon #teenage years #teenage #different #analysis #character study

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heyyyharry · 6 years ago

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To The Boy I’ve Loved Before (Part 2)

(Inspired by Netflix’s To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before)

...in which Harry comes home one night to receive five letters from his ex-girlfriend.

Part 1

It was two in the morning. In exact eight hours more, Y/N was supposed to be walking down the aisle to marry the man she loved. But instead of sleeping safe and sound in bed, she was running around her apartment, desperately searching for a green box which was supposed to be at the back of her closet where no one else would find.

“I haven’t touched it in weeks! How could it just disappear?!” Y/N exclaimed between shallow breaths.

Her maid of honor, Rosy, whom she was on the phone with, let out another heavy sigh. Rosy just assumed that her best friend was having a pre-wedding crisis, so calmly, she told the bride-to-be to just take a deep breath, go to bed, and save her energy for her big day.

“Do as I say, Y/N, and I’ll help you look for it tomorrow.”

“No, that box is important to me!”

“Does losing it in some ways affect your wedding?”

“No…”

“Then it’s not important, Y/N!”

It wasn’t to Rosy, but to Y/N it was, and it made her feel guilty thinking that right now her box of letters was even more important than her wedding and future altogether. Those letters contained most of her youth, they were all the things nobody else knew except for herself. The last thing she would want was her friends, family, or her fiancé to find out she’d been writing letters throughout the years to this one boy named Harry Styles. What was worse, if Harry himself ever received those letters, she could not imagine the consequences.

The sudden door bell pulled Y/N back to reality, sending her rushing out of her bedroom.

“Who would come to your house at this hour?!” Rosy wondered as Y/N walked fast toward the front door.

“It must be my sister. I asked her to come help.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” The maid of honor groaned into the phone, utterly hopeless for this entire phone call was like water off a duck’s back. Y/N was clearly acting against everything Rosy’d told her to do.

When Y/N turned the handle to open her door, she was expecting to see her little sister waiting outside. However, the hopeful smile was washed off of her face all at once, when instead of her sister, she saw the last person she would hope to see right now, the recipient of her secret letters.

Y/N told Rosy she would phone her back, then went ahead and ended the call, ignoring her friend’s confusion on the other line.

Harry didn’t say a word. He was just gazing at her, as if to adjust to this unacquaintedness, at the same time, familiarity, when facing the girl he used to know so well, but not anymore. And for that one brief second looking into his eyes, Y/N swore time was frozen and everything else faded away, he was the only thing she saw.

Her mind went blank, and her whole body turned into a frozen statue when Harry gave her his notorious dimpled smile, the same fucking smile that’d been haunting her ever since he left.

“Can I come in?” he asked in the raspy voice she’d once very much adored.

The memories from that night were coming back to Y/N now. There he was, standing outside her door, same look on his face, same aching feeling in her heart. This time his hair was shorter whilst hers was longer, he’d gotten a couple more tattoos whilst she'd lost the innocence in her eyes. Neither was the same person as they were the night it all ended. But she knew despite all the twists and turns, it would always be the same ending.

“You cannot come in.” Y/N looked at Harry with tears in her eyes, and the sight of which left Harry in nothing but pain and guilt.

“You have to leave.”

“I drove all night here, Y/N,” he asserted, then told her what he should have three years earlier. “I’m not leaving."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at the uninvited guest, gripping tightly onto the wooden door as if it was giving her emotional strength.

“W-Why are you here?” she asked.

“I found a box of letters from you on my doorsteps,” he answered.

It was only then did Y/N notice the envelops Harry’d been holding this whole time, and she wished nothing more than to vanish from the face of Earth. With her face in the palms of her hands, Y/N tried to convince herself this wasn’t real, despite already knowing it was. Her worst nightmare had come to life and there was nothing she could do about it.

After having calmed down a little bit, the girl took a deep breath, let it out and stepped aside so Harry could enter her flat.

“Sorry, my…my living room’s kind of a mess.”

Y/N closed the door behind them, carefully watching Harry as he looked around the room. The floor was a battlefield with different objects scattering all over the place, and in the corner laid an opened suitcase, only half of which was filled. Y/N had been packing for the honeymoon but was interrupted when she found out some of her valuables had gone missing.

With a nonchalant smile, Harry watched his ex-girlfriend tripped on her own feet and almost knocked over a lamp on her way to the sofa. She was still her, the same clumsy girl he’d fallen so madly in love with, and it was bittersweet to see her again as this new person he knew nothing about.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t…expect guests."

“I’m not here to judge your messy living room, petal.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said quickly, eyes staring at the floor.

Harry was startled by the reaction, still, he apologized. Y/N wished she could just tell him how much she missed his nicknames for her, but he wasn’t allowed to know that, because this was a different scenario now. She was getting married, and he wasn’t the groom-to-be.

“Do you want to sit or just go straight to the point?” Y/N asked while nervously playing with the hem of her t-shirt.

Looking down at her fidgeting hands, Harry finally noticed the shiny engagement ring on her finger, then an uncomfortable feeling immediately filled up his lungs, making him unable to breathe. He was never the kind of person to start a conversation with a question, but this time he had no choice.

“Do you love him?”

“That’s not relevant,” Y/N commented with discomfort clear in her tone. However, with his inquiry, she finally knew that he’d opened all five envelopes.

“You’re dodging my question.”

“Fine! Yes, I love him,” Y/N answered without pause, staring at anything else but Harry. “That’s why I’m marrying him.”

“More than you loved me?”

At this second question, Y/N lifted her head up and was eye-to-eye with Harry at last. She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, then repeated the action, twice, still she couldn’t give him the justification he wanted from her.

“You cannot make such comparison. Chris is Chris, you are you.”

“Yes or no, Y/N, easy question.”

It wasn’t easy. It was a trick. If she said yes, then she would be a fool, if she said no, she would be a liar, and right now Y/N couldn’t decide for herself which one was worse. So she just stared at him, hoping he’d just let this go.

“Why are you quiet? Clearly you had a lot of things to say.” Harry breathed while holding up the five envelopes. He couldn’t believe after three years, miscommunication was still their biggest unsolved problem.

“You weren’t supposed to read those letters because it wasn’t me who mailed them!”

To Y/N’s surprise, her ex-boyfriend was nothing but calm.

“I know.” He nodded. “Kat did.”

“My sister?”

“Yes, I traced back to the sender. She gave me your address.”

“Why did she do that?!”

“No, the question is: Why did you include your wedding invitation in the fifth envelope, then address the box even though you didn’t want me to ever receive your letters?”

“I...I just...” She started but never finished.

For a long moment, they just stood in front of each other, holding the longest stare while trying to guess what’s on the other person’s mind. Sometimes the words you say hurt you more than weapons do, but sometimes the words you cannot say do you much more damage.

“I’m getting married tomorrow,” said Y/N, but it came out more like a reminder to herself than to the man standing in front of her. “Whatever I wrote in those letters, they don’t matter anymore. I included the invitation because...because I was drunk one night...I wasn’t thinking straight...And Kat must have found the box when she was searching through my closet. The last thing I wanted was for you to be here...now.”

“You expect me to believe that, when you couldn’t even say you loved your fiancé more than you loved me?”

“Don’t, Harry!”

Y/N took the weight off her feet and fell back on the sofa with her head in her hands, elbows on her knees. Harry took no time to rush to her side. He was literally on his knees in front of her.

“Baby, look at me,” he begged.

And she did.

She gathered all of her courage to look deep into his beautiful green eyes, and recalled countless number of times she’d got lost in them, they used to be her safe haven. He used to be her home. Why did reality have to be so cruel?

“I drove all night to be here before sunrise...” Harry’s voice broke as his heart did. “Because if I had waited, it would’ve been too late...”

“Late for what?”

“For me to stop you from marrying him,” Harry replied with so much sincere in the sound of his voice.

They’d joked about this, that if he ever lost her and she ended up marrying someone else, he would show up at the wedding and win her back. But that was just a joke, this, however, was real.

“What are you talking about?”

“Kat told me everything. You wanted me to stop you. That’s why you include the invitation.”

“Kat didn’t know what I wanted! Even I don’t know what I want,” Y/N admitted out loud, so close too tears. “But...I’m not doing this again, Harry. We’ve put this life behind us, we need to keep on moving forward.”

“What if I tell you I can’t?”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and turned away. She didn’t want to look at him nor had him see her cry. And she wished he would just shut up and leave her like he’d done years ago.

“Y/N, everything I’ve done, everyone I’ve been with in the past three years, could not help me forget about you...A-And...If I had to give up everything to change the past, I would. I just want it to be me and you against the world...This time I won’t leave you alone.”

Y/N shook her head with her eyes close. She touched his face, cupping his cheeks with both of her hands. Harry stayed motionless as he let the girl he loved run her thumbs across his cheeks, she was just trying to remember every feature on his face. Because she knew, the only place that she could see him again after tonight, was in her dreams.

“You’re not the same person anymore, and neither am I,” she told him with a lump in her throat. “Told you I’d always love you, didn’t I? No matter...” Her voice cracked and the tears started streaming down on her face. “No matter whom I end up with...”

“No, petal, don’t say that. Come with me, and we’ll start over again. I-I already finished my tour, I could spend more time with you now. I would take care of you.” Harry didn’t even know what he was talking about anymore, words just constantly slipping out from his lips because he would say anything just to convince her to come back to him. “We belong together...You know it. That should be me at the alter, not him.”

He was holding both of her hands, which were still holding his face. It’s the first time they’d cried together since the night he left. He truly didn’t want to face the same ending twice.

“I wanted that to be you.” Y/N smiled, though she was crying, she put on a smile for him. “I wanted to marry you. I wanted us to have kids and to hear you say ‘Baby, I’m home’ every single night. But that’s not how it would be if we’d stayed together, I’m never going to get that life. One day you’re here, the next day you’re not. We couldn’t hold on back then, do you actually think it would be different this time?”

“It would.” He nodded his head fast. “One year after our breakup, I came back to find you, I did. They said you sold our house and you moved away. I didn’t know where to look for you.”

"You came back for me?” Her eyebrows puckered as the words leaving her mouth were full of breath.

“I would always do,” he said.

They let silence took over again. And maybe that was the answer for Harry tonight. She still loved him, but she wouldn’t come back. And even though it killed him to leave for the second time with nothing left inside but a beating heart, he wished her happiness, and a joyful life, and a wonderful wedding.

But when he got to the front door, her voice pulled him right back.

“I have a question,” she said.

“What is it?” he replied.

“If you’d found out about the wedding without receiving my letters, would you still have come tonight?"

It didn’t take him more than a second to give her his answer, “Yes, Y/N, I would.”

When the sound of Harry’s footsteps faded away to silence in the empty hallway, on the floor, Y/N was already a broken mess.

...

“Ready to go?”

Receiving just a nod as an answer, Harry’s manager, Jeff, told the driver to take them to the airport.

“What time is it?”

Harry’s suddenly question got Jeff by surprise. The older man hurriedly checked the watch on his left wrist before telling his friend it was 10 AM.

So it's now official, Harry told himself. The girl he loved had officially become someone else’s wife.

He turned his face to the window, ignoring Jeff repeatedly asking him if he was alright. Normally he would fake a smile and said he couldn’t be better, but he couldn’t do it now when the pain was too much to bear.

Harry got out of the car and got on his private jet at around 11 AM. His next stop was Italy. Jeff was reading the schedule for this entire day to Harry but all the young man could hear was a muffled sound in the background. And all he could think about was her, and the things she’d said, how she’d looked, how he’d never see her again.

He’d lived a life without her before, he certainly could do it again, he told himself that. But the last time he’d left, he’d been hoping for a better future for the two of them, this time, he had nowhere to place his faith. What was he going to do now that he knew they would never have another shot with each other?

“Harry, your phone!” Jeff’s voice pulled Harry out from his pile of thoughts and he saw an unknown caller ID on the screen of his phone. He answered it anyway because of a strange feeling at the bottom of his chest. And Harry couldn’t be more glad he’d picked up that call.

“Harry, it’s Kat!”

“Kat, hey...Why’d you call?”

“Y/N called off the wedding for good. She was on her way to you, everyone at home is freaking out at the moment. I tried to call you but you had your phone turned off!”

“Harry, where are you going?!” Jeff desperately called after his client, who tossed his phone somewhere on the floor and ran off the plane, without looking back for even half a second.

Fuck his schedule.

Fuck Italy.

He had to come back for her.

...

Y/N sat on Harry’s doorstep, patiently waiting for him to come home. She’d tried ringing the doorbell but nobody answered and she didn’t have his number. So all she could do now was wait here, with her make up and hair perfectly done, only missing the wedding dress.

She wished she wasn’t too late, but she’d been waiting for almost an hour now. So Y/N told herself if he didn’t come back in one hour more, she would accept her faith, return home, and face the music. It turned out, fortunately, she didn’t have to, because Harry showed up just in time.

It was half past twelve when Harry stepped out of the yellow taxi and his heart stopped when he saw Y/N standing outside his door. Without saying a single word, they both ran towards each other, her arms wrapped around his neck and his around her waist.

“I couldn’t do it,” she said. “It has to be you.”

Harry felt exactly the same, all of his broken pieces had fallen back together. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her hard on the mouth with everything he had to give. All of the feelings he’d kept aside those three years were delivered in that one long, passionate, last first kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, he laid kisses all over her face, her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead, her nose, to make up for the long period of time when he didn’t even know where and how she’d been, for the many times they’d hurt and healed each other.

“I love you, you know that right?” he breathed while resting his forehead against Y/N’s. She bit her bottom lip to hold back a grin then nodded her head yes.

“I love you too, Harry. Always have, always will.”

His heart could burst with joy and it would be the last thing he cared about.

“So...” Harry trailed off as he gently tucked her hair behind her ears to take a better look at her pretty face. And he was so wrong to think the butterflies in his stomach were all dead.

“Are you gonna write me letters again?”

“Only if you’ll write them back.” She smiled, staring at his lips.

“Oh, baby,” he said before pulling her close for another kiss. “I will write you thousands.”

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