mcgicmade-blog

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bcastmade: 

“So instead of returning to my life, you come to ruin it.”

Even as a ghost he would have welcomed her back with open arms. His whole world shattered as she died and there was no doubt in his mind things could have been drastically different if she had tried to stay. Instead she tried to destroy what he had become, if he wasn’t so hurt by the idea he might be able to understand.

“You had no right to do that.”

         ‘ what we wish to do cannot always be done. ‘ in the brightest of possibilities, his father would have been a better man. she would not have died. their son would have grown up happy and loved. their world was not so kind, though. she had begged the powers of heaven to be allowed to live, and when that failed she had asked to return to him in death. her course of action had been the only one she had been provided with. ‘ right? no RIGHT? and what right did you have to tax the village, mistreat the staff that treated you as family? you were meant to protect them, and instead you became a mirror of your father! ‘

[mcgicmade-blog]

fctemade:

                 HIS FATHER HAD never said anything about René’s grandmother being MAGIC, but the sparks that crackled over her skin proved there was SOMETHING there. He knew there was magic within him, or wrapped around him… but he couldn’t control it; not for a single minute. As his grand-mére looked at him, he took a step forward. “Your Majesty, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That part WAS true: he was failing to keep up with the turns of her thoughts and her insistence of who he was. “I wish I matched the prince’s eyes. Maybe it would mean a simpler life.” 

               whatever power death had granted her, it had taken her patience in return. ‘ you do. ‘ he knew precisely what she was talking about, she knew he did. ‘ will you not give a mother the peace of knowing her son will be saved? ‘ she had done this to him, but it pained her every day. it was as much a curse to him as it was to her, her punishment for dying. if she had only been alive, could she have saved him from his father?

[mcgicmade-blog]

bcastmade:

“I had expected never to do so after you died.” Had she presented herself after her death he would have ended up different, perhaps in a mental institution for claims of his mother’s reappearance. Though his blood boiled looking at her he couldn’t help but feel the longing to hold onto her and make her stay like a child would.

“Don’t you think I know that? How do you expect this will go over? How could you do this?”

             ‘ how could i do anything else? how could i rest knowing what you had become? ‘ all she had ever wanted was for him to be a good man, for her son to grow to be kind and compassionate, a leader who would take care of his people. when she had gone to him that stormy night, he had been the opposite of everything she had hoped for him. she had asked for the strength to save him, and, no matter how much he might hate her, he had been saved.

[mcgicmade-blog]

bcastmade:

All these years he believed it was a stranger who had caused his grief, so the pain that emerged after discovering it had been his mother was unbearable. Of course her death had brought his life down an endless spiral towards self destruction yet it would seem she knew this all along. He had not spoken to Belle about the revelation, and thought it too dark to begin their relationship with.

“You’re right, you’re not welcomed here.”

           despite the change that belle had brought about in him, there was still the spark of his father in him. she did not begrudge him that. it would keep him safe at court. ‘ and after i depart you may never need lay eyes on me again. ‘ and yet there was hesitance, the pushing back of tears. she would never see her son again, never see him become king or raise his own children. but he was happy, and her presence would ruin that. ‘ i just wanted to tell you-- cherish her. she is more rare than you can even imagine. ‘

[mcgicmade-blog]

@bcastmade didn’t ask for this and yet

             she new she was no longer welcome here, that she had not been since the moment she revealed herself as an enchantress. and yet watching her son in torment year after year had not been enough punishment for what she had done, for what she allowed him to become. and yet, she could not depart without speaking to him just one last time. ‘ i know i am not welcome, and i will depart within the hour. i just wanted to say goodbye. ‘

[mcgicmade-blog]

fctemade:

                  SHE CERTAINLY JUMPED to wild –– though truthful –– conclusions quickly. René schooled his face past the surprise and instead offered an inscrutably-confused glance her way. “Belle?” he repeated. “End all WHAT?” He looked around the castle, wondering if this had been the curse. The magic which had seeped into his bones… but his grand-mére hadn’t been living for THAT. She had died before his father had been cursed and magic had come to their castle. And though he often walked through time without much rhyme, he couldn’t believe that his grandmother did so as well. She had no REASON to. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I think it’s time I went.” He bowed, waiting as he had seen other villagers do, to be excused, wondering how STRANGE it was for the prince to ask his departed grandmother to take leave from his own castle. He had stopped thinking about his walks through time too seriously for that reason: he could feel the prickling of a headache work its way behind his eyes. 

           a rare anger rose like a wave, magic following like an obedient pet too thirsty for pain. that was what magic was. it was not kindness, it not lend itself to mercy or good-intentions easily. it lit her skin, thought not like the brilliant star of the night her son and truly shown how he had taken after his father. this was a glow, could almost be described as a pretty thing if not for the near-snarl forming on her lips. ‘ do not LIE to me. i have waited far too long for any hope that he could be saved. if you are maurice’s grandchild and then you are his daughter’s son, and that girl does not have eyes that match my son’s. nor does anyone in that village have any trace of the magic i can feel from you. ‘ it was desperation that fueled her anger, the frantic hope that her son could find some sort of happiness. ‘ tell me the truth. ‘

[mcgicmade-blog]

fctemade:

                 “I DO LIVE in the village,” he said with no small amount of force, his ( and his father’s ) temper flaring for one hot moment. “My mother’s father is an inventor there.” He wasn’t certain if Grand-Pére Maurice had moved to the quiet village yet, but he WOUD. He supposed that a half-truth was not too grievous of a sin when magic could twist his words into something far more sinister. He remembered who he was speaking to, and bit his lip before he ended up in his own father’s dungeon. He looked away, frowning in consternation. He had been PULLED FROM TIME before… it had happened since he was young. He had not, however, run into his own family prior. He had glimpsed a very young version of his father –– a sight to behold the likes of which portraits could not compare –– but had always managed to slip away, hiding until he finally returned. THIS WAS DIFFERENT. This was his grand-mére. He wanted to know her as he had never been allowed to, but claiming that magic had seeped into him and he could not CONTROL it had never been something he had learned to explain in any manner that made sense. 

           ‘ there is only one inventor in that village and he certainly does not have any-- ‘ she stopped, thinking of the kindly inventor and his daughter that had moved to the village only weeks before. his daughter. her name, belle. by village standards she was odd, but she had a kindness that so closely matched that quality that lied buried in her son. ‘ is it belle, then? does she end all of this? ‘ her hand gestured vaguely to the ruined facade of the once beautiful castle, the crumbling statues and cold snow. would she usher in spring once more? ‘ does she save him? ‘ there was so little time left, the layers of petals beneath the glass growing thicker with each day. she had almost given up hope that he could be saved.

[mcgicmade-blog]

fctemade:

                HE DEARLY HOPED that he had the time figured out almost right, and that his grand-mére had been married to his grand-pére by this time. She looked just around when the painting had been done–– the portrait which had been commissioned only a year prior to her death –– and so he bowed at the waist. “Your Majesty,” he said, looking up at the castle walls. It seemed darker than it had only moments ago. He hoped his mother wouldn’t worry too ardently… he hoped his father would understand if he returned after the meeting they were meant to have. “I live in the village down the hill. I was only looking.”

           your majesty. it had been so long since any had referred to her as such. after all, the last queen died decades earlier. yes, now she knew there was something dreadfully wrong here. he recognized her, to start with. and he still believed she was queen. this was not part of her curse. this was something altogether different. the enchantress looked him over once more and, ah, yes, there it was. his eyes. not just in color, but in shape. adam. it was like a reflection of her son. it couldn’t-- could it. a ticking clock, a distorted reflection, a cloak of magic. ‘ you have never lived in that village. who are you? ‘

[mcgicmade-blog]

fctemade:

                 BEING PULLED FROM wherever –– whenever –– he was had never been pleasant or painless. He grunted, pulling in a greedy breath of air as the feeling of having everything constrict around him gave way. After a long moment, his eyes adjusted, and he looked into the eyes he had memorized from a painting in his childhood home. His Grand-Mére. “Merde,” he whispered, jaw slacking for half a moment before he cleared his throat. He bit his tongue, wanting to retort that he was the HEIR TO THE CASTLE and was meant to be there every bit as much as anyone, but he had to remind himself that if his grand-mére was living, then he was not yet heir. “Désolé…” he said, finding himself, for the first time, bereft of any explanation or words. DIEU, she was lovely.

           there was something, there, in his eyes, something that was familiar even if she could not place exactly what it was. what sort of magic was he wrapped in? she could not identify it, and yet it left a sound echoing in her ears, as if a ticking clock was placed only just behind her. ‘ speak up boy. why have you come here? ‘ the cursed on the castle was a strong one, enough to make husbands forget their wives. so how had the ticking boy come upon this place? what had brought him here?

[mcgicmade-blog]

@xcapableof

              she had made an effort to be quite ordinary in this town. after all, oddity stood out, and that was perhaps the last thing she wished to do. she had taken noticed of him, though, the boy they called odd just for being different than they were, for being kind. he was, in fact, her favorite inhabitant of the village. ‘ and where have you run off to today? ‘

[mcgicmade-blog]

@fctemade

           she was an enchantress now, beholder of powerful magic. and yet, above all magic in the world was a mother’s love for her son. she had cursed him, but it was her duty to protect him. and so this boy, cloaked in magic, appearing at the cursed castle, it put her on edge. ‘ you are not meant to be here. ‘

[mcgicmade-blog]

@stillnotfree

           she knew she was not welcome here, that her son must hate her for what she had forced him to endure. and yet, she had to speak to belle, to the woman who saved her precious son. if she was expelled from the castle after that, she would live happily knowing that the goodness in adam had finally been uncovered. ‘ belle, i wondered if i could have a word with you. ‘

[mcgicmade-blog]

S T A R T E R call

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sybil in her riding uniform

[mcgicmade-blog]

- You won’t mind burning your bridges? - Mind? Fetch me the matches! (requested by monlaage)