#Halcyon Castle

[tairanopara]

WhAT IS THIS

[phantomfirefly]

I’m painting the very large spider thing that has haunted me the entire time leading up to it; ff14 art (and art sent to me by my buddies) is keeping me duct taped together. On a soul level. I don’t post much anymore because it feels like screaming into a void rather than connecting with people. I did this class for like three years (with a group i started doing classes on and off again a decade ago. I never went to art school so it is my formal education) and I could NOT manage to connect with people. I don’t know if it’s just how quiet I am (weird maybe?) but, except for one burgeoning friendship (fingers crossed it does not fade into the sunset) I just didn’t interest people and neither did my work. I mean that my art, for everyone, was always just… strangely constructed or at best “ambitious” (which is the nice way of saying it’s way beyond what I can pull off). Other people were making comics or animation bibles or picture books and I was just stuck making another portfolio piece that was too weird. The hard part here is that they were right… idk I try to embrace some of the off the wall elements and let my art directors tell me to cool my jets and and put things more normally on the thirds or not turn dragons into pugs. I couldn’t bring in my work work for games because i can’t do all the stuff that my teacher wants if the client wants me to do something different. Anyway with the kids home I wrapped up my year, which ended at the same time my kids were home from summer and stopped going to class to keep the kids from demolishing the house. This isn’t going well. BUT they thought I was supposed to go for longer. At first I think they mean my year didn’t end in may, that I have some semester left; no they wanted me to go on for a whole entire new year, which apparently is 1000 dollars and they send me another subscription link. It’s a whole back and forth and they are super mad because they reserved this spot for a whole year just for me, and said they refused students for me an everything— so now these almost friends, and my mentor, and everyone involved in my formal art education has turned into a timeshare? With a harsher penalty than adobe has of canceling Photoshop? Anyway the spider has grounded Grim in this picture and she’s going to need her healer who has a macro that yells about an UwU fuzzy paw to rez her. I’m pretty sure that one is Doc or maybe Irene.

[catella-ars]

Ranger Warren is actually the first listener I designed, with their choppy haircut originally being the result of a 2 AM freakout (we’ve all been there.) Then I decided a mullet would be fun, then the choppy haircut became the result of/necessitated by the events of That Thursday.

Second time wearing Claire’s shirt

Knight is a nerd who would like their loved ones to stop wandering off without them.

Beautiful is a nerd who would just like to have a break from scary visions/dreams.

Sugar is a slut and a simp (affectionate) and they’re endlessly pleased that Miss Liza tolerates them (barely) and occasionally almost flirts back.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The First Fairy Tale

ahdbalidbaidf I'M SUCH A SUCKER FOR UNREQUITED KNIGHT X PRINCESS STUFF (even if it's not clear whether or not Lilia's crush persisted beyond childhood in canon) SO. I'M WRITING THIS… 😭This fic is purposefully ambiguous about the type of love Lilia feels in the end for Meleanor. It’s up to the reader to interpret it as they please. This piece was inspired the story of Madame Red from Black Butler. You don't need to know either to enjoy, but if you do happen to know them then I think you'll appreciate it more. There’s also some references to a few Disney films besides Sleeping Beauty—can you find which ones? I also purposefully repeated some phrases and blended a few references together to give the fic a “dream-like”/deja vu feeling. There was going to be a wedding scene opening with “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky” in reference to We Don’t Talk About Bruno, but I had to cut that since the fic was getting long. Even without that and some other cut scenes, I think this is the longest fic I’ve written before. It’s almost 8k words!!

... Do you remember? I told my first fairy tale to you, my most beloved. ***Spoilers for book 7 part 5 of the main story!***

Imagine this...

In a castle forgotten by time, a lone figure walked among the creeping thorns. The plants swallowed the grounds, yet he moved swiftly and stealthily, passing over briar as easily as water over stone. Not a single movement was wasted as he traversed the brambled floors.

His ponytail—black streaked with red—fell in his path, the slight whip of it the only trace of his presence. He had traded his battle armor of old for plainclothes long ago, but still hadn’t filled into them yet. To shed the life of a general for that of a civilian was no simple task.

The small, doughy creature pressed against his shoulder sleepily lifted its head. Upon the infant’s crown was a cap of shockingly silver hair, the same color as moonlight. The boy thrusted a pudgy hand into his cheek, delivering a soft pap to the hardened veteran.

“Tch…!” Lilia pulled away brusquely. “Troublesome little creature, aren’t you? Hold still. We’d have made it out of here by now if only you weren’t so…”

Weak, defenseless, frail, vulnerable.

An array of potential words rose to fill in the gap. He settled on the least abrasive one he could muster.

Something cute.

Children like cute, right…? Right.

“… squishy.”

The infant—no, Silver, he corrected himself—seemed curious about the response, staring up with sudden interest. Lilia’s skin prickled at the sensation. He averted his eyes to an interior that had seen better days.

Once a shining jewel to house the crown princess, Wild Rose Castle was abandoned now. The thorns had invaded, climbing the walls and digging themselves into every nook and crevice. Furniture and weapons devoured, flags and tapestries consumed, meeting a similar fate as the nation that had once proudly flew them.

Ruins entombing stolen time.

What had once been a palace teeming with history, with life, was left a barren wasteland. All that remained were shadows of the past which clung thickly to the thorns. One misstep, and they would cut into him, bringing both pain and searing hot memories.

Funny, that: how the natural forces were unrelenting and indiscriminate. Yet the trace of an enchantment in the air suggested otherwise, its telltale tingle palpable. He knew the bramble had come from magical means.

A fairy's spell lingered. Some bygone blessing or curse, told in the tattered remains of a hazy vision and a wish for more halcyon days. Parents wanting to spare their child from the horrors of war.

Lilia's grip on Silver subconsciously tightened.

What rotten luck. I return after all this time to pay my respects, only to find Wild Rose Castle in this sorry state. How the mighty fall.

Silver fidgeted in his arms, as if sensing that something was off. A bit of saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth, a soft whine gurgling up.

“You’re fussing again already?” Lilia frowned. He awkwardly laid a hand on the infant’s back. Are all infants this incorrigible? "The journey will be a long one if you aren't able to settle."

The infant turned its head, his cheek fitting neatly into Lilia's palm. There was a coo, then a sigh of contentment.

Still shaking off the sleepiness.

"... You're so needy," Lilia grumbled, noting the drool wetting his skin. Silver blinked at him with large, iridescent orbs. "I don't understand. Do people actually find this endearing? To find such joy in raising their young is..."

He hesitated to finish his sentence.

What did a man like him have to say on the matter? Long-lived as he was, that kind of love was something he had ever experienced for himself.

A gentle, warm hand to guide him through the darkness. The love of a parent.

Yet here I am, a loveless fae robbing a baby from its cradle. Just as the humans believe we do.

What irony.

Sadness nipped at Lilia as his thoughts turned to Silver. If anything, the little one had more power to shape the world around it than he ever could.

It was for this sort of creature that the Dawn Knight made a prayer for the future. It was for this sort of creature that Baul's rigid heart shifted. It was for this sort of creature that she...!!

Lilia's fingers had clenched into a vice grip on Silver. The infant cried out, squirming uncomfortably in his new guardian's grasp.

"Shoot...!! Er... there, there. It will be alright."

He clumsily rocked the baby back and forth. It was too vigorous, for Silver bursted into tears. His wails echoed off the desolate walls of the castle, piercing loud in Lilia's ears.

The fae jerked back, holding Silver at a safe distance from him. His grasp, precarious.

This is proving to be much more challenging than I initially thought... H-How do I silence it?!

Lilia glanced around helplessly at his surroundings. Everything was encased in a cage of thorns: antiques, drapes, even the axes mounted for decoration—to liven up the room. They were impossible for him to reach, else he could swing them around to amuse the boy.

Pieces of the past far out of his reach.

It’s not an option. A human babe is not like a fae babe. Lilia’s head swarmed with stress, Silver’s sobs only multiplying his worries. What do I do? What… would she do?

Meleanor…

The name of his princess emerged. Along with it, a scene blossoming in sepia shades.

Her, in a regal black gown and dripping in green gemstones and finery. Him, in a general's armor. A princess and her knight, straight out of a fairy tale.

She was humming while caressing a large egg, a marbled violet flecked with green, dark webbing laced the shell. It conformed perfectly to her chest, pulsating with a strange warmth as she ran taloned fingers over it. Another role she had adopted: mother.

A low chuckle rose from the back of her throat. "Fufufu Look, Malleus. Our dear Lilia has taken the time out of his busy schedule to come pay us a visit."

"It's been quite some time since I last heard you giggle like a schoolgirl. Nice to know that you remain in good spirits." He arched an eyebrow. "... But since when did you decide to name the child? I thought the medical mages hadn't even determined a gender for your heir yet."

"Oh, some time ago," she replied flippantly. Meleanor was always like a storm, unpredictable and acting on her own whims. "I don't need anyone to tell me what my child will be. I already know... my Malleus will grow up to be an upstanding, beautiful man just like my Raverne."

She had a dreamy, faraway look on her face. A slight blush to her high cheeks, a shine to her eyes, a kind smile at her lips. Completely unlike her, the tomboy who snuck out of the castle unsupervised and caused trouble for all the servants.

So utterly smitten.

For that moment and that moment alone, Lilia would have believed her a patient princess awaiting a knight in shining armor's rescue. Not him, but her beloved.

Raverne.

He had to bite back a terse laugh, mask it with a joke. "Your Raverne? Hold on now, you've got to share him with the rest of us. We'd simply crumble without his wisdom."

"I don't intend to share what's rightfully mine.” A teasing smirk he knew well had found its way onto her pert mouth again. “I'm a very possessive woman.”

"As I’m well aware. Alas, I serve such a cruel mistress of evil.”

She chuckled, resting a hand on her egg. "... When Raverne returns, we shall arrange for tea. The two of you can regale me with the stories of your journeys. It gets to be so dull trapped in these castle walls. Oh, and of course, Malleus will be joining us. He has yet to experience our cozy little get-togethers.”

Their group. Their trio. The three of them. And now a new member. An expansion of the family unit—no, rather, the realization that something didn’t belong among them.

His heartbeat quickened.

"There you go again, making rash requests of me. You really ought to be more considerate of others. I came all this way out of the goodness of my heart, only for you to bark more orders at me. Don't I get to take a break?"

"I am being considerate," she insisted. "I'm considering Malleus. He is invited. You cannot uninvite him."

"That's not the point. Agh, what am I going to do with you?" Lilia ran a hand through his hair. The frustration was familiar—but so was the fondness that chased it.

“My, my. Such insolence. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a long, looong time. You should be less stubborn and more kind to your princess,” she purred, her words touched with dry sarcasm. “Isn’t that right, Malleus?”

“I’m too kind to you. Too patient as well,” Lilia sighed. “… It’s you who is headstrong.”

“I must be. I have a country and now a family behind me. A scorned mother’s rage is insurmountable, you know.”

He should have said something back. Played into their usual banter. But he didn’t—couldn’t bring himself to. Lilia looked away quickly, but not quite quickly enough.

“Oh? What nerve you have to avoid the gaze of your princess.” She dropped her playful tone. “Something weighs heavy on your mind.”

“… I can never hide anything from you, can I?”

“You will inform me at once.”

“So you can obliterate what ails me?”

“So that I may put you at ease." She lifted a hand, gesturing toward him. "That is the duty of a queen to her people… and, more importantly, of a friend to another."

Friend.

It stung right down to his bones, hurting more than a blast of righteous lightning. A reminder of what he was: a footnote, a supporting cast member in her grand story. Without that, he was nothing.

An outcast.

His stomach clenched. He forced down a bitter pill and spoke.

"I was just wondering what it must feel like to be in your position, Meleanor-sama," Lilia whispered. "Mother to a nation, and to a child. To wholly devote oneself to the service of others... I will never know what that is like."

At this, she laughed darkly. "I am strong. I have to be, because I have people to protect. You have that strength as well. You wouldn't be able to serve as one of my generals without it. There are just some things in this world worth risking your life for, hmm?"

"I don't understand. My loyalty will always lie with you, with Briar Country... but for a child, I cannot...!!" Lilia stopped himself, reining his emotions back to calm. "I've never known how that kind of love feels. I'm not capable of it."

Meleanor narrowed her eyes as she listened to his woes. Unwise men would think her contemplative. He knew better—she was scheming.

"... Let me tell you a secret, Lilia," she said at last. "A dragon's egg needs its parents' love to hatch. However, true love is a special spell. It's more powerful than any magic, and able to be cast by anyone. If you are able to protect me, then that alone is proof enough that you are capable of 'true love'."

"You make it sound so simple, but is it really like that? The children of man say that fae cannot tell an untruth, yet you so expertly reassure me with lies."

"You're questioning me? Laughable. I am a woman of my honor, unlike you with all your tall tales."

"They're not tall tales. They're real stories of the danger I was in. Danger that, mind you, I got in half the time on behalf of your demands."

"Is that so?" Meleanor had smiled at him then, her teeth gleaming in the dim candlelight. Long lashes fluttering against the emeralds of her eyes. "Then you wouldn't mind sharing a story or two with Malleus."

Lilia bristled at the thought, an old wound reopened. There was a burst of relief that accompanied the dull pain.

I can't sing her lullabies. I don't have her strength either. No partner to speak of, no family to look to. What I do have is...

He pressed Silver into him, keeping a hand rested reassuringly on the infant's upper back. Muffled cries and a warm wetness pooled on Lilia's shoulder. His steps slowed, coming to a steady pace.

The first words were the most difficult to get out.

"... Once upon a time, there was a princess living in this castle." His voice was slow and deep and sorrowful. Not a song, but a longing croon for days he could never return to.

They entered a corridor lined with paintings. The sound of Silver's sobbing funneled into the passage, a greeting to the dour faces of important officials portrayed in each frame. Horned, with raven hair and reptilian eyes, obsidian scales dotting their skin, milky and smooth as wax.

Lilia lowered his head to one as they passed--a woman upon a throne, scepter in hand, her pointed features dappled by moonlight.

"She was many things. Selfish, impetuous, and stubborn… but also brave, strong, and beautiful."

So beautiful.

That had been his first impression of her. A single pale rose amid a garden of thorns.

She was tiny in those days, still trotting about in small, polished heels that clicked with each step, her black dress swishing about. A scaled tail—fluffy at the end--poked out from under there, proof of dragonic heritage. Her long hair was slicked back, proudly displaying a pair of horns and the scales that crowned her forehead.

When she wailed, the skies turned stormy. When she beamed, the sun came out. Her expressions so lively as she spun around in her skirts, the fabric unfurling like the petals of a blossoming flower.

A princess both adored and feared by her people.

"She befriended an unruly ragamuffin.” Lilia's lips quirked, unable to fight them from tugging up. “He was without loved ones, so the princess extended a hand to him."

Lilia had stolen glances at her when he was convinced she was distracted. During royal processions, tending to the horses, when they crossed paths in the halls.

He never let himself stare for too long. To do so was nearly a death sentence. The guards would be upon him in an instant—or worse, she would.

But without doubt, she did.

She would look back, letting a telltale grin take shape when their gazes met.

Him, the nobody picked up by the royal family on a whim. A hopeless squire boy, a knight-in-training, a ward.

Him.

She noticed him.

Picking up her skirts, she'd made a beeline over. Grinning like a gremlin, she would inevitably set a tragedy into motion.

"Lilia, I'm sick of studying! Let's play instead."

"What? I don't want to. Besides, I have training to tend to."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. That's an order from your princess, so you can't refuse!"

“And that's the way the story always goes, a princess and her knight." He passed a glance at Silver. The infant's crying had quieted, and he returned the look, eyes wet with wonder.

Lilia sighed. "... I guess you wouldn't know that, would you? Well, it’s not as though she were your average girl.

"A wicked princess, that’s what she was. There was not a day when she wasn't making mischief and pulling the knight into it with her."

She had had many games, not all of them clearly defined or with rules. Sometimes she changed them on the fly. Sometimes she played without guidelines at all.

Pretend escalated into full-scale magical duels. Scavenger hunts spanned the entire castle grounds. They’d race to see who could relieve the gallery of the most apples in the least amount of time, dig through the treasury for the biggest gems.

On particularly lazy days, a roll across the lawn was enough to amuse them. Petals were plucked, sugary honeysuckle trapped between their teeth.

"You have something stuck in your hair," she'd tease him, picking loose petals out. "Let me get that for you, my most loyal retainer."

He'd hold still, as commanded, let her take as long as she wanted tidying him up.

When the guards combed the garden for them, they’d squish into shrubbery and lay low until the coast was clear. Sometimes their lids would grow heavy and collapse—and when they roused, stars had spilled into the sky, and they’d count constellations until the morning.

Starlight dappling her noble face, her fiery spirit ablaze.

How many diplomatic meetings had they crashed? How many ancient items had they broken? How many headaches had they collectively caused?

Lilia chuckled faintly.

… Those were the good old days.

He continued down the path laid before him, the paintings seemingly chugging along in slow succession. Both people and time passing him by.

"There was another as well. A clever, kind-hearted duke who also warmed up to the knight. The three of them formed a most formidable group.”

“Are you two at it again? You never stop, do you?”

The voice came from the top of the stairwell.

"Raverne. So good of you to join us," Meleanor said breathlessly—she had been running about. She slicked back a strand of glossy raven hair and beamed toothily. It wasn't the smile of a princess, but of a dragon yet to be tamed.

He quirked a brow. "Am I joining you? Whoever said that?"

“If you’re jealous, no need to play coy," she teased as the Dragon Duke descended the stairs. "You’re welcome to join us anytime.”

"The princess has already roped me into her antics," Lilia sighed. "Why not make it a party of three? We can all get scolded together later. Misery loves company."

"A tempting offer." Raverne lazily tilted his head to one side. He always had a languid way of moving, like a curtain of night veiling the day. "I think you've got me convinced."

"Why did you agree when Lilia asked and not when your princess did?" Meleanor demanded, stomping a foot.

Raverne shrugged. Effortless, defiant. "Perhaps you're not as charming as you think you are."

Any other person would have faced her wrath. Anyone else would have been forced to tango with lightning.

Not Raverne. He was too hard to stay mad at, and too easy to forgive. His presence alone smoothed over tensions, settled storms.

“He’s a dreamer,” the dusty old court advisors would remark with disdain.

“He’s a dreamer,” Lilia would say, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“He’s a dreamer,” Meleanor would sigh, the stars in her eyes.

Now, she just smirked at him. "I'll have to demonstrate to you just how charming I can be."

She had looked at Raverne differently in that instant. Her eyes did not glint at the sight of new prey to toy with, but with keen interest. There was something else too, an undercurrent of some tender feeling Lilia couldn't quite place.

Meleanor had never looked at Lilia like that.

Only Raverne.

He shook his head.

I should have known then... I was fighting a losing battle.

"With time, they grew ever closer. Unexpected feelings arose. The knight came to love the princess.” Lilia's feet came down upon the bramble that knitted over the floor. He could not feel it through his boots, but it felt as though he was still being pierced in the chest.

Silver blinked as Lilia plodded along. The gentle rise and fall drying his tears.

It had been a heady spring day, another escapade dodging servants and sneaking beyond the gardens. The flowers had blossomed, the same as the princess. She had grown lovelier by the day, her spitfire attitude untempered.

His flower of evil.

They were crossing a brook then, Meleanor lifting up her skirts to float to the other side, Lilia hopping on rocks to cross. He could have flown with her if he tried, but he was feeling cocky, had wanted to shown off the fruits of his training.

One misstep, and Lilia went flying forward, crashing into her. Their bodies collapsed against one another's as they roll, roll, rolled into a field, blades of grass and stray petals collecting on them. When they at last came to a stop, they laid on their lacks and laughed until their lungs hurt.

Lilia had stared at her again. Her smile, a powerful spell. She caught him in the act, demanded what he was looking at.

"You have something stuck in your hair," Lilia told her as they sat up. "Let me get that for you, my most benevolent princess."

"Stop stealing my lines," she giggled back.

Only if you stop stealing my heart first, he thought. But Meleanor was selfish, and once she had claimed something as her own, she refused to return her new treasure.

Lilia reached--and produced a single white daisy between his fingers. Kneeling, he offered the token to her. "Here. For you."

"Prankster. You planted that so you could appear impressive," Meleanor chuckled, accepting it. "... However, the gesture is sweet, so I thank you for it."

She held the flower to her nose and inhaled its scent. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, lips brushing the velvet-soft petals of the daisy. Wind weaving its hands through jet back hair, spots of sunshine dancing across her.

The entire universe was conspiring against him, it seemed.

He remained kneeling, remembering his place. Him, the knight. Her, the princess. But if that was the case, then weren't they perfectly suited for a fairy tale?

Lilia steeled his courage and let the words he had been holding in all that time loose. "M-Meleanor-sama! I... I like you. Not just as a friend. More than that. P-Please accept my feelings!"

Rare surprise dashed her beauty. A crack of light, dawn chasing away the darkness. “Lilia...?"

Here was his weakness, more terrifying than any enemy their country had faced. One young lady, and he folded like a paper crane. His heart in her hands.

And she squeezed.

"I'm not sure if I enjoy this joke. What we had before... I liked that."

More delicate than he had ever heard her speak. Like she was afraid of breaking this.

"This isn't a joke. I'm... I'm serious about you! Please answer me!!" he pleaded. "Will you be mine?"

At once, her face fell. The daisy, and his heart, slipped from her grasp.

"Oh, Lilia," she whispered, a hand clamped over her mouth. "I'm sorry. So, so, sorry."

A resounding rejection, chased by a dreadful loneliness. It had been nothing like the storybooks had promised. Lilia almost wanted to weep at his juvenile naivete.

He hushed, the awareness of it all consuming him.

So this is love.

Love, and the lack of it. How it hurt him so, as it had from had the start. He was always alone, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with.

Was that really love then?

The thought struck him like a fist to the gut.

I thought I loved you. But maybe that wasn’t true love. Maybe I was desperate to be loved back. To have someone to call my own, when I had no one at all before. Maybe I clung to the first person that showed the slightest bit of attention to me.

Even so, my heart ached for you. Longed for you. Believed it was meant to be. Dreamt of you. I wanted to give you my everything.

Lilia tucked the infant’s cheek to his chest. Felt the child’s warmth, his physical presence. The steady drum of something buried deep in him.

There was a wobbly yawn in the silence. Silver, tuckered out from crying, awaited the next part of the story.

The breath Lilia held released. The words, painful as they dropped from his lips.

“But she had eyes for another: the duke. The knight watched as his two best friends fell in love.” Lilia’s nails dug into the cloth that swaddled Silver. “The princess and the duke were happy, so the knight, too, was happy. And why wouldn’t he be? The woman he loved the most was going to marry the man he loved the most. It was a happy ending for the trio."

He had been summoned by the princess that fateful day. Returning triumphant from the battlefield, adrenaline running high, he hadn’t even bothered to make himself presentable first. His hair was a mess, his armor stained with the remains of slain foes.

She waited for him beyond the door.

“Melea… Oh.”

His princess was seated beside Raverne. She clung to his arm like a vine on a trellis, beaming like the moon on a cloudless night. Meleanor was drunk on the Dragon Duke.

He had never seen her so happy.

“Lilia! You’re here at last,” she called, waving him over. “Just in time.”

He glanced from her to Raverne. “In time for what?”

“For our exciting announcement.” Meleanor wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she gazed adoringly at the man beside her. Somewhat shy. “Would you like to tell him? Or should I? Ooh, this is quite exciting."

Raverne smiled softly—but Lilia could sense the slight discomfort in his eyes, the way they darted to his. Guilty acknowledgement, an awareness of betrayal.

I'm sorry, he seemed to say.

Lilia’s blood ran cold.

“I think you ought to tell him,” Raverne suggested. His voice was gentle, but they felt like a slash to the throat, cutting deep.

Then Meleanor announced it, unable to contain the secret any longer. "We're getting married!!"

She showed her left hand. The flash of the silver band upon her fourth finger was unmistakable. A ring, binding them with a promise.

Together forever, those two.

Lilia’s world violently tilted. The castle crumbling, the sky collapsing around him. Yet he, the trained soldier, dug his feet in and stood his ground.

You've been bested. Admit it. Admit defeat...!!

He said the only word he could.

"Congratulations."

Lilia could make out the light at the other end of the tunnel now. The world beyond the walls and castle corridors. He knew the end of the story was fast approaching, and how it would sap his strength, his will to fight on.

Still, he continued.

“The new couple were soon expecting a baby. Someone much like yourself.” Lilia prodded at Silver’s flabby chin. “You’ll be graced with his presence soon enough. The princess’s legacy, Malleus Draconia… My responsibility these past 160 years.”

Silver gurgled.

“So enthusiastic. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Lilia softly chided. “We fae and humans…”

… can never hope to understand each other.

"We fae and humans can understand each other," Raverne would have countered him. "We can make it a reality."

Tiny hands wrapped around Lilia’s finger. His touch, fragile.

You can afford to be hopeful. It drew a bitter chuckle from his handler. Brief reprieve before the plummet into something deeper and darker than the night that guarded them.

“… In a period of great unrest, the duke went missing. The princess was beside herself with worry—yet she remained stalwart for her people, and for their child. She wished every night for her husband to come home safely.”

They had magical might, but the humans had numbers. Each battle, an exchange of hard blows, casualties high on both sides. Reports rolled in as frequently as bodies did.

The people grew concerned, and so she had donned her mask to reassure them. Stoney faced and strong atop her tower.

“We will recover the missing couriers. We will secure our land and resources. We will beat back the outsiders. Briar Country will rise victorious in the war. Man will rue the day they came upon our shores. This, I swear to you as your princess!!”

Uproarious cheering and applause for her, their sovereign. A goddess of victory.

But he, watching from the shadows, knew better than that. All those years roughhousing with her, and he knew.

The face she showed the public and the face she made in private were two sides of the same card. Princess, mother, wife, friend. So many roles, all of them she played with such strength.

Meleanor only slipped when she thought no eyes were on her. When the servants had all retired for the night, and the moon and its stars came out.

Pressing his back to the wall, Lilia shielded his candle’s small circle of light from view. The hallway was drenched in darkness again.

A few paces away, her chambers to which she retreated every evening with her egg. With her dear little Malleus.

He listened.

Soft whimpers sounded from the abyss. Sounds and sights she would not dare show her people.

A leader such as she could not afford to be weak. The same leader who clutched her child to her and furiously prayed for a happy ending.

“Raverne, where are you? Come home… Come home, you idiotic, idealistic man!!”

CRASH!! BANG!! BOOM!!

Lightning lit up the sky. Lilia's flame trembled before righting itself.

Her voice dropped to a devious coo. "... I'm sorry, Malleus. Did that scare you? There, there. It's alright, your mother is here. Your father will be too... and when he does, I shall give him an earful for being away for so long!!"

He listened, for he was the only one who could. He listened until his lids began to droops. He listened until he had to tear himself away.

Before he knocked upon her door. Before he could tell her he was here, to please let him in. Before he could confess, “I miss him too.”

Hold her. Cry with her. Dream with her.

Ask for Raverne back.

“I will never wish for anything more than this. Please. Please…!!”

He had listened then, but no one had listened to him in return. Not even the stars.

Cruel celestial beings, he cursed—if they would not grant his wish, then he would take matters into his own hands.

Raverne…!!

Lilia swallowed thickly. His footfalls had grown heavy, as if weighed down by cinder blocks.

Silver sleepily gummed his finger. Oblivious as to what was to come.

“The conflict escalated.”

It had all happened so fast. Flying by, a blur. Time was not a concern to most fae—a year was barely the blink of an eye. Everything blending together into an indiscernible mush, taken down with ease.

But war never became more palatable. He had simply trained to become numb to it all. The strong smell of iron, the corpses piled high. It was sensory overload, the taste of too many things at once.

A crimson-eyed demon stood at the boundary of a burning village. Inhaled the fumes, smoke and flesh wrapped in fire. Witnessed the leaping flames stretching to the sky.

Who had lived here? Who had died here? Lilia thought of neither.

Had to, or he would fall to his knees and wail.

He held a small cloth doll, long black hair and red dress. Somehow it had survived the carnage. The lone survivor of a massacre. The rest had been slaughtered or evacuated from the area.

Abandoned, just as he had been.

His gaze lidded, fingers closing around the doll. "… As if it were a day. Everywhere I go, it will be in a blink of an eye. Far Cry Cradle.”

Memories arose, pulled by the strings of magic. They exploded across his vision like fireworks. Tinted green and blue and pink.

There was a ghostly child walking among the ruins, smiling as they clung to their mother, doll in their other hand. Daily life making the rounds in the village, helping with chores and playing games. Story events on fast forward.

Then came the knights stomping in their silver suits, masked fae cloaked in black. Buildings caving in, bodies falling, the clang of weapons colliding.

Screams.

Red, red, so much red.

The child horrified, dropping the doll. Staggering steps backward.

He barely cast an eye at them. Surveying the scene straight out of a hellish dream, he sought out a familiar shadow. Had he walked among them, seen the same things he had?

To no avail.

Lilia blinked, and it was the end.

He had not treaded along this path.

“… Damn it, Raverne.” He gripped the doll harder—as if to squeeze out its secrets. Making me hunt you down like this...

“General Vanrouge.”

Lilia did not turn. “Baul.”

“Sir.” He saluted to his superior. “The troops are rested. We are prepared for the final march to the Eastern Fortress.”

“… Yes, I understand. Let’s move out.”

He let the doll fall to the ground. His hands now freed, he pulled his hood up.

“General?” Baul called tentatively.

“The weather is chilly today, don’t you think?” The question, dismissive. Lilia slipped his mask back on—a beastly bat, glaring, teeth protruding.

His tears hidden from view.

Baul nodded. “… Yes, it is. I will remind the men to bundle up, sir.”

He looked away. “Good.”

Lilia firmly set his jaw. “War came knocking at their door, claiming many lives… and threatening to take the princess and her child too.”

There was something automatically off about the fortress when they slipped in. The infiltration too smooth, the corridors too quiet.

Combing the building yielded few results. There was no Raverne, no Dawn Knight. Only cowering staff and scattered humans in iron armor piloting sputtering metal monstrosities.

He cut them down the same as the rest. A mad boar, seeking a true challenge.

"Where are you?! Show yourself...!!" Lilia's demands were hollow in the empty hallways.

A demon snarling for sacrifice, the humans called him. A heartbroken dreamer, seeking the love that he had lost, his troops would whisper amongst themselves.

They found him at the end of a trail of carnage. Panting, sweating, hoarse. The lines between man and monster converged in Lilia Vanrouge.

Then the message was delivered, striking fear into the fearless fae.

"... What?"

The weapon in his hand faltered as realization ripped through him.

“Wild Rose Castle is under siege?!”

"She summoned her knight to her side.” Lilia’s voice quivered, growing small. You’re weak, he snarled at himself, so very, very weak.

Silver, too, seemed to sense the shift in him. He rubbed his cheek against the fae’s finger. Was he trying to comfort himself, or his newfound caretaker?

“The princess asked of him to take her child to safety somewhere far, far away. To forget her. It was her final selfish request for him.”

He had found her seated upon her throne, one arm curled around her precious egg, the other grasping her scepter. It was a sight so familiar, so safe, his chest lifted with relief. Lilia ran to her, calling her name.

"Meleanor-sama!!"

Her arm swept out in an arc, face twisted with fury. On command, a bolt of lightning crashed down in his path.

"Tch...!"

Tucking and rolling, Lilia darted off to the side, narrowly dodging the strike. Where he had once been was a massive scorch mark on the tiled floor.

“You’re LATE, Lilia!!” Meleanor roared. "What if something had happened to me or Malleus before you had arrived?!"

"Hah. As though you would allow that to happen," he scoffed. "You would kill the Silver Owls dead if I weren't here to stop you."

It was their usual game, a playful chase, the exchange of pokes and prods. Today, Meleanor had no such humor. Her expression turned from rage to one of eerie calm.

Lilia shivered.

"They've come for us," she whispered, hugging her egg tightly.

They had always known this day was a possibility. Now it was here, so palpable it was unreal.

From the bridge that ran to the castle came ugly chants twisted with hatred. Hot, oppressive, heavy. The sound like smoke snuffing out the daylight.

“Kill the witch!”

“Seize the castle!”

“Bring me the spoils!”

Horror raced through him.

“Let’s get you to safety, princess. Quickly, before they breach the drawbridge. My men can only hold them off for so long—”

She rose from her throne, descending from her dais. Her stride was not urgent, not eager to flee—the pace closer to the kind one might set for a garden stroll.

Meleanor faced her knight with a small smile. The same one she offered right before suggesting some sort of mischief.

“Lilia.”

“Princess…?”

“I refuse to run.” Her eyes flickered like green fire. “I will stand and fight.”

Panic pulsed in his ears.

“What?! Of all the foolish, hard-headed decisions you’ve made… This is absolutely the most foolish and the most hard-headed one!! I won’t let you go out there. I can’t. You’ll be…!”

A fist closed around his throat. The word died there, half-formed.

“What is it that you wish to say? That I will be hurt? Killed?” Meleanor challenged. So steadfast, so brazen. “You think so little of your princess.”

“This is NOT the time to argue the technicalities!! We need you safe and well, Meleanor-sama. Think of your people! Think of Raverne, your child...!"

Think of me.

She bared her teeth. “What is my power for, if not to protect those I love?”

Her gaze lowered to her egg, then to Lilia. “... You must flee to Black Scale Castle. They will not be able to follow you that deep into the mountain range.”

"I won’t abandon you. If you will stay, then let me fight alongside you as your sword and shield!"

"You have already done plenty for me. Do not mean to play the role of martyr too." Meleanor straightened, looking the part of a regal ruler. “You must go. I have guests to receive.”

"Argh, you stubborn princess!! How will you fight by yourself when you have your child to consider?"

"That," she laughed softly, "is a simple riddle."

His eyes sharpened with recognition of her next scheme. Meleanor wordlessly deposited the egg into Lilia’s arms. It was warm, humming from within the shell.

A life yet to be born, wishes yet to come true.

“I am entrusting you with Malleus,” she murmured sadly. “Please take care of him in his parents' absence."

“Don’t speak that way!!" Lilia snapped.

Don't speak as though we will never meet again, as though this is the final page of our story.

“In the first place, I could never… I can’t raise this child. I don’t know what it is like to love—not the way you and Raverne do. I’ve never had parents. I can’t be one, not when I don’t understand that kind of love!”

Meleanor’s face softened. “But you love me, don’t you? And you love Raverne too.”

He nodded. Slow, hesitant. “We were young. It was a long time ago,” Lilia mumbled.

“You love us,” she grinned, “so surely you are capable of loving our child, the product of our love—and Malleus will feel that. He will respond to you.”

“I’m not…”

“You are deserving of love, Lilia.” This, Meleanor spoke firmly. “Do not let yourself believe otherwise. I shall never forgive you if you do.”

The shouts were growing louder. The castle shuddered, stopped, and shuddered again. Doors being rammed at, forced open.

“Go,” Meleanor hisses. “This is an order from your princess. You cannot refuse.”

She had told that to him many times before. In dreams, in their games. Now, it hurt to hear more than any blow he had taken from battle.

Something in him gave, and instead of stepping away, he stepped forward. Inching closer to the woman out of his reach, but never touching her.

“I’m scared,” Lilia confessed, quiet as snowfall. “What if I lose you like we lost Raverne?”

Then I will be alone again.

“Be not afraid,” she reassured him. Meleanor did not meet him in the eyes.

“Do you promise we will meet again?” he pressed. The egg felt as molten as magma against his armor. “Do you swear?”

BAM!!

The grounds shook—the Silver Owls had successfully taken down a set of barricaded doors.

The cries had reached a fever pitch. Boots trampling upon the sacred grounds. Louder than ever.

Meleanor’s expression darkened, turning grave. It was the look of men at midnight, alone in the woods. Hollow, haunted, unsure of their fate.

No.

“No…!!”

He launched himself at his princess, a hand outstretched for hers. She made no effort to reach for his.

Did not have to.

Lilia fell short, his foot snagging on something. He instinctively twisted his body, shielding the egg in his arms from the floor. His gaze tore to his ankle, where bramble has sprouted up and tangled itself with him.

More thorns crept up around him, swallowing the ceiling, the walls. They latched onto his limbs, dragging him away, away from her. He grunted, struggling against them, against his fate.

Her doing, her magic.

"... Farewell, Lilia."

Tears prickled. His voice raised, pleading with her.

"Meleanor-sama, don't do this.”

She walked past him and ahead, forever out of his grasp.

"Farewell, Malleus."

He tried again, even knowing it was futile.

The bramble was weaving together, forming a tough wall between him and her.

"Meleanor-sama...!"

Through the last opening, a perfect circular window, she uttered her final words to him. That knowing, daring grin. Eyes beholding a gleam brighter than starlight.

"May the Night bless you."

And then she was lost to him forever.

"MELEANOR!!!"

Lilia laid a hand upon the ajar doors to the fallen castle. Fingers curled. At last, he had made it to the frame separating the inside from out.

“... That was the last time the princess was ever heard of. The end to her tragedy.”

He summoned his strength and broke free, entering the waiting night.

The moon, a spotlight for the two.

Silver bristled as he felt his first cool breeze. Still, he did not fully burrow into his blanket—for his glimpse of the stars stilled that instinct. That's right, Lilia thought, of course he would be enchanted. It's his first sky.

Many firsts.

"If you like that, you'll be excited to know that it's always changing. There are a number of new skies to see. It follows us wherever we go."

So we will never be alone.

The sky, so sprawling, so grand. So accustomed to everything and anything.

His small, lonely, insignificant existence was nothing compared to it.

Ah.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, landing on Silver's nose. The infant stilled, feeling the wetness upon his skin.

Lilia furiously wiped it away, then rubbed at his traitorous eyes. The sadness failed to recede, the memories welling. Promises, hopes, dreams dredged up. Yesterdays calling out to him.

"... You lied, Meleanor,” Lilia rasped into the night. “You told me I would be stuck with you for a long time. So why… Why did you have to leave us so soon?”

A thousand swords stabbed into his chest. The pain radiated outward, a bloody bloom.

"It’s not fair," he sobbed, hanging his head. "It’s not fair at all. Meleanor, Raverne… You’ve gone off together to a place I cannot reach, a place I cannot run to. You’ve left me behind. How am I meant to go on like this?”

I'm scared. I’m scared of the dawn and the tomorrows it will bring. Tomorrows without her and him in them. Tomorrows I must face alone.

More tears, plip, plip. A light drizzle upon Silver's face.

The infant stared up through aurora eyes. Not understanding, not knowing anything.

"How could I...”

Lilia’s voice caught on something sharp. He took a trembling gulp.

How could I learn to love you? When your kind, your very father, has taken nearly everything from me?

"... Hey, Silver."

The child cooed, as if in recognition of his own name. More likely, just responding to the sound of Lilia's voice.

Silver, the color of his hair. Silver, the shine of cloud linings. Silver, the start of something new.

"Tell me. What should I do?" Lilia's forehead and his touched.

Silver kicked his bendy little legs at the contact. Flailed his arms.

“Please guide me. I’m lost." He choked up. "I’m… so lost.”

Be the moonlight that guides me in the darkness. When all hope is lost and the stars have gone out, there will always be a silver light illuminating the path out of the black forest.

Show me the way, Silver.

“Show me if I can truly love you from the bottom of my heart.”

Lilia hugged the child to him. Felt his heartbeat, the same throbbing warmth that had radiated from Malleus’s egg.

After all that time alone amid the bramble… He was here. He was alive.

Up until her final moments, she had been thinking of them. Of this. The people she cared for, a baby not yet born.

The love he had let go, the love he had lost, the love he was he had to learn… It slipped away from him so easily, like grains of sand sifting between his fingers.

Lilia sighed with his entire body. The wind, drying his tears. He looked again at the child he had taken.

Silver giggled when he saw Lilia’s face. The boy’s eyes were clear. An unclouded, colorful aurora.

A weight in his chest lifted.

“… Did you enjoy that sad story?”

No answer, but a bop on his nose. Unintentional, he was sure.

Lilia rubbed at the place where he had been struck. There was no wound, no mark. Just a rapidly fading warmth where Silver's small fist had connected.

“… Silly thing,” he groused. In spite of himself, a stuttering chuckle rose from his throat. “If it will keep you from making needless noise, then I will tell you as many stories as you like. You need only promise to not laugh if I shed another tear.”

Silver squealed—close enough of a confirmation for him.

Lilia tried smiling. The corners of his mouth quiver before giving up.

Meleanor’s parting words floated to him. “May the Night bless you.” With that, it was the end of her tale.

The very same words uttered anew, a blessing for the boy once blonde. A fresh chance, the beginning of a new story.

Lilia looked to the horizon.

The first rays of sun were peering through the darkness. Gold streaking black in small slivers. Dawn had arrived.

A new chapter to their fairy tale.

[highschoolluver]

preview of a link x reader fanfic

𝝑𝝔 BOTW/TOTK link x isekai reader 𝝑𝝔

summary: You get isekai'd into the BOTW but something goes wrong lol.

content/trigger warnings: mentions of death, slight body horror, somewhat graphic, mentions of bodily fluids (such as blood), and slight mentions of gore.

word count: 636

Link had been dead for many hours before any of Hyrule had realized the gravity of the situation. The world laid there; it was seemingly unwilling to move as deep shades of vermillion swallowed the sky and the moon whole. 

It was never seen as a possibility nor an outcome that the hero could die. He laid in a halcyon slumber for 100 years, and when he awoke the sun had come twice and the birds sang euphonious praises honeyed with the ambitious and hopes of the world. The land offered its arms and bearings to the man with confidence he would return it to its original state. Strange fruit of his labor blossomed and bloomed with such conviction that everyone did not think to doubt him. The people, as if some strange dry land, soaked in his actions and began to grow crops once again. They had been needed for a future that everyone envisioned once the red devil was defeated. Now, they lay in the blood soaked fields and hold the bodies of the people that once tended to them with such delicacy and pride. 

The entire village fell into a deep slumber. The watchmen and elders were the only men left. The rest of them had all left a week prior when the fallen hero had first been spotted near Hyrule Castle. They left with such hope in their beings. Their conviction carried in their every step, it crawled onto their backs and weary faces, and it led them to their ruin. They would never return to the quaint village of Hateno. You will never see them again.

The only man you had ever truly befriended was Botrick. It had been roughly 2 years since you met Botrick. The two of you became acquainted on the outskirts of Hyrule field where he had found you near the river. His face, which now was mostly a forgotten memory, was scarred with the tale of survival. The boy could have been considered life itself had Hylia ever dared to attempt to contain such a force in a Hylian vessel. His way of being had been created on naive ideals and fueled with the sincerity of a kind heart. He had been a prideful man; However you had never doubted his will to protect others as his position as a watchman. Which is why, in this abandoned memory, you had never felt uneasy with him. Perhaps it had been the fact that a man had not taken care of you in such a long time, or perhaps it was the way he extended his burned hand and softened his gaze at you. He had held you all the way through, when you couldn’t say or think of anything because of the water  in your ears and the unyielding pain of your migraine, to the entrance of Hateno Village. His glasses reflected the sunlight seeping throughout the town as you set your eyes on him. He had remarked, in a voice you could no longer remember but could still imagine, that he could not see very well without his glasses. 

The scream had been accompanied by the small clatter of metal hitting the frozen ground. It was winter and the calamity was here, and the only people that would dare to be out in such a time were the watchmen. The strident noise echoed as the boy began to cough and gurgle on his own blood. Lizalfos notoriously aimed for the jugular, so much so that it often became common sense to cover one's throat when encountered with one. How silly you had felt when you realized what had happened. How disgustingly optimistic you were to think that a man like Botrick would be able to see an incoming sword to his person without his glasses.

The village awoke only when they heard the boy’s body being dragged throughout the meadow.

　AUTHORS NOTES ! ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤEssentially this is just the beginning of a fanfic that I've been writing bit by bit for over a year now. This isn't the entire fanfic but I feel that this is the only part of it that I actually feel okay with so that's what I'm posting haha. English is not my first language and because of that I feel that I've had some major difficulty writing this. I love the idea of a guide reader/ eventually joining the chain but I fear my writing skills aren't there yet. I'm honestly not sure what content warnings I should even use as this is my first ever fanfic ｡ﾟ( ﾟஇ‸இﾟ)ﾟ. Please let me know what you think and have a wonderful day tysmmm. ू♡ ࿔ ۪

[coldshrugs]

ffxivwrite - prompt 6: halcyon

characters: mikoto jinba x io laithe (wol) word count: 1412 rating: mature; sensual/sexual content summary: in their downtime between unearthing ivalician myth, io and mikoto spend an evening at kugane's hot spring.

“Is this the way it’s done?” Io looks up from the middle of the Hot Spring, large eyes seeking Mikoto’s reassurance that she is preparing their rice wine bath correctly.

Kugane’s crimson sunset catches on the rivulet of sake flowing from the bottle Io holds. The light is in her hair too, and on her skin, kissing her edges orange and red as she kneels in the water. As etiquette decrees, Io’s thin gauze wrap hangs from a pillar at the water’s edge—clothing is not allowed in the baths.

Mikoto hangs her wrap with Io’s and wades into the comfortably warm water, carrying two porcelain cups and her own bottle of sake. Hells if she knows the right way to pour it, she’s never been here either.

“It seems an appropriate technique. At least, I can think of no better way.”

Io’s laugh is light as she empties the bottle into the shallow, private pool. The steam takes on a soft aroma, honeysuckle and pear, and perhaps the proprietor was onto something when he raved about how relaxing these baths could be. Io tugs at her wrist. “Come on, sit. It’s been a long day in an even longer week. We deserve a break, and I want to hear everything you know about my friends before their accolades. And learn more about you too?”

Mikoto’s thighs break the water with a little splash. She doesn’t look at the droplets sprayed on Io’s arms. That would be inappropriate, since their acquaintanceship was founded on a professional, academic basis. And she certainly doesn’t notice the ones on her chest, collecting into tiny streams that run south until they drop from her—

“Shall I fill the cups?!” Mikoto quickly arranges the small cups on the stone lining the pool's edge, pouring each to the brim. “I can assure you, on the subject of your friends, I was little more than a hanger-on. My time at the Studium was less than exciting, which is why I am venturing farther afield for research that sparks my interest.”

Io takes up a cup. “While I’ve no formal education, I understand the desire to expand one’s horizons. Quite intimately, in fact. To venturing farther afield?”

Mikoto mirrors her, unable to stop the pull of an embarrassingly obvious smile. It must be the joyful click of their toast, that’s all. She pays no mind to the point their knees meet beneath the water. “To venturing farther afield.”

Warmed by the steam, the sake is full, sweet, and easy to sip. The flavor leaves her tongue quickly after each pull, and it is not long before they are each pouring a second cup as their conversation leaves Sharlayan, and a third as they land on relatives. They take that one as an ill-advised shot, agreeing that Kugane is a terrible place to discuss sisterhood.

It’s true these last few weeks have been tiresome. Traveling to Dalmasca, close calls in Rabanastre, and all the documentation in between. That is to say nothing of the familial melodrama of their hosts. Alma suggested they take the weekend to explore Kugane like the average tourist, even going so far as to book their lodging at the Bokaisen Inn. Mikoto thought Io’s quick acceptance was out of politeness, but she’d been in decent spirits as they took in a local theater show and toured the castle gardens yesterday. They spent today combing the markets for obscure trinkets, with Io occasionally dragging her to the next stall by the hand, an adorable rush of intrigue lighting up her face. On their way back to their rooms, Amaji, the proprietor of the Bokaisen Hot Springs, convinced them to have a bath.

When in Kugane…

Io readjusts her legs with another splash. She leans against the low stone, so close to Mikoto that Io’s leg almost overlaps her own. Ripples dampen new bits of their skin, fresh places for the last sliver of sunlight to hang on. Maybe she is imagining Io studying the molten shine on her scales, her expression filling with a soft kind of awe.

Mikoto inhales, taking this opportunity to let her gaze linger on Io’s freckled form as well. There is so much of her; lean arms and long legs, shoulders set in an effortless elegance, and (Mikoto sucks in her bottom lip) the darkened peaks of her exposed chest, stiffened by the evening air. The image flashes in her mind—her tongue on Io’s skin. Would she taste of soft, ripe fruit, like the sake they drink, or the warm water in which they soak?

Best not to let her mind wander to what is under the water…

Their eyes lock through the thin steam. Mikoto’s mouth goes dry when Io’s lips lift on one side.

“Apologies. The wine has made me rude enough to stare.”

“Well…” Mikoto joins Io in leaning on the stone. Would moving closer be unwelcome? “If you are rude then my sense of decorum is truly lost. It’s difficult to keep up formalities in the state we currently find ourselves.”

Io reaches for the bottle between them and pours the next round. “Then we should simply forget the formalities, no? I would prefer to think of us as friends after our adventure, and surely there are more to come.”

She pauses, and there is something strained in it. Despite her playful delivery, the words are not as light as they sound. “If I may be frank, after Ala Mhigo, I could use a friend’s distraction right now.”

She presses the porcelain cup into Mikoto’s hand. There is no room for guessing when Io’s fingers linger on hers longer than necessary. She traces a winding path over Mikoto’s wrist, delicately gliding along the sensitive edge of her scales.

Mikoto's takes a long, final sip, savoring of the flavor as she looks over Io once more. Io watches her drink, lips parting slightly at the sight, and Mikoto cannot believe her luck. She feels certain about her next action.

The cup falls against stone and she shifts onto her knees. Like this, she is a few ilms taller than Io. She can easily cradle her cheek, or push the curtain of half-wet hair over her shoulder, or tilt her chin up, firmly, with her palm. She can do all these things from this angle, and Io melts at the touch. Mikoto replies, “A quick evaluation tells me you are already distracted, Io.”

“Perhaps,” Io whispers. She moves forward, one hand on Mikoto’s waist. They are slightly misaligned with Mikoto kneeling over a still-seated Io, but their bodies are pressed close now, skin to wet skin, and she learns Io’s hands roam easily.

Mikoto leans down. Io’s lips part again, wider this time, wanting. Mikoto teases them with hers, the lightest brush, and Io's reaction sends her head spinning. The quiet moan, her hands dipping past Mikoto’s hips, trying to pull her closer by her rear.

“A mutual distraction then. Between friends.”

Mikoto meets her open mouth. It might be Mikoto, or perhaps it's only this brand of touch, but Io is hungry for her. The steam around them is no match for how their kiss burns. Desperate, messy, but neither cares. The kiss travels. Mikoto pushes Io back against the stone and works down her neck, kisses across her clavicle and, finally, drags her tongue across the tight point of her nipple. Sweetwater and salt—the answer to her earlier query. Mikoto takes it into her mouth fully, driven by the sounds Io tries not to make, then gives the other side of her chest equal treatment. Her natural inclination is to move further down, but she realizes they are in water and pauses.

A real kiss now, Io’s full lips demanding hers.

Then Mikoto asks, “Shall we go to your room, or mine?”

...

“‘oto? …you alright, Mikoto?”

She hears her name, though her sense of recognition is hazy. It takes a second or two to blink away the fog and return to the present.

To Io kneeling in the Hot Spring, holding a half-poured bottle of sake. 

“Is this the way it’s done?” Dark, wide eyes that she has already witnessed flutter shut at touches she will make tonight. 

Sometimes she hates her version of this “gift.” Generally speaking, she would rather her Echo function in the same manner as Io’s: catching glimpses of the past, unburdened by and unafraid of the future.

Tonight, however, Mikoto is grateful for the certainty.

[soulshards]

FFXIVWRITE 2024, PROMPT #6: HALCYON tw: none • words: 637

denoting a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful

“Papa!” 

Tiny legs in a robe a little too long came scrambling across the floor, towards the tall legs of her father, who stepped forth into their home. Dust upon his shoes, dirt on his hands, messy bronze hair cascading down scaled cheeks; he could only let out a laugh as his daughter came running to greet him, only to tumble over her robes in the final hurdle, and come rolling to his feet. She giggled the whole time.

“My little peach, when did you get so fast?” He asked, scooping his daughter up into strong, working arms, as he began to move into the kitchen, where his wife stood with an amused expression upon sun kissed features at the sight of her partner and daughter.

“Welcome home, Uji.”

He leaned to plant a gentle kiss upon his wife's cheek, as her hands came to fuss over their daughter - pulling on her robe in order to have it not dangle over bare, soil covered feet. She had been out in the gardens, helping her grandmother plant flowers.

It was a time before the invasion, before the Castle fell to masters undeserving, before the city was destroyed in warfare. Villages surrounding the outskirts of the city of Doma, quaint towns that knew nothing of their impending demise.

Bliss filled times, where children danced within the streets, performed rites with the elders, being taught the ways of the old world, and the new. Giving gifts to Gods and Spirits alike, ensuring the next harvest was good, that they would not face sickness or wrath. 

Tousled, long red hair danced along behind the small Raen girl as she scampered after her parents around their home. Pulling on tails, tripping over her own two feet, giggling wildly as her father picked her up and spun her around, chastising her softly about being more careful.

She was carefree, as a child. The world was bright and full of wonder, picturesque. Everyday was a new challenge and a lesson. The barely four year old girl wanted to play and dance with Spirits only she could see, as they whispered sweet nothings and told her stories from a time long before their people had come to settle here, the perfect way to fall asleep.

Her Grandmother, seeing that light, seeing that joy, seeing the way in which nature seemed to flourish around the young girl wished to hone it, focus it, teach her esoteric arts.

Her parents wanted her to be unburdened with this gift.

Nanako cared little for either opinion, she just wanted to have fun, as whisps kissed her skin and twirled her hair. Fingers gracing across streaks of light and happiness bubbled out of her, unaware of the way in which her world would come to crumble.

But, for now, in this halcyon time, she would revel in the memory of what once was. She would revel in the delight of seeing her parents, so dedicated to one another - dedicated to her. To bring her up in a home full of love and joy, teaching her only kindness as a strength.

She would revel in the memory of the way she had her fathers cheeks within her tiny grasp, squishing his face as he tried to speak. Gently bumping his wide horns against hers, bringing her to sit upon broad shoulders as he stomped around their home, all the while her mother watched.

It was a simpler time, a gentler time. A time that allowed her to grow into who she was today, despite it all. So kind and willing to give anyone a chance, even if they didn’t think they deserved it. Though innocence may have been stripped through strife, she held on to those values bestowed to her by her parents, carrying them with as she carried their memory.

[houserosaire]

Prompt #6: Halcyon

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, the heat seeping into his bones until Silvaineaux had nearly forgotten the frosty walk home. He lounged comfortably by the fire, half closed eyes studying the tapestry on the nearby wall while Honore read aloud. The words washed over him, half-attended. He already knew the tale, it was an old one from their childhood and at the moment  Silvaineaux was more interested in the picture on the tapestry.

It was the familiar shape of home worked in thread, the grey stone of the castle, the yellow and green of summer’s drying grass and lively trees. The sky in the tapestry was also the bright clear blue of summer, marked with only the sparse and fanciful shapes of  fluffy clouds. The gate was open and he could just pick out the shape of a knight riding in.

‘And so, his battles ended and his long quest complete, Prince Hélarion at last guided the beautiful Princess Méléandre through the proud gates of the city as his bride. And long afterwards that time was remembered as the beginning of the most halcyon days of the kingdom, ushering in a golden and glorious period of peace.’

Silvaineaux groaned. “I have never liked that ending.”

Honore looked up at him over the top of the book, lips twitching. “So you have said more than once that I recall.” He said fondly. “But I don’t know. I always thought it was a very beautiful and peaceful kind of ending.”

“For a betrayer.” Silvaineaux said bitterly. “He sacrificed his oldest and dearest friend, who had accompanied him through every battle and hardship all for the sake of that princess. And the only thing we ever hear about her is that she is beautiful.”

“That might be enough for some people.” Honore observed, though his eyes were twinkling in a way that suggested he found Silvaineaux’s reaction to it as amusing as he always had.

“It wouldn’t be enough for me.”

“That’s just as well.”  Honore said, chuckling.  “I don’t know if you would know what to do with yourself during a golden and glorious period of peace.”

Silvaineaux laughed. “Probably not.”

[jewishcissiekj]

For anyone looking to read/watch/listen to everything Asajj, I wanted to post my checklist for both Legends and Canon Asajj and tag them properly for convenience

Canon Asajj checklist -Dooku: Jedi Lost (Audio Drama) -Jedi of the Republic – Mace Windu #5 (Comic) -Brotherhood (Novel) -Hyperspace Stories #5 -Star Wars Adventures: The Clone Wars – Battle Tales #2 (Comic) -The Clone Wars S1 E16 (TV) -The Clone Wars (Movie, Novel) -The Clone Wars S1 E1 (TV) -Sharing the Same Face (short story, The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark) -The Clone Wars S1 E5 (TV) -The Clone Wars S1 E9 (TV) -Worthless (short story, Stories of Jedi and Sith) -The Clone Wars S3 E2 (TV) -Tales of Villainy: Give & Take (short comic story, Star Wars Adventures (2020) #12) -The Clone Wars S3 E12-14 (TV) -The Clone Wars S4 E19-20 (TV) -The Lost Nightsister (short story, The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark) -The Clone Wars S4 E21-22 (TV) -Dark Vengeance: The True Story of Darth Maul and His Revenge Against the Jedi Known as Obi-Wan Kenobi (short story, The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark) -Sisters (short comic story, Age of Republic Special #1) -The Clone Wars S5 E19-20 (TV) -Kindred Spirits (short story, Star Wars Insider #159) -Dark Disciple (Novel) -The Bad Batch S3 E 9 (TV) -Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader's Castle #1 (Comic) -Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader's Castle #3 (Comic) -Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader's Castle #5 (Comic) -Obi-Wan #4 (Comic) -Star Wars (2015) #47 (Comic, only depicted on playing card) -Star Wars Adventures Ashcan (Comic) -Halcyon Legacy #1 (Comic) -Halcyon Legacy #3 (Comic)

Legends Asajj Checklist -Restraint (short story) -Star Wars: Clone Wars chapters 6-7 (TV) -Star Wars: Republic #51-52 (Comic) -Jedi: Mace Windu #1 (Comic) -Star Wars: Republic #53 (Comic) -Rogue's Gallery (short comic story, Star Wars: Clone Wars Adventures Volume 3) -Dark Heart (short story) -Star Wars: Clone Wars chapters 11-19 (TV) -The Cestus Deception (Novel) -Star Wars: Republic #58-60 (Comic) -Star Wars: Republic #64 (Comic) -Jedi Trial (Novel) -Yoda: Dark Rendezvous (Novel) -Star Wars: Republic #69-71 (Comic) -The Clone Wars: Shadowed (Webcomic) -The Clone Wars S1 E16 (TV) -The Clone Wars (Movie, Novel) -The Clone Wars: Prelude (Webcomic) -The Clone Wars S1 E1 (TV) -The Clone Wars: Shipyards of Doom (Graphic Novel) -The Clone Wars: Secret Missions 2: Curse of the Black Hole Pirates (Junior Novel) -The Clone Wars: Secret Missions 3: Duel at Shattered Rock (Junior Novel) -The Clone Wars: Secret Missions 4: Guardians of the Chiss Key (Junior Novel) -The Clone Wars: The Fall of Falleen (Webcomic) -The Clone Wars S1 E5 (TV) -The Clone Wars: Crash Course (Graphic Novel) -The Clone Wars #7-9 (Comic) -The Clone Wars S1 E9 (TV) -The Clone Wars: The Valsedian Operation (Webcomic) -The Clone Wars #11-12 (Comic) -Keep the Faith (short comic story) -In the Air (short comic story) -The Clone Wars S3 E2 (TV) -Hunted (short comic story) -Fashion (short comic story) -The Only Good Clanker (short comic story) -Under The Hammer (short comic story) -The Clone Wars S3 E12-14 (TV) -The Clone Wars #5-6 (Comic, retconned) -The Clone Wars S4 E19-22 (TV) -The Clone Wars: The Sith Hunters (Graphic Novel) -The Clone Wars S5 E19-20 (TV) -Star Wars: Obsession #1-5 (Comic)

And a guide: -In no way these are my recommendations, I actually unrecommend a certain book here, my recommendations list can be found here. this one is the Wookiepedia list just less confusing (I hope) -She isn't a main character in all of these. At all. And some are just cameos, I didn't get into specifics about that. -Most of the canon books & short stories can be found in e-book/digital form, or in physical copies pretty easily, just look them up. -The same thing that goes for the canon books goes for the canon comics, although most of the issues listed are part of a series (as might be evident by their numbers). That doesn't mean you need to read the rest, because they're pretty stand-alone and usually just reference the other issues of the series/have a framing story related to that. -I'm not sure where you can find the Star Wars Insider issue or the Adventures Ashcan, sorry about that. -The Legends list is much more complicated than canon, since anything related to The Clone Wars series may contradict the prior Legends media. That's why I marked those in bold, as they are only officially part of that timeline, and don't make much sense with the rest of it (most of it, other than the actual episodes, were mostly de-canonized when Disney bought Star Wars with the rest of Legends). -There are ofc the original printings of those, but I also I believe most of the Legends books listed were reprinted as a part of the Legends brand, but if they weren't then idk what to tell you. -The Legends comics were also reprinted, mostly in big, pretty expensive collections. So it might be harder to buy those. I think there are digital copies of those collections, though, so you can buy them for cheaper that way. -The Clone Wars webcomics can be found here , through @clonewarsarchives (a great resource overall) -The short TCW stories (in bold under short comic story) can all be found here (once again through clone wars archives) -The Restraint short story can't be found anywhere I looked, only in the 2nd printing of Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter. One of 2 things on the Legends list I've yet to read. -The Dark Heart short story was originally published online, so it's here legally (link straight from Wookiepedia I sure hope it's legal). -I have no idea how to get to the Graphic Novels normally but I trust they're on eBay and co. -I've only talked about legal options but obviously, there's more. Act with discretion and I'm not posting links like that here. I might be able to help more through DMs but you know.

[four-loose-screws]

FE2 Novelization Translation - Book 2 Cover and Intro Pages

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

Cover

Fire Emblem Gaiden

Land of Sorrow

Book 2

STORY

A large-scale war is currently ravaging the continent of Valentia. After the loss of countless Units, the story of a new encounter is told. General Alm, leading the imperial army of Zofia to restore the country’s sovereignty, under the name “the Deliverance.” Young Priestess Celica, attempting to make her deepest wish of restoring goddess Mila to her rightful place a reality. However, fate is still leading these two in opposite directions.

The dark plot of the cold-hearted and ruthless Emperor Rudolf of Rigel is once again in motion. …The plot to thoroughly destroy the Kingdom of Zofia. For what reason has he fallen to such insanity? Alm, who has not even an idea of the fate of his bloodline, raises his sword against Rudolf.

Will he and Celica finally be able to act upon their love for each other? Will peace return to Valentia? Find out here, in the conclusion to this story!

Written by Katsuyuki Ozaki

Cover Illustration by Ichiro ?*

Cover Design by Kazuo Hiroi (WIDE)**

*T/N: I cannot find the Kanji character in this person’s last name anywhere to confirm its reading.

**T/N: First name could also be ‘Ichio’ or ‘Itsuo.’ I cannot find any record of this person online, so I cannot confirm the correct reading of their name. Their nickname is ‘WIDE’ because their last name, ‘hiroi,’ is the Japanese word for wide.

Published by Futabasha

Author’s Profile

Katsuyuki Ozaki

An up-and-coming author also working as a copywriter. His major works include “Valkyrie no Densetsu,” “F-Zero,” “Zelda II: The Adventure of Link,” and many more, all published by Futabasha. He has also written for other strategy guide series. His hobbies include golf, cars, and computer games. He is of course also passionate about Fire Emblem, and has completed all of the games so far. He poured all of his love for the series into writing these two books without rest!

Front:

The stage continues to unfold upon the continent of Valentia at war!

This fantastical tale of our young fighters finally comes to its end!

What will become of Alm and Celica’s love for each other? Where will their fate to fight lead them?

And in what direction will these Unit’s adventures take them…?

Back:

Ad for Book 1.

Ad for a Shin Megami Tensei novelization.

Color Art

Text:

This fantastic story is about the great battle on Land Valencia.

According to the destinies, many young heroes and heroines will fight to save their lovers.

Which will God promise to them, victory or defeat?

For whom will He smile?

Whom will He crush by a hummer at last?

Nothing but the bravy spirit of youth can bring peace to such a confused world.

The new act of this drama has just started now!!

Title Page

Table of Contents

(T/N: Exact translation of the chapter and chapter part titles are subject to change, once I read and translate them in full detail, based on exact context.)

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Second War

Mila, Lost Forever

The Empty Throne

Divine Blade Falchion

The Army of Witches at the Border

Chapter 2: The Battle at the Border

The Tragic Mage Luthier

Fratricide

The Golden General, Zeke

Surprise Attack

Sonya’s Secret

Crux of Fate

Chapter 3: God Duma

Triangle Attack

Great Sage Halcyon

Volcano

My Father, Jedah

Chapter 4: Reunion

To Rigel Castle

Mad Emperor Rudolf

The Heir

Chapter 5: The Altar and the Final Act of the War

The Mystery of Gradivus

Inside the Continent

My Father, Rudolf

The Gods’ Slumber

The Reborn Kingdom of Valentia

Epilogue

-

Illustrations: Ichiro ?* & Kazuo Hiroi (WIDE)**

*T/N: I cannot find the Kanji character in this person’s last name anywhere to confirm its reading.

**T/N: First name could also be ‘Ichio’ or ‘Itsuo.’ I cannot find any record of this person online, so I cannot confirm the correct reading of their name. Their nickname is ‘WIDE’ because their last name, ‘hiroi,’ is the Japanese word for wide.

Book design: Yusuke Matsuoka (NEXT)

Editing & printing: Rekkasha

Character Introductions

Celica’s Army

Genny: A Cleric from Novis Island’s Priory who supports Celica’s ideals.

Atlas: A Villager who joins Celica and her army to defeat the pirate Grieth. A hot-blooded young man with exceptional sword fighting talent.

Leon: A young Archer who is saved by Celica’s army at the pirate’s fortress, and stays with them afterwards.

Saber: A Mercenary searching for an employer to work for at Novis Greatport. Later transcends to Myrmidon.

Valbar: An Armor who was one of three people fighting to kill the pirate Barth at his fortress.

Est: A Pegasus Knight and one of the three sisters from Archanea. She is captured alone and brought to Grieth’s fortress.

Palla: One of the three sisters from Archanea. A Pegasus Knight with superior strength and mobility.

Nomah: A Sage whose spiritual powers have only strengthened in his old age, and possesses the skill to cast Sagittae.

Catria: A Pegasus Knight and one of the three sisters from Archanea. When they combine their powers, they can pull off the strongest attack of all…

Boey: A young Mage who serves at Novis Island’s Priory with Celica. 

Jesse: A Mercenary who joins forces with Celica to defeat Grieth. Though he acts like a ruffian, his swordsmanship skills are above average.

Sonya: A female Mage who can cast Excalibur. Her red lipstick and makeup proves that she is not associated with either the Mila nor Duma faithful.

Mae: Like Boey, she is a Mage from Novis Island’s Priory.

Celica: A deeply devout Priestess who leaves Novis Island’s Priory to travel to Mila’s Shrine. She is the second protagonist of this story, in addition to Alm.

Kamui: A Mercenary who goes to the pirate fortress with Leon and Valbar.

[citylawns]

i’m trying to ”get into” ambient/electronic music, do u have any recs (albums etc.) that are ur favorites ?

Absolutely!!! I’ll try and recommend artists that touch on both or are tangential. I have to say I hate super ambient stuff like chill wave

The first artist and album you have to listen to is Aphex Twins Selected Ambient Works 85-92. This is a great essay on the album in my favourite music publication (shout out to John Doran) https://thequietus.com/articles/32306-aphex-twin-selected-ambient-works-85-92-anniversary.

Another foundational artist and albums is Brian Eno and his Ambient 1,2,3 and 4. My favourite is Music For Airports. Aphex Twin was obviously very derived from him but adds influences from rave culture which makes it more engaging for me. I haven’t really explored Eno’s work further than that actually, but I love the song Strange Overtones from the album he did with David Byrne from Talking Heads. Not ambient but unmissable.

I also really love Boards of Canada recently, been listening to two albums: 1998 Music Has The Right To Children and 2002 Geogaddi.

Onethrix Point Never are great, I saw them live last year and it was actually a really engaging show for me but others in my group weren't too fussed. Check out the soundtrack to Good Time and the album R Plus Seven.

Lemonjelly are a great band too but more Trip Hop actually. though if you’re getting into ambient music which is specifically electronic you might like it too as there’s similar elements. It’s stuff like Massive Attack and Portishead and I Monster. These were the bands my parents played all the time when I was a kid because 90’s lol.

Also to go to the very start listen to WENDY CARLOS. Literally The Mother of Synth. She’s pulled all of her albums from the internet I believe, she’s a massive recluse bless her because she was tormented by the press for being trans (been meaning to look into them actually) but I just read this essay on her and she’s incredible - literally pioneered synth music by helping to build the Moog. She was the one who composed the score for The Shining, A Clockwork Orange. She’s 84 now, literally a hero.

Other iconic/introductory tracks: The Orb - Little Fluffy Clouds Orbital - Halcyon On and On Moby - Porcelain

I will recommend some other artists that have either ambient or electronic elements that I like:

Grouper (ambient, sorta folk) Air Crystal Castles (electronic, also an awful and very sad history but mean a lot to me and I am desperate for my bfs band to play at the same festival as Alice this year so I can try and bump into her backstage lol) Slowdive Yves Tumour Spiritualized Tirzah Duster Grimes (lol) Delroy Edwards Dean Blunt

[ym-loreposting]

Analyzing the story books from Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask

The second half of Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask's second chapter takes place in the Reunion Inn, where the Masked Gentleman leads professor Layton on a goose chase to find him. During the search, the Gentleman uses books with childrens' stories in them to lead Layton from location to location through the inn. However, the stories serve as more than simple directions. According to the Gentleman himself, the books are also there to "provide a look into my world." So I thought it'd be fun to analyze the contents of these books and how they relate to the Masked Gentleman. Spoilers for Miracle Mask follow.

The Five Friends

A long time ago, there was a small kingdom surrounded by forest. Five friends who lived near a castle spent their time fishing in the river and playing in the lush, grassy fields. One day, they went exploring to the top of the tallest hill in the land. And there, they found a treasure of silver and gold! The friends divided the treasure between them, and four of them spent their riches through the years. But one friend decided to bury his share of the treasure in a fine place, surrounded by green and pleasing to the eye. He did this so he could go searching for treasure with his friends again. He did it so he would never forget the feeling of embarking on an adventure. He did it so the five friends would always have a reason to be together. The boy knew that people change when they grow up. When he finished burying his treasure, he fell asleep by a window, fully content and blanketed in the glow of the moonlight.

For those not in the know, the identity of the Masked Gentleman is Randall Ascot and as such this will be a major factor in the analysis. The first book seems to be about Randall's childhood and teenage years in Stansbury, with him representing the boy that buried his treasure. The other four friends likely represent Angela Ledore, Henry Ledore, Alphonse Dalston and Hershel Layton. With the former three, Randall used to go on adventures in childhood. Later, Alphonse grew distant from the friend group and Randall met Layton in his teenage years. In that time, he would go on archaeological adventures with Hershel, Angela and also Henry.

Randall is of course someone who loves adventure and spending time with his friends on those adventures. I don't think this story represents an actual event that Randall experienced in his childhood, but that it is more symbolic. The main purpose of this story seems to be Randall looking back at those halcyon days in Stansbury (coincidentally also the name for Stansbury's theme) and how much things have changed for the worse since then. In the story, it is mentioned the boy is aware that people change as they grow older and he buries his treasure so that they could always have a reason to be together. In the past, Randall and his friends were together and in the present, after they have grown up, the group has fallen apart. Alphonse was the first to do so, as he became more interested in making money and starting his own hotel business. Hershel went off to London to study archeology and would not speak with the others for 18 years. Angela and Henry remained together, but are at odds with Alphonse. In the present, Alphonse lives alone at the edge of Monte d'Or and suspects Angela is bitter at Henry for the accident Randall found himself in. The friend group has thus fallen apart, with Randall positioning himself as unique in the story. He is the only one who remembers the halcyon days and the only one who has valued friendship over literal treasure. Considering all of this, the ending of the story with the boy sleeping contently seems to be ironic on purpose or to emphasize the nearing end of the halcyon days.

The Boy and the Dog

One day, a young boy found a wild dog in the woods near his village. The dog was hurt, so the boy took him in. As the dog healed, he grew to trust the boy. The two grew up together and became very close with one another. One day, the boy packed up his belongings so that he could fulfill his dream of becoming a scholar. The dog was sad to see the boy go... The boy grew into a fine young man and became a famous scholar. When he returned, he was eager to show his family and his dog what he had made of himself. But when he arrived, he saw that his house was empty. The boy, all grown up, saw an old man pass by and asked him what had happened. The old man said that the family who lived in that house had been chased out years ago by a wild dog. And that's when the boy realized... He had been betrayed by the one he trusted the most. He now had no home and no family return to. With grief weighing heavy upon his heart, he disappeared into the woods, never to be seen again.

I think this story represents the moment Randall realized Stansbury had become a vacant ghost town after regained the memories he lost during his accident. Randall represents the boy and Henry represents the dog. In childhood and their teenage years, Randall and Henry had a bond of trust that Henry describes as brotherly later in Miracle Mask. This started when Randall gave one of his favorite toys, a robot, to Henry after Randall's maid tried to take it away from him because he was playing with it. I feel this event is paralleled in the story by the boy finding the dog in the woods and taking it in.

At some point, the boy leaves his dog behind to become a scholar and does not contact with his family for many years. This parallels Randall's 18 years living in Craggy Dale with amnesia. The boy coming home and seeing his family home destroyed, is paralleled by Randall regaining his memory and being brought to Stansbury, where he sees it destroyed. Per the words of Jean Descole in the Episode The Seeds of Revenge:

You witnessed it yourself. The Ascot heritage destroyed, and your hometown abandoned.

Several other characters in the game also mention how Stansbury is a ghost town in the present, like Gloria (Esther in the North American version), who used to live there. The old man in the story telling the boy about what the dog did to his family is likely a stand-in for Descole, who told Randall that Henry had taken everything from him and showed him the ruins of the vacant Stansbury. Thus, whereas the first story represents nostalgia for halcyon days, this second story represents a realization of betrayal of trust and the end of the halcyon days.

The Ungrateful Business Owner

Once there was a very poor man who lived in a lively town. The man had nothing, but he got by with the help of the townspeople. One day, the richest man in town took pity on him and bought the poor man a shop so that he could earn a living. The poor man ran a good business, and his shop thrived. His shop became known far and wide, and it grew into the most successful shop in town. Even the shops of the rich man who helped him could not compare. No longer poor, the man decided to buy all the food in town so that he could make a great profit. The trusting people sold him everything. The man then raised the prices until no one could afford to buy any food. The man then sold the food to people in other towns. The man had become so blinded by money that he forgot the debt he owed to those in his hometown. The town he had called home, once prosperous, began to decline. The man's fortunes grew as the townspeople starved. He built a palace in town. It was the largest palace ever built. And his wealth continued to grow each day. The townspeople had no choice but to leave their homes. And in time, the man was left alone in his empty kingdom. There, his vast loneliness, as open as the sea, swallowed him whole.

Instead of being about Randall, the third story is more about Henry. The poor man who gets a shop and later becomes rich is the stand-in for Henry, lifted up by the richest man in town. If I had to guess, this represents Randall's father, who was the richest man in Stansbury, deciding to train Henry up as a butler and giving him some opportunity. The middle part of the story represents the founding and growth of Monte d'Or as Stansbury becomes a ghost town. The poor man grows richer than the people who initially helped him, as Henry grew richer than the Ascot family after he found the Azran treasure in Akbadain and founded Monte d'Or. In Randall's view, Henry has become blinded by money and forgotten the debt he owes him, his father and his other friends. The business owner buying up all the food in town and reselling it at ridiculous prizes, before selling it to other towns, is likely a parallel to how Randall views Monte d'Or. He sees Henry as exploiting the people and tourists who come to the town, as many lose substantial sums in Henry's casinos, allowing him to grow richer. During the game this is mentioned a few times and best exemplified by the character Humbert. As he himself puts it in Chapter 5 as the Masked Gentleman:

YOUR city, hmm? Is that what you think? Though I suppose... Yes, this foul pit of greed and tawdry thrills does reflect its creator perfectly. You built this city as a monument to your grotesquely swollen ego.

The end of the story then represents the future that Randall is working towards: revenge on Henry. After his supposed greed has driven everyone away, he will be swallowed whole by his loneliness. The Masked Gentleman's final miracle involves burying Monte d'Or in sand, which is likely what this part of the story is representative of.

The Traiterous Regent

There was once a kindhearted princess in a kingdom in the valley. This princess was so beautiful that suitors camped outside the castle for months to gain an audience with her. And then one day, the princess saw a young knight pass by her window... The princess fell in love with him at first sight and they were married. The knight was named king and the princess named queen. One day, the king and his minister set out for the mountains to slay a dragon that threatened the kingdom. The princess waited for her king to return. She waited and waited but only the minister returned with news that her king had died. The minister did everything he could to comfort the princess in her grief. He comforted her night and day. After many moons of grief, the minister's kindness and patience finally reached the princess's heart. The princess's feelings for the minster blossomed into love, and she married him in a lavish, royal wedding. It seemed that here the audience sat, rapt with attention, eager to bear witness to the final miracle of love. No one knew that the minister actually tricked the king into searching for the dragon and then trapped him in the cave. The minster now had the princess, the crown, and the country. But then... The king awoke, trapped under a pile of rubble. The minister to whom he had entrusted his life was gone. The king used every last ounce of his strength to clear away the rocks and made his way back to the surface. And when he finally escaped... He saw the minister living happily with the princess as husband and wife.

The last story, the Traiterous Regent, is perhaps the easiest to analyze as it is the most overt with its parallels. The knight turned king represents Randall, the minister represents Henry and the princess represents Angela. This last point is made extra clear by how the princess physically resembles Angela in the picture accompanying the story and how men vied for the princess, with multiple people also looking to marry Angela (Randall, Alphonse and supposedly Henry). Whereas the story about the business owner was (partially) about Henry stealing Randall's wealth, this one is more about Henry's "theft" of Angela, the woman that Randall loved and wanted to ask her hand in marriage after coming back from Akbadain. The minister arranging for the cave to collapse represents the idea that Descole planted in Randall's head: Henry deliberately wanted Randall to go on the dangerous expedition to Akbadain so he would disappear and so Henry could steal everything.

The king waking up from under the rubble and fighting himself free, only to return to the minster and princess marries, represents Randall leaving Craggy Dale and coming to Monte d'Or, where he finds Henry and Angela married.

It might also be interesting to note that the minister could also represent professor Layton to a degree. It was him who accompanied Randall to Akbadain and he was there when Randall's accident occurred. While we are never given indication that Randall suspects that professor Layton was in on Henry's supposed plot, he obviously does feel resentment towards him for not saving him from his fall and for supposedly not upholding his promise to solve Akbadain's final puzzle. This is made most clear where Randall captures Luke and dangles him high in the Reunion Inn, challenging Layton to save him and recreating the circumstances around the accident in Akbadain. Randall even says as such:

Is it true, Layton? I've heard you have a history of letting your friends down.

Conclusion

The four story books thus each represent a different facet of the betrayal that Randall feels: from nostalgia for his halcyon days, to the shock of finding out about the "betrayal", to resentment over Henry not honoring his debt to resentment over Henry "stealing" Angela. The stories are noticeably from Randall's perspective, as they portray him as the victim and leave out how his own recklessness and lust for adventure and glory led to his accident as well, though he does come to his senses by the end of the game.

[uwmspeccoll]

Milestone Monday

On this day, July 24 in 1802, French novelist and playwright Alexandre Dumas was born in Picardy, France. With the help of his father, a general and aristocrat, Dumas acquired writing work with Louis Philippe, Duke of Orléans, setting the stage in his career for early success. Dumas lived a decadent life that he allegedly often could not afford, and in turn traveled regularly, fleeing creditors and relations with whom he had fallen out of favor. He spent time in Spain, Italy, Germany, England, Belgium and Russia, before returning to France in 1864. Dumas’s journeys inspired the adventurous themes of his many books and plays and left a legacy of prolific publications including The Count of Monte Cristo, The Nutcracker, and The Black Tulip, along with several illegitimate children.  

Amongst Dumas’s most well-known works, The Three Musketeers stands out as a classic historical adventure novel that has been translated into nearly one hundred languages and multiple mediums. First published serially between March and July 1844, The Three Musketeers was written in collaboration with Auguste Maquet, and while inspired by a true encounter between three young Béarnese it is in a whole a work of fiction. This two-volume, 1932 Limited Editions Club production of The Three Musketeers was illustrated by Pierre Falké (1884-1947) with vibrantly dynamic hand-colored prints, designed and printed by A. A. M. Stols at the Halcyon Press in Maastricht, Holland, in an edition of 1500 copies signed by the illustrator.  

After a life of writing, Dumas died of natural causes in December 1870. He was buried at his birthplace but was later re-interred at the infamous mausoleum of the Panthéon where his casket was carried in by Republican Guards costumed as the Musketeers. French President Jacques Chirac spoke at the re-interment doting on Dumas, “With you, we were D’Artagnan, Monte Cristo, or Balsamo, riding along the roads of France, touring battlefields, visiting palaces and castles-with you, we dream.”

-Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern

View more Milestone Monday posts.

[taraljc]

I genuinely don't get folks who think David Xanatos does not love his wife. The whole spilled milk line in Eye Of The Beholder is immediately followed by David turning away from Owen and looking absolutely stricken. That's there for the audience. How can anyone not recognise that he is fronting, and hiding his real feels the whole time? The man is the very definition of an unreliable narrator. but if you pay attention to his actions in that episode, it's very clear that Owen knew the entire time did Xanatos was full of shit and freaking out, not to mention completely and totally horrified that it was all his fault.

Now, we will never know if what happened to Fox would have happened if she was not Anastasia's daughter. there's a lot up for grabs when it comes to Fox's heritage and Anastasia's manipulations. The woman has been gaslighting her ex-husband for a thousand years. she is a master manipulator, and just because she maneuvers Oberon in ways that benefit the gargoyles does not necessarily mean she is trustworthy or innocent and blameless.

But I do genuinely believe that she loved Halcyon and she loves Fox, and my head canon has always been that she bound Fox's magic when she was a baby, binding her in human form precisely because she knew Fox would be a woman grown when the time of the gathering approached. And that the reason Fox was able to blast Oberon through the castle wall--thus completely blowing apart the argument that Alex had to be taken to Avalon to be trained was 100% Anastasia, not Fox's actual latent ability being reawakened.

However I do think that it's very likely that Anastasia did tell Fox some part of that truth when she whispered to her after the fact.

One thing that I do wonder is it's stated outright that Oberon was the one who divorced Titania, and yet she was the one who offered herself as the prize and would remarry him if he won the contest between Oberon and the Gargoyles on Avalon.

Which definitely has always made it sound to me like she is taking him back, and not the other way around.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Dear Headmage,

What would be your ideal date?

For no particular reason, of course….

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

"Dear me, Prefect!" Crowley gasped, a hand to his mouth. "Could it be that you and the other students... mean to play cupid for your teachers?!"

"What? Nooooo," you insisted, feigning ignorance. "I'm just curious! Isn't that how students are supposed to be? Brimming with curiosity and the willingness to learn?"

"Not on this matter, no!!"

"Come ooon, we won't do anything weird with that information. We promise!! ... Er, well. At least I promise. I can't speak for the others."

"Now see here! It's not on any students to ask about, nor meddle in, the private affairs of their elders," the headmaster chided, wiggling a finger. "You will cease sticking your nose into these matters at once--am I understood?"

"Awww..." You visibly wilted, not bothering to conceal your disappointment.

"I'm glad we've resolved this little dispute." Crowley clicked open a golden pocket watch and glanced at the time. His eyes bulged. "If you'll excuse me, I must be on my way! I'm running late for a very important date!"

"A date?!" You repeated, heart leaping into your throat. "With who!?"

"Why, myself, of course!!" Crowley confessed it without a shred of remorse. His grin, broad. "There can be no other to match me. I'm far too perfect of a specimen!

"I have a packed schedule today. First, a casual stroll throughout the campus to soak up the nice weather and to observe the staff and students. After that, a hearty meal full of luxurious meats and succulent fruits! Then a moment of self-reflection and contemplation to let the food settle... contemplating the meaning of life and how very fortunate I am to be my most glorious self.

"Perhaps I'll drop in a few remedial classes, or an extracurricular or two. The stars come out in the evening, so I think I shall take dinner under them! When at last my eyes begin to grow heavy and my body tired, I'll return to my nest and settle off to sleep, dreaming of what halcyon days tomorrow might bring~"

That's his ideal date?!

"Um, why didn't I hear 'work' in that entire schedule of yours... It's mostly eating, goofing off, and talking a whole lot about yourself!"

"Don't worry over the details, Prefect! You've promised to not dig deeper into this subject, and I expect you to keep your word!!"

With that, Crowley started to make his way off and toward the looming shadow of NRC' main building. It resembled a castle with its turrets and stoney walls--and if NRC was a castle, then surely Crowley was its self-appointed king.

Glittering crown and all.

[willoffate]

Hey. I hate to begpost but I'm desperate at this point.

I need 100 CAD for groceries for next week.

I'm a trans, disabled, plural person who is trying and failing to find jobs.

Please help. Reblogs and donos both appreciated. Don't tag.

10/100