#Into The Vanquished Lands - Pt 4

[grapecola]

Into The Vanquished Lands - Pt 4 . . .

This is the story I wrote for the kids I co-teach. Read pt 4 of Into The Vanquished Lands #writer #WritingCommunity

Written by: Danielle Monique – Wednesday 3 & Thursday 4 May 2023 Based on characters planned by DL and R6 **Something horrible is about to happen to one of the group.** * * * * * 6. An Offer Accepted. ‘It’s against my better judgement but you’ve proven yourself worthy of my trust. Be careful with it.’ Draven handed the Medallion of Ka to Jenna as they strode out along the final path to the…

[livsinpjs]

Believe in the Green Light (pt 1) the pursued

“There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.” - F. Scott. Fitzgerald

The BAU team is called into Pasadena, California after the deaths of three lead to an investigation revolving around Gatsby, a new drug that hit the market at a dead sprint. When a raid on a house reveals the creator of the drug, a young man no one even knew was missing, Jason Gideon and co. find themselves involved in a case bigger than they originally thought.

It was getting dark; the sun creeping below the horizon slowly, like if it moved slow enough, no one would notice its disappearance. Founders Park had been left barren, years ago. After the murder of a young family, the neighborhood had unanimously agreed to leave the children's park to the elements. The grass was overgrown and weeds were poking through the small play structures, nature slowly reclaiming what was originally hers. Yet, in the here and now, Founders Park still had its fair share of visitors. Partying teenagers seeking a place to escape; to sit with their peers and drink or smoke to their heart’s content, without the fear of reprimanding or punishment from their parents. Currently, while dusk turned to night, three figures sat around each other, drinking, and laughing. The eldest of the three passed a blunt around their group and they all eagerly took hits, letting their exhales pass through the air, creating a cloud muck above them.

The oldest of the group said something and they all broke out into a fit of laughter, not noticing the black Lincoln LS pull up to the side of the road just in front of the park. Another of the boys added onto the previous joke and their laughter continued, filtering through the fog of smoke and right into the ears of a man exiting his vehicle and slowly approaching, hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

The lone man slowly closed in on the group; by the time one of them noticed he was only a couple of feet away. His fingers gripped an object in his front pocket. The oldest of the group, a man looking to be in his early twenties passed the blunt off to one of his younger companions and casually stood up, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He met the stranger in the middle, attempting to put up an intimidating aura, raising his chin and looking down at him.

“Ya need something pal?” He asked, letting an air of annoyance flow through his tone, projecting the fact that he was irritated with the man and trying to subtly hint towards the stranger's wanted departure.

The man in question grit his teeth. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, bouncing from foot to foot like he didn’t know how to voice his thoughts aloud. The young man was getting more and more impatient by the second. “Spit it out already!” He demanded after a few moments.

The stranger grit his teeth once more; a look of finality settled into his face; then pure, unadulterated, rage.

Before the boy could identify the new emotion contorting the man's face, two shots rang out. Then he was on his back staring at the sky. He noticed that he could barely make out the stars through the clouds and, for a moment, mourned their absence from his vision. After that though, he registered the pain. He could only think of one word. Excruciating. Then the ringing in his ears morphed into something else. Yelling; a chorus of “oh my god” and “what the fuck man?!” ringing through the night air. He looked around, trying to locate the source and his eyes landed on a terrible sight.

The man had moved closer to the other two boys, gun pointed at the youngest. He said something the injured man couldn’t make out, and then another shot rattled in his head. He saw the youngest boy crumple in on himself and the other boy lunge to his side, gripping onto his companion, trying to keep the life from seeping out of him. He was crying and saying something but the young man couldn't hear him over the roar in his ears. He seemed to be pleading with the shooter, shaking his head feverishly and cradling the younger boy in his arms. The stranger appeared to become more enraged by this and shot the injured and barely conscious boy again, killing him.

The dead boy's companion was screaming now. A long note that just continued and continued. It ripped at his throat and it seemed like it would never waver. A constant sound that reverberated throughout the park.

Another shot.

Then two more.

The stranger took heaving breaths, shaking with rage. The kind that you could suppress but never truly vanquish. Then he began to walk back to his car.

The young man, still on the ground laid there for a moment in shock. He had been shot and his friends had just been killed. He doesn’t know what compels him, maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was sheer stupidity, but he rolled onto his stomach, not even registering the pain as the adrenaline kicked in and his body went into shock and he opened his mouth.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he never had to figure it out; because the man had turned to view his work one last time before fleeing the scene and his eyes fell onto his first victim who was, obviously, still very much alive. Before any thought could go through the young man’s head, three more shots rang out into the air.

The stranger entered his car and sped off into the night, leaving three more corpses to the history of Founders Park.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Jason Gideon was a lot of things. Impatient wasn’t one of them. Yet he found himself continually refreshing his computer, watching and waiting for an email he wasn’t sure was even coming anymore. After refreshing once more and not getting the results he had hoped for, he quickly closed out of his computer and turned to the pile of paperwork he had been putting off.

Just as he was adjusting his reading glasses, media liaison Jennifer Jareau knocked quietly at his open door.

“We have a case,” she said softly, raising the files in her hand as an indication.

Saved by the bell.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

“Early this morning, the bodies of 17-year-old Michael Nook and his 19-year-old brother Steven Nook, along with 21-year-old James McCarthy were discovered in a park in Pasadena, California.” Jennifer pressed a button on her remote and the pictures of Michael and Steven Nook appeared on screen, then the mugshot of James McCarthy popped up beside them. “They were found by the Rameriez family, all shot to death.”

SSAs Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, and Jason Gideon sat at the round table, each flipping through their copy of the case file while they listened to JJ as she continued.

“It appears that James was the first shot, but his time of death was shortly after the Nook brothers. Michael was shot twice, Steven three times, and James five.”

“It looks like the Unsub shot McCarthy first, assumed he was dead and went to kill the other two. Later he found him still alive and finished the job.” Morgan added his observation.

“There is definite overkill here,” Gideon supplied. “The first shot to Steven killed him instantly yet he shot him two more times. James would have died of blood loss before anyone even noticed he was injured, yet the Unsub shot him an additional three times in the head.”

“Four years ago, the park where the bodies were discovered, Founders Park, was the scene of a mugging gone wrong. Gillian Murphy shot and killed Kayla and Laurence Arnold, along with their four-year-old daughter Sadie, after Laurence refused to give up their family belongings. Locals are afraid the two might be connected and have insisted that the FBI become involved for the safety of their children.

“The boys were said to have been frequenting the park for years, known to drink and smoke and occasionally do the harder stuff.”

“There is no indication that the two crimes are connected. Murphy has been incarcerated since his arrest four years ago, and there are no indications that the Arnolds knew either the Nooks or James McCarthy. Plus nothing appears to have been stolen.” Hotchner pointed out.

“Yes, but it may be connected to other cases in Pasadena these past 6 weeks.” JJ continued, pressing more buttons on her remote. “There have been 24 deaths and multiple raids all connected to a new drug that has appeared in the area. They call it Gatsby. It’s known to create a psychedelic dissociation as well as mix the euphoria of heroin, and the hallucinations of LSD.

“CSI found copious amounts of Gatsby on each of the victims' person.”

“Alright,” Hotchner closed his case file, “This looks like it may be more than what it originally appears.

“Wheels up in thirty.”

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4|

[fangirlinghard-spoilerson]

Every one of my theories about the  ending for The Queen of Nothing point to Jude killing: Or Madoc; Or Cardan; Or Talyn.

“I curse you,” Valerian whispers. “I curse you. Three times, I curse you. As you've murdered me, may your hands always be stained with blood. May death be your only companion. May you-"

[TCP, TWK, TLS, TWK Deleted scenes SPOILERS]

Ok, when the TQN's sinopse got out, I changed my mind. I am being dramatic, I thought, TFOTA will end just fine. And then the cover got out and I panicked again. Now, let's panic together.

Why Madoc?

There is a possibility that Madoc forces Jude to choose. After the coronation cerimone in TCP's chap. 20 Madoc began to talking with Talyn and Jude about chose your family over pretty boys. In TWK he asks if Jude will really chose Cardan over the family many times - directly and indirectly.

TCP, Chap 23 (This is me translating my book Pt-br to English, then it may be different from a book in the original language.)

"And if your sister is right and you know where Prince Cardan is, give it to me. [...] It's charming in a way, and it's also smart, but nothing worth protecting."

TWK, Chap 7

“Oh, I’m angry, daughter, but I am also curious.” He makes a dismissive gesture toward the Palace of Elfhame. “Is this really what you wanted? Him?”

TWK Chap 27

“You would really choose that over your own family?” he sneers, his gaze going to Cardan before cutting back to me.

Madoc is the one how rase her. Educated her. The father is a representation of whom we must overcome in the quest to become adults.

Madoc to Jude, Chap. 21, TWK:

“At last, I finally understand. Orlagh and the Undersea we will vanquish together. But when they are gone, it will be us staring across a chessboard at each other. And when I best you, I will make sure I do it as thoroughly as I would any opponent who has shown themselves to be my equal.”

Madoc  don’t accept very well be defeated by her.  I don’t think he wants to be overcome by his daughter. Sometimes I think, that he will never accept. That he will always continue try to overcome her.

TWK deleted scenes - Madoc POV:

I do not think He wants to be overcome by His daughter. Sometimes I think, that he will never accept. That he will always continue try to overcome her.

Why Cardan?

Madoc, about Cardan, in TWK:

“Do you know why Eldred had no interest in his youngest son? Baphen saw ill fortune in his stars from the moment of his birth.”

Lady Acha, to Jude, in TWK:

“A There was a hag who came across Madoc’s land when your mother was pregnant with Vivienne. The hag was given to prophecy and divined futures in eggshells. And do you know what the hag said? That Eva’s child was destined to be a greater weapon than Justin could ever forge .” 

Ill fortune was seen in Cardan stars the day he was born. Something that made Dain throw away - for outside the castle - Cardan, made Lady Asha don’t see value in take cary her son or conquer his affection, made Eldred let all this happen to Cardan and see his like a failuer.

TWK, Chap 26

“When my father sent me away, at first I tried to prove that I was nothing like he thought me. But when that didn’t work, I tried to be exactly what he believed I was instead. If he thought I was bad, I would be worse. If he thought I was cruel, I would be horrifying. I would live down to his every expectation."

So I believed this ill fortune was something like Cardan is not supoused to be High King or the Greenbriars will end or Elfhames kindom will fall. 

Cardan in TWK Delet Scenes:

And a hag once said the Eva’s baby will be the greater weapon Justin ever forge. So it’s Jude or Talyn. Not Vivi.  Maybe it’s Jude. She is the protagonist. She is the sister we see like a warior.

I talked about this in this post: ‘The Wicked King: Spoilers, Conclusions and Teory’ But I will talk a little more.

Eva probably dropped Madoc and pretended to be dead because she thought Vivi would be a weapon and Madoc would use their daughter - Madoc created Oak and was going to use him, so Eva was probably right - But when she tried to escape the prophecy, she made the prophecy come true. Justin ‘forge’ Jude e Taryn. They are Eva’s baby. 

Balekin said to Madoc about Eva be still alive because he knew about the prophecy.  I think he and Lady Asha were close (maybe that's why he welcomed Cardan into his house). Lady Asha was Eva ‘friend’, maybe she was there when the hag said the profecy.

When Jude opened her door and see Madoc asked “Whose child is that? Yours? His?” and Eva replied “No one’s. She is no one’s child.”

Eva didn’t want to say that Jude was her child with Justin.

Madoc adopted the twins not just because of honor and responsibility, he wanted to use them.

Madoc insist that Jude return to his side, maybe because he believe that Jude is the great  weapon.

Oriana never felt comfortable in letting Oak with Jude, maybe she knew that Jude can be dangerous for Faerie princes or for the Greennbriars.

And, Jude’s personal feelings and thoughts.

TCP

“I am going to keep on defying you. I am going to shame you with my defiance. You remind me that I am a mere mortal and you are a prince of Faerie. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing. You may win in the end, you may ensorcell me and hurt me and humiliate me, but I will make sure you lose everything I can take from you on the way down. I promise you this is the least of what I can do.” 

TCP, Jude to the boy who she liked a little.

“If you hurt me, I wouldn't cry. I would hurt you back.”

Why Talyn?

For this theory is essential that the reader know and believe the second theory is true. While the reader is thinking Jude is the great weapon, They are distracted like in a magic trick.

Taryn could be the great weapon

TLS

Madoc wanted to teach at least one of us his trade—the art of war. I am sure he hoped for Vivi. But it was you who wanted to learn. You who had the real affinity. You who kept at it when he knocked you down. You used to say that I was good. That I learned the moves easily. But I didn’t want to know them. I hated the idea I might have to know them.

It is said in TLS and, I think also in TCP, that Taryn has always learned more easily than Jude to how to handle weapons. But Taryn had no interest and Jude wanted to get close to Madoc, to be loved by him. So Taryn might be the great weapon.

But we also have to think about whether the great weapon needs to be a good fighter or whether it's not just prejudice on our part.

Taryn is dangerous even though she is a figure of passivity.

If Taylin will be the fall of Cardan. Once more time Jude have to choose betewn her family and Cardan. (Usually I would be against choose the boy, but Jude's family really sucks, so...)

Taryn is Jude’s nemesis. Nemesis are sometimes represented by us. They have our face, but they are our worst version. You're your worst enemy kind of thing. (Watch scott pilgrim vs the world, if you do not believe me.)

TWK, Chap 4, Jude about Taryn:

She is a mirror, reflecting someone I could have been but am not.

Talyn is someone who Jude could have been if she had made diferent choices. They are not the same. They had the same fear, but different solutions. The twins are afraid to never find a place in Fairy in the beginning of TFOTA.

TLS

We’d been raised like the children of the Gentry, but we weren’t. We were mortals and we had no fixed future in Faerie. You were wondering about your place here, just like I was.

So, they are the same.

But diferently, because when Jude had Cardan under her power in TCP, chap 25, and she thought about kill him, she thought:

If I kill him, I won't have to feel like this anymore. [...] This is weakness, to put fear above ambition, above family, above love, but it feels good. 

But in TCP, chap , Cardan’s group - I’m not callling they friends -  throw the twins in the river, Taryn choose her fear over support her sister.

TLS

“Twin sister,” Cardan said, turning to me. “I have a most generous offer for you. Climb up the bank and kiss me on both my cheeks. Once that’s done, so long as you don’t defend your sister by word or deed, I won’t hold you accountable for her defiance. Now, isn’t that a good bargain?” 

When Taryn left The Evil Quartet to infer Jude's life, Taryn choose her fear over support Jude.

When Taryn proposed to Locke after Locke had play with Jude, Taryn choose her fear over support Jude again.

So Defeat Talyn is choose herself over her sister way of thinking, and is defeat what is worst in herself, defeat the one she do not want be.

I'll come to a conclusion about Jude killing or not someone she really loves after read The Modern Faerie Tales.  Maybe she does not have to kill anyone, only to defeat.

[crystal-siren]

Knowledge (Dad!Tony x Reader + Loki x Reader) Pt. 4

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

@dovies666  @mymourningtea  @hams-corner  @parkerrpeterr  @desdestiny   @m4shtyx  @blackmaylovesfries

She said, ‘Never forget me’.......as if the coast could forget the ocean, or the lung forget the breath, or the earth could forget the sun. ~ Beau Taplin // A Reminder

She was the last person Tony had ever suspected of being a thief. It had been two years since he had spoken with her and heard her voice.

Y/N had left the country on what was supposed to be a business trip. It was not until she was completely out of the country, that the authorities discovered what she had done.

The American government had tasked SHIELD with the mission of finding her and bringing her back. Tony had been reluctant at first, not wanting believe that his little girl was responsible for the theft of classified documents from the National Archives. When he had learnt however, who these documents concerned, he had all the proof he needed.

For two years he and his team mates had chased her across Europe. She had evaded them at every turn, outsmarting them at every opportunity. Even Nat and Clint had a hard time keeping track of her. Y/N’s extensive knowledge of information retrieval made it hard for the Avengers to prevent her from gaining access to the various institutions that had become her targets.

London was the last place they had seen her. Their British contact had seen her, her Y/F/C hair making it easy for anyone to spot and pinpoint her. Nat had tailed her but she soon gave them the slip and disappeared, taking the stolen information with her.

Fury had ordered Tony to stay behind, believing him to be too emotionally involved. He had waited with baited breath as Nat’s steady reports came in over her com. Then came the words that Tony and Fury had been dreading. “I’ve lost her.”

She had gone dark, off the grid. Y/N had made it near impossible for them to track her. Since her disappearance from London, the Avengers had received no further reports of her location. It was not until a pattern was discovered by a SHIELD analyst that they were able to predict where she would go next.

Siberia.

The information and artifacts she had stolen all spoke of a legendary stone with ability to allow its bearer to travel to different worlds. While some argued that they should lie in wait for her, others believed that if she could not find the stone, then she would eventually give up and return to America of her own will.

Tony, who had no desire to arrest his own daughter, voted on the second option.

~ ~ ~

“Sometimes memories are the worst forms of torture.”

If he was surprised that Thor had come to visit him, Loki showed no outward sign. Standing up, he smiled nastily at his brother. “How kind of you to come. Are the realms at peace now that the mighty Thor has vanquished their enemies?”

Thor moved closer until only the barrier of the cell stood between them. “I spoke with Mother,” he continued, ignoring the jibe.

“Did you just.”

“She is worried about you.”

Picking up a nearby book, Loki pretended to read it. “She is? How very touching.”

“You know she is,” Thor spoke, his tone gentle. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his hands before lifting his gaze to meet his brother’s. “I did not just come to speak of our mother, but also to offer my condolences.”

Loki did not answer right away. When he did, his voice was dangerously calm. “I would thank you if I knew why you offered them.”

“Do not play games with me, brother.” Thor could clearly see that something had shifted in his brother, despite the facade he had constructed.

Loki turned away from the older Prince. He clenched his hands into tight fists in order to to maintain his control over his emotions. “I have no need for such useless sentiments.”

“I do wonder,” Thor spoke after a few moments of silence. “How it is possible for you to remain so calm, even after the worst experience has befallen you?”

“What other choice do I have?” Loki challenged, turning to face him.

“The woman you love is dead,” Thor hated himself for the brief flicker of pain that flittered over his brother’s features. “And here you are, calm and collected as though nothing of importance has happened.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

Thor ground his teeth in frustration. Why was he acting so damn unaffected ?

“Lashing out in anger would hardly aid my cause,” Loki pointed out. “She was a mortal, Thor. It was only a matter of time.”

“Would you listen to yourself!” Thor could hardly believe what he was hearing. “If she meant so little to you, as you claim she did-”

“Do not presume to put words into my mouth,” Loki snapped, cutting him off. His upper lip curled in the first show of emotion Thor had witnessed since his arrival. “Do not presume to offer me comfort when you know nothing of the pain.”

Thor said nothing. What could he possibly say? His brother was right, words of comfort would have no effect on him, they were useless.

~ ~ ~

“This is not how I pictured my first trip to the Swiss Alps.”

“Really?” Nikolas shot his cousin a sideways glance, “I am truly shocked.”

“Ha ha,” Y/N unbuckled her safety harness and stood to walk to the back of the helicopter where she proceeded to strap a parachute to her body. “Very funny.”

“I still think the plane would have been better,” her cousin spoke from the cockpit.

“You know,” Y/N replied, moving back to the front and sitting back down. “If you keep saying that, I might just pull you out with me.”

“Then we would crash and boom, there goes the element of surprise.”

Y/N smirked, “boom indeed.”

“Honestly,” Nikolas rolled his eyes and attempted to glare at her. His expression softened, “are you sure you’re up for this ? I know you never liked heights much.”

Y/N took a deep breath and smiled at him. “My fears are of little consequence. I made a promise and what kind of person would I be if I broke it ?”

“This isn’t just about the promise though is it?”

Looking down at her hands, Y/N shook her head.

“You really love him then?”

Meeting her cousin’s blue gaze, she took a shuddering breath and nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, then,” Nikolas nudged her shoulder. “Lets hope everything goes smoothly.”

“Yeah,” she whispered and fixed her eyes straight ahead, “I hope so too.”

Silence hung between them for the remainder of the flight. It wasn’t until the distinct shapes of the mountains came into view, that Y/N stood up and moved to door of the aircraft.

“We’re almost at the drop zone,” Nikolas reported and glanced over his shoulder. “You ready?”

Y/N made to reply when a fit of coughing racked her entire frame.

“Y/N?” Nickolas made to come to her when she waved him away.

“I’m alright,” she wheezed out and held a hand to her chest where a stabbing pain bloomed. “Just the nerves I suppose.”

Despite remaining unconvinced, Nikolas nodded. “If you’re all set?”

Y/N nodded and slid a pair of goggles over her eyes. Sliding the door open, she took a series of deep breaths to try and calm herself. “Here goes,” she murmured to herself and all but fell out of the aircraft.

The rush of the cold mountain air helped to distract Y/N from paying too much attention to the fact that she was falling rather rapidly towards the ground. Only when she pulled the parachute did she relax.

Landing somewhat smoothly in a clearing, she untangled herself from the parachute and activated her earpiece. “Nikolas? Can you hear me?”

“Still alive I see?” Came her cousin’s relieved tone.

“Alive and kicking,” Y/N replied, smirking. “I told you this would work.”

“Hang on,” he protested, “you haven’t even gone in yet.”

“Such faith, dear cousin,” Y/N shot back, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You remember where to go I assume?”

“Please, I’ve been in this business longer than you.”

“Whatever you say,” she replied, “I’m going in.” Looking around, she began the short climb to the walls of SHIELD’s European base of Operations.

~ ~ ~

Not entirely convinced that his daughter would simply give up, Tony had elected to stay at the base in case she got it into her head to try and steal the stone.

If the past two years had taught him anything, it was that Y/N was not to be underestimated in the lengths she would go to.

Standing in front of the case that housed the stone, Tony sighed heavily, never would he have pictured his life to turn out this way. His precious daughter as a fugitive and thief was something the still sounded alien and wrong.

It was a beautiful stone to be sure, that much he would acknowledge. It was as though someone had trapped a sunset inside it. Under no circumstances could he let her get her hands on it.

~ ~ ~

Y/N was more than a bit suspicious of how easy it had been to get in. Not stopping to think why, she slipped into one of the numerous hallways and walked as silently as she could, relying heavily on her memory of the base’s layout.

The stone, if it was there, would be housed in the most secure part of the building.

Making doubly sure to avoid the cameras that decorated the walls, Y/N crept through the building like a shadow.

The sound of approaching footsteps had Y/N press herself against the wall and stop breathing, even though the stabbing pain in her chest continued to increase.

“What do you think Tony’ll do if she comes?” Natasha asked, rounding the corner. Y/N’s eyes widened, her father was here?!

“I hope he doesn’t hesitate, whatever he decides to do,” Clint replied.

Y/N waited until the two agents were completely out of sight before letting out the breath she’d been holding. She berated herself for not having prepared for this eventuality. She perked up however, if her father was here, that meant the stone was too.

With renewed energy, she headed in the direction the two agents had come from. She hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t encounter her father, she had no idea how he would react. She was a criminal after all.

It wasn’t long until a heavily guarded door came into view. Swearing under her breath, Y/N ducked into a nearby alcove, hoping that the guards hadn’t seen her.

Running her hands down her legs, she pulled out a pair of throwing knives. Nikolas had insisted that she at least go minimally armed, in case anything should happen.

Praying that her aim should prove accurate, Y/N spun out of the alcove and threw the blades. They sliced through the air and hit their mark.

Trying not to focus on the fact that she had just taken two lives, Y/N hesitantly approached one and nudged him with her foot. When no response came, she sighed with morbid relief.

Retrieving her knives, she quickly wiped them clean on her pants before approaching the door. Not wasting any time, she pulled out the device Nikolas had given her and placed it on the door. Numbers flickered across the screen until a combination was reached.

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N scanned the hallway before pushing the door open and stepping through.

~ ~ ~

Hearing the door open and then close, Tony turned around. The person that stood before him was both the first and last person he wanted to see.

“Y/N?”

Her e/c eyes didn’t seem to register his presence. They were locked onto the case behind him. “Finally,” she murmured and stepped around him.

Y/N knew full well that her father was there. She also knew that she had precious little time. The stone gleamed before her. It’s warm golden glow reflected on her features. Reaching out, her fingers brushed the cool glass.

“I can’t let you take that.”

Y/N briefly closed her eyes before turning to face him. “That’s too bad. I made a promise and I have every intention of keeping it.”

“A promise to a criminal is one that you have no obligation to keep.”

Y/N stared at her father. “How can you say such a thing? A promise is a promise, regardless to who it is made.”

“He is dangerous, Y/N. You above everyone would know this.”

Y/N nodded. “You’re right, I do know and I love him despite it.”

“I can’t let you do this,” Tony continued as she moved closer to the case.

Turning away from him, Y/N faced the glass and clenched her right hand into a fist before slamming it through the case. The glass sliced at her knuckles but she didn’t care. Her slender fingers curled around the stone and drew it to her. “You thought to steal my chance at happiness. You and those people you call friends.” Turning to face him, she continued, “I will make each and everyone of you pay for that.”

The moment she had smashed the glass, alarms had sounded. Panic coursed through her but she refused to show it. “You made me lose my love once, now you will lose yours a thousand times over.” Her voice was dangerously calm.

Shocked into silence, Tony stared at her. What had happened to his sweet girl? His Y/N? What being had possessed her?

Taking advantage of his stunned state, she sprinted from the room. Clutching the stone to her chest, Y/N ran.

The sound of the alarms seemed to follow her. The hallways all looked the same as she struggled to remember the way out. The heavy sound of running feet soon reached her ears and her panic increased. Touching her earpiece, Y/N activated it and tried to keep her voice calm as she addressed her cousin. “Nikolas? Nikolas? You there?”

“That was quick,” his surprised voice filtered through the com. “Was it there? The stone ?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly as her pursuers gained ground. “I have it with me. I need you to get me out. Now.”

“Something happened didn’t it?”

Y/N sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before answering. “My father was there and I may have said some horrible things to him.”

“Well, did you?”

She bit her lip before answering and looked over her shoulder. “I kind of threatened him.”

“You WHAT?”

“I wasn’t thinking, alright!” She protested and ducked around the next corner when she heard them getting closer. “We can talk about this in greater detail later, but right now, I need you to get me out.”

She heard him sigh heavily before replying. “Alright, as we planned.”

“Agreed.” Taking one more breath despite the pain in her chest and hand, Y/N ran as fast and as quietly as she could.

Finally the route began to look familiar, this alone helped to spur her on. Skidding to a halt just before an emergency exit, she pushed the door open with her good hand and was greeted with a rush of cold mountain air.

“Y/N.”

Freezing at the sound of her name, she slowly turned around and faced her father, who in turn was flanked by Agents Barton and Romanoff.

“Dad,” she acknowledged and unconsciously held the stone closer.

“Give us the stone,” Clint stepped forward and held out a hand.

Curling her upper lip, Y/N shook her head. “I would sooner cut off my right hand than give this to you.”

“Come now,” Tony stepped in. “There is no need for that. Y/N, sweetie, please. I know the promise you made, we were all there.”

“Then let me keep it,” she pleaded, “let me be happy.”

“He will not make you happy,” Natasha tried to reason with her.

Y/N turned her attention to the young Russian. “Who are you to say such a thing? How do you know that ? Hmmm? Who are you to say who and who won’t make me happy?” She then turned to other two. “Who are any of you to determine that? You all hate him! Especially you,” she pointed a bloody finger at Clint.

She opened her mouth to continue when her cousin’s voice sounded in her ear. “Whenever you’re ready, cuz.”

Sure enough, the cold rush of wind that accompanied the arrival of a helicopter blew the few stray strands of Y/F/C hair loose of the braid she had put it in. Turning around, Y/N saw the craft only a short distance away. Her cousin was beckoning her.

Not even sparing a glance for those behind her, Y/N ran and leapt on board, one of Barton’s arrows skimming the air just below her leg. Slamming the door shut, she climbed into the cockpit beside her cousin.

Nikolas’s keen eyes soon landed on her injured hand that still clutched the stone. “What on earth happened to your hand?”

“Later,” was all she managed to gasp out. Her chest heaving with the effort to breathe normally.

“Brilliant,” she heard Nikolas mutter in a worried tone, one hand resting gently on her heated forehead.

To be continued...

Part 5

[lordrethandus]

Mourn Not the Penitent Pt 4

Fifty brave soldiers marched to the thunder of war drums. Many sang songs, both famous in the Horde and obscure alike, while others laughed and taunted each other; anything to dull the edge of the impending battle. They seemed happy, eager to step out of the dust and shadows and reunite with the forces of Azeroth. All but Gonthar as the drums reminded him of home. He could still smell the Stonetalon Mountains like he was there this morning, the bitter chill of the wind sweeping through the passes, the fat buzzards circling overhead. The hideous glow of burning tents, and the screams of pacifist tauren and would-be heroes alike. The Sunwalker could still feel the tattoos etched into his hide when he rubbed at his neck. The mark of the Grimtotem would stay with him. Always.

“Sunsheath?” Sahe snapped him out of his depressed trance with the call of her soothing voice. The Druidess walked alongside him with only the clammer of her feathers and hollow charms dangling from her mane making any noise; she was always deceptively deft at keeping quiet, often catching Gonthar by surprise without even trying. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m thinking about Zolaar. And how Commander Rethandus is protects him so fervently.” He lied, keeping his gaze focused on the path ahead. “It is difficult to focus on the mission when that warlock practices black magic.”

Sahe placed a hand on his arm, if only for a moment. “It is only natural Blood Elves to protect their own. Zolaar will not walk in the light of An’she, nor will he bask in the Emerald Dream. He will answer for all he has done, sooner or later.”

Her words rang true but they didn't make him feel any better. Gonthar knew warlocks played a vital role in stopping the Burning Legion from conquering Azeroth time and time again; but their magic was an affront to everything he fights for and everything he believes in. One day Rethandus would see the error in trusting him, he just hopes it won't be too late.

Gonthar heard the distant yet familiar sounds of battle before he saw them, his forward scouts waiting at the ready for the Oathguard’s arrival. Down in the valley below the Burning Legion were locked in a violent stalemate with Azeroth invaders, with banners so distinct he could recognize them from all the way up here. Gold lions stitched into sky blue banners… the tried and true colors of the Alliance. Their vanguard held the lines steadily enough, but they gained no ground; packs of vicious felhounds and their felguard masters threw themselves against their shields with the full might of the Burning Legion at their backs, while human magi flung ice, fire and raw arcane at the demons from behind their ranks. A worthy and impressive sight to behold, but the Sunwalker didn’t march all the way to spectate; the anxiety of imminent violence turned his blood hot, and the Alliance wouldn’t be able to keep this pace forever.

The Sunwalker turned to his peers and raised one of his meaty fists. “We must strike now while the iron is still hot! Ready the peace offerings!” The soldiers shuffled about to make way for several war braves and the shaved totems in their arms. The wooden “peace offerings” were filled with an old Grimtotem recipe that dates back almost three hundred years, and served the tribe well in their long dominion over the Stonetalon Mountains and the Thousand Needles. The offerings were set along the edge of the hill, with their fuses measured to go off at the end of the hill; Gonthar placed a hoof on the largest one and readied himself. “It is time to show the Burning Legion that the Oathguard is still alive and kicking. We have not forgotten the Broken Shore! We have not forgiven Highmountain! We will march on their twisted keeps, shatter their portals, and slaughter everything that stands in our way!” As the soldiers purged their minds clean of fear and replaced it with a lust for violence, the peace offerings were lit beneath the Sunwalker’s hoof. “For Vol’jin! For Alucieus! FOR THE HORDE!”

When he kicked the offering down the hill, he and the Oathguard followed. The offerings rolled faster and faster, picking up speed until they were fast enough to topple a kodo; the unwary demons at the end of the hill had their legs swept out from underneath them. Before they could get back onto their feet and claws and cloven hooves, the offerings detonated. Grey smoke like burning leaves filled their lungs and seared their eyes and skin, their flesh hardening like the bark of the brittlewood tree. When they clawed at their bodies their flesh shattered by their touch, exposing their soft flesh and filling the air around them with their misery.

Gonthar leaned forward as he ran, feeling his entire body tremble and shake with every heavy step he took. His heart was pounding in his chest and his stomach squirmed in his gut, but he was ready. Wings of light sprouted from his back while he clutched the hilt of his sword, keeping it halfway sheathed while he charged into the bewildered demons. By the time he reached the bottom of the hill his eyes were ablaze with merciless malice so palpable it could drip down his snout like tears. The smoke had turned black now, no more harmful to the Oathguard than burning cinders from a campfire. Gonthar slammed his body into a felguard that looked like he was turning to stone if it weren’t for his felblood spilling from his gaping wounds, sending the demon up and over his body in a mangled mess of ashes and ripped flesh. He crushed another demon’s legs with a hoof, shattering them with ease now that the toxins had turned their bones to glass. He kept charging through the withered and dying, knowing they were unfit for battle and would soon die from bleeding out even if not a single soldier touched them; he saved his strength for the demons further ahead, and when he reached them, he began to do what he was born to do.

He pulled his blade out of his sheath and raised it high into the air, unleashing the wrath of An’she in a blazing arc of light. The demons nearby covered their burned faces and staggered, allowing him to strike them down with impunity; while he wasn’t as nimble nor as fast as his elven brothers in arms, he made up for it with brute strength… and charisma. Gonthar grabbed the hilt of his blade with both of his hands and brought it down as hard as the Tauren could, cleaving the closest foe in twain. His claymore came back up in an upward slash, then from the left, then another from the top right down. The Light of An’she caused the blood on his sword to sizzle and boil, making every strike he landed a lethal one.

The Burning Legion was now pinched between the Alliance and the Oathguard. Any demon with wings took off into the sky, only to be shot out of the sky by magi and archers now that they became clear and easy targets. Seeing the opportunity the Alliance surged forward, breaking rank to cut down those foolish enough to turn their backs on them. Soon the stalemate devolved into a bloodbath and turned the one great battle into countless one on one duels. In his righteous fury Gonthar vanquished every demon who dared challenge him, but the Oathguard was far away, and he was surrounded.

Teeth scraped at his armor. Claws scratched at his arms and legs. He felt the heat from the demonic felfire lick at his neck, but he hardly noticed; with the power of the Earth Mother in his grasp and watching his back, he was invincible. The Light of An’she seared the very ground beneath his hooves in a vindictive consecration and scorched any demons foolish enough to step forward, but soon their numbers became overwhelming. A mo’arg brute in particular cared not for sacred ground or An’she, gritting through the burning pain to issue this mortal a challenge. Its gory club came down from above and slammed into Gonthar’s raised sword, nearly causing the Sunwalker’s knees to buckle from the devastating weight. It raised the club and swung again, nearly crushing his hand against the hilt. A felguard came from behind and buried his axe into Gonthar’s shoulder, forcing him to turn and deal with the demon before the next swing came. Turning his attention away from the brute proved to be a critical error, for when he turned back to face the demon, it slammed its club into his chest and helm with a violent underhanded swing, knocking his sword out of his hand and sending him airborne. He didn’t even notice when he struck the ground. Gonthar rolled over onto his stomach to feel the cold grass poking at his snout. He opened his eyes to feel red clay between his fingers, with the familiar morning dew flickering along the ground. Then, he heard the screams.

Muraco Village was on fire. His Bloodtotem tribesmen laughed and shouted their victory cries while they dragged helpless villagers out of their tents. Children were ripped from their mothers’ breasts to be cast into the bonfire, filling his head with their blood curdling screams. What few men survived the ambush were butchered in front of their wives and mothers and daughters, while many women were subjected to the lusts of frustrated Grimtotem warriors; there was nothing like a woman’s company after a battle. When Gonthar tried to stand on his own two hooves his head began to spin and he emptied his stomach onto the ground. The chaos was intoxicating. Armed or no, his enemies deserved to suffer; defying the Grimtotem is defying the Earth Mother, and her wrath was righteous and pure, unburdened by empathy, and untouched by shame. Blood is the price to pay for any who would break bread with the lesser races. It felt good wetting his hands with their entrails, beating them into pulps; being surrounded by so much death was filling him with a joy he rarely knew. Gonthar reached up to wipe the war paint away from his eyes from all of his sweating, but when he looked down at his hand, he didn’t see the orange paste covering his fingers, he saw a thick sticky crimson... he saw his own blood.

The Sunwalker glanced up to look the mo’arg brute in its tiny little eyes; the creature raised his club for the finishing blow and dropped it down with its overwhelming strength. In an instant his euphoric confusion turned into maddening rage, giving the Grimtotem the strength he needed to defend himself. When the club came down he jumped back, digging his hooves deep into the bloodsoaked ground while the brute buried his weapon where he once stood. Then he charged forward, running past his sword and thrusting both of his hands into the exposed flesh of the demon monster. Felblood sprayed his face with the putrid stench filled his nostrils, but he was already blind with hate, and his senses already dulled. The longer he pulled at the entrails of the demon the worse his blood rage became, and when he surrendered to the fervor of his ancestors, he soon felt nothing at all.

[quranreadalong]

A TALE OF TWO CITIES KINGDOMS, PT 4/4

Despite describing Josiah as a king promised by YHWH and one of the greatest monarchs to ever live, the Bible offers only the following line on his death:

While Josiah was king, Pharaoh Necho king of Egypt went up to the Euphrates River to help the king of Assyria. King Josiah marched out to meet him in battle, but Necho faced him and killed him at Megiddo. 

The phrasing is (probably intentionally) vague, but what appears to have happened here is that the Egyptian army was originally in the area trying to help Assyria hold off the Babylonians, who the Egyptians recognized as an even greater threat than Assyria itself had been. But the Assyrians lost, and the pharaoh moved his forces north. The Bible doesn’t make it clear why Josiah was involved in this situation, nor why Josiah was opposing the pharaoh or even trying to stop his forces from continuing onwards in the first place. The Book of Kings is based on real people, but often distorts the circumstances of their lives, so it’s possible that Josiah was executed by Egypt for infringing upon territory the Egyptians considered theirs or something of that nature. Regardless, Josiah died, and his religious fervor died with him. All of the remaining kings of Judah after him, right up until Judah’s fall (three of whom were his sons, the fourth was his grandson) are described in the Bible as heretics.

It’s clear that the population wasn’t particularly interested in abiding by the dead Josiah’s rules once he was gone. Idols of other gods, like the goddess Ashera, continue to be found in archaeological sites dating to after Josiah’s reign. And like Hezekieh’s evidently aborted religious reforms, Josiah’s successors had bigger problems to worry about than enforcing monotheism. The threat they faced was no longer Egypt or Assyria. It was Babylon.

In the year 605 BC, the armies of Nebuchadnezzar destroyed the allied forces of Egypt and the remnants of Assyria at Carchemish in Syria. The Egyptian army promptly ran in terror right back home, and the Assyrians were finally, utterly defeated. Now Babylon had essentially uncontested control of the region, and its leader had big plans.

Nebuchadnezzar … sought to gain complete control over all the lands to the west. [His forces] marched down the Mediterranean [coast], laying waste to the rich Philistine cities.

It was Josiah’s grandson Jeconiah (or “Jehoiachin”) who was unfortunate enough to be in charge during the time that the Babylonians were menacing their way towards Judah. The Bible grimly records what happened after that, presenting it as YHWH’s judgement:

At that time the officers of Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon advanced on Jerusalem and laid siege to it, and Nebuchadnezzar himself came up to the city while his officers were besieging it. Jehoiachin king of Judah, his mother, his attendants, his nobles and his officials all surrendered to him. ... he took Jehoiachin prisoner. ... removed the treasures from the temple of the Lord and from the royal palace ... carried all Jerusalem into exile: all the officers and fighting men, and all the skilled workers and artisans—a total of ten thousand. Only the poorest people of the land were left.

Contemporary Babylonian records just say that Judah was conquered and made to pay tribute, so the number of people taken into exile here is probably inflated. But whatever happened around 597 BC, that was only the prelude to an even worse day.

Nebuchadnezzar appointed Zedekiah, the uncle of Jeconiah and son of Josiah, to rule the newly-subjugated province of Judah. But Zedekiah, having learned not a goddamn thing from the previous 100 years of Jewish history, decided to rise up and join an anti-Babylon alliance. Babylon responded as you might imagine: in the year 587 BC, virtually all of Judah’s important cities were ruined until only Jerusalem remained. 2 Kings 25 says that the capital endured a famine and the upper class fled from the city, leaving it to its fate, but Zedekiah and his sons were captured; he was taken captive and his sons were killed. The Babylonians conquered the city and burned large parts of it, including the Temple, then took a huge part of the population as captives. This was the last day of Judah. It would never be an independent state again.

There were only a few bright spots in the total destruction of Judah. One, Babylon was not Assyria. It did not resettle the depopulated areas with captives from other lands, as Assyria had done to Israel. Two, while the number of exiles was in the thousands and possibly the tens of thousands, there were still plenty of Jews in Judah, just as there had been plenty of Israelites left in Israel. (However, continued unrest within the province drove even more people out of Judah in the next couple of decades, usually to Egypt.) And three, the exiles were not all living in total captivity and misery, as the captive Israelites presumably had been a century before. Some lived comfortable lives in the city of Babylon, while others established new settlements in undeveloped lands throughout the Babylonian Empire. Jewish communities were able to stick together.

That meant that when Babylon itself collapsed only two generations later, falling to the Persians, the exiled Jews had not only retained their identities and traditions, but had expanded upon them and created the basis for what would become the Judaism that we know today. Past prophets and kings who had advocated for YHWH-only monotheism were retroactively declared righteous and truthful, and Judah’s fall was seen as a result of the population’s refusal to go along with their “reforms”. Judah’s salvation, therefore, required the implementation of those reforms.

And because the Persians had wisely allowed the exiled ruling class of Judah (now called “Yehud”) to return to the province and govern it, the YHWH-only exiles were now the arbiters of religious authority. They decided what the “right” religion was, and they decided who practiced it... and who did not. That led to conflict with the people of the former Kingdom of Israel when the returnees began to rebuild the temple in Jerusalem:

When the enemies of Judah and Benjamin heard that the exiles were building a temple for the Lord, the God of Israel, they ... said, “Let us help you build because, like you, we seek your God and have been sacrificing to him since the time of Esarhaddon king of Assyria, who brought us here.” ...the heads of the families of [Judah] answered, “You have no part with us in building a temple to our God. We alone will build it for the Lord, the God of Israel, as King Cyrus, the king of Persia, commanded us.” 

The Samaritans were seen as foreigners and not real Jews, and they weren’t included in the new religious movement. The Bible goes on to portray them as villains who tried to stop the temple from being built, though the project succeeded despite their maneuverings. And they weren’t the only ones to be harshly reminded of their place:

Within the three days, all the men of Judah and Benjamin had gathered in Jerusalem. And on the twentieth day of the ninth month, all the people were sitting in the square before the house of God, greatly distressed by the occasion and because of the rain. Then Ezra the priest stood up and said to them, “You have been unfaithful; you have married foreign women, adding to Israel’s guilt. Now honor the Lord, the God of your ancestors, and do his will. Separate yourselves from the peoples around you and from your foreign wives.”

In the new version of Israel and Judah’s history, which would not be fully completed and assembled as the Bible we now have for centuries after the exile, the land’s woes had started with Solomon marrying foreign women and allowing them to seduce him into idolatry. That meant that men who repeated Solomon’s “sin” had to be brought in line. The archaeologist Israel Finkelstein believes that most of these “foreign” women were Edomites whose people had settled in the Beersheba valley and who posed an unacceptable risk of making their husbands and children accept religious pluralism. So they had to go. The days of the last Judean kings’ religious and social tolerance were over. Josiah and Hezekieh’s reforms had failed because their successors hadn’t bothered to enforce them, but the new ruling class made sure not to repeat that mistake.

Something else was over. After the Persian conquest and the return of the exiles, the monarchy headed by the House of David was no more.

the Davidite family played no [further] role in the history of Yehud. At the same time, the priesthood, which rose to a position of leadership in exile … maintained its prominence because of its ability to maintain group identity. Yehud [had] a dual system: …governors who were appointed by the Persian authority [and] priests. Lacking the institution of kingship, the Temple now became the center of identity of the people of Yehud.

The priests continued to produce literature to codify new religious rules and update the old stories to make their moral messages reflect the priests’ own beliefs. The Book of Leviticus was written in post-exilic times, Aaron became a major figure of Exodus, and Numbers was updated to emphasize the role of priests--specifically Levites--in society.

And by this point, with religious and social authority so completely centered in Jerusalem, their vanquished northern neighbors were nearly written out of the history of the land. Israel became an accidental breakaway that was once rightfully ruled by Judah; Israel’s kings were idolatrous and sinful; Israel’s people were now foreigners removed from YHWH. All of the accomplishments and successes of Israel over the centuries of its existence were stated to have come to nothing, and the nation utterly perished by YHWH’s command. Judah, though, had survived, and had to devote itself utterly to YHWH and his laws because of that.

As a result, the only “kings of Israel” that most people now know are the guys who likely never ruled Israel in the first place, namely Saul, David, and Solomon, the latter two of whom are the ancestors of the ruling house of Judah. Pour one out to the forgotten Kingdom of Israel.

⇚ previous day | next day ⇛

[daebakinc]

We Make the Kingdom - Pt 18

Image by silverdagger865 Pairing: Yongguk x OC Genre: Fantasy, with Angst and Fluff(but not this chapter) Summary:  After a vampire attack leaves you almost dead, you are rescued by a group of werelions, powers long thought to be extinct. Upon discovering the same magic flows in your blood, you join their fight against encroaching vampires and another, very human monster, to save the kingdom. A/N & Warning: Mentions of blood, violence, and character death. Previous parts:  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ,  8, 9(M), 10, 11, 12, 13, 14,15, 16(M), 17, 18,  Final

You expect deafening drums to announce Lamia’s death, the battle to come to a shrieking halt. But nothing happens. The violence still rages and roars around you, unaware it should have ended. The fighters become indistinguishable shadows dancing in front of curtains of crimson flames as your vision fades in and out. You clutch your side, warm blood leaking between your fingers.

Hands grip your shoulders and shake you. “Ness!”

Yongguk’s face comes into view, so close your noses almost touch. He says something, shouts it at you. You have to concentrate to make sense of it.

“You need to shift, Ness!” Yongguk yells. His hand comes to cover yours, his eyes pleading and demanding. “Shift! You’re losing too much blood! Shift, Ness!”

You know he’s right, but you’re so tired. Gritting your teeth, you push the pain and exhaustion down, shedding it like a snakeskin as you shift. Your mind is clearer, and although your wound burns, it does not sap your strength as before.

Yongguk is transformed as well when you open your eyes. He presses his face to yours. Go protect princess. It’s time.

Be safe, you tell him, indulging in a small rub of foreheads.

He returns the pressure and wheels away towards the Capitol walls, disappearing between struggling bodies.

You cannot spare time following his progress. Turning, you run and tackle the three vampires launching themselves at Hoseok. After a brief struggle, a few snaps of your jaws send heads sailing. Your path clear, you fit yourself in the tight circle of weres surrounding the princess.

Hyosung has abandoned her helmet and sweat molds her hair to her face as she concentrates. For all the screams and flurry of limbs around her, her eyes do not look left or right. They focus solely on the fire wall. But her outstretched arms tremble from the exertion of her power. You wish you could lend her some of your own strength, but it is devoted to clawing and biting and striking at any vampire who dares approach.

Through the bedlam of screams and metal, Yongguk’s roar rings in the distance. If you were not so attuned to his voice, it would have been lost in the rumbling cracks of the fires.

With groans that seem to come from the earth itself, the fire walls lurch forward. Hyosung’s follows after a moment’s hesitation.

“Shields!” The cry echoes across the fields, repeated on hundreds of mouths to be heard above the chaos. “Shields! Shields!”

What soldiers survive outside the shield walls fall back, some dragged to safety behind wood and metal. Still more shields rise and lock together like the roofed shell of a turtle until all are enclosed within. Vampires desperately shriek and pummel at the defense with hand and sword to break it in the face of the encroaching, deadly flames.

As you watch, one wall of fire reaches the rear of the city’s defenders. Like water flowing over an impervious oilskin, the flames surge over the shield wall, unbroken as the net closes in.

The fire at your back is so close your fur is smoking. You fight the animal fear of the flames, the same fear that drives the still attacking vampires as they try to reach Hyosung. It contorts their faces and paints more gruesome shadows across their features. As you lunge towards one, an arm hooks around your chest from behind and yanks.

Your world suddenly goes from light to black as something is thrown over your body.

The arm around you squeezes you against an armored chest. “Get down!” Hyunwoo’s voice shouts in your ear to stop your struggles.

Quickly regaining your senses, you shift back and grab the edges of the fireproof cloak more securely around you. You can feel the weight of the fire wall as it roars above you, the force of driving you to your knees. The instant you feel it slip from your shoulders, you throw the cloth and Hyunwoo’s arm off. You must see the end.

Heavy heat instantly replaces the cloak and smothers the very air in your lungs. The walls have melted into a solid blazing ring, both fear and awe-inspiring in its looming power. Hyosung steps past you, pushing the inferno in front of her now as she walks on singed ground. Her dark hair whips wildly in the dry, angry wind, steaming. A thin river of blood trickles from her nose. It glistens in the light of the fire that scorches grass and incinerates vampires’ bodies as the flames’ perimeter shrinks.

The howls and screeches of the ravenous fire devours the screams of the vampires trapped within. Still the blaze stretches skyward, burning brighter and brighter as it feeds on more magic until it is no wider than a modest tower. Your breath catches in anxious anticipation.

Time for the closing of the fire. Time for the end of the vampires.

A rush of magic hurtles into the tower of flames and collides with a resounding boom. Like a crashing waterfall, the flames collapse inward and into the ground. The shockwaves sweep your feet from beneath you.

When you lift your head, ears ringing, something soft lands on your nose. You wipe it away and your hand comes back smeared with black across the dried blood and dirt. More ashes fall like gray snow onto the ground. They are barely visible in the first frail light of dawn. The mirrors on the wall provide no help, the fires in the braziers extinguished.

But your eyes adjust quickly. You inhale deeply and your heart beats faster as your other senses confirm the culmination you scarcely dare believe.

The plan worked. There is not a single vampire that survived. Their stench is gone from the earth, their reign of terror ended before it could spread. The vampires are vanquished. They are gone. Forever.

Gone too are any hints of grass where the final ring of fire blazed, everything burned down to the very dirt. Even that is charred black.

A ghostly silence rings in your ears, as if the whole world were dead. Not a sound comes from the field, from the city, not a single breath. Then, slowly, around the entire battlefield, soldiers emerge from beneath their shield shells. They too warily eye the surrounding area for any remaining foes. When they find nothing but ash, someone sends up a raucous cheer. It echoes and multiples as soldiers celebrate not only their survival, but an equally miraculous triumph as well.

Your side twinges when you try to voice your own victory shout, and it breaks off into a muffled whimper. Blinking through the pain, you try pushing yourself to your feet again. As you shove your hair from your face, you spot the crumpled figure still clad in gold armor.

“Princess!”

You scramble the short distance to her. Youngjae arrives just as you carefully roll her onto her back, his face covered in sweat and blood, but alive.

Hyosung’s eyes do not move beneath her closed lids, and her pale skin is devoid of the rosiness of life. Despite the lingering heat in the air, her skin is freezing when you gently touch her scratched cheek.

Mouth dry with dread, you glance up at Youngjae as he fumbles with her armor, tossing it aside and pressing two fingers to her throat. “She’s not-”

Youngjae’s face relaxes after a few tensed seconds and he indulges in a half smile when he meets your eyes and the eyes of the small group of weres that have gathered. “No, she’s not dead. Only drained from overextending her power.” He points at Sehun. “Go fetch a healer for the princess! Now!”

Sehun immediately lopes off towards the city as a wolf and Junmyeon kneels beside Youngjae. “Can she be moved?” he asks, eyes on the princess.

“Yes, but-”

Junmyeon is tenderly scooping her up before Youngjae can continue. “I’ll take her. Yixing, Minseok, with me.” He sets off at a run, shouting, “Make way for the princess!”

The soldiers fall silent and clear a path for the three wolves, Youngjae, and Hyosung. As they near the city, those defenders who had fought on the walls begin streaming out the gate with white stretchers. They are a stark reminder that as much cause as there is for celebration, there is much more somber business to attend to.

Weapons lie in melted puddles beside countless bloody heaps of the fallen who were saved from the same fate as their weapons only by the fire charms distributed to them before the battle. Many lie still, never to see another dawn. Some lie groaning, too wounded to call for help. The reek of death settles in your nose, making you cough and shiver, but you must help search for those who still fight for their lives.

You force yourself to stand, wobbling a little as the world tilts. After your first few steps do not send you tumbling to the ground, you begin checking body after body beside the other survivors, dragging the wounded free from the carnage before moving onto the next pile. Each time you turn over a body, you hold your breath and only release it when their face is not that of one of your friends.

Your wound throbs and slows your movements, but you search on. As you pull one survivor from beneath a fallen comrade, your legs buckle. Out of nowhere, Daehyun appears at your side and catches your arm.

He immediately spots the fresh blood staining your shirt. “Ness, you’re hurt,” he says in alarm.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, swallowing the pain that comes when you shake off his grip. “It’s a scratch. You’ve got yourself a nice one yourself there too.”

He tries to give you a winning smile and winces when it pulls on the deep gash across his cheek. “It doesn’t hurt too much. It’ll make a good story for the grandchildren if it scars.” He cries out in relief when Junhong runs up to you. Daehyun grabs the younger by the shoulder and tugs him close. “You made it.”

Junhong nods and pulls away to look at both of you. His face falls when he looks around and sees none of the other lions. “Have you seen the others?”

Dislodging your face from his chest, you say, “Yongguk gave the signal to close the fire and Youngjae went with the princess. I lost track of Jongup.”

“Himchan?”

You and Daehyun shake your heads.

A deafening bellow rings across the flat plains, fading into a human’s screaming wail. You have heard the horrible howls of vampires, the unsettling cries of the dying. This sound is more petrifying than them all. It is the sound of someone’s heart being viciously hauled from their chest and shattered beyond hope of repair. It stops yours cold.

The three of you do not hesitate, wordlessly shifting and running towards the cries.

A half circle of the wolves stand near the center of the battlefield, heads bowed. You and the lions thrust your heads between their shoulders. It is not Himchan who lies beyond, but the shock of who the wolves mourn for forces you back into a human.

Yoonho. Gunhee. Yoosu. Kwangji. Minkyun.

The first hint of the morning light reflects in their eyes that stare up at the brightening sky, making them sparkle with life. But it is only an illusion. Their hearts have long stopped beating. You can smell it. Death is already greedily draining the color from their faces, turning them to pale, gruesome dolls lying in the trampled grass.

Jooheon clutches Gunhee’s body to his chest, shoulders shaking, while Hoseok crushes Minkyun’s hand in his as if willing him to live again. His tears glint on the pale skin as they fall. A few feet away, Minhyuk cradles Yoonho, rocking back and forth as he sobs. Kihyun sits by himself between Kwangji and Yoosu, blood sluggishly dripping from a wide slash across his chest, his eyes mirroring the same dead look of his friends. Hyunwoo stares with a broken expression at his fallen friends, brought to his knees in front of them with his arms around Hyungwon and Changkyun.

           As you gaze with tear filled eyes, Jongdae pushes his way through the crowd of weres, tenderly carrying another amethyst-covered body. Seokwon’s head lolls unnaturally in the crook of Jongdae’s arms. Gently, he lays Seokwon beside the others, carefully arranging his arms over his chest, sword in hand.

A moan rips from Changkyun’s mouth. He crawls to Seokwon, only able to look on his friend’s face a few moments before he collapses onto his unmoving chest and cries unashamedly.

A hand falls on your shoulder, disturbing your darkening thoughts. You look back and fall into Yongguk’s arms, heedless of his battle soiled clothes. His hand curls in your hair as he clasps you to him.

“We are alive, Ness,” Yongguk whispers reassuringly, though it sounds like he doesn’t believe it himself. He sways back and forth as you grip his shirt. “We are alive.”

“We haven’t found Jongup and Himchan yet.”            “I did.” He brushes your hair from your cheek when you look up. “Jongup has a broken arm. Himchan took a sword for General Choi, but the healers told me he will live,” he hurries to finish. He hesitates before adding, “And the king is dead.”

Your mouth falls and several wolves’ heads whip around. “How?” you ask.

“He escaped his cell somehow during the battle and stabbed one of the fire mages controlling the flame circle. In the struggle to subdue him, he fell off the wall and broke his neck. It was a quick death. He should have stood to answer for his crimes,” Yongguk growls.

The news renders you dizzy with its implications. You take a breath to calm your thoughts. “The Goddess will see to his punishment far better than we could. We should give him no more of our time or thoughts.”

Yongguk searches your face before nodding. “You are right. There are more things we should be thankful for. Our family is still whole.”

The words spill out as you think of the six bodies behind you. “Not entirely.”

Yongguk glances over your head, grief sinking into his features. “Not entirely,” he agrees, “but we will never let them be forgotten,”

“Never,” you repeat, nodding your head.

“But Ness,” he says, his usual authority strengthening his voice again, “there will be time to mourn and honor their sacrifice later. They will be cared for. We need to get your wound attended to before it becomes worse.”

You allow Yongguk to lead you away. You can recognize the onset of exhaustion from exertion and blood loss as your head gets lighter and your legs weaker. Someone hands Yongguk the reins of a horse and helps hand you up to sit in front of him in the saddle. He knees it to join the greatly shrunken ranks of soldiers trudging back into the city with heavy feet and heavier souls.

Joyful cheers hit your ears as soon as your horse passes under the great gate. The people of the city line the street, fill every window and doorway shouting praises and thanks. Some throw flowers before your horses’ feet.

They do not yet know the cost at which their lives were preserved. The friends stolen from you when they deserved to live more than anyone. When they were almost free.

You turn your face into Yongguk’s shoulder so they cannot see your tears.

 After binding your side, the healer attending you gives you a drink that sends you into a deep, dreamless sleep. A day passes while you rest. When you wake up, you are alone except for Himchan, who sleeps on the bed across from yours, and Junhong, who sleeps as well with his head resting on his arms on Himchan’s bed.

Himchan’s chest rises and falls unlabored, and Junhong does not stir when you rise. You brush his hair away from his forehead, smiling softly, before continuing to the window to crack it open. The view looks out over the city gate and beyond, where you can see small figures scurrying back and forth. Sounds of ordinary life murmur throughout the palace and city. People working, animals chattering. Normal sounds. The sounds of peace time. But they put you on edge instead of at ease.

You wrap your arms around yourself. Such peace doesn’t feel real. “How can it seem like nothing happened?” you whisper.

“That is how war is,” Yongguk’s soft reply comes from behind you. His arms come around yours, tucking you against his warmth. “It inflicts slow-healing scars, physical and mental, but the people it leaves must continue on. They must return to their homes, their livelihoods, their lives before the war. They must recreate their futures with their families.”

Leaning against him, eyes still looking out the window, you say, “I still cannot believe it is over. I feel like I will wake up back in the keep after a hunt, the fight nowhere near over.”

Yongguk nods, his chin hitting your shoulder. “I know. I can scarcely believe we are free either. If I had not felt my stake go into Lamia’s heart and seen the king’s body, I still might not.”

“But we are, aren’t we? The king is dead, and the vampires are gone.” You squeeze his hand, then turn in his arms to look at him. His eyes are tired, but you see something there you have not in a long time. Hope. Hope for the future. “Things are changing.”

“They are. I just came from the Princess Hyosung’s chambers. Already she is planning reforms, new laws to fix the ills her uncle caused, all from her bed. She summoned me to answer some questions and only let me leave when her old nursemaid scolded her into taking a rest.”

The admiration in his voice surprises you. “I never thought I would see the day I heard you speak fondly of a royal.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Nor did I, but she will make a great queen, one it will be an honor to serve.”

Nodding in agreement, you ask, “Do you plan to stay in the Capitol then?”

“I do not know,” he admits. “The princess has already asked me to stay to help rebuild her government, but I miss home. I want to put these past five years behind me and forget. Yet maybe the work the princess offers would be best. There is so much good I could do with her power behind me.”

Smiling, you affectionately cup his cheek. You can already see thousands of ideas whirling inside his head, ready to kindle to life through his own sweat. “You cannot be satisfied with changing the world for the better just once, can you? We both know you do not do well with being idle.”

           Yongguk shrugs. “I do not. If I have the ability to correct the wrongs in our kingdom, to help our people, I could not live with myself if I turned away.”

           “That is one of the many reasons I love you.” You kiss him lightly, then rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes. “Finally, the world will have a chance to see how good a man you are as well.

           “Perhaps.” His embrace tightens around your shoulders, careful to avoid your bandaged waist.  “There is time to decide. We will find something together,” he assures you. “You do not do well with nothing to do as well. As I recall, you always find some mischief to get into.”

           Your smile widens at his light teasing. “That ‘mischief’ was only mischief because you tried changing my mind by force.”

           “I am wiser now though. Once my lioness’ mind is made up, nothing in the world can stop her.” Yongguk smiles.

           “I knew you were a smart man.” Solely because you can do so fearlessly, you kiss him.

           As your lips break apart, someone coughs from behind Yongguk. “If you two are done whispering and being disgustingly in love over there, there’s an invalid who could use something to drink over here,” Himchan says drily.

             Despite spending the day relaxing and healing and enjoying the simple company of your friends, you rise the following with none of the joy remaining. In the dark of pre-dawn, you dress quietly in the white clothes left by your bed and meet Yongguk at the door with the other lions. The wolves are already in the courtyard where you mount up and fall in behind the princess. Your procession grows as it follows the princess out of the city, towards the east, to the royal mausoleums.

           The burial hills are soft sloping with age and protected by tall, stoic stone guardians of warriors of old. Kings and queens rest undisturbed by the quiet tramp of foot and hoof, but your heart grows heavier the closer you ride to the end of the long lane.

           Two funeral pyres wait there, one dwarfing the other, both covered with white cloths bearing the lily of the Goddess. You cannot look at the smaller of the two pyres and the shape of six bodies upon it. Nor can you look at the seven bears who stand vigil around it. They have taken no food, no rest since the battle’s end in order to stay by their friends’ sides, only submitting to healers’

bandages under the princess’ orders.

           When Hyosung dismounts, you all follow her example. She takes a torch from an attendant and walks closer to the pyres. After she bows in her head in a silent, personal prayer, she turns back to face those gathered, every single citizen who remained now present.

Regal in the light of hundreds of torches, Hyosung addresses the crowd, her voice as strong and clear as it was on the battlefield. “Today, we honor the men and women who valiantly died to keep our kingdom free. I did not know them as you did; I did not know them as sons and daughters, as brothers and sisters, as mothers and fathers, but their bravery and sacrifice shall never be forgotten, this I vow to you. Already, each of their names is being written and preserved forever in the chronicles of our history.”

Her voice wavers and she pauses before she continues. “As they honored us with their lives, so we shall honor them in death. May they rest peacefully in the halls of the Goddess. Hail the victorious dead.”

“Hail,” you softly echo. Your voice is lost among the thousands.

The princess takes the torch Yongguk holds and approaches the first pyre. She touches the torch to each corner, flame eagerly licking at fuel-drenched wood. As they grow into a steady blaze, Hyosung turns to the bears’, but she delays.

Hyunwoo does not when she offers the torch to him. He solemnly lights the pyre and holds the torch there until the heat forces him back.

Fur brushes your shoulder as a wolf walks toward the flames. Yixing comes to stand by Hyunwoo’s side, thrusting his head towards the sky with a mournful howl. One by one, the wolves join the bears to sing. Their voices soar together, the notes rising and falling in song of lamentation and praise, of loss and remembrance.

Daehyun is the first of the lions to shift and add his roar to the dawn. You and the others follow his lead. Not for the first time, you are grateful a lioness cannot cry.

 Only when the last embers have faded into the soft bed of ashes do you, the other weres, and the princess leave the burial grounds. Yongguk rides quietly beside you, his hand tucked into yours. Your mouths are dry, and words too burdensome.

“Master Bang.” Hyosung stops her horse and waits to take Yongguk’s other side.

He drops your hand and bows his head. “Princess?”

“I wish to continue our conversation from yesterday, particularly on your ideas for caring for the children of the soldiers we lost. When you have rested, come to the state chamber.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And Mistress Ness,” Hyosung offers a soft smile towards you, “I have arranged for the royal seamstress to take care of your gown for tonight’s grand feast and your presentation. She should be waiting for you. You may join us after, if you wish.”

Startled, you glance at Yongguk and say, “Thank you, Your Highness.” As soon as she’s out of earshot, you whisper, “What am I going to do in a gown?”

“Wear it?”

“Impudence.” You jab at his ribs with your elbow and immediately hide your wince at the pull. You turn it into a sigh, fiddling with the reins. “You know what I mean, Yongguk. I felt stifled and stiff in the one I wore when we met your parents. I wasn’t… me.”

“You are always you. Nothing can suppress your spirit.” Yongguk takes your hand again and kisses the back of it. “If you do not want to wear a gown, you need only tell the seamstress. Who would dare force a were heroine to do anything she didn’t want to?”

You cast your eyes back between your horses’ ears. Rather than focus on how the subject makes you uncomfortable, you reply, “The plans the princess mentioned? What are they?”

Yongguk instantly launches into an enthusiastic explanation that you attentively listen to, all to push back a niggling feeling that rests uneasily in your stomach.  

“Now, you must remember: the princess always acts first. Do not sit until she sits, do not eat until she eats. You may converse with those around you, but do not address the princess unless she speaks to you. Do not leave the table without her permission, which you may request by sending a message via one of the attendants. Questions, Mistress Ness?”

You wish you could toss the long list of etiquette the head steward holds out the window or perhaps wrap it around his neck. The man found you held captive by hundreds of pins as the seamstress tucked and cut over an hour ago and has not ceased prattling at you since. A headache is brewing behind your eyes, shortening your temper even more than having to stand still.

Before you react rashly, you close your eyes and grit out, “No, Master Steward. You have been quite thorough and clear in your explanations.”

“If you’re done, leave the poor woman alone.” The seamstress does not glance up from her work and somehow manages to speak clearly through a mouthful of pins. “She’s fought vampires. I think she can handle a small court function.”

The steward’s chest puffs as he huffs in indignation. “A small court function, madam? The whole city will be there. The princess must prove herself in peace now that she has in war. If anything goes wrong, it could jeopardize her being crowned queen given how she deposed the king and he’s now conveniently dead. The weres cannot step a toe out of line lest someone take her as incompetent. I am only doing what is best for the kingdom’s stability.”

The seamstress fires back something quick-witted, but you cannot hear it. You can feel the dress constricting your breathing. “Excuse me, mistress. May I take a short break?”

“Of course, dear. All you need to do was ask. Just let me remove a few pins.”

“But we are not done yet,” the steward presses.

You whip your head around and whatever expression your face holds stops his protests. “I will return shortly,” you calmly say. You slip out the door.

You walk. You walk and walk, using the task of memorizing your way to keep the growing anxiety, careless of who sees you in a half-finished dress. A scent of fresh air beckons from somewhere nearby. Pushing aside a heavy brocade cloth, you find a small alcove with a single arced window fitted with a window-seat below. Gratefully, you sink onto the stone bench and coax the glass open.

A winter breeze brushes your face like a cool hand, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You gulp it in like you haven’t breathed in years, then let your head rest back against the rough wall.

The steward’s words repeat in your head. The security of the princess’ transition to queen rests on your performance? Already the hundreds of rules relayed to you are swirling together into a gibbering weaving, darting out of reach when you try to recall them.

You are not like Yongguk or the others with their delayed dreams they can dust off and begin again like old tools. Your only skills are fighting and hunting and what use are trades of war in times of peace. In the distance, the mountains, your mountains that you have run alone on two and four feet, silently call to the animal in you that senses a creeping cage. The lioness is all you know.

Can you truly be free here, the mountains and sky murmur. Or will you become a pawn again, a relic to be brought out when it is useful as a show because you are too lost in yourself to see sense.

The thick curtain that hides your seat does not block out sound. Not that a wall could impede Daehyun’s voice. Relief sweeps aside the growing clamor in your head. Here is a friend to laugh and brush aside your worries with heartfelt assurances. But when you do not recognize the second male voice, you hesitate to reveal yourself.

“Of everything I have seen and heard since arriving in this place, that is the most ridiculous,” Daehyun says, his words clear at last as he stops in front of your hiding space. “Hyosung intends to marry Yongguk? You are mad, Changkyun.”

You hold your breath. You could not have heard correctly.

           “You asked, Daehyun.”

“First, I asked you where the kitchen is, then I asked you about the palace gossip. Nowhere did I ask what the resident madman was saying.”

“I am simply stating what I have heard from multiple sources,” Changkyun asserts.

“We have jested many times about Yongguk being king, but no. For many reasons no, but primarily because Princess Hyosung knows Yongguk loves Ness,” Daehyun says adamantly.

“And there has never been a royal who would break a romance to form a politically advantageous match?” Changkyun points out. “The princess has a kind heart, but she is a shrewd one. She knows the best way to secure her throne is to marry one of the alpha weres. They are heroes and who would challenge her with a husband who is immune to magic?”

“That is true. Do you truly think she will pick Yongguk though? Junmyeon comes from a noble family, as do some of your friends if I recall correctly. Surely, they would be a better match.”

“That may be, but it is Yongguk who slew the vampire queen. Mark my words, she has her eyes on Yongguk. Look at how she has kept him at her side. Hyosung knows the larger the hero, the more power she will have.”

“And what of Ness? The princess would make her disappear? I do not think Yongguk would take kindly to that, nor would any of us.”

“More than likely she would stay in court, and, as long as Yongguk helped Hyosung produce an heir, he and Ness could conduct a discrete affair. It would not be the first time. And what man could resist the power being king offers? Hyosung will rule, but her consort’s power is second only to hers.”

“Yongguk is a man unlike any other,” Daehyun scoffs. He makes another frustrated noise. “Let us talk of something else before I completely lose my appetite.”

The men’s voices fade, but you cannot move.

Your tongue feels thick, too large for your mouth as if it is trying to suffocate you. A pain that makes being stabbed feel like a feather’s stroke throbs in your chest.

You do not want to believe it is possible. You know Yongguk loves you. He told you himself he loves you more than anything else in this world. But if he chooses to stay in the world of Capitol, you are unsure if it is one you can endure.

And yet, everything Changkyun said was true. Hyosung is the most powerful person in the kingdom. She can do as she pleases, and although you have seen her kindness, kindness does not guarantee a ruler their crown. If Hyosung is to be unchallenged, she must use any method to secure her throne and marriage is the most logical choice.

You know Yongguk’s dreams. You’ve listened to them for hours upon hours as you sat together. Above all else, he wants to better the world, has hundreds of thousands of plans he dreamed and refined during the empty hours in the keep. As a councilor, he will bring them to life and do good things. But as a king, he could do great things.

The patch of sunlight slinks across your lap as you deliberate and debate. Only when you hear the seamstress and her assistant calling your name do you remember you cannot stay in your little alcove of shelter forever. You must face your decision and pray it is the best. No matter how deep it hurts.

 After the seamstress finishes her measuring and leaves with the promise of returning before the feast, you escape your room to wander the halls and return with just enough time to prepare. Without protest, you let the maids tug and tease your hair, paint and polish your face, tie and straighten your dress, until you scarcely recognize yourself in the mirror they bring you.

“You look lovely, my lady,” one of the girls bursts out. “As beautiful as any court lady.”

“Thank you.” You give her a small smile. The copper fabric flows like liquid metal around your body, reminiscent of a lion’s mane with its gold trim and elegant lined pattern.

When you move towards the door, another rushes to touch your sleeve, “Wait, my lady. Master Bang will be here to escort you in a few moments.”

You open the door anyway and shrug. “I am able to escort myself if one of you will show me the way. He may meet me there.”

The maid who complimented you scurries out of the room to lead the way when you start off down the hall on your own.

Thick wooden doors that are twins of the State Council’s in size and ornate decoration mute some of the noise from the great hall within, but you can still hear the excited murmurs of hundreds of people beyond. You grip the fan tighter as you approach the large group of men a number of servants are trying to herd into organized ranks with little success.

“Leaders in front, please,” you hear the head steward begging, his voice the polite level just below a shout. “Then two by two in the order I told you before. Please, my lords, the princess is due to arrive soon.”

You spot the other copper-wearing lions and steal through the throng to their cluster.

“Ness!” Youngjae exclaims. “You look incredible.”

Himchan punches him in the arm. “She always has.”

“Are you really feeling well enough for this?” you ask him, eyeing the paleness that still clings to his skin.

“A sword cannot keep this lion away from a party,” he laughs. “I am much better, I promise.”

You glance around the small circle. A warm rumble of happy pride vibrates your chest like a purr at how handsome your friends look, but it is quickly dampened when you remember your plan.

Hiding the dip in your mood, you ask, “Where is Yongguk?”

“He was almost done dressing when I left the room,” Junhong offers. “His meetings with the princess ran late.”

The head steward pops up behind Daehyun, tapping his shoulder. “Gentlemen, lady, positions, if you please.”

As if summoned, Yongguk strides into the hall as you fall into line beside Jongup in the procession. His eyes immediately find yours and you steel yourself as he strides directly towards you. He looks glorious and every bit a king in his new robes that billow behind him. The only missing piece is a crown.

“Ness, where have you been?” he asks in a low voice after giving Jongup an acknowledging nod. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere.”

“I’m sorry.” You try to push away the guilt at the worry in his eyes. “I went for a walk and got lost.”

“I have something important to tell you in private. I-”

“There you are, Master Bang.” The head steward truly wants you to maim him from the way he interrupts again. “You are to escort the Princess Hyosung into the feast. This way.”

Annoyance flashes across Yongguk’s face, but he restrains it as you have. He gives you a meaningful look and says, “We will talk later.”

Jongup casts a puzzled look between you and Yongguk as the alpha walks away. “Do you know what that was about?”

Because you do not want to admit it even to yourself, you lie. “No.”

 Heat builds in the room as the hours pass, marked by occasional speeches and memorials to the fallen. Grief is tempered by good food and alcohol, the mood passing from mourning of the dead to celebrating the living. The enormous banquet hall is filled to capacity, hundreds of people in bright clothes and brighter jewels crowding tables and vying to be heard above the rest in between bites of food.

You lean back in your chair and sip your wine as you watch. Your eyes flitting between the table across from you with half of the weres and their families, and the high table with the princess, higher level courtiers, and the alphas of the weres.

Hyosung is resplendent as a queen should be in a deep purple gown trimmed in glittering silver that makes her pale skin glow. Her crown is an elaborate web of silver surrounding a perfect oval piece of jade, bright against her dark, thick hair. Yongguk sits closer to your table on the princess’ right with Hyunwoo while Junmyeon sits to her left. Although he is in deep conversation with an older man beside him, he notices you watching and offers a small, brief smile before returning his attention to his companion.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch many glances aimed at you and your friends. Those of awe, of interest, of calculation. You can only imagine what their whispers hold, and turn your attention inward. The later the hour, the closer it comes time to make your move. You just need to find an inconspicuous reason to slip away.

“Ness.” Himchan’s voice breaks into your mind as he leans over the arm of his seat. In a whisper, he asks, “Could I trouble you for a favor?”

“Of course,” you reply without hesitation.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I am not recovering as fast as I would like from being skewered. My efforts to dull my senses with drink are having limited success,” he admits. “Would you mind accompanying me back to my room? It would be incredibly embarrassing if someone found me collapsed in a hall.”

“Do you need a healer?” you ask in concern. Beneath the rosiness of wine on his cheeks, you notice a sick tint to his skin.

Himchan shakes his head quickly. “No, no. It’s tolerable, but I think I would feel better somewhere quieter. My first party in years and I have to leave early,” he says ruefully.

You cannot help chuckling. “There will be many more in your future, I am sure.”

It only takes a moment to flag down a page to send a message to Hyosung. She glances at Himchan with a frown but nods.

“The princess gives you leave to go. She asks if Master Kim requires a healer to meet him in his room,” the page relays back.            “Please tell her Highness I am grateful for her care, but I will be fine.” Himchan bows his head in the princess’ direction.

Yongguk also catches your eye with questioning eyes, but they soften when they note the flash of pain across Himchan’s face as he rises. You linger a moment longer, committing every feature to memory in the deepest recesses of your heart. Before you can reconsider your choice, you follow Himchan.

Walking through the halls, you offer short replies as Himchan comments on different people and the food and other observations until you reach his room. Your heart thuds harder and harder against your chest.

“Just you wait, Ness,” Himchan muses as you help him change into a sleeping robe. His eyes are already closing when you help him ease down onto the bed. Still, he continues. “I will make you such clothes that even the princess herself will be jealous. Must make sure our lioness is the pride of our pride.” He chuckles at his own joke.

You set his boots beside the bed, pull the blankets over him, and cover his hands with both of yours. Affection fills your throat so you struggle to keep your voice even. “I would love to wear your creations, Himchan.” You bend down and kiss his forehead. “Thank you for everything, my friend. Even if we lived another hundred lifetimes, I could not repay you. Sleep well.”

“Ness.” Himchan catches your arm as you turn away. Concern fights through weariness in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I am fine. I promise. I’m just tired. I am not use to so many people anymore.”

“Are any of us?” He laughs softly again and waves you off. “You should go rescue Yongguk and take yourselves off to sleep too.”

“Good night, Himchan.”

After closing the door, you lean against it and take a deep breath. If you do not act now, you will lose your nerve and ruin everything. You return to your room to strip off your finery and change into plain clothes you found earlier. Tucking a few other items you had procured into a bag, you leave without a second glance.

Sounds from the feast whisper through the dark, empty halls of the palace. You pause, the temptation for one last look at Yongguk battering at your resolve. In the most difficult task you ever undertaken, you turn your back.

The city is alive again with celebrations of victory. Even the guards on the walls do not keep watch on the land beyond, too occupied by the rich food and heavier drinks provided by the palace. With their faces to the fires, they do not notice a lone woman cloaked in black drop over the walls, nor the lioness who sprints across the plain towards the wilderness, leaving nothing in her wake but crushed grass in the moonlight.

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Kingdom Map, Keep Map, Were Scale, Were Guide

[swanqueeneverafter]

36. There's No Place Like Home, Pt.4

The Enchanted Forest. Past. Dark Palace. The Dungeon. (Having regained consciousness, Emma’s cellmate watches her looking at Prince Charming’s ring.) Woman: “What’s that?” Emma: “It’s my parents’. I guess you could call it their wedding ring.” Woman: “And they entrusted you with it?” Emma: “Sort of. I need to get it back to them.” Woman: “Being away from family is a terrible, terrible thing.” Emma: “Yeah, it is.” Woman: “The longer I’m separated from them. The pain doesn’t dull. It worsens. Maybe, cause I know I’ll never see them again.” Emma: “If my mom was here she would tell me to have hope. Maybe you should too. Who knows, maybe you will end up with them again.” Woman: “I don’t think so. I’m fairly certain they already think that I’m dead. And soon that’ll be true.” (Emma notices a spoon lying on the ground in her cell.) Emma: “Maybe not. Give me your spoon.” (Emma entwines a wire around both spoons shaping it to a tool.) Woman: “What are you doing?” Emma: “It’s all about the tumblers.” (Using the wire, Emma opens her cell door.) Woman: “You did it. (Emma leaves her cell and hesitates for a moment:) What are you waiting for? Go! Get out of here! Go!” Dark Palace. Near The Dungeons. (A guard is standing watch. Growling, a wolf approaches him. Drawing his sword to fight the wolf, the guard is unaware that Prince Charming strikes a blow at his feet. The guard loses his balance and is knocked unconscious. Carefully, Hook advances, holding Red’s cloak in one hand.) Hook: “I’m glad the wolf is on our side.” (Hook throws the cloak on Red.) Prince Charming: “She’s a fearsome one. (Sheaths his sword:) Better hurry. When he awakes, they’ll be onto us.” Red: “Wait. Someone’s coming.” Hook: (Drawing his sword:) “Swan?” Emma: “Hook.” Hook: “What the hell are you doing? You’re depriving me of a dashing rescue.” Emma: “Sorry. The only one who saves me is me. Speaking of which... (Slipping the ring off her finger:) I’m not gonna be around much longer unless we find where this belongs.” Prince Charming: “I think that belongs to me.” Emma: “You guys have a way out of here?” Red: “Follow me. Snow told me where to meet her.” Woman: (Walks past Emma:) “Thank you, Leia.” Hook: (Falling behind in order to speak with Emma:) “Swan, you didn’t.” Emma: “She was to be executed in the morning. I couldn’t just leave her there to die.” Hook: “Actually, if she was to die, she pretty much has to.” Prince Charming: “I hate to break up a reunion but we have to keep moving. We have to find Snow White.”

Dark Palace. Regina’s Private Chambers. (Snow White sneaks in, ready to throw the dark fairy dust. The Evil Queen takes a closer look at an apple. Looking into her mirror, the Evil Queen notices the movement and recognizes Snow White.) The Evil Queen: “I didn’t think you were dumb enough to sneak back into your own home. (Standing up:) But, then again, I suppose, you were dumb enough to lose it.” Snow White: “Don’t come any closer.” The Evil Queen: “You think I’m scared of fairy dust?” Snow White: “This is dark fairy dust.” The Evil Queen: (Hesitates:) “How did you get that?” Snow White: “Doesn’t matter. What matters is, I intend to use it on you.” The Evil Queen: “Do you really think turning me into a bug will stop me?” Snow White: “No, but stepping on you will.” The Evil Queen: “You plan to kill me? I don’t think you have that in you, Snow White. (Snow White throws the dust. Raising a hand, the Evil Queen causes the dust to fall harmlessly to the ground:) Dark magic is my strong suit. Not yours. Guards! It’s about time you suffer as I did.” Snow White: “It was a mistake, Regina. I didn’t know telling your mother about Daniel would mean she would stop your marriage. I was a child!” The Evil Queen: (Angry:) “A child who didn’t learn the most basic lesson. All actions have consequences.” Snow White: “You can kill me, Regina, but this kingdom will never be yours.” (Before the guards can grab her, Snow throws the rest of the dark fairy dust over herself and seemingly vanishes.) The Evil Queen: (Hesitates, hears Emma’s voice in her head:) ‘She is the key to you finding your happiness.’ (To the guards:) “You fools! She escaped right under your noses!” (Spotting the little red insect flying away, Regina turns and walks away, leaving the guards utterly confused.)

The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Holding a lantern, Past Hook walks through the woods, followed by Smee.) Smee: "Uh, we're getting closer, Captain. (Turns the map in his hands:) At least, I think we are. I never was very much good navigating on land." Past Hook: "Navigation skills are no longer required, Mr. Smee. Look up. (Both men stare up at the foot of the staircase that leads to the Forbidden Fortress.) Wish me luck, Mr. Smee." (The pirate begins the long journey, alone.) Forbidden Fortress. (Past Hook enters a large, dark room. The only light coming from the substantial fireplace. Spotting someone sitting beside it, the pirate clears his throat and makes his way toward them.) Past Hook: "Apologies for the intrusion, but your door was open." Maleficent: "That's because I didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to enter my domain." Past Hook: (Chuckles:) "Captain Killian Jones, at your service." Maleficent: "Captain? (Leans forward in her chair, revealing her face for the first time:) My, aren't we handsome?" Past Hook: (Bows slightly:) "My lady." Maleficent: "What do you want? Who sent you?" Past Hook: "I... I'm sorry I'm a bit out of sorts. When the Evil Queen mentioned a powerful sorceress I just expected to find a horrible witch. And instead I find a beautiful woman before me." (Gives a roguish smile.) Maleficent: "Beautiful? Bold and brave I see. My name is Maleficent, what is it that you seek from me?" Past Hook: "I'm here on a mission of revenge. Something I hear you know a lot about. The queen sent me to see if your magic could help open a portal to a land without magic so that I may vanquish a foul demon that has wronged me. Although, having met you, perhaps business can wait awhile." Maleficent: (Mutters to herself, shaking her head:) "Regina, Regina, Regina." Past Hook: "What was that?" Maleficent: "I'm afraid I do not have the powers you seek." Past Hook: "Ah." Maleficent: (Rising to her feet:) "However, the queen was right about one thing: I do know a lot about revenge. I can give you a potion that will make you able to know your demon's weakness and use it against them." Past Hook: "All due respect, Milady, I have known the Dark One far longer than I care to admit. In this land he has no weaknesses." Maleficent: (Stepping closer:) "Everyone has a vulnerable spot. It's just about knowing where to look." Past Hook: "Indeed. (Slightly intimidated by the woman before him:) And what would you require in return for this potion?" Maleficent: "Look around you. It gets so lonesome here in my fortress." Past Hook: "I can imagine." Maleficent: "In return for my potion, all I would require from you is a little... company." Past Hook: (As Maleficent runs her hand under his shirt:) "Oh I assure you, I am wonderful company." Maleficent: "Do we have a deal?" Past Hook: (Smiles:) "How could I possibly refuse such a charming offer." (Maleficent smiles, emits a low growl and then pounces.)

The Enchanted Forest. Past. In The Woods. (Red, Hook, Prince Charming, Emma and her cellmate await Snow White at the agreed meeting point.) Prince Charming: “I don’t understand, she said to meet her here.” Hook: (Tries to shoo off a ladybug:) “Cursed vermin. We should head back to the Queen’s castle. Take a look around. (Again he tries to shoo of the lady bug:) Perhaps she was caught by Regina. (The lady bug lands on Emma’s arm:) Stay still, love.” (Hook wants to crush the bug, when Prince Charming stops him.) Prince Charming: “Wait! Don’t harm that thing. When we were coming to rescue you, Snow told me what her dust would do to the Queen. She said it would turn her into a form that could easily be squashed. (Gently he picks the lady bug from Emma’s shoulder:) A bug.” Emma: (Doubtful:) “You think Snow turned herself into that?” Prince Charming: “Well, if she did, she could have escaped the castle virtually undetected and flown away. (Takes a closer look at the bug:) Yeah, that’s her. Just need to find a way to bring her back.” (The bug buzzes.) Emma: (Leans closer:) “She’s saying something.” Hook: “Wonderful. Anyone fluent in bug?” (The Blue Fairy emerges from the woods.) Blue Fairy: “She’s calling for me.” Emma: “Blue.” Blue Fairy: “That’s right. And you are?” Emma: “Leia.” Blue: “No, that’s not it. But your secrets can be yours. I sense it’s better that way.” Red: “Can you bring Snow back?” Blue Fairy: “Dark magic did this to her. (Nods:) Light magic can undo it.” (Using her wand, she transforms the bug into Snow White. Prince Charming laughs.) Emma: (Hugs Snow White in relief:) “You’re all right!” Snow White: (Tenses:) “Oh. It appears so. Thank you.” Red: “Snow?” Snow White: (Hugs Red:) “Red. I’m so glad to see you.” (With a pained expression, Emma watches Prince Charming, Red and Snow.) Hook: (Steps closer:) “Looks like we’re back on track, love.” Emma: (Nods:) “Yeah.”

The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Snow White hugs Red and then approaches Prince Charming.) Snow White: “I suppose I should thank you. You saved me.” Prince Charming: “Well, it seemed like the honorable thing to do.” Snow White: “I’m going to the stream to get some water. I can fill your canteen, if you’d like.” Prince Charming: (He hands her his bottle:) “Thanks.” Emma (Overhearing the conversation:) “They’re warming up to each other. This is good. This’ll work.” Hook: “That may be, Swan. But we have another problem.” (Hook nods towards Emma’s former cellmate who sits in the distance.) Emma: “I had to save her.” Hook: “Sure, you did the noble thing, but she’s supposed to be dead. Her presence in the Enchanted Forest could have unforeseen consequences.” Emma: “She’s just a sweet, innocent woman.” Hook: “What if she had a child who grows into a mass murderer? Or she gets tipsy some night and rides her horse into one of the dwarves and there are only six of them? Who knows? We’re best not finding out. She doesn’t belong here.” Emma: “I know exactly what we can do. Take her with us.” Cut To: Woman: “The future?” Emma: “You can’t stay here. You were supposed to die hours ago.” Woman: “I don’t understand. I just wanna get back to my family.” Hook: “They need to believe you’re dead. Because that’s what they’ve always thought.” Emma: “Trust us.” Woman: “All due respect, I don’t trust you. Or believe you. So, unless you’re kidnapping me I’m going to go find my family.” (Emma walks around her, knocking her unconscious with a branch. Hook catches the body.) Emma: “Well, then, I guess we’re kidnapping you.” Hook: (Chuckles:) “I always knew there was a little pirate in you, Swan.” Prince Charming: (Noticing the body lying on the ground:) “What happened to her?” Emma: “She’s, uh, resting. What’s up?” Prince Charming: “Has either one of you seen Snow? She went to the stream but she hasn’t- (He quickly searches his pocket:) The ring. She took it.” Emma: “Really? Do you know where she might be headed?” Prince Charming: “She was seeking passage on a pirate ship. There’s only one way to get to the harbor from here. The Troll Bridge.” Emma: “Oh, no.” (Emma heads after Prince Charming.) Hook: (Stops her:) “Swan, wait. The bridge. Isn’t that where you want them to be? Isn’t that where Snow saved your father from the trolls?” Emma: “Yes, but the only reason she was able to do that was because she had a weapon. The dust.” Hook: “Which she’s already used on herself. Bloody hell.” Emma: “Come on. They're gonna need help.” The Troll Bridge. (One troll has captured Snow White and threatens her with a knife. Prince Charming fights a second troll. The troll manages to strike a blow against Charming’s hand. His sword falls to the ground.) Prince Charming: “Alright. Alright.” (The troll picks up his satchel. Searching, he finds the Wanted poster. He shows it around, laughing.) Troll 1: “Snow White. (To Troll 3:) Tell the Queen we have her.” The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Running, Hook and Emma head to the Troll Bridge.) The Troll Bridge. (The troll pushes his captive over to the other troll and prepares to leave. Catching Snow White, the second troll is unaware that Prince Charming picks up his sword again. Prince Charming fights the trolls.) Prince Charming: (To Snow White:) “Go! I’m right behind you.” The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Running, Hook and Emma head to the Troll Bridge.) The Enchanted Forest. (Snow White heads away from the Troll Bridge.) Snow White: “Follow me. They don’t know the forest like I do.” (Stops. Turning around Snow White notices that Prince Charming is in trouble. She is about to use the fairy dust as a weapon but it’s empty. The trolls prepare to behead Prince Charming.) Troll 1: “Royal blood is the sweetest of all.” Snow White: “Stop! Drop the sword or I will turn you all into bugs. (Holding out her hand:) Dark fairy dust. So, you let him go, or I will be peeling you all off the bottom of my boots.” (She reaches back intending to throw.) Troll 2: (Drops his sword:) “We don’t want any trouble.” Snow White: “Good. And while you’re at it, give me reason to forget this ever happened.” (One troll lays out her silver on the bridge’s railing. The trolls exit.) Prince Charming: “You saved me.” Snow White: “It was the honorable thing to do.” Prince Charming: “But how? You used the dust on yourself.” Snow White: (Shrugs:) “Sand. Trolls aren’t exactly known for their cleverness. (Prince Charming chuckles:) Come on. We should go. In case they come back.” (Snow takes her silver.)

Hook: (Watches Snow and Charming leave the bridge. To Emma:) “Wait.” Prince Charming: “So, you probably want this.” (Hands her the pouch.) Snow White: “Right, the gold.” Hook: “It appears your parents didn’t need our help after all.” Snow White: “And, um, you can’t get married without this.” (Hands Prince Charming his satchel.) Prince Charming: (Takes his mother’s ring out of the satchel:) “I know, not your style, right?” Snow White: “Oh, there’s only one way to find out. (Takes the ring from him slips it on, and then takes a closer look at it:) Yeah, not me at all. I’m sure your fiancée will love it.” (Watching her parents, Emma smiling silently cries.) Hook: “It’s okay, Swan. Not everyone gets the chance to watch their parents fall in love.” Prince Charming: “Well, wherever you are going, be careful. If you need anything-” Snow White: “You’ll find me.” Prince Charming: “Always.” (He hands Snow her bundle.) Snow White: “I almost believe that.” (Snow White and Prince Charming walk away, heading in opposite directions.) Hook: “They’re heading away from each other.” Emma: “No, it’s okay. That’s how it happened the first time. It took my parents a while to accept their feelings.” Hook: “Must run in the family.” Emma: (Rolls her eyes good naturedly:) “Will you stop? (Emma takes Henry’s storybook out of Hook’s bag and opens it. One by one writing and pictures telling the story appear again:) Look. We did it.” The Enchanted Forest. Past. Dark Palace. (The Evil Queen’s private chambers. At the Evil Queen’s feet three cockroaches run back and forth.) The Evil Queen: (To a frightened guard:) “Do you know what this is? (Pointing at the cockroaches:) This is what happens to people - or in this case trolls - who fail me. (The Evil Queen steps on one cockroach crushing it:) Find Snow White. I shall destroy her happiness. If it is the last thing I do.” (The guard nods and takes off in a hurry as the Queen smiles knowingly to herself.) The Enchanted Forest. Past. Dark Castle. (Emma and Hook, carrying Emma’s cellmate, enter.) Emma: “We did it.” Rumplestiltskin: (Prepares a potion:) “Your parents are together?” Emma: “They’re right back on track. We’re ready to go.” Rumplestiltskin: “I see. (Notices Emma’s cellmate:) And you brought some luggage.” Emma: “Long story. So, how’s the portal coming? Can you open it?” Rumplestiltskin: “I cannot.” Emma: “Then what are you working on?” Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, this is for me. A forgetting potion. I know too much about my future. The only way to protect it, is to forget it.” Emma: “Well, what about this wand? You said that could help us.” Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, that. Well, apparently, only those who used the portal can reopen it. So unless you can wield magic, I’m afraid, you’re going nowhere. (Throws the wand to Emma:) Can you? (Emma remains silent staring at the wand:) Thought not.” Hook: “So, you just expect us to stay here? What about protecting your precious future?” Rumplestiltskin: “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Hook: (Draws his saber:) “He means to kill us, Swan.” Rumplestiltskin: (Giggles:) “No. I mean to put you someplace safe. Someplace even I dare not go. Where I store the magic that is too dark or unpredictable even for me.” Emma: “Rumplestilts-” (A purple cloud covers Hook and Emma.)

Dark Castle. Rumplestiltskin’s Vault. (Emma walks around the room trying to orientate herself. Hook puts Emma’s cellmate down on a table.) Emma: “No.” Hook: (Taking a look into a mirror standing in the room he notes that Rumplestiltskin undid the glamor spell he provided them with:) “At least he did us one favor. I’m devilishly handsome again.” (Pleased, he smiles. Hook opens a cupboard standing beside the mirror and takes out the urn stored inside.) Emma: (Turning around:) “Wait! Don’t touch anything! If Rumple is afraid of this stuff, there’s gotta be a reason.” Hook: (Places the urn on another table:) “I’m just trying to figure a way out.” Emma: (Desperate:) “I don’t think there is one. And, what’s the point. You heard what he said.” Hook: “But you can. All he said we need is magic. You’re the savior, Swan. You can do it.” Emma: “Not anymore. I lost it.” Hook: “When Zelena died, all of her spells were undone. Your powers should have been restored.” Emma: “Believe me, if I could make it work, I would. (Angry:) You think I’m faking it?” Hook: “I think not having magic makes it a lot of easier for you to run back to New York and pretend to be somebody else. But listen to me, Swan. You’re not. It’s time to stop running.” Emma: “You think I don’t know that? Yes, I run away. That’s how I always survived. But, believe me, I want this to work. I wanna go back. I wanna stop running.” Hook: “What’s changed your mind?” Emma: “Watching my parents fall in love. Seeing what they had to go through just to be together. And then, when I thought she was captured, you saw what happened. I was so relieved when she was okay. And I hugged her. And you know what I saw in her eyes? Nothing. She didn’t know who I was. (Her voice breaks:) And that’s what I’ve been doing to her since I met her. It’s got to stop. When Henry brought me to Storybrooke he told me I was the savior. I didn’t see what he was really doing: He was not bringing me back to break a curse. He was bringing me home. Being with my parents the last few days, but not really being with them? I’ve never missed them more. Storybrooke. That’s my home. (Hook gives Emma a smile:) What?” Hook: “Look down. (Looking down Emma notices that the wand in her hand glimmers brightly:) I’d say you’ve got your magic back. Now, shall we go? (Concentrating, Emma reopens the portal. Hook picks up Emma’s cellmate:) Well done, Swan.” (He goes through the portal. Emma is about to follow him when Rumplestiltskin appears behind her.) Rumplestiltskin: “You opened it. (Grabs Emma’s hand:) Wait.” Emma: (Struggles to break free:) “Let me go.” Rumplestiltskin: “My son. What happens when I find him?” Emma: “I thought you wanted to forget.” Rumplestiltskin: “Before I do, I need to know. Does he forgive me?” Emma: “Yes.” Rumplestiltskin: “Yes, but what? What aren’t you telling me? Tell me or you will never leave.” Emma: “He dies. He forgives you. He loved you. He died to save all of us. Don’t let it be in vain.” Rumplestiltskin: “No. I can change what happened. I can save my boy.” Emma: “You think you can change the future, but you might make it worse. I wanted to save him. He died a hero. You can’t take that away from him. You have to drink the potion. You have to forget everything I just told you.” (Drinking the potion, Rumplestiltskin releases his grip on Emma. Emma gets sucked into the portal just as it is about to close. The urn gets sucked into the portal as well. Rumplestiltskin remains behind.) Rumplestiltskin: (Picks up the wand, confused:) “What the hell am I doing in here?” (Magically, he transfers himself elsewhere, leaving the vault.)

[texanredrose]

Wrong Side of Heaven (Pt 1)

One of the ideas I had during my hiatus. An Angel and Demon AU for Monochrome. Five parts, so here’s Monday’s installment; updates every day this week. This could probably be much longer and drawn out but... instead... this is what I got. Enjoy the ride, keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times, and hope for the best!

Part 1 (here) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Blake stalked along the rooftop, her black boots making far too much noise for her liking. She hadn't yet grown accustomed to the sounds she made unintentionally, having spent centuries gliding effortlessly across all manner of terrain. Unlike some of the other Angels, she hadn't visited the mortals far below Heaven's gates but for a meager few times in her existence, and she suspected that doing so would've amplified her disquiet now. Regardless, she'd been cast out alongside Adam for her part in the rebellion, and now found herself forced to walk among the mortals as one of them rather than flying overhead, unseen.

Well, mostly as one of them, anyway.

Her keen amber gaze remained riveted to her target, having recognized the sour stench of sulfur that clung to the man's burly frame and the faint wisps curling through the air around him immediately. A Demon of Hell, out to gather some manner of misery for his master. The Highest Angel had been clear: the only way she could return to Heaven was by vanquishing fifty of the vile Demons let loose to plague mankind, and this one would be number three. It wouldn't be so bad were it not for the time limit- a mere mortal year- and she'd wasted two months tracking down the first two Demons. One of the Angels who remembered her prior to her fall from grace must've decided to pull the strings of Fate that she might cross this one without trying, else there seemed to be no explanation for the good luck.

Blessed stake in one hand, she continued tracking her quarry, calling forth the remainder of her torn wings to aid her as she jumped to the next rooftop. She watched as the Demon disguised as a man turned into the alleyway below, consciously ignoring the way her coat flapped around her, stirred by the wind the same as her raven hair, focusing entirely on her target. Isolated, away from the eyes of mortals, unaware he was being followed- she couldn't ask for a better chance to strike.

So she did.

Jumping off the rooftop, Blake brandished the stake, ready to drive the tip into the Demon's chest, but he jumped forward, whirling around to face her as she landed on the ground in a crouch, her broken wings framing her shoulders.

"Well, well, well," he said, a malicious gleam to dark red eyes. "What have we here? A Fallen Angel too far from home."

She regained her feet, hardly wincing as she prepared for another lunge. Being forced to feel- truly feel- was a constraint she'd yet to become familiar with, despite being more resilient than the average mortal. "Call me what you will; I'm sending you back to Hell."

"A mighty threat." He scoffed, rolling his neck once. As a man, he looked the part of a biker- stereotypical and a bit bland, passing from memory the moment he left one's line of sight. "If I wasn't out on an errand for the big man himself, I might be inclined to play with you, little Cherub." He shifted his legs wider, an eerie red glow crawling along his skin as he transformed. He grew taller first, skin stretching over his frame in a grotesque fashion before discarding his disguise to stand before her as the full fledged Greed Demon he was, spikes covering his arms and shoulders. Most prominently, the collar around his neck came into view, studded in blood red gems like all the others, a testament to the master he served. "Then again, a little delay won't do much harm, right?"

Before being cast out, Blake hadn't paid much mind to the creatures dwelling in the circles of Hell, but she picked up the obvious things. The spikes meant he was a lesser Demon, though their number meant he'd survived far more centuries than she had, and the pale green tint to his skin all but confirmed that he hadn't recently fed off the mortals surrounding them, hustling about their lives with no idea that a private duel between the minions of Heaven and Hell stood ready to kick off. Whatever he'd come to the mortals' world for, it wasn't to feed or stir up trouble among the mortals, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous despite that supposed weakness. Fingers elongated into claws tipped with gold as his teeth sharpened and Blake became intimately aware that her chosen target possessed a great deal more experience than the first two she'd banished, promising a long, hard fight ahead of her.

This was the price of her folly. If she failed, she would be doomed one way or another, but perhaps she should retreat while she had the chance. This one was a bit out of her league to combat alone.

"Come along, Oh Exalted One. Do you not want to play?" A thick, spiked tail appeared behind him, hovering above the ground as he finished his transformation. "I know I still do."

Blake flipped the stake around in her hand, preparing to make her retreat. Luckily, Greed Demons weren't the fastest of the lot, so if she timed it just right, she could outrun him. First, she would need to goad him into an attack. "I can't very well allow you to leave. You know too much."

He laughed at her attempt to intimidate him. "Let me guess; you're the reason those two little ones were sent back. Should've known- it's not her style to be so... forgiving. Doesn't matter, though." He narrowed his eyes. "Someone like you isn't a threat to us. In fact- hrk!"

The Angel tensed, watching as something behind the Demon moved, snapping his head and arms back while leaving his chest undefended.

Well, she wasn't the sort to waste an opportunity.

Lunging forward, Blake brought the stake up and stabbed down, pouring her strength into driving the pointed tip as far into the Greed Demon's body as possible. Sometimes, it took an extra try or two- because the blasted thing would only work if it sunk in up to the first circle of inscriptions etched in one of the Dead Tongues and Demons were wily bastards to begin with- but this one couldn't seem to move at all. So, instead of having to quickly roll out of the way to avoid a counter attack and try again, her blow landed full force, the pure white stake disappearing all the way to the second ring before Blake let go and jumped back as the light of Heaven erupted from within the implement, sending the blasted beast back to the lowest pit of hell. She'd never been there herself, but supposedly the stakes would keep those she banished from re-entering the mortals' world for a millennium at least.

Once the flash of light subsided, she appeared to be alone in the alleyway... but something about the shadows in front of her didn't seem right. Perhaps it was the after image of the stake's power throwing off her less-than-Heavenly vision but she could've sworn she'd seen something duck behind the dumpster nearly pushed against the wall on the left side.

"Is someone there?" She ventured, taking a single step closer while reaching into her coat for another stake. When casting her out, the Highest Angel had given her the exact amount to earn her way back into Heaven, so she couldn't rightly use one on a mundane threat, but she hoped whatever lurked in the shadows wouldn't be able to guess as much. Whatever it was, it overpowered that Greed Demon with ease; only a greater creature of Hell could manage such. There was also the dim hope that one of her fellow Angels had come down to assist her, despite being expressly forbidden; the whole lot of them bent the rules when they could, often to show compassion to those poor souls trapped in agony below. But that was perhaps asking a bit too much and her luck hadn't been exactly good recently. "Show yourself!"

"Was he telling the truth?" A voice called out, from behind the dumpster. Sharp and light, a woman's voice lent a killer edge as it cut through the night. "Are you truly a Fallen Angel?"

"I am." She shifted her shoulders, bringing her broken wings into view, the black feathers ruffled from her landing. They'd been cut, severed just below the joint, a pale mimicry of their former glory. Good for cushioning her falls, short glides, and literally nothing else- a constant reminder of her foolish decisions, alongside her absent halo. "And what are you?"

"... that is a very good question," the voice replied, a moment before movement pushed the dumpster away. Stepping out from behind it emerged what one might think to be a woman at first glance, a little shorter than Blake with hair white as snow and striking blue eyes, a fancy, modern blue dress swirling about her lithe frame, but the Angel could see more than that- the faint wisps hanging around her head denoting a disguise.

An Angel, then? But no, because an agent of Heaven would have no need to hide in shadows- the stake would do nothing to her, meant only to cast the creatures of Hell back to their pits- so it had to be a Demon. She raised the stake in her hand, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

The creature didn't seem to take offense, lifting her left hand and snapping her fingers. Unlike the one she'd just banished, this Demon's skin turned nearly white as her hair, two horns protruding from her head and sweeping back, though the left one seemed damaged somehow. Her stature didn't change but a tail curled behind her, thin and with a spaded tip, which proved to be the most damning bit of evidence- a Pride Demon, the most powerful of all the vile creatures in Hell.

Obviously, her luck held true.

Blake immediately tensed, bringing her stake to bear and preparing to defend herself from the creature before her, ready to make a break at the first opportunity. Although young by Demon standards, only the Archangels would battle them due to their strength and tenacity, and many would only agree to confront a Pride Demon loose in the mortal world with at least three others to assist. Cunning, crafty, and intimately attuned to manipulating mortals to their whims; they were not to be underestimated.

"Wait, stop." The creature held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not-"

"If I let you talk, I am lost." Blake grit her teeth, trying to gauge if she would be quick enough. In all likelihood, she wouldn't be; even with her wings, she was a mere Angel, not nearly strong enough to do battle with the oldest and most powerful of Demonic lineages. "I know how your kind work."

"Is that so?" The Demon sighed, taking a step closer, allowing the dim light of the street lamp above to fall upon her, drawing the Angel's gaze to the length of chain attached to her collar, the last link dangling at waist level snapped off and shifting slightly in the night wind. "Tell me: what is my kind? I seem to be at a loss for an apt description myself."

"This is a trick," she said, as much an accusation as to consciously acknowledge that she couldn't trust her eyes. Pride Demons had powers that could extend far beyond what a normal creature of either Heaven or Hell could accomplish alone and perception fell well within their range. "You're trying to make me think I should let you go."

"On the contrary, I'd rather we didn't part ways." One clawed hand indicated the stake. "It's clear you must vanquish Demons and many will be seeking me out, trying to take me back to that wretched place. If I act as your bait, you can accomplish that task more easily... and I might have an easier time surviving the encounters. It seems like a mutually beneficial proposal."

"A Demon with a penchant for fairness. Never thought I'd see the day." Blake didn't let her stake waiver or her stance relax. One couldn't trust a Demon's deal, unless it was signed in blood and read very thoroughly. Neither of which she had the luxury for, at present. "You're not genuinely expecting me to believe that you escaped Hell, do you?"

"What makes that so difficult to believe?" Blue eyes sharpened as she turned her head slightly, the damage done to her left horn and eye now more prominent as the light fell on them fully. A long gash marred the left side of her face, starting at the tip of her horn and following it down, splintering along the white bone until it reached her skin, then going down further until just below the swell of her cheek. Coupled with the damage done to the chain and collar, it gave a remarkable amount of credence to her offer. "The fact that no one's ever done it? That no Demon has ever dared try? Or can you not imagine someone willingly departing their home, even if that home happens to be such a terrible place as Hell itself?"

"I think all three are strong enough on their own, honestly." She inclined her head slightly. "Seeing as all three applicable now, however..."

"Ah, of course." The Demon sighed, grabbing the broken end of her chain and sliding a clawed finger along the gleaming metal. "Then, I submit this for your consideration."

Blake waited, the moment of silence that followed the offer drawing on far too long for comfort. Finally, she spoke up. "Well?"

The very next blink of her eyes, the Demon had vanished, and a feeling of dread descended upon her as she felt the sharp pinpricks of claws exerting the barest hints of pressure on either side of her throat. It wouldn't kill her- she still held enough of her Angel heritage to be resistant to such things as death- but she could feel agony the same as any mortal, and the time it would take to heal would be far too long; her journey back to Heaven would end, here and now, with just a twitch of the Demon's fingertips.

"Had I wanted you out of my way, you would be." The voice came from behind her, just beside her ear, and the pressure disappeared in the next moment. Blake whirled around to find the Demon standing there, tail arching up behind her but not threatened, not the least bit concerned by the stake hardly a foot from her chest. "Truthfully, I see only two ways this ends. Either I leave you here, alone, to do... whatever it is you're doing with those." Blue eyes fell briefly onto the stake. "Or we join forces." She gestured towards the entrance to the alleyway and turned that way, as if expecting the Fallen Angel to follow even as her Demonic heritage fell away and her disguise returned. "Either way, the Demons of Hell won't stop coming for me. Whether it's you or I dispatching them from the mortals' world doesn't truly matter, now does it? At least, to me; perhaps you have a different view of the matter."

As the last of her horns and tail vanished from sight, Blake made her decision. "What's your name?"

The Demon stopped, turning her head to offer a small smile over her shoulder. "Call me Weiss. And you?"

"Blake." With a dark sense of foreboding hanging over her, she followed Weiss out onto the street. Nothing good could come from making a pact with a Demon... but she had ten mortal months and forty-seven Demons to banish.

A little help couldn't hurt.

A/N: So, here, have a thing while I try to figure out how to civie again. Installments every day this week; just a quick stupid story that gets strangely philosophical at times because apparently Weiss and Blake have some Opinions about the nature of angels, demons, sin, and the whole cosmic balance thing.

[grapecola]

Here’s part 3 of Into The Vanquished Lands. I wrote it for the kids I co-teach. Do stop by and give it a read.

[istrys]

Nothing Ventured Pt 4

Whitstan slunk into the shadows while his party members shrunk out of sight. He drew both his short swords and shifted speed into a light jog, attempting to cover ground faster while not being overt with the plate he wore. He was without his heavier chestplate and shoulderguards, wearing only a sleeveless leather jerkin under his tabard and light bindings on his forearms to keep his dexterity intact. The passageway twisted and turned as he continued, the sound of stone bricks smashing against the ground gave him pause as he brought his weapons to the ready, ‘Incoming…’ the spirit warned.

 “What gave it away?” he responded out loud as long, powerful arms with exposed sinew and veins reached out from the hole above to grab at the ceiling and lower its body down. What he saw could only have been described as an aberration twisted by unholy magic from what used to be an Illidari Fel Bat. Its wings sprawled out as it hissed and let out a low, dry growl almost as if a loud whisper taunting its prey to move. It tilted its head as it observed and appraised its target, twitching all the while. Whitstan dug his front foot into the ground and took off, launching at the creature. Within the blink of an eye the creature would respond with a monstrous yet shrill shriek that vibrated the very stone around them. Smaller fel-bats flew from the hole above around the demon-like one and at Whitstan.

He managed to cleave through two mid-air, one with each sword in succession before he struck at the aberration which managed to parry the sword with a hard swing of its arm which caused Whitstan to spin and slash at him a second time. It seemed prepared, offering a vicious forward strike with its other arm before Whitstan could connect, sending him back down to land on his feet. ‘What little sapience that creature has... is attuned to combat.’ - “Obviously.” he responded as he effortlessly sidestepped and spun while slicing through more of the smaller fel bats that flew at him.

 A flock of dead fel bats, a few more shrill shrieks, and a booming roar later, the creature would detach from the ceiling and land on the ground, the stone beneath its feet cracking while sending debris airborne. It stood at its full height, extending its back and expanding its wings as it towered over Whitstan. He was unsure if the creature was trying to intimidate him but he didn’t hesitate once it made itself a much larger target. He extended his weapon to his side and back behind him then took a series of quick steps while he forcefully swung with all his unholy might. He let go of the blades and then almost instantaneously repeated the process with the other sending them to the creature as the split the air. The metal from the blades hummed from the sheer velocity before the monster attempted to grab at one which sliced through its hand and stuck into its shoulder bone, forcing it to cry out in pain. The other sheared through one of its wings and embedded itself into the adjacent wall.

He reached for his greatsword with his right hand allowing the blade to rest over his right shoulder. ‘Finally. You’ve come to your senses!’ the blade shouted in her feminine tone within Whitstan’s mind out of excitement. Dark red runes lit up along the sword one after the other from the hilt to the tip. He raised his left arm toward the creature as if he was grabbing at it from a distance. The creature was able to focus for a brief moment before it began writhing in pain again, blood began to seep from all its orifices as the blood-plague it was infected with boiled within it and droplets from all its pores began floating through the air away from it and toward Whitstan. A heavier stream of blood flowed from its wounds straight to Whitstan’s hand and then it would wrap around making its way up his arm before settling into the runeblade over his other shoulder. The fel bat swung wildly as its arms and wings collided with the walls, sending dust and dirt down from the ceiling as its strength waned. Before long the creature collapsed and very much resembled the drained corpse they had found earlier. Whitstan let out a disappointed sigh as he situated his weapons. ‘Thanks for the drink, love.’

 “Who’s there…?” a weakened voice murmured down the halls, barely reaching the former Spell-Breaker. With the chamber guardian vanquished, other voices began wailing out in desperation. “Help us…! Help…”

 The hallway opened into a chamber of true suffering. Emaciated prisoners filled almost every cage that lined the bloodstained walls. Many unfortunate souls were hung by their entrails, swinging lifelessly on rusting meat hooks.  A handful of Death Knights were barely hanging on in a nearby cage, but the three isolated ones clearly looked like they had gone feral from their own madness. Across the chamber sat a lone dining table covered in body parts and organs; whether the Burning Legion was planning something apprehensive or simply relished inflicting agony on mortals was unclear.

Whitstan grit his teeth at the gruesome scenery. An eye twitched as sparks of memories long past flashed into his mind if just for a moment. He heard echoed screaming from the halls of Icecrown Citadel and the gory scenes of countless heroes belonging to the Ashen Verdict splayed before him. Only a fraction of a second passed before his attention split back to reality. There was but feral Death Knights and worse: ones who were too far gone to save. The mission had failed before it even began. ‘It’s hopeless for them... ‘ the spirit stated. He glanced back at the hilt of his greatsword for a short moment before looking around him again. “I know…” he responded.

 ‘Look at all the unfortunate souls… it’d be better if you put them out of their misery… and took their power for yourself. Otherwise, we won’t stand a chance… if not, you might as well give up now.’ the runeblade continued to whisper.

 “...I would condemn your words if I weren’t thinking the same. Ellyria, this can’t be the answer every time.” he spoke out softly, wracked with uncertainty and hesitation.

 One of the Undead shot their crazed glare at Whitstan the moment he entered the room, and began foaming at the mouth while slamming its head into the cage. The ruckus stirred up the others, desperate to cause something - anything harm to make the pain stop; but even if they managed to kill him, they would be too deep in their insanity to fully recover.

 “I recognize dat tabard!” a Troll Death Knight lit up, staring at Whitstan intensely. “You be Oathguard, mon? Did Rethandus send ya?!”

 “Sa-ave us…” a Blood Elf whispered in the dark, still chained to the wall; her eyes were almost glazed over, but otherwise she had no distinguishing wounds on her body. “We’ve been... tortured for weeks… they t-tried to break us… make us t-talk…”

 “Da Legion be plannin’ somethin’ dark down here.” the Troll continued, shooting the woman a weary glare. “I can hear da whispers. A great evil be approaching… please- release us! Dey couldn’t break me, I can still fight!” For the moment Whitstan ignored them, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground at his feet while his greatsword quietly hummed on his back. He looked troubled for the moment, hesitant to take any further action; but the undead too far gone for rational thought weren’t interested in waiting for him to make his next move.

 With a surge of unholy strength their shackles shattered, followed by their guttural roars as they leapt to sink their teeth deep into his body. Three Death Knights lunged at him with unprecedented speed, but the former Spell-Breaker was ready. Like lightning his gauntlet flashed to the hilt of his bloodthirsty blade, bringing it down on the closest undead with a brutal slash that tore the undead in half. Whitstan’s eyes flashed while he brought the blade up again, causing the next misbegotten soul to impale itself, stopping only once its chest slammed into the hilt. The blood runes etched into his sword lit up like a Winter’s Veil party, causing lesions to rapidly spread all over its body before violently exploding. The third monster jumped blindly at the ebon cloud, only to stop dead in its tracks once a gauntlet caught it by the throat; before it could claw at Whitstan’s face, a forceful twist of his thumb effortlessly snapped its neck. A brief taste of blood could never satisfy Ellyria, especially the black coagulated filth of an undead; but there was little reason to protest - in the end she would get what she desired most.

 Slowly Whitstan approached the cage, with his greatsword seething in his grasp. The insidious power he felt further in this asylum remained unchanged, constantly reminding him he needed more power to challenge that looming threat; but he wasn't as eager in harvesting anything and anyone in his path like he used to. At this rate he would consume too many would-be allies, and if he wasn't careful, those remaining would surely turn on him. The Death Knights scampered to the back of the cage the moment he swung his weapon back for a massive overhead swing.

 His greatsword cut through the metal cage with ease, splitting it wide open like a gouged boar. No longer concerned with keeping his presence hidden from the nearby Legion, Whitstan reached forward with both of his gauntlets and pulled the thick fel iron bars outward. “If you can't stay on your feet, you're getting left behind.” he spoke through clenched teeth, unable to shake the feeling that he would need their essence for the battle ahead, and that he was wasting his time.

 “I owe ya one.” The Troll Death Knight limped out of the cage first, immediately turning to the elf strapped to the table. “Let's get a move on, sista. It be a long walk home.”

 “She's only going to slow us down.” Whitstan grimaced at the two Knights, but he kept the others in his peripheral vision; there was no telling what they would attempt should they manage to sneak up behind him.

 “We undead gotta stick togetha.” the Troll turned to look at the former Spell-Breaker with his grey, sunken eyes. “If we keep ya waitin’, don't hesitate ta leave us behind.” he pulled the emaciated woman over his shoulder, while the others grabbed whatever they could find to use as weapons; there was a mortal’s chance in the Void that their runes weapons would be anywhere near this dreadful place.

Slow me down and I'll do far worse than ditch you. Whitstan decided it best to keep that particular thought to himself, pausing only to give these miserable survivors a once over before turning toward the exit.

[grapecola]

Into The Vanquished Lands - Pt 5 . . .

Into The Vanquished Lands - Pt 5 is waiting for you. #writer #WritingCommunity

Written by: Danielle Monique – Wednesday 3 & Thursday 4 May 2023 Based on characters planned by DL and R6 **They’ve made it to the Amethyst Palace. Also, heads on sticks.** * * * * * 7. Face To Face. Rising proudly from the ground, the Amethyst Palace was a majestic sight. Vibrant purple crystalline towers protruding from the ground made it look like a structure that had been meticulously…

[grapecola]

It’s the final of Into The Vanquished Lands. Read it now.

[grapecola]

Into The Vanquished Lands - Pt 2 . . .

Read pt 2 of Into The Vanquished Lands, the story I wrote for the kids I co-teach #writer #WritingCommunity

Written by: Danielle Monique – Wednesday 3 & Thursday 4 May 2023 Based on characters planned by DL and R6 **We continue with the story I’ve written for the kids I co-teach. It is a little long, but bear with me.** * * * * * 3. The Oracle Speaks. Jack’s head was spinning with all the information Zoya had disclosed to them – the rise and fall of the Vanquished Lands, a looming war with an evil…

[grapecola]

I wrote this story, Into The Vanquished Lands, because my co-teacher and I needed to model to our students the process of writing a fantasy story. Although this is aimed at 10-11 year olds, do stop by and give it a read. My co-teacher created the characters and contributed a couple of other ideas, like the name of the world. It ended up being 16 or 17 pages, but I’ve serialised it for my blog. Here’s part 1.

[grapecola]

Into The Vanquished Lands - Pt 3 . . .

Pt 3 of Into The Vanquished Lands is available now. #writer #WritingCommunity

Written by: Danielle Monique – Wednesday 3 & Thursday 4 May 2023 Based on characters planned by DL and R6 **This isn’t quite as long as the previous parts. The group are about to enter the Marsh of Despair.** * * * * * 5. The Lost Soul. Draven pulled the group up at the outer most point of the Marsh of Despair. ‘Somewhere in there is what we’re after.’ Alfie Dotson shuffled his feet,…