#Magnus is having a really hard time among all those dragons at first

[lurafita]

Arranged Marriage Malec fantasy AU with dragons. Because DRAGONS!

Fantasy AU, strangers to friends to lovers, arranged marriage (but the twist is, the marriage isn't arranged by the parents, but by the couple themselves) When Magnus was a child, a group of (wild/untamed, evil, controlled?) dragons attacked his kingdom and caused immense loss to all of its inhabitants. Magnus himself had to witness his mother's brutal death at the teeth of a three headed dragon, traumatizing him greatly and leaving him with a perpetual and insurmountable seeming fear of dragons. While the dragons were eventually fought back, and the kingdom slowly rebuilt itself, Magnus' father, the king, went the opposite side of the scale to his son, not fearing but hating all dragons and wishing them dead. Years later, it seems that King Asmodeus has made enough alliances with other lands to launch an attack on all dragons; including those belonging to the mountain kingdoms, that have been tamed by the people there and live in harmony with the humans. Now Magnus is no less afraid of dragons in his twenties, than he was as a child, but he doesn't wish to eradicate an entire species for the crimes of a few individuals. So he travels to the mountain kingdoms, in hopes of convincing the reigning king/queen/prince/princess to agree to a marriage with him. Because this way, King Asmodeus can't go around killing all the dragons, if his son and heir is married to a dragon rider.

[thegrunkiest]

Not gonna lie, returning to Skyrim over the past few days has reminded me of just how much I hope TES VI does factions like they did in Oblivion.

!Some critical ranting of Skyrim/positive rambling of Oblivion ahead!

I’m saying this after I started trying to immerse myself in the College of Winterhold, at last, after installing some good magic mods. But I just couldn’t. I couldn’t really care less about this Eye of Magnus or why the Psijic Order wants to talk with me specifically. I couldn’t care about stopping Ancano I can hardly remember what even happens in the questline aside from go into ruin, find orb, go into basement, talk to an aura, go to a ruin, beat up a skeleton dragon and something after that.

This is the same issue I’ve personally had with the Companions, and to a lesser extent, the Thieves Guild. I legit only remember the Companions as “the guild that gives you lycanthropy”. Thieves Guild is a little better, as I do distinctly remember a few of the characters and their quests could get quite creative. I never felt particularly invested however.

So why exactly do I (and possibly some of you) think Skyrim’s factions don’t work, and that they should look back on Oblivion when creating questlines for the next games? For me personally, it boils down to two components: the state of affairs, and sense of progression.

Sense of Progression

I’ll start with the simplest one first. Let’s use the College as an example again, comparing it to the Mage’s Guild of Oblivion. What do you do to gain entry to the College? Cast the requested novice/apprentice level spell (or alternatively, shout if you’re a Dragonborn or just schmooze if you, for some reason, already have 100 in speech). In Oblivion? You have to gain a recommendation from each of the individual chapters by completing a quest unique to each quild hall, which involve a little more work than simply casting a spell.

Alright, alright, so what do we do once we’re in? At the College, we engage in a little lesson with our many (see: three) fellow students. Cool (it’s also our only magic lesson from what I recall - great education system!). Then we’re immediately thrust into the questline, with no real or necessary deviations from the main subject regarding the Eye of Magnus. Then guess what - you’ve become Arch Mage!... wait what? I thought I just joined not too long ago?...

I find it hard to feel good about gaining the leadership role, despite me having just stopped a potentially devastating crisis to earn it, because I never felt more than a junior beforehand. This is how Oblivion does it right with its ranking system in my opinion. While I admit I might have chosen a bad example to draw from, as the Mage’s Guild quests also heavily concerns the main threat in at least some way, but what personally makes it more immersive for me is the fact you’re promoted whilst you’re playing - even to the point you’re being passed onto a different superior for more daring assignments! This is where the little things really count.

Then there’s the Thieves Guild. Unless there’s some backstory I’m glancing over, I don’t see why the Thieves Guild of Skyrim couldn’t have shared the same ranking system as the Oblivion branch, if no one else. In Oblivion, you can only initiate the quests after you’ve passed a certain threshold of fencing stolen goods, something that encourages you to actually be a thief to progress as a thief. I’m not just going from Pickpocket to Gray Fox, as I feel I am from an initiate to Nightingale/Guildmaster in Skyrim; you have various titles you earn in between.

If I had to summarize the point I’m trying to make - I’ll use Oblivion’s Dark Brotherhood. Arguably one of the most popular questlines in TES. Now, could you imagine an Oblivion Dark Brotherhood without Whodunit?, The Assassinated Man, Permanent Retirement, etc. - just axe those unrelated quests in favor of focusing on rooting out the Traitor. No promotions, just primarily finding ways to stop a person who, probably, has killed assassins much more seasoned than you! A deadly threat! Why? Because you’re you! And you obviously deserve to become the Listener after being a Murderer the whole questline.

Which leads me into my next point....

State of Affairs

Skyrim’s questlines seem to have a fixation on factions that are destitute and/or are on the brink of extinction. Business is dry with the Thieves Guild; in the Dark Brotherhood, all but the Falkreath sanctuary is destroyed and the Old Ways are abandoned; the Companions are struggling with the lycanthropy that plagues its strongest members; the College of Winterhold have little reputation in quite an anti-magic province; hell, even the Blades, who were previously slaughtered and run into hiding. The Dawnguard factions I feel are an exception (a reason I like that DLC so much), as the Dawnguard can excuse its low wealth and reputation with the fact that it was just reformed, and the Volkihar Clan have, for all I know, have just been... existing, in the shadows.

Admittedly, Oblivion also has a bit of a running theme among its faction - stable and well-organized factions plagued by a specific threat. The Blades have their Oblivion Crisis, the DB with their traitor ordeal, the Mage’s Guild with the necromancers/Mannimarco, the Fighter’s Guild with the Blackwood Company, Court of Madness with Jyggalag.

The reason why I prefer Oblivion’s guilds over Skyrim, I suppose, is related to my personal problem of power fantasy. Skyrim is a big old power fantasy. You’re the Dragonborn, the chosen one, the Hero of prophecy. So obviously you need to be the savior of each guild, right? You have to be the one the Night Mother deems Listener; the one the Psijics talk to; the one Nocturnal makes a Nightingale.

One might say it’s more realistic that way though, as it adds to Skyrim’s aesthetic of a darker, more unstable time with the Civil War and return of dragons. That’s a fair point. But did 90% of the guilds have to be restricted to poor little groups? Surely the Companions could’ve had other bases in some of the cities somehow, or the Thieves Guild have another hideout in, say Solitude?

You could argue you’re also chosen in Oblivion, sure. But while Uriel saw you in his dreams, you’re place as HoK wasn’t in part due to a superpower, either. I felt I was closing the Oblivion gates because my characters were who they were. You aren’t the only one who can enter Oblivion gates, but you were determined and skilled enough to make it through to the end. While in the factions, you were, for the most part, a newbie working through the ranks until eventually, you’re trusted to confront the threat. In Skyrim it feels less like organizations, and more like ragtag groups that were waiting for you to come in and fix them.

Coupled with the sense progression, this makes experiencing Oblivion’s factions much more organic and satisfying - in my opinion. That’s what’s most important. I’m not ragging on anyone who likes Skyrim’s factions, and I still love Skyrim despite my endless complaints. I understand I may have missed a few points (like the Civil War and Arena), and the ones I made could be disputed.

TL;DR: Skyrim’s fondness for power fantasy and the lack of ranks makes its faction questlines less immersive and more forced, whereas in Oblivion climbing ranks as a sort-of average joe feels organic and more rewarding. This is just my opinion. I don’t hate Skyrim. You’re free to agree or disagree and add to the discussion.

[alexanderlightweight]

Quality Company

ao3 link

Magnus sat at a table in a small tea shop; brick walls and hand carved wooden shelves decorated with a thriving botanical environment, all plants that undoubtedly moonlighted as potion ingredients.  

It was a hidden place.  Tiny and well known by only a select community and thankfully, it had yet to be discovered by either social media or many mundanes.  The owner was a Seelie and Magnus had carefully warded a nearby alley himself. Creating an area for discrete portal travel which made it all the more accessible to those with magic.  

Magnus also suspected that certain types of Seelie magic were at play in the shop, seducing in customers while still encouraging their discretion.  

As it was, Magnus wasn’t about to complain, no matter what kind of magic might be involved.  Less tourists and mundanes meant a more enjoyable time for himself. It wasn’t a place many would look for him and so he could sit and drink tea to his heart's content.  Far away and free from the responsibilities of the shadowworld and the long list of problems he was constantly having to fix. 

As it was, times had been harrowing of late; what with more and more Circle members starting to regain their confidence and creep out of the woodwork.  

Magnus still felt it was a crime that the Clave hadn’t hunted each and everyone of them down.  

Barring that, many a downworlder had volunteered for the task of tracking down and disposing of Circle members, however the Clave had denied them.   They had cited that overeager downworlders may take the opportunity to strike down respectable, law-abiding shadowhunters instead of just Circle members.  Which was apparently out of the question.

Magnus had scoffed at that.  If Valentine hadn’t stolen the mortal cup his little terrorist group would have never been truly exiled.  It wasn’t until the shadowhunters themselves had suffered that the Clave even thought of the Circle as criminals.  If anything, Magnus knew that there had been many among the Clave who considered Valentine and his lackeys a type of shadowworld vigilante group.  

The bell to the shop chimed and Magnus huffed out a breath, determined not to let his mood be ruined by such dark thoughts.  

A man entered, tall and dark haired and while his stride was strong, his stance was unassuming.  Magnus noticed how he didn’t tower over the other customers in line. He took the chance to admire the breadth of his shoulders and allowed himself a small smile of appreciation when the man took a few steps back, getting out of the way rather than demanding way be made for him.  

Magnus caught himself and scowled, oh he was really scraping the bottom of the barrel if he was admiring the bare minimum of common courtesy.   

Truly, times were hard.

Determined to ignore the damper his own mind was putting on him, he focused instead on his tea, the light notes of citrus and the soothing burn of ginger.  

It was as he was leaving that he heard a gust of air and the heralding sizzle of fire message, he reached back to grab the message and found his fingers brushing skin.  Magnus turned, surprised that the man from the shop was there, holding the fire message in one hand and offering it to him with slightly pink cheeks. In his other hand was a togo cup and he shuffled nervously, a finger tapping at the lid.

“Sorry,” he said and his voice made Magnus sway just closer to hear it a little better.  “I didn’t even think about who it was for, I just caught it.” 

“A common mistake.”  Magnus promised, even though it wasn’t.  He paused, wanting to continue the conversation but also still in the process of recalibrating his brain.  This very tall, very gorgeous man was either not a mundane, or had the sight. Either way, he was someone who knew of the shadowworld and Magnus would take it as a sign, for now.

“I’m Magnus,” he said and took the paper, fingers purposefully brushing against the other’s as he did.  “May I know the name of who I’m thanking?”

“A-Alec.”

“Well,” and Magnus wasn’t necessarily a gambling man but he did love a risk, “Alexander.  Thank you.”

Alec shivered under his words, staring at Magnus through very long lashes and Magnus suddenly didn’t care that he’d had plans or places to be.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” Magnus said, hoping Alec would take the opening.

“Oh, I don’t normally stay long.  Just drop in to pick something up, it’s a nice change from coffee and the walk here clears my head.”

“Tea is quite magical.”  Magnus agreed and winked as he did so, earning a wider grin.  “I don’t want to keep you if you’re on your way, but could I tempt you to a dinner invite?”  At his words Alec’s smile disappeared and he looked puzzled and Magnus internally winced, perhaps that had been a little too strong for such a quick meeting.  “It’s not often I meet someone with similar tastes and well, I appreciate quality company.”

It wasn’t until he’d spoke that he realized the pun and Magnus bit his tongue, internally despairing of this ever going anywhere now.  It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy a good pun, he just normally waited to get to know someone before throwing them at them, especially someone like Alec, who he would like to get to know better.

But Alec, Alec laughed .

It was a low laugh, delicious for the fact that Magnus could practically feel how rare of an utterance it was.  Alec laughed as though he were surprised by it, his cheeks bunching with the stretch of his humour and his eyes grew shiny with mirth.  

“That sounds fun.”  He finally said when he’d caught his breath and Magnus was mesmerized by the lingering joy on his features, “I’d like that.  A lot.”

-

Magnus walked through his loft, fingers gliding in a silent tempo as he paced.  It had been decades since the last time he’d felt this nervous, but his heart was aflutter and he knew his own tells.  He’d been perfectly content with his outfit, after all he wasn’t one to second guess his own fashion, but he’d changed his earcuff at least half a dozen times and while he was now happy with the silver dragon climbing his ear, he still had quite a few minutes before Alec arrived.

As if delighting to prove him wrong, a knock sounded on the door and Magnus hastened to it, flinging it open a tad dramatically but it was worth it, to be able to see Alec’s soft smile and hopeful gaze on the other side.  Magnus hadn’t even realized how disappointed he would have been if it had been someone else until utter relief flooded him. 

“Hi,” Alec said and then he shifted, hands bunching together as if he didn’t know what to do with them, “sorry I’m early.”

“I don’t mind.”  Magnus stepped back, allowing Alec to enter.  He was wondering just how desperate he would seem if he suggested canceling their dinner plans for a casual night in, when his wards echoed around him.  They always did that, offering an imprint so to speak, of whatever guest arrived but this threw him and he nearly stopped breathing for a moment.  

“-agnus, Magnus?”  Finally broke through his thoughts and he opened his eyes from where he’d close them to stare into Alec’s worried ones.  “You okay?”  

“I’m fine.”  

Magnus didn’t know how he’d missed it.  True, Alec had been wearing a higher collar at the teashop but here, now that he looked for it, the rune that creeped up Alec’s neck was obvious.  It relieved him, that Alec had never intended on hiding that he was a shadowhunter, but it also made him curse himself for not being more aware.

“Is something wrong?”  Alec asked and Magnus paused in his immediate instinct to reassure.  

“Give me a moment?”  He asked instead and walked into his apothecary, not closing the door but moving so that it shielded him enough to take several deep breaths.  Alec was still the same man he’d been nearly instantly smitten with. The fact that he was a shadowhunter certainly wasn’t a dealbreaker. Magnus would still have asked him out, whether or not he’d realized it on their first meeting.  It just… it was a small shock. To have spent all this time wondering what Alec was and to never have even considered that he might be of nephilim heritage.  

What didn’t change, was that Magnus wanted to get to know Alec better and considering that Alec was currently in his loft, early by at least a half an hour for a date, Alec wanted to know him as well. 

“Sorry about that, had to gather a few things.”  Magnus said as he rejoined him, leaving out that what he’d gathered were his thoughts.  

Alec gave a soft, hesitant smile.  Gentler still than even his earlier one of delight, “should I come back, later I mean?  I am here early.”

“Don’t you dare,” Magnus said and reached out unthinkingly, his hand stopping just a breadth away from Alec’s arm.  Magnus didn’t mean to be hesitant but shadowhunters were, well they were not a soft culture and Alec had already shown himself to be very reserved in some ways.  

Alec rolled his shoulders, the motion flexing his muscles and it pushed his arm up and into Magnus’ grasp, “I’m not going anywhere then.”  

“I’m glad,” was all Magnus could say, his voice drifting as his hand reflexively squeezed Alec’s arm in appreciation.  “So, dinner? You’re still hungry?  I know the perfect little tea shop we can go to for dessert.”

“Starving,” Alec said and it sounded more like a promise than a state of being and Magnus smiled, an equally soft smile to match the one on Alec’s face.  

“Honesty, I like that.” 

Alec's laughter was just as precious as it was the first time Magnus had made a pun but this time, Magnus grinned and joined him.

[spam-monster]

Helsaween day 7: Westergaard Family

Reposting the fic I wrote for Helsaweek in 2017 for “How It Should Have Ended” because it features my headcanons for Hans’ nieces and nephews - his 12 older brothers are probably mostly all married, so it makes sense he’d have a bunch of them. Also there’s not much Helsa technically...yet...

---

He thinks about what he could have done differently. Of course he does. Isn’t that what villains always do?

If he had let the queen be shot back in her ice palace, if he had not revealed his treachery to the princess so soon and let her die thinking that it was her fault true love’s kiss hadn’t saved her, if he had killed the queen as soon as she had fallen out there on the lake instead of sparing her a moment of sympathy for her perceived loss.

Those are the ones he tries to think about. The ones a monster like himself should think about. But there are other thoughts, ones that come to him unbidden when all is quiet and dark and still.

If he had been honest. If he had gone with Anna from the beginning instead of staying behind and feeding his ego. If he had confessed his deception and tried to help her find another way to break her curse instead of shoving it in her face and laughing as he slammed the door behind him.

If he had not pretended to love Anna at all, and had tried to win over Elsa instead, like he had intended. She would not have been fooled so easily. But maybe if he had been honest with her instead. Maybe if he had taken the time to befriend them. Maybe they would have let him come back, after that day. Maybe if he could have spent time away from his cruel brothers, with people who were kind and loving and good, maybe he could have learned such things himself. Maybe…maybe he could have found true love.

Instead he had let himself become the monster of their story, vanquished and cast away, never to be spared a though again.

But there is no use in dwelling on such things, he thinks.

He thinks.

Because it is hard not to dwell on these things when your nieces and nephews insist on him telling the story over and over and over again.  

***

He spends more time with them now.

There is a small fountain in the village, near the castle. The children of the local village play there with the children of the royal staff. His nieces and nephews didn’t use to play there, with the lower-class children, but one day he had gotten tired of having to repeat the story to them after he had already told it to the village children that day, and from then on he declared he would only tell it once, to whomever was gathered at the fountain when he was finished with his duties for the day. So all the children play there together now while they wait for him.

His brothers are rather annoyed at him for encouraging this. He can’t bring himself to care. Maybe if he had contact with normal loving families earlier in his life, he would have been quicker to realize what his family had lacked.

Hilda is the eldest, the first-born of his oldest brother, strong-willed and fierce. Fredrick is the first born of his second eldest brother, clever and charming. Christian is the son of Lars, his third eldest brother, and he is as stuffy and studious as his father, and his little sister Margrete is a hopeless romantic. And there is Erik and Harald, Magnus and Frida, Charlotta and Valdimarr and Vivi and Johan…

He had memorized their names out of convenience before. Lately, it had been out of sympathy. Twelve married princes with several children each made it hard for the staff to keep track and easy for the children to get lost in the crowd, and he knew all too well what that had felt like.

They made fun of him, of course, as they forced him to tell of his defeat over and over again. But they also listened to him, now that they knew he was willing to tell them stories if they behaved. It was kind of…nice.

So he comes to the fountain, and waits for them to settle down, and he tells them stories. He throws other fairy tales in sometimes, when they agree, for telling the same story all the time would be dull. But the story of Anna and Elsa is still their favorite, and he has agreed to tell it again today.

***

The beginning is easy.

He does not know much about what happened in Arendelle before he arrived, but between the history books, rumors from foreign travelers, and what he had heard from Anna, he manages to put it together. He then tells them of his arrival, of meeting Anna, of the coronation and the party and his clever wooing of the princess. He re-enacts the dances and the songs with great enthusiasm, even letting the children get up and participate themselves (Fredrick and Margrete often steal the show at this point, unless another child has managed to bargain with them for a chance to play himself or Anna).

After the dancing has settled down, he tells them of the argument. Of Elsa losing control and fleeing across the lake while Arendelle froze behind her. Of how Anna decided to go after her alone, while Hans stayed behind and took care of Arendelle.

“You should have gone with her!” one of the girls pipes up, as they always do.

“You’re just saying that because you’re mad I don’t know what happened to her after that.” He replies.

Because they are annoyed, of course. They don’t care about how Hans helped protect Arendelle’s citizens by organizing food and shelter for them when they were cold and afraid. They want to hear about how Princess Anna braved climbing the mountains to find her sister, and Hans doesn’t know that part of the story.

He’s heard there was an ice harvester involved. And snow monsters. And somehow Elsa ended up freezing Anna’s heart. That’s about it.

So he skips to the part where he traveled up the mountain himself to confront the queen. He emphasizes how he saved her from the Duke’s henchmen and brought her back unconscious but unharmed.

(He knows he does it to try to compensate for what he did later. He doesn’t think they’re fooled.)

He returned to Arendelle’s castle. And so did Anna.

(He hates telling this part.)

(He should be smug about how easily he tricked her. He was, at the time. It’s a lot harder to feel good about yourself for fooling someone into believing you loved them only to throw it back in their face later when there aren’t dozens of small, disapproving eyes watching you.)

So he glosses over it. Just tells them that he hurt her, admits that she probably didn’t deserve it.

(Sometimes he even tries to explain to them that it wasn’t her he was mocking, it was himself for being as naive as she was once. They just glare at him. They don’t understand yet, and that’s a good thing.)

He never tells them exactly what he said to her, although he remembers every word.

(He was wrong, anyway.)

And then, he tells them how he chased after Elsa.

He tells them that he thought killing her was the only way to stop the endless winter and save Arendelle.

(He had thought that, at the time.)

(It’s easier to tell himself that than to admit that he had wanted it to be the only way to stop the winter.)

And then…

He usually lies.

They know he’s going to lie about how it ended. They expect it by now. And as an expert liar, he tries to make it as extravagant as possible.

Last week it had ended with him having been secretly hiding that he had been born with power over fire the whole time, and he and Elsa engaging in an epic magic battle. This week Elsa summoned a giant ice dragon that he had to defeat before she would give up.

(His lies often involve Elsa fighting back somehow. It’s hard to admit now that he was about to kill a defenseless woman in cold blood.)

So he lies, for as long as they allow him to, because he is a very entertaining liar. But eventually they grow bored of it, as they always do.

And he relents, and tells them the truth.

He tells them how, as he went to deliver the final blow, Anna had appeared out of nowhere. How she had protected her sister who had neglected her for all those years, who had frozen their kingdom; how she stood in front of him and blocked his sword as she froze even though the woman she was protecting had been the one to curse her heart to freeze in the first place.

And then, well…

“You really don’t remember anything?” They ask.    

“What part of ‘knocked unconscious’ do you not understand?” he retorts.

But even though he doesn’t remember Anna or the kingdom unfreezing, he can tell them now why it happened.

“An act of true love can thaw a frozen heart.” He tells them. “Even after everything Elsa had done, Anna still loved her enough to save her. Her love for her sister is what freed her heart, and then inspired Elsa to find a way to undo her magic and save their kingdom from the endless winter.”

(He knows that he shouldn’t feel happy at this part. He certainly wasn’t happy when he had woken up, back then. But he sees the light in the children’s eyes when he tells them this part, when he tells them that true love is real and it is out there, when he sees siblings and cousins quietly holding hands or pulling each other closer despite his brothers encouraging them to fight and argue among each other as they once had done.

And if he can give them the reassurance he had never gotten as a child, if he can encourage them to hold on to that hope instead of letting it be buried under abuse and loneliness and neglect, then maybe there’s hope for his family yet.)

But they are still obnoxious children.

“You haven’t told us the best part.” Christian complains.

“Isn’t Anna and Elsa saving the kingdom the best part?” he says sweetly.

(It never works, but it’s a tradition by now.)

“Just do it,” Hilda demands.

He sighs. Then he stands up and reenacts Anna’s reaction to him after he had woken up.

As he mimes getting punched in the face and tosses himself dramatically in the fountain, the children laugh and cheer hearty. Little brats.

Well at least someone is satisfied with the end of his story.

 He doesn’t notice the fountain water feels icier than usual or that the children have become oddly silent until he hears her.

“Well that’s funny. I certainly don’t remember the dragon.”

---

(And then the kids end up thinking Anna and Elsa are the coolest ever and are really mad that Hans didn’t marry one of them and pester him about it.

“I could have had an aunt with magic ice powers! Uncle Haaaans!”

“So I know Miss Anna has a boyfriend now...but does Miss Elsa have anyone? Because my uncle’s still single...”

*flustered Hans noises* “FOR GOODNESS SAKES - COULD YOU NOT - I TRIED TO - SHE DOESN’T... I...apologize for them, your highness. They don’t understand the severity of the situation -”

“But you feel bad about what you did now, right uncle Hans?”

“...What...feelings? I don’t have feelings! Obviously! Someone like me have feelings that’s ridiculous who has feelings nowadays why-” 

*more flustered Hans noises*

*Elsa snickering in the background*) 

[mirroralchemist]

Untitled FFXIV Trash pt.3

Still at it again :V. @but-two-days-old became my enabler. Also a great sounding board for my headcanons about my WoL

Word Count: 1,451 (the rough draft, it’s probably more with this upload lol) Notes: I feel like writing about That Scene(tm) is a rite of passage for FFXIV fanfics. So this is based the Ahm Araeng the second trip, so a loooot of spoilers. Also mentions The Vault a bit. One-sided WoL/Thancred and unrequited WoL/Haurchefaunt. But mainly time for sad times.

“You have no words for her?”

“Not today.”

I stared at Thancred, not really surprised. He seemed tired, the weary look in his eyes of years of regret. Being out here in Twine and seeing Magnus’ situation first hand is almost staring at a reflection of his own problems. I wanted to offer my support more than just a lending ear. I was grateful he could open up to me about our Minfilia, but I could do more.

Be more.

I took his hand into my own, just briefly, to know that I was there if he needed me. I let out a small breath. Being here reminded me of what I had lost. Hearing ‘Filia’s words brought back a bit of that pain I felt as I lost those around me.

If I wasn’t the Warrior of Light, a lot of those who were lost would still be among us.

There were many who were chosen to receive the Echo, surely if I had died another could take up the mantle?

“As the one who’s been here the shortest, it isn’t my place to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do in regards to ‘Filia.” I started, “But as your friend I will say this; don’t hold off until the very last moment to leave things unsaid. Once they’re gone, that’s it.”

I clenched my hands into a fist, remembering that day so clearly. The one of many regrets that collected over the time on my journey. As Haurchefant laid dying, so many words I should have said beforehand; so many feelings realized in that one moment that I couldn’t say. I thought I had made peace with it while pulling Nidhogg’s eyes from Estinien’s body.

Seeing someone make those same mistakes, especially someone I hold in such a high regard.

I couldn’t take that feeling.

“I’m going to do a couple hunts around the the town gates, when we all are ready let me know.”

I sprinted away from him. I didn’t want him to see me like this. Not so exposed, not when we have more pressing matters to confront. I would talk with ‘Filia when I can be alone with her. To tell her there are people who love her. That if she had disappeared tomorrow many of us would be sad. More than the Oracle, she was like a little sister to me.

In some respects, almost like a daughter.

I jumped off one of the ledges from Twine and landed on the ground. I whistled a familiar pitch, summoning my Chocobo. Giving me a soft “kweh”, I pet his beak.

“You ready for a bit of training Yusuke?” I asked as I took out a bundle of Gyshal Greens.

An excited kweh in response as I prepped myself for some combat. I took out my gunblade, watching it unfold to its full length. I had been training in secret as a Gunbreaker since my return from Gridania. I was thankful that I could cast a glamour on my clothing so one couldn’t tell when I was. When I had the free time from my duties here in the First, taking on jobs with Radovan and Sophie I learned to appreciate the role of being a bodyguard. I took stance, readying my ammunition to imbue with my aether. I took a few steadying breaths.

I need to clear my head as an occupied mind leads to mistakes in the battlefield.

“Let’s go!”

*   *   *

The enemies here were a bit tougher than what I’m used to. I sat on the sands, not even minding the grains against my legs. My gunblade discarded to the side. Yusuke standing ever beside me waiting his next order. I motioned for him to come sit beside me before giving lazy pets to his head.  He still gave out the same contented kwehs as if I have given him the best pats of his life. He did so well backing me up as I got used to enemies focusing their attention on me. I wasn’t confident enough to apply that to people just yet, but I could slowly warm up to the idea.

The hunts took my mind off the situation at hand for a while, but now they were coming back. I let out a small sigh. My hands began to tremble as I continued to stroke Yusuke’s plumage. Those feelings of self-doubt and regret welling up inside of me and wanting to burst. Yusuke nudged his head against my shoulder in some attempt to console me. I smiled shyly at my Chocobo.

He always was an intelligent creature.

“Thanks Yusuke. I’ll be alright, just it’s a lot going on.”

He started to kweh, before going rigid. Immediately, he stood up and got into an offensive stance.

“A protective little one, isn’t he?”

I scrambled to get up from my spot before gently touching the reigns on Yusuke to soothe him.

“It’s okay boy, Thancred is not a threat.” I spoke, petting his beak with my free hand.

It seemed only a couple minutes before my mount calmed enough that I could loosen my grip on the reigns. I could still feel some of the tenseness, but it wouldn’t be to the point that he would do anything without my command. I am not wholly surprised at the reaction, Yusuke has always been faithfully protective of me. From the day he was given to me by the Immortal Flames. Very few could take his trait in stride.

“I shouldn’t be surprised you would be talented in caring Chocobos too.”

“I...wasn’t.” I admitted, “Not at first. I knew the basics. But Lord Haurchefant, he..he had a way with chocobos. Taught me everything I know to care for mines. Even helped me inspire him to fly.”

I stroke around Yusuke’s head, watching as his sky blue plumes envelope my hand. I allowed myself to smile at those days in Ishgard. The times when there was a lull between putting an end to the generations long war between man and dragon. Those times when I thought everyone else was dead and it took all I had to not give in to the overwhelming despair; learning to take care of Yusuke with Haurchefant gave me just enough strength to go on.

He helped remind me that I was more than just the Warrior of Light; that I was Ami, a woman from Ul’dah and I was allowed to feel this way.

“You must have loved him very much.”

I paused in my pets. I turned around to face Thancred. I opened my mouth to say something, before promptly closing it. I never did talk about that day at the Vault with the others that didn’t experience it firsthand. And even then, there was a silent understanding that speaking on it was hard.

I’m sure the others had told him at the very least the main details of what happened.

“You said that once before.” I said, “That I had a look as if I lost someone I had loved back in Ishgard. It is...complicated. Looking back now, I did love him. My heart had yearned for a hopeless endeavor for so long that I was blind to those ahead of me. It took until he was dying from an attack intended for me that I realized; the notion of being by his side that intimately would have been pleasant.”

I let out a harsh breath reliving those days. I had told no one else of these feelings. I had buried them for so long. Saying them now felt hollow.

When all of this is said and done, what will I have to show for it? Sure the worlds will be saved, but what will I have to show for it?

“But I made my choices and I must live with the consequences of that for the rest of my days.” I bitterly realized, “Are the others ready?”

“Yes, the trolley is ready. Once our preparations are done we can leave.”

I gave a brisk nod as a patted Yusuke one more time. He kweh’ed one more time before taking off. I watched as he went towards the direction of the Crystarium.

“He knows his way back to the Rookery.” I said, “Where we’re going, it’ll be no place for him.”

I heard the shifting sands of Thancred closing in on me. I turned around to meet his gaze. In his hands was my Scaevan Magitek gunblade, in its compact form. I reached out to grab it, only for our hands to touch over the handle. It couldn’t have been more than a minute before he let go and I placed it back into my pack. His hand found its way to the top of my head.

“Once this is all over, I would like to see how far you’ve progressed with the Gunblade.”

I nodded dumbly at him. The shock of hearing such a request. He smiled wistfully at me before heading back into town. I stared at his retreating back for a bit while my hand absently touched the spot on my head his was just a few moments ago.

Now I see why ‘Filia always seems too happy to get those head pats.

[slavicviking]

Hollow.

!!!HTTYD 3 SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

He wishes he would feel more at loss, but as he looks at the skeleton of what used to be Berk, all he feels is empty.  

Did someone say ‘Hiccup returning to Berk 1.0’? No? Well, here you go anyways. Angst ensues.

Huge thanks to the wonderful @resident-mother-hen for Beta’ing - love ya!

...

It takes them a month.

He’s ready to kiss the ground when he sets his foot on the wet sand. His knees wobble and he knows he looks as unsteady as he feels. Eret clamps a hand over his shoulder and almost sends them both flying back into the ship, but Hiccup appreciates the gesture. He really does.

It’s quiet.

No one in their group of twenty is willing to make the first step. They stand in silence instead. Mourning, he realizes.

Hiccup wishes he could look away but his eyes are glued to the familiar buildings (and he can still pinpoint where everyone lived), to the slightly faded colors of the constructions he worked so hard to build. He can almost see the fire rising from the burned wood, smell the smoke and hear the roars of dragons.

He wishes he would feel more at loss, but as he looks at the skeleton of what used to be Berk, all he feels is empty. 

Supplies.

Right. Yes. Supplies.

They were supposed to be getting supplies.

“We should split up,” he informs the others, not taking his eyes off the dragon baths. Meatlug loved those. He swallows. Distinctively, he hears the other Vikings mutter among themselves, dividing their tasks.

“I’ll go with you, Chief,” Eret practically pulls him by the sleeve. “We’ll take the forest.”

To keep him away from the village. How considerate. But he bites the comment back and lets Eret lead him away. He glances at the rest of the Berkians that came with them but they’re all too busy to notice.

A voice at the back of his mind nags him and reminds him he’s not really in control. As if he ever was.

By the time the sun sets, he and Eret find a good portion of the herbs Gothi needs but are unavailable that far west. Hiccup busies himself most of the time studying the notes the elder had given them. He’s distracted, he knows that, but if he looks up, he’ll notice the treaded path to the cove, and the place where Toothless broke the trees as he fell, and fields of grass they once landed in, and-

Gothi’s notes are a challenge to decipher. So he works with that.

He wonders what Astrid is up to. He misses her.

Their group sets a temporary camp on the outskirts of the forest.

There’s something mesmerizing in the flames dancing in the wind as they settle down, Berkian by Berkian, and eat their food. It works like an anesthetic; he feels even less.

They talk. It’s easy and comfortable. Sven and Egil compare their axes, Magnus swoons over his betrothed, Olaf praises his son’s hunting skills. So they talk. But never about dragons. Not about Berk, not about where they moved Berk to.

As if in three months they could erase six years. They did, much more, when the war ended. But it’s not the same - there is no joy in this kind of new.

Sometimes a child would point at the sky and enthusiastically announce that it’s dragon-shaped, right as their mother would push them to go faster. And Berk doesn’t say a word. He wonders if it is to shield the child, or the adults, more.

He purposely ignores Eret’s look of worry when he pulls himself from the ground and announces he’s going to take a walk. A brief, nice walk. To clear his head.

Except he can’t clear his head when his mind remains blank. The burned buildings do nothing but drill the hole in his chest even deeper; they press onto his heart uncomfortably and hover over his shoulder. He’d ask himself ‘what could have been’ if he weren’t so damn exhausted.

He outright refuses to look at his father’s statue by the Great Hall.

(He takes a sideways peek behind his shoulder but no one has to know.)

The village looks the same but completely different. There are buildings that are completely untouched, and ones that have become mere ghosts of themselves. Gothi’s hut is gone, swallowed by the ocean underneath. Wooden planks that used to be stands for dragon racing feel like an insult thrown in his face in the way they protrude from the burned mess.

The Haddock hut is, noticeably, lacking a roof. Or, perhaps, it has a roof - but burned and in charred pieces fallen onto the ground floor of the house. Hiccup steps in, hand leaned heavily on the empty doorway, glancing around and not taking it in.

He eyes the ruined stairs skeptically before pulling himself up to the first floor. He gazes at the stars in the night sky where the roof should be for a little too long and a little too wishful before he takes a seat on his bed. It’s still unmade - how ridiculous. He sits like that for a while, hunched over and with his eyes closed, letting the night breeze wash over him, pretending that it has all the calming qualities that he needs.

He kneels by a chest at the foot of his bed once he opens his eyes again. His fingers drum on the rough surface, caressed by the cold air and swollen from humidity, before he clicks on the lock, prying it open. The insides are boring, like they should be. He blindly rummages through the clothes and silly items he had packed there through the years. His heart stops, just a little, when he fishes out a stuffed dragon toy.

He thought he threw that away a long time ago. Or that maybe his dad did, by accident.   

It lands in the satchel swung over his chest either way.

(He doesn’t acknowledge how the dragon combines Deadly Nadder’s snout with a Hideous Zippleback’s body and Monstrous Nighmare’s wings. He refuses to.)

A wooden duck lands beside the stuffed toy. Astrid will think he lost his mind completely when she sees it. So be it.

When he staggers back downstairs, he’s still somewhat surprised to see all the broken furniture and pieces of walls just laying there. As if they would magically fix itself.

Nothing ever does, does it?

He eyes the small axe on the wall. He shouldn’t… He doesn’t want to leave it here, either. It’s a silly thought.

He takes it anyway.

It shouldn’t be that surprising but he still lets out a soft ‘huh’ when the weapon is not unbearably heavy and he doesn’t feel like toppling over the second he grabs it. It stays secured in his hands, unlike when his father thrusted it in his arms, when it all started, when--

He glares at the piece of roof at his feet instead.

With the axe strapped to his back, he goes to the Hofferson house next.

It hasn’t suffered nearly as much as his own house but he can still pinpoint where a small fire broke out. He’s beyond grateful that the thing he’s looking for is in the usual place because there is something pressing hard on his chest and the longer he’s there, the worse it is. Two ornamented daggers nestle themselves by the duck and the toy, and he almost smiles. He knows Astrid has been missing them even though she never said anything.

Hiccup snatches the other half of Fishlegs’ cards that the boy missed while packing. Then it’s Tuffnut’s collection of recipes, and Ruffnut’s flute. Gobber’s tong prosthetic arm follows. Snotlout’s medal from one of the games his father used to hold lands in there as well. He remembers Spitelout throwing it out when they were leaving. Snotlout has been moping for a week afterwards.

No one at the camp says anything when he comes back with a protruding satchel at his hip. They understand.

They stay for a week in total. Enough to gather around what they could and stack resources for their long trip back. Enough to say goodbye.

“Let’s go home, Chief,” Magnus nods with a stern look on his face. Eret and a few other men ease the ship into the water.

Hiccup glances one last time over the place he grew up in, and exhales.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “Let’s.”

And he realizes that this, what’s in front of him, is not home. Not anymore. This is a graveyard.

 --

Be sure to check out the fanfiction.net (InsertACreativeNameHere) and ao3 (SlavicViking_InsertACreativeNameHere) version as well :>

Originally I wanted to call it ‘Back to Berk One’ from ‘back to square one’ because, you know, puns.

[qethnehzul]

Poly Priest Info

YES. Okay. This. Priests in alphabetical order.

Ahzidal

Birth Name: Stigulall || Born 13th of Rain’s Hand, ME -875 || The Mage

Male || 7′03″ || Physically 63 || Lawful Evil

Patron: Kosgaarkrent || Main Skill: Enchanting || Element: Fire

Closest To: Morokei, Konahrik, Miraak

Ahzidal checked out years ago and is not... always there. Much of his time and focus is spent studying and enchanting when he’s not doing his priest tasks, and he leaves himself very little time to be a person per say. It’s been over 800 years since the loss of his wife and child, but he’s obviously still coping poorly with it.

Akiirdal

Birth Name: Mondon || Born 14th of Morning Star, ME -435 || The Ritual

Male || 6′07″ || Physically 35 || Lawful Evil

Patron: Nirliivraan || Main Skill: Conjuration || Element: Fire

Closest To: Hevnoraak, Rahgot, Zaan

Akiirdal prefers to watch everything from afar which is perhaps why Hevnoraak and Rahgot like to drag him into trouble whenever possible. He’s not fond of being very hands-on himself, and leaves most of his work to servants and minions. He tends to get a brunt of the heckling from his fellow priests because he’s very unlikely to retaliate.

Dukaan [Formerly Kril]

Birth Name: Tirmonl || Born 9th of Evening Star, ME -435 || The Thief

Male || 6′03″ || Physically 30 || True Neutral

Patron: Ontdunrii || Main Skill: Destruction || Element: Frost

Closest To: Hadriin, Miraak, Zahkriisos

Dukaan, previously known as ‘Kril [Brave]’ has really withdrawn after his and his patron dragon’s defeat at the hands of the snow elves - a loss which cost many lives and a large region of territory. He doesn’t speak often unless he must, and is very cautious of everything he says and does now. While his fellow priests are no longer particularly angry at him, the backlash was enough - even if the priest who were angriest at him and did the most harm are long dead.

Haldriin

Birth Name: Seenrath || Born 1st of Second Seed, ME -663 || The Serpent

Male || 6′05″ || Physically 32 || Neutral Evil

Patron: Vokrilgol || Main Skill: Sneak || Element: Frost

Closest To: Dukaan, Vokun, Vosis

Haldriin was banished from Atmora at 21 for failing to assassinate a member of Atomoran nobility. Even after arriving in Skyrim, Haldriin refused to allow it to become a ‘fresh start’ and continued to pursue his previous career, eventually leading him to assassinate a member of the dragon cult suspected of treachery. His aid earned him a place among the priests, and then earned him a mask. He’s fairly quiet and soft spoken, and doesn’t like to act in any manner that could come across as rash or dramatic.

Hevnoraak

Birth Name: Viren || Born 3rd of Last Seed, ME -561 || The Warrior

Male || 6′07″ || Physically 31 || Chaotic Evil

Patron: Ontodkul || Main Skill: Alteration || Element: Shock

Closest To: Otar, Rahgot, Miraak

Hevnoraak is a disaster of a human being, and only just keeps himself in line for his fellow masked priests. He’s particularly cruel and full of bad habits, and if he weren’t immortal he’d probably be dead. He’s particularly close with Otar and Rahgot after spending a large part of his youth with them, and is one of the few who keeps holding on to the idea that Otar might get better.

Konahrik

Birth Name: Sesmirr || Born 17th of First Seed, ME -790 || The Lord

Male || 6′10″ || Physically 58 || Lawful Evil

Patron: Sahfaadlaat || Main Skill: Destruction || Element: All

Closest To: Nahkriin, Morokei, Ahzidal

Konahrik takes his job as the highest ranking priest incredibly seriously. He strives to ensure that the dragons are treated with the upmost respect and honor, while ensuring the safety and power of his fellow masked priests. The high priests are his family, and Konahrik does not fear to strike down any human who would threaten them. Only the dragons will spares people his ire.

He has a daughter named Ofan with Nahkriin.

Krosis

Birth Name: Murrel || Born 29th of Evening Star, ME -327 || The Thief

Nonbinary || 6′06″ || Physically 35 || True Neutral

Patron: Sonaarqoth || Main Skill: Alchemy || Element: Frost

Closest To: Zahkriisos, Vosis, Akriidal

Krosis keeps to themselves, and does not talk unless it is absolutely necessary. Much of their spare time is spent making potions and working as a healer, and they are a renowned surgeon with incredibly delicate hands. They tend to be one of the most distant members of the high cult though, and aren’t quick to open themselves up to others emotionally. They have a deep fear of growing emotionally attached to others.

Miraak

Birth Name: Thurrmith || Born 29th of Sun’s Height, ME -449 || The Apprentice

Male || 6′09″ || Physically 30 || Neutral Evil

Patron: Bronjunkriid || Main Skill: Speechcraft || Element: Shock

Closest To: Hevnoraak, Ahzidal, Nahkriin

Miraak discovered that he was dragonborn at the age of 19 - and after that, his life was not the same. He went from being a smith’s apprentice to a priest in training, and was very quick to learn magic and the workings of the cult. His status as a mortal god rather quickly went to his head, and he definitely takes advantage of the fact that people literally worship him. His dragon-like appearance has slowly appeared after absorbing more dragon souls, and will likely only be more apparent the more he does so. He loves the attention of his fellow priests, even if he thinks he should have Konahrik’s position.

Morokei

Birth Name: Ginwonnarr || Born 11th of Sun’s Dusk, ME -691 || The Atronach

Male || 6′05″ || Physically 32 || Neutral Evil

Patron: Lotkoorkrief || Main Skill: Destruction || Element: Shock

Closest To: Konahrik, Ahzidal, Nahkriin

Long years working close to the Eye of Magnus has physically altered Morokei’s body, making seams of glowing energy split his skin and preventing it from ever healing... properly? It’s hard to tell, and nobody’s really sure what exactly is happening on that front. Morokei is not all that concerned anymore. He takes his position as the keeper of the Eye very seriously, on top of his priestly jobs - but, as a result, he doesn’t often leave Saarthaal. Most priests have to visit him, or have a reason for him to have to visit Bromjunaar.

Nahkriin

Birth Name: Volreynar || Born 6th of Morning Star, ME -608 || The Ritual

Female || 6′06″ || Physically 30 || Lawful Evil

Patron: Alduin || Main Skill: Restoration || Element: All

Closest To: Konahrik, Miraak, Zaan

Nahkriin was given her mask after catching and slaying the priest who assassinated the previous masked priest, Baus, who she was close to. She rarely is able to leave Skuldafn, since she is the keeper of the portal to Sovngarde, but she does like to visit or hold visitors when she can. She is exceedingly loyal to Alduin and the dragons, and incredibly weary of any follower or priest who may seem like they could turn on their overlords.

She has a daughter, Ofan, with Konahrik.

Otar the Mad

Mask: Kendov [Warrior] || Born 15th of Last Seed, ME -565 || The Warrior

Male || 7′02″ || Physically 55 || Chaotic Evil

Patron: Kallwonin || Main Skill: One-Handed Weaponry || Element: Shock

Closest To: Hevnoraak, Rahgot

Otar was once a well respected and renowned warrior and king, thought of fondly by his people and cherished by his followers. Even as he was given a mask, he was though of as a kind and benevolent ruler. At some point though, something changed, and Otar stopped being the man people knew him as. A chance discovery of a Black Book has lead to Otar’s descent into madness. He no longer recognizes his mask name, and lashes out cruelly at his friends and followers. Hevnoraak is one of the few priests who can stand being around him any longer, or who believes there’s any hope for him.

Rahgot

Birth Name: Voll || Born 13th of Frostfall, ME -562 || The Tower

Male || 6′08″ || Physically 48 || Neutral Evil

Patron: Toorsaangraag || Main Skill: Two-Handed Weaponry || Element: Fire

Closest To: Hevnoraak, Otar, Akriidal

Rahgot has a legendarily short temper, usually flying into a rage if anything doesn’t go his way. His followers keep in line to avoid his fury, since he’s not one to shy away from killing those who displease him. His fellow priests are about the only ones who are spared the worst of it, though even then he can be snappy with them. He, Otar and Hevnoraak are particularly close after spending much of their youth together, and like Hevnoraak he owes Otar his life for saving him multiple times. Unlike Hevnoraak though, he bear to see how Otar is now.

Vokun

Birth Name: Frarmeldr || Born 30th of Second Seed, ME -382 || The Shadow

Female || 5′11″ || Physically 26 || Neutral Evil

Patron: Briigramfiik || Main Skill: Illusion || Element: All

Closest To: Krosis, Haldriim, Volsung

Vokun is a sea of hair who’s very difficult to ever hear, even when she’s speaking. She likes to get things done without having to actually interact with anyone. She’s very snide though, and loves to make jabs at other people’s expense. She’s often overlooked because of her short stature, but uses that to her advantage often to sneak around.

Volsung

Birth Name: Briajil || Born 23rd of Frostfall, ME -346 || The Tower

Female || 6′03″ || Physically 24 || Chaotic Evil

Patron: Siivgutviin || Main Skill: Speechcraft || Element: Frost

Closest To: Vokun, Hevnoraak, Rahgot

Volsung uses her charms and wits to get people to do whatever she pleases, and is perhaps second to the level of cruelty Hevnoraak employs. When her words don’t work, Volsung isn’t above resorting to brutal violence to ensure her bidding is done exactly as she wants, and she’s quite skilled with a knife. She enjoys living the high life and throws extravagant parties and celebrations for her fellow priests and other high-ranking cultists who have garnered the dragon’s favors.

Vosis

Birth Name: Bralsgol || Born 31st of Hearthfire, ME -435 || The Lady

Male || 6′09″ || Physically 26 || Lawful Evil

Patron: Wahlstrunlok || Main Skill: Conjuration || Element: Frost

Closest To: Krosis, Haldriin, Akiirdal

Vosis earned his spot amongst the high priests, strangely, by refusing his patron’s orders at the death of the previous high priest. His defiance against orders that would have put his sect at odds with the other dragons nearly cost him his life, but ultimately allowed him to alert others of the rogue dragon’s plans. Vosis is a bit paranoid and distrusting of anyone outside of his new high priest family, and can take quite a bit of coaxing to leave the ‘safety’ of his own temple.

Zaan the Scalecaller

Birth Name: Svorjind || Born 31st of Last Seed, ME -526 || The Warrior

Female || 6′04″ || Physically 24 || Lawful Evil

Patron: Thurvokun || Main Skill: One-Handed Weaponry || Element: Frost

Closest To: Akriidal, Nahkriin, Rahgot

Zaan was rather abruptly thrust into the position of being a high priest and the ruler of the Western Kingdom at the banishment of Arthosiis and his patron dragon, Nisvobeyn. She’s very headstrong and tries her absolute hardest to do her cult and her people good, but she very much relies on the directions of someone higher up than her. Even after hundreds of years of ruling, she doesn’t fully trust herself to make complex plans, and sticks strictly to following the orders of Thurvokun, Alduin and Konahrik in particular. She’s talented on the battlefield and in military planning though.

Zahkriisos

Birth Name: Kerrilloth || Born 21st of Sun’s Dawn, ME -206 || The Lover

Male* || 6′05″ || Physically 35 || Lawful Evil

Patron: Kinkriistrein || Main Skill: Conjuration || Element: Fire

Closest To: Dukaan, Krosis, Miraak

Zahkriisos is a incredibly skilled swordsman, making a name for himself on the battlefield. When it comes to priest work, he’s... a tad lost. He treats his cult like a army, which works, but comes to quite the confusion of the rest of the priests and the cultists. He’s trying his hardest though, and is eager to learn. He’s very untalented at magic, and struggles to concentrate on studying it - despite the other priest’s absolute best efforts to teach him. 

[nd43taags]

A Warm Cup of Caring

Another fast thing hammered out to fight writer’s block!  Enjoy, it’s horribly cute.

Two weeks before Candlenights, the floating moonbase of the Bureau of Balance experienced the worst cold snap it had since its foundation.

It was cold enough planetside, but being nestled in among the clouds in the air didn’t help the Moonbase one bit in staying warm.  The moisture was crystallizing almost immediately on every surface.  All the outdoor plants froze overnight.  The walkways and roads turned slick.  The glass domes frosted over until they were opaque.  And Madam Director had to issue a warning to all employees not to venture out unless it was absolutely necessary.

Magnus Burnsides was no stranger to cold.  Raven’s Roost was perched on top of a high column of stone, and the wind chill in the winter kept everything nice and frosty.  It wasn’t common to get a lot of snow, but it was cold, much like the moon was today, and Magnus was grateful to still have the fur-lined windbreaker and boots that Julia had gotten for him during his first winter with her.  

It made heading out to Fantasy Costco for coffee much less of a hassle.

Read more on AO3 or below the cut!

The cold snap had sent most employees indoors.  Magnus hadn’t seen Carey in days because her cold blooded body couldn’t handle the temperatures.  He imagined her curled up in her dorm room with a heat lamp and a blanket, trying to wait it out.  He’d seen Avi in the launch bay, bundled up as he scraped ice off of the cannonballs with fumbling mittened hands.  He had also checked on the Voidfish, since it seemed like the creature that lived in water would be having a hard time, but Johann had informed him that the tank had better heating elements than the whole base.  It was a very cozy temperature for their fishy friend.  It also appeared that Steven in his magical glass ball wasn’t having too much trouble, but Magnus was leaving him in the dorm room when he had to go outdoors just in case.

His two other roommates were not handling the weather very well at all.

Merle was complaining more about his arthritis, saying the cold was making his hands ache.  Magnus supposed it made sense, Merle had lived on the beach most of his life.  Biting cold probably wasn’t something he had experienced much of, and he was getting up there in age.

Taako on the other hand had retreated into his room, bundling up in so many sweaters and scarves he looked more mummy than elf.  He was amassing a dragon’s hoard of blankets on his bed, and he curled himself inside them like a nest.  It was kind of cute, but Magnus had noticed almost all of his blankets had mysteriously vanished in the past few days.

They both had the heating in their new dorm turned up so high it was practically sweltering.

But Magnus liked the cold.  Or at least, Magnus tolerated it.  Despite The Director’s orders, Magnus still took a brisk morning walk every day in the bracing cold to get coffee for himself and sometimes his roommates.  It cleared his head and helped him think.  Plus it was a relief from the sauna that was his dorm room.

His boots crunched the ice as he approached the Fantasy Starbucks outside the Costco shopping center.  They had a special going on for Hot Chocolate, and Magnus smiled.  He remembered spending cold winter nights with Julia, curled up under one of her handmade quilts with mugs of cocoa, watching the fire and whispering secrets and kissing whipped cream from each other’s lips.  And oh how he missed that, the closeness of another being, the intimacy and warmth they had shared.

He missed being loved.

During the rebellion, they had promised each other not to let their grief stop them from loving again should one of them be killed in battle.  But when she had died he honestly thought he would never love again, no matter how much he knew Julia would have wanted him to.  And he was prepared to live the rest of his life alone, no matter how much it hurt.

Or at least, he thought he was.

Magnus had loved being in love, giving his attention and care to someone special.  He was made for love, built for hugging and holding and cherishing others.  A much as his mind had resolved not to love again, the rest of him had to disagree.  He was realizing that as much as he loved Julia, he was ready to feel that love for someone again.  His body ached for it, even as it ached with grief for her.

As he entered the coffee shop and kicked the frost off his boots on the doorframe, a thought crossed his mind.  Being cozy and warm under a blanket and sharing hot chocolate with someone else who made his heart flutter.  

Taako.

Magnus had been trying to deny it for months, but he had been crushing pretty hard on Taako.  Taako was beautiful, but Magnus was certain that even by the standards of elves he was exceptional.  Magnus couldn’t count the number of times he had been enraptured by the dusting of freckles on his face, or the way he chewed his lip when he was thinking, or the way his laughter carried through the halls of the dormitories.  It was easy to ignore at first, but once they had become roommates it was harder to avoid, and the longer he spent with him the more intense it had become.  And now that they were no longer sharing a bedroom, Magnus was surprised to find himself missing Taako being around, even though he was only just down the hall from him.

He wasn’t quite sure where Taako stood though.  He was flirtatious in his personality, and Magnus had difficulty parsing Taako’s pet names and flirty winks he gave Magnus at every turn.  He was like that with everyone, Magnus knew that, but he couldn’t help himself but read into every interaction.  Couldn’t help but notice every moment of attention he got.  Every time Taako called him “Big Guy” he felt his heart leap into his chest, trying to figure out if it was just friendly or if that little waver in his voice was meant to be romantic.  When Taako winked at him across the table at dinner after making a joke, Magnus would look around and try to figure out if it was meant in general or just for him.  He couldn’t tell the difference.  And once, when Magnus had done Taako’s chores for him while he napped, Taako had kissed him on the cheek as thanks.  It was fast and it was chaste, but was it just a little friendly peck, or was it something else?

Did he want it to be something else?

At the counter Magnus could see that the shop was offering a few different kinds of hot chocolate in their promotion with different add-ins and toppings for flavor.  Lots of fancy and ridiculous flavors for sure, and he looked at the menu with his hands in his pocket.

Did he want it to be something else?

If he was being truthful, Magnus had entertained the idea of being with Taako once or twice.  He was funny and smart and beautiful, and Magnus couldn’t deny that he had fallen for him.  But they had a good thing going with their friendship, and Magnus wasn’t sure if this thing was mutual, or just him looking too deep.  Was he so desperate for a connection that he was inventing a crush where there wasn’t one?  And if Taako did like him, what did that mean?

Was he as ready as his heart felt?

“Hey Magnus, what can I get for you?” the barista asked with a cheery smile.

“Uh… I guess I’m gonna get some hot chocolate for me and the other Reclaimers, since you’re having a special” Magnus admitted, still staring at the menu.  “You got any suggestions?”

“I mean it’s for Taako and Merle right?” he replied. “You can’t really go wrong with the classic hot chocolate, but I really think Taako would get a kick out of our newest item.”  He gestured at a sign on the counter, and Magnus cracked a wide smile.

“Oh hell yes, give me three of those!”

Twenty minutes later he was headed back to the dorms, a cup carrier enchanted by a warmth spell in hand, nestled tightly with three piping hot drinks.

Maybe it was okay not to know.  It had been so long since he had felt this way about anyone, and Magnus wasn’t sure if he could, would, or should feel the way he did about Taako.  Maybe it was alright to just enjoy the company of his friend, and if it went anywhere else that was alright too.  Taako was a great guy.  He would be okay with anything, as long as he was around.  Magnus resolved that maybe rushing in wasn’t the solution this time.  Maybe it was better just to hang back and wait to see what happened.  As the elevator to the dorms descended and he warmed his hands against the side of the caddy, he decided to go slow and keep it cool.

As he unlocked the door to their dorm, he discovered it was very easy to keep cool there.

“Magnus there you are!” Merle cried, shuffling to the door with a blanket draped around his shoulders.  “Shut the door!  The damn heater went out a little while ago, and it’s freezing in here!”

Magnus laughed as the door closed behind him.  It was cold, but nowhere near as cold as it was outside.  Just a little chill in the morning, but for these two lounge lizards it was probably frigid.

“Did you call anyone?” he said, setting the drinks down on the dining table.

“Yeah that Lucas guy is supposed to be looking into it,” Merle grumbled.  “He’s taking forever though.  My arthritis is killing me.”

“Well I got hot chocolates, and one of them is for you,” Magnus said, taking two of the drinks and heading to the hall, “Is Taako back in his room?”

“Yeah but…” Merle grabbed the remaining drink with a bemused look. “Magnus this is pink, what kind of hot chocolate is it?”

“They’re calling it The Garryl,” Magnus chuckled, “Of course that showboater got a drink named after him before we did!”

As he entered Taako’s room to see the mountain of blankets, he heard Taako’s muffled voice reply.  “I have a drink named after me.  It’s two parts vodka, three parts ice cream, one part cake mix.”

“That sounds... disgusting,” Magnus laughed, approaching the bed.  “Come on and get out here, I brought you some hot chocolate.”

Taako’s long ears poked up out from under a blanket, followed slowly by the rest of him, and Magnus had to hold back a smile.  The cold was biting at Taako’s cheeks, leaving him flushed and red, and it was adorable.  Magnus felt himself get a little flush in response.

“Thanks Homie,” Taako said, reaching for the drink, “You want to sit?”

“Yeah sure,” Magnus replied, turning to his own hot chocolate as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Whoa what’s this then?” Taako laughed, turning so his own legs dangled off the side.

According to the barista, it was some sort of white chocolate mix with pink coloring, topped off with a huge dollop of whipped cream and a healthy scattering of sprinkles and little marshmallows.  It smelled sweet, almost too sweet, but it was so delightfully gaudy that Magnus couldn’t help but love it.

“It, uh… It made me think of you actually,” Magnus admitted sheepishly.

“And they’re calling it The Garryl?” Taako smirked. “Those bastards, I may have to sue.”

They quietly sipped their drinks (and Magnus found all could do was sip because it was so very sweet) for a minute before Magnus noticed yet another one of his blankets had been added to Taako’s pile while he was out.  It was one of Julia’s quilts, and he felt something warm dip into his stomach that had nothing to do with hot chocolate.  

Maybe that memory from earlier wasn’t as far away as he thought.

“That’s my blanket,” he said without thinking, putting a hand to it.

“It’s fucking cold in here my dude,” Taako defended, and Magnus caught a hint of that teasing lilt in his voice that he just couldn’t read.  “And you’ve got the best blankets in this place.”

He smiled as he looked at the faded quilt.  “Yeah this is a pretty good one.  I use it when I’m sleeping outside.”

“Ah, that explains why it smells like campfire and sweat,” Taako teased with a soft elbow to his side, “Do you ever wash that thing?”

“It’s handmade, I, uh… I don’t know how to wash it,” Magnus admitted with a shrug, taking another sip of his overly sweet drink.

Taako nodded quietly, then scooted a little closer.  Magnus felt a thrill run over him as he felt Taako’s body warmth near him.  With a little shiver, Taako whispered,  “Cuddle up big guy, it’s still really cold.”

He laughed.  “Should we put the blanket over us?” Magnus asked.

“Yeah that sounds nice,” Taako whispered, and they both reached for the quilt at the same time, hands touching.  Magnus flinched at the touch, unsure what to do, but Taako didn’t seem to notice as he grabbed a handful of blanket and wrapped his arm around Magnus’ shoulder.

“Taako,” Magnus breathed, unsure what to say.  He felt that warmth creeping over him again, and his stomach felt twisted and nervous. “I-”

“You guys snuggling in here?” Merle said, popping his head in the room.

“Hell yeah we are, Magnus is like my personal space heater,” Taako laughed, “You want in on this old man?”

“Damn straight, make a space son.”

Merle joined them with his hot chocolate in hand, and with some help from Magnus he got up on the bed.  Magnus draped the blanket over him, and Merle and Taako both curled into him, Taako resting his head on Magnus’ shoulder and Merle leaning against Magnus’ stomach.  With a smile, Magnus sighed, and let himself enjoy the moment.

He felt cozy and safe, and he knew it had nothing to do with the blanket or the hot chocolate.

“You guys feeling better?” he asked, and took another deep sip of his drink, and a bit of it touched his nose.

“Warm as a glass of brandy,” Merle replied.

“Yeah, thanks for the choco, big guy,” Taako laughed.  He glanced up, and giggled.  “You’ve got whipped cream on your nose my dude.”

Magnus tried to reach up to wipe it off, but Taako was faster, stretching up and kissing him on the nose.  Magnus felt his face go hot, but Taako simply cozied back up against his side as if nothing had happened.  The trio spent the next half hour in silence, drinking chocolate.  When the heater came back on, Merle and Taako both scattered, and Magnus found himself heading back into his room with a smile.

He still wasn’t sure what would happen, but Magnus decided whatever it was, he’d be happy just having moments like this.  Moments of warmth that he got to share with people he loved.

[thickasthievesrpg-hidden]

WELCOME TO THE HEIST, KAT!

YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF MAGNUS LEE

A note from Admin Risa: What a lovely, straightforward app! Though I didn’t write Magnus’ bio - I know that your portrayal would make his creator proud. Kat, you have such a great understanding of his character, his whims, and his escapades; you captured so many of his aspects in this app. Beyond the fact that it’s Magnus motherf*ckin’ Lee we’re talking about (and I’m still screaming about that fact alone), I’m so very happy to have you join us! Congratulations on your acceptance! You’ve been to the museums, the banks, the isolated manors with their black dogs and gilded keys. You’ve stolen their necklaces, their jewels, the prized heirlooms in their vaults and their safes.They’ll watch out for you. Please visit the after acceptance page and submit your account within the next 24 hours – we’re excited to have you with us!

I. INTRODUCTION

Name/Alias + Pronouns:

Kat, She/Her 

Age:

19

Timezone + Activity

EST & I believe my activity should range from a six to a nine. I’m currently enrolled in college and that takes up quite a bit of my time on top of social activities, but I should be able to do some replies every day to every other day.

I. BASICS

Desired Role:

Magnus Lee 

Analysis: 

sexuality/romantic preference — Magnus Lee has never been too picky. If there is a sexuality based on attraction by pure interest and curiosity alone, it would be the perfect title for the Lee heir. He finds himself ceaselessly fascinated with people, their minds and bodies enthrall and tempt him so he digs his claws in and brings back out a fist covered in blood. He doesn’t intend to hurt those he shares himself with, he really doesn’t, but he has a tendency to only stick around long enough to sate his interest, never enough to fulfill theirs. Very much like a child who steps on ants, he doesn’t understand that he’s hurting those he leaves, but Magnus is much too slippery to cling to. He has a way of figuring out the maze to your heart then slipping away with the shadows as he always does. He’s commonly known by those he’s loved as ‘the one that got away’.

birthdate — May 23th, 1989 

birthplace/hometown — Prague, Czech Republic. His father has always been about business, even when it came to Magnus’ birth. Especially when it came to Magnus’ birth. His father had stood by while his mother screamed in the agony of childbirth with his arms across his torso and his face rather grim. He remained stoic until he heard the first cries of a baby to which he only said a few words. “Is it a boy?” He wasn’t as concerned with his new child’s health as much as he was concerned with its gender. It wasn’t until he heard the word “yes” that he smiled, a brilliant smile at that. He now had an heir for when he should ever need one, and that was what made the birth so important. He had grabbed his wife’s hand and shook his head with a bit of a chuckle. “Long live the Lees.” 

occupation  — conman extraordinaire & heir. The silver spoon in his mouth didn’t sate his hunger, he was still always starving. Starving for things to do, places to see, and people to meet. He reached his hands out in front of him and grasped all that he could see. He learned trades and slipped into the shadows, he took things that did not belong to him sheerly for the thrill and satisfaction. He learned how to use his boyish looks to get people to trust him and hand over the things he wants. He learned his way around words, and he learned how to become a friend of the dark. Becoming a conman was easy, it was in his blood and in his name, he carried it with him everywhere he went. Magnus had wanted more, so he took it. 

criminal occupation  — the conman, burglar & aquisitioner. Crime is subjective, at least in Magnus’ opinion. Some people deserved to have their things taken from them, people like his father, and Magnus has no hesitation in taking from such people. The jump from young boy to conman was much smoother than one would anticipate. The key was maturity, and the lack thereof. If you worked immaturity just the right way, it could have others gleam at you the way they would a child, it can hit a soft spot. That’s one of Magnus’ strong suits. He could play people easily, a gangster in a dictionary definition. He snuck onto your radar in the midst of a bright day, his smile being the sun and his eyes the warmth that soaks your very skin, and then, in the night, he makes out like the bandit he was born to be. 

fire — Some Indians believed that blood holds all the bad spirits, and once a month in ceremonies they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free. Burning money and expensive things has almost the same effect for Magnus. He’s aware his money can sometimes get to his head and other times he begins to think he wouldn’t survive without it. So he starts a bonfire. Nothing calms the Lee quite as much as the look of burning silks and furs. It gives him a giddy sort of relief that not even drugs could match.  

Four Characteristics:

Charismatic (+) – Charming, out-going, and easily entertaining, charismatic is most certainly a word used to describe Magnus Lee. He has no difficulty when it comes to speaking to others or getting them to warm up to him. He has an infectious nature that generally makes him come across friendly and hard to turn down. He’s incredibly likeable and easy-going which is extremely useful, especially in his line of business. Intelligent (+) – It’s no secret that Magnus borders on genius in the social aspects in life, but he also has an incredible mind in and of itself. He always did exceedingly well in classes and he’s brilliant at finances as well. He’s everything his father could’ve wanted in a son. Too bad his father is precisely everything Magnus never wanted. Obsessive (-) – He has a tendency to get too far into things. If there’s something he wants, whether it be an item, a steal, or even a person, he can become severely one track minded until whatever it may be he’s pining for is achieved. This can sometimes get in the way of the more basic things in life, like sleeping and eating. It doesn’t happen particularly often or necessarily very intensely, but when it does, it’s unlikely that he’ll be seen for quite a while which can cause a bit of a stir. Stubborn (-) – Someone doesn’t disappear and stay away for five years without a hint of stubbornness, even if it’s for good reason. When Magnus is right and knows he is, which is more often than not the case, he can get very stuck on it which can cause some defiance and tension between him and certain people. He has an ability to immediately switch into a colder disposition when he feels as if someone is defying him or attempting to disprove his intelligence.  

Expansion:

Annabelle “Whiskey” Bishop – Beauty in its purest form; bitter, raw, and unkempt. Annabelle is one of those who Magnus finds himself interested in. From her name to her bite-back personality, she’s a thing to be marveled. He finds himself interested in many different types of people, it’s a part of his constant curiosity, but Whiskey is a rather new development. He had first met her in the presence of his dear Rozanov friends, and she was fierce. You could feel the power and brutal protectiveness of not only herself, but her sister as well, rolling off of her in waves so thick they could blind. He wants to know more. Liling Chen – Liling is a riot. She’s beautiful and brash and all of Magnus’ favorite things in a person, and he likes to consider them some form of friends. They don’t spend an excessive amount of time together, no, but the fleeting moments they spend in each other’s company are more than just entertaining, they’re worthy of their own comedy show. They fill the space with light-hearted snips and profanity that even truckers would cringe at. Magnus finds Liling to be a true treasure of a human being and very much enjoys being in her presence.  

II. WRITING

Para Sample(s):

Seemingly priceless leather shoes carelessly kicked rocks on the gravel and an expensive heavy fur coat set to flames. Magnus Lee loved holidays. He loved the excitement crackling the cold December-turned-January air and the sweaty palms of middle class members of society praying for a better year. “Maybe I’ll get rich!” They mutter with their eyes almost wild and a wet upper lip as they light off fireworks and force down another flute of twelve pound champagne. He loved being the one percent of the one percent. His devilish Cheshire cat-esque grin seemed to glow and hover in empty air as he raised another glass to the skyline through the clouded window. “To another year in infamy!” The words boomed even though his voice remained casual, at a volume no louder than his average words, before he downed a shot of cheap burning whiskey. It rawed his throat on the way to his stomach and he closed his eyes, letting the dragon rip its way down. Oh how he relished in inexpensive bars. The patrons looked at him as if he were a God, large yellow-toothed smiles and beady little eyes gleamed up at him as he ordered the entire pub shot after shot of their shitty top-shelf liquor. His own dark eyes gleamed at the raunchy humor that filled the space, the thick, smoke corroded air forcing itself into his lungs as he chuckled. Magnus was a king atop his throne, throwing gold pieces down to his subjects. He was a robin hood among greedy thieves with greasy fingers and Turnbull & Asser ties, wanting everything for themselves. Of course, he couldn’t always blame them, because he was sure living on a salary with fingers only sticky from dirty snack wrappers could be a painful existence. He was sure they were suffering, but that’s why he had arrived in the first place. He got the poor drunk to forget about their lack, he gave them their moment of glory and forgotten bills through the sharp taste of straight whiskey. It was his gift. He’d wait until their eyes were dazed and faces flushed with intoxication before he made his leave. He glanced at his watch. “It looks about time I left.” The words left his lips with a chummy tone as to insinuate a friendship between him and the countless faces jammed into the bar. He didn’t recall not a single name of any of the one patrons, but they surely knew one of his. He heard a noise of dissatisfaction ripple through the crowd of people and he flashed his charming smile once more. “Do not worry; I’m sure you’ll see me again.” He said, his boyish voice and twinkling eyes making them all believe this sentiment despite its lie. He was leaving this city in two hours and he was sure none of these people would be in his presence anytime soon, if ever, again. He was sure that should make him feel sad, but it didn’t. It made him feel liberated. The patrons bid their farewell to a Mr. Jameson Scott as he made his way out of the pub and into the early morning. The sky bled from black to the lightest blue as the sun began its descent into the sky and Magnus’ smile didn’t falter. His skin raised goose flesh as the chill nipped at his arms, (perhaps he shouldn’t have burned his coat) and his breath escaped his lips in a ghostly wave of smoke. It was going to be a glorious day. He could feel it in his stomach, a growing warmth that was separate from the liquor. It was promise.  His hands slipped into his pockets and started whistling a tune he didn’t remember learning. This was the end of an era and the resumption of a past. The prince was returning to his throne, and the castle would be rebuilt.  

Starter Example: 

Wind whistled high above Magnus’ head as he walked leisurely through town with his hands in pockets. His eyes were shaded by dark sunglasses and his head was angled upward as if he were trying to look at the sun, this appearance was dampened only by the dense clouds that shaded said bright ball in the sky. He wasn’t looking at the sun, but instead the pointed top of a building that stood tall nearby. He was absently wondering what one would have to do to stand at the top. His eyes darted downwards a bit at the bark of a dog, but he kept his position relaxed and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, the beginning of a smile before his face turned quickly inquisitive as his gaze met that of the animal. It wasn’t barking at a car or a squirrel, but at him.  No, not him. At something, or someone, behind him.  Magnus made a humming noise, but didn’t turn or didn’t slow his pace, instead he spoke up. “Do you know why a dog barks?” He asked to an invisible person who may or may not exist. “They say it’s from a strong emotion or need.” He said before a short pause. “Could you imagine trying to convey what you’re feeling with only one word? It sounds rather frustrating.” He said, his voice nearing towards a murmur as he tampered off into an conversation almost with himself.

III. FREESTYLE/EXTRA

Optional. Time to let out your passion & creativity! This is where you may list anything else that you see for this character that is not stated in their bios. Go wild! This is the section that will be examined in the case of a multiple application tie, so don’t be afraid to let your muse out. (videos, headcanons, facts, song lyrics, diary entries, letters, memes, etc.) 

[spam-monster]

How It Should Have Ended - for Helsa week

How it should have ended

(Notes: as I am one of those weird Helsa fans who actually doesn’t mind that Hans turned out to be the bad guy because I think it makes his character more interesting, but still wants him redeemed because I love watching former villains being dragged kicking and screaming onto the good guy’s side, this is not going to be a straight up re-write of the ending. You’ll see.)

 He thinks about what he could have done differently. Of course he does. Isn’t that what bad guys always do?

If he had let the queen be shot back in her ice palace, if he had not revealed his treachery to the princess so soon and let her die thinking that it was her fault true love’s kiss hadn’t saved her, if he had killed the queen as soon as she had fallen out there on the lake instead of sparing her a moment of sympathy for her perceived loss.

Those are the ones he tries to think about. The ones a monster like himself should think about. But there are other thoughts, ones that come to him unbidden when all is quiet and dark and still.

If he had been honest. If he had gone with Anna from the beginning instead of staying behind and feeding his ego. If he had confessed his deception and tried to help her find another way to break her curse instead of shoving it in her face and laughing as he slammed the door behind him.

If he had not pretended to love Anna at all, and had tried to win over Elsa instead, like he had intended. She would not have been fooled so easily. But maybe if he had been honest with her instead. Maybe if he had taken the time to befriend them. Maybe they would have let him come back, after that day. Maybe if he could have spent time away from his cruel brothers, with people who were kind and loving and good, maybe he could have learned such things himself. Maybe…maybe he could have found true love.

Instead he had let himself become the monster of their story, vanquished and cast away, never to be spared a though again.

But there is no use in dwelling on such things, he thinks.

He thinks.

Because it is hard not to dwell on these things when your nieces and nephews insist on him telling the story over and over and over again.  

***

He spends more time with them now.

There is a small fountain in the village, near the castle. The children of the local village play there with the children of the royal staff. His nieces and nephews didn’t use to play there, with the lower-class children, but one day he had gotten tired of having to repeat the story to them after he had already told it to the village children that day, and from then on he declared he would only tell it once, to whomever was gathered at the fountain when he was finished with his duties for the day. So all the children play there together now while they wait for him.

His brothers are rather annoyed at him for encouraging this. He can’t bring himself to care. Maybe if he had contact with normal loving families earlier in his life, he would have been quicker to realize what his family had lacked.

Hilda is the eldest, the first-born of his oldest brother, strong-willed and fierce. Fredrick is the first born of his second eldest brother, clever and charming, and his little sister Margrete is a hopeless romantic. Christian is the son of Lars, his third eldest brother, and he is as stuffy and studious as his father. And there is Erik and Harald, Magnus and Frida, Charlotta and Valdimarr and Vivi and Johan…

He had memorized their names out of convenience before. Lately, it had been out of sympathy. Twelve married princes with several children each made it hard for the staff to keep track and easy for the children to get lost in the crowd, and he knew all too well what that had felt like.

They made fun of him, of course, as they forced him to tell of his defeat over and over again. But they also listened to him, now that they knew he was willing to tell them stories if they behaved. It was kind of nice.

So he comes to the fountain, and waits for them to settle down, and he tells them stories. He throws other fairy tales in sometimes, when they agree, for telling the same story all the time would be dull. But the story of Anna and Elsa is still their favorite, and he has agreed to tell it again today.

***

The beginning is easy.

He does not know much about what happened in Arendelle before he arrived, but between the history books, rumors from foreign travelers, and what he had heard from Anna, he manages to put it together. He then tells them of his arrival, of meeting Anna, of the coronation and the party and his clever wooing of the princess. He re-enacts the dances and the songs with great enthusiasm, even letting the children get up and participate themselves (Fredrick and Margrete often steal the show at this point, unless another child has managed to bargain with them for a chance to play himself or Anna).

After the dancing has settled down, he tells them of the argument. Of Elsa losing control and fleeing across the lake while Arendelle froze behind her. Of how Anna decided to go after her alone, while Hans stayed behind and took care of Arendelle.

“You should have gone with her!” one of the girls pipes up, as they always do.

“You’re just saying that because you’re mad I don’t know what happened to her after that.” He replies.

Because they are annoyed, of course. They don’t care about how Hans helped protect Arendelle’s citizens by organizing food and shelter for them when they were cold and afraid. They want to hear about how Princess Anna braved climbing the mountains to find her sister, and Hans doesn’t know that part of the story.

He’s heard there was an ice harvester involved. And snow monsters. And somehow Elsa ended up freezing Anna’s heart. That’s about it.

So he skips to the part where he traveled up the mountain himself to confront the queen. He emphasizes how he saved her from the Duke’s henchmen and brought her back unconscious but unharmed.

(He knows he does it to try to compensate for what he did later. He doesn’t think they’re fooled.)

He returned to Arendelle’s castle. And so did Anna.

(He hates telling this part.)

(He should be smug about how easily he tricked her. He was, at the time. It’s a lot harder to feel good about yourself for fooling someone into believing you loved them only to throw it back in their face later when there aren’t dozens of small, disapproving eyes watching you.)

So he glosses over it. Just tells them that he hurt her, admits that she probably didn’t deserve it.

(Sometimes he even tries to explain to them that it wasn’t her he was mocking, it was himself for being as naive as she was once. They just glare at him. They don’t understand yet, and that’s a good thing.)

He never tells them exactly what he said to her, although he remembers every word.

(He was wrong, anyway.)

And then, he tells them how he chased after Elsa.

He tells them that he thought killing her was the only way to stop the endless winter and save Arendelle.

(He had thought that, at the time.)

(It’s easier to tell himself that than to admit that he had wanted it to be the only way to stop the winter.)

And then…

He usually lies.

They know he’s going to lie about how it ended. They expect it by now. And as an expert liar, he tries to make it as extravagant as possible.

Last week it had ended with him having been secretly hiding that he had been born with power over fire the whole time, and he and Elsa engaging in an epic magic battle. This week Elsa summoned a giant ice dragon that he had to defeat before she would give up.

(His lies often involve Elsa fighting back somehow. It’s hard to admit now that he was about to kill a defenseless woman in cold blood.)

So he lies, for as long as they allow him to, because he is a very entertaining liar. But eventually they grow bored of it, as they always do.

And he relents, and tells them the truth.

He tells them how, as he went to deliver the final blow, Anna had appeared out of nowhere. How she had protected her sister who had neglected her for all those years, who had frozen their kingdom; how she stood in front of him and blocked his sword as she froze even though the woman she was protecting had been the one to curse her heart to freeze in the first place.

And then, well…

“You really don’t remember anything?” They ask.    

“What part of ‘knocked unconscious’ do you not understand?” he retorts.

But even though he doesn’t remember Anna or the kingdom unfreezing, he can tell them now why it happened.

“An act of true love can thaw a frozen heart.” He tells them. “Even after everything Elsa had done, Anna still loved her enough to save her. Her love for her sister is what freed her heart, and then inspired Elsa to find a way to undo her magic and save their kingdom from the endless winter.”

(He knows that he shouldn’t feel happy at this part. He certainly wasn’t happy when he had woken up, back then. But he sees the light in the children’s eyes when he tells them this part, when he tells them that true love is real and it is out there, when he sees siblings and cousins quietly holding hands or pulling each other closer despite his brothers encouraging them to fight and argue among each other as they once had done.

And if he can give them the reassurance he had never gotten as a child, if he can encourage them to hold on to that hope instead of letting it be buried under abuse and loneliness and neglect, then maybe there’s hope for his family yet.)

But they are still obnoxious children.

“You haven’t told us the best part.” Christian complains.

“Isn’t Anna and Elsa saving the kingdom the best part?” he says sweetly.

(It never works, but it’s a tradition by now.)

“Just do it,” Hilda demands.

He sighs. Then he stands up and reenacts Anna’s reaction to him after he had woken up.

As he mimes getting punched in the face and tosses himself dramatically in the fountain, the children laugh and cheer hearty. Little brats.

Well at least someone is satisfied with the end of his story.

 He doesn’t notice the water is a bit colder than usual or that the children have become oddly silent until he hears her.

“Well that’s funny. I certainly don’t remember the dragon.”

 ***

(I had planned for this to be a time travel thing where Hans ends up going back to the coronation and trying to do things right this time, but that seemed too long and I have been sitting on the idea of Hans retelling the story to his nieces and nephews for AGES and it needed to come out of my brain. Sorry this didn’t really line up with the prompt or have much Helsa in it. The Helsa will definitely be coming soon.)