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elodieunderglass · 4 months ago

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I can't resist bothering you with more questions. I'm sorry! I want to put Killie in a basket and carry him around with me like a purse dog. Did Charlie always know that he wasn't going to be a horse pilot forever and that he would find a way out of his family's net, or was he never going to escape if him being kicked out hadn't forced him into it? My heart breaks for him a bit, even though he seems the most well-adjusted person in that family. How old was he when he ended up on his own?

(In reference to Killie the jockey OC, crown prince of a horse-obsessed family, and his identical twin brother Charlie, who was disowned/ escaped the orbit of the Horse Planet)

You are never a bother. Nobody could be anything but grateful to have such insightful, brave, witty and inspiring people to talk about their OCs with! Are you kidding?

That’s such a good and deep question - I don’t think that Charlie knows the answer himself. He certainly was quite a talented apprentice jockey. In terms of his place in the family, his parents and siblings all adored him - he is warm and charming and funny - and thought they understood him. He has that special child-of-rotten-parents survival-mode sensitivity to reading a room, that in Charlie translates into useful skills, like “changing the mood of the room” and “sensing what people want him to say”.

But Charlie has a strong sense of identity, and with it, a hard internal limit on personal sacrifice; there are parts of Charlie you can’t have.

And despite being a fifth-generation jockey of impeccable pedigree, the whole “stoic, fearless, impervious to pain” thing appears to be a state of mind - not a physiology thing, but a mental one, engendered by passion for the sport. Charlie has had passages of his life where he’s carried off the Jockey Constitution (TM), but a problem with armouring yourself with a mental state is that if you are an especially clever little liar yourself, like Charlie, you catch on to the trick.

And the sport is inextricable from the horses in their family. So Charlie stormed out (was thrown out) of both family and sport… but I think he does like horses and he was good at it. And it would’ve been hard, in that family, in that immersive and passionate world, to break out naturally - especially when you are so beautifully built for it. It would again come down to Charlie’s strong sense of self.

I think a lot of his sense of identity and resistance came, early on, from connecting honestly with his bisexuality. He’s clever and sneaky, and likes mind games and code-switching and putting on characters, and when he realised the necessity of masking early on, it felt like a secret identity. He was simply Built Different, and couldn’t change it, so he made a game of tap-dancing on the tightrope.

Then he left to build that secret identity into his real self, on purpose, and he threw himself into The Opposite of Being a Jockey. He was not only the first in their family to go to university, he went into academia. He covered his bills by bartending and busking (take that, Dad). He eats cake. He is valued for his mind and brain. He is NOT COMPETITIVE AT ALL. HE’S COLLABORATIVE, EVEN.

…He was just about eighteen. And perhaps it affected him more deeply than he’d say. But what saved him - what always would save Charlie - was a sense of identity.

#Killie #the twins are 4’10’’ or 4’11 Ciara is about 5’2’’ as an adult and while everyone acts like Colm is massive he’s like 5’8’’ or something #apologies for Colm’s proportions. don’t worry about it. he does that.#Ciara (Irish) pronounced Kiera as in Knightley and Colm pronounced like #ughhh #a bit like Gollum with a C but if you were trying to say it as one syllable #Coll’m #(Irish ppl pls do correct any of this)#I made a strong effort to mentally rename Colm to Colman even thinking it would be easier but no. didn’t stick. he’s too Colmish.#like a small amphibious creature like a little autumn colored newt hiding in a little mossy puddle under a gently rotting leaf #defenseless staring up at you with the resigned eyes of something #fully expecting to be eaten. easily squashed.#with a resigned sigh I make a note to myself to Do Something About Colm.#what does he need I wonder.#actually maybe he is genuinely tall. that would be funny #he should be.#tall colm actually doesn’t need to be fixed he just needs to move out.#I was chatting with a colleague who is a 5’9 man and his brother is a 6’10 man and he brought this up to tell a story about how the brother #moved to the USA on the strength of it to play basketball. but in photos the brother would bend his knees to be jn the same frame #as my colleague so nobody ever believes him about this story or his brother because he cannot prove it. any photo he has of his brother #feature the man sort of melting downwards with an apologetic expression.#maybe colm’s like that.#hmm each sibling has their own identity narrative. Charlie’s is the strongest #Killie forcibly does a reinvention speedrun. straight Tory asshole to tenderly gay married in like a year. Ciara gets radicalised online #and Colm shall get a personality for uhhhhh (spins wheel of holidays) Beltane #or maybe World Book Day.#Killie and Charlie

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stuck-in-jelly · 6 months ago

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The Dragon Prince Fanfic: Seeking Judgment

Thank you to @youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal for beta reading and helping me out!! 🫶

Summary: Opeli finds herself face to face with Viren after he makes a request for a confessional. Unpleasant memories rise as she too is now faced with the weight of his crimes.

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“Excuse me?” Opeli didn’t bother hiding her frustration as she lifted her head from her desk. In front of her the ‘Associate’ Crow Lord squirmed, wringing his hands together as he let out an awkward chuckle, a nervous quirk of his she found exceedingly annoying.

“Viren has requested to see you-uh, High Priestess.” he repeated, swinging his arms back and forth as he bounced in place. Opeli’s lip curled as she placed down her pencil.

“And why would I do that.” her patience was wearing incredibly thin at the thought of that man feeling entitled to anyone’s time, let alone hers. Again, the Crow Lord shifted, now scratching at his nail-polish, the paint turning to black dust before drifting down to her once perfectly cleaned floor.

“Um…he said that he wanted to ask for Judgment from Lady Justice?”

Opeli felt her body stiffen in anger, eyes narrowing enough that the Crow Lord himself went still for the first time since entering her office.

In her youth, when she had still been with the sisters, her predecessor had proposed the ‘Judgment from Lady Justice’ practice. It was an initiative to grant prisoners a chance to reconcile with themselves and take accountability for their actions by speaking with the High Priestess and confessing before Lady Justice in the chapel.

For a moment her anger shot briefly to her mentor for paving her way into this situation but she quickly redirected it back to Viren.

Viren had never been a religious man, this was something she knew for a fact. He often made snide comments about Lady Justice, how if such a deity even existed how cruel they must be to leave humanity as it is.

Now he dare use her name now as an excuse? As a way to bring her to him?

But there was her oath, this was her original job after-all, before she became wrapped up so tightly within the political affairs of Katolis. With a click of her tongue Opeli opened a drawer, fishing out a form she would need to fill out.

“Fine. I will set a date. But he will get no more than 15 minutes.”

The day came quicker than she would have liked, as a whole she would have liked not to be in this position at all but Lady Justice worked in strange ways.

Standing in the middle of the empty chapel with the confessional set up, Opeli mentally recited her oath as a way of grounding herself. Regardless, whenever one requested Judgment from Lady Justice there were always precautions, but this was an exceptional case.

Guards had been ordered to be posted just outside of the chapel and she ensured she would have a means of defending herself, namely a blade.

After Soren had helped her and the others escape Katolis she decided she should know how to use at least a dagger.

Corvus had been the one to coach her, he was a good teacher. Patient, understanding, and thorough. Though she had been fortunate enough to have not needed it so far, there was a newfound confidence with the blade that now rested at her hip more often than not.

Cautiously she turned the weapon over in her hand admiring the smith-work. She often advised in battles, wars, and had many conversations with Amaya and Sarai before her but she had never considered what it meant to actually wield a blade.

There was power in it, of course, but more than that there was an itch. Whenever she felt threatened, her fingers twitched as if closing around an invisible handle.

During her training Corvus had said as much, that to wield a weapon meant to have discipline, to know when to halt and when to strike.

To have discipline.

Opeli found her eyes drifting up to the stain-glass mural in front of her. Justice stood, proud as ever, with her head held high and blindfolded, one hand raising up scales over her head, the other with her sword drawn.

At a very young age Opeli knew she had a strong sense of justice, a need to render each their proper due regardless of status or background, be it King or Servant.

As she stared, eyes drifting to the sword laying passively at Justice’s side, Opeli’s predecessor’s words echoed in her mind.

‘Your hand is far too eager for the punishment.’

“High Priestess.” The guard’s voice snapped her into reality “Are you ready?”

Taking a deep breath Opeli placed the blade back in its holster before blindfolding herself with the all too familiar red cloth.

“Not really.” positioning herself in front of the screen she’d be hearing Viren through, she clarified “Bring him in.”

Moments later she heard the sounds of the guards boots on the chapel floors but now accompanied with the clack of chains. Until they stopped before her feet. The guards' boots receded until the door shut once again leaving Opeli to her fate.

“Opeli,” a sound of gratitude echoed in front of her, a tone so unfamiliar on Viren’s tongue that for a moment she wondered if she had gotten the times wrong and was speaking to some stranger.

“Thank you for seeing me.” Her lip twitched in annoyance. The voice was no doubt Viren’s.

“Let’s make this quick.” she snapped before centering herself and beginning the speech.

Words from their Scriptures she remembers by heart by the time she got to the end she was already feeling ready for this to be over.

“So, you kneel here today before our Lady to seek Judgment and to balance your scales. Do you agree to face Justice with the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Then speak.”

There was no sound for a second until Viren cleared his throat, the soft clank of the chains being amplified by the chapel walls.

“I want to start this off by apologizing to you, Opeli, for how I had treated you for the past few years. It was...wrong.” Opeli couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that.

If one could believe it, she and Viren hadn’t always been at each other’s throats. There was once a time they were courteous to each other, but it had all changed many years ago. With Lissa.

The name still stung whenever she crossed her mind. How she once lit up a room wherever she walked, trail of leaves and petals following her every step.

The image of her begun to burn behind the cloth of Opeli’s blindfold; Lissa shoulders bare in the cold Katolis air as if it were a warm summer day, a soft flush on her full cheeks, a dimple revealing itself upon a tug her lips, an autumn leaf she pressed sticking out of her disorderly bun, and her soft green eyes full of whimsy she herself certainly hadn’t had since she was a child.

Lissa had once told her autumn was her favorite season, that Katolis has the most beautiful autumn cycle in all the world, even Xadia.

Opeli had countered with how she could know if she had never been to Xadia.

‘I just know.’ she had teased with a soft rumbling laugh, bumping Opeli with her arm as she stared out into the courtyard from the library’s balcony.

Lissa had sounded so sure that she was right that Opeli took her word for it.

A strange longing she hadn’t felt in years clawed at her chest at their shared memories, she could almost smell her perfume and hear her snort in the library as they tried to keep their voices down.

“She told you…didn't she? A-about what I did.”

There was an itch at the palm of her hand, accompanied by the phantom handle, at Viren’s words.

“We are not here to discuss me.”

“I truly do feel awful about what happ- for what I did.”

“And what exactly did you do.” The words were bitter, but so were the memories of Lissa sobbing into her chest, tears streaming down her face, seemingly endless no matter how tightly Opeli held her in her arms.

A strangled whimper escaped the man in front of her, and Opeli felt no remorse. If he truly wished to seek judgment from Lady Justice he would need to at least have the gall to admit it, even if it was over a decade late.

“I…” a hiccuped sob caught in Viren’s throat as he pushed out the words “I hurt her…in our bedroom, I cornered her and I forced her to cry. For a spell. Even when she begged me, I didn’t stop.”

Clinging tightly to her teachings, Opeli recited what was next.

“And do you feel regret for what you did?”

“I…” Viren paused and sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know?” Opeli snapped, briefly forgetting her role in this situation, overcome with confusion.

“If I hadn’t done it then Soren...he would’ve died. And I do not regret that my son is alive.”

To that Opeli had no words, as much as she would’ve liked to shout and scream at him, she faltered, for she was also glad Soren was alive.

“Lady Justice has heard your words.”

“There is more I wish to say.” resisting a groan she nodded, a prompt for him to continue.

“I knew under regular circumstances you would’ve never agreed to meet me but take this as my confession.”

The list of crimes that began to spill from his lips further tested Opeli’s patience.

Viren was the one behind the murders of the other Kingdoms’ leaders, smokey assassins he puppeteered to make it seem as if Xadia wished for war. Not much of a surprise but her heart ached for the Kingdoms thrown into chaos, and more so for Prince Kasef, a victim of Viren’s own self righteous plot.

Kpp’ar isn’t missing, Viren claimed, but imprisoned in a coin in his basement. He is sure there is a way to get him out but it would require something exceedingly rare. Opeli crinkled her nose at that wondering if this was a ploy to convince them to allow Viren out of his cell to find said items.

Kpp’ar was a man she rarely even spotted, she wasn’t the high priestess at the time he had begun frequently visiting the chapel, but Opeli remembers that night when her mentor emerged from the chapel face pale and arms weak after speaking with him.

That night was the last night he ever set foot back in the castle before disappearing. If you asked Opeli, she would’ve said he just finally lost his mind and ran away.

“I know, this means nothing now. But Soren, he won’t accept it from me, but I want him to know that I love him. And that I am so proud of him, I had always wanted a son who would follow in my footsteps and I had once thought my son had failed me. But he has done far better than I could’ve ever imagined.”

Since the King left Soren had been nothing short of a zombie, a smile that never quite reached his eyes projecting confidence but everyone in the castle felt the shift in his demeanor, he was hardly spotted for his morning jogs anymore, his jokes didn’t quite land, and his fidgeting had only grown.

A few of the soldiers in training had complained about sparring, how he didn’t seem to be holding back all that well.

“If you could...just make sure he knows that, in some way.” As much as she didn’t want to grant him the satisfaction she nodded.

“And Claudia….oh my little girl…when she casted her first spell I had been so worried. But when she woke, I was filled with such pride. I thought I had such a brilliant young girl to take after me, but now I see it was the wrong path. I have watched her do...vile things.”

King Ezran and the others had informed Opeli of Claudia’s return, of how dangerous she was. Had Rayla not interfered, they worried what would’ve happened to Ezran.

“I knew my staying would only hold her back, I just hope it’s enough that she can find the right path just as Soren did. If she comes to Katolis, would you promise that she be granted mercy? What has become of her is my fault, I led her down this route by the hand, she does not deserve to pay the price for my crimes.”

Ezran’s words echoed in her mind. At this point it felt far too late to grant Claudia amnesty but in the end it was not her place.

“She will be granted whatever King Ezran allows.” Opeli conceded.

Viren sighed, and for a moment he remained quiet before taking a deep breath.

“King Harrow is not dead.”

Ice shot through Opeli’s veins, her breath catching in her throat.

“What.”

“I know what it sounds like what-what it looks like. The body...it was his but it wasn’t him.” Opeli’s thoughts swam uncomfortably in her head, her stance wavering. She had seen King Harrow's body, cradled his limp head on her lap as if it would somehow spark him back to life, the same head she once crowned with pride.

“He lives still!” Viren continued, his words muffled behind the images flashing through Opeli’s mind of that night. Blood staining her hands, the clamor of guards shouting, stepping over the bodies of the very people she knighted.

“In Pip, his old Songbird! I did a spell, I wasn’t sure if it would work or not but it did!” Viren rushed them to seal Harrow’s body away, her hands washed of the blood but still stained in her mind, the anger she felt for she had yet to fully grieve and Viren had the audacity to rush her.

“I swear I was planning on finding a way to bring him back but when you stormed into my office-”

Something snapped in Opeli as she tore off her blindfold, hot rage flowing through her as she stepped forward.

“Enough!” Even though the screen Opeli could make out Viren’s kneeling form as he reeled back in shock, she couldn’t make out his expression or any more details than his vague silhouette but it was enough that she got her eyes on him.

“You dare make a mockery of this chapel?”

“W-what? N-no Opeli, please, you don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand plenty, Viren. You are a mad man, you’ve been so consumed by your guilt that you are making wild accusations to rid yourself of it! Our late king may have once entertained you but I will not have you send us on another wild goose chase.”

Opeli tossed her blindfold on the ground discarding it as she stormed away not caring where it drifted to.

“Wait! Wait, Opeli, please-” a slam of the door stiffened his pleas and she couldn’t care less, how dare he mock her, how dare he use this moment now. The guards just out of the doors gave her a confused stare.

“Take him back to his cell.” the pair nodded dutifully before entering back into the chapel. She didn’t bother to stick around to see them drag him back down to the depths of the dungeon instead she stormed back down the hall, robes bellowing behind her.

A deep dark pit stirred within her, memories of such small children with wide toothy smiles. Wrestling in the mud together as they squealed in delight, rushing down the corridors in a whirlwind of chaos, and being ushered out of the library for laughing too loud.

Those children... that whole time with him-

Her knuckles had begun to turn white, and her teeth ground together, giving her a headache, but beneath the rage she couldn’t deny the guilt.

Couldn’t deny the moments she turned her gaze believing Viren’s comments were nothing more than just words, couldn’t deny not only had Viren failed his children, but she did as well.

She had spent so long believing these children, by birthright, had been tainted by their father, destined to follow in his lead.

But Soren had grown into a kind young man. She’d watched how he had changed, how gently he now played with the castles’ children when they asked, how he treated everyone around him with love and respect. Soren carries such a big heart with him, she wondered how he can shoulder it all.

In certain lights he looked so much like his mother.

Perhaps Claudia once did too.

The next day Opeli caught Soren as he was excusing the trainees for the day, they all wore a relieved expression, covered in sweat and bruises as they stumbled off for their breaks. Soren’s expression was set and serious as he hung up the training swords on their rack, Hat chittered softly from a hay pile but Soren paid the little companion no mind, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Taking a breath and steadying her guilt she glided over to Soren with a smile.

“Soren! We are going to have a meeting in the council room later today. We will be uh-” Opeli mentally cringed knowing this topic wasn’t exactly one Soren would have much interest in “going over Advanced Fiscal Exercises if you wanted to join?”

The invitation instantly made him perk up, his smile that had been missing since the King departed rose back to life as he quickly placed Hat back on top of his head.

“Yeah, totally! What time?”

Who knew Soren would be so excited about finances?

Bonus Snippet:

Something prodded at Opeli’s intuition as she walked past the High Mages Office, her steps slowing to a halt a few feet away from it. Despite herself Viren's words echoed in her mind.

Most of her logic reasoned the man was lying, trying to get out of his cell so he could pull another trick on them, but a sliver of doubt was enough to pause her.

There was no way to confirm the outlandish stories of a king in a bird, or the smokey assassins that left behind only their weapons but one story lingered.

A man in a coin.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Opeli glanced around at the empty hall.

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” she mumbled to herself as she turned back to the high mage's office. She always had spare keys on her, and although Prince Callum was out, she had to see for herself even if it meant breaking in.

With a soft click the door gave way to her, briefly she considered locking it right back up and leaving but instead found herself poking her head in through the doors.

With the confirmation she was the only other soul in the room she hesitantly she stepped in, the door creaking loud enough she worried a guard would hear and come investigate.

As gently and quickly as she could she shut the door behind her and enveloping her in darkness. Opeli grumbled to herself, and fished around in her robes for a match. Prince Callum didn’t have any as he always had a magic trick up his sleeves to light the room in an instant.

Finally fumbling for a lantern and her matches she managed to re-illuminate the room, taking her steps towards the dungeons hidden entrance.

Standing in front of the painting, Opeli glared it down, the child holding the sheep in her arms with a far too doleful expression on her face. The painting was one she was glad was out of sight from most eyes.

As she descended the stairs unpleasant memories began to rise once more.

Gren chained at the bottom of the stairs skinny but smiling, the stench of death that hit all of their nostrils causing some of them even to gag, rusted chains splattered with dried blood, old ritualistic weapons hanging on the wall, and strange creatures trapped in jars.

Swatting a cobweb away with a groan she pushed forward, covering her mouth with her hand as she scanned the shelves lined with disturbing ingredients.

They really should just fill in this basement, make sure that it was never found again.

Searching high and low she found nothing. The light of her lantern cast flickery shadows over the basement walls surrounding her in her own embarrassment.

Opeli felt like a foolish child, hunting for monsters in the dark of her closet. How she allowed Viren’s words to burrow in her mind infuriated her to no end.

Must he always have the last laugh?

A soft metal clink on her boot froze her.

There, settled on top of a crack on the floor, laid a gold coin.