#along with more trips to The Magic Realm and Forgotten Hollow

[victorluvsalice]

-->Victor finished up in the greenhouse around this time, so I had him head to the barn to make an eco upgrade part (the fabricator STILL refuses to attack him and paint him funny colors for our amusement), then Transportalate up to the second floor to use the toilet and mop some mysterious symbols in the seance room before heading to bed. He climbed in just as a refreshed Alice climbed out, which, figures. XD As Alice was feeling the Fury again, I decided it would be better to just indulge in the werewolf stuff for a bit and see if I could knock her over the edge into a little rampage. Because sometimes it really is just easier to let them fall to the Fury and see if they can bring themselves out of it quick. So she transformed into her beast mode, scavenged up a time capsule in the back yard, then went out for a very successful hunt (bringing back THREE spare pieces of meat!) before coming back and saying hi to Smiler (who, after getting a bunch of robot salvage parts and checking the latest SimsTube trends, was busy making computer chips and mechanisms on the robotics bench) and heading upstairs to play some video games. And that is where I would have left things --

-->If I hadn’t seen Rory Oaklow hanging out on the front porch, having just been sprinkled by a specter! I figured "oh, okay, Alice can chat with her and get some more werewolf experience" -- and indeed, a quick conversation with Rory about her time as a werewolf unlocked the "Werewolf Mentorship" ability for Alice! Making her a more effective mentor toward new werewolves! :D I'm – not sure when she’s ever going to use that, but still. XD I then decided they might as well play tug-of-war while they were hanging out together, since that too would be good for the old XP bar --

-->But then, who should show up in the kitchen but bad old Temperance, ready to cause mischief! Fortunately, Victor had already woken up and started making himself breakfast, so it was the work of a moment to slap down his bizarre idol and render her pretty much immediately helpless. (Getting slapped in the face with a spatula as he prepared his eggs couldn't have helped either. XD) However, Temperance's appearance was accompanied by the house making a bunch of creepy noises, and, well, despite being a big bad werewolf, Rory didn't take them well and ended up running off in fear before any tugging of warring could happen. So Alice instead just scavenged up some turquoise from the yard. XD Victor had his breakfast as Temperance finally floated out, and eventually Rory came back from her terror run, allowing me to get Alice to send HER home too.

And THEN, with all the actual residents of the house safely gathered in the kitchen where I could keep an eye on them, I was finally able to save and close out of the game! Whew! These sessions always take longer than I think they're gonna...but hey, it was nice to play again, see the trio in action, and actually make some real progress at selling stuff in the store! :) Next time, though, we're taking a break from store shenanigans for HOLIDAY shenanigans -- as next episode, it'll be Winter Saturday, aka New Year's Eve! Which involves the completion of a few errands, and a very special date...see you then!

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Bookkeeper – Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Nihilism and the Death of Art (I)

pairings: logan/patton (logicality), roman/virgil (prinxiety)  words: 3611 chapter warnings: mild swearing, nihilism, existential crisis, arguments, implied deaths/”ghosts” chapter summary: the reunion episode

[read on ao3] [masterlist]

< previous chapter

—

Fray and Far Fables dwelled in silence for a week. Logan kept himself busy with writing, but worked on everything except for his speech. Instead, he scrawled questions in the margins of his drafts, annotating his work in the hopes that it’d meet Virgil Aries’ careful eye. 

He knew he should have let it go ever since Roman’s breakdown—the deadline for his drafted speech was fast approaching, after all—but he couldn’t help it. Part of him truly believed that if Roman saw how much he wanted this, he’d change in his mind. 

Logan underlined a few words of his annotations, narrowing his eyes. Blue sparks trailed his writing. 

Roman had to change his mind. 

Logan sighed, looking over at Virgil Aries’ book sitting on his counter, closed. He used to think it was taunting him, but now it felt like it was begging him for anything, anything, anything. 

He hadn’t seen Roman much in the past few days, but he made sure that the book sat in Roman’s line of sight, just as much as it sat in his. But still, Roman hid in the shadows between each book. He didn’t even come out for Patton, who had only visited once or twice, as if he was a child walking into the middle of their parents’ feud. 

Logan crumbled a sticky note in his hand and flicked it off the counter, a trail of blue magic shooting it straight into the trash can. 

“Oh isn’t this quite the show.” 

Logan blinked. Sitting on Virgil Aries’ book was Roman, magically there with no trace of entrance. 

“I...how did you...” 

Roman snapped his fingers, and a spark of red fizzled out like a fading sparkler. Logan abandoned the current point of intrigue almost immediately, and settled for the next.

“Where have you been?” 

“I’ve been bookkeeping.” Roman shot him a glare. “That's all I do.” 

Logan winced.

“Roman, I want to talk to you, about what I said–” 

“Already forgotten, Specs.” 

“ Please just...just hear me out. Okay?” 

Roman opened his mouth to protest, but it eventually thinned into a tense line. Logan took a deep breath, closing his eyes and pushing up his glasses. 

“I’m sorry about what happened in the book nook,” Logan murmured. “I...I was being too eager.” 

“You were being unrealistic, Logan.” 

“I just don’t think it is unrealistic.” Logan sighed. “I...I know that it is a lot to ask for. And I discredited you a lot that day, and I just want you to know that what I said...it isn’t reflective of what I think about you, Roman. I think the world of you.” 

Roman softened, Logan could tell, but he did his best not to show it. 

“...Go on.” 

Logan let a small smile slip. 

“That’s why I think we can do this, Roman. I know you are apprehensive, but I want to work through that with you. And if we can perfect this, it opens up so many possible avenues for the state of research as we know it. We could contribute so much , Roman.”

A pause. Roman hopped off the closed copy of Virgil Aries’ book and floated off the counter, flying slowly along the shelves. He ran his hand across the spines of the books.

“Why do you want to meet Virgil?” Roman asked quietly. 

Logan found himself taken aback. 

“I...there’s so many reasons, Roman. You know I could go on for days about his work–”

“But why him? ” Roman stopped mid-air and turned around to stare at Logan. “Why do you want to hear it from him?” 

It was only then that Logan saw a glint of red in Roman's irises, buried beneath a mix of tiredness and hope. He had seen both before, but never together. 

Logan frowned, face scrunching up in thought. 

“There’s knowledge that needs to be explored, even just a little,” he finally said. “And I know Virgil Aries had more to say. I’m sincere in my intentions, Roman — I want to finish the thoughts he wanted to explore.” 

Roman looked at Logan, almost defeated. The red glow around him dimmed to the point where it dropped him slightly. Logan jolted forward, as if ready to catch him, but Roman lifted himself back up with a heavy sigh. 

“You used to do that a lot, you know.” Roman smiled, yet it felt hollow. “As a kid, you used to finish everyone’s sentences. You always seemed to know what to say; you always seemed to know every answer. So...seeing you like this puzzles me, I suppose.” 

“What are you saying, Roman?” 

Roman closed his eyes and floated back to the counter, sitting on Virgil Aries’ book once more. 

“They say that the desire to know– truly know– everything about anything runs deep in one’s veins. And like any sort of power, it can become...well, overpowering.”

Roman opened his eyes and looked up at Logan.

“What I’m saying is that this will change things, Logan. You deal with a greater power than what I am exerting. You deal with the past and you deal with knowledge: both the reaffirming kind and the new, hidden kind– the one that lays in unexplored realms.” 

“Roman, what are you–” 

“I’m scared, Logan,” Roman blurted out. The air grew thick and the shop became quiet. Roman rubbed the bridge of his nose, ducking his head, almost embarrassed. “I’m...I’m just scared.” 

Logan softened.

“Who wouldn’t be?” Logan held out his hand against the counter, palm open for Roman to land, as he always did. “But fear underlies every pursuit, yet the pursuit itself is worth it. It always is.”

Roman looked at Logan’s hand, looked down at the book, and took a deep breath. 

“You’re a nerd, you know that?” Roman floated off the book and towards Logan’s hand. “You are the biggest nerd, and I hate what you’re about to make me do because of your whole...nerd thing.” 

Logan’s smile only grew. And when Roman landed on his open palm, sparks of blue and red fizzled together, leaving a second-long burst of purple; then the blue grew like small tides of smoke and washed over the red. 

(As it was always meant to do.)

—

Logan stood at the front counter, flipping through his drafts in his hand. Patton, who Logan had called for moral support, stood alongside Logan. He tapped his foot quietly as Roman scanned the pages of Virgil Aries’ book.

“Okay, listen up,” Roman said, not breaking his stare from the pages beneath him. “Before we do this, I gotta lay down some ground rules.” 

“Oh, wonderful,” Logan said dryly. “I feel like a child on a field trip.” 

Roman looked up and narrowed his eyes at him. Logan gulped. 

“I mean...go on. I quite thoroughly enjoy rules.” 

“Me too!” Patton spoke up. “Rules rule! ”

Roman smiled wryly and nodded, continuing on with his reading.

“So first off, do not touch anything. Not only am I going to be putting a lot of energy into creating a physical manifestation of Virgil Aries’ soul, but also my magic has been a bit rusty as of late. So this book nook is going to be extremely fragile. Think of it like a house of cards: one wrong move and the whole thing is going to fall apart.” 

“Got it.” 

“Also, you can’t touch Virgil Aries, you can’t tell him that he’s in a book nook or make any reference to the fact that he’s dead, and you can’t give him anything. On top of the whole ‘fragile book nook’ thing, the entirety of his soul isn’t really in the book. Remember, there are many parts of a soul, and since Virgil’s life is a single fragment of that soul, it is still not fully him; you wouldn’t want to confuse the poor guy, the whole thing will fall apart. Plus, most of his soul is in the astral plane, so anything you’d try to give him would probably wind up there too — and there’s no ‘lost and found’ box in the astral plane.

Patton blinked and slowly, but hesitantly, nodded. Logan smiled and shook his head, patting Patton’s shoulder.

“And finally–” Roman stared at the papers in Logan’s hand– “you can’t stay for too long.”

Logan’s eyes darted up to meet Roman’s.

“What do you mean? You and Patton stay in the other book nooks for hours on end–” 

“You’re different,” Roman snapped. A pause. Logan tilted his head. Roman cleared his throat. 

“I– I mean... it’s different. It’s different...for you.” He crossed his arms and huffed. “Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you.” 

“...You do have to explain it to me.” Logan waved the papers at Roman. “I have so many questions for him, it’s going to at least take an hour to walk through my first draft– I even devised my own interview with him with several questions and–” 

“No, Logan. It’s– It’s my job to protect you, and I– I swore to your grandfather which means this is already a huge violation of that promise and– and you…”

Roman sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You just can’t, okay?” 

A beat of silence. Logan stared at Roman and couldn’t help but think about how far back the two of them went; how much Roman knew about him that he didn’t yet know about himself. And even if the rules of magic would allow it, would Roman tell him any of it? 

Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before setting some papers aside. All he kept in his right hand was one paper: the cover of his speech, with his research question sprawled on it; the only part that wasn’t completely drowned in red ink. Patton held his other hand and squeezed it softly. Roman nodded. 

“Okay, so if everything is understood, we can get started.” Roman pressed his hands on the page and closed his eyes. A soft, red glow...

And nothing happened. 

“Uhh, Roman?” Patton spoke up after a few seconds. “Do you, um…” 

“I– I’m fine.” Roman gritted his teeth. “Just need to get everything together. In– in place.” 

“How can we assist you?”

Roman looked up at Logan, then back down at the book. He took a deep breath. 

“Grab the book, Lo. I need you to read an excerpt. Kinda move things along.” 

“Are you not able to read it like last ti–” 

“ Time’s ticking, Logan.” 

“Right, got it.” Logan grabbed the book, being careful not to drop Roman. 

“Now hold it out in front of you and hold on tight.” 

Patton moved his hold on Logan to his arm, bringing himself closer to his side. Logan took a deep breath. 

“ ‘ Nihilism is defined by nothingness, the belief that life is meaningless. In this true nothingness, artists hence pursue their work in the hopes of creation within said void. However, the newfound rigidity of their work is more prevalent than ever. The artist has become a mass-produced object, producing in turn. Any optimism in the practice has turned to neutrality and helpless routine, if not a nightmare. The loss of identity and purpose is welcomed and–’ ”

Logan felt himself jerk forward, a blinding void of darkness– no, not darkness, nothing–  filling his vision and blurring the words. 

He snuck a glance at Patton, who held him even tighter. Then, he looked at Roman, who had his eyes closed with tears of exertion beading his face. 

“K-Keep–  going.” 

He clenched his jaw as the nothing swirled up his legs and crawled through his skin.

“ ‘– And art has become a defense mechanism — an emotionally-neutral act of creation. If there is no spark behind the canvas, is there anything truly meant by its existence, or is it just – is it just dark– is it– ’ ”

And before the darkness swallowed him whole, Logan looked up and saw two steely, purple eyes, staring right at him.

...

(But he can’t go back, he just can’t .)

—

Logan blinked, trying to gain sight of his surroundings. He stood in what seemed like an ink-filled void, the air thick and hollow. All he could see was a wooden, barely-together chair and a single, dimmed lightbulb strung up from nowhere. 

And on the chair, shrouded with a cloak of matching darkness, was Virgil Aries. 

Virgil was leaned forward in the chair, his tattered cloak falling at his sides. Peeking out from under his hood was strands of silver hair, yet Logan noticed that Virgil looked younger than he expected, at least mid-20s. 

But that wasn’t what Logan was looking at. Logan couldn’t break his stare away from Virgil’s eyes: purple and pulsing with a light that was almost blinding. 

Logan dropped the book with a deafening thud , and Roman fell with it. 

Virgil stared at him for a moment, then looked at the book. Logan watched Virgil make eye contact with Roman before he buried his stare into Logan’s skull. 

“...Um, ow. ” 

Logan frowned, then looked at the book on the floor. Roman frantically motioned for him to pick him up. Logan’s mouth dropped to a small ‘o’ and he scrambled to pick the book up. 

“Oh– I apologize, I don’t know what I was thinking I–” 

“Don’t sweat it. It was...a joke. Yeah.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. “Just a joke.”

“Is this where you live?” Patton blurted out. Virgil tilted his head. Everything he seemed to do was so sluggish.

“I live in London.” Virgil slowly looked around them. “And this isn’t...this…” 

Roman hopped off the book and onto Patton’s shoulder. He loudly cleared his throat. 

“Nah, this is all me, Pat. I took us here, remember? I would’ve made– er, brought you guys to a better place, but this is sorta all I could, um...get to on time, heh.”

Patton patted Roman’s head with his index finger. Virgil glared at Roman once more and narrowed his eyes. 

“And who exactly are you?”

Logan turned to Roman, waiting for him to introduce himself, but he instead stayed quiet. Logan decidedly stepped forward. 

“I am Logan Fray. Professor Aries, it is an honour to meet you.”

Patton whispered to Roman, “Professor?” 

Roman said nothing.

“Alright, cool, so first rule — let’s not call me that. Pretty sure you aged me, like, seventy years. And you’re reminding me of my crippling student debt and the corruption within academia. So Virgil is just fine.” Virgil leaned back in his chair. “And I asked who you are — what the hell am I supposed to do with a name?” 

Logan felt his cheeks burning red. 

“Um– of course!” He loosened his tie and broke into a shaky smile. “I own a bookshop named Fray and Far Fables, but more notably, I am currently conducting research on the practicality and implications of nihilism in regards to...well, the death of art, for lack of better phrasing.” 

“ Oh.” Virgil’s smug smile dropped. “You’re here to talk about…” 

“Your book.” Logan held up a piece of paper with a bright smile. “I have a few questions for you in regards to your writing. Since we’re on a bit of a figurative time crunch at the moment, I am just going to go ahead and start. On page 34, when you stated that art’s foundation has been encased in an hopeless paradox, do you mind clarifying what tha–” 

“Now I’m going to stop you right there,” Virgil cut in, waving his hand dismissively. “Are you seriously asking me to explain my book to you?” 

Logan blinked. 

“Not explain it, per se. I just assumed you had more to say. The book was published before you– well, it was published early. And it more or less ended with a question that I now pose today: what is, then, the point of art in a meaningless life? I am seeking these answers too, and I think we can answer them together.” 

Logan took a brave step forward. “We have the most precious thing before us: knowledge and time. ”

A beat of silence. Virgil looked over at Patton and Roman. 

“Is he always like this?” 

“Yeahhh.” Patton gave him a small smile. “It’s cute.”

“If ‘cute’ means hopelessly pretentious, then sure.” 

Logan’s jaw dropped. 

“I– what?” 

Patton stifled a laugh. Virgil, however, laughed openly. Logan felt himself stumble back. He turned to Roman.

“Is– is this some sort of joke? Am I being punished, and this is not actually Virgil Aries?” 

“I’m right here–” 

“I’m not punishing you, Logan.” Roman’s voice was barely above a murmur. “This...this is Virgil Aries.”

Virgil shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Logan stared at him, trying to imagine what he used to think Virgil looked like: straight-postured, wisps of brown hair, wise, passionate. He attempted to place the illusion on top of what he saw right now: a small, tired man. 

“Your...your book is brilliant,” Logan murmured, his heart sinking. “There has to be something you can tell me.” 

For a split second, Virgil’s smile fell. 

“It’s all in there,” Virgil replied quietly. “There is nothing left for me to say. Who cares about knowing whether art means or does not mean something when...when everything means nothing?” 

Logan blinked. To himself, he quietly murmured, “I care.”

(Buildings crashing, everything crashing– ) 

“Besides,” Virgil continued. “I have never really met someone who was this passionate about my book — that includes me.” 

“But– but it is your life’s work,” Logan stammered. He felt the air around him grow heavier.  “Y-You– you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

Virgil blinked at him. “This ... was my life’s work?” 

Shit. He forgot about that rule. Logan looked over at Roman, who stayed still.

Logan turned back to Virgil. 

“Okay, okay. Even if you didn’t have anything left to say about your work, you have to at least have any insight about my question. T-There...there has to be something. ”

“Logan,” he heard Roman finally whisper behind him, “I– I think we have to go.” 

“No!” Logan stormed up to Virgil, despite feeling Patton attempt to grab him back. “No, we– we can’t go, there– there has to be an answer, there has to be–” 

“There isn’t anything, Logan.” Virgil’s voice suddenly became buried in overlapping echoes. He turned his head away from Logan. “There is no answer– the point of nihilism is that there is nothing. There is nothing to live for, there is nothing to write — there is no answer, Logan, because the answer is that there is none.” 

“L-Logan, we have to go. ” For the first time in a long time, Roman’s voice trembled with the force of an unsteady storm. “We– we have to leave, please– ” 

“Lo, I– I think you should listen to Roman, just–” 

“How could you be telling me this?!” Logan felt himself gasp for air with each word. “You– you can’t understand art’s meaning without understanding the implied lack thereof, and if you already know the lack thereof, you– you have to know the– the thereof! ”

“What are you even– Logan, when will you understand?” Virgil stood up slowly. Logan felt as if the air around him was starting to suffocate him. Virgil’s voice was shaking with dark echoes that sent chills down Logan’s spine. 

“I’ve been waiting for someone to prove me wrong. And no one has. ” 

Logan paled. In front of him was the answer– this had to have been the answer– Virgil had to have the answer, even if he didn’t know and– and if this wasn’t the answer– if there was no answer, then– 

In the blink of an eye, Logan lunged at Virgil with a frustrated roar, hearing the shouts of Roman and Patton drown out behind him. But before he could grab onto Virgil, he stopped dead in his tracks. 

His hand...was grey. 

And climbing up his arm was grey, something in his chest went grey, and he could feel it in his neck, in his skull–

“W-What is…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “What is happening to me?”

Virgil looked down at Logan’s darkened hand and sighed. Everything around him and Logan froze for a brief moment in what felt like a never-ending tunnel of time.

“You know what pessimistic nihilism is, right?”

“Y-Yes. It’s– it’s usually reserved for people mid-crisis before recovering into some sort of belief system”

“Then find it.” Virgil shakily grabbed the collar of Logan’s shirt. Time slowly returned in dredging slumps. Virgil's purple eyes haunted Logan in a way that he knew could not ever be reversed. “Find what you believe in because it’s not here– there’s nothing else here–” 

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Roman screamed.

Before Logan could say anything else, he felt himself fall down, down, down; past the darkness, past Patton’s screams and tears, past Virgil and Roman and the answers, just out of his reach–

And when Logan returned to the shop, panting for air, he looked up at his hand. Patches of the inky void that carved into his skin crawled down his fingertips and disappeared into the air in front of him. . 

In his other hand, he saw his tight grasp on the paper with his question. Strings of words burned into his retinas. 

“If life has no inherent meaning….”

“Why are humans so eager to escape …” 

“What’s the point in creating something out of nothing ?” 

“What’s the point of anything at all if there’s—”

And with a strangled cry, Logan ripped the paper in half, and then again, and then again; until it was all gone, and there was nothing, nothing, nothing.

—

next chapter > 

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 5: The Little Folk

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Rowan rode for Mistward, leading the princess down the dusty southern road while the sun sank behind them, towards rocky foothills and the rough-hewn Cambrian mountains beyond.

Mistward was one of several fortresses along the mountain range, all of which guarded the passes between the moral-held Wendlyn and the Fae lands commanded by Queen Maeve. Many of these fortresses, Mistward included, were manned by the demi-Fae who were not worthy enough to enter Maeve’s lands. They were secluded outposts, just bare bones and basic fundamentals.

Rowan had passed through Mistward a few times, some of the sentries posted there would remember his face. They were unlikely to have any problems gaining entry. The real question was whether he would have any trouble with the princess upon arriving at the fortress and meeting his queen.

Rowan doubted that Maeve would have even half the patience he had for the girl and her attitude. He was almost looking forward to it. But they still had half a week of rough travel before that reunion.

It’d been a long time since Rowan had made this trek on the ground, or any journey for that matter, and it was actually a welcome novelty. While thick forests of evergreens stretched on their western flank, around them the earth was open and exposed, sprawling fields of boulder-spotted grasslands flowed from the sea at their backs towards the feet of the hills before them.

The air was bright and green, speaking of fresh grasses, the chirping of crickets, and the fluttering of moths’ wings. Out of the reach of the mess and noise of the capital, the land breathed more comfortably, and Rowan could feel a knot ease in his chest. Despite the company of the girl riding a few yards behind him.

Luckily, she had been just as quiet as he had. Rowan had half-expected a steady stream of complaints to spring from her throughout the rough journey, but she just looked dull and weary, seemingly incapable of speech.

Rowan was at least as exhausted as the princess. He hadn’t slept these past two nights, and although he wanted this trek over and done with as soon as physically possible, they would have to rest tonight.

The path grew steadily rockier as they approached the foothills, dangerous ravines sprouting up on either side of the road. Twilight was just beginning to fall as they mounted the base of the hills and the path pulled them into a dense forest, where the trees became tall and proud, monarchs of Wendlyn and guardians of the path to Doranelle.

The farther they traveled from the human’s realm, the more Fae Rowan could sense in the wild lands around them, hidden within thickets, behind mossy boulders, and in the mists far above their heads. He felt no threat around them, but still he tightened the shields of hard air he was maintaining around the two mares, remaining vigilant.

The air became thick with magic, a familiar metallic taint on Rowan’s tongue. It almost hummed with it, a low and quiet song. Even the girl seemed to notice the change; her head turning more often to survey their surroundings, her eyes curious.

And it almost felt as though the forest looked back – welcoming the foreign princess into its depths.

Rowan frowned slightly as he turned off the path, heading for a small stream he could hear, less than a hundred or so yards out of sight of the road. The princess sighed in relief behind him.

Rowan almost rolled his eyes. Royal brat.

He dismounted, and dumped their gear in a small hollow that would serve as their camp for the night, then guided his horse to the brook for a drink. He didn’t wait for the princess to follow, and was amused by the sounds of her stumbling on the many stones and tree roots between them. Rowan had forgotten how dull mortal senses were – the path through the trees must have been invisible to her.

Despite himself, Rowan couldn’t help wondering why the princess chose to remain in that form. Although there appeared to be much more human in her than Fae, immortal blood still bubbled in her veins. The rumors hadn’t lied – though she was demi-Fae, the princess could shift if she wanted, could inhabit a pure Fae form.

Not even Lorcan, the most powerful demi-Fae male living, could do that. Though he was blessed by the god Hellas and possessed magic and enhanced senses, Lorcan was human. And she wasn’t. Or at least, she didn’t have to be.

Yet still, the girl remained mortal, with all the limitations the form entailed.

Perhaps she wanted to seem weak, helpless. To lull him into a false sense of security in case a fight brewed between them. Rowan still didn’t know what the princess was planning for her meeting with his queen, and it made him cautious.

The horses drank their fill, and Rowan returned to the hollow to brush them down for the night. When the princess reappeared, he silently handed her some food from his saddlebags – bread, cheese, and a green apple. She murmured a quiet, “thank you,” while he began to feed the horses a mixture of grain and hay.

She flopped down before a large oak and shoveled it down. She ate loudly, obnoxiously. Rowan’s jaw tightened.

After a few moments, she said, “Are there so many threats in Wendlyn that we can’t risk a fire?” Rowan nearly sighed. He supposed it had been too much to ask for the silence between them to last the night.

He sat down against a tree opposite her, and shut his eyes, his body longing for sleep. “Not from mortals.”

It was almost a threat. A slow trickle of fear leaked from the princess. She lived in western cities, and was unused to dealing with immortal foes. Rowan mentally scoffed. The princess had seen so little of the world, and yet still acted as though there was nothing she hadn’t seen, nothing she didn’t know.

A moment passed and then something shifted in the air around them. Instead of the monsters Rowan had implied, the welcoming presence he’d sensed upon their arrival drew closer, enveloping their camp. He tensed automatically as it flitted around the edges of his shield, advancing now that they’d settled into the hollow for the night. But he relaxed as the wind carried him their scent.

It was the Little Folk. The Faeries. Their scent was deep and rich, and spoke of the land itself – of the nature of magic and the richness of the earth. It was a scent he recognized, but was entirely unfamiliar with. Though Rowan had always known about the faeries, had often sensed their presence, he had never seen them up close, or gotten a whiff of their scent.

The princess flinched as she finally sensed them as well, noticing the three sets of small, glowing eyes peeking out over the rim of a nearby boulder. But following her initial shock, Rowan felt no hint of fear from the princess, only a quiet recognition.

She knew them, had seen them before – as a child in the west. Before they were slaughtered in droves by Adarlan’s hand.

The faeries had eyes only for her, and though their scent was too wild, too foreign for Rowan to comprehend their emotions, he thought he could detect the barest trace of hope, of wonder, emanating from them.

Before Rowan could blink, he suddenly felt the presence of many more faeries, resting in the fringes of the trees around the hollow. Dozens of Little Folk come to greet the foreign princess, to bear a silent witness to her arrival.

She just sat and stared, her face unreadable. Rowan felt his confusion mount, breaking through the exhaustion and indifference. Something indecipherable passed between them, and then the princess spoke, her words clear and strong.

“They still live.”

It was an assurance, but the words were far from comforting. Rowan began to understand.

With the slaughtering and razing of the last decade, no one in Wendlyn knew how many, if any, of the magical folk in the west had survived. Adarlan had pillaged the continent, burned the ancient forests, and butchered the sacred stags of Terrasen. Stories of the massacre were told in quiet whispers around fires, speaking a warning for young Fae of what was waiting for them in the west.

The faeries had come bearing a desperate, silent question. Had their western brethren lived on? But that was not the only reason they came.

They had sought out this foreign princess, her specifically. And as she had recognized them, they had recognized her. They knew who and what she was – a Fae princess, the descendant of Mab. Her heir. Their heir.

Rowan’s teeth clenched. He wished he could speak with the retreating Little Folk, tell them that their hope was for naught, warn them. The girl was not who they wanted her to be, was no longer a princess of Terrasen. She had turned away from them, and was nothing at all.

The warm feeling of their presence left the little hollow, leaving it cold and empty and unremarkable. Rowan lay his head back against the oak trunk, and fell into a restless slumber, the anniversary of the death of his love finally coming to a close.

···

The next few days passed slower than Rowan had dared hope, and yet faster than he’d feared. Travel over land had long since lost its novelty, and the trip had become a grueling one. Less because of its difficulty, and much more due to his impatience to escape the girl and her infuriating, discomforting presence.

Yet, the princess had maintained her silence, a feat he’d previously assumed impossible. She didn’t complain, didn’t hesitate or drag behind. The girl just awoke silently before dawn each morning, led her horse a few yards behind his all day, gave him the occasional half-nod when he passed her directions, and collapsed into a heap every evening after eating and drinking her fill.

The silence was almost concerning in its consistence – though it relieved him. He’d never spent so much time with another and not exchanged a single word.

In traveling with his fellow lieutenants, Rowan had come to learn and expect certain habits from them, and while they were often quiet, the silence came from a friendly, companionable place.

Fenrys and Connall never shut up of course, especially when in each other’s company, and while Lorcan and Vaughan were aloof, they didn’t curb their thoughts – particularly in the evenings. Gavriel was also reserved, but more often than not his silences could be traced back to Rowan’s own desire for quiet. The male was perceptive, and tended to conform his actions to the moods and desires of those around him.

Rowan had only spent brief periods with mortals, and the behavior of those had been fairly consistent – large doses of fear and respect coupled with an irritating tenacity for ferreting out his knowledge of Maeve’s dealings and strategies, under the guise of polite conversation.

But the princess was just blank – a void. If he hadn’t been so confident in his ability to overpower her, it would have worried him. Any number of plots could be hiding behind that emptiness.

Even so, Rowan had absolutely no desire to engage the girl in any conversation whatsoever. If she wanted to keep quiet, that was fine with him.

Even when not with the maddening princess, conversation was beyond exhausting. Rowan only ever spoke when necessary, which, as it turned out, was not often. It was one of the few reasons he was grateful for the power that pumped through his veins, and the strength in his limbs. His presence unnerved others, drove them away.

In younger years, Rowan had almost resented it. Had often gone out of his way to suppress his power and subdue his presence, attempting to pacify those around him. It had been a perpetual source of pressure, and tension. Forcing a constant balancing act of social negotiation.

But now…now he had been stripped of that veneer of social acceptability. Now, people stayed out of his way, and he stayed out of theirs. Most of the time.

Luckily, they only passed a few groups on the road, mostly humans leading wagons full of various goods to trade in the markets of the coastal towns. All of which took one look at Rowan and gave them the right of way, some murmuring prayers to various gods for mercy. They looked at the princess with concern, worried about the fate of any human woman traveling with such a male.

It used to bother him, but now he barely noticed.

Though Rowan was ever watchful, ever vigilant, always aware of his surroundings and those around him, he was never really present. His body was separate from his mind, the vast majority of his attention pulled elsewhere, lost and adrift and searching.

For Lyria. For his mate.

For that which he had lost, in shame and in dishonor.

The strange, mismatched pair rode still farther, reaching the base of the mountains and turning eastward. The forest steadily became lusher and denser, losing the scrawny, gnarled quality of the sparse trees closer to the baking capital.

Mists began to envelop them, forcing the pair to pierce through great veils of fog as they continued to ascend the blue-tipped peaks. The cold damp settled into his skin and brushed against his very bones. While it wasn’t a welcome sensation, it was familiar and tolerable. The princess didn’t seem to be so accepting however, and her constant, violent shivering grated on Rowan. Though still – she never spoke a word of complaint.

And, despite being a city-dweller, she was a competent horseman, navigating the tricky path with ease. Never needing Rowan’s assistance, or for him to slow, even as they turned from the path on the fourth day of travel and cut alongside the mountain range towards the fortress.

This close to Mistward there was no path, and Rowan instead followed the markers set every few hundred feet – granite stones carved with symbols in the Old Language. Whorls and patterns which led them over blankets of moss-covered earth, occasional plateaus of wildflower-strewn fields, and up rocky hillsides.

As they drew ever nearer, Rowan could feel the blood oath pulling at his chest, drawing him towards the fortress. Where Maeve was waiting for them.

He smelled the smoke before the lights of the castle came into view. Mistward was an ancient place, and appeared to rise out of the mountain range itself. It was guarded by a ring of towering ward-stones, woven through the trees surrounding the outpost. They were even older, and had been placed here in a time beyond the reach of memory. Even for the Fae.

There was only one entrance, a narrow path between two massive black stones that curved towards each other like the horns of some great beast. As they passed below them, a familiar electric current snapped over Rowan’s skin, marking the barrier of the veil of magical protection that encircled the fortress.

The sentries were now alerted to their arrival, but didn’t react with any surprise. They had known they were coming.

Mistward was hardly more than a military post, no matter its age. It consisted of a few adequate watchtowers, connected by a large central building, and a passable retaining wall with an unexceptional wooden gate. While it was far from neglected, the building showed its age; moss and lichen obscuring the granite walls and wear showing on the wooden entry doors.

There were six sentries patrolling the outer wall, three on each of the watchtowers and three more at the gates – a full guard. Evidently the commander of Mistward wanted to ensure the fortress appeared at its best for its current occupants.

The princess spoke up from behind – her first words in days. “I think I’d rather stay in the woods.”

Rowan didn’t deign to respond. The pull in his blood had become uncomfortable, a fierce, inescapable tug, through the gates and into the depths of the castle.

They passed by the guards, who saluted him, and into the large courtyard beyond, where two stable hands relieved them of their horses and saddlebags. The two males were pale and harried, no doubt a reflection of the tension emanating from the whole fortress. The source of which pulled at him still more intently, a fish on a line, into the main building, up a narrow set of stone stairs, and into an upper hallway.

The princess followed him closely, her silence now heavy and filled with anxiety, which exploded into terror as they entered a small office. Where his queen gazed up at them from behind a desk.

Her eyes glittered, her lips curling into a malicious smile.

“Hello Aelin Galathynius.”

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[vksims]

Finished Mukuro, Junko, and my simself. Not perfect, but good enough for now. I’ll likely redo the outfits for myself and Junko later, and once I find an accurately colored uniform set I’ll redo all the uniforms. Until then, there will be 2 uniforms for every student: a brown/black set and a gray/black set. I prefer the brown one for accuracy and vibes, but I cannot find any maxis match uniform sets in the right color for all genders.

Mukuro and I live in a separate apartment from Junko, who has more money and a nicer place because it fits. At some point I will turn the apartments into dorms and every apartment in San Myshuno will be dorms, some being shared.

(By shared I mean separate dorms built on the same apartment lot.)

Once I fill up all the apartments, I might “make my own” in Newcrest. I don’t know how I will do it, but I want an entire save for just Danganronpa (a non-despair au because I like being happy but I could duplicate it once done and make it closer to canon ig).

I’ll probably grab characters from the mangas or light novels if I can find enough information on them, or some from the DR3 anime (as much as I dislike it and refuse to watch it). If I grab anime-only characters then they will be townies most likely, or live in one of those “apartments” in new crest I make maybe. This save us going to look weird but I look forward to the long term goal.

I have no clue what I’m going to do with Willow Creek or Oasis Springs. I’ll also be ignoring Forgotten Hollow and Glimmerbrook until I figure out what to do with them. Especially since they are occult-centric. Oh! I just remembered Sulani exists.

Maybe I’ll turn Glimmerbrook into Novoselic? Since it’s widely not important and has few lots. The magic doesn’t fit but we could ignore it since it’s a portal to another realm anyways.

Sulani would make sense for Jabberwock Island then, but if I’m doing an in-school timeline then it wouldn’t be anything but a resort so maybe it doesn’t fit.

I could also try to fit in Towa City, though it wouldn’t make sense in a non-despair AU. Unless that’s where I put a bunch of lots for outings and stick Hope’s Peak Elementary along with the WoH. Then I could maybe play as another character adopting them from their parents! Ooh that would make great storytelling! Maybe Junko could persuade them to run away and then Nagito can find them alone in Towa City and he lets them stay with him? This would be an adult Nagito I suppose, and maybe he moves to Jabberwock with Hajime and some of the sdr2 crew. (Him and Hajime can meet on a field trip gone wrong and they start dating from there.) I imagine Mikan, Gundham, Kazuichi, Nekomaru, Akane, and Mahiru would be there too for starters.

here’s why they would be there in a non-despair au where a lot of jabberwock and the surrounding islands are known for resorts:

Nagito: his health (fresh air and sunlight to help his body heal)

Hajime: to be with Nagito, take a gap year before university to decide what exactly he wants to do, and find himself

Mikan: a job as a nurse at the resort, helps Nagito with his health, and also an escape so she can heal her mental health too

Gundham: to study the wildlife (He doesn’t stay long and probably moves to see new creatures)

Kazuichi: for that beach life! Actually he works on boats, planes, and any form of transit as a well known mechanic. He’s making connections for work, catching some rays, and getting to see guys and speedos to feed his little gay brain

Nekomaru: to spend time with friends before starting work as a team manager. He and Akane still train on the beach

Akane: she wanted to try someplace new, and maybe if it’s nice and this new gymnastics team that’s located here works out, she can use the money earned to bring her family over here. Wouldn’t growing up on the beach be nice? Plus her friends are here, a bonus!

Mahiru: the islands are beautiful subjects for photos, and seeing people be relaxed and happy would be great for her personal pictures.

Maybe lives there: Teruteru, Imposter

Teruteru could work as a chef at the resort, or live in the Spice District of San Myshuno

Imposter can retire early and be on vacation permanently, spending time with friends and people who care about them for themself. They deserve it <3

People that would visit often are Sonia, H1yoko (if I even make her), Fuyuhiko (owns a villa through the yakuza. Peko can stay with Nazumi to run it while he’s gone. Or Peko comes as bodyguard. He likes to hang with “the boys”)

Peko doesn’t care much for the beach, and Ibuki comes over when she can but has tours pretty often or is busy with music.

I think some of the thh cast would come over too! Since as adults in this universe they could move there or go on vacation there. Aoi would definitely go, Junko would go on vacation or have a villa, and Toko/Syo would take Komaru on vacation there <3

(What if Toko/Syo and Komaru adopt one/some of the woh?)