#and in the end martha is chastised for working too hard and not sitting down to listengt on

[terrainofheartfelt]

thinking about Nat and the group and this reaping ritual...

not that I expect logic to apply, but it is illogical, right? Nat is the hunter, she is the one with the skills to keep them alive and fed. and yeah, there isn't any game to hunt right now because it's winter, but what about when winter is over?

and Nat is the practical one. in the wilderness where the rest are seeing things that aren't there, she sees them for what they are. (when she says to jackie's remains that shit is gonna get a whole lot worse). she doesn't partake in the rituals because she doesn't see their worth, but she respects the others enough that she lets them do what comforts them, until it goes too far and there's a knife at her throat.

but she's the hunter. she is a good shot, and until winter came and the hunting dried up, she was crucial to the work of survial. and thinking about that has just got me thinking that, there is this tendency in religious sects...to value the ritual and the people who participate fully in the ritual, over the people who do the necessary, unglamorous work of survival. the yjs convince themselves that Lottie is necessary for their survival, meanwhile Nat has been quietly doing the work.

not that she wants praise for it, or even recognition, even in the dynamics of the team we see precrash she's less concerned about ego and more about keeping them working together. and maybe that's why she participates, but it's also why she tells shauna to look her in the eye.

[k-marie-lagesse]

Fairy Chasers: One

I am posting this for fun and am not sure if I will ever finish it - I probably will. I hope whoever reads this enjoys it and shares it with others. :-)

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I ran out of that house as fast as I could, but being as bulky as I am that is a hard task to accomplish when running from the slender and gangly Thomas. I trip on my exit – damn my clumsiness! – and trip over my feet to slide on my chest over the dirt path of the Thumb Mansion.

Thomas leaps over me and lands in front of me. His golden hair is dripping in blue-black ink and his eyes are ablaze in anger with Henry’s little prank. Me…? Well, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and now Thomas is likely to dish it out at me instead of his twin brother, Henry.

“Katone!” he reaches down and catches my shoulder. I’m too heavy for him to lift so he mostly just pinches my shoulder until I start to stand on my own. As men we should fight it out, but as a guilty-conscience human I can’t bring myself to beat-up someone half my size.

“It was not my prank, Tom!” I defend before he even begins to chastise me.

Thomas Thumb is twenty-one this spring, I’ve just turned seventeen. Our mutual party, Henry, is expected to marry some Grand Lady of the Court almost twice his age this summer. He will be leaving us soon and I do not get along with Thomas very well.

“I do not care if it was not yours! You likely had a hand in it!” Thomas gripes. Seeing as how Henry is nowhere in sight he has no other person to yell at other than me.

Yes, I did have a ‘hand’ in it, but in my defense this little town is a bore to be in. Little Hampshire is a small village with many guards since the Minor Royals take residence here.

Minor Royals they are called, there are about fifty across all of Catherdus. Each Minor Royal is in charge of a district of Catherdus under the call of the Royal Court, since there is no longer a royal family. The Thumb family had been elected to take place of the original Minor Royal after it was discovered that the previous family were neglecting their power over the people.

I was born here, in Hampshire of the Gornen District. My family died a long time ago. I don’t rightly have any memories of them. The people who took me in afterwards were old and passed by the time I was nine. I then began my work as a stable boy for the Thumb family, right before they were made into Minor Royals of Gornen.

I now work as a head trainer in the stables of Hampshire – this little town is mostly known for their fine steeds and small farming community. The finest house in all of Gornen is this very mansion I am trying to escape.

I see Henry over Thomas’s small shoulders and narrow my eyes at the rich pest. I look at Thomas as he continues, now more at a ramble than a shout. This is only stage two of his five-stage ranting. He starts at a full-blown shout to a soft ramble in which it sounds like he is forgiving one only to suddenly get very quiet. Stage four is when he starts to stare one down only to end with a severe punishment in stage five.

I step back, preparing for a full run to Henry who is crawling under the shrubbery of the fine mansion. Thomas narrows his eyes on me – holy crap! I missed stage three… I run.

Thomas starts to shout at me and I leap, tackling the shrubs and knocking Henry out of them. Once Henry combat rolls out of my grip and lands on his butt a shadow falls on him. Thomas is tapping his foot – oh it’s worse when he starts with a foot-tapping.

I race out of the yard before Thomas even begins. I stop running the moment I exit the open gates of the mansion grounds and then just walk. Henry is a sneaky guy, but we’re good friends. I walk through the town and can feel the judgmental glances thrown at me as I pass.

Not many people like me. They think I am talented with horses, but lack in knowledge, intelligence and charms. I don’t live my life to be likeable, much like Henry.

He lives his life at the fullest. He dishes out lies to get what he wants like a child will pester their mother for more cake as long as there is some. He’ll sleep with just about any woman he meets if it promises a good time without worry or concern for the consequences.

I live differently from most villagers and Henry.

I am not one to take risks or get involved with people in any way. I like to live my life safely, which is odd to most people seeing the size of me. Some believe I am half-giant, but I am almost certain that if I were I would be even taller.

I am six feet with five inches, which makes me the tallest person in all of Gornen. I am broadly built, but not at all fat. I am a healthy person, though I suppose feeding myself takes a chunk from my paychecks.

I look like a warrior, and though I can hold a weapon of almost any weight I don’t know how to wield any instrument of brute force. I can fight with my fists, but I only know how to street brawl due to living on the roads for so long.

People around here will buy the horses I train because I promise quality, but they don’t ever take time to meet with me. I’m fine with that. I don’t want them getting to know me either. I’m fine with just Henry and Saxon talking to me.

Saxon is also a monster in size, though… not as big as me. He is six feet tall and is actually a warrior. He’s trained in many different kinds of combat and keeps trying to get me to join him as a gladiator in Torekin’s arena south of here.

Torekin is a city I sometimes travel to in order to deliver my steeds. It is also a part of Gornen, but the size of it is massive in comparison to our little village. There are markets and inns, Torekin is so large they have what they call ‘parks’ and even gardens for the public. They are well-known for their gladiator ring, The Archrival.

Saxon is a seasoned gladiator with a good standing, though he has never arrived to the final round. That is more due to the age requirements to compete in the finals than his skill level. To compete for the championship one must fight to the death with their opponent, so there is an age requirement. One must be at least thirty years of age to compete, and Saxon is only twenty-three.

I enter my shabby home and remove my shoes to drop into my cot. My house doesn’t have much, but I can say with complete honesty that it is mine and I earned it through my hard labors.

I know that Henry is going to come by – he always does once he’s been caught. I am also expecting Saxon over. He visits me at the start of the week since he works only over weekends. He has no home here and only an apartment in Torekin, so when he comes to Hampshire he stays with me.

I suppose one can say that the three of us have created a bit of a pseudo family together. Though Henry has family he does not seem to get along with them other than his brother, Thomas. Saxon is the same, after the death of his mother his father remarried and he has not gone home since.

Saxon left only a week after his father’s marriage five years ago and now we’re sort of a family. The village is weary of us when all three start to hang around town together. We’re a dangerous group… well, we’re a lively group.

My door opens and I sit up to see Saxon entering with his weapon sack slung over his shoulder. He places the long and thick satchel against the wall before removing his coat and saying, “This past week was hectic.” He has a new bandage on his arm.

I don’t ask about it – if I ask him about every wound he gets working at that damned arena I’d sound like a panicking mother. Instead I ask, “Why are you here so early?” normally he does not arrive until well past midnight.

He snorts, which means the reason is an annoying one. “Martha came to the arena and took one look at my bandages and sent me home. She said she didn’t need me to come in tonight looking like that seeing as how the reason I’m even there is to bring in the women customers.”

Martha is sort of the owner of the arena. I say sort of because she is the daughter of the owner and she pretty much runs the place now. She has been trying to change the ‘look’ of the arena by hiring ‘prettier’ fighters. Saxon was hired due to his good looks and has since proven his skills in battle.

Saxon pushes the golden locks that fall over his eyes – he use to have his hair cut short so they would not be a bother to him as he fights, yet Martha has it written in his contract that only the stylist she hires may touch his hair. He messily combs his hair into his hand and then ties it up in a weird bun. He hates his long hair.

I frown at the flop on his head. “I’m sorry?” mostly I’m sorry he isn’t allowed to even manage his own hair. The one time I went to the arena she started writing up a contract and tried to get me to sign it. Like hell I was going to sign something she whipped up on the spur.

“Yeah, me too.” he had arrived to the arena to fight, not to blow kisses at the fawning maidens. Yet that was in his contract as well, he is to blow a kiss at least once within the three days of the fighting. I warned him to look it over closely before signing it – he said he could handle the fine print.

We leave the hut to the market to buy the groceries for the week. Once we’re finished with that we return to find Henry leaning against the door of the hut. He stands and mutters, “Man, Tom really gave it to me this time. He says I have to go to the Mountain Spring and collect a bucket of water and bring it back to him… twice.”

The Mountain Spring is not that far if one goes straight to it, but the climb is hard so most take the long route which is not only less steep but less dangerous. The Mountain Spring sits near the old enchanted castle that has been boarded up due to the old Briar Curse.

Saxon chuckles at Henry’s disdain, “I don’t know what you did this time, but whatever it was… you probably deserved the punishment.” Saxon is a firm believer of ‘you do the crime you better prepare to do the time’. I am not.

I get too bored of this little town to not do some kind of crime – yet I am also nowhere near as bad as Henry. Saxon, on the other hand, is a saint… until he comes home and we coax him into something deceitful.

“Yeah, yeah… want to join me?” Henry waves his hand and changes the subject back to his actual punishment. “It’s a long trek to go on my own, besides… didn’t you guys say you wanted a closer peek at the old castle?”

We see it often since the village is rather close, but we live on the flat surface the mountain rests by. I shake my head and look at Saxon, “Did you ever say you wanted to see it?” I’m pretty sure the one who said they wished to see the castle closer was Henry.

Saxon shakes his head, “No. Warriors do not like things with the word ‘magic’ ‘enchanted’ or ‘cursed’ in the title. We are taught to fight physical things, not something invisible.”

Henry groans again, “Come on! I don’t want to go alone!”

Every time we’ve ever gotten in trouble in our lives it always starts with that: “I don’t want to go alone!” and it is always leaving Henry’s mouth, as it is this time as well.

Saxon sighs, “I suppose I can spare the time. I did get home early this time.” He looks at the sun as it is sailing slowly across the blue sky. He looks at me and says, “We have time for him to go up once and come back.”

I would say no, except I hear that the Mountain Spring grants wishes and I am a sucker for any chance of asking for some extra gold. While Saxon is a little vain and Henry is a liar I am definitely greedy.

We pack a small lunch and then start our trek through the forest to the mountain pass. If it were Saxon and I we would have taken the side that is more difficult to climb – we like challenges. Yet since we are walking this way with Henry it is better to go the long way and not hear him gripe about it – though he is likely to gripe about the sweat, heat and walk… so why do we even bother?

As we walk about an hour I hear him begin his song of wails, “Gross, I’m sweating.” All hard work comes with a little bit of sweat, yet Henry never has to work. “It’s so damn hot!” Saxon works in an arena of hot sand and the hard sun hitting his back – this is nothing to him. Henry then whines, “How much further?”

Saxon spins on his heels to face him, “The more you complain the longer this walk will take. So shut your loud trap for another hour and we will graciously get there!” ah, there it is – classic Saxon answer.

We continue on through Henry’s side whines and arrive to the side of a deep spring. The water is crystal blue and there are small fishes swimming in the silver of it. “I’m a little underwhelmed.” I admit as I put the satchel on the ground.

Saxon nods, “Yeah… I always sort of thought the spring would look… a little mystical-.”

“It’s deep enough for a dive!” Henry jumps in before either of us can stop him. The water splashes and soaks Saxon with Henry’s momentum. He resurfaces and sighs in pleasure, “It’s cool too.”

Saxon on the other hand is patting at the wet spots on his clothing and shivering as he mutters, “Too damn cold.” He looks past the spring to where a thin waterfall is falling down from the grates of the castle walls. “Water is likely cursed.”

Henry stops splashing around and looks at him with some alarm, “What?”

Saxon points to the waterfall, “Yes, you are surely to lose all of your hair now.” He nods to confirm his thoughts.

Henry drags his feet through the water as quickly as he can and climbs out. “No! I can’t lose my hair!” he digs his fingers into his burnet strands of stray hair and holds it tight.

I shake my head at them, “Come on, fill up your bucket and lets go.” I get a strange feeling like we’re being watched. I don’t like it. I never felt this way before and only started to feel like it the moment Henry stirred up the spring water.

“Right, but… how about we take a look?” Henry points through the grates of the castle walls. He starts to scale the cliff side by the grate, his foot slipping in the moist dirt. He pokes his head in through the grate bars and mumbles, “I see thorny vines.”

Saxon climbs up with more grace than Henry and follows suit of poking his head over the trickles of water. “That place looks unnerving.” He glances at me, but I stand rooted to my spot. “Come on, there is no one here.” He says, but I still feel the eyes on me.

I sigh in defeat before trying to climb the moist slope. I’m clumsy so it proves tricky. My boot slips into the wall of mud and I struggle to loosen my boot of it. When I finally do something pokes out.

Saxon looks at me, “What is it?”

I reach into the new crevice of the cliff, the trickles of water falling onto my hair. I pull at the muddy trinket until it loosens and I lose my grip from the force. I fall back and land in the spring. The mud detaches from the trinket and I am holding what looks like a dirty sword hilt.

I surface and try to shine the mud off and reveal the ruby studded hilt to Saxon who jumps down to join me in the freezing water. He rubs at the little mud left behind and lets out a low whistle, “This is nice.”

“What is it?” Henry asks as he climbs down to join us, now refusing to near the water too much until Saxon deems it safe. Saxon wouldn’t know if it were cursed water or not, but teasing Henry is a rare chance and Saxon isn’t going to give it up that easily.

Saxon evaluates the finery of the markings and style of the item before saying, “It appears to be a hilt. I wonder what happened to the blade?”

“Maybe it broke off?” Henry asks, but the hilt end is too smooth for that to be true.

Saxon shakes his head, “No, it doesn’t actually look like it ever had a blade. Or… it somehow got removed without tarnishing the hilt or even leaving behind a mark.” He hands it back to me, “You found it, so you should keep it.”

I accept the hilt and then look at the place in muddy wall where the hilt had been and see a hole into the castle courtyard. I see briars with hundreds of thorns enclosing around the stone, but then I see feet scurry past. A golden anklet with a rose hangs off of her right leg.

I race to the hole and climb through, “Katone!” Saxon shouts at me as I climb onto the courtyard to look around, but the person is gone. For some reason I… sensed that she was scared. For some reason I am sure it was a she as well.

“Katone, you cannot go in there. It is against about ten different laws!” Saxon enters after me, but stops as he looks around the courtyard. “Holy, we’re in the old enchanted castle.” There are so many enchanted castles in Catherdus that I am not at all bewildered by it.

Henry enters and smiles all too cheekily, “Let’s explore-.”

“No. We will get caught-.” Saxon begins, but Henry is already running off ahead. “Henry!”

I whisper to Saxon, “I saw someone here.”

Saxon glances at me again. “Really?” he looks unnerved by the castle. Yet again I think that his excuse for warriors not liking magic is because he fears magic. Whenever a magician arrives to town to show some magic off for a profit Saxon would refuse to join us for the show.

I nod, “Yes, come on.” I follow after Henry who is running up the stairs that encircle a tower, “Don’t fall!” I shout at him as he continues to run at a speed I would not think safe.

I follow up at a slower pace. Looking at my track record when it comes to stairs I know better than to run up on without safety rails. Saxon is behind me, only going at my pace because there is no space to pass me. We enter the tower through the door at the top, “Henry?” I call, but he isn’t here.

“Where did he go?” Saxon asks as he looks around the room. There are a few thin briars over the table and chairs, but the room looks like a guard tower. There is a door across the way that is open a little.

“My guess is that he got bored of waiting for us and continued on.” I reach the door and open it to be in a wide hall that passes over the courtyard below us. I see Henry racing ahead of me down this hall and into the door ahead.

The hallway has no walls, just a few pillars to hold up the roof. If I wanted to jump I could and I would most definitely die from this height. I walk in a brisk pace to the door and open it with Saxon on my heel.

“We really shouldn’t be here.” Saxon warns me.

I don’t answer – he’s right. We shouldn’t be here. This place is boarded up and has guards at the front gates at all times. There must be a reason for that. If we are found here we could be in serious trouble. Henry would have a pass from the issue due to being a Minor Royal, but Saxon and I… we’d get the full brunt of the crime.

We enter what appears to be an armory and Saxon’s eyes glaze over as he starts to take in the beauty of the weaponry hidden here. He touches a few and begins to examine others – he looks like a child in a toy store. He is excitedly looking things over and no longer fussing over the detail that we shouldn’t be here.

I leave him to his treasury and continue searching for Henry. Saxon is right about this, we should leave. My eyes must have been playing tricks on me because there is no trace of life anywhere within this castle.

I enter into a hall with ten-foot statues on either side of me. The vines are curled around most of them, but I can still tell what they are. They are statues of former kings, or so is my guess with the crowns on the heads of the men. Not a single one is the same.

Then I arrive to the end of the hall where a long red curtain hangs over an archway, much like the decorative ones that hold the statues. The end of the curtain is torn and slashed so I can see the boots of another statue. This arch is taller, about fifteen feet tall, so my guess is the statue is just as tall. I pull on the curtain to move it, but the old curtain is stiff and doesn’t move.

I yank on the fabric and it tears off. I drop the end I am holding to see… me? There is no crown on this statue, and the inscription at his feet is a little worn and dusty. I rub my arm and sleeve on it and try to make out the ancient script.

This script was before the Turnover though and I can’t really make out most of the writing. Some of it hasn’t changed, but with time the language has become new. “Anakastes,” that must be his name. Yet what follows is harder to read. I am called stupid for the fact that I cannot seem to learn our current form of language, but I can read ancient texts – sometimes.

“Es Scholates de Miagyk.” In smaller it reads, “Serker.” I believe that translates to ‘Is Scholar of Magic’, but Serker has no meaning to me. He is holding the king’s scepter in his hand, but not bearing his crown. This man was no king, but he was highly respected.

“Anakastes.” I repeat – why does that sound familiar?

“Over here.” Someone whispers, so I turn to face the right hall, since the foot of Anakastes is a split in the hall. Down the right there is a hall of portraits and a large set of doors. I glance to the left and the hall ends at a decorative fountain.

I walk down the right hallway and take quick glances at the portraits. The kings and queens stare at me as I pass their forgotten memories. I push on the door to find myself in what appears to be a library. I never fancied books, yet reading has always been a difficult task for me.

Yet I find that the names written on the binds of these books are easy to read. “These are all ancient textbooks.” I peruse through the collection passing through the shelves until I come to an old table with drawing and markings carved into the surface.

“An alchemy table.” Alchemy has been restricted to only those who have a license to practice magic. To get such a license one has to take exams and practice mystic arts in an academy. There is a book sitting on the table that I approach.

The sigils of the page are vexing, even in their messy state. Someone had written this page by hand, so I reach for the book to see if it is all handwritten. I flip towards the front and see that each page is written by hand. It appears to be a magic diary – a book in which magicians keep track of their studies and researches.

The writing is crude so I can’t very well understand much. The first page is a page that merely reads the owner’s name, the date in which they began their practice with this diary and what practices in magic they have at that point.

The owner was Anakastes himself. The practice in magic seems arcane and most of it would be illegal these days. He was, as many people would classify these days, a necromancer of a sort. He was not one that transferred his own life essence – no, he just happens to be able to raise the dead. He had other practices, yes, but just being able to disturb the dead was considered the act of necromancy and death was the punishment.

The next page is a simple spell that nurse mothers use to soothe babes, nothing like what his former practices appear to have been. I read on, skipping the pages until I find something darker. Mystic experiments, those are nearly illegal to do. One must have years of magical experimentation before they are allowed to attempt creating something with the mystic powers.

Magic is more natural and less harmful, while mystic practices are unnatural and tend to come from heaven or hell, depending on the types of practices. This practice was an attempt to merge both heaven and hell arts together.

I skim the diary until the end of the practice – which is the page the book had been open to. Chaos is formed, was this truly the root of chaos magic? Was Anakastes the one to discover such a dark art? I start to set the book down when the page turns slowly to the next one.

It is written in Anakastes’s hand. “Forgive me my king and my queen, for not even my practices can waken your daughter. I will now take my leave, may the kingdom of Gornen be safe under the Keeper’s gaze. Anakastes.”

“There you are!” someone shouts from behind me and I jump in my spot. “Whoa, calm down.” It is Saxon who approaches me. He nears me and says, “When I finally caught up to Henry we went searching for you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone in this place?”

I hadn’t wandered far, “No, sorry.” I close the book and follow Saxon out, but as we make our way through the hall I look out the windows between the statues to see a garden.

“What is a garden doing up here?” I press my face against the dirty pane to see the front gates of the castle across from there. Wait – what?

“Up here?” Saxon repeats, “This is the ground floor, Katone.”

He opens the door that should lead to the armory to reveal a wide throne room. Henry is sitting in the dusty throne looking like he belonged there. He looks at us and says, “Where was he?”

“He was reading in the library-.” Saxon begins.

Henry flinches, “No offense, Katone, but… I thought you couldn’t read?”

“I can read ancient texts…” it was what my parents taught me before their demise. By the time I was taken in by the elderly couple all I knew was ancient text. They tried to teach me the new language, but… it never stuck.

“What a strange skill.” Henry says rather bluntly. He stands from the throne room, “Come on! While we were looking for you I found something interesting!” he races off.

“Henry! We need to go, it will get dark-!” Saxon begins, but Henry had run down the hall past the throne room already.

We follow him to a dead end, “What is it?” I ask as we stand by a suit of armor.

“Notice how there are no vines here?” Henry asks us all too determined to show off some interesting secret.

Saxon shrugs, “Sure.” He knows that delaying the answer or being sarcastic will only make leaving this place all that much harder.

Henry reaches towards the wall, but the moment he nears a violet streak of light flashes like lightning at him and lightly burns his hand. He giggles, “That hurts a shit, but isn’t that weird!?”

Saxon catches Henry’s hand to assess the damage, but the marking begins to fade away, “Magic.” Saxon growls, since Henry was blessed by a wise women at his birth to be resilient to magic and its effects.

Saxon was blessed to be handsome, but I was too poor to meet with a wise woman. What I am is all natural, though I cannot say I am all that much. Each wise woman has a different gift they are likely to give, for a great fee. Depending on which wise woman one takes their child depends on the gift given to them.

Henry’s parents took him to meet Ashara because he was born weakly due the pain tonic his mother took made of magical substance and they hoped she would make him resilient to magic and its effects. Saxon’s parents took him to Maraga in hopes of granting him more beauty.

Henry pulls his hand free and says, “Cool, right?”

“It hardly is.” Saxon mutters.

“Say ‘shereed’.” A girl whispers. I turn to look over my shoulder, but there is no one there. It was the same voice that had spoken earlier – who is it? “Did you hear that?” I ask my companions.

They look at me, “Hear what?” Saxon asks.

“A girl.” I answer.

“Did you say a girl?” Henry perks up.

“Yes. She said… say shereed-.” The moment the word leaves my lips there is a soft crackling on the enchanted wall and the surface shimmers to reveal a door. We stare at it.

“Oh shit.” Henry falls to his knees and crosses his arms over his chest before beginning to recite the Keeper prayer, “Behest they Keeper, for thee is Kept. Forgive the doings of wrong I have done-.”

“Henry, cut that out. You aren’t even an avid follower.” Saxon chastises the teasing. He is an avid follower so he finds the act rather insulting. “Besides, you are saying it all wrong.”

I reach out to the door and touch the knob without any magic stopping me. I swallow hard before pulling it open to see a staircase leading up towards the top of the tower. I look at Saxon who nods at me, “Might as well see.”

Henry jumps to his feet, “This is going to be awesome!”

I lead the way, placing my left hand on the wall as we climb to keep my balance. We arrive to a wooden door without a doorknob. Henry pushes on it, but it doesn’t heave. “Locked?”

I shake my head as I reach out to where the doorknob should be and I feel it. I clasp it in my hand – how did I know it was there? I just… knew it. I open the door and within there is a canopy bed untouched by the years of time. “All of that for a bed?” Henry gripes. “I suppose after a climb like that I’d need a bed…”

“Sh.” I hiss as I hear a soft breathing, “Someone…?” I reach out for the long curtain around the mattress and open it to reveal a maiden. Her hair is golden and curled around her pretty face. “There’s… a girl.”

Henry perks up again and nears, “Oh, a pretty girl-!”

Saxon pulls us both back, “Do you realize who we just found?”

“No.” Henry says having skipped every history lesson he ever had.

“No, that can’t be-.” I point towards the girl as the puzzle pieces begin to come together, “Aurora?” I ask, “Princess Aurora?” I repeat with obvious disbelief.

Henry crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head, “No, Aurora was turned into a swan.”

“That was Odette-.” I correct. I was the one who went to our history lessons. I should know better than him.

“No, no, Odette was the one turned to stone with that whole slipper after midnight thing.” Henry says firmly.

“That was Elena-.”

“No, Elena was the one that traded her body-form to become sea foam to release the Celestial City of the sea and is now in the sky.” Henry says with complete certainty.

I gawk at him, “What?! No, the Celestial City has forever been in the sky. She traded her life for the freedom of Atlantis-.”

“No because Atlantis is a myth.” Henry is serious right now.

I try again, “Elena was not the sea foam princess. Serena was-.”

“No, Serena was the one with all of the hair.”

I bite my knuckles in frustration – I give up!

Saxon is silent the whole time and I look at him for help. What he says isn’t much better, “I thought Atlantis was the forbidden city of the mountainside?”

My jaw loosens, “No, that…” I shake my head, “Did you ever go to school?”

Saxon shrugs, “Most of the days, but I did tend to sleep during a few of the history lessons.” He admits.

“The forbidden city is The Forbidden City.”

Henry shakes his head, “No, that doesn’t sound right.”

I sigh in defeat, “You guys suck.” I face the maiden again, “Uh, one of you shake her… or something.” I wave at her – I don’t do well around the other sex. They laugh a lot, talk a lot – muse too much. Henry is the one with most practice with the female kind.

Saxon reaches his hand out, but Henry catches his wrist and says, “NO!” his eyes are wide and he is quite frightened. “Never wake a girl – they’re crazy mean when you wake them.”

He would know.

Saxon shakes his head, “I don’t care. If this is the cursed princess we need to wake her up.” He pulls loose to try again, but just as his hand nears her he pulls back and literally jumps three feet away from the bed. His eyes are wide and sweat drips down his forehead.

“That was sudden.” Henry mutters before leaning against the bed and saying soothingly, “Hey, Princess Odette-.”

I flick him in his ear, “Aurora.” He’d get his own mother’s name wrong.

Henry sighs, “Are you sure, Katone?” he asks before finally resigning and agreeing. “Princess Aurora, it’s time to get up. If you’re here past six people will notice-. No, wait. That’s one night stands.”

I groan – idiots, the both of them. I pull him away before saying, “Why don’t we just get someone of authority up here?”

“We are not supposed to be here.” Saxon reminds us.

“Yeah, and Thomas’ll kick my ass.” Henry adds.

Damn it. I look at her before asking, “Why did you stop, Saxon?” it was just so sudden.

Saxon shivers, “I was reaching out and suddenly spiders were crawling everywhere and-.” spider? There weren’t any spiders anywhere. That bothers me though, because I know just how freaked out Saxon gets with a single one. He continues to rant and spew his fears and shiver, but I don’t hear him anymore.

My eyes are focused on the girl. Wait… she’s the one I saw in the courtyard. She is lying on the covers, not under them. I see her bare feet and the gold chain anklet that hangs round her right ankle. I saw her earlier. She was awake.

I reach out, but stop when her body changes into that of a bear and she roars at me and goes for me. I jump back, much like Saxon, but once I finally calm my breathing she is back to normal.

Henry is resilient, right? Maybe he should near her? I grab him without turning to see him and throw him towards her. “You do it.” I am not playing with bears and magic today.

Henry slides on the floor before falling on top of her. “Oh-!” he tries to scramble up, but Saxon kicks his foot into Henry’s lower back, causing him to fall forward once again. This time his lips lands on the edge of hers. He flies up and starts shouting, “Stop! This isn’t fun anymore!”

Saxon doesn’t kick him again as he sprawls from the bed and literally crawls on the floor to get away. “You’re the one who made us come in here to begin with!” Saxon shouts angrily, “If I get punished I better get you back!”

Saxon has a clean record, after all. If this tarnishes it then he will never forgive Henry for it. He will probably go the Keeper to pray that he strike down his foolish friend-.

“He… hello?” a feminine voice calls from behind us as we glower at Henry and his dramatic show of hurt.

My body tenses and from the looks of it so does Saxon’s. We turn to face the pretty maiden with violet eyes sitting in the bed. She looks at Saxon, then at Henry and finally at me.

Her eyes stay on me and they fill with tears before she says, “Anakastes! I was so scared!”

Ana… kastes?

I stumble back – what the hell did we just do?!

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Forgive any grammar mistakes - I'm just trying to get myself to start publishing things I write. :-) And thanks for the support if your enjoy this! <3

[legrandepapillon]

Babysitting (washette)

Summary: A setup, a game of hide ‘n’ seek, and a meddling sister.  Prompt: ‘I’m sorry, what do you mean you’re the babysitter? My sister asked me to babysit─oh, that conniving little witch.’ Author’s Notes: I get all my prompts here from Tumblr and I’m sorry this just kept screaming ‘WASHETTE’ at me

“The baby needs to be fed again at around 11 today─I’ve already given him breakfast. I pumped milk for today, formula is fine for the rest of the weekend but mix the breast milk and the formula to help him finish, alright? If he gets hungry before 11, its fine to feed him but just keep up with the times─I like to keep him on a regular eating schedule. There are more than enough diapers here for today, but I forgot to pick up diapers for the rest of the weekend─so here’s the cash if you need anything. Patsy and Frannie need to take noon naps every day─Patsy usually goes down easy, but Frankie thinks she’s a big girl so she’ll argue you into the ground over it. No sweets for anyone other than cereal until after lunch, at least. And, the girls can’t─George, are you even listening to me?” Martha pauses her lecture to look up at her brother from where she’d been searching through her daughters’ overnight bag, eyes narrowing and voice going stern. George gives a weary sigh and nods, rubbing his temples and trying to remember everything.

When Martha had asked him to babysit for the weekend─while she went out of town on a business trip─he’d been more than happy to oblige his little sister. Ever since her divorce she’d been pretty much alone in parenting─Daniel was no good with children by himself, so he had happily resigned himself to raising their children financially rather than actually being there. He knew that being a single, working mom was hard─especially with children so young. He didn’t mind taking his young nieces and nephew for the weekend─figured it’d be a fun way to take a break from his own work and give them some sort of father figure. Besides─he didn’t see the kids often ever since Martha moved further from the city, and he had missed them and his sister greatly.

But for god's sake, he could barely believe how much a helicopter mom that Martha had become.

“You worry too much, Martha,” he says calmly─ignoring the expression that screams ‘hypocrite’ she takes on─taking the car seat from her and hooking it over the bend in his arm. He looks down a smiles at little Jack, who gives him a gummy grin back and kicks his feet. “I’ve looked after children before. I raised you and Lawrence, didn’t I? You two turned out alright.”

This elicits a relenting smile, and she hands over the girls’ overnight bag. They both turn at the same time to check on them─the youngest girl, Patsy, has already made herself comfortable in his living room, watching Paw Patrol and Frannie sits quietly beside her, playing a handheld game. “They won’t be too much trouble. I’ll pick them up Monday night. Patsy and Frannie’s school uniforms and backpacks are in the duffel bag…  thank you so much for this, George.”

“You’re welcome. Now go, go, you’re going to miss your flight at this rate,” he says, jokingly nudging her towards the door. Martha waves and blows kisses goodbye to everyone, before her brother finally closes the door behind her. Once he sees Martha’s car pull out of his driveway and disappear from his neighborhood, he exhales and sets all the excess bags on the floor.

For the first hour or so, things are really quiet. Frannie had, at some point, wandered into his office to read some books, Patsy had begun playing with her dolls on the floor and Jack had dozed off after eating at 11. He’s just ordered a pizza for lunch when the doorbell rings.

“Well, that was fast,” he says to Patsy, who tilts her head at him curiously. “You hungry for pizza?”

Her head bobs up and down excitedly, and he chuckles at her enthusiasm as he opens the door. His hand is going to retrieve his wallet from his pocket when, to his surprise, he realizes that the person standing there is not a pizza delivery man but a boy. Or rather, young man. He looks like he can’t be older than twenty or twenty-one and judging by the ID hanging around his neck, he’s a college student. For a second, George is sidetracked by how attractive the kid actually is─honey brown eyes lined in deep black, curly dark locks pulled back into a ponytail and… wait, is he wearing lipgloss?

“Hi,” George says slowly, when he realizes he’s been staring like a creep and not saying anything. The boy lifts his hand in a wave, and smiles brightly at him. He is wearing lip gloss. “Um… can I help you?”

“Hi! Martha Washington called me? She needed me to babysit at this address?” he asks, tilting his head. He’s got an accent─German? French? Whatever it is, it’s very beautiful─lilting and soft around his words. “I’m Gilbert, but the girls know me as Laf. I’m their babysitter.”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean you’re the babysitter? My sister asked me to babysi─oh that conniving little witch,” it takes a few seconds, but George realizes mid-sentence what his sister had tried to pull. She’d known how isolated he’d been lately─how much of his time was either spent at his work or at home. He’d been in a relationship earlier in the year, but it had ended poorly and he simply hadn’t made the effort to date again. She’d been begging him to go on dates for the past few months.  Download Tinder, get back out there, George. You can’t spend your entire life alone. He’d brushed her off.

Now he realizes that had been a mistake. She hadn’t sent Lafayette over there to babysit. She’d sent him there to hookup.

“Laf!” Patsy’s voice exclaims, before Gilbert can respond. She darts around her Uncle to wrap her arms around the kids leg and he grins—bending down to wrap his arms around her lift her onto her hip. “Uncle George, this is Lafayette! They my best friend and they babysit us when we home! Oh, Mommy says we can't call them ‘he’, ‘cause it hurts they feelings.”

George tilts his head at the bo—kid, as their cheeks flush and they shift their weight from foot to foot. Almost as if they’re embarrassed or nervous. Gently, they tap Patsy’s cheek twice as a chastise. “Chut, petit ange. I’m sorry, have I misunderstood something, monsieur?”

“No, my sister just got confused, I suppose. Why don’t you come in, Gilbert? I’d hate for you to have come all this way to waste your time,” George says, stepping aside so that they can slip into the house. His nose is briefly overcome with a strong but sweet, floral scent─and he pauses to take in this stranger. They seem innocuous enough─they wear a backpack but he doubts there’s anything dangerous inside of it. And judging by the light sweater and simple jeans, they weren’t exactly in the appropriate attire to be pulling any house robberies or murders.

Patsy seemed to trust them. All of this, additional to what he already knows about his bullheaded sister? George knows the kid isn’t lying, and hates that Martha had wasted his time like this.

Lafayette immediately takes on his role as a babysitter, setting Patsy down and offering to color with her. Once his niece is successfully distracted, George pulls out his phone to text his sister─he had a few choice words for her.

Of course, his message of SOS what the hell did you do? goes unanswered, but that’s no surprise. She had probably boarded her flight immediately after calling this Lafayette and he knew exactly why. Sneaky little rat.

When he steps back into the living room, Frannie has joined the two on the floor─drawing something in a notebook and chatting happily with Lafayette about school. George gives a small smile, joins them by sitting on the couch and picking up the book that Frances had abandoned. Lafayette glances up at him briefly before going back to the coloring book.

“Patsy wants to play hide ‘n’ seek tag, Monsieur Washington,” they say without looking up again, and he watches their hands as they switch between crayons. Their eyes lift to him when he says nothing, and George raises an expectant eyebrow. “She wants you to play with us.”

“What about Jack?”

“He’s asleep, non? We will be here, should he wake. I think it’s a lovely idea─I love hide ‘n’ seek. It’s my favorite game,” this time when Lafayette speaks, they’re speaking more towards the girls─who are becoming more and more visibly excited. It becomes painfully obvious that declining just isn’t an option.

“Oh, please!” Frannie begs when he still gives no definite answer, looking up at him with wide, gray eyes. Just like her mother, she knew that George had a hard time saying ‘no’ to the classic puppy dog face. “Please, Uncle George? Play with us? You’re so good at hide ‘n’ seek!”

Sighing, George massages his temples before nodding. What could go wrong? “Alright, sure. Who will be it?”

“I wanna be it!” Patsy insists, and Frannie seems to be perfectly fine with that arrangement. Laying on her stomach and covering her face with her hands, Patsy begins loudly counting before either adult can say anything. Frannie and Lafayette immediately bolt off, laughing to themselves and whispering about potential hiding spots. George rises from the couch and looks around the house before deciding the perfect spot.

I’d forgotten what a nerve wracking game hide ‘n’ seek was, he thinks to himself, once he’s successfully hid himself away. Ever the good sport, he’s standing as still and quiet as he possibly can in the hallway storage closet. It’d been an easy hiding place to pick─the closet, with how small it was, often blended into the hallway and went mostly unnoticed. Patsy certainly wouldn’t find him there─at least, not first. However, the waiting game of being found might have him caving in.

He’s just about to open the door and peek out when its pulled open and quickly slammed closed. At first, George thinks he’s been caught─even goes to open his mouth and announce that she’d caught him. But then a manicured hand is slapping over it, and he realizes that Lafayette has chosen to share a hiding spot with him.

“Sorry, monsieur! She’d almost found my last hiding place,” he whispers, removing his hand quickly once he’s realized what he’s done. Blinking into the darkness, George can make out Lafayette’s slight frame─and that sweet, floral smell fills the small closet. The really… really small closet.

George swallows thickly when he notices just how close the two of them are to each other. The space had already been a bit cramped when he’d slipped in there himself─he was a big man, and it was just meant to be a small storage space─but with two bodies, there was a striking amount of closeness occuring. It doesn’t help that Lafayette is so small, and smells so sweet, and is looking at him with such bright eyes─

Oh God. I do need to get laid.

“Monsieur Washington, I have to confess something. I’m not naive. I know why Martha called me over today, and I believe…” they pause when George raises an eyebrow, quickly averting their gaze nervously. “I believe she’s told you something that I confessed to her in private. I just want you to know that my… er, schoolyard affections won’t affect the way I interact with the girls.”

“Firstly, Gilbert, call me George,” he says, placing a hand on their shoulder and smiling gently at them. This seems to relax their nerves considerably, and they nod their head. “Secondly, what on Earth are you talking about?”

“Um… she didn’t tell you about my… my crush? On you?” Lafayette asks, horror filling his voice. George shakes his head slowly and he’s sure the kid would fall over and faint if it weren’t for the close proximity between them. He waits for a few seconds, hoping that an explanation would be offered. To his luck, one is. “Martha knows that I follow your political career─a black bisexual man dominating the political minefield in such a Southern state gave me… well, you’d have to understand where my admiration comes from. You gave me hope─especially after that speech you made at Pride Parade last year… about the genderqueer community. It felt like you were speaking directly to me. And well, through my following I have developed this… this juvenile crush on you. I mean, I don’t mean to speak out of turn, I know this is kind of unprofessional but you are extremely handsome and carry yourself well and I… I am going to shut up now.”

“Oh my God… she played the both of us, didn’t she?” George asks, amusement and awe in his voice. He should be mad, he truly should─she was meddling in feelings and lives that weren’t her business. But Martha had not only attempted to hook him up with her babysitter, but she had attempted to hook him up with someone that was actually already attracted to him. That was a plotting that even George Washington had to admire.

“Excusez-moi?”

Considering Lafayette had confessed their secret to him, George decides it’s only fair for him to confess to them as well. “Martha… believes I am lonely. And I am, in a sense. I originally thought she sent you over here so that I could, uh… well, get laid.”

Lafayette nearly chokes on his own spit, and the older of the two can feel his face begin to burn. Though, George is surprised at the tension in the air─it’s not awkward, but very thick. Maybe Martha had been onto something. The two of them stand in silence for a moment, listening to Patsy and Frannie look for them outside of the door. The girls have made their way into the room, and George can hear them searching for them. Any moment now, the closet door would open and the moment would be over.

“Monsie─George,” Lafayette says, correcting themselves with a small laugh. They look up at him and then down to the floor, doing that nervous shift from foot to foot. “I… I wouldn’t exactly be opposed to that. If you were interested, at least.”

George opens his mouth to speak─though, he’s unsure of what response would be appropriate in a situation like this─, but is crudely interrupted by the door swinging open and light spilling into the small closet. He tries his hardest to hide his disappointment.

“Found you!” Patsy squeals, jumping up and down in her success. Lafayette smiles and gives her a high-five, congratulating her cheerfully. George can’t help but admire just how he’s able to slip into façades─go from shy, crushing schoolkid to confident parental figure.

“Uncle and Laffy, sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Frannie singsongs to George, much to the obvious embarrassment of both adults. She’d obviously caught just how close they were standing to each other, or maybe had picked up on the tension in the closet. Smartass eight-year-olds. George rolls his eyes at her juvenile teasing, and Gilbert reaches over to playfully clip her ear.

“Frances! Tais-toi!” they snip, but Frannie only begins to giggle harder. Sighing in either annoyance or defeat, Lafayette looks at George up from where they’d knelt to Patsy’s height and tilts their head. There’s a twinkle in their eye now─a knowing, flirtatious glint. “Another round of the game, George?”

Thank you, Martha, you devilish angel.

“Of course.”

Monsieur - Mr./Mister/sir Chut, petit ange. - Hush, little angel. Non? - No? Excusez-moi? - Pardon me? Tais-toi! - Shut up!