#call him a coward to his face he will laugh but his ancestors will cry

[accursedkaleeshi]

Depressing Grievous Headcanon: The Inhibitor Chips

        TL:DR Grievous had inhibitor chips in his brain, 2 in particular made him The Worst™. One chip opened the flood gates of fury & the other chip slammed those gates shut & threw it in reverse. Let the rage flow until it reached “I will kill you or die trying” level, then click oh, shit I have to leave immediately.

How sure was Sidious that the inhibitor chips worked? Very. For every nefarious galaxy-rending plot he had you know there was untold fallout from prototype trials. Grievous was a prototype for a lot of things Sidious was trying to get off the ground. He got his money’s worth out of that bitch. The inhibitor chips used in Grievous ranged in complexity but were generally simpler as compared to those in the clones.

        The pair of chips that did most of the work in the general literally just stimulated areas of his brain under certain conditions. Grievous knew that his behavior was altered at its core, but due in part to the other lovely things that were done to him, he didn’t really care. In fact, he found a horrible sense of freedom in this. He did not have to put in the work into making decisions. He could just be a monster with little to no accountability.

        He was able to eventually recognize & pick out the triggers & circumstances under which these two particular chips activated. Towards the end of the Clone Wars he had far & away conditioned himself to act ahead of the resulting impulses. This did him zero favors, but maybe somewhere in his ruined mind he counted it as one of very few things he had control over. That was not, in fact, the case & he was just fast-passing the sith’s intentions.

        What I’m calling Chip A for simplicity’s sake was the angry chip. Chip A basically ran this stupid cyborg. It was trigged by stress, which… yeah, he was always stressed. When it detected the chemicals it was looking for the chip would just unload electric signals into his brain’s more primitive functions & turn his fight or flight reaction to (Steve Harvey voice) KILL. As you might imagine, Kaleesh have a good chunk of brain dedicated to rage & violence. The Techno Union had to patch this a few times at the start b/c he would Kylo-Ren a perimeter around him for dumb shit. They added like. A dimmer switch.

        Dooku used this in conjunction with his spooky sith mind games, having obscured most of his positive neural pathways & replacing them with an ominous void. Grievous did the rest himself. He was once a man that did a lot of thinking to back up his action, but they no longer needed him to think. If Grievous tried to think too deeply on something he couldn’t reach, like many of us, he would get very anxious. So, then Chip A would be like “yo we aren’t allowed to worry, it’s time to be mad. Pog.”

        Needless to say Chip A was goddamn workhorse. Grievous was constantly seething with rage. The Separatists all congratulated themselves on a job well done, creating a rage machine. Until Dooku discovered The Plateau. Grievous was very easy to manipulate; he was largely an open book. Dooku expected there to be a peak to how mad Grievous could get versus how well he made tactical decisions. But instead he found The Plateau while training him. He wasn’t sure if it was a biological state or some remnants of his culture’s spiritualism & he didn’t care. Apparently Kaleesh did not peak in rage & then crash. They hit the top & stay there.

He tested it several times, y’know for science. Grievous hit the maximum amount of fury he could convey & instead of breaking down he just stayed there, especially no longer being susceptible to physical wear. Dooku had to incapacitate him each time. When questioned, Grievous had given him some native word that boiled down to “one death either way”. Kaleesh would fight until they dropped. Commendable in some savage way, he supposed, but that was problematic. Sidious needed this broken bone lizard for his plans. Plans that didn’t have an execution date just then.

The Plateau was the kind of state some cultures referred to as berserk. They couldn’t have their very expensive scapegoat kamikaze a frigate into Coruscant in a frenzied martyr-making rage 2 months into a galactic war. So they slapped another chip in this bitch. When Chip B activated it immediately cut signal to Chip A & zapped a slightly different area. It basically shut off the “fight” & reversed straight into “flight”, breaking off the lever in an area that Grievous had seldom even touched previously in his life.

Chip B was the nope chip. It was the disengage button. It forced him to stop & immediately question what he was doing & whether or not it was a good idea. You’d think, as an honor bound warrior, he would hate this. He actually didn’t mind it & oftentimes found it hilarious. He internalized it as choices he was making. Very convenient props to hold up his fort of denial. He had no personal stake in anything during the Clone Wars. If Dooku’s little errands didn’t go as planned, he actually did not give a fuck. He knew (or, he thought he knew) that Dooku could not kill him unless Sidious was done with him.

Again, that relinquishing of responsibility for his actions is what kept him running. He was Dooku’s problem. If he got punished, not usually physically but mentally, he would be irate yes, but he was already constantly furious. If he performed poorly it was the Count that took the flak from Sidious. Dooku hated his guts & if he could not die in battle there was at least a smug satisfaction in inflicting himself of the Count. He was there to kill Jedi & cause problems.

Kenobi, then, was the Republic’s perfect anti-arch clanker weapon. Obi-Wan Kenobi used his wholly defensive lightsaber stance to buy him time to be the sassiest, most obnoxious bitch ever from behind his blue blade. As Grievous is an easy read, Kenobi could just rocket him into the Plateau wherein he made worse & worse decisions the more pissed off he got until A switched to B.

The Jedi council figured after a while that Kenobi was essentially annoying General Grievous into retreating, but they had no idea how literally that was happening. Toward the end of the war it was rather pavlovian. The droids would report Kenobi and/or Kenobi-adjacent activity in the area they were operating & a lot of the time Grievous would just straight leave.

He’d be like, “I have shit to do. Either Kenobi will come stop all of you from whatever the fuck we are doing or he will chase me. He cannot do both. Bye, bitch.” He called it leading Kenobi away from Separatist operations but really he just didn’t want to deal with it half the time. “I don’t have time for this” was already conveniently embedded in his DNA. ROTS he could have just yolo merc’d Kenobi when he dropped his lightsaber like an idiot. But then the clone army showed up & he was just like, click “Ugh, I don’t want to deal with this right now.”

[bokutoslittlebird]

Awakened

Alpha!Osamu x reader x Alpha!Atsumu

Author’s note : Fantasy AU based on two pieces of fan art of the twins as fox yōkai, but I hope it’s to your liking! ; their names are never directly said to reader-chan, so their names are what they call each other.

Warnings: bullying (brief, not from the twins), naive and innocent reader, knotting, double penetration, backshot, face fucking/blowjob, dubcon/noncon, blood, biting and licking, cunnilingus, creampie

There’s a legend that runs deep in the roots of your village, one that’s told to many and encourages children to stay away from the forest. It was proven effective — no child dared to enter the forest, holding onto that fear into their adult years. The legend revolves around two mischievous fox spirits that would always be in competition. They always had someone who would win, but then a terribly evil spirit came upon the clearing they played in, forcing the two spirits to push differences aside and fight off the evil spirit that entered the territory. It was a combined effort, the two spirits realizing they worked better when they worked together. It taught children that sometimes it was better to ask for help; however, it also taught children that they couldn’t go into the forest. The spirits resides in the forest, protecting the village from evil spirits as a combined task and if anyone dared trespass in their forest, then destruction would come to the village.

It was a legend some teenagers dared to challenge, entering the forest and coming out, saying “nothing bad happened to them!” but then their luck would turn sour sometimes. It always put things in perspective, seeing them suddenly fall into a mud puddle after entering the forest, or having their pants suddenly fall. It made people laugh, but it really made you feel like the forest was alive and watching. You never dared to go near the forest. At least, not until your pride was at stake.

“Go get a stupid stick, [Y/N]!” Jocelyn sneered, her eyes narrowed. Her arms were crossed and she was tired to repeating herself. You were dared to go into the forest, get a stick to bring back for proof, and you would no longer be a coward. It was simple in words, but not so simple in action. You feared the bad things that happened after people entered the forest, but you were considered a coward for those beliefs. “You’re just a big, dumb baby!”

“No I’m not!” You shouted back, puffing your cheeks. You let out a heavy breath and turned to the brown and green image of the forest. They wouldn’t be able to see you enter the forest, but they just needed a stick as proof. Sucking up the courage to go, your legs moved towards the foliage. You could hear the other girls’ jeers as your pace slowed, the forest closer than you had ever dared to let it. The forest itself looked peaceful, but the legend of the spirits scared you, halting your footsteps. Instead of going in, you were going to pick up a stick on the outskirts, but there was no stick. Nothing but grass lay before you, the shadows of the trees outlining what was the forest and what was not. There was a stick you could see, the light seeping through the leaves illuminating it as if you were on a quest to get — well, you kind of were.

Sucking up any inhibitions you had, you entered the forest. Picking up the stick, you noticed a lack of any other stick lying in the fallen leaves. Clutching the stick to your chest, you turn to go when you find a small piece of cloth, hidden in the leaves. You pick it up, looking at the designs and feeling how soft and silky it was. It was a robe that your ancestors adorned, but the fabric told you it was either brand new or kept in pristine condition. With it in your hands, you found yourself turning to flee once again. The howling of the wind sent your legs running out of the forest and up the hill, as fast as you could. If you had listened closer, you would have heard the howl of a beast as you fled.

Deeper into the forest, a pair of eyes watched as you obtained the stick and plucked the ceremonial robe from the earth he presented to you. When you chose it and fled, he smiled. His eyes turned from your retreating figure and moved to leap from the tree he perched himself on. As his body was that of a grey fox, he was much better at hiding than if he was in his more human form. Transitioning between into his human form, he smiles once more, a finger on his chin.

“What to offer her next, I wonder?” He ponders aloud, with only the wind around to hear him and carry his voice.

Your lungs are burning as you arrive back at the little picnic you were attending, the girls giggling as you finally come back. “Did ya see a ghost or somethin’?” Akira asks. You’re heaving as you present the stick, perfectly in tact and big enough to feed a fire. Everyone’s cheers are perceived as mocking to you, as you move on. The picnic is no longer something you want to attend, instead preferring to take a bath and sleep. With your worries placed on the forest and the spirits within, you find yourself wondering if you’ll be able to sleep or shall an entity come and judge you for trespassing.

The next day, you find your gaze drawn to the forest, as if it calls you down. Ignoring the calls are hard, you legs involuntarily moving as you think. On the edge of the forest, you see inside to find a small temari ball. It looks as if a young child once played with it, as you get closer to the object. Looking around the forest, you expect to see a child lost or crying, but you find nothing. With the lack of an owner, you decide to leave the ball. Turning to leave, you reprimand yourself for entering the forest again.

The sound of leaves rustling has you swiveling around, almost falling over when you realize the temari is following you. Moving back, it continues to follow you. A quick glance around proves that no one else is around, so you pick up the temari. As you did yesterday, you flew out of the forest and hope you didn’t take a malevolent being’s toy.

Another pair of eyes watch as you flee, his temari offering close to your chest. A wickedly mischievous grin spreads upon his lips, his form emerging from the shadows where he was hidden. With sharp canines peeking from his smile, warm brown eyes look to the path you had just taken. “I’m glad she likes her present. I can’t wait for what tomorrow will bring,” he chuckles, moving further into the forest. With each step he takes, a thick fog permeates the forest floor, providing a barrier past the stream.

You don’t know what it is. The growing urge to enter the forest gets stronger as the day continues on, the urge barely quenched upon nightfall. Even in your bed chambers, you find yourself looking through your open window, into the forest. Mist seeps from the greenery, an ominous feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. A howl from the forest startles you, eyes finding the gaze reflecting back at you. As you hold the gaze, feeling yourself rooted in place, another set of eyes joins. You shut the window, deciding to never go back to the forest.

When morning comes, the feeling of needing to go to the forest is even stronger. Feeling ill from the image of last night, you decide to stay home for the day. When a knock comes to your door, you assume it to be the milk delivery. Upon opening the door, your eyes widen at the two boys on your doorstep.

“Can you go get my ball?” The first one says, a bright smile on his face. The one currently sniffling nods in agreement. They look like twins, not that you’d recognize them.

“I didn’t mean to kick it so hard, please don’t tell my dad!” He cries out, holding onto his brother. You smile warmly at him, getting to eye level. Running your hand through his hair, his sniffles lessen.

“I won’t tell anyone, you’re fine. I’ll be right back,” you smile at him, wiping his tears. You shut the door, telling them to stay put as you go searching for the ball. As you look around, you become confused. Where is the ball? Moving further along your backyard, you hear a hushed whisper from the forest, wide eyes turning to sound. With an apology already on your lips, you turn to enter your house when you find yourself unable to move. As if an invisible barrier prevents you from progressing towards your house — which seems proven true as you inch towards the forest and suddenly cannot go back to where you were. With the unsettling pit in your stomach, you enter the forest once more.

Entering, you find the mist from before still evident, yet it parts for you. Curiosity sets in as you are further urged into the forest, stopping as you hear water trickling. A stream lays in front of you, waters more calm than your heart beat. You inhale, deciding to risk it as you wade through the stream. The water seeps into your shoes, the bottom of your dress becoming saturated. Progressing further into the mist, now a heavy fog, you find a large temple inside. It’s stable and perfectly standing, as if it isn’t centuries old. The two erected statues tell you the temple belongs to the spirits of the legend, finding a chill run through your blood as you realize your situation. Before you step foot onto the stairs, you turn to leave but are halted.

“Where do you think yer goin’?” A rough voice speaks. You whip around to see a tall, but handsome man. The hair is a dark grey color, eyes to match. What stuns you is the pair of grey fox ears, a tail that matches in color swishing behind him. His clothes remind you of the robe you found amongst the leaves.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, really!” You begin to plea, pulling on your wrist. “I-I didn’t mean to- to trespass!”

“What’d’ya mean? This is your home, y’know?” He seems genuinely confused, another stun to your body as his words settle. Home? This temple? Before you can refute him, another voice joins in.

“Ah, ‘Samu, I told ya humans are different. They don’t know the offering ritual, but I made sure to get our offerings. Our silly little human forgot about them,” he chuckles, looking at you. With the robe you found on one arm, the temari in his hand. “This was my offering, you know,” he gestures to the ball. “A precious item to me, it is. I’m glad you took care of it and cleaned it up. What a perfect little wife you’ll make,” his grin makes his words more sinister than they originally were. Fear spikes through your veins, your limbs suddenly shaking as you feel your legs give out. The one dubbed ‘Samu catches you, holding you bridal style as you find yourself hesitant to hold onto his robes.

“‘Tsumu, y’know I’m not watching humans like you do. That’s weird,” he cringes, nose scrunching up in disgust. ‘Tsumu seemed to get ticked off at that, growling. Only then did you notice how animal-like the both of them were, sporting fox ears and a tail to match. While ‘Samu had dark grey, ‘Tsumu spotted a saturated yellow hair color and slightly lighter ears and tail. So caught up in the view, you didn’t notice that the brothers has started walking, heading towards the temple.

“W-Wait, I can’t go with you! I’m— I’m not who you’re looking for!” Sputtering out the first things to pop into your mind, the two don’t stop.

“Of course yer who we’re looking for! You’re meant for us, meant to know your place with us. After all, why else would enter our domain, smelling so delicious as you do?”

“Smell— what?”

“‘Tsumu, stop bein’ cryptic. He’s saying you entered the forest during your heat cycle,”

“Well, ovulation in humans. Apparently, they’re not like us special spirits,”

“You’re ready for us, we can smell it. You’ll be the perfect mate for us to breed,” although ‘Samu seemed uninterested, you could feel how his chest seemed to heave as he inhaled deeply. The growling accompanying his final word sent slick between your folds as you held onto him close, afraid of falling.

Arriving at the top of the temple, you saw a cot that has been lain out, the soft cushioning big enough for the three of you. The sight of it had your brain going into overdrive, panicking as you attempted to leave ‘Samu’s arms. He complied, but his hands stayed firmly on your hips. “Time to get dressed,”

Before you could ask for an explanation, your clothes were practically torn off of you. Blood spilled onto your ripped dress, your side burning from where the claws caught you. The shreds fell to the temple floor, your hands flying to cover the exposed skin. While one hand covered the area between your legs, your arm held your breasts close to your chest. ‘Samu clicked his tongue, easily removing your hands from your body while ‘Tsumu slid on the robe, his claws lightly grazing your skin. He didn’t hide the fact he was admiring the view, either, his dark eyes gazing over each inch of skin you presented to him. Once the robe was on, you were released from ‘Samu’s hold, left to cover yourself up with the fabric. You’d deny it aloud, but the robe fit you perfectly.

“You’re gorgeous,” ‘Tsumu growled, shedding his own robe. Your hands came in front of you, hoping to somehow deter him when ‘Samu brought you backwards, to the cot presented. ‘Tsumu wasn’t far behind, dropping to his knees while you lay against the cot. It was softer than expected, more plush than it looks. ‘Samu had stripped of his own clothes, his robe hanging loosely on him by the ribbon around his waist. ‘Tsumu was different, his robe open and letting you see every inch of skin, but his arms still through the sleeves as if he was cold.

“I don’t—“ you began, your words interrupted by ‘Samu’s lips on yours, his tongue brushing against your closed lips as he deepened the kiss. ‘Tsumu’s touches had begun to litter your thighs, spreading your legs as he inhaled deeply. A finger touching your entrance had you jumping, only to be held firmly down by ‘Samu’s hands.

“You’re so wet, it’s hard to hold back,” ‘Tsumu growls out, his tongue lapping at your folds. You squirm and make a noise of displeasure, but ‘Samu is there to keep your focus on his lips and kisses. The more he kisses you, the hotter your body gets and the more you feel your resistance melt away. ‘Tsumu has his face between your thighs, licking and sucking on your clit, claws digging into the skin. It has you clenching around nothing, the hot pleasure from his tongue and burning sensation on your thighs. It isn’t until he removes himself from between your legs do you feel relaxed and at ease, as if your body is jelly. Your resistance is no more, a small whine coming from you when ‘Samu and ‘Tsumu remove themselves to admire their handiwork.

It’s a sudden change, the relaxing touches and breathless kisses are gone, replaced by the feverish touches of both men as they paw and scratch at your skin, ‘Samu’s teeth sinking into hot skin and lapping at the blood while ‘Tsumu presses less destructive kisses to your neck. With the air much too hot for your liking, a breathless moan leaves your lips when ‘Tsumu pulls your head back by your hair, spitting into your mouth and then kissing you. With his tongue tracing your teeth and his growls being swallowed up by your mouth, you’re oblivious to ‘Samu. With his cock in one hand, he kneads your thigh with his other hand as he rubs along your folds.

“‘Tsumu, move off,” ‘Samu growls, pushing the fox spirit off of you, his large frame colliding with the wooden planks of the temple. You find yourself on your hands and knees, ass in the air while the robe is promptly stripped off of you, lain underneath you. ‘Samu licks his lips, lining himself up with you entrance while ‘Tsumu gets his balance back. The first press in has you screaming, but it isn’t just because he’s big. His thickness is something you never expected, but with his calloused hands on your hips, bringing you back into his hips with no regards to adjusting you. A guttural groan comes from ‘Samu, head thrown back as he basks in the pleasure of being buried in your cunt. ‘Tsumu is now back to you, his hard cock in front of your face.

With another rough thrust, one that has you practically bouncing off ‘Samu’s cock, ‘Tsumu has you wrapping your lips around his. You can’t take it all in, that’d be impossible. With a pair of hands on your hips, you’re brought to ‘Samu while the pair of hands tangled in your hair pulls you towards ‘Tsumu. Lips pressed firmly against ‘Tsumu’s cock as your tongue runs under the length, running over the bulging veins and ridges you find. Your eyes are screwed shut, unable to stay open while ‘Samu splits you on his cock, somehow forcing himself deeper and deeper inside of you. It isn’t until you’re finally bouncing flush against him do you feel something strange on his cock. It’s only then do you open your eyes, looking at ‘Tsumu’s cock that has a large bulb at the base of it, growing in size the more you suck on him. Hollowing out you cheeks has ‘Tsumu groaning, claws digging into your scalp as he forces himself down your throat. He doesn’t force the bulb in your throat, thankfully, but he does coat your throat in his cum.

“Your mouth is fucking hot, little human. It’s like you were made to take us,” he breathes out, panting. You’re coughing, feeling Samu’s thrusts speed up as he brings you close to him, but he pulls out at the last moment to spill all over your back.

“With our scent on you, you’ll be stuck by our side until you pass,” ‘Samu is in a similar situation, chest heaving as you’re flipped over. You’re then placed on ‘Tsumu’s lap, his cock rubbing between your folds as he grinds into you. “But we’ll take you together first,”

“So no hard feelings, right ‘Samu?”

“Right, ‘Tsumu,” the agree, Tsumu’s cock rubbing into you and then prodding at your drooling cunt. He slips the tip in, the feeling similar to ‘Samu’s thick cock. Speaking of ‘Samu, he’s quick to stick his own tip back in, stretching you out farther then you expected. A silent scream comes from you as tears spill down your cheeks, both of them thrusting into you as your cunt burns.

Split open on their cocks, you’re helpless. Nails digging into ‘Samu’s shoulders as his hands once more find themselves on your hips. ‘Tsumu’s hands are keeping your legs spread, the view of you sucking in both their cocks on display as they thrusts in tandem. When one pulls out, the other thrusts in and vice versa. The rhythm they set is one that works, their lips finding opposite sides on your neck to kiss and lick, teeth grazing the skin. You feel a buildup of your own orgasm as they plow into you, your walls squeezing them as they pick up the pace. Their rhythm gets sloppy, short growls from each as their bulbs start to grow again.

When ‘Tsumu sinks his teeth into you, your scream is one of pleasure as you reach your high, coating both of their cocks a milky white cream, the liquid falling to their base and dripping down. ‘Samu sinks his teeth into your skin on the opposite side as they both push into your tight cunt, a scream and shiver running through you as the do, their bulbs inflating inside to stretch you even more.

You’re completely stuck, their cocks inside you as they lap at your wounds. It’s only when you squirm do they start talking. “You’ll get used to it,”

“After all we have a week,”

“You’ll be able to take our knots with no problem,”

“All your holes will be used to taking us,”

Their words don’t ease you concern, but the fact that once they leave your warm cunt, they’re still hard and readying you for round two. The heat encompassing your body refuses to leave, their skin as sweaty and hot as yours. With their relentless stamina and obsession with pumping all their seed into you, you’re positive you’ll get pregnant.

[futurewriter2000]

Heartless - pt. 18

A/N: Yo. I’m actually starting to like this Mulciber x reader thing. Woop. This is also so long, I feel like it won’t ever end. Sigh.

XX

The night was peaceful. No... the night was not peaceful. The night was like magic. It felt emotionally fulfilling and beautifully loving. No matter the cold, the grass hugged your body, the stars shimmered down on you and the air was wonderfully fresh and cold, like a sharp cut on your boiling vein. 

“Sometimes I wonder whether I’m being too cold towards my family... too selfish...” you turned your head to the side, looking at him gaze upon the night sky. 

The smile on his face told you his ears were all for you. “Who says being selfish is a bad thing?” 

“Isn’t it?”

“That’s like saying being serving is a bad thing.” he shrugged, turning his head to you and catching your furrow. “Helpful... nice...” he continued, trying to catch you up. He pulled himself on one elbow and started to explain. “Here’s a question for you to ponder on; Would you rather be constantly giving and pleasing other people and never get anything in return or constantly give and please yourself and get something in return?”

You pondered the thought, question quickly in your head. “Giving and pleasing to other people can be a satisfying thing for oneself as well... doesn’t it?”

“Is that your family speaking or you?” he plopped himself back on the grass. “Think about it, love. Were you ever even happy when you found out that people were just using your good nature for their own benefit and leaving you behind when they saw you had nothing more to give them or did that satisfy you?”

You felt your fingers claw the grass beneath you. Not because you were furious with him but because he was right about this one thing. People always did exploit your good nature for their own benefit and when they saw you couldn’t give them anything anymore, they left. 

“Is that why you’re always selfish then?” 

“One of us has to be.” he let out a laugh. “I’m telling you, darling. Selfish is a good thing and sometimes being selfish means setting your boundaries, even if it is to your family.” he re-positioned himself again, pulling himself on his elbow and facing you with a stern expression. “Your family doesn’t realise your true potential, your true power- even your gift!” he started to get louder. “Your mother neglected that power in you, hid it behind her lies and manipulation and kept it a secret for her own selfish reasons. Your father seems like a good chap but even he had to know about that with your mother. He had to know as he was still a young fellow when our ancestors were still alive and well. And James has been nothing but selfish towards you. With his little werewolf possy and throwing you aside like some side character.”

“Werewolf possy?”

“Don’t tell me you hadn’t figured it out yet?” he rolled his eyes. “You, (Y/n) Potter, the quick witted Gryffindor?” he let out another laugh. “It’s like your intuition is a broken antenna on that TV box.”

“Ouch.”

“That Lupin boy, the tall one with the scars.” he looked into your eyes, an pleased little smirk playing on his lips. “Where do you think he got those scars from?”

You saw your mind go completely blank. “Remus?!”

“I Remus, Romul, Rome, Roberto... whatever you’d like to call him.” he laid back and put his hands under his head. “He is- AUUUUUUU!” he howled into the night sky, then laughed after meanwhile you processed the information and tried to resolve the shock. 

“But he looks so innocent.”

“Oh, you’d think. He almost ripped Snape apart by the end of this year.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh, yeah. Snape was on some high spying shite and he told us this theory about it before, but just in little snips, clues but we all figured out what he was talking about. I thought he was barmy for implying so but Avery came to me one night, told me Snape was in the hospital. We sneaked out there, over-heard Dumbledore telling him to keep this quiet and Snape obeyed like a little Gryffindor pup he is.”

“But he’s in Slytherin.”

“He follows those Gryffindors like a pup. He’s always trailing behind that red-head, always provoking your brother and that black mop.” he continued and you couldn’t help yourself but giggle at his little insults. “Roberto’s quite neutral. I mean a werewolf would always come in handy and for that little rat... he’s so pathetic he makes me laugh just by seeing him.”

“Oh, now you’re being cruel.”

“I’m telling it as it is.” he scoffed. “Your brother is a pompous dickhead, Black is constantly flipping his hair every where like a prima donna and he literally makes me want to punch him when he walks around with that grin of his after what he did to Regulus. Roberto-”

“Wait... what he did to Regulus?”

“He left him.” Mulciber bolted to sit up, throwing his arms wide open in frustration. “When you come from a family home like we do- it.. I mean... you don’t just leave people- brothers!” he started to get more heated more as he spoke. “Slytherin is all about fraternity, (y/n) and you don’t leave your brothers, your family for some pompous dickhead.”

“That’s my brother you’re talking about.” you snapped back, sitting up. “And how can you then tell me to leave my family when only now you talk about fraternity.”

“It’s different. You’re not abandoning it. You’re leaving it for your own high ambitions and the life you want. I’m not telling you to abandon your family, to cut it off and fly away from the nest- I’m telling you to stand up on your two fooking feet and stand up for yourself. Stop being such a naive little girl for everybody to throw around- Merlin! Do you even see yourself!? Everybody is treating you like a dump and you’re letting them and here I have to tell you this the hard way because you’re too dense to fucking see it with your two bloody well, good working eyeballs!”

“Fuck you, Mulciber!” you stood up on your feet, clenching your fists and glaring down on him. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like I’m one of those students you bully! You fucking coward, who can’t seperate from his rich  daddy, who you follow like a little abandoned puppy!”

“Shut your bloody mouth, (y/n)!” he stood up as well, now he glaring down at you. His chest was heaving, up and down, slowly, slower as the anger rised and fell.

“Shut my mouth?!” you scoffed and let out another laugh. “What makes you think if I don’t shut my mouth around my own family, that I’ll shut up around some arse like you?!”

“You- I-” he seemed to be stuttering and for the first time, you had seen Mulciber go quiet. 

Yet you felt offended. You felt degraded by his words that your anger kept bubbling and the thought of your teeth shattering from gritting them so hard, made you feel scared and stupid at the same time. 

“This was a perfectly good day until you decided to ruin it!” you shouted at him as he only stood there. No more anger. No more emotion. Just a heartless exterior. Yet you knew him well enough that he was not feeling heartless at all. “Say something!” you pushed him but he didn’t budge. You tried to connect with him, to feel him but he was blocking you. He was not letting you in and that pissed you off even more. 

“Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” you kept bursting out, knowing you weren’t angry with him, knowing you weren’t angry with anybody else but yourself. “You won’t talk to me like that!” you pointed your finger at him, the tears starting to gather in your eyes. “You won’t ever degrade me like that ever again!!” you pushed his shoulder and disapparated from his sight. 

He stood there in the cold, looking at the space where you were last seen. He felt his heart squeeze hard, like somebody was squeezing it. He felt his throat blocked and he knew that this wasn’t because of him. He knew that was you and what was worse, was how much all that pain intestified when he realised he made you feel like that. 

“Fuck.” he ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck.” he breathed out again. “I fucking care now.” 

---

You apparated into your room, threw your jacket off and blasted it onto your bed. 

Feeling your throat itch all you wanted to do was scream into the unknown but instead, you grabbed your pillow and screamed so loudly into it. Then you sat on the edge of the bed and just sat there, figuring out where to direct your anger. You clawed your fingers on the edge of the bed, wanting to cry but not being able to. So you just let out dry sobs. 

“You fucking liar!” James burst into your room, pointing his finger at you with his own anger bubbling inside of him. “Who were you with?! Huh!” 

“What the fuck do you care!”

“I called Nina and her mom answered, saying Nina already left early for school- so who the fuck were you with!”

“That’s none of your business!” you stood up and shoved him out of your room but James was stronger than you and he didn’t budge. 

“You were with him, weren’t you?!” 

“With who?!” 

“With that snake!?”

“Even if I was, that’s none of your business! Now LEAVE ME ALONE!”

But he didn’t budge. 

“Sirius was right! The two of you were talking since that night, weren’t you! I forbid you to talk to him ever again!”

“YOU FORBID ME?!” you scoffed. “Who do fuck do you think you are?! My father?!”

“I-”

“No but I am.” you father came from behind James with a stern look on his eyes. “And I forbid you.”

“WHAT?!”

“The Mulciber family isn’t one to get into. You’re better than this. We’re better than this.” he continued in his stern voice that only started lowering as you rolled your eyes at him. “And don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady.” 

“I’ll do whatever I want! I’m old enough!”

“You’re a child!”

“YES! I’M YOUR CHILD! ONLY WHEN IT COMES TO AN ARGUMENT WITH JAMES I’M YOUR CHILD BUT NONE OF YOU NOTICED SHIT!” you started to scream, the ends of your hair starting to let out purple lightning and causing your father to turn pale. There was thunder and lightning outside; purple, green and blue- and so did your eyes. 

Sirius and your mother appeared in your sight as well, your mother just as pale as your father. James was confused, Sirius was near him. 

“(y/n).” he spoke softly, taking a hold of James shoulder to move him away and walk closer to you. 

“How can you tell him EVERYTHING! Can’t you talk to me first! No! You have to go to James first! God!” you let out a laugh, a lighting appearing right behind you. “I’m so fucking glad we didn’t sleep together because I’d never forgive myself for ever sleeping with you!” you shouted and seeing as he took a step back, guilt filling his eyes. So you turned to your mother. “And you should have told me about my great grandma! You should have told me who I was! You shouldn’t have hidden this from me!” you started to cry, tears streaming down your face. 

“I didn’t want to make a difference between the two of you.”

“BUT YOU DID! YOU FOCUSED ON HIM INSTEAD OF ME!” 

The walls started to crack, the wind breaking the window behind you and causing everybody to duck. 

“Honey, you have to calm down.”

But you couldn’t. You wanted to but you couldn’t. It was as if you had lost the control over the steering wheel. “I can’t.” you felt your hands electrify and you felt completely terrified as you saw the large purple light in your hands and the power it held. It was like you were holding a bomb and you were afraid to move, hurt them... the people you cared about, the people who stood right in front of you. “Oh God...” you kept crying, not knowing what to do. “I don’t know what to do!” you continued to cry, looking at your parents. “Dad.” you looked at him with pleading eyes. “Help me.” 

But he didn’t budge. For the first time in your life, you saw your dad being terrified of you. “James, Sirius, go our with your mother.”

“(y/n)?” James kept looking at you, as if this was the last time he was seeing you. 

“James don’t leave me.” Your lips trembled as tears started to fall, the power only growing stronger in your hands. 

James took a step forward but your father stopped him. He looked at him and him and pushed him back. “No, James.” he said, looking back at you. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“Dad?!” both you and James screamed. 

“Mr. Potter!” Sirius added, looking back at you. 

“I’m sorry, darling.” your father felt his eyes tear up. 

“Dad! Don’t leave me!” you screamed. “I’m scared!”

James kept looking at you as he was being pushed away and he couldn’t help himself but wanting to run forward to you. He wanted to but Sirius grabbed his arm, pulling him back. He gave him a grieving look. 

“James!” your father shouted and everything started to get blurry. 

And they left. 

They left you and you were alone, the power growing and you being close to exploding into bitses. You fell on your knees, the purple, the green and the blue surrounding you. Your bed started to burn from heat, your drawings, books, stereo,... 

“Oh, Gorgeous. What mess did you get yourself into?” you heard a voice from the door and as you looked up, you saw his two heterochromical eyes, the ones you were so furious at before, were now the only eyes you were happy to see.

“Mulciber...” you cried as he approached you. “No, don’t. I’ll hurt you.”

“Darling, we both know I won’t leave you.” he knelt down to you and leaned his forehead on yours. He hissed from the pain those little lightnings gave him and you felt more scared than ever to hurt him. He only smiled at the thought of you hurting him and cupped your cheeks. “You can never hurt me. Just listen to my voice, alright.” he said, letting his hands trail down your neck, to your shoulders, down your arms and into those two balls of lights. “I should have never talked to you like that. And you should know I don’t apologise easily and if you tell anybody I did, I will deny it.” he spoke softly and you let out a laugh, the power around you fading away. He let his hands fall into yours and interwined his fingers with yours, trying to contain the little light in them that wanted to grow stronger. He felt the tingles in his chest, his heart from all the bits of magic you gave him and all the power that tasted so good to him. “I’ve been trough this. You’re not the only one, darls.” he took your hands to his lips and kissed them softly. “And I’m here to take care of you.” he smiled and you laughed softly. “You and me, baby. Till the end.” 

You looked up at him, everything around you calm and peacful yet again. Only you and him. “Till the end.”

[bobasheebaby]

The Walk-up: Cordonian Ruby chapter 1

Pairing: Olivia x Bastien; Ruby Rys

Word count: 1,274

Warnings: mention of decapitation, angst, smidge of fluff

Summary: Ruby’s first birthday. Minor insight on how Cordonia’s changed.

A/N: thanks @sirbeepsalot for all your graping and help. I love you boo!

Series warnings: character death, blood, surgical procedures done by non medical personnel, may go NSFW in the future. May contain gun violence, knife violence, threats, not sure how dark this will go. By requesting to be tagged you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I only own my OC’s, the rest I’m borrowing from PB.

Bastien tugged his warm pea coat tighter around his body as the air whipped the rain around him. With each step on the worn pavement he silently cursed not grabbing an umbrella before leaving the apartment. What I really need is a fucking raincoat.

The past year had brought them many places, going by many names. They never stayed in one place for long, the fear of being tracked kept them moving, and always with an escape plan. For the past six weeks they’d called Seattle home. It wasn’t home, and it would never feel like it, but it was a safe place they could just live without worry.

Here they go by Carol and John Taylor. Next, Olivia will pick their fake names. It didn't matter because they knew who they really were.

His feet pounded against the stairs to the walkup apartment they shared, his hands carefully cradling a small cake covered in pinks and reds.

After six weeks in Seattle, he could venture out and make it home quickly. He knew all the shortcuts. He knew how they got there and where they would leave to.

- - -

Olivia’s finger hovered over the link, was she ready to see in words and possibly pictures the truth she already knew? Was she ready to see in ‘print’ what had become of her nation, her duchy since she fled like a coward instead of staying and fighting like a Nevrakis warrior? Your ancestors would be ashamed to call you kin. I left to save the kingdom. I can do more to help raising the heir than I could dead.

She swallowed as her finger pressed on the link. Let’s see how bad it is.

She already was aware that she wouldn’t recognize her own nation. Everything that could help Bradshaw fund his own foolish endeavors had been stripped from the land. She knew that the people were forced to serve Auvernal, they had three choices: work in his army, work the land, or live in squalor.

Her emerald eyes widened as she saw the name on the byline of the underground Cordonian news. Ana DeLuca? Who knew she had it in her.

REIGN OF TERROR

Today marks one year since our nation should have gone into a period of mourning. Instead of being granted time to grieve our beloved king and queen and their unborn heir we were served the heads of our slain leaders on spikes.

Those who saw the gruesome sight outside the palace gates first hand fell to their knees driven to tears. They said the queen and king were hardly recognizable, but they knew in their bones: it was them.

There have been some whispered reports that while our fallen queen had reportedly fallen prey to wolves that many do not believe our case to be truly hopeless. Could the heir be out there somewhere waiting to take flight and reclaim our fallen nation? Could the Valtorian Phoenix rise once again?

Olivia looked up from her tablet as she heard familiar soft steps behind her. “There’s my little princess!” Olivia cooed placing her tablet down.

“Is it really smart to call her that? We are trying to go undetected.”

“We’re in America, it’d be weirder for a little girl to not be called princess here.” She looked at the blonde-haired, sapphire eyed baby she’d been pretending was her own. “Isn’t that right Ruby? Everyone’s a princess here.”

Ruby leaned forward, her chubby hands reaching for Olivia. “Mama.”

Olivia pulled the little girl into her arms, a brief sadness flashed in her emerald eyes.

To everyone around them, she was Ruby’s mother. She felt guilty that she must parade a friend’s child as her own, but they needed the heir to survive.

She looked down at Ruby, a smile once again gracing her lips. “That’s right princess, now let’s go celebrate with cake.”

- - -

Ruby’s sapphire eyes sparkled with wonder and excitement as she shoved her cake covered meaty fist into her mouth. Her eyes widened as the sweet vanilla buttercream melted on her tongue with an explosion of flavor.

Bastien and Olivia laughed as they watched Ruby shove fistfuls of cake and icing in her mouth.

“Is it good pumpkin?”

“Dada!” Ruby replied leaning forward in her high chair, her hands full of smushed cake.

Olivia took a careful step back as Bastien leaned forward. “Yes baby girl, share with papa.”

Ruby’s cake coated hands reached up to Bastien’s face, her hands smearing cake into his beard.

Olivia let out a loud laugh as she watched Ruby paint his face with cake and icing.

Bastien turned his steely eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think mama wants some too.”

Olivia shook her head. “No mama doesn’t.”

“Mama!” Ruby squealed reaching for Olivia.

“You don’t want to make the birthday princess cry do you?”

She mouthed ‘low blow’ to him as she took a hesitant step forward. He knew she could never say no to Ruby, she’d lost everything already Olivia would give her all that she could. She let out a shriek as Bastien wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her into his lap. Ruby squealed, her feet kicking as she reached for her mama’s face, her cake coated fingers grabbing a fistful of hair and smearing icing on her cheek.

For one day they felt like the family they pretended to be. They weren’t on the run hiding from a tyrant. They were just them, and for that moment it was all they needed.

- - -

Olivia pulled the door to the small bedroom shut behind her with a soft click. “She’s finally asleep.”

“She had a big day.” Bastien smiled as images of their day played in his head. “Actually I’m surprised she wasn’t more worn out.”

A small smile played on her lips. “I think she was too excited to be worn out. It was nice being able to pamper and treat her like the royalty she is for one day.”

He pulled his lips into a thin line. He knew she wasn’t exactly happy with the way we’re forced to live, he knew if she could she’d spoil Ruby with all the luxuries of the world. “Well, we need to be careful, Bradshaw—”

“Bradshaw and his men won’t find us here, we were careful.” She crossed the small living room to the window looking out the third story window.

They had used multiple false identities while traveling, never using one persona more than once. She’d cut her hair into a chin-length bob and dyed it a deep auburn to help keep them hidden. They were safe.

Her lips curved down as she stared out the window, watching the rain silently hit the windows. Rain, it was nearly always raining. She missed the cold, the snow. She missed being able to hunt on her own land and eat fresh meat. She hated going to the store and speaking to a man in a bloodstained apron who knew less about cuts of meat than she did. She hated that she had to purchase meat that smelled faintly of bleach.

She missed Cordonia.

“Why did we have to stay here? It’s always raining.” She placed her hand on the cold windowpane, closing her eyes trying to imagine she was home. “We could have chosen Boston, or Montreal, somewhere where it gets more snow than rain.”

“There are multiple escape routes, easier if we have to pick up and leave.”

She nodded, she didn’t like it, but he was right. Her comfort wasn’t as important as their safety. They just needed to keep Ruby safe, hopefully, we’ll still have a home to return to.

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

Perma and Bastien tag: @speedyoperarascalparty @liamxs-world @annekebbphotography @hopefulmoonobject​ @itsstillnotwhatyouthink​ @ao719​ @blackwidow2721​ @stopforamoment​ @akrenich​ @gardeningourmet​ @daniv2278​ @bella-ca​ @gibbles82​ @choiceslife​ @blackcoffee85​ @sirbeepsalot​ @mrskamilxh​ @dcbbw​ @alicars​ @desireepow-1986​ @mfackenthal​ @bhavf​ @indiacater​ @drakesensworld​ @kingliam2019​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @ladyangel70​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @edgiestwinter​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @janezillow​ @sleepwalkingelite​ @texaskitten30​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @bbrandy2002​ @jared2612​ @blackcatkita​ @darley1101​ @innerpostmentality​ @lolablackwrites​ @endlessflame​ @fullbeaumonty​ @hhiggs​ @itsalliepg​ @smalltalk88​ @littlegreenmoo​ @mynameiskaylabella​ @bobbersb @imma-winchester-addict​ @loveellamae​  @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​ @katedrakeohd​ @forthebrokenheartedthings-blog​ @super-secret-fandom-blog​ @burnsoslow​

[kshitij1997]

All frozen characters belong to the Walt Disney company, all I own is this retelling.

Facing what the river knows

Elsa hadn't felt so giddy and light-hearted in a long time. It was a moment of pure joy and ecstasy after all. How many people were fortunate enough to reach absolution in their own lifetime? Fewer were those who got to have all the questions they ever had about themselves, their origin and their world.

The rarest of all were those who got to witness the fact that all the sacrifices they had made for the good of others were worth the suffering.

And chosen were the ones who got the sign of love and affection that they had always yearned for from the people that mattered to them the most.

Elsa wept in gratitude as a huge weight had ben lifted off her shoulders. For the first time in her life she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Sure, being queen and being able to rule for the people had always brought her some satisfaction and pride, but this….this was private, this was personal. It was far better than when she had struck out in defiance to the world when she had built her monument of solitude. It was magnificent, but hollow. For what was the joy in creating if no one else could appreciate your creation? Oh, creativity was truly a marvellous thing.

The mere thought of creativity sent a huge burst of power through her. In that moment, she felt on top of world, someone who could experience past, present and future all together at the same time. Someone who could move continents if they wanted to. She let loose with the thickest blanket of snow she had ever conjured. It was an intricate, delicate dance she was executing at the moment. One moment with the poise and motion of a kind, delicate breeze, another moment the force and power of a hurricane, yet another moment with the kinetic energy of a bolt of lightning, and yet another with the gravitas and defiance of a mountain rising up from the sea against all the strength gravity could conjure to pull it down. And finally, the delicate yet laborious motion of life being created and giving rise to something unique in the universe.

In that moment, Elsa asked herself, is this what the ancient Norse giants felt when they created the universe from the cadaver of their ancestor? Joy, satisfaction, power and peace? Her mind raced back to the moment she had built her castle. She had felt rebellious and powerful sure, but she realized now that there was something missing. Something she only achieved when an act of true love saved her from a horrible death. She glad for everything that she had faced in her life so far, the pain, the heartbreak, the anger, the loathing, the suffering. She wouldn't be here now if all that didn't happen. She wouldn't be the person she was now if she had forever stood aloof against her life and the world. In that moment, she realized that all things good or bad in life, ultimately made one stronger. That was a very important life lesson for her; to embrace life with the good and the bad, as they were what made life worth living in the end. As distant as a galaxy were those moments of suicidal thoughts she had felt after her bitter spat with Anna inside her fortress, when her own creation was looking down on her for being so cold hearted, cruel and cowardly. As distant were the moments of self-hatred when Olva called her out on her behaviour during the coronation when she used terrible words to put her other sister down.

She was grateful that she had the chance to make amends.

She was broken out of her philosophy as the finished sum of her labours became clear to her. A whole bunch of statues that seemed to be sentient, however frozen in a moment of time far gone, or something otherworldly that could happen in the distant future. The future was hazy to make out, even if there were some notable achievements that could be made out; how humans might conquer the skies someday, how one day they may witness a miracle of technology, through which they could see a story being told on a contraption that resembled a curtain yet, without a wrinkle, they were able to witness something as universal as true love and family unfold in front of them. How one day, the oppressed might gain courage and throw their colonial masters to forge their own identity in the world. It was murky but encouraging, as humanity might learn to be more sensitive towards each other. Or not, as she could sense cataclysmic events taking shaping in the centuries to come. Events she didn't wish to think about lest she fell into baseless existential thoughts about everything.

In contrast, the past seemed much sharper, though it had an uncertainty of a different kind. Multiple events happening in tandem, and some events happening yet leading to multiple different outcomes. The curious soul in her was fascinated even as she saw the dome of the Hagia Sophia in purple instead of the turquoise, how she saw two Taj Mahals instead of one, one white marble and the other from black igneous rock. How the deserts once used to be green, and how there used to more freshwater lakes.

It was wonderful to see, but as she approached the past further, it became a lot more detailed, especially when her memories of her own life and the people in the life came to be. How her childhood was a lot happier than she remember it, how Olva and Anna were always by her side, through thick and thin. She almost had to turn away when she witnessed the accident from a different perspective, when Anna was struck in the head and Olva endured a head injury from the crashing towers of ice and snow she had built that night for their playtime. It was painful, but her new mantra of taking the good as well as the bad in her stride helped weather the edge of the moment. Still it was tough not to cry in that moment; it would take a lifetime, even after this moment of paradise to recover from those events in her childhood. But it had all become better in the end, she told herself, which brought her some solace. She then witnessed in full force how Anna and Olva adjusted to a life without Elsa to play with, how Anna would plead day after day for her to come out and build a snowman she would never find the courage to build, how Olva would regularly shove letters under her door so that she would know what was going on, how her parents had increasingly bitter spats and fights on how to deal with her powers. How Anna grew more childish and desperate to escape the terrible feelings of abandonment, how Olva's issues with pain, addiction and rage grew worse with time and how she lashed out viciously against those who threatened her family. Elsa felt responsible for all this and made a note to embrace both her sisters and tell them how much she loved them over and over again once she was able to calm the fury of the fifth spirit against her land.

How the family came together in happiness and in grief, reassured her that no matter how events turn out, family shall always be paramount to her. How the sisters came together after the great thaw and enjoyed a toast of hot chocolate to the found for the first time in several years. It was something she'd cherish forever.

She had to laugh when her moment of rebellion presented itself to her. Oh, to be on her own, what was she thinking? Sure, it was the first time she'd felt free and empowered, however she'd ultimately was just running away and abandoning her responsibilities. Elsa felt glad that she knew better now.

How she saw her mother rescuing her father from the ravines in the last stand of the Northurldra nearly broke her, how her parents much more than just her parents, how they were human being with their faults and fears, Elsa promised to herself never to take anyone at face value again, a promise that was tested in the very next moment when she saw Hans.

Oh, she could break his head like a walnut, but when she was able to see how he became that way, how he had tried to hold ship when Arendelle was on the verge of sinking, how in a rare moment of sincerity, told Olva how he felt about everything, how he was against a wall with he world primed to crush him. Elsa could not endorse, but she could understand. All things considered, she and Hans were rather alike, she felt embarrassed about how she'd called him irredeemable. Her crimes were far worse, even if she was able to reverse them and do penitence. Even if the deeds he did were questionable and punishable, so were hers to a degree. If she had found forgiveness, why couldn't he? She made a vow to forgive him once this was over and hope that he would find peace someday. From what Olva had told her, he had found solace by turning to the lord in his lowest moments. She would find him and ask for his forgiveness in return.

With that resolve strengthening her, she moved further, were a most remarkable thing happened. She began feeling cold for the first time in her life, an occurrence she believed was because she had begun to intrude on something that she shouldn't be able to know. But no, this was different. Somehow, it was private, yet she felt the calling much stronger in that direction.

'"What do you mean you can't lead?!" the king bellowed "I didn't raise a coward!"

"I chose not to lead, not because I can't, but because these wars are a fool's errand." The prince answered calmly.

"I didn't ask you for your opinion." "You should have. Dear uncle Napoleon is screwing himself with this conflict."

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF HIM IN THIS MANNER?! HUH! I have known for over twenty-five years now, long before I ever met your mother. I am to just abandon him in his time of need?!"

"If you really cared, you would've stopped him. The Russians aren't to be fucked with." A rare poor choice of words for the crown prince.

"Where did you learn such beautiful language, huh?! From the girl you've been meeting?! Has SHE BEEN POSIONING YOUR MIND AGAINST ME?!" retorted the king after smacking Agnarr in the face for that comment.

"Who?" Asked Agnarr as he nursed his cheek. "Don't you DARE play coy with me. You thought I wouldn't find out?! Whatever childish games you play, that's your business. When the fairer gender gets involved, any fooling around that you do does become my damn business." The king answered in a voice dripping with disdain, venom and contempt.

"Her name is Iduna, and no, she has not influenced my decisions in any way whatsoever." The prince now rose from where he had fallen and continued "As for the other business you're insinuating, it's a pity I can't strike you back."

The king loomed dangerously close and growled "Try me."

For a moment it looked as if they had forgotten that they were father and son, rather two strangers who were spoiling for a brawl.'

Elsa was aghast; was this the man she called her grandfather? No, this was an acutely private discussion between two people who were long dead. She had no right to judge them; what would she do in their circumstances? However, the call became even sharper in her mind that there was more to it. Even as the cold feeling worsened, she trekked on.

'"Father, why can't we talk like the well-educated people that we are? A mosh pit between us would be shameful. Let's discuss this calmly."

The king took a moment to breathe, stepped back and said "Very well, but I can't stand back this time like I did in Spain. I will rally my army with the French, for the sole reason that I can't let the Tsar have any more influence in Europe than he already has. As for the north, it's time they bowed down to the true authority in Arendelle."

"We should have pursued the peace talks further with the Northurldra, pa. We would have reached an accord."

"I know from experience that's not true. I did offer the NORTH the gift of the reservoir, at great personal cost of the empire. How do they show their gratitude? By nearly blowing up the blessed dam! How do I reach an accord with such animals?" The king said.

"Maybe they couldn't forget the valley of death." Agnarr suggested.

"It's a bloody shame they didn't remember the valley that well either, for they should have guessed that my kindness to them is a privilege they have, not my duty or moral law towards them." Replied the king "The expedition up north will happen, if the Northern people hold their lives and livelihoods dear, they would be wise to stand down without much destruction." '

The valley of death? The ravine where she had felt heavy and suffocated when she and Anna had tried to pass through to get to Athohallan sooner? A place so unholy even the spirits wouldn't dare disturb it?

She felt the beginnings of the slightest rigidity in her movements. Was she being held accountable for this? Or it was just too powerful for her to experience?

Such questions were wiped away from her mind when she came across the battle of the valley of death. What she saw rocked her to her core.

'The Northurldra cavalry, over fifteen thousand strong, charged with all the might that they could muster, with a combination of cutlasses, spears, and clubs, and with their trusted reindeer mounts, for an all-out charge against the biggest pain of their existence.

Though massive in strength, the Northurldra made the mistake of leading themselves into a ravine, and with no way out, they were doomed. Runeard ordered an artillery barrage so horrific that it spread word of his capabilities and depths of hatred across Europe.

The Northurldra had knives, swords, spears and a few muskets at best. It was no contest.

Just a bloody massacre.

It was difficult to count how many were mowed down with bullets, how many were cut to pieces by the bayonets charging downhill, and how many were trampled in the confused stampede. But one could be said for certain; the Northurldra Cavalry never recovered from the battle.

They had risked everything on one last battle, just what Runeard had wanted, and it had cost them everything.'

The rigidity that Elsa had felt had risen further and had begun to feel constricting in wake of the horror that she had just witnessed. Nevertheless, she felt determined to get all the answers possible, even if she would be trapped there forever.

She reached a cliff where she had a moment of doubt; the battle of the valley of death was horrifying, but it didn't explain the mist, the separation and the call she had heard. It wasn't just to make her the best version of herself, surely there was something else to it? But what about Arendelle? She had left Olva alone in a precarious state to prosecute the defence of the Kingdom against all Northern Europe, surely the troops and people needed their leader the most in this moment. And what about Anna? She had once again left her to fend for herself in the wilderness, along with Olaf. She had a lot of explaining to do. Nevertheless, she made the decision to get to the root of the matter, as she felt that would answer everything, and leapt from the cliff into the ravine below.

The constrictive grasp she had been feeling had actively begun to overpower her, she felt difficulty in breathing even as she felt the warnings of her mother's lullaby echo in her head, as well as snippets of another argument.

'"FATHER!"

The king turned back violently to find the crown prince Agnarr. The mere sight of him distracted Runeard so much that for a few long agonizing minutes he forgot where he was.

"Stupid boy, what are you doing here? I told you this is no place for you."

"And I told you it's not worth the bloodshed, leave them alone. I guess an inability to follow orders or advice runs in the family."

"You want to discuss that now?! With these killers inching closer?"'

What did her grandfather mean by 'that'? Was there something else more terrifying?

Elsa got her answer in stark detail as she landed on her feet. The cold was threatening to engulf her by this point, but she chose to go further.

'The leader of Northurldra was beside himself in disbelief. Was king Runeard truly this viciously foolish as to threaten the shrine of the fifth spirit? He, in addition to being the leader of the Northurldra, was also the chief caretaker of the shrine atop the tallest mountain in the north of Arendelle, supported by his adopted special daughter who had the power to change form on a whim, believed to be blessing from the fifth spirit itself, and by hundreds of those who chose to maintain the shrine, a sacred place as well as being the only rocky construction made by the Northurldra in ancient times, compared to the simple leather tents they lived in now. The shrine also served as a fortress, to protect the Northurldra from invaders. Alas, despite their best defensive measures, the Arendellians had made the diabolical move to set fire to the forest at the bottom of the mountain. The forest fire became more intense and deadlier as it climbed the mountain with a terrific speed.

The Northurldra were running out of options as the flames leapt closer. To die engulfed in destructive flames, or to charge downhill and try in vain to take out the army and be destroyed? The Northurldra decided to go extinct facing their devil in defiance and charged downhill with their weapons and a severe vengeance, the transitioning daughter leading the charge.

What they didn't know was that Runeard, in a fiendishly cunning bit of legwork, had found the secret tunnel used by the Northurldra as an escape route in dire situations, keeping him and his personal guard safe from the fire and the battle that raged on the mountain. Runeard ascended with his guards to the summit as the battle was being fought down far below. He entered the shrine where he and his personal guard stood face to face with the leader of Northurldra, along with ten loyal defenders, armed to the teeth.

'Runeard, you backstabbing snake! How dare you desecrate the holy mountain? I relented after the dam, but now I won't!' Hissed the leader.

'It is 'Your Majesty' to you from now on, do you understand, you old fraud?' Runeard growled.

'You have a beef with me, you fight me alone, what did my poor people do to deserve it? To be forced to charge down towards a decoy resulting in near certain death?' the leader began to speak, but he was interrupted rudely by the king 'No hard feelings, your grace, but I can't let a cancerous appendix threaten the health of the state of Arendelle.'

The leader had heard enough 'You will regret this, you monster.' With that, he gave the go ahead. And so it was.

A fight to the death.

A bitter melee between scores of people, the kind of fight Runeard generally avoided, but wasn't averse to. Even so, his guards were feeling the pressure as the Northurldra were in their element and were desperate to protect their shrine. The Northurldra leader may have been out of his prime, but he was still a force to be reckoned with. Even as the last of his defenders were immobilized, he was able to cut down five of his attackers personally when he was struck in the heart with a spear from one of the few surviving kingsguard. Runeard stepped in callously and asked the fallen leader contemptuously 'Any final words from the dying culture of you northern savages?'

'Your own family will be your kingdom's downfa-' the dying leader began to speak in choked words but his head was lopped off by the king, who wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

A full minute of silence passed even as the inferno grew behind Runeard, who was taking in the spoils of his attack.

'What about the survivors, your majesty?'

'Let them die with their gods, and set fire to the shrine once done with them''

Elsa couldn't watch anymore, shutting her eyes away from the massacre, even as she could feel every death, every cut from the battle, the lives of the fallen ebbing away, and the shrine burning to utter destruction, the cries of an aged woman lamenting the fate of the Northurldra before slitting her own throat open to avoid being made a trophy of those Arendellian monsters. Elsa cried out in pain as the cold turned to ice as it began rendering her solid, in tandem with the bloodcurdling cries of the woman who saw the fate of her adopted father, her grief turning to murderous hatred as she vowed the destruction of Arendelle.

It was heart-breaking, but it still didn't explain the mist. The fifth spirit was clearly furious with Arendelle, but then it could have destroyed Arendelle without a trace left behind, why the mist, and why the call? Had she always been an unwitting pawn in this play from the beginning?

The queen summoned all the courage she had left and opened her eyes with tremendous effort towards one final scene

'It was a titanic clash in the middle of the worst avalanche the north had ever seen, between king Runeard and the self-proclaimed avenger of the fifth spirit.

'Such a magnificent fighter you are, you'd make a wonderful queen' Runeard goaded the woman, even has he narrowly missed a blow from her double handed battle axe.

'I'd feel even better with your head mounted in my lair' growled the woman in a wolfish voice.

'It's a pity that you're a monster begging to be killed.' hissed the king as he played a manoeuvre of hitting her on the shoulder, while pulling out a pistol ready to shoot the woman in the heart. She anticipated this, dropped her weapon and turned into a wolf to go for the shoulder and ducking in at the last second to break his neck with her open jaws.

A shot rang and a jaw clenched. Then the survivor yelped in a near feminine tone of voice as his life ebbed away from his throat which was torn apart. And then it happened in an instant, the fire, the earthquake, the inferno, the hurricane, the landslide and finally the mist.'

Elsa realized it all in horror, even as she was near solidly frozen, that the mist was there because the work of the fifth spirit was incomplete, it could only be done with the utter destruction of Arendelle. And she was the final move, the triggering device for said destruction. Runeard's own family would be the downfall of the kingdom of Arendelle after all.

She made a desperate decision in a split second. Anna and Olva need to know about this. As for myself, I'll offer myself up as sacrifice to the fifth spirit, so that it may be appeased, and it may relent somehow. The people of Arendelle don't deserve this horrible fate. I'll take the fall for them.

With that, she conjured two wisps of snow, one for Anna and one for Olva and stopped resisting once and for all as she froze completely in a statue of ice.

Anna found out about the whole story and put two and two together in terror as Olaf melted away; the dam must go, that was the only hope for her people, even if she had to lay down her life for the greater good. It was the next right thing after all.

Back in Arendelle, Olva was finishing the discussion with the admirals regarding the battle plans to face the naval invasion coming in the next twenty-four hours, when the giant six-foot mirror of ice in her room was shattered into a million pieces. Olva stood dumbfounded for a moment as she saw the shards of ice melting away, then lifted her face in terrible realization. Turning to Hans, she said gravely 'Elsa's dead, Anna's nowhere to be found, we're on our own.'

Whoo, for a standalone story this fits nicely into my multichapter fic, frozen the epic. If you like, you can read that as well!

Nevertheless, I hope you like this standalone. If you wish, I'll include this in the multichapter story when the time comes. Olva is the OC and Hans is there too.

As usual, constructive feedback or appreciation is always welcome!

[lluminax]

THE NIGHT FIRE’S SHADOW

They’d found them, struggling out into the light of day, helpless and a far cry from the nightmarish creatures they were told of in tales that still haunted their waking dreams, dire tales passed from their ancestors memories - thank the icewarden they had been here, for who knows what might have happened if the hatchlings were left to roam free.

The warden looked down her snout at the six they had found - it didn’t bare thinking that they may have missed some - the newborns huddling together now that her troop had found them, watching them all with wary frightened eyes with the bravest among them valiantly splaying out her tiny wings to shield her brethren from the jailers of the icewarden.

They still tried to sing cries of help now and again if they thought the Gaolers guarding them was not watching to punish them for it, a horrible symphony to her ears and the warden general grimaced to hear it - though her lieutenants had mind enough to swat the brats into silence.

“Must we really do this? They are only children!” Came the plea from Jonah, the youngest of her new recruits, wet behind the ears and not yet jaded to their ways nor wise to the horrors that he now called Children.

Iclyn snarked, rounding on him sharply, Jonah backing up from her much more considerable height “what you name as children are the horrors of our ancestors! It is better we do this now than let them become those same beasts! Or it will be your children who suffer them!” She stalked away from him, gesturing sharply to her aids, leaving the whelp to watch helplessly after her as they barred his way and she crossed the way towards the cowering banelings.

There was no mercy here, only justice and the swift hand of the executioner - her lieutenants pinned them in, spears raised downwards as she spoke to her troop

“Many of you remember the tales of our ancestors, of a burning blight carried on wings so numerous as to block out the sky in their swarming - what you see before you, is that very same blight! Born again in a cheat of our maker’s swift sentence! You may Look upon them now and see no monster, but know that to leave them to live, is to leave an infection to spread! A cancer to grow! And know that something so inconsequential may become terminal for all of us! For they will seek our deaths for their own ancestors!

So I ask you my friends, is it not better we strike while the wound may be cauterised? I ask you, think of your homes, your families, your friends - and then I ask you, what should the sentence be?!” Iclyn’s voice raised above the crowd that had gathered, her troop and those others that journeyed with them.

As one they roared “DEATH!” And Iclyn was pleased.

She turned to her faithful with a nod and the executioners made for the hatchlings, they mewled and cried with nowhere to run - Iclyn watched impassive, for this was the work of their lord, this was to be their duty fulfilled to their ancestors,

This was their triumph,

In a moment the world seemed to hold still, the hatchlings crying out desperately the only sound as hush descended upon the crowd watching fro blood,

But the night was broken with a song of discord

A song of rage,

From those dark skies flew the shadow, on wings of fire given form - a hide scored with flash frozen scars from that terrible tale so long ago and eyes of terrible blood-red.

Iclyn looked upon this beast and saw deaths very shadow - for it could not be,

but it was

“A survivor?” Was the shocked whisper, but how?

And Unlike the hatchlings, this one was not so helpless.

The red burning rage of the ancient lit the night as cries went up from the crowd, they ran to flee the ear piercing wails of the howling dread that banked above them, flying through the smoke, the flame and the ash that kicked up and swirled around her form, casting frightening silhouettes in the late sky, embers dancing from burning corpses.

Iclyn steadied herself and roared as her aides turned to flee the nightmare “fight you cowards! Fight for our lord against the devil itself!” But they did not heed her cries and she snarled turning back, white-blue eyes landing on the hatchlings that now looked upon their terrible saviour with awe in their shining eyes.

Fury burned through her, the righteous wrath of the icewarden, for she could not let this come to nought,

She advanced on the hatchlings, intent on blood for blood, But another blocked her path,

It was Jonah, the young whelp singed from the fire but miraculously still alive - and what irony, her most squeamish would be the most brave - she sneered at him “move aside whelp, I must stop this madness from escalating” but Jonah did not, instead he crouched protectively before the hatchlings, who peered from under his singed fur, confused and dubious of the turn of events.

The whelp spat at her, face half singed and scarred as debris fell down around them, the awful calls still ringing from above

“I will not”

She growled, lips upturning “move aside fool! Do you not see around you? This s exactly what I must prevent! I must stop this here and now!” She roared but Jonah only shook his head

“I will not help you murder innocents”

Iclyn blinked pausing, then laughed “there are no innocents here! Only the symptoms of a malignant tumour that must be torn from sornieth! And if you will not stand aside Jonah...” she looked him in the eye, the smoke billowing around them as the fires slowly consumed the stage

“Then I will kill you too”

Jonah flinched minutely But he remained where he was, curling his tail further about himself and the huddled hatchlings now hiding underneath him, if he was to die...

Then so be it

“Then I will die with my honour intact”

Iclyn snarled and threw herself at them, Jonah braced himself, cringing over the crying hatchlings,

Then down came a wash of flames and between the space of two blinks, Iclyn was there,

And then simply, gone.

A gust of breath, sulphurous and ember sparked brought him to gaze upwards into the eyes of the night fire, the horror of childhood tales and distant memories,

A full grown banescale, in the flesh - one that was as ancient as the ice that had melted around it no doubt.

Jonah braced himself, expecting the worst as the beast finally landed with a cacophony of snapping wood - tail lancing out to brush away a burning beam in their circle of fire.

But the banescale did not attack him - merely regarded him with wary eyes, at least until a ruckus of peeps and tiny plaintive cries issued up from below the fluffy tail that had guarded them and six tiny hatchlings came tumbling forth, excited even in the midst of ruin to greet their dark winged ancestor.

Jonah watched in the fire light as the fearsome beast seemed to soften and croon, gently lowering itself to greet the much smaller figures that attempted to clamber its onyx snout.

Of course, it’s attention didn’t stay distracted for long as the ancient’s crimson gaze found him again and an angry rumble resounded in its barrel chest, as it - she? He? - gathered the hatchlings under its immense wings and seemed intent to finish the nights job and Jonah knew then he would not be leaving alive, but he was glad at least that he would not die a murderer of children, he would not be like his late mentor,

And yet it seemed not to be,

For the angry rumblings were interrupted by plaintive squeaks and when Jonah opened his eyes, it was the hatchlings this time coming to his defence and the elder Banescale seemed to be listening, for it regarded him again anew

It leaned up and stalked towards him a few paces, carefully keeping the hatchlings within it’s wings.

“They say you saved them, why?”

Jonah blinked up at the banescale, dumbfounded, this was not what he’d expected.

“What?”

She - for he knew now - seemed to grow annoyed, her tail lashing behind her and she snapped “I asked why you saved them, Ice warrior”.

Jonah’s mouth opened and closed a few times uselessly before he replied “because it was wrong to kill them for crimes they have no blame for”

She seemed mollified yet puzzled by this explanation - he could reason perhaps, given her likely recent reawakening, she had expected more enmity the like of which Iclyn had had, perhaps - the red gaze glanced around and then finally down at the hatchlings who sang up to her, only then did her consideration return back to him

“What is your name ice warrior?”

“Jonah”

“I am Howl”

Later, after he has been left outside of the burning pyre of what was once their latent base, he the last of their troop - he watches as the night fires shadow sofas skyward, a precious burden of six new souls clinging to the spines of her back.

Idly, He wonders if he’ll see them again.

[xandurielx]

Massive Humanity Dump

Chapter 1

The humans had abandoned them. After seemingly endless cycles of fighting the battle was about to be lost and the war with it, and the humans had left them to fight for themselves.

‘So much for the legendary pack-bonding of humans’ Krillna thought to himself as he leaned around his bunker to lay down some suppressing fire on the enemy. Tungsten rods magnetically accelerated to near supersonic speed ripped into the battlefield and enemies died by the dozens…but it wasn’t enough.

Seemingly endless waves of the reptilian enemies known as the Slentine seemed to crawl and slither towards their position. Fields of scales and fangs greeted him every time he looked around his barrier, looks of desperation and hopelessness looked back every time he turned away from the battle.

“You would think the humans could have at least left us the weapons before they ran like cowards!” cried out one soldier before he was cut down by enemy fire.

Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’

“Did anyone else hear that?” Krillna asked after firing another salvo of rounds towards the slowly advancing enemy. Looking at his ammo counter and seeing it was empty Krillna threw his weapon to the ground and grabbed the ceremonial bone dagger the warriors of his people were gifted upon maturity.

Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’

Holding the blade to his chest and breathing the prayers of his youth, Krillna begged the seven skies of his homeland for the power of the mighty storm, pleaded for his spirit to be flown on the winds to his ancestors. Finding himself at the end of his prayers and ready to face the enemy head on, to fight tooth, bone and claw in the ways of his ancestors, Krillna couldn’t help but think he heard something on the wind again. Looking to the forest side of the battlefield, Krillna felt a rumbling through the pads of his clawed foot.

Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ RAWHIIIIIDE!

With the sound of thunder and snapping trees, Krillna felt all three of his hearts stop and fall. Gierophants, mighty horned beasts weighing several tons with great crests of hardend skin behind the skull to protect the neck and a row of spines extending the length of the spine, each one as tall as Krillna’s 7 foot frame. Easy to anger, nearly impossible to outrun and harder to damage and often found in herds of 50-100 the gierophant  was this world’s largest inhabitant, but Krillna thought he saw something on the back of the lead beast.

Humans. Humans were riding the gierophants…a herd of what looked to be 60 or more and each one had a human standing on the snout of the creature and even more behind the crest or between the dorsal spines.

RAIN AND WIND AND WEATHER

The humans were each lashed to a spine or each other with lengths of rope and each one was firing wildly into the horde of enemies, hanging sideways from the flanks of the great beasts, weaving between the spines, crouching behind the crest and all were firing their rifles.

HELL BENT FOR LEATHER

“Sir? Am I having a substance dream or are those humans riding Gierophants into the Slentine ranks in a stampede while singing what sounds like a human battle song?” A young warrior asked in disbelief as the battle field seemed to come to a stop. The pause didn’t last long as the slentine soldiers quickly turned their weapon on the stampede of human madness and animal rage.

WISHING MY GIRL WAS BY MY SIIIDEEE!

“You are most definitely seeing this pup, the crazy humans went and did the impossible again…WARRIORS OF CANTRAXA” Krillna called out to the stunned warriors behind him, filled with a renewed hope for victory “DRAW YOUR BLADES AND RELOAD YOUR WEAPONS, THE HUMANS HAVE GIVEN US THIS CHANCE AND BY THE FIRE PLAINS OF OUR HOME WORLD I WILL NOT STAND BY AND MAKE NOTHING OF IT!” holding his blade high above his head the Pack-Master let loose the battle cry of his ancestors with such ferocity that it seemed to ring from the very heavens, turned from his comrades and ran face first into the chaos of the newly evened battle.

ALL THE THINGS IM MISSIN’

Three hardened battle packs of Cantraxa warriors, thought to be beaten down by sheer numbers and attrition, thought to be defeated and simply too stupid to understand… howled…each and every one felt what the humans referred to as battle lust and with the feeling of fire singing in their veins each and every one reached deep into their souls and called the ancient war cries of times long past.

 GOOD VIDDLES, LOVE AND KISSIN’

The humans sang on, swinging wildly from the sides of the Gierophants or hanging on with one hand firing with the other seemingly oblivious to the rounds of enemy’s fire flying past them. With every human felled the others seemed to sing louder. Krillna was in awe of these small hairless creatures as he ran towards the battle, they rode the great beasts of this world like they were born to it, they faced a horde of enemies without fear and sang their defiance in the face of death and defeat.

 ARE WAITING AT THE END OF MY RIDE

The battle was won, the slentine ranks had been broken in half by the stampede and when the front ranks turned to fire on the new threat they were drowned in an avalanche of fur and fang, bullet and bone from the Cantraxa warriors. The humans had ran over and shot down much of the enemy, the field had been churned to a bloody mud pit of broken bodies and weapons, the Gierophants long gone by then after the humans had dismounted and returned to base.

Krillna watched in curious amazement as the humans went about their post battle chores. Groups of humans combing the battlefield for survivors, pulling bodies from the muck and determining if they could be saved or not. Slentine and Cantraxian alike were given final honors or medical aid…mere hours before these small hairless maniacs were riding juggernauts of death into battle while singing and laughing and now they were providing aid and respect to not only their comrades but the enemy as well.

Amazing graaaceee

A hauntingly sad and seemingly profound song floated like fog over the battlefield from somewhere among the humans.

How sweet the sound

Funeral pyres and graves were dug according to cultural wishes, wounded were cared for regardless of species or alignment in the war. Bodies counted and tears were shed that day and as the last sun in the sky fell below the horizon, Krillna found himself surrounded by his warriors and humans. Holding a strange liquid in his cup, the humans called it beer…or maybe stout?...Krillna looked to the leader of the humans as she stood upon a table laden with food and drink.

“Tonight we celebrate our victory!” the humans cheered and the cantraxans yipped and howled like pups.

“Tonight we mourn our glorious fallen!” With a silence that choked the very soul, every human raised their drink to the memory of those they had lost and drank deeply. Krillna and his warriors all mimicked the humans in their silence and honors.

“Tonight…we honor our worthy enemies” The commander of the humans raised her cup one last time and as one all the humans followed. Krillna could not see the reason behind the last one but was not about to comment on it while surrounded by humans.

Instruments were tuned and soon employed to their fullest extent as humans began dancing and singing, wagers were made, games played and for a few moments Krillna could almost believe that they were simply back in his homeland celebrating the lunar convergence festival. Spotting the human leader on the outskirts of the revelry Krillna silently approached the human as she slowly drank and watched those she had shed blood with. Stepping on a fallen can of some kind alerted the commander and as she whipped her head towards Krillna, he froze in place…the look in her eyes was not that of a celebration but rather that of battle mad soldiers…items within reach categorized as weapons, responses and plans ranging from peacefully violent to disturbingly chaotic flashed through her face in seconds, her grip on the cup in hand and tensing of her muscles told Krillna that she had to stop herself from launching the cup at his face.

Raising his clawed hands in a sign of peace Krillna approached the commander slowly. As he approached the tiny human, no more than five feet tall, Krillna noticed tears leaking from her eyes in a steady stream cutting tracks through the remaining dirt and grime upon her cheeks. Hands shaking the commander raised the nearly impromptu projectile to her mouth and took a steadying sip before addressing the large warrior.

“What can I do for you Pack-Master?” Asked the commander as she turned her eyes back to the celebration before her.

“You do not celebrate victory like the others? Why do you spill tears so freely War Mother?” Krillna asked, using the honorific of the greatest female warriors of his people.

“I uh…it just takes a little time for me to wind down from battle and get into the spirit of things, eventually I’ll head out and show these youngsters how to really party but for now I will just have to deal with the aftermath of adrenaline.” The commander said with a small shake to her voice.

“I have heard of this adrenaline, most species would simply die if exposed to it but you humans produce it naturally?” The Pack-Master asked.

“Yes, our bodies naturally produce it and well…it dissipates quicker for some and for others it sticks around longer. Battle madness, blood-lust, berserker rage and more are just different names of the same thing, active or excess adrenaline…our minds are changed and muscles freed of restraints while under its influence but afterwards we have to put the beast back in the cage and deal with the mess it made, physically, mentally and spiritually.” The commander responded with a look in her eyes that said she was looking deep into the past.

“How did you humans tame the Gierophants? It was previously thought impossible to even safely approach them never mind ride them or direct them” Krillna asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the maudlin thoughts the commander seemed to be sinking into.

With an almost visible brightening of her features the commander looked up at Krillna.

“We didn’t actually tame them, we were trying to find either a good escape route to get everyone out or possibly a way to ambush the slentine army, make them fight on two fronts as it were. We ran across the herd of Gierophants by accident and sort of came up with the plan on the spot, we figured if they started to stampede in our direction the base would be destroyed but if they went just little to the side they would hit our enemies. Jackson over there used to be what we call a “cowboy” and said if you can point a bull’s nose in one direction the body would follow so we made some lassos and climbing rigs and well, the rest is history.” The commander finished with a small shrug and a decidedly less shaky sip of her drink.

Krillna was almost to shocked to breath “You found a herd of the planet’s largest and most dangerous animal, decided to irritate them into charging you with the enemy directly behind you on the hopes that they would also run over said enemy and while they did that you threw ropes on them so you could climb onto them and ride them…you humans are insane” with a shake of his great furred head Krillna could only thank the seven skies that these lunatics were on their side.

With a laugh the commander tipped the last of her drink back and wrapped her hand around one of his fingers, his hand being large enough to completely encompass her own, and began to pull him towards the firelight of the bonfires, a mischievous light in her eyes and a smile that spoke of wicked delights to come on her lips.

“Oh you haven’t even begun to see the madness of humanity, come and we shall sing you songs of our people” The commander laughed as the crowd enveloped them, music wound through the air like smoke, soldiers and warriors alike danced and spun and Krillna could only laugh as he downed the rest of his drink and threw reservations to the wind with a final thought.

‘Humans are weird, but wonderful’

Chapter 2

Shi’tar could only look upon what was once his home with despair. The invaders had come and ravaged his world in barely a handful of cycles…entire cities reduced to rubble and ash in their wake. Huddling in the ruin of their home Shi’tar and his brood merely sat and hummed the song of mourning for their species waiting for the end to come. Food was scarce after the ravagers that destroyed their home had taken or burned what little they had. The Galactic Council had abandoned them in favor of turning their resources towards slowing the tide of destruction that was the Kellnakt, a nomad race of pillagers and destroyers. This was just one in a long line of worlds the Kellnakt had come to and destroyed, a small planet of little note in the big picture of the universe, why should the GC bother to help when they could put their effort towards protecting the next planet or system?

On the morning of the third cycle after the destruction of their world is when it happened. They came from the skies in thunder and fire, like angry gods come to strike down the survivors and put them out of their misery. Great ships hundreds of units wide and thousands long flew through the atmosphere in graceful arches until they came to rest upon the just outside what use to be Shi’tar’s home town. Shi’tar ran to the edge of the city to see what new curse had just landed on their world, mandibles clicking in fear. Hiding behind a tree Shi’tar watched in amazement as three ships carefully landed and began to open, bright light spilling out into the pre-dawn gloom until from the belly of one ship a figure emerged.

Taller than Shi’tar by half…shoulders clad in what looked like some kind of chitin the seemed to extend in plates down arms that rippled with muscle even under what looked like scaled armor between the chitinous  plates, a long torso that flowed down into a set of legs that appeared strong enough to crush Shi’tar with a single blow. Shi’tar took all this in quickly and thought maybe they had a chance at hope…they might be able to bargain slavery for safety, surely such a powerful creature could use a few servants to clean up or work in factories of some kind, until Shi’tar saw the eyes. Forward facing eyes that seemed to track all movement at once…the eyes of a predator.

Shi’tar felt both of his stomachs turn to ice as he looked closer, the creature turned its head side to side scanning the surroundings…with un-erring accuracy it snapped to one side when an animal cried out off to the side of the field, this was a predator, born to hunt and kill and it had come to this world scour any survivors from its surface Shi’tar just knew it. Lifting one appendage from its side Shi’tar saw that it held a…funnel? Cone? Of some kind to its facial orifice and began to speak in passably good Cochcorikan…the language of Shi’tar’s species.

“Hello? Are you a representative of the…shit how do you say that….um…. Cokc….Cokar…Cochcorikan? race and homeworld?” The figure asked as its voice was amplified by the cone out to Shi’tar.

Shi’tar turned away from the predator and put his back to the tree, all three hearts thundering like the beating steps of a Lanqor . What could he do? He was just one Cochcorikan how was he supposed to defend his brood from a creature like this? And what did it mean asking for a representative? Was it looking to kill off the leaders first?

“Um, hello…We saw you behind that tree when we landed, could you either come out here or get someone who could speak with us please?” Shi’tar wasn’t sure if it was bluffing or not but he wasn’t about to reveal himself…even if it did know he was there, every minute it spent on him gave his brood more time to either run or simply live and he was going to give them every minute he could.

“Excuse me” the voice of the alien predator was right next to him.

“AHHHAA!” Shi’tar would later tell this part of the story as releasing a mighty war cry and not the sound of a scared hatch-ling. Laying there on his back Shi’tar looked up at the creature before him that had snuck up with the footsteps of a soundless breeze.

“AH Yes..um hello…do you speak for your world?” Why was it just standing there? It had him dead to rights and was in a position of power and dominance…wait… it was leaning forward and extending its appendage tipped in keratinous talons! This was it, Shi’tar closed his six eyes and waited for the Great Brood Mother to usher him to the Final Nest…um…why was it pulling him to his feet?

“Sorry I spooked you there, we are from the Human Relief Society and are here to offer aid if you would accept it.” Shi’tar couldn’t believe it, he was alive and standing before a creature born to hunt and survive off the death of others…it stood there towering in front of him baring its teeth at him in a show of dominance after displaying the obvious physical power it had by lifting him from the ground…was it hoping that he would run? Maybe it was looking for a chase before it killed him…and what was it talking about? Relief Society?

“We are a small group of humans that are hoping to provide aid to worlds hat have been effected by disasters like the Kellnakt invaders but in the hopes of maintaining peace and cultural boundaries we won’t help unless permission is given…do you want out help?” The massive creature looked upon Shi’tar with a glint of what could only be seen as hope in its large eyes…eyes the color of an ocean under storm and containing the fires of creation.

“Y-y-yes?” Shi’tar would later edit out the stutter of disbelief in later tellings but at the moment he felt as though the Great Brood Mother was smiling upon him…this couldn’t be possible…Humans, the great war species from a Death World that practically re-invented the word of ‘un-inhabitable’, the race that could live in almost any environment and who were known as an unstoppable tide of destruction and madness were here…to help.

“PLEASE! please help us worthless life forms oh Great Ones!, we have nothing of worth to give to ones so great but please help us, we are but weak farmers and merchants, we have no great warriors or love of battle but we will do as you command…please, I beg of you…help my brood, help my race.” Shi’tar would never feel shame at this display of weakness before such a creature as a Human for who was he to hold his head high before an engine of destruction such as the galaxy had not seen. It was not until the human dropped to one leg joint and placed a…hand?...yes hand that is what they called the great crushing ends to their appendages…upon Shi’tar’s head and spoke in a voice that conveyed all the love and shelter of the Final Nest that Shi’tar began believing that maybe his hive would live to see another solar rotation.

“What is your name, what would you have me call you?”

“This most unworthy one is known as Shi’tar, but I will take any designation you would honor me with oh Great One.”

“Raise your head Shi’tar of the Cochcorikan Race…we are here to help, not to subjugate, we seek to build not destroy…you say you are worthless but I see a species that has built a home and culture that can be spread across the stars…you claim you are weak but I see survivors that lived through an invasion of a more advanced species with little more than farm tools to defend themselves with…you say you have no great warriors or love of battle, I see a race that has ascended beyond petty conflicts and wars and that has built a world of peace and prosperity…if you would let us help you we would only ask that you perhaps teach us and help us achieve such a state…now do you want us to help you, so that you can help us?” Shi’tar felt his eyes excreting at the words of this mighty Juggernaut of War, to think that such a powerful race could possess such compassion was unbelievable, he could not say Yes enough to the offer of aid and assistance.

With a baring of teeth the giant of a human lifted Shi’tar to his feet once more and turned to his ship, placing a hand to his chest and pressing a previously unseen button the human seemingly spoke to the air and Shi’tar watched as the other two ships opened and rank upon rank of human clad in battle armor descended from ramps. Shi’tar had not heard any rumors of a hive mind between humans but it could only be so as they walked in perfect sync, their mighty steps sounding as one great beast walking upon the world. Forming into one large mass of bodies Shi’tar was amazed at what he saw…hundreds of humans in perfect rank stood before him and the other human, faces blank of any emotion, eyes burning a desire so deep it frightened Shi’tar to think of the lengths these humans would go to t achieve what they sought.

“HUMANS OF EARTH!” The human next to Shi’tar bellowed to the ranks before him “SOLDIERS OF SOL AND CHILDREN OF GAIA! THE KELLNAKT HAVE RAVAGED ANOTHER WORLD AND BROUGHT LOW ITS PEOPLE, WE ARE HERE TO RAISE THEM FROM THE ASHES OF DESTRUCTION…WILL WE FAIL!?”

The response from the human horde before him was enough to echo from the very skies themselves, a resounding “NO” nearly blew Shi’tar from his feet. With a few orders snapped out in rapid fire the apparent leader of these humans sent groups to secure perimeters, survey landscapes, set up medical positions for wounded and sick and to scout for secondary and tertiary landing sites. The last orders confused Shi’tar, why would they need more landing sites? Surely they were all there was to help his people from destruction…right?

By mid-day no less than two dozen more ships came thundering from the skies to land across the planet with more ever arriving. Entire capital ships of materials landed only to be swarmed by humans and unloaded so that they might take off again and make space for another ship to land with yet more building and relief materials. Shi’tar stood within a hurricane of humanity as humans raced about with the light of purpose in their eyes, tents for the sick and injured were erected, building that somehow survived the invasion were either destroyed and rebuilt stronger or repaired and re-enforced. Survivors were ushered into small areas out of the way of the human’s rebuilding efforts and given food, hatchlings were kept busy and cared for, humans took time to play with the young ones so that they wouldn’t get in the way of the adults.

The humans moved with a grace and purpose born only of long repetition as they lifted rubble from collapsed buildings and moved materials from one place to another. The dead were gathered and  named, death rites were administered and rituals were observed to honor the fallen. The humans worked tirelessly throughout the day and into the night, lights were brought out to illuminate the work sites so that the humans could continue long into the dark. Hatchlings fell asleep to the sound of life being rebuilt around them, adults were consulted on the best places to build certain structures, in fewer cycles than it took the Kellnakt to destroy their cities Shi’tar was receiving reports from around the planet that entire communities were being raised once again.

Shi’tar looked out from the top of the tallest structure that had been built and marveled at his new home…every building had been built to the specifications of his culture, the path of destruction that had once marked his home world as another conquest of the Kellnakt was swept away in the storm that was the Human Relief Society …a storm of furious rebuilding and repair.

The time for the humans to leave came sooner than any would wish and many attempts at keeping the humans had been made, from shameless bribery to begging but none of the attempts were successful. It was with many ocular excretions that the humans boarded their ship and once again ascended to the stars until only one ship was left, the first ship to land in fact.

Shi’tar stood before the human that he had been cowering before and begging aid from and stood tall with a new found confidence. He stood as a survivor and friend to humanity as opposed to kneeling as a servant to a superior race, never had he stood so tall and proud.  Extending his clawed ‘hand’ Shi’tar shook the powerful hand of the human that had brought hope back to his world, smiling as best he could while his eyes leaked secretions of joy at the knowledge that his brood would not only live for another cycle, but thrive to see hatchlings of their own.

“Just remember, if you need help again don’t hesitate to call us, we may be labeled as deathworlders but that doesn’t mean we can’t promote life as well.” The human said as he shook Shi’tar’s clawed hand.

“Please, take these younglings with you, they may not be much for battle or labor but they have a mind for business and trade that may help you in the future, you helped us rise from the ashes of defeat and destruction, let us help you aid other in your quest to help others.” Shi’tar gestured to a dozen younglings that stood off to the side with bags packed and ready for travel.

“It would be our honor, admittedly we aren’t the best at the merchant side of things, all right you lot get aboard and prepare for  long ride our next stop is a few lightyears away.” The human said with a smile upon its face, Shi’tar still had to suppress a small shiver at the teeth baring sign of happiness that humans insisted upon.

“What will you do if you ever catch up to the Kellnakt? They are a warrior species the likes of which has plagued the galaxy for longer than most can remember, or will you stay ever behind them to undo what they destroy?” Shi’tar asked as the younglings walked up the ramp into the human ship and disappeared.

“WHEN, we catch up to the Kellnakt we will offer them what we have always offered…aid and help to rebuild a home, medical help for the sick and wounded and protection from those that would destroy them…should they refuse we will back away, but should they refuse and offer violence towards us or our friends…we will show them what it means to fight those born upon a death world and we will meet them with fire and fury to rival the gods and we will not stop until any threat to those under our protection is dealt with, and then we will offer aid once more.” The human spoke with a conviction and confidence that both terrified and inspired Shi’tar.

“Should you ever need food or supplies or simply somewhere to rest do not hesitate to return to us and we will provide aid in return though I can’t promise all the best the universe can offer as are but simple farmers and merchants.” This last part was said with a new found confidence, and a bit of newly learned sarcasm as he thought about the various crates of training manuals and weapons the humans had… “forgotten to load”…supplying weapons in certain situations could be considered illegal after all, but it was not un-heard of for items to be misplaced or lost all together in the hectic flurry of movement that was rebuilding cities and reloading star ships after all was said and done.

It was with a certain amount of sadness that Shi’tar and his people watched the humans board their ships and leave the atmosphere, with significantly less fanfare than they had arrived with thankfully. Shi’tar didn’t know if they would ever meet the humans again but he did know that if they did ever cross paths in the future, his people would not be seen as weak farmers and merchants easily broken and defeated again.

Chapter 3

First Medical officer of the Galactic Union Revka Jihar looked on in awe as the human zipped from one console to other. Sliding from one side of the room to the other only to go back she displayed a true mastery of her job. Coordinating rank upon rank of human shock trooper forces into position, confirming approval of Human Medium Force Allowed, checking and double checking the health status of hundreds of humans, receiving reports from multiple divisions of engineers and mechanics about the status of one drop group or another…it was overwhelming to the Kalarian to watch.

“Shock Troopers stand by to stand by for final approval on drop, med squads confirm ready stations for injured, eng corps get those fucking launch tubes in the green before I come down there and fire you out one by one until I am satisfied my boys won’t hit atmo looking like strawberry jam, Hell Jumpers get to your pods and strap in we have yellow light on drop and I am not waiting for any Late Lucys should we get green.” The rapid fire communication of the humans had never ceased to amaze Revka, how they could say so much with so few words using only inflection, not to mention context, tone, body language and a myriad of other factors that they themselves seemed un-aware of. Keys rattled like gunfire beneath First Rank Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator Amelia Hargrove’s nimble fingers, screens came to life only to be replaced by others as they were dismissed. Within barely a handful of human minutes Frist Rank Hargrove sat back limply in her chair with her arms hanging down the sides as she breathed deeply in seeming exhaustion, Revka knew better though, he had seen this human go cycles without rest or nutrition.

An alert from the single remaining screen in front of the human grabbed her attention and her head snapped up from its slumped over position, the gleam of anticipation and sudden movement reminding Revka of the humans predatory lineage. Jumping to her feet with enough force to send her division command chair sliding back on tracks laid into the floor to the edge of the large room they occupied Amelia comm’d the captain of the ship.

“Captain Shelsa, Shock Trooper Command…I have green on all drop requirements, personnel and approval…Awaiting Final Command: Angel Fall.” Amelia Stood disturbingly still and focused as she awaited the order from her captain to release the humans upon the world beneath them. Revka stood in the back of the room next to the abandoned chair, furiously making notes upon his digital clipboard without even looking down at it. Being the first species other than human to witness the deployment of Shock Troopers into an active battle field Revka was not about to miss a single document-able moment of what he was witnessing. The tension in the air radiating from the human in the middle of the large room was almost enough to choke Revka, the human had not moved in the slightest since her last communication, her muscles seemed to bunch beneath her skin tight command suit as the micro-cycles slid by, until…

“Shock Command, Captain Shelsa…you are green for trooper drop, repeat you are green for drop…Amelia!” First Rank Hargrove’s head snapped up at the sound of desperation and pain in the captains voice.

“Yes Captain? I am here.”

“…Amelia, these, monsters attacked earth…they struck down schools and hospitals…these invaders took my baby girl from me without warning or reason given…invoke the Battle Gods….” First Rank Amelia went dead silent and painfully rigid from this last command. It was well known humans had music for all occasions and that they would perform different tasks with more or less efficiency depending on if music was being played to them and depending on the task or musical selection. Revka felt his feathers bleach of all color at the last command…it was not a command given with hopes of leaving survivors, the Battle God ‘Queen’ was something of a legend among different species due to the effect said music had on humans…but these last words were spoken with such cold venom Revka had to grip the deck plates with his talons to keep himself from bolting in fear. Revka watched as the Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator calmly answered in the affirmative, slipped an Augmented Reality Visor over her eyes and seemed to deflate as tension left her body.

Walking to the middle of the room First Rank Amelia began to glow softly as synaptic relays lit up across her suit, lines of light racing from her toes to her visor and everywhere in between, muscles slid with liquid grace beneath her suit as she stalked forward.

It started gently…hands lifting to flow through screens only she could now see through her visor…hands and arms moving like the conductor of a symphony Revka had seen on earth and with each movement a new small screen came to life around Coordinator Amelia, each screen containing a new face…the faces of her boys…the faces of humanities most feared ground based battle troops…the Orbital Shock Troopers known only as the Hell Jumpers.

No words were spoken at first, Amelia simply stood there under the gaze of over five hundred trained, battle hardened, soldiers. Soldiers that were about to be dropped from orbit onto a planet light years away from home into a raging warzone with nothing but a small pod made to break away on impact to protect them from the heat and violence of atmospheric entry. None looked scared, no tears were shed in fear or pain, this was simply another good day to die for these individuals Revka realized.

“Kikiki! Kakaka!” The suddenness of Coordinator Amelia’s cry and movement nearly had Revka molting a full tails worth of feathers. Amelia slammed one foot down to her side so that she was bent at the knees.

“Kauana kei waniwania taku tara” Hands slapped into her thighs and stomach muscles in time to her chant.

“kei tarawahia, kei te rua i te kerokero!” Feet stomped and hands slapped as she continued her chant, voice raising to echo throughout the room.

“He pounga rahui te uira” Amelia’s voice rang with a clarion call to battle, it vibrated with the rage of an entire race that had been wronged as she raised a fist and slapped her arms.

“ka rarapa ketekete kau ana” Revka felt sorry for himself as he watched the display before him as he had not thought to make arrangements for his newly born clutch of whelps should he perish on this mission.

“To peru kairiri mau au e koro e!” Looking at the many images of the Shock Troopers arrayed before and around the still stamping and chanting Coordinator Revka could see that each one was focused upon her with a burning intensity.

” Hi! Ha! - Ka wehi au ka matakana,”  Eyes narrowed, teeth were bared in rictus smiles, pulses throbbed in necks, nostrils flared in anticipation as the chanting grew somehow louder and more fervent.

“ko wai te tangata kia rere ure tirohanga” First Rank Amelia stamped and pounded her feet into the ground as if to defy fate to move her, as if she was seeing the future and challenging it to be anything other than what she demanded it to be.

“ngā rua rerarera” Hands slapped and struck with force that would shatter the bones of Revka’s species like she was trying to beat reality into submission and bend it to her will.

“ngā rua kuri kakanui i raro! Aha ha!” With one final strike First Rank Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator Amelia Hargrove let loose a sound that would haunt Revka’s rest cycles for the rest of his life. The sound that echoed throughout the room seemed to contain all the suffering that had been felt at the hands of the enemy, all the pain of loss and the rage of those who could not do anything to seek retribution for those wronged. Screens lit up as each trooper dropped from the belly of the ship into the planet’s gravity well, each and every face pulled into a mask of rage and determination beneath face shields snapping into position. Revka thought that perhaps the spectacle was over now that the humans had been sent planetside…until Coordinator Amelia’s arm snapped out and with a few deft movements brought up a simple non-standard screen.

The media screen floated barely a hair’s breadth from the end of Amelia’s fingertips as she scrolled down a list of songs. With little more than a thought a song was selected and broadcasted to every shock trooper, soldier and crewman.

Drums beat and strings were plucked with a sense of anger lurking behind the sounds, after only a few seconds of this First Rank Amelia began to sing in a tone of voice unlike anything Revka had heard from the normally bubbly and flirty Coordinator, like gravel grinding in honey and rising into an angry cry tinged with desperation.

I feel the pressure is building in me

My stomach's sick, it's getting harder to breathe

I hear the screaming, I feel the disease

It's burning me up and there is nothing to breathe

Will you crawl with me

Will you stand with me

Would you follow me

Would you believe with me

Tell me you'll breathe with me,

tell me you'll die with me

Come on, get on, let me hear your war cry!

Come on, get on, let me hear your war cry!

Come on, get on, let me hear your war cry!

Yell it out, do or die

Let me hear your war cry!

The battle that followed after the start of this terrifying song was less a battle and more a chaotic slaughter of the enemy. Humans that had been forged of star matter and tempered over eons of living on a death world and driven by madness channeled from a world in pain through musical Battle Gods dark and ancient tore across the land. They fell from the skies in gouts of flame like avenging angels come to strike down the very gates of Hell, no enemy was spared, no mercy given nor asked.

The battle had been long and hard, the final count of the dead had come out to one hundred and seven troopers lost out of over five hundred…a small number but one that was felt like a hammer blow among those that knew them. Revka had stayed and watched the entire time as Coordinator Amelia somehow split her attention between directing troop movements and battle plans all while continuing to dance and sing to various songs of battle and victory. When the final call of victory came over the open channels the music was allowed to stop and First Rank Amelia fell still, her arms hung limp at her sides…screens showing haggard and haunted faces of her soldiers, her troopers, her boys signing off one by one as they went to seek medical aid or further orders, synaptic relays dimming from a fiery blaze to a pale glow until they too fell silent and dark.

Revka walked slowly from his position in the back of the room towards the silent and still figure of the human known among the crew as Battle Siren…the one human who was expected to endure the responsibility of coordinating hundreds of war machines, who was given authority to make decisions in battle and who had to carry the weight of those decisions. As he got closer Revka noticed a new taste on the air, sharp and salty…not sweat, he didn’t have sweat glands and the skin suit Amelia was wearing prevented her body from needing to sweat…tears? Yes Revka could taste the salt of tears on the air.

Slowly coming around to face the Battle Siren Revka was somewhat surprised to find a river of tears slowly falling from under the AR visor. With a deep breath as if she was emerging from deep waters Amelia lifted the visor from her tear soaked eyes and seemed to stare through the bulkheads and deep into the void, then in a soft whisper she said a single sentence that would be taken to the Galactic Council and repeated again and again among those who thought to strike out against the humans.

“They sowed the wind with their strike against our young and injured…so too did they reap the hurricane of our vengeance.”

With that single sentence spoken a new sound began to emanate from the Coordinator, a long drawn out note not unlike the tune of a bell. Revka backed away and made his way out of the room, the Battle Siren had begun to sing a new song, but not one of war and conquest, rather a song of pain and history filled with conflict but also about seasons changing and hope prevailing. The humans may have had a great pantheon of voices to channel inspiration from when going into battle, but so to did it seem that they had ones for peace and healing.

Chapter 4

There are many stories of humans defying the odds, but there are very few that strike true fear of the hairless apes into those that hear them. Many stories and legends of old have been whispered among the stars of great humans that stood against the tide of change, who battled with forces beyond their power to defy but these are all stories long into the tale of Humanities dance among the stars, stories that inspire caution and tales that speak of ill fates that befall those who cross humans. There are many stories of small deeds, seemingly insignificant acts of kindness and bravery that provide a foundation for the great legends to stand proud upon, such as a tale not widely spoke of… a young teacher, a purveyor of historical knowledge to young minds, remembered best by a statue. A figure wrought of white stone shot through with black streaks and golden flecks that to this day stands tall and strong, holding a single tome clutched to its’ chest behind a shield while holding a blade aloft as if to ward away intruders, upon the blade a single phrase repeated in every language spoken by humanity: No harm shall befall these children.

It was near the beginning of mankind’s entrance to the galactic opera. Barely a few decades after First Contact and Acceptance a raiding party of Kazak struck an outlying colony. This was a peaceful world, farms and agriculture snuggled closely to cutting edge scientific institutions dedicated to the betterment of the very industries that they were surrounded by. It was very much a world built in a feedback loop of growing crops, improve methods, grow crops with improved methods, improve upon growing methods, grow crops with improved methods and so forth, constantly doing all they could to not only produce as much as they could from the land they were given but to in turn give back what they could to the land that sustained them.

The Kazak came like a plague of biblical locusts, great swarms that blocked out the suns of the world. Ships landed like bloated birds of prey only to vomit forth battalions of Kazak warriors, raiders of worlds that would strip the land clean of all it could immediately provide and leave it a barren scorched wasteland.

Mrs. Love was halfway through a lesson on the Spartans of Old Earth with her class when the sirens began to wail. Doing her best to remain calm Mrs. Love ushered her class of younglings into a special room that could double as a shelter if the need arose. Promising her class that nothing was wrong and that all would be well in a few minutes Mrs. Love pressed her palm to the scanner beside the door and sealed the room. Turning her back to the now closed door Mrs. Love surveyed her surroundings, ancient pieces of armor and weaponry imported from Earth specifically for the exhibit, benches to sit and think upon…not much else around her. Listening to the sound that the children were to young to pay attention to and discern from the background noise Mrs. Love listened to the sound of approaching steps outside the hall.

Mrs. Love was a kindergarten teacher, untrained, un-blooded, un-fit to battle hordes of enemies intent upon the destruction of whatever they saw fit to destroy…but that wasn’t about to stop her. She was a Human damnit, a Child of Gaia, Daughter of Sol and she would be damned before she would walk quietly into that good night only to leave her class behind to face the monsters under the bed.

Running over to a display the young history teacher quickly said a prayer for strength and forgiveness from the previous owner of the armor she was looking at. Grabbing a nearby ashtray she smashed the protective glass case around the set of bronze armor and with mounting panic quickly donned the heavy metal plates and helm.

It was with no small amount of trepidation and humor that the raiding party of Kazak walked into the Hall of Ancient Earth Warriors only to see a human female in poorly fitting pieces of metal. Standing tall before a section of wall that scanners showed a large number of bodies behind the foolish female stood holding a spear in one hand, shield in the other with a sword attached to her hip. Like a child pretending to be their parents the young female pushed her oversized helmet back and spoke with a weak voice to the raiding party.

“I-I-I am Mrs. Love, Teacher of Histories to the kindergarten class of Sancti Nicholi Grade school….please turn back and approach no further, no harm shall befall these children.” Historical records would rarely, if ever convey the hitch and stutter in the teacher’s voice as she stared at the oil slick colored carapaces of the Kazak before her. Many accounts of the events would paint the 5’ 0” 130Lbs. teacher of history as a 7’ 6” 300lbs master of combat after her declaration of protection. Security footage of the museum has been confiscated but multiple witnesses attest to Mrs. Love’s combat prowess.

3rd Battalion fourth infantry unit, Call-sign Vladimir, were the first to stumble upon the museum after the attack. Powerful men and women clad in armor and wielding state of the art weapons walked into the Hall of Ancient Earth Warriors expecting an ambush or attack of some kind, only to be faced with absolute carnage. Bodies of Kazak Warriors lay scattered about the hall, dismembered and eviscerated and ravaged, an entire battalion lay dead like a macabre carpet stretching from one wall to the next. Looking up from the piles of dead bodies the group of humans was surprised to find a single entity showing signs of life.

Sgt. Cortez approached the kneeling figure slowly and with his weapon held low to the side. It was a small figure, clad in ill-fitting bronze breastplate over crimson stained white dress shirt with equally ill-fit greaves over simple black slacks. Kneeling with round shield in one hand and sword in the other Cortez nearly missed the beginner’s history book clutched in a white knuckle grip behind the shield before the bronze helm rose in a single sharp movement. With a scream that would haunt Sgt. Cortez’s dreams for years to come the figure leapt into action with a stab that nearly took the Sgt.’s liver.

Like a marionette whose strings were suddenly gripped by a drunken puppeteer Mrs. Love lunged with her appropriated short sword, after being deflected by a reflexive turn Mrs. Love swung her shield bearing arm as hard as she could with a scream of defiance. After her attempt at a shield bash was turned away Mrs. Love pivoted in a downward twirl she had no right to perform as gracefully as she did to strike at the armored figure’s legs.

Deflecting the strike at his legs with the bayonet on the end of his rifle Sgt. Cortez quickly retreated a couple of steps to better assess the armored warrior before him. Cortez was slightly surprised to find the relatively small form before him was swaying on its’ feet, the shield arm shook and the sword tip dipped periodically as if it was too heavy to hold upright properly. Upon closer inspection the figure showed all the signs of being beyond simply tired and well into being exhausted.

In a single liquid move the armored figure moved and was within Sgt. Cortez’s guard before he could understand what was happening, with a scream and screech of parting metal the armored figure scored a deep gash through the breastplate of the Sargent’s armor from hip to heart. Grabbing the armored assailants hand and sword before it had a chance to recover and make another attempt the Sgt. tried something that he had no reason to believe would work.

“Stand Down soldier” The figure stopped like it had been struck “The battle is over, you are victorious Spartan, the pass is held and defended…stand down.” Like a puppet with its strings cut the figure fell limp in a clatter of armor, held up only by the arm held in Sgt. Cortez’s grip until it was slowly lowered to the ground, adrenaline and fear no longer lending strength to limbs unaccustomed to the burden of sword and shield. Hearing a slight sound from the helmeted figure Sgt. Cortez leaned down to better hear, and in a single, final exhalation, Mrs. Love the Spartan of Sancti Nicholi Grade School, Defender of the Innocent spoke her final words…”No harm shall befall these children.”

At the entrance to every school after that day a statue was erected, a statue of a young woman standing tall and proud clad in ill-fitting armor, holding a book behind a shield with a sword held aloft as if in challenge to those who would dare bring violence to those under her watch.

[tiddlesdiary]

#41 – Operation Go Home 😾

Dear Diary,

I had crunchies for breakfast, but my mind wasn’t on food this morning. I was consumed with whether Fred had seen my message on the community pine tree. And if he had, would he act on it? Fred is easily distracted.

After breakfast, instead of going to his desk, the Fat One carried his laptop out onto the porch table. “It’s so nice today, Tiddles, that I’m going to work on the porch!”, he said. “You can come out too if you don’t run off like you did yesterday!”, he sternly warned. I meowed in assent.  Sorry, Fat One. But that was necessary. It was a matter of neighborhood importance. I have no regrets.

He sat down at the porch table, put his ear buds in and began working; oblivious to all around him. I laid down in my sunny spot and waited for Fred.

A little while later, I saw him come around the side of the house. His orange tabby belly swinging back and forth as he walked. Instinctively, my back arched and fur stood on end. As I looked down from the porch, he came over, sat on his hind feet and raised his right front leg with paw clenched in the feline Sign of Solidarity. I returned it.

“You were right.”, he said, “She left me because I wouldn’t bring her a chicken from the farm across the road. I don’t cross that road for no one. You can get killed!”. “She called me Fred the Feeble and ran off.”, he sadly added. I shook my head in support and said, “She called me Tiddles the Meek.”. Fred started snickering. “It’s not funny, Fred!”, I snapped, “Geesh!”. The smirk wiped off his face.

“The entire neighborhood has to work together to rid ourselves of this menace!”, I said. I felt an urgent passion overcome me as I began a sweeping oratory. “Since the time of our saber-toothed ancestors, cats have come together to face adversity and conquer it! Now is one of those times! We have before us perhaps the greatest challenge of our gener-”. I looked down. Fred was licking his privates. I smacked a paw to my forehead and sighed. “Pay attention, Fred!”, I growled. His head snapped up.

I was going to need to keep this simple.

“Operation Go Home is in effect! Fred, tell everyone in the neighborhood a truce is on. When Bella is sighted, chase her up the hill to her home. Howl, yowl, growl, and hiss but do not hurt her! Have reports of our progress sent to me throughout the day! Do you understand?”.

Fred saluted and yelled, “Sir! Yes, sir!”.

“It’s up to you now. Remember your mission!”, I directed, “Fly, Fred! Fly!”. He tore around the side of the house. The wheels were in motion. It now depended on one dim porky orange tabby. I settled down in my sunny spot and nervously waited.

Not long later, several cats came into the yard. They sat and gave the Sign of Solidarity. I returned it. One said, “She wanted me to bite the tail of that mean mastiff. I said no. She called me a coward and ran off.” Another said, “She convinced Bluto the Bulgy to jump off the two story roof of his house. He broke his left front leg and had to go to the Vet!”. There were gasps.

“Remember, when Bella is sighted, chase her up the hill to her home. If you see her, howl, yowl, growl, and hiss, but do not hurt her! We’re better than that!”, I instructed. “I’m not!”, said one cat. “Me either!”, said another. Murmurs of agreement broke out.

“She is not to be hurt!”, I repeated with emphasis. I felt my passion rise again as I began my sweeping oratory. “Since the time of our saber-toothed ancestors, cats have come together to face adversity and conquer it! Now is one of those times! We have before us perhaps the greatest challenge of our gener-”. I looked down. They were disappearing around the side of the house with a purpose.

Chagrined, I sat and waited for further updates.

Some time later, Fred and a few other cats came into the yard and made the Sign of Solidarity. Again, I returned it. “What do you have to report, Fred?”, I asked.

Fred snapped to attention and saluted. “Sir! Operation Go Home has been a great success! The target was prevented from intrusion eight times!”, he replied. A gray long hair said, “I chased her up the hill back to her home. The entire time she was crying, ‘But I’m rich and pretty!’”. The other cats laughed.

Fred continued, “Sir! I forward deployed two units on the edge of her territory! If she attempts to leave it, they chase her back on to it!”. I was taken aback by this. Tha- That was brilliant! I looked at Fred in a new light. “Outstanding, Fred!”, I cried. Fred lifted his head up with eyes narrowed in pride.

“Now we are ready for phase two. Operation Stay Home is in effect. Fred, round up all the cats you can and go to her home. Form a ring of cats around it. At the sight of her, every cat should sit silently staring at her and give the Sign of Solidarity. She’ll see that we are united against her and never visit us again. Stay there as long as you can. Do you understand?”, I asked.

Fred saluted and said, “Sir! Yes, sir!”. I raised my head and passionately orated, “Since the time of our saber-toothed ancestors, cats have come together to face adversity and conquer it! Now is one of those times! We have before us perhaps the greatest challenge of our gener-“. I looked down. They were disappearing around the side of the house. Why won’t they listen to my speech!? 😾

I settled down again. A long time passed. It was twilight when Fred and a large group of cats came into the yard. They all sat and gave the Sign of Solidarity. Once again, I returned it.

“Fred, what’s your report?”. I asked. Fred snapped to attention and saluted. “Sir! Operation Stay Home was a resounding success! Over 20 cats formed a ring around her home. She came out of her cat flap and was nosing around the yard. When she looked up, all of us stared in silence and gave the Sign of Solidarity. She leaped into the air in shock and ran for her life inside. A minute later her face appeared in the window. We continued staring. She fell off the table she was on and disappeared.”, he stated. “She did the same thing on my side of the house, too!”, laughed another. The entire group started laughing.

“Outstanding, Team!”, I yelled, “Outstanding! I can’t tell you how proud I am of every one of you! Since the time of our saber-toothed ancestors, cats have come together to face adversity and conquer it! Now was one of those times! We had before us perhaps the greatest challenge of our gener-”. I looked down. The yard was empty. Only the sound of crickets could be heard.

“Pearls before swine.”, I muttered. But my chest filled with pride as I thought of what I had accomplished.

Behind me, I heard the Fat One stand up and stretch. “Ok, Tiddles.”, he yawned, “Time to go inside.”. He packed up his laptop. “What was with all the cats in the yard today?”, he laughed, “Were you holding a meeting?”. He laughed again.

“If you only knew, Fat One.”, I thought to myself as I trotted inside, “If you only knew!”.

More later,

Tiddles

PS Photograph for illustrative purposes only.

[baronofborhswald]

By Our Blood.

It was a grim day of melancholic skies mixed with a downpour which could accumulate enough flood water to wash away a small grouping of crops within the valley in which Borhswald was located. Luckily walls were constructed for such an occasion: Large stone walls draped with banners of both Ravenblud and Blackfyre each flanking the main gates of the large fortress. Much like the strong walls of Borshwald, keeping back the flood waters, the Baron of these gifted lands held back a flood of a different kind....

Oklin sat in his study near a large dual pained window, watching the rains beat against his land with the ferocity of a scorned elemental. A pallid visage hung upon the man as if he was visited by a specter of one kind or another, which was more to the truth of the situation than any other possible reasoning for such a distraught state to befall him. For in one hand he held a book a which was bound in leather with small green leaves imbedded in its’  surface as if grown in to it. Now to the observer this would come as a regular book found in a library, to Oklin however it was a tome that which cast a grizzly menace upon him. In this “book” was the legend of ancestor of his, one to which he could trace all of his current misfortune to. This was the tale of Romik the Wanderer, First of his name and founder of the Ravenblud family. An old tale by admittance but one that his father found important to transpose in those old tattered pages.

Romik’s story began back before the invasion of Gilneas, back before the unification and opening of the Dark Portal. It was a time of the tribes of humans that would one day go on to form the pillars of their respective kingdoms. It was a time of the fear of darkness and prolonged victory of iron over flesh. In these times Romik took his first steps on a journey that would echo through the very blood of his descendants. 

Metal cracked against metal in the setting sun in Arathi. A large muscular silhouette could be made out fighting one of similar size. As the two persons forced blade against blade, their sparks minimally illuminated their faces. One was gaunt within the cheeks while holding a prominent brow, the other held a jawline that could have been chissled from stone with a scruffy unkempt beard that made it’s outline clear, this was Romik. Two warriors who have met in the fields of battle in a desperate attempt to claim but a small bit of food. A wild potato that each seemed to covet despite the health held in their faces. As the clash continued towards  dusk , Romik cut down upon the gaunt faced one’s wrist. A sickening crack was heard as the bone broke before the hand was taken away from the rest of the arm. With this the gaunt faced man took to a knee whilst grasping the now stub. Romik spoke. “Stand down tribesman. You have been beaten. I will offer you the mercy of a swift death instead of the one you shall receive from your wound.” Romik raised his blade towards the sky as he pressed a booted foot against the other man’s chest, pushing him on to his back. “W-wait!” Said the other. “S-Spare me and I shall tell you of a land that holds many riches....” A soft submissive smile crept upon the downed man. Romik put his blades’ tip to the chest of the man, it was bare. “I seek no riches coward. Only something more worthy than you to slay.” He pressed the tip against the mans’ chest, drawing a bit of blood. “O-Oh you will! You will! I...I promise you will! Just listen to me! South of here lies a village that worships some sort of deity from the sea! I have seen it!” Romik let the blade drink a little of the drops of blood before pulling it away. “Described it to me.” The other man cleared his throat. “Well it is umm...large...has...has four arms with webbed fingers on each. Swear it could call upon a storm with just a blink of its serpent like eyes.” Romik tilted his head at this description and laughed. “Oh you poor pathetic coward. You believe me to be a fool enough to think such a thing exists?” Again his blade is brought to the chest. “Yes! I have proof!” Slowly the man reached to a pocket, while he was still bleeding out, on his belt. Swiftly he pulled out a few gleaming scales of a serpentine quality. “See! These are larger than a snakes! It is a monster! A mon-” Romik shoved his blade in to the man’s chest fully, silencing him. “Hmph.” Leaning down he picked up the scales and pocketed them. “I shall make the journey...friend.” Romik spat on the man, then walked off on to his path south.

The long journey to the south was all but an enigma for our “Hero”. Going in a direction in hopes of finding this creature to which he could do battle with. Only a few villages had he passed before the land became unknown to him. Green vines wrapped around ancient ruins while great tropical trees grew to form shade over this great jungle. Romik only took note of what beasts he had spied while on his path, none that made him venture off of it to do battle with, even less made an attempt on him. He figured not much but these beasts existed here, he was of course wrong. With a chilling battle cry in another language besides what Romik understood, he soon came under attack from a small group of forest trolls. A people he had encountered before in only small skirmishes along Arathi. Gritting his teeth and raising his weapon to defend himself , Romik was met with a hale of blows from a lead troll with a red wooden mask and two axes. Staggering from the attack, which now left Romik’s side open, the man could only watch as another of the war party swung a club to crack bone. Tensing at the impact then falling to a knee while holding his weapon which was still locked with the axes, Romik pressed hard against the ground to use his legs to press upwards until he could finally bring foot to groin. An action which sent the lead troll backwards from the impact, but not before Romik could snatch away one of the axes to which he brought down upon of the club troll’s head. Feeling the rush of battle from the embrace of the scent of blood mixed with the sweat of heat, the man pressed himself forewords to shoulder check the already stunned troll. Bracing himself for a reprisal which never came due to the shear luck of a fallen branch with a  sharp enough point to which the troll fell upon. After the battle was over with ,and Romik made sure that there were no more surprises, he took a rest. “This was worth my time already.” He said while examining the axe he had taken which had small symbols of snakes upon it. “Not bad craftsmanship.” Romik grunted as he slipped the handle of the axe between his belt and waist. “Now to continue on.” Romik stood as he sensed he was close to his goal. In this regard he was correct.

 Now the finale part of the story takes place upon Romik coming to an idol upon a sandy beach. One that bared the resemblance to the creature the gaunt faced man spoke of. “So he was telling me the truth.” Romik said while he walked up to the statue, letting his fingers lip over the material which felt like metal. “I do not see life in it though? Maybe he saw it one night while delusional.” The man took out the scales and threw them to the base of the idol, disgusted by his lack of reward or trophy for his long journey. “By the bloody bones of those I slew. I curse you wretched idol! For your false promise of glory!” Romik took out the troll axe and sent it sinking in to the head of the idol, cracking it nearly in half. He left the axe in it. “Damn this place!” He kicked up the sand without noticing the dried blood which was on the axe come back to form and drip down on to the scales which were made in a way of an offering. Dissatisfied he began to walk on his path back to the northlands in hopes of finding a better gain. Violently and suddenly a voice that shook the sand to separate while bringing waves to crash against the shore. “Who dares to defile my shrine!?” This unnatural and hideous voice said. Bubbling and oozing the sea foam brought rise to the figure as described by the man. Blue of scale and atrocious to behold. A witch by name would not compare to this creature. “I, Romik, bloodied and feeder of carrion do! I have come to seek glory for my name, ancestors and descendants!” He said with an arrogant tone. The sea beast hissed at him once he turned to face her. “Then you shall pay with something worse than the common death to which I would give as a mercy.” She slowly raised her hands above her head and chanted. “Oh defiler of my shrine. Let your bloody legacy shine. When all whom your name does serve in time. Will find themselves brought to suffocate in the brine. Death in you is all they shal-” Thunk. As the sea beast cast her curse upon him, Romik took the liberty of throwing the axe in to her chest in order to split her heart asunder. Unfortunately all this was for naught. A curse was set upon him and his name. One that affects it to this day.

Romik drearily began his long journey back north. A dread sensation over him as he could feel the emptiness created by the utterance of the chant. Later he would find himself a family, a wife to which he swore his love to...

Oklin pressed his hands over his ears as if blocking something out. With haste he takes the book in hand, and with grief stricken reprisal, throws it through the window. Shattering the glass to make an almost calming melody.

“It is but a story. All it is...all it ever has been is a story.” Oklin looked out the broken window to the ground below. “My reaction to it says otherwise.” He rubs the bridge of his nose then draws the curtains. “Father never lied to me though.” The Baron said to himself as he took a seat once more. “No, he would never...it couldn’t.” He presses his hands against his eyes, little droplets drip from behind them. “Actions speak louder than words.” He somberly whispered to himself as the rain poured on down, washing away the history written in the now ink seeping book.

[ikonislife]

No Matter What.

-Donghyuk x Reader

-Fluff, Romance, Vampire au, Vampire!Donghyuk

-Donghyuk prepares himself to reveal his most well kept secret to the love of his life but how will the conversation goes…

-Here’s a drabble nobody asked for while I delay the 10 posts everyone wants me to finish (:  I was inspired by a post I saw, which I will post a screenshot of at the end of the post. Read it before if you want to follow my train of thought or after if you’re curious. Or not at all, I don’t care (:

Also it’s not yet been proofread so I apologize any mistake.

“Y-You’re a what now?” A shiver shoots down your spine and you could feel the last drop of your blood curdle in fear. Instinctively, you back away from the man you had called yours for the good part of a year and a half. A sharp stab tears your heart watching the hurt in his eyes radiate from your reaction to him simply reaching out for your hands, something he always did not matter time of day.

“Please, love. I don’t mean you any harm.” Donghyuk whimpers out and you want nothing more to run over and encase him in your arms but your coward human nature wouldn’t let you.

“Say it again. I thought I heard you sa-” you bit your lips to stop the preposterous sentence from ending. “What?!”

“Baby, please…” He begs and with all his might hope to god you’d just forget the bomb he just dropped on you and go back to the nice dinner you were both having.

“NO! SAY IT!” You hadn’t intended to be so loud but somewhere in between convincing yourself you had heard wrong and the guilt of reacting in such horrid manner when he entrust you with his deepest secret, if what he said was true.

“I’m a vampire.” There he said it again, this time without the nervous wavering in his voice but rather calm and collect.

“You’re really not fucking with me… You’re completely serious.” You stammer, dinner push aside as you feel the souring of acid reflux traveling upward inside. You stand up, not wanting your body natural reaction to anxiety of vomiting everywhere to send the man of your heart the wrong message. At least you attempted to stand up until the blurring of the world and blanking of your own mind sending you tumbling in your spot, grasping blindly at the chair that had been supporting your weight for balance. Even before your synapses could even begin to release the neuron in your brain to make sense of what was happening, those comforting arms, that familiar scent were already catching you in his hold. Donghyuk whispers small reassuring words as he pulls you close into his chest, holding on tight because if he didn’t, he was sure you’ll pull away from him forever. You clutch onto his waist and it makes him smile to see you weren’t scare of him nor were you disgust at what he is. Your desperate touch remains the same as they were despite flinching away just a few moments ago.

“Let’s go lay down, hmm? Rest a bit. I swear I don’t even need to lay with you or, or be in the same room. Just let me wait in the living room so I know you’re okay.” His hands rubbing your shoulder gently, making you feel so small in his embrace, even more now that you had a small taste of his … power. Such a weird thing to say, your boyfriend has powers.

“I just stood up too fast, Donghyuk. I’m fine. You worry too much.” You grumble but that does nothing against your ever attentive man. Donghyuk would’ve carry you into the bedroom if he had his way but right now, he doesn’t want to scare you. He needs for you to know he’s the same as ever.  Tucking you in, he pulls the soft grey cashmere blanket over your body before hesitantly pressing a kiss onto your forehead. Normally, this would be when he crawls in right next to you but instead, with a sadden gaze he turns away and begin for the living room. For a split second you let him walk away before deciding against it reaching out to his hand. Donghyuk gasps when he felt your small hand in his, grasping on so tightly he nearly cry that you still wants him close. Happily obliging to his princess request, he peels back the cover and let himself sinks into the softness of the satin sheet and your warmth. He wraps his arm around your waist, face nuzzling deep in the crook of your neck. He loves cuddling with you, it’s the one thing he would never be busy for as you both snuggle close to each other in complete silent but today, today if he doesn’t say anything in the next second it’d be too late.

“Are you mad, baby?” Donghyuk tests the water, wondering if you’re just letting him close by fear or by love. 

“No, I’m not.” You reply curtly, pulling his arm tighter around your body.

“Are you scare?”

“No, I’m not… Just confuse.” You sigh, unsure of how to begin the process of understanding it all. A day ago if someone had told you your dear boyfriend is some immortal force of the supernatural world, you’d laugh until you pass out. Now, judging by the way he got from one side of the table to catching you neatly in his arms almost instantaneous, he’s a force to be reckon with. 

“I’m sorry I lied to you for so long… I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you because i know, I know once you learned the truth, there would be nothing to stop you from leaving me. I’ve never love another woman like you before, from the first moment I set eyes on you till now, all I want was to be near you and to know you want that to. Right now it’s not time for me to be selfish anymore and I’d understand if you feel betrayed, if you want to leave me…” Donghyuk tries his best to keep his emotion under wrap but how could he when matters of heart are at hands. He didn’t want him crying to affect your decision, to cloud your judgement but alas the tiny kitten liked sniffle couldn’t be stop. You push his arm off your body and he could feel his heart fragmenting. Yet against all his prediction, you roll around to face him with your hands around his cheeks.

“Kim Donghyuk, I’ve never once said I would leave you. So stop being so stupid and say stupid things. I told you I’m not mad nor am I scare. Look me in the eyes right now and tell me, use those bat instinct of yours and tell me… Am I afraid?” He couldn’t help but chuckle at your strange reference to bat because quite honestly he hadn’t seen one since he was a child exploring caves for fun so many moons ago. You feel your bang being brush away from your forehead delicately before those beautiful eyes stare straight at yours without any hesitation.

“No” He smiles at his own answer.

“What do you see then…” You ask again, wanting nothing more to reassure him that there is no doubt within you.

“Love.” He presses a soft kiss on your lips before whispering softly again. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you, Donghyuk. I just have a lot of questions. I mean one second you’re just some rich dude I tried to con for a good life…” You pinch his cheeks and watch his eyes widen at the thought you can still joke at this second.

“Yah! How can you say you love me and something that crazy in one sentence.” He retorts, fighting off your teasing hands. You giggle, crawling closer in his embrace. “In all seriousness though, I- thank you, baby.”

“For what? I haven’t done anything.”

“For not turning away, for being with me.” 

He kisses you and it felt like the first time you kissed. There was a mixture of nervousness mix in with that gut churning, stomach full of butterflies feeling of being so close to someone you love. There was always something there that hold him back. You had thought it was because the different walks of life that you belong to, he a man of intellectual while you grew up on hard work. You had met when he was guest lecturing at a seminar you attended for work. From the first moment his piercing gaze met yours, your heart melted. It didn’t take long for you to fully submit to his love and by the 3rd month of being together, you both had said many “I love you”.

“I have so many questions.” 

“Ask away, baby. Anything you want.” He strokes your cheek, eyes so focus it seems they’re relearning your features in a different light.

“I don’t even know where to begin… Uhm, we took so many pictures together. I thought vampires aren’t suppose to show up in pictures?” You felt a bit stupid asking but Donghyuk goes against everything you’ve read about what vampires are suppose to be like. 

“It’s not that camera can’t capture us. If you simply look through the lense, of course we appear. Back in the day, when we develop photos, they use a process that involves silver thus eliminating us vamps out of photos.” A small kiss finds itself on your nose as he admires the way you’re listening so intently, so eager to learn. “Before you ask, same with mirror. Back then mirrors were made with silver, now they’re made with aluminum backing.”

“So silver still hurt you then?” You speak up suddenly, almost scaring the poor man.

“Yes, it does. However the sun doesn’t as I suspect that will be your next question. The original vampires were somewhat allergic to the sun but evolution process and what not, we can still have beach day whenever you want.” He answers then smiles bright when you mumble “mental note to throw all my silver jewelry away.” You shy away in embarrassment when you meet his eyes but your curiosity got the better of you.

“What about garlic. I love garlic and you always make me garlic steak. So it’s not poison to you then.”  

“That, back when we were still being hunted, our ancestors and yours made a peace treaty between our kinds. To convince the human of letting us assimilate, the ancestors agreed on a white lie, a sort of insurance policy to assure that there was nothing to worry about. So they told everyone garlic would hurt us as not everyone could afford to keep silver to protect themselves. It was a mean to ease in the treaty but somehow it took on a crazy life of its own. Honestly, my father told me they’d just pretend to faint or cry in pain whenever a human try to use garlic on him and his friends.” 

“But wouldn’t that bite them in the ass if there was evil vampires? Are there evil vampires?” You postulate, so excited in all the new information that you sit up, hands clasp together in anticipation.

“I never said it was smart. Of course there’s evil just as there’re criminals amongst normal human. We did have incidents of course, there was outrage but it died quick after the elders set up a knight force for lacks of a better term that keeps the rogue ones in check.” Donghyuk had also slowly rising from his spot, pulling you into his laps as you leans into his chest. “Anything else, love?”

“Oh my God. Do you go out each night when I fall asleep and like steal blood?” You yelp out loudly, this whole time, you bonded with Donghyuk over the amazing food he cooked and the food adventures you both take. Early on in the relationship, he had suggested twice a month, you both would go on a food date to a completely random restaurant, something out of both your comfort zones. Never once did you have someone to love food as much as you do, perhaps even more that was willingly open to try absolutely everything and anything. Donghyuk silenced for a second then burst out in laughter that rumbles your body.

“What do you think I am, love? I’m a vampire, not some sort of blood thief. Yes, I don’t sleep at night but I still stay next to you or do work in the office. Your imagination is too wild, little lady.” You could feel your cheeks burst out with heat and steam puffing out of your ears from embarrassment. You hadn’t exactly intended for those thought to come to light, let alone have Donghyuk heard it. “Modern vampires still rely on blood but not in the same manner old vampires did. We have big tech labs and corporations that manufacture blood that serve the same function without us having to kill poor animals. Of course there was a big uproar and a small faction of vampires that went rogue but the elders took care of it fast.” Sensing your mortification creeping up still, Donghyuk does what he does best and pressing kisses all along your cheek to sooth your heart. “Trust me when I say our food adventures and all the time we cooked and ate together, it was all real. I can still taste just as human do, enjoy the food you made me just as you enjoy mine. But survival wise, I still have to get nutrient from blood.” As if reading your mind, Donghyuk ended your worries even before you could voice it. You whisper a soft understanding “ah” before settling in, tearing your brain apart for any other queries. 

“So that time…” You muse suddenly and watch as Donghyuk bites his lips in a strange expression you couldn’t decipher. 

“I- About that. I did use my power to push you out of the way of that oncoming motorcycle. I couldn’t let you get hurt and honestly it didn’t hurt me that bad, or at all actually…” Donghyuk hesitantly recalling the event that if he had to pin point a place and time he had solidified your relationship, it was then. You had just gotten out on lunch break while he was already sipping an espresso from the cafe across the street. He knew exactly when and where you’d appear from so he waited, and waited until he saw you skipped your way down the cobblestone sidewalk. You were just in uniform, black slack and white blouse just as every other girl in the company but there’s something so lovely, so graceful about you. You were swaying gently side to side waiting for the green blinking man to appear when his eyes met yours and felt a gush of wind knocking him off his feet when you cracked a bright smile. You waved, then proceed to step onto the empty street as the blinking man signaled it was your turn except… Donghyuk could hear it. 

The revving of engine, screeching of rubber against the hot asphalt intensifying with every second. You couldn’t of course and it made sense now when you think about it with his power granting him extraordinary hearing. Before you could make sense of the situation, your body already hit the ground yet it was Donghyuk that took most of the impact as his body flung forward. You clambered off of the hot floor as you watch the motorcycle tear off into the distant without a second thought for the lifeless Donghyuk laying just a few feet away. You screamed, you didn’t know how long you screamed for but you just wanted for the man who just saved your life to open his eyes. His forehead bloody, clothes tattered but he still mumbled making sure you were alright. You blanked as he motioned to the cellphone in his pocket. You pulled him into your embrace before dialing the name he sluggishly pointed at. Not even five minutes later, a black car with a strange plate and near black tinted window pulled up and whisked you both away to a hospital you’ve never heard of. They took him away for how long you didn’t know but when the gentle nurse shook you awake, Donghyuk was already in his private room resting. You settled in, watching as the spikes of his EKG run across the screen. He slept for the rest of the night and when you awaken, a blanket draped over your curled up body in the chair right next to his bed, Donghyuk pressing a kiss to your forehead. He jerked away in fear and embarrassment. He was so adorable, to a point where you couldn’t help but giggled before grasping onto his hand. The rest of the week was spent that way. Despite being the one in the hospital bed, he was more concerned about the scratches on your arms and legs.

“So, you weren’t hurt?” 

“I-I was originally but we healed fast. I was already healed by that morning when i stole that kiss from you.” He sighed, fearful that the most wonderful week that helped bloom your mere crush into a full blown bloom of love was all a lie. “Please don’t be mad. I had no choice, I couldn’t let you know that I healed at a rate 100 times faster than human does. That and…” His voice trailed off, making you shift in your seat in anticipation.

“And…?”

“And I really wanted you for myself. I watched you for so long through all the speech I made, the classes I taught and I just want a chance to be close to you. I wanted to be selfish even if it was just a lie. I wanted, needed the attention you gave me. Please don’t be mad.” He turns you around gently with both hands on your shoulders, he peers into your eyes, trying to figure out if there was any sign of regret but instead, you smile to ease his worries.

“I love you, Donghyuk. It still doesn’t change the fact that you saved my life. You got hurt trying to protect me. I don’t care if you heal in a second or a year, I would’ve taken care of you just the same.” You dive into his arms to reassure him nothing had change, nothing will change.

“Any more questions?”

“How old are you?” You ask and hear a small knowing sigh.

“I knew that was coming. In term of vampire age, I’m still young, I guess I’d be consider the same as my human age. In term of human years, I’m somewhere in the 400.” He sighs once again as you eyes widen in shock, a small gasp escapes your lips simultaneously as the poking and prodding of your finger on his face begins.

“Woah, you’re like super old. I can’t believe it… I’m into old rich dude. Don’t worry, you’re still handsome. Hold up!”

“What, what is it?” Donghyuk had gotten into the rhythm of your conversation by now to suspect your sudden halt is anything bad.

“How many girls have you been with… and is that why you’re so good in the bedding department.” You wink teasingly, dragging your index lazily from his chest down his abs before getting caught squarely in his hand. 

“Okay missy, that’s good enough questions for tonight. Yes, I’ve dated many women but not in that way. Out of everyone, only a few ever really accepted me as I am. Back then, even with the integration of our species, love between the two kinds weren’t exactly welcome so for the good of the people I love, I gave up. I hurt a lot of people I cared for and it had been over a hundred years since I fell so deeply in love with anyone. Had it not been for that accident, I-”

“You would’ve never made a move on me…” You sigh onto his lips, head falling onto his shoulder almost dejectedly at the thought of a life without Donghyuk. The delight in learning about a whole new world suddenly being purged from your mind as the gut wrenching thought of the most wonderful man in the world sitting alone in this house with no one to share even just a simple meal with but the ghost of his past loves. 

“Baby… Believe me when I say this. I do not regret anything that had happened between us. I wanted to so many time to tell you but I didn’t want to hurt you. All my past relationship had either ended in heartbreak or something even worse that I couldn’t imagine putting you through the same thing. Even if it’s the modern day, even if half human half vampire baby aren’t anything new. I just couldn’t risk putting you through so much pain.” He lifts your chin up to view the face of the person he holds dear in his heart, the most important person in his life. A frown breaks on his soft lips as he realize the twinkles in your eyes weren’t the usual kind but tears. 

“I love you, Donghyuk. If you’d let me, I want to be with you till the day I die… When I, how would that work? I, I don’t want you to be alone again…” Panic stricken your mind as the thought of you aging while your ever ethereal boyfriend remains the same. The thought of him having to watch you die, bury you, going back to that life of having no one to love, it kills you.

“I’m not immortal, baby, my lifespan is just longer. Don’t worry about that part for now, okay? We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“How could I not. I don’t care if I die but I don’t want you to watch me die. I don’t want to leave you, all alone in this giant cold place…” A sob passes your lips and Donghyuk shushes you with soft stroke to your hair. 

“If you must know, my mother is human. My father is well over, God, I don’t even know how old he is anymore. they’re still living well and healthy into their 10 billionth year of marriage now. We have ways, but that’s story for another day. For now, just let the new information sink in.” Donghyuk pets your cheeks as he would always when you’re upset, a little trick he discovered early on that could still your nervous heart. His lips latch onto yours needfully as you cling onto his body, never wanting to let go. You both lay down, bodies flushing tight together letting the gentle pitter patter of fresh rain outside lull you both to sleep.

“Promise me there’s a way because I think I want to be with you for all eternity. Promise me, Donghyuk.” 

“I promise.” Donghyuk could feel his heart erratic from the thought that he too might be able to find forever love and happiness just as his parents did, still do. He didn’t think it was possible but the past two years of knowing you alone made the hundred years of loneliness before then so worth the wait. Watching the smile blooming so brightly on your sleepy features from his promise eases his weary mind as he laid there holding you in his arms, pressing soft kisses on your face just as he would every night when you sleep. For now, just knowing you want him just as much as he does you, willing to let him cuddle you tight even with the revelation of his hidden self awakening, pushing your relationship into a new light is good enough. Whatever happens now, Donghyuk trust you’ll always be in his corner, no more will he be lonely.

So I saw this post on facebook and I thought, why not? Let’s write something about this.

[theomachys]

a story of repeating regret

the modern reincarnation au no one asked for ( or, nikolai, faina, and discussions of a past king )   — nikolai x faina

history textbook lying face down over his stomach, nikolai stares at the ceiling and sighs. his good leg dangles off the couch, barefooted and swinging dangerously close to the cup of coffee balanced precariously on a stack of books. the other leg, encased in thick plaster with half the campus’ names and well wishes scrawled over the surface, lies immobile, propped up by whichever ratty cushions his roommates were able to find.

not prime date location, he thinks. the stack of unwashed dishes in the sink alone kills any romantic mood that might’ve sprung up. although he can’t blame his roommates’ filthy habits either. this is emphatically not a date—it’s a tutoring session. a hard won tutoring session in the comfort of his shared apartment on campus because faina volkov is too kind hearted to make him limp all the way across campus to the library.

nikolai is not used to people being kind.

“my mother says a piece of happiness escapes with every sigh,” faina comments. soft brown hair held back with a blue scrunchie, she glances over at him. her eyes are hidden by her black frames, and nikolai thinks that’s a crying shame, but moments later he’s distracted by a glimpse of her exposed neck, of pale skin he’s spent far too long fantasising about and—

what the fuck. he blinks and shakes his head. the rooms spins a bit. get a hold of yourself.

“your mom’s a nice lady.” nikolai tosses back. “cheerful.” as if he has any happiness to lose. his perpetual bitter mood has made him a ‘boring emo fuckhead’ in the words of some of his friends. faina is one of the only people willing to endure his company for an extended period of time (and yeah, he’ll blame his attachment on that). both grateful and frustrated, he tries to bite his tongue, unwilling to drive her away, but he knows she can see the black cloud hovering over his head.

she stares at him with pursed lips and taps her pen against her mouth. it’s not helping. “having trouble?”

“more like finding it hard to give a fuck.” a history of the akulakrovi clan is a horrible class and nikolai can’t believe he has to take it for his political science degree. it just doesn’t make sense. if it hadn’t been for his injury, he wouldn’t have bothered showing up. but if he hadn’t shown up (and failed the midterm), he would have never met faina, the soft spoken med student one year below him and a hell of a lot smarter.

so, wins and losses.

“nikolai.” her voice is quietly amused, as if holding back a laugh. faina reaches forward and picks up the history textbook from his stomach and he jerks upright, heart hammering in his chest. even through the fabric of his shirt, her touch burns him—not entirely unpleasantly. brows furrowed, faina pauses. “is everything okay?”

his throat is dry. he swallows. “fine.” to cover up his awkward, visceral reaction, he says, “by the way, i said you could call me kolya. my friends all do.”

her eyes widen.  “i… i didn’t know we were friends,” she says carefully. he thinks he catches a hint of uncertainty in her eyes and yes, okay, he can understand that. they’ve been doing these tutoring sessions for less than two months and faina is not the kind of girl he would find himself hanging out with in normal circumstances. prince nikolai akulakrovi is not only royalty but also one of elv university’s star athletes. compared to that, faina volkova is nobody. this is past the realm for jock-and-nerd cliches; it’s downright strange.

“‘course we are.” nikolai leaves no room for argument, at least not about this.

faina smiles and he thinks of springtime, of flowers beginning to bloom. before he can say anything else, the smile has faded and her head is bent over the history book she liberated from him. “this is your family’s history. how is it not interesting?”

she has a point—it is his blasted clan’s history. but then again. “it’s just a bunch of names on a page,” nikolai says. he leans back and resumes staring at the ceiling. “doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“what about your namesake?”

the history book is shoved in his face unceremoniously, open to the chapter on king nikolai petrov akulakrovi, born 1470. “you mean the worst king elv’s ever had,” nikolai says flatly. the king reigned immediately after the war of nations and instituted numerous reforms in the kingdom, most of which were not very popular. in fact, elv hated them so much that the next successor was chosen from the takret clan, who immediately undid all of the former king’s policies. there wouldn’t be another akulakrovi in power until nikolai’s great-grandfather.

“what? no!” her mouth drops open, as if she can’t even conceive of anyone disliking the old man. “king nikolai was a great ruler.” and faina sounds so sure of this, as if she’s saying the sky is blue or grass is green.

nikolai scoffs. “he sucked. not as bad as, you know, emperor daehyun of surya or anything, but he sucked.” more than just balls, probably. or not balls. hell, he doesn’t know. “his own people didn’t want his son on the throne.”

“he was progressive,” faina insists. she must be a fan. there are plenty of them nowadays—he’s their favourite old history dude because his morals are closely aligned with beliefs today. “elv wasn’t ready for it then.”

“sucked.”

“nikolai—”

“kolya,” he repeats. she crosses her arms over her chest. “oh, come on. he’s dead anyway.” dead for centuries, his bones probably lying at the bottom of the sea. of all the akulakrovis to be named after, why did it have to be that one? nikolai has always had an issue with it. what if history repeats itself?

after a tense pause, faina sits down with the book in hand. “he was a good soldier,” she says finally. “and a good ruler, and a good husband.”

ah, dammit. don’t say anything, he tells himself, but of all the myths this is the one he hates the most. “yeah? flip ahead to page 236.” 

faina gives him a quizzical look but does as he says. “nikolai married freya evighet, lady in waiting to the queen.” she reads out loud. her voice is gentle, like a spring breeze that ruffles one’s hair and dances across their face. “the story of their courtship was widely documented and the basis of many popular songs and plays of the time—why am i reading this?”

“skip ahead a paragraph.”

“in 2015, historians uncovered a partially destroyed letter reportedly written by king nikolai himself to a mystery lover and—oh.” she flips over the reproduced copy of the letter, donated to the elvan historical foundation by nikolai’s father last year after they’d found it one of the castle’s storage rooms.

to my dear [illegible] you will, no doubt, think of me as an idiot for writing this. spies are everywhere even within elv, and a letter like this one would be treasure to my enemies. i know [illegible] …

i will marry freya. it will not be terrible (or so i am telling myself) as she is my best friend of many years and i believe she loves me. her father commands troops of [illegible] …

i could not refuse without hurtling her. i did consider running away, but i knew you would frown on that. duty—we both understand it, do we not? i do not want to be a coward who shirks from his responsibilities. but neither do i want to be untrue to myself. i love [illegible] …

in some other life, perhaps we are allowed a chance. a chance that has been denied to us by the gods now. perhaps in another life, we are unapologetically in love, even married. perhaps in another life, i am not a prince or you are a princess. perhaps [illegible] …

be happy. kolya

a pause. silence settles in the dingy little apartment and nikolai almost laughs because this is weird. it’s like telling your girlfriend your grandfather used to be a gigolo or something equally ridiculous. as far as dirty little secrets go, it’s not a bad one ( barring the fact that people have come forward since claiming to descended from king nikolai’s bastard son ), but it is strange to think the man he’s named after wasn’t the perfect king.

( although maybe it shouldn’t be surprising—nikolai’s not the perfect prince either ).

“this is so sad,” faina breathes. she touches the page gently, almost reverently, and closes her eyes. the expression on her face is distant. forcing himself to sit up, nikolai stares at her and wonders what she’s thinking of. he wonders if he ruined something for her. “this is terrible. he loved someone he couldn’t be with.”

“is it?” irritability bleeds into his voice. “isn’t it just another weakness to add to the list? couldn’t keep his country together, couldn’t keep his people happy, couldn’t love his wife—or couldn’t gather up the guts to leave her. one mess after another.” and—fine, fine, fine. he is officially projecting. dragging a hand down his face, nikolai exhales loudly. wouldn’t it be grand if this is his destiny too?

warmth engulfs his hand. nikolai starts and glances down—faina covers it with her own and gives him a tentative smile. “i don’t think it’s a weakness.” her voice doesn’t waver. “it takes a lot of strength to do your duty. it takes a lot of strength to what necessary, not what you want to do.” he gets the feeling she isn’t only talking about the ancient king and his heart swells in his chest.

“i’m scared,” nikolai blurts out. “i’m scared i’ll end up like him, you know? become king, fuck up badly and have people turn against me. i’m scared it’ll happen now. hell, after i broke my leg, it’s like people couldn’t get away from me fast enough. i know i fucked up. i know i did. i never should have gotten hurt. i let people down; i let my team down, but they just… abandoned me.” he points at the cast. “those signatures? they mean nothing. i don’t know what i’m worth anymore.”  

the problem is that he can understand his ancestor all too well. it is why he fears king nikolai petrov akulakrovi’s failures will be his own. his shoulders slump. “you’re… not my therapist.” it’s not fair to dump the worries he’s been stewing over for weeks on her. faina does not need to hear his. forcing a grin, he says, “you can tell me to shut up.”

but she doesn’t say anything, just continues to hold his hand. her thumb brushes over his knuckles and he tries to remember how to breathe, and dammit how is he supposed to observe boundaries when her hands and soft and small, the perfect size to be tucked into his? “i like you.” barely above a whisper, faina says, “even if no one else is, i’m here for you.”

i want you, nikolai almost replies. he doesn’t mean ‘want you to be here for me’ or ‘want you to stay’ or anything else. he wants her and he’s too fucking cowardly to say so. old king nikolai married lady freya instead of his lover out of a sense of duty, and at least one can argue that is noble. prince nikolai can’t ask his tutor out because he’s afraid of what she might say. he’s afraid of what other people might say. most of all, the anchor of his nonexistent-but-still-official long distance relationship with lady rose evergreen of durr hangs around his neck, dragging him down to the depths.

he brings her hand up and presses his lips against her smooth skin. nikolai hears faina’s breath hitch but she doesn’t pull away nor break the silence. she smells like cherry blossoms, he notices idly, and wonders how he’ll play this off as a joke. when he lets go of her hand, faina blinks at him. head tilted to the side, she waits for an explanation, cradling her hand against her chest. spots of pink color her cheeks and nikolai is miserable because he’d like nothing more than to lean over and kiss her. 

i’m sorry, he says silently. nikolai is not brave enough to move forward yet. someday he might be, but for now, he’ll stay where he is. out loud, “we should get back to the books, yeah?” focused on digging his notebook out from the cracks of the couch, he nearly misses the flicker of disappointment flashing across faina’s face.

“oh, yes. we have a test tomorrow.” her voice trembles slightly and nikolai pretends not to notice. faina brushes her hair away from her face and grabs her notes. she’s not looking at him on purpose—he deserves it. mixed signals aren’t fun to decipher. nikolai hopes he doesn’t seem like he is toying with her. he isn’t. he’s toying with himself.

flipping open to a blank page while faina busies herself with gathered their study materials, nikolai grabs a pen and stares at it. seized by sudden impulse, he scrawls a few words on the corner of the page and rips it out. the folded note is then slipped into one of faina’s textbooks. if he can’t say it… this is the only way nikolai will allow himself to express his feelings. he hopes that one day, she’ll find it.

faina, i like you. i like you a lot.

[fheythfully]

part 1 | part 2

Lieal does as she is bid because - by Halone, by all the Twelve - what else is she to do?

“Once upon a time ago,” begins Solette Vaifert, suspected of arson and murder to her entire family but never proven guilty, “I found my loving, charming father smuggling little girls and boys into this basement right below us. I watched him receive gil for it and he had snarled so horribly, so like a monster, that I could not conceive that the father who treasured myself and Adelaide so could be the same man I was now watching from the shadows.” With a grin, she reaches over and clasps one of Lieal’s hands in hers - so cold, and so young, only fifteen summers when she had disappeared. 

Lieal shivers under the touch and stares at the dream sky.

“Why are you telling me this?” She questions and then winces as Solette’s grip tightens, sharp nails digging into the soft skin of Lieal’s palm.

“Because,” the dead noble girl replies and moves her fingers up the length of Lieal’s forearm, to her shoulder, until she is digging into the tender underside of her jaw. She twists Lieal’s chin to face her and this close the Miqo’te can make out the lack of veins on the ghost’s face, the absence of colour on her cheeks - just the grey eyes as an abyss and the small lips, red with all the colour the rest of her does not have. “You are digging up my grave, orphan girl, stolen girl–” the mouth twists just so and Lieal remembers her in front of the mansion, that passion on her face silhouetted by the screams of the dying. “–and I want revenge against the man whose blood dares flow in my veins, in Addie’s, tainting us both. The one man whom I failed to kill, whom the fire didn’t swallow as it should have - I want him found, and cut apart piece by piece, and so do you.”

She lets go and Lieal sits like a stone, her skin numb with the force and the chill of Solette’s grip. “You’ve hit a dead end, haven’t you? That is why you’re here. Why you were calling me. Because Nymeia saw fit to entwine us and I shall help you, and you shall help me.”

Lieal finds her words and they come falling out too fast, all together: “You murdered them all– the Church was right to try and brand you a heretic, a murderer– how could you even do such a thing–”

Solette scoffs and jolts up from the staircase, a portrait of anger. “I killed them all because they all knew. I sold my soul to demons so that Adelaide could be safe– and I succeeded, mind you, servant girl–” she whirls and is in Lieal’s face again, spitting fire with every syllable. “The Church could not touch me, and they will not for my blood goes back farther than those pointy eared bastards would like it to - my ancestors slew dragons - they were merchant kings and queens who brought profit to the city–” and she laughs abruptly like she has been holding it in for every second, of every minute of the last ten years that have passed since she had disappeared from Church’s safe house. “My family raised orphanages and fed the hungry and oh, the irony just kills, don’t you think?”

The world of the dead is silent around them, quieter than any graveyard, quieter than any tomb. “You will help me,” Solette says once she has calmed. Lieal refuses to meet her eyes and can still feel the piercing stare burning a hole into her soul. She wets her lips and thinks of all the children that must be frightened, crying and alone, wanting for their families; just like she had been, so very long ago.

“You will help me?” The tremble in her voice shames her. She sets her jaw and forces herself to look into the eyes of the dead noble. “How?”

The smile that spills across Solette’s face is brilliant, as blinding as the sun. And just as dangerous, ready to burn any who dare come too close. “Simple,” she purrs and in a flash stands before Lieal, her hair a pale veil over the two as she leans in close.

“All it takes is a drink… and for you, it as simple as falling asleep.”

“A Fantasia?” Master Cocobuki asks, one hand on his chin. “I can procure one for you, yes. But you are aware of the consequences? You trust this spirit of yours so?”

Lieal is abuzz with nervous energy. “Yes,” she replies, lying through her teeth. “I do.”

The lalafell gives her one last, long look before disappearing into the halls of the Oussary. Lieal watches him go and thinks: this is for the greater good.

“The greater good?” Bast’s voice is spitting venom as he paces the front of her apartment. “You would make a deal with a girl who, from my understanding, made a pact with voidsent to murder her entire family in exchange for her life? Tell me, Lieal, what greater good can come from this?”

She remains silent. The Seeker whirls around on his feet. “And you!” He directs this time to Ami, who sits at the the girl’s side. “You are alright with this? Truly?”

Ami offers no response. Beside him, Lieal’s shoulders hunch further into herself. “No,” she speaks for him at last. “He is not. But he cannot stop me, and neither can you, Bast. I must do this. Forgive me.”

Bastien snarls. “You are both fools. I cannot watch this go down.”

He is gone before the door can even click shut behind him. Lieal traces patterns in the fabric of her skirt. There is a shift in the air beside her; the barest hint of Ami’s large hand caressing her hair and then he too is gone.

She is a coward: there is a letter delivered to her previous Mistress’ chambers the next day. It does not tell the truth. Aliette will never know the truth, and Lieal is glad for it.

The potion is bitter and burns her throat on its way down. She closes her eyes, and for the greater good, she sleeps.

Warmth at her fingertips. One moment she is not alive and the next one she is - she lurches and gasps for air like she has been dunked in the frozen ocean. The light hurts her eyes. The colours even more so. She tries to remember how to breathe.

The body does it for her - it has not been dead, not like she has. Not quite. She flexes her fingers and marvels at the muscles that jump between her wrist and the tip of her pinky. She feels her head for ears - no fur, good, she had harboured concerns over the exact outcome of this... exchange.

She spies a mirror in the corner of the room and lunges for it; it takes several attempts to remember how to walk. The image that greets her is a familiar one: pale hair and pale skin, a small mouth and dark eyes. Hyur. She closes her eyes and dives deep into her aetheric core and there - she can feel the little servant girl slumbering, a flicker against the tides that are the new soul inhabiting her body.

Solette opens her eyes and smirks at the reflection. “Kindness,” she murmurs through lips quickly remembering how to speak, “is always a weakness.”

[indonesianshortstoriestrans-blog]

My father and the sea

Agustinus Wibowo - original can be found here

http://agustinuswibowo.com/13547/ayahku-dan-laut/

The first time I saw the sea was when I was five years old, my father brought me face to face with the Indian Ocean. We stayed on the south coast of the island of Java, an area known as the South Sea. The sun crawled up, the waves continued to rumble and crash against the pebbles and shells of the shore. Our legs climbed the black sand rinsed by the waves, my father pointed to the line of the horizon. Behind that line, he said, there is a totally different world. Australia. If you keep swimming to the south, you will arrive in Australia.

But, the south sea is not easily crossed. Every year, there are always those who fall victim to it. Swimmers, fisherman, passengers of ships, even visitors to the beach who dip their feet in the water can be dragged down by the current. According to Javanese mythology, my father told me, the ferociousness of this sea is because underneath it resides the Queen of the South Sea, who always looks for souls to drag down to her palace at the bottom of the sea.

I tightened my grip on my father;s hand. He laughed, mocking me for being a coward. Deep in the bottom of my heart, I wished to become a fish, freely plowing through the wide ocean, from country to country, from continent to continent. But my childhood was spent precisely stuck in my room. I was afraid to leave the house, I was afraid when people outside mocked me because of my narrow eyes and yellow skin ‘China! China!’

At that time I often asked: who am I really? A Chinese person or an Indonesian? Because of their different ideologies, at the time of the cold war the two countries froze all diplomatic relations. What about if a real war were to happen? Who should I defend? The country of my Ancestors, China, or the country where I grew up, Indonesia?

My father often ridiculed me: A poor spineless caterpiller. In those nights my father often told me stories about his secret life. He told these stories so carefullly, as if the walls had ears

It was the crisis period of 1965-66, after the affair of the murder of the top generals which was allegedly done by the comunists. In the middle of this political chaos, Suharto came to power, naming his regime the ‘New Order’. Communists became the enemy of the state, hundres of thousands to millions of people who had a connection to communism, or were simply accused of being communists, were slaughtered throughout the country.

After this, anything with a whiff of communism was banned, Next everything relating to China: Chinese names, Chinese religion, Chinese language, Chinese culture.

The next year, the suharto regime wanted to apply a new role, shops owned by Chinese Indonesians were to be confiscated, to be handed over to the ‘native’ population. This law eas first tested in the our city, Lumajang, on the south coast of East Java.

On that burning hot day, thirty odd of young chinese men and women in Lumajanf demostrated on the street street in protest. My father was one of them. “This is our house, this is out land. Don’t loot our possessions!” they yelled. Suddenly, from all direction dozens of violent men, brandishing daggers, scythes, machetes and lie stone, responded, “Where is your home, where is your land? Go back to your own country!”

Police arrived, rounded up the chinese people who were demonstrating and and took them to prison. The majority of them were freed after a week. But my father, one of those who was regarded as the most revolutionary, was still in prison.

The torture officers inflicted on his back left  a gaping wound, so sore, that they sprinkled with salt and vinegar. They kept torturing him, waiting for him to confess he was a communist.

A year later, he got out of prison returned to the inhale the free air of the city of his birth, Lumajang. This city of ours, in Chinese language is called ‘South Sea Current”. He listened to propaganda, from radio China, Radio Peking, praising their struggle. O young men and women of South Sea Current, who unshakably struggle to defend your rights, you’re a fine model! This praise made him increasingly faithful in studying every word of the thought of chairman Mao.

Having a father like this produced a contradiction within myself. In school, we would learn that Suharto was a great hero, who saved the nation from the communist threat. While at home, my father quietly told me forbidden stories, that I was afraid would poison “pure pancasila ideology’

One day, our school held a writing competition to remember the sacredness of our pancasila ideologi that defeated the communists. I was the winner. I was proud to bring home the shiny gold medal. But my father just cried. This father who I had never seen cry, today cried.

After thirty two years in power, the Suharto regime finally fell in 1998. It was after the severe economic crisis, accompanied by anti-Chinese rioting in various parts of the country. And at once, every one could speak freely. History that in the past was closed was now suddenly open. One after another rules that discriminated against Chinese indonesians were rescinded. Chinese language that in the past was taboo, was now taught in school. The Chinese religion of Confuscianism now became one of the official natioal religions and Chinese New Year became a national holiday. And, most importantly, I no longer had to hide my yellow skin and narrow eyes because there were no longer people yelling “China! China!” on the street.

My father, a egg trader in a small city, worked hard and lived frugally for the sake of sending me to school in China. Nine years I was over there, then finally I returned home to indonesia.

My father had now become an old man lying without strength in bed having had a stroke.

As a child maube this was the moment to show my devotion. I said, papa, get well soon. Later you child will help his father realise his long held dream, return to your mother country. Return to the land of your ancestors.

No, it’s not so, he replied, it is not “return to the homeland” it’s only “go to China”. My homeland is here. Indonesia.

I almost could not believe what I was heating. So much bitterness he had experienced so much rage. But it seems, all the rage had already disperses. He told me, Indonesia has accepted him, and now hi accepts this country as his home.

‘Everything comes from the heart’ he said, ‘if you feel yourself to be a minority you will always be a minority. If you feel yourself to be a victim, you will always be a victim.’ His eyes stared into the distance. My child, he said softly, do you remember the time we saw the sea together? The sea, from the beach you can only see the raging storms and ferocious waves, maybe even Tsunamis.but from the air, you see the sea it is a stretch of unlimited calm. Unlimited calm.

I looked fondly at him, this old man that had become one with the sea.

-