#for anyone unfamiliar that’s seeing this. meet pit hes my son I made him in a tube

[sylcries]

Anyways labxolotl Kinito or something idk. I think he and Pit would be good friends

[thefrogdalorian]

Only The Father You'll Be

Word count: 1,727 Rating: General Content Warnings: Mentioned grief and loss/mourning parents Summary: As he sits on the porch of his new cabin, looking on proudly as Grogu entertains himself with frogs outside their new home on Nevarro, it is a moment that awakens old memories in Din Djarin. Watching his son causes Din to reflect back to a moment when he watched The Child playing with other children in the idyllic village on Sorgan. Back then, Din wanted something very different for him and The Child… it was an occasion when their fates could so easily have diverged from their destiny. But now Din has the one thing that had always eluded him, that he never imagined for himself: a family. Link to read on AO3

Author's Note: I wrote some thoughts about this scene underneath this post yesterday and it just turned into this exploration of Din's contrasting emotions during two moments he spent watching Grogu play with frogs. Truly fulfilling my URL. I made myself emo with this one but I hope you enjoy!

The Mandalorian knew that he did not belong here. It was plain to see that in this idyllic fishing village, with its close-knit community of people, he would always be an outsider. How could a Mandalorian who followed the Creed as devoutly as he had from such a young age ever leave that behind? How could he ever get used to the sensation of feeling the sun on his face? Or feel comfortable in the expectation to meet the unrelenting gaze of others? 

It was true that the villager who had made it her duty to take care of The Mandalorian and the kid, a widow named Omera, had given him pause for thought as to whether he should go against his instincts and stay on this planet he had once dismissed as a backwater skughole. Omera was attentive and understanding of him and The Child, though they were so different from anyone that had ever stepped foot within the confines of their community before. There was no doubt, either, that there was something pulling The Mandalorian towards her. Every time they interacted, he felt a warmth; a tickling sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was a feeling that Din was unfamiliar with, but he might even describe it as pleasurable.

But The Mandalorian did not belong here. He knew that. And if he stayed, sooner or later, she would realise that, too. That would lead to resentment, distrust and they would end up right back where they had started, with him leaving this planet behind in a cloud of dust. Except he would have forsaken his Creed, everything he had ever known. Better to leave now and spare himself the anguish. The kid could stay, though. Leaving The Child behind here… it would be doing him a favour. 

Yet somehow, leaving without this kid, The Mandalorian felt it was wrong. If the cold, detached bounty hunter that had first encountered the bounty on Arvala-7, had been told that he would have felt sorrow at the prospect of leaving The Child behind, nor the lengths he would go to to ensure his safety, he would have struggled to believe that. The Mandalorian did not form attachments to others. He kept his head down, himself to himself, and carried business out with a ruthless efficiency that had garnered him a formidable reputation as the best bounty hunter in the parsec.

But, unbelievably, The Mandalorian did feel sorrow. The Child that he had risked everything for to rescue from the Empire on Nevarro, had quickly wormed his way into The Mandalorian’s heart. And now, as he stood there, watching The Child play with the village children, who were presently covering their faces in horror as he ate a frog, he knew the kid would be fine here... better yet, he would thrive. Seeing him there holding a frog in his mouth had reminded The Mandalorian of the time he had commanded him to spit it out when they were at the Ugnaught’s abode on the desert planet, where he had first encountered The Child as a bounty. Swallowing the frog had been the first sign of disobediance from The Child. A trend that had continued even when they had first arrived here on Sorgan, when the little womp rat had defied The Mandalorian's authority and followed him out of the ship even after he had made it clear that The Child was to stay put. How could he raise a kid that wouldn’t even listen to him?

The Mandalorian knew as sure as the two suns rose every morning over Tatooine, that he was not father material. He had enough scars from his past. The devastation of losing his parents at a young age had never truly left him. From that moment, The Mandalorian had vowed never to get close enough to be scarred by such loss again. That vow had been easier to stick to after he had, rather fortuitously, found himself adopted by a covert that rarely referred to each other by name and always hid their faces from view. It was impersonal, unfamiliar and yet… somehow intensely familial. The Children of The Watch were the only family The Mandalorian had ever known, certainly the only family he remembered. 

But this little child was not to be his family. He was too special, too different. He was hunted because there was something about him that people wanted, his destiny was something far more momentous than anything that could ever happen in a life with a bounty hunter. The Mandalorian wanted to go through life, blending into the background and doing everything he could to be perceived as infrequently as possible. With that child, that would be impossible... The Mandalorian was under no illusions about that.

The Child would stay here, The Mandalorian would leave. They would go their separate ways. Their song had been written.

As he sat there on the porch of his brand new cabin on Nevarro, Din Djarin thought back to the distinctive sound of The Armorer’s voice booming throughout the Living Waters:

“Let it be written in Song that Din Djarin is accepting this foundling as his son.”

It was the first time Din had a moment and pause to think about the momentous decision he had made on that day in the Mines. To watch his son play in the light and show his abilities with a Force that Din did not understand, but was always proud to witness. The older Mandalorian was reminded of the time on Sorgan when he had watched Grogu playing with frogs, much like he was doing now. It was a bizarre notion to Din, that he had almost left Grogu behind on that backwater skughole. Now, he could not imagine his life without the incredible little boy.

His son.

It was still a fact he was getting used to. Din still struggled to believe that Grogu was back with him, that Grogu had chosen to come back to him. The former Padawan had chosen a life as a Mandalorian foundling – now apprentice – over the path with the Jedi that he had been set on that far predated their encounter on Arvala-7.

Grogu had opened up parts of Din emotionally that he had long since thought closed off. He had shown him the depths of his capacity for love and the aching devastation of loss, when Grogu had firstly been abducted by Gideon and then taken with Skywalker to train. Din had discovered, then, that loss was still as raw as it had been when he had seen his parents murdered by battle droids on his homeworld of Aq Vetina all that time ago. Din barely recalled many details of his parents now, such was the time that separated him from those memories. But he remembered the pain of losing them, still as raw as the day it happened.

Din loved Grogu so much that he had broken his Creed for him, found himself cast out and brandished an apostate by the closest thing to a family he had ever known. All that, for the love of a child. 

And when it had been necessary to make his bond to the child official, so that Grogu could progress to the next stage of his life, Din had not hesitated in uttering those fateful words next to the waters where he had once redeemed himself: “Then I will adopt him as my own.”

Din now knew that he had been saved several times over in those waters, not only when he had sworn the Creed, or shortly thereafter when Bo-Katan Kryze had rescued him from the murky depths… but he had been saved once again from a lifetime of solitude when he had made Grogu his own. 

Even back then on Sorgan, he was kidding himself to ever think that it would be possible for him to let The Child go that easily. From the second Grogu had peeked at him from behind the blanket – his wide brown eyes searching curiously at this rude intrusion into his safe haven – Grogu had taken a piece of Din’s heart forever.

And as Din sat there, he thought again about his parents. They were never far from his mind, but since adopting Grogu, they had increasingly featured in his thoughts. Din wondered whether they had ever sat back and watched him play with the pride he now felt in his chest for Grogu. The boy was doing nothing more than playing with some frogs, but to Din, it was the most wonderful sight in the entire galaxy. There was no one there to laugh at him, for his difference. Din knew now that Grogu would never have fitted in on Sorgan, either. The children had been horrified by him eating frogs, but Din did nothing but love and nurture his talents.

To think that Din had once been so terrified of the protector role he had taken on so suddenly, that went against everything Din had spent his adult life following – a life of solitude. But, sitting there in the Razor Crest, holding that metallic orb and feeling the pang of guilt, it was a rush of blood to the head that sent him storming into the building to rescue Grogu. A momentous decision with such little thought that had terrified him in the early days that they had spent together.

Now, fatherhood felt like the most natural thing in the world. Raising Grogu to be Mandalorian, it was a privilege and an honour. Like his son, Din had not been born into the ancient warrior culture, but he was as devout as any who had Mandalorian blood running through their veins.

As he sat there watching Grogu, Din was reminded of an old Mando’a phrase, one of the few he knew:

Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la.

(Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you’ll be.)

Din now knew the type of father he would be to Grogu. Until his dying day, he would protect the boy with every ounce of strength he possessed. Now, they finally had a home together, here on Nevarro.

The Child that he had once been so determined to run from had – just as Kuiil once predicted – brought him a handsome reward. The greatest reward of them all… family.

[ginanosakka]

The Scars You Hide

Masterlist

We Meet Again | Next

Summary: After your meeting with Bakugou, you get an unexpected call to meet with someone else from your past. Is it possible to mend a relationship you weren’t sure was even there?

“Hey Mina, does Bakugou ever talk about me?” You asked, skimming through the clothing rack next to her with that wide smile you always seemed to have.

Her hands were filled with clothing items, and at your question she seemed to almost drop them. Her pink skin seemed to pale slightly as you watched a small sweat begin to breakout on your face, and in your heart you knew the truth. You couldn’t help but let your smile drop ever so slightly, but you gave a light laugh to calm her down and bring the mood back up.

“It’s okay, I know he probably doesn’t talk about me. . It was just worth a shot to ask.” You giggle falsely, feeling not a trace of humor in the feeling you got in the pit of your stomach. “Let’s go pay, my treat!” You repeated the words you said every time you went out with any one of your friends, the return for spending some time with you.

It was weird with Mina though, whenever you offered to pay it looked like she was conflicted. Her yellow eyes would soften like you spilled some said truth, but you never questioned it. That look scared you with the fear that she might be tired of you, so you’d ignore it for as long as you could. . .

“Ryu, how many times do I have to tell you not to use your quirk in the house!” You yelled to what seemed like thin air as your son clapped once again with another crayon in his hand.

When his little hands met, a small explosion went off that burned the crayon to ash and he sheepishly looked up at you from his spot next to the coffee table. Ryu was so much like his father that it bewildered you, he managed to be a carbon copy of someone he never even met. Not only did he steal most of Katsuki’s physical genetics, he acted nearly identical and had a variation of his quirk. You wondered if being quirkless was the reason all your genes seemed to fail to make the cut, but how could you be mad at that when you loved everything about the blonde little boy?

It would have been nice if he had a little less of Katsuki’s temper, though.

“Honestly, it’s like you want to see me go gray early,” you huffed and continued on your way to the laundry room with your basket full of clothes.

Seven years ago, doing laundry would have been a funny joke to you. There were maids that were perfectly capable and paid to do it for you, so there was virtually no point in learning. The only time you lifted a finger was for makeup and eating, that’s how your father preferred you to live. It was a big contrast to now, where you stood in leggings and an oversized band t-shirt doing every bit of the cleaning and laundry, for not only yourself, but also the six year old son that was never in the plans for your future. In fact, no part of the life you created for yourself was apart of the original plan.

Your phone rang as you finished putting in your first load into the washer, and you answered it without looking, propping the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you put on the proper settings. The unfamiliar voice you heard nearly made you jump since only a handful of people had your number.

“Hey,” the woman said with uncertainty clear in her tone.

“Hello. Who is this?” You asked straight to the point, still continuing your chores as you went from the laundry room to the living room where Ryu was now coloring peacefully and began picking up his mid placed toys.

“Oh it’s Mina. . Sorry for calling you out of the blue, but I was just wondering if you’d like to talk?”

You froze in place, immediately going into mental hyperdrive over all the things she could want to talk about, but none of them seemed reasonable. Neither of you had any contact after Katsuki told you the truth about everyone, you completely went off the grid and she went on with her life like everyone. It would make sense to come up with a bullshit excuse to get out of it. . . but then again it would be much easier to clean with someone entertaining Ryu.

“I’ll send you my address, we can talk here.”

“So. . he really is Bakugou’s kid.” Mina sweat dropped as you both watched him stand on top of the couch with two hero action figures in hand, one of them being Bakugou, yelling nonsense about how he can’t be beaten.

“HAHA! Not even Dynamight and Ignenium can stop this villain, but I will be victorious!”

‘Honestly, that whole strive for victory mindset could be Katsuki or my dad’s genetics.’

“Carbon copy with some tweaks,” you shrugged and continued on your way to your bedroom with your basket full of laundry.

Mina followed you through your small — but well decorated due to your mother — home looking as troubled as she was hesitant as she always did around you. It still bothered you like when you were just a dumb rich girl, and you were must less keen on ignoring it to keep the peace. You were strangers now, after all, not friends due to business.

“So,” you started as you dropped the basket on the ground in front of your queen with a loud ‘plop’. “I know you didn’t come here to just get a peek at the bastard child of your friend, and you certainly aren’t here to rekindle our fake friendship, Ashido. . Spill it.”

You stared at her with accusation, stance showing that this easily could shift from a friendly encounter to a hostile environment depending on her next choice of words. Mina was a hero now, she most definitely could tell that this wasn’t the time to play pretend and get straight to the point like she would in the face of a real villain. She may be more of a commercial hero, enjoying the occasional spotlight and taking down many villains for a camera, but you remember that she looked death in the face the moment she got on the hero track.

The atmosphere in the room became tense as Mina was taken back by your commanding attitude, one that showed that what she suspected about you was true; this wasn’t the same Y/N she met as a kid. Your eyes were colder, uninviting and daring her to take a step too close into your world. Your posture even deterred her from thinking she was anything more than a stranger you invited into your home. Everything about the way you acted was a clear indication that the worst case scenario she had thought of after you contacted her had most likely come to fruition.

“What. . happened to you, Y/N?” Mina asked hesitantly, and you blinked at the question with your arms unconsciously reaching for your right side, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Mina.

After a moment of silence you explained, “I had him. My father didn’t like that. . and he told me not to go through with it, that it would be a shameful mistake. When I refused, he kicked me out onto the streets saying I wasn’t his daughter. I had nothing and no one, my pregnancy was high risk, and I had just been told that everything I knew wasn’t real, but we made it just fine.”

The answer was so vague beyond being disowned that it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened between being on the street and now wasn't something you’d be willing to tell just anybody. Especially not the girl who was only her friend in hopes of getting an up on life in her future. The fact that you told her that much was a privilege she should never expect to receive again. Mina could only frown and think of how lost and heartbroken you must have been, all because she couldn’t bring herself to stand without the herd and tell you the truth. You probably didn’t trust anyone now, and the fact that Katsuki probably thought you were living an easy life on your father’s money didn’t sit right with her when you did everything for yourself now, and obviously lived a modest life with his son.

This was her chance to redeem herself for her first failure as a hero, and she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Mina looked you dead in the eyes with determination that you’d never seen before and said, “I want to help you take care of Ryu.”

Your brows furrowed at her declaration, “I don’t need help-“

“You do, and I’m going to be here for you. I don’t care if you hate me now, but I’m going to make it up to you for being selfish.” Mina pressed, her bouncy pink hair jumping as she bounded closer to you with a grin that used to always make a smile come on your own face. Her smile widened and her eyes closed as she made her words sink in with you. “I want to get to know the real you, Y/N, and I’m not going to miss the opportunity of seeing how you managed to keep a little Bakugou alive.”

You didn’t know what to say, no words were good enough to express every emotion she made you feel after six years of doing everything on your own. There probably weren't any words that could sum up the feeling of someone wanting to see who you really were after being someone else your whole life. You werent fully convinced — you couldn’t be, this not only affected you, but your son too — but there was a simple statement that would let her know that this meant something.

“Thank you.”

A/N: I hope you like this Mina x reader moment! I know there wasn’t much Bakugou and Ryu action, but more to come soon. Also, Ryu’s quirk is explosions that are activated by contact with his hands, meaning that he has to touch something to let out an explosion unlike Katsuki who can just let them rip at any time!

Taglist <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @hawksnugget @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @byakuyaswifee @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @liznoonz427 @damnirina @fireworkemoji102 @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa

[inorganicone2230]

All That Led Us Here (Part 1) Yandere!Overhaul x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Summary: Orphaned at the tender age of six, you are taken in and raised by The Head of The Shie Hassaikai along with his young son, Kai, who takes a strange and immediate interest in you, to an obsessive degree... one that only seems to grow as the years go by. A life with him and The Yakuza is all you've ever known, but is it all you really want? Kai would certainly have you believe so, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you never question it.

Warnings: None for this chapter, in fact, the first few will be relatively tame as we build up to the darker chapters later on, but I will make note of them as they pop up per chapter.

Side Note’s: Just a few quick things to help give you an idea as to how this AU’s world is set up. So first off, there are no quirks in this world, so that means that the Yakuza clans are still strong, wealthy and a huge influence in the Japanese underworld, unlike in the cannon version, and the Shie Hassaikai are one of the biggest if not THE biggest. Second, Kai is The Big Bosses biological son and not just some street rat that he took in. Since we never actually learn the old guys name, I figure that it can easily be played around with to suit the needs of this story and Kai’s looks can be explained by saying that he takes after his deceased mom. And finally, Eri will NOT be making an appearance in this story as of yet.

And as always, I want to give a BIG thank you to my amazing friend @talpup for all the brainstorming and encouragement on these stories! I’m sure I would have given up on this blog a while ago if it wasn't for all of their help. I highly encourage anyone who takes the time to read this to go over to their page or their AO3 account under the same name and check out their works, especially Chaos and Erase The Shadow. They are two of my favorite BNHA fics of ALL TIME!

Kai could still remember the first day he met you, no matter how much time passed or how many years flew by, that day was always going to be crystal clear in his mind.

It was the middle of a sweltering hot summer and his father, the head of the notorious Yakuza clan, The Shie Hassaikai, had received a call from an old friend asking him to come visit him on his deathbed in a nearby town. His father had immediately left, but returned just a few days later.

Only, he wasn’t alone when he came back…

It was already early evening when Kai, who was ten at that point, heard the commotion coming from downstairs and had gone outside with all the others to greet his father when he arrived home and was just as shocked, though he hid it very well, as everyone else to see that he had a little girl no older than six with him.

A tiny little thing wearing a purple sundress and hiding behind his father’s legs while she trembled like a leaf. She was so small that, if it weren’t for the quiet little whimpers coming from her, she may have gone completely unnoticed and Kai couldn’t help but idly wonder who she was and what she was doing with his father.

“Kai?” His father had called out to him once he was spotted by the gate. “Come over here Son, there’s someone you need to meet.”

Kai, being the well behaved and dutiful son that he was, immediately went to his father. He couldn’t deny that he was curious as to who the little girl was and even a stoic child like him was still prone to childlike tendencies every now and then.

“What is it Pops?” He asked, his voice already showing signs of deepening despite his young age. And since he had recently hit a growth spurt, he was easily a good foot or so taller than the little girl currently clinging to his father’s hakama.

His father stepped aside to reveal the child to him in full as he gazed down at her with a look of of care and pity. “Kai, this is (Y/N), she’s the daughter of a dear old friend of mine who recently passed away and she’s going to be living with us from now on.” His father reached down to pat you on the head and Kai knew from experience just how comforting that hand could be in a stressful situation, though he’d likely choke on those words if he ever tried to admit them out loud. “She’s family now, so I want you to look out for her. Ya hear me boy?”

Kai had nodded in agreement without a moment's hesitation, he was always eager to please his father no matter what the task was, though, to be honest, Kai had no real experience dealing with kids his own age, let alone one so much younger than himself. He tended to avoid the idiots at his school, they were always running around, getting filthy and he wanted no part in that, and it’s not like there were any other kids that lived in the compound for him to interact with. Hell, there hadn’t even been a woman living there since his mother died nearly eight years prior.

Kai snapped himself out of his own thoughts when he heard his father speak again, seems he wasn’t done talking just yet.

Kai watched as his father gave you another pat on the head as this time, he addressed you directly, his voice much softer and kinder than Kai could ever remember it being. Perhaps it was because you were a girl, or maybe it was because he felt sorry for the situation you were in, your father had just died after all. Either way, this was a side to his old man that he only ever saw when he talked about his late wife, so this was a rather surreal experience for the young boy.

“(Y/N), this brat here is my son, Kai.” He said, motioning his head towards the golden eyed boy. “If you need anything at all and you can’t find me, I want you to go straight to him, alright? This is going to be your home from now on and that means that you can just think of him as your big brother if that makes it easier.”

You had been looking at the ground for the majority of the time, but when you briefly glanced up to meet his gaze, Kai couldn’t help but feel drawn to the big (e/c) eyes that seemed to take up the majority of your chubby little face. They were wide and full of fear, but also a great deal of curiosity as you took in your new surroundings.

You gave him a small, barely there nod of your head as you mumble out a quick response, your voice just as tiny as you were in stature. “N-Nice to m-meet you Kai-san. I’ll try n-not to be a b-bother for you.” And then your eyes are back on the ground and Kai is left with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he uncharacteristically thinks that he wants you to look at him again, and for longer this time.

The old boss tries to muster up a weak smile in the hopes that it will put you at ease. “I’m sure the two of you will get along just fine once you get used to each other. Now, why don’t we go have some dinner and then get you off to bed? It’s been a long few days and I’m sure you’ll feel a bit better in the morning.”

With affirmative nods from both children, nothing more is said as everyone is urged to get back to their usual duties despite talk over who the unexpected new addition to the household is and where she came from.

—————

Later on that night, after a quiet dinner was shared amongst the three, Kai went off back to his room and quietly continued to work on his summer homework. Pops was insistent that he keep up his grades, inciting that just because he was set to inherit the role as head of a mob family, that didn’t mean that he was allowed to be an ignorant fool with no brains to back himself up, and Kai was inclined to agree, there was only one thing he hated more than filth and that was stupidity and a general lack of common sense.

Tonight however, this usually easy task was proving to be just a tad bit harder to stay focused on.

The main reason?

He can hear your soft cries from down the hall in your new room and it’s proving to be rather distracting. Not that you were being overly loud, but thin walls and shoji screen doors don’t provide much in the way of soundproofing or insulation. And with the two of you bring the only ones living on this floor, his old man's room being situated one floor above and everyone else further down, it was even more quiet than a normal house.

Without really stopping to think about what he was doing, Kai got up from his desk and left his room to wander down the hall until he found himself quietly standing outside your door. He debated with himself for about thirty seconds before he made the abrupt decision to just open the door uninvited.

There you were, curled up on an unfamiliar bed that was definitely way too big for someone so tiny, your shoulders shaking even as your head shot up at the sudden sound of sliding wood and big fat crocodile tears continued to roll silently down your cheeks.

“U-Um… w-what are-”

“You’ve been crying.” Kai interrupted you.

You looked down, he really wished you’d stop doing that, almost as if you were ashamed to have it pointed out so bluntly.

“I’m so-sorry, I w-won’t do it a-again, I pro-promise.” You managed to get out between more sniffles.

Kai normally hated the sound of crying, it was like nails on a chalkboard to him and he attributed it to weakness, yet another thing that he so deeply detested. But, he supposed that given the events you had likely been subjected to over the course of the last few days, your blatant display of emotion was understandable, if not outright expected of you.

And besides, he thought, he knew what it was like to lose a parent, but he still had his old man at least, that was more than could be said for you, you didn’t have anyone.

No one but him and Pops…

Kai wouldn’t be able to properly articulate to himself what it really was, not until he was older and understood himself a bit better, but he felt an odd sensation swell up in his chest at the thought of you relying on him, of you needing him, he liked the idea of you staring up at him with those big watery eyes and asking him for help, begging him to make the hurt go away.

But more than that, he wanted to be the reason you smiled. He had yet to see a smile grace your face, but he knew that he wanted to be it’s cause when it did finally happen, or at the very least, he wanted to be the first one to see it.

It was a strange feeling, and not one he was at all used to, but Kai was a pragmatic child and rarely ever second guessed himself once his mind had settled on an idea. His father often told him that if he continued to cultivate that trait, it would make him an even better boss than him someday.

And to that end, he did what his father would expect of him…

“Do you… want me to stay with you, until you fall asleep?”

The two of you stared at each other for roughly a minute before you mutely nodded your head and Kai silently made his way over to your bed, easily climbing onto the tall mattress and sitting upright against the headboard while you laid your head back down on the pillow.

Kai never took his eyes off your face.

“Thank you Kai.” You mumbled sleepily, your swollen, puffy eyes already drooping as sleep threatened to finally claim you.

He wasn’t really great at comforting others, not that he had ever tried, so he acted on pure instinct, reaching out and taking your tiny hand in his own and closing his fist around it, an act that both shocked and astounded him, though he never let go of your hand regardless of that.

It had been so long since he had touched anyone else that he’d almost forgotten what another person’s skin could feel like and despite his steadily growing aversion to physical contact, he didn’t feel even the slightest bit of disgust when he felt your skin against his own. In fact, it was no different than if he was reaching up to touch the flesh of his own face.

Kai knew that this had to mean something, he just didn’t know what that something was just yet.

But he could figure it out, he thought, gazing down at your peaceful face as he brushed some of your hair behind your ear. This was your home now, and he had all the time in the world to learn what it was about you that seemed to set you apart from the rest of the filthy world.

—————

About an hour later, Kai was just beginning to feel his own eyes drop as sleep fought to overtake his senses when he heard a shuffling sound by the still open door and, looking up, he wasn’t all that surprised to find his father standing there in the doorway.

The Boss couldn’t sleep and so he decided to wander down and check on his new charge, he was already beating himself up for leaving you alone in a dark, unfamiliar room. He half expected to find you still awake and crying, however, what he found instead was something far more surprising than anything he could have imagined on his own.

You weren’t crying, in fact, you were sound asleep. Sound asleep and holding his sons hand, his son who hated all unnecessary physical contact. To say he was surprised was an understatement, he never would have expected to find a scene like this, not in a million years.

Kai meanwhile, couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit annoyed that his time alone with you was being interrupted. How was he supposed to think and ponder these new developments if he was being distracted by his father’s eyes boring holes into him.

But, he supposed this could have it’s own benefits, now that they were alone, he could ask his father some questions that have been plaguing his mind since he first arrived home.

“Why is she here Pops?” He asked quietly, never taking his eyes off your sleeping face.

The Boss was not the kind of man that believed in treating his son with kid gloves, he told him how things were in a very direct manner and rarely ever beat around the bush when talking to him. He was going to be taking over one of the most powerful Yakuza clans in the country and he couldn’t afford to have his only son and heir be a spineless weakling. Some might call him cruel for laying so much on a young child’s shoulders, but he knew just how fast he could be swallowed whole if he didn’t possess the necessary moral fiber to stand on his own two feet in this dangerous world he was set to rule in. It might not seem like it, but he loved his son and wanted to see him succeed and push the clan further then even he had.

“Her father was an old friend of mine from back in the day.” He began and leaned one of his large, broad shoulders against the door-frame. “He wasn’t a criminal, in fact, he was a pretty average guy. But he helped me out of more tight spots in our youth then I care to remember and despite knowing about my Yakuza heritage, he never dwelled on it or judged me for it.”

Kai watched as a look of sorrow passed across his father’s face, something that only ever happened when he thought about his mother and he realized it must have meant that he really cared about this dead man, whoever he was.

“We lost touch over the years, but when I got that call from him, asking me to come see him on his deathbed, I knew I owed it to him to go and send him off.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “When I got there, I found out what it was he wanted from me. His last wish was that his only child, his daughter, be raised by someone he knew and trusted. Neither he, nor his deceased wife had any known living family that could take her in. So it was either I take custody of the girl, or she gets put in the system. Clearly you can see what my decision was.”

Kai suspected that there was more to the story than that, but he got what he wanted so he didn’t press for anymore then that.

“So, you want to tell me what you’re doing here in the middle of the night?” His father questioned him.

Kai still had yet to look away from you and to be honest, he really didn’t want to. “She was crying.”

“So you came in here to check on her?”

“Something like that.” Kai murmured, his usual monotone still firmly in place. “She’s different than the others, she’s clean and I don’t feel sick being near her. I can even touch her.”

It was nearly pitch black in the room but there was just enough light streaming in from the hallway that allowed him to see his sons face, and what he saw there nearly had him busting out laughing, but he refrained for fear of ruining whatever it was that was happening to the boy.

Kai was blushing.

It was small and faint, but the tops of his cheeks were definitely looking a bit darker than usual.

And this seemingly innocuous turn of events sparked an idea in his mind, one that he would need to put some serious thought into, he couldn’t just rush something like this without analyzing it from all angles, but it was an option that could ultimately lead to his child’s, no, his children’s future happiness.

“So I take it you’re not going to be having a problem with her being here?”

Kai looked down at you, at the steady rise and fall of your chest and the way you curled in on yourself. He took in the way you nuzzled your face just a bit closer to him and he found comfort in your soft little breaths that he could feel against him arm.

So, did he have a problem with you?

“I’ll take care of her.”

I hope you all enjoyed this! Please let me know what you thought if you have the time!

[humble-wayside-flower]

“The surface escapes you upward, leaving you in freezing depths, fathoms below.                                   Watching. Return. Reward. Wonder.  A final squeeze sends the last breath from your lungs in a muffled scream.                                                     Punish.”

                                                                        ~Episode 53

“Settled within a small chamber of tangled leaves and roots, within this mass of vines and green, you swear you can see a face. Female. Motherly. Her eyes closed.

The womb I grant, but withers without faith. His will shall find you again soon. His will shall find you again, but until it does, rest.” 

                                                                        ~Episode 65

Episodes 49 - 76

Spotify (X)- Liner Notes Under Cut Part 1 / Part 2 

_______________________________________________________

Pretender (Acoustic) by AJR (Post Pirate Arc- Feeling adrift and throwing yourself into another situation so you don’t have to think about the previous one. With everything going on in the empire and the lives of his friends, there are far more important things to be focusing on.)

I’m a good pretender Won’t you come see my show? I’ve got lots of problems Well, good thing nobody knows 

Seafaring Song by Mark Lanegan & Isobel Campbell (He feels uneasy being this far from the ocean, as he runs from the promise he made and things he did to chase power that didn’t matter. Looking up into the Xhorhas sky and seeing an unfamiliar, yet familiar vastness reflected back at him.)

I have traveled the world around Wandered far from home Sailed the ocean in foreign skies Still further to roam

False Confidence by Noah Kahan (The City of Beasts- Fjord should feel comfortable here, no one glances at him sideways, he isn’t the only one of his kind, but he still doesn’t feel like enough. Insecurities about his size, his tusks, his humaness, his orcness abound. Feeling like you aren’t enough for either place yet too much for both as well.)

Don’t take yourself so seriously Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see You’re here for a reason but you don’t know why You’re split and uneven, your hands to the sky Surrender yourself 

I Don’t Even Care About You (Stripped) by MISSIO (His first Uk’otoa dream since leaving the coast. It’s a warning and a threat of punishment. Being crushed in your dreams is every bit as unpleasant as it sounds.)

Depressed again Evening comes too fast, still tired of the routine Depressed again I can do without all your false curiosities Angry again No, I don’t wanna have a conversation with you Angry again Let me sit alone with kerosene I do’t even care about you

A New Mission by Josh Whitehouse (Everything about Wursh exasperates Fjord’s insecurities, but he feels seen in a way that, while not pleasant, is necessary. The group also gets another peek at the childhood that made their friend.)

Sometimes I can’t control a feeling that I get inside my chest Even with those who are close to me, the ones I call my best I lose sight of all my confidence, in a heavy single step It’s happened ever since my childhood, things I thought I’d put to rest

The Wolf in Your Darkest Room by Matthew Mayfield (Uk’otoa makes it clear that what can be given can also be taken away. The loss of his powers, however temporarily is terrifying.)

And I just want to taste you on my teeth And clawing at your neck to feed my needs You thought you found my limit But you don’t seem to know You don’t seem to know How far I’d go

The Mask by Matt Maeson (Fjord has spent a lifetime crafting masks, but at what cost, and with such weight. He’s not ready to take them off yet, but he gets one step closer with each day. Fjord’s second talk with Wursh about anger, picking your battles, and not letting others define who you are.)

Tell me what you know I settled my grievance by crafting a mask And I never looked back I will never grow While this anchor is chained to my feet

Waite by Lowland Hum (Xhorhas montage- Adjusting to a new city, a new culture, and having a home of your own for the first real time ever. The paranoia of feeling like you’re being watched. Caleb waiting for him in his room- a conversation with a friend you don’t yet understand, and are not sure you fully trust.)

Hunter, rush, mauve, dust; Colors I didn’t trust  Until I saw them from the train Home with stranger kin Camp in the kitchen Tears and sweet refrain Pining, dining, late reclining Pillow steals my brain Stop through, see you All we’ve been through Are we not the same?

In Memoriam by The Oh Hellos (Sleeping next to the Wildmother’s tree. Uk’otoa strikes again, but she saves him, brings him to her, and offers him a place of refuge to seek and strive for. For the first night in a long time, his sleep is peaceful.)

Well, it’s a long way out to reach the sea But I’m sure I’ll find you waiting there for me And by the time I blink, I’ll see your wild arms swinging Just to meet me in the middle of the road And you’ll hold me like you’ll never let me go And beside the salty water, I could hold you close But you are far too beautiful to love me

Diver (Acoustic) by Kid Astray (The Wildmother’s tree again, but this time his eyes are on Jester only. Also known as: He literally jumps off a tree into a deep dive to save her guys!! That’s some Disney bullshit!!)

So dive in with me, leave without the feeling that you’re on your own Hold fast drifting, know that I won’t go before you’ve had enough ‘Cause I can be anything that you want me to be, anything that you need me to be So dive in with me, dive in with me

 A Lullaby of Home by Jessica Curry (Bazzozan, Oban, and the loss of Yasha. The feeling of betrayal that strikes deep to his core.)

Instrumental

The Difference by Noah Gunderson (Fjord and Nott are parallel stories. The weird understanding and also misunderstanding between those who are in the same place, but had very different journeys to get there, and also don’t want to acknowledge just how much the same they are.)

I hope I don’t miss it Though I know I probably just won’t get it Maybe we were made this way Maybe we weren’t made Maybe we just got here Learning from our mistakes Maybe we don’t know What we’re looking at  The ever pressing question takes a toll

A Little Broken by Storm Greenwood (The Vandran scry conversation. Fjord confides in Jester about all of it, not knowing what he wants, losing his powers, being afraid of losing his friends and himself. She supports him like he never expected anyone to. He leaves feeling more grounded and ready to make a decision. )

And though we’ve been down the hardest road we’ve yet traveled At least we weren’t traveling alone Time ticks by and we’re still a little broken But together we can lighten this load

Broken Crown by Mumford & Sons (The whole damn lava pit thing, that defining choice. The giving up something bad to replace it with something better. Jumping off a cliff and praying you’ll be caught.)

Touched my mouth and hold my tongue I’ll never be your chosen one I’ll be home, safe and tucked away You can’t tempt me if I don’t see the day

Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos (The aftermath. When you’ve named the beast you can tame it, or throw it away entirely. In a way it is freedom. Fjord and Caduceus share a private moment of encouragement and support.)

I know who I am now And all that you’ve made of me I know who you are now And I name you my enemy

Kinda Feels Alright by Wild Rivers (Fjord’s friends love him so so so much. Coming clean about who you are even though it is terrifying, and finding that nothing has changed really, not in the ways that matter the most.)

I swear I should be terrified But damn, it kinda feels alright

Ginger by The Front Bottoms (Powerlessness and the Strength of Self. Fjord was never really weak, he just needed faith in himself, his abilities, and in the love of his friends.)

Back before I got struck by lightning Things were so much different than they are now I got a lot more people leaning on me And all I wanna do is make them proud But this is my body, the only thing I own entirely And it’ll carry me to greatness somehow

Better in the Morning by Birdtalker (Fjord and Caduceus commune with the Wildmother and talk about the importance of faith. There is no requirement to have it all figured out immediately. You are safe, you are loved, you are wanted. Just have faith.)

Be gentle with yourself as you uncover Your best kept secrets yet to be discovered In stillness, boys, clear water to the bottom You will do better in the morning

The Dragon from God of War (The Battle at Mythburrow for the material to finish Star Razor. If there was any doubt that his friends turned family would do anything for him, it is dispelled now.)

Instrumental

Atlas: Eight by Sleeping at Last (Rebirth, Reforged, Revival.)

Here I am, pry me open What do you want to know? I’m just a kid who grew up scared enough To hold the door shut And bury my innocence  But here’s a map, here’s a shovel Here’s my Achilles’ heel I’m all in, palms out, I’m at your mercy now And I’m ready to begin 

[theycallmequeenie]

Lexie And Happy

Part One

Part Two

Masterlist

Happy’s instinct was right with in 4 months of the accident Lexie had started to pull away from him. They had begun to argue almost all the time, which usually resulted in Lexie at her uncle’s home in tears and Happy at the clubhouse making plans to go back to Tacoma. Thing had gone from bad to worse and there was no getting better in sight. Hap would do everything he could think of to reach out to Lexie but she would just pull away for him all the more he was at his wits end. He would all but beg Lexie to open up and talk to him like she used to before the accident. Hell the club would all try to get her to talk to someone and she just wouldn’t. It was as if she was intent on suffering alone in this and pulled away from everyone, but throughout all of this she never took that ring off her left hand. That was the only thing that could ground her and pull her out of her own head and stave off the depression for a few minutes.

One Saturday morning after a club party Tig and Happy both went to check on Lexie, who had once again stayed at Tig’s home, only to find it cleaned of her things with a note and that ring on the counter. Lexie was gone and it left both men standing in shock. They knew she had been unhappy but they never thought she would leave her hometown much less leave Happy without as much as a kiss good-bye.

The note was written out in her handwriting which assured Tig that this was her doing and not someone abducting her to get to the club for some reason. It read: “I’m sorry but I have to leave. I am clearly making everyone around me miserable and I can’t continue to bring my family down like that anymore. I love you all but I have to try to get me back, please understand. Tell Hap, I will always love him. It wouldn’t be fair to expect him not to move on. Maybe the next girl will deserve that ring more than I did. Uncle Tiggy, I’ll call soon I promise. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. Love Lex.”

Happy was both angry and hurt. How could she leave him like that? Just a footnote in a goodbye letter to her uncle. She was his old lady. Period. There was nor ever will be anyone else for him. He gave his heart to her and her alone. He would never open himself up like that to anyone again. He picked up Lexie’s ring and stormed of to the clubhouse, grabbed his go bag, and left for Tacoma.

That was over ten years ago. Lexie ended up in a beach town on the east coast running a garage with an ash blue pit bull name Sunshine. Happy had Transferred to SAMCRO and was now the Sargent At Arms and still known as the Tacoma Killer for his role in the club. Tig was the Vice President, Jax Bobby and several others were dead, and the President was now Chibs Telford. The pain in the ass Scot that she never really got along with. The club had taken over running Teller-Marrow Automotive but they needed help to keep it afloat. That’s when Tig made the decision…

Tig had made sure he kept the lines of communication open with his niece. He knew that was who was needed to get that garage back in shape and successful. So he called an officers meeting and discussed it with Chibs and Happy. Knowing it would still be a sore subject with Hap, Tig approached it as gently as possible, doing his best to point out it was what was needed to turn the shop around. Chibs agreed and Ha said to do what ever but not to be surprised if they were told that it wasn’t happening. Tig made the call and Lexie made the move.

Lixie knew she needed to go back home to Charming but was dreading what it would entail. She wanted to help her uncle but really didn’t want to face his brothers, one she loved had loved since she was sixteen years old despite his role in the club and the other the now president of the club she really just didn’t along with he was a Scottish pain in the ass. She was a damn good mechanic and an even better business woman and TM Automotive needed both to succeed right now. She didn’t know how well she would be received by the the new brothers in the club which she had been raised around. A great deal had changed since she was around the Sons but she knew much had to stay the same. He uncle had called her for the assist and after all he was the vice president now so the other two had to be alright with her return. She was a mile away from the lot she knew she was soon going to find out. She missed Happy and hoped that the Tacoma Killer missed her too.

Lex pulled into the lot, first making sure Sunny was alright in the backseat before getting out of her SUV, making sure to leave it running, with the emergency brake engaged, so the pup had air conditioning. As she got out of the vehicle she was met by an unfamiliar face trying to tell her that the garage wasn’t open yet that she would need to come back later. Lex simply waved him off and walked toward the newly rebuilt clubhouse calling for her uncle.

Tig was in the kitchen area making coffee stopped mid pour hearing the clicking of women’s boots on the tile floor. He had set the pot and mug on the counter and was all but to Lex before she had finished calling out his name. The moment he got within arms reach of her he had her up in his arms hugging her and telling her how much he had missed her. As he sat her back to the floor she admitted that she missed him more.  “Let’s get you back to the house and settled, You brought Sunny Bunny along too right? I can’t wait to see her.”

“Glad to be home Uncle Tig. Yes she’s in the car, anxiously waiting for you.” She laughed softly at the excitement from her uncle about meeting her dog. “And you are certain that your old lady is cool with me staying with you two for a while? I don’t want to step on toes.”

“She can’t wait to meet you. You are family. Come on let’s get you over to the house and unpacked before the chaos of the lot starts up.” He put an arm around her shoulder and walked her out to her car climbing into the driver’s seat after have Lexie toss him the keys. He drove her to his home and started to unload the things she brought with her, which really wasn’t more than two suitcases and a box of old pictures and knick knacks. Sunny was lead out of the vehicle and allowed to walk around the yard and inspect her new surroundings before being lead into the house to meet Auntie Venus.

Sunny loved Vee but Lexie was on the fence about Venus. Tig had filled Lexie in on Venus’s story and past so that she wouldn’t be too surprised but appearances or anything else. All Lexie knew was that Venus was entirely to energetic and Seven in the morning for her liking. Stepping back and extending a hand as Venus was about to hug her. Venus looked a little upset but understood that she was most likely not the first of Tig’s loves that Lexie met and wanted to keep her distance until she knew that this long term between her uncle and Vee.

After getting everything taken care of there Tig and Lexie went back to the garage to get it opened up for the day and hopefully get it back to the place it once was. Tig had assured Lex that Happy was on a run for the club in southern California and he wouldn’t be back for a few days so it was safe for her to get settled in and start digging through the office and getting it organized and then she get out in the garage to start turning wrenches with the boys.

Lex nodded at this and set to work she had the office put back together and organized in an hour and was out in the shop working happily shoulder to shoulder with Tig. The guy that had tried to tell her off from earlier this morning had come over to try again only to be stopped by Tig introducing Lexie to him.

Lex learned that his name was Rat and waved. Rat was informed of Lexie’s nickname that she had carried from birth and it wasn’t a good idea to mess with her. Lexie made a remark about knocking one biker out at sixteen and never living it down, causing Rat’s eyes to bug out slightly.

They had started chatting back and forth when the roar of motorcycles made Lex stop mid sentence, after all these years she could tell his bike just from the rev of it’s engine. Looking to her uncle as if to beg him to hide her somehow she heard the mans voice she had wished to hear for ten years now…

“Lex….” He spoke as if someone had punched him in the gut. Happy couldn’t believe his eyes. She actually came home. Had he placed money on her decision, he’d have certainly lost that bet, but one thing was for certain, once he saw her he knew for a fact he still loved her. He couldn’t get over the fact she still looked the same as she did the last time he saw her on that Friday afternoon.

Lexie could not raise her gaze to meet his giving him a sad, quieted “Hey Hap…” It still hurt her to see him and the pain that she knew he carried behind his eyes. What she didn’t know was that the pain wasn’t from what was lost in that accident but from what happened to her after it. Happy was hurt because he didn’t know how to help her get past her pain. He was hurt because the only way that could help her was for her to leave her home and him.

Lexie could stand there in front of him any longer, storming past him making sure to keep her head down to hide her tears she ran out of the garage to the club house just to get some space between them.

Happy looked at Tig and Rat and they looked back. Rat was the first to speak, “I take it they’ve met…” gaining him a glare form both of the older men.

“What the hell, Man?! You weren’t to be back until the end of the week. That’s why I timed this the way I did.” Tig did his best to refrain from yelling at Hap but failed for the most part. “Ya know, just don’t bother answering that, just go see if she’ll talk to you.”

With that Hap sighed in defeat and made his way to the clubhouse hoping that she would actually talk to him and not ice him out like she had done in the past….

To be Continued…

Part Four

[commandocannoli]

Defeating Thanos

So, I wrote this a long while back because I spent a lot of time writing different ways Loki could have survived. I figured I’d post it because it’s been in my notes for forever. Sorry if it’s cringe and badly written haha I likely wrote it while in deep sorrow at three in the morning. There’s more to it, this is only a mere piece.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Darkness enveloped him for a moment, but the shadows began to become disturbed by a slowly growing mist. Loki blinked several times, but instead of going away, the mist increased, as did the view around him. It wasn’t as dark anymore; he could see a path clearly in front of him. Tucking his daggers carefully away, but still keeping them open enough, available to snatch up at any moment, he followed the eerie pathway ahead silently, his gaze carefully scanning the surroundings as he went.

Loki couldn’t remember where he was or how he got here. Though the area was dark, it didn’t feel sinister. All the same, he wasn’t going to put his guard down.

As the straight path began to turn into corners, Loki following with ease, he noticed a glowing light around the upcoming corner. Swallowing, he gripped the handle of one of his daggers and made his way closer. Pressed to what was a very odd sort of wall, Loki slowly began peering around the edge. He held back a grunt of disappointment when he realised he wouldn’t be able to see what it was without showing himself. Drawing in a breath, he turned the corner, dagger drawn, but stopped and froze when he saw what was there.

“Loki.”

Instant tears welled in Loki’s eyes and soon began to stream down his cheeks. “Mother?” He dropped his dagger, mouth agape.

Frigga smiled, nodding lightly, and opened her arms wide, inviting Loki in for an embrace.

For once, Loki didn’t hide his vulnerability. He practically ran to her, arms wrapping around her and pulling her tight. “I missed you so much. You are my mother. I’m so sorry I said you weren’t. The thought that...that was the last thing I ever said to you has haunted me every day-” His words broke off as he choked back a sob.

“I know. I know.” Frigga whispered gently, her soft fingers combing through Loki’s hair. “I forgive you, and I will always love you, Loki. My son.”

Loki released her from the hug, absorbing her warm expression. He couldn’t believe he’d found her, but a sudden confusion overtook him. “But...but you’re dead? Where are we? A-am I...?”

“You are dead.” Frigga confirmed, but she did not act as though things were grim.

Subconsciously, Loki’s hands rose to his throat and he remembered. “Thanos...” He gripped Frigga’s arms in urgency. “I need to find Odin and Hela.”

Frigga didn’t say anything, but took Loki by the hand and walked through the very wall Loki had been leaning against.

Moving through the wall felt like nothing, but they emerged on the other side into a vast area filled with warmth. Loki peered around, continuing to follow as his mother led him. She didn’t have to go too far before she stopped, standing with Loki at the base of a stone staircase.

“I see that my son has arrived.”

The voice was nothing unfamiliar. Loki slowly released Frigga’s hand, his eyes climbing the stone steps to the top, where he saw Odin, sitting in a large throne beside Hela, situated in another throne.

“I’ve come to ask something of you.” Loki responded, icy gaze flicking from Hela to Odin. “It isn’t a favour for me; it is for the good of everyone and everything.”

“A noble act? From Loki? God of Mischief?” Odin inquired, raising a brow.

Odin looked powerful; much more than he did in his final days. Loki did not cower, no matter how much it seemed Odin had improved. “So you know already then?”

At first Odin said nothing, scratching his chin before he rose from his throne and began to descend the steps, Hela following at his shoulder. “I do. You allowed Thanos to kill you, in order to save your brother.”

The statement didn’t sound like it was tinged with any sort of admiration. Loki simply nodded. “That, and I needed to come find you for-“

Odin raised his hand and Loki instinctively went silent. “You wish to bring Hela, your mother, and myself back to the world of the living.” Odin replied. “You seek us to help end Thanos.”

“I do.” Loki answered, hating the gleam that flickered in Odin’s gaze.

“If any of us can leave Hel, it’s me.” Hela spoke for the first time, sounding rather bored. “I don’t believe you thought your plan out well enough. Sure, I can bring you all back from death, but you’ll be nothing but walking corpses that do my bidding. Or did you forget what happened during Ragnarok?”

Loki’s fists clenched, but when he felt Frigga’s calming touch on his shoulder, he relaxed again. “Clearly you can’t see everything that happens in the world of the living.” Loki snapped, feeling satisfaction from the sharpness that slid off his tongue with each word. “I made my plan and it’s far better than you could’ve dreamed.”

Hela did not react to Loki’s jabbing way of words, but simply arced a brow high upon her forehead. “Oh really? What plan is that?”

Looking upwards, Loki noticed that the ceiling was a seemingly endless pit of black. “How the hell are you supposed to tell what time of the day it is? Or even what day it is for that matter?”

Hela laughed as though amused. “Time has no meaning here. Why would anyone want to keep track when they’re dead?”

“Because, I need to know when he’s going to bring us-“ Loki began, but was interrupted as the ceiling began to emit light.

Hela instantly looked up in bewilderment, as did Odin.

Loki noticed that a gold dust began rising from the heads of all three individuals around him. Holding up his hands, he noticed the same material rising from his own body. Satisfaction pulsed through him and a smirk tugged the edge of his mouth up sharply. “Looks like it’s time.”

Brightness, and then natural lighting; it occurred as quick as a blink.

“There he is! There’s my Loki!”

Before Loki could do anything, Grandmaster was embracing him as though they’d been apart for ages, though it had only been a few days at most. “I missed you so much.”

Loki returned the embrace warmly, but then suddenly remembered that his parents and sister were there. He saw them all staring in confusion out of the corner of his eye. Pulling out of the hug, Loki cleared throat. “Um, this is the Grandmaster. He’s the one who brought us back...he’s my...friend...”

“Ooh, meeting the family! I’m a little nervous.” Grandmaster murmured the last part, but was smiling as he draped his arm around Loki’s shoulders and approached the other three. “Loki here is an amazing guy, isn’t he? You all must be, ah, very very proud to call him family.”

Embarrassment washed over Loki, but he simply gave a slight smile to the older man before looking at his family once more. “Anyway, Grandmaster said he would help me. I told him my plan and he agreed to bring us back at this time so that we could assist everyone else.”

[thewriterscraftblog-blog]

Short Story: A World Where Being Gay is the Norm, and Being Straight is a Minority

The writing of short stories is appealing because it is a platform for ultimate creativity and provides the writer complete and utter freedom. There are no restriction or rules to be followed when writing a short story. All decision are entirely welcome and up to the writer which is appealing because it gives a break from other forms of writing that have specific requirements that can lead to a person feeling very restricted when writing which in a sense can cause a loss of interest or passion in what is being written. 

Tears stream down Noah’s face uncontrollably as he clenches his jaw and holds back screams of pain and anguish. Before he knew it, another punch came soaring towards his face, slamming him right in his tear filled eye. He looks beyond the group of boys around him, in search of his boyfriend, William, but it seemed as though he had escaped. Noah sighed in relief after discovering this, but his comfort was soon interrupted by the word “faggot” being shouted at him from every corner of the room. Noah’s head bangs against the school’s locker as David swept him off the ground and pushed him with the force of 1000 winds. His lip quivers as David brings his face close to Noah’s. “If I ever catch you and your boyfriend fooling around again, I swear to God I’ll kill you both so quick,” The facial expressions on the faces of David’s friends all go blank as they look at eachother. The harsh words leaving David’s mouth sent shockwaves throughout the hallway. “Why do you care what I do?” Noah said as his voice shook. “Why? Because I don’t wanna see none of that gay sh*t in my school.You can take it someplace else, far away from my view.” Before Noah could have time to respond, David’s friend Mark rushes through the doorway. “David! Mr.Lawrence is coming upstairs we need to leave. Now.” With that, the whole squad bolted down the school hallway like an Olympic team at the start gun, as their shoes squeak on the shiny floors. Noah waits until they’re all out of sight, and he slides his back down the locker door, and sits on the ground. He wipes his bloody nose with a kleenex, and he thinks to himself. Why does he have to deal with this, only for being himself? What did he ever do to David? What did he ever do to anyone for that matter? He wipes his tears, and looks down at his shoes. His eyes trace his surroundings and the world around him seems to shrink. Why can’t he walk the hallways with his boyfriend without being attacked? Why can’t they go out without being stared at? Why does he have to “come out” to people about his sexuality, but others don’t? As all of these questions flood into Noah’s mind, he imagines a world where being gay is normal, and being straight is the minority.

  That night, David went home to his usual life, without a care in the world about who he hurt. He knows what he believes in, and in his heart he has no room for anyone who’s different from him.

  He slept at ease, but Noah slept in sorrow.

  The next morning, David crawls out of bed to get ready and go to school. It’s a regular day for David, but something feels different. He feels different. He feels anxious as he pulls his hoodie over his head and adjusts it onto his torso, he almost wants to stop getting ready for school because the idea of facing people brought an unfamiliar feeling to mind. Suddenly, all the reasons not to go to school come flooding into his mind, and he finds himself gnawing on the edge of his fingernails. A strange feeling it was, and David is scared. He’s usually confident, but today he’s simply not, and he can’t tell why. He pushes his feelings aside and rushes downstairs to greet his mom and dad. David is surprised to see that his mom and dad are not the ones waiting for him when he makes it downstairs. His mom is there, but in place of his dad is a random lady he’s never seen before. He walks slowly into the kitchen and examines the unfamiliar woman before him. “Good Morning son,” David’s mom says. David pulls his mother aside and whispers to her, as the other woman gives a curious look. “Who is that?” he asks. David’s mother stares at him in absolute bewilderment. She examines his facial expression for a moment, and then stares at the woman, suspecting that they’re playing a prank on her. “David? Are you on drugs?” David stares at his mother in complete confusion and she does the same to him. “No, mom where’s dad and who is this random person standing in my kitchen at 8:20 in the morning?” David’s mom gets fed up with his nonsense and pushes past him. The woman grabs her purse and keys,and gives David’s mom a kiss on the cheek as they say goodbye. “Have a good day at school son,” She said as she shuts the door. David stares at his mother in complete horror. The sight of his mother kissing a woman causes feelings of disgust to arise within him.     “Hold on did she just call me ‘son’? No seriously who was that?” David questions his mother. “Can you stop pretending like you forgot who your mother is? Go eat your breakfast you’re wasting time,” David looks at his mother in complete and utter fright and dismay. “Did you just call her my mother?” He asks. She stares at him with no words, she wonders what’s gotten into her son. “I need to go” David says as he shakes his head. “You didn’t eat your breakfast!” But before his mother’s words can be heard, the door is shut in her face.

   David, with a mind full of thoughts, makes his way down the sidewalk on his way to school. He was walking unusually slow, as if it took every bit of effort in him to put one foot in front of the other. The vision of his mother and the random lady replays over and over in his mind. He looks down as he walks and sees the sidewalk glisten under the morning sun. Just when he finds a sense of relief, he looks up and sees 2 men holding hands. He rolls his eyes in annoyance, but he continues to make his way down the sidewalk. A few blocks later, he sees yet another two men holding hands, and even 2 women holding hands behind them. He starts to question since when so many gay couples were open in his neighbourhood. David makes it to school, and enters the building. He expects his pride to return to him at this moment, but for some reason, the feeling of inferiority is still stuck to him, and it’s been stuck ever since he woke up this morning. The school halls are crowded with people laughing and making conversation loud enough for David to hear from the other end of the hall. He made his way to his girlfriend Roxanne.

   He approaches her with a smile and leans in to kiss her but she backs away. She gives him a piercing look signalling for him to stop, and David looks at her with a hurt expression on his face. “Roxanne?” David asks with an angered look on his face. “We can’t do this in the halls, I thought you knew that.” She says as she looks around the room checking if anyone spotted their interaction. “Okay, I’m officially confused,” David says with a fake smile. He brings his hand towards her face and tucks her blonde hair behind her ear, and she flinches to his touch. Before David can respond to her strange behaviour, their friend Neil makes his way towards them. Neil’s smug attitude is never appreciated by the majority of the population, and David sighs in annoyance as they make small talk. “So David, the guys and us saw you and Roxanne getting a bit cozy a few minutes ago, what was that all about?” He says with a laugh. Roxanne laughs anxiously and shoots a murderous look at David. “Uh, yeah she’s my girlfriend is there an issue or?” David says. “She’s your girlfriend?” Neil says before breaking out into a pit of laughter. Roxanne follows this as a way to make Davids words seem more like a joke, and David looks at both of them with a puzzled expression on his face. “I’m not sure what both of you are laughing at,” David says. “Bro, you’re scaring me,” Neil says as he continues laughing, convinced that David is still joking. “What’s so hard to believe, I don’t understand?” David says. “Man what are you? Straight?”  “Uh, yeah?” Neil’s laughter fades quickly and air in the room turns painfully awkward. “Uh, since when is that a thing?” Neil asks. “Neil, you know me. You know Roxanne is my girlfriend, you know I’m straight. Why is this news to you? Did you think I’m gay? I know damn well you didn’t think that when I beat the crap out of that Noah kid yesterday. Hell, I’m not sure why you’re acting so weirded out as if you’re not straight yourself,” David shouts at Neil as he attracts the attention of everyone in the hallway. Neil pushes David in anger and Roxanne leaves immediately in tears. “What did you just call me?” Neil shouts. “Straight? What on earth is the issue?” Suddenly, all of David’s friends that helped him beat up Noah started crowding up on him. “That’s freaking’ disgusting, that’s the issue,” David lets out a loud laugh that he couldn’t hold in much longer. Neil slams David against the locker, and David’s laughter cuts quickly. “If I knew you were straight, I would have never hung out with you, hell, nobody would have. You’re not like us, you don’t deserve the same things we do” He says as he gets inches and inches closer to David’s face. “I’m not like you guys? And what is that exactly? Gay?” David says. “Yes. What are you not getting?”  Davids voice gets louder and louder, David felt like he was being convicted of a crime, he couldn’t wrap his head around why he was being treated like this. “If you’re done playing this stupid prank, I need to get to class now,” David says as he tries breaking free of Neil’s grasp. Neil pushes David back hard onto the locker “No use going to class, God has a special place for people like you in hell,”

 The next thing David knew, his blood was splattered across the lockers as Neil’s fist meets his face. Suddenly, all of the people he knew as his friends were throwing kicks and punches his way. Everyone in the hallway decided to flee the scene, or they decided to join in on the fun. Neil and his friends threw vulgar slurs at David, ones that David had never heard before. At a certain point, he decides to stop fighting back, and he lets them do what they have to do. A few seconds later they’re done, and they all give him a disgusted look before exiting the hallway.

  David sat there for a while and he tried to understand why. Why was he being hurt by his own friends? Why was Roxanne acting so strange? Why did he feel so insecure and out of place this morning? Who was that woman in his house? Suddenly, the realization finally grew it’s way in David’s mind. For whatever reason, things had changed overnight. The roles of being gay and being straight have switched. He remembered the feeling of anxiousness he felt when making his way to school, and how he felt inferior. He thought to himself; that’s how gay people feel everyday. He thought about the woman in his kitchen, and realized that was supposedly his other mom, because he has two moms, no dad. He thought about Roxanne, and how their relationship is probably a secret because they’re straight, and being straight is “wrong”. David sat there with his head in his hands, and he found himself questioning how Neil and the others could do to him what they did. 

  Yet before David could ponder it further, he realized that it’s the same reason he did the exact same thing to Noah. With this thought, a tear trickled down David’s face. He felt shameful, not because he’s the minority in this world, but because he inflicted this pain on somebody else as well. He couldn’t understand why somebody would hate him for being straight, and he thought this was probably what Noah was thinking as well. Suddenly, the black, narrow, hallway doors creaked open and David quickly wipes away his tears. Noah makes his way through the doorway and sees David sitting there.They make eye contact, but David looks away immediately in shame. Noah takes a seat in front of him, and studies the bruises on David’s face. “They got you good didn’t they,” Noah says. David chuckles, but stops himself quickly. “Yeah. That they did.” he says. It’s quiet for a second, and Noah smirks before breaking the silence. “You know, it’s weird. This morning I left the house, and It’s almost as if I'm in a parallel universe or something,” David’s eyes widen when he hears these words. “It happened to you too?” He asks. “Yup, being gay is normal now. I walked through every single hallway waiting for somebody to call me a fag, but not one person did. I almost felt let down,” Noah says as he laughs. David and Noah both laugh for a second, but David feels a rooting feeling of guilt residing in him. 

  “Why are you being nice to me Noah?” asks David. “What do you mean?” Noah asks, but something tells David he knows the answer to that question already. “I beat you up, I bullied you, called you names, but now I’m the odd one out. Don’t you want to get back at me or something?” He asks. “No. I don’t. I think you’ve probably realized the wrong in your ways by now, nothing I say or do now will change much. Plus, I know how it feels to be the odd one out, and it’s not pretty. If I hurt you now, I’m not much different than you, am I?” Noah says. David stares at Noah with a faint smile on his face, but in his eyes one can see the amount of self loathe within him. “I’m really sorry Noah,” David says. For a second there’s a silence so loud it could echo through your mind for hours on end.

“It’s okay.”

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 2X03 - Lady of the Lake

Did you think it was safe to go back in the water?

Well, you’re half right!

While there’s not a lake, you CAN go below the fathom of the cut to see my thoughts on this episode, and that’s cool too!

Press Release Emma and Mary Margaret, with the aid of Mulan, Aurora and brave knight Lancelot, attempt to find a portal that will bring them back to Storybrooke. But a dark force threatens their safe return. And Henry tries to talk Jefferson into reuniting with his daughter. Meanwhile, back in the fairytale land that was, on the eve of meeting Prince Charming’s mother, King George poisons Snow White, and the only antidote lies within the waters of the Lady of the Lake. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past So this is another case of the segment being all well and good, but not leaving me with a lot to say. I think the story worked pretty effectively, the characters were pretty consistent, and it was an enjoyable and emotional story to take in. I actually got choked up as Ruth was dying.

I did have an interesting character point to make about King George: ”I had a son I loved die before his time.” Now, when you take “A Murder Most Foul’s” flashback into consideration, should one consider George’s love for James as being love to the best of his understanding, albeit more problematic (Along the lines of Cora for Regina or a certain Infinity War spoiler) or as a fake love that’s just for show? His next line about wanting to “replace” James and the fact that he cried at James’ funeral makes me think of the former. Enchanted Forest I’ll never get over how disturbing Cora is when she pretends to be friendly. Normally, with characters like Umbridge, the creepiness of a false friend character comes from how sickly sweet they are, but that’s absolutely not the case with Cora. She plays her roles so naturally that if she were any other character, I feel like I’d believe her at first sight. There’s a warmth in her voice and a gentleness to her being, and that holds over to when she’s “Coralot” too.

Emma and Snow have a really great conflict in this episode. Emma’s unfamiliarity with the fairytale aspects of her culture when combined with her stubbornness allows her to gel really well against Snows understanding of the world and people here and it pits them together in a very interesting scenario where they’re definitely not fully getting along, but there’s unquestionable love there.

Additionally, the metaphorical as well as physical place where this episode brings Emma to is just beautiful. I actually forgot just how good the buildup of Emma and Snow’s relationship was, but the way that the episode builds so subtly and slowly to that revelation leaves me speechless as I am overcome by how profound it is.

“I’m not use to someone putting me first.” It’s so beautifully sad hearing Emma’s voice break as she says this. I know how a lot of people wanted more backstory for Emma, and don’t get me wrong, I’d never oppose an Emma-centric, but I feel like lines like this capture everything we need to know about Emma’s backstory better than any centric could. In this line is a dropping of one’s guard and vulnerability.

One thing that I think is misconstrued in this fandom is strength. Strength in this show is not simply the ability to yield a sword, make snappy one liners, or destroy an apple tree. Strength in this series is emotional vulnerability. Characters in this show are at their strongest when they make they discuss the darkness in their lives and why it made them who they are or what they discovered on their journey. Try to think of your favorite main character and your favorite moments with them. I’m pretty sure that among the more serious moments you chose, those where they expose the most raw parts of themselves to those they love rank highly. That’s why I love the final scene between Emma and Snow in the bedroom. It’s a revelation, and an empowering revelation, one that will come back during their later confrontation with Cora on the way home.

And speaking of Cora again...

Cora’s display of power in the episode’s climax is really amazing here. In the past, the only beings we saw her go up against with her magic had no magical or weapon-based abilities (Or in Regina’s case, she wasn’t aware of those abilities) and in this episode, we saw her magic take down not only Emma, a tough fighter, but Snow, someone we just saw shoot an ogre in the eye, as well like it were nothing. It made her (temporary) defeat so much more meaningful as it (a) involved Emma learning from her fairytale surroundings and (b) only came about as a means of unpredictability thanks to Mulan, allowing for Cora to retain that menace. Storybrooke I love how David is the only Charming who hasn’t spent an extended amount of time with Henry, thus passively characterizing him as the only one who wouldn’t see Henry running away from school coming from a mile away. That leads to some great bonding between the characters and further paints just how deep in the shit David is.

This segment does a great job with Henry. We see not only how good of a schemer he is, but also how vulnerable and unfamiliar Henry is with these magical elements. It’s rare that Henry gets such a central role, but when he does, until he hits his adult iteration, it’s important that these two things are present. Henry retains his competence as both someone who can weasel out of pretty much anything and someone who knows how to emotionally bring people together. But, the story is also clear to show his failings when his search goes too far with the snakes. It paints him as a kid, someone who can be overwhelmed with circumstances, but can also handle quite a lot, painting a more nuanced picture to his character. Additionally, while it’s only in one speech towards the end of the episode, we see the first inklings of Henry’s several seasons-long arc of wanting to be a hero in the same vein as Snow and Charming. Henry gets to talk about how he wants to sword fight and ride horses All Encompassing The theme of this episode is parents putting their children first and it’s pretty overtly shown. Note that every character framed positively (Snow, Emma, Regina, Charming, Ruth, and Jefferson) intrinsically knows this to be true and only needs to prove their understanding of this to someone else or reinforce it for the audience’s sake (Snow and Emma risk their lives fighting monsters to protect and get back to their kids, Regina respects Henry’s wish not to see her by getting David to pick her up, Charming doing more to involve Henry in their quest to save everyone, Ruth through not taking the potion, and Jefferson through heeding Henry’s advice and finding Grace for her own sake). Meanwhile, those negatively framed (Cora and George) take steps that belittle what their children want (Trying to get back to Regina after Regina banished her and George making Snow infertile). It’s a very well delivered theme that’s effectively felt throughout the episode. Insights - Stream of Consciousness -Emma, run! She’s bad news! -I really miss the more unorthodox Operation names. Cobra, Scorpion, Firebird, and Mongoose were just so clever and while those with weaker names are cool too, if only because they were normally named by characters who aspire to be more like Henry, I do like the really out there ones! -Watching the tall-as-hell Lancelot hugging the teeny-weeny Snow is just the most adorable thing ever! -”We can trust him.” *Rumple clips about knowing the future proceeds to play forever* -I actually completely forgot this subplot of Aurora being out for Emma and Snow’s blood! And now Aurora’s got a knife! -Lancelot’s actor, Sinqua Walls, does remarkably subtle yet poignant acting as a disguised Cora. -”Family is everything. Losing all hope of having one -- there is no greater misery.” *Can’t help but roll my eyes as I don’t want kids* -I’m loving watching this great Emma and Snow scene while Aurora is trailing them in the background. I missed that the first time! -Regina looks so cute in her moving outfit! Everyone rocks short sleeves in my not-so-humble opinion and Regina/Lana is living proof of that! -I would pay real money to see who had the balls to ask a magically-powered Regina to leave! -What a douchey throw! It’s bad enough you poison Snow, but throw her out? What a douche! -Awwww! Ruth is just so fucking cute!!! -I love how Charming’s performing his biggest display of sword prowess yet in the exact place where Anna taught it to him! -”Back away from my daughter!” Anyone else getting a Molly Weasley vibe here, or is it just me? -Ruth is just so loving to Snow and it’s so beautiful!!! -Going back to those short sleeves, Emma’s quite the contender too!!! -You have to wonder, did Henry know his late grandpa’s name from his book or Regina or did he just discover that little tidbit now in the vault? While Henry does give a weird look at the placard with the name, given how Regina visits his grave, it’s possible that he learned it from her or even through the book. -Also, not to beat a dead horse, but I love how Henry has an easier time unlocking the secrets of the vault than Graham. -Not to jump on a bandwagon that I don’t much care for, but Regina, you really should return those hearts. -”Maybe we should’ve gone with Operation Viper.” This is an underrated one liner. -Nice segue between the vault and the bones. XD -Ruth, no! Snow’s infertility is a temporary problem that can possibly be fixed with help from the fairies. Your problem? Not so much! I’m so glad that Snow learned from this come Season 6 when it came to another curse that befell her. “Parents put their children first,” indeed. -I know it’s night time, but i hate how dark this scene in the castle is. This is such a poignant scene, Emma discovering what should have been her room, but it’s so hard to make out! -I’m legitimately choking up at Ruth’s death. -Lancey, trust me. You want to stay FAR AWAY from that cup! -Okay, so all of my Ruth tears went away the SECOND Snow pulled out that sword on “Coralot!” Snow, I love you so much!!! You’re such a badass! -”I killed him [Lancelot] a long time ago.” Don’t be so sure about that, Cora! -Why does no one try to put the fire out? Like, water, a blanket? At least try! -Again with the badass segues from a roaring fire to a candle. Also, that candle reminds me of a “yahrzeit” candle, a candle that those who follow Judaism light in honor of deceased relatives. -”Is there something I should know about?” I love you, David! You’re doofy as all hell and I love you for it! Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Emma accepting her parents - This was such an important episode to further this arc. The scene in what should have been Emma’s room is particularly poignant because for the first time, Emma gets to see a physical manifestation of all of Snow’s hopes and dreams for Emma and the fact that it’s all in ruin matches perfectly with the feeling of the two of them as to where their relationship is as of now (Note how after their final scene, Snow’s final look at the bedroom shows it repaired and in its original glorious state once more). Additionally, Snow in general gets to prove her support to Emma in this episode through her sheer protectiveness. And Emma’s speech in her old room is just a magnificent moment of realization that follows through on the conflict from “Broken.” Finally, she’s given context and it’s this that brings about the change in her. Emma and Snow stuck in the EF - We get to see a bit more of an exploration as to how Emma and Snow can hope to get home. I think this plot is so far going at a good pace, balancing out character work (see above) with exposition and world building. Storybrooke working to get them back - While not doing much in terms of forwarding the plot, David comes to the realization of needing to work together with Henry to bring Emma and Snow back. Regina’s Redemption - Regina’s redemption doesn’t get a lot of focus in this episode, but there are two big actions having to do with it. The first, obviously, is Regina preparing to leave the mayor’s office. It’s a great show as to the progress she’s trying to make and a great progression of her efforts. The second is shown not through her, but through Cora’s sheer determination to get to Storybrooke, something that threatens (And succeeds temporarily) to undo Regina’s redemption. Favorite Dynamic Henry and Jefferson - Now, to be honest, Emma and Snow had the best dynamic, but since they’re the main players in their plot, I wanted to highlight another dynamic so that I wouldn’t run the risk of repeating myself. Additionally, I did find that this was a great dynamic and given the hard time I’ve given Jefferson’s present form, I wanted to highlight just how impressed I was with him here. For the first time since the past segments of his centric, I didn’t feel like Jefferson was behaving like a moron while communicating. He, while still clearly agitated and off, was clear and actually spoke like someone who wanted to persuade Henry to leave him alone. This is what I wanted from a Jefferson scene because it’s consistent with his past self and pits him against a belief-heavy character at his lowest point who can relate to this conflict, but still disagree and provide real advice. And Henry’s a good character to do this with. He has a childlike innocence and bluntness that would make Jefferson more likely to talk with him. There’s even a great contrast to Jefferson’s common line through Henry: “Not knowing is the worst” and because so much of Henry’s current anger at Regina (And later on this season, Emma) comes from not knowing, it’s especially strong. Writer Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg, last season’s best writers, are up for their first shot at bat this season and they knocked it out of the fucking park! Three fantastic stories were told and the portrayal of the episode’s theme was very well shown, and only one occasion made it anything but subtle. I’d say that this is their best episode since “Fruits of the Poisonous Tree” just on the centralized theme and Emma’s speech. Rating Golden Apple This episode was delightful. As I said before, each ot the stories were really fun to watch and that was made even better through their combined theme. Each character got their time to shine, in ways both outward (Ex. Snow, Ruth, and Emma) and subtle (Regina). Additionally, Emma’s character development as she and Snow explored the land and all of its dangers was simply divine. Finally, we got to see Cora at her best (Or rather, at her worst) and further reinforced her menace as the main villain of the half season. Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Snowing - Snow and Charming are just so dopily in love in this episode and Ruth is such a great show of that. Throughout the episode, she’s so giddy and happy for them and she just makes every Snowing moment a million times cuter! ()()()()()()()()() This season better find a new body of water soon because it is on FIRE! Thankfully, I think I know just where it can find one. We just have to follow the crocodile. ;)

Thanks for reading and as always to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales for putting this together and helping me keep the lights on. See you all next time!

Season 2 Tally (30/220)

Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (10/60) Jane Espenson (20/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (10/50)

Operation Rewatch Archives Tags: ouat, once upon a time, watching fairytales, ouat episode code, ouat rewatch, jenna watches ouat, ships mentioned

[dothewrite]

i cant get the idea of a stressed tsukki hunching over on his bed with his head in his hands looking down and his gf just coming up from behind him and wrapping her arms around him and kissing his the back of his shoulders just a scenario with tsukki not being a salty shit and for once genuinely showing himself being upset and his s/o comforting him or cheering him up being an absolute goofball which is her normal persona

I did my best trying to work with an upset Tsukishima and a goofy significant other. It ended up extremely difficult to picture him being vocal and very visibly upset whilst she’s cracking jokes and everything, so I attempted to reach a happy medium. I hope it’s still faithful enough to what you wanted, and I hope you enjoy.

His mother lets her into the house first.Their walls are well built, but the ceilings were hollow enough for sounds topass in and out freely and Tsukishima can catch every footstep that padsagainst their waxed floors. He doesn’t hear much exchanged between themdownstairs; perhaps a nod, or an understanding expression that he can picturewithout much effort.

He considers berating his mother for doingsomething unnecessary again—he wasn’t old enough to pay taxes, but he mostcertainly was capable of recruiting his own emotional support brigade on his own, thank you very much—but he recallsthe worried twist to her lips when he’d returned home after practice withobvious strain in his voice.

Tsukishima wasn’t going to kid anyone. Hewas fully aware that he was a terrible son most of the time, and a terriblebrother. He only wishes that he could be not-so-terrible a lover, if that wasthe only thing he was to accomplish. But she walks up to his door, socked feetplanted carefully on the opposite side of his room and taps her knucklesagainst it.

“Kei?” Her voice wafts in, muffled by thethick carpet that fills in the bulk of his bedroom. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” he says, trying hard not toventure into the realms of bitterness quite yet. She’s never had to ask toenter his room, what with her propensity to barge in as often as possible to scarehim for the shits and giggles. A strong friendship between her and his motherdidn’t help his case at all.

That may be the reason why he swallowsdryly after his answer. The realization that this time she may turn around andleave him alone if he really had said no was not a welcome one, and it ringsunfamiliar bells in his head that he’d rather not face.

She slides the door shut behind her assilently as possible. It closes with a gentle click, and he counts the momentsshe requires to gather her breath and make her way towards him.

He breaks his blank stare at the oppositewall long enough to peer at her out from the corner of his eye. She’s a fuzzyblur without his glasses on, but he still watches with bland fascination as sheperches on the edge of his mattress as if discovering her manners for the firsttime in her life.

Tsukishima looks away. That was too harsh,even for his fickle conscience.

“I suppose my mother asked you to comeover,” he says instead.

She works her mouth for the right thingsto say, to her credit. “No, but you do usually send me a few texts afterpractice. Radio silence is… unusual.”

“Keeping tabs?” He asks, and damn, the nobitterness rule was supposed to last longer than five minutes.

“No, I don’t. It was just a feeling.”

He turns fully to look at her then, eyesstill slanted and his jaw uncomfortably tight against something unidentifiablethat attempts to claw its way up his throat. “I see. Well, how can I help?”

“I was…” He watches her struggle, her eyesflickering behind the wall of control that she’s likely learned from him. He’dalways made comments about how she’s so different from him that it’s a miraclethey’re together, but he sees now, past the veil of self-satisfaction, thatit’s not a look that suits her.

“…What?” He says, a little less unkindlythan before. “Hoping you could help me?”

“Yes.” She raises her eyes to meet his,squarely. “That’s the gist of it.”

He snorts lightly. “Well, thank god yourpsychic powers of observation sent you here. God knows what would happen to meif you hadn’t.”

Saying nothing, she continues to stare athim as if he was an ancient inscription, waiting to be unlocked by the powersof determination.

Frankly, it makes him squirm. Tsukishimasuspects it’s why she’s doing it.

“Sorry,” he finally mumbles.

He spies a small, relieved hint of smilethat tickles the corner of her lips.

“It’s alright,” she says. “I’ve beenaround you enough to know what you’re like.”

“And what exactly am I like, then?” He asksstiffly.

He almost shrinks back when she suddenlyreaches up for his face. Resting a thumb on the furrow between his brows, shepresses down and rubs at it until the tension from his temples are forciblydrained. He considers telling her that she’s cheating, but nothing comes outwhilst she’s still touching him.

“Prickly.” She shifts closer ever soslightly, so that her voice can soften. “Defensive when you think someone’strying to pry something out of you. Offensivewhen you think someone’s trying to map you out.” She huffs a small laugh whenhe scowls again. “An extremely grumpy man who’s not saying no to a massage evenwhen he’s pissed off.”

“Like you would stop if I told you to?”

“Maybe,” she answers, smirking. “If youask nicely.”

“Yes, because I do that so very often.”

“You should, you know.” He misses hersoothing rub very briefly when she lets her hand fall back onto her lap. “It’sgood for your non-existent social skills.”

“And you’re not doing a very good job ofcomforting me, if that’s what you’re here for.”

“Are you letting me?” She laughs, moreloudly this time. It does escape him sometimes, how she could literally laughat everything in the face. She could face a pit viper and she’d do the tangoaround it if it could cheer somebody up. “But you’re not wrong,” she says.“I’ll try harder.”

He feels an urge to tell her that shedoesn’t need to, but at the same time he knew it wouldn’t put her off. And itwouldn’t be true, either.

He can’t understand how she can look athim with such an open expression. As if she’s not aware that he could saysomething particularly venomous because he could, and it would break something.

“Kei,” she says gently, “will you talk tome?”

Well, he couldn’t very well tell her to goaway. But he wasn’t sure—could he even really match her openness? Even withnobody else in the room and an entire evening to himself, he hadn’t been ableto say a single word at his wall.

“Kei?”

Tsukishima groans, and turning away fromher, dumps his head into his hands. “No.”

“Stress?”

“No.” There’s a baited silence, and heexhales raggedly. “…Yes.”

Behind him, she hums lowly in sympathy butdoesn’t say anything else. He sucks in a deep breath.

“School. Grades.”

“Mhmm.”

“Volleyball. People.” He reconsiders.“Mostly volleyball.”

“I could hit someone for you. All you haveto do is give me names. There’s no much I can do against a ball, though.”

“God,” he groans again, “really?”

“Tsukishima Kei,” she says very seriously.“I would punch someone in the face for you.”

She’s half about to laugh, he can tell.She’s not someone who can stay serious for very long. “Would you get expelledfor me?” He asks, rolling his eyes behind his hands. “And then get a job at aconvenience store because you’ve missed out on graduating? And then get marriedand washed-up and resent your child for holding you back in life and my, how could you have been so careless,punching your chances in the face during high school?”

“Maybe,” she says, “you’ve missed yourcalling as a soap opera script writer. I swear that’s a show somewhere.”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t join in mymother for TV after dinner.”

“Too busy stressing, probably.”

“Hey—”

“Sorry, sorry.” He watches her shadow liftits hands up in surrender. “Jumping back into serious business.”

“You really are shit at this.”

“I must be, considering you haven’t turnedaround to look at me yet.”

If he rolled his eyes any harder, and anymore, they’d probably be stuck to the roof of his head and he’d have to walkaround looking perpetually unimpressed with the world. And it’d all be herfault.

He hears her shuffle closer. “I didn’tmean that, really,” she murmurs at his back. “You don’t have to turn around ifyou don’t want to.”

And Tsukishima really didn’t. His face,although muffled and slightly suffocated from the pressure of his hands, feelscomfortable turned away from the world. It was warm, safe, and he didn’t haveto open his eyes and watch the minutes tick by as his nerves ran circles aroundhis mind until his body’s completely frozen and fraying at the edges.

He wants to close his eyes and breathe aserratically as he wants without having to care about how he sounds like toanyone else. He’s got enough trouble trying to stay sane without being requiredto prove it to someone else too.

The truth was, he expected more fromhimself. This was not breakdown worthy, as if he was some special case. As ifhe had it harder than any other student.

When he suddenly feels arms pressingagainst his sides, he almost jerks to his feet. For a moment Tsukishima ishorrified at the thought that maybe he’d just said all that out loud, as ifhe’d just signed up for therapy or some other activity that he’d rather becaught dead than doing. He holds his breath, waiting for something to happen,but she only presses closer, wrapping them around his hunched shoulders. He canfeel the rise and fall of her chest against his back, and her fingers tuckedtenderly underneath his collarbones.

He’s strung too tautly to manage to askher what she hopes to achieve by doing this, and neither does she give him thetime. She must have felt his breath hitch, for she buries her face into thecrook of his neck and squeezes him tightly.

“I’m probably making you sweat,” she saysafter a good five minutes of sitting there silently, both pressed against eachother. Tsukishima can’t help the shiver as her lips graze his skin. “But Ithink it’s working.”

“What’s working?” He says faintly.

“Calming you down.” Her arms slide downhis sides at an aching pace until they rest snugly around his waist. There’s ashuffle behind him and she repositions herself with her legs crossed instead ofon her knees. “Your breathing’s a lot steadier now.”

About ten different responses rise to histongue, but she rubs her cheek against his shoulder blade, and he swallows themdown.

“I’m… I—urgh,” says Tsukishima, veryeloquently. She huffs into his neck, and he can feel her faint smile againsthis heated skin. “Not good at this.”

“You don’t have to tell me all of it ifyou don’t want to,” she murmurs.

“I thought you wanted to know.”

She shrugs against him. “Only if it helps.There’s no need for it to be now, if it makes you feel worse. I mean, I couldalways gather it later in the form of handwritten letters or poems in my shoelocker or something.”

“Jesus,” Tsukishima laughs thickly. “I’msupposed to be upset here. Stopmaking me laugh.”

“Laughing can either make or break you,”she says, smiling. “Which one will it be?”

“It’s incredible how much you have my bestinterests in mind.”

Tsukishima finds himself holding hisbreath when she doesn’t respond immediately.

“I hope I do,” she says finally, her voicesolemn. “Tell me if it doesn’t seem that way.”

He lifts his head and heaves a labouredsigh. He covers her white-knuckled fingers with his own—no longer afraid of howrough his blisters may feel to her—and pulls her firmly into his back. It knocksthe air out of her with a soft ‘oomph’.

“It does,” he says, feeling ratherdrained. “Don’t worry.”

She attempts to say something in reply,but Tsukishima’s fingers are still gripped tightly around hers and whatever shedoes say is lost into his shirt. He smiles wryly.

“Are you expected home anytime soon?”

She shakes her head into his back.

“Alright.” He shifts so that she’s restedmore comfortably against him and gathers his breath.

“I’ll start from last week.”

[voxwrote]

A New Path

The tomb of Sargeras, a cautionary tale if there ever was one. Let me tell you something boy; we control our power, our power does not control us. Gul’dan wished to further our power by unleashing one of the most powerful beings...no...The most powerful being onto Azeroth. 

You think we would have been free?

Kulgran sat before the fire, watching the flames snap and twist as they flickered about each other. He focused on the movement and the colour of the fire, each component building on each other to become something greater, a philosophy his father had instilled upon him. He slowed his breathing as he tried to calm himself.

In...Out...In...Out...

All around him the jungle lay oddly silent; a storm had been shifting toward the shore for most of the day and had now begun its fierce ritual. Rain began to spit and hiss against the fire as the threatening rumble of thunder echoed amongst the trees. From behind him, a familiar voice sounded almost as deep as the thunder above.

“Krulgan, it is time”.

The Orc did not respond for a moment but grabbed his robe and pulled it over his head before collecting the crude mace he had fashioned from a rock and palm wood. “Are you ready to become a child of destiny, my son?” The voice asked. Krulgan turned and nodded solemnly before following his father through the dense foliage, thick vines and tree trunks that sprawled into the path obscured the main camp ahead but through the trees Krulgan could see the weak light of the torches that had been set up. For weeks the young Orc had dreaded this day, his rite of passage, his twisted Om’riggor.

As his father walked ahead of him onto the cleared path, the dim torches flared as if excited by his presence. The two entered the clearing, crude tents set up on its perimeter and in the centre a wide pit cordoned off by spiked poles. The rest of the clan had gathered, muttering to each other from under tattered hoods but when the two Orcs stepped forward the whispers died down into silence.

Krulgan slipped down into the pit and looked at the boy across from him, his childhood friend and closest ally now looked at him with the caution of a wounded beast, he almost felt hurt but soon remembered that the two were here to kill each other, no matter what happened only one of them would make it out alive.

“Brothers, Sisters...Keepers of the elite powers” his father bellowed from the top of the pit, stood behind a makeshift podium constructed from loose rocks he continued onward, looking around at the various clan members, all of them watched him intently with admiration, envy and hatred.

“Tonight we witness the death of a weakling and the triumph of a true champion” he continued, glancing toward his son as he spoke of a champion.

“We live now in the shadows of an unfamiliar home, chased and hunted by all. It is us who must pave the way for those who come after; give them the skills and training to bring our vision to being. A teacher can guide, but the student must learn and carve their own power...the success of our plan rests upon the shoulders of future generations”.

Krulgan shifted his weapon to his other hand, a sinking feeling creeping in the bottom of his stomach. This isn’t right, he thought to himself as he watched his father lost in a trance, almost screaming his words now as he clung to the podium.

“We perform our first trial now, may it be one of many. Boys, step forward and drink deep from the bowl before you, may it bring you courage and power” his father said, his zealous demeanour calming as he outstretched his hand toward the centre of the pit.

As if by command a bowl stood in the centre of the pit lit aflame, what was almost too dark to see before almost hurt to look at now but the flames died away quickly. Krulgan knew what was in that bowl, demon’s blood. His friend stepped forward first and snatched the bowl hurriedly, chugging from it before casting the bowl back down and lurching away to the wall of the pit, retching and groaning.

 Krulgan moved forward to pick up the bowl more hesitantly and peered inside. The viscous green liquid bubbled and hissed as he lifted the vessel to his mouth, as he let the blood touch his lips he felt an instant rush of anger and rage coupled with a terrifying arrogance. He knew the power he had control over and he was going to win at all costs. He closed his lips and pretended to drink before placing the demon’s blood back down.

“My boy drinks from the chalice and takes its power in his stride, my blood flows within him” his father announced proudly as his friend stood in the corner, screaming and howling with bestial rage, hitting his head with his huge hands and roaring.

Krulgan watched with terror, glad he had not succumbed to the temptation of the blood...tonight was the night he was going to escape. His train of thought was quickly interrupted as the other Orc rushed toward him, swinging a hatchet wildly. Krulgan ducked out of the way and skirted round the pit wall, his temptation to use fel magic grew stronger. 

It would be so easy just to destroy him, to burn him alive and be done with it. He shook the thought away and prepared himself for another strike, this time he was ready. He met his opponent’s blow with his mace, blocking his attack before driving his fist into his friend’s face; he staggered back against the pit wall, dazed.

“ENOUGH!” Krulgan bellowed as he swung around to face the podium, he gave one cursory glance back to his friend who watched him curiously, breathing heavily as the crazed bloodlust from the demon blood slowly wore off. He stepped forward and looked his Father directly in the eye; in there he could see only disappointment and anger.

“Father, this is insanity. How can we hope to continue our clan if we destroy each other? We separated from Gul’dan because of his insane lust for power but now all I see in you is that same madness, these magics are corrupt and will be our end” the young Orc continued as he looked about the rest of the clan elders.

Behind him he could hear strange sounds as the air twinged with a familiar, unfriendly energy though as he turned to look his Father called out to him before he could.

“You surprise me, Krulgan” he growled, leaning forward as he narrowed his eyes.

“To be the wielder of such tremendous power is a skill that only few can attain, yet you would have us throw it all away to live in some false peace? Look around you boy, the world is in a constant state of chaos. 

If not for some war going on there is always the threat of catastrophe as this world always tries to tear itself apart. We must arm ourselves with the power to protect our own; you think these trials are senseless? No, we separate the weak from the strong, I thought you were strong, child but now I see that you are weak. You are no son of mine; prepare to meet your end.”

Krulgan blinked as his father’s face twisted into a smile, his gaze was set behind him. 

The young Orc turned to see what he was looking at.

A Felguard; fully formed, 10 feet tall with skin glistening like wet leather. Its eyes glowing in the darkness narrowed in on Krulgan as it bared its teeth into a horrific grin, each one sharp and pointed as any blade he had seen and almost as big as even the heftiest of daggers. 

It paused for a moment, taking in a deep, rattling breath that made Krulgan weak at the knees before snatching the young Orc up into the air by the throat as if he weighed no more than a newborn. It held him there and observed him with a curious stare but behind that there was a hunger, a need to devour.

 From the edge of the pit ventured his friend, his nose broken and a vengeful look in his eyes.

“Krulgan, I always feared it was my destiny to die. That you would continue your father’s leadership of this clan to glory but now I see that you are not the one to lead us, you do not belong with us. It is my destiny to lead the clan and it is your destiny to die, do this one thing right and fulfil your destiny.” The orc almost screamed the words, desperation, anger and envy dripping from every sentence.

“Destroy him, demon” he uttered. The felguard tightened his grip and began to choke the life out of Krulgan, the young Orc flailed and grasped at the arm that held him as he began to lose his vision. Still the pain of being choked pervaded but he could not see his killer, Krulgan felt for the first time in his life utterly helpless and completely afraid. This was the end, he thought to himself and he would do anything at all to stop this pain, so he did something he had never done before. He prayed.

It was not a structured prayer, nor was it to any deity in particular but he just hoped more than anything that someone or something would hear it. He knew that the humans prayed to the light and the trolls of Stranglethorn worshipped some strange gods.

“Light, please…save me…” he called out in his mind. Nothing.

“The gods of Stranglethorn, help me.” He cried, even more desperate than before but there was no answer.

“Anyone. Let me live.”

And to that, there was an answer. Quiet at first, a whisper on the wind, a scent from long ago and a gentle breeze rushing past him before becoming a howling wind accompanied by rolling and vengeful thunder. Krulgan’s eyes snapped open. The felguard faltered for a moment as he realised his prey was still alive, all around them rain hammered against the ground with fury and thunder continued to let out it’s spiteful roar, lightning scorched the sky above almost constantly , circling above the pit.

 Krulgan could feel energy inside him more powerful and potent than fel could ever hope to be, it was the raw power of the natural world; the burning heart of the flame, the incessant drive of colossal waves upon the sea, the screaming storms of the sky and the trembling fury of the earth.

“LET ME LIVE!” Krulgan screamed aloud, a bolt of lightning coursed toward the ground, hitting the felguard and splitting it asunder. What remained of the demon fell to the ground and the young Orc landed on his feet, quickly snatching up his mace.

Krulgan stepped through the burning remains of the Felguard and stormed past his ‘friend’ before climbing out of the pit. He turned to face the rest of the clan, looking at each member with an angry glare. How frail they looked now, their bodies twisted and bent by the use of this corruptive magic.

He almost spoke up but thought better of it, these people would never learn, they would simply drive themselves to madness, lost in the Jungle. He turned and wandered into the trees, swallowed by the dark of the night but ready to follow a new path.

[rufeepeach]

Fic: Happiness in Exchange

Title: Happiness in Exchange Rating: M/NC-17 Word count: 18,567  Summary: When Belle ascends to the throne of Avonlea after her father's death, shocks the court when she appoints the mysterious Lord Gold, the new owner of half her lands, as her Chancellor. Alone in a realm of strangers, finding themselves united against a common enemy, an unlikely partnership is born. But with everyone waiting for the Princess to marry, Belle has a choice to make: to fight to rule alone, or to find a partner who can meet her halfway.

A/N: HAPPY RCIJ @junoinferno​!!! Hope you enjoy this (loose) Victoria/Melbourne AU!!

On AO3 here 

---

“Presenting, for the first time: Her Royal Highness, Belle, Princess of Avonlea!”

The announcer’s voice rang out through the ballroom, and Belle took a confident step forward, out of the shadows and into the light. The metaphor was not lost on her, as she blinked out at a sea of strange, unfamiliar faces staring back. They were applauding, cheering, but how could they not? She was their ruler now, their young, completely unexpected ruler. For all they knew she would hold public executions for dissenters.

Belle took two more steps forward, once the applause had died down, and came to the top of the staircase. She gave a deep curtsey, and descended slowly, allowing everyone to look their fill. Her skin crawled. Belle hadn’t been the centre of attention this way since her betrothal ball, over a decade ago. Then, they had eyed her ten-year-old body seeking signs of fertility, deciding whether Lord and Lady Gaston had made the right choice for their son.

Now, there were bigger questions to ask: did this girl-child, barely out of her teens, a stranger in her own castle, have the mental and physical capacity to rule Avonlea? Had the realm made the right choice, allowing her to take the throne?

She had been away from home for nearly a decade, sent to live with her betrothed and his family when the ogre war broke out once more. She might never have returned had her father not died suddenly, leaving Belle as his only heir. So much had changed since then. She barely knew most of the faces staring back at her; they certainly did not know her.

She had left Avonlea a scared child, missing her parents: she returned an adult, and an orphan.

Belle tried not to shake under their scrutiny. She was glad of a familiar face to greet her at the foot of the stairs. She hadn’t seen Ruby since they were children: she almost didn’t recognise the beautiful, willowy young woman as Avonlea’s ten-year-old tree-climbing champion. That was until Ruby smiled, and suddenly they were children again, and for a moment she forgot her self-consciousness in how happy she was to see her oldest friend.  

“Your highness!” Ruby hugged her tight, “Welcome home!”

“It’s good to be home,” Belle grinned, remembering her manners only a moment later and pulling back. “I missed the sea.”

“The mountains always look so gloomy,” Ruby said. Her eyes turned grave and serious for a moment, “I am so sorry about your father, your highness. He was a great leader, and we all mourn him.”

There were respectful nods from the crowd, the people listening who weren’t polite enough to pretend not to. Belle swallowed, hard.

“He died on horseback,” she said, the answer she had prepared for this inevitable moment. “The stag in his sights. It is how he would have wanted to end, if he’d been asked.”

“He’ll be remembered a hero, your highness,” Lady Lucas assured her, warmly. She squeezed Belle’s hand. Belle wished for a moment that she was a child again, and able to grab Ruby’s hand and run away to the kitchens to steal sweet rolls, unmissed by the court. Back then no one called her ‘your highness’. But back then, everyone had expected a male heir, and for Maurice’s bookish daughter to never have a chance at the throne.

“Thank you, Ru- Lady Lucas,” Belle said, remembering herself. “Your kindness means the world, as it always has.”

Ruby smiled, and leaned in close, “If you need anything just let me know.” Belle nodded. “It’s so good to have you home, Belles!”

“What do I do now?” she asked, under her breath. “I don’t like them all staring at me.”

“Music,” Ruby advised, after a moment. “Call for music.”

Belle smiled, and stepped back, and did just that. The crowd cheered, the dances began anew, and music replaced the hush that had fallen over the room.

Ruby took Belle’s arm, and led her around the ballroom slowly, introducing her to old friends and new additions to the court, in particular her father’s favourites. She met young Lady Snow and her husband James; General Fa and his daughter Mulan, poised to take his place upon his retirement; Lord George, Belle’s father’s closest confidante, and his wife, who were James’ parents; it seemed Ruby knew everyone.

However, despite how often they veered close to him, there was a man Belle didn’t recognise, whom Ruby never seemed to introduce. He was slight, older, a distinctive gold-topped cane in his hand, and dressed in darker fabrics than any other man present. In a year when bright emeralds and rich blues were the fashion, the stranger’s blacks and browns made him a shadow in a sea of colour. A shadow Ruby seemed to be going out of her way to avoid.

He didn’t speak to anyone, she noticed, even while she spoke to everyone. She discussed the latest routing of the ogres’ forces in the Frontlands with General Fa, and crop rotations with Freeman Leroy and his wife; she discussed the formation of a new High Council with Lord George, who hinted heavily at his desire for a seat, and the latest dances with Lady Snow. But every now and then, her eyes strayed back to that slight, dark figure circling the outer rim of every conversation, never saying a word.

“Hey,” Belle said, when there was at last a lull in their meetings, “Who is that?”

“Who is who, your highness?” Ruby asked, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“Him!” she said, gesturing as discreetly as she could to the man in question, who was glowering over a goblet of wine. Ruby’s eyes flicked to where she had pointed, and she sighed.

“He’s no one,” Ruby said, brusquely. “Definitely no one worth talking to, anyway.”

“Then why is he here?” Belle asked. “This is an affair of state, surely we’re not allowing in total strangers!”

“He’s here because he owns half the land,” Ruby told her. “So he gets an invite so he won’t make trouble. We all pretend he isn’t here, he leaves early, it all works out.”

“If he owns half the realm then he’s someone I should know,” Belle argued. “If he’s that important.”

“You shouldn’t have to put up with him,” Ruby insisted. “He’s rude, and an upstart, and he and your dad hated each other.”

“At least let me know his name, so I’ll know it when I hear it?” Belle asked. Ruby sighed, and relented. “Who is that?”

“His name is Lord Gold,” Ruby sighed, reluctantly. “Ugh, Granny made me swear I wouldn’t let you near him.”

“Lord Gold,” Belle repeated, nodding. It suited him. “So he just came from nowhere, and bought half the land?”

“You know the law,” Ruby said, “Technically the throne owns all of Avonlea. But apparently Sir Maurice granted him a thousand-year lease, so he’s as good as bought it outright. Half your people are his tenants.”

“I see,” Belle murmured. “Well, thank you. That’s very helpful.”

“Any time,” Ruby replied, smiling, apparently relieved the topic of Lord Gold had been dropped. She was about to speak again, but she was interrupted by a tall, dark, handsome young man with a warm smile, who tapped her on her shoulder.

“Excuse me, your highness,” he said. “May I steal Lady Lucas for a dance?”

“Billy!” Ruby swatted his arm, “I’m in the middle of introducing her highness to everyone Granny thinks she needs to know.”

“Billy?” Belle blinked at him, trying to reconcile this dashing young man with the round little boy who’d followed them around as children. “Sir William Gustav, Is that you?”

“Your highness,” Billy grinned, and bowed. “It’s great to have you back at court.”

“And you’re dancing with Ruby now,” Belle turned to Ruby, and raised an eyebrow. “Anything your Princess should know about?” she asked.

“Bil-Sir William is a really great dancer,” Ruby said, defensively.

“I’m sure he is,” Belle laughed. “It’s okay, Billy, you’re welcome to steal her. I’m just going to do a lap on my own, I think.”

“Come grab me if you need me!” Ruby cried, as Billy gratefully tugged her away toward the dance floor. Belle watched with amusement, and wondered how long it would be before there was another ball, celebrating their engagement.

Her absence, Belle had to admit, was welcome. It gave Belle a chance to step back, out of the crowd, and into a darker part of the room. Belle had never been a fan of crowds, and had known her coronation ball would be a trial. She promised she would return to the festivities soon. She’d just always felt more at home leaning against a wall, watching the dancers, than she had participating. The stone was cool, unyielding, ever lasting. For a moment, she’d never gone away, and nothing had changed. Her father would scold her for her shyness; her mother would spirit her away to the library under the guise of bedtime. The music from the party would lull her to sleep late into the night, safe and warm.

“Your highness,” a low murmur, softly accented, broke through her reverie. She glanced sidelong at the interloper, and found herself staring into the intense dark eyes of Lord Gold himself.

“Your lordship,” she said, politely. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Are you?” Gold countered. Belle didn’t know how to respond to that.

“I… yes, of course I am,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“In my experience, young women who enjoy parties don’t tend to hide in corners.”

“I am not hiding,” she said, hotly. “You forget yourself, sir.”

Lord Gold laughed, a low chuckle that reverberated in Belle’s bones. “I assure you, forgetting myself is not in my nature,” he said. Something about the way he said it made something coil in the pit of Belle’s stomach.

“You forget your manners, then,” she retaliated. He eyed her.

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But then, I hate these sorts of gatherings, and the sorts of people who attend them.”

Something about his intense gaze and his peremptory manner set Belle’s teeth on edge, and she heard herself retorting, “You attended, did you not, sir?”

“I did,” he said. “I was curious about you, I admit.”

“Dare I ask your first impression?”

He smiled, thinly. “You’re a decent public speaker,” he said, after a moment, “Beautiful enough, smiling, approachable, but insubstantial. Your remarks are over-rehearsed, and empty. Better than your father, who didn’t believe in thinking at all before he spoke, but the fact remains. You have been trained in courtly manners, I suppose, and your manners are really very pretty. Hardly your fault all that dancing and curtseying crowds the brain.”

Belle’s face flushed red, then paled, then flushed again. She didn’t think she’d ever been angrier in her life. For a moment, she wanted to slap the smirk right off his handsome face, or maybe land a sharp knee to his groin. She’d gotten rather good at that, fending off he former betrothed’s advances.

Then, for just a second, she saw the flash of challenge in his eyes, the gleam that begged her to retaliate. He was curious about her, he’d said. Perhaps this was a test.

“You are Lord Gold?” She asked, as if she didn’t already know. He nodded. ”You’ve bought up my father’s land, I hear,” she said. He inclined his head again, ineffably elegant with his heels aligned and his cane between his feet.

“You hear correctly.”

“Then I expect the leases to be brought to my steward within three days,” she said, pulling herself up to her full, unimpressive height. “I wish to review the terms.”

A flash of surprise crossed Lord Gold’s face. “Whatever for?” he asked, as if the concept mystified him. Belle smiled.

“As you so astutely noted, Lord Gold, my late father often acted before thinking. I worry now that you may well have ensnared him in deals he did not understand. Given that the land is rightfully mine, I will need to review all contracts pertaining to it before I continue any on-going relationships. If they are not to my liking, I am sure you will be reasonable enough to negotiate.”

“My contracts are airtight, your highness,” he assured her. She smiled.

“Then I’m certain we won’t have a problem,” she said. “I look forward to discussing them in due course. Lord Gold,” she curtseyed deeply, and grinned as she came up. He inclined his head, and looked a little lost for words, his bow automatic and stiff. Belle didn’t think she’d ever felt happier.

“Still curious?” she asked, softly. She didn’t know what made her do it, but something about his dumbstruck face made her mischievous.

“Immensely,” he admitted. Something like electricity ran down Belle’s spine.

She swallowed hard, and walked back toward the crowd, leaving Lord Gold at home in the shadows.

Belle had never seen such complex, well-drafted leases.

She had begun her perusal certain she would find egregious demands and unfair terms, loopholes large enough to ride elephants through. She had intended to find a way to discredit Lord Gold, and force him to renegotiate. If he intended to remain a permanent tenant, with controlling interests over two-thirds of her farmlands and most of the forest, they had to work together.

But the more she read the more those hopes died. Gold had been ruthlessly thorough: every contingency was planned for, every loophole efficiently plugged. The more Belle read through the pages of agreements, the more she realised where the real power in Avonlea had sat, since the end of the war that had taken her mother and ravaged the land. Her father had, in all likelihood, been the puppet of Lord Gold – who ran the countryside – and Lord George – who ran the city.

Lord George’s family had held controlling interests in Avonlea’s only city for generations: it was a hereditary right, and one no Princess could hope to sever. The country had always been the counterbalance, the seat of true loyalty and wealth in Avonlea, controlled by the throne. Gold’s intervention threw off that balance.

Belle couldn’t imagine, no matter how huge the sum of money Gold offered, why her father would have agreed to sign away half his realm. There was something she was missing, something to make sense of all of this.

Had the money been enough to turn the tide of the ogre war? Belle had been kept safe, sent to live with her betrothed when the first ogre attacks hit Avonlea, protected in a citadel far from her war-torn home. She had been amazed, upon her return, to see Avonlea looking so strong and prosperous. Had Gold done that? Had his wealth and clear administrative talent won not only the war, but also the peace? If so, what was he doing living as a country squire, in a mansion on the edge of the realm? His talents were certainly better utilised closer to home.

Belle had trained herself in these administrative tasks, the day-to-day running of a kingdom. Gaston’s homeland had been the Marchlands, and she had expected to rule it someday, while her husband hunted and wenched. She knew that money did not solve everything. She couldn’t imagine how any sum could have accomplished so much in so little time. So how had Gold done it? She knew for a fact George and her father hadn’t the talent, so it had to be him, but how?

“What’s all this?”

Belle’s head shot up, startled by Ruby’s sudden entrance into her study. The other woman bustled forward, her eyes on the papers spread out on Belle’s desk.

“Ruby, you startled me!” she laughed.

“Sorry, Belles,” Ruby apologised. “I just thought you’d be reading or sewing or something. This all looks so official.”

“Well, you told me Lord Gold owns half my land,” Belle reminded her. “So I asked him to deliver the leases this morning so I could read them for myself.”

“Do you want me to call for Lord George, or General Fa?” Ruby asked. Belle blinked at her.

“Whatever for?”

“Lord Gold has a talent for talking good people into knots,” Ruby warned. “He’ll take advantage of your kindness. Give that man an inch, he’ll take the realm.”

“Lord George helped broker the deal,” Belle countered, tapping the clause in question. “I doubt his input would be unbiased. And General Fa has more important matters to attend to than holding my hand while I read big words.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ruby said, and Belle nodded, accepting the apology. “You always were the smart one, always reading. If it were anyone but Gold on the other side…”

“But it is Gold on the other side,” Belle said, “And it’s important he knows he’s dealing with me, from now on. I won’t be taken advantage of just because I’m young, and no one expected me to inherit the throne.”

“So have you discovered anything?” Ruby asked, finally taking a seat on the other side of Belle’s desk. Belle made a soft snort through her nose, and shook her head.

“Only that Lord Gold might be the shrewdest merchant in the Enchanted Forest,” Belle said. “These contracts are watertight. They even make provision for me!” She pointed to the section in question, against which she had made a small, erasable mark in charcoal. “You see? In the event that Sir Maurice should pass before the contract ends, my father agreed on behalf of any heir to uphold it!”

“He made the decision for you?” Ruby asked. Belle nodded.

“I was already locked in before I even met the man.” She sighed, and slumped back in her high-backed chair. “I’ve combed through these documents, but everything is provided for. I cannot raise or lower taxes, alter the flow of goods from his farms to the castle or out of the realm, even change basic building regulations, without consulting him first!”

“That snake,” Ruby bit out. “No wonder your father hated him so much.”

“Why did he sign this?” Belle asked. “There’s so little benefit to the realm, and so great a cost!”

Ruby shook her head. “You weren’t here during the war, Belle,” she said. Her eyes were clouded, sad. Belle swallowed: Ruby had lost both her parents to the first battles with the ogres, and the war had raged on in her absence. “Things got really bad, we were running low on everything. When Lord Gold showed up, and bought the land, suddenly we had enough money and spells to fight back properly. He turned the tide.”

“Then why do you hate him so much?” Belle asked, mystified. “If he won the war for us…”

“We won the war,” Ruby corrected. “Gold just profiteered off our misery. He set himself up as your father’s business partner, as if he could run the realm from his office in town. Everyone hates him for that.”

“Well, I’ll get to decide that for myself when he gets here,” Belle said, briskly. Ruby gasped.

“What?”

“He’s my next appointment,” Belle said, calmly. “He’s actually due to arrive any minute.”

“You’re going to meet with him alone?” Ruby asked. Belle shrugged.

“You’re welcome to stay if you want,” she said. “But I’m not afraid of him.”

“You should be,” Ruby said, a little ominously. “Most of the rest of us are.”

Right then, as if on cue, the steward entered the room. “Your highness, Lord Gold is here to see you.”

“Send him in, Leroy,” Belle replied, and turned to Ruby. “Last chance to scarper.”

Ruby stood, and straightened her spine. She gracefully rounded the desk, and took a seat behind Belle, in one of the councillor’s chairs. “Not abandoning you alone with him,” she said, stoutly. Belle smiled in gratitude.

Lord Gold entered. He was dressed similarly to the night before, all blacks and dark browns, although now she noticed that his breaches were leather, rather than the customary velvet or brocade, and it matched the collar and detailing on his long coat. Last night, among the riot of colour, he had appeared a shadow hanging over the crowd. Now, in the muted tones of her father’s study, Lord Gold appeared somehow darker yet, the hard lines of his jacket giving him an almost malevolent appearance. Another of those odd shivers ran down Belle’s spine.

“Lord Gold,” Belle did not curtsey; instead, she held out her hand for Gold to shake. She didn’t throw him off so easily this time: he shook her proffered hand, and remained standing when she sat down. “Take a seat,” she offered. Only then did he do as bade. His cane rested between his knees; he rested both hands on the handle.

She held his gaze, and felt for a moment as if his probing stare would reach into her mind itself, extract every hidden thought, every memory and dream. Belle resisted the urge to look away. Gold’s eyes were unreadable, and for a moment they just blinked back at hers, a staring contest Belle refused to lose. His irises were a rich, deep brown, that seemed to grow darker and cooler the longer she stared into them. She almost flinched when she was certain, impossibly, that for a moment they became snake’s eyes.

“I trust the contracts are all above board,” he said at last, when she didn’t speak. Belle called it a victory, and gratefully looked away.

“Indeed,” Belle smiled, “it’s a masterpiece. You have somehow managed to purchase the realm right out from under me.”

“I’m just a tenant, your highness,” he spread his hands, modestly. “Your father thought the terms very reasonable.”

“My father, it seems, was held to ransom by a war he couldn’t win.”

“The realm is safe, is it not?” Gold asked. He grinned, a shark’s smile, and a gold tooth in the corner of his mouth glistened. “Clearly the war was not so futile as once thought.”

“Clearly,” she conceded. “Which is why I think a reward far greater than a long-hold tenancy is in order.”

“I’m sorry, your highness?” Oh, Belle enjoyed his confusion. He blinked at her, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows. It was perhaps the most human he ever appeared, when wrong-footed.

“Well, given that there was clearly more offered in consideration for the land than these contracts let on, it has been suggested that you are our saviour, Lord Gold,” she said. Ruby made an odd noise behind her. “Would you like to elaborate on that?”

“You have the agreement between your father and myself there in your hands,” Gold said. “I don’t think there’s much more to say on the matter.”

“The facts speak for themselves,” she said, briskly, “You arrived in town, and the war ended. So, congratulations.”

“For what, pray tell?”

“Your appointment to my Council, of course!” Belle grinned, almost brought to laughter at the consternation on his face. “Given that you must be consulted on all changes made that might affect your holdings, I thought why not make the relationship between your holdings and my government official? I am officially appointing you as my Chancellor, beginning immediately.”

“Belle!” Ruby jumped to her feet, “What are you doing?” she hissed.

Belle glanced around at her lady-in-waiting, “I’m giving Lord Gold his due,” she said. “If he wants to be close to the throne so badly, then why not sit at its side?” She turned her eyes to Gold, and raised an eyebrow, “Unless you want to end the contract, and renegotiate your tenancy?”

Gold was glaring at her, anger simmering in his eyes behind his cool expression. Somehow nothing on his face had changed, and yet Belle could see him seething. “And if I do not accept the appointment?” he asked, coolly.

“Then you will have to negotiate with whomever I do appoint,” she said. “And I’m afraid my flighty female feelings may well lead me to choose someone who will be less pleasant to deal with than myself. It’s all that dancing and curtseying, you know. It addles the mind. Lord George would almost certainly find a way to drive you out, if he were given the power to do so. And he is likely the only other qualified candidate.”

Gold’s eyes fixed on hers. Belle didn’t flinch. If he wanted to hold her to ransom, then he would have to put his money where his mouth was.

“As Chancellor,” she pressed on, “You would report directly to me. You would be responsible for running council meetings, as well as being my principle advisor. It is a position of great power.”

“I will not be kept beneath your heel,” Gold snarled.

Belle considered him. The outburst had come from somewhere other than the cool, dismissive persona he had presented thus far. Ruby had called him an upstart, and certainly he didn’t conduct himself like a noble. Belle had the sudden insight that he had struggled to reach a position of such influence; someone, long ago, had forced him to the ground, and he refused to return to that position. In so doing, she saw herself through his eyes: a Princess, born to privilege and power, able to snap her fingers and crush him at a whim.

“I am in need of an experienced advisor,” she said, her voice moderated and conciliatory. “I am new to this, and aside from a handful of old friends, I don’t know who I can trust at court.”

“Most, including your erstwhile lady-in-waiting would agree that that distrust should begin with me,” Gold told her, with a glance to Ruby, still fuming at Belle’s side. Belle nodded.

“So I have heard. I can therefore trust you are not in league with any other element.” She gestured to the papers on her desk, “You put everything in writing, Gold. I know your interests, your ambitions. You are now the counterweight to the George family’s influence, and the architect of Avonlea’s current stability. You belong beside the throne, not managing petty holdings in the countryside.”

“Oh Gods, you’re serious,” Ruby moaned.

“I am,” Belle confirmed. “You’ve gone to great lengths to rise up in Avonlea, and you have clearly done more still to rescue it from ruin. I’m asking you to take your place in its future.”

Gold eyed her closely, scrutinising her. She could see the curiosity in his eyes, the interest, perhaps even joy at being surprised. He looked for a moment ageless, hold as the hills and yet young as the dawn.

He opened his mouth, as if he were about to reply, when a commotion outside the door cut him off. The door burst open a moment later, Lord George and poor Leroy tumbling into the room.

Lord George caught himself, and straightened his doublet. Leroy proclaimed belatedly, “The Lord George to see you, your highness.”

“Thank you, Leroy,” Belle gave Leroy a sympathetic smile, and had to bite down a laugh at the man’s grumbling as he left the room, glaring murderously at Lord George as he went.

“Your highness,” Lord George began, “I must object to this on the strongest possible terms!”

“Object to what, my Lord?” Belle asked, although she was certain she could guess. Lord Gold was grinning like a crocodile, with gleaming teeth and sharp eyes. Lord George looked as if he could throttle the other man where he sat.

“This… this clandestine meeting with a rival landowner,” Lord George sputtered. “I must insist that a member of the Council is present when-“

“It was hardly clandestine, my Lord,” Belle cut in, bristling although she kept up a polite smile. “My steward is free to share the details of my meetings through the day with anyone who asks. I presume that was how you heard of this in the first place, in fact. Leroy can be such a terrible gossip.”

Gold’s eyes flicked from George back to Belle, and she felt an odd burst of pride at what she saw there. He almost looked impressed.

“Nevertheless, I must insist on being present if any court contracts are being renegotiated.”

“Considering how you brokered the deal in the first place, I can understand your consternation, my Lord,” Belle replied. “However, I assure you I am more than capable of taking it from here. Your kind offer of assistance is appreciated, but unnecessary.”

“I hardly brokered anything,” Lord George objected. “I only made the introduction at the insistence of your father.”

Belle swallowed, her poise faltering. George was mentioned in the contracts, and she had assumed therefore that he had been involved in the negotiations. He’d always intimidated her as a child, her father’s Chancellor, a grim, stoic man with a face cast in granite and an unimpeachable military record. He’d lead the charge that had routed the ogres, or so she had been told. Much as she believed she was in the right here, it was hard to maintain her position in the face of his anger, towering over her from the other side of the desk. She felt Ruby’s hand on her arm, but brushed it aside. The comfort was welcome, but she couldn’t show weakness, not now. If she let him, she had no doubt Lord George would undermine her at any turn, relegating her to a figurehead and consolidating power in his own hands.

She had lied to Gold: there was no way in hell she would ever make this man Chancellor again.

“You were compensated handsomely for any inconvenience caused to your business,” Gold muttered. Belle and George both stared at him: Belle with gratitude, George with contempt. “I hardly see how renegotiations would impact you at all.”

“You have no say in this,” George retorted. His gaze swung back to Belle, “Your highness, I demand you throw this upstart out at once, until the Chancellor’s office has had time to read over any new proposals.”

“Chancellor’s office?” Belle blinked up at him, Gold’s intervention having given her time to regroup. “I wasn’t aware I had officially appointed a new Chancellor yet.”

“My apologies, your highness,” George backed down, but she knew it was only an act. He felt he owned the place. Belle’s smile was icy.

“Your name is under consideration,” Belle told him. “As are a number of other well-qualified candidates. A new government may need new ideas, don’t you think?”

“I think continuity and stability at a time of transition are vital, your highness,” Lord George replied. “I had assumed you were bright enough to recognise that too.”

Lord Gold snorted, a soft, dark little laugh. Lord George turned to him. “Something to add, Lord Gold?”

“No, no, you’re doing a fine job insulting her intelligence all on your own,” he chortled. “Do go on, dearie, it’s going swimmingly.”

“Your highness, without a Chancellor to properly inspect any changes to the contracts, and considering your lack of experience in this area, I must caution against any deal you make with this… this…”

“Monster?” Gold suggested, smiling with all his teeth. To Belle’s surprise and fascination, George baulked a little. “You would know all about deals, wouldn’t you, George?” he continued, his soft voice slicing through the air. “Tell me, how is your son, by the way? He was looking well at the ball last night.”

George’s face went white. Belle watched on with a hundred unanswered questions, as George’s gaze flicked between her and Lord Gold.

“Is that all, Lord George?” Belle asked, pleasantly. “As you can see, we are rather busy here.”

George swallowed, hard. With one last fearful look at Gold, he gave a curt bow to Belle. “Your highness.”

“Lord George,” she inclined her head, politely, and he turned on his heel and left. Leroy seemed grateful to slam the doors behind him.

Belle took a deep breath, and slumped back in her chair. Ruby’s hand covered her shoulder again, and this time Belle held it tight, comforted by her friend’s silent support. “Next time I sit with you, I’m borrowing Granny’s crossbow,” she muttered. Belle laughed, a welcome release of tension.

She looked to Gold, and straightened up. “You see what I have to deal with?” Belle asked. “This is day one. He won’t ever respect my authority, he barely respected my father’s, but his position is secure. I need someone at my side who is at least united with me in opposition to him, someone who knows the terrain. It seems we make a decent team.”

An odd smile was playing about the corners of Gold’s mouth, and Belle caught herself watching it for just a moment. He looked nothing like handsome, burly Gaston or friendly, smiling Billy, and yet there was something so interesting about his face, an odd mix of malice and care, as if his face had been made for smiling but twisted into something else. And then there were those eyes, just a little too dark, almost opaque.  

“If I decide to leave, you will not prevent me,” he stipulated, carefully. “You will use no means at your disposal to prevent my departure or force my hand, at any time.”

“You are free to act as you choose,” Belle agreed. Her eyes narrowed: it was such a specific demand. Had he been a prisoner once? An indentured servant, even a slave? The more he spoke, the more certain she was that he had started with nothing, and was terrified of returning to that state. “Do we have a deal?”

His eyes narrowed, and an odd smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “It appears we do.”

One month later

Belle took a deep breath, and finally reached the top step. Typical of Gold to have chosen to make his office not down near the throne room, where Lord George had set himself up, but in the tallest tower of the castle.

He didn’t like people; she had learned that right away. It was part of what made them a good team: she liked to make friends, and he liked to keep to himself. It was also what made state functions these days so much harder to bear. Belle found herself gravitating more and more to the dark corner where her Chancellor always lurked, than to the midst of the party where the Princess was supposed to be.

She rationalised it that it was to avoid the flock of suitors who had streamed into Avonlea following her coronation. That didn’t explain her disappointment that Gold always refused to dance, with her or anyone else.

“Gold, open up!” she called, hammering on the door. “I need to talk to you!”

She wasn’t sure if she was breathing hard from exertion or anger. Gold had quickly become her confidante, her chosen partner for venting. Ruby was wonderful for social slights and gossip, but when she was angry, no one understood like Gold. She heard a sound on the other side, and that odd scent of ozone she always seemed to smell in these situations. A second later, he had opened the door, and stood in the doorway. “Your highness?” he asked. He didn’t give a damn what she called him, but he refused to drop the formalities even for a moment. “What can I do for you?”

“George is petitioning again to make whomever I end up married to King instead of Prince Consort,” Belle snarled, storming past Gold into his tower-office. “Does he have no shame at all?”

“No, none,” Gold agreed pleasantly. She was the only person he was ever pleasant to, and it threw her off a little. Even Ruby, who she knew he didn’t dislike, received only the thinnest of smiles.

“Thank God that man only has one son,” Belle muttered. “Otherwise I think he’d hold me at sword-point until his family was on the throne.”

“But he has only one son, so what are you so concerned about?” Gold asked, closing the door and stepping around his fuming Princess to return to his desk. “You know this ridiculous proposal will never leave the Council.”

“I think he has support this time,” Belle said. Gold frowned.

“Really, from whom?”

“Well, General Fa, for one,” Belle said.

“Well, that’s disappointing. I thought General Fa had at least a semblance of brain activity,” he said. “How did George achieve that little coup?”

“I’ve no idea,” Belle sighed. “But when I mentioned the proposal to the General, he became cagey.”

“Well, he’ll never get Dame Lucas on side,” Gold said, waving a hand. “I wouldn’t worry about it, dearie.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Belle said, miserably. That was what hurt the most about this whole ridiculous situation: she wasn’t sure she even still had Granny’s support that she could rule alone. “Granny mentioned this morning how nice it would be for me to have a partner, someone to share the burden of ruling with.”

“Ah,” Gold nodded, taking a seat. “Do you agree?”

“I think I’m learning, aren’t I?” she demanded. Gold shrugged.

“From where I’m sitting, you’re doing a fine job, dearie.”

“Women rule alone elsewhere, don’t they?” she asked. Gold considered the question.

“Well, I’d hardly recommend you model yourself on Queen Regina, if that’s what you mean,” he said. Belle swallowed, hard.

“You… you think I can’t do this?”

“I would never dare think such a thing,” Gold assured her. “I’m well aware that the moment anyone implies you cannot do something, it will hit the top of your agenda.”

Belle rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep down a smile. His respect meant the world to her.

“It’s basically a vote of no confidence, isn’t it?” she said. “The Council would rather I marry a biddable fool and relegate me to second string, than place their faith in a woman.”

“It may be more complex than that,” Gold sighed, and Belle couldn’t understand the note of regret in his voice. “Belle, no one can deny what you’ve achieved in a month…”

“Then why are they trying to oust me?” Belle demanded. “I mean, the first school is already under construction in Avonlea town centre! The water’s cleaner now the Hatter’s Row witch has her own well to dump her waste in, and the farmers are coordinating their crop rotations so there will be more variety in the marketplace. I know what I’ve accomplished, so why do they think some Lord’s son with a ring on his finger will do better?”

“Your highness, who drafted and submitted the contracts for the building of that school?”

“You did.”

“And who gave you the exact right words to say to the witch to convince her to accept a new well, rather than using the local stream?”

“You…” Belle murmured, dread curling in her stomach.

“And who provided the maps and guidance on how best to rotate those crops?”

“You did, but… but you’re not running Avonlea through me! Those were my ideas!”

“You know that,” he said, gently, “I know that.”

“I’m not marrying some concussed young knight and handing over my power because some suspicious idiots are afraid of you,” Belle spat. She didn’t know why that made her so angry, so protective. She couldn’t have done any of this without Gold’s help. She knew what the townspeople thought, what Granny thought, what even Ruby and Billy, her friends, thought of her Chancellor. There were rumours he used dark magic to manipulate her, and that he was the real Prince of Avonlea. It was malicious, and ridiculous, and she wouldn’t stand for it.

“You’re a very brave young woman, Belle,” he said, softly. She thought it might be the first time she’d ever heard him say her name. She liked how it sounded in his low, rolling accent. It sent a pleasant shiver down her spine, which she chose to ignore.

“Lord George hates you,” she said, “and so he hates me for listening to you.”

“Yes,” Gold agreed.

“Why does he hate you so much?” Belle asked, a question she’d asked any number of times and received no plausible answer. “Is it just because you’re his rival?”

“Who knows why men think the way they do?” he asked, a question for a question. He could be so frustrating sometimes.

She sighed: she knew she’d never get a straight answer out of him. “What do I do now?” she asked.

“What do you think you should do?” Gold asked, spreading his hands.

Belle rolled her eyes. “I think I should approach General Fa and Granny alone, in a low-pressure setting, and convince them to switch their votes.”

“Correct,” Gold inclined his head. “Tonight’s ball would be a perfect opportunity.”

Belle made a face, “You know I was planning to feign a headache and miss that,” she said. “The suitors have been arriving all day, and my facial muscles start to hurt from pretending to smile after a while.”

Gold snickered, “It’s hard being royal, isn’t it?” he said. “Why not just give the job to Lord George, if he wants it so badly?” She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, cry a river for the poor princess, forced to dance and wear pretty dresses. Woe betide, there shall be much hair-pulling and gnashing of teeth.”

“Someone’s been reading the Greeks,” he murmured, approvingly. Belle grinned.

“I should save some reading for all my future free time. You know, when I’m someone’s little wife, embroidering and weaving while my strong husband rules my lands.”

“Your highness, I doubt you could ever be a ‘little’ anything.”

Belle stood up, and put her hands on her hips. “I’ll have you know I’m five-foot-one even in heeled shoes,” she said. “I’m nothing but little.”

“I was referring to your personality,” he countered, easily. “You fill up a room.”

Belle felt herself blush at that: she almost thought it was a compliment, especially when accompanied by the warmth in his eyes.

“I was only reading the Greeks on your recommendation,” she said. She didn’t know why that was important, it just felt like something he should know.

“Careful who you say that to,” he said. “Someone might decide that you’re being unduly influenced by the realm’s personal monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” she replied, firmly. “Anyone who says that can answer to me.”

“And therein, I believe, lies the problem,” Gold replied. “Anyhow, you have a plan now. You’ve no more need to disturb an old man.”

Belle looked at him, really looked at him. “How… how old are you, exactly?” she asked. He narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head to one side.

“Ancient,” he said. “Old as the bloody hills themselves.”

Belle rolled her eyes, “You know, if you ever give a straight answer to anything, I think Hell will freeze over.”

“Most likely,” he agreed.

Belle threw up her hands, and left the room. “Good day, your highness!” he called after her; she slammed the door without responding.

Belle didn’t see Lord Gold again until the ball.

As ever, as always, she found him skulking in a dark corner, a glass of wine in one hand. She was stunned, however, to see that he wasn’t dressed in his customary dark leather trousers and coat. Instead, his waistcoat was cream brocade with a gold trim, and his frock coat was rich, royal blue velvet. It was as if a shadow had decided for one night to become a handsome prince. She couldn’t quite keep her eyes off him, even his hair looked softer.

“That’s a new look for you,” she said. He shrugged.

“I like to subvert expectations,” he replied, with a lopsided smile. She loved when he smiled like that. She didn’t get long to admire it, however, before he spoke again, gesturing to General Fa across the ballroom, “You should speak with him now, before he becomes embroiled in conversation.”

Belle nodded, and regretfully left Gold’s side to find the General. When she reached him, she was glad to still find him unattached to any of the wandering conversations. There was no risk of the man dancing with anyone; like Gold, he had been injured long ago, and was now forced to walk with a limp. Unlike Gold, however, the cause of General Fa’s injury was well-known: he had famously launched himself onto an ogre’s back to sever its spine at the neck, and when the beast fell he had been crushed.

The cause of his injury was yet another question Gold always refused to answer. But Belle couldn’t dwell on that now.

“General Fa,” she greeted him, and he turned to her with a warm smile.

“Your highness,” he inclined his head. “You are looking lovely tonight, as ever.”

“Thank you, General,” she said. “Your wife and daughter are here, I hope?”

“My wife is visiting her mother, but my daughter is around here someplace.”

“And are you having a good time?” she asked. The General nodded.

“Your highness always throws enjoyable parties,” he said, diplomatically.

“This ball isn’t of my design,” Belle said. “A fact we are both well aware of. This is Lord George’s party: he should take the credit.”

“Indeed,” Fa murmured. He looked suddenly uncomfortable, as if he knew where this conversation was heading.

“Speaking of Lord George, have you had time to look over his newest proposal yet?”

“I have, yes.”

His forthrightness knocked her back a little: she had expected more of the caginess from a few days back. “I see. And your response has not changed?”

“If it comes to a vote, I will be supporting the proposal, yes,” he said.

Belle grit her teeth, fighting the rising sense of injustice and accompanying anger. “May I ask why you believe I need a man to hold my hand?”

“Your highness,” General Fa sighed, his shoulders slumping, “I have no doubt you will become a very capable ruler. I intend my own daughter to succeed me upon my retirement, so you understand this is not an issue of your gender.”

“Then why are you supporting such a ridiculous proposition?” Belle demanded. “You never did before!”

“It’s politics, your highness,” General Fa said, heavily. “Much as I detest it, this is the way of the world.”

Belle looked at him, really looked at him, and thought about what he’d said. “If this isn’t about the bill, then… is this about Lord George himself? Did he buy your vote, or threaten you somehow?”

General Fa’s gaze drifted, and Belle followed his eyes. Across the room, not far from where Gold stood, in fact, she saw General Fa’s daughter Mulan standing with Ruby, their heads together as if sharing a secret, both women laughing. As Belle looked closer, she saw their hands were clasped between them.

“It’s an exchange of favours,” General Fa admitted, as if even saying the words pained him. “It’s not honourable, I’m not proud of it.”

“Whatever he can do for you, I’m sure I can match it,” Belle said. General Fa looked at her.

“He has offered to make sure that Dame Lucas’ granddaughter is married before the year is out,” he said. “Can you offer the same?”

“Why would you care if Ruby is married or not?” Belle asked.

General Fa’s eyebrows rose, and he looked again at his daughter. “You may be the only person in Avonlea who does not see what I see,” he said. “I want my daughter to be happy. In a perfect world, I would be able to see her paired with anyone she chose. But this world is imperfect. I will not have my daughter made mockery of, made an outcast of, if I can help it.”

Belle blinked at him, then back at Mulan and Ruby, and felt realisation hit in a rush. “You… you believe that if she could, Mulan would marry Ruby?” she asked.

“Lord George believes so,” he said. “I see no reason to dispute it.”

“And you would… you would sell Ruby to some unknown man, just to keep them apart? Don’t you see how that would hurt Mulan?”

“In time, she would see the kindness in it,” he said.

“You would force two women to marry against their will, because you can’t accept your daughter’s choice?” she demanded. She couldn’t believe it: she had always respected General Fa, had always thought of him as a good man and a kind father. He had always respected and valued Mulan, never treated her any differently than if he had had a son for an heir.

“I see no other option,” he said. “The men will have a hard enough time accepting a female General as it is, when the time comes. What will they say, if that woman is also...?”

“In love with a woman?” Belle finished. General Fa nodded. Belle took a deep breath, and found her gaze drifting, away from her friends laughing together and toward Gold. She met his eyes; he was watching her too. “They will say that in Avonlea, we love whom we choose. I am willing to issue a counter proposal to that effect, in fact, with rigorous enforcement.”

“Lord George will never approve,” General Fa said. Belle shook her head.

“Lord George disapproves of kittens and sunshine, too,” she said. “This is a new era, General Fa. In my Avonlea, we will educate our children, clothe our poor, and love as our hearts desire. Will you help me with that?”

General Fa looked at her, a small smile curving the corners of his lips. “I will speak with Dame Lucas, but I believe we have an agreement.”

Belle beamed, and shook the General’s hand. She looked back across the room, and saw Gold still watching her, his eyes warm. He looked so handsome, his hair all soft and tousled, the blue setting off the warmth of his skin. Perhaps Lord George should meddle more often, if setting him off-kilter achieved these results.

Belle made her way back across the ballroom, as if drawn to him by an irresistible force. “The General looks happy,” he said, when she was back at his side.

“I presented a counteroffer,” Belle said. “He’ll talk to Dame Lucas, too.”

“Well played, your highness,” he murmured, and took a sip of his wine.

“I’m rather proud of myself,” she admitted, looking up at him. His profile was distinctive, his long nose and high forehead, the ends of his hair curling at his collar. “Aren’t you proud of me?”

He snorted, “You’re more than capable of defeating Lord George’s ridiculous proposal at the next Council meeting,” he said. “You didn’t need my help to accomplish that.”

“I negotiated, just like you taught me,” she pressed. “I noticed what he cared about, identified the problem he needed resolving, and found a way to align our interests. I created a win-win.”

“And I’m very proud of the monster I’ve created,” he agreed. She grinned.

“You speak like I’m going around murdering peasants and bumping off family members,” she said. “I see no monsters here.”

“You’d be the only one,” he said. She rolled her eyes. “It will be noted if you refuse to dance with any of your suitors tonight,” he said then. “People will talk.”

“I don’t want to dance with any of them,” Belle sighed. “I don’t want to marry any of them.”

“You intend to remain a maid?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. “It’s not uncommon among women who inherit in their own right.”

Belle’s eyes drifted to him, away from the crowd. She wondered whether she intended never to marry. She wondered if she could imagine a husband she would love, who would support her and encourage her, challenge and delight her, as much as the man beside her. Was it so unthinkable that she could choose a husband who was older than her, not the young, well-meaning son of a noble house but a merchant-lawyer who had clawed his way to a title?

“What about your former betrothed?” he spoke again, before she could give voice to her thoughts. “Sir Gaston? An alliance between Avonlea and the Marchlands would be beneficial to both.”

Belle shook her head. “I never cared for Gaston,” she said. “I never could have loved him.”

“Oh?” Gold raised an eyebrow, and glanced down at her. She thought she saw hope there, behind his cool exterior, but perhaps she was only seeing what she wanted to see.

“To me love is… love is layered,” she continued, “Love is a mystery to be uncovered. I could never have given my heart to someone so superficial as he.”

Gold looked down at her; her eyes met his. For a moment, the world stood still.

The music changed, the country jig changing to a slower waltz, one of Belle’s favourites. Belle sighed: she’d have a hundred young men lining up to dance with her any moment now, and only Gold’s fearsome reputation was currently holding them at bay.

“Will you dance with me?” she asked. She knew what the answer would be before he said anything, and stepped in before he could, “We can go slowly around your leg, I promise. I just need to not have this song ruined by some handsy suitor, and it’d definitely set Lord George off his game. You’re trying to subvert expectations, right? Subvert mine and dance with me.”

He looked at her, and she blinked up at him, her eyes as wide and appealing as she could make them. Then he sighed, and to her amazement, he held out his hand. “Your highness,” he said, his voice low and wonderful, “May I have this dance?”

“You may, my Lord,” she said, and took his hand in hers.

They touched so rarely, and never on purpose, that Belle was taken aback by the sudden jolt of electricity up her spine as his skin met hers. His hand was rough, calloused and strong, and again she wondered at his past. These hands had done more than pen contracts, once upon a time. Not that he would ever tell her what, of course.

He lead her out onto the dance floor, and if she had thought holding his hand was intense, she was unprepared entirely for the feeling of having his other hand brace on her waist. He left his cane by the wall, but he seemed to manage remarkably well without it, as he lead her confidently in the waltz. Belle was grateful for that: she didn’t know if she would have remembered the steps without his guidance. His gaze never left hers, warm and intense, hot and dark and that little but dangerous, his eyes containing far more than eyes had any right to express. The smile on his lips was kind yet sardonic, an intoxicating mix of light and dark that set her stomach clenching, the shocks down her spine continuing every time she brushed against him, every time his hand tightened on her waist or his fingers stroked her hand.

Belle barely heard the music. It was such a strange delight, to be held in his arms, and yet they did not speak. Their relationship, a partnership built on intelligence, on a meeting of minds, a mountain of words wrapped and bound between them, and yet now Belle could not think of a thing to say. Their feet moved almost of their own accord, as if the harmony of their conversations had moved from the verbal to the physical, their bodies moving together the way their minds had been for weeks. Belle even fancied that when he pulled her close, she could feel his heart beat in time with hers.

She didn’t know his forename, but she knew he liked his tea black and his wine red. She didn’t know where he came from, or why he’d come to Avonlea, or how he’d injured his ankle, but she knew he slept badly at night and that he thought higher of strong women than hard men. He hated the military, and had an odd knack for knitting and sewing, for dextrous activities Belle had never mastered. She knew him, and yet he was still a total mystery to her.

“Why did you want to dance with me?” he asked, breaking their silence. His voice was low and rough, rasping as she had never heard it before. It was intoxicating.

“You looked so lonely,” she said. “Any man would be, living the way you do. Some days, I think the only person you talk to is me.”

“If I had my way, every day would be like that,” he said. It was such a strange confession, it sent a shiver down Belle’s spine, made something low in her belly clench and coil, heat building where she’d rarely felt it before. “I look forward every day to you banging on my door.”

“Why did you come to Avonlea?” she asked. She searched his eyes, trying to find truth when she knew his mouth would evade the question.

“I saw opportunity,” he told her, the same old half-answer.

“And did you find it?” she asked, as he spun them around. She wished he would pull her closer, crush her against his chest, dip her low and kiss her mouth so she could see if his lips felt as soft as they looked.

He didn’t answer. The music came to its end, and they stood still on the dance floor, his eyes locked on hers. There were a million things she wanted to say, but they clogged her mouth and stopped her tongue. She said nothing at all; neither did he.

His hand came up, and for a moment his fingers brushed down the curve of her cheek, his thumb playing over her bottom lip. Belle’s eyes fluttered closed; she waited, hoping desperately he would follow that touch with a kiss.

The other dancers began to applaud the band. The sound jolted Belle out of her reverie, and her eyes snapped open. She applauded too, glancing away from Gold to cry praise at the band, as was expected of their patron.

When she looked back, he had melted away into the crowd like new snow, as if he had never been.

Belle raised shaking fingers to her lips. They still tingled where he’d touched her.

Belle plastered on a bright smile, and cried out for an encore, a group dance perhaps. The crowd cheered, and the wine flowed, and Belle made sure to let everyone see her merriment before excusing herself.

She strode off the dance floor with a murmur she needed refreshment, and found a quiet place to stand for a moment and collect herself. All the blood had rushed to her face, and her heart was pounding far, far too fast.

“You’ve made quite the ally there, your highness,” a voice she hadn’t wanted to hear cut through the music, and she turned, as poised as she could muster, to face Lord George.

“Lord Gold has made an excellent Chancellor,” she said, not even attempting to feign ignorance.

“A matter of taste, I suppose,” Lord George smiled, thinly. “I hear you had an interesting conversation with General Fa, earlier.”

“He was concerned for his family’s welfare,” Belle said, her skin crawling. She wished Ruby were here, or Gold. She didn’t feel comfortable alone with Lord George, even among a sea of people. Without an ally, she felt like a mouse alone with a lion.

“He’s a good man, the General,” Lord George agreed. “I had thought him an honourable one, too. But I see now those are in short supply in Avonlea these days.”

“Do you have a point to make?” Belle snapped. “Or are you here simply to badmouth your peers?”

Lord George sighed, deeply. “Your highness, you have altogether the wrong impression of me. I am not, as you may imagine, a villain from one of your storybooks. Certainly Lord Gold is no dashing hero, however he may have chosen to clothe himself in that skin tonight. Believe it or not, I am speaking from a place of concern, for both your welfare and the realm’s.”

“Your concern expresses itself as contempt, more often than not,” Belle replied. “You will forgive my scepticism.”

“You know me, your highness,” Lord George said, bluntly. “I was your father’s friend and confidante, his Chancellor, for decades. You grew up with my son James. You know where my holdings are, what my interest is. And whether you believe me or not, I have been impressed by how well you’ve taken to the task of ruling, with some glaring exceptions.”

“Then I expect you to withdraw your latest attempt to replace me with a squire of your choosing,” she said. Lord George gave her a stern look.

“My concern is not with your abilities, but your objectivity,” he said. “Lord Gold is not what he appears.”

“Then what is he, Lord George?” she asked. Lord George reached into his doublet, and pulled out a long, gleaming silver knife.

Belle flinched, afraid for a moment, but then he took the blade in his palm and handed her the handle. Belle took it, and ran her fingers over the metal, a shiver of something ancient and terrible running down her spine. It had serrated, wavy edges, carved black into the polished metal. A name was inscribed on the blade: Rumplestiltskin.

“I recognise this,” she murmured. “This is the Dark One’s blade.”

“Indeed it is,” Lord George replied. “Your Lord Gold kept it in his possession, but at last it has been wrested from his grasp. It is the only thing capable of controlling his power.”

“Then why give it to me?” Belle asked. Lord George shrugged.

“You are the ruler of Avonlea,” he said. “You brought him into the castle, into your confidence. It is your duty to banish the monster, not mine.”

Belle gaped at him, then let out a bark of stunned laughter. “You cannot be serious,” she said. “You go too far, my Lord, if you’re accusing my Chancellor of having possession of a demon!”

“I do not accuse him of controlling the beast,” Lord George replied, tautly. “I know that he is the beast.”

“That’s impossible,” Belle shook her head. “The Dark One has skin like a snake’s, and eyes that devour the world. He makes mountains tremble, he doesn’t sit in a tower office and read over court documents!”

“I have told you what I know,” Lord George said, implacably. “This is no political ploy, and certainly no trick. My work is done. If you continue on as the plaything of the Dark One, if you cling to power through dark magic, all of Avonlea will know of your crimes, and his. This is your last chance to prove your loyalty to your people, your highness. This realm will not fall to his evil. I have already lost too much to his tricks for that.”

“What… what did he do to you?” Belle asked. “If you expect me to believe this fairy tale, you must tell me all of it.”

“Once, my family had need of something very precious. My wife, in her desperation, summoned the most powerful creature she could find. He engineered it so that despite the joy the deal brought us, it soon turned to sorrow, and we were forced into his debt a second time. He is a vicious, malicious creature. He absolutely cannot be trusted.”

“How am I to know you are not in his thrall, then?” Belle asked. Lord George shook his head.

“I know the demon for what it is. I know the mistakes I have made, the choices I have to live with. This land will not fall to those same demons.”

“Are you threatening me?” Belle asked, her voice low and dangerous, the tone Gold had taught her.

“I’m telling you that you have a choice to make. You can choose your kingdom, or your beast. Mark my words, you cannot have both.” Lord George gave a curt bow, “Your highness,” and walked away into the crowd, his head high like he hadn’t just said what Belle had heard him say.

Belle looked back down at the paper in her hands. She ran a hand over the picture, the lettering on the blade. She thought back over everything he’d never told her, the things he’d never said. Why wouldn’t he tell her his age? Why didn’t he say why he’d come to Avonlea? How could mere gold, however much he had spent, destroy an ogre army and rebuild a realm in a matter of weeks, when the war had raged unrelenting for half a decade?

Belle swallowed hard around the knot in her throat. For the first time since she had risen to the throne, she felt completely lost.

Belle’s fingers trembled where they held the blade. Whatever did one do with an item such as this, something so dark and powerful, so terrible? She couldn’t bear to have it on her person, but she couldn’t risk losing it either.

It could be a fake, she reasoned. Yes, it was probably a fake, a forgery Lord George had given her to incriminate her should he need leverage. It still needed to be hidden for safekeeping.

Belle slipped out of the ballroom through a side door, pleading a need for air. She made her way through the castle to the empty, quiet library, a space few save herself frequented. She knelt, and with shaking fingers found the loose floorboard beneath the heavy rug, where she’d hidden sweets and contraband as a child. She wrapped the knife in her handkerchief, and buried it there, until she could formulate a plan.

Then, she rose to her feet, and wrapped her arms around herself. For just a moment, she allowed herself to miss her parents, to miss her youth, to miss a time when such terrible decisions were not hers to make. She could not turn to her Chancellor for guidance here. She knew what Ruby and Dame Lucas would say, what Mulan would say, what General Fa would say. They would all tell her what they always had: that she should never have trusted Gold in the first place; that Avonlea had to come first.

Unbidden, the memory of their dance flickered through her mind. The way he’d held her in his arms, the way his voice had lowered to that rough, soft timbre, the way he’d held her face at the very end, as if he might kiss her at any moment… the thought that it all could have been a lie, a demon’s trick, made her stomach turn. She thought in that second that she might be sick.

Belle took a deep breath, and released it slowly.

Then, Belle mustered a broad smile, and returned to the party. Gold was nowhere to be found; she felt Lord George’s eyes on the back of her head with every step.

The book in Belle’s hands was heavy, leather-bound and ancient.

Three days from the ball, she had spent closeted away in the library. She had told everyone she was sick, something contagious she had contracted at the party, and left Dame Lucas in charge of the day-to-day running of things. She hadn’t spoken to Gold since their dance. She didn’t know what she’d say to him if she did.

Finally, after three days of research, she had found the book she was looking for.

She had tried, after Lord George’s departure, not to think about what he had told her. It seemed by turns threateningly possible, and ridiculous in the extreme. The Dark One was legend, however recent many of the stories about him were, and to believe that the creature Rumpelstiltskin and her friend Lord Gold were the same person… it stretched even Belle’s impressive imagination. What would a being of pure magic and power, a creature of fairy tale, have to gain from playing a minor country Lord and merchant? Why would someone who could have everything, who could go anywhere and do anything he pleased, choose to settle for such a mundane existence? The Dark One could level mountains, why would he walk with a limp?

But then she thought of the thousand unanswered questions, the simple queries he danced linguistic circles around her to avoid. She thought of his odd dress, so much darker and sharper than his peers, and the instinctive fear all of Avonlea seemed to hold for him. She thought of how his arrival, his seemingly unremarkable bargain with her father, had coincided exactly with the destruction of the ogre forces.

She wanted to trust that her closest friend at court, the man she trusted and adored, would not have kept such a terrible secret from her. She needed to believe him incapable of such a feat. The problem was that she knew no one in the world better suited for just such a task.

A better woman, kinder and more trusting, might have confronted him directly. Belle hoped she might yet find the strength to march into his office, slam the knife down on the desk, and demand an explanation outright. But that plan would accomplish nothing.

If he was the Dark One, and had lied to her from the moment they met, then why would an accusation founded only on the word of an enemy prompt his honesty? And if he were not, then accusing him outright would only betray her own doubts and misgivings, that in a moment of truth she had listened to his rival instead of him. It could ruin forever the delicate, wonderful bond between them. Belle had only had Lord Gold in her life a month, but she already couldn’t imagine how she would continue at court without him.

That left two other options: either she could try and raid his office or his home, in search of evidence of dark magic, or she could summon the creature himself.

Belle had brushed the former idea off immediately. She was no spy: she was small, but hardly nimble, and had no clothing without a full skirt. The Dark One would hide the evidence, anyway, surely. Maids cleaned his rooms in the castle every day, just like everywhere else, and she couldn’t reach his estate in the country without someone finding out.

That left only one option: the book in her hands, containing a summoning ritual to bring the Dark One before her.

Belle swallowed hard around a knot in her throat, that seemed to be directly connected to the much larger tangle in her belly. Her skin crawled, alive with anxiety and fear. What if he didn’t come, and she was left as clueless as before? What if he did, and she didn’t survive the encounter?

She shook her head. Her mother had died in this very room, protecting the realm’s knowledge and delaying the ogre attacks until her servants could get away. She had known her duty, to the realm and to herself. Belle had been hiding leagues to the north, sent away to her betrothed’s home for her safety when the war began. She wasn’t there to hold her mother’s hand, to die beside her or to carry her memory. All she knew was that Colette had died a hero.

Belle had always wanted to be brave. Now, it seemed, was her chance.

The candles flickered in a circle before her, flanked by amethyst and quartz, and every religious symbol Belle could filch from the temple downstairs. The other lights had been extinguished: the creature liked the dark, according to her reading. She didn’t mean to offend the demon, only to find her answers.

Belle took a deep breath, and raised her head, straightening her spine and planting her feet wide apart. She raised the knife in her fist, so the flat of the blade faced her heart.

“Rumplestiltskin, I summon thee!” she called out into the darkness.

The silence was deafening. The very air seemed to hold still, as if to emphasise the emptiness of the room, how alone Belle still was.

“Rumpelstiltskin, I summon thee!” she cried again. A tree branch tapped at the window, and Belle almost jumped out of her skin. She looked around with wild eyes. Nothing.

This time, she threw her whole being into the shout, her anger and fear and crippling doubt forcing the words from her throat, “Rumplestiltskin, I summon thee!”

The wind whistled outside. The candles flickered. Silence reigned.

“Well,” a voice cut through the night, high and full of vicious mirth, “There’s no need to shout.”

Belle spun on her heel. Her summoning circle remained empty; a figure lounged in the doorway. His arms were folded, his heel pressed to his ankle and knee casually bent, the picture of nonchalance and elegance. His face was cast in shadow.

“You didn’t reply,” she said, “So I thought maybe you couldn’t hear me.”

“If you wanted to speak to me,” he said, taking a step forward into a shaft of moonlight from the windows. She gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. Through all of this, she had not expected everything to be true. She had thought… she didn’t know what she had thought. “Then you know where my office is, dearie.”

Belle swallowed down the initial sob, the barrage of insults, the accusations and betrayed, terrified scream. She wasn’t a little girl. Everything she had become since she came back to court, since her coronation, kept her head high and her lips pressed tight closed. She lowered her shaking hand to her side, and clenched it into a fist.

“So it’s true,” she said.

He crept forward on light feet, “Bit of a shock, eh?” he teased, his voice higher and lighter than she had ever heard it. His hands made a slight flourish. Every muscle in his body was tight, every movement practiced and precise. His hair, usually so soft and smooth, sprung from his head in wild curls and brushed the high leather collar of his long coat; his boots laced to his knees. His skin glistened in the moonlight, as scaly and dark and reptilian as her books had led her to believe.

His eyes were what caught her most: opaque, greenish-grey and too large, as if they would swallow the world. She hadn’t realised how greatly she would miss the dark brown she knew, until it was gone.

“Well then, speak, dearie!” he cried, his voice harsh and sharp, startling her. His hands flickered and danced before him. She took an unwilling step back. “You did summon the Dark One, after all! And wherever did you get that?”

His fingers steeped before him, the points of his index fingers pointing at the knife wavering in her fist. “The man who told me who you really were gave it to me,” she said, trying to hold her voice steady. She felt her heart crack and break in her chest; she looked at him, her dearest friend, and didn’t know him at all.

“And I wonder how he got his grubby little hands on it, hmmm,” Rumplestiltskin murmured, stepping closer yet. Belle’s hand did not loosen on the blade. He did not try to take it.

“I just wanted to see if he was right,” Belle whispered. “I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Then why did you?” Rumpelstiltskin sneered, his nose wrinkling. “Why demand the truth when fiction is so much sweeter?”

“Stop it!” Belle snapped, shoving the blade forward, and she was stunned when he took a step back. “Stop lying to me!”

“Put the blade down, Belle,” he said.

“No,” she shook her head, and to her horror she heard her voice crack, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “No, you lied to me, and now I want the truth!”

“We had a deal, dearie,” he reminded her, softly, his high voice a twittering mockery of the low, sweet brogue she knew so well. Who was this creature? How could her friend, her ally, the man who made her heart beat faster, who challenged her and guided her, exist within this sneering, prancing body? How could both men coexist within the same skin?

“I never made any deals with the Dark One,” Belle bit out. “You owe me the truth!”

“You agreed to never force my hand,” he told her. “You have to put down the knife.”

Belle looked at the blade in her hand, and thought back to what Lord George had said. “The blade controls the beast,” she murmured, and her eyes flicked back up to Rumpelstiltskin. “If I… if I command you, holding this, do you have to obey?”

“Yes,” the word seemed forced from his throat, and she remembered her order from before, that he stop lying. The urge to keep hold of the blade, to keep the order in place, to force him to tell her everything and apologise and whatever else came to her mind, was almost overwhelming.

She looked at him, really looked at him. He was not the man she knew, the man she might even have loved. He didn’t smile like him, his eyes weren’t the same; she didn’t know him at all. But he was terrified of the blade. Not because she might stab him, but because she could force him to his knees. Once more, she saw herself in his eyes: a Princess born to freedom and power, with the ability to bring him to heel and remove his free will with a flick of this blade. She could be cruel, she could be a tyrant, she could make him pay for every moment he had lied to her, every crack that had formed in her heart since his betrayal was revealed… and it would consume her. And worse, whatever truth there had been in her beloved Lord Gold, it would kill him too.

“I promised never to force you,” she said, softly, lowering the knife. “Unlike some, I keep my word.”

“What promises have I broken, Belle?” he asked, softly. She didn’t like her name in this voice, this pretended tone. She missed how the letters had rolled over his tongue before, how warm and safe his voice had made her feel.

“I trusted Lord Gold,” she said. “Not… not whatever you are.”

“I’m not a what,” he corrected.

“You know what I mean,” she said.

“You should be careful, dearie,” he said. “I’m not to be trusted around ambiguities.”

“Don’t do that!” she cried, “Don’t… don’t talk to me like I’m other people, like I’m someone else! I might not know you but I know you know me, don’t you dare pretend you don’t!”

“You summoned the Dark One,” he reminded her. “Your wish is my command.”

“Do you know how badly I wanted anyone else to show up?” she demanded. “How hard it was to even imagine you might have been lying this whole time, manipulating me?”

“When did I lie to you, Belle?”

“From the moment you introduced yourself as Lord Gold, and not Rumpelstiltskin,” she said, her chin raised in defiance.

“A name is only a name, dearie,” he said, but his voice had taken a gentler tone, something softer and more yielding than the sneering from before. “You are both Belle, and the Princess of Avonlea. Could I not be both Rumpelstiltskin and Lord Gold?”

She watched him move, the little dances of his fingers, and wondered at how he could be so different and yet so completely the same as the man she had known. Every movement was still elegant, graceful and practiced, but where Lord Gold had been smooth and restrained, Rumpelstiltskin was wild and frenetic, otherworldly.

“A lie of omission is still a lie,” she said, stoutly.

“And what would you have done, had I walked into your office some sunny morning, and told you that as well as being Avonlea’s largest landowner and collector of antiquities, I was in fact the physical embodiment of an ancient demon hell-bent on destruction and chaos? Are you telling me you wouldn’t have had me banished from your realm?”

“I was owed the chance to make that decision for myself,” Belle replied. “This is my realm. Given everything you’d done for me, the good we did together… I hope I would have given you a chance.”

“Are you certain of that?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. His eyes bored into hers. She nodded. “Then put down the knife.”

Belle’s grip on the dagger wavered, loosened… then tightened again. She held it to her side. She neither raised nor dropped it.

“How did you come to Avonlea?” she asked. “You owe me that answer now.”

“Your father summoned me,” he told her, with another of those giddy, unsettling little movements. He circled her, rested his chin on her shoulder; she shivered at his voice in her ear. “Help, help, we’re dying, can you save us?” his voice was high with mimicry; in the corner of her eye, she could see his mocking smile. “There was no firstborn in sight, no gold in the coffers, nothing to offer in exchange but the land itself. My price was ownership of all the fertile farmland and forest in Avonlea.”

“And in exchange, you beat back the ogres?”

“Oh no,” he purred, and she shivered again, a sensation both unsettling and strangely exciting. “I destroyed them,” he whispered, and bared his teeth. She flinched; he giggled, and danced away.

“Then were is the contract?” she demanded, turning to face him head-on once more. He tilted his head to one side.

“You mean the pages of leases you so carefully examined weren’t sufficient?” he asked, his finger tapping his chin as if flummoxed by the very idea. “Ah, yes,” he flicked his finger upright, struck by a thought. His theatricality was unnerving, and yet she couldn’t look away. “There may have been one page missing.”

He bared his hand into a fist, and a scroll appeared in his grasp. He shook it out, and it flew down, exposing a long roll of script. He held it out, one hand at the top and the other at the bottom. Belle read as fast as she could.

“A thousand years of ownership, in exchange for the kingdom returned to its pre-war state,” she murmured. “And the total annihilation of the ogre army.”

Rumpelstiltskin gave another of those little giggles. “That’s about the size of it,” he said.

“Then why stay?” Belle asked, frowning. “If the land was just… just a last resort, the only thing my father had to offer, why do you care?”

It was odd: she thought he was a little impressed with the question. His eyebrows did the same thing Lord Gold’s had, when she did something particularly clever. “The forest contains something very… precious to me,” he said, softly. “The war threatened it. The Council’s expansive ambitions threatened it. Your father’s sudden death, and the coronation of an unknown party threatened it.”

“What is it?” she asked. He tilted his head to the side.

“Is it so important you know?” he asked. She raised her chin.

“What is it, Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Is it important enough to force me to tell you?” he asked. She felt herself falter, waver. She shook her head. “Then put down the knife.”

Belle’s grip on the dagger trembled again. She wondered what he would do if she dropped it. What if once the dagger was returned, he turned on her, and she had no means to defend herself? What if his dark arts could enthral her, and she became a puppet ruler, controlled by the Dark One?

He had saved her kingdom. He had danced with her, laughed with her, walked and talked and shared his mind with her. He had made her fall in love with him. If he were still that man, surely he wouldn’t hurt her now, out of spite?

“Was any of it real?” she asked, her voice shaking, barely above a whisper.

“Any of what, Belle?” he asked. His voice sounded lower, softer, more familiar. It broke her heart.

“Our partnership,” she said. “You were my friend, I thought we trusted each other.”

“Then why didn’t you come to me, and ask me if what you’d heard was true?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you come to me, and tell me the truth?” she countered.

“Do you want the answer?” he asked, and she swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of his presence as he came closer, and closer yet. She looked into his eyes, those strange, opaque eyes… and all of a sudden, she knew him. He had the same expression he’d worn when they’d danced, the same intensity, the ambivalence. His face was the same, save the shimmering skin, and she could learn to love that, too. The same man looked out at her from behind those eyes, and she couldn’t look away.

She nodded.

“Then drop the knife,” he whispered, his words a breath against her mouth. She felt the dagger slip from her grip, heard it clatter on the floor. She knew him. She trusted him. He would not hurt her.

He was breathing hard; so was she. Her heart thundered in her chest. His mouth still looked the same: just as soft, just as warm.  

She leaned up on her tiptoes, and on impulse she took the lapels of his stiff jacket in her hands and pressed her mouth to his. It was a soft kiss, gentle and warm, a sweet press of his lips to hers entirely at odds with their heated words from before. It felt like a continuation of their dance, like time had looped around and returned them to that place where his thumb had traced her lips, and the world had stood still.

He coaxed her lips open with his, and Belle moaned when his tongue touched hers. It was nothing like when Gaston, the rare times he’d been given the chance, had shoved his meaty tongue into her mouth and almost choked her. Rumpelstiltskin, Gold, whoever he was, kissed with the same delicacy and deliberation he brought to everything else he did. The tip of his tongue danced over her lips, played with the tip of hers, stroking and dipping as his lips caressed hers. Belle felt her knees give out, her body melting against his as he held her close against him, his arm coming around her waist, his hand tangling in her hair.

Belle moaned, and slid her hands from his collar up and around his neck, into the springy locks of his hair, and he hissed when her nails bit into his scalp.

This couldn’t last: Lord George would never allow him to remain in the castle now that the truth was known, and she had no doubt that if he had had the knife, he had other proof as well. Lord Gold could never return as Chancellor, so long as Lord George breathed. He would have to leave. She would have to continue on without him. Certainly any wistful fantasy she might have had about marrying him was out of the question, if she intended to keep her throne.

She kissed him deeper, more desperately at that thought. She was running out of breath, but she couldn’t imagine pulling away, parting from him, being forced to deal with the fallout of whatever they were doing now.

It felt so right, his mouth against hers, their bodies pressed tight.

Eventually, she did have to pull back for breath. He didn’t try to speak, didn’t make her think about what they’d done, what she hoped they would keep doing. Instead, he began to kiss along her cheek, down her jaw. He nibbled with sharp teeth at the corner of her jawbone, making her jump and whimper, a shot of sensation shooting straight down her spine. He kissed down her throat, along her collarbone, exposed by her simple white blouse.

Belle stepped back, and back again, pulling him with her as she found one of the long study tables, so she could brace herself and not have to think about staying upright. When his mouth found her pulse point, her forward thinking paid off. Her knees wobbled and melted again, and when he felt her tremble he lifted her with one hand under her backside, so she was sitting on the table.

She felt his harsh breath on her throat, and she swallowed hard. She pulled his head up with her hand in his hair, and rested her forehead against his.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she breathed him in, enjoying his closeness however it came. He didn’t look like he should. He wasn’t the man he ought to be. She had thought – perhaps hoped – that once she had learned the truth she would forget her feelings for him, and regain the objectivity Lord George had accused her of losing. But he was still the man she knew, somewhere inside. She had always known he was a mystery: somehow, this only created new layers to uncover.

“You shouldn’t have lied to me,” she whispered. His low exhale brushed against her lips and made her tremble.

“I’m sorry, Belle,” he replied. “The darkness is who I am. I never intended to know you. I never intended…”

He trailed off, but Belle understood. She nodded, swallowing around a lump in her throat. She didn’t want to cry now. For now, she wanted to enjoy whatever this was.

“Kiss me again?” she asked. There were so many questions that needed answers, so many things to be said, but right then Belle thought she might die if she couldn’t kiss him.

He nodded, and returned his mouth to hers, kissing her for long moments until her heart was racing and her bones were liquid. Her legs had wrapped themselves around his waist of their own accord, so he was holding her tight, every inch of his body pressed to hers.

His mouth slipped from her mouth again, and worked down the other side of her face and neck, pushing the barrier of her blouse aside so he could kiss along her shoulder too, lavishing every inch of skin he could find with his mouth.

Belle’s fingers shook, but they found their way to the stays of her bodice. She wanted him to touch her all over, her skin all but shivering with desire for him. If she could never marry him, if she would have to spend forever alone or with someone else, someone she couldn’t possibly love the way she loved him, then she would have this one night. He owed her that much. She needed that much.

He pulled back and gaped at her as she opened her bodice, revealing the sheer blouse beneath. The bodice had enough corsetry in it that for days spent alone in the library, she had little need of other supports. She had not considered until now how transparent the blouse was, how much of her was exposed through the thin linen. She blushed with embarrassment when she saw his eyes drift lower, watched his throat bob as he gulped at what he could see. Her nipples had hardened to rosy peaks, clearly visible through the fabric.

Belle lifted her arms to cover herself, but Rumpelstiltskin caught her arm with the lightest touch. “Please?” he murmured. He sounded like himself again, that low rolling brogue she loved so much. He sounded wrecked, desperate. She nodded, and lowered her arm.

Gently, his thumbs rubbed over those little points, sending sensation racing through Belle’s whole body. She gasped, her head arching back, her whole body pulled tight and taut as a bowstring. His hands gently squeezed and massaged her breasts, and Belle felt her breaths growing quick and shallow, her whole body heating with pleasure and sensation, an odd, thick heat pooling between her legs. She suddenly, desperately needed him to touch her there, too. She needed to feel him everywhere.

“Please, Rumple…” she sighed, unable to finish the rest of his name. It seemed a good compromise, all things considered: not the name of the twittering demon, but also not the human lie he had spun her in the past month. Something in between the beast and the man was the person before her. The person she loved.

He nodded, and his hands left her chest, coming to push and tug at her skirts, lifting the fabric up her knees and letting it puddle around her hips. It was Belle who took the final step, and pulled her pantaloons down to her ankles, kicking them free so they fell to the floor in a little white heap.

The cool air on her exposed skin suddenly brought her back to reality, to how open and vulnerable she currently was. She blushed all over, and pulled back, trying to regroup. “Belle?” his voice came to her, and her eyes blinked up into his.

What she saw there comforted her more than she could say. His eyes were full of concern, no hint of his former malice or of his guarded care from before. He looked like he would die if she stubbed her toe, like he wanted to protect her from everything and anything that came her way. He looked like he loved her. She wondered if he knew than she loved him too.

“I love you,” she said, softly. “It doesn’t change anything, but I do.”

Her eyes dropped from his, her bravery not holding out to watch the expression on his face.

“Oh Belle,” he murmured, and lifted her face, kissing her again, reigniting the banked fires within her. He kissed her again, again, until she was breathless and shivering again, although she was hardly cold. She was burning up, in fact, afraid she might well combust before this was over.

She wrapped her legs back around him, and moaned into his mouth when she felt the hard bulge between his legs, encased by his leather trousers, pressing against her sensitive flesh. She was so ready for him, embarrassingly wet and ready. She had never felt this way before, and hoped he didn’t mind, hoped he wouldn’t think her wanton for needing him so badly. It wasn’t her fault: she had been lost the moment she’d first looked into his eyes, whatever their colour, green-grey or brown, it didn’t matter.

“Are you sure?” he murmured, and she nodded.

“Please, Rumple,” she moaned, “Please.”

He nodded, dazed and lost for words. She felt a ripple, a tingle, a shiver of something alien and strange, and then the leather was gone, the stays of his breeches untying themselves and exposing him. Suddenly Belle could feel hard flesh pressing between her legs, and then it was accompanied by dextrous fingers, brushing over her, slipping into her folds and over a sensitive place at the apex, that made her cry out when it was touched directly.

“You really want this?” he murmured, frowning. She kissed his forehead, the little line between his eyebrows; she had always wanted to.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His fingers withdrew from her, and then she felt him, his member, the broad head pressing against her entrance. It hurt when he pushed it a little way inside, and she cried out, tensing up. Rumple’s fingers returned to her, and there was another ripple of that odd sensation, not quite pleasurable, not quite unpleasant. Then he was pushing in again, and this time it felt good, no pain at all, and she felt him fill her, their joining so perfect it made her arch her back and moan aloud.

When he was inside as far as he could go, he stopped, and his forehead rocked forward again to rest against hers. Their breaths met between them, and it was like their dance, like their conversations, like every moment they’d ever spent together encapsulated into a single second. She had never felt more connected to another person in her life, and Belle felt both rooted and set free.

Then he shifted out a little and pushed back inside, and his fingers were back at it between her legs, and everything was liquid and heat, pleasure and sensation, sparks up her spine and shivers across her skin. She gasped and keened, rocking in time with his movements, and his mouth was everywhere, open and kissing her throat, her cheeks, and finally her mouth, a kiss both messy and perfect, searing her soul.

His fingers twisted and pinched, and suddenly she exploded, the tension coiling at the base of her spine bursting into a thousand sparks, her whole body set alight. She moaned and whimpered, clinging to him with every muscle, her inner walls clenching around him as he continued to thrust within her. She felt him tense a moment later, as she was descending from her high, and he buried his face in her throat with a low groan as he released inside her. She petted his springy hair – she could grow used to it, although she missed the softness of before – and he clung to her, shaking as hard as she was.

For a perfect moment, it was as if nothing in the world, not even his lies or her duties, her kingdom or his dark curse, could hurt them. Belle wished she could live in it forever.

Then he had stepped back, withdrawn from her. Another ripple of magic had their clothes set to rights, and Belle felt suddenly cold, lonelier than she had ever been in her life.

“Goodbye, Belle,” he said. Then, in a swirl of purple smoke, he was gone, and the dagger on the floor with him.

One month later

Lord George had what he wanted: his rival was banished, and as the only man who wanted the job, he was installed once again as Chancellor.

He was competent: Belle would give him that. But he was domineering, and poor company, and ran roughshod over her in every Council meeting. Things returned to how she remembered them being under her father: with a ruler on the throne, but the real power rested in Lord George’s Chancellor’s office.

The leases binding the land in Lord Gold’s name were still valid at least, so he couldn’t claim all of that for his own, too. The man himself, the story went, had gone home to the Frontlands to help the war effort.

Belle was bereft.

She didn’t want to mourn him. He was a liar, and he’d never told her half of what she needed to know. They’d made love in the library, and she was certain he loved her too, but then he’d vanished.

Belle was starting to realise that what she’d enjoyed about ruling Avonlea wasn’t the power, or the politics, or even love of the land. She’d only lived here for a portion of her childhood, and while she knew the people cared for her, they were equally loyal to the Council, and especially Lord George. She was a young woman who had come to her maturity somewhere far away. She had never intended to inherit; no one had expected her to.

Sometimes – often – she thought on what Rumple had said to her, the day before the ball. If George wanted the throne so badly, why not let him have it?

She was stood in the garden when that thought occurred to her again. Since Lord George’s return to power, she had a lot of time to walk in the gardens, to sew, to read, to do anything but rule her lands. She supposed she should be thankful that she didn’t have to marry; Lord George already had what he wanted. She could appoint or adopt an heir, find a distant cousin to inherit. She didn’t think she could have borne the touch of another man, after she knew what it felt like to be with the man she loved.

She was watching the gardeners tend the flowerbeds – even they were allowed to do their work in peace – when she heard Ruby calling her name.

“Belle!” the other woman all but tumbled out of the doors and onto the balcony, and caught Belle’s arm. “Belle!”

“What, what is it?”

“They need you in the throne room!” Ruby cried, breathlessly. “The Lord Chancellor has an announcement!”

Belle frowned: Lord George only had need of her signature or her silence. Whatever he wanted now, she was sure he could accomplish alone. But then, he took a perverse joy in making her sit and bear witness to his us of her power. Everything he did, by his own design, was under her name.

“What is it?” Belle asked, as Ruby led her by the hand through the palace. Ruby shook her head.

“He won’t say,” she said. “He just said you were needed.”

Belle was only more confused, but followed Ruby all the same. They reached the throne room, and Leroy announced her with an odd smile on his face. He knew something about what was about to happen, but Belle had no time to ask what.

“Her Royal Highness, Belle, Princess of Avonlea!” Leroy announced, and Belle stepped through the doors and along the podium. Everyone in the chamber stood in respect. She gestured for them to sit as she took her place on the throne.

“Please, sit down,” she said. “Now, Lord Chancellor,” she turned to Lord George, standing uncomfortably before the throne. Usually he dominated proceedings from his chair to her right, crowding her, giving the impression of equal footing. “What is this about?”

“Now that your highness is here, I can present this document to your highness,” Lord George looked as if there was a knife in his kidneys, as if every word was acid, but he shoved a scroll in her direction.

Since when did Lord George use scrolls?

Belle unwound it, puzzled beyond belief. “…My Lord Chancellor, is this what it appears to be?”

“It is my resignation from courtly life, your highness,” he managed, through a heavy grimace. “I have decided to spend my days with my family. Our family seat is in the Marchlands. I have a desire to be in the mountains.” “I see,” Belle couldn’t believe what she was hearing, what she was reading. The document in her hands was watertight: Lord George officially abdicated his position, and the claims of his whole family to any part of Avonlea. “You will be a loss to the realm, my Lord,” she lied, fighting to keep a smile from her lips. She had a suspicion as to what was really behind this. Who was really behind it.

She would find out that night, she supposed.

“First Lord Gold, now you,” she continued. “My Chancellors are dropping like flies.”

“Dame Lucas has kindly offered to take my place,” he managed. The way his nostrils had flared, his eyes hardening at the name of his predecessor told Belle all she needed to know.

“Thank you, Dame Lucas,” she said, smiling to the older woman in her seat along the podium. Dame Lucas inclined her head, and went back to her knitting.

“You will be greatly missed,” Belle lied. “Your service to this realm will not be forgotten.”

Lord George looked as if he wanted to say something. Then he looked out at the crowd, and whatever he saw made him think twice. Belle followed his gaze: all she could see in his direct line of sight was an older woman with dark hair streaked with grey, shaking her head with a placid smile. She didn’t recognise the woman, but Lord George clearly did.

“Farewell, your highness,” he said, with the shallowest bow Belle had ever seen. He stormed from the room without another word. The door slammed behind him.

---

Belle stood in her bedroom, and took a deep breath.

This time she had brought no book, no summoning stones, no dagger. She stood alone, in the middle of the night, the servants sent to bed and the castle quiet, and her call was not a scream but a soft, quiet plea.

“Rumpelstiltskin, I summon thee.”

This time, the whistle of the wind was not a slap in the face but a sigh, an exhalation of held breath. He was standing by her window, right in front of her.

“I need the whole story,” she said, before he could speak. She held her thin robe tighter about her, her arms folded to keep from running to him, kissing him, so grateful was she to see him again. His hair looked soft again, his scales muted, and he’d forgone the stiff dragonhide jacket. He came before her in a waistcoat and silk shirt: the most casual she had ever seen him. He looked handsome in the candlelight. She had known she could get used to it.

“The story, dearie?”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Lord George just happened to resign today,” she said. “Out of nowhere, apropos of nothing, at the moment of his victory, he walked away. Why would he do that?”

“Who knows why men do what they do?” Rumple asked, spreading his hands with a shrug. “Perhaps it was something he ate.” He wrinkled his nose, his voice high and strange. Even that, she could get used to. His pantomiming was as funny as it was unsettling.

“It wasn’t something he ate,” she shook her head, catching herself smiling. Even now, with an expanse of empty air between them, seeing him again felt more like home than the past month in her castle without him. He was so familiar: the shape of his jaw, the long angle of his nose, the soft springy hair and slender frame, the smile on his lips. She’d missed him more than she could say.

He took a step toward her, and she leaned closer almost without thinking. “What is your hypothesis then, dearie? A knock on the head?”

“Nope,” she grinned, and popped the ‘p’. “I think you happened to him.”

“I, good lady?” he asked, pressing a hand to his chest, his mouth opening in shock. “Perish the thought!”

She laughed at his antics, and she saw his eyes brighten. There was gentleness to his mockery now, affection instead of malice. She rather liked it. He hadn’t been so different as Lord Gold, after all.

“He told me once you’d made a deal with him, long ago. I need you to tell me what you did.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why not simply remain innocent?”

“Rumple, stop it,” she said, firmly. “I need to know. You know I do.”

It was incredible the effect her words had, even without the control of his dagger. He rolled his eyes, “Well, if you insist.”

He gestured for her to sit on the edge of the bed, and took a deep breath. “Once upon a time, there was a Lord who had everything, everything he could desire, power, honour, money, land… but no sons. And then, in a village not far from here, there was a farmer who had nothing… except he had two sons. You see where I’m going with this?”

Belle pursed her lips. “You sold one of the farmer’s sons to Lord George?” she asked. He tilted his head to one sid.e

“I facilitated an adoption, your highness,” he corrected, a little snidely. “In return for which, the Lord got in the way of a merger of kingdoms some way from here that benefitted me, and the farmer was greatly compensated. All was well, until the careless bastard the Lord raised was murdered by an ogre during a foolish raid-“

“But James is still alive,” Belle objected, “He’s-“ she stopped, the pieces falling together. Rumple made a gesture with his hand, imitating the penny dropping. She threw a cushion at him. “He’s the other son, isn’t he?” she said.

“Clever girl,” he grinned, and tapped her nose with one finger. Even that slight, teasing touch made her shiver. She hoped he wouldn’t leave without more of those lovely kisses, once she had her answers. “The farmer had died, terrible shame, and his wife was at risk of losing their home. The son agreed to the charade for his mother’s sake. Very noble young man, that one: some might call him charming.”

“The mother is an older woman with dark hair with grey streaks, a flat nose and an open face,” Belle said. Rumple stopped still, and tilted his head.

“You saw her this afternoon,” he murmured, and she watched as he ran his eyes appreciatively over her, as if he’d only just noticed her state of relative undress, clad only in her nightgown. “Very clever girl.”

Belle shivered again, and felt that heat beginning to build low in her belly. His gaze was almost physical, and slipped over her like a caress.

“So… what, you threatened to expose Lord George?” she asked. He grinned.

“His James is the pride of the family, even if now his real name is David. He married above his station, Snow’s closer to royalty than you are, and he’s a war hero to boot. His reputation would be marred forever, if it were revealed he traded in stolen babies with a demon to achieve such glory.”

“I thought you said it was an adoption,” Belle’s eyes narrowed, and Rumple’s smile gleamed.

“All a matter of your point of view, sweetheart,” he said. Oh, she liked when he called her that.

“Why do that?” she asked, shaking her head. “Your land was secure, the leases are still watertight. Even if he’d wanted to destroy whatever you need in the forest, he wouldn’t risk offending you.” She tilted her head to one side, her curiosity returning. “What was that, by the way? I can make sure it’s protected as Avonlea’s Princess.”

He sighed, as if he’d finally run out of reasons to avoid the question. “A tree,” he said, simply. “A tree that will one day become a very special piece of furniture.”

“You did all this… for a tree?” Belle blinked.

“It has magical properties,” he told her. “As will the wardrobe that will be created from it.”

Belle blinked. “You drove out Lord George, manipulated two families and a whole realm, for a tree?”

He looked at her, frowning, his head tilted. “Were you happy with him as Chancellor, Belle?” he asked. She laughed.

“I don’t know, are birds happy in cages?”

He didn’t reply. She looked at him, really looked at him, and blinked in disbelief. “You did all of this for me,” she said, softly. She’d thought it, hoped for it, but hadn’t really believed until now. “You… you banished him for me.”

“You’re a good ruler, Belle,” he fidgeted with his fingers, uneasy and restless. “You deserve a chance to do it right. And it only seems fair that young David be reunited with his mother.”

“You did it for me,” she said, biting the inside of her lip. She looked up at him, and if she’d had any doubt that she loved him, or that he loved her, they were no more. “I love you, Rumple.”

His eyes met hers, sheepish and hopeful, an odd expression on such a face. “I love you too, Belle,” he said, so softly she almost didn’t catch it.

She rose from the bed, and stepped into his arms. When he kissed her, she swore she could fly.  

[aeaean--bliss]

rocky beach resort

summary: Y/N brings her friend Peggy along to her father’s reunion with his old University buddies, only to bump into some boys she hasn’t seen since she was young. 

pairing: Bucky x Reader

a/n: this is the first installment of the one-shot series I’m starting based on this post (courtesy of @margxrxtcarter​). I’m really looking forward to this series (is it even a series if it’s all one-shots???) !!!

rocky beach resort one-shots

masterlist

“Ah, heaven!”

You grinned as you closed the car door behind you, fully taking in the warmth for the first time since your pit stop a few hours ago. You retrieved your suitcase from the back of the car, before turning to Peggy.

“Isn’t this just…”

“Amazing,” she finished, gazing at the surroundings.

The building in front of you was like a huge villa, with a grand porch encircling the ground floor. It was wooden, like a cottage of sorts, but its elegance could be recognised for miles. It was surrounded by large, green trees that reached all the way down to the shore, where the coastline was dotted with little, secret beaches.

“This is how rich I want to be,” she stated decidedly, nodding softly.

“One day...” you sighed.

“Come along, girls!”

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase and began following your father, who had exited the car and retrieved his own suitcase from the boot. Peggy followed suit.

The reason behind why you were going to spend your holidays in this paradise was that one of your father’s old university pals had invited the whole college gang to his holiday home as a sort of reunion. You weren’t unfamiliar with his friends, as you’d seen them a lot growing up. You’d argued your way into letting Peggy come along, seeing as you would have been the only girl there if she wasn’t.

“Well, well, well, look who it is!”

Your father let out a deep laugh as he went over to shake his friend’s hand.

“Long time no see, Joe!” he exclaimed.

“And whose fault is that?” Joe retorted, causing your father to raise his hands in defense.

“We’re all here now, so let’s enjoy it. Y/N, you remember Joe’s boy, Steven.”

Your father gestured to the man who had just joined the two men and shaken your father’s hand.

“Of course,” you replied, walking over to him and shaking his hand. He offered you a soft smile.

“Nice to see you again,” he said.

“Likewise,” you responded.

It had been ten years since you’d seen him last, and you had to admit, those ten years had treated him well. He was nothing like the scrawny little fella he used to be, but he carried himself in a very humble way, almost as if he still was.

“Steve, this is Peggy. Peggy, Steve,” you said, gesturing between the two.

“Pleasure,” Peggy said, grinning.

Steve returned the grin, before turning to his father.

“I’m gonna go get our bags.”

His father nodded, before turning back to his conversation with your father. You gestured for Peggy to follow you, before slipping away and walking up to the page that hung on the noticeboard in the hall.

“Let’s see… looks like we’re upstairs, down the hall to the right… and third door on the left,” you said.

You picked up your case and began walking up the stairs. Peggy followed suit.

“So,” Peggy said as you closed the bedroom door behind you and placed your suitcase on your bed, “how do you know Steve?”

You raised an eyebrow as you glanced over to where she was unpacking her case.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well it’s a standard question, isn’t it?” she replied hurriedly, avoiding your gaze.

You smirked.

“We went to the same primary school. Haven’t seen him since,” you explained.

She nodded in response.

“What’d you think of him?” you asked, and she shrugged.

“He seems like a nice man.”

You chuckled at her response as you walked towards the door.

“Dinner’s in five minutes. We’ve gotta go meet the others.”

“I don’t think I want to meet anyone else,” she said as she sat up, before fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Tough, because I have to, and I’m not doing it alone.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up, before accompanying you downstairs.

“Y/N!”

You looked up in the direction of the voice, and immediately began walking towards its owner.

“I’d like you to meet Howard Stark.”

You smiled as you shook the man’s hand. He was the only one of your father’s university buddies you’d never met before; probably on account of him being so busy, running his tech empire and all.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you said.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, looking at your father.

“Likewise.”

“Only good things, I trust?”

“Of course,” you chuckled playfully, causing him to laugh.

You had heard a lot about Howard Stark, for the same reasons everyone else has. According to your father, he was quite the ladies man when he was younger, and rumour has it that his son isn’t any different.

“I’m going to join Peggy out by the beach,” you said, turning to your father.

He nodded, before continuing his conversation with Howard. You made your way out of the building, walking slowly down the steps. The warm breeze was soft and comfortable as it blew across your face, and you let out a content sigh.

You wandered down towards the shore, taking in the picturesque scenery around you. After walking for a few minutes, you became acutely aware of the fact that you had no idea which beach Peggy was waiting for you at. However, before you could decide what you were gonna do about it, you noticed a familiar silhouette sitting on a bench in the distance. As you grew closer, you noticed he wasn’t alone.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you said, causing him to look up in surprise.

“Hey,” Steve said, smiling.

You glanced at the man beside him, cocking your head to the side in thought. You couldn’t help but think you’d met him before, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Uh, Y/N, you remember Bucky, right?”

You looked back at the man beside him, and that’s when it clicked.

“Right!” you exclaimed, grinning. “I knew I recognised you from somewhere.”

Bucky chuckled quietly and leant back in his seat.

“Long time no see,” he said.

You shrugged, an apologetic expression on your face.

“Not my call,” you replied.

“So I’ve heard. How’s your mother doing?”

The smile fell from your face.

“Good, I think. I wouldn’t really know,” you huffed, crossing your arms and squinting at the shore down the road.

The three of you fell silent, and you quickly cleared your throat.

“Sorry, uh…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said.  

You nodded.

“Have you guys seen Peg around? I was supposed to meet her at the beach, but she didn’t tell me which one.”

Bucky and Steve looked at each other, before shaking their heads.

“Can’t say we have,” Steve responded.

You grimaced, before looking back down the road. Suddenly, your gaze snapped back to Bucky.

“How do you know Peggy?”

His eyes flickered over to Steve, and you could have sworn there was the hint of a smirk on his lips. He shrugged.

“Steve mentioned you were here with a friend.”

You nodded, before looking back down the road. You stood there for a few seconds, and suddenly a figure started emerging at the end of the road.

“Hang on,” you mumbled. “Is that…?”

The figure came closer, and you soon noticed that it was.

“Hey!” you shouted, waving in her direction.

She started walking towards you. Within a minute she was a few metres away. You walked towards her.

“There you are!” you exclaimed.

“There I am?! More like, there you are! What took you so long?”

“You didn’t tell me which beach you went to!”

She tutted and crossed her arms.

“I expected more of you, Y/N.”

You gave her a playful, sarcastic smile, before turning back to the boys behind you.

“Thanks, anyway,” you said, smiling.

Steve returned the smile, while Bucky discreetly looked you up and down.

“Anytime,” Bucky said, smirking softly. “Nice seeing you again.”

You looked back at him, before nodding.

“You, too.”

You hoisted your bag higher onto your shoulder.

“Let’s go, Peg. The shore awaits.”

[ijustwant2write]

Falling Into The Wrong Crowd-Part 7 (Jax Teller x Reader)

(GIF credit to owner)

Masterlist

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10/ Part 11/ Part 12

Summary: (Y/N)’s phone call scared the shit out of her. There’s no way that this is a joke but her paranoid mind tells her that her friends won’t believe her like before. She decides to leave it, going crazy over the fact that someone has threatened her.

Meanings: (Y/N)= Your name

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, violence, arguments, distressing scenes (what do you expect, it’s Sons of Anarchy?)

*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The phone number was unrecognizable. As soon as he hung up I was frozen to the spot. Who the hell was threatening me? Why were they calling me specifically? Unless they had called the others and the girls hadn’t said anything yet. My brain was trying to think up all the possibilities and how I was to go about this. Should I tell them or not? Would they think I was being a crazy bitch again (even though I was right last time)?

“Hey doll,” Tig’s voice came out of nowhere, frightening me. He approached me,“what you doing out here? And why so jumpy?”

I tried to regain a natural composure but it made me look more suspicious.“I just had to take a phone call.”

“You sure about that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Doesn’t look like a pleasant one.”

“It’s nothing.” I tried to move around him though he easily blocked me.

“I know you’re lying so cut the crap and tell me what’s happening.”

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest.“Why do you want to know so much?”

“As soon as you girls arrived, trouble came with you. I know Frankie, Alex and Bea very well, you in the other hand, not so much.”

“So you don’t trust me is what you’re saying?”

“Not entirely.”

I sighed.“I know you guys are hiding something too, about the Devoted Predators.” What happened the other day, as soon as I mentioned them, the guys acted weird, even if it was for just a second.

He didn’t say anything.

My voice lowered to a whisper.“Someone just called me, threatening me about snitching. It’s got to be about the girls when they were in prison.”

“Have the others got any calls?”

“Not that I know of. Tig, what am I supposed to do!? They are threatening me, I could be killed!”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He didn’t seem phased by this.“It could be a bluff, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Wouldn’t worry about it!?”

“Give me your phone.”

“What? No.”

“If you want this to disappear, give it here.”

I clutched onto it.“I’ve known Frankie, Alex and Bea for a long time, you on the other hand, not so long.” I mocked him.

“Doll, this will be better for everyone if you just do as you’re told.”

“What are you going to-”

“What’s going on here?” we heard Clay from behind Tig.

He turned to face his president, smiling.“Just a little talk.” then he walked away.

I didn’t say anything.

“Is that true?”

I nodded, following Tig.

As we came back people were scattered between the kitchen and the living room, some were missing, either they were outside or had left. I steered away from Tig, hiding my phone from him. He knew something I didn’t. Were they all keeping something? Was I the only one left in the dark? I spotted Bea speaking with Juice and decided to go hide with her. They welcomed me to the conversation, handing me a glass of wine. I tried to not chug it back, trying to cover up my shaking hands. It was mostly Bea and Juice talking, I just stood there until a hand rested on the small of my back. Jumping away, my head darted to see Jax who seemed confused.

“Woah, you ok darlin’?” he asked, concern deep in his eyes.

“Y-yeah, sorry, I was just daydreaming.” I lied.

“I could see that.”

I just took a swig of my wine, still thinking back to Tig.

“You think you should be drinking so quickly?”

“Just thirsty.”

His hand was still on my back.“Come on, you need some fresh air.”

I let him guide me outside, not really sure why. Maybe I just wanted to go with him. Tig wasn’t going to be near me either. The sun was just about to set as we made it outside, creating a beautiful orange glow across Charming. He leaned against the house wall, taking out a cigarette. Nothing was said as he lit it. I avoided his gaze, looking out to the street as I kept on sipping on my wine.

“Not even going to attempt a conversation?” He asked as he blew out the smoke.

By now I was pretty much annoyed.“No Jax, I’m not.”

“Is this about the Predators? They’re gone darlin’, no one is gonna hurt you.”

I desperately wanted to roll my eyes, he knew something.“Yeah well it doesn’t feel that way.”

He was suddenly alert, getting off the wall.“Has something been said? Has something happened to you?”

His face was very close to mine.“No, I’m just still messed up about the whole thing.”

It didn’t feel right to lie, especially about this current situation.

“You’re sure about that?”

I looked into his eyes, lying through my teeth.“Yes Jax. I’m sorry, like I said, I’m still not quite over all of this. Um, actually, could you maybe take me home? It’s alright if you can’t-”

“Of course I can. Let me just say goodbye to the others, you coming too?”

“No, I’ll just wait out here.”

Jax stubbed out his cigarette, hesitantly heading inside. As soon as the door closed, a very shaky breath came out of my mouth, my stomach suddenly lurching. Before I could steady myself, my phone began to ring again. It was him again. Why was he calling me again?! I answered it unwillingly, knowing that they would just keep calling if I didn’t. I said nothing, waiting for something to be said.

“There’s a message for you.” it was a different man.“You need to come collect it personally. The address will be sent to you.”

The call ended there, and instead a text came through. It had the name of an address which was unfamiliar along with the threatening words:

‘Do not tell anyone about this. Do not bring anyone with you. Do not defend yourself. If you disobey, people will get hurt.’

It was one bad thing after the other. I had a feeling about how this would go. There was no telling how many or who was going to be at this place, the things they could do to me. I was the weakest of the weak, a pathetic excuse for a woman who wasn’t able to stand up for herself; there was no way I was coming out of whatever this was alive.

The door opened, Jax’s voice calling out.“You ready to go?”

I nodded without looking in his direction, making a beeline to the bike.

“I grabbed your things.” he handed me my jacket along with my handbag.“Not going to say goodbye?”

“No, I just want to go home.”

The urge to be sick didn’t leave me. As we travelled through the empty streets, my hands were clinging to Jax and my thighs were gripping onto the bike. The sensation of it all was not helping the horrible feeling bubbling in the pit of my stomach. Thankfully the journey was not long, Jax pulled into the driveway and although I really wanted to sprint to the bathroom to throw up, I knew it would look suspicious. As soon as he stopped the bike, I clambered off.

“Thank you Jax.” I said as I took off the helmet.“I’ll probably see you tomorrow”

He grabbed onto my handbag, stopping me from going anywhere. “(Y/N), if anything happens or if you’re still scared, you have to contact the club.”

“I will.”

He let go, letting me escape from him. I fastened my pace towards the door, hoping he didn’t notice. I fumbled with the keys, hearing the sound of his motorcycle fading away. Bursting into the house, I slammed the door shut before running as fast as I could to the bathroom before spilling up the contents of my stomach. The smell emitting from it was vile and didn’t help the situation. Kneeling back for a moment, loud sobbing filled the room though it only made it worse, making me throw up again.

I was going to die tonight, if not that then something bad was going to happen to me. And even if that didn’t happen the message received would be horrific. This had to be the Devoted Predators or someone associated with them.

The hours passed by surprisingly quickly. I had text the girls, explaining that I had been feeling ill and just wanted to be alone. Should I at least tell one person? That would be too big a risk. I had to man up and do this on my own.

My eyes scanned the clothing in my wardrobe, picking out the darkest clothing. Putting on a pair of leggings, black top and hoodie, I grabbed some shoes, forcing myself to go through with this. Grabbing some cash along with my phone, I took my first step outside, picking the door before posting the keys back inside; I didn’t want them finding where I live…though they probably already found it. The taxi I ordered was waiting outside, the driver had no idea what he was delivering me to.

After giving him an address near where I was to go, I leaned back in the seat, still debating whether this was a good idea. I could turn up dead, the others may have no idea why I was there or who did it. I never got involved this much in things like this. The girls never brought their drug dealing near me and when I was dating Zac we never really knew anything that happened within the club. Yes, I was affiliated with an outlawed biker gang, so I was technically a criminal, though I had never comitted a crime myself.

Without trying to look like I was petrified, I passed the cash to the driver, waiting for them to drive away before I headed towards the destination. Every step made me feel worse, I could easily run all the way back home. Things would turn messy if I did. As I reached the meeting place, an awful shiver rippled through my body and although I wasn’t a big believer of any gods, I sent a prayer out to anyone who was listening. I was by the docks, warehouses lined up along it. This was definitely a scene from a horror film.

The message said I had to be outside Warehouse 3 which it turned out was surrounded by others, meaning no one could see me. The dimly lit street lamps added to the creepy environment, especially when your mind was playing tricks on you, making you hear and see things that weren’t there. Wrapping my arms tightly around myself, my head frantically looked all over the place, not wanting to be pounced on. Suddenly shadows started to move, men emerging from them. They had bandanas covering the bottom half of their faces; they weren’t wearing a kutte either. Without thinking I found myself backing away from them towards the wall of the warehouse. There were five of them, even if it had been one guy I wouldn’t have been able to take him on.

“You listened to our instructions. That’s good.” one of them said.

I didn’t know how to respond.

“We have your message.” the man in the middle looked towards the others before gesturing to me.

All of them started to crowd me, I had no where to run. My body froze, I was petrified. None of them held back. One got too close to me and I was about to scream when he swung his fist back before hitting me in the face. Just like that they all started to attack me with punches, kicks and scratching. I screamed out in pure pain and fear, feeling that my life was about to end. This was the same feeling I had when I was being chased with guns. I may have survived then but I really wasn’t sure about now. This was their message, I was the threat, I’d never see anyone ever again.

[lille-dinusaur-blog]

The Escape

The rain drops are knocking on the window sill as Mia is snatched away from dreamland, and awakens to meet her nightmares. Her brown locks are falling like sea waves down her shoulder as she rubs away the sleepiness from her eyes. It’s your typical spring morning with light rain and dewy grass, the flowers are looking more alive each time but ironically Mia feels as if she is dying as each day passes. It has been near a year since her father remarried, to a beautiful woman with two younger children. At the age of 11, Mia finds herself in an unfamiliar home, with an unfamiliar mother, a big sister to two unfamiliar siblings, and a stranger to a familiar father.

She steps down the wooden staircase accompanied by a creaky noise to each of her footsteps, filling away the silence. She could hear the humming of her step mother cooking in the kitchen as the mornings were never quite anymore since her arrival, and every meal was prepared with warmth, nothing like the frozen meals at the supermarket she used to feed herself with. The woman who had her back turned to her, turned around and greeted Mia with a smile. “Good morning, breakfast is ready.”
 Breakfast was filled with silence every time her father was away on a business trip. Her step-mother didn’t seem to mind, as she had her mind full enough of her two younger brothers; Max aged five, and Bobby aged just two. They never seem to notice her tidying up her plate to the sink and leaving the room, it’s as if she was a dust particle blown away by the wind with no one noticing. As she steps back into her room and closes the door shut, she heaves out a deep breath and rushes towards the space under her bed where her grand escape plan lays.

Mia had been planning her extremely detailed escape plan for seven months, and is looking for the perfect timing to play it out. She had an old backpack filled with a map, a wallet with cents she had been saving everyday, a pair of clothes, little snacks, a torchlight and a water bottle ready to be filled. It has been ready for her to use since a while ago, but she just can’t seem to be able to run for it, for she still had an immense amount of love and adoration for her father despite the loneliness she had gone through since his remarriage. She doesn’t think he does it on purpose, it’s just that Max and Bobby are still really young and need more attention than her. Mia understands, but she can’t seem to get used to the feeling of being left out. Throughout her life and throughout her ups and downs, Mia has never missed her mother more than ever. They were a happy family for as long as she had remembered. Her father was a working diplomat with very frequent trips while her mother was always at home, so although she was already used to not seeing her father back then, she had a very close relationship with her mother with no secrets in between them. She was a beautiful woman, with brown wavy locks like her, eyes that gleamed in the sun as if flowers were blooming deep inside, and a smile as warm as a cup of hot coco in the coldest winter days. She was beautiful, indeed, inside and out and the angels seem to want her more than Mia needed her. And at the age of nine, she had lost her only angel to the devil called disease. Since then her father seemed to stop going to frequent trips and tried his best to smile to her. But his smiles seemed forced and rather than comforting, it only made her ache even more. That was until he met this new woman that seemed to be his new glimmer of hope and Mia couldn’t help but be glad for her father’s new profound happiness but sad at the same time, as she felt she was losing him too.

School was dull and exhausting, it was not as if she was bullied or anything. It’s just that she was no special friend to anyone and did not seem to belong in any group of friends. She was never the first choice picked by anyone when it was time to team up, and she was never called out during lunch to sit amongst their tables. She did have friends she talked to, but they were more classmates than friends. Her little brother Max also attended the school but just like at home, it was as if they were strangers. The only time where people seem to remember that they were now family was the sight of Mia waiting for Max by the gates so that they could go home together. It was her new task as a big sister. The fact that she was never alone was one of the other reason why she was not able to run her plan out. At home, she had her family while at school she had her little brother. 

But the angels seemed to have heard her prayers and finally she was given the perfect opportunity to play out her escape. Her father was still on his trip to some country in the middle east, while her mother had to take Max to the dentist to take out a tooth, she was going there with both her sons and Mia was to go home alone. All that was left was for her to gather up her courage to leave and never see her father again. That morning, Mia did not leave with her pink backpack, but adorned a navy blue backpack filled with no books and pencils but maps and torches and snacks. As she heard her step-mother from downstairs telling her that she was leaving, Mia made sure that she was out of sight before leaving herself.
 Adelaine was a young mother of two babies when her pillar support left her for no apparent reason. She was devastated and on the verge of breaking down when suddenly she met  a man who she felt she could entrust her life to once again. He was a father of one daughter, and he was ready to start a new life with her. When Adelaine met Mia, she saw how beautiful and earnest she was. But she soon realises that Mia never really looked into her eyes and never seemed to want to start a conversation and talk to her. So when she realises that she was not welcome in her heart, she was scared to take a further step and chose focus on her two growing sons instead. She was never a confident woman to begin with, and she was scared of adding fuel to the fire and lose her home once again.


Mia stepped out of the house and gulped in her nervousness, this was it, she may be just eleven years old but Mia knew she had it in her. She was going to prove them wrong, that she was able to find happiness and she was going to do it by herself. She may have planned for the last seven month, but she did not know where she was going except for the first stop which was the grave of her mother. They had not gone to visit her since the remarriage of her father in hope of not making Adelaine feel uncomfortable and Mia had not despised her father even more than before, although the feeling only lasted for a few days before dying down as she could not bring herself to hate her only family. The first stop was to go to the supermarket to buy a sandwich and a bottle of soda, then she would go to the flower shop to buy a bouquet of her petunia before going to the bus stop to visit her mom and walk up to the hill where she lays surrounded by wild flower. As she heaves out a breathe, she takes out her umbrella and strives forward without looking back.

“My, oh my Mia, do you not have school today?”, Miss Abbot uttered, she was the supermarket lady and had known her since the day she was born.Mia forced out a smile and let out a giggle out of nervousness, “No, I woke up late today I’m just here to buy lunch Miss Abbot.”
Miss Abbot did raised an eyebrow and did not seemed too convinced as she noticed the heavily filled backpack Mia had, but let it slide away as she knew that the girl was a good girl. 

As Mia walked out the supermarket, she looked back and couldn’t help but feel sad, Miss Abbot was a wonderful lady that she was going to miss.
 As she stepped out of the bus, Mia took out her umbrella and immersed herself with the comforting sound of raindrops falling down puddles. On her back she had her equipments, and in her left arm she had a beautiful bundle of petunia in her arms. As she stepped up the muddy stairway, Mia couldn’t feel more at home despite the coldness getting to the tips of her fingers. 

The gravestone was covered with moss and there were wild weed growing everywhere, Mia couldn’t help but feel a sense of guild growing from the pit of her stomach as she rushes to pull away the wipe away the wild grass until she was able to see the engraved name of her mother on the stone as she wept. “I’m sorry for being away for so long, Mama.”


As she cleans her surroundings with her muddy fingers Mia couldn’t help but let out a smile as she places the bouquet where it belongs, lays the umbrella atop her shoulders and begins telling her mother stories of what has been going through her life these past few months. Seconds turns into minutes, and minutes turn into hours. The sun has set and the cloudy sky is now replaced by a dark blue adorned with stars dancing here and there. She feels a shiver run down her spine as the weight on her eyelids begin to take a toll on her. As she lays her head on top of her bag, Mia begins to wonder where she should go before sleepiness takes over her, there was so much an eleven years old child could do in a day.
 She wakes up to what feels like rain drops falling onto her cheek, but rather than the sky she meets the watery eyes of her step mother as she holds her tightly onto her shoulder. She also sees miss Abbot resting against the table of the bedroom, with an assured smile and a wet handkerchief tightly gripped in her right hand. She hears loud footsteps rushing to her room and meets the terrified eyes of her father, filled with worry. As she feels drowsiness coming to greet her again, she holds onto the warm hand of her step mother and feels herself falling deep into dreamland. In her dreams, Mia sees her mother sitting alongside a flowerbed of petunias, she is as beautiful as she had last seen her, she tells her to come over and whispers into her ear; “My lovely Mia, open up your heart and show how beautiful you are in the inside.”


As she wakes up, Mia finds herself repeating the words of her mother over and over again. And she soon realises that all this while, she had not been trying to run away from home rather than herself. On her bedside lay her parents fast asleep, they seemed tired from everything that had happened. She moves her little finger and meets the slender fingers of her new mother as she holds onto it and tightens her grip. The warmth is spreading to the pit of her stomach and she guesses that she will give this new life another chance.

[themasteroflight]

Darkside (A Songfic/Short Story)

(No- This isn’t based off any fandoms or anythin. This was just for fun. I wrote this a long time ago so if I post something else you may notice the style is a bit off. :T...Hope you enjoy! ~ May)

Darkside We’re not in love We share no stories Just something in your eyes Elizabeth wailed in despair, her cries heart shaking. The rain streamed down mercilessly, drenching her clothes, while her midnight brown hair stuck to the sides of her face. Elizabeth’s warm grey orbs were clouded with sorrow, as they leaked icy cold tears, that traced down her face and jaw. Her salty tears mixed in with the rain, making a grotesquely depressing concoction as she cried. The stars were shrouded in the twilight above her, shielded firmly by numerous clouds. Elizabeth was hopelessly stranded because she had run away from home. She had lived with an abusive and odious family that tore her apart physically and mentally. Working hard to break her more and more every day, taking away everything and everyone that she held dear. Elizabeth’s parents had pained her for the last time that night though, for she had knocked them out. Then ripped off into the night, after making sure her siblings weren’t pursuing her. Don’t be afraid The shadows know me Let’s leave the world behind So here she was, in the heart of the woods, soaked and alone. Her heart shattered with pain, her soul aching with grief. Unmeasurable depression smothered her, she was ready to give up, to make it all end. Little did Elizabeth know, a certain someone was observing her painfilled event from afar. His name was Jason. He was a shadow demon, who ruled in the darkness, he caused hell for everyone any time he could. Yet, this time it was different, he felt sorry for the mysterious young girl he had found and aspired to help her. The upset young girl in a black knee length dress and boots piqued his curiosity and something else he couldn’t pinpoint. He felt drawn to her in a way, and it was now Jason’s mission to take her away to a better place, a land he had created for himself, and share it with her. Elizabeth was so lost drowning in her own ocean of pain, she did not regard Jason approaching her, she didn’t realize he was even there until a gentle voice spoke, “Hello, m’lady.”  Startled, Elizabeth’s eyes snapped open, and she recoiled. She was startled by the sight before her; a charming young gentleman, around her age, perhaps a bit older, stood beside her. He had welcoming cinnamon colored eyes, dark auburn brown hair, and tanned skin. He donned a suit of black, the tailcoat was designed with silver decorations and embroidery as well. He also wore a top hat and held a cane with a silver head of a skull for the handle. Elizabeth swiftly went from startled to self-defense mode. A good looking guy in a suit in the center of the woods? Yeah, no.She furrowed her brow and stood, withdrawing from the young man a bit, she held up her fists for protection. “Who are you?” Elizabeth ordered harshly, glaring hard. Jason smirked, he found Elizabeth’s response amusing,“Jason, a shadow demon, and you?” Elizabeth’s eyes widened, she had heard of the dream demons that terrorized her town, but she had never believed what people said. This was a shock. “Elizabeth,” She returned, uncertainty binding her voice. “A lovely name for a lovely girl,” Jason taunted, although there was a kind honesty behind his statement. “What do you want? Elizabeth probed, “To help you,” Jason deadpanned, whirling his cane. “Huh?” Elizabeth asked flatly, raising a brow. She flinched as the sound of barking dogs, and men talking alerted her. “How would thou like to leave this place behind?” Jason hummed, extending his hand to her, “And go to a place of serenity and grace? Not for too long, just a day! I think that’d be enough,” Take me through the night Fall into the dark side We don’t need the light We’ll live on the dark side “Uh,” Elizabeth droned uncertainly. The barking grew harsher. She saw flashlight beams.  “I mean, you could get captured by the police I hear, and go back to that hell pit of a house if you desire,” Jason told, shrugging his shoulders in a casual manner, as he spun on his heel and started to stroll away. “Wait! Please,” Elizabeth stopped him, seizing his free hand, “Don’t leave me here, I’ll go with you. But if you try anything funny-” Jason disrupted, “Don’t fret, I’m not that kind of demon.” He shot her a smile, and double tapped his foot, forming a large, gaping hole that spun with an abundance of colors. Elizabeth froze up as they fell through. Just as the police came to where the mysterious shadow demon and the young girl had been, the gateway disappeared, leaving them with nothing. I see it Let’s feel it While we’re still young and fearless Elizabeth clasped to Jason with a death grip as they descended through the portal, Jason chuckled at her fear a bit, as a force of habit. He wasn’t trying to be mean. Elizabeth’s head whirled, and she didn’t open her eyes until she knew that she and Jason had stopped moving. Then, she gently cracked open her dark eyes and gasped at the wonderful sight before her. She and Jason attained on a pathway made of smooth moonstone, with what seemed like liquid gold that passed through the cracks between. She paused and touched the pathway, her fingers sweeping gently over the stones, and she realized she was right. There was liquid gold among the stones, for it stuck to her fingertips. Elizabeth glanced up to find that they were environed by thick oak forest, and the sky was tinted various shades of violet, red and orange. Like a permanent sunset. That’s when the sound of rushing water met her ears. Jason knew she had noticed, and took her hand in his, “Come on,” He ushered, pulling her up and onward with him. Let go of the light Fall into the dark side Fall into the dark side Give into the dark side Jason led her down the golden moonstone path, through the dense oak woods, until they came upon a glittering waterfall with a huge pool of water at the bottom. It wasn’t any ordinary waterfall, the water was a dark sapphire blue, with flecks of silver that resembled stars. The pool of water was surrounded by glittering opal along with moonstone at the edge. “Woah,” She awed aloud, running her hand through the water. “Rad, ain’t it?” Jason chuckled, kneeling beside her. “Yeah,” Elizabeth uttered, only slightly paying attention, as a ripple of movement under the water caught her eyes. “Let’s go for a swim,” Jason blurted abruptly, setting down his cane, taking off his top hat, shoes, and tailcoat in a swift motion.  “What? No way -ACK-” Elizabeth cried out as Jason just went ahead and pulled her into the water with him. She broke out of the water spluttering, and Jason drifted beside her on his back, his hands behind his head. “Idiot,” She mumbled under her breath, “Rude,” Jason huffed, pretending to be offended. Let go of the light Fall into the dark side Elizabeth rolled her eyes and swam to the edge of the water. She began to raise herself from the chilly water, and onto the opal edge, trembling violently. As she hoisted herself up, two unfamiliar voices piped up from near her, “HEYA! WHO ARE YOU? HOOMANS DON’T BELONG HERE!” “Nixie, calm down, you’re gonna frighten the nice girl,”  “WELL SHE DON’T BELONG, LAYLA!”  “DOES ANYONE TRULY BELONG ANYWHERE, NIXIE?!?!” “That we just do not know.” The last voice sounded with an overly dramatic sigh. Elizabeth turned and yelped at what she saw. Two young women, okay, wrong, mermaids perched on rocks not too far from her. The first had intense violet hair that fell gracefully down her shoulders to her mid back. She also had deep green eyes, light skin, and a dark blue tail, with a purple and blue striped top. The second had inky black to neon blue ombre hair that flowed to her lower back, bright blue, green, and brown mixed eyes. Along with a black tail, and top. “Don’t worry, they’re nice,” Jason promised Elizabeth, as he gently pulled her back into the water. Elizabeth stayed close to him, finding him warm in the cold of the water. “Legends say that they’re mean,” Elizabeth asserted flatly. “Don’t believe everything you read,” Jason stated seriously. “Yeah, silly HOOMAN! Speaking of which, WHY IS THERE A HOOMAN HERE, JASON?!” The purple mermaid yelled. “I brought her here, I’ll explain later,” Jason replied, waving off her question. “Nice to meet you, “ The blue and black mermaid spoke softly, “I’m Layla, the loud one is Nixie,” “I’m Elizabeth,” Elizabeth introduced herself, “Who are they?” Asked Elizabeth, lifting her hand from the water, and pointing toward the lush forest around the waterfall. The voice of a man and woman piped up,“Oh way to go, Parris! You gave us away!” “Don’t blame me, Caroline!” “Too late,” Suddenly two figures emerged from the thick blanket of oak. The first, a tall man, with light skin, unkempt dark brown hair, and chocolate colored eyes. He donned a fair outfit of white. The second, a short woman, with dirty brown hair that cut off at her shoulders, and dark hazel eyes, she wore a  strapless gown that faded from white to sky blue. Elizabeth noted something else, the woman had wings, they were long and elegant, glittering of silver. “He,” Jason explained, pointing, “Is Parris. An elf. She is Caroline, a fae.” Parris gave a humble wave, and Caroline said,“Don’t do anything stupid, Elizabeth.” Her statement was irrelevant, and out of context, so Elizabeth thought nothing of it. “DON’T FORGET ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE INGRATES! YEEEEET!” Cried an unfamiliar male voice. Suddenly, a blur of movement landed in the water, creating a huge splash, that hit everyone. “GRAY YOU DUMB SON OF A [BLEEP],” Jason shouted, clearing the water from his eyes with the back of his hand, the action futile. “My mother is not a dog, thanks,” Gray spoke up. He swam over to the rock Nixie was on, crawling up onto the rock with her. He had short dirt brown hair, and dark hazel eyes, along with light skin. His outfit was like Parris’ but black. “Are you an elf too?” Elizabeth piped up. “Yeah,” Grey laughed, grinning, “I’m also the love of Nixie’s life!” “Yeah, he is,” Nixie giggled. “EW, CRINGE! STOP!” Caroline screeched, while Layla ‘Awww’ed. Beneath the sky As black as diamonds We’re running out of time Don’t wait for the truth To come and blind us Let’s just believe their lies Believe it I see it I know that you can feel it “Now that we’ve all met, why don’t we get this party started!” Nixie cried, glomping Grey into the water. Caroline elbowed Parris into the water, laughing, then yelped as Layla pulled her under the water, by her foot. “Party?” Elizabeth queried, tilting her head. “Take a deep breath,” Jason instructed, as he pulled Elizabeth closer. She did so, and Jason pulled her underwater, she clenched her eyes shut and hugged onto him. “Open your eyes,” Jason said. Elizabeth was super confused, how was he speaking underwater? Wait, it didn’t even feel like she was under water. Elizabeth opened her eyes and gasped in delight. They were no longer in the water, they were on a large beach, the sky was all black, and the moon glowed brightly in the sky. A huge bonfire lit up the center of the beach. It was like they were in a whole new place. “How did you...How did they…?” Elizabeth was unable to finish her sentence. “Portal in the water,” Jason explained. Elizabeth then gasped as she noticed something, “Yo’ you guys have legs now!” She pointed out, as she pointed at Layla and Nixie. They did indeed, no longer have tails and now had legs. Layla wore a black skirt that went to her ankles, with a slit in the side, and the same black top. Nixie also had the top from before, but some dark blue shorts as well. “MAGIC!” Nixie cried, striking a pose, “NOW LET’S PARTY!” “Wait! When did you guys get here?!” An unfamiliar female voice yelled, “Elizabeth meet Heather, Sarah, and Natasha,” Jason explained, turning her around by her shoulder, and pointing each of them out.  Heather, Sarahand Natasha all stood in front of her, giving soft smiles. Heather was the shortest of them, she had dark brown hair that was in a pixie cut, pale skin, and ocean blue eyes. Natasha was a bit taller than Heather, with curly hair that faded from light brown to golden blonde, peachy skin, and chocolate brown eyes. Sarah was also short, with curly dark brown hair, light skin, and hazel eyes. “What are you guys?” Elizabeth asked. Natasha flashed her a smile, showing off her fangs.  “Vampires,” Natasha giggled, stating the obvious, “Don’t worry, we won’t eat you though,”  Elizabeth shook her head and laughed, “Nice to meet you all,” ~~~~ And then everyone got to know Elizabeth, and they danced through the night. They played games and sang songs and laughed so hard they almost passed out from the lack of oxygen. There was only joy to be seen around the bonfire. As time swiftly passed Elizabeth forgot entirely about her family, and the only thing on her mind was Jason. The way he danced was like watching water ripple in the pond, enchanting and calming. Listening to him sing was like the sound of the finest orchestra. At one point, he turned to glance over at Elizabeth and she realized she had been staring at him for a long time. He gave her a charming smile that made her heart flutter with joy. Then, before the night was over, Elizabeth had realized she had fallen in love with the charming demon. No secrets Worth keeping So fool me like I’m dreaming Jason gave Elizabeth a smile hoping it was his best but she just blushed and turned away. He stood for a moment staring at her confused. What was this feeling? It was like walking through meadows in the spring with the warm sun above and a slight breeze. It felt like paradise. Jason blinked, as he realized he was in love. He tried to avoid this thought and kept enjoying the party, but it lingered like a predator in the back of his mind. Take me through the night Fall into the dark side We don’t need the light We’ll live on the dark side  Elizabeth’s happiness and increasing love came to an abrupt halt, as she saw the sun rising, decorating the horizon light pinks and gold. Everyone else had fallen asleep on the beach Layla next to Parris, Grey and Nixie were curled up together, while Caroline was off by herself. Natasha, Heather, and Sarah had vanished a while ago. Jason was still awake with Elizabeth though. Jason had offered Elizabeth only a day here, and it was almost over, this made Elizabeth upset. Jason regarded that she had stopped dancing about and raised a brow. “What’s wrong?” He questioned, walking over to her. “The day is almost over,” Elizabeth sighed, looking at the sand. “Ah,” Jason said, remembering what he had told her. He took Elizabeth’s hand in his and placed his other hand on her waist. She got the jist and placed her free hand on his shoulder. They began slow dancing to a tune no one else could hear. They danced to the song of their synchronized hearts around the beach, enjoying one another’s silence. I see it Let’s feel it While we’re still young and fearless Let go of the light Fall into the dark side Fall into the dark side Give into the dark side “You know,” Jason spoke after a while, “You could stay here with me.” “Really?” Elizabeth asked hopefully, her eyes glittering with happiness. “Well, yeah, I can’t just let you go back to that hell hole,” Jason explained sheepishly, glancing down at the ground. Elizabeth squealed in delight and lunged forward encasing Jason into a bear hug, the two of them tumbling down into the sand.   Let go of the light Fall into the dark side Take me through the night Fall into the dark side “Thank you so much!” Elizabeth cried, tears of delight spilling from her eyes and down her face. Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed Jason’s cheek, but she quickly drew back as she realized what she did. “I-I-I’m sorry,” She squeaked, climbing out of his arms and as far away as she could get. Jason sat up with a look of happiness and surprise etched across his face, “You know . . . being a shadow demon and all, I’m supposed to hurt people all the time . . . That was my first intention with you, but when I saw how hurt you were and how much pain you had already suffered . . . I just, I couldn’t make it worse so I tried to make it better. Spending today with you has been the greatest in my life and, I, um, . . . you know what screw words.” He stopped talking, and rushed over to Elizabeth and brought his lips to hers in a soul binding kiss that lit the stars in the sky on fire. We don’t need the light We’ll live on the dark side I see it Let’s feel it While we’re still young and fearless Let go of the light Fall into the dark side “I love you,” “I love you too,” “Ew, cringe. Stop,” “AWWW,” ~The End~