#gave him the raven queen necklace and never took it off him

[bevirspnsblmnt]

crowstarion saved my ass a handful of times during the game

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[buttterknifeee]

How long is forever? - Teen Titans x Aquagirl!Reader

Masterlist

Request: "Hello, May I request an episode insert in the Teen Titans episode 'How Long Is Forever?'"

Summary: Starfire takes a trip to the future... only to find out that you and the other Titans have disbanded. Will she find a way back to the present, or will you live an unfulfilling life forever?? (from S2 EP1)

Pairings: None

Word Count: 3919

A/N: Hey!!! sorry this took a while, it was super hard to write it due to most of it being in Starfire's POV. Most of the episodes in the series are centered around specific titans, so if you have an idea for an Aquagirl centered episode, feel free to send it in!!! (theres also a grand total of one cuss word in there)

Aquagirl’s Room - 2004

“Where is it? Where is it?” you mumble, tearing your room apart. You were looking for one of your CDs that you were in the mood for listening to. You threw your clothes into the air, looked under your bed, and even checked inside of your fish tank, holding the water containing a few tropical fish above you until you gave up. You sighed, finally checking the clock. You realized that you’ve been in your room for an hour and you haven’t even said hello to the other titans. You quickly change into your suit and head to the living room.

You stretched as you walked in. “Hey guys-” you stop in confusion at the scene in front of you. Starfire was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, holding a bunch of necklaces and boxes and babbling something about “Blorthorg”, Beast Boy and Cyborg were brawling for a video game remote, Raven was reading silently and holding up a pair of nail clippers (?) telepathically, and Robin….

Anger bubbles up inside of you as you realize that he was in front of the stereo, blasting music. From your CD. You cross your arms as you march up to the Boy Wonder.

“Hey Rob, whatcha doing with my CD?” You say. “What, was Kelly Clarkson too quiet for you?”

Raven adds, “Yeah Robin, could the music be a little louder? I can still hear myself think.”

He glares at the two of you “I don’t listen- I only turned the music up to DROWN OUT ALL THE YELLING!!” He refers to the two boys. Cyborg now had Beast Boy in a headlock, holding the controller triumphantly.

“Whose turn is it now, tough guy? Whose turn is it now?” Cyborg taunts the green teen.

“Knock it off! I can't work with you two acting like idiots!” Robin yells.

“Work?? The only “work” I see you doing is stealing my stuff!” You snap.

“Great. More yelling will definitely stop the yelling.” Raven says, a sarcastic smirk on her face.

The three of you glared at each other, Cyborg and Beast Boy were still fighting, and one of Starfire’s necklaces broke, its beads tumbling onto the ground.

“STTTOOOOPPPPP!” the alien princess screamed. You stared at her in surprise. She took a deep breath and recomposed herself.

“ Friends must never behave this way, and especially not on Blorthog! Do you wish to invite the Rekmas?” she said.

“Gesundheit?” Beast Boy said, confused by her vocabulary.

“On my world, ‘Rekmas’ means ‘the Drifting.’” she explains. “The point at which close friends begin to drift apart, and their friendship begins to die.” She frowned. You immediately felt bad for all the yelling you did.

“Aw, come on, Starfire.” Cyborg comes to her side.

“We are so not Rek-whatever-ing.” Beast Boy reassures her.

“We're getting on each other's nerves a little. Big deal.” Raven says.

“Fighting’s just a part of life. As long as we resolve it, we’ll be fine.” You say.

“Yeah. This is just typical roommate stuff. We're not going to drift apart, Star. I promise. We'll all be friends forever.” Robin declares

“Forever?” Starfire asks. Before you could answer, Robin’s T-communicator beeped. The communicator was flashing red, and he turned to you and the others.

“Titans! Trouble!” he says. You all rush out of the Tower and into the city.

You find the “trouble” in the Jump City museum. It was a man wearing black and gold armor and a goatee: Warp. He was monologuing to a bunch of guards that he had frozen.

“I didn't journey back in time one hundred years to squabble, I came to steal.” You see him reaching for one of the clocks. “The Clock of Eternity. Valuable in the past, priceless in the future.” Robin steppeds forward, throwing his birdirang to knock Warp’s hand back.

“But for the present...you'll keep your filthy hands off it.” He says, announcing the Titans’ entrance. The man turns to the six of you.

"The Teen Titans. This is a treat. I read all about you in the historical archives. And now, you're all history!” He fires his laser at you all.

“Titans! Go!” Robin yells as you scramble to dodge his rays. He blocks Warp’s rays with his staff, but at the last shot the staff breaks, and he backed up. Starfire blasts her starbolts at him, but the bolts ricochet off of him and hits her, sending her to the ground. You and Beast Boy attack him now, a stream of water lifting you into the air by your feet. You put your hands in front of you and a jet of water blasts out of your hands, heading straight for Warp. He held his hand us as the water made contact with him, and froze the water. The ice traveled up the jet of water and onto your hands, encasing them in the long shard of ice. You fell, the weight of the ice dragging you down. You winced as you saw Beast Boy meet a similar fate, his animal form frozen in ice next to you. You struggled to free your hands as Cyborg and Raven both went down. Robin gives one last attempt to take Warp down, running towards him.

“You cannot defeat Warp. I am from the future.” He says, throwing disks towards Robin. He dove to the side as the projectiles exploded. “And your relics are one hundred years out of date." He grabs the clock and presses a blue lens from his armor. Suddenly, a blinding white portal forms in front of him. Your hands were still stuck so you had to squint.

“Ta-ta, Titans. I have enjoyed our time together, but I've got a very bright future ahead of me.” He sneers, stepping through the portal. You finally pull your hands out of the chunk of ice just in time to see Starfire slam into Warp, sending the two of them into the portal.

“Starfire!” Robin yells, trying to dive in after her, only for the portal to close and him to fall on the floor. You pull him up from the ground and look around. Starfire was gone.

Titan’s Tower-2024

Starfire couldn’t believe what was going on. After tackling Warp, she ripped off the lens on his suit and ended up in Jump City, 20 years into the future. She found Cyborg alone in the rotting Titans Tower, hooked up to a large battery. He explained that the day she left, the Titans fell apart, and disbanded soon after. He told her that the others can help her get back to the present, telling her where to find you, Beast Boy, and Raven.

She found herself at a circus whilst looking for Beast Boy. There in a cage, sat Beast Boy, changing into various animals. She approached the cage as he turned back into his human form. He was now a pudgy old man, with a great deal of hair loss. He looked at her with wide eyes through the bars.

“No way! It's you. But how?” he asked, peering at her with his wrinkled eyes.

“I require your help.” Starfire said.

“What kinda help?” Beast Boy asked.

“The future is not as it should be. We must find Warp. I will free you from this--” Beast Boy stopped Starfire from continuing her sentence.

“This cage isn't to keep me in! It's to keep those maniacs out!” he explained in a panicked tone, referring to a group of kids. “Look. After the Titans broke up, I tried the whole solo-hero thing. Got my butt kicked, a lot. So now, well…”

He turned into a chicken briefly to illustrate his point. “ Besides, I'm in the showbiz now.” Starfire could tell he wasn’t happy with where he was, but there was nothing she could do. She left Beast Boy and went to find Raven.

She found Raven in a room in a broken down building. She was standing in a pure white room, wearing a white cloak to match. Her back was facing Starfire when she arrived.

“Raven?” she squeaked, inching into the room. “Raven, it is Starfire, your friend”

“No such thing.” she groaned, her back still facing Starfire. Starfire’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Please, Raven I-”

“Just another figment. Don’t even look.”

“You must listen! I am here because-” she pleads, but Raven stops her.

“I’m never coming back! Go away!” she yells, Starfire backing up in fear. “It has to go away. Just like before. Just like all the others.” Starfire frowns in realization. She must not think I’m real; she thinks it's all in her head.

“Your mind.” she says softly, approaching the cloaked woman. “Without friends, you must have--” Starfire was about to touch Raven, but her familiar dark shield formed around her. She gasps, then eventually leaves the room in defeat. There was one last person she could try talking to. You.

She walked by the Jump City beach, the same place where you got your powers all those years ago. Suddenly, you rose out of the ocean, the water around you carrying you onto shore. Your face was stuck in a permanent glare, different to your constant smiles as a teen. You were taller, definitely had a few wrinkles, and you were wearing Atlantean clothing. Starfire flinched at your sudden arrival.

“Aquagirl! how-”

“I don’t go by Aquagirl anymore. I am Queen (y/n), ruler of Atlantis. And word gets around when one of your old teammates who had disappeared 20 years ago is roaming Jump City again, even at the bottom of the ocean.” You say coldly, eyeing her as she shrunk at the sight of you.

“What had happened to you, my friend?” she asked.

You sigh, recalling your memories. “After you disappeared and the team disbanded, I vowed to never be as soft and vulnerable as I was then. I moved to Atlantis, and was eventually appointed ruler.”

“Oh my, that sounds terrible!” Starfire exclaimed. “I need your help my friend-”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s not terrible, I am quite fine just the way I am. And we were friends 20 years ago; things have changed.” You turn your back to her. “I must get going; there’s much I need to do.” Starfire stares at you in sadness as you walk back into the ocean, the water swallowing you up and the waves lapping like normal.

Starfire trudges through the snow-covered city, when a laser blast knocks her back. Her eyes raise to meet with Warp’s, his weapon aimed at her.

“What’s the matter, dear? Have I come at a bad time?” he snarls, opening fire once more. She dodges his shots and fires back, but the starbolts simply bounce off his modern armor. She tried to hit him close up but he held up his hand and ice formed around her midair. The large chunk of ice containing Starfire drops and shatters, leaving Starfire on the ground, shivering. She glares at Warp, who now has deeper wrinkles on his face.

“You have become so old,” she notes, still on the ground.

“That's what happens when someone steals my vortex regulator.” he says, holding out his hand. “The regulator, if you please. I really must get back to my future.” She stands up and takes the lens out from her belt. She couldn’t let him leave, especially when she’s stuck in a future like this. She held the disk next to her and warmed up a starbolt, as if to hold it hostage.

“If you ever wish to see your future you will repair the damage you have done to my past!” she yelled, anger bubbling up inside her. The villain laughed.

“Damage? Silly girl. There's nothing wrong with your past. One cannot damage history, because history cannot be changed.” He held up the clock and continued. “I went back in time to steal this because history says it disappeared. And history says it disappeared because I went back to steal it. Past, present, future. It's all written in stone, my dear.”

Starfire stood in disbelief dropping her glowing hand. No… this can't be the future we’re destined to live. Such terrible lives… she thought. Warp walked up to her shocked state and took the lens out of her hand.

“And nothing you do can ever change it.” he scoffed. Warp prepared to blast her when he was knocked into the alleyway by an unknown figure. Starfire snapped back into reality and looked around for you had knocked the villain back. A dark silhouette lept forward and threw Warp against the end wall of the alley. They threw disks at the villain, the area around him exploding. When the smoke cleared, Starfire could see that Warp had used a force field. He released his shield only to be met with the mysterious figure dropping down towards him. He stared straight at Starfire.

“Another time, perhaps.” he said. Before the shadowed person could reached him, he dropped into the ground. The person who had tried to fight him landed right where Warp had been, and as they straightened up, Starfire inched forward to see who it was.

“It’s good to see you again.” the person said. Starfire could recognize that voice from anywhere, and apparently, anytime.

“Robin?” she asked.

“I haven’t used that name in a long time.” he said, finally stepping out of the shadows. He looked nothing like the Boy Wonder she knew. His traffic-light esque uniform was replaced by a black suit with a blue bird on the front. He still wore a mask and he now had long, black hair.

“Call me… Nightwing.”

Starfire found herself in Robin’s (or Nightwing’s) base. She looked at a glass case of his old uniform, a feeling of melancholy washing over her. She was glad that he was ok, but the Robin she once knew was now nothing more than a mannequin display. Nightwing wrapped a blanket around her with a small smile.

Nightwing finally spoke. “So I’ve heard you’ve been looking for help.”

Starfire sighed. “There is nothing you can do. There is nothing anyone can do. The past cannot be repaired, the future cannot be altered, no matter how wrong it seems.”

“So it’s impossible.” Nightwing determined from her rant, walking towards a bunch of computers. “Good. If memory serves, we've done the impossible before.”

Nightwing’s words had surprised Starfire. None of the others had said anything as hopeful since she’d arrived here. A small fire of hope blossomed inside of her.

“I held on to this,” Nightwing says, pressing a button from a device. “...just in case.” Starfire’s eyes widened, realizing that it was a T-communicator. The communicator began to flash red, and to Starfire’s delight, so did her neck piece and wrist guard.

At the bottom of the ocean, you sat on a throne, talking to your advisers. As they left, your seashell necklace began to flash red. You looked at it in surprise, recognizing what it meant: it was an emergency signal that Robin had put in your necklace while you were still in a team. Even after 20 years, he had never used it until now. You began to get up from your throne when a group of your advisors came back, swarming you with scrolls and questions. You sat back down, a bitter feeling in your throat.

Beast Boy’s belt had flashed red whilst he was performing a trick in his animal form. He quickly jumped back into human form. He observed his belt for a moment before stepping back, hanging his head.

Cyborg's robotic eye flashed red as he sat alone in the Titans Tower. He immediately got up and started towards the door, only to be stopped by the wires keeping him alive and stuck inside the tower. He looks back at the power source.

Raven still stands alone in the room, her back facing the door. The brooch of her cloak flashes red, and without looking at it, she covers it with her hand.

Starfire and Nightwing venture to Jump City museum, where they find Warp, fixing his time travel suit. He wields the lens that he took from Starfire to his suit, whilst talking to himself.

“Tick-tock.” he laughs. “Just a few more seconds, and I shall finally--” his sentence was cut off by Nightwing knocking the tool out of his hand, revealing him and Starfire’s position.

“The future will have to wait.” Nightwing says, extending his staff. “You just ran out of time.”

Warp growls and fires laser beams at them, causing them to split up to avoid getting hit. Starfire shoots her starbolts at Warp again, despite them getting deflected by his force field. Nightwing however, jumped down on him again, using his staff to crush one of his lasers. He turns to face Nightwing, but Starfire lands a hit on his back with her starbolt. He tries to laser Starfire but has to dodge Nightwing’s staff attacks that barely strike him. He fights quickly and with fury, eventually knocking Warp flat on his back. The two heroes step close to him to inspect him. But Warp grins, and uses his second laser to blow a hole through the roof, snow and rubble falling onto Starfire.

“Star!” Nightwing yells, but Warp blasts him back with his laser. Warp runs over to the tool he dropped and started repairing his suit again as Nightwing helped Starfire up. Suddenly, he was blasted back by a familiar blue ray. Starfire and Nightwing turn to see Cyborg, his arm cannon smoking, but being able to function without any wires.

“Boo-yah” he says with a grimace.

“Cyborg!” Starfire exclaims, flying over to the half robot. “You are repaired!”

“Glad you could make it,” Nightwing says, joining them.

“Wouldn't have missed it. Now who said y'all could start without me?” Cyborg said as Warp stood back up.

“So sorry,” Warp said, holding up another device. “Perhaps I should finish you first!” Before he could use the device, he was attacked by a green lion, Beast Boy. Warp looked at the lens he was repairing, now crackling with electricity. In anger, he pointed a laser at him, but a jet of water shot up from the floor. You ran into view, a trident now in your hand.

“Heard you guys needed help!” you yell, a hint of a smile peeking out from your stoic face.

Before Warp could fall to the ground again, he is overtaken by magic, and thrown into the side of the wall. Raven materializes, still wearing a white cloak.

“Nobody hurts my friends,” she said, reminiscent of the first time you met her.

“Dude, that is so unfair,” Beast Boy whines, comparing his bald head to Nightwing’s flowing hair. The six Titans turn to see Warp, who has managed to create a wormhole, despite his suit being damaged.

“It seems my time has come,” Warp said, preparing to walk through the wormhole. Nightwing threw a birdarang at Warp, Warp throwing his own disk to intercept it. Starfire watched in awe as the birdirang sliced through Warp’s disk and hit him in the chest, right where the lens sat.

“Uh?! No! NOOOOO!” the six of you watched in horror as Warp regressed in age until he was nothing more than a screaming infant.

“Ok, I am not changing any diapers.” Beast Boy said, staring at the baby.

Cyborg looked at Starfire. “We gotta get you home. Come on!” he pointed at the wormhole, which was shrinking. He took the lens from the suit and put it in his arm cannon. He fired at the wormhole, making it bigger.

“Im redirecting the wormhole.” Cyborg said, turning to Starfire. “Starfire! Go!” She steps towards the portal and looks back at her friends. Their lives seemed so lonely and.. dissatisfying. Is this life they were destined to live?

“Please, must this really be our future?” She asked. The rest of you looked at her silently, sadness in your eyes. “Is there nothing I can do to change it?” Nightwing stepped up and looked directly into her eyes.

“I'm sorry, Star. There isn't time.” Nightwing said. He placed the clock that Warp had stolen in her hand and his other hand on her shoulder. He gives her one last smile before stepping back towards the other Titans, beckoning her to enter the portal. Starfire took a deep breath, and walked into the portal.

Jump City Museum - 2004

“Ta-ta, Titans. I have enjoyed our time together, but I've got a very bright future ahead of me.” He sneers, stepping through the portal. You finally pull your hands out of the chunk of ice just in time to see Starfire slam into Warp, sending the two of them into the portal.

“Starfire!” Robin yells, trying to dive in after her, only for the portal to close and him to fall on the floor. You pull him up from the ground and look around. Starfire was gone.

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

Beast Boy stared at the place the portal was. “Um, where did she-?”

Another portal opens with a brilliant flash between Beast Boy and Cyborg. Starfire falls out, curled around an item. You all rushed towards her.

“Dude!”

“Whoa!”

“Star! What happened?” Robin asked as the portal behind her closed.

“History said it disappeared.” Starfire said, straightening and revealing the clock warp had just stolen. “But history was wrong!”

The boys stared at her dumbstruck but you laughed, diving in for a hug.

You stood with the other titans as Starfire recounted her story. You covered your mouth in awe to find out what happened to you and the others in the future.

“Then Nightwing handed me the clock and I entered the vortex.” she finished.

“Woah,” Raven said, shocked by the recount of Starfire’s story.

“Bald?!” Beast Boy yells, grabbing at his hair. “You're telling me I'm going to be bald?!”

“Gosh, Star, all of our lives seem so terrible,” you say, thinking about what Starfire had said about you. You were a queen (which was cool), but you were also a cold hearted bitch (super uncool). You didn’t want that to happen, and more importantly for you to no longer be friends with the other Titans.

“Guess you were right about all that Rekmas stuff,” Cyborg said, slightly concerned.

“I don't want us to drift apart. Does it all have to happen? Isn't there anything we can-” Robin worries out loud, but Starfire stops him.

“Our friendship has already changed Warp's past. I believe it can also change our future.” Starfire says with a smile.

“Yeah I mean, the original reason we “broke up” was because of Starfire disappearing, and since she’s here now, we aren’t breaking up!” You chimed in, grinning at the other Titans.

Raven picks up the broken necklace with her telekinesis, stringing them back together.

“So… is it too late to do this festival-of-friendship thing?” she asks.

Starfire’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, it’s never too late!”

You all put on the bulbous necklaces Starfire brought in the morning.

“HAPPY BORTHOG!!!” Cyborg cheers.

“I thought it was Blort-Hog,” Beast Boy wondered.

“Okay, I feel like a wind-chime.” Raven groans.

“A very cool wind-chime,” you winked.

Starfire put the last necklace on Robin. He raises an eyebrow at her.

“So… Nightwing, huh?” he asked.

“Don’t even think about it bird brain,” you yelled from across the room, causing him to blush. You all burst out into laughter. The tower stayed cheerful the rest of the night.

[fandom-puff]

Exhaustion

Pairing: Jon Snow x reader

Requested by: anon

Summary: you’ve been up for well over a day, helping Queen Sansa with returning winterfell to its former glory. Jon, back from the Wall now that Greyworm has ventured to Naath grows increasingly concerned for your health as you wear yourself to the bone

AN: so yeah this is totally a season 8 fix it bc we all got incredibly screwed over :) can you tell I’m not too fond of Danaerys after about... season 1? Anyways I love writing for game of thrones lol! Gif creds, as always, to the owner <3 ALSO: YNN= your nickname

Warnings: sleep exhaustion, season 8 spoilers

“There is damage to the wall, my queen, the entrance to the castle as well. The stables were burnt by dragon fire, the armoury... well, most of it is gone. The statues of the direwolves are also destroyed, more so than when the Bolton’s were here,”

Sansa nodded slowly, her hands grasping the ornate wood carvings of the arms of her throne. She looked sideways to you, her closest friend and most loyal advisor, a lady from a lesser house in the north. You turned to the fellow Northman in front of you and surveyed him for a moment.

“For now, we have little need of an armoury. For any horses who survived the dragon fire, we will source wood to build a temporary stable so they may sleep out of the cold,” you said.

“Lord Bronson, please see that the horses are kept sheltered and that any builders hired are paid adequately for their time,” the queen addressed her newly appointed master of coin. “As for the damage to the wall of the castle, we need stone and men to rebuild it. Scope around for volunteers in the keep, they too will be paid for their extra work,” the man nodded and bowed to his queen. “As for the statues... have the Smithy melt down any damaged weapons and use the steel to remodel the Direwolves,” the master of coin scribbled down the funds and nodded.

“That is all, my queen,” the man said.

“And what of the Northmen? Those nearer the wall will have been hit hard by winter and the night king. The harvests were poor, the livestock is weak. We have an excess in our own kitchens. I want hearty food and good ingredients delivered to the villagers to ensure they survive until a more permanent solution is found,”

“Your highness, perhaps we should send a raven to your brother in the south? Out of loyalty to you and his ally, the North, arrangements can be made between the Crownlands and their ports and the fertile grounds of the Reach? Just because the North is now independent does not mean we ought to sever trade links entirely,” you said slowly, your hands clasped in your lap.

Sansa was quiet for a moment. You could see the internal struggle between wanting to do everything herself without help from the south, and wanting to keep the people fed and strong. She turned to you slowly. “Have a message sent to Bran,” she said firmly, nodding slowly to show she trusted you. “Surely there are resources we can trade with Kings Landing. Have another sent to Highgarden, I believe the Reach was relatively unscathed by the Mad Queen,” you bit back a smirk at that nickname. “They have always been fond of our embroidery,” you nodded. “Thank you for your report,” Sansa turned again to the man in front of her. “We will set to work as soon as possible. You are dismissed. Go and see to your wife, my Lord, I believe she is reaching the end of her pregnancy,” she smiled kindly, and with a low bow, the man left the hall.

With no one in the room but herself, you and the master of coin, Sansa sagged into her throne.

“You’re doing wonderfully, your highness,” you said gently, smiling softly at her. “Winterfell is almost restored and I have never seen a ruler show such compassion and sensibility to her subjects. The King of the South will help us- he probably knows already. And if need be, I will tell my brother that I’m staying at winterfell a while longer, should you need me. I trust him not to run my House’s keep to the ground while I’m gone,”

Sansa smiled at you with appreciation, and she soon gave you leave while she went to visit her Maester. As you were reaching the door, she called out. “YN! I’ve had word from Castle Black. Jon is returning to Winterfell. He should be here tonight,” you tried to hide your excited smile, and couldve sworn you saw a sly smirk tugging at Sansa’s lips as you bowed slightly and hurried off to your chamber.

Jon was coming back! You had been furious when the unsullied had him banished to the wall for killing the Mad Dragon Queen. From the moment you saw Danaerys, you did not trust her in the slightest, having heard the stories from across the Narrow Sea. In your eyes she was a glorified tyrant, as mad as her father and as deceptive as Queen Cersei. You knew she was almost nothing without her dragons, which caused more harm than good. Breaker of chains, she had called herself, when in reality she forged chains of her own- bend the knee or die was not a free choice, it was a threat, and had Danaerys Targaryen taken the throne as she was adamant she deserved it, you would’ve been slaughtered for your loyalty to the North, to the Old Gods, to your family, your friends, and not to a glamorous tyrant who would surely burn Westeros to the ground just as her father had planned.

Once returned to the north, you and Sansa had spoken of Jon a few times, and Sansa always got a mischievous glint in her eyes when you did. She must have planned his return, as he had no real need to stay beyond the wall after the Unsullied left for Naath. Smiling to yourself, you set to preparing yourself for dinner, asking a few passing maids to help you draw a bath. Unlike most nobles, you helped the maids, rather than watch them, and spoke kindly as you heated the water for your bath. Once there was enough water, you thanked them and allowed them to leave as you bathed, washing your hair and scrubbing your skin. Once towelled dry, you rubbed sweet smelling oils into your skin, before slipping into your smallclothes and a simple, yet beautiful, dark green gown, discretely embroidered with your house’s sigil at the trim of the neckline and up from the wrists of your long sleeves. Lacing the dress up at the side, you sat in front of your mirror and set about sorting out your hair, towelling it dry and braiding it around your head. Finally, you fastened a simple silver chain around your neck, your sigil hanging over your heart.

Smiling to yourself, you stood, leaving your chamber and walking to the Great Hall where dinner was normally held. When you slipped through the door, however, the room was empty, only a few candles lit. Frowning, you turned, hearing the sound of two sets of footsteps as Sansa and Jon rounded the corner. Sansa trailed off from what she had been saying and smirked slightly as she pushed Jon towards you.

“Er... Lady YLN,” he spoke in his thick, northern burr. You repressed a shiver and have him a bright smile.

“Jon! Just YN, remember?” You said, slowly walking towards him. Gladly, he accepted your embrace, and you buried your face into the thick furs at his shoulder, not caring about the flecks of snow. You pulled away and beamed at eachother, before Sansa cleared her throat.

“I thought we’d take dinner in my chambers,” she said. “The three of us reunited,” you both nodded and followed your queen. “Jon, I’ve had a room prepared for you, there should be a fire to warm you and new clothes there too,”

“But, your majesty, I... I took the black. I’m in exile,” he said lowly, frowning.

Sansa merely smiled and carried on walking. “No. You were in exile, therefore unable to take an oath of any sort. That, however, was when the unsullied insisted on ‘justice’. The unsullied are settled in Naath, and furthermore, you are a Northman. The north is an independent kingdom. Therefore, you are released from your exile,”

You shook your head fondly at your friend as you entered her chambers, were a maid was laying out the table. She turned when she heard the door and sunk into a low curtsey. “Thank you Amya,” Sansa said. “This looks wonderful,”

“Yes m’lady,” the young girl said, smiling proudly as she was dismissed.

Once fed and watered, the three of you retired to Sansa’s personal chamber, drinking wine and sharing anecdotes. Already smiling serenely from the wine at dinner, having more was making you feel a little floaty. You stifled a yawn as you fiddled with your necklace as you listened to Jon. “YN... you look exhausted,” he said softly, tipping your chin up to face him properly. The flickering light of the hearth highlighted the growing bags under your eyes and how glazed over your eyes were.

“‘M alright,” you mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder. “Can stay up a bit longer. Finish your story,” you insisted, but your eyes were already fluttering shut.

Sansa pursed her lips. “YN... after last night’s small council meeting, did you even go to sleep?” She asked gently. “And today... we’ve had about 15 lords and 12 smallfolk coming in for audiences, all of which you attended...”

You smiled slightly. “Was in the library last night, Sansa...” you mumbled. “Needed to look up the logistics and the finances,”

“Oh, YNN, we have a Maester and master of coin to do that,” she said gently, reaching over to place her hand over yours. “What about when the maester called for a break?”

“I went to start on the letters to my brother and the King in the South,” you mumbled. “And Highgarden...” you let Sansa hold your hand and give it a firm squeeze, still nuzzling you’re face into Jon’s furs as the last two days finally caught up with you. “Nodded off at my desk, though, so I’ll have to start the letter to King Bran again,”

Sansa frowned. “YNN, you’re working too hard. I appreciate it immensely, but I cannot expect you to help me if you aren’t taking care of yourself. Tonight you will rest, and when morning comes you may rest some more. You are allowed to care for yourself, alright? You must. Because without you by my side, I question everything I do. I need you by my side. The north needs you in excellent condition. And so does Jon,” you nodded slowly in understanding, but her soothing words and gentle tone were lulling you to sleep. “I want to make you my hand, YN. But first, you need to sleep,” you nodded again and let out a mumbled ‘yes, my queen’ as you finally turned your head fully into Jon’s furs and let exhaustion take you.

What felt like an eternity later, you were jostled awake. You let out a small noise of complaint and nuzzled you’re face further into the soft thick furs in front of you, your fingertips brushing a lock of curled hair...

“Jon?” You whispered, barely audible.

“Shhh, I’m here. Gotta get you to bed, YN. no arguing, now. Queen’s orders,” you nodded, and mumbled ‘alright’ as he carried you to your chamber. He found your bed already turned down, and gently lowered you into it, letting you wriggle out of your dress. He averted his eyes as you tugged the covers over yourself, despite it being dark. You settled into the pillows, already drifting deeper into your slumber, when you heard the door creak open.

“Jon?” You murmured, reaching an arm out for him.

“Yeah?”

“Stay?”

Your eyes were shut and you were practically asleep, but you heard the door shut and lock and the sound of heavy leathers and cloaks hit the ground. Best of all, you soon felt the safe warmth of Jon pressed against your side.

Tag List: @diksy1112 @zodiyack @soleil-dor @sleepylunarwolf

[sugas-sweetheart]

Reincarnations || Sebastian Michaelis

A/N: IM SO SORRY I DELETED THE ASK BUT I HAD A SCREENSHOT BECAUSE I GET EXCITED WHEN PPL REQUEST BLACK BUTLER AND SHOW MY TWO FRIENDS - this is also a mix of both but I kinda tweaked it so that the reader doesn’t know Sebastian is their mate as it takes a little time for memories of their past lives to return once meeting him so that I could add a little more to it, I hope that’s okay! Enjoy! I’m also honoured to be the first person you sent an ask to 🥺 And I apologise for how long it took to write and it’s kind of shit oops ahdksnd I’m so so sorry

Request by: @samanthaambrosia

As you mention ‘She’ in the request I’ve made this a Fem! Reader so that I was also able to make her a maid

Upon your arrival at Phantomhive manner you could never have imagined how this would play out.

Entering the large mansion for the first time, you were greeted by the four other working staff; they welcomed you with open arms explaining that the young master and his butler were off on a business trip for the next few days. When the Queen sent you, one of her personal maids, to start working in Phantomhive manner, it confused you. You didn’t know what had prompted this, nor were you really in a position to question it. You thought that as her half angel, half demon maid, she wouldn’t let you stray very far away from her, but alas, here you were.

They gave you a tour of the grand mansion and stopped by your small living quarters to let you settle. Due to your supernatural nature, that they were unaware of, it wasn’t too hard to settle in, especially, after they had tested your reflexes to aid in “the Phantomhive welcome”.

You had been at the mansion for a couple of days now, the Lord himself and his butler were due to arrive anytime from last night. While you knew the Lord could be the tiniest bit caring, you still thought you ought to make a good impression sicne the Queen didn’t care to mention how long you would be here.

The sound of brisk knocking brought you out of your thoughtful daze as you finished buttoning up your shirt’s cuffs. The noise startled you as in your few days at the manor, you were the one to be awake and working before the others.

“Excuse me, may I come in?” A deep voice followed the knocking, which prompted you to step towards the door and open it for the individual outside.

A small gasp left the dark haired males lips as his eyes locked with yours and a sense of familiarity washed over you.

“Oh! Goodmorning, you must be Sebastian, the head butler. I’m Y/N, the maid sent by the Queen to serve the young Lord. It’s lovely to finally meet you, I’ll introduce myself to the Lord when he leaves his quarters.” A smile graced your face as you rambled on, not taking notice of his initial look of shock, and his alluring features studied you.

The familiarity and comfort his face brought you was confusing. Being fairly young compared to other angels and demons, surely you’d remember everyone you’ve met? He had a strange aura, almost definitely supernatural. You couldn’t quite place where you had seen him before and that was going to be on your mind the whole day.

“You are correct, I am Sebastian. Please come to me if you have any concerns or require help. You can continue with your daily duties then and I shall be seeing to the young master now” with a quick bow, he briskly started walking away.

There was a constant elegance to him; it kept your eyes trained on him until he rounded the corner. That feeling of familiarity still lingering within your heart.

Sebastian paused after he had turned the corner to make sure he was out of your view. You had always owned his heart, and you would forever more. The reincarnations of you kept him going through his endless demon life. In this life and the next you two were promised to each other, a constant that you both needed in lives that lasted as long as yours would.

It was just a shame that you were cursed to forget him until you crossed paths, and even then, it took time for you to recollect and gain all your previous memories. He had one item that he had gifted to you in your last existence together, he had to try jogging your memory, right?

As the day continued on, quick introductions were exchanged between you and the young Lord before you were due to get back to your usual tasks. Sebastian by his side sparing glances at you any moment he could get when he thought no one was looking. Unbeknownst to him, a certain Phantomhive was very observant of it all. So he did what anyone would do and asked him about you.

“Sebastian, what is your connection to the new maid?” Ciel questioned, pausing his musical studies briefly to peek up at his butler.

“I don’t seem to understand what you mean, my Lord” the raven haired male sent a quick glance back at the boy before continuing.

“You seemed very distracted by her this morning” the younger male mused before too continuing with his music.

Although Sebastian wouldn’t say it, Ciel was right. You had invaded his head space since his eyes gazed over you this morning and he only wished that you remembered him quicker.

Reaching into his tail coat pocket, he checked that he still had the pendent. He knew it was there, it was just a force of habit that he checked and now it mattered most. He had carried the crimson pendant since your last passing, almost fifty years ago now.

“She’s my mate, my lover. She loves me, and I her, for eternity…” it was only quiet, but Ciel heard it.

“Shouldn’t she be running into your arms then? That’s what most novels say isn’t it?” This situation had peaked Ciel’s interest more so than before, you had only given the butler a few glances when focusing on your formal introduction to the Lord. He would have expected more longing looks for what sounded like such a profound love.

“Not all love stories are that of novels, my lord. There was once a curse placed upon us, she may only regain her previous memories after meeting me again, and even then it must be prompted by something”

“Well? What are you going to do?”

“Ah, always a curious one aren’t you, my Lord? I shall deal with it later, for now you need to get back to your studies” And so he did. Sebastian decided he would confront you later, but now he just needed to figure out how. It’s not a very simple thing to spring upon someone you’ve just met. If you didn’t regain your memories then you’d probably think he was a lunatic, or just a very big flirt.

The day had passed and night was closing in. The raven haired demon had prepared himself for this moment; he had waited patiently for so many years. With his gloved hands tightly clutched around the vermillion pendent, he took cautious strides towards your figure. Your back was turned away from the rest of the room as you dusted a tall cabinet in the corner.

A light tap was detected on your left shoulder causing you to whip your head round and meet the striking blood coloured eyes of the man behind you.

“Excuse me, but I think this belongs to you” he uncurled his fingers as he spoke to reveal a ruby pendant necklace and a tight lipped smile grew on his face.

“I’m sorry, you must be wrong. But as a maid I could never own such a high value item” the very prominent apologetic tone was laced with disappointment, he could tell you were just as infatuated with the ruby as you were when he first gifted it to you those many years ago.

“Oh on the contrary, my love” he reached forward to lightly pull your hand closer to his, placing the chain into your palm.

The look of bewilderment was obvious in your face, he had just addressed you as “my love” whilst giving you a piece of jewellery no maid would own. As he closed your palm around the accessorie it was like a warm familiar feeling filled you. Short memories were unveiled and unlocked in your mind, memories of him.

You began to hesitantly move your free hand to his face to cup his cheek, you had spent decades apart and were finally reunited and it all felt too good to be true.

“Going by Sebastian I see? I could get used to that” a teasing smile broke out on you face and Sebastian’s smile widened as he saw your old self shining through.

He couldn’t wait a moment longer and pulled your face forwards to meet his lips.

You made a mental note to thank the Queen for sending you here, and hoped that you’d be by his side for eternity once more.

[anywhozits]

A Christmas Announcement

Rating: T Words: 5172

Verse: Canonverse Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: Kristoff and Anna are excited to finally share the news of their heir-on-the-way with the Kingdom of Arendelle.

Notes: I wrote this last year and forgot to post it, but this is somewhat related to the Christmas fic I’m writing for this year so wanted to get this out before that one! (at least it’s in the same verse and has similar themes, hah) Anyway hope you enjoy and happy holidays!! Thanks for reading :)

READ ON AO3 HERE

The day was Christmas Eve, 1843. A couple years ago, the whole kingdom of Arendelle began celebrating together at the castle’s now officially annual Christmas ball. Something that Anna had begged Elsa to start since the great freeze ended and the doors to the castle became permanently open. It had taken awhile, but finally Elsa caved to her sister’s wishes, likely only partially due to years of internalized guilt for pushing her away, and the ball quickly became one of Anna’s most anticipated nights of the year. Now with Anna as Queen, the tradition continued.

The entire ballroom was filled with glittering decorations, tinsel adorning the sturdy wood beams. Buffet tables sat lining almost the entire left side of the room, filled bountifully with food to feed the whole town and then some. Lefse, lutefisk (the bane of child and teen Anna’s existence), farikal, pickled herring, kjottkaker, salmon, whale steak, sheep, all the traditional favorites. And that, of course, didn’t even including the two tables of desserts and pastries or the sprawling drink selection. A massive 12-foot Christmas tree stood proudly in the right corner of the space, decorated with great care by Anna and Kristoff themselves. Year after year, Anna always insisted she didn’t need any help from the castle attendants, only a few ladders and a few hours of time alone. She always pulled through. The tree—her pride and joy. This Christmas, Anna had also taken the time to pick out hundreds of presents for the Arendellian children and children-at-heart. Kristoff even did some woodworking for the occasion. Highlights included hand carved rocking horses, rolling reindeer on a string, and building blocks. They couldn’t wait for those presents to be torn open by frantic hands, truly cherishing the visual of children playing for hours on the sweeping ballroom floor, both King and Queen watching misty eyed as they imagined their own child playing along next year. A new tradition.

They had hired both a 5-piece band and a choir to make sure that the ball was not lacking in festive music and thus not lacking in dancing. The choir had kicked off the party singing Christmas songs in perfect harmony, the music floating through the castle, making the previously cold stone walls feel more comforting and protective. Guests had started arriving, smiles plastered on each of their faces as they ran through the open castle gates, eyes wide in childlike awe when they entered the ballroom to see the most elaborate Christmas ball yet.

But two people were thus far missing from the party.

Kristoff knocked softly on his and Anna’s chamber door before letting himself in. He saw Anna, dressed to the nines in a green velvet gown topped with white ruffles that hugged her shoulders. Her upper chest was left bare save for a three-layered pearl necklace, an early Christmas gift from Mattias. The sleeves gaped open, lined by white fur that Kristoff knew felt as soft as it looked. Her hair laid atop her head in an intricately braided bun, her gold and emerald crown placed perfectly in the middle, always bringing out the brilliant green that usually hid within her typically cerulean eyes. Kristoff could only think one word. Radiant. Anna was radiant. Sincerely, Anna sparkled. She always sparkled. But something about walking in on her like this, dressed for the ball, so majestic in every single way… made Kristoff feel as if he might cry for the love that grew and blossomed within his heart. A love so permanent… a love so unyielding that he felt it with both a fiery passion and a patient comfort. He took in a breath. Regarding her magnificence for a second time. Her gold shoes sparkled in the candlelight, heels subtle enough to allow her to dance for hours but tall enough to allow her to kiss him without getting on her tip toes. His eyes floated up to her dress yet again. Even though the gown cinched at her waist, Kristoff swore he could make out a little bit of the swell that was their growing child. He took in another breath. She looked ravishing. How could he be so lucky to call her his wife?

But Anna paid no mind to Kristoff, not then. She was looking in the mirror. Frowning. Frustrated.

But still so beautiful.

“Anna, honey, are you ready to go downstairs? The doors are open, and people are flooding in… I think even Elsa and Honeymaren are already here.” Elsa was finishing up the ice sculptures. Her only task this year, something that made her beyond thankful.

“I’m almost ready! I’m just… I don’t know. I don’t feel right. But I can’t put my finger on why.” Anna twirled around in front of the mirror. “The only thing keeping me chugging along is the promise of lots of food. I’m starving.”

“Yes—that was the journal entry for this week. Ravenously hungry. Insatiable I think was the word I used.” For Anna, eighteen-ish weeks pregnant meant the constant desire to stuff her face with literally everything she laid her eyes on. It was like she had this itch that could never be scratched. A deep hole in her stomach that could not ever be fully filled. But the most unfortunate part was that she somehow had recently begun to crave lutefisk. Lutefisk. The food she would have to plug her nose to eat as a kid. Clearly pregnancy made her leave logic at the door. Kristoff sauntered up to her and brought her in close, wrapping his strong arms around her frame, resting them gently on her mid-section, hooking his chin over her right shoulder and kissing her softly on first her shoulder and then her neck and then her cheek before settling back into the crook of her neck. He smiled. This was pure bliss.

Anna entangled her fingers with his own, both resting on her belly. She sighed. “I swear I could eat literally all of Sven right now and only feel a little bit guilty.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Kristoff laughed into her shoulder.

“I’m starving!” Anna pouted, but then Kristoff kissed her neck again softly and she shivered. Too distracting.

“Well, I know for a fact there’s a lot of food in the ballroom if you want to get a move on…”

“I want to, I really do… but. Still. I’m … you know what? I think I know what it is,” Anna said, pulling away from Kristoff suddenly. “You know how a few weeks ago I had to switch to the maternity corset? Because I really uh—popped out that one morning and couldn’t fit into my old one anymore even with the laces practically undone?” One midwife had even said that Anna looked much bigger than what women usually did at this point in pregnancy. Something that she said could mean there was more than one baby on the way…Anna and Kristoff were far too thrilled with that possibility but had mutually decided they didn’t want to get their hopes up if it didn’t come to fruition. Their baby coming into the world already with a friend… already decidedly not alone. It felt almost serendipitous to Anna, but she still refused to think of it more than fleetingly. So for now—one baby. Singular baby.

“I remember,” he said.

“Well, I hate this thing. It’s so … constricting and it hurts and I can hardly breathe let alone gorge myself with disgusting and foul and gross but somehow still super satisfying lutefisk. Like do you really think this is good for the baby?”

Kristoff shook his head. “Probably not—”

But Anna was on a roll. She bulldozed through the answer he gave to her likely rhetorical question. “I know it’s not breathing or anything right? But … it kind of feels like I’m squishing the baby or something and knowing it’s yours and everything it’ll probably be massive so needs lots of room to… get that way. Oh wait no I can’t think about that. Oh God. Massive. Get that image out of my head please. Too big to come out of me and the pain and owwwww.”

Kristoff stepped closer to Anna and hugged her close, stroking comforting circles on her back. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said. She whimpered. “For the record, I don’t think I was too big as a baby. Although, you know… I don’t remember.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Very helpful.”

“I do have some chocolate to tide you over, though. That’s helpful, right?”

Her eyes lit up instantly, nodding her head in ferocious fervor. “Yes, yes, yes. Super, super helpful. Very helpful. The most helpful of all helpful!” Kristoff reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out maybe six truffles. Anna ate them in a flash. “God, these are so good.” Then she frowned again. “But I can already feel my corset getting tighter! And, you know what? What’s it all for, hmm? So I can better hide I’m pregnant? Yeah that’s right I said the word. So, what? You know, it’s really grating to me that something that really deserves to celebrated is instead something that needs to be … hidden away. Like the expectation for a queen is to be prim and proper and ladylike and pure or—whatever…while also producing heirs upon heirs. So, what happens when the very thought of being ‘with child’ comes with this implication that you’re not pure? Even though obviously I mean it’s way more concerning if you’re married and still pure, right? And I know I’m saying this about royalty and everything but that’s just my situation. Generally it’s definitely not just for queens. This is any woman. The expectation of any woman.  Nobody cares if men are pure. So they’re just producing heirs or kids or namesakes? … left and right and it’s all fine and dandy. It’s just ... really frustrating. And this stupid corset is like the physical proof of this horrible thing and it’s really making me…so—angry.” Anna let out a long breath. It felt good to get all that out. It truly had been building upon itself in this storm of emotions for the last couple weeks. Constantly growing until this moment.

“You know you’re the Queen, right?”

“Uh—yeah. Pretty sure I just talked a lot about that in my little speech.”

“Yes, right. Yes. But I mean… you’re the Queen.”

“Yes, I know. What’s your point?”

“Well, you’ve got the power, baby,” Kristoff said. “Show them how it’s done. You can … make a decree or—or something. Or you can just lead by example. I’ll support you, Anna. You know I’ll support you. And I agree with you, too. The whole thing’s pretty ridiculous. And definitely not healthy for our massive baby.”

Anna crossed her arms over her chest. “Not funny.”

“Take it off, baby. Off with the maternity corset.”

“I want to … but then people will be able to tell, right?”

“You really think they don’t know? Let me ask you this. Truly—how many people do you think are actually in the dark?”

“Uh—I don’t know. Maybe … four?”

“Exactly! Don’t feel like you need to still hide it. The whole castle has known for a long time. You were wearing the maternity corsets! Someone had to make that for you and you know your maids knew right away. Word is out, Anna. We just can’t be open open about it yet. Soon … but you don’t need to hide it. You shouldn’t hide it.”

She contemplated his words for a minute or so before planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “Thanks, husband. You’re the best listener.” He grabbed her hand and gave her a quick twirl, already preparing for the dancing he knew would take up most of his night.

“Always, my sweet love.”

“Now help me get this thing off. Right now. Please.” Anna turned so her back was to him. His large hands wrapped around the velvet buttons of her dress, undoing them at an unparalleled pace. Soon, the dress dropped to the floor and Anna stepped out of it, only standing in her off-white corset and bloomers. The maternity corset had a slightly different shape, dipping lower to cover her entire stomach, and had two extra sets of laces, one on each side that supposedly allowed for more breathing room and expansion along with a growing belly, but Anna disagreed. It felt just as constricting as her usual corset. She jumped in front of Kristoff again. “Off, off, off!”

He obeyed again, large hands undoing the laces but moving closer as he did this, planting periodic kisses on her shoulders. His mind instantly shot back to the first time he unlaced her corset. Years ago.

The beginning of their … exploration was too hurried. They so rarely got time alone and took it whenever they could … wherever they could … as fast as they could. There was never time to take off any clothes. Dress scrunched up her waist, drawers and breeches pushed down to their ankles was the name of their game. But eventually they got bolder. They snuck around in the middle of the night… and in those stolen moments in the moonlight, they had more time. Kristoff remembered ripping off her dress, throwing it into the corner of her room. Turning his attention to her undergarments, working his hands around the laces, trying to figure out how to make this as swift as possible. He smirked. “Is this appropriate?”

“Of course not,” Anna giggled. Kristoff planted kisses on her bare shoulders and then her collarbones. “But when have I ever been concerned with what’s appropriate?”

Kristoff smiled again at the memory. When he finally shot back to reality, he saw that he was almost done with the laces. He pulled the last few and threw the corset far away from them. It landed with an air of dramatics on her dressing partition.

Anna sighed in relief. “God, you’re so much faster at this than my maids.”

“Years of practice paired with years of … urgency.” Kristoff said, smirking.

It had taken him much longer than he felt comfortable admitting to take that corset off that first night, but since then he’d figured out a foolproof strategy.

She turned around to give him a deep kiss. “I’m free. Thank you.”

Kristoff inhaled sharply. She was even more magnificent like this, ballgown tossed to the side.  He brought a hand up to cup her chin and his other drifted down to her stomach. He gave it a rub and she kissed him in response, giggling slightly. “You’re radiant, baby. So beautiful.”

“You really think so?”

“You take my breath away,” Kristoff said, meaning it truly and genuinely from the bottom of his heart. Anna beamed at him, feeling both unparalleled awe and unparalleled respect boiling deep within her soul. She regarded him now. The way the left side of his smile cocked up more than his right, sending him into an eternal mischievous smirk. The way his brown eyes always somehow teemed with an unusual mixture of curiosity and warmth. He was her rock. Her ocean. Her world. And she knew that the same was true for him. She was his rock. His ocean. His world.

Anna tried to put all of those feelings into words. “You—I need you to know that you’re—uh—perfect, Kristoff. Really perfect.” She used this word a lot. He doesn’t like it, he said. It’s not true, he said. He has his flaws, he said. But to Anna, even his flaws were perfect. So, he was perfect.

Kristoff smiled again. Mischievous still. But happy. Pleased. Tonight, he wouldn’t argue with her. He placed his hand on Anna’s swollen belly, rubbing gently. “I like this. Baby is free to be massive now.”

“Oh, shut up and help me put my dress back on,” Anna said through a laugh. “Might be a tough task since my waistline has expanded probably five sizes.”

“I’m up for the challenge.” Kristoff said, pulling desperately hard on either side of her dress before he could button them together. Eventually, he managed. Sure, the button stretched a bit and it threatened to pop off, but he thought maybe it would hold. At least for that evening.

“How do I look?” She gave him a twirl, settling in closer to him and cupping her belly slightly. She loved showing it off. The exciting proof of their future. Of what would come in May. “Ugh. I don’t wanna keep this a secret anymore. This is awful. How I lasted this long—it’s torture! Kristoff! Encourage our little one to make its presence known. Please, please, please.”

He smiled at his wife, dropping to his knees. Rubbing circles on her belly and planting gentle kisses all over before pulling away slightly, both hands still resting on the swell. Kristoff leaned in closer again and whispered, “Hey, little one…your mama and papa love you so much and want to tell the whole world how much we love you so we can celebrate you and love you publicly and—can you stretch out for us or move your little arms and legs or something? Mama and Papa are here for you, watching you grow… loving you…” He kissed her belly again. “We love you, little one.”

“Aww, Kris. You’re so cute.”

He stood up slowly. Waiting to see if it worked. Not that it had in the past… but still hopeful. Nothing. “You ready to go?”

“I’m ready to eat if that’s what you mean.”

They walked hand in hand through the castle hallways, still bursting with the beautiful harmonies of the choir, and finally through the doors of the ballroom. Each and every Arendellian guest turned to watch the Queen and King, or Prince—whatever—consort’s grand entrance. Some even started clapping. Clearly the party was already considered a hit.

Anna noticed out of the corner of her eye that a few of the women had started whispering to each other, their eyes glued to Anna’s midsection. Maybe even saying four people didn’t know was an overestimation.

Come on, little one. Move.

But still nothing.

Instead, Anna’s stomach growled, and she knew she needed to get to the food tables. Pronto. She saw Elsa there, too, finishing up the last of the ice sculptures. A reindeer looking much like Sven perched excitedly by the pickled herring. Perfect. Two birds, one stone.

Anna bounded up to her sister first, skipping in an unbridled excitement. Unfortunately, this excitement was almost purely due to the promise of stuffing lutefisk into her belly which made her mind want to stage a rebellion against her stomach at the very idea. But she paid no mind.

Her fabulous sister, first.

“Elsa, I’m so glad you came!”

Elsa laughed. Remaining calm, of course. As usual. She stood tall as Anna collapsed into her arms. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss your favorite night of the year.”

“Thanks for doing the sculptures, too. Everybody loves them,” Anna said, eyes drifting to the series of sculptures that adorned the space, catching a glimpse of a replica of her favorite snowman and smiling widely. “Especially giant Olaf at the dessert table.”

“That one’s my favorite to make.” Elsa took a step back, away from her sister by a couple paces. She took a moment to gaze intently at Anna, something that apparently had become the theme for the day, pursing her lips while deep in some train of thought. And then, suddenly, the corners of her mouth curled into a giddy grin. She closed the gap between them and whispered in Anna’s ear, “You’re glowing.”

Anna laughed. Elsa’s breath kind of tickled her ear. “I know, right?!”

“Is it weird if I say that I think pregnancy suits you?”

“Whoa, Elsa. That is way out of line. And you said the word pregnant? Shame on you!” Anna’s voice got dramatically low when she uttered the taboo word she didn’t actually think needed to be taboo.

Elsa blushed. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“I’m kidding, Elsa! I agree with you. Will come in handy—you know—because we want lots of babies and everything,” Anna said. “I love the word pregnant, too. It’s so much easier and less awkward than the whole with child or in the family way nonsense. Like talk about beating around the bush. Jesus.”

“You hungry?”

“Oh, God yes. Thanks for reminding me.” Anna turned, reading to make a beeline for the lutefisk. But then she chuckled slightly and spun back to face her sister. “You’ll never guess what I want to eat, though.”

“Uh—herring?”

“Lutefisk.”

“Lutefisk? You—Anna—want to eat lutefisk?”

“I legitimately want to stuff twenty-five pounds of lutefisk into my mouth right now.”

Elsa laughed in pure shock. “You’re right. I never would’ve guessed.”

“I don’t know if it’s the salt or the disgustingly chewy yet soft consistency that’s getting me going, but it’s doing it. I’m feeling all tingly thinking about it.” Anna shuddered involuntarily How did that sound so good? Truly how? Repulsive. Lutefisk was nothing short of repulsive. “Can you help me fill some plates full?”

“I think your King already has you covered.”

Kristoff, goofy grin plastered on his face, approached the sisters with three plates full of lutefisk and potatoes precariously perched on top of each other. Somehow his left hand held two full glasses of mulled wine.

He passed her a glass of wine and one plate of lutefisk to start. “For you, my love.” He handed the other glass of wine to Elsa who graciously accepted.

Anna attacked the plate. Slurping down the fish in record time. Her face twisted in to some kind of combination of a gag and a smile. “Oh God this is truly horrendous.” Gulp. “Horrid. No…disgusting.” Gulp. “And so grossly…slimy?” Gulp. One plate down. Kristoff handed her the next one. “But also… man oh man does it really hit the spot.”

“I always liked lutefisk,” Kristoff said, taking a piece for himself.

Anna stopped what she was doing and shot daggers at him. “So this is your fault? Lutefisk and a massive … I swear we’re gonna find a way for the trolls to make you go through this next time.”

“You know you love it.” Kristoff smiled mischievously yet again. Taking another satisfied bite of the lutefisk.

Anna pouted playfully and grabbed one handful of lutefisk, flinging it directly into Kristoff’s face. “Trolls.” Another piece. “You.” And another. Kristoff had started opening his mouth to catch the pieces, swallowing in bliss with each successful catch and each delicious bite. “Next.” Anna tried to remain serious, but a smile was toying on her lips. Another toss. “Time.” The grand finale. Anna tricked Kristoff with a fake throw and tossed it into her own mouth instead. He furrowed her eyebrows and looked around, confused. Not having any inkling as to what actually happened. Elsa had started cracking up. Those two. Always getting up to some kind of ridiculous antics.

Anna couldn’t contain her laughter anymore and it came spilling out quickly to the point where she could barely catch her breath. She felt something like gas bubbling in her stomach and tried to calm herself, worried she had upset the whole peace of her body by gorging herself with food and then laughing too hard. But she didn’t have any burp in her… curious. Gassy without gas. Once she had successfully quelled her laughter, she started feeling it again. Gas … or bubbles … or butterflies teeming in her stomach?

Or…

OR…

OR!

Anna outwardly gasped. One hand immediately shot to her abdomen and the other covered her mouth.

Elsa and Kristoff both looked at her curiously, both cocking their head in the exact same way.

“Oh my God it’s happening!” Anna squealed, bouncing up and down so frantically that her mulled wine kept spilling over the cup.

They continued to look at her, confused as ever.

Both her hands rested on her stomach now. “It feels like… all of Elsa’s ice fireworks are going off in here!”

Now Kristoff and Elsa understood. Their eyes widened, they audibly gasped.

Still bouncing, Anna giggled. “Oooh tickly!”

“Anna?!” Kristoff ventured. She beamed at him and motioned him closer. He wrapped one strong arm around her and pulled her in for a hug, other hand staying low, secretly stroking her stomach.

She whispered in his ear. “Can you feel it? Can you feel our little one? At least…I think that’s what’s happening. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I mean gassy but—not gassy…” Plus, mother’s intuition? She just knew this was it. The Quickening. Finally!

He shook his head. “I don’t feel anything. But—I think that’s normal? I can…imagine it takes a while to feel it on the—outside,” Kristoff said, still close to her, hand still firmly on her belly. “But you feel it. Anna, it’s—wow. It’s real. This is happening. I’m so—I’ve never been more—this is the happiest I’ve ever felt.” He kissed her, passionately, on the lips.

“Me too,” Anna said as she pulled away, looking longingly into his fiery brown eyes. Another little flutter resonated through her and she giggled. Pressing her hand and thus Kristoff’s hand deeper into her stomach. “I wish you could feel it.”

“Someday.” He kissed her again.

“Screw the troll idea. You were right. This is so cool. Totally worth the lutefisk cravings.” Their laughter was interrupted by Elsa’s hands looping over both of their shoulders, hugging them tightly. Excitedly.

“Kristoff, Anna! Congratulations. Both of you.”

“Aww, thanks, sister,” Anna said, chuckling into her smile. Noting that Elsa’s cheeks seemed markedly more flushed and she wondered if the mulled wine had already gotten to her. “Wait.” Anna started bouncing again. So enthusiastically that neither Elsa nor Kristoff could keep holding onto her. “This means we can tell people! Oh my gosh can we tell them tonight? Can we, can we, can we?”

“How about right now?”

“Right now?” Anna’s voice cracked. “Right now right now?”

“Let’s go.” Kristoff held out his hand and Anna grabbed it quickly, forcefully. With all the intent in the whole world.

They raced to the small stage where the choir and the band performed. Their royal presence was enough to stop the singing mid-phrase, choir members bowing at attention.

“You don’t need to do that,” Anna said. “Your singing is beautiful, by the way. Thank you for being here. Uh—we just wanted to make an announcement. If that’s okay, of course. We can wait!” Somehow, Anna’s extreme giddiness was still manifesting as a constant and consistent bounce.

The choir singers looked at each other with what Anna perceived as knowing glances, and then nodded for the King and Queen to proceed.

They took center stage, Anna still bouncing, hand-in-hand. “Uh—hello, Arendelle! We wanted to take the time to thank you all for coming to the annual Christmas Ball. We hope you’re enjoying the food and the music and the holiday merriment! We are so happy this has become a tradition, and if I do say so myself, this might be the best ball yet. And not only because of—well, the ball… as of well—tonight, actually, Kristoff and I can finally announce that …” Anna took a moment to scan the crowd of eager faces. Maybe there were more than four who had no idea. “We’re having a baby!” Anna squealed and then screamed, raising her arm and thus also Kristoff’s arm into the air. Kristoff had also let out a few cheers. The crowd applauded, reaching a steady crescendo just as Kristoff picked Anna up and spun her around, giddily laughing, before bringing her face into his hands for a tender kiss. He then dropped to his knees in front of his wife, leaning in slightly, large hands now cupping her belly. Showing off her belly. Celebrating her belly. No more hiding. Just like Anna had wanted. He planted a tender kiss on the curve and the crowd cheered once again. Anna’s hands found their way into his hair and she ruffled it a bit, messing it up in a way she found exceedingly adorable. She turned back to the crowd, Kristoff still rubbing her belly in elation. “Baby Bjorgman is coming at the end of May!” Now Anna noticed a small corner of the crowd exchanging pieces of gold. Of course there had been some bets going on. She wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Kristoff stood up, kissed Anna once more, and then grabbed her hand, interlacing her fingers with his own. Anna took her other hand and cupped her belly, showing the crowd in more detail exactly how far along she was. Exactly. No mind games from any extra clothing. The buttons on her dress were still close to breaking loose. “Oh, and another thing! Maternity corsets are for the birds. It can’t be healthy to wear them all… tight and constricting and—” Without knowing how to control it, Anna shuddered a bit. So happy to be free. And safe. “Besides—let it all hang out, baby!” She did a little dance right then, shaking her rump and rubbing her belly. Laughter echoed throughout the crowd and then a whole conversation stirred. Anna hoped it wasn’t too judgmental… she didn’t want them to think she had taken anything too far.

But no matter. Kristoff was right. As Queen, she could make some rules. She could set some expectations. Even if not well received in the beginning, they could still hold weight.

Kristoff leaned in to whisper in Anna’s ear. “No more secrets.”

She smiled. Thank God. “Shall we celebrate?”

He nodded. “Let’s dance.”

The choir started singing again. The band joined in. The Holly and The Ivy, a Christmas classic. Merriment abound. Merriment all around. Although Kristoff and Anna took the lead, dancing alone for a few minutes, eventually more and more guests joined in. A little bit of Hallingdansen, a lot bit of pols, and the most bit of Kristoff taking advantage of the fact that the whole kingdom knew how overjoyed they were with the news of their growing family by essentially hardcore smooching in the middle of the dance floor. Their tongues had a good time dancing the Halling, too, and they paid absolutely no mind to the fact that all eyes were on them. Maybe the mulled wine was getting to them, too, or perhaps it was simply euphoria. Between the kisses, Kristoff frequently dropped to his knees to kiss Anna’s stomach or rub excited circles over the curves during the dances. Anna giggled each time, noticing that the flutters seemed to come in more enthusiastic waves when Kristoff’s hands or lips came in contact with her belly.

This felt good. To finally have the freedom to really celebrate. True bliss. True happiness. The best of all the past Christmas Balls. And they had a feeling no future ball could ever compare.

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

I'll run to you

Synopsis: 

Warnings: Ivar, Silas, toxic family, mentions of murder, angst

Tags:

@xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @didiintheblog​ @lol-haha-joke​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927​ @queenbeeta​ @astridbaby​ @chynagirl13​ @thereareendlessopportunities

P.S. I did some edits of Ivar x Vanya. And I found the perfect song for them (where the title of this chapter comes from) and made an edit of that as well.

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

When Vanya was a little girl, she dreamt of marrying a noble Prince and becoming his Queen. She imagined a huge castle and her father visiting her as often as possible. Even her mother was proud of her for being a good Christian wife.

Never did she dream of being here, drifting on a boat with a sore shoulder, woozy from mead with her sleeping heathen son in her lap. Why must dreams always be so wrong?

But truth to be told, she loved the life she lived now. Well, not right now, but the last year. Her experience in Kattegat was perfect. Despite his short temper, Ivar was a good man. He loved her unconditionally, protected her, and listened to her. His brothers were kind to her, and she trusted them with her life. Even Sigurd, with who she sometimes butted heads. She had a friend and found a mother in Aslaug and Helga.

She missed them so much. Two days on the water made her want to cry. She cried nowadays more than the babe she gave birth to. He seemed content; he loved watching the ravens fly over their heads and played with her hair when she held him.

How funny it seemed to her that she loved sailing when she came here. Now she yearned to stand on dry land and sleep in a warm bed wrapped in Ivar's arms.

Whenever Vanya didn't think of home, she thought of Silas, especially what she would do to him. She had been meek and peaceful for so long, forgave him everything he did to her. But that changes now; he didn't just hurt her or degrade her. He tried to kill her and her son. His knights murdered an innocent woman. He would pay the blood price for it.  

The raven made a sound and left their usual circling spot. Vanya watched them go and perked up. Land. It meant land was near. She put her child into the nets and rowed towards the direction the birds flew.

Her shoulder screamed in protest, and she felt it reopen as her dress got wet with blood. She ignored it and kept on rowing. She was out of food, and the mead wouldn't last more than two cups. They needed to find water and food.

Ivar laid in his bed, sweat dripping from his forehead, the whites of his eyes blue. His legs hurt too much today; he had to stay in bed but couldn't sleep at all. All he could do was lay there in pain and think of all the ways he will torture Vanya's attacker. He prayed to the Gods that she was still alive. Two days ago, she went missing, and everyone was losing hope.

Aslaug had no visions, and Hoenir was no help. He dragged himself to the Seer yesterday, but all he got was vague answers. "You know the answer, Boneless." He knew Vanya had grown stronger and that she promised to protect their son. But so did he and now, he doesn't know where she is or if she is even alive.

He promised her that no one would ever lay a hand on her again, and he failed. If he ever saw her again, he wouldn't let her out of his sight.

"Drink the tea, Ivar. It will help." Ubbe ordered, walking into the room, looking at the untouched cup on Ivar's bedside. Right next to the tea was the carved figure of Fenrir and Vanya's serpent necklace.

"Did you find her? Anything?" Ivar begged as his brother wiped his damp forehead.

Ubbe shook his head and put the rag down. "A fisherman's boat went missing two days ago. Mother thinks Vanya might have taken it. So we sent some boats out to look for her. But if she drifted out into the open..."

He didn't have to finish the sentence for Ivar to understand. If Vanya drifted away, the storm that was gathering would sink her ship and drown them both. Hoenir saw her drown, what if he was right and she would? No amount of sacrifices would bring her back then. He would be alone again, with Aslaug the only one to love him. Ubbe might love him, but there are moments he must wish his brother wasn't alive.

The times he had to carry him or stay at home because Ivar was in pain. Having to check on his legs and eyes all the time. In everybody's eyes, Ivar was a burden; he was aware of it. Vanya was the only one who didn't care or look down on him. In her eyes, Ivar was perfect despite his shortcomings. Over time, she grew used to his temper and pain. She comforted him, held him, whispered sweet words into his ear as he fell asleep.

She loved him, and he left her alone after she bore him a son. He didn't even get to hold him. His perfect son, who had his eyes and hair. His healthy boy. Ivar hated himself, but he hated the world more.

"How long we have to keep looking? It's been two days now. The corpses must show up soon." Pæga complained, pulling off his boots and sinking his feet into the bowl with water.

Silas glared at the knight and stabbed his dagger into the table. "Boats were sent out to search for her, a fisherman's boat went missing, they think Vanya is in it. If she survived and they find her... My sister saw your faces. She isn't so stupid to fall for a few farmers in your clothes. If you get caught, then it means my death as well." He spat at his knights while Stithulf sat in the corner, sharpening his sword.

"I doubt she is alive. She doesn't strike me as a survivor. Vanya was sent here to wither and die, to brake and suffer. She might have charmed her way around Kattegat. But smiles and gifts aren't going to save her from death. She was hit with an arrow; I saw her sink. All they will find is a dead child in the boat. Vanya is dead, and you are the only possible ruler of Slegia."

Stithulf stood up after his rant and walked towards his King. He lifted the crown from the table and put it on his head. "A crown for a King. The one true King. Vanya will never wear this thing; neither will her children; I made sure of it."

Silas nodded and proudly pushed his chest out. The knight was right; he was the King, and Vanya was dead. First, he dealt with her; next is his mother and her new husband. Then his uncle and Wrosan will be his. The victory was certain.

Vanya hauled herself from the boat and pulled it on land so the tide wouldn't wash it away. Her son stirred in his little bed while Vanya collapsed on the ground, exhausted.

The ravens left them alone, and she had no idea where to go. This part of Kattegat was unfamiliar to her. So as she laid there, she prayed to the Gods to show her a way to get home. But no sign or help came.

So she wrapped herself tighter in her cloak and took her child with her heading west, the other way than she drifted off. She needed to get to a familiar location: the hunting hut, Floki's house, or even the forest before Kattegat.

Vanya walked with her son in her arms, without a pause. She managed to find some berries Helga taught her were edible and a stream of water. After she ate, she fed her son and carried on in her way. Her feet were sore, and her son was becoming too heavy for her weak arms.

Other than wilderness and silence, there was nothing around her. Every tree looked the same, and the shade they gave her made navigating with the sun harder. She shivered as the winds grew colder.

When her son whimpered in her arms, she froze. Her being cold wasn't that bad. But to him, it meant death. So she carefully put him on the ground and took off her cloak and swaddled him in it. Her thinned down frame shook in the cold winds while her son burrowed himself into the new warmth.

Vanya looked down at his little content face and smiled. All of this hardship was worth it if he was healthy and alive. This life she created and carries inside her, that she spent hours bringing into the world. It meant everything to her; it hurt to admit that her mother was right. A mother has no choice but to love her child; only a monster would ignore her own blood like that. But the thing Siflaed was wrong about was that Vanya did love Ivar. Despite everything she heard about him and his people, she grew to love him no, her people. Kattegat was her home now; she was born to live here; she knew it.

And when she returned, she would never leave again; she would remain and raise her son. She would see all the other sons of Ragnar start their own families and see Aslaug grow old. Hold Bjorn's adorable children and gossip with Torvi and Brynja. She would sit on the bench in front of the Great Hall, sewing a dress together, with Ivar by her side with their son in his arms. Vanya would come to visit Helga and Floki more often like she promised she would and try to make Margrethe less afraid of Ivar. He wasn't the monster; everyone made him out to be; her husband had a lonely heart with high walls made of anger.

She remembered the story of Eve and the Devil. The way the serpent tricked Eve into eating the apple and be banished from Eden for it. She also remembered the story one of Siflaed's lovers told her of the Greek goddess Persephone and the pomegranate. How Hades offered the fruit to her, and she stayed with him as his wife.

But Vanya didn't feel like Eve; her husband was no evil serpent leading her on. He was Hades, the god known for his dark demeanor, but a good husband. She wasn't a meek Christian like Eve, Vanya was Persephone. A good heart with love for nature, married to a man of shadowed behavior who everyone feared. But they both held darkness and light, she wasn't just a maiden who plucked blooming flowers, and Ivar wasn't just an angry heathen with a quick tongue. Her tongue was as equally sharp as his and his love as real as hers. They were King and Queen of the Underworld, Prince and Princess of Kattegat.

With determination, Vanya strode on, thankful for the shoes she managed to put on before her escape. Walking barefoot on top of lightly dressed would have meant her death. She could hear an owl hoot somewhere behind her until it flew past her and landed on a branch. "Frigga." She whispered as the bird stared at her with yellow eyes, it's white feathers standing out in the treetops.

"Have you come to take me home, All-Mother? Odin's ravens looked over my son and me on the boat, and now you have come for us. Goddess of mothers and queens, of war, wisdom, and strategy. I beg you, take me home." She begged the hooting white owl that took off and landed on another branch, waiting for the ginger to follow.

Vanya chuckled at the sight and followed after the frequently stopping bird. "This better be Frigga, or I will die. That's your descendant on the line, Odin. Don't let me die, All-father, All-mother."

Everyone stood gathered in the Great Hall in the evening, waiting for what Aslaug had to say. Silas stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by his armed knights. "My brother Ivar was graced with a son three days ago. But his son and wife were ripped away by a murderer, who sneaked into their hut and killed the wet nurse." Bjorn announced watching the faces of everyone present.

Floki and Helga leaned a support beam, both looking grim, while the boatbuilder glared at Silas. Ivar sat next to his mother, with Hoenir standing behind them. Brynja and Margrethe watched the whole ordeal from their place with the other servants and slaves. The other brothers stood behind Bjorn, who towered over the room, reminding all of their father. He carried the same authority even without a crown on his head.

Aslaug lifted her head higher and wrapped his fingers around the armrests of her throne. "The one responsible will answer to the Gods. The more blood they have on their hands, the more dire their demise will be. This person is charged with treason and murder..."

Ubbe left his mother's side while she talked and walked with Floki and Hoenir towards the exits. They barricaded the door while no one was watching. The only way to open them now would be from the outside, where Floki stood watch.

"The return of my daughter in law Vanya is becoming unlikely. A funeral will be held soon to honor her death, Floki has agreed to build a boat to bury her. If she is not found until the ship is done, we shall burn some of her possessions instead."

Stithulf observed the heathens around him; they seemed on edge, ready to pounce at any moment. Of course, Silas was obvious to all this, too distracted by the Queen's speech to notice.

"But, we do know the one responsible for this tragedy." The knights head snapped towards the throne. Everyone grew silent, waiting for Aslaug to continue. "We questioned people and gathered that there is only one possible suspect behind all this. Someone willing to murder a mother and child int heir sleep."

The room was tense as if a war would erupt at any moment. Ivar clenched his jaw before smirking at Silas, who froze in his spot.

"How do you answer these charges... King Silas?" The Saxon's breaths hitched in fear as the knights wrapped their hands around their swords' handles, ready to draw them and kill everyone. But they were outnumbered and locked in with bloodthirsty heathens.

"This is outrageous! I loved my sister. And you are claiming me as a murderer only because you failed to find the real one. My sister is dead because of you!" He roared at the remaining sons of Ragnar and his wife. But they didn't even flinch all the Queen did, was push her shoulders back and raise an eyebrow at his outburst.

"So you claim, but there is no proof. All we saw were spiteful words and tantrums. You bribed farmers to change clothes with your knights; then, you ordered them to kill Vanya and her son. But Margrethe remembered their faces, and it wasn't the faces we see here today." Sigurd called out as the said thrall covered behind Brynja. She confessed this to Sigurd last night, and since then, the Ragnarsson and Aslaug had been plotting.

Silas frowned and shook his head, chuckling. "And do tell me... What would my reason be? Sibling rivalry? Don't be ridiculous. I may not have been overly fond of my sister, I admit. But I wouldn't murder her. And the baby? Son or not, I hold no ill will against either."

"Vanya and her son possessed a threat to you, childless, unfit to rule. But Vanya is loved here, and I am sure she was the same in England. You ordered her death and will die for it. An eye for an eye."  Bjorn threatened as Silas gulped and gave an uneasy smile.

He shrugged and spread his arms wide to show he was unarmed and possessed no threat to them, other than his knights who drew their swords. "Let's spare ourselves these dramatics. Vanya is dead, and I am not the culprit. Let's not have a ghost of a disobedient whore get between our agreement."

Ivar slammed his fist against his chair and glared at the daring King. He would have leaped out of his seat and strangled the bastard if it wasn't for Bjorn, Sigurd, and Hvitserk holding him back. "How dare you?" The Ragnarsson roared his nostrils flaring in rage.

Silas pointed to Ivar's legs with a smirk.  "Your... Affliction. Do you really think the child was yours? My darling sister would do anything to please you as a proper wife should. And giving you a child, even one that's not truly yours. It would please you. Wouldn't it? To think that you are a real man, able to produce an heir." The blonde Christian taunted as everyone glared at what he was suggesting.

"I did you a favor before things escalated, and you would believe other idiotic lies my sister would have fed you to keep herself alive a little longer. I saved you from further embarrassment and grief. Vanya is dead, and there is nothing to change that." He sounded at peace with his oncoming death. Silas knows he and his knights will die, but might as well anger the heathens some more. Die a horrid death and go down in history as a martyr: Saint Silas, The tortured King.

Stithulf, on the other hand, looked distressed, all the whispering he did, all for nothing. All his hard work wasted on a foolish king with a big ego and greedy heart. His chance at fame and ruling, all gone, because of a ginger Princess who just couldn't stay meek and timid like she was meant to be.

The sound of something shattering broke the tense atmosphere. Everyone looked st the redheaded servant that let her jug of water, fall to the floor. "Vanya." She whispered, her face pale and eyes wide. They followed her gaze and gazed at the open door in shock.

"Why do you think I am dead, Brother?" Vanya's voice rasped out as the ginger leaned against the door frame, a shield pierced with many arrows in one hand. Her hair was frizzy, her skin pale, and her eyes sunken in. Her white dress was stained with bloody some on her shoulder, the rest on her lap, from childbirth.

She took a shaky step forward and shifted her arms slightly. Helga runs to her side, and Floki stood behind her in case she fell. The Ragnarssons run to her while Ivar stared at her in shock. Standing up, Aslaug observed the presumably dead Princess in wonder.

"Helga, you need to look after my son. I tried to keep him warm and fed. Please check him."  Vanya pleaded with the blonde woman, letting the shield riddled with arrows fall to the floor. Hidden behind the protection was a bundle of furs and cloak, squirming at the new warm place they entered.

Helga shakily took the babe out of Vanya's trembling embrace to see the child alive and well despite the ordeals he went through. She ushered the child away as Ubbe reached his sister in law, laying a hand on her shoulder to steady her. But she shook it off and slowly advanced towards Silas, who took a few steps towards her as well.

"How? You should be dead." He whispered, still in denial that his plan didn't work.

"I forgave you so much, Silas. So many wounds. I forgave them all, ignored them, and asked my family to ignore them as well. But that ends today. You killed an innocent woman! You tried to kill my son!"

Silas shook his head, refusing to admit defeat against his little sister. His foolish sister, who was born weak and was meant to abide by him. The one who defied him and survived. "You won't hurt me, Vanya. You are weak. Remember your place, and we can forget this. Beg me for forgiveness, and I shall grant it to you. All I want in return is save passage back home. Kill my knights instead."

"You think I will beg? I did nothing to ask forgiveness for! You are a monster, Silas. Just like father and mother said you were. Do you think I will cower before you? Just because you are my brother?" She seethed stalking towards him as Silas drew a dagger and pointed it at her, shaking, fearful of this side of Vanya.

The ginger keeps on advancing, not caring for the weapon pointed at her. The adrenaline running through her veins made her forget what fear feels like at all. All she could see was the man who made her life a living hell and tried to kill her son! "Blessed are the meek, Vanya." He reminded her, hoping that the sentence that their mother used to drill into her head would calm her down, but his sister didn't even blink.

"Yes. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. For theirs is the kingdom of heaven." She spat back a part of the Beatitudes, laughing at his poor attempt at containing her rage. "Do you think the words of Jesus or God will stop me? Do you honestly believe that you will be forgiven? I am past forgiveness and meekness! I want you to pay for my and my son's suffering in blood!"

Silas took a few steps back, his hand shaking like crazy. Vanya was nearly in front of him now, her hand grasped his dagger around the sharp edge, no fear in her eyes. They looked like frozen over fjord's, determination and anger swirling around. She tugged his knife from his grasp and threw it behind her, surprising everyone. Blood dripped from the cut on her palm, trailing down her slender fingers and hitting the floorboards.

"I would burn cities and kingdom's to the ground and make him King of the Ashes if they dared to threaten him!" She screamed at her brother, getting into his face and glaring up at him as he shook in his spot.

"Vanya, please, have mercy. I am your brother. I did it to protect my claim. You must understand. I was born to rule; I deserve to sit on the throne for eternity. Please have mercy." The two siblings stared into each other's eyes, the frozen fjords meeting the tearful sky.

She softly shook her head and softened her angry expression. Ivar crawled towards them, observing the blood-stained dagger and her bleeding hand clenched by her side. "Mercy is a Christian value, and I am not Christian anymore." She hissed backhanding him with her bleeding left hand so hard that he hit the floor.

Silas cradled his aching cheek and stared at Vanya in shock. The ginger glared down at him with disdain obvious in her expression. "That's why I wish you the most painful death instead." She spat at him before two men dragged him away as he cried and cursed at them, begging them to let him go as other Vikings killed his knights when they dared to attack.

Ivar crawled to Vanya's left and took her cold bleeding hand in his, startling her from her trance. She looked down at him tenderly as he looked over her tired body. "I missed you." He whispered, staring up at her with adoration as she returned his tender look, softly smiling.

"I missed you too." Ubbe supported her swaying frame and carried her towards the awaiting healers, thanking the gods for her return, alive and well. Ivar watched her get carried away and spared a glance at the dead bodies of the Saxon knights before he followed his brother and wife.

[imagine-loki]

Gifted

Title: Gifted (Sequel to Giftless)

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 21/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die.  Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

“Darling, wake up,” Loki bid you early the next morning.

“Loki, it’s early,” you grumbled at him and tried to snuggle closer against him to go back to sleep.

“I know it is, but I have a surprise for you,” he told you softly. You opened your eyes at that.

“A good surprise?” you asked him warily. One never knew with a silver-tongued Trickster boyfriend.

“I certainly think so, though you will probably grumble at me for not telling you I was doing this sooner,” he admitted. 

You sat up at that. It was too early for such flowery language. Or whatever he was up to. “Loki, what’d you do?“ you asked him, truly concerned with how excited he was looking over this plan at whatever gods’ cursed hour this was. 

Loki grinned his Cheshire cat grin at you in reply.  That wasn’t reassuring. "You’ll see,” he replied. 

You sighed. That meant this was either going to be really fun, or really terrible. There was no middle ground. “Tell me it’ll be fun at least,” you begged, unsure that you could handle a terrible day.

“It will be fun,” he agreed, but you caught the tone of mischief in his voice and the glint in his eyes. You resigned yourself to a day he thought was fun and you would hate. 

At least you could wear a simple dress that morning. He had set one out for you. You still couldn’t wait to get your magic back so you could dress yourself with magic. You hated relying on him and being without your powers again. There was a knock on the suite door just as you had finished tying your hair into a simple knot at the back of your head, leaving the one strand of raven hair loose to frame your face. “That’s for you,” Loki told you, indicating the suite door.

You gave him a look, but went to go answer it. Frigga, Sif, and Astrid, one of the warrior women who had become your friend, were waiting outside for you. “Happy birthday!” they bid you brightly. You looked over your shoulder at Loki. Your birthday wasn’t for another couple of weeks, which he damn well knew. 

“Loki told us that the calendars do not quite add up right between Midgard and here,” Frigga explained at your obviously confused expression. “He chose today as the closest logical day to celebrate your birthday. It also appears that he did not tell you,” she added with a smile.

“Trickster, you are a creature made entirely of silliness,” you told Loki as he came up next to you.

“Mischief and chaos,” he corrected with a fond smile at the old tease. 

“I’m not seeing a difference,” you told him and stuck your tongue out at him. 

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “I will see you later, darling. The girls insisted on stealing you away for something feminine this morning,” Loki told you with a smile.

“You can join us!” Astrid laughed at him. “I’ve seen you at balls before,” she continued laughing. Even Sif laughed at that and Frigga smiled. Loki used to shapeshift into a female and go to balls that way just for laughs.  Or because she felt like it since Loki was genderfluid. 

“I will let you ladies have your fun today,” he replied with an elegant bow.

Sif and Astrid took your arms and the four of you left the royal wing together.  You ended up in a section of the palace you had never been to, near the healing wing. You found out that it was a full-service spa. The morning was spent with pampering and girl talk. Frigga even told you embarrassing stories of Thor and Loki from when they were kids and Astrid told stories about her boyfriend in the royal guard. They were talking of having the soulbond ceremony after the traditional year of courtship. Naturally, you had to ask all about him. You hadn’t done this kind of girls’ outing before, but it was so natural and fun that the awkwardness quickly dissipated.

You left the spa in excellent spirits and more formal dresses. Even Astrid, though she was still armed to the teeth. You still had your dagger sheath too. You didn’t go anywhere without it, and it was perfectly common and expected on Asgard to walk around armed. You did have to wear your tiara, though, which was a new experience. You met up with your significant others right outside the palace. You and Sif cheered when Astrid greeted her boyfriend with a kiss. She gave you a rude gesture in reply, which made you all laugh, though Frigga had to pretend to scold her for it.

“You look ravishing, darling,” Loki told you as he offered you his arm in formal escort position. 

You placed your hand on it as per usual, the gesture automatic. “Thank you,” you accepted the compliment today, especially since the nice ladies in the spa had done so much work to make you extra pretty. Even if they had complained about the illogical lock of raven-black hair. You had to explain it to them multiple times before they’d agreed to leave it alone, though they should’ve known what a lovelock was.  They were just being persnickety. You had a feeling Loki and you would be re-starting a fashion trend with the lovelock soon…

You went out to the palace gardens where an elaborate flower-viewing was set up. There was all sorts of food and tables set around the garden. Astrid broke off once you reached the rest of the court who were gathered in the garden. The procession of the royals made your way up to a platform overlooking one of the gardens. Loki led you to the front so you could get a good view at whatever was going to happen.

A bell chimed and suddenly the flowers in the garden you were looking over all began to bloom at the same time. It was absolutely breathtaking to watch. The flowers all opened, revealing petals of the same magenta-red color as your hair. “They are called sigynite flowers,” Loki whispered into your ear. “They only bloom one day a year,”

“They’re gorgeous,” you replied, staring in rapture over the flowers, trying to fix in your memory exactly how they looked. 

Loki chuckled. “There is one preserved in our suite for you, Sigyn,” he whispered in your ear.  You rolled your eyes at his use of your superhero alias, which was apparently also derived from the name of the flowers.

“Sigyn?” Sif asked as you took your seats for the lunch that came with the flower viewing. 

You laughed, apparently she had really good hearing to have heard Loki’s question.  “You’re getting you back for ‘Lo’ aren’t you?“ you asked Loki, who tried to look innocent. He failed. Miserably. you turned back to Sif to explain. "Back on Midgard, many of those of us with powers fight crime and villains with powers. Generally we don’t want people to know our real names, since it can put our loved ones in danger, so everyone on the team has a superhero name. Sigyn is mine,”

“So Loki chose the day of the sigynite flower blooming for your birthday,” Sif finished. You nodded your agreement and laughed over your silly Trickster boyfriend. You had a nice lunch with your Asgardian family. There would also be a formal ball and feast that evening. In the meantime, your family gave you birthday presents. You hadn’t been expecting anything from them, even after they had announced it was your birthday today.

Thor gave you a tome that was a famous fantasy series in Asgard. “Thanks Thor!” you told him in glee. Loki had to take it from your hands before you started reading it and ignoring the rest of your presents. Sif gave you a beautiful necklace, which Loki helped you put on immediately. It was a simple, but gorgeous diamond. "Thank you,” you told her with a real smile. You had a feeling that it, like the bracelet Loki had given you on your 18th birthday wasn’t going to be taken off often, if ever. It was so pretty, but simple enough to be an everyday item. Sif was obviously relieved that you like it. Frigga, though she had said it was from Odin too, gave you a box to unwrap. Odin had left after lunch to go do work. You opened the box curiously, wondering what the queen would have gotten you for your birthday. Inside was a little handmade cloth doll. It was beautiful and extremely well made. She even had magenta-red hair and the same blue eyes that your were usually. “She’s beautiful,” you saw in awe as you lifted the little doll out of the box. you saw Sif’s eyes widen at it when she realized what it was.

“You did not grow up here, and my children were all boys, so Loki would not have told you the tradition, and you would not have had one of these dolls growing up,” Frigga started. You looked away from the doll to give her your attention. "When a daughter is born, her mother will give her a handmade doll in the daughter’s likeness. The vision-seers aid with that aspect of course. The doll is a symbol of a mother’s love as well as a constant companion for the girl as she grows.”

“You made her?” you asked, your voice full of emotion and tears of joy in your eyes. She nodded with a smile. You didn’t have words to thank her with. All you could do was go to her and give her a hug. “I will cherish her forever,” you finally found words that might, might be enough.

“You are welcome, daughter. I give her to you in love, and with admiration for how wonderful you are for my Loki. I have never seen him so happy as you have when he is with you." 

You thanked them all again for the wonderful presents and the wonderful birthday.

"It is not over yet, darling,” Loki reminded you. You stared at the beautiful flowers for a little longer before you all went in to your own matters until dinner that evening. You headed back to our suite to relax until dinner. You set the doll from Frigga on your bedside table next to the sigynite flower Loki had in a vase there. Loki pulled out a box when you had settled on the couch.

“Loki, you didn’t have to get me anything!” you protested. Your real birthday wasn’t for a couple of weeks, plus you didn’t expect anything anyway.

“Yes, I did,” he replied with a smile as he handed you the box. You smiled at his silliness and carefully opened the box. Inside was a gorgeous silver charm bracelet with a bunch of charms on it. He helped you put it on. “Hold one of the charms,” he bid you softly. You picked one at random and held it in your other hand.

You were standing in a memory of two years ago. You and Loki  were on the stairs up to your suites in the tower, ending a conversation with your uncle. “I have to go to work. Can you two try to behave?” Tony grumbled, mostly looking at you. You raised your hands in surrender.

“Fury already threatened me with chains until The Harlequin is dealt with. Don’t worry, Tony, there will be no trouble for me,” you told him with as much sincerity as you could muster. “I’ll even promise to stay out of the science lab.” He rolled his eyes, but gave you a hug goodbye and a threat to Loki before he went to work.

“That threat lacked punch,” Loki commented as you walked up the stairs together. “He did not even threaten me with death this time,” he mused.

“Maybe he’s starting to like you,” you told him with a grin.

“I highly doubt that. He does not like that I spend time with you,” he reminded you.

“He’s my uncle. That’s what they do,” you replied.

“What does he think will happen?” Loki asked when you reached the floor that your rooms were on. You gave him a mischievous grin, which made him pause just long enough.

“This,” you replied, standing up on your toes to place a light, timid kiss on his lips. You darted away quickly while he stood there shocked. You didn’t stay to see his reaction, you didn’t want to see disappointment or anger, or any other of a dozen emotions. You didn’t know what his reaction would be, if he would want it or not. You were willing to play it off as a joke to save your friendship if that’s what it took. Instead, you felt a hand wrap around your arm and spin you to face him. It was Loki, of course. He let go of your arm, but wrapped an arm around your waist. He held you to him pressed against his cool body. He held you lightly, though, and you knew you could break away without any real effort.

“If you are going to do that, darling, you should at least do it properly,” he purred as he pushed your hair away from your face.

“I don’t know how to do it properly,” you whispered. You’d never been kissed before.

“Then allow me to demonstrate,” he purred. He hesitated and looked into your eyes. “Unless you do not wish do. I will not kiss you against your will. I will not force you into a relationship,” he said softly, gently. 

You nodded, though you couldn’t tear your gaze from his. “I want this,” you whispered. He leaned down and kissed you. He tasted of cool mint and a crisp winter’s day. Your heart fluttered with his cool lips, firm, but gentle against yours as he held you to him. He broke the kiss after a long minute and set you gently back on your feet. You smiled giddily up at him. “That was definitely the proper way to do that,” you finally told him. He grinned.

“I am glad my lady is pleased,” he replied.

The memory vision ended. You just looked at him in awe. “They’re all memories?” you asked. 

Loki nodded. “All of them are memories,” he replied with a soft smile. “However, I would not play with the red one today. It is a difficult memory, though the outcome led to come pleasant side effects,” he absently touched the soulbond marks on his arm and you nodded your understanding.

“It’s wonderful. Thank you!” you told him. You wrapped your arms around him to kiss him. A lot. And you didn’t do much else besides enjoy kisses and each other’s company until you had to go to dinner and the ball.

Both were elaborate extremely formal events, but dancing the night away with Loki was amazing. You had gained the knowledge of all of the court dances through the soulbond, and had secretly practiced the moves so you wouldn’t look like an idiot when you came back to Asgard. You surprised Loki with the grace you had managed to earn through that practice.

It was nearly dawn when the ball ended. You were both exhausted and grinning and it was such a wonderful not-a-birthday.

[forgetthetimetravel]

Wedding

Mythiru AU. Honestly my fav piece of this week so far. Read more to learn more~

@felixespinal

There was a chapel. There was white everywhere. There were curtains and red flowers and a lovely aisle to walk down, surrounded by lords and ladies befitting such a prestigious wedding. Ahiru’s heart fluttered as she glanced at the crowd, the crown awaiting her, down at her lovely dress, as she felt her impossible-to-walk-in shoes. She’d pleaded for something more comfortable, but her groom promised to sweep her off her feet afterwards so she wouldn’t have to worry about it. She exhaled nervously.

“Oh don’t worry so much, dear!” a comforting voice beside her assured. “You’re a darling princess, and will make an even more lovely queen. He’s lucky to have found you.”

“Aahaaha… yeah…” Ahiru responded awkwardly, smoothing her dress in gloved hands, then swallowed. “I just— I don’t know— I mean he’s so nice, and this is all so fast…”

The older woman patted her hand. “It feels like that love, but when love is involved, everything is in the right time.”

Ahiru exhaled again and smiled more earnestly at the woman beside her. “You’re right. Thank you, for everything.” She hugged the woman tightly.

“... Do you have a necklace on underneath the dress, dear?” the woman asked after pulling back.

Ahiru flushed and her hand flew to her chest. “Oh! Y-yes, I’m— I’m sorry. It’s just— it’s a necklace that’s very special to me, but it clashes a little with the dress, and I don’t want to ruin all the hard work everyone’s done! But I promised I would never take it off, and it’s small so it isn’t super obvious unless, well, you know. And—”

The woman patted her arm. “It’s alright dear. It’s important to bring something from your old life with you into your new as well.”

Ahiru continued blushing but smiled in relief. “I— I guess so. Thank you.”

“Oh, the music’s starting, you’d better get walking.”

Ahiru only groaned internally, a little bit, but the excitement and anticipation helped overcome her worries as she started down the aisle.

Small steps. Eyes on her. Heart beating. Glancing at the gorgeous windows, shrouded in fabric. Her groom, husband-to-be, waiting for her at the end. She just had to get there… 

Her necklace warmed its place on her chest, hidden under the layers of fabric. Soon the tiara would grace her head, if only for the ceremony. Then her glove would be removed and a ring placed on it. And then her love would whisk her away from everything, and it would be the two of them. Finally.

She made it to the altar. She smiled with relief and joy at her groom, who was smiling brightly at her. He took her hand and the ceremony proceeded.

Words were said, promises shared, the tiara with its lovely pinkish-red stone on top placed on her head. The gold and red complimented her own red hair. Her groom took her glove and slipped the ring on.

“If anyone has reason these two should not be wed, speak now or—”

“I don’t think that this is a very good idea,” a theatrical voice echoed from the rafters. “Especially that tiara. Tacky choice, honestly.”

Startled, everyone looked around for the voice.

“I can help, though. Take everything off your hands.”

A young man came into the light by one of the windows, hand around one of the curtains. The light silhouetted him, and before much could be seen or done he started swinging down into the chapel, right at the altar!

Ahiru’s groom stepped in front of her, shielding and blocking the way. “Ahiru! I’ll prot—” The man dropped and rolled, then shoved into her groom with a shoulder, knocking the wind out of him and also knocking him to the ground.

The young man stood up and grinned, wearing a black half mask. He gave a bow to Ahiru. “M’lady.” 

Ahiru tensed, but suddenly a pair of arms grabbed her from behind and swept off her feet, setting the world spinning. She screamed, of course, and almost lost the tiara in the jolt. She grabbed it onto her head and squeezed her eyes shut. The curtain swingers tossed her around, she had no idea which was was up let alone which side of the church she was near, and eventually landed on something solid with someone holding her tightly. A bag went over her head and despite kicking and flailing, she was hauled away.

* * * * 

Ahiru sat in a derelict little corner of a shabby frame of a house. She was still in the wedding dress, but her shoes were off. The young man with white hair and a dark outfit came over to her, his mask gone but grin remaining. “Ahiru.”

He breathed her name like it gave him life just to say it.

She pouted at him. “You really pushed it, you know? I had the ring on, we’d said the vows, and were almost officially officiated!”

“I’m sorry, my love,” Prince Siegfried bent on a knee and kissed her hand gently, carefully. “I had to make a grand entrance.”

She loved the feel of his lips on her skin and flushed, but she had honestly been worried and refused to give in so easily. “I… I had on horrible shoes as well. I had them on for so long I still can’t walk very well.”

He immediately moved his hands to her feet and started massaging them.

Ahiru jumped in her chair with a small sound, not expecting that. “S-Siegfried!” Her face burned.

“Mytho, actually, remember?” He smiled at her over her skirt, still rubbing her foot. “I’m Mytho as long as we’re on the run, stealing all these jewel pieces.”

Ahiru’s heart broke a little every time he reminded her. The Raven had decimated Siegfried’s kingdom and taken its prized jewel, the Heart of the King, and broken it into so many pieces, scattering it all over the continent. All that remained was the small piece of her own betrothal necklace. She never took it off.

“We’ll get them back,” Ahiru assured him, and took off the tiara. Its red jewel was another piece of the Heart. She offered it to him. “We are.”

He smiled at her softly. “And then we’ll have a proper wedding,” he murmured.

Ahiru flushed again. “We could just get married now…” she muttered.

“With your stolen ring and tiara?” he lightly teased.

“And your betrothal necklace,” she insisted, putting the tiara on him and patting where the stone lay under her dress.

He moved one hand from her foot to her hand and held it softly while he looked at her. “You deserve better, Ahiru,” he said, so earnestly she almost believed it.

She placed her free hand on his cheek. “I don’t care; you and me are all we need for a wedding, silly.”

“...  Me Siegfried? Or me Mytho?” he breathed, a trace of humor trying to assert itself, but real questioning underlying it all.

Oh her heart. “You,” she just said again.

He smiled and squeezed her hand.

“Eventually, my little duck.”

Inspired by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MJd0RTOW1Y

[thephantomcasebook]

Visual Guide to Adventurer George “The Comet” Crawley’s search for the “The Vanishing Princess” (1928 - 1936)

Luthien Tinuviel: (Elven Princess/Original Incantation)

“While exploring the throne room of the kings and queens, I found this.” The boy suddenly put up next to the masterful illustration of Lady Elfstone a large photograph of a mural upon a pearl marble wall.

Martha Levinson took a step closer as if drawn in by what she saw. It was a painting of a woman dancing by moonlight through a forest. Fireflies fluttered about her painted figure as she moved. The young woman had long raven tresses that were sown with flowers of the forest. Her figure was pale and slender with bright shining grey eyes. The loose gown she wore was cerulean and made of a fine silk that sparkled in the moonlight. For a moment, Martha was once more overtaken with the same overwhelming sense of sorrowful love for the woman in the wall mural as Lady Elfstone. She caught herself reaching out to touch the photograph. When she noticed it, the old woman cleared her throat and withdrew her hand, refusing to glance to the kid for his reaction. The young adventurer looked up at her, but yet, there was no judgement in his eyes to her emotion.

Lady Elfstone: (Last Princess of Byzantium/ First Lady of the House of Grantham/ Second Incarnation)

“Who is she?” She desperately stifled the emotion in her throat.

“This is the Lady Elfstone …” The boy read from the ancient inscription in the chronicle. “To what her real name is, I don’t know, they don’t say. She was a Byzantine Princess, the last of the Imperial House. She had fled the fall of Constantinople. How she got to England, no one knows, not even the monks of the abbey. She washed up in Wales and was found by a Tudor Lord. They said that she had never spoke of her life in Byzantium again, “fore the grief of her people’s ancestral city afire was too great”. But she was a beauty like holy sapphi … uh, well, to sum up, they say she was really beautiful. And uh, her voice was a match for even a heavenly chorus. She was kept as a prize of the Lancastrian Court in London. The monks here say that only her presence and the Grecian hymnals and songs she wove could quell the fits of madness that would overcome Henry VI, and so Margaret of Anjou kept her a prisoner in the tower.” The boy turned the page. He blew on the dry piece of parchment as he leaned close to read. “It seemed that Queen Margaret wanted to give her to the Lancastrian Heir. But on the day of their wedding, she uh, she fled, I guess. Someone smuggled her out of the castle … and she rode for Yorkist lands in Northern England. She sought sanctuary at … Downton Abbey.” The boy stopped and looked up in surprise at Martha. For a just a beat they felt a pang of something, a tiny breath upon their neck, a slender figure crowned in roses that sat upon the sofa watching them. The boy shook his head and continued.

“The monks took her in, but uh, Lords Somerset and Percy marched an army to take her back …”

“Must have been one hell of a woman.”

“Yeah, well they incurred the wrath of the Knight of the county … Sir Grantham “The Black Dragon”. He was the bastard son of Lady Katherine Percy, and Lord Percy’s half-brother, whose land the abbey was on. There was a battle on that field over there.” The boy pointed past the columned veranda at the edge of the gardens. “They outnumbered Sir Grantham’s forces three to one, but the Knight wouldn’t yield to them the beautiful Lady for any price, threat, or odds … eventually, the “Black Dragon” stood alone and surrounded, fighting his last stand by the doors of the abbey itself taking up a notched battle axe and stricken helm, but uh, he fought off waves of enemies, still unwilling to surrender the Princess even then. Oh, well, lucky for him, Edward of York arrived with his father’s men and drove the Lancastrians off Grantham’s land. But still, he was wounded, having cut down many of the greatest of the Lancastrian Knights in defense of the Lady. It says here that the monks and the Princess healed him, and there …” The boy was quiet a moment. “Sir Grantham fell in love with the nameless princess who sat up with him through the worst of it. He gave to her the name … Lady Elfstone for how she shimmered in the sunlight by the abbey’s windows.” There was a touch of a sad smile of reverence on his face as he turned the page with a crackling of ancient binding.

But then the boy didn’t say anything else.

“If I wanted damn cliff hanger I’d go to a serial, Cowboy.” Martha scoffed in annoyance. “What happened next?” She pressed.

The kid flipped through several pages, then flipped back. “I dunno …” The boy said in genuine confusion. “This is where the entry stops.”

Ilona Tepes: (Princess of Wallachia/ Third Incarnation) 

“Yeah, well if you’re freaking out about that …” the boy retrieved his leather folder. “Then this will put some hair on your … uh …” He looked Martha up and down for a moment. “Well, it’ll put hair on whatever it is you have, uh, down there.” He cleared his throat with quirk of his eyebrows awkwardly. He took the spot next to the old woman, ignoring her two clenched fists placed on her hips with a deeply grudging glare directed at him.

“Alright …” The boy cleared the air. “So, about a century after the first Lord and Lady Grantham’s deaths there was a Prince of Wallachia in Transylvania named Vlad that they called Dracul, which translates into “The Dragon”.” The boy explained. “He married an English noble woman named Ilona, I don’t know where she came from, and there isn’t a lot known about her … most of her records were scrubbed by someone long ago. But there is one thing that survived the Catholic Churches purging of the House of Tepes. A Triptych of Ilona was painted by an artist named Dresden and was send as sort of a wedding present to her husband. I don’t know where the original is, no one does, they think it got destroyed along with Alexander Grayson …”

“Oh yeah, I remember that moron. Industrialist. The dumb bastard blew up half of London with his newfangled electro power machine thingamajig. Cora and Robert were supposed to go to that unveiling, but Mary was kicking inside her, and they stayed home … about the last useful thing that girl ever did, and she wasn’t even born yet.”

“You’ll hear no disagreement from me.” The kid replied with an easy bitterness. “Either way, whether Grayson died with it or not, there is a record of it being sold to a Lord Davenport who was the uncle of Lord Anthony Strallen.” He shrugged.

“Wait? The chud who left Edith at the alter …?” She blew out a bitter scoff. “Is there anyone who owned this thing that wasn’t a prick?” She asked rhetorically. “I swear, having this triptych or whatever is more judgement on the owner at this point.” She waved off.

The adventurer glared in a long pause. “Anyway …” He pushed past her rant. “There is an insurance claim on the painting from the auction house that it was bought from.” The boy put another photograph next to the drawing of lady Elfstone over the page of the inscription.

“You can’t be serious.” Martha shook her head scratching her ear.

The photograph showed a renaissance painting that was separated in three folding parts. On the left section was a slender maiden standing in an arch by a window which had the Castle Dracul in the distance upon a field of green. She had long tresses of raven hair and cerulean eyes. Upon her lithe and milky frame was a simple dress of pure white, one slender hand clutching the skirt. To the right was the same woman standing in the same arch but by a different window which was now viewing countryside farm fields of wheat upon sloping ground. This time she clutched a red cloth over her white gown. Both depictions of the same woman from right to left faced one another, each one seemingly staring at the main painting in the center. Once more it was the same woman. But this time she was centered in front of a wall that was flanked by a piece of each adjacent window from left and right of the folding painting. She was regal with a head crowned by a golden band and a matching braided chain necklace. Garbed in a gown of red with thick white sleeves underneath, Ilona Tepes seemed a saint in the three painted depictions.

She also was the exact replica of both women that sat to her left on the puzzle desk.

“Her too?” Martha exclaimed. “Jesus Christ, Kid, how many of these broads are there?” She asked. But when she turned to the boy, he only blew out a breath with a look that was telling. 

“You’re kidding me?!”

Mina Murray: (First Female Medical Student, University of London/ Fourth Incarnation)

“So, we flash forward nearly four-hundred years later to London in the 1890s …”

“Skip ahead “professor”, I know the steps to this one, I was there ...”

“Sore subject?”

“Sore nostrils, everything smelt like piss, including Buckingham Palace. And there was shit everywhere … horse and human.”

“Then you should’ve felt right at home with amount you shovel.”

“Yeah, well, open wide, Cowboy, so you can eat some. It’s on the house.”

“With your monopoly, I bet it is …”  

“…”

“…”

Both glaring at one another, the boy slapped the scrap book packet next to the photograph of the Triptych. On the front page of the paper was a black and white picture of a young woman with a bonnet of blue with matching ribbon, leather gloves, and long overcoat that covered a white blouse. In her arms was a collection of books against her breast, with a blue umbrella hooked on her wrist. Once more, though less surprising now, the beauty in the picture matched that of the previous women on the puzzle desk. Raven hair, milky skin, slim, with demure and innocent eyes that sparkled. But what was different was that a sudden light of recognition hit Martha Levinson as she studied the paper, flipping through articles.

“This is …” The adventurer began

“Wilhelmina Murray.” The old woman finished for him. “Yeah, I remember her.” She nodded. “We met ten or twelve times when Cora was doing her first and second Season in London. She was the daughter of old Dr. William Murray. He ran Royal Bethlehem. I believe my husband and I made quite a sizeable contribution to expanding their Psych Ward. In fact, I believe they named the new wing after me.”

“They named the Psych Ward in Royal Bethlehem after you?”

“Yeah …”

“…”

“…”

“Shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

“Entry for the defense?”

“I’ll allowed it.”

“I’ve been thinking that since we met.”

“Fair enough. You know, us Southerners like our women religious … and just a bit mad.”

“Your preachers gotta learn it from somewhere, I guess.”  

With a momentary understanding reached, Martha flipped through the packet. “Yeah, beautiful girl … she had brains too. She was the first female medical student at the University of London.” She nodded. “I remember, she was always trailed by some young thing that lived in her front pocket. What was her name? Uh, hmm … Oh, right, Lucy! Lady Lucy Westenra, that’s it. She was a sleek blonde piece of bitch that one. Seemed odd that the shark of a woman hung around with such a gorgeous little lamb.” Martha shook her head.

“You seem to remember her rather well.” The kid observed.  

The old woman glared. “Like I said, I was there.” She put the papers down. “Anyway, she was hard to forget. After Robert and Cora got engaged, they started to do fluff pieces in the New York papers and one of them involved Ms. Mina Murray.” She shrugged.

“What was it?” The tone in the boy’s voice was suddenly serious.

When the woman looked over, she saw that the mentioning of Cora and Mina in relation captured his attention. It seemed in that instance that there was something about this mystery that was personal to the boy. That underneath all the intrigue and research there was a very serious reason that he was chasing this “Princess in the Mirror”. Something cold ran up Martha’s spine in a maternal six sense. Slowly, she was beginning to realize that whatever this was, it had everything to do with her family, her little girls, all of them.

When Martha answered it was with a new caution. “They were mistaken for one another sometimes. They went to similar parties during the Season and reporters approached Mina, thinking her Cora. “The New Yorker” did a fun article about Cora’s popularity in London and the mistaken identity craze between Cora and Mina. They even photographed them together … Listen, Cowboy, I shovel shit for a living, so I know what it smells like. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on here?” She asked.

“She’s dead …” He blurted out as if it was the answer to her question.

The old woman frowned. “What?” She didn’t know why, but a deep pang of hurt filled her when she heard him. The boy, morosely, turned and retrieved something from his pack.

“How do you know?” She asked in a grimace.

“Because …” The boy held in reverence a long crimson scarf in his hands that looked tattered and damaged. 

“I was there.”

Lady Sybil “Sybbie” Afton Branson: (Contested Viscountess of Downton Abbey/Heiress to Branson and Talbot Motors/ The Final Incarntion)

But then, in that very moment … she saw it.

“Sybbie … can you come here, baby?”

The girl frowned in puzzlement gliding toward the old woman’s hands. It was the dress of sapphire and silver, the white roses abloom she wore in her glossy raven tresses, and the morning tide of a beauty unrivaled but for golden and graceful Marigold only. She gently took the girl’s delicate face in her hands and looked into her near glowing cerulean eyes that were inquisitive. Then, it was clear as day who she was looking at.

It began in an enchanted forest with an angelic maiden of pre-history. Then, thousands of years later, came a lost, broken hearted, and desperate Princess of Byzantium, the last of that ancient race. There was Ilona Tepes, finer than all of the gold and silver in Wallachia, burned at the stake for her husband’s sins. Afterward came Mina Murray, kind, smart, and a tragic pawn in many a game of worldly consequence who died in the darkness of an evil temple many leagues under the fathom’s abyss. And now, raised gently and with boundless love in the fairy halls of Downton Abbey, there was Ms. Sybil Afton Branson.

Even as her thumb rubbed the little girl’s cheekbone cherishingly, the old woman looked up to the kid who stood off to the side clasping his fob watch in hand. Then, she saw the recognition in his blue eyes of her finally seeing what he had known all along. There were so many things unspoken in one acknowledging glance that drew both back to the pictures. Then, it was clear why the boy had done all of this, why he was so terribly invested in finding the answers to this repeating curse of doom or fate.

It was a great labor, a secret mission, and a case of lonesome obsession. Whatever tormented him, the chief of these emotions which drove him on was love and fear. He knew of the fate of all these women who had shared a greater destiny and doom. And it was by great love that he feared for Sybbie’s very future. He knew that whatever waited for her, there was greatness mingled with a matching sorrow whose ending was that of despair and ruin. What strength was in the boy, however little he knew of in himself, despite what others saw in great store, he would not allow these terrible things to happen to her. With all his power, he vowed to protect one whom he cherished above all things left to him in this world.

He would not fail to save a girl he loved, not this time … never again.

Conclusion - Of the fall of the House of Grantham and it’s exiled Heirs

Many lives of the ancient past and future yet lived flashed like a runaway train that rolled without break through the infinite whose tracks were lain through her mind, heart, and soul. Tears ran down the pale cheeks of this indefinitely young creature of surpassing loveliness. In her induced state, she was all of them at once. In her consciousness was each woman of regeneration since the days before days. But also, the final incarnation, whose betrayal in the arms of a Nazi husband from the beautiful grounds of their South American estate would lead to the fall of the House of Grantham and the beginning of “The Long Defeat” of its exiled heirs.

Yet, the adventurer’s mind was not on the plight of his future children. Nor did he comprehend their and his own betrayal by one whom he loves and would search vainly for in a terrible torment of many long years of despair after her capture during the war and disappearance afterward. And further still did he not know of the terrible evil that would be found this day, and ever afterward curse him and his line of descendants with its hatred and malice. Yet, if he did have the foresight and providence for such a moment … the youth would still not budge, nor give an inch. Even if all the suffering of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren swirled about him in a roar of sorrow and despair like a rolling river rapid, he still would not yield the maiden fair at any cost to himself or his kin.

This was clearly seen, but not yet respected by Professor James Moriarty.

(Taken from the Downton Abbey Fanfic “Medel an Gwyns”)

[blankdblank]

Harp Strings, Pebbles and Kings Pt 4

… @c-s-stars

Between her Husbands Mal rested still trying to hold back her tears as the image of her Cousin’s fallen Husband in the mural known to draw more than normal bouts of emotions from almost all that have stood before it. For years she’d heard the loving stories of Cel, all their childhood, their whirlwind trip to elope and horrific separation leaving her alone but bringing on the love notes and long distance continuation of the forbidden affair ending with a headline announcing the end of it. The softened ending always ringing far from the truth in Mal’s mind but never questioned to avoid her pain.

On his other side after a roll Kili eyed his Wife’s lost expression and asked, “Love? What’s wrong?”

Mal’s head turned to him as Fili stopped daydreaming about their tattoos and rolled to face her as well, “Just keep thinking about me pushing Jaqi in this. I had no idea what she was hiding from. I mean, for me, my ex just left, hers, he was tortured to death, she actually had something to hide from and I forced her to come out of her safe home.”

Fili’s hand folded around hers on her stomach while Kili wiped her cheeks saying, “No one is going to hurt her, or the twins.”

Fili, “Exactly! Uncle would never allow it!”

Mal, “They barely know each other, he’s got a kid too, he can’t just-…”

Kili kissed her cheek and turned her head to face his, “She is his One. Nothing and no one alive is going to be able to hurt her.”

Fili, “Not even mentioning how Thranduil has taken to her, and he rarely takes to anyone. Any threat comes to us he’ll be jumping in to help.”

They each took turns claiming kisses from her before their lips grazed to her cheeks and onto her neck again stirring the covers to be brushed back for another amorous round ending with the pair of them dipping to nuzzle their heads against her stomach. Both promising a great splurge of things to their unborn pebble or pebbles growing by the day.

Their promises broke off as a slam sounded at the door making the pair hastily cover their Wife and slip out of bed tugging on their pants while she got dressed letting them inspect what was going on.

…

A flight later after another day of sharing their last few chances alone in bed before heading out to Erebor. For what she hoped to sleep her mind kept racing towards what she was about to face when they arrived, at least until the hushed conversation from her Husbands about Jaqi’s humming. The thought perplexed her as to how they could imagine she had enchanted her harp or how anyone but Thorin could hear her voice through it, he was her One and weird things happen, but everyone? That thought was shaken from her head as she walked down the steps to the plane. With hands locked she joined the Princes through the large gate in the side of the massive Mountain, a single upward glance left her speechless at her inability to see the top miles above them.

Lowering her eyes they fell on the suit and dress clad Durins. Each one looking her over carefully on the walk to them, when they reached them however a smile cracked onto the raven haired Dam on the left of two women appearing as older versions of her wearing markers on broaches marking them as the former Queens of these lands. The smile grew and she claimed hugs from the Princes, who were passed around and greeted fully until Thorin and Jaqi arrived stealing their gazes that seemed far more intrigued than threatened at the possible stranger entering their lives. For all she guessed they were merely hoping that this next Wife would be better than the last, each looking the twins over pleased to see them so healthy and confirm for themselves at least that she could fulfill her duty as Queen to produce a Son.

The introductions went well and the long process of tours began while the sting of enforcing the thieving of Jaqi and her twins struck yet again. So with each lull and pause in the conversation she tried to slip away to try and think of how to make it up to her Cousin. By then the painful anxiety had split on how she would be taken to by the friendly yet cautious Durins. The longer she stayed however she saw them relaxing as she did actually meld with the pair famously, and in turn with them easing their worries and leaving them to lead the questions to how Mal and Jaqi had lived back in Bree, hoping to uncover some clues about this mysterious lost Princess. Descended from the First Elf and  High King of the Vanyar, obviously well matched with the King in the line from the First Dwarf.

Dinner was finished and finally this new apartment her Husbands had promised came into view. Tall green marble walls touching to marble floors with mahogany fireplace mantles and shelves built into sunken portions along the walls with a kitchen nearly making her drop to her knees. Then the beds, massive, coated in furs with four posters and canopies. Pretty much everything she had ever dreamed of when picturing herself a Princess growing up. A single giggle filled the room just moments before it muffled as a set of arms circled her and carried her off to bed through a fiery kiss. Clothes were done away with and eventually they slumped and drifted off after the recounting of their promises that things would calm down soon enough.

..

Breakfast didn’t even come close to this finger food delight. Thankfully she had been properly fed prior to the meeting hidden behind the promise of food, but a single arrival of a messenger ended that. A duo of fiery haired Dwarves walked in with a silvery haired one after them straightening the cardigan of the youngest of them. At once their eyes fell on Mal as Dis called her forward from the group towards the trio.

Dis, “Mal, this messenger says your belongings have been uncovered.”

Mal stepped forward eyeing the Dwarf with star shaped fiery red hair with a growing smile that stepped closer tugging her into a tight hug. “Little Ducky!” The other two Dwarves hugged her tightly as Dis looked on between glances at the stunned Princes now on their feet until catching Jaqi’s finger pointing downwards warning them to sit again. Releasing the Princess they formed their line again as she mumbled, “Ducky?” At once her eyes landed on the familiar jagged scar across the base of the jaw of the star shaped Dwarf making her gasp remembering her Cousins she used to live with when she was younger just after her Mom had passed. “Nori!”

Nori’s smile grew as he held out the bag he was holding and brought out the first box from inside, “Thought I’d lost it when I spotted Great Auntie Timi’s necklace.”

Instantly her hands clasped over her mouth as Dori lifted it and eased it around her neck, saying, “It should be here, where it belongs.”

Mal wiped her cheeks and smiled at him as his hand settled on her shoulder while Ori said, “We’ve found the lot, all from the list published, except Great Gramp’s letter opener, but Rundo over in the East circle said he bought it off a drifter and had it sent over, should be round in a day or so in the post.”

Nori, “So, this menace was rather a thick one, brought it all to the same shop mostly.” His smile deepened in his move to dry her other cheek after another tear slipped free, “No worries, we often get the best of the shops for our company.”

Dori grinned, “We are glad you’re in town finally, last we’d heard you were off in Orcarni with Gramps.”

.

With a smile she led the trio over to join the group introducing her Cousins to her Husbands and new relatives before she jumped on the chance to see their company, Cloak and Dagger, the movie production company. With Dori heading the costume department and Ori heading the scripts with Nori in charge of the prop department it was mainly family ran but with recent marital changes there was a few spots needing to be filled. Huge grins grew on the trio’s faces as they heard more about their latest flic they were working on, and Dori posed an innocent question, “Cousin, we are a bit short handed, you wouldn’t still be interested in the costume business, would you?”

Nori let out a chuckle, “Ya, I remember you used to jump at any chance to stitch anything together.”

Dori nodded, “That toy drive for one, stitched up, oh what were they, a baboon and a walrus?”

Fili and Kili drew out their small loved stuffies, “Lion and Wolf actually.”

Nori let out a chuckle, “And you still have them!”

Dori gave a pleased clap at Mal’s blushing smile asking, “You still have those?”

Fili nodded as Kili said, “Took all we had but we insisted on buying these.”

Fili, “Just had to.”

Nori chuckled, “No wonder.” Drawing their eyes to him, “Must have been the buttons.”

The Princes’ brows rose and Ori added, “We kept running out of string, bit of a running joke in our clan.”

Nori, “Gran used to say when string runs out just wind a few strands of yer hair together for the odds and ends.”

Dori chuckled, “Though at five Mal took it a bit seriously I’m guessing. Probably what drew ya to her toys.” Making the pair smile as they pocketed their stuffies.

Mal wet her lips, “You’re certain you want me to help? I haven’t done anything this-.”

Dori patted her shoulder, “Have to start somewhere.” At that Mal grinned and nodded.

Kili, “How are you on set building?”

Nori grinned, “We could always use more hands Prince Kili.”

.

They had settled their futures in their minds, a future that would be a hard sell for what futures their clan and people had expected of them. A future feeling more and more foreign to what they truly imagined for themselves. Dis let out a sigh at the lunch peering at her Sons, “You still have your duties.”

Kili, “We can do both.”

Dis, “What if a film takes you out of Erebor, hmm? How will you handle it then?”

Fili, “Amad, we’ve got plenty of relatives and-.”

Dis, “You are the Crown-!”

Thorin drew in a breath lowering the empty bottle from Dove’s lips, “Dis, we’ve managed without the Princes for near over a year now. Mal is just at the end of her fourth month, if I’m not mistaken. By her size already it appears she is following her Hobbit side, meaning we have eight months to prep. How they spend this time is up to them, if the boys wish to support their pebbles by building sets I will allow it. They wished to choose their own lives, yes they are two of my heirs, but I will not have them moping about the palace between duties, especially when they are meant to be readying for Fatherhood.” His eyes locked with Vili’s noting his agreeing smirk, “Hobbits are born for multiples, they will be needing all the practice on standing on their own that they can get. A job of that caliber sounds perfect.”

The Princes’ faces lit up and they moved around the table gently hugging their Uncle then raced off with Mal in a giggling path to the door only to pause at Thorin stating, “Boys.” They turned to look at him, “Dain and Kain will be here tonight, shower and prep for your tattoos, Mal we will have to wait on yours but they have semi permanent ink to paint on if you wish.” She nodded and they turned to leave again to set up for their first day at the studio.

Easily they seeped into their new roles in the studio and loving patterns in their new home. Balancing prepping the nursery with date nights and loving gestures when they could manage it between shifts, truly feeling at home with what they had made of their lives so far. The first week was painful for the boys as they got used to their partial sleeves and let them heal but after that it was mainly their concern at Mal’s rapid growth and growing discomfort over the next few months at the chairs and positions needed to complete the tasks asked of her.

.

One morning, thankfully the first at the end of that project Mal couldn’t get out of bed and Doctors were called. Around her the Durins piled as they watched the screen on the portable ultrasound machine, in a clear voice the Doctor stated, “Well no wonder you’re in pain. You’ve been trying to work carrying not twins but quadruplets.”

The room fell silent except for a poorly muffled giggle from Jaqi in the corner of the bed. Now feeling the glare from her Cousin after having replayed their joking argument on how many Children she was actually expecting only making the bedridden Mother feel more anxious about her insecurities about being a Mother after having barely any time caring for babies at all. The glare died as she watched her Cousin’s hand dip to her stomach as her brows furrowed for a moment until she shook her head and peered at the twins asking for food.

The Doctor gave Mal a smile, “Shouldn’t be long now. Just try to spend this week relaxing, nothing straining or going too far on walks, try and keep your feet up. Take it easy and let me know if anything changes.” Nods went around the room as the whispers began about the four babies as Thorin turned curiously following his One to see where she and the Twins had gone off to before his next round of meetings.

…

Relax, sure, as if it was possible, if it wasn’t the cramps it was the nausea and swollen feet making it impossible to walk on her own, leaving the Princes to finish off the details of their nursery for the extra bodies still rapidly growing.

Paint splattered and spilled across the floor at the shriek coming from the sitting room after a cup broke at the painful first contraction. In a panic the whole clan raced to the Hospital after the midwife’s office had called in the transfer at the awkward direction the four had been tangled in trying to pick who came first. An emergency c section later after the Princes were forced to stand in two tape marked squares to keep from getting in the way, by Mal’s head four heirs were crying through their first baths, and trailed after by the Princes, at Mal’s order, to allow her a few moments to calm down on her own, until they were bundled and placed on their Mother’s chest in her new private room.

Smiles were found all around with one face missing in the bunch, in the sea of Dwarves Mal kept searching for Jaqi, for a moment as her in laws cooed over the two sets of twins, each bearing the hair of their Fathers her heart sank at her best friend she’d unknowingly been forcing away through her pregnancy and new job. Months now she’d shut down any advice or put aside the books she offered foolishly assuming she didn’t need her help. The once frequent evenings shared lounging and sharing all of their days between giggles and gushing over the now crawling Princess Dove and twins in full art mode after painting lessons from Dwalin now left to passing glances and awkward smiles across the table. The woman she could know all details of back in Bree. One she had no secrets from and greatly depended on for reminders of light in the world. A woman she somehow didn’t need or could find space for in her great new life worsening her mood until the door opened revealing the woman in question lowering the sleeve of her sweater from her elbow to her palm where she clutched it tightly and moved in to smile at the infants and Mal.

.

For the next hour the room emptied and even the Princes took an enforced break to head to the palace to shower and get some forgotten needs they would return with leaving just Jaqi at the foot of the bed helping Mal to swaddle the last of the four after their first changing. Carefully the infants were placed back into their bassinettes by the bed and Mal scooted and laid back against the stack of pillows behind her letting out a breath of relief at being able to sit comfortably again. Chuckling weakly Mal stated, “I missed this.”

Jaqi let out a weak chuckle folding her arms over her chest as her legs folded over to the left in front of her leaving her feet dangling off the bed, “Comfort is a great part to get back after birth.”

After a moment of averting her gaze Mal stated, “I owe you an apology.”

Jaqi shook her head, “Nah. I get it. Babies are daunting. You want to charge in and figure it out.”

“I feel like I’ve cut you out though.”

Jaqi shook her head again, “Not at all. We’re not locked in the same house alone is all. You’re happy, great job, two great Husbands doting on you.”

Mal lowly asked, “And what have I left you with?..”

Jaqi tilted her head for a moment, “Well you got the King an heir.”

Mal’s brow ticked up, “What?!”

Jaqi drew in a breath, “You can’t say anything, I haven’t even said it to him yet.”

Mal leaned forward and Jaqi scooted closer to her running her fingers through her hair brushing it over her back again, “Tell me everything! When did you two-?”

Jaqi shook her head and shrugged, “We haven’t even had a date.” Mal’s lips parted, “Maybe my sneezing comment wasn’t so far off, we’ve shared an apartment, meals, trade off watch of the little ones. The most that’s happened was I fell asleep on his arm once in story time!”

Mal, “Then how-, oh, right,”

Both, “Hobbit side.”

Jaqi scoffed, “You know, when you got put on bed rest I started getting this squishy feeling in my stomach, just shook it off, couldn’t be much.” Mal nodded, “Then I start getting these head aches around oatmeal again and then Bombur made this one smoothie and I almost didn’t get out of the room fast enough to get to the toilet. Sixteen tests later, I’m really pregnant, since we’re here I stopped in the lab and-.” She drew the printed results from her pocket, “I thought Oin was going to cry when he read it. He had to duck in a closet to hide from spilling it to Thorin when he left, so I figure I have a few hours and he’s gone off to a meeting. But I can’t tell him cuz he’s going to have to share it and you just gave birth! I can’t do that!”

Mal chuckled laying her hands on Jaqi’s arms, “You have to tell him, today! Please, take the heat off, I can’t go around being the new heir carrier, he’s absolutely floored by you,” her words paused for a moment, “How have you, not, had a date?”

Jaqi shrugged, “Even tried, now I was a bit drunk, ‘accidentally’ I ended up in nothing but my best lingerie on his bed, ‘napping’,”

Mal, “Ooh,”

Jaqi let out a breath, “He covered me up and slept on the couch.”

Mal rolled her eyes, “Should have just sat on his lap.”

Jaqi, “Tried that week before.” She shook her head, “Asked for help with a translation for a deal with Thranduil, right on his leg brushing my hand across his arm reading through it, and nothing. Damn Dwarves and their damn respect for boundaries.” She crossed her arms for a moment then uncrossed them crossing her legs leaning a bit closer to Mal, “I haven’t had sex since I got pregnant with the twins. Years, Mal! And he just struts about in near nothing with those muscles and those eyes and damn it all, I’m shoving him in a closet when I get back!”

Mal chuckled saying, “You do that.”

“No, no, I am pregnant, with that Adonis’ Child, or Children, he is going to have sex with me!”

Mal chuckled again, “It is only fair.”

Jaqi nodded, “It is!” The door opened and the Princes entered with arms full of blankets and stuffies and pillows and Mal’s favorite pajamas fresh from the wash staring at Jaqi when she slid off the bed saying to them, “You agree with me right?” They nodded sheepishly, “Right!” then crossed the room to the door as the Princes grinned settling everything on the foot of the bed missing Jaqi’s shudder at the thermos Kili opened for Mal saying, “Bombur sent us along with your favorite, peach cinnamon oatmeal.”

Mal chuckled and sent Jaqi a wave then eased back letting the guys fashion a nest around her while they helped her out of the hospital gown and into her pajamas between loving glances. Fili eyed her smile saying, “See, told you she’d understand.”

Kili nodded, “Right as rain with the pebbles out.”

Mal let out a squeak grabbing the two by the collars claiming kisses from them making them smirk curiously and for Fili to say, “Not certain what we did to earn that.”

Kili, “Whatever it is we will do it again for kisses like that.”

Mal wagged her finger drawing them closer and whispered, “You have to swear not to say.” Their brows rose then they mimed locking their lips and offered their pinkies to swear their silence, “Jaqi’s pregnant!” Their lips parted and they both laughed only to peer at the grumbling four babies then dipped to quieter tones settling around her asking for all the details wondering how their plan had been so successful without having even known the pair to have had a dinner alone without the little ones. All before melting into another round of loving lip locks and snuggling for as long a nap as they could manage until the first set of cries.

[justanoutlawfic]

Where You Lead: Here Comes The Son Pt. I

Summary: Henry and Jacinda have dinner with their estranged son.

Based on a prompt by @queen-of-the-merry-men, surrounding Henry and Mat having a falling out that lasts a couple of years. This takes place when Mat is 27, Henry is 49.

Also on AO3

Quiet.

 That was still something that Henry was getting used to.

 After 22 years of having the triplets under their roof, with the addition of little Wren coming later on, he wondered if he ever would get a moment’s peace. If there’d ever be a time where the girls weren’t arguing over who’s sweater belonged to whom or reprimanding Mat for sneaking in late. There were no more sounds of Barney or the Magic School Bus, the only toys were for their grandchildren when they came by. Family dinners were held at Belle’s, so the only times things ever got loud were when they had the occasional one there.

 Still, though, he never regretted stopping at three. He loved his kids, but coming home to his sexy wife and having it just be them was pretty damn nice too.

 “Honey, I’m home,” he called out, jokingly.

Jacinda’s laugh boomed from the kitchen, poking around the corner. “Hey babe. How was work?”

“Good. We got everything together on time.”

“Do you ever not?”

“No, but you know me…”

“Wren Gold’s grandson?”

 Henry flashed her a sad smile, looking at the entry way wall. It had the last family picture they would ever take, that would actually be complete. His grandfather stood front and center, his hand firmly on his cane. His hair was grey, there were tons of wrinkles, but he also had his namesake and great-great-grandchild on his hip and was smiling. Neal and Henry stood on either side of him, wearing matching suits, fulfilling the eldest Gold man’s lifelong dream. The triplets were in the front, lined up in a row with Melody beside Lucy. Alba and Gideon were also side by side, Emma and Belle not far behind with Gideon’s husband, Roderick and Alba’s wife, Raven with their respective kids. Neal and Emma’s other kids took up the space on the bottom, showing just how much their family had grown over the years and that DNA truly didn’t mean a damn thing.

 None of them could’ve imagined that just a few short months later, Wren would be gone. To Henry, he was immortal. Some kind of never aging God that could withstand anything. Sure, he had become a grandfather young and a great-grandfather not much older and that might have had something to do with it, but he just seemed to be there for everything. He saw Henry graduate high school, then college. Then, Wren had done the same for his great-grandchildren, supporting whatever they had wanted to do. Henry knew realistically that he wouldn’t live to see Xiomara’s daughter grow up, but he lived in ignorant bliss.

 He made it to 90 years old, before they found out about his heart. There were treatments and no expense was spared, but ultimately, he was gone. Wren’s spirit left the world, leaving his family to mourn the heavy loss.

 Henry shook it off, walking closer to his wife. “What’s for dinner? Anyone stopping through?”

“No, it’s just us. I’m making empanadas,” Jacinda said, kissing him once he reached the kitchen. “Lucy called, she and Mel are going to drop Sebastian off here tomorrow. It’s their anniversary.”

“Sounds good to me, they haven’t been out since he was born.”

“Exactly. Xo texted, Wren’s so excited for her first day of school.”

Henry grinned; he couldn’t believe his granddaughter was old enough for school. “That’s great. She’s going to be so smart. She’s a Tremaine-Cassidy-Gold after all.” He started walking to the fridge, opening it to grab a water.

“Also…Mat called.”

He froze, his hand hovering over the water. “Huh?”

“He um…said he has some news.”

“Oh.” Henry’s hand floated from the water over to the beer, grabbing one. “Wonder what it could be.” He cracked open the beer and took a long swig.

Jacinda sighed. “I don’t know, Henry, but he’s reaching out. That’s good, right?”

“Right, right. I’m glad he knows what a phone is.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Henry. Don’t. You are just as much at fault for what’s going on between you two.”

“Me?!? I’m not the one who…” He trailed off when he saw the look on his wife’s face, sighing. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to take this out on you. I know all of this has been hard on you and Mat’s relationship.”

Jacinda took a few steps forward, putting her hands on his hips. “This could be the start of something,” she whispered. “Maybe it’s an olive branch. Maybe you two can finally talk it out.”

“Maybe,” Henry mumbled. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss his son. God, he missed him. More than anything he wished Wren was still around so he could talk to his grandfather about what he went through those first 10 years of his life when Neal barely spoke to him. “When are we seeing him?”

“He wants to take us out to eat, Hugo’s.”

Henry gave a weird look. “Of course…willing to drop money…”

“Henry!”

“I’m going to be nice! I promise!”

“Good.” Jacinda turned back to her cooking. “Because this is a good thing.”

“A good thing,” Henry echoed, his eyes traveling to the fridge. Like the walls in their house, it was a shrine to their family. There was a picture of him and Mat, on his son’s prom night. He had helped him get ready, just as Neal had with him. They had so much fun, laughing and talking about his plans for the night. They once had such a great relationship. Things had gone wrong so long before “the incident” and he didn’t understand how.

***

Hugo’s was a place that Wren and Belle probably would’ve dragged them to once upon a time. High prices, tiny portions and a dress code. Men wore jackets, women were encouraged to be in skirts. A man played classical piano, the same tune throughout the night. It was the exact scene that one would expect from a Yale graduate. Yet, Henry had spent most of his time in places like Granny’s, in his jeans no less. Now, he was wearing a suit and tie, while Jacinda wore a nice dress, her hair curled.

 “Mom, Dad!”

 They turned to find Mat headed their way, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach the eyes. Henry had noticed that a lot the older his son got. He wore a suit-probably designer-and had his dark hair slicked down. At one point, he had curls that he inherited from both sides of his family, but he hardly let those show. When he leaned in to kiss Jacinda’s cheek, Henry could smell his overpowering cologne.

 “Hey baby,” Jacinda said, her voice light and happy. “You look great.”

“Me? Look at you! Smoking, Mom, truly.” He chuckled before turning to smack five with his dad. “Dad.”

Henry couldn’t believe Mat was acting as if nothing had happened, and yet, that seemed exactly like him. “Matias. It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Come sit. I’ve got the best seat in the house.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

 Mat and the hostess lead them over to a table by the window, a tad more private than the hustle and bustle of the busy middle. Henry watched as his son smiled and nodded to some people on the way to the table, clearly colleagues and partners.

 Taking after his father and grandfather, Mat had gone to an Ivy League school-though he had opted for Stanford. Getting a scholarship and other aid, he had pulled off a miracle by barely needing to borrow any money from his great-grandfather. While there, he had helped develop an app with some friends. It didn’t go very far, but with that experience, he was able to get a great job at a software development company in Manhattan.

 “So, how’s Tiffany?” Henry asked, settling down to look at the menu. He had to do his best to not bulge his eyes at the prices. Wren Gold was his grandfather, but he had been raised on McDonalds and Kraft mac & cheese.

Mat’s brows furrowed. “Broke up years ago, Dad.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that. She was nice.” The truth was, Henry had met her probably twice before Wren died. She was a skinny red head, who wore a diamond necklace to Granny’s and worried about getting mugged in front of Old Man Twickam’s house.

“Right…”

Jacinda cleared her throat, keeping a smile on her face. “So, Matty, how’s business?”

“It’s going great. We’ve been developing a new software for a medical company these past few months, so it’s taken up most of my time,” Mat explained, that not-smile returning. “And you? Xo told me that you expanded the daycare.”

 Henry listened to the two of them talk about Jacinda’s new business, but only half-heartedly. Eventually the waitress came over, and Mat took over the ordering. Henry barely recognized the son in front of him. Growing up, Mat had been shy, a bit of a recluse. In fact, he reminded Henry a lot of himself. Lucy and Xiomara were very active, taking stands for what they believed in. Mat ended up making a core group of friends in high school, but this charming, charismatic, flirt had emerged from college.

 “Now that we have that out of the way,” Mat said once the waitress walked off. “Let’s get to my news.”

“Yes, your mother said it was quite big.”

Mat nodded. For once, the smile slipped and he looked a bit serious. “I know I haven’t exactly been the world’s best uncle.”

“You were in college when Wren was born,” Jacinda assured him. “And Sebastian just came along. There’s time.”

“Well, I want to do more, be there.”

Henry tilted his head. “Are you moving back to Stars Hollow?”

“Oh no. However, I have been talking to Nana Belle a lot lately. She’s doing well, but with the twins out of the house, married and all, Pop-Pop’s place is just getting to be too big for her.”

 Henry and Jacinda nodded. Belle had mentioned that at one of the last family dinners. She had been looking into purchasing their vacation home on the Cape full time, but wasn’t sure what to do with the house. It had been Wren’s first step away from Malcolm. Emma and Neal didn’t need it much either, even the kids they had adopted were grown and they only took in emergency placements, focusing on the inn now that Granny had passed. The rest of the family either had no use for it or couldn’t afford it.

 “She wants to keep the house in the family, so she’s offered to sell it to me.”

Jacinda’s grin only widened. “Well, I think that’s great.”

Henry frowned. “But what about your job?”

“I can commute to the city. It’s only an hour, by car or train.”

“It’s far too big for you by yourself.”

“Well, hopefully one day I’ll be able to fill it with kids like Pop-Pop and Nana Belle did.”

 Henry didn’t say anything further, he just sipped on his water. He could feel the anger inside of him building. Deep down, he knew that he should be happy that the house was staying in the family, but of all the people for it to go to…

 He didn’t say much else as the night went on. Instead, Henry focused on his tiny portions, disgusting wine and half-listened to Jacinda’s questions about the move, him selling his loft on the Upper East Side and more. As he sat there, he realized that he had so much anger to his son, a boy that once lit up his heart and made him smile like no one else could. Now, he was just so disappointed and no matter how hard he tried…he just couldn’t shake it.

 Eventually, the dinner came to an end. Henry was irritated, tired, buzzed and still hungry. Mat paid the check and kissed his mom’s cheek, before patting his dad on the back. He said he’d be in touch, but in the meantime, he had to get back into the city due to an “early morning”. Jacinda handed Henry the valet tag, asking him to grab the car while she went to the bathroom.

 Henry made his way outside, handing the tag to the employee. As he stood there waiting, he noticed Mat was there as well, fiddling with a cigarette.

 “They always take forever,” he mumbled when he saw his father. “Great food, shit valet.”

“Surprise you grace them with your presence,” Henry muttered.

Mat chuckled, taking a drag. “Ya know, most fathers would be glad that their sons would be moving closer, but you?” He shook his head. “Only you would be upset.”

“I’m not upset, Mat.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.” He turned to his son. “I just don’t get why you’re interested in the house of the man that you couldn’t bother to come to the funeral for.”

Mat’s lips drew a firm line. “I thought we could get past this.”

“How?” Henry felt his body trembling. “Do you know what Grandpa meant to me? He put me through school, both prep and college. Without him, I probably wouldn’t have met your mother, you kids wouldn’t even be here.”

“I’ve heard the stories, Dad.”

Henry continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “I went to him for advice for so much. He was there for me, but most importantly, for all of you kids. He and Belle took you and your sisters on vacations, sleepovers, all of that. He loved you so damn much…and what do you do? You skip his funeral to attend a business trip in Tokyo.”

Mat bit his lip. “Dad…”

“But hey, don’t worry. At least we got fucking flowers, huh?”

 Mat exhaled, letting out some of the smoke he had just let in. He stared forward for a few minutes, the only sounds being the ambient noises of the restaurant behind them and the cicadas chirping in the warm, Connecticut summer air.

 “We’re doing this, huh?” Mat asked, and Henry realized he was talking to himself. “I guess we are.” He dropped the cigarette and fully faced his dad. “I talked to Pop-Pop ever day leading up to his death, ever since he got sick. I called him every single day, if I couldn’t see him in person that was.”

Henry folded his arms over his chest. “Okay?”

“You said he paid for your school, but you know he paid for mine too right? What I couldn’t. He also was the one person I could go to, for anything. He was my outlet, for my entire life.”

Henry felt his face fall and his muscles loosen. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Dad…did you ever stop to consider that I never told you what I wanted to be when I grow up?”

He paused for a moment. “When you were 5…you said you wanted to be a fireman.”

“I mean, seriously. As a teenager, you could tell that Xiomara wanted to be a lawyer, and that Lucy wanted to go into photography. But did you even know that I was interested in tech?”

“You never told me.”

“Did you ever ask?”

Henry fumbled over himself. “Well…I…” He trailed off. “We talked, about a lot of stuff.”

“I’m not denying that we did. You’d ask how my day was, but beyond “Good”, how much did you really hear?”

 Henry’s mouth dropped open. No, this wasn’t true. He knew his kids; he knew all of them. They all had a great relationship with one another, or at least they had before his son became a total snob obsessed with himself.

 “This is ridiculous. We had a good relationship, Mat. Up until you went to college, we were close. Then you got on this high horse and it was hard to get you down.”

Mat scoffed. “Right, of course that’s how you see it.”

 A black Cadillac, resembling his grandfather’s way too much, pulled up and the valet stepped out. Mat handed the guy some cash and walked over to the door, looking up at his dad.

“It was good seeing you, Dad. Say hi to Xiomara and Lucy for me.”

 He got into the car and drove away. Henry stood in the dust, feeling a mix of anger, confusion and mostly hurt.

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Shattered, Chapter 4

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editors Drucilla and BlueShifted!

TW: Suicide Idealization.

Ratface is a "new" addition to the story when it was made in my head, although by new I mean about a year or two.

Summary: As Minnie makes a major decision about her future, she finds an unusual ally for her journey.

Despair and agony didn't stop time, but they did make Minnie less aware that it was passing. When Minnie was put to bed, she didn't get up for hours, which turned into days. When her parents tried to speak to her, she didn't hear them. When Mama tried to put food in her mouth, she didn't acknowledge it. Although her body ached from hunger and grew sore from lack of movement, it seemed incredibly small compared to the pain in her heart. Mickey was gone, and it was her fault. In retrospect, everything was pointless.

Eating was pointless. Sleeping was pointless. Talking was pointless.

On day three of Minnie's mourning, Papa entered her room quietly and sat down on the bed, taking off his hat. He didn't say anything initially, thumbing the hat in his hands and observing his daughter who was becoming thinner by the day. When he finally thought of something to say, it was as if he was making it up off the top of his head. “You need to get up,” he said softly, not looking at her. “School's over soon... you'll have to start your new job. Sewing's a fine thing. We need all the help we can get with our clothes... we're not getting new material in. And your mother is wasting food if you won't eat it.”

He didn't think this would be enough to stir Minnie, and he was sadly correct. He reached out to touch her hand, squeeze it, but even that didn't get her to as much as look at him. He sighed deeply, getting up and placing his hat back on his head. “Better him than you, Minnie. You're a good girl. You always have been. What good does it do anyone if you lay here the rest of your days?” With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

Night had already fallen, and Papa and Mama went off to bed. But as Minnie lay there, she finally heard what someone had said – unfortunately, she understood it a different way. Yes, it wouldn't do anyone any good to lay there forever.

It wouldn't do anyone any good if she continued to exist.

She wordlessly rose from her bed, aware of what needed to be done. If everything was pointless, that included living. Why burden her parents? Why burden the village? Ultimately she had even been a burden to Mickey. If not for her, maybe he'd still be here. Without making a sound, she found the string to the attic, and pulled it down, climbing up the stairs to the forbidden room. It had become even mustier, and the singular window even dirtier. This time she paid no attention to the alluring mysteries of the room, and headed to the window with one goal in mind.

Yes, maybe from this height, she could...

The snow had stopped falling, though she couldn't say when. Didn't care, either. She stepped out into the night, letting the chill embrace her. If Mickey was dead, she'd merely be joining him. Yes, this was for the best, wasn't it? Everyone would be better off without her. She stepped onto the terrace, and then onto the edge, looking out across the village. Nothing here would ever change, even if one by one they were snatched away by the Snow Queen. Even if one girl ceased to be, it would still go on. No one would miss her. No one would care.

Everything would feel better if she just gave up.

She inhaled deeply – and then flinched as a harsh wind blew around her. It felt like a slap to the face, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a red petal fly in front of her.

The color stood out so brilliantly that it stopped Minnie completely. She blinked several times, assuring herself that it wasn't an illusion. But where had it come from? She faltered, and then fell backwards with a little “Oof!”, sitting on hard dirt. But what was dirt doing...? The memories came back all at once – Mickey's attempt at a garden.

There, surrounded by dozens of other dead attempts at the same flower, stood one singular red rose. It was even more beautiful than the illustration in Mickey's books, a red she'd never seen in any food or clothing before. She felt her mouth open in shock, and as she observed the area around the rare flower, she could see this hadn't been Mickey's first attempt. He'd dug various holes, planted many seeds, and although each one kept dying, he still attempted. He never told Minnie about this, perhaps not wanting to get her hopes up until he finally succeeded. How many times had he tried? Five? Ten? Twenty? She was losing count. And he'd done this for years, and years, and years.

An image came to her then, of little Mickey stubbornly making another dirty hole with his fingers and planting the seed, tucking it in gently with a proud smile on his face. He didn't have any proof it would work, yet he saw no reason to stop. He kept trying. He never gave up on it.

And he never gave up on Minnie, either. Even as the Snow Queen had loomed over him, he had told her to leave Minnie be.

Minnie heaved, and then covered her mouth for what she knew was to come – a scream. An agonizing, horrible scream as her body allowed her to properly grieve. Hot tears flooded her eyes, making the world a blur. Here she had been ready to throw away her life, when Mickey had done everything in his power to protect her. What had she been about to do? She choked hard on her sobs, wishing she could apologize to Mickey for her selfishness. He had been trying so hard to convey what she couldn't understand until this rose showed her – she had a reason to live, and he was that reason.

Her hands dropped, clenching the dirt. She couldn't go on living without him, so what was there to do? He wasn't going to return, no one ever came back from the Snow Queen's grasp. As her cries died down, her eyes staying on the rose, the rest of her mind began to settle. If one took away all obvious options, such as staying here and waiting, then... really, there was only one thing to do.

Minnie had to get Mickey back.

She blinked at the rose, not surprised when a slightly rational part of her chided this idea. What could a stupid, weak girl like her possibly do against the powerful Snow Queen? How would she even find the magical witch? What if she got a shard in her just like Mickey did? There were a million reasons not to do this. Yet they all seemed inconsequential to the one obvious truth.

Minnie wanted him back. So that was that.

After swallowing once, she brushed down her clothes, and then crept over to the rose. Mickey had left some tools around the garden, and she used his small pocketknife to chip away the thorns on the rose. With that accomplished, she plucked it out of the dirt and placed it behind her left ear. It would do well as a reminder of her goal, a part of him that was always with her.

She looked back at the window, and understood she had to do this now, and quickly. If her parents discovered what she was going to attempt, they'd surely stop her. No doubt the rest of the village would feel the same way. It was now or never. She came back to the window, crawling inside, and left the attic. She found her school satchel, and emptied the books out – she could only afford to grab a few things, and she didn't want to risk making too much noise and waking up her parents. She held onto Mickey's pocketknife, tucking it in first, along with a few vegetables for food. She didn't want to deprive her parents of anything necessary, and genuinely didn't know how long this would take.

With her satchel over her shoulders, she headed out into the snow. Minnie knew that the Snow Queen's sled had come from the woods, so, logically, she must go into the woods. Surely if she walked around long enough, she'd have to come across her lair eventually, even if it meant going all over the world. Her knowledge of what laid beyond the village was minimal, as the school hadn't seen any worth in teaching it. Part of her knew she was wholly unprepared, but she still walked forward, the world silent save for her footsteps crunching on powder.

After a certain point, they crunched something else. Minnie stopped and looked down, seeing a familiar glint buried beneath the snow. After a moment of hesitation, she bent down to dig it out – and there lay the necklace that Mickey had bought for her.

“Will you be my bride?”

She never gave him an answer. He deserved one. If she couldn't bring him back to the village, she could at least give him an answer. She brushed the snow off the necklace, seeing her unwanted reflection in the red, and tucked it into her satchel. She didn't feel she was worthy of wearing it. Not until she told Mickey what she wanted to say.

With that settled, Minnie continued walking towards the woods. She had never ventured in there before, and the closer she got, the taller the trees became. By the time she was definitely inside the woods, they seemed to stretch on forever into the heavens. She walked on, eyes flitting here and there, rather curious about this place she'd never reached before. She had expected to be frightened, and while she was, it didn't wholly consume her. She walked and walked and walked, walked as hunger began to nibble at her belly, as exhaustion tugged at her ankles, as sleep tried to nudge her eyelids.

She walked on as the sun began to rise, and the tree's shadows crisscrossed over her, and she felt an odd comfort in that. It was if the trees were watching over her, and giving their blessings for her journey. She knew it was a silly thought, but one Mickey would chuckle one. At first she heard him chuckling, but then realized what she was actually hearing – there was a rustle in the tree's branches in front of her.

Minnie slowed her walk to a stop, and it was only due to the dawn's sunlight that she saw what was making the sound. There, at a very low branch, was a large black raven, cleaning its wing with its beak. Minnie found herself smiling – animals were getting rarer to see with every passing year, so this was a treat. She observed the cute thing with its dark feathers and green eyes. The bird finished cleaning, and then met Minnie's eyes, blinking at her.

“Hello, pretty bird,” said Minnie.

“Hello, pretty girl,” said the bird.

Minnie almost walked on, except – wait a minute. She then whirled her head back to the tree, startled. While her education was severely limited, even she knew that birds weren't supposed to talk. She stared hard at the raven, wondering if she'd lost her mind. She was glad she was alone when she asked, “Did you just speak?”

“It would've been awfully rude if I didn't, don't you think?” the raven replied, leaning his head down to get a better look at her.

Minnie waited a bit, then pinched her cheek – this was real life, all right. “But... but birds don't talk.”

“And yet here I am, talking away.” The raven clicked his tongue. “You may be a pretty thing, but you're not terribly bright, I see. After all, what is a young one like you walking alone in these woods for?”

It was a fair question, and Minnie decided that trying to find sound reason in the bird's existence wouldn't get her anywhere. “I'm... The Snow Queen took my friend, so I'm going to bring him back.” It sounded so simple when she said it out loud, despite the very words themselves being impossible.

The raven appeared to think the same way, as after he was finished gawking at her, he began to laugh, one wing on his belly. “You? You think YOU can bring back one of the Snow Queen's prisoners?” He laughed more, hopping on the branch, and Minnie patiently waited for him to run out of breath. She was rather annoyed at his reaction, but couldn't blame him, so there was no use in getting angry about it. “What makes you think you can do what no one else has done? You're not even headed in the right direction!”

Minnie's eyes widened, and she sprinted towards the tree. “Does that mean you know where it is?”

The raven snapped his beak shut, and then looked away, pretending to be an average, ordinary bird. He even tried to chirp, but it sounded more like a grown adult mimicking a pitiful bird call than a real one. Minnie gave him a curt look, and he grumbled, “So what if I did know?”

“Oh please, pretty bird,” Minnie begged, her hands on the tree, trying to tippy-toe up to implore as best she could. “Please show me where the Snow Queen lives! I must get my friend back, I must tell him what he needs to hear!”

“And why should I do such a thing?” the raven asked her, its beady eyes squinting. “What can you do for me?”

It only occurred to Minnie now that she hadn't brought any money or anything truly worth exchanging. She felt dumber than ever, and fished around in her satchel for something she hoped a bird would crave. “I have some tasty vegetables!”

“Pass. I'm full.”

“How about a pocketknife?”

“Pass. My beak and my claws do plenty.”

That left her with just the necklace, and Minnie was reluctant to part with it. She glanced at the raven, and then at the satchel, before closing it up and walking away. “All right. Goodbye, pretty bird.”

The raven stared at her back, incredulous, and then jumped off the branch, flying to the next tree. “Hey, hey, hey! What's wrong with you? Aren't you mad at me?”

“No,” which wasn't entirely true, but as always, Minnie felt no need to feel. “I don't have anything to give you, so I'll just have to find her myself.”

“You'll never find her on your own! You'll wither and die long before that! If you had any brains between those big ears of yours, you'd go back home.” But no matter how much he insulted her and informed her about chances that she was more than well aware of, she didn't stop. Minnie continued to walk on, face forward, never looking back. The raven flitted from tree to tree, and Minnie found herself walking towards the trees he occupied.

Was she just lonely, or was he leading her around? Minnie quietly hoped he wasn't trying to take her back to the village, but to her relief, they came upon a riverbank. A few empty wooden fishing boats lay on the shore with abandoned nets, with Minnie remembering that the fish supply was getting low. The raven flew to the closest boat and sat on the edge. “See, you'll never get anywhere now. The river is barely moving. It'll take you forever and a half to get there, you'll never last.”

Minnie raised her eyebrows. “I was thinking of walking along the river's edge. Are you saying it's faster to get there by boat?” When the raven said nothing, she spoke again. “I think you do actually want to help me, pretty bird. You're just being very silly about it. Would you like to come with me?”

“What I said still stands,” the raven huffed, turning his cheek away, ruffling his black feathers. “Look at the river, it's at a standstill. You can't force the tide. You'll have to walk, and then you'll get tired and cry and give up. You people aren't made for the stuff it takes.”

Didn't that just raise a whole new field of questions? But Minnie was certain if she tried to ask directly, the raven would dodge them. She looked at the river, and then approached it until the water almost touched her shoes. She saw herself reflected in the clear water, and thought, and thought, and thought.

“Do you know what they call your village?” the raven asked, leaning back and forth on the boat. “They say it's the land of the walking corpses. You people may as well be dead already, if not on the outside.” Minnie didn't know if this was true, or if he was just trying to rile her up. He certainly was a strange one, and thus Minnie decided she had to embrace just how weird her entire trip was going to be. It gave her an odd sense of freedom, and she nodded to herself.

“Maybe if I give the river something, it'll help me,” she decided out loud.

The raven stared at her, and then scoffed. “Give the river something? You are truly insane, pretty girl. What sort of gift could a river want?”

Minnie couldn't imagine a river could want, but that wasn't the point of the gesture. She thought of the villagers who complained when they lost things when fishing, only to be educated by their peers that complaining would solve nothing, they should be grateful for what they kept, so on and so forth. “People lose things by accident in the water,” Minnie concluded, and then bent over. “But no one's ever given you anything on purpose, have they?”

The raven shook his head. “The girl's talking to a river. What a loon.”

Unfazed, Minnie went on. “It's not much, but it's what I can afford to give you. I don't know if you can take me all the way to where the Snow Queen is... but if you could give me any sort of help, I would be grateful. My friend was taken away, and he asked me something very important. I need to give him an answer.” With that, she slid off her shoes, and pushed them into the water.

“That's not going to...” The raven began, trailing off as the shoes floated in the water, and then were pushed back onto the dry shore.

Minnie took a deep breath. “Please, river! Please, take them. I must see my friend again, please, please!” She bent her head low, and the raven noted this was the first spot of emotion, aside from surprise, he'd seen from her.

The water pushed forward, and then back, swallowing up the shoes. The river rippled, and then began to churn forward, slowly, and the boat the raven was sitting on began to rock. Minnie sighed in relief, and then began to climb into the boat. “Thank you very much, river. When I come home, I will tell everyone to clean you up.” The boat was small, simple, able to fit two, which for Minnie was more than enough. It floated quietly on the stream and began to leave the shore.

“That shouldn't have worked,” the raven grumbled, though he didn't move.

Minnie placed her satchel down on the bottom. “Maybe it was just good luck,” she offered in an attempt to appease her companion.

However, it did the opposite, as the bird suddenly jerked, and its green eyes hardened. “What... did you say?”

“I said, maybe it was just good luck?”

Suddenly the bird flew at her face, screeching, “DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT WORD AGAIN!” And Minnie gave a cry of surprise, gripping the boat's side so she wouldn't fall out.

“W-what word?” She stammered, worried he might try to claw her face with his sharp talons or his rough beak.

“LUCK!” he snapped at her, and although he came close to her eyes he didn't once hurt her. “Luck is the mindset of the fool! The epitome of stupidity! Anyone who relies on luck should be hung from their feet and made to suffer for all eternity! If you ever say that word in front of me again, I'll leave you and never return!” He then flew to the opposite end of the boat and sat, his wings shuddering, his back to her.

Minnie blinked slowly, natural curiosity making her wonder what in the world could have happened to him to make him despise such a word. She sat up slowly, smoothing down her dress, and tried to think of what to say. They floated along the river in silence for a moment. “I'm sorry,” she finally attempted. “I didn't mean to upset you, pretty bird. You have my word, I'll never say lu-... that word again.”

The raven turned his head, although he didn't look back at her yet. “I suppose you have little fault, you didn't know.” His voice was much softer now, and he appeared to be looking at his form in the water. When he spoke again, it was once more arrogant and haughty. “But if we're to do this impossible quest, you need to give me your name. Can't go calling you pretty girl all the time, it will give you a swelled head.”

Fair enough. Minnie sat up straighter. “My name is Minnie... but, then, what do I call you?”

Again, the raven looked at himself, and then with one hop, he turned around. “You will call me Ratface,” he declared, as if he thought it to be terribly clever.

Minnie blinked slowly. Whenever people discussed rats in her home, it was usually as a derogatory term. “Are you sure? It doesn't sound very nice.” It seemed very rude to call someone that, especially one who was going to help her, reluctant and strange though the help may be.

“It's what you will call me,” Ratface replied, waving a wing to dismiss the matter. “And I will respond to nothing else. If you can't handle that, you may as well go back home.”

She sighed quietly to herself. “Very well... Ratface.” In her mind's eye, she could see Mickey reacting to the raven with a mixture of annoyance and bemusement. She couldn't recognize that these were actually her own feelings, as they were so foreign. “Ratface, may I take a nap? I have not slept in some time, and if this is going to be such a long journey, I'd like to get some sleep. Will you wake me up when the boat has reached the shore?”

“I might,” Ratface said, and Minnie understood this was as good as she was going to get from him.

“Thank you, Ratface. For everything.” She then moved until she was on the floor of the small boat, and rested her head upon her satchel, her eyes closed. Ratface walked along the boat's edge, observing her quietly. His eyes were on her lips, which smiled so strangely, as if she could not tell she had been smiling. This was the sort of girl the world of the Snow Queen produced, so he thought. What would she have been like if there wasn't a Snow Queen?

Add that to his extremely long list of “what if”s. He waited until he saw the natural rise and fall of her chest, and then dipped his wing into the river. The water was warm, which didn't surprise him any. He'd lived long enough to know that the whole world was full of mysteries and monsters, and sometimes you'd never get an explanation for things. Some rivers listened. Some did not. Some people listened. Some did not.

He then walked quietly onto the boat's floor, and used his wet wing to lightly clean bits of Minnie's hair that been ravaged by her dormant stages of grief, and then smoothing it out with his beak. He then laid beside her, his dry wing covering her eyes so the sun wouldn't disturb her. He didn't sleep himself, didn't have to. He tried not to think of the “what if”s, and yet one inevitably came.

What if Minnie was the one?

~*~

Mickey had drifted in and out of consciousness during his capture, so it was impossible to tell how much time had passed since he arrived in... well, of that, he wasn't sure either. He seized onto this moment with all the strength he had, which was barely any, and as his vision tried to straighten, he saw himself reflected everywhere – on the walls, on the ceiling, on the floor, as if he was surrounded by ice. He wasn't standing by his own will – the two riders of the sled were holding him up by the arms, not paying him any attention otherwise. He tried to find his voice, and it came out in harsh breaths. “Wh-who... are you...?”

But they didn't acknowledge him. Their blue eyes stayed ahead, unblinking, their touch as cold as death. He heard footsteps, which was easy – whatever this place was, it was so large and empty that any noise echoed endlessly. It was no great shock who the footsteps came from. The Snow Queen approached the trio, staff in hand, eyes on him. Mickey gave in to anger easily, and tried to wrestle his arms out of their grasp, but all it amounted to was a pathetic wiggling of his fingers. “Y-You...” It hurt to speak, yet he felt he must. “Can't make me... stop... loving her...”

“I can,” the Snow Queen said casually, and then she touched his cheek, her cold touch like daggers slicing his skin. “I must admit... you've held on longer than most. But in the end, you will be like all the others. If you give up now, the rest of this will go much smoother.”

Had Mickey the strength, he would have spat at her feet. Granted, had Mickey the strength, there was a lot he'd like to do. Instead, his body gave his strength to his eyes, which allowed him to see what lay beyond the icy walls – and horror grew inside his chest.

Soldiers, just like the ones at his sides, hundreds of them, men, women, old, young, staying absolutely still. All of them with the same blue eyes, and Mickey knew what his fate would be – what the fate of all those who had dared to love had been. What words could he say that they didn't say before their time was up? “Why...” he breathed, chest hitching. “Why are you... doing this? I just want her... to be happy... It's not fair...” It was childish at this point, but it was all he had.

The Snow Queen began her ritual, holding the staff with two hands, and the mirror began to glow. The crack in the glass began to spread. “One shard to freeze your mind...”

Whatever was to come next, there was no turning back. “You would understand, if you just... If you just... tried to love someone!”

The impact those words had on the Snow Queen was immediate – her entire body clenched, and there was a pain in her eyes so deep and wretched that took her away to a time years ago. No wonder this boy reminded her of - She staggered, teeth clenched, and when she spoke again, it was a hiss. “Two shards... to freeze your heart!”

So she had – this time the shard came without needing the third commandment, large and sharp as a knife, cutting off Mickey's thoughts so harshly he did not have the ability to scream. The color vanished from his fur, from his face, leaving nothing but white skin and blue eyes. But this transformation was much more painful, contorting the bones and muscles underneath until they were hard and cold, his clothes transforming into the armor that all the other soldiers donned. In his mind, he could see the village vanishing, his people vanishing, and Minnie, Minnie, Minnie, he wanted to call her name, to announce that nothing and no one could stop him from loving her, he just wanted to see her smile again, Minnie -

And then she was gone.

Mickey's head slumped forward... and then rose slowly, his body straightening up. The soldiers at his side released him. The Snow Queen breathed deeply, then softly, settling back into her calm demeanor. That had been nothing. She felt nothing. Anything the boy had tried to dredge up was dead and buried. What she was doing was her right. Love brought nothing but pain to this world, and it was her duty to eliminate it. She was saving this world.

The continuing winter and snow, that was punishment for those who continued to love. If everyone would just give up, they could see the greenery again. Yet there would always be fools, so there would always be suffering.

With that in mind, she raised her hand over the floor, and summoned up a new weapon for her new soldier – a blade of ice, and Mickey took it wordlessly. “As my newest soldier, you will prove your worth. There are lands that continue to defy me... and they will have to be punished.”

The staff began to shrink down, until the mirror could be held in her hands. With this, she could see all that she wished to see, and the mirror glowed before giving an image. “You will head for the Golden Kingdom, and you will take the princess.” The soldiers didn't respond, not that she expected them to, as the mirror showed the image of a young woman with yellow curls twirling around in a new blue dress.

The image then began to change, to show someone else, to show what she once wished to see – and she quickly threw it to the floor before she saw it. How bothersome, to think that her magic could still have flaws after all these years.

How bothersome to think that she could still have flaws after all these years. But they would be fixed. The world would be fixed. Even if it took her until the end of time, love would die.

Only then would the world know peace, and wasn't it the duty of any angel to give the world peace?

[lorelylantana]

Chapter 1: Catalyst

Sing, oh stars in the heavens above, and through me tell the story of that great warrior.

Tell me how she danced across the battlefield for the sake of her adopted country,

Sing the song of the storm of blades as she slashed through her enemies,

The story of her journey to that shining castle on a mountain,

Tell the tale of her rise to power and glory,

Sing of the . . .

Wait

No seriously, I think this is a problem.

See? This is the story I was telling you about.

It seems like a normal story to me.

It’s not I swear! Just keep watching.

Alright let’s get this over with so I can go back to being dead.

When you read the epics and hear the legends, you expect every great tale to have a remarkable beginning, some sort of sign or omen warning of turbulent times. Whenever I look back to that day I can't help but wonder at how unremarkable, how ordinary, that turning point was. One decision. One mistake to turn the tide.  And one mistake can bring entire civilizations to their knees. 

Or maybe I was just bound by destiny. Maybe, as arrogant as it may seem, I was born for this life of mine. All I know is, for better or worse, this is the day it starts.My mother was driving me to school on the way to her law firm when she spoke.

“Allie, sweetie, how is school going?” I looked up from putting the finishing touches on purple eyeshadow to glance at her.

“It’s going well, we started to read The Outsiders in English, and I’ve already read ahead,” she nodded, knowing that I usually did this with English assignments.

“Just don’t let that get in the way of completing the work from your other classes,” I smiled at her and assured her I wouldn’t.

“I’m worried about you, Allie, the principal called me yesterday and she said she suspects you’re being bullied. Is that true?”

I tensed, this was a conversation I had been dreading for months. I quickly recovered and put up a smile.

“I’m fine Mom, really. You shouldn’t be worried, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Just because you can handle something doesn’t mean you should.” 

I gazed out the window to avoid looking at her. I knew she was right, but I didn’t see a way to stop those teasing me. I tried everything they teach you to when you were a little kid. I tried being nice to them, and they scoffed. I tried to ignore them, but they kept coming, so I gave up on making peace. Now whenever someone tried to mock me I just found whatever flaw I could find and threw it back at them as fiercely as I could. Mom sighed, pulling into the drop off lot.

“Allie, I’m worried-”

“Just forget about it,” I snapped, not wanting the conversation to go on.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” 

I opened the car door to leave, relieved that I didn’t have to face anyone just yet. I strode toward the entrance, ready to begin the morning as I had every day for the past three years. I slammed the school doors open and the hall crowd quieted, turning to stare as I stepped inside. I stood and waited with one hand on my hip as the crowd lowered their eyes and parted for me, not wanting to be caught on my war path. Once clear, I continued on my way, black high heeled boots cracked against the floor as I made my way to the cafeteria, staring down anyone who dared to meet my eye. I took my seat at the center of my table, as always, to wait for the first bell to ring. 

When the harassment reached the point where my friends abandoned me, they stopped sitting at my lunch table. Back then, we sat at the back of the room, away from the eyes of teachers and hall monitors. Shortly after, I decided to move to the center of the cafeteria, I arrived before the clique that typically sat there, and when they saw me, they quickly migrated to the now vacant back table. Now I could always expect the center table to be empty for me each morning. 

Before I could relax, however, I was approached by the one person who made an effort to annoy me each morning.  He gave me a once over, noting my bodycon dress and leather jacket. He raised his eyebrows at the yellow carnation necklace I bought after reading a book on the language of flowers. 

“Impeccably dressed as always, I see. Really Alice why do you even bother? No amount of footwear will be able to drag you out of the rabbit hole you’ve fallen into.”

Word around school claimed Lance was the son of Genevieve Pendragon, the author that famously brought the Tales of King Arthur to life. In her novel series documenting a King in a country named England and claimed a throne by drawing a sword from a stone and went on to found an organization of knights that gathered around a round table. I admired her work but thought that her son could use a bit more revision before being released into the world. He didn’t bother me much at first but pretty soon he became the pack leader of those who got a kick out of toying with me. Lance wasn’t the cruelest of the culprits but he was certainly the most frequent. 

His popularity made him infuriating. He often looked down at me from the throne being a seemingly chivalrous scholar on the school soccer team bestowed upon him. His eyes in particular caught most girls’ attention. They were a dark, night sky blue, framed strands of smooth raven hair that seemed to captivate anyone he spoke to.

Unfortunately for him, that affect never had much sway over me. After all, his throne once belonged to me.

“What I do and don’t wear is none of your concern, Lance, and My name is Allie, not Alice. Get it right or go bother someone else,” I snapped, irritation making me harsher than usual. Lance recoiled, looking taken aback for a moment before recovering.

“Someone’s feisty today, hmm? It appears someone’s woken up on the wrong side of the looking glass.” 

Harmless as he was, that didn’t stop him from being obnoxious. It was really a shame though, because Alice in Wonderland was one of my favorite stories before he showed up. 

“Yes, it seems I did, I was unfortunate enough to land on the side with you in it.”

He looked as though he was about to respond before the bell rang. I hurried to get my bag in my locker and march to english class. I made it to my seat just in time and took out my copy of The Outsiders.

“Good morning class,” called Ms. Grean from her place at the front of the room, 

“Today we will be finding and analyzing examples of foreshadowing in the novel. Now when Ponyboy refers to the lit end of a cigarette-” 

A piece of paper landed on my notebook. All over the page there were crude drawings of white rabbits and card soldiers, at the top was an attempted depiction of me dressed as Alice in front of the Queen of Hearts. Below the caption said: ‘Off with her head!’ I sneered. I didn’t know who they thought they were dealing with, but a scrap of paper certainly wasn’t worth my time, especially if it was sent by a coward too rabbit hearted to sign their work. 

I casually got up to throw the paper away, wary of any attempts to trip me. Tossing the sheet into the recycle bin, I reaffirmed my disdain. After a few rounds of getting shoved into a corner by hostile groups of students a half-baked attempt at mockery was of little consequence.

The bell sounded the end of class and a reluctantly headed to P.E. As soon as I walked into the gym I saw the obstacles set up on the field inside the track. Mr. Barnes had the girls running exercises for the gymnastics unit while the boys took the pacer test inside, which I was grateful for, because it gave me a reprieve from Lance and his constant annoyances. My relief, as I was soon to find out, was short lived. It began when I was running laps around the track, taking care not to step in puddles left by the previous night’s storm. The track itself was mostly dry, with a few wet spots here and there. Along the edge, however, there was a large murky pool where the pavement dipped. I was wary of it because I was running along the outer ring of the track. I was coming up on it for the third time when a shout was heard over the girls’ pounding feet.

“Hey Alice! Long time no see!”I groaned. The voice belonged to none other than Rose Hart. She was built like an amazon and had  long red hair tied back in a braided bun. She was one of my main tormentors aside from Lance but where Lance acted out more often than Rose, her attacks were more severe, and often resulted in minor injuries. 

“For what must be the hundredth time, Rose, my name is Allie, not Alice.”  She only snorted as she continued to stalk toward me until we were at arm’s length. We were both the same age but she towered a full five inches over me at 5’9. I forced my face into an expression of apathy as she opened her mouth to retort.

“Are you sure, Allie? Because last time I checked you were as mad as a hatter, so the name Alice suits you better, don’t you think?” I clenched my jaw, normally these kind of remarks were standard practice, but I found they ground on my nerves more than usual today. 

“Rose I really admire your persistence in being pathetic but to be honest craning my neck to look down on you does grow tiring so could you go somewhere else? I don’t want to waste my time talking to you when there are more intelligent conversations to be had.” 

Rose’s face went blank, other than correcting my name, I never talked back to her in favor of ignoring her. All was quiet, but then I felt her hand grab my shoulder and shove me into the water behind me. I didn’t really think about what I did next; all I knew was that I was angry. For years I had been tormented, teased, and made fun of, but now I was done. I was done with so many days ruined by the humiliation, of constantly turning the other cheek. I was sick and tired of the burning feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I had to reign in my anger. If she wanted to fight then so be it. 

Before I could register the action I drew my leg back from my position on the ground and lashed out against her knee. She fell back with a yell but I was already up and walking away. I tracked muddy water into the gym as I made my way to the locker rooms. The boys had finished their test, and were resting as Mr. Barnes went outside so the girls could start their sit and reach test. I slipped his notice as he made his way behind me, so I stormed across the gym unhindered.

Lance came up to me as I was opening the door to the locker room, his face flushed with concern when he saw the state I was in. His words came out at a rush.

“Blades, Allie are you alright? You’re not injured are you?”

I bared my teeth at him and continued on, flicking my hair as I tore past him to splatter mud on his face before I yanked the door to the locker room open. Before crossing the room I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I saw my slightly upturned nose smeared with mud and brown eyes framed by raven hair that now hung in wet clumps around my face. My bangs came down above my eyebrows until it hung lower at the corner of my left eye.

 I spent more time than I would have liked analyzing my reflection. The longer I gazed at the mess the more I looked like someone down on their luck. I looked like someone who let themselves be pushed around so I stood up straight and began to clean my face. I turned away after wiping the mud from my face and went out the door. I had a brush in my bag. I fought back tears and gripped the locker door. 

I wouldn’t let myself fall apart. This had happened before and I would deal with it the same way I always did.  Instead of crying I walked around the side to the school where a dense forest grew and the sidewalk was trapped by grass that grew tall and unchecked. 

I searched the ground before I found a trail of flattened plants that marked where the thief broke off to walk in the forest. Whoever took my bag had emptied its contents and hung them along the trees, each item deeper in the wood than the last. The trail led pretty deep into the forest, ending with my necklace in the dirt. After fixing my necklace around my neck I sat down against a tree’s trunk, emotionally exhausted, and finally let myself cry. 

I looked like I didn’t care, like I was above all of the harassment, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t take its toll. How had I fallen so far? One day, I’m the talk of the town, then the next I’m a pariah. I refused to believe I was the problem, but being shut out still hurt everyday.

It doesn’t matter how badly it hurts, though, I refuse to break.

The air started to hum and I looked up, startled. The trees around me had changed. I didn’t recognize the woods anymore. It seemed as though the forest exploded with life. I could hear the flutter of birds wings and the wind rustling the leaves. 

The scent of fresh air felt intoxicating, a taste of spring in the midst of winter. My vision sharpened, the green of the trees and the rich blue of the flowers lining the forest becoming more vivid than ever before. I felt like I could grasp lightning in the sky and drag it crashing down to earth.

I stood there for a few moments, drunk on this newfound sense of power. I closed my eyes and felt the air hum with energy and crackle along my skin and settle in my palms and solidified. Startled I looked down at my hands to find each curled around a small dagger. It shouldn’t have been possible but somewhere in my bones I knew I made them. I knew how easy it would be to send blades flying into any target my eyes landed on.

I dropped the daggers like they were coals and backed away into a tree. I wasn’t bloodthirsty. I was a target of the bulk of the student body but I didn’t want to kill anyone.

Why did holding those daggers feel so comforting? So natural? 

“Hey, I found one,” called a gruff voice from behind me.

I whipped around, accidentally sending another blade in the direction of a voice. For a split second I was terrified I would kill the old man who spoke. His hand lashed out and the dagger froze in mid air, trapped in what looked like a glass bubble. The dagger twisted as his hand spun and brought it to his face for closer inspection.

“Nice craftsmanship, though I don’t really appreciate being attacked so early in the day. I haven’t even finished my coffee,” he grouched, waving a coffee cup in my direction with one hand while absentmindedly sending my dagger into the woods in the direction he pointed it at with the other. A squirrel scurried up him and settled on his shoulder and gazed at me without a trace of fear.

“What’s going on?” I asked with a quaking voice. The man took an obnoxiously drawn out sip of his drink before speaking. His clothes were strange, a black cloak covered a silver breastplate emblazoned with a black dragon and black trousers. A hood was drawn over pale purple eyes surrounded by smile lines.

“They didn’t brief you on this before they sent you over? I should report your world’s praetor.” he inquired with a raised brow. I shook my head. Not wanting to create anymore wayward weapons I curled my hands into fists and tucked them under my arms. His old lavender eyes softened.

“You poor thing, scared of your own magic. You must come from a stale world.”

“A what?” I quivered, still shaking.

“A stale world. That’s what we call places where magic doesn’t come naturally to humans. Magic is intuitive here, though every person has a different way of manifesting it,” his voice took on a strict, clipped tone, like he was talking to a recently recruited soldier. 

“Where is ‘here’?” I asked, calming down.

“We’re in Ivaline, the world that connects all worlds. More specifically speaking we’re in Spade, one of four countries.”

“Wait. How do I get home? I can’t stay here my mom and dad will be worried. I have to go back,” I stammered, sure this man would understand where I was coming from but he shook his head.

“It’s not quite so simple. Getting into Ivaline is easier then getting out. Ivaline connects all worlds, so most gateways between worlds lead into Ivaline. If you’ve seen doors shaped in trees or stones, or a shadow where it wasn’t supposed to be, that’s a gate. Stepping through it will put you to the country your most compatible with. Your soul’s drawn to it, see? The thing is in order to get back you have to know how to make a gateway in this world that leads to yours and from the looks of things you come from a stale world, so the connection between the two probably hasn’t been documented.”

“So I’m stuck here? I can’t leave?” I despaired as tears started to roll down my face. I looked down. A dagger formed in my palm at will only this time my hand shook 

“I hate to say it but you may not belong in your old world anymore.” The man’s voice was soft but stern, the voice of a parent when telling a child a harsh reality.

“What do you mean? Of course I belong there. It’s all I’ve ever known,” I protested with quivering lips only to have the man shake his head.“The magic within you has been unlocked. Brought to the surface. It’s a part of you now. Even if you returned right now that’s no guarantee you will be treated the same as you were when you left.”I threw the dagger into the ground.

“You think I don’t know what that feels like?” I sobbed, “I know what it’s like to be singled out. I can handle it.” The old man’s tilted his head and regarded me again.

“Just because you can handle something doesn’t mean you should.”My head snapped up. 

“What?”

“Facing adversity is admirable, yes, but if the challenge doesn’t benefit you it’s okay to leave it behind. If you don’t pick your battles wisely you may collapse from the strain when the one that matters begins,” he said and everything stopped. I looked to the sky, so blue and vast, not at all like the dreary clouds that hung over my school. My school, where everyone put me in their crosshairs. And all I did was take it.

Why did I do it? Up until now I seethed in my own indignation, furious with the world for dragging me down so low. But what if I let that anger go? Would it be easier? Could I be happy?

“Do . . . Do you think things could be different? Could things get better?” I asked, voice still broken and shaking from tears. The old man smiled.

“Now that’s up to you, now isn’t it?” the man said with a smile, and I smiled back.

“Yes, it is. Thank you,” I said as I wiped the last of the tears from my face.

“Good. Now what’s your name?” the old man asked, taking a small pouch from inside his cloak.“Allie. Allie Sage.”

“Pleased to meet you Miss Sage. The name’s Carrick. Now my job is to send new arrivals like yourself north, toward the Spade capital,” he introduced himself, pulling out a silver gauntlet as he did so. He took my hand then, slipping the cool metal over my forearm. The metal warped magically to fit my arm and was engraved with an eagle with its talons around a sword. On the end closer to my wrist there was a built in compass whose needle didn’t quite point north.

“What is it?” I asked.

“This marks you as a student bound for the Spade palace. This world is used to newcomers see? Other worlds have become accustomed to sending some of their youths to Ivaline every year, so every nation has their own policies in place for taking care of those newcomers and assimilating them into the population. Here in Spade you’re to travel towards the capital, where you’ll be trained in our lifestyle and eventually choose a trade. You’re to travel alone but the compass on that gauntlet twill point you in the direction of a family paid by the government to house you and buy any supplies you may need. The nearest town is Avanye, you’ll know it by the barracks and training fields. Off you go, and best of luck to you.” 

 This seems like a normal beginning to me. Good call going a few hours back in time by the way. Gives Allie some character before she becomes the protagonist.

Thanks, but the beginning isn’t the thing I was talking about, it happens later in the story, a couple books ahead. 

So why did you bring me so far back? Just show me when it happened.

I want you to get to know her first.

Why?

Because . . .

Because what?

We might have to bring her here.

. . . . What?

Just listen-

Are you insane? You know how dangerous that is?

That’s why I want you to watch. I think she can handle it.

But what could possibly justify making her a Tale Spinner? What did you see that was so bad?

Just watch her okay? 

Find out what kind of person she is before you judge.

 . . . Fine . . . 

--

Next

[naturesloopholed-a]

💌 for a LETTER.

💌  for a LETTER. my muse is going to walk into a certain death. send a symbol for their final message to your muse.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐈,

Please remember that I always will love you. You have been the best friend that I could ask for. Always have been at my side through thick and thin no matter how much I screw up. I might not always tell you how much you mean to me but I am doing it now before it is too late. When you are reading this letter, I will be going to save my pack, the people my mother fought tooth and nail for. I will not be making this out alive and that is okay because I am doing what a queen does for her people. I have always put others first, have risked my lifetime and time again for the damn Salvatore boarding house and never once getting a thank you but they deserved life, there were children in there that had families. Pedro, my dear little Pedro would always get a chance to grow up. He was innocent and I protected him like he was my child. It is a shame that a common cold took him from this earth if you could go to his mother’s house once a month and pray with his mother until she has lived out her days, that would mean a great deal. I promised her I would always remember her little boy and every month when I disappeared for a week, I was listening to a mother cry for her son. I am a daughter without a mother and she is a mother without a son. 

Anyways, do not come after me. I will make sure you end up alive in the end of this. I made this mess, I deserve to finish this. As for my pack, I guess I leave that to find a leader amongst themselves as I have no children to pass on the throne too. Isn’t it funny though? I am a full tribrid and I have no plans to walk this out alive (Because in all reality, I was never going to make it to twenty years old. I was never going to let myself go this far. Why do you think I let that monster stab me in the chest? I wanted it. I wanted to trigger one last parent of myself) I am running low on time here, Moroun with Freya, make sure she grows old and happy. Tell my Uncle Kol that his dark magic lessons were always the highlight of my day. Tell Josie that I always loved her and that Lizzie really isn’t that bad. Lizzie should know that she is so much more than she gives herself credit for. That I will be watching these two in peace. Davina can have my spellbooks with the complex spells I have made myself as I am a master at spells like my grandmother.  As much as I hate the Salvatore’s school’s treatment of Mikaelsons, I want the money in my safe to go to them. Lizzie and Josie will do great things for that school in the future. Young witches, werewolves, and vampires deserve a safe place. There are twenty vials of my blood in my safe as well. Keep five for yourself in case you piss off a werewolf someday. While the host isn’t going to be there, maybe it will save you if you ever need it. Freya can have the rest for spells that need Mikaelson blood, maybe even blood that is solely mine so that the only way someone can get into something is with my blood. Tell Rebekah that she can have her tairas back that she gave to me as a little girl because I was a princess. Give Marcel my paintings plus my Mikaelson necklace because he is a Mikaelson, and take whatever you want from my room and there is a daylight ring made just for you that no one else can wear or else they will burn into ash when the sun hits them. Take care of Aliester and Raven. They were the best immortal pets a tribrid could ask for.

I love you. I wish that I had done things right in this lifetime. I wish I hate saved my parents, had been a better daughter, had told everyone that I loved them a thousand times more. I wish I had spent more time with you watching cartoons like Frozen and laughing at your stories. Do not mourn me for long. I am the one and only tribrid, this was bound to happen someday, everyone wanted me dead from day one and now they are getting their chance. 

Safe combo is a drop of my blood onto the lock and then put in my birthday, next my mother’s and after that my father’s (Or the date I celebrated it. The date should be on the drawings hidden under my bed that I did for him over the years). I spelled this safe to make people have to put in three different codes and use my blood. Combos first and then blood second or it won’t work. Also, you must open it on a fall moon.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 🎔

The note was left on Ali’s bed in the early morning hours when she wasn’t there. Letter neatly folded and set on top of fluffy pillows. Inside the folded envelope laid two things. Her mother’s necklace (She wore her Mikaelson necklace to die). her mother was a born fighter and she will always keep her close to her heart even in her last breath of air. The Mikaelson necklace goes to Marcel in the end. The second thing was another daylight ring that was more stylish and costume for her friend. Hope used Ali’s blood to make it so that only Ali could ever wear this if a vampire tried to take it from her finger they would burn in the sun later.

Hope died putting up a hell of a fight, one that she won before she plunged a knife (One just for her, only could kill her) right into her chest, hitting her ribs, breaking one (or two, she doesn’t know) in the process, digging into her heart. She fell on the ground of the woods, dying in a place of nature which wasn’t fitting as she was an abomination to nature but at the same time it was because she was a wolf and a witch. Her enemies scattered around her, all dead. She desiccates early the morning after she left the note, the morning birds chirping and oddly enough just a day before her 20th birthday. She dies with a smile on her face because she had proved that she was good. She didn’t take the world down with her like she wanted to do at 15 when her parents died. She didn’t let the world burn, she let the world prosper. She won and her enemies are dead. They will not hurt her pack, her family anymore. She won and that is all that mattered.

.                                         𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍.

.                                   𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑. 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀. 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃.

                                       𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟐 - 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝐒𝐓 𝟐𝟎𝟑𝟐

[c-bani-mation]

Necklaces and Butterflies

Rating: Mature(M)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Relationships: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Alya Cesaire/Nino Lahiffe, Tom Dupain/ Sabine Cheng, Gabriel Agreste/Emilie Agreste, Tikki/Plagg

Language: English

Summary: 16 years ago two royal families came together to celebrate the birth of a princess. Things go terribly wrong and they’re forced to do the unthinkable.Through out the years Mari Dupain has questioned why her parents gave her up to servitude. Was it really to have her pay off their debt or was it something more?Nonetheless she dreams of the day she’s able to pack her bags and start a real life of her own as a seamstress, but when her family’s past begins to unfold before her how will this affect her? And how will a certain green eyed, golden haired prince play into this equation?

***WARNING THERE WILL BE VIOLENCE IN LATER CHAPTERS(But I’ll make sure to label the chapters that contain that, it won’t be for a while down the road)***

Note: This chapter is set just about 16 years after the happenings in the prologue(Note:This series contains multiple POVs(Point Of Views), the transition will always be titled.

                              Chapter 1(About 16 years later)

                                                        Mari’s POV

   Mari had no idea why Chloe was suddenly being nice to her, even if they were in public, Chloe would always insult and antagonize her. Mari was used to it by now, for as long as she could remember, she was serving the Bourgeois family. Chloe and her grew up together, much to Chloe’s disliking. So why would she out of the blue act as if they were on friendly terms? Mari huffed as she brought her ‘highness’ her tea.

   “Thank you, Mari. I really appreciate it.” Chloe gave one of her fake nice smiles to top it off. Mari scowled.

   “You’re welcome, Miss Bourgeois.” Mari curtsied to her mistress and turned to walk out of the parlor.

   “And where, may I ask, do you think you’re going?” Chloe questioned right before taking a sip of her tea, not even looking in Mari's direction.

   “I was-”

   “Did I dismiss you Mari?”

   “Ah, no Miss… you did not.”

   “So why did you see it appropriate to leave?”

   “I just thought-”

   “You don’t have the rights to think.”

   “But-” In a blink Mari was on the floor, clutching her beat red, stinging cheek, her long, curly, raven black locks hanging in her face as tears pricked her bluebell eyes.

   “You, servant, do not talk back to your mistress like that. If you think that I was being kind because I pitied you, you’re wrong. The prince is stopping by to have some tea with his closest friend and soon fiancé.” Chloe looked smugly down at Mari.

   “Miss Bourgeois, you already know that Prince Adrien is betrothed to Ladybug.”

   “Of course I know that, but as I’ve already told you I AM Ladybug! Now get back to your work, or else.” Chloe hissed. Mari stood and dusted herself off. Giving a curtsy to Chloe, she saw herself to the door stopping at the door frame.

   “Anything for you, Miss.” Mari spat. Right as she rounded the door frame, she ducked dodging a tea cup thrown at her by Chloe. Crashing, and shattering the tea cup and all of its’ contents onto the floor.

   “Clean that up, you clumsy fool!” Chloe yelled. Mari huffed and went to go get the cleaning supplies from the kitchen. As Mari was emerging from the kitchen with a broom, a mop, and a bucket, a not-so-distant squeal could be heard.

   “ADRIKINS!” Chloe’s screech was so high, Mari had no doubt that the nearby dogs could hear it. She looked up to the stairs to see a familiar blonde boy. Of course Mari recognized him, who wouldn’t recognize the prince? They made their way up stairs with Mari a little distance behind them. Chloe looked over her shoulder and gave her an evil smirk.

   “Please be careful of the horrid mess my clumsy maid caused. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” She batted her eyelashes and gave him a pout.

   “My apologies, Lady Bourgeois, Your Highness. I will see to that this blemish gets cleaned up right away.” She curtsied to the prince and then got on her knees to begin cleaning.

   “Please be careful with that glass, Miss. Wouldn’t want you to get cut.” Mari’s head shot straight up, just in time to see the prince himself getting on his knees to help her. Just as he was reaching for a piece of glass, Mari gasped and put her hand on his stopping him, something she could very well get imprisoned for.

   “Oh no! Your Highness, please do not take any notice onto me. I am nothing but your humble servant and if you were to get hurt on my watch I couldn’t live with myself. I will take care of it, nothing to worry about, Your Highness.” Mari looked straight into his emerald eyes and smiled. He gave her a kind, cheshire-like grin in return as he rose from his knees. Mari was trying to withhold a sneer from her face, she had always hated nobles with their snooty personalities and the way they would look down upon the common folk and treat them as less than human.

   “Thank you, Miss… uh. Pardon me, but what is your name?”

   “Mari Dupain, Your Highness.” Once again she curtsied before the prince. While her hair covered her face, she frowned and rolled her eyes, but quickly put on a fake sweet smile for the prince.

   “Mari,” He repeated, thoughtfulness flashed through his eyes. “Thank you, Miss Dupain. I wish you well.” He bowed, causing Mari’s face to flush. This exchange,however, did not go unnoticed by Chloe.

   “Adrien!” She snapped. “Quit talking to that lowly scum and pay attention to the important one! ME!” Chloe scowled, while Adrien’s eyes grew wide and he quirked an eyebrow.

   “Lowly scum? Chlo, why would you say that?” Chloe’s face broke out into a cold sweat. She laughed nervously.

   “Did I say that? What I meant to say was...uh...you better start cleaning up that mess, Mari. It would be a shame if it stained and Daddy were to find out.” Mari’s breathed hitched.

   “Of course, Lady Chloe, it would indeed be a shame.” Mari quickly started to put the large pieces of shattered china into her apron. Her brows were furrowed with worry and fear with sweat dripping down the back of her neck.

   “Then don’t doutle. Come on Adrien. Let us go to the sitting room.” Adrien looked to Mari over his shoulder with concern and confusion. She was too busy trying to clean up the broken tea cup to pay Adrien any attention. Adrien turned back around as he was dragged helplessly away by Chloe.

                                                     Adrien’s POV

   As Chloe lead Adrien to the sitting room for tea, he couldn’t help but be concerned for the well-being of that maid. She looked no older than himself, she was an attractive young woman too. Long hair that was so black it looked blue tied into a pink bow at the end, pale porcelain skin, wide bluebell eyes with obvious Asian heritage, and an off-white blouse tucked into a pink skirt with a white apron with a cherry blossom design on the corner of it. Though it wasn’t her appearance that was concerning to him, it was the fear in her eyes when Chloe had mentioned her father. Adrien’s face adorned a scowl as he was taken out of his thought by Chloe.

   “I am so glad you were able to come today, Adrien. You never have time for me anymore, it must be so refreshing to finally be able to spend time with people more of your status and not that monstrosity of a jester. I feel so bad for you Adrikins.” Adrien pushed the thoughts about the maid aside and looked at Chloe curiously.

   “You mean Nino?”

   “Whatever the low life’s name is.” Adrien frowned once more, which was becoming quite a common occurrence in Chloe’s presence.

   “Nino is my loyal friend. He’s just as good as any noble, if not better, Chloe.” She evidently found that thought amusing.

   “Of course he is Adrien,” She laughed. “and Mari’s not a maid, she’s actually a queen.”

   “Chloe, I’m serious. You need to treat people with more respect, even if they’re of a lower status.” This made her scoff.

   “Yeah, whatever, Adrien. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about something important.” Chloe sat down on the love-seat, still clinging onto Adrien’s arm.

   “Which is?” Her icy blue eyes light up like a candle flame. Adrien picked up a tea cup and took a sip.

   “About our wedding, of course!” Adrien promptly choked on the beverage and started to cough violently. Once he recovered, he gave Chloe a horrified look that she paid no mind to.

   “What?!” Chloe tisked.

   “We have to plan our upcoming wedding, I mean, I shall not settle for anything less than perfect. I still need a dress, yellowed trimmed of course and-”

   “Stop. You know very well that I’m already betrothed to the Princess Marinette.” Chloe nodded.

   “Of course I know that, I’m the one you’re marrying.”

   “Pardon?”

   “I’m Ladybug. Or, well, Marinette.” Adrien was done with this visit and he hadn’t even been there an hour yet.

    “Okay, first off, my father knew your mother when she was pregnant with you and she wasn’t Sabine Dupain-Cheng. Second, you look nothing like Tom or Sabine, you don’t even have any Asian features, you’re pure-blood french.”

   “Well, I obviously didn’t take after my parents, but that’s not that uncommon, Adrien.” He groaned.

   “Do you know what Chloe? I’m leaving. I’m sorry, I’m just spent with you right now.” Adrien pried Chloe off of him and started towards to the hallway.

  “But Adrikins!” Chloe cried out, making him cringe.

   “Good day, Miss Bourgeois.” He said sternly. Adrien quick walked down the hallway and looked over his shoulder to check if Chloe was following him or not. While doing so, he managed to run into something. Falling to the ground, he caught himself with his hands. Looking to what he had hit, he quickly realized the compromised situation he was stuck in. Trapped underneath him was the maid from earlier, Mari Dupain whose face was as red as a tomato. China shards has spilled all over her from the impact of the fall. Adrien suddenly became very aware that he had not made a move to get up for much too long.

   “Oh heavens! I am so sorry, Miss Dupain.I-”He stammered only to be interrupted.

   “There is no need to be sorry, Your Highness. It was completely my fault.” Adrien, for the what seemed like the twentieth time that day, frowned.

   “I-uh, No it wasn-”

   “ADRIKINS!” Adrien paled. Oh no, he thought, I need to get out of here.

   “I’m so sorry, but I-uh have to go...right now.” Adrien explained. Mari’s brow furrowed with concern as she watched him basically run to the door, with Chloe hot on his heels.

                                 Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter