#i have indeed caved solemn face

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

Warning; future chapters will include:

Graphic Violence, XXX content, Targcest, Spoilers, Canon depravity, death and war, troubling being afoot, menacing, mischief making, genocide, murder, blood, guts, dragons etc.

Word Count ~ 2k+

Index

i ●ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi● vii ● viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

Prelude ~

Princess Visenya Velaryon, had always been cited as a fair & bold creature. Born in 111AC, a smile that gleamed with mischief adorned her face, marking her most like her mother Rhaenyra. She was, indeed, the picture of a Valyrian Princess, the picture of her mother – with wide eyes and demure glances which hid the current of cunning beneath. She was a but harmless thing, playful at best, impish at worse; at least so far as her grandsire King Viserys thought. Proclaimed as the Laenor Velaryon’s only daughter – the Princess did not inherit her father’s deeper skin or the ringed seafoam shaded locks of Velaryon women. Visenya in fact, did not possess many of House Velaryon' traits, both of the body and mind she seemed of true Targaryen stock, and it was but her mother Rhaenyra who knew, the young princess indeed was just that. Visenya’s impish glares and taunts were alike to that of The Rouge Prince, and to the common Lord or Lady of the court, one might think she inherited such a trait from her mother’s uncle. However, other more insidious rumours deemed Visenya a bastard of Prince Daemon’s, conceived by her mother unknowingly, right before she had wed Ser Leanor. Such rumours would be deemed, most truthful.

i - 'Old Wounds'

123 AC ~

The Princess Visenya, having but defying her mothers’ orders found her way to the Dragonpits alone, once more. She snuck through the winding caverns the soft glow of firelight shading the stone walls, her crimson dress dragging along the volcanic sand below. It was a soothing place, she thought, the warmth of the air… the smell of dragonfire which would linger upon one’s flesh, the gentle growls, and mummers of stirring Dragons. A place in which only a Targaryen might feel at ease. However, it was not the mummers of waking dragons which echoed through the caves in which Visenya heard. Her head peaked, her brow furrowing in confusion as she heard stifled sobs. Wrathful sobs.

She walked with caution, following the solemn sound until she stumbled upon him. The silver haired boy with his knees to his chest, his fists tightly scrunched. She stopped, taking in the sight, a most startling one for the Princess. Aemond.

It was only but a few hours ago that she had heard of her half-brother’s marvellous prank, allying with their eldest Uncle, Prince Aegon; to give Prince Aemond a pig instead of a dragon, to lure and taunt him just to see his face fall from glee to humiliation. Visenya had coiled with hearty laughter as her brother’s recounted the story, she longed to have been there, to see the propitious Prince Aemond faulter. However, her joy was shortly curtailed as Aemond had stumbled upon the scene, the imprint of his stern furrow upon hearing Visenya’s laughter still within her mind. Indeed, the sight she saw before her now, was unlike his affectedly stern façade – it was weak, crumbling, hurt.

The young Princess approached him softly, her face washed with a slight uncertainty.

“Aemond?” Her voice echoed quietly.

Aemond lifted his chin. A thin veil of tears dampened his lashes, his eyes red, bloodshot, and heavy with sorrow. In response, the prince simply glanced down, his expression sullen.

"I’ve no interested in your gloating." He said.

The silver haired girl raised an eyebrow. Her mouth curved upwards in a bemused smirk. "Why would I gloat? It was a rather clever prank. Regardless, it was not I who did it."

The prince’s fists clenched. His knuckles turning white as he looked up at her, his grey eyes glaring. "Yet you snickered all the same, you all laughed at my expense! I cannot forget what you all did to me, how you all..." His voice trailed off, his gaze falling to his fists. When he looked back at her, there were fresh dampness under his cheeks as his expression turn bitter.

“Leave. I should not like you reporting back to your brothers the details of my misery.” His voice a low warning.

“I had no intention to.” Visenya raised her brow, her arms folded. As she looked upon the prince she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of pity, his gaze so bitter… so wrathful. She sighed, coming down to sit beside him.

“It was a mere jest. Do not tear yourself to bits over it. Your thoughts are far harsher than the truth of it.” Her attempt at sympathy making her cringe.

“You know nothing of my thoughts!” Aemond snapped.

The air settled between them for a moment, the silence brutal as she looked to him, her hand hesitantly placing itself on his shoulder. Aemond snapped his head, his eyes narrowing as he brushed her hand away.

“I do not need your pity.” His tone curt.

The princess rose, scoffing as she extended her hand to him below. “Get up.” She spoke promptly.

His face coiled with both refusal and confusion. “What?” He snapped.

“I said, get up. If you do not need my pity, so be it. But I cannot stand to listen to your whining any longer. Come, I am visiting Silverwing, and you shall be my torch bearer.” She smiled mischievously, her hand lifting him up, then walking to another torch mounted on the stone walls, using it’s flame to set hers alight.

Visenya walked back, forcing the rough trunk of wood into his hand. “No- “His voice grating as she then shoved her hand upon his mouth. His eyes wide with shock as she crooned into his face.

“Enough of your sulking. Come. You wish for a Dragon, no? Then you ought to learn how to tend to one.”

She pulled him with her, further into the dark caverns of the Dragonpit until they came to Silverwing’s lair. “Silverwing, māzigon naejot nyke.” Visenya cooed.  Silverwing, come to me.

The sudden shake of the earth bellow accompanied the grumbling of the large beast, her silver scales gleaming by the flickering torch light. Visenya turned, glancing at Aemond, his eyes like moons boring into her dragon.

She watched as he stepped back, his neck tilting upwards, the breeze hitting his silver hair. A smug smile came to Visenya’s lips as she turned to Aemond. His face was still set in stone, his gaze hardening as he watched the great beast. "So," the princess prompted, "Are you going to pet her? Or shall you remain sulking?”

Aemond's lips parted, he was about to make a snide remark before sighing. "Of course not." He walked closer to the dragon, standing a few feet away from her. The beast was enormous, the sheer size of her body dominating the wide cave, her lithe yet robust frame looming over the two young Targaryen’s. Silverwing's grey head looked down at him, her eyes narrowing. The prince had not stopped to wonder how the dragon would react. Aemond grumbled under his breath, then took a hesitant step forward. He looked at the dragon, its shining silver scales glinting in the dim light, his breathing hitched. The Prince could not help his anxiety, he had never been so close to a dragon before… never felt its hot breath warm his skin. He moved closer, swallowing a ball in his throat.

Aemond had taken another step forward when Silverwing's body rattled with warning, her low growls causing his steps to falter, his hand tightening on the base of the torch. He would not allow himself to look away, he would not show fear, nor would he retreat. The torch cast a long shadow upon the cave walls, Silverwing’s breath rapidly increasing as he moved closer, her nostrils flaring with each exhale. The dragon's eyes did not stray from the young prince, studying his every movement as Visenya let out a soft chuckle, revelling in his rattled stance.

"She shall not bite you." An amused smirk curled upon her lips. "Silverwing, māzigon." she cooed. The dragon's head turned, her eyes focusing on the princess before she did so.

"There, you see?" Visenya asked, she looked over to him, a small part of her finding the utmost enjoyment in the nervous expression he wore. The dragon raised her chin, letting out a soft whisp of hot air from her nostrils.

Visenya’s amusement brought no pleasure to Aemond, his expression taut, his neck tilting up to look at the dragon approaching him. The dragon halted, lowering its head almost appearing as though it were sneering at the young prince. Aemond stilled, taking one step back as Silverwing’s jaw neared him. Visenya’s eyes wide with an intrigue as she watched her dragon interact with her uncle. Silverwing was indeed, sizing him out. Aemond’s chest rose, and with that he stepped back once more, folding his arm as though he were unimpressed with the beast’s size. Silverwing giving out a soft huff as she moved, her large head nudging against Visenya.

“She was Queen Alysanne’s dragon.” Aemond spoke matter-of-factly.

“You know of her histories?” The princess raised her brow.

“Unlike you, I have decidedly taken an interest in our House’s legacy. It apart of our duty.” Aemond replied, firmly.

Visenya scoffed, turning as she sauntered towards him, her arms folded as a smug smile appeared upon her lips. “I am far too busy actually flying and tending to my dragon to have time to reading of other Targaryen’s doing the same.” Her voice haughty.

“I have yet to see you do such a thing.” He furrowed his brow in disbelief.

Aemond watched as Visenya placed a gentle hand upon Silverwing, whispering a soft farewell before they exited her lair, the princess spoke smugly, “Yes, well I do not expect you to pay much attention to my doings. Regardless, I am already rather adapt, Daemon said I did not need a saddle so-“

“Daemon?” Aemond raised his brow, and Visenya shrugged, nonchalantly about the fact. “Yes.”

The young prince furrowed his brow in deep disapproval, his stern demeanour returning as he stopped, Visenya turning as he spoke.

“Uncle should know better than to allow such a thing.” He barked. Visenya stepped forward scoffing. “So? Those bloody Maesters- “

Aemond stepped closer, his voice overlapping hers. “Those Maesters are doing their duty in making sure you are equipped to ride properly. You ought not to be going on saddleless joyrides with Uncle Daemon.” The Prince stared sharply, unyielding.

“Are you to tell on me?” The princess gritted her teeth.

A disenfranchised look came to Aemond’s face, he spoke more like a father scolding his daughter than a boy of her own age “Daemon is not fit to minding you. You are a Princess of the Relam, if anything were to happen-“

Princess Visenya’s eyes widened in both panic and fury, she could not have the precious time she spent with her father ruined by Aemond’s incessant need to dob. “But nothing did happen! If you dare speak a word of this I shall tell my brothers that I had caught you sobbing and sulking in the Dragonpits all by yourself… like a helpless, pathetic babe whining for its mother.” She interrupted.

“Do not dare.” He sneered, his gaze lowering.

“Swear you shall not tell.” Her voice raised, stern. Silence fell between the two as their gazes pierced into each other, they stood opposed in the darkened space. “Swear it.” Her tone sharp.

He said nothing, the silence lingered as he felt his strength faulter. “Fine.”

The two Targaryen’s did not speak again as they walked up out from the Pit’s entrance. Visenya’s eyes expanding in a deep trepidation as she was met with the folded arms of her mother, Rhaneyra’s face stern. “It may please you to know that you’ve had every guard and servant forced to abandon their duties so they may search for you.” Rhaneyra’s voice echoed at the carven entrance, her head tilted downwards as she gazed into the calculatedly soft eyes of her daughter.

“I had told you where I wished to go.” Visenya lowered her gaze in sweet self-admittance as her mother shook her head.

Rhaenyra spoke firmly to remind the young Princess her mother was indeed, well aware of her charmed tongue, often used to evade trouble. "And I had told you no more leisure trips to the Dragonpits without an escort.” Rhaneyra’s doubled down as the young Princess protested. “But mother- “

Rhaneyra’s tone softens as she steps forward, placing a hand upon her daughter's shoulder. “Visenya, I worry for you.”

Visenya turned her head, gesturing to the seemly meek Aemond which stood behind her “But I was not alone. Prince Aemond had accompanied me.” Visenya gave the young prince a narrowing gaze, subliminally signalling for him to nod; he did. The future Queen could not help but tilt her head, a small warmth in her chest as finally, it seemed there may be hope for some level of kinship between her own and Alicent’s children.

Rhaenyra regained focused once more, her voice almost lenient, “Aemond is but a year your prior and the King’s young son no less, tis not his duty to protect you. And while I am glad of the peace the two of you have forged...” Rhaenyra sighed softly, and shook her head a little, clearly unimpressed. “I will not have my only daughter risking her life to get to the Dragonpits, without a proper escort. The streets are most unpredictable, my girl.” She shuddered.

“I did not take the streets.” Visenya protested, a small smile upon her face as though the news would be pleasing to her.

Rhaenyra frowned, stepping forward to Aemond as her concern reignited as she gazed at them both, “You took the passages?" She leaned towards her daughter, her voice hushed so that her half-brother would not hear. "I ought to have the mind to bar you in your chambers until the moon turns!” Rhaneyra's tone hardened once more.

Visenya looked down, her gaze ruminating on the floor as her mother’s tone grew stern, there was a pause; she felt embarrassment coil within her, why must mother do this in front of him, she thought. Rhaenyra sighed as she noted her daughter’s meek demeanour she let her frustration dissipate, she did not dare scold her own child in front of her half-brother.  Aemond noticed the tension ease between them, he remained still, his arms held behind his back as he watched Visenya. Satisfaction bloomed within him; he’d never seen her so… passive.  

Rhaenyra yielded, her tone softening, “You must take an escort, sweet girl. I’ve little desire to strip you of your freedoms, so do not force me to do so.” Visenya looked up, her pale violet eyes meeting those of her mother, Rhaenyra placed a gentle hand upon her daughter’s head, stroking her silver hair.

Visenya gave a small and conceded, “Yes, mother…”

As the moment came to an end, Rhaneyra’s gaze came to the young green prince before her, Alicent’s son… her father’s son… her younger brother.

Aemond shuffled under his sister’s gaze, they had hardly ever spoken all he knew was that she bore bastards, that she was the King’s favoured child. Rhaenyra spoke again, clearing her throat. “Come, the both of you. I fear the Queen, has sent for your whereabouts, Aemond.”

With that, the three Targaryen's took to exit the Dragonpits, not another word was uttered.

○ii○

[jamesisasimp]

"If you could be anything in the world what would you be?"

"What?"

"You heard me, come on."

Barty remembers the conversation like it was yesterday.

"If you could be anything, your parents be damned, what would you wanna be?" he'd asked again, and Regulus had just looked exasperated, caught in the middle of a chapter of his book.

"I don't know," he'd shrugged. "You'd fucking laugh at me."

"What? No, I won't laugh. I promise." Regulus hadn't looked like he'd believed him. So, "I won't," Barty'd said again.

It had still taken a moment for Regulus to cave and tell him, "A writer. I'd be a writer."

"A writer?" Barty had asked, a grin spreading on his face.

"See? Fuck you, I told you you'd laugh!"

"I'm not laughing!" Barty had, indeed, laughed as he was saying it. "Okay. Why a writer?"

Regulus had shrugged again, book closed, something solemn in his features. "Because I can never say the right things out loud. It's better when I write them down."

And as Barty sits here now, firewhiskey in one hand and a book with sharp, perfect cursive on the cover reading 'Property of R.A.B.' in the other, he knows that this book has it all. Everything Regulus wanted to say but didn't, all the conversations they never got to have. Hell, there might even be a goodbye letter in there somewhere.

Barty could read it. Maybe he even should. But what good would it do? What closure would it bring him? How would it do anything but tear him up inside to find out that Regulus felt the same all this time and they missed their chance because they were both too stubborn to just fucking talk?

Or, worse, if he hadn't felt the same at all?

After all, Regulus is gone. And, as Barty tosses the book into the fireplace and watches the flames engulf the cover, he thinks that he doesn't deserve to read the words he was too much of a coward to ask to hear all those years ago.

[benjaminthewolfnsfw]

The Bully Rumbling Cave

Another trade story I wrote for @luci-voracious-blog, a crossover between Pikmin, and Ripper from total drama. Odd combination, I know, but it works.

****

The sun bore its rays down upon the open, grassy dirt grounds of the Sun-Speckled Terrace. The few, spread-out trees in the region swayed gently within the silent breeze, as the native birds chirped and warbled over the skies. The population of Pikmin in this region had been increasing significantly ever since the Rescue Corps had introduced new sub-species (such as Red Pikmin and Glow Pikmin) to the area. This meant that the recently imported Pikmin living in the terrace would have to learn how to adapt to their new environment, a process which had mostly been guided by the native sub-species themselves.

Thus, as one, singular, lone Red Pikmin apprehensively parted a clump of taller grass to peer through, a solemn “Wa-squee?” noise rang out a couple of centimeters from his miniscule form. Destined only to die out and sink down towards the sparsely-short-grass-covered dirt of the area now before him. The area in question was the one which featured many strange inorganic objects, such as the cube-shaped, brightly colored wood that wasn’t a part of any tree, nor bore any leaves, which no Pikmin had ever been able to fully comprehend.

The Red Pikmin eventually stepped through the aforementioned clump of grass, and took a moment to gaze around for his friends. It had only been a couple of minutes since he had last seen them. He knew they had gone somewhere behind the tree located closest to the strange tall, gray object standing firmly upon the forest floor, but where they could’ve gone after that was a complete and total mystery to the poor Red Pikmin. Since he had no other leads, however, it would only come as a natural decision that the tree would be the best place to go and search around for the moment. So, the tiny plant-like individual heaved out a high-pitched “Haaah~” before at last, he embarked upon the awfully long journey towards the tree, plodding along with his two thin, stumpy legs, and attentively scanning his surroundings for helpful details.

In the end, however, the unfortunate, miniscule, sole Red Pikmin would not even need to make it halfway, before all of the gigantic, horrific details that the teensy creature would possibly need to know decided to do the revealing all by himself.

*THUMP!*

“Eep? WAAAA!”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! OH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, LITTLE GUY? YA LOOKIN’ FOR ALL YOUR EQUALLY INSIGNIFICANT FRIENDS? OH WAIT! THAT’S RIGHT! I ATE ALL YOUR FRIENDS! *PFFFFFFFT*!”

Instantly petrifying the feeble Pikmin into stiffened paralysis as a considerable amount of rouge spit from the mocking fart noise succumb to gravity and landed down onto his stagnant form, it was thus only a matter of bending down and hauling the terrified Pikmin up by the leaf for the decidedly out-of-place Total Drama contestant known as Ripper. Forming a crooked and devious grin as he brought the tiny creature up to his face, Ripper wasted absolutely zero time in further traumatizing his prey by resuming his bout of vulgar yelling the very next moment.

“ALSO, YOU CAN’T UNDERSTAND ME ANYWAY, SO I’M SURE YOU WON’T MIND IF I GO AHEAD AND MAKE YOU USEFUL FOR SOMETHING!”

Now inescapably captured within the merciless grasp of the relative giant, the utterly shocked and wholly stunned Red Pikmin (who, indeed, couldn’t comprehend English), could only dangle there in horrific agony as his fate remained locked in the clutch of the humongous Ripper.

Steadily narrowing his eyes as he began to lift the Pikmin above his head, Ripper thus prepared himself for one last bout of self-serving screeching, before he revealed to his prey his fate.

“WELP, ENOUGH MESSING AROUND!”

he thus hollered out with a scoff,

“TIME TO JOIN THEM!”

The Red Pikmin, of course, had absolutely no way of understanding what Ripper was actually planning to do with him. All he had been able to determine thus far was that whoever this strange giant was, he was most definitely not a friend. It was for this exact reason then, that the miniature plant-like critter only began to freak out once the characteristically unlikable man finally parted his two jaws. Revealing at long last, his warm, slimy, pinkish, gaping maw.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Ripper teasingly let out with a still very prominent smirk on his face, rubbing his fingers between the Red Pikmin’s leaf, as said Pikmin, now knowing what Ripper wanted to do, naturally began to desperately flair around and squeal in nothing but pure terror for his very life.

“Awwwww, now isn’t that cute?” Ripper sarcastically, though slightly laboriously mumbled out from his still-open maw. “What, do you think you’re gonna make me feel sorry with that kind of begging?”

The Red Pikmin only continued to squeak and thrash around in utter hysteria.

“WELL TOO BAD FOR YOU! HAH!”

And with that, Ripper released his two fingers from the leaf, and observed the following seconds in pure bliss. His prey was now left with zero choice but to tumble downwards through the air, plunging past his widened jaws in due time, until eventually, landing on the tongue.

The instant that Ripper felt the impact on the middle of the squishy, wet muscle was the instant he snapped his jaws shut, and brought his head back down to its natural position. Not only was this to prevent any possibility of escape, but also to further distill unfiltered dread into the Red Pikmin, as he steadily raised his tongue up towards the maw’s very top.

The jittering Red Pikmin within could only give an instantaneous “EEE-WEEH!” noise upon sensing his leaf scraping against the rough ridges at the roof of Ripper’s maw. Due to this jolt, his being was no longer in a position where he could consciously process the area around him. Subconsciously, however, the poor, teeny creature’s chest, and the lower sides of all four limbs, were soaking up far more heat than the rest of his body, as they were right up against Ripper’s tongue. This was mostly the same with the sensation of wetness, but since several drops of thick saliva had been constantly dripping down onto his form from the hard palate above, the sense was not elusive to that region.

In terms of sound, Ripper had naturally been taking breaths in and out through his nose, which connected with the maw through the nasopharynx and trachea in the back. In true Ripper fashion, though, he had been deliberately increasing the intensity with which he took in and released said breaths, causing non-stop heavings of air to echo about the sealed chamber, only compounding the terror the Red Pikmin was experiencing, and ensuring it would only get worse once the plant-like-critter slid closer to up to Ripper’s pharynx.

In order to accomplish this further insulation of trauma, however, Ripper would first need to tilt his head back once again, causing the Red Pikmin within to slip just a little ways deeper upon the downwards sloping muscle of the tongue. Luckily for him, however, due to the fact that hard palate didn’t follow this curve, he wasn’t at risk of getting his leaf scraped up anymore. On the subject of the hard palate, though, Ripper on the outside was very well aware that if it was lowered down this far, as it currently was, his prey would not be able to get a preview of the pharynx, much less the laryngopharynx, until he was fully gulped down. As a result, Ripper raised up the natural roof of the maw to just as far as it could stretch, without parting the lips and allowing escape. Now, he was ready at last to swallow the Pikmin.

Back on the inside of the maw, it was only after this was completed that the unfortunate, doomed, poor Red Pikmin was able to view the swaying, plump, bulbous uvula, as it dangled down from the soft palate, in all its glory. Suddenly snapping his gaze directly upwards in a newfound, unexplainable fascination with the organ, the tiny, wide-eyed, minute being went on to give a transfixed “Aaaaaaaah!”, at the swaying sack of flesh which would naturally distract him temporarily from the fact that he was still sliding down the length of the tongue, whilst surrounded by the reverberating huffs of Ripper’s breathing.

The positively mesmerized Red Pikmin was only snapped back to reality, in fact, once the upwards shooting, high-pressure geyser of air expelling outwards from Ripper’s windpipe finally struck his miniature form.

“WHEEP!” the poor creature squealed out as he now stared down into the larynx, the multiple folds of the vocal cords wavering greatly, as Ripper let out a final villainous gaggle out towards his shuddering prey. A second later, at long last, the maniacal man’s epiglottis covered up the larynx’s entryway, so that the Pikmin would be squeezed into the upper esophageal sphincter instead, where the esophagus would guide him towards his stomach.

The Red Pikmin squeaked out a flurry of cries in visceral terror as the sphincter squelched him past the region of the pharynx, forcing him past the slim threads of prior hope, and leaving him quivering and trilling in despair, as the involuntary motions of peristalsis ensured his eventual arrival into the churning, deadly chamber below.

Due to the fact that his width was far lesser than the resting width of the esophagus, the experience of peristalsis for the Red Pikmin was not as claustrophobic as it would be for most hypothetical prey moving down. Each time the longitudinal muscles contracted at his feet and his head to push him further along, the region in the middle, (the muscles currently relaxed in their resting position), gave him just enough room to move his arms. Fruitlessly attempting to utilize this fact in order to stick himself in place by pushing against the esophageal walls, in irrational hopes of possibly halting his dreadful journey altogether, the slowly draining reserves of not just said hope but also sanity only continued to lower with each shove deeper into Ripper’s body. The Red Pikmin knew for a tentative fact that this action would not save him in the slightest. Yet as long as said fact remained tentative, and not absolute, he refused to give up his desperate trying.

Ripper on the outside was actually somewhat able to feel all this going on. And so, simply due to the fact that Ripper was Ripper, a heaving guffaw and an aggressive knee-slap was the singular possible instantaneous response that could have ever come out of the man. Heavy chortles from this display of attempted survival strained his lungs into panting and gagging. A couple of tears of unfathomable hilarity dripped outwards from his tear ducts to the ground, as he incessantly wheezed, now hunched over, both hands on his knees in wobbly elation. The Red Pikmin was, in turn, somewhat able to hear this within. It was, however, significantly muffled, and something which the tiny critter had absolutely no clue the meaning of, anyway. Utterly incomprehensible in almost exactly the same manner as the sudden deep pounding crescendoing by the second down ahead made no sense to the Pikmin either.

This pounding, of course, regardless of its unrecognizability to the Pikmin, was the thumping of Ripper’s human heart, the speed of which had significantly increased since the non-stop bout of cruel laughter had begun just a minute ago. The Red Pikmin squeaked forth a soft “Eep?” in confusion to this new sound, but still, was focused mainly on staying alive. Ultimately, however, the two centimeter tall, single, feeble, fragile Red Pikmin had absolutely no way to escape the inevitable. Due to the fact that Ripper’s heart was pounding harder than it normally would be, the Red Pikmin had been unable to detect the signature growling emulating from the stomach as the esophagus ensured he approached it. This, quite unfortunately, meant that the Pikmin had absolutely no clue when he was going to exit the esophagus until the lower esophageal sphincter finally entered into his view.

“EEP! WEE-EHE! EEEEEEE!” the ill-fated creature cried out, as the sphincter squelched him out, and into the cavernous, deadly chamber of Ripper’s gurgling stomach at last.

“WEEH-WEEH!” the Red Pikmin screeched out as he fell. Unable to see, well, anything, due to the lack of any light inside the stomach, there was absolutely nothing that he could do in order to preemptively prepare himself for the impact.

“EEK!” he yelped out upon the inescapable collision, causing, as a result, the poor Pikmin’s full being to wholly stall. Whatever he had ended up landing on, ( again, there was no way he could tell without light), it was somewhat squishy and damp, which meant that he was not immediately splattered into gunk upon the initial landing. Yet, the shock still thoroughly remained. Thus, the Red Pikmin remained unmoving, incapable of any complex thought for the moment. He had absolutely no idea how long he would remain this way. Nor did he have any idea that he lacked a way of knowing this in the first place.

****

“Eep?”

“Ee-woop?”

“Wah?”

“WAH! EEP-BA!”

“Woh~”

“Bee-wap! Ah-eee!”

It could have been anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours when the Red Pikmin could begin to comprehend these sounds once more. With his being still jolted and frazzled, the little critter was still unable to process every single one of the implications behind what, exactly, he was hearing. Yet, he still understood, but implicitly, what they were. And that, for him, was the realization that snapped him aware.

“WEEP!” he let out in startled excitement. In this oncoming bout of newfound energy, the Red Pikmin found himself nearly bouncing his way to his feet, giving a spontaneous “O?” in the midst, from the sudden observation that somehow there was now light around him. And then, when he landed, everything finally snapped into place.

“WEEEE!”

“AHH!”

“WEEP-WOOP!”

“BEEBEE!”

“WAAAH!”

The Red Pikmin was positively flooded with an onset, rushing feeling of glee. Blissfully bouncing up and down at the sight of his three Pikmin friends right before him, with his friends soon after following suit, the Red Pikmin only continued beeping rapidly in surgeing euphoria, whilst his Yellow Pikmin, Blue Pikmin, and Glow Pikmin friends squeaked back far more calmly at him; in order to swiftly fill in their friend on what, precisely, had happened after they had been initially separated.

Just as Ripper had screeched himself a while ago, the group of three had been previously captured and swallowed by the man, a little after they had gone behind the tree. Then, with the help of the Glow Pikmin’s bioluminescence, they had been wandering around the edge of the acid pool in the stomach (the Blue Pikmin figured out the liquid was acid the hard way, after initially dipping in his foot), yet were unable to find a way out.

Once he had been told all of this, the Red Pikmin gave an understanding: “Ah!” in response. That did explain quite a lot. Including the fact that he hadn’t been initially sizzled away in the acids upon his paralyzing entry.

A little while after the Red Pikmin had finished contemplating everything, then, due to the fact that they didn't really have any other options, the newfound group of four ultimately decided together that they needed to continue exploring, in hopes of finally discovering a way out.

Giving a firm nod to himself, then, and preparing his being for the journey ahead, the Red Pikmin thus gave a friendly motion towards the Glow Pikmin, who, due to his bioluminescence, had essentially become the leader by default.

Responding with a small nod of his own, and as a result, confirming that the group should get going again, the Glow Pikmin proceeded to float ahead of his three Piknin friends. His ghost-like tail went on to gently sway behind all of them, as they casually plodded behind in readied resolve.

****

“Haaaaaahhhhhhh~” The Red Pikmin sighed out rather lightly, his fall-exhausted, terror-recovering being hunched over just slightly as he continued.

The Blue Pikmin and Yellow Pikmin at his sides gave a slightly concerned “Wee?”at this sight, but the Red Pikmin only gently shook his head in response, knowing that finding an exit was far more important than stopping for a rest at the moment.

With his eyes now diverted down towards the rather squishy stomach floor, the Red Pikmin consequently examined its movements. On the floor, the muscles made occasional small, wave-like rippling movements. That was something which wasn’t exactly a large hindrance for any in the group, but nonetheless, it still ensured that everyone needed to pay attention, so they wouldn’t accidentally trip over one of the waves and splat downwards right onto their face. The Red Pikmin then glanced upwards towards his floating Glow Pikmin friend. Internally, he groaned just a bit, wishing tremendously that he could float just like him.

The path along the edge of the acid pool was wide enough that all three Pikmin in the back could move along on the same row without getting uncomfortably close to each other, but narrow enough to where the Glow Pikmin’s glow still illuminated the stomach wall to their left, as well as bit of the pool to their right. Shifting his eyes to the left first, the Red Pikmin was able to study the movements of said wall far more closely. The very first thing he noticed in doing this was that the walls’ motions were far more pronounced and frequent than that of the floor’s. Outwards, then inwards they churned, sometimes shoving against their own protruding, slickened parts as they did. When this happened, the air would be swiftly squeezed out of the region, causing a gurgle or glorping sound to be released.

Finally, the Red Pikmin gazed over to the right of the path, and onto the acid pool as a result. A horrific, visceral shudder jostled through his minute being as he did. The liquids really did appear water-like at first.

Tightening up his jittering body as he glanced down at the slight acid burn upon his Blue Pikmin buddy’s left foot, The Red Pikmin suppressed a squeak of fright, as his eyes glanced back over at the pool. Sloshing and churning around against the edges of the path the group was taking, the acids, upon a closer inspection of their motions, actually appeared to be the thing that was producing the most ambiance in the stomach. Not only with the swishing around of their contents, and the rapid sizzling away of any kind of solid object inside, but also with the growling which resulted whenever any air was sucked down into their waves. Spontaneously releasing upwards with a pop, the acids would only drag them back down again towards their depths. And thus, this dastardly cycle would repeat ad infinitum. Or, for just as long as the organ could operate. The Red Pikmin could not hold it back any longer.

Releasing a high-pitched, quivering “EEEEEEEEEEE!” after so long in the cruel water’s sight, The Red Pikmin shuddered visibly onto the rest of the Pikmin group. Eventually, he was met with a sympathetic “Aaaaah-” from his friends, with the Blue Pikmin even patting him on the back. This seemed to indicate for the Red Pikmin that his friends understood how he felt. They knew it was horrible, as well, and that now, they knew with absolute certainty that they did NOT want to go down there.

“Hu?” the Red Pikmin perked up in confusion. His three friends immediately, though silently, pointed over towards something that was out of his current line of sight, (since he was still hunching over significantly). Then, the Red Pikmin’s two pupils instantly dilated.

Though none of the Pikmin had any knowledge of its name, that was indeed the pylorus. The Glow Pikmin’s light illuminated its opening into the duodenum, allowing a lot of thoroughly digested chime to flow through. Eventually, the sphincter closed again, and the four Pikmin were left utterly speechless.

“Oooh-pea-waah?” the Yellow Pikmin eventually spoke, so the group could try to figure out what to do next. Between the traveling they had done before the Red Pikmin joined them, and all of the subsequent traveling thereafter, the group had essentially traversed the entire arc length of the path that lay just beyond the acid pool. The only potential exits they had discovered in all that time were the one that they had entered in from, and this newfound pylorus, which quite obviously did not lead outside.

So, then what were the four to do?

“Hmmm-ee-pah?” The Blue Pikmin suggested moments later.

“Aa-nee-haaah.” The Glow Pikmin responded to his friend. He was a little skeptical at first that the Blue Pikmin’s idea was any good, but still, it was a potential possibility.

“Wap-hee!” The Yellow Pikmin added in, reminding everyone that as long as they were stuck down here, causing their capturer pain was the very least they could do to get some recompense.

This comment immediately caused the Glow Pikmin to perk up. That was very true after all.

“EET! YEEWAH!” the Red Pikmin called out in realization. The other three immediately turned their attention towards him. The Red Pikmin proceeded to gently stroke his head stem and his leaf. And just like that, the other three Pikmin knew exactly what they needed to do.

****

“Ahhhhhhh……well. That was…expectedly easy.” Ripper boasted to himself with a scoff, as he placed both his hands over his abdomen.

At this point in time, Ripper had sat himself down up against the very tree that he’d ambushed the first three Pikmin behind. He’d placed his left leg over his right, and was now just purely enjoying himself. He was all but expecting the four tiny creatures he’d eaten to be fully digested and dead by now, and hardly expected any problems at all to pop up because of his consumption of all of said critters.

And that was when Ripper lurched upwards, whilst instinctively gasping in air.

“W-AH-WHA-” he attempted to formulate into a sentence through sudden abdominal pain.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON DOWN THERE?”

He finally managed to get the words out whilst viciously clutching his stomach, and rapidly breathing in and out in sheer agony.

“H OW-I-HUH? THIS DOESN’T MAKE SENSE AT ALL!”

Yet, to the four resilient Pikmin inside, it not only made total sense, but caused them to giggle out in glee as they continued to hop and slap about their stems, whipping them against Ripper’s stomach wall, as well as the floor which they had fallen on, in non-stop ecstasy and joy.

“WEE-HEE!”

“WA-HOO!”

“WEE-BEEEE!”

They continuously cried out to each other.

None of them knew whether this little affair would help them escape, or if they would still be stuck down here after its eventual closure. And yet, in the moment, none of that even mattered in the slightest. All that the four Pikmin cared about was the fact that their capturer, the one who had swallowed them whole, the one who was now collapsed face-first on the floor in writhing anguish, and the one who had never stopped for even a millisecond to truly think about his actions at all, was now facing consequences at last.

[heynowisavedyouright]

while clownpierce is on vacation and branzy has become cracked & feared & a prisoner i have to turn to a new duo and or ship as the deadliest player of the server and his emotional support guy

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

MUSIC OF EPISODE 5. BRING IT. THE ASYLUM. 

Episode 5: 

Weight of Hearts

The Cave

All Your Fault

Open the Door

Give Her a Call

The Inevitable

Más Allá Del Sol - Manuel Bonilla 

Rayess Bem - Love and Revenge -Sabah - Saat Saat

This. This fucking episode. The everything. But the music. THE MUSIC. THE FUCKING END CREDITS. 

So I’mma jump right in here. All of the composed songs are amazing. We have the repeated motif first heard in Welcome Travelers in the last episode. The slow mental creep of Marc’s walls crumbling and time slipping away. 

All of the quiet parts of this episode are so very quiet. The music is quiet. There is no building and overpowering chorus. There is no call of something more and beauty. 

We are deep inside the reason we are here and we must tread carefully for we are in the heart and it is fragile. 

Weight of Hearts

So solemn. So serious and sad. There’s a sound here that reminds me of church. Like a pipe organ quality that is brief and almost interrupted. He doesn’t know what his heart is worth or why it is unbalanced. All he knows is that it is unbalanced. Proving to him once and for all that he has been wrong this whole time. He is indeed broken. 

The Cave

It never stops amazing me how much the opening sounds like rain. You know immediately that there is trouble and this is where things go wrong. Slow steps build up as things quickly progress into a flash flood. Then it becomes unearthly in tone and slips into the familiar sad theme that starts to become more and more present in the songs. 

All Your Fault

Oh dear. The theme that has been slipping into the songs slowly is here, but it is so drawn out and slow that you almost don’t recognize it. It creeps. It slips in and out between the terrified quiet steps. Till the almost hopeful build up is quieted and silenced. 

Open the Door

And this is why it was silenced. The plucking unnerving theme is back. Several themes are back. Sadness, diminished hope. It all sounds like a terrified child curled in the corner and the way he can paint this visual with just this music is amazing. We hear the choir again and it struggles through the strings to rise up but never quite does. 

Give Her a Call

Steven my sweet ray of sunshine… It starts so hesitantly and quietly. Like a slow stumble down an empty street. Like looking at a phone with no one on the other side. This is where it’s all come to. A quiet breakdown. The other themes are gone. No ticking, no steps, no choir. The build up turns into this dark low sound. Steven is ready to see and what he sees is Marc crumbling away. Everything he’s believed is gone and suddenly he isn’t watching Marc break away, he’s forced to face himself in a way he was never prepared for. Himself in such strong denial and ignorance while just under the surface, Marc is suffering. Understanding is swift and he only lets himself experience the briefest of pain. There is more going on here than him and this is why he is here. 

I love this song. Somehow he managed to capture so much pain and build up and revelation in one short moment. 

The Inevitable

The fallout of it all. Just a moment of comfort and then the time is up. The boat is under attack and they have to fight. It’s chaotic and action pack sounding. Then a brief hopeful note as Steven fights back. He isn’t going to sit back and wait. It’s hopeful and still tense. Then over the side he goes… The familiar theme is back, Sadness and calm at the same time. A single stringed instrument sings out the theme now, Marc is alone and the scale suddenly balances. 

Más Allá Del Sol - Manuel Bonilla 

I was not expecting this song. This is an old song. 

This is a song that is sung at funerals. It's called "Beyond the Sun" in English. 

He is alone in the field of reeds, supposed to be at peace and happy at last. 

What's more telling is that he is beyond the sun. He is away from the moon, away from Khonshu, and bathed in the warm glowing light at last. 

While it's a christian song, it's about finding happiness beyond life. Trials and pain are over and now at last there is a home that is safe and full of love. 

The song continues over the opening of the end credits and we find ourselves in the field of reeds, but the moon is still there, a crescent and the field is dark. This is not the happy calm field it should be. 

Then it cuts to: 

Saat Saat - Remix version by Rayess Bek. 

We originally heard a glimpse of this song on the radio in the last episode (in it's original version). 

What's so absolutely special about this song? (Besides the fact that I was sitting there in absolute shock after watching Steven go over the boat and finding Marc in the fields and confirming that the episode was over and ALL THE TRAUMA that it caused me hence forth).... 

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS SONG. 

The original song is from a 1980s film called "The Night when the moon cried". The movie itself is pretty basic. Famous singer's car breaks down and she is picked up by a guy. She falls for him, he takes advantage of her fame. There's love and betrayal. (I think the song is actually a little older than the movie but the movie is what brought it out into fame. 

It’s actually a pretty famous song in Egypt and a lot of people recognized this song right away. The title of the song is obviously moon oriented and LOOK AT THAT TITLE. "When the moon cried". That in itself is gut punching in this setting. The album it’s off is “Love and revenge”. 

But then let's look at the song itself. 

Ready? (this is a very very rough translation)

Sometimes Sometimes 

I love my life and adore all the things. 

Sometimes Sometimes 

I feel how lonely I am and how there is no new word on my tongue. 

And how long I am not happy. I am not happy. 

Basically sometimes she loves her life and everything in it and sometimes she hates her life and herself. It’s a song about not being happy despite having moments of loving everything and everyone. 

I’m going to go cry now. Despite that calming song about being beyond the sun and finding happiness outside of life, we are shattered into THIS SONG. This is what lays beneath the surface. This is how Marc really feels. The contrast. This is him stripped down to his soul and despite being faced with true peace, he is utterly unhappy. 

I think I listened to this song on repeat for a month straight. I’m fine. 

As always, Go listen to this sound track! Find the old songs! Explore and come to your own love of the genius that is all of this music! 

[kettlequills]

prisoner of the skein 3

A03. TW: Morning After, post rough non-explicit sex. Consensual kink, biting, injury, some suicidal ideation, spiders, force-feeding, possessiveness and control, and unhealthy relationships, minors dni. FDB! Laat/LDB! Miraak: a morning in Whiterun.

Miraak woke with a groan. His body was a giant bruise. Sharp pain had him pressing his back flat into the furs before he got too adventurous about moving. Breezehome was dark and still, though Miraak could hear distantly the sounds of another busy spring day in Whiterun through the wooden walls. His silencing spells must have expired and jolted him from his rest, short though his gritty eyes told him it had been.

“Laataaz?” Miraak called weakly. He could not see the First Dragonborn lurking nearby, but that did not mean they weren’t there. It was unlike them to leave him if he was injured, even – especially – when they were the one who had done it.

His voice was raspy and his throat felt shredded. He remembered fragments of their activities, mostly overshadowed by the intensity of the sensations and how close he’d been to repeatedly passing out, but he didn’t remember screaming that much. Or whatever Laataaz had done to him was the sort of thing that felt like an excellent idea at the time, and when morning came, the consequences on his mortal body swiftly corrected the illusion. Well, until Laataaz looked at him that certain way again, all power and command and strength, and Miraak’s better judgement folded like a house of cards to kneel worshipfully at their feet.

With a crumpling sigh, the darkness stepped forward until it resolved into Laataaz, dim, dusty, robed thickly in cobwebs and expression hidden beneath their mournful mask. Miraak’s flicker at relief at the proof they had not left him alone in his vulnerability made his smile when he saw them bright, and Laataaz’s blurry shape wavered towards him like a moth craving the sun.

The bed dimpled under their heavy frame when they sat beside him, and his face turned towards the warmth of their thigh like a comet in orbit. He already knew to breathe through his mouth; no matter how much they washed, Laataaz’s perfume was one of dust, decay, and the strange, foul scent of poison. No matter how much he … felt for them, it was not a pleasant one.

He heard the soft clink of them working off their ancient gauntlets, then their bare hand placed in his hair. Too many fingers smoothed through it, untangling the knots that gritted there with the utmost delicacy. The strands almost seemed to pull loose without their touching them at all, and he shivered as he felt soft brushes against his ear that could have been hair dampened by sweat, or close clinging cobwebs feathered free of Laataaz’s sleeves.

“Can you walk?” Laataaz asked him, and though they spoke in no louder than a whisper Miraak heard the reverberations of their power in their Voice.

"I don't think so," he said. “I certainly don’t want to.”

"Poor dragon-fly," they sighed. They were very careful with how they touched him, using only the pads of their fingers in the lightest of caresses. It was a little ticklish, like the tiny feet of insects on his skin. It made the bruises they had left ache sweetly, and Miraak closed his eyes in longing. "You will have to travel today."

Miraak thought about it and then swore. Yes, he had promised to make another pilgrimage up to High Hrothgar. They’d been waiting for the weather to turn, but Balgruuf had begun to get a little impatient as Miraak’s craving for books read him out of house and hall, and his gentle reminders had become increasingly frequent. So Miraak had told Lydia to get ready, and they were set to leave that afternoon.

“What time is it?”

Laataaz ran their fingertips over the lit nerves of his neck, fascinated, as always, by the way the apple of his throat bobbed in a swallow. It was red and ripe from a sucked kiss and stung with the faint itchiness of venom that had escaped their cleaning efforts.

“Do I have time?” he pressed, and they nodded a slow assurance.

Miraak cursed himself for his indulgence in agreeing to have sex last night. Laataaz was never gentle (and when they were, it was worse) and had been loudly clear about their desire to push him far. It had been thrilling, at the time, as Miraak wondered with the vague excitement of sub-drop whether they were actually planning to kill him, or whether it might simply be a side-effect of whatever torturous pleasure brewing behind their onyx-chip eyes. He’d known they’d needed to leave the next day. And yet.

"Could you bring me some potions?" he asked, feeling very sorry for himself indeed and certainly not in a hurry to face Lydia’s judgemental gaze. Oh, she’d never said a word about this bad habit of Miraak’s, but a simple stern look was enough to redden his cheeks.

"Why not?" Laataaz murmured, and rose slowly, so the movement did not jostle him. They left their gauntlet by his side. Putting his hand under the blanket, Miraak edged it away from himself until the empty fingerholes punching through the gauntlet, where Laataaz’s knuckles should have been, stopped staring at him soullessly like dilapidated windows.

While they were gone, Miraak cast healing spells on himself. Even his magicka felt tired, and Miraak felt the tips of his ears warming as he recalled Laataaz commanding him to exert his magic to keep himself conscious through increasing overwhelm until he was so full, so flooded with it, that every nerve in his body thrummed gold and sharp. When they sunk their teeth into him then, it felt like their poison burned his very soul and he’d howled until he’d tasted iron. How they’d smiled with his blood running down their lips, and bit down harder.

Miraak wanted more than anything to feel it again.

Laataaz was worth any amount of Lydia’s stern looks. Who else could surprise him so consistently, teach him the things his body was capable of, time after time? It was like Laataaz had a secret map to the limits a Dragonborn’s body could reach.

Some souls do not take to the eating lightly, they told him when he dared to ask once, and he hadn’t known enough of what to do with that to bring it up afterwards.

Miraak bundled the blankets around his hips and sat up, cautiously. He flexed his magic and his wrists and hoped he’d remembered to pay the cart-driver in advance. He heard Laataaz’s heavy step before he saw them, and he was smiling again as they came in the door.

Pausing there, hands full of bottles and more dangling from threads of web, Laataaz looked at him for a long moment. They had to squint to make him out, he could tell from the way their body bent forward, the searching sadness of the mask’s face hiding their narrowed, light-stung eyes. They still hadn’t really recovered their vision, struggling to see in any-place brighter than candlelit caves, and Miraak suspected that whatever distance vision they once might have had was gone.

“Over here, and take that mask off,” he said, “Why are you in all that anyway? I thought you liked the other clothes I got you. You have worn them before.”

It came out a little more insecure than Miraak wanted it to, and Laataaz only tilted their head in response.

They approached the end of the bed and let their arms fall open so the bottles rolled free there, tussling with Miraak’s feet among the blankets. The slits of their mask never leaving his eyes, they lifted one hand and slowly, deliberately, unmasked themselves.

Miraak felt himself hold his breath, like he did every time, when the fabric of the hood slipped away down the slope of the horns and bared them to him.

Uncovered, Laataaz blinked rapidly, their eyes stinging with tears even with no candles lit. He ignored the scurrying speck of a spider hiding itself hurriedly under their collar and drank in the sight of them. Their face was taut with scars, their skin was ashen, and their eyes glittered with a cold violet darkness that reminded him of the frigid gaps between the stars. They had one brown eye left among the six on their face, their middle left. It was solemn in the dimness. The other four, two below, two above, normally kept closed as simply shadows, delicate bumps Miraak would feel if he traced over their scarred face. There were still clumps of hair nestled around the spearing wattle of the horns that ridged from their skull, but it was all so thickly matted with cobwebs that it seemed even unmasked they wore a grey veil between them and the world.

He leant forward to grab one of the bottles, but Laataaz stopped him with a small gesture. Instead, they moved to his side and with one hand cupped the back of his head, the other taking a bottle of healing potion from the bed, all without looking away from him. They popped the cork with their teeth and Miraak felt himself bite his tongue at the look of their enigmatic gaze.

“I can drink it myself,” he said in something even smaller than a whisper. A whimper, possibly, though Miraak would rather die than admit it.

Laataaz’s eyes narrowed, and their hold on the nape of his neck brushed to encircle his jaw instead. Firmly in place, Miraak hissed a breath that Laataaz leant forward to draw into their own lungs.

With that stolen breath, they agreed, “It would be a shame to lose this.” Their thumb dug into the knot of his jaw muscle and Miraak gulped around a moan.

Meaning clear, Laataaz held the cool glass of the bottle against his lips and encouraged his head to fall limply against their other hand. Miraak’s eyelids fluttered halfway shut as he yielded to it. His hands clenched and then smoothed in the blanket, rhythmically, like they belonged to someone else.

Staring up at them through his eyelashes as Laataaz fed him the potions, tipping them so he had to swallow quickly or choke, he lost himself in the searing galaxies of red, violet, black and brown of their eyes. He could see a droplet of welling venom at the corner of their parted lips, knew there must be more pooled in their mouth, for Miraak, from the picture he made as he obeyed them, and felt his own dry out. He wanted the burn of their kiss so badly he wanted to weep.

When the potion was gone, the last of it warming through his body, they tilted their head back to the potion bottles covering the bed as if to ask if he wanted more. He shook his head, then pressed the back of his hand against his eyes, struggling not to cry.

It was such a quintessentially Laataaz way to fulfil his request that it made him feel strange and dizzy, distant, like the soft cotton of their power had come over him and peeled him back to the creature Laataaz could always find in him, desperate, sensitive, longing. But it was not that which overwhelmed him, no, it was the way they knew exactly how far to tip the bottle so he could keep up, how patiently they watched him, the caution in how their hand left his hair without pulling out a single feather-fine strand on their ancient edges. It was odd look on their face, vaguely pained in a stunted echo of something he could only call care.

Miraak did not know why it brought tears to his eyes to see the ancient Dragon Priest attempt it, but he swallowed them manfully, and cleared his throat when Laataaz exhaled a sharp breath.

Pride forbade him to show them his face when they settled down on the bed next to him, soft and solid and warm where he was small and shaky. They reached out, and when Miraak’s stiff body only twisted away from them with unbearable embarrassment, Laataaz’s spine softened and they chased him with their own. Nuzzling their forehead into the crook of his neck, they surely parted their mouth, because Miraak felt venom drip sparks against the edge of his collarbone.

He gasped, and pinpointed the moment they absorbed the sound by the strange rumble of their chest. Their lips dragged in long, ragged, open-mouthed kisses that smeared searing fresh venom over his reddening skin. It burned like tingling fire-ants under the flesh, and he writhed, eyes screwed shut in the discomfort-near-pain that he prayed would never become easier to bear.

“No, Laataaz,” Miraak managed to get out, “No – we have to leave today, and neither of us will want to stop.”

Laataaz withdrew, but not far, an unreadable look in their eyes. Their arms curled round him and their veils kissed his cheek as they rested the side of their head against his own, pressing into him part of their weight. He closed his eyes and tentatively placed his hands over their shoulders. Laataaz tensed, and he held his breath. They exhaled in a silent puff of air. Very slightly, they leant into his touch, in tacit permission.

Feeling like he was petting a wild creature, Miraak stroked curiously, but carefully, along the lines of their neck, the tangle of the webs, the horns. After a moment, Laataaz pushed into him like an affectionate cat, and he squeezed the bony tips of the crest of horns. They were smoother than they looked, and felt neither cold, nor warm, like the tusks of mammoths. The leathery webbing between them was tough but flexible. He felt small spiders dance around his hands and kept his movements slow, not wanting to hurt any of them or provoke them to bite him.

Miraak still wasn’t sure to what extent Laataaz was connected to the spiders that lived on, and sometimes, he thought, in, their body. It was better, he felt, to err on the side of caution. Just in case, there was antivenom in the dresser table. He had learnt that lesson very quickly.

He had just begun to relax, thinking pleasantly of how nice it felt to have their warmth against him, the soothing burn of the venom on his neck, when they spoke. Still cheek-to-cheek, their voice made his tongue vibrate distractingly in his mouth.

“You should leave me here.”

“Leave you?” Miraak pulled back to look at them. They went unwillingly, shoulders stiff under his hands, and did not meet his gaze. “Why would I do that?”

“Your allies will not hearten to see me,” Laataaz said, quiet as web in the wind, “You will lose their loyalty if they know you resist consuming my soul.”

“The Greybeards won’t say anything, and I certainly don’t care if they do,” Miraak told them firmly.

He grasped their chin, thinking to redirect their eyes to meet his to reinforce his point, but their grip leapt to his wrist. They squeezed his wrist, too tight to be playful – painful enough to warn. All six of their eyes opened and stared at him, dared him. The intensity of the sight too much, Miraak let them go. Their face glittered like it was set with jewels with all six eyes open, chasms to the void where the spidersnare waited, and Miraak found himself focusing on the brown eye he secretly thought of as their human eye to avoid looking away entirely. He was not foolish – but he would not be weak either.

“Paarthurnax and his monks yet believe me dead, and none will be pleased to be corrected. My bloody hands are traitor to all they stand for. Friend he was once, but I do not believe Paarthurnax, of all Dov, mourned my fate.”

“You don’t know that,” Miraak insisted. Laataaz’s glimmering eyes drew him in, in, until he almost forgot to watch their mouth, curving in a bitter smile lips wet with poison.

“I would also kill them for their disrespect of you,” Laataaz added.

“They do listen to me,” Miraak pointed out, feeling compelled to defend, if nothing else, himself. “Most of the time. They called me Ysmir.”

Laataaz’s smile grew more secretive, more genuine. Four of their eyes closed, and Miraak’s lungs unclenched. “Yet,” they murmured, “I have tasted your Voice.”

“Are you calling me weak?!”

“No,” punitively, they squeezed his wrist, as if to forbid the very notion, “inexperienced. They chain you with rules that were never made for your dovahsil. You will be strong in spite of them, hunter of Al-Du-In. But if I hear them chastise you for your might when by right they should be at your knee, not even blood will remain to mark their fate.”

Miraak’s lips pursed into an unhappy line. “Will… you be safe while I am gone?”

“I will not kill the ones you love,” Laataaz promised, and now they were definitely amused, “unless their death wins great reward. My Prince lingers here, I would see her work.”

Miraak scowled at the rumpled blankets. “Why are you still loyal to her after this? You’re free now. You don’t have a Prince anymore.”

“For now,” Laataaz agreed. They tilted their head, catching his attention, and asked him then in a voice that could have been, if it was anyone else, tender. “Could you kill me, little fly?”

“No,” said Miraak at once, aghast, then rethought and added, defensively, “I could. But I wouldn’t!”

Laataaz breathed out a laugh at his pride. “Then if you will not, one day I will belong to my Prince again.”

Their grip loosened enough for Miraak to pull his wrist free, but he left his hand on theirs. He wanted to hold, to grab on, to reach into Laataaz and shake the part of them that did not believe, for all their words, that Miraak could protect them from the Princes that wished to use them. But he forced himself to leave his hand lax. Laataaz observed the movement, then sighed, silently. Their humour drained, left them with a sudden great weariness, as if they felt, all at once, every hour of their tremendous age.

“I have lived for a long time, against my will,” Laataaz told him as heavy as they were sincere, “All paths lead back to the Webspinner.”

“Not this one,” Miraak insisted, and he couldn’t resist grabbing their hand then, feeling the bones beneath it, the muscle, the surprise that nearly jerked it free, their wide eyes. “This one stays with me.”

Surging towards him, Laataaz kissed him. It was more a bite than a kiss, more punch than bite, and barely had he choked on the venom that flooded his mouth then they had withdrawn, forehead pressed fiercely to his.

Like a love confession, Laataaz whispered, “I pray my soul dies in yours, I pray you kill me.” Their touch roved over his body, digging in nails, had Miraak fighting not to hiss. “I would like to think of nourishing you. How close we would be, in the same chest, trapped no longer by these… mortal forms.”

Impossibly, Laataaz pushed even closer into him, their veils falling around his face, their bodies, and Miraak bit down on a groan, a plea. His skin was awakened by their touch, their closeness, their desire. The venom he had inadvertently swallowed was working on his empty stomach, nausea clenching in the pit of embers there.

“Must we fight?” he said, thinking of the look on their face as they tried to care for him, “Is it truly so inevitable that we kill each other? Why do you always talk of death?”

“Why does the spider snare the fly?” Laataaz answered his question with another. “Hunger, of course.”

“There are other ways to learn the shape of a person,” he said, meaning to quote them, but the double-meaning of it with their marks bold on his body wrecked with the aftermath of Laataaz exercising exactly that hunger hit him, and he blushed.

“It is what I am,” Laataaz said, and soothed the red marks they’d scratched with cool lines of silk. “I am Laataaz, executioner, soul eater. We did not have a word for Dragonborn when I walked Nirn. I understood only that I hungered, and when I struck something, it stayed down. I learnt the lust of inevitability. Is it the end, that gives us our meaning, I wondered, but I did not know. All I knew was no food would sate me. My hunger is as much a part of me as your questioning mind.”

Laataaz tilted their lips against his, and all six eyes opened to watch his face. Greedy for Miraak, and he could not pretend their attention did not make him preen, warm, thirst for the pain of their kiss. With how sweetly they called him to endure the agony of their poisonous touch, their sadism, how could he pretend that anything else ever mattered?

“We are dragons, sweet little fly. We desire, or we die.”

---

And so it was Miraak turned up at the stables, very late, pink-cheeked, and limping. Lydia was already waiting, arms crossed over her sturdy chest, perpetually-foul expression not relenting in the least when a guilty Miraak skid to a stop next to her with a spray of pebbles. There it was, the look.

Miraak wilted.

“Where is he?” Lydia said, “That creepy fellow. We need to leave, my Thane.”

“Oh,” said Miraak. His shaking arms gave out and he dropped his bag with a thunderous thud. Lydia eyed it suspiciously and he fought the urge to rub the back of his neck. “Laat’s not coming.”

Lydia reflected on this, hefting Miraak’s heavy bag one-handed and threw it up on the back of the cart. There was no sign of the driver, but the horse was already hitched, grazing calmly at the tuft of weeds lining the cobblestones.

Miraak skirted the horse with a shudder. These burly-shouldered beasts always looked at him with malice in their eyes. Lydia had tried to get him to learn to ride, but Miraak wasn’t that stupid. Give him a good chaurus any day.

“It will be good to not have to fight everything from here to Ivarstead,” said Lydia, “we will make better time. I did tell Farkas we were leaving this morning. …All of us.”

She extended a hand to help him into the back of the cart, and yanked him up bodily when he took it. Miraak rubbed his burning shoulder and tugged his hood down further over his face. The sun was fierce. He glanced back at Whiterun, a little regretful, imagining Laataaz alone in Breezehome. There was going to be so many spiders in his house when he got back.

“Well,” said Miraak, weakly, “… He’s a Companion, he’ll be fine.”

[watarigarasu]

Upendi

Pairing: Kíli x Reader

Word count: 2,475

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Kíli's actions may be reckless but you have never regretted following him once.

Author’s note: The story was vaguely inspired by the song Upendi from the Lion King 2!

The path which led to the lake was narrow, covered in soft needles fallen from the nearby trees and an occasional cone there and there. Stepping on the latter was rather painful, especially considering the fact that your feet were bare and in the dim light of the moon you could not see all of them clearly. There were few quiet ouches leaving past your lips before you finally reached your destination, the place you wanted to see since you left your home with Thorin’s Company—the lake.

As you approached it, now walking down the mossy ground, you could not stop staring at the reflections dancing on the waters’ surface, the moon swaying to the sides as if it was dancing rhythmically to the melody only it could hear. High bulrushes were growing at the southern shore, perfectly hiding the shallow waters from the eyes of any curious passersby, if there would only be any. The forest in which The Company decided to rest for tonight was peaceful and welcoming, much different than the magical lands you wandered through, full of dangerous and wild creatures you have never seen before.

Placing your shoes at the sandy coast, you took off the tunic and looked around to make sure that nobody was following you for the last time. You would never suspect any of the loyal and honourable Dwarves of such a thing, however… you had your doubts about Thorin’s nieces. Very reasonable ones. You did not want to have your clothes stolen for the sake of some kind of joke, that is why you decided it would be better to be safe than sorry and hid the tunic in the nearby bushes. If something happened, you would at least have one piece of fabric to cover yourself up.

Turning around, you took few steps forward to check whether the water was cold or not with your toes. Considering the fact that the latest days were unbearably hot, it should be warm and you craved a bath too much to withdraw now. It was your evening, you deserved it after killing few vicious orcs which were chasing The Company. There was still dirt and black blood in your hair and under the nails, you probably smelled of sweat and the grass stains on your clothes certainly did not add anything positive to your overall miserable look. Cold or not, you needed a solid bath.

“It may not be as hot as you, but I can assure you that it’s quite nice.”

You turned your head to the right so suddenly that you almost felt the cramp in the muscles. To your surprise, there was a pair of dark eyes staring at you from above the enormous rock and the familiar smile spreading on the lips of the person you recognized immediately.

Kíli observed you with the amused expression, his elbows resting on the rock as the lower half of his body must have still been in the water. For a moment he reminded you of a mermaids you heard the stories about and the image of him weaving his chubby fish-like tail almost made you lighten up. Almost, for the initial thought which could explain his presence here was nowhere near funny for you, and so, you asked:

“Where is Fíli?”

Kíli pouted.

“Am I not enough company for you?”

“I don’t want any company, I want to take a bath!”

“Well then, that makes two of us.” Even in the dim light you could see him wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, please…”

Resting your hands on the hips, you looked at him. You would have to be blind to not notice the way he was talking to you, flirting with you, charming you every day in almost every moment. For some reason, the young prince grew fond of you and the thought itself was quite flattering, you had to admit, but it did not change the fact that you were not sure whether his uncle would approve your relationship. Kíli’s feelings were returned, very much so, but no matter how much you adored him, you were still just a human.

The possibility of never truly being with him broke your heart.

“Come on,” he encouraged, his voice suddenly losing the frivolous tone and becoming purely sympathetic instead. “The water is warm, I promise.”

You smiled, seeing the way the moonlight reflected in his eyes. You knew that he observed you, when you took off the rest of your clothes and placed them on the sand, you could feel his gaze ghosting over your body, remembering it and caressing with the delicacy of his loving heart. Eventually, you went in the water, first to the ankles’ level, then calves, thighs, hips and waist. Bending your knees, you sunk into the lake deep enough so only your head was above the surface.

Indeed, the water was warm.

“Now, you ruined the whole show,” Kíli sighed theatrically and shook his head slightly.

“How so?” You approached him so close, that you could rest your arms on the opposite side of the rock and look at him in the eyes. “I thought I was not your type.”

Kíli blinked few times, apparently confused.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve heard exactly what you said during the dinner in Rivendell,” you teased, content that for once you were the reason for the adorable, puzzled expression on his face and not the other way around. “How did it go? I’m not fond of those maids because of their thin figure, creamy skin and what else?”

“I did not mean that!”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Besides,” he frowned, solemn. “You are far more magnificent than even the greatest of Elf maids.”

The way he said those words proved you that he really believed in them. There was no false, no bad intentions, just the overwhelming adoration and sincere truth.

Slowly, Kíli reached to you above the rock which was now irritatingly separating you two, and stroked your cheek. He smiled when you leaned to his hand, responsive for his touch and loving the way his fingers felt against your skin.

“You are perfect to me,” he confessed quietly. “And I love, love your high cheekbones.”

Kissing the inner side of his palm was another way to hide the amusement which painted on your face, the undeniable proof of the effect his words had upon you. It surprised you when he suddenly moved back, taking his hand away from you and diving in the lake, the cheeky expression not fading until his head went completely underwater.

Turning around, you tried to look for him, perfectly aware of whatever kind of shenanigans he was up to, but spotting his dark hair in the equally black water was impossible. You did not move, firmly standing your ground near the rock and ready to either hold it for your life or even immediately jump out of the lake on it if needed. You knew how much he and the other members of The Company enjoyed playing in water, splashing around with a lot of roaring laughs, competitions and challenges, that is why you were expecting the worst already—to get splashed or pulled underwater or tickled with some kind of seaweeds or any other unpleasant, slimy thing. What you did not expect, however, was that Kíli would eventually emerge from the water right in front of you, so close that your chests were almost touching, and do it carefully and slowly, keeping an eye contact with you until he stood straight on the sandy ground below your feet.

Droplets of water were running down his hair, long strands now clinging to his cheeks, forehead, shoulders and back. Some of the beads fell down, back to the lake, trailing the various wet lines on his body, while the others rested in the curly hair on his strong arms and chest, slightly reflecting the pale moonlight just like his eyes were. It was not the first time when you saw him half-naked but definitely the first time when you were so close to each other in such a state.

“Admiring the view, my dear?” he teased, apparently noticing the look in your eyes.

You could only hope that he did not somehow notice how dry did your mouth became all of a sudden.

Before you could think of any proper answer or wit comeback, he gently took your hand and pulled you after him, saying:

“Come with me, there’s something I want to show you.”

You agreed, partly grateful that he did not decide to continue this discussion you had no chance of winning, not after showing such an obvious interest in him. Still, you were curious about his idea, you could not deny that those were often quite dangerous but no less fascinating and always led to something worth remembering. It was impossible to refuse, especially when you remembered what he told you few days ago, when you followed him to one of the apparently abandoned caves to look for the hidden treasures, most likely forgotten by their rightful owners. The place stank of fear and the quick possibility of getting eaten alive by some vicious creatures but before Kíli went down the cave, he looked at you in the eyes and swore:

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t let anything bad to happen to you.”

He kept that promise, as he always did.

This time, you followed him to the eastern shore, walking through the shallow waters and carefully taking every step just in case there would be sharp rocks on the bottom. Either there were none or you managed to dodge all of them, eventually you found yourself standing in front of the enormous pile of rocks, half drowned in the lake, and that was the place where Kíli stopped and turned back to you, still not letting go of your hand.

“Do you trust me?” he asked firmly.

“What kind of question is that?” You frowned at how serious his voice was. “Of course I do, but–“

“No buts! Keep that thought in mind and follow me, alright? Can you hold your breath?”

“It depends on why—Kíli, what do you want to do?” You were growing more and more suspicious but somehow with him by your side it was not anxiety which overwhelmed you, but rather excitement. He would never risk your life, that was for sure, so you had no real reasons to be afraid. Somewhere deep in your heart you knew that if he had to, he would risk his life for your safety without hesitation also.

Mahal, how could you not fall for him?

“You won’t regret it,” he assured you, now cheerful back again, as he knew that you would not turn away now.

“It doesn’t answer my question in the slightest.”

“Just trust me. Look, do you see this very ominous, dark hole under water, right there?” Kíli pointed a finger at the place where the pile of rocks was touching the lake’s surface and drowning deeper.

You nodded, not wholly convinced if you wanted to see it.

“We’ll have to dive in there, swim under the rock and then we’ll reach something absolutely fantastic! You’ve never seen anything like that before, I can assure you.”

His enthusiasm was undoubtedly contagious, because soon you found yourself wondering what could wait for you on the other side. Being a human, you were not overly interested in the undergrounds, small and dark spaces appearing as claustrophobic and not even as closely as stunning as the beauty which could be seen on the earth. However, you have spent enough time with Dwarves to learn that once you would get rid of the prejudices and expectations, you could find the greatest treasures and values in the darkest times and places.

And so, you sighed deeply and asked:

“Ladies first?”

Although you were wary of the time you were supposed to spend underwater, the distance was not even half as long as you thought. Holding your breath and swimming in the darkness while surrounded with nothing but the stones was not the most pleasant experience, you had to admit, but Kíli made sure that you always felt his presence nearby. He helped you to find the surface once you were on the other side and when you caught your breath and blinked, adjusting your sight to the dim light, you realized that you were no longer exposed to the moon—on the contrary, you were inside the cave with roof so high that you wondered if you were still by the same lake. Nevertheless, it was not the mystical passage to that hidden place, nor its size which got you awestruck but the source of the delicate, blue light.

It seemed as if the thousands, millions of tiny lanterns were hanging from the roof and the walls, wet stones reflecting the light and making the whole cave shine as if under a magical spell. Long branches and leaves were reaching down the ground, illuminated reminding you of a colourful jellyfishes, floating in the thin air instead of the water. Or, as you believed for a while, it was you who suddenly learned how to breathe underwater and observed this whole scenery of the world you have never experienced before.

Being to mesmerized by the view in front of you, you could not notice how Kíli’s undivided attention was focused completely on you, on discovering how your features changed when you realized where you were, on how the happiness and surprise changed the way you looked around, on how freely and completely you were yourself in that very moment. He could not even think about the beauty of the surroundings, not when he had you in front of him and the overwhelming love filling his heart.

“How did you know about this place?” you asked, genuinely curious and only then caught his gaze upon you.

“I was roaming.” He shrugged and approached you, the water as bright as the cave’s roof. “It made me think about you.”

“Do you often think about me then?”

“All the time.”

His confession was sincere and to prove that, he placed his hand at the side of your neck, caressing the line of the jaw with his thumb and hungrily eyeing your lips. He wanted to kiss you so badly, to hold you in his arms and never let you go, to stay in this magical place together, where nothing could disturb nor harm you. Instead, he simply leaned to you and rested his cheek at the crook of your neck, feeling how chill and wet your skin was against his.

“I love you,” Kíli whispered and the cave almost swallowed the soft sound of his voice. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, my dear.”

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #9: The Search For The Feathered God

words: ca. 2400 setting: Fairytale World lemon: No cw: none

“This was the story of two sisters who loved each other very much and made a journey to discover themselves.”

“Once, when the world was still young but not so young that the gods frolicked without mortals, there lived two sisters. The names of these sisters were lost to time, but to modern ears, they might be referred to as “Anna” and “Elsa”.

Like all of the humans alive then, they spent their time with their peoples. They learned a craft, the culture, how the world worked, and about the old gods. For you see in those days, the old gods were so ubiquitous that their stories hardly needed to be.

The old gods were a different sort than the younger gods. They were spoken of, sacred, and altogether content with what they had created.  The younger gods had a fire to prove themselves that led them to continue to meddle in human affairs. Both sets of deities ruled together, for the sun and the moon bound them in creation.

In those days, humans were still developing their gift of curiosity, for they had yet to learn all that they were. It had led them much further than the people of wood or clay, and it would continue to. Unbeknownst to them, their sense waned when there was normalcy of living. People grew comfortable with the way things were, for that was the order seemingly ordained.

The sisters’ curiosities were a finely developed sort. The younger found herself with an ability to dream in the day, able to imagine all sorts of wonderful things. She was naturally drawn to living things and discovering what might be around every corner. The elder knew herself to be talented with lines and shapes, understanding how things might be made. 

They wondered most about the ability that the elder had, since she had the ability to summon cold and frost. They had at first surmised that she might be a partial god, but their parents were still there. Even now, their best guess was that she had been blessed.

What changed everything was when Anna decided to ask around to see if perhaps they might be able to ask the wise god. He might know why Elsa was like that. To her horror, all laughed at her silly proposition.

‘Nobody has seen the wise god!’

‘Then I’ll be the first!’

They’d shake their heads and shake their bodies with that hidden laugh of pity. Poor, foolish girl. She didn’t know what she was attempting or requesting. Nobody had found him in quite some time, so why would she?

Anna though, she wasn’t the sort to give up lightly. She would be the first, and she would find an answer to Elsa’s lifelong question. Elsa in turn was willing to support Anna’s quest at every step.

With heavy hearts, they set off from their home. The general air was one of grieving, for nobody expected to see them again. Surely they would be eaten by prowling jaguars or struck down for their insolence, or sadder yet, wander forever chasing something impossible.

Their first step was to visit the great city of Teotihuacan. Though they had never been, they had heard stories of the trade hub. So many people were there that it felt like a guarantee that they would hear about the whereabouts of the wise god. Maybe nobody at home knew, but the people there might.

They traveled a long while, for in those days, they had no quicker speed than what their legs might muster. Often, their pace was slowed by the mild ache of muscles that asked why there was a sudden increase in exercise. It may have been a blessing from the gods for this sluggish pace.

For you see, the sisters had none other than the other for company. Though they had always been close, this bond was only tightened with them being their sole respective companions. There were struggles with annoying behaviors, but they had suffered those before and thus found it easier to move past them.

There was a close call once, when they had heard a soft padding and the crack of a broken branch. That was their only warning, as Elsa’s ice spiraled around them defensively to  form a protective dome. Into the dome crashed a jaguar, with its ferocious maw spraying thick strands of saliva. 

It found itself unable to break through, though its every swipe made Elsa tremble and sweat with exertion. Eventually, it grew tired of attempting to prey on them and left, finding it to be far too much trouble. Nevertheless, they did not leave the dome for fear of being hunted once more.

Elsa was beside herself. She wanted to go home immediately and demanded for Anna to go home. Anna protested, naturally. They argued on whether to go or stay late into the night.

‘Anna, I can’t let you risk yourself for me!’

‘We can make it! I know we can, please just trust me!’

‘This isn’t worth your life, Anna.’

‘You’re worth a million jaguars, Elsa.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Please Elsa, for you. It’s not risk when it’s out of love!’

‘That makes it worse!’

‘But we’ve come so far. We will find the source of your powers, I swear it!’

‘But- I-’

‘Elsa. You. Are. Worth. It.’

Anna scooped Elsa into a deep embrace and held her there. Elsa in turn weakly hugged back, still trying to process what happened. 

Anna loved her that much. Anna loved her that much. Anna loved her that much.

Anna loved her.

Tears welled in Elsa’s eyes, and she could barely contain the liquid emotion spilling out. Anna’s eyes watered in empathy and they remained in the hug for a while. Sometimes, it was nice to be reminded you were loved. Then and now. Humans never did fundamentally change all that much.

The remainder of the trip to Teotihuacan was relatively peaceful, all things considered. The two kept the dome up for a few more days, but were able to travel safely after that. It ought to be noted that while the jungle was beautiful, it formed a monotonous, lonely sort of beauty. There were only so many shades of greens and browns and fantastic creatures that one could see before the eye wearied of even those.

It was because of that, that when the city appeared over the horizon, it appeared even more glorious in its humanity. The bustle, the sounds, the buildings, the people: all so very human. There were more people in this one place than they had ever seen at home. It seemed a given that somebody might know where the wise god was.

To their shock and mild horror, it seemed that people from all over knew the wise god as something different. Some said that they spoke of the rain god, or the sun god, or an evil god. All had different versions of what seemed to be the wise god. The only consistency between these versions was that the god had the form of a feathered serpent.

Some suggested that they might travel to Tenochtitlan. Perhaps the Emperor or the princess of that land might know. Nobody knew where the wise-feathered god was. Only that he was. They both often felt rising frustration at the fact that the wise god was among the old gods.

They stayed in the city as long as they could, but there were no answers to be found. If nothing else, they had only found themselves new confusion. Seeing as they had no other lead, they decided to make the journey to Tenochtitlan to meet those peoples and their emperor. Perhaps, perhaps.

Like the first journey, the second was long and tedious. The land was as of yet untamed by man, and thus plants sprung up as they pleased. Paths were cut into these, but the plants seeped their long roots into the paths in order to secretly reclaim them. 

Once more, the sisters found themselves yet closer to one another. Words were unnecessary to express the care they felt for each other. It was not quite yet something more, but it was not merely the platonic love that one might feel for a wonderful friend or sibling. Indeed, the line between platonic love and romantic love is oft blurred, but theirs had become near vanished. But that is difficult to identify when one might never conceive of such a concept. Or perhaps, shame would arise otherwise.

When they arrived, they were once more in awe. This time, however, it was at the gardens seemingly floating over the water, farmers propelling themselves in small boats. Indeed, it seemed like the very city floated over waters, and was decorated with bright accoutrements that accentuated its near concentric design. It was truly a capital to behold.

When they arrived at the palace, the two were greeted by stern-faced guards who regarded them with little care.

‘What brings you to the palace?’ asked a guard.

‘We come seeking answers,’ replied Elsa.

‘Answers?’

‘Yes, we are searching for the wise god.’

Elsa stayed cool, but looked faint. When asked later, she confirmed that she indeed was on the verge of nervous collapse due to the danger of being so far from home and potentially insulting an emperor. Anna on the other hand, looked impatient.

The guards turned to each other and shrugged.

‘Very well.’

The sisters were allowed entry into the main hall. However, greeting them was not the emperor at all, but rather his daughter, the princess Iztaccihautl. She looked wistful and distracted, as if her mind was far away. She gave them a look and asked why they might bother her solemn vigil.

They in turn, answered that they were looking for the wise god. She told them that perhaps they might be able to find him if they asked a rabbit who lived at the base of the mountain. He had spoken to a god in a cave.

‘And…’ The princess gulped. ‘My beloved has been fighting in the mountains. Please, if you see him, tell him I’m waiting for him.’

Anna patted her on the back. ‘We’ll find him. Promise.’

‘You will? Oh thank you!’

‘I bet you he’s already beat all of them.’

‘Yes, yes I do so terribly hope so.’

‘I know so. You gotta hold onto hope, okay?’

‘Okay. No matter what.’

With the information in mind, the two trekked off into the mountains. The terrain from before was difficult, but now it was rugged and vertical. The earth did not care for comfort and maneuverability, only that it merely desired to be there and so it was. Once more, they grew closer. They still hadn’t the words to express what each thought, but the princess’s word, ‘beloved’ struck both deeply. There was something about it.

In the mountains, they found a band of warriors. Brave, decorated, and handsome, they were returning with the spoils of victory. Though some were wounded and all were tired, they had not lost the smiling bravado that marked the human spirit. They passed through the group, and told them of the princess’s message.

As if by some revitalizing magic the leader, Popocatepetl perked up at the message. He nodded at his second in command with hardly any time between his movement and suddenly running ahead to reach his love. The sisters had a good feeling about the lovers’ ending.

After that detour, they continued their journey. It made them both think more, about what type of love it might take to run so fast, to worry so hard. And in both, it resonated with something deep within that they did not wholly understand. They had begun to develop a vocabulary and rudimentary instincts, but they simply had not yet realized what sort of love was between them.

Eventually, they made it to a tree that looked like it might home a rabbit. They knocked politely and asked if it might wish to speak. When it hopped out, both were shocked. Anna squeed, and asked when it got its ears lengthened. Long ears were perfect for it.

In those days, rabbits had short ears. But this rabbit, the first long eared rabbit changed everything. It had done the tasks necessary to receive a reward from the god living in the cave. Thus, the sisters offered him food in return for knowledge of where the god resided.

The rabbit happily showed them to the cave, which contained darkened coils. They had the feeling that finally, after such questing, it was over. They had found him.

The wise god opened one eye and peered at the mortal humans who were the first to find him in a very long time.

‘What brings you to my cavern? I am resting.’

‘I-I’m really sorry but I have two questions, O wise one,  if that’s okay,’ Anna said.

‘The distance you traveled and your bond… yes. Yes, I think it is alright.’

Anna gulped. ‘One. Who are you? I thought you were the wise god.’

The serpent loomed and drew to its full height outside of the cavern, a glittering mass of emerald scales and long feathers emerging from its head and tail.

‘I am Quetzalcoatl, the god of wisdom. I am attributed the weather and occasionally the sun. Ask your second question, child.’

‘Um… why does Elsa have magic? She’s just a normal human like me.’

‘She was blessed. It was a reward for the love your parents gave the world, and the one between you.’

Anna blinked. ‘Between us?’

‘Yes. You ought to have recognized it, strong as it is.’

‘I-’

They looked at each other, a longing gaze going between them.

For the first time with the god, Elsa spoke up.

‘It’s okay then?’

‘Yes.’

From there, the sisters turned to look at each other. They did not wait any longer for the veil of confusion had been cast away. They understood what it was they had and how to act on it.

Thus, the god went back to resting in his cave, and the sisters kissed away all lingering doubt or fear. They eventually returned to their village, and lived happily ever after.”

The old, withered woman finally ended the story. Her voice was now scratchy, as the children looked up in wonder.

They soon ran off to reenact the various adventures, and she smiled at her dear sister. 

She murmured quietly to herself, so faintly that even a bat would be hard-pressed to hear it.

“This was the story of two sisters who loved each other very much and made a journey to discover themselves.”

[i-dream-of-twilight-sparkle]

Chapter 20: Dragon Soul

Upon the next morning, Spike wakes up. He quickly looks over to make sure Twilight’s bottle is still there, and indeed it is. Even with all the precautions they took, the last trip to Saddle Arabia certainly turned dark quickly and quite traumatizing for Spike. So Spike gives a sigh of relief. And decides to open Twilight’s bottle right away in the room, instead of letting Twilight pop herself out as he makes breakfast.

He takes off the stopper, and immediately a purple swirl of smoke pours out, shifting once the end of the smoke once again forming into Twilight’s shape from the waist up. Once she’s completely formed, she stretches her hooves, and smiles. She looks down to sees Spike, down on the floor of the room.

Twilight: Good morning, Spike!

Spike: Good morning, Mom!

She then proceeds to float herself down, disconnect her tail from the bottle and shift the tail into the rest of her body.

Twilight: Let’s get some breakfast before we return to Saddle Arabia to get Malakhar and Celestia to help us find the cave your birth mother died.

Spike: Of course! Who knows if the trek to the cave, will take long so we better have something in our stomachs at least

Spike and Twilight head to the kitchen in the castle and Spike makes another batch of toast for him and Twilight. Twilight then also precedes to deactivating all the protective measures they put in the castle from last night. Once they’re finished, Twilight tells Spike of another thing she’ll probably be doing once they’re done in the cave.

Twilight: By the way, Spike. Trixie went up to me last night to tell me Starlight wants to see me sometime today for something. So once we’re done paying our respects for your Mother, I’m going to go see her.

Spike: Sure thing! What is it about? School of Friendship stuff?

Twilight: I actually wasn’t told what it was about, but I guess I’ll find out later. But for now, let’s go get Malakhar and Princess Celestia.

Twilight opens up a gum portal back to the palace in Saddle Arabia. While Twilight and Spike put themselves with protective measures in the castle, the Sultan and Sultana also beefed up their security and put a guard at every door of the guests that are staying to go to the wedding. Just because Twilight would be safe, doesn’t mean her friends staying there would be. So they put the extra measures to protect all of Twilight’s friends in the night. No suspicious movement ever came about during the night, but even the palace guards certainly wanted to go with the same better safe then sorry feeling.

Twilight reaches the front of the palace and is meant with the Saddle Arabian Royal Guard captain who is thankful nothing happened this time around.

Guard Captain: Good to see you made it, Princess Twilight. All your friends have been safely protected throughout the night as well.

Twilight: Thank you Captain, I appreciate all the effort to assure us our safety after last time.

The captain bows and let’s Twilight and Spike in. Both then head in the direction of Malakhar and Kubuya’s room. Before they actually get there, the room actually opens and Malakhar walks out. He sees Twilight and Spike are already here.

Malakhar: Real eager to visit that cave, huh? I guess it does mean a lot to you. I can certainly start leading you there as soon as we’ve gotten Princess Celestia with us.

Twilight: Before we go, how’s Kubuya?

Malakhar: She’s fine, just still sleeping. We had a fantastic time at the ball last night, you have some very talented friends in Equestria. And we were also very happy for Pinkie Pie, when she started her relationship with Cheese Sandwich on stage.

Not to mention your friend Moondancer’s impressive dance moves she showed with the Prince! Which speaking of which, we’re happy the Prince finally found a special somepony that legitimately loves him. I don’t think we know Moondancer very much, her dancing was the first time we ever saw her. Is she just a regular dancing pony over in Equestria?

Twilight: No, in fact I don’t think many ponies have ever seen her dance until this ball. That was the first time I’ve seen her dance too. Perhaps I should of guessed given her name, but I guess I didn’t really spend enough time with her to find out about it.

Moondancer’s normally a lot like me, you could even say Moondancer would be closer to what I’d be like if I had a more normal life, rather then becoming the hero and Princess of Equestria I am now. She’s very much a bookworm like myself, normally.

Malakhar: Well then, I can’t wait to get to know her once she’s fully moved in to Saddle Arabia. Another you sounds like the best thing to us. And if Moondancer becomes Sultana, I’m sure she’ll be a very popular one. I think her dancing skills from last night is already the talk of the city from what I overheard from many of the Saddle Arabian citizens that attended the ball.

Twilight: I bet! She absolutely mastered some of your nation’s classic dances. There is absolutely no way I’d be able to do what she did even if I practiced dancing for the next 1000 years. I’m such a terrible dancer myself, heh.

Twilight sheepishly rubs the back of her head as she admits her rather poor dancing skill.

Twilight: But… Ahem, I guess we should now go find Princess Celestia.

Malakhar: Right, let’s go.

Twilight, Spike, and Malakhar walk the halls of the palace looking for Celestia, they eventually find her speaking with Sultan Theandri.

Twilight: Pardon if I’m interrupting an important talk Princess Celestia, but I believe you agreed last night to come along with me and Spike to the cave in the desert?

Celestia: Oh no worries, Twilight. Me and the Sultan were just having a pleasant conversation about the ball last night. I imagine you’re here so I can help you find where Spike’s egg was found?

Sultan Theandri: Wait, Spike was born here?

Celestia: Indeed. Remember when we came across a deceased dragon in a cave in the nearby desert? The egg that Malakhar presented to me happened to be Spike’s egg

Sultan Theandri: Amazing! Perhaps I should update Spike’s honorary citizenship here after the battle with Zathir, with birthright citizenship!. Actually, is it ok if I come along on this as well? It will be sort of like a nice little return get-together.

Malakhar: Though we’ll be of course missing my Grandfather, but sure it’ll be nice to have you along as well for a real re-visit.

Sultan Theandri: Ah yes, Hisan Manat. Great stallion, I’m sure he’d be proud of what you’ve done yourself, Malakhar.

Malakhar: I’m sure he would too…

As Malakhar reflects about his Grandfather,  he along with Twilight, Spike, Celestia, The Sultan, along with protective guards go onto a trek to the cave. Very much mirroring when Malakhar and his Grandfather set out to go where they saw a dragon land from the backyard of their hut.

((Story continues after the break))

Spike meanwhile keeps up a solemn face as he knows he’s about to see the resting place of his birth mother. He considers Twilight his mom through-and-through and nothing’s ever going to change that. But he feels like it’s still going to be a feeling of complex emotions to visit for him. As on one hand this is where his birth mother met her end, but also in a more positive spin, he’s visiting the place his egg was first laid before he’d end up in Equestria.

Soon they reach the mouth of the cave. But first, some guards check if anything dangerous is in the cave or if there’s any danger of the cave collapsing suddenly that could kill or entrap the Sultan. Though they do have a backup this time of Twilight using her magic to save the Sultan, as well as Princess Celestia’s strength in magic should something come up. The guards exploring the cave come back and give the go ahead for the group to go in.

When the group goes in, they see a large towering pile of bones, particularly the ribcage of the dragon that died. And as they look around they also find many of the other bones of the long tail, wings, claws, long neck, and a large skull. This huge skeleton had to be all that remains of Spike’s birth mother. Twilight at first kind of want’s to closely examine the skeleton to satisfy the curious scientist in her, but she also doesn’t want to perhaps do that right in front of Spike who might not want to see his birth mother’s remains treated like a museum exhibit. So for now, she keeps her distance.

The group just generally remains quiet as a sort of moment of silence. And then Spike slowly starts walking more closely to the skull of his birth mother. Twilight not sure how Spike is taking seeing his birth mother’s remains, she calls out to him in some concern.

Twilight: Spike… are you ok? If this is an upsetting sight, even if you never knew her. We can get out right away.

Spike turns back to Twilight and first nods side-to-side to indicate he’s fine.

Spike: I’m ok Twilight, I’m just thinking to myself…

Spike turns back to looking at his birth mother’s remains and makes a heavy deep breath. He puts a hand over his dragon tear necklace. And in his own mind, pays his respects for his birth mother.

Spike: (I never got to know who you were… but if what Princess Celestia told me was true… you set me and Twilight on the paths that we’re on to this day… As soon as I heard that… I felt an obligation to see where you laid in eternal rest… even if you can’t hear me, being dead and all… I want to express thanks for laying the egg containing me here, and instructing Celestia from beyond the grave, so that I would end up in Twilight’s hooves…

I know you also wanted me to find the perfect mother since you weren’t able to live to take care of me yourself… and I believe you got your wish, wholeheartedly… I just wish you could see if your wish came true…  if there was a way to, I’d love to have you to see me and Twilight… I’m sure you’d agree that your desire was fulfilled… and Princess Celestia’s as well…

It might be silly to say it, given it’s probably not going to actually do anything… but I desire you to come see us. Wherever you are… if you were able to visit Celestia’s dreams… perhaps there is some way to see us after all… please… I desire to see my dragon birth mother…)

Suddenly, the Dragon’s tear necklace starts glowing, which surprises the entire group in the cave including Spike himself who looks down wide-eyed.

Spike: Whoa!

Twilight expresses huge concern, not knowing what is happening

Twilight: Spike?! What’s going on? Why is your Dragon’s Tear glowing?!

Spike: I’m not sure! But something must be happening! I was just thinking to myself before this!

Twilight: It must of heard whatever you were thinking, then!

Spike: It couldn’t be granting what I thought about… could it?

Twilight: What?! You’re saying you said some sort of wish? What was it?

Spike: I… think we may just see in a moment…

As the Dragon’s Tear continues to glow the group awaits for what exactly Spike thought about. Unbeknownst to them outside, a large white streak of energy comes down into the atmosphere like a comet. It quickly flies down to Saddle Arabia and quickly approaches the cave. Guards warning the group of what they might have mistook for something attacking.

Royal Guard: Everyone duck!

The entire group goes prone on the ground as the energy comes into the cave with a loud whoosh. The energy then stops just above and in front of the skeleton of Spike’s dragon mother in a large sphere.

Celestia: What in Equestria is this?!

The entire group looks awestruck at the sphere, eventually the sphere starts taking a new shape. The sphere starts transforming, and in time it’s becoming clear from the silhouette that it’s becoming a dragon.

Spike: Oh my gosh, it may actually be happening! This thing must be my birth mother’s spirit!

Twilight: No way… We’ve never seen ghosts before! Are we sure this isn’t some dangerous shapeshifting monster?

Twilight is quickly prove wrong however as the silhouette of the dragon fades out and even gives at least some of the color of who it was supposed to be. Celestia, Malakhar, and the Sultan recognizing those colors.

Celestia: Pink scales…

Sultan Theandri: Green back plates…

Malakhar: Twilight… Spike… this is the dragon who died here… and Spike’s birth mother… there is no mistaking it… She looks exactly as I saw her back then…

Twilight just is speechless, wide-eyed, and mouth agape. The others basically confirmed that the spirit had been summoned. Was this what Spike’s desire was that the Dragon Tear granted? Do Dragon Tears have the ability to allow the living to see and even contact the dead? She is just entirely mind flooded, as the spirit continues to show more of the dragon who died here. Soon the full dragon can be seen. with a white glowing outline over the entire body and the spirit being somewhat transparent

The spirit dragon’s head comes into full view, eyes closed but are soon opened. As she looks around, and finds she was summoned at the very spot she died in. She then takes a look at all the ponies around her until she finally takes a look at the little purple dragon with the glowing Dragon Tear. She lowers her head to take a closer look at the little dragon. At first, kind of freaking out Spike. But she then smiles, and with a gentle voice that slightly echoes, that the other ponies can’t tell if it’s because of the cave or just an ominous effect of a spirit. She says…

???: Hello, my child…

Spike goes wide-eyed hearing the voice of her mother for the first time and doesn’t even know what to say first to of all things, the spirit of his birth mother. He manages to lightly raise a claw and waves, though it’s a bit shaky and he just ends up replying with:

Spike: U-u-ummm… h-hi?

Upon hearing the voice of the spirit, that’s when it sort of sunk in to the ponies in the cave that this was real. A dragon that supposedly passed away years ago is now in front of them. Most just standing there with mouth agape, but perhaps most attentive is Celestia who realizes she… recognizes that voice.

Celestia: T-that voice! I could never forget it… you were the voice in my dream! I knew it!

???: And I recognize your voice as well, Princess Celestia. I admit, I’m a little surprised I got this chance to appear before you all as well. But I’ll relish it, I’ve long wanted to know for sure if me and Celestia’s joint desires were granted. I see that I had a young son in the egg I left here… Tell me Princess., who was the one who hatched my son?

Celestia: Her name is Twilight Sparkle. Princess Twilight Sparkle in fact, she’s the purple alicorn next to your son. I promise that she very much fulfilled many of my wishes, she and her friends freed my sister. Twilight was also quite the worthy student, she would become a Princess of Equestria. And within a year from now, I will officially step down and let her take the reins.

And I do believe that she fulfilled your wish too.

???: I am happy to hear that everything worked out for you, Princess. Though to be absolutely sure that I got my wish as well, I must hear my son’s own opinion. What do you say? Has she been the perfect mother for you, that I wished

Spike thinks for a moment but first suggests something else before he gives his answer.

Spike: I promise I will answer you soon, and I also assure you that you’ll like my answer. But… I don’t think we got properly introduced, I know that being… well… dead… can kinda make introductions rather weird. But I’d like to at least know the name of my birth Mother before I say anything. In exchange, I’ll say my given name for you to call me.

???: I suppose that’s fair… my name… is Jennesis

Spike remembers that name from a conversation with former Dragon Lord Torch.

Spike: I… I remember hearing that name… former Dragon Lord Torch mentioned you!

Spike’s birth mother, now known as Jennesis just gives a deadpan expression on the mention of Torch. Just about the equivalent of reminding Rarity about Prince Blueblood.

Jennesis: Ugh… Torch… he was one of the most self-centered jerks of a mate I ever met… I tried to make it work in the few years I was with him… but he just never got better… I cringed whenever he called me Jenny…

Spike: Heh, no wonder he mentioned that you would of never agreed to lifetime marriage if it existed in the Dragonlands.

Jennesis: Yeah… because our relationship was mostly beneficial to him… pardon if this is a rather dirty subject in front of you ponies. But Torch mainly loved me for our intercourse together, and my kindness towards him he only really just took advantage of to get me to have sex with him every week or so.

He didn’t like abuse me, as he did actually somewhat respect whatever kindness I gave him.

Besides, I was bigger then him at that point, if he had ever tried to hit me. He’d face the wrath of an angry full grown female dragon.

Regardless, I wouldn’t say him wanting to have a pony-style lifetime marriage with me is him necessarily saying he cared about me. Just simply what’s best for him every now-and-then.

Spike: I guess while we’re on the subject of mates, I don’t suppose you know who my birth father could be?

Jennesis: I’m afraid I couldn’t specify, since I likely had multiple mates at the time I could of possibly started incubating your egg, and I’ll admit they may have been mainly one night stands, where I didn’t even get the names of them. I will say at the very least that they were all dragons about as big as me at least. Even if I know that doesn’t exactly narrow it down that much.

Spike: Gotcha. That’s alright. I don’t necessarily need to know who my father is, that’s sometimes normal for Dragons after all.

Jennesis: *nods* Now what is your name? Perhaps it shouldn’t be right to call you my son when you have had a new mother that I’ll be speaking with… as soon as she gets out of her shocked trance *giggles*

As Jennesis noticed, Twilight still has her mouth agape that all this is happening, maybe even partly regarding the subject manner mentioned in her conversation with Spike. Occasionally blinking, but otherwise has barely said a word. Spike himself laughing a bit, though soon goes on to tell his birth mother’s name.

Spike: My name is Spike.

Jennesis: Ah, Spike. Simple name, but I guess it works. Anyhow, I am actually somewhat familiar with how I was summoned, but was never certain I’d actually get the chance to get summoned down like this. But I’m glad that I did, so I could meet you, and hopefully with what I hope was indeed your “Perfect mother”.

Spike: I suppose I should answer how I feel about Twilight then. Yes, I very much consider her the best mother I could of asked for. We sort of grew up with each other first, at the time I was hatched. Twilight was a little too young to consider herself a mother. But through her entire rest of her childhood and teenage years as Celestia’s protege. And then a few adventures after meeting our friends in a town called Ponyville, we sort of became closer.

Then one fateful day in Saddle Arabia, she became a genie. Which gave her the chance to be able to take care of me for far longer then if she remained a mortal pony. Of course, she’d find out later that she was going to be able to do so anyway when Celestia was ready for Twilight to ascend into an Alicorn, but she couldn’t have known that at the time, plus the fact she chose to be a genie for my sake was a huge sign she saw me more then simply a younger sibling or an assistant.

She very well knew that becoming a Genie meant she’d one day outlive her friends, but she realized perhaps that she wouldn’t be where she is had she not hatched my egg, she’d never be where she was then and perhaps felt some responsibility for me. I also impressed her during our very first visit to Saddle Arabia when I did everything I could to help Twilight learn about herself as a genie, I helped her realize some of the pros of being a genie, after she had a pretty disastrous introduction to becoming a genie after Malakhar tricked her. Even if Malakhar had good intentions. I kind of had to go-to bat for the part of her mind that was now an internal conflict in Twilight’s own mind on whether to stay a genie or not.

And when the decision came down, she hugged me for the remaining minutes of the time limit. Promising at the very least that she’d be around for the next 1000 years.

Then, about a year after she became a genie… I came to a realization about me and Twilight’s relationship. And through showing some of our memories… I would call Twilight my mother for the first time ever… it caught her by surprise, to the point I wasn’t even sure if she was going to actually agree to being my mother… but then she teleport hugged me, and said she would be honored to be my mother. From there, she’d adopt me the next day and we’d proceed to have more adventures over the many years since. It took a little while for the butterflies in my stomach that I felt every time I was about to call Twilight my Mom, but now I’m at a point where I casually call her Mom all the time.

So what I’m saying is… I definitely think your wish for my perfect mother was granted. Albeit it surely was a slow process and wasn’t as simple as soon as Twilight hatched me we were mother/son right away. As Twilight’s own mother and Celestia generally helped out early on, but what matters is I consider Twilight my Mom now… and there’s no one else I’d rather it be…

Twilight finally breaks out of her trance as she’s been listening to Spike’s heartwarming summary of how they’d come to see each other as Mother and Son. Giving out joyful tears.

Twilight: Spike, what you just said deserves a hug…

Twilight walks over to Spike, sits down and hugs him tightly. Spike hugging back as well. This makes Jennesis smile, as it looks like indeed she got what she wished for.

Jennesis: I’m thankful, there was a part of me that was scared in my final moments I might of messed something up when I sent out my desire. But, looks like the power of the dragon’s tear as long as a desire has been said before it loses power, it still gets granted…

After a long hug, they finally let go and Twilight finally starts talking to Jennesis. Twilight’s ears perk noticing something Jennesis implied.

Twilight: Wait, Jennesis. What do you mean by that? Wasn’t there no dragon tear found around you when you died?

Jennesis: The truth was, I actually did cry out a pretty large tear before I died. A pretty big chunk too, I knew I was dying in the cave so I had to act fast. I had just laid Spike’s egg, and I quickly spoke into the Dragon’s tear that I desired the egg find the perfect mother. I saw the Dragon Tear work it’s magic giving the egg a barrier of magic protection that you, Twilight, would break in order to hatch Spike.

However, I had been away from Saddle Arabia for so long, I wasn’t sure if there were any remnants of that radical part of the Anti-Genie regime that wanted to use dragon tears to make those awful genie controlling devices. So after making my desire, I destroyed the dragon tear. Crushed it into pieces and used my last breath of fire to turn the pieces into unusable ashes.

Malakhar gasps

Malakhar: (So that’s why my grandfather never saw one back there…)

Jennesis: I had lived long enough to know things about just about everywhere in the world, including Saddle Arabia. I knew that Dragon tears had immense powers, especially when used by a dragon, in fact… it’s because Spike made his desire to see me known to the dragon tear on his necklace… that I was even able to be summoned. Becoming a genie is literally the only other way a non-dragon can harness the power of a Dragon’s tear. And even then, they don’t quite have all the same abilities a dragon with a Dragon’s tear does.

As you can see by myself being here, Dragons using Dragon Tears can summon the spirits of the deceased. Though one caveat, is in order to summon a spirit. The dragon themselves or at least someone else that is touching the dragon’s tear must be related by blood, had been lovers, and/or have had a close friendship. You can’t just simply look up the name of a historical figure that you never got to know, think of them, and summon them. You had to actually have known them, or hope they were somewhere in your family tree.

Twilight’s admittedly sort of disappointed with that, but she might understand why and asks just to clarify.

Twilight: So basically… the Dragon’s Tear has to actually sense a legit close relationship of some kind with the spirit in order to summon them. Whether they were family, friends, or even lovers that have passed?

Jennesis: Exactly

Twilight: What if a family member was at odds with another even after they died and thus not really close? Does that mean they’re cut off from being summoned?

Jennesis: Well, if a family member wasn’t particularly close with another family member even after they died, usually that would mean the one that could summon them probably likely wouldn’t want to summon them to begin with. But I suppose if you convinced someone to summon a family member they didn’t like, the blood relation is still strong enough to summon them on it’s own.

Though blood relation doesn’t necessarily just override a need for friendly relations with a family member, it also overrides if you never knew them to begin with. Like, I don’t think Spike necessarily loves or hates me, since he never got to meet me before I died. But he could still summon me, purely from blood relation.

Twilight: What if… someone bystanding a spirit summon sort of becomes friends with a spirit by talking to them. Does that work as a sort of loophole?

Jennesis: Unfortunately, no. Even if say we officially became friends now, you’d still need Spike or if you just so happen to find any friend or other dragons that I was a mother to that’s still alive. If hypothetically the one who summoned me was another dragon that was not Spike, and you tried summoning me because we became friends while I was a spirit. It wouldn’t count.

Twilight: Alright, I think I understand. If I’m hearing this right, when my friends in Ponyville have passed… me and Spike should be able to summon them from being great friends with them… Spike, suddenly one of the biggest cons about being a genie will be much less bad!

Spike: Yeah! That’s awesome! And we can also help others see beloved friends and family members who have passed!

The others in the group speak up

Malakhar: I could see my Grandfather again!

Sultan Theandri: I could get advice from all the former Sultans and Sultanas in my family dynasty! Or give advice myself if a future Sultan should they remain in blood relation!

Celestia: Me and Luna could be able to see our many departed generations of friends and loyal guards and staffers!

All of them just perhaps have some of the biggest smiles they’ve had in a longtime, joyful tears just thinking about the possibility of seeing either friends or family that have long been gone. Though Twilight gives an ahem before giving one more important question to Jennesis.

Twilight: Say Jennesis… how do you know all this anyway. A lot of what you told us isn’t something I’d expect a dragon from outside Saddle Arabia to know. You seem quite knowledgeable about Dragon Tears and Genies.

Jennesis: Well… I could say it’s just from how long I’ve lived. As after all when I died, I was well past 100,000. But I suppose it’s true that I wouldn’t have come across such knowledge, had I never met Jinn.

Twilight: *gasp* You met Jinn?!

Jennesis: Yes, it was a real long time ago. In fact I may have actually been Spike’s age at the time I first met her. But Jinn was a very fascinating pony, I learned a lot about Saddle Arabia, genies, and of course the Dragon Tears in the thousands of years that I got to know her, and call her a friend. Many of my own morals were taught by her, and I’d also assist her in her plight in escaping the Anti-Genie regime.

Though this kind of stuff would be easier, and quite frankly safer, if you could summon Jinn, somehow someway. I do at least know Jinn had a family, after she let herself become mortal again. Do any of you know someone of blood relation to Jinn? Or… but this would be kind of unlikely… someone who was good friends with Jinn back when she was alive

Malakhar immediately speaks up on the former. Twilight ponders a bit before she realizes they also have somepony who was good friends with her too.

Malakhar: My marefriend, Kubuya is blood related to Jinn

Twilight: And there’s also Somnambula! She’s been in limbo for a long time but she was brought back a few years ago, and she was friends with Jinn back in the day.

Jennesis: That’s great! Bring them both, just for good measure.

But perhaps I should at least give the short of why I must start going, and tell you that there is a danger to summoning too many spirits at one time. You shouldn’t summon down more then 50 pony-sized spirits at one time. Nor more then 2 fully grown dragon-sized spirits, it’s quite frankly risk enough to summon me down for reasons Jinn will explain soon.

Spike: Are you saying you don’t want us to summon you ever again?

Jennesis: Not ever again, just don’t overuse it, by summoning me all the time. I’d like to see you as much as I can, being your birth mother and all, but us spirits actually have a purpose where we go. Again, Jinn will clarify everything. And it’ll be safer for the world that she’s the one explaining all this, rather then me. Since she’s only one pony.

I do want to say that I’m proud of the dragon you are, Spike. And I am happy that you have found your perfect mother that I desired. Even if you never summon me again, I am most certainly eternally happy that what I desired has come to pass. As for you, Twilight, the perfect mother that I wished for. I am so happy to hear about your dedication to my son. Please continue to be the best mother for him, I know you’ll be very capable.

And to Princess Celestia, thank you for listening to me after your dream that one time. Doing that was risky on my part, and couldn’t really do that for much longer then I did. But I had to make sure things came out favorable to the egg. I am also happy to see all your wishes were granted as well, I wish you a happy retirement along with spending plenty of time with your dear sister.

Spike, Twilight, and Celestia all have joyful tears at Jennesis addressing them all.

Spike: Thank you for setting us on the paths, that we are on now. We will always appreciate that.

Twilight gives Spike a wing hug while waving to Spike’s birth mother.

Jennesis: Thank you Spike, now please deactivate your dragon tear and allow me to return…

Spike: Alright Jennesis, my birth mother. Perhaps I’ll summon you again some other time just to talk for a bit. But until then, this is goodbye.

Spike closes his eyes, focuses as he puts a hand on his Dragon Tear once more. The tear had been glowing the entire time Jennesis has been in the cave, albeit a decent amount dimmer then it was when she was being summoned. It starts glowing brighter again, as the spirit of Jennesis starts forming again into the giant sphere that had left the group in the cave awestruck. Finally, the Dragon Tear’s glow fades away slowly as it now as the sphere once again goes into a comet shape but now going out of the cave. Once the spirit has left, the group in the cave just looks at each other all with smiles on their faces as they are in full realization what kind of avenues this revelation brings up. But of course, they plan to do what Jennesis told them….

Summon the first ever genie in history, and learn some important stuff she knows about this newfound ability of the Dragon’s Tear.

UP NEXT: Chapter 21 - Life is Magic, Part 1

[romioneficfest]

Missing Trousers

Title: Missing Trousers

Prompt/Day: Day 2 - Pants (I changed the word to trousers, I hope it’s okay!)

Tumblr name:

Rating: M/MA

Brief summary: Hermione’s brief stint with working from home has not been going well: Ron is terrible at housework, he’s bored out of his mind, and —on top of all that— the racket he’s making as he apparently turns the house inside out is totally shattering her concentration. So when he barges into her office, determined to get her to pay some attention to him, she decides to get back at him by teasing him a little before she attempts, for what seems like the millionth time, to get back to work.

Tags: sexual touching

When Kingsley had suggested she take the papers home and sort them out there, she’d hopped onto the idea eagerly: she might be able to work better away from the bustle of the Ministry, in the quiet warmth of her own little study at home, surrounded by books and with a nice cup of tea next to her at all times, the stiff Ministry garb replaced by fuzzy socks and sweatpants… A few days back, Ministry curse-breakers had found a cave system in West Ireland, and though there hadn’t been any curses to undo or treasures to return, there’d been some unfamiliar runes scraggled across the stony wall. Bill, who’d been on the team, could only think of one person right for the job, and Kingsley had immediately agreed: and that’s how Hermione Granger —for whom, at 20, the epithet of “brightest witch her age” had never rung false—, came to be sitting in her study at home, deciphering runes that could earn her a medal from the Wizengamot.

Or so she would be, if the racket outside would stop.

In a fit of gallantry, Ron had offered to take over all of the housework they usually split so she could have time to pour into her work; however, he’d soon realized he’d bitten off more than he could chew, and was going insane with the chores and the boredom of having Hermione shut in all day long. Besides —though he’d never admit it to his face, for fear he’d tell her she sounded like his mother—, Ron may be skilled at many things, but housework just wasn’t one of them, and Hermione cringed a little every time she heard a dish break or a piece of furniture bowl over, inevitably punctuated with some of Ron’s choice swearwords.

But today it went further: all of a sudden, as she tried to pick her way back to the rune she’d left off on, the door to her study flew open with a bang. She lifted her gaze from her papers and was met with a comical sight: Ron was splayed like a star across the doorway, a wild look in his eyes, clad only in a T-shirt, knee-length socks, and green Snitch-patterned underwear: “My trousers are missing!” he bellowed.

“There’s such a thing as knocking, you know,” she quipped, and tried to dive back into her work, but he marched right up to her desk and she was forced to look up again.

“Hermione, my trousers are missing!”

“I got that the first time, thank you,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair with the resignation that there was no way she was getting work done now. “What’s the matter, Ron? Housework not sitting well with you?”

“Oh, I’ll have you know it’s going splendidly,” he huffed, and Hermione had to stifle an amused snort at how clearly false that was, “very well indeed, I think I may have found the one thing I’m better at than you. Only there’s one problem—”

“Let me guess: your trousers are missing,” said Hermione, breaking out into a grin.

Ron was hysterical: “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but this is a serious matter! I can’t find them, and I need them!”

“Why don’t you just try a Summoning charm?”

Ron withdrew a bit, looking sheepish, and rubbed the back of his head absentmindedly as he muttered something that sounded a bit like ‘dunno where my wand is…’

“Oh my god, Ron, you’ve lost your wand too?” she cried, but she wasn’t really surprised: it wouldn’t be too far-fetched if Ron had misplaced his wand somewhere in the mess he kept creating rather than cleaning. She pushed her chair back and began getting up: “That’s it, I’m going to go help you—”

“No, no, no, no, no!” firmly yelled Ron as he hurried over to the other side of her desk and pushed her back into her chair. “As much as it pains me to admit that, yes, I may be slightly dreadful at housework —oh, get that look off your face, won’t you—” he groaned when a slight smirk of vindication drew itself across her face, “I promised you I’d do it so you could get your space to work, and Ronald Bilius Weasley is a man of his word.” He paused, feigning solemnity with a hand across his heart: “Yes, even when he’s wearing nothing but his old Quidditch underwear.” He paused, lowered his hand, and continued in a slower, deeper tone: “And yet…”

“Yes?” she said, raising her head to look him questioningly in the eye.

He paused for an instant, then said in the same sly, low voice: “It’d be nice if you’d find it in your schedule to, y'know, make some time for me…”

“Oh, Ron, I know you’re bored, but my schedule’s packed—” she was cut off by a small gasp, as she noticed Ron slowly draping his left leg around her thighs. “Ron, what are you doing?”

“Attempting to convince you,” he grinned broadly, settling comfortably now on her lap with his legs hugging her waist, his hands resting on her shoulders and his back reclined lightly against her desk. He locked his gaze with hers: “Although, of course, as you well know by now, I’m not wearing trousers,” he said, diverting his glance downward toward the green underwear —which was quickly beginning to stretch— momentarily before raising it to meet hers again, a new spark in his eyes, “but I should hardly think that’d be a dissuasive factor.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love for it to be the opposite,” Hermione purred back in the same low tone, her right hand making her way from her quill to his underwear, as she began to rub him slowly. He let out a small grunt of pleasure, and she smirked satisfiedly: “I’m sure you’d love for me to tell you that this is exactly how I want you to convince me from now on, waltzing into my office in just underwear…”

“You’re right, I’d —oh— I’d love that,” mumbled Ron between moans, which were steadily increasing in intensity and volume as she dug her hand in further, stroking and pulling lightly at his quickly-growing bulge. “Really be —ah— a boost to my —oh— a boost to my ego— oh, Merlin, Hermione,” he whimpered as she drew him closer, her left hand behind his back as the other one continued working, and leaned in to begin nipping slightly at his neck, kissing and biting alternately as her hand intensified its movements.

“Your ego, Ronald?” she laughed in between kisses, reveling in how his contented grunts seemed to punctuate her movements. “Like that needs to get any bigger…”

“Well you —uh— you know me, I’m a great —ah— I’m a great guy, I can’t deny —Merlin, Hermione, that feels so good— I can’t deny it,” he said now, almost as if he were breathing the words out, squirming and tensing contentedly on Hermione’s lap as she continued to stroke him. She pulled a little harder now, and a pleading whine burst from his lips: “Oh, Hermione, keep going, please, I’ll do anything…”

“Anything?” she teased sultrily, repeating the same pull and taking pleasure in how the whine this time seemed to be higher, harder to contain.

He trembled, struggling to get out words from the moans that now seemed to be cascading through his lips: “Anything.”

Then her hand left his crotch, she pushed her chair back and shoved him off playfully, and with a flick of her wand, sent him sliding across the study and out of it, a stunned look plastered across his face: “Then get out of my office, and let me work!”

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Aladdin Queen fic John Deacon x reader Chap. 12; Happy Ending

*Author’s note*

And here it is guys, the last part of my first Disney AU fic. I want to thank everyone who gave this fic a chance and I hope to eventually come up with another Disney AU fic. But until then I’ve got another upcoming movie AU for Queen that I know you all are going to love.

SO until the next update stay safe, stay healthy and stay hydrated (esp. for us dealing with the summer heat right now)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@dancingcoolcat​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queensdivas​

@geek-and-proud​

@queendeakyy​

@kairosfreddie​

___________________________________________________________

With the defeat of Paul and him being sealed in the lamp, everything that he had done to my homeland turned back to normal. The palace was rebuilt and back to brand new, Brian and Roger turned back into normal humans once again, John’s royal clothes were restored, the three Kings soon appeared free from their cage, and Simba and Nala returned to their original size.

As Paul continued his pitiless threats, Freddie and I just grinned at each other and he said as he took Paul’s lamp from my hands.

“Allow me darling. Ten thousand years in the Cave of Wonders outta chill you out.” He then tossed the lamp in the air like a ball before swinging a bat that he made appear in his hands to hit Paul’s lamp far beyond the sand dunes right to the Cave of Wonders.

I turned to see the Princes unite with their fathers hugging and kissing each other.  Their pets nuzzling their heads against their master’s legs thankful to have them back once more.  Nervously I walked towards them and when John turned towards me I said.

“I—I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“No my dear, there is no need to apologizes. How can we ever thank you?” John’s father asked.

“No, no, no there’s no reason to thank me. I just hope you can one day forgive me for my lies and deceit. Especially you John Deacon.” He looked at me solemnly.  “You deserve—so much better than me.”

“We all make mistakes.” Brian’s father said softly with a warm smile.  I nodded and took off my engagement ring and walked back towards John.  I gave him his mother’s ring back and closed his palm before walking back towards Freddie.

“(Y/n)!” John called out my name.  I turned to him and gave him a light smile and assured him with my eyes.

“You’re going to be remembered as the Greatest king your country will ever know.” I nodded before turning my back on him and grabbed the lamp.  I watched as Abu dragged the remaining parts of Carpet who had been ripped during our battle and Freddie hissed in pain as he said.

“Ohh that’s uhh—bit of a mess there Abu. Let me take care of that for you dear.” Using his magic he repaired Carpet like brand new.  He came back to life which made Abu happy to have his best friend back.

He leapt towards Carpet and the two of them hugged each other.  Freddie grinned and said.

“Aww now that’s lovely.” He then turned towards me and tutted. “Ah-ah-ah no long faces there darling. Okay I got an idea, alright? This is your last wish. Royalty was the right idea, okay? We just gotta re-route it a little how about this?” He then transformed into an Amazonian warrior and he said, “(Y/n) Warrior Princess. Defender of the weak and hunter of thieves and villains.” He then readied one of the arrows into the bow and he pulled back as he cried out, “For King John Deacon!” He then released the arrow and phased back to his normal self, “Good right?”

I shook my head at him.

“No? Okay, alright. I hear you. But this is what you need,” he then held out a scroll and unraveled it before going through the very long scroll, “See governing laws of England. See here we—ah-ha here we are. ‘Must marry a Princess of an allied country’. Now you say the right words and this law—kinda goes away. You and Deacy darling over there. Together forever.”

“Wait so—you can get rid of the law?” I asked him.

“Pfft, darling please. Like it’s that hard.” I chuckled a sigh and said as I held the lamp in my hands.

“Okay.”

“Alright darling let’s do this. For the whole kit and kaboodle.”

“Freddie;” he shook his hands out and readied himself ready to work his magic for the final time.

“Bring it to me darling, I’m ready.”

“I wish……”

“Don’t hold back now. One final wish.”

“I wish—to set you free.”

“One princess pedigree coming—wait what?” He began to glow and his wrists began to shine as his cuffs came off of him and landed on the ground before disintegrating.  He was slowly lowered back down to the ground as he now was in his human disguise, but this time it was eternal.

Freddie was now human.

He was in full disbelief as he looked up at me down to his wrists, not believing what it was that had just happened.

“Umm…..quick, quick wish for something outrageous darling.”

“Like what?”

“I-I don’t know, wish for the Nile. Say I wish for the Nile?”

“Uhh I wish for the Nile?”

“Fuck no!” he exclaimed.  I chuckled and he chuckled back.  Tears filled his eyes as he raced right up and immediately hugged me as tight as he could and spun me around.  I held onto him, the two of us burying our faces into each other’s necks. “Thank you darling (y/n). Thank you.” I heard him whimper as tears fell onto my neck.

“No, thank you Freddie. For everything.” He set me down and he cupped my face in between his hands and he said again.

“And no matter what anybody says, you’ll always be my Princess.” I smiled and closed my eyes as I felt him kiss my forehead.

“So—what will you do with your freedom?” I asked him.

“Well…..” he turned back towards the six rulers along with Jim. “There—is this animal keeper that I would love—to spend the rest of my life with. If…..he’ll have me?” Freddie said as he and Jim walked towards each other.

Jim turned towards the Princes and the three of them nodded telling him to get on with it.  Jim turned back around and he said.

“When do we start? Also I’d love to have some cats.”

“Yes darling, bunches of them.”

“Ten in total. We’ll save any cat off the street and heal them and give them a warm home while you entertain them with songs and music.”

“And we can run a shop together.”

“Yes a large one filled with treasures the world has to offer.”

“I was kinda thinking a more smaller one.”

“That works too.” Freddie smiled widely and he and Jim embraced each other before giving each other a passionate kiss.

*John’s POV*

I’m proud that Jim finally found himself someone to spend the rest of his life with.  He deserves to have someone, even if they were formally a genie, but Freddie seemed good for him. I felt a hand take mine and I turned to see my father.

“Come, sit with me my son.” He guided me away from Roger and Brian who were now speaking with their father’s individually. “I am sorry.”

“Father what is—”

“Please let me finish.” He said.  He looked at me with solemn eyes but I could see they held some pride in them, those strong eyes that I’ve always admired and hoped to gain one day just like him.  “My beloved son. Harold, Michael and I were so afraid of losing you boys, like we lost your mothers. That we were blind at only seeing the three small boys you three once were. Not the three strong men you’ve become. You alone have shown me what true courage, loyalty, and strength you have. You are the future of England.”

He then removed the ring of Kings from his finger and held it out to me.

“You—are ready to be the next king of all England.” I looked at him in shock.

“All?”

“Yes. You know as well as I that Roger and Brian had no real desire for the throne. So their fathers and I have decided that only one king should rule all of England. And you have proven to be that one king we all need. Your friends and brothers shall be what they longed to be, and still remain as they help you rule at your side. Brian shall be your astronomer and advisor. While Roger shall help you lead your explorations and Navy.”

I—I couldn’t believe it.  I was to be crowned King of not just my kingdom, but all the kingdoms of England.  My father and uncles were planning to unity all three of our kingdoms into one sole English kingdom, and now I am it’s king.

With tears in my eyes I took the ring and stood up over my father and choked out gratefully.

“Thank you father. I will make you proud.”

“You already have. And as king, you may change the laws as you see fit.” He took my hands in his and kissed my fingers before looking back up at me proudly, “She is just like your mother was to me.” My lip quivered and I hugged my father as tight as I could as a few tears fell out.

“Wh—where is she?” I heard Freddie say.  We all looked up and I took notice that (y/n) was indeed gone.

Clever girl must’ve slipped out throughout all this emotional scenes.

“Go after her John.” My father said.  I nodded and looked down to Nala and said.

“Come on girl.” She obeyed and trailed behind me as the two of us left the palace to find (y/n).

*My POV*

Through all that emotion and finally doing what I was set out to do, I decided it was best to just slip back into my normal life, if I could.  Abu walked along my side as we left the palace and the people were once again out along the village ready to start their day.

I felt around my pocket before finally taking out the second ring I had taken from John the night of our first meeting. I grinned and placed it over my thumb when a voice called out.

“Stop right there thief! The King of England commands you.” The crowd stopped and I could hear faint whispers.  I turned around and there stood John with Nala behind him.  I raised my brow at him as I said.

“King? Does that mean I’m in trouble?” I took off his ring and held it up to show him.  He walked up toward me and said throwing my own words back in my face.

“Only because you got caught.” I felt his index finger go under my chin to lift my head up and that’s when I felt his lips immediately kiss mine.

I closed my eyes and slowly wrapped my arms around his neck and brushed through his short chocolate hair.  I felt his arm wrap around my waist as his other hand gently cupped the side of my face deepening our kiss.  We separated for a brief second before smiling at each other and kissing each other again.

By nightfall our final kiss of the day was our first kiss as husband and wife.  My entire kingdom witnessed this glorious event and all applauded for the King of England finally found his bride; me.

After we separated I couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face as our friends and family came over to congratulate us.

John hugged his father and I hugged Freddie who also gave me a kiss on each cheek.  I was also hugged by my new brother in laws and dearest friends Roger and Brian.  But the greatest pleasure of all was when I had the three former kings hug and kiss me welcoming me to their family.

We all stood in a line before my people as I now represented them in our alliance with England.  Fireworks boomed across the night sky signaling celebration. Carpet came up to John and I and we got on top of him and he flew us up high into the sky over the fireworks as my people all stared and continued to applaud for us.

I turned to my new husband and he smiled down at me and tucked a strand of hair back behind my ear before the two of us kissed once more as Carpet took us far beyond the sky off to a whole new world.

[telleroftales-blog]

Perit, She Who Sculpted The Earth

In the age of Dardanus, father of all, of the gods It was decreed the word which would become law  She who perched her nest high atop Tomor mountain Among those who claimed descent from the Eagle  Must seek the spirit of the mountain, queen of the rocks That all who would seek to rule the land and their children  For without her blessing all the desires and dreams of Man... Zana be her name, the all powerful, the very soul of the land  She Zana, spirit of the mountains and the hills  With Ora of the lakes and rivers, streams and waterfalls... Without her blessing all endeavor would certainly fail  As a horse might falter slipping on a rock  Watching over the terrain, it was they who guided Perit   She, who did flatten the plains, allowing the fire   From within the earth to belch forth  Her forge and bellows for her handiwork Did she carved the river gorges and shaped   The mighty mountain peaks, the inner caves of the Earth   To hide the gems and precious stones for a future day  To the lowland swamps where men plowed the fertile fields  To gain of their sustenance, toiling daily Thus she formed volcanoes, and also the hot springs   Of boiling water, the smell of sulphur ever present  Fermented by the mud and dirt cast down from high places  After years of toil and sweat carving the Earth as we know it 

Perit rested, sweaty now and panting from exhaustion  Lonely now, she desired company... For she was alone and the silence was far too much for her  So she separated her male half from her female side  For she was of two genders, the right and the left  The male and the female powerfully intertwined as one   And thus she created Man, whom she named Burri  A companion and accomplice, in love and harmony   Did the two dwell together  Perit was a goddess of action and will   She gave to Burri all that he desired and needed   In joy and in ecstasy did she proclaim her deed...  “I brought ye here, therefore it is I who must provide for you Ask and ye shall receive, for thou art my companion   I shall be here for you always, my love and my soul As we both will dwell in this place together, happily  The carved mountains and valleys, the gouged river gorges  This place which I have created with my arms and muscle  That give a path of relief to the raging waters   From the heavens above, all this I share with you"  One day Perit gave birth to a baby girl   And the couple were overjoyed Her name was Bija, a child of light with precious eyes  Perit and Burri were happy and they celebrated  For many years, day after day they partook of the dance of life  Singing unto the spirits of the mountains and rivers   A song most joyous and happy Until the day of darkness arrived.... The day that their daughter Bija became a maiden, a woman  Her eyes were full and bright like the Moon now  Burri eyed his daughter with evil intent, with a lustful heart Her figure shapely, her breasts ample, her curves inviting  Burri, not knowing work, the skills of the hunt or seeking sustenance   Knew not the responsibility of maintaining life and property   He fell prey to his inner lust, the call to damnation  One day as Perit was out hunting, seeking rabbits for food  But she didn’t have difficulty finding game Nor did she need to seek and stalk this time, as she always did For a lone hare came to her, and told her prophecy-  “Accept me as thy sacrifice, for today your life will change Throw thy spear surely into my heart, for on this day   You too shall be wounded deeply This is the price you must pay for daring to imagine   That ye could create anything on your own Thou has carved the rocks and cleared the forests  Rendering them into plains and fields   And into mighty mountain ranges that encircle the seas  Oh goddess, hast thou not heard the cries of pain   From those trees and stones as ye cut and forged them? When ye thought to render them to your own desires?   There is a price for everything you touch   There is a price for living, a price for even being alive"   Perit could not fully comprehend what the hare   Was trying to say, thinking these words a ploy   To ward off impending death at the throw of her lance  To escape his fate which awaited him She Perit, spoke- “Think thou not that thy words might spare ye, oh grey hare I shall slay ye and eat of thy flesh, yes  I and my Man, and my child, for we must endure Survival is the way of the living, not the dead  Thy flesh will taste sweet when it roasted over an open fire This is my world, my land, and thou art but an inhabitant  You have a home due to my carving of the rocks   Into mountains and valleys have I rendered them  Be still, as your death will be swift indeed"   And with that she cast her spear with all her might  It entered the hare’s chest and protruded from it’s other side The animal closed it's eyes and died in an instant   Perit carried her motionless catch on her back   She brought it home where she was to prepare a fire So as to cook her prize to feast upon that very evening But as she gathered some wood for the fire  To her amazement she heard human cries and moans   Coming from behind a great rock  She went to investigate and witnessed the unthinkable The unimaginable, the greatest impossibility...  There was Burri, mounted atop his daughter, Bija  Engaged was he in a most lewd act  Bija was crying and screaming, and resisted his advances  Having scratched and bit at her father’s face  In an attempt at defense The bloody marks upon his visage were evidence   Of her attempt to ward him off   But she was powerless to resist his muscular strength   Which pinned her as a lion pins a gazelle   And he continued his savage thrusts amid her cries  Unaware of Perit’s arrival he continued  Deaf to her approach, blind to all awareness  Due to the state of lust he had entered into Perit, enraged at this betrayal, came to the aid of her daughter  And firmly took hold of Burri’s legs   And in the throes of her anger she, with all her force   Threw him over the rock, over the mountains   Where he landed forcibly in some lonesome valley  However, poor Bija, so enwrapped tightly as she was  Caught within his mighty embrace That she too was accidentally thrown along with him Burri landed on the soft side of a riverbed  But the beautiful daughter had fallen now from his grasp  And fell to her death in the chasm below  Her mangled body now crushed, ripped and bloodied   Lying upon the rocks forged by Perit’s own handiwork   Perit stood silent on the cliff’s edge, unable to speak  Tears filled her eyes but she was unable to look down below  Into the valley where her beloved daughter lay  Her body motionless and still, once breathing now dead   Perit was in a state of shock and disbelief  Still not able to understand what had just occurred, or why Now she began to contemplate the prophecy of the hare who informed her  That as he would be wounded by her spear  so she would be as well...  Death for a death, a deed for a deed, this is the law of life   She took a deep breath and let out a great moan Like that of a wounded she bear  Or as a wolf howling at the Moon on a cold Winter’s night After she was able to compose herself, the great Perit called out to Burri from atop the mountain home that was once his   Given in love, joy and generosity  Perit cried out in a stern voice that echoed across the valley- “Be it known that thou hast broken my trust  Oh wretched man!  What a despicable act you have committed   With all that I have done for you! Never will you dwell here with me again And you shall live out your days  In that lonely valley, with snakes and scorpions   As companions and friends  From this day forth, let there be a solemn word for all   Who enter into an agreement The solemn word shall be called Besa, a sacred oath   Of loyalty and fealty  And let there be death for those who dare to break this word A thousand curses on those who break the Besa  Upon them and all their families For a thousand years, until their name and memory   Is wiped from the Earth, forever  Thou hast broken my heart  Until now did I think myself immortal I shall live out my years here alone, until the day I pass   From this miserable existence  Once again is the dominion of the Earth returned   To the great spirits of the mountains and the lakes  Praise be to Zana and Ora!  Who will watch over the land and the people   Never granting power to tyrants and evil doers  Reminding all that we are powerless  For our existence is but a dream  The land survives, that which I carved with   The muscle of my arms and the sweat of my brow... The mountains, the river gorges, the plains   The rocky shores, all of it  All there for the future generations, to live upon   Or to make war upon each other  As humans see fit, as men will see fit  For men will surely destroy this world  Though they be created of women, they are   The breakers of trust and the greediest of beings  May all their doings be cursed with vagueness   And their work regarded with much suspicion”   Perit ordered some eagles to fetch   The broken body of her abused daughter   And bring it back to her proximity   When they returned she clutched Bija tightly Kissing her forehead repeatedly  Rocking her lifeless body to and fro  As she did when she was an infant in her arms Blending her tears with her daughter’s now bloodied face  Singing in monotones that song which would become known as vajtim The chant of the dead...  “Oh my dream, my vision, where have ye flown?  Innocent one, ‘tis I who brought you into this world And I who dared to think I could create your destiny  Nor will you carry on my lineage Never will you embrace the arms of a lover  Never will you know the joy of the hunt   The pleasant song of birds are not for your ears Or the sound of fish splashing about in the rivers  Forgive me, for it was out of love and need that I acted  Fooled and tricked by the man I created for my own desires The old hare was correct, there is a price for everything in this life…the hare paid this price with his...  I pay with the life of my daughter! I damn this creation which I alone have brought forth  Woe is me and mine, forever, woe unto me and mine   For what we have done!”   Then she Perit once again stood on the precipice  And called out to all the world- “From this day forth let it be known   To all the descendants of generations to come For any of you to be a ruler among the nations and the tribes   Know that they must come to this mountain   And seek the guidance of the great spirits Zana and Ora Who will surely test them as to their dedication   And as to their truthfulness  And if these would-be chiefs are proved worthy   They will be granted their blessing  If they are proven not worthy   Let them be cast down into the chasm below Their crushed bodies a reminder of   My own poor Bija’s crushed body  Which lay there alone and innocent  Her young blood mingling with the river's flow   For those who pass the test of Zana and Ora  They who rise forth to take command of the clans   And lead their people to victory Let their lives be a story recounted when they die So that when they leave you, sing of their glories  Or sing then of their evil deeds  So all will know who they were and what they did in life  Sing the vajtim and sing it loudly!   This will be a warning that would insure  They live a life of noble gratitude and justice   Rather than one of trickery, evil doings and lust”  These last commandments were thus delivered   Echoing in the valley until the coming of men Citing that all beings will do what they see fit in their time  Though humans have no knowledge of what the future may hold or how one’s actions will affect others on the morrow  Perit looked up at the mountain peak where Zana and Ora  Dwelled among the clouds that enshrouded these mountains  She asked for their forgiveness, to which they gave With that Perit closed her eyes and without hesitation  Leapt from the cliff, plunging into the valley below Her blood and her being blended with the fast moving river  The violently churning waters became now   Like the foam and bubbles produced by   Those helpless unfortunates drowning, thrashing about  To save their own lives… Thus the swiftly flowing water became known for all time   As Lum i Shkumbi, the River of Foam How foolish then, are the created ones?  Those beings, all of them, Men and Beasts  Born into this prison of existence Nothing can be done about our situation  As we have no choice in the matter  No chest of gold or silver will deliver us from our destiny  There is a price we pay to be alive, to be, costly indeed   For the very experience of living But to live accordingly, with honor and dignity  With the knowledge of trust and law  This is what helps the pain of the reality  So we can pass on to our children our stories They who will dwell in a realm we can never hope to see... That we might be remembered one day by those  Who come after us, who will tell our stories and recite our tales… In the realm of multiple tomorrows

[grither55]

The Princess and the Peasant - (An Azula Epic) - Chapter 66 - Traitors and Training

On the rocky shores of a sea cave.

Two earthbenders were engaging in a skillful dance while Toph grinned as she moved backwards with her broken arm still in a cast.

All while Ling charged her with a much more serious countenance as they engaged in a series of blows.

Blows that stung greatly.

But never came close to seriously wounding the other.

“You’re good. No…you’re great. I’ve never sparred with another earthbender anywhere near as good as you!” Toph exclaimed in a relaxed voice as she stood in a defensive stance while Ling’s lips curved into an amicable smirk.

“I could say the same for you…Toph Beifong.” Ling spoke in a composed voice with an earthen shield in hand as she stared back at her unusual training partner.

All while the other woman grinned back at her as she gestured for her to come forward once more.

“Well what are you waiting for princess? Come at me.” The blind bandit taunted as she sunk back on bare feet while she listened to the sound of the older woman elegantly sprinting towards her.

And then the twenty-four-year-old woman leaped high into the air with her hair flowing in the air behind her as she dropped down above the stationary woman.

And just like that another thunderous explosion of rock echoed throughout the massive cave as the two fighters slid back in the wet dirt.

Only to dash towards one another not a moment later.

And so, it went.

For the rest of the day.

Until they sat panting on the ground beside one another while they both breathed heavily in their exhaustion.

“Your bending style…it’s something else.” Toph stated in a tired voice as she sat with her back to Ling while the older female rasped behind her.

“Yes…my father created it. It’s a blend of the Hung Gar style and the Praying Mantis style.” Ling responded in a proud voice with her hair sticking to her face while the younger woman grinned over her shoulder at her.

“I surmised as much.” The blind bandit commented with a hand on her tired knee while she sensed the royal woman turn around to gaze at her.

“It’s a style that requires the user to exercise even more patience than the others. The user must enshroud themselves in lightweight earthen armor…and counterattack when the opportunity presents itself…just like in the aforementioned styles. However, every step is calculated…so self-control is key.” The princess explained as her earthen armor continued to crumble off her body while the other woman listened in amazement.

It took a great deal to astonish Toph Beifong.

But the daughter of the former Earth King managed to do just that.

“It varies from the other styles in that it relies more on earthbending imitating of conventional weaponry to achieve victory than the more traditional blocks and boulders.” Ling remarked as she gazed at Toph’s impressed face with a prideful smile on her lips.

“That’s amazing. It really is. But even so…I think that it might be far too elegant for my tastes. No offense!” Toph conversed with an easy-going grin on her lips while she listened to Ling chuckle behind her.

“None taken! I suspected that you might say that.” The princess quipped as the remains of her armor and shield eroded to the damp cave floor below.

“Even though we’ve only been training for a few days now…you’re already picking up on the basics in metalbending.” The blind bandit stated in a fascinated voice as she peered in the general direction of her proud training partner.

“Yes well…the future of my country is at stake. I can’t afford to slack off.” Ling muttered as she gazed into the distance of the vast cave network.

“Well I’ve gotta say that I’m impressed by your skill and resolve. And for what it’s worth…I think that you will make a fine leader for the Earth Kingdom.” Toph sighed with her head hanging forward while Ling’s colder eyes softened in appreciate.

“Thank you Toph…for saying that.” The princess murmured as she sat with her back against the younger woman’s while they listened to the sound of water dripping in the sea cave.

“Think nothing of it.” The blind bandit replied in a quieter voice while releasing another heavy sigh.

One can only hope that this will work out in their favor in the end.

One week later…

In a small portside town people were moving about and going about their daily activities.

While a hooded man moved through the streets with medical supplies in his good hand.

His other hand was tightly around in bandages.

And the left side of his scarred face was carefully hidden by his hood.

The former prince maneuvered through the crowds in a rushed manner only to freeze in his tracks with his golden eyes now glued to the wall in front of him.

Before his eyes were several wanted posters.

Including one that was his own.

But that did not faze him.

No. It was the contents of the poster that made his blood run cold.

Zuko’s hands fell to his sides as he stood with his mouth open staring at a list of individuals that had died in his sister’s service.

Doren…

Imem…

His stunned golden eyes gazed between his poster and his uncle’s as he swallowed under his breath.

“Is this true? Or is this just another one of Azula’s lies?” The former prince spoke in a remorseful voice as he held onto the poster with a clammy hand.

And then he discreetly pocketed his poster and his uncle’s as he hurried through the streets with his golden eyes flashing in guilt.

Only to jump in shock when a voice shouted out to him.

“It’s him! He’s the one on the wanted poster!” A woman’s voice called out as many people turned their heads in anger as they watched the young man dart away.

Zuko ran down the street with his fists balled up in guilt when several people sprinted after him.

All the while his eyes flashed with great pain when they shouted out to him.

“Traitor! Murderer!” Another voice yelled as the young man darted down an alleyway.

The royal man sped as fast as he could with his eyes never ceasing in conveying his despair as he speedily outran his civilian pursuers.

All while his mind vividly replayed the foreboding words that were featured on his wanted poster.

Zuko chose self over country.

If you see this traitor, shun him. Alert your local authority and tell everyone you know.

He is no longer one of us. And he never will be again.

And somewhere deep inside Zuko’s heart.

He felt a deep stab of anguish as he processed those harsh words.

Never once able to suppress the guilt that he now felt in knowing that the lives of good Fire Nation people were taken in his uncle’s assault on his sister’s airship.

“Eighteen…” Zuko murmured as he broke off into a run into the nearest forest.

While his hood overshadowed his eyes as he gritted his teeth in sorrow.

And then he took off to reunite with his friends.

Later that day.

Iroh sighed glumly as he now sat staring down at a candle lit tabletop with the wanted posters laid out before him.

Standing before him was a torn up Zuko.

“Is…is this true Uncle?” The former prince questioned in a pained voice as he stared down into his uncle’s sorrowful golden eyes.

“I…presume so. When I launched our surprise attack…the possibility of casualties had occurred in my mind. But even so…I had to rescue Aang at all costs.” The former general muttered as he gazed back at his nephew with his lone eye while the young man fell down into a chair.

“We took eighteen Fire Nation lives.” Zuko breathed in a tormented voice with his fists clenched in his lap while Iroh stared down in a solemn silence.

“We did Prince Zuko.” Iroh replied in a glum voice as he stared back at his now distraught nephew.

“How Uncle…how can we do that…and say that we are any better than Azula and my father?” The former prince pondered with his teeth ground together in his anguish while the older man sighed heavily.

“I am deeply saddened by this news. Just as much as you are. However, war is not without its casualties. And if we do nothing. Millions will die when your father invades the Earth Kingdom on Sozin’s Comet.” The former general explained in a grim voice as he met his nephew’s conflicted golden gaze.

“I don’t know if I can accept that answer Uncle.” Zuko answered in a frustrated voice as he tightened his fists in his lap.

The older man remained silent while he stared at his nephew with a sympathetic gaze while he watched the younger man push himself to his feet.

“I need to go be by myself for a while…I’ll…be in my room if you need me.” The former prince mumbled as he strode away with his golden eyes overflowing in remorse.

He knew that his uncle was right.

Eighteen lives were but a drop in the ocean compared to how many the Fire Nation has already taken.

And how many more will die on Sozin’s Comet.

But even so…

Now matter how much he tried. He couldn’t suppress the feeling that he had betrayed his people.

“I understand Zuko. Take all the time that you need.” Iroh sighed as he watched his nephew depart down the hall of the ship.

It was grave news indeed.

And he had no doubt that Jeong Jeong and Piandao will be just as distressed when they hear about it.

Meanwhile.

Aang dropped his new wanted poster from his hands while he sat in a disconcerted silence with Sokka’s hand on his shoulder.

“Eighteen dead?” The Avatar mumbled in a horrified voice while the watertribe man sighed behind him.

“It’s not your fault man. It’s just…that these things are bound to happen in war.” The tactician consoled in a sigh as he stood behind his dejected friend.

Although truth be told he couldn’t give a shit about the Fire Nation casualties.

Not after all that they have taken from them.

From him!

“I…know. But how will we convince people to fight with us against the Fire Nation if we do the same as them?” Aang pondered in a bothered voice as he frowned with his back turned to his concerned friend.

“I don’t know Aang. I just don’t know.” Sokka admitted with a scowl on his lips while Aang swallowed the lump that was in his throat.

“I believe that I need to meditate more on the matter Sokka. Maybe then I will know what to do.” The Avatar declared as he turned away while his longtime friend nodded in understanding.

“Alright. I am going to go check on Katara.” The tactician agreed as he gave his friend a final pat on the shoulder.

Before he quietly strode out of the room with his blue eyes overflowing in anger once more.

They have got to find a way to counter the effect that this girl has on Aang.

Or else…

He swallowed with his fist clenched at his hips before he strode down the halls to find his sister.

Aang placed his hands in his lap once more while he breathed in and out.

Before he closed his eyes as his mind once more drifted away from reality.

And into the planes of the Spirit World.

Katara stood beside Pakku while he watched with paternal blue eyes as she continued practicing her therapy.

All the while the young woman continued moving her arm with the aid of her waterbending only to release a cry of frustration not a moment later.

“Katara…your arm will recover but you must be patient.” Pakku spoke in a gentle voice while he took a step forward when a tear streamed down his adopted granddaughter’s cheek.

“S-she ruined my arm!” Katara cried out in fury once more as she held onto her pained arm with her good hand just as she felt the older man pull her into a hug.

“It will be alright Katara. I promise.” The waterbending master whispered while the young woman began to cry in his arms.

It was all he could do to hold her.

And so, he did.

While he clenched his teeth in his anger as he struggled to suppress the fury that he felt towards Azula and Zoe.

All while Sokka watched from the corner with his fist balled up in his rage.

No matter what it takes.

He vowed that he would get back at Azula for what she did to his sister!

For taking the woman he loved from him!

Meanwhile Iroh now sat across from Jeong Jeong and Piandao as his concerned friends processed the news.

“This is not good. I understand that causalities happen in war. But this…is unacceptable.” Jeong Jeong muttered in a grieved voice while Iroh grimaced in understanding.

“We will be more careful next time. Unfortunately, no war is won without bloodshed. We can only do our best to minimize the death toll.” Iroh stated in a serious voice as he gazed back at his comrades worried faces.

“Regrettably. This has already worked in Azula’s favor. The few Fire Nation men and women that we were able to gleam towards our cause. Stole a boat an hour ago and left before we could convince them otherwise.” Piandao informed with a heavy frown on his features while the other two men cringed in their seats.

“I see…then that means that we cannot remain idle here any longer.” The Dragon of the West sighed as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose while his two comrades frowned in agreement.

“We must restore balance at all costs…but the question remains. What will be the cost?” Jeong Jeong mumbled in a glum voice as he scowled deeply while his companions gazed on in an unnerved silence.

Ruolo stood on the deck all by himself as he stared out into the cave with his green eyes watching closely as the two women finally emerged from the depths of the tunnel.

The princess stepped into view with a subtle smirk on her confident lips while the shorter woman followed out alongside her.

“That was quite the experience Toph. Perhaps we can do it again after your arm has healed up a bit more?” Ling queried as she strode with a shirt over her shoulder while Toph grinned in delight.

“I’m up for it whenever you are princess!” Toph exclaimed with a smirk of her own while Ling chuckled in amusement.

“Good. I am glad to hear it.” The princess spoke as she clenched her fist at her womanly hip while the younger strode beside her.

“Just consider yourself fortunate that I only had one arm to work with. If I had both I would have kicked your ass.” The blind bandit boasted as she rubbed at her ear with her fingertip while the older female smiled politely at her from over her shoulder.

Only for Ling to turn and gaze ahead with a much colder look in her green eyes.

‘I’ve obtained it…metalbending.’ Ling thought as she tightened her fist while she gazed down at it with a composed countenance.

In the palm of her hand she held onto a small bead of metal that was twisting and morphing its shape at her will.

The sphere of metal morphed into liquid as she effortlessly molded it in her clenched fist.

Before she closed her fist once more with a determined expression in her eyes.

It won’t be too much longer now…

Before she kills both the Fire Nation Princess and the Fire Lord too.

And last but not least…

The Dragon of House Song herself.

And then…she will liberate her people.

No matter what it takes. Even if it costs her own life.

She’ll bring her dream to fruition.

And that…was a promise.

[sugar-petals]

Cinder | pt.1 ➝ pjm

↳ sequel to cygnet (m). 

¬ pairing: Jimin x Reader

¬ words: 7,417

¬ summary: Two and a half years later. The Black Forest. After your separation from the Prince of Bavaria, you have found and won back his lost sword, Cinder. The blade leads you on a trail behind robbers who you suspect have abducted the Prince. 

¬ genre/warnings: bavarian prince!jimin, historical, thriller, rated r, action, graphic violence, gore/body horror, angst, hurt & comfort

¬ a/n: Paintings in the separators by Rubens.

The man falls over with a dagger in his heart.

Seconds later, Anna reaches down to withdraw the hilt.

She remains stern. Austere.

While blood keeps soaking through the man’s grey shirt, heavy raindrops start to ruffle the current of the nearby river. Friedrich is all neigh and trot tonight. He looks impatient standing at the bridge. His black fur wets down almost entirely. No other horse would volunteer to ever tread this area.  

When the rain begins to permeate the air entirely with a heavy earth-like scent, Anna boots the lifeless body into the creek. A gush of clear water from the river’s edge suffices to rinse off her blade. She stuffs it back into the casing at her belt almost right away.

Meanwhile, the pour from the sky has become relentless. Anna misses the south of France. Germany is no good when it comes to stable weather. Not at all. Still, she remains focused.

The maiden heads over to the bridge for adjusting Friedrich’s saddle until she is somewhat content with how it sits. The horse is jittery, completely drenched at this point.

It’s a solemn day.

Churning, the river sweeps a few crooked branches down its current while the water surface becomes increasingly agitated by the downpour. After three whistles and two claps, Anna decides to linger at the waiting spot herself to listen for a sign. And there it is. A reply.

Three whistles. One clap.

In a heavy gallop through the mud, fervid Gretchen storms toward the creek. Her mane, dark like hickory, leaves a dense spray of rain on your vest. You keep the leather reins wrapped tight around your gloves. Maybe there is another horse who would volunteer to tread this area.

Once you stop at the bridge, Anna greets you with a tip of her hat, earning one from yours in return.

“Clap louder next time, Milady. It was barely audible.”

“My bad. Started when the wind came.”

“The whistles were pretty good anyways,” Anna pats Gretchen’s flank. The horse’s breath goes slower by the minute.  

“Couple of Duke’s chambermaids taught me last week,” you shrug. “They always use it when picking berries at the mill.”

“Friedrich’s ears went all stiff when you did it,” Anna goes on to caress her own horse’s head. His ears are still upright either way. Either of your Warmbloods had been tense all day. They feel what you feel.

You barely nod looking around with a squint to your eyes. Mud everywhere. Steep rock. More branches. The rain keeps trickling down the back of your vest.

“Where is the guy with the grey shirt?” 

Anna’s face scrunches up.

“Down the creek. Got carried away pretty fast. Disgusting smell.”

It's almost guaranteed.

“That’s washed away by now,” you say, gazing down the current. “Robbers don’t have palace etiquette. The Duke is big on sanitation.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“We’ve been catching dust at Castle Altfried for too long. I'm not used to this either.”

Admittedly so, you can hardly stand the wind and ride with a stable posture. It's almost embarrassing. By comparison, Gretchen is remarkably steady underneath you. Anna does notice.

“Was there a problem with Steinburg?” she asks, and concern laces into her words.

You shake your head fast, making excess rain drip from your hat.

“No, I couldn’t find him. Gretchen isn’t fast enough yet. We’ve never practiced riding on boulders.”

The maiden hums.

“Right. She’s used to gentler paths.”

“But at least you got rid of this one,” you point toward the red patch next to the creek’s bank a few meters away. “Good job, Anna. You threw a dagger at him, didn’t you.”

“Guy was busy picking his nose and peeing into the water.”

“Really?”

“Aimed straight at the chest when he noticed me and wanted to aim his gun.”

You laugh at the image forming in your mind.

“What an idiot.”

“I think— He was guarding something for Steinburg around here.”

You look around the barren area a second time. A few pine trees in the distance make the landscape at least a bit more inviting. But yet again, you note how much you hate the Black Forest during storms.

And either way.

It's hard to suppress the feeling. The denial, and the desire.

You wish for Jimin's body close.

Right now.

The memory still feels palpable. It’s painful in your chest.

“Not the most hospitable place."

Gretchen, as if nodding along, moves her head.

Anna affirms quickly in reply. “Must've been something important to guard, he was clad in arms, Y/N.”

You understand. As expected of Steinburg's lackey.

“We’ll search the caves over— there,” you indicate toward the cluster of hills and rocks west of the creek. “I get a feeling the robbers are hiding something in those.”

Anna sounds a lot more disgruntled at that.

“Milady, we don’t know how sloped they are. We don’t have a lamp!”

Nothing are you more acutely aware of. Even spending the upcoming night without any lighting will be hard. But what can you do but lie to yourself.

“Don’t care,” you seize Gretchen’s reins tight anew. The horse responds immediately by turning west. “It’s the only spot the grey shirt guy could guard. And if there’s nothing, at least we can escape the rain. Our horses can rest for a minute. They’ll thank us later.”

“Still don’t like the caves.”

“Come, saddle. It’s a good rest. We worry about the light when we’re there. It’s not like we just race inside.”

“Fair enough.”

Anna, after tilting her hat to let some accumulated water drip down, proceeds to climb on Friedrich’s back.

You vow to be careful when Gretchen clatters ahead through the muddy area.

The entrance is cluttered with pebbles and debris from what appears to be the remnants of a prior, heavier storm. Chunks of branches, earth. And even more rocky ground. Wetted down everywhere because the rain has even fewer mercy than Anna when she throws a dagger.

Still, you feel the longing in your chest. There isn’t much that really helps you distract yourself from it. Not in a landscape as barren as this. All you can do is soothe Gretchen with some corn from your vest. It’s a bit mushy, but a swordmaster’s horse could care less. She’s seen rougher days. At least you find it a little amusing to watch Gretchen munch and shake her mane around. The entrance spot makes for good shelter. But still, you make sure to adjust the bow on your back.

Half a minute later, you shift in the saddle to observe Anna gaze and grope about the walls of the cave on either side before she returns. You stuff the corn back into your vest when you see her expression being much graver than before.

“This place is strange, Milady,” she says. “I can’t tell why. There’s something... ashy on the walls.”

“Ash?”

“Yes.”

“Weird. But it’s not steep as you thought, right.”

“Not really.”

That's good. Very good, in fact. You let Gretchen circle about the area a bit now. 

Ash on the walls. It really does seem peculiar.

The more you try to find the marks she is talking about, the more you wonder about the ground. Something is even stranger about it. So you look down closer leaning from your saddle, indeed making out some odd, elongated imprints and shapes.

“Anna, look at this!”

“Yes, Milady?”

The maiden already hurries over.

“I think there are footprints in the mud all around the entrance, I’m not sure. It could just be grey shirt guy’s. They don’t look like yours.”

You point beside where Gretchen stands with you on her back, waving her tail from side to side. Never is she as nervous. Not even when the Duke’s clarion players and knights march up every weekend at the Castle, playing their most intricate of songs while reeking like foul wheat. A nightmare to a horse. But even that won’t compare. 

Anna crouches to twirl her gloved fingers through the mud. After a few seconds of investigation from all sides, she comes back to where you stand farther inside the cave.

“Those are traces other than grey shirt’s, Milady.”

“And?”

Her expression turns far too dark for your taste once more.

“They’re from heeled shoes.”

Jimin’s.

“What!”

“We have to go in deeper.”

Silence. You peek toward the inside of the cave. No lamp. No clue.

No time, either.

“Shit.”

“Gretchen and Friedrich can’t stay at the entrance,” Anna points at the horses. “If Steinburg or the other two robbers show up here, we’re done for.”

“They’ll send one of them to search for grey shirt guy. It’s two against two.”

“We can’t think about that now. The horses will lead the way.”

“Didn’t we just worry about having no light whatsoever, Anna?”

“They’ll fit through there, the cave’s tall. Gretchen has great sense of smell. Her first.”

“Let’s just hope there’s not a wolf or a bear in there.” 

Eventually, you unsaddle, then take the bow and quiver from your back; strap both around Gretchen’s side at a height convenient to seize an arrow from. The rain keeps getting stronger.

Anna guides Friedrich toward the right slant of the entrance.

“Milady, I’ll always throw a knife for you.”

Her words are small a solace.

Your heartbeat feels louder in the cave than the rattling breath of the horses. Cygnet’s sheath rests in your left hand ever so firmly, cool, but wet from the rain. On the other side of your belt, tapping against the side of your hip with every step— Cinder, untouched. The wall of the cave feels brusque under your right palm. Anna glances back at you.

“We’ll have to rely on Gretchen in a few meters.”

“I don’t know if she’s ready.”

You’ve been riding around all day to scan the forest for any sign of the robbers or the Prince. Gretchen’s exhaustion is audible enough in her breath. You can be fortunate Anna encountered at least one of the robbers.

“The ground is even until now, we might be lucky.”

Might. And that's the problem.

“Maybe I can whistle while we still have a bit of daylight. If there are animals inside?”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“This is the last spot where we stand a chance, Anna.”

A flash of surprise in Anna’s eyes tightens your grip around Cygnet.

“So you'll lure them out by whistling? I never thought about this.”

You don't want to imagine how the two horses would react if a wolf was in there. But there's no choice. The image of the heeled shoe's trace is too compelling inside your mind.

Jimin is here. And he needs your aid.

“I’ll do it.”

Friedrich, ears alert as ever, shudders, then sways from one hoof to the other when you bring two fingers to your lips. A long echo reverberates through the cave. It takes half a minute until the whistling sound ceases. It is so eerie that your legs seem to freeze.

“The cave is huge,” Anna trembles. She looks times stiffer. “The Prince could be anywhere.”

“Fucking hell...”

“There must be several caves branching out down there where it gets dark.”

All the more space for wild animals to get cozy.

Friedrich’s nostrils flare up, and he tilts his head towards Anna. He’s always done this being riled up before tournaments and lance games. You exhale, allow your eyes to trace the rock surrounding you. Calm, calm. 

Stay calm.

“You said that the place is strange earlier, didn’t you.”

“Yes, what about it, Milady?”

You let your hand cup over the cragged stone surface on your right. Only a few meters and the cave will be too dark to maneuver like this.

“All those blemishes you’ve seen on the wall. I mean— Those could indicate the way.”

“I’d guess so,” Anna leans sidewards to inspect the walls before her.

“I’ve seen two ash blotches earlier. Here’s none. Yes. They appear in certain distances. I’m sure those are marks. Not random spots.”

They did look like stains made by torches, almost. Dark, grimy.

“That would make sense.”

“Say— If the cave has several branches, the robbers need the marks to find the way.”

Anna gulps. Her voice sounds hoarse now.

“The ash at the entrance looked pretty worn. Didn’t it.”

“So did the other two,” you withdraw the hand from the wall. “The ashes aren’t here since, well, recently. They applied them a long time ago.”

“I know what you mean.”

“If these are the robbers’ headquarters—”

Far around the corner, a dim light emerges.

Yellow, awfully bright in contrast to the surrounding dark walls. The horses flinch, as do you. Anna looks completely debilitated.

Only seconds later, someone shouts. It’s a deep growl. Haunting.

“Jakob, is that you?”

You know who it is. The voice.

It can belong to only one person. 

The increasing alarm in Anna’s face tells you she understands, too. The yellow light keeps on approaching. She points to the saddles. But you’re frozen. Another shout.

“Hey! Jakob? Told you to guard the entrance, not to come inside. Why did you take the horses here? I can hear them!”

Steps. The light creeps up the walls further.

Jakob, you realize, was the robber in the grey shirt. 

You've anticipated it. Both of the horses squeal in fear, then scurry to turn. Holding onto Gretchen's reins is a useless endeavor. Brushing past Anna who promptly falls, they race toward the exit, with Friedrich heading for it first.

Gretchen second— 

Carrying both your bow and arrow with her.

Goodbye, headshot from a safe distance.

You rush toward Anna. The voice reverberates inside the caves again.

“Hm? What’s going on there, Jakob!”

The tone comes close enough for you to estimate its age. Mid thirties. Not approaching fourties yet. A heavy Swabian dialect. A man.

“Answer me!”

Teeth gritting, Anna still winds on the ground of the cave, grabbing her ankle. With a sinking heart, you realize that she twisted it. You've seen this type of injury in tournaments all too often.

By now, the walls are half illuminated. The steps around the bend of the cave are firm and significantly faster. Anna tries to get up using her other leg, but you prevent it by passing down your hat into her arms. 

“No. Stay here.“

“Milady!”

“Anna. There is only one way to win such a battle.”

"Y/N..."

"I won't be a fool again. Keep an eye on the horses."

“Yes, master.”

He is as bulky as the salesman Meier described to you at Castle Altfried, selling his molded fruits.

Bearded, two meters tall, and a putrid smell preceding him. From his fur jacket’s top left pocket, a silver shine emanates in the candlelight of the lamp.

Jimin's edelweiss necklace.

“You! Must be the harlot the Prince has been pleading for all night.”

A crooked sneer. Rotten teeth. He stomps towards you with taunt written all over his face.

“Erich Steinburg.”

He laughs. Disparaging.

“Haven’t heard that name in four years. Four! You want to know how they call me nowadays?”

“You don’t sound like I have a choice.”

Steinburg bends one knee, leaning forward to put down the clattering lamp. You realize he does it to admit you a fast glance at the hefty weapon fastened to his back.

“The Axe of the Black Forest. But I don’t lumber.”

His massive arm, the circumference perhaps a third of Gretchen’s neck, reaches back. It slackens the grip of the double-bitted blade out of its leather straps. Your heart rate pounds like a kettledrum inside either of your ears. His axe looks even more massive now that he grips it.

“I see you don’t enjoy a battle of honor, Steinburg.”

His gaze falls to your belt.

“Huh! I don’t swordfight against harlots with nimble sword sticks.”

Steinburg spins the axe in the right palm now, giving you a 360° view of the heavy blade. It’s almost twice as large as his head.

“I used to fight with unfair means some time ago as well.”

“Givin' that up'll cost you your life, I’m afraid.”

Ghostly, seemingly by itself almost, Cygnet slides from its sheath. It feels different after it rained every time. You balance, listen to the blade, tilt— until finding the right way to grip.

“I will beleaguer you regardless.”

Again, it is Cygnet doing its work without much of your help. Albeit scaring you, it finds a way to arrange itself in the beginning stance of any battle you have lunged into.

With the difference that there is nothing mock about it. 

Steinburg comes to trot closer. His steps are dull on the cavern's ground. The surrounding smell is so repugnant that you feel like turning your stomach inside out.

“It really is a stick. Don’t even get ten mark for that.”

“You think?”

“I’ll have great fun slicin' your corpse. The Prince will watch. Get good ransom for him, later.”

“You can try. Cygnet has slain men larger than you.”

"Too ambitious, harlot!"

The axe comes down with a vehemence that makes Steinburg’s arms bulge out a third their diameter. Cygnet’s blade first wavers, then glides off under the blow. You let go of the handle, drop to your knees. All to evade a diagonal swing of the axe aimed at chopping through your shoulder.

Centimeters left to Cygnet lying on the ground way past your reach, Steinburg’s own weapon engraves itself. There is no way you could retrieve your sabre. It did not last a single blow. The axe is far too massive. Steinburg is stronger than most knights at the Hohenzollern brigade.

But he is not first in line.

You stay kneeling and count to five while he draws back the axe again for another strike under tremendous efforts. It's one of the heaviest weapons you have ever seen.

5, 4, 3... 2.

A fervid pierce. So brute, you feel the shock sting through your entire arm. Steinburg first wavers— then collapses on the cave floor howling. 

No second strike comes down precise. The axe has fallen from his grip before touching the ground.

His trousers turn carmine, then wine red around the spot where you rammed Anna’s dagger into his loin from below. 

Femoral artery. 

Pricked. 

Right. 

Through.

“Fool.”

Steinburg bawls out, winding on his stomach.

“What have you done!”

“This is no lance game, fucker. You kidnapped the Prince of Bavaria.”

You scramble up from your kneeling pose. A quick reach toward your belt. Unsheathed in a second.

Another spill of red. Cinder drills into the robber’s back, burying half its golden blade in flesh. He screams again. You plunge it down until the grip, and anchor it fast in his rib cage.

“My only honor will always be to protect the Prince. My sticks are just a tool.”

“You—!”

The blade through his lungs already shortcuts his breath.

“Deal with it. They call you Axe? Can’t even handle a little dagger.”

“Who, who are you!”

You shake your right arm to relieve it from the strain it took to place the knife into his loin.

“First in line of all swordmasters from East Prussia to Rhine's End,” you reach to the floor to pick up your lost sword, sheath Cygnet. It did not last the first blow, but its blade remains intact. “Bodyguard to the royal family of Bavaria. Any last words?”

“You’ll pay. You’ll pay for this.”

“Already did. 210 mark. Fucking expensive."

"What are you talking about!"

"Spent the other 39 I had at the Altfried town inn on some delicious asparagus before I met this guy Meier. Was well-invested money. You can still have it if you want. Isn’t money all you desire?”

“What?”

The cave’s ground already sticks with a pool of red under your feet.

“Wait a second. Here’s your payment.”

You take a deep breath, as close to him as possible. Inhaling every last bit of the foul scent. Lean down. Cough up. 

And puke all over his face.

Three whistles and claps reply from the entrance of the cave. You wave the lamp back and forth. Seconds later, you hear hooves. Gretchen speeds toward you. Friedrich follows, with Anna on his back.

“Are you alright, Milady? Is the Prince alive?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. Steinburg isn’t."

"You made it!"

"Don’t look at him for too long. And hold your breath.”

You nod your head toward the corner of the cave where Steinburg’s feet protrude from.

“Oh God!”

“Gretchen shouldn’t smell that, we ride past quick, alright. Take care of your foot when we do.”

The maiden’s eyes wander to your hip, scanning.

“Where is Cinder? The sheath is empty! Is it damaged?”

“The Prince will retrieve the blade himself when we return.”

You pull yourself up Gretchen’s saddle and spur. After passing you your hat, Anna follows.

“And the dagger?”

“Crotch. Thank you for lending me.”

“Crotch!”

“Not thrown like I thought I would. I’m not as good at it.”

“You’ve stabbed Steinburg up close?”

“I did.”

“Just what did he wield?!”

“You’ll see in a second.”

The horses pass the corner of the cave. You don’t have to spur Gretchen to go faster. She tramples over the stock-still pair of legs blocking the way deeper into the cave. Steinburg did bleed out fast. Bones crack. Anna keeps her nose covered with the inside of her sleeve.

Once you reach the next ashen mark on the wall, Anna removes the sleeve and huffs out.

“Steinburg had an Axe?”

“And he was two meters tall. Just like the farmers at the creek said. I think we owe them something for pointing us towards the cave.”

Their advice could not have been more priceless.

“Let’s just hope Steinburg didn’t hit the Prince with this thing.”

“He didn’t,” you shake your head, still lightheaded. “The robbers want to go for ransom. They get more when he’s alive than dead or lethally injured.”

“Right. You said the same happened at the Hohenzollern brigade. I mean when you started there as commander, Milady.”

“Yeah, that case was similar. Someone tried to abduct the Duchess Walthilde.”

“Did the kidnappers succeed?”

“No. She was unscathed. One of my soldiers had retrieved her before it was too late.”

Another ash mark passes, guiding you into a narrower cave tunnel. Either horse goes slower, but you still have enough space to fit through.

“Really?”

“But the Duchess didn’t take it well. It haunted her for years. And that’s my only fear with Jimin. I don’t want to imagine how he ended up here. It’s been so long.”

At the entrance of the lacuna, Anna picks up a heeled shoe. It is unlike the one you’ve seen Jimin wear at the ball because it is so defiled with mud, with its sole torn off. 

However, looking at the red heel, you know it is his.

“They will think Steinburg is back when they see the light. We have to watch out for other robbers in there,” Anna puts down the damaged shoe. If you didn’t already, you would start to feel nauseous at the mere sight. Stepping forward with cygnet drawn, you illuminate the lacuna. Anna limps behind you.

The cave room is filled with stacked, empty barrels. Some for gun powder, others for beer. All out of stock. You’re not surprised why Steinburg would have needed the ransom. You lift the lamp more only to spot piles of ammunition and large chunks of wood. There’s a fireplace with ashes and leftover chicken bones. It’s what they used to create the marks.

Gretchen and Friedrich stay at the entrance, with either you and Anna hoping they would stay still for once. The image of the shoe won’t leave your mind. 

The sheer panic alone slows your steps.

After climbing through the pieces of wood, you already reach the end of the barrel front, sighing out.  

“They’re all out riding. I don’t think Jimin is here either. Fuck.”

“If they were here and heard your fight with Steinburg, they would have come out anyways.”

“Yeah, the lacuna isn’t far away from the spot where we fought. The echo is stronger here, too. They would have been alerted.”

The cave room is considerably warm, and large minus the empty stocks now that you think about it. An ideal hideout.

“They use cowardly long distance weapons,” Anna comments, browsing the scattered materials on the rough ground. She picks up a few of the pistols and investigates them from all sides. Only few of them seem to be loaded at all.

“I’ve become cowardly as well,” you gaze back to the horses where your bow and arrow are. How many ludicrous straw men they have shot at Altfried Castle. You can only laugh at yourself.

“No, arrows are practical,” Anna shakes her head, turning the pistol upside down, then shaking it back and forth. You can hear what she means. “But these guns right here are loaded with everything but real powder or bullets.”

They use spikes and all sorts of metal bits, rattling inside the weapon.

“Amateurs. It won’t even fire properly. You can tell they’re broke. And that is cowardly.”

“God. You would think someone like Steinburg would amass tons of money.”

You sway the lamp towards the barrels.

“Tons of mediocre beer, you mean.”

Anna scrunches up her face.

“That’s why he smells so damn bad. I don’t know how you could stand that up close, Milady Y/N.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Your stomach still feels uneasy.

“The wimp really was that rotten.”

“His aim was rather poor as well,” you say. “Jimin might have been lucky. What I saw was not the monstrous Erik Steinburg the peasants were talking about. He bled out faster than a cow.”

“Maybe that was a bad idea. We could have forced him to tell us where the Prince is.”

“It seemed like he was keeping him around here to me. Unless they were trying to lead us into a trap.”

“No,” Anna shakes her head. “With the grey shirt guy dead, and Steinburg? They missed their opportunity. And as we said. They’re amateurs.”

Your voice turns dark.

“They did manage to kidnap the Prince, at least.”

Silence.

“Probably when he was sleeping. You can’t defeat the Prince of Bavaria awake. With these guns in particular. It was a nighttime thing.”

“That’s how they took his sword, you mean?”

And only days later, they sold it to Meier. It makes sense now.

“Yes. We have to keep searching.”

She puts down the pistol, adjusts her hat. You turn to shed light on the other corner of the cave where a particularly large wall off barrels towers. Again, you raise the lamp.

“Maybe we find something there, Anna.”

As you sheath Cygnet and shove one beer barrel in the stack to the side to create an opening, you see a moving shadow. Anna yelps out. 

You retract your hand, four barrels come tumbling down to your left, making both of you jolt backwards. The lantern almost drops, but you manage to keep hold of it. The horses neigh at the entrance.

Now you see where the shadow came from.

Two bats flatter up to the ceiling of the cave room.

“My heart just stopped, Milady! Oh shit!”

Anna props herself up on one of the barrels that fell down. She still holds her foot. 

You gaze upward to see the two small fuzzy animals nestle together between rocks, shielding themselves with their wings from the light.

“They’re harmless,” you soothe. “They’re more afraid of us than we are of them. We have some bats in the basement of Linderhof Palace as well—”

Suddenly, Anna tugs at your sleeve.

“Milady Y/N! Look!”

You turn.

“What’s wrong, Anna?”

“Behind the beer barrels!”

You flinch.

An opening. 

Now you spot it, too. The four barrels that had fallen had revealed another hole in the wall, seemingly a tunnel. You scurry to squeeze through the stacks right away.

“He’s in there. He’s in there! I know it!”

Jimin.

Finally.

You are sure.

The dim tunnel is much smaller than the initial cave way, barely fitting a horse if it would ride through. Anna hurries right behind you, following the light, with you trying not to graze against the moist walls of the tunnel with Cygnet. At this point, you know that any person other than Jimin with the wrong intent would have an advantage coming from the lacuna, following you into the hole. You don’t want to think about it.

The lamp glints up. At the end of the tunnel’s first bit, you step into a wider space.

“An interval!”

You scan the area. All dripping wet rock. And colder. Less space. And in a far corner—

“They have more barrels over there.”

“We have to follow the tunnel!”

A few meters in and you realize that the cave walls become even more narrow. Gretchen wouldn’t fit through anymore. And by the flicker on the wall, you realize. You’re in trouble.

“The lantern!”

Its white candle has almost reached the very bottom of the attachment. You look back, then forward, to see how far you’ve come, and how far you can go. An actual tail of the tunnel is still not visible. Anna rummages inside her vest.

“It’s not the best time to pull out a snack!”

“Milady.”

A candle stub. She’s picked it up at the fireplace, or where the ammunition was.

“You gem!”

“Quick, exchange them before there’s no fire anymore!”

The end of the tunnel is not a true end, but a slight depression that ends in a furrow. With the new candle in place, you can gawk far enough down the hollow, and curse yourself. Of course.

“There’s no way Steinburg would have even fit through the majority of the last meters! For fuck’s sake, we’re dumb!”

“It doesn’t even branch out, look!”

She’s right. The tunnel is a dead end. With Jimin nowhere near. If they find you now, you’re done for.

“Back, quick! Back, Anna!”

The walls are not even broad enough for a proper strike of Cygnet. Not a centimeter there to dodge a slice either. And every pistol shot: Not even an amateur would miss.

“Shit!”

Running is hardly possible. Anna’s foot looks dangerously slanted with every step. The candlelight threatens to go out if you do, swaying around the fluid wax too much around the wick and flame. 

Cygnet regularly scratches against the cave wall, carving dents into its sheath. You curse more when Anna almost falls because of the wet ground. Helping her find balance again with a tug at her shoulder, you see that the interval room is already back in sight.

Still too far inside the tunnel. 

When you reach it, Anna fully trips. You crouch down to pull her upward by her arms that you hear it.

A thudding noise. 

No, a knock. 

Two times. Three times. You almost black out with the shock and fall down next to Anna. The thudding continues.

Those aren’t bats.

But human noises.

Echoing. Echoing. Echoing.

You can barely unsheath your blade that the knocking turns dull. Cygnet remains stuck inside its casing. Your arms are heavy. The gnarly feeling in your stomach gets worse.

It doesn’t stop.

More thuds.

You raise the lantern to brighten up the tunnel.

“They’re not here yet. We can still hide. Get up! Come on!”

Both of you scramble off the floor. Anna’s shirt is ripped up at the waist. 

The knocks turn louder, and slower.

“Come over, Y/N!” Anna limps toward the barrels, opening the very first one in sight. She climbs inside with the lid in her right hand. “Give me the lantern, I put out the candle! The robbers will see the light!”

Ceasing knocks. The horses are raucous at the entrance of the lacuna. Your state of panic rises even more. Everything within your mind screams.

The lantern fades out with one blow. You can hear Anna place the candle container at the bottom, then, feel her grab for your hands to pull you inside. Within a matter of seconds and one foot in, you realize that the barrel is too small for both of you.

“Take another barrel! Fast!”

You drag your foot out, then grope for anything to hold onto in the other direction where you believe another barrel to stand. Anna closes the lid of hers, making you flinch before you realize what she did because of the sound. 

Finally. A wooden surface underneath your fingertips. Fumbling, you realize that the barrel you found is decently large. Ripping off its cover strains your arms, but you manage to get a foot inside, careful, then another. You detach Cygnet from your belt, stuff it into the barrel, then crouch inside and pull the lid in place overhead with trembling arms.

And then you sit.

Exhale—

There’s a breath that’s not yours. 

Deep and heavy.

Right before you.

You’re scared stiff. No movement.

Until your mind catches up.

The robbers have been waiting for you inside the barrels.

And Steinburg—

Was just a ploy.

A savage blow toward the other end of the barrel with your fist. Miss.

You kick your legs forward. The first passes the aim, the other tangents what you believe to be a torso. But still, no hit. The barrel shakes. Another strike, this time, with your elbow. You can’t land it. It goes into nowhere.

Now you understand that whoever is at the other end crouches.

A lunge. You quickly make out where the body is, clamp it between your legs. You seize at it with the last bit of force left in your arms. Shake.

And realize it’s bare skin.

With a familiar scent.

Whimpering emerges from below you.

Then, a sob.

You let go.

The knocking came from the barrel. This very barrel.

“Jimin!”

Sniffles. Heavy breaths. You feel your way to the spot where you believe his head to be.

“Jimin, oh my god!”

His wet face melts into your palms. Yes. It is Jimin. You would recognize him at the end of the world. 

But something—

Obstructs his jaw. You grab at the back of his head. A heavy piece of cloth, fixated around his head like a gag.

“I get this off, I get this off!”

Tugging at the knot doesn’t help. It’s tightly bound in place. Your hands, feverish, search for Cygnet inside the barrel. You loosen the hilt only centimeters out of the sheath as not to draw out the entire blade. This time, it works. Your sword has never been more intuitive when you fell down with Anna just minutes ago and it wouldn’t react at all. But now it does.

“Don’t move!”

You glide the exposed edge of the sabre across the back of his head to cleave the piece of cloth at its surface. By the ripping sound, you know that it is cotton. The rest of the gag opens with a tug through either of your hands pulling in opposite directions. Once loose, you toss away the cloth and cup his face.

Between cries, a hoarse, almost nonexistent voice.

“You came,” it murmurs. “You came...”

It breaks your heart. Jimin’s tone is so faint.

You feel his hand at your knee. Reaching down to grab it, you realize that his hands are bound, too. It is the same fabric you remember from countless fights. The neckerchief.

It comes off with an abrupt tug of your digits clawing into the knot.

Jimin’s hands close around you while you bow down to kiss his forehead. Under your thumb, his lips and chin feel coarse and dry. The hair you bury your nose in is soaking wet with sweat and your tears.

No trace of your hands goes without feeling a sore spot on his body. Where once his coat of mail led firmly, you can feel his ribcage. You can’t stop crying.

Loosening the remaining ropes on his body leaves another hot tear on your face with every knot until the shackles are wide enough for you to get his legs out. Much like his torso, not one layer of clothing protects them from the cold of the barrel.

“I thought it wasn’t real.”

His words are nothing but a whisper.

“What, Jimin?”

“I heard your voice in the cave. I’ve had all these dreams.”

“Jimin, I’m here. We heard your knocks. I’m here. We’ll get out of here now. Hold tight.”

You wrap one arm around his waist, so lithe, you fear it breaks. With the hilt of Cygnet, you smash upward to tilt the lid off the barrel. It comes down tumbling. You attach the sword at your belt again as swift, no, as far as the darkness of the room permits.

One leg out, you exit the barrel first, then lift Jimin over the edge, leaving behind cut ropes, cloth, and the neckerchief. 

He must have dropped at least a fifth of his weight. No second passes that your hands do not grip on him. He keeps on wincing. You caress his upper back with a flat palm.

“We’ll go home soon, Jimin. It’s over. We’re home soon. Steinburg is dead. I’m here now.”

“Is, is dead?”

Another whimper at your neck. You curse yourself for saying his name.

“Anna came with me. She’s in the other barrel. I’ll call for her and get her out slowly, okay.”

Anna audibly limps close before you, almost crawling alongside the cave wall. Jimin, encased in the embrace of your right arm, cries into the shroud of your vest that you gave him.

“They’ll find us,” he weeps. “They’ll hurt us!”

“They can’t. I’m here.”

You can hear Anna curse meters before you where the cave way broadens.

“My ankle,” she groans.

“We’re not leaving you behind.”

Her voice is so serene now, it makes you feel even colder.

“You have to.”

“Stop that.”

Jimin leans crouched at your chest. His voice is almost a whisper.

“You said you had horses.”

Anna halts, as do you. Same thought. Of course.

“God fucking dammit.”

“We have.”

You cover Jimin’s ears, then whistle. Loud.

A noise emerges. Friedrich's hooves clatter in the distance.

“I’m sorry. I reek of vomit.”

Centimeter by centimeter, you pull him upwards, until he is settled on Gretchen’s back. It has taken ages to saddle up yourself. The cave is so dark, not one spark of light seeps through the rock and earth. Jimin clings tight to you leaning back, seated sideways on the horseback.  Shuddering.

“I shouldn’t have left Castle Linderhof this way.”

“Jimin. Neither you nor me can change that now. But I’ll fix this.”

Gretchen starts to trot forwards, followed by Friedrich. You duck as not to hit the tunnel ceiling with your head.

“That was so stupid,” Jimin grits.

Seizing the reins tight, you remember the flock of peasants that you encountered following the creek.

“The blame belongs to those who spread news that you were running from the Palace by yourself without a horse. Where did the robbers find you?”

“It was an ambush. I don’t know where it was. It was nighttime.”

He’s shivering. Gretchen goes a little faster.

“We figured.”

“They put a gun to my head.”

Jimin falls silent, and you bring, as well as holding the reins permits, an arm around his upper body.

The noise of Gretchen’s hooves resounds much louder now. Friedrich’s, too. You’ve reached the lacuna.

Which slowly begins to illuminate from where its entrance locates.

Once she sees it, Anna violently tugs at Friedrich’s reins to make him turn. The light comes closer. Voices become audible. Jimin freezes in your arms. The bats at the ceiling crawl further into the fissures of the cave room’s dome.

You glide your left arm, around Jimin just seconds before, down Gretchen’s side. Reaching into the quiver deep, deeper, to bring out four arrows, then disjunct the bow from its joist. Anna wants to beckon you toward the tunnel opening, but you already draw the bow’s string tight.

“Y/N!”

“No going back. We’re playing my absolute favorite game.”

“What are you doing! Y/N! What—”

“The maidens at Altfried Castle would have found it quite amusing.”

Half the lacuna is tinted yellow by now, casting light on the bruises scattered all over Jimin’s face, neck, wrists, ankles, and chest. 

“Come back to the tunnel! Milady, they carry pistols!”

Anna is on the verge of entering the hole again.

“I could care less.”

“We have no chance!”

“It’s my favorite game. I just came up with it. Do you want to know how it’s called?”

“Y/N, stop messing around!”

While Jimin ducks forward onto the mane of Gretchen, you sort the four arrows between the fingers of your right, then align them on your bow. 

“It’s called the One-Each-Eye.”

Carefree and unimpressed by the weather, the beer barrel dances back and forth strapped somewhat loosely to the back of the carriage. Pine trees dancing alongside the way accompany the vehicle headed south. It’s still cold. 

Chewing on a bit of cabbage, Anna, for a reason mysterious to you and especially the carriage vendor, has made Friedrich and Gretchen sprint faster without a single click of the whip. Her foot is tied with a sturdy band that you purchased at the market two days ago with about the very last mark from Jimin’s stolen purse that Anna, brave how she was, had managed to retrieve from Steinburg’s belt.

Inside the wooden chassis, the pattering rain is loud enough to disturb your sleep, but gladly, not Jimin’s. The Prince dozes with his mouth half open, and, at least in your imagination, with a giant woven scarf tucked around his neck. At least a blanket from the family at the mill covers him waist-down, scraggly, but clean and thick enough to do its job. The pair of linen shoes that they had left are far too big for him, at least three sizes. Every other hundred meters, a rock on the path makes the wheels judder. However, Anna is clever enough to subtly maneuver Friedrich and Gretchen around the chunkier stones and scattered bosk.

The wind is relentless, and you brood. The forest landscapes passing by look dizzy under the rain. Saying goodbye to the Duke through a herald had been hard enough, but necessary. The youngster at the mill, Meier’s son, had accepted your hat as payment and assured he would reach Altfried Castle in half an hour with your letter to the Duke in his rugged vest. The message reading a farewell—

And that Cinder had returned to its rightful owner.

Looking at Jimin’s hands, blotted purple at the wrist upward, makes you want to cry. When he wakes up during the next rocky bit of the path, you have to stop yourself yelling out of the carriage to scold Anna. The surrounding meadow still hasn’t dried up properly, so you realize that avoiding this bit of the road by going over grass is not an option. 

Jimin still has dark bags under his eyes. The soup at the mill had brought back some rosy life to his cheeks, but they still look so haggard, so taut and scratched, with stubble all over, that you find it hard to recognize him. 

The sky turns grey and pale with every minute that the carriage plunges deeper into the forest terrain. South, south. Never looking back. You grope for the quiver stored under your seat, look for the apple that Meier had given you at Castle Altfried, and hand it to Jimin.

“The doctors will take care of you, okay,” you lean toward him, and tighten the vest around his chest to withstand the wind. “We’re back home soon. Maybe even one day.”

Chewing at a corner of the red fruit, Jimin looks outside the carriage with glossed over eyes.

“I’ve been dreaming again,” he says.

“What was it about?”

“There was a festival. I don’t know. A kind of fair. We were dancing. I thought about this all the time.”

A little smile plays around his lips. His eyes are candid.

“We will dance, Jimin. I give you my word. I promise we will dance.”

The vehicle continues to rumble down the path with your words, and the horses speed up.

Three hours later, two sturdy knights, the Prussian emblem stuck to their coat of mails, open the carriage from either side.

— to be continued —

Thank you for reading. Stay tuned.

Do not repost, translate, or modify my works. © submissive-bangtan 2017-2019. All rights reserved. 

[thewriterwithnoplan]

Night (Part 4)

Summary: Y/N isn’t exactly a villain they just call her a ‘bad guy’. At least it’s for the right reason, children. Y/N looks after children, it’s her way of washing the slate clean. And the slate needs a good scrubbing if Y/N is ever to wash all that blood off. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader Word Count: 992 Warnings: None.

Wayne manor was an odd place. That much anyone could tell, whether you were the owner, one of his countless adopted children or the blood son. What Jason just could not understand was how it seemed impossibly more awkward in there. He'd opted for staying in one of his safe houses, only entering the tension filled castle of a house for patrol. And he wished he'd stayed home.

It was dead silent. Even with the entire male half of the bat family assembled along with Damian's heard of animals. Alfred cleared his throat opened his mouth, searched for something to say, and shut it. Bruce glanced over his shoulder at the group of boys, standing stiff as statues. He grunted and returned to the computer, listing off assignments.

"Dick you should probably take the plane and watch Bludhaven." Dick gave a flourishing bow with a cocky grin. "Tim, you have a report to finish for Wayne Enterprises." The boy's shoulders slumped as he huffed but nodded. "Damian, you and I will be patrolling near Arkham. Jason, can I trust you to take the southern half of the city?"

Jason rolled his eyes, what sort of question was that? He was trust worthy. Had done everything they'd asked of him, including following the stupid No Killing rule. There wasn't much he could do though so he nodded.

"Yeah I've got the sou-" Yelling cut him off. The five of them whipped around, Bruce quickly ushering Alfred back upstairs. The noise got closer, the faint pattering of feet following. Many, many feet. But it wasn't a group that rounded the corner, no first a disgruntled woman scrambled round the corner. She tore a small explosive from it's place on the wall and hurled it down the tunnel. Bang! The tunnel from the cave collapsed partially.

"The hell?" Tim hissed, whirling upon the girl who clutched a katana in her hand. A bloody katana. She heaved a breath, eyeing them each in turn. Jason stared at her, Night.

"That won't hold them long," The girl shoved her sword rather ungracefully into it's sheath. "So? Who has a plan?"

"Okay, yeah." Dick nodded sarcastically. "How about you tell us who you are first?"

Jason gave her a grin that slowly fell. "What's wrong?"

Y/N gave him a solemn look and nodded to the small cave in, "The league of assassins is after me. I didn't have anywhere else to go, I'm sorry I had to bring this upon you Jay."

"No, you did the right thing. Are the kids alright?" He stalked to her side, pulling her into a hug. Night nodded against his chest, wrapping her arms around him carefully.

"Kids?" Bruce blinked at his second eldest ward. Once. Twice. A third time before he puffed out a breath and hissed, "You didn't think to tell us you had a girlfriend and kids? Plural. K-I-D-S."

Night all but threw Jason off of her giving the bat a horrified look as she held up her left hand, where a gold ring glimmered. The first and third robin seemed frozen in shock as they stared at it, the delicate engraving over the surface and the glittering red diamond clasped between the folds of gold. Their eyes cast between Night and Jason a few times before she gave an indignant squark.

"He's basically my son!" They stared at her confused for a few seconds before she sighed, sending Jason a pleading look.

"In my defence," Jason grumbled. "I just found out about the ring too-" She glared at him, making him sigh. "Fine, meet Night. My mother figure, she kind of adopted me and half of Gotham."

"Damn strait boy-o and where would you be without me?" She slung an arm over his shoulder, albeit not as care free as the gesture was supposed to be thanks to his height. "This little beauty-" A longing glance at the ring as she said softly, "Is a different story. Right now, my priorities lie with the assassins trying to break down that."

She pointed to the cave in, which the League members had indeed shifted out the way. Though the'd bottlenecked themselves, so hey were forced to enter one at a time. An unspoken command from the bat had his robins on instant alert. Red Robin and Nightwing began fighting the first few, the next lot lunged at Batman and the newest Robin leaving only Y/N and Jason to fend off the other ten who entered.

It was a gruelling battle, swords and daggers and guns, knives and escrima sticks and bo staffs. It was all a furious whirling around them as they lunged and parried and shot. One by one the enemies slumped on the ground, cuts began appearing on each of the batboys and Night herself. Their numbers dwindled until the others watched Red Hood and Night take out the last two assassins.

"Manoeuvre thirteen!" Y/N shouted, running at Jason. The second boy wonder crouched, allowing her to roll over his back and locking their arms in place. Jason spun quickly as Y/N pushed her legs out, kicking the enemies in the face. They lifted their swords, only to find her shins protected by greaves. Blow for blow, they spun hitting the enemies until they crumpled.

"I always loved that one," Jason grinned. "Gives fighting a little flare."

Y/N flopped, rather ungracefully from his back, clutching her head. "Well I hate that move, it makes me dizzy. You'll do well to remember that its a last resort."

Jason huffed a laugh as he peeled the girl from the concrete. She gave him playful glare, shoving him to stumble up herself. They looked up at the rest of the bat clan who were frozen once more. Staring right at them in disbelief. Night chuckled, picking up her katana from where she'd been disarmed and sheathing it again.

"I think we should talk." Bruce rumbled.

[earth-ambassador-jim]

Lost Souls: Story 2

The Tower (part 1)

Summary: Merlin awakens early from his sleep. He decides that he doesn’t want to leaving anything to chance and kidnaps the young James Lake Jr. to began training his Trollhunter as early as possible.

Barbara is determined to hunt down the man who kidnapped her son. In her efforts to get her son back she finds a strange old radio that speaks to her in a woman’s voice. The radio leads her to an underground society of shapeshifters.

Mother and son meet again years later as strangers on opposing sides.

AO3 - Fanfiction

(Note: Jim is six in this chapter.)

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“I want to go home.”

Jim’s demand fell flat against the stone walls and dusty shelves of the room. The man who claimed he was Merlin didn’t respond; he just kept scribbling away on his roll of yellowed paper. Every once in a while he would glance at one of the many books on the table. Jim wasn’t sure if he was ignoring him or had just not heard.

“I’m leaving,” Jim announced.

No response. Jim carefully started moving toward the ornate wooden door that he was fairly certain led outside. “Merlin” was still scribbling away. He put his hand on doorknob, it was cold. He glanced back. Still nothing. Jim’s heart was beating fast as he eased open the door and slipped through.

He closed it quickly behind him and squirmed excitedly. He was out! It was far easier than he had expected.

He looked around trying to figure out where he was. The door was on one side of him and on the other was a dark tunnel, lit in places by glowing green stones. Jim eyed them with wide eyes.

Toby would have liked them. Jim had met him a year ago just before his birthday and they were now best friends. He had even shown Jim his special rock collection. Jim drifted toward one of the low-hanging green crystals but stopped. Mom said stealing wasn’t good.

He was already being bad by disobeying an grown-up and running away.

Jim frowned, hesitating by the door; he really shouldn’t be doing this, but he didn’t think Merlin was a good person. Mom had warned him that there were bad people and that he shouldn’t go with them or do what they said. Though he wasn’t sure if that applied in this situation since he hadn’t gone with Merlin: he had just woken up here... What if Mom had left him with Merlin like she used to with Gramma sometimes?

But she always told him when she was going to that. And she always said goodbye. Not like Dad…

He shook his head hard to get rid of that thought before turning away from the door. Mom wouldn’t abandon him and he didn’t want to be here anymore. He would find his way home. If he was wrong Mom would forgive him.

The tunnel was dark and cold. Every once in a while it would spit in two. The growing crystals stopped being interesting and cool and started feeling creepy. Their eerie light bothered his eyes. Jim found himself getting more and more confused. He wasn’t even sure how to get back to the door. He let out a quiet whimper.

Maybe if he went just a little farther…

He rounded the corner and found himself in front of a very familiar door. He was back where he started.

Jim frowned. That was strange…

He decided to try again. And again. And again…

When Jim found himself at the wooden door yet again, he felt his face crumple. He sniffed a few times and a tear trickled down his cheek. What was he doing wrong? Frustrated and lonely, he curled up beside the door and started crying.

He had been there for a while, and was starting to get cold, when the door opened. Warm yellow light spilled out, partially blocked by a tall silhouette. He peeked out from behind his hands to see Merlin staring down at him.

“Come back inside, boy. If you stay out in the caves you’ll catch cold.”

Jim glared up at him for a moment. A shiver ran through him, causing him to wrap his arms around his skinny frame. Despite that he refused to get up. He didn’t want to go back there, he wanted to go home.

He didn’t get much of a choice. He let out a yelp as he was lifted up and carried, struggling, back inside.

Once they were back in, and the door was closed, Merlin wrapped him in a large thick blanket, set him in a chair, and handed him a cup of something warm. Coco he realized. He held it in his hands but didn’t drink it, choosing instead to glare at Merlin as the man settled into the chair across from him.

“How long will I be here?” Jim asked.

No response.

“Why am I here?”

“I told you: I’m training you.”

“Why?” Jim asked, frustrated.

He had said something like that when Jim had first woken up here. That Jim had an important destiny that he had to prepare him for.

But Jim knew training was like teaching. He went to school for teaching and they let him go home each day. The teacher, Miss Crumbstead, didn’t ignore him either. She answered his questions and would give him and the other kids fun things to play with and draw. Merlin didn’t do any of these things.

He didn’t think Merlin was going to answer but to his surprise the old man looked up. He set down his pen and put his hands together in front of him. Jim straightened uncomfortably under his gaze.

“I wanted to wait a while longer to talk to you about this but I suppose you need some explanation before you can settle in.”

His blue-grey eyes were intense as he studied Jim carefully before he sighed and a tired sort of look formed on his face, like the one Mom had when she had told Jim Dad wouldn’t be coming home for Thanksgiving. He rose from his chair and went over to one of the shelves, shuffling around for a moment, before he came back and set a small yellow crystal down between them.

“There is great evil in this world,” Merlin started.

He rested his hand on the crystal and it flickered and released blast of yellow light. Jim shielded his eyes. When he put his hand down, he saw that the light was forming into shapes: huge beings with horns and armor and fangs. He ducked down behind the back of his chair, watching them fearfully.

“One such evil took the form of the Gumm-Gumms. They were a vicious group of trolls that ate humans and wreaked havoc… hurt other trolls that didn’t agree with them.”

Jim covered his eyes, shaking. He didn’t want to see this.

“In order to protect the humans and drive them back. I created a magical amulet that would choose a champion and gift them with great power.”

Jim peeked through his fingers and saw the image had shifted to a different, less scary, one of the horned creatures. It held a glowing disk in its hands. Its lips moved as if it was saying something and a suit of armor materialized around it.

“Thus started the line of Trollhunters,” Merlin said, a slight smile briefly appearing on his face.

He circled around the table to stand beside Jim and set a hand on his shoulder. Jim shifted uncomfortably but let it stay as he watched the images fade away.

“But what… why am I here?”

“You are destined to be the next Trollhunter,” Merlin stated.

Jim turned around to stare at him in surprise.

“Me?” He squeaked.

Merlin nodded.

“Indeed.” He took a step away, clasping his hands behind his back and turning away from Jim. “I saw it in a vision. You were able to finally defeat two of the greatest evils the world has known.”

He paused.

“Or rather will. But not before damage was done.”

He set another crystal next to the yellow one, a blue one this time. He tapped them together and whispered words that Jim couldn’t understand.

They flared for a moment and then cast out a red light. Jim jumped as the shapes of the Gumm-Gumms reformed. This time in Arcadia! There were people fleeing for their lives. Destruction and chaos was everywhere. Jim’s breathing quickened to the point he was rapidly becoming light headed.

Merlin picked up crystals and the image vanished. Jim stared up at him with wide eyes. The wizard’s expression was solemn. He knelt down to Jim’s level.

“That is why I brought you here,” He said gently, holding Jim’s gaze with his own. “To start training you early so this time when the time comes you will be ready to do what you need to.”

“C… Can’t.. Couldn’t someone else do it? I… I’m not big or strong… or… or…”

Merlin shook his head.

“I’ve studied many futures,” He said firmly.

His hand brushed over the crystal again. Images flickered by quicker than Jim could truly take them in, but slow enough that he could see the destruction and devastation.

“…You must be the Trollhunter, it is the only way.”

Jim was quivering. He started to wrap his arms around himself, but Merlin gently pulled them back down.

“But what about Mom?” He whimpered.

He couldn’t leave her. He didn’t want to, but especially not after seeing how badly it had hurt her when Dad left had left them.

“Can’t she stay here too?”

Merlin sighed and looked away.

“I’m afraid not,” He said. “Being Trollhunter is dangerous. If your enemies know who you care about they will try to hurt them. Do you really want to bring her into that?”

Jim thought about the evil man-eating trolls and shook his head weakly. He didn’t want Mom to get hurt. Before he could say anything else, Merlin continued.

“You can see her eventually, once you’re strong enough, but for now I need you to focus on your training. Will you do that?”

Jim hesitated, this was big and scary, but if he didn’t…

“Okay.”

Merlin smiled and patted his head.

“I knew you would make the right decision.”

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Author Notes:

The next chapter will be Barbara's first interaction with Morgana. I was going to have it be part of this chapter, but it was being stubborn and I'm impatient. There's also a time jump, so I think it probably works better this way.

Also writing from a kid's perspective is tricky and I would welcome any critiques.

This story will be alternating between the past and present (events that will be taking place after Jim and Barbara's interactions in the first chapter) I will be showing that with tenses. Events happening in the present will be chronological, while events in the past will jump around a bit. It's a bit of a style experiment for me so I'd love to hear what you think!