#i mean sure a lot of people thought we had a very large polyamorous group consisting of a lot of Vs which was hilarious

[rubythecrimsonwriter]

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[nonbinary-octopus]

Not Just the Two of Us Chapter 6: A Lot of Information

Wordcount: 1.3 K

Summary: Logan likes to talk about his research. Patton likes to listen to Logan, and he also wants to know more. Win win.

Chapter 1: Confession

[Masterpost]

[More of my writing]

~

Virgil and Roman, having done the least before-dinner work, were given the after-dinner chores. Virgil cleared the table, putting the food away and bringing the dishes to Roman, who filled the sink with soapy water and began the washing up.

Every time Virgil brought him a dish, Roman ‘paid’ him for it with a kiss on the lips. They had stacked the plates and gathered the silverware for easier carrying, but after Virgil had carried over a cup in each hand and received a kiss for their delivery, he brought the rest of the dishes over one piece at a time. It took him quite a while to clear the table in this manner.

Patton hopped up to sit on the counter, and Logan leaned against it beside him. “Logan?” Patton asked.

“Yes?”

“Are there other configurations? Besides Vee and Triangle?”

Logan considered the question for a moment. “Not for three people,” he said. “There’s really only two ways to connect three nodes, provided one assumes that the nodes are interchangeable. Else there’s four, but three of them are Vees, simply changing who is the vertex. I believe that a polyamorous relationship involving four people is called a Quad, regardless of the particulars of the configuration.”

“How many people can you have?” Patton asked curiously.

Logan looked thoughtful. “I think the upper bound would be determined by a person’s time and availability, as well as interest,” he said at last. “It’s important not to neglect any one partner, so resources would need to be considered. However, my research indicated that a polyamorous network could, in theory, be infinitely large and sprawling, containing many smaller clusters.”

“How does that work?”

Logan shrugged a bit. “Well, suppose you’ve got a triangle,” he said. “Three people, all dating each other. And then suppose one of the people in that triangle has a third partner, who is metamour to the other two members of the triangle. Further suppose that they belong to another triangle or a quad, or perhaps that they and their partner from the first triangle are two parts of a triad or quad or other. And someone from that group has another partner, and so on.

“Or you could have a long chain of people with two partners each. Perhaps one person in the chain has three partners, so they form a Y junction. You could mix and match all these things to make a unique and complex system.”

Patton nodded slowly. “Getting everyone together for dinner must be tricky,” he said.

Logan laughed. “That it would,” he agreed. “I suppose they could do a potluck.” He shrugged. “However, they wouldn’t necessarily all know each other. It’s possible even to not know one’s metamour, let alone one’s metamour’s other partner, or those further down the line. And even if they do all know each other, that doesn’t mean that they get together or share meals — though I’m sure there exist networks which do function that way.”

Patton frowned a bit. “I get not knowing your metamour’s partner, but how could someone not know their metamour? Doesn’t that edge on cheating again?”

“No. In this case, the metamours would be aware that their mutual partner is seeing someone else, and are fine with that, but are not interested in knowing that person.” Logan shrugged. “I understand that many people prefer this version, and while I think I personally would not enjoy it, I can see the appeal.” Patton was still unconvinced, and it must have shown on his face, because Logan added, “I have friends whom you have never met, and I’m sure you have friends I don’t know.”

“That’s different!” Patton protested. “You know all of my other Best Friends, and I’d introduce you to my boyfriend if I had one.”

“Yes, it’s different, but the concept is similar.”

“I’d want to know my metamours,” Patton continued. “If anyone’s that important to my boyfriend, they’re important to me too, and I wanna know them.”

Logan smiled. “Yes, as I said, I’m the same. However, nothing is one size fits all, including polyamory, and there are those for whom it is different.”

Patton considered that, then conceded the point. They were quiet for a moment, watching Virgil present Roman with a fork in exchange for a deep kiss that left soap suds in Virgil’s hair where Roman ran his fingers through it.

“Will Virgil be moving in with you?”

“Perhaps at some point, but not in the near future. We intend to discuss it again when his lease draws near an end. We’re not currently set up here to have three people living in the house full-time, either. Roman is vying for a bigger bed.”

“Isn’t your bed the same size as the air mattress we use for sleepovers?” Patton asked.

“Yes, they’re both queens. However, his argument is not without merit. As comfortable as it is to pile four people together in a ‘cuddle puddle’ once a week, it would feel quite crowded if it were a regular thing every night. Besides, at least one person ends up on the floor by morning as often as not, and I would prefer to avoid that occurring with our regular bed, especially considering that it has a frame and a box spring and is thus rather taller than an air mattress set directly on the floor, and would be much more painful to fall out of.”

“Plus I dunno if I’m ready to share a bed all the time,” Virgil chimed in, offering Roman another fork. Roman took it and kissed him. When they pulled apart again several seconds later, Virgil continued, “I haven’t even shared a bedroom since my crib was in my parents’ room, let alone having the same bed. And no,” he added, putting a finger against Roman’s lips in the ‘shush’ gesture before Roman could say something, “sleepovers every weekend don’t count. Six nights out of seven, I sleep alone in my own bed in my own bedroom in my own apartment. Moving in with you guys is a big step.”

Roman grinned. “You’ve already got a toothbrush in our bathroom and a drawer and a hamper in our laundry room and a key to our front door,” he pointed out.

“So does Patton, I’m not special,” Virgil countered.

Roman looked offended. “On the contrary, you are very special,” he protested. “And anyway, what I was trying to say was that you’re practically half moved in already.”

“I suppose,” Virgil said, leaning into Roman, who held him. “Still a big deal.”

“I know,” Roman said gently. “So I’m gonna try not to push you about it until you’re ready. Even if that’s never. Though I really hope it won’t be never.” He scrunched his nose a bit. “Am I being pushy right now? I can’t tell if I’m being pushy or eager or both.”

“A bit of both,” Virgil answered.

“Sorry.”

Virgil was quiet for a moment, then said, very softly, “You know, tonight is going to be the first night we share a bed as boyfriends instead of best friends.”

“Yeah,” Roman agreed with a grin. “Kinda exciting.”

Virgil made a soft, mumbled sound of maybe-agreement, turning his face to press directly into Roman’s chest, and Roman added in a gentler tone,

“Kinda scary too, I suppose. Makes you wonder how it’ll change things.”

“Mm-hm,” Virgil mumbled into Roman’s shirt.

“It doesn’t have to change anything,” Roman said soothingly, spreading bubbles on the top of Virgil’s head. “We can still just all pile on the mattress like normal, and fall asleep during a long and meandering conversation, just like every other weekend.”

“I think I'd like that…”

~

Chapter 7: Sleepover | WIP

[theritualofourexistence]

Pitted dates.

It’s a pun.

Here it is! The dating apps blog post you’ve been waiting for! Although, it’s not exactly about dating apps. It’s also not exactly about dating. It’s a tree with a lot of branches and no coherent thru-plot but all of these things do feel at least a little bit related so buckle up.

To start: a brief background. 

I am nearly thirty. I identify as ace or aspec (asexuality spectrum). I am not hetero... if pressed, I’d probably call myself queer... but generally speaking “not hetero” seems to cover that part of things adequately. I’ve had a handful of long-term relationships and partners. I’ve been single since my last relationship of over three years ended abruptly in 2015. I haven’t dated since then. I’ve gone on a handful of dates in that time, but no repeats and no relationships. 

It took me a long time to move past my last relationship. I probably didn’t even consider dating apps for a whole year. I’m not very socially outgoing and I don’t have much of a friend group in my town so I don’t go out to the bars or anything... which means dating apps are one of the only ways for me to actually start exploring options.

I started with OkCupid and eventually worked my way to Bumble. I can’t afford to pay for anything more involved so I’ve never tried Match or anything like that... and Tinder was never particularly appealing to me either because I have no interest in hook-ups. 

I’ve posted on and off about being single over the years. There were plenty of times, early on, when I hated being single. I felt alone and broken and it wasn’t a good place to be. Gradually I became more comfortable, however. I explored labels a bit more. I learned a lot about myself. I’m at a place now where, though I am lonely sometimes, for the most part I feel like my needs can be met by the people in my life... even though I’m not romantically involved with any of them. 

In response to a blog post from a few years ago, a woman a generation or two older than me sent me a message implying that she was sure I’d settle down and find someone who could make me happy if I just lowered my standards a bit.

Then, that sort of made me blind with rage. 

Generally, now, it still does. 

I’ve thought a lot about this message and its implication over the years. There are times when I can see how someone might think my standards are too lofty. But what’s the difference between standards, even high standards, and simply knowing what you are and aren’t compatible with? 

I’ve dated enough and been single enough to be VERY confident about some things. 

And yes, there are certainly some deal-breakers. 

It’s possible that there are more deal-breakers than “deal-makers” so to speak, but I still think that’s probably not the worst thing in the world. Especially for someone who is relatively comfortable being single and also relatively busy with work. Dating takes time. And here at almost-thirty, I don’t feel like spending time on someone who I am pretty sure I won’t be compatible with.

It’s not so much that I’m judging the others, either. When on a dating app, I’m pretty careful to only swipe right for guys I think would also be compatible with me. 

If you use the word “spontaneous” in your bio and at least one of your pictures is you sky-diving... you’re probably not right for me. 

If you put in your bio that you’re only interested in women who prioritize dogs and fitness... I’m probably not right for you. 

Is that tied to lofty expectations? Or am I simply being realistic and saving both myself and the other party time and effort? 

I certainly have a type. And I’m sure there are potential partners out there for me that are not that type. I’m not averse to being surprised or trying something a little unexpected. What I do know, however, is that I will never jump out of a plane. And I will also probably never kiss a dog on the mouth. 

My “standards” are basically generated from my knowledge of myself. So, sure, call them lofty. But I’m pretty proud of the effort I’ve put in to understanding myself, and when it comes to dating, there is value in utilizing that knowledge. Here are some things I know about me and the associated “standard.” 

I am not a partier. I don’t do drugs. I rarely drink. If you are visibly drunk or stoned in the majority of your pictures, we probably aren’t super compatible. 

My politics lean FAR left. I don’t even like referring to myself as a “democrat.” I care deeply about social justice issues. If you voted for Trump, we probably aren’t super compatible. 

I am extremely anti-gun. I grew up in a rural area and understand both the sport and value of hunting. I know that I will never hunt though. Could I be compatible with a hunter? Yes, definitely. But could I be compatible with someone who is waving around various guns in 3 out of their 4 pictures? Probably not. 

I am a cat person. Though I don’t HATE dogs, I certainly prefer cats. I have a very low tolerance for small dogs and, in general, I don’t like the way dogs smell. I’ve made friends with a handful of dogs in my life and certainly could again. But if you say that you hate cats in your profile, we probably aren’t compatible. 

I work a lot and I make no money. As a result, I’m tired a lot. I spend a lot of my very limited down time doing extremely low-key activities like reading or art or watching TV. I can’t afford to travel much. Part of the reason I work a lot is because I’m actively trying to hit certain career milestones. I feel like I’m a bit behind. But more than that, I’m very passionate about my work. If you expect to take the place of my long-term career goals, we probably aren’t compatible. If you expect me to hop on the next plane to Europe or Asia or Africa, we probably aren’t compatible... unless you’re covering the costs. 

I’m a feminist. If you’re a fundamentalist Christian or someone who believes a woman’s place is in the home, we probably aren’t compatible. 

I believe black lives matter. If you currently display or have ever displayed the confederate flag, we probably aren’t compatible. 

I’m committed to learning. Not necessarily in school, but from everything in the world around me. If you don’t share that perspective, we may not be compatible.

I am looking for someone who shares some of my interests. 

I’m looking for someone who has other human beings in the pictures they post in their profile... instead of six different versions of the same poorly lit selfie from an unflattering angle. I think I’m probably looking for that last thing so that I’m not raped, stalked, or murdered if we’re being honest. 

I’ve already said that I identify on the asexuality spectrum. As such, there’s very little that I’m naturally attracted to... if I find that, and it’s very rare, that person and I almost never “match.” If we do match and you ask about my labels and I explain them and your instant response is that I must be ace because I’ve just never had good sex, we definitely aren’t compatible. 

I don’t know, all written out, maybe this is a lot. 

But I still don’t think it is. 

For the most part, every guy on dating apps seems to be looking for the same woman. 

She’s thin and into fitness, she has a dog, she hikes a lot, she loves going to concerts and traveling the world and she works hard but parties harder.

That woman can’t possibly exist in enough quantities to please all the men on Bumble. In fact, I doubt that woman exists at all because I don’t understand how you have the time or money to even do half those things. 

So yeah, I may have high-ish standards... but are MY standards even the issue?

If no one on Bumble has any interest in a fat brunette with a lot of tattoos who reads a lot and wears sweatpants more than any other clothes... well, what I want isn’t going to matter a whole lot anyway.

I want someone who loves me for me... who works to understand me... who raises me up but who also respects my independent nature. I don’t think I do well if I feel too needed. I want someone who respects my politics, my philosophy, my dietary/health choices, my mental health journey, my career aspirations, my sexuality... and hell, if that’s too much to ask, I’d probably rather just be on my own. 

I had a big “ah-ha” moment a few years ago when it occurred to me that if I want to have a child, I can do so on my own. I can choose a donor, I can carry a baby or I can use a surrogate; if those things don’t work, I can adopt. My family and friends are a safety net forged in the strongest flexible metal in the known and unknown worlds and I have no question that they would be enough to guide me in that journey. 

Now, if I go that direction, it’s still many years away. But I know I could do it. And that’s enough to wipe away the creeping fear of the biological clock. 

I am not in a hurry. But I don’t have time to waste. I have a never-ending list of books to read and a finite number of years to read them so yeah, I’d rather sit on the couch with my mom and my cat than go on a date with someone I know I won’t be compatible with. 

Are my standards too high? I truly don’t think that shit matters at all. 

There are times when I’m lonely, but I am not alone. And I know that’s also a common occurrence for many people who are dating or married or polyamorous or ace or divorced or whatever. I’m pretty sure loneliness is just a part of the human condition. 

And, most importantly, my needs are largely being met. Browsing dating apps is entertaining at times, even if it doesn’t lead to dates. There are times when I want to be told I’m beautiful, I want to be told I’m powerful generous kind loving passionate giving funny sexy smart creative. Just because I’m not dating someone, however, does not mean I don’t have someone to tell me those things. It’s a wonder what friends and family can do... all you have to do is ask. And sometimes you don’t even need to do that!

Would I like a partner to walk with me through the rest of the world? Sure. But, at the same time, no partner will ever know me the way my best friend does. The way my family does. They may know me in a different way and a valuable way, but no one will know me like the people who have watched me become who I am... through trauma and time and growth and failure and success. And sure, we are always growing and changing and experiencing new failure and success... but I just don’t know. The more I age and the more I think about it, the more I’m pretty sure I don’t *need* a significant other. And that’s a comforting thing, not a sad thing. 

I don’t think there’s ONE person out there for you. I don’t think some all-knowing deity designed your perfect “other half.” You are a whole ass person and that is enough for my god. Even more so, implying you can only be completed by one other human person means you’ll miss out on what you could gain from so many other beautiful people along the way. 

I think it’s okay for me to be honest if I’m not interested in going on a date with a thirty-year-old basement troll. I think it’s okay for me to be honest if I’m not interested in going on a date with a suit-wearing globe-trotter who spends his weekends blowing his income/inheritance with a drink in hand. I can sure as hell promise you that I’m never going to be Sarah who weighs a trim 120 and has a long blond braid and hikes with her dog on the weekends when she’s not tanning on a beach in Spain or tailgating/day-drinking for eight hours at a time.

Is it my standards or their standards or is it something completely different? 

I think it’s human to want to be enough. 

I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel that way.

But the more time and energy I spend on loving and understanding myself, the more confident I am that I *am* enough. I’m not defining “enough” by what a spouse or partner sees/wants/needs. I’m defining “enough” for myself. And if I’m enough for me, maybe that is all I really need.

Maybe, in time, I will find someone to share my life with in a romantic way.

Or maybe I won’t.

And honestly, I would just like to believe that I’ll be okay no matter what. 

[daydream-hobii]

BTS Reaction to: Crushing on a K-Dance Squad Member | K-Dance Squad OCs

Authors Note: Thank you so much for the request! Ooooooh boy! Am I so excited about writing for K-Dance Squad!!! I hope you like it!!! ^_^ @sugacxndy

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of Sexual Harassment, read with caution~ <3

Warning: All fics with K-Dance Squad may be offensive to some people, humor wise. If you are easily offended, please do not read. <3

SEOKJIN:

         Seokjin has never seen a beauty like Quinn before. She was so elegant and soft, he couldn't believe his eyes. He felt these feelings towards her that he didn't really understand, he just knew he wasn't thinking of himself as worldwide handsome anymore.... He was, instead, viewing her as worldwide beauty, because that's truly what she was. He began to like her when she was officially to work in their dance studio, after their meeting on the Run!BTS episode. When he realized the feelings he felt, he was just casually watching her practice the backup moves for Blood, Sweat, and Tears when she paused and turned to smile at him. Her smile floored him, and he gave a soft one back, with a small wave.

         "You're doing great, Quinn!" He said with a smile.

         It's all fun and games until Seokjin learned that Quinn had a fiance back home in America, then he tries desperately to get rid of his feelings for her with no prevail.

YOONGI:

         Yoongi has a bit of a fake, hard exterior, so when he first started having feelings for Roxanne, he didn't really believe it. Roxi was similar to Jimin, very bubbly, cool and a beautiful smile. Surely he could never like someone so happy, right? Right? But alas, he fell for her, and quite hard at that. Roxi began to compliment him on his dance moves or told him how inspiring his music was to her, his heart couldn't help but flutter at every compliment. He actually liked her before he started to admit it to himself. The real kicker is when he invited her into his studio, the same studio that has two doors and two locks. The boys actually had to explain to him his feelings for Roxi, and when he finally admitted it to himself, he became very bashful around her.

         "Hey, Yoongi! Did you get some sleep last night?" Roxi asked with a large smile.

         "Y-Yeah, I did.... Thank you for checking on me," Yoongi replied, a blush forming.

HOSEOK:

         Hoseok realized that he liked Jojo during unfortunate events. Since Jojo is the head choreographer, he was already attracted to her dancing ability. She has to teach the male backup dancers the new moves for their songs, and one of the boys, who happened to be the son of one of the big dogs of the company, was harassing her. He would give her with rude compliments, constantly ask her out on dates even though she has a boyfriend, and even went as far as slapping her butt. Jojo is a strong woman, so she doesn't initially ask for help, she thinks she can handle it. When the girls are telling her off for not saying anything, Hoseok overhears with the boys. He recruits Yoongi and Taehyung, who were pretty close to Jojo, to go and watch them practice, even when it's one of their days off. This boy was out of control, and once he touched Jojo wrong, anger ran through his veins. He knew in that instant he may have liked her more than he initially thought, and he went over and got in the boys face.

         "You touch her again, I'll fire you right on the spot...." Hoseok spat at him.

         Even if Jojo had a boyfriend in another country, no one deserves to go through that, and he still stands by that, but finding out she has a boyfriend made him really push his feelings down, not wanting to get her or himself hurt. It only gets worse when they dance together....

NAMJOON:

         Namjoon didn't really notice Emily at first. He saw Jojo, Roxi, and Artie since they were the new choreographers, but Emily was quiet, distant. When he really noticed her was the late nights she'd stay while he worked in his studio, practicing all her dance moves. Eventually, instead of going out to get one meal or one coffee, he went to get two. She seemed to be just as hard of a worker as him, and that attracted him to her. When he got the courage to ask her why she stays so late practicing, she was already a great dancer, she'd just smirk and chuckle.

         "I've got to," Em said, taking a drink of her coffee. "I wasn't a dancer when we started this group. Quinn, Roxi, and Artie were for years, Jojo, Zee, and Lavie are naturals.... I just have to work a little harder than the others, show that as their leader, I'll work hard for them."

         "I admire that," Namjoon said, a small smile showing on his lips. "Being the leader can be difficult.... It's nice to have someone around who understands that." Em would smile softly, nodding her head.

         "I agree," She said, sipping her coffee as Namjoon took his leave, his heart swelling in a way that he'd only ever read about. This was when he really began to like Emily.

JIMIN:

         Jimin's experience with the K-Dance Squad member of his dreams was actually so embarrassing.... He knew he thought Zaylee was pretty, but never thought much of it. He thinks lots of people were pretty. When he found out he liked her, however, was when he was walking around backstage at one of his concerts, and went into the wrong room. It was the girls dressing room, and Zee was the only one in there, in her underwear. He would immediately cover his face, turning to walk out as he apologized, when the door had shut behind him and he ran smack into it, falling backwards and to the floor. Zee would yelp, more so for him, and quickly run over, kneeling beside him and asking if he was okay as his eyes were so wide.

         "Yeah, I'm fine! God, I'm so sorry," He said fast, a blush forming as he covered his eyes again. Zee giggled, standing up and rolling her eyes.

         "It's not like you're the only person. I'm a Victoria Secret model, people see me in my underwear all the time," Zee said, smiling as she continued to get dressed.

         Jimin quickly left the room, his heart going a hundred miles per hour. This was when he realized how much he really liked her... but Zee is in a polyamorous relationship back in America with a man and woman, and Jimin's heart practically breaks when he finds out....

TAEHYUNG:

         Taehyung is a very friendly and sweet guy. Hell, he might as well be dating all the K-Dance Squad members with how generous he is, but only one girl caught his eye. Lavender is a different kind of girl, one who is cold and blunt, but goofy and weird. At first, he was a bit intimidated by her, I mean, it made sense why Yoongi was the one she'd dance for, but he really started to like her when he saw how important her friends were, along with her family. He didn't know English that well, but when Lavie would talk to her grandpa on the phone, he could hear the love in her voice. Taehyung could really relate to this, he absolutely adored his grandparents, and this is what really attracted him to her.

         "That was your grandpa?" He asked when she hung up, eyes wide and innocent with curiosity.

         "Yeah," Lavie said with a frown. "He's just pretty sad today, said he really misses me. I just hope he's okay...."

         "Ahh," Taehyung said, biting his lip. "Why don't you call and send him flowers? Or his favorite meal...? I do that for my grandparents when they miss me." Lavie would smile at the idea, nodding her head.

         "That's actually a great idea, thank you, Tae," She said, walking away to call somewhere for her grandpa. This made Taehyung's heart flutter because, not only did she take his advice, but she had a similar love for her family as he did.

JUNGKOOK:

         Jungkook may seem like a bad boy on stage, one whose outgoing and confident, but he really can't talk to woman. The only reason he was able to talk to Jojo first was because they were the same age and connected as siblings. Even if Artemis is three years younger, he was smitten when he saw her. Alas, it took him quite a while before he could talk to Artie, but when he did, he fell head over heels when he got to know her. She was bubbly and outgoing, loved video games and was competitive. He's had crushes before, but nothing like this, so he didn't really know he liked her until they had a solo stage together. For Euphoria when it first came out, before the full version, Artie and Jungkook had to dance together, and it was sort of sensual. His face would be as red as a tomato during the whole dance.

         "You may need to fix that redness before the concert, buddy," Artie said with a giggle.

         "Heh, you're right," He replied, scratching the back of his neck and only getting redder as she chuckled and walked away. How was she so charming?!

[madd-devil]

                    The French Students’s Mysterious Vanishing

 This is like a play, okay? It was easier for me to write it this way because I’m daydreaming like a video. I hope I respected the ambiance of a normal Buzzfeed Video. I’m very sorry if it suck. I really am. And I’m also sorry for any mistakes, English is still not my first language.

Enjoy!

[Logo of Buzzfeed Unsolved appears on the screen, following by Ryan’s voice]

Ryan: This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we uncover a very mysterious case which happened in France a few months ago. This case had shocked the whole French population and it still shock today.

Shane, looking at Ryan, in a serious voice: How come we never known about it?

Ryan, looks back at him, stammering: Well… Because… Um… I don’t know…

Shane, in a fake frustrated voice: Well, I will tell you why! It’s because us, Americans, are to obsessed with our own country! If I understood well, they were students, right? Teenagers, I guess? So why didn’t we known about it?

Ryan, wheezing: I don’t know!

Shane, humming: We know nothing.

Ryan, becoming serious: Anyway, I think you’re not gonna like this case.

Shane, turning to Ryan: Why?

Ryan: There are a lot of weird stuff and very creepy things. It’s like a Marvel movie, okay?

Shane: Oooh… Are they superheroes?

Ryan, laughing: No, I don’t think they are.

[The screen goes back to black, a white line appears. Above it, a date and a location written in white appears: April 23th 2019, in Ecouen, France. When the names are pronounced, five black and white photos appears of four boys and one girl.]

Ryan: On April 23th 2019, in Ecouen, France, five seventeen years old teenagers -Naomie Noire, Ethan Pereirra, Sonny Bleuet, Tom Smith and Pablo Ribatchenko- disappeared in the morning. But before going on the event of the disappearance, let’s take a look on the lives of our five high school students.

[Screen fade to black, Shane words are in yellow and Ryan in blue]

Shane: So… They belong to us?

Ryan: What? No!

Shane, being insistent: But you say “our”.

Ryan, wheezing: What! I don’t understand your logic man!

Shane, in a creepy voice: Careful Ryan… Or else French people will come for you… And cut your HEAD!

[A high school appear in a grey and white colors. At each mention of a name, the photo of one of the teenagers appear. The important things are written in italic, it is written in white or when it is very important in red on the “video”.]

Ryan: Let’s start with Naomie Noire. After what her professors told the police, at the time of the investigation, she was a shy, nice and kind girl who didn’t like talking in class and who didn’t have a lot of friends. She was a average student and she appeared to have the highest grade in History. Her parents were divorced since she was six years old and she had a severely mentally ill older sister. Then, there is Ethan Pereirra. He was a rugby man in the school’s team and he was very athletic. He was a loud boy, “a bad boy” in the making and most of the girls in his class were in love with him.

[Screen goes back to Ryan and Shane with the blue and yellow words]

Shane: Is… Is that important?

Ryan: Well, I don’t think so but for the police officers and the medias, it was.

Shane: Oh okay. After all, France is the country of love…

[Screen goes back to the high school and to the picture of Ethan Pereirra.]

Ryan: Ethan Pereirra had a large group of friends, being popular and all. He had two brothers and one sister. Next, there is Sonny Bleuet, the best friend of Ethan Pereirra. The two were friends since kindergarten and Sonny was a incredible soccer player and he wanted to be in the National French Team, he had overall good grades and he had a very big family. After, we have Tom Smith, a English exchange student, who quickly became friend with Ethan and Sonny. Tom was good at science and he was loved by his teachers but nobody did really know about his family in England. He never talked about it to someone. Finally, Pablo Ribatchenko. He was very smart and amazing at arts. He was also loved by his professors and didn’t have a large group of friends. Pablo was also good at sports.

Now, let’s tale a look on the weeks before the disappearance. Of all sudden, Ethan, Sonny and Tom quitted their friends for Naomie and Pablo. The five teenagers were often seen together, talking to each other. Some changes occurred the following weeks. Naomie became more confident, from her teachers point of views it was -quote- “a nice change in her personality. It was nice to see her raising her hand in class and talking more” -end quote-. The same happened to Pablo and everyone was delighted. But the five teenagers become more and more agitated and less productive in class the week before the day of their disappearance. One day, all of the windows in Pablo’s classroom suddenly broke, scarring all the students and the teacher, except Pablo. One of the students present this day, -Jérome Rolas- said -quote- “It was like a gust of wind inside our classroom. I was surprised, we all were. In fact, we all started panicking, we all thought it was a terrorist attack. But we realised it was not. I still don’t understand and can’t explain what happened but one thing for sure. It wasn’t normal” -end quote-.

[Now back to Ryan and Shane: yellow and blue words on black screen.]

Shane: What the heck is that? A gust of wind inside a classroom? Are they sure it wasn’t from the outside?

Ryan, laughing: Yes, they were. And there is something more weird that the gust of wind inside a room.

[The screen goes back to a classroom full of students, only a boy’s colours are standing out.]

Ryan: The student who sat next to Pablo saw that his eyes became white when the teacher pulled him back into the line and this same student saw how the young boy clenched his fists and then, the gust of wind destroyed the windows. But, events like these seemed to occur more and more around the five teenagers: lights who would flickers when Naomie would walk somewhere, a fire who started when Ethan passed by, the water of the toilets who suddenly exploded when Sonny fought back some bullies and the earth who crackled under Tom’s foot.

[Ryan and Shane, yellow and blue words on black screen.]

Shane: Yeah, it is like a Marvel movie. “Avengers 4: The French take over”. They could beat Thanos. Or they could be great villains. Five edgy teenagers against what it remains of the Avengers;

Ryan, laughing: Yeah, maybe they could. Or not.

Shane: I would watch this movie.

Ryan, still laughing: Let’s go back to the case.  

[The screen now shows the pictures of the five teenagers. When the shack is pronounced, a house in a tree appears, surrounding by trees.]

Ryan: Now, onto the day of their vanishing. Like I said, the parents called the police station and police officers came into the houses to investigate. The dogs they brought started to smell the teenagers’s odours and they led the police officers to a shack in the forest. In the shack, they discovered several maps of their city and Paris, as well as maps of cities of Russia, England, United States, Argentina, Cuba and Gabon. The shack had electricity, running water and was very clean and big, with three rooms: a large bedroom where the five teenagers seemed to sleep together in, a bathroom and the largest room was a kitchen, living and dining room. There were also clothes and the school bags of the teenagers were on the table. The police officers believed that they must have changed their clothes before disappearing into thin air.

[Screen back to Ryan and Shane, yellow and blue words.]

Shane: I want to see this shack and live in it.

Ryan: Me too. 

Shane: But how five teenagers could have built something like that? Imagine, the rangers, seeing five teenagers going in and out with DYI furniture and large bags in the forest. “Oh. They must help their parents doing some work, don’t you think Louis?” 

Ryan, laughing, continuing his game: “Yeah, they are totally not building a shack high in a tree to live in and to prepare their escapes…”

[The screen is now black, each time Ryan said “theory one, two…”, it appear in white. The words or sentences underlined are evidences.]

Ryan: The first theory suggest that the teenagers just ran away from their homes. In fact, the five of them had at least one reason to do so: doctors and psychologists then said Naomie had depression, was suicidal and had anxiety, the police officers discovered that Ethan was treated for paranoia, and with the help of the doctors and psychologists, discovered that Pablo was a psychopath, Sonny had depression too and Tom was schizophrenic. Those illnesses must have brought them together in a way and many people believed that they were all in a polyamorous relationship and that the reason why they ran away: they wanted to consume their relationship in peace.

[Screen to Ryan and Shane, staring at each other]

Shane:But what about the weird stuff? 

Ryan:Well, I think they dismissed it you know. They only concentrate on the “real facts” you know. I don’t think it would looked good if they had written in their files that this five teenagers had super powers. 

Shane, nodding: Fair enough. I also love the “oh they are all sick and crazy and damaged and they also loved each other, that is why they ran away!”. I think it’s easy and stupid. 

Ryan: Yeah, I agree. I mean, you can be in love with more than one person I guess but to say that those people who were ill and that they were in love with each other sound weird, like, we all wrap it in one thing and it’s not respectful for other people who suffer like them.

[The screen is black.]

Ryan: The evidence of this theory is that they were always with each other after they met each other at a school party. They would do sleepovers and Ethan’s parents would heard -quote- “strange sounds from their son’s bedroom” -end quote-.

[Screen to Ryan and Shane, yellow and blue words.]

Shane: So they were having a little fun together?

Ryan: I don’t know. I mean, they could have been playing a game or whatever but I don’t think they were having sex when Ethan’s parents were actually in the house. I think if they indeed had sex, they would do it in a nice and cosy place, without parents or anyone to witness it.

Shane, in a serious tone: They did it in the shack.

Ryan, wheezing.

Shane: I would do it there if I was them.

[The screen fades now to black. Theory two is written in white.]

Ryan: The second theory is really crazy and had made by some persons on the internet. It suggest that those five teenagers were possessed by demons. When they officially met each other in a school party, the weather changed suddenly and there was no cloud, no star in the sky: only the moon and it was reddish. Ethan, Naomie, Sonny, Pablo and Tom were the only ones outside at this specific moment and after this strange change of weather, they suddenly became friends. And all the incidents who followed were caused by those demons.

[Screen to Ryan and Shane, yellow and blue words.]

Shane: Crazy. Insane. Impossible.

Ryan: Yeah. I know. 

Shane: Do you have another theory on that case or…?

Ryan:Well, I made up my one, by using those two and my mind. Do you want to hear it?

Shane:Yeah of course!

[The screen shows Ryan and Shane. Shane is facing and staring at Ryan, who starts explaining his theory]

Ryan: Well, I think that something did happened this night, when they were all at the party. I think that they must have gained some powers, like in the Marvel or D.C movies and comics. And then, they saw it was only them who obtained them and they were like, “okay, we don’t know each other but we are all in the same bag now and we should stay together or else we will loose control”. Then, they started to see each other and built the shack to have their private places, somewhere safe for them you know? And then, they discovered that something link them: their illnesses. After what I have gathered, read and saw, I think they knew that… that if they didn’t go away, they will hurt someone or destroy something you know? 

Shane, nodding his head: Yeah.

Ryan: And that’s why. They were scared. They were scared that one day, they will end up killing someone. I think they started planning it when Pablo broke the windows. 

Shane: No offense, but I will go with the first theory. It is less crazy.

Ryan: Alright, that’s okay. But until then, this case remains… Unsolved.

[Screen fades to black]

[msterofnone-blog]

walt fuller ; intro, stats, verses & connections

WALT FULLER looks an awful lot like CILLIAN MURPHY. HE/HIM are/is THIRTY and while they’re INTELLIGENT, they have a tendency to get pretty TIMID. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to PIAZZA, NEW YORK CATCHER by BELLE AND SEBASTIAN.

- walt has been the quiet type since he was small, though both of his parents were loving & kind, raising him in the english countryside - originally from ireland & his accent is still strong

- when he was 24 he lost them both and was injured badly himself in a road traffic accident; he now walks with a limp & is more reclusive than ever

- with the help of friends he was able to regain a little confidence & return to his job in the library, which he truly loves- books have always been a form of escape for him & he is often found there after hours, smoking out of the back window & working his way through a saga

- he’s that mysterious handsome type who doesn’t really know he looks good but that makes it better???

- he identifies as polyamorous & is honestly SUCH A LOVING SOUL

- despite being so quiet he can open up to a small, trusted group & is genuinely passionate & intelligent; he holds a secret book club after library hours with a tiny group of friends where they all get a bit drunk & debate literature & that’s honestly as OVERTLY rebellious as he gets (yeah overtly) (he’s MYSTERIOUS)

FULL NAME: walt fuller PRONUNCIATION: wall-t full-er MEANING: germanic - powerful warrior REASONING: a german father who thought it sounded grand NICKNAME(S): walt PREFERRED NAME(S): walt BIRTH DATE: 30/8/1988 AGE: 30 ZODIAC: virgo  GENDER: male PRONOUNS: he/him ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: polyamorous SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual NATIONALITY: irish ETHNICITY: white CURRENT LOCATION: kola, california LIVING CONDITIONS: small apartment - takes real pride in his own space so keeps it really nice

background

BIRTH PLACE: family home in dublin HOMETOWN: dublin, ireland SOCIAL CLASS: middle EDUCATION LEVEL: a masters degree in literature FATHER: ben müller  MOTHER: aileen fuller SIBLING(S): jojo fuller [@douchebaq] CHILDREN: n/a PET(S): 2 cats, one tabby (bukowski) & one black (forster) OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: german grandparents he doesn't see very often... mostly jojo honestly PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: he’s dated several people but they’ve honestly just made him sure he’s not into monogamy  ARRESTS?: 1 PRISON TIME?: n/a

occupation & income

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: librarian/teaching SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: insurance claim from his accident APPROXIMATE AMOUNT PER YEAR: $40k CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: yes yes yes PAST JOB(S): used to be a public speaker SPENDING HABITS: mostly on books & good food MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: a signed burroughs book

skills & abilities

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: good enough (more than expected) INTELLIGENCE: quietly incredibly smart TALENTS: writing (poetry & prose), piano, painting & cooking SHORTCOMINGS: sports  LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, latin & french DRIVE?: yes JUMP-STAR A CAR?: yes CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes SWIM?: yes PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: yes PLAY CHESS?: yes BRAID HAIR?: yes  TIE A TIE?: yes PICK A LOCK?: yes

physical appearance & characteristics

FACE CLAIM: cillian murphy EYE COLOR: blue HAIR COLOR: brown HAIR TYPE/STYLE: floppy GLASSES/CONTACTS?: glasses DOMINANT HAND: right HEIGHT: 5′9″ WEIGHT: 154 lbs EXERCISE HABITS: yoga every morning by himself (so he can take it slow) SKIN TONE: tanned  TATTOOS: one (shh its a secret)  PEIRCINGS: one ear MARKS/SCARS: a scar on his back from an operation NOTABLE FEATURES: his eyes are very,,,, blue USUAL EXPRESSION: a bit frowny but he’s prob just thinking CLOTHING STYLE: smart & tidy JEWELRY: none ALLERGIES: none DIET: vegetarian PHYSICAL AILMENTS: a limp in his left leg 

psychology

JUNG TYPE: INTP ENNEAGRAM TYPE: the reformer MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral APPROXIMATE IQ: 145 MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: ptsd OBSESSION(S): reading  COMPULSION(S): gaining knowledge PHOBIA(S): loss ADDICTION(S): smoking DRUG USE: around others.. whatever honestly ALCOHOL USE: more than he should PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: not really

mannerisms

SPEECH STYLE: thick irish accent - usually quite quiet  ACCENT: irish HOBBIES: movies & music (secret vinyl collection? ya) HABITS: biting his nails NERVOUS TICKS: tapping his good leg DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: getting better - socially & physically - finding love FEARS: loss POSITIVE TRAITS: very caring, intelligent & gentle NEGATIVE TRAITS: shy, isolating & often cold SENSE OF HUMOR: massively once you know him DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: yeah weird irish curses CATCHPHRASE(S): ‘no’

favorites

ACTIVITY: writing ANIMAL: birds BEVERAGE: coffee (black) BOOK: DONT MAKE HIM PICK THIS  CELEBRITY: he...has.. no... idea COLOR: blue DESIGNER: yves saint laurent - used to dress crazy expressive when he was younger  FOOD: pastries FLOWER: tulips GEM: emerald  HOLIDAY: christmas MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: train MOVIE: eternal sunshine of the spotless mind MUSICAL ARTIST: the smiths QUOTE/SAYING: ‘you get so alone at times it just makes sense’ SCENERY: countryside SCENT: a certain somebody aftershave SPORT: he watches the tennis bless him TELEVISION SHOW: anything on the food network WEATHER: sun VACATION DESTINATION: france

attitudes

GREATEST DREAM: love....  GREATEST FEAR: loss MOST AT EASE WHEN: with his sister  LEAST AT EASE WHEN:  in large crowds WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: losing jojo BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: his degree BIGGEST REGRET: not pursuing writing whilst he was younger MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: oh shit he had HUNDREDS when he was younger  BIGGEST SECRET: watching the kardashians when he’s sad at night? in bed? with a bottle of red wine?? TOP PRIORITIES: his sister & his work

&. VERSES

the end

demi-gods

supernatural

harry potter - professor of charms- kind, gentle & a go to for help, he’s also a half-blood & keeps this fiercely hidden, afraid of old views that were once held about them

stranger things -  as a quiet librarian, nobody looks twice at walt. as an observer of people, walt looks three times at everybody else. he noticed something was wrong almost immediately, and has been collecting his own research, reading and writing, about the lab ever since. nobody suspects a thing, or at least he thinks they don’t, whilst he builds up an artillery of information to take them down

&. WANTED CONNECTIONS

ROMANTIC.

we three - a poly relationship; can be ffm mmf & of course non-binary - gentle lil walt has so much love to give oh lordt what a love story

PLATONIC.

healing - walt walks with a slight limp after his accident; somebody helped him recover & their connection now runs deep (though walt feels constantly in debt)

book club - as a librarian, walt finds solace & inspiration in words, forming a book club of very few close friends who meet up after hours in the library & talk about how they'll change the world

ENEMIES.

he’s so non-confrontational that i struggled here - if u have any ideas please feel free to hmu!!

&. FILLED CONNECTIONS

ROMANTIC.

love is a terrible thing - walt fell in love with a man who wants nothing more than something casual, and whilst it torments him, he keeps going back - alessandro [@multimuscs​]

every step you take - a hook-up gone too far; a student or frequent library vistor who becomes obsessed with walt- he struggles to end things, wanting company but becoming more & more afraid - eva [@evaphxllips]

PLATONIC.

you’re like me - a sister; they lost their parents at 24 and for walt, she is the only one left on this earth whom he is truly himself around - jojo [@douchebaq]

one spare shoulder - a close friend who’s incredibly protective of walt, and her, of her, in his own little way - annalicia [@ofkolas]

teach me (the end) - walt teaches this person all he knows whilst she offers them protection - an unlikely pairing that work in (almost) perfect harmony - jupiter [@priioritys]

ENEMIES.

none!!

[polyrolemodels]

Jimanekia Eborn

1. How long have you been polyamorous or been practicing polyamory?

I have been openly practicing for a year. I am a Poly Baby, in some sense. I feel like I have always had the mindset to have this type of relationship. It just makes sense to the way I interact with other humans.

2. What does your relationship dynamic look like?

I like to consider myself to be a singular poly lady. Meaning that I currently do not have a primary partner. But I do have  4, HLF's (homie, lover, friends). It is important  for me that the people I build  with meet  all of those  criterias. All of my current partners are married in a sense. I am not against having a primary partner. I would actually love to have one person that I can make memories and build a living space with. But, also continue to deepen the relationships that I currently have. It is kinda funny, I guess I "came out" to my mom this year. We sat for an hour talking about sex and breaking down LGBTQ+. She had lots of questions, I explained that i identify as the Q in the break down. Her response, wait soo you're not a lesbian? LOL, I responded "No girl, I am still a large fan of males) Then we went into relationships, she actually took it very well. I said " So, i may not ever get married, I may not ever have kids. But, I do for sure want a primary partner and to have lovers around me." She paused, as if she were processing it. Her response " Ok, I just want you to be happy and safe. I know there are a lot of people that do not care  for the way you live your life." I remember walking away thinking, well HELL that was so easier than I thought it was gonna be.

3. What aspect of polyamory do you excel at?

I think I excel at respecting the boundaries of those those around me. Also, asking what  they do not like. I find that often people ask , so what do you like? Which is fine of course. But, asking thing that someone does not like i find gives you a better sense of things. Also, I think I am good at hearing and seeing people for what and whom they are.

4. What aspect of polyamory do you struggle with?

I think I still struggle sometimes with asking for what I need. I have been shamed many times for asking for what I need. Which has lead me to stumble over my words. And then give up because I feel like I am bothering someone. Luckily, I have found people that are patient with me.

5. How do you address and/or overcome those struggles? 

I am getting more comfortable stating my struggles. I have found once I have stated where i struggle. That my partners go out of there way to maybe ask me the direct questions that i need to be asked. YES! It can make me really anxious in that second, but overall I think it is forcing me to grow personally and in relationships.

6. In terms of risk-aware/safer sex, what do you and your partners do to protect one another?

Definitely staying up to date with getting tested. And having those open conversations of what is new in your life? Any new people you have had sex with? And not shaming folks for doing things as well, I believe helps to keep the conversations and dynamics open. But, condoms are definitely a mandatory for my body, for penis owners. As well as for most toys.

7. What is the worst mistake you've ever made in your polyamorous history and how did you rebound from that?

Saying I just needed a break from someone in that moment. Without fully expressing what that break or space meant to me. Probably was not THEE best  way to handle it. But, I had some liquid courage and sat down and spilled all how i really was feeling and my thoughts. And sharing what needing space and or a break in that moment meant to me.

8. What self-identities are important to you? How do you feel like being polyamorous intersects with or affects these identities?

I am a Queer Black Woman that is Polyamorous. Which all of this can bring danger to my life in some aspect. Living in my truth I struggle sometimes thinking what if any maybe worse than the other. I think they all intersect and all effect each other in some capacity. Some may argue that one maybe greater a struggle than the other. But, I carry all of them all the time. I am thankful to be able to say and stand in all of them PROUDLY and OUT-LOUD. I know that there are many folks that may not be able to be "Out". And that is ok, I hope that they continue to take care of themselves the way that they need to.

(Bonus: Do you have any groups, projects, websites, blogs, etc. that you are involved with that you would like to promote?)

SEWJim.com Is my website, I am working to update it. With a Calendar as well as updates of work and things I have been up to. I can be contacted there or via my email with MORE THAN "NO". Jimanekia@morethanno.org. My focus currently is working with adolescents teaching sexual education 4th through 12th grade. I am looking to expand to support parents and continue work. My other specialty is via trauma. I work with sexual assault survivors. In multiple capacities, support, finding ways to figure out what is going on with your body, reconnecting with your sexuaility, helping you to talk to your partner/family/friends. Etc.

More Than No, is an outreach and educational group. Which I am currentyl the Director of Education for them.We believe an open dialogue about rape, sexual violence, and consent needs to be a common occurrence in order to eradicate it from our society. We offer educational  workshops, and  peer support groups for survivors and allies. More Than No also produces  “Cabaret Con-Sensual” which provides  survivors and allies a space  to express themselves through the performing arts. Cabaret Con-sensual, is a show we host once a month. In Hollywood California, at three clubs. We are looking to start doing more touring with the show. You can find out more at MoreThanNo.Org

---

Support Inclusive Polyamorous Representation at  https://www.patreon.com/PolyRoleModels

[hiqueenbambiwaugh-blog]

Bloodlines

Author: Dreamwvr73 (HiQueenBambiWaugh)

Fandom: The Magicians

Genre: AU, some canon events included

Word Count: 13000 +

Warnings: Possible triggers for mental health treatment, some mention of sexual assault

Summary: The Vikings are in Fillory to establish a relationship with the flourishing kingdom. When the king questions the lineage of High Queen Margo, will there be peace or war between the two kingdoms? 

Author’s Notes: This is for the Welter’s Challenge Trials Big Bang, Tier 1! I don’t own The Magicians, they were created by much cooler people than me, but I thank them!  I also want to thank All-Hale-Eliot... my BFF that was my own personal cheerleader when I had my doubts and served as my editor when the story was done. This is my first Magicians Fic. 

Castle Whitespire was quiet for the night, and the only light that shone was from the torches along the wall. High Queen Margo’s black boots made echoing footfalls as she walked down the hall. The high queen wore a black silky shirt with gold sparkles all over it; her pants were black with gold piping down the legs.

Margo was muttering to herself as she stomped down the hall, then finally arrived at her destination: Eliot’s common room with its solid oak double doors. Margo gripped the cold gold handles, opened the doors, and poked her head in. There sat her husband Eliot in his favorite grey paisley outfit, his dark head slumped to one side. Clearly, the high king had been working late and had fallen asleep at his table.  

“Oh Baboo…” Margo sighed as her anger bled out of her and she stepped into the room. She did an about face then closed the doors behind her. She crossed the room and went over to Eliot’s thick and heavy wooden chair. Eliot’s head lolled, and there was heavy stubble along his cheeks and neck, a sign of how hard he had been working.

Awww poor baby. She thought to herself. He works so hard…

“El, wake up.” She gently touched his face and straightened his head. The motion and touch made Eliot’s eyes open, and the exhausted amber depths peered at her.

“Bambi-” He said, bringing one big hand up and rubbing it across his face. “What time is it?”

“After midnight.” She turned to see the papers scattered all the shining surface of Eliot’s table.

“Christ, its late. A queen in your condition should be resting.”

“And what about you?” Margo motioned to Eliot’s round belly. “Idri didn’t just knock me up you realize.”

“I prefer the term with child, thank you very much.” Eliot swatted at her hand then gently touched his belly rubbing it. His thoughts drifted back to the night both he and Margo got pregnant. Shortly after the quadruple wedding, the royals had gone to the Outer Isles for their honeymoon. A rare moon had occurred on the island, and the resulting threesome between Margo, Eliot, and Idri, had resulted in the high king and high queen getting pregnant. The shock of being pregnant had shocked Eliot so much the high king had nearly fainted, but the specialness of it slowly won over his fear. Eliot’s thoughts snapped back to the present.

“Quentin and Gabriel?” Eliot asked as he stood up.

“Got back a few minutes ago, which is why I’m here. Can’t go to bed without the high king.”

“Fine,” Eliot sighed. “Our bed is a lot more comfortable than that chair.” He touched his hands to his lower back and leaned back, stretching.

“God, my back is killing me.” He groaned.

“The baby is putting pressure on your spine.” Margo stepped behind him and rubbed his lower back.  “And wearing those boots isn’t helping either.”

“Me without my boots? You might as well ask me to run around naked.” Eliot pouted.

“For Christ’s sake El, you’re already ten feet tall, do you really need the help? You look like a curly, hairy tree!”

Eliot sighed. “Bambi, sweetie, can we talk about this later? I’m too tired to tongue battle with you.”

Margo nodded then slipped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed into his back.

“Sorry, just tired too. Let’s go cuddle with our trio of hot husbands waiting for us in the royal bed chamber.”

“That’s the best idea ever.” Eliot slipped his arm around Margo, then the two of them headed out of Eliot’s common room.

***** *********** **********

The sound of the shower turned off and a few moments later, the bathroom door opened. King Idri wore a  white robe, his dark skin shining from the shower. He had a thick white towel in his hands and used it to dry off the top of his smooth head. Sitting on the king-size bed were Quentin and Gabriel, the two men in robes, one blue and one grey. Quentin’s hair was almost to his shoulders, and the silver streak in his bangs drew Idri’s dark eyes. The younger man was reading a book and then turned to look at him.

“Hey, ready for bed?” Quentin set his leather journal book aside.

Idri then shifted his gaze to Gabriel, and if there was one unusual choice for a husband Eliot had made, it was Gabriel MacKenzie .  Half witch and half magician, Gabriel was 6 feet tall, had broad shoulders, long legs, and the build of a California surfer with a shaggy mop of blonde hair. Gabriel’s handsome face and strong jaw was only accentuated by his light blue eyes, and a perfect bright smile that could easily earn him top billing in a Hollywood movie. Though despite his good looks, the combination of power he had was unprecedent, and he could perform spells with ease and talent. Eliot and Gabriel had met after Eliot was newly crowned the high king of Fillory. Adjusting to his new role was not an easy one, and Eliot had made frequent trips to earth. During one such short trip home, Gabriel had crossed his path in New York City, and it was love at first sight for them both.  Idri stepped closer to the bed close to the two men.

“I’m ready for bed, and perhaps more.” He reached out and ran his finger along Quentin’s silver streak, a permanent reminder of when Quentin had faced down the fairy queen some months earlier, then leaned in and kissed him gently.  Quentin returned it, blushing as he tucked a stray hair behind his ear. Idri then turned and captured Gabriel’s lips in a deep kiss; the young man returned it and began opening the tie on Idri’s robe.

“Mmmhpp!” Idri broke the kiss and laughed as he gently gripped Gabriel’s hand. “Patience my husband, we must wait for our other spouses.”

Gabriel pouted as he got up. “Then let me go get them,” He tightened the tie on his grey robe and rounded the bed.

He was about to open the doors when they opened on their own, and there stood the high king and high queen. “Shit! I was just coming to get you.” Gabriel tugged them both inside, and into his arms. “Mmmmm. Now that is what I need,” Gabriel nudged both of their heads.

“Yeah…” Quentin sighed as he watched. “Oh Gabriel, would you quit being a spog?”

Margo dropped her arms from Gabriel’s waist. “Quentin, what the hell is a spog?”

“Spouse hog.” Eliot answered for her then kissed Gabriel before stepping away from him. He went over to Quentin and slipped an arm around his waist.

“Don’t worry Quenny, plenty of me to go around.” Eliot drew Quentin’s head to his chest and closed his eyes.

“Spog,” Gabriel made a face then closed and locked the double bedroom doors. “You make me sound like Smaug’s country cousin.”

“Come and help me get undressed, Spog.” Margo wrinkled her nose at him then went to the walk-in closet. She opened the doors and stepped inside. Gabriel grinned and followed her into it, the double doors closing behind them both.

Quentin closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Eliot’s long, lean body in his arms and how his growing belly only accentuated his lovely shape. Oh, Ember, I love him so much. Quentin thought, then remembered the first time he had seen Eliot lying on top of the Brakebills sign. I thought he was a hallucination, and then part of me prayed he wasn’t because I fell in love with him in that moment.

“Quentin, if we stay like this much longer I’ll be asleep on my feet.” Eliot’s voice broke Quentin out of his thoughts and let go of him.

“Sorry, sorry, just…” Quentin backed off fast.  

“Just what?” Eliot asked as he gently removed his crown and set it on the special purple velvet pillow with gold piping that sat on top of one of the oak nightstands on both sides of the bed.

“I like holding you.” Quentin said softly as he watched his spouse.

Eliot smiled as he unbuttoned his grey paisley jacket. Ever since the group of magicians had decided to get married to be one happy polyamorous family, they had all taken a vow to have total honesty, no matter what. Though it had been tough for Quentin to be that open, he slowly had been learning to express how he felt to his spouses.

“We have that meeting with the Vikings tomorrow, and we need to get some rest to make sure everything is ready. You know how anal Tick can be, and I don’t mean the good kind.”  With that, Eliot climbed into the big bed and waved for his spouses to join him.

The last of the torches blew out, and Whitespire was silent and peaceful as the royal family settled into bed.

********** *********************

The next morning dawned cold, and the servants bustled to make sure that all the rooms in the castle were warm, especially the throne room. Margo was up before dawn and had slipped out of the bedroom to oversee preparations. The Viking contingent was due by 10 am, and she wanted plenty of time to get the castle ready, and then to get dressed herself.  Margo barked out orders wearing nothing but a pink silk robe and her crown, which made for an interesting sight. Finally, the food was being made, the throne room was being set up with a large table, and all the fancy gold plates, silverware, and goblets were being polished up and set onto it. Margo glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall, and with one hour to spare, she headed back into the royal bed chamber. The others were already up and fussing over their outfits, Eliot being the most vocal. The king-sized bed was covered with clothing and he held each item up to his long, frame.

“Que, what do you think?” Eliot held up light grey pants with a white filmy shirt with see-through sleeves and heavy ruffles at the wrist. Quentin, who was all in black, looked at the outfit and shook his head.

“The pants are nice, but the shirt…” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s too… um…” He tucked a stray hair behind his ear.  Eliot blinked at him expectedly, wanting him to finish his thoughts.

“Um what? What about the shirt?”

“From what I hear, these Vikings are pretty tough, and that shirt screams more like you’re doing a revival of Pirates of Penzance.”

“Nothing wrong with musical theater, Que but now is not the time for me to look like Rex Smith.” Eliot kept the pants but dropped the shirt on the bed and picked up a black silk shirt with a long black-and-grey tight-fitting coat with bright silver buttons.

“Oh yes! Now this is butch!”

Margo watched all this as she took her crown off her head and set it on the nightstand. She untied her robe and disappeared into her closet. Gabriel was in there with brown velvet pants on, and nothing else. Margo stopped a moment to admire his muscled chest and arms as he looked through the shirts. He pulled a tan paisley shirt out. One thing that most of the kingdom did not know about Gabriel was his fine sewing skills. Running a kingdom was a tough job, and the half warlock, half magician found sewing very soothing. He frequently made all the royals their clothing, and Eliot especially was delighted at his husband’s sewing ability.

“What do you think, Margie?” He turned to look at her, the shirt up to his broad chest.

“The shirt or everything else?” Margo smiled and went over to him. “You are a genius when it comes to making clothes, Gabriel, and I think you look hot.” The two briefly kissed, then she turned and pulled out a velvet dress with a gold-and-silver embroidered neckline. Gabriel had made her the dress, and a long velvet-and-gold overcoat that had the same embroidery as around the neck and down the sides of the dress to match it. Gabriel saw her choice and smiled.

“You too.”

“Where’s Idri?” Margo parted her robe and let it fall from her arms.

“Idri went out with the knights to greet the Vikings. He wore the white leather and fur outfit I made for him, he looks quite regal.” Gabriel slipped the shirt on and began buttoning it up. He watched as Margo choose her bra and panties and saw how furrowed her brow was.

“Margo… it’s going to be okay.” Gabriel stepped closer to her and touched her shoulders.

“It’s just—this is our first meeting with these guys, and from what we’ve heard, if they don’t make peace, they invade and slaughter. I’m pregnant and El is pregnant, so what if they think we’re easy prey?”

“You know I enchanted all these clothes, no one is going to see the babies, and Eliot can be tough when it comes to protecting his home.”

“You’re right.” Margo straightened her spine and took a deep breath. “I better hurry, I need to make sure Tick has everything ready.”

**** ***** *************

The sounds of marching echoed through the castle, and it made all the royals immediately stop what they were doing.  In the throne room, Margo and Eliot glanced at each other.

“Did we stumble into the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade?”  

Eliot wrinkled his nose. “Please, I wouldn’t be caught dead on 6th Avenue.”

The sounds grew louder until they were right outside the double doors. Everyone straightened their spines and Margo reached out to take Eliot’s hand, giving it a squeeze. He turned to look at her and smiled, then focused his attention on the doors as they opened. The knights were in blue tunics with the Fillorian crest on their chests and long navy blue matching cloaks, their swords at their sides. Idri’s expression was one one of pride as he escorted half a dozen burly men in. They resembled the starting lineup of a football team with their body size, all of them in various colors of velvet, leather, and chain mail. The leader was tall, with a heavy black beard and shoulder-length curly hair that matched. He had cat-like green eyes and a giant broad sword at his side. He wore solid black with a matching cloak and a heavy gold and jewel-encrusted necklace around his neck.

Idri took him to the base of the stairs then turned to Margo and Eliot.

“High King Eliot, High Queen Margo… may I present King Crissimar.” The burly man bowed his head but casually moved one hand to the hilt of his big sword.    

The knights, who were surrounding the stage where the royals sat, all reacted to the move. In one swift movement, the men all drew their swords and pointed them right at the Viking king. The air in the throne room suddenly grew thick with tension. A tall knight with long blond hair moved to the front: he, too, had his sword drawn and moved closer to the king.

“Your sword, Your Majesty. You were permitted to keep it by King Idri, but only if you showed no threat with it.”

King Crissimar slowly raised his hand, palm up. “Forgiveness Sir Knight. You may take my sword and those of my men.”  

“May I introduce Sir Alex. He personally guards the royal family.” Eliot said, and Alex gave the Viking a quick, shallow bow.

“The Fillorian knights are here for our protection and yours.” Eliot glanced to the other knights, who then looked to Alex, who nodded. The half dozen men, including King Crissimar, were stripped of their weapons before they stepped back.

King Crissimar straightened as Sir Alex removed his sword, then raised his chin. Eliot saw the look on the Viking king’s face and wondered if he was offended. Once the knights moved back with the weapons, he seemed to ease down.

“You have strong knights and good instincts, King Eliot, I know how I will be safe here. A pleasure to meet you both.”  Crissimar’s light green eyes slid to Margo. He stared at her long enough for Margo to shift her stance a little.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Margo said as he continued to stare. She flicked her gaze to Eliot.

“King Crissimar, are you admiring my queen’s beauty or is there something else on your mind? You’ve hardly taken your eyes off her.”

Crissimar finally shifted his gaze to Eliot. “News of how you became the king of Fillory has spread far and wide. Everyone knows how you were given the knife test, and your royal blood was revealed. However, what is not known is the blood status of the High Queen.”

Crissimar’s men began to murmur behind him, and everyone turned their gaze to Margo. Margo bristled at the attention and stepped forward.

“If you have something to say King Crissimar, you can say it to me.”

Eliot nodded. “Margo is the High Queen, I can assure you she is worthy of the crown.”

The men again began to whisper, and the world stafkarl was heard. Sir Alex frowned as he heard it and he gave a look to Eliot.

“Sir Alex?”  Eliot waved him closer, and the knight marched up the stairs to where Eliot stood. He leaned in to whisper to him.  

“The word they keep using is Old Norse, it means tramp.” Everyone watched as the blond man conferred with the king. Eliot’s amber eyes suddenly turned fiery and his jaw instantly clenched.

“King Crissimar, do you question the virtue of the High Queen?”

“Of course not, King Eliot.” Crissimar gave Eliot his most charming smile.

“Then why does my Head Knight tell me that the word tramp is what your men are whispering?”  

“Tramp?” Margo put her hands on her hips. “You think I’m a tramp?”

King Eliot turned to look at Margo and discreetly shifted his weight. Though he wore shielded clothing to hide his pregnancy, the magic could not help the muscles of his lower back, which were starting to get tired. But he was not about to show any hint or pain or weakness in the presence of the Vikings.

“You dare insult the High Queen?” Quentin stepped forward, his brown eyes burning with fury. “You come into our kingdom and make an accusation like that?”  

“We do not look kindly on future allies insulting our spouse.” Gabriel too was on his feet.

Margo looked at Eliot, who put his hands up.

“We must have peace between our two kingdoms, and this is certainly off to a bang-up start.” He sighed and looked back to Crissimar.

“What can we do to prove to you that High Queen Margo is not some…” He looked at Alex.

“Stafkarl.” Alex said, and Eliot wrinkled his nose.

“Stafkarl? Sounds like a venereal disease.” Eliot said, and Margo stared daggers at him. “As I was saying, how can we prove to you that Queen Margo is not some stafkarl in a crown?”

One of Crissimar’s men stepped closer and the Viking king turned so the two could speak. They were speaking Old Norse, and trying to keep it low enough so Alex could not hear them.  Finally, the two men turned back to Eliot.

“We have a test for blood purity, much as the one you took, King Eliot. Permit us to test the High Queen, and then the peace process can go forward.”

“And where is this test?” Margo said. Crissimar pretended not to hear her and addressed Eliot.

“The blade and test can be brought from our land, we can send a message and it will take one day for it to arrive.”

“That’s fine.” Eliot stood. “Sir Alex, escort the king and his men to the guest quarters, and post double guards outside the room.”

“Yes, My King.” Alex bowed and motioned to the knights, who formed and escort around King Crissimar and his men. The double doors were then opened, and the group of men all headed out.

******** ************ ***********

After the confrontation in the throne room, the castle and kingdom were abuzz from what had happened with the Viking contingent. Every time the high queen walked into a room, it went instantly silent, and people would lean in close to whisper to each other. Finally, Margo had enough of the whispering and retired to the royal bedchamber, blaming her pregnancy for her absence. The weather outside had turned to snow, and she stood at the window, watching it fall. Having changed out of her clothes, she was back in her pink robe, her crown absent from her head. She sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest. The snow was beginning to cover everything in white, making Fillory look pure and innocent.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice said from the door, Margo turned to see Quentin come in and close and lock the double doors.

“No…. I’m not that cheap, despite rumors to the contrary.”

“What do you mean?” Quentin asked as he went over by the window and stood behind her. His fine-boned hands touched her shoulders and rubbed them.

Margo closed her eyes, trying to let Quentin’s touch soothe her. “Come on, Quentin, you’re not deaf or dumb! You heard what everyone’s been saying.” She said softly. “Good King Crissimar has me pegged as nothing more than a whore in a crown.”

“Margo, of course you’re not. Don’t ever say anything like that ever again!” He turned her around to they were face to face. “You’re the High Queen of Fillory.” The tips of his fingers brushed her cheek.

“And, you’re about to become a mother, and I know you’ll be amazing at that too.”

Margo’s eyes grew bright. “Thank you, Quentin.” Quentin hugged her tight.

“I’m going to let you rest, okay?” He pulled back and touched her hair.

Margo reached up to touch his hand then stood on her tip toes and kissed him gently, then touched her forehead to his. “I love you, Quentin.”

“To the moon and back.” Quentin said then kissed the tip of her nose. He then took her by the hand, led her over to the big bed, pulled the duvet back, and helped her into it.

“There!” He adjusted the plush purple comforter over her, then gently removed her crown and set it on her nightstand. “Get some rest.”

Margo turned on her right side, then she grabbed one of Eliot’s velvet purple pillows, pressed it into her chest, and closed her eyes as memories of chanting children filled her mind.

“Hey Shorty, smile so we can see you! The sun went down!”

“Margo Fargo, pudding and pie, her mom got knocked up by an unknown guy!”

“No one wanted you, Margo the Maggot! That’s why no one knows who your parents are!”

Margo whimpered in her sleep and turned. She had been sent to an orphanage when she was about two and had arrived on the doorstep of a police station with nothing but a small gold box with strange symbols carved into its tarnished surface she wore on a chain around her neck. Margo had absolutely no memory at all of either her mother or her father. Though despite their best efforts at detective work, the orphanage workers and the Department of Children’s Services were unable to find out anything about the little lost toddler they now had charge of.  With local foster homes being filled to their capacity, the only place left for Margo to go was the Brooklyn Orphanage.

The box Margo had been abandoned with sat in her nightstand in a small lockbox, but she never looked at it because all it did was frustrate her. Margo had shown it to everyone she thought could help decipher it, but no one recognized the symbols. Despite its somewhat frail and weathered appearance, the box could withstand tools, lock picks, keys of every shape and size, and most of all, magic. Margo herself had tried to open the box with magic, but it had no effect. Finally, out of sheer annoyance, Margo had dropped the box in another lock box and put it in her nightstand. The only person who knew anything about Margo’s past was Eliot, and even though he knew about the box, she had never shown it to him.

“Darkie Darkie 2 by 4, daddy’s a druggie and mommy’s a whore! No one wants to see you live, the nurse will give you a sedative!” The echoing memories of cruel chants grew louder and louder, causing Margo to groan and whimper in her sleep as she tossed and turned. The double doors of the royal bed chamber opened, and a dark curly head poked in. Eliot came into the room quietly, then shut the double doors behind him.

“Margo the Maggot! Margo the Maggot!” Eliot heard the echo in his head thanks to his telekinesis, and his powers gave him flashes of a young Margo, surrounded by a circle of nasty-looking children that were shoving her around. He then turned to see Margo thrashing about on the bed and rushed over to her.

“Margo…” He reached out and gently shook her. “Come on Sweetie, don’t let those nasty little miscreants get to you!” Eliot shook her again, a little harder this time, his fingers pressing into her flesh.

“Margo!” The kids’ voices dissolved into a voice she recognized, and she suddenly sat up to come face to face with Eliot.

“Baboo…” She whispered before she burst into tears, covering her face. Eliot sighed as he drew her to his chest and held her.

“Shhhh, it’s all right. You were dreaming.” Eliot said as he stroked the back of her head.

“King Crissimar wants to know where I came from El, how can I tell him when I don’t even fucking know?” Margo sniffled.   Eliot pursed his lips a moment then shrugged.

“Then let’s go find out.”

“What?” Margo pulled back to look up at him, her eyebrows furrowing.

“The orphanage in Brooklyn was where you were before Henry found you on the streets, right?”

“Yeah.” Margo wiped her face. “But after all this time?”

“Worth a shot right? And… did you ever show him your little lock box?”

“Yeah, but he’s just as clueless about it as everyone else.” Margo sighed.  Eliot saw the conflict on her face and he touched her cheek.

“You are Margo, you are fabulous, and it’s time we found out just how fabulous you really are. Crissimar isn’t the only one that’s going to have questions.” His hand slid from her cheek then came to rest on her small belly. “Maybe it’s time all of us got some answers.” Eliot said softly.

********* ************

Little Lamb Orphans Home sat close to Upper Bay and was a red brick building built so long ago that it was now a faded orange color.  There were two giant equally orange brick smoke stacks behind it, and from a distance, the building looked like a factory from the early 1900’s. The home had closed down a few years earlier, and now it was used for the Department of Children’s Services records storage.  Margo stared up at the building, her heart sinking into her shoes. Though dressed in a loose black sweater, black jeans, and knee-high black suede boots, she felt like a five year old once again.

“Why do I feel like I should be wearing coveralls and a miner’s helmet?” Margo jumped as Eliot spoke beside her. The temperature was more than a bit crisp in New York, and Eliot dressed for it with a grey baggy cable knit turtle neck sweater, light plum colored slacks, and a dark-grey long wool coat with the collar turned up.

“What?” Margo asked.

“I said, I feel like I’m in the musical revival of Coal Miner’s Daughter.” Eliot wrinkled his nose as he looked at the building. “Or like I need a long, hot, shower.”

“I feel like I need more than that.” Margo sighed and ran a hand over her belly.

“Where did they keep the records in this place?” Eliot asked as he slipped a supportive arm around her shoulders.

“The orphanage records were kept in the attic, I doubt they changed that.” Margo leaned into Eliot.

“Shall we Abracadabra our way up there?” Eliot looked down at her. He saw the look on her face and gently kissed her forehead. “Courage, Bambi.”

“Trying.” Margo met his gaze. “Let’s get up there.”

Eliot let go of her and the two turned to face one another. They rubbed their hands together, then made a square with their hands then opened it, and formed a rainbow shape over their heads.  The air around them rippled, and a moment later, the duo appeared in the attic of the ancient brick building. The overpowering aroma of dust hit Eliot so hard that he began to sneeze uncontrollably. Margo began to wheeze; she formed a circle with her thumb and index finger, then blew a bubble from it that encapsulated them both. No longer inhaling dust and mold, the two began to calm down. Eliot plucked a monogrammed handkerchief from his inner jacket pocket and touched it to his nose.

“Thank you, Honey. I think I can breathe again.”

“Me too, but you’re not the only one that needs a long, hot shower now.” Margo said as they both turned to survey the room. There were big industrial-size black metal shelves that covered every wall surface of the attic. The big brown boxes had white labels on them with a computer printout of a year, the name of a children’s home, and the office whose jurisdiction it was under. Eliot looked the files up and down.

“Accio Margo’s file!” He shouted, and Margo rolled her eyes.

“Really, King? Really?” Margo put her hands on her hips, her brown eyes fiery as she stared at Eliot. He winced at her flare of temper.

“Sorry… but I’ve always wanted to do that.”

 “Yeah. I get it, Eliot Potter, but it didn’t work.” Margo sighed as she looked over all the shelves. “You start at that end, I’ll start over here. We need to go back 10 years minimum.”

“You were there for over 12 years.” Eliot said as he walked to the other side of the room.  

“I know, but who knows if they kept good records or not.” Margo in the opposite direction and started looking over all the boxes.

“Come on…come on…” Margo said to herself as she began looking over all the labels. The writing was faded, dusty, and difficult to read.  Some of the shelves were too high to see despite her heels, so she closed her eyes and levitated two feet off the floor. Finally, the boxes at the top were in view and she read each one over before moving to the next set of three that were stacked on top of one another. Margo reached out and slid one box aside, getting a blast of dust right in her face.

“Goddamn it!” She started sneezing with such force that it made her start to bounce around the room like a deflating balloon. Margo zipped right into Eliot, who neatly caught her.

“Okay, flying queen!”

Margo held onto Eliot and opened her mouth to thank him when another powerful sneeze knocked them both of them into a shelf with such force that it made the whole structure shake. Eliot slid to the ground, his legs spread in a V shape, and Margo settled between them with her back to his chest.

“Well, that was dramatic!”

A box at the top of the shelf teetered a bit, came tumbling down, and busted open right in front of them.

“Sorry, El, I got a noseful of dust!” Margo brushed her fingers under her nose to scratch it, then glanced at the papers that were all over the floor. She was about to swear when she saw the name on the box.

“That’s it!” Margo got up fast and began sorting through the scattered papers. She set the box right side up and began pulling files out of it. Finally, she found a file on the bottom of the box dated 12 years ago.

“Jane Doe, age around 2.” Margo began to read out loud, then shifted from her knees to sit on the dusty floor.

“You didn’t even have a name?”  Eliot took the now-empty box and put all the files back in it.

“I… I guess I didn’t.” Margo read the first page she found, then shuffled to the next one. Her brow was furrowed, and Eliot had never seen her look so serious or be so quiet.

“Margo? Bambi?” Eliot said softly, then reached out to touch her knee, which made her jump.

“Sorry.” He said as he slid his hand away, but then she grabbed it with her hand.

“They named me.” Margo said softly, then her dark eyes raised to meet Eliot’s amber.

“I was found covered in blood.” She handed him the paper that was labeled Police Report.  

“Says you were found wandering this abandoned neighborhood in Brooklyn.” Eliot read from the paper.  “You kept pointing to a house, but when the cops busted in, all they found was blood everywhere and no trace of any bodies.” He lifted his gaze, the amber depths bright with both sympathy and sadness.

“They never knew what happened, but you were the only survivor.”

Margo signed, her dark head bowing. “Maybe, I’m just not meant to know.”

“Margo…” Eliot set the paper down and drew his spouse into a hug. “No matter what, Margo Jane Waugh, you are the High Queen of Fillory and we all love you. The people of Fillory love you too, and frankly, fuck Crissimar and his horned assholes!”

“Eliot, we can’t say Fuck Crissimar!” Margo sniffled and wiped her face. “We need them to be our allies or they’ll invade Fillory. You know this!”

“He called the High Queen of Fillory a whore, and I should slit his throat for that!” Eliot snapped, and then he deflated and sighed. “We’re boned without lube either way, aren’t we?”

“No. You know what, El? I am the High Queen, and I deserve to wear the crown!” Margo smoothed her hair back. “And if I have to defend it, I will!”

Margo got to her feet as she gently tugged Eliot up too, then stared up at him.

“I want to do what’s best for our home, Baboo.” She said firmly.

“If High Queen Margo Waugh wants to fight for her kingdom, and what is best for her people, then it’s always the right decision.” Eliot said, then kissed her cheek.

Margo nodded, but then she went over to the window and stared out across the street. She saw another fading red brick building and an old memory flashed in her mind.

“Wait…what?” She muttered, and Eliot joined her.

“What is it?”

Margo raised her hand and her red painted nail tapped the dirty, dusty glass. “Do you see that building over there?”

“The disgusting one that looks like one good windstorm will make it collapse?” Eliot wrinkled his nose at the dust on the windows.

“Yeah! I remember it. Something about it is really familiar.” Margo’s hand drifted down to touch her small belly and she rubbed it.

“Well, since this little trip to Dusty Land is mostly a bust…”

“Wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

“Okay, I’m easy.” Eliot said, and Margo turned and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Of course you are, but I love you anyway.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave his lips a brief kiss.

************* *******************

The building across the compound was the same faded orange brick as its neighbor. However, it was in much worse condition with the bricks cracked and crumbling, and one half of it was sagging where the New York weather had taken its toll on the structure. The high queen and high king had chosen to go around the back of the building, which was not the part of that was sagging, and had found a door partially hanging off its hinges. With a well-aimed magical missile from Eliot’s palm, the door was sent flying, and Margo carefully stepped over the threshold and stepped inside.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” She said as she walked in and stood awe struck at the rows of stacked-up metal beds that filled half the room. The white paint was chipping off in big chunks that covered the floor, and the beds themselves were rusting and becoming twisted from the humidity in the air. There were huge chunks of plaster from both the walls and the ceilings on the floor too, and the smell in the air was thick with mold and dust.

“Jesus…” The sound of Eliot’s voice beside her made Margo jump about a foot in the air, and she whipped around to see him standing next to her, his nose wrinkled.

“You grew up in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“More like the Chamber of Horrors.” Margo whispered as she looked around. She could hear the echoes of the kids that made fun of her, and she reached down to rub at her own belly.

“Used to cry myself to sleep every night in one of those rotting beds.”

Eliot watched her with a touch of concern. The Margo he knew that could command a room with the quick sashay of her walk was gone, replaced by this tiny woman stuck in her past.

“And now you have a royal bedchamber you share with four hot men.” Eliot said, and it made Margo blink and turn to look at him. “Sorry, Baboo. Just…felt like that little girl again.” Margo sighed and straightened her spine as she took Eliot by the hand, and they began to look around.

“So much bigger than I remember it.” Margo squeezed Eliot’s hand as they carefully stepped around the huge stacks of metal beds. A staircase was on the far left side of the room, and the two stopped at the bottom of them. The wooden stairs were leaning over a little, the paint was cracking, and Eliot shook his head.

“No way Sweetie, we’re pregnant and this looks like a Final Destination scene waiting to happen, so I have another idea.” Eliot stepped back and held out his hands.  Margo smiled as she faced Eliot, and slipped her small hands into his. The high king closed his eyes, and a wind began to blow through the old building, which made it whistle and howl. Margo and Eliot slowly rose in the air higher and higher until they were able to come down gently onto the second level of the building. The staircase groaned under their feet, and shook a little, but seemed to be much more stable than the staircase. Margo lost her footing a little, but Eliot still had her hands and steadied her.

“Geez, been awhile since you did that.” Margo let go of his hands and headed down the hall that had doors on the left side.  

“One of these used to be my room.” She stopped at the fourth door down and tipped her head to one side. “Something else…” Margo turned to Eliot. “I know there was another door here, like a small storeroom.” She went over to a wall at the end of the row, and it had blue and white striped wallpaper that was speckled with rust spots from the pipes behind the walls. Margo reached out to place her palm on the paper, and part of it flaked off. She brushed off her hands.

“Gross!”

“Here, let me.” Eliot said, then he rubbed his hands together and formed a square with his thumbs and index fingers. He raised the square up to his face and peered through it at the wall and saw a small room with boxes that was similar to what was across the compound.

“You’re right, there’s a small room back there.” Eliot said as he lowered his hands.

“Looks like there’s boxes of files.” Eliot went over to the wall and tapped it, listening for a place he could break. He found a hollow-sounding place near the middle and waved for Margo to step back. Eliot tutted, then clapped his palms together then opened them, and a small magical missile emerged from his palm to strike that section of the wall. The wall blew apart with bits of the plaster, wood, and paint erupting out of it. Margo and Eliot both turned away, waiting for the air to clear, then stepped closer when it finally did. Eliot bent over a little to see the old white door with a tarnished brass door knob. Eliot put one long arm into the small hole, turned the knob, then pulled the door back. The ancient door creaked, but then the hinges gave, and the paneling over it broke off and fell to the floor.

“Thank you, Oh Mighty Hercules.” Margo teased as she stepped around him then into the hidden room.

“Please, like I’d be caught dead in a toga!” Eliot brushed the dust, paint, and bits of plaster off his sleeve then followed her.  The room was in the same terrible condition as the rest of the building with its holey walls, holey ceiling, paint chips all over the floor that creaked badly with every step they took. The only difference was the north wall of the dilapidated room had three dark grey filing cabinets that were rusting and leaning a little from their weight affecting the floor on which they sat.

“Okay, you start on the left cabinet, I’ll start on the right cabinet, and then we’ll meet in the middle.”

“If the cabinets don’t crash through the floor, you mean?” Eliot said as he went to the right cabinet, gripped the tarnished handle, then tugged open the drawer. A cloud of dust came out of the drawer and Eliot turned his face away and coughed.

“Jesus! I’ve inhaled enough lint, paint, and dust to sneeze a house out of my nose.” Eliot then focused his attention back on the files and began flipping through the sections that had faded tags with faded letters written on them. Next to him, Margo had tugged open her drawer and was sorting as well.

“Cathy Ryerson.” She said out loud, then stopped a moment as memories began to fill her mind. She saw a sandy-haired, green-eyed girl with freckles on her nose.

“I remember her.” Margo looked at Eliot.

“She vanished one day.”

“Vanished? Like kidnapped or something?” Eliot’s amber eyes looked concerned.

“I don’t know, I guess they figured she ran off.” Margo flipped to the next file and saw another name.

“Scott Smith.” Margo saw flashes of a young red-haired boy. “He was gone, too.”

“That explains why they’re in here.” Eliot said. “Hiding their sins. It’s much easier to hide the files in here, and pretend the kids weren’t here, then to explain their negligence.” He pulled out a folder with Margo’s name on it. “Here’s yours.”

Margo saw the faded yellow folder in Eliot’s big hands and closed her eyes. “I don’t know if I can look at it, El.” She said softly and turned away.

“I can,” Eliot leaned down, kissed her cheek, then took the folder, opened it and took a few steps away from her as he read. “This file has more information about what happened when you were found.”

“Like what?” Margo went over to him and looked at the file in his hands, then took it from him and glanced at its contents.

“Elizabeth Arias Hanson was married to Peter Hanson for two years, but the marriage was unhappy and there were many visits by Child Protective Services.” Margo read more words and took in a big breath.

“They found enough blood to draw the conclusion they were both killed, but no bodies.” She raised her gaze to Eliot, and there were tears in her eyes. “No information about them could be found but… at least I know their names.” She said, and Eliot drew her into a hug.

“It’s all right Sweetie, whoever they were, I’m thankful for them both because I wouldn’t have my Bambi and queen if not for them, no matter what happened.”

Margo closed the folder then wrapped her arms around Eliot. “Thanks, Sweetie.” She said softly, then pulled back.

“Let’s just take the folder and go home. The Vikings are probably getting antsy.”

“You’re not alone in this, Margo, I swear.” Eliot said softly and gently placed a hand on her cheek.

 **** ******* *********

Margo and Eliot arrived back in Fillory, but because of the time difference between Earth and the magical kingdom, it was very late at night. Gabriel, Idri, and Quentin were in their robes, pacing circles in the royal bedchamber. Quentin finally stopped and tucked the hair behind his ears.

“Ugh, I hate this!” He said as he jammed his hands into the pockets of his tan robe.

“We should have heard something by now!���

Gabriel went over to his husband and took Quentin’s hands out of the pockets so he could hold them.

“You know the time difference between here and Earth, and you know they had to do a little investigating about Margo’s past.” Gabriel touched Quentin’s chin and raised it so they were looking into each other’s eyes.

“They’ll be home soon, okay?” Gabriel said to Quentin then looked at Idri, who nodded.

“Our treasures will return to us soon.”

“I know, but they’re both pregnant and…” Quentin started to speak when the double doors opened and Margo and Eliot stepped into the room. The High King and High Queen both looked weary, and the pair were instantly scooped up by their worried spouses.

“Thank Ember!” Quentin said as he hugged Eliot to him. “Are you all right?”

Eliot blinked at the fierce hug, but raised his arms to return it. “We’re okay, Quentin, just feel like I need a long hot shower. The buildings we were in were in a shambles and it’s a miracle they didn’t collapse with us inside of them.”

Gabriel had his arms around Margo, and he saw the folder she carried. “Margo, what’s that?”

“My past.” Margo said softly as she rested her head on Gabriel’s right shoulder.

Idri stood between the two of them and placed a hand on each of their backs. “Your safe return makes my heart soar, my treasures. We were worried about you both.”

“And the Vikings?” Eliot asked as the hug with Quentin ended and he began to take off his clothes.

Gabriel let go of Margo and began to strip. “King Crissimar is in a guest room, and the rest of his men are bunking with the knights. Alex promised to keep a close eye on them.”

“What about the test?” Margo took off her jacket and shirt, then crossed the room and dropped them both in her hamper.

“Not sure really, King Crissimar said it was arriving and he claims it’ll be here by the tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

Margo heard this then went into the bathroom. The moment the door closed, Idri, Gabriel, and Quentin all turned to Eliot.

“What happened?”

“All you found was this one folder?”

Eliot put his hand up. “Yeah all we found was that file. Margo just decided to take the test since we didn’t find anything else.” He striped out of his shirt. “Whatever happens with the Vikings happens, and we’ll deal with it from there.” Eliot said as he went into the bathroom to join Margo in the shower.

***** ****** ******

The next morning dawned cold, and the quietness of Whitespire was interrupted by a lot of noise coming from the Vikings, who were eating breakfast and making themselves comfortable in the castle. King Crissimar was among the men as he sat in Eliot’s chair and ate a hearty porridge. The doors to the dining room opened and Elio and the other male kings entered. Crissimar saw Eliot and he stood up and moved out of the high king’s chair.

“Good morning, King Eliot, King Idri, King Gabriel, and King Quentin.” He gave them a bow, and his men all stood and returned the respectful gesture.  

Eliot, dressed in a dark grey silk shirt and black-and-silver streaked pants with a matching jacket, cocked an eyebrow when he saw Crissimar in his chair.

“Good morning.” Eliot’s gaze flicked to his chair, with its purple velvet backing, gold crown, and a carved E at the top. It was clear who the chair belonged to. He wanted to say something, but trying to keep the peace between the two kingdoms was foremost on his mind, so he held his tongue. Gabriel saw the look on Eliot’s face and he leaned in. “Sire, do you wish for me to fetch the Lysol?”

“Do we have some?” Eliot said as he turned to look at him.

“I think we do.” Gabriel said, but then Eliot put his hand up.

“I have another solution.” Eliot reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a folded gold-and- purple embroidered hanky. He  went over to his chair, unfolded it, then draped it over the seat.

“Tea, please.” He said to a servant before he sat down gracefully and crossed his legs.

King Crissimar chose another seat and sat down, watching as Eliot was given his tea and he doctored it with cream and sugar.

“The test arrives today, King Eliot. Is the high queen prepared to take it?”

Eliot lifted the delicate tea cup to his lips and had a sip then he cleared his throat.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He lifted his gaze and pointed with his chin to the doors of the dining room. Margo stood there in a purple-and-gold dress with a matching shawl, the material sparkling in the candlelight. She saw all eyes on her and raised her chin.

“Whatever test you have for me King Crissimar, I will take for both myself and my kingdom. I’ve earned this crown and it is rightfully mine.” All the men in the room stood as Margo entered it, and she walked around the table to where Eliot stood. He held out his hand to her, a small smile of both pride and affection on his face. Margo slid her smaller hand into his, and he raised it to his lips in a kiss before guiding her to her chair beside his.

“You look stunning.” Eliot said to her, and she winked at him.

King Crissimar nodded. “I understand Queen Margo, and I hope for the sake of both our kingdoms this test goes well.”

Margo’s gaze flicked to Crissimar as he spoke, then she looked at Eliot and the way he looked at her spoke volumes. You have our support Bambi, you are the High Queen of Fillory and your spouses and fellow monarchs support you. Margo stared at his handsome face then she suddenly turned to the Viking king.

“You know something? The test doesn’t matter. If you want to negotiate a treaty between our worlds, then fine, we’ll talk all day long. If you don’t want to because I won’t let you bully me into some stupid test which, hello…” She pointed to her head where her crown gleamed in the candlelight. “Percy… who’s queen?”

Margo spoke in a higher voice and both Eliot and Quentin looked at each other. Eliot sighed.

“Blackadder…see? See your influence on the high queen?”  He said to Quentin, who only grinned.

“Hey! She’s a woman of taste and sophistication!”

King Crissimar flicked a look and Eliot and Quentin, then it went back to Margo. “So, you will not take the test, Queen Margo?”

Margo’s dark eyes turned fiery and she was about to open her mouth when Eliot squeezed her hand.

“I’ll handle this, sweetie.” Eliot said, then turned to King Crissimar and flicked his hand. Magic burst from his fingertips and the word NO appeared in shimmering gold letters over their head, then burst into a shower of gold glitter and rained down on them all before vanishing.

“As she said, we are welcome to negotiate peace between our worlds.”

Margo leaned over and kissed his cheek, but the air in the room turned tense. King Crissimar’s face bore a deep scowl. He rose to his feet, and his men got up along with him. Before he could speak one word, Alex and the Fillorian knights quickly filed into the room and stood around the monarchs. Alex scowled as he watched King Crissimar and his hand went to his right side, where his thick broadsword was sheathed.

“If you will excuse us, your majesties, my men and I must talk.” King Crissimar said, his spine was straight as a board as they all filed out of the room.

**** *********** ***********

King Crissimar returned to the guest room he had been given. Located in the west wing, it was a modest room with grey stone walls that were covered by tapestries that depicted the woods, Whitespire, the village, and of course, the royals. Crissimar was in a heavy brown fur cloak, and he untied it hastily and dropped it on the big bed in the center of the room. The king began to pace, and his big thick boots made a low booming noise in the room.

“How dare she mock our test!” He said to himself, then went to the fireplace and waved his hand. It burst into big flames and he stood there a moment, warming his hands. A knock on the door raised his head and he scowled.

“Telanor, that better be you!” He barked, then turned, strode over to the door, and almost yanked it off its hinges. A small man with thick round glasses and a black fur outfit stood there and he bowed. He had a wooden chest in his hands.

“The test arrived, Sire.” He said, then dared to shift his gaze to the scowling face of the Viking king. Telanor had served Crissimar since he was a teenager, and the small, boney man with a big nose, thick round black framed glasses, and a thin body looked more like a rat on two legs than a human.

“It’s about time!” Crissimar grabbed the chest and yanked at it, which not only gave him the chest, but tugged Telanor into the room. The thick door was kicked shut and Telanor went over to the fire to warm himself.

“Forgiveness, your majesty, but a terrible storm delayed our returning here, and you know magic does not work to cross the Lonely Sea.” He stretched his hands out to the fire and sighed at the warmth.

“Snow has also begun to fall, which also made the crossing treacherous.”

“Yes, yes, I know there were delays.” Crissimar went over to the table and chairs set in the corner of the room and set the chest down. He folded his hands palm to palm, then opened them over the chest and whispered a spell. The metal on the box began to glow, and the chest promptly popped open.

“Yes….” King Crissimar said as he reached into the glowing chest and pulled out a dagger of pure gold and held it up. “Such a beauty you are.” He whispered as his gaze traveled along its long smooth glinting surface.

Telanor watched how Crissimar admired the knife. “What is your plan, Sire?”

“Oh…” He said with a smile. “The high queen and I have a date.”

*** ********* ************

The Vikings were quiet the rest of the day, but for the most part, they had accepted Margo’s decision about foregoing the test. Finally, around supper time, the tension in the castle settled down, and the monarchs and Vikings were able to enjoy a nice dinner of brazed beef, roasted potatoes, steamed veggies, and plenty of wine. King Crissimar seemed the most cooperative and festive, but the knights were posted around the castle to ensure everything was calm and peaceful.  Despite the fact things with King Crissmar seemed settled, the trip to New York, and the tension of everything left Margo feeling a little worn out. Outside, the weather had turned for the worst, and snow began to fall. After standing at the dining room windows and watching her kingdom turn white, Margo went over to Eliot.

“Sweetie, I hope you don’t mind, but I need a hot bath and some tea.” She said as she took his hand. He squeezed it and tugged her closer so he could whisper in her ear.

“Proud of you, bitch.” Eliot whispered in her ear, then kissed her cheek.

“Thanks, Sweetie.” Margo said, kissing him back as she moved away and casually slipped out of the room. Telanor’s beady little eyes watched as Margo left, and he skittered over to his master then practically slithered to his side.

“Queen Margo has left.” He said to Crissimar, who was enjoying a gold goblet full of ale.

“Good eyes. I didn’t even see her leave.”

“I have watched her the whole time, My Lord.” Telanor said with a hint of desire for Margo in his black eyes.

“Of course you have, she’s a beautiful woman.” Crissimar downed the rest of his ale then casually set the goblet down. He gave a nod to his men as he made his way to the door. The number of men in the room made it hard to keep an eye on everyone, but not only did Alex and his knights keep watch, but there were powerful wards in the castle that acted like intruder alarms. Eliot sat on his throne watching, sipping from goblet of honey wine. Alex made his way over to him and leaned over.

“Sire, do you think Crissimar is up to something?”

The high king cleared his throat and nodded. “I’m certain of it, but the wards are tightened. He won’t be able to do much without us knowing.” Alex turned to look at him.

“The alarm wards?” He asked, and Eliot gave a small smile.

“I’m both beauty and brains combined, Sir Knight.”

******** ************* ********

Margo entered the royal bed chamber and took off her crown. She put it on one of the purple pillows Eliot kept for all their crowns, and she took a moment to rub at her lower back.

“Ohhh baby, you are hard on Mama’s back.” Margo closed her eyes and bent backwards a little to stretch, then unzipped her black dress. She wore a dress Gabriel had made for her, black with interwoven gold thread that glinted in the light. Gabriel created a long skirt too, and she also unzipped that and let it puddle at her feet. Now clad in just a bra and panties, Margo sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to open her nightstand. She took out the tarnished lock box and held it in her hands, turning it over.

“My stint as Nancy Drew didn’t go over so well.” She sighed, then set the box on the edge of the nightstand.

Outside the door, Crissimar took the gold dagger out of a sheath on his belt and held it in his hand. He closed his eyes.

“O great Thor, God over all, guide me and help me do what is best for my people.” The dagger began to glow, and as it brightened, the wards that showed up as glowing gold lines all around the castle began to flash and vanish. Crissimar began to change too, and after a moment, both he and the dagger turned invisible.  With a wave of the dagger, the bed chamber doors blew open, and Margo was on her feet fast to see why. She took a few steps toward the doors, but then they closed on their own.

“The fuck?” Margo said, and then the air began to shimmer as she backed away.   Crissimar stepped closer to her, and he smiled as he saw her in her bra and panties.

What a shame…. He thought to himself as he held the dagger tight in both his hands then jutted it straight into Margo’s chest. She felt the air shift and had put her hands up in a battle magic pose, but it did little to prevent the attack. The blade ended up between her breasts, and she barely had time to utter a syllable before a spray of blood erupted out of the wound. Margo’s face, the bed, the floor, and the nightstand were spattered with blood. She saw Crissimar, slowly dropped to her knees, then fell over.

A ripple went through the castle, and it stopped everyone cold. Eliot stood up then looked at Alex, the color draining from his face. He began breathing hard.

“Margo…” He said turned to see the three other male monarchs felt it too. Quentin, Idri, Gabriel, Eliot, Alex, all ran from the room.

“Secure the Vikings!” Alex’s voice carried back into the room, and the knights all drew their swords and surrounded the Vikings.

Eliot burst through the double doors and saw the carnage that lay within. His eyes were huge as he walked around the bed and saw Margo laying on the floor.

“Bambi…” He said as his eyes grew bright, then his amber eyes flashed. The rest of the men came in behind him, but the doors quickly slammed. The air around Eliot began to crackle, and he slowly raised his head.

“I know you’re here.” Eliot spoke calmly, then raised his hands up to his eyes in the formed square, and threw his arms out. Crissimar appeared in the corner, and Eliot raises his head to see the Viking king. The anger in Eliot’s face had turned it red, and around him, the air was sizzling, with a small flame that was traveling around him like a glowing moth.

“Crissimar!” Idri, Gabriel, and Quentin all charged him, but Eliot’s power had created a power shield that actually protected him.

Alex pulled his sword from the sheath and held it straight out.

“Sire, may I dispatch him?” The blond knight said, his mouth tightened in a sneer.

“Back off, Sir Alex. If anyone will get justice for Margo, it’ll be those that called her wife.” Eliot could barely get the words out, and he raised his hands. Alex lowered his sword, but he kept it in his hand.

Crissimar did not flinch or back off. He straightened his spine and raised his chin.

“Whether you understand or not, I did what I did for my people.”

Eliot opened his mouth to say something when a small bang got his attention. He turned and saw Margo’s tarnished box shift on the nightstand.

Quentin wiped his eyes and turned too to see the box move again.

“What is that?” He asked Gabriel and Idri.

“Margo’s box.” Gabriel said, and Idri took a step toward it when it fell off the nightstand and landed in the puddle of blood around Margo. A beam of light emerged from the keyhole, and it widened and scanned Margo like a giant computer. The lock clicked: the lid popped open and slid to one side. A bright light came out of the box, and a woman who looked exactly like Margo emerged. The woman wore a gold gown, and it seemed to glow.  Eliot went over to her; he thought for the briefest of moment that it was the ghost of Margo, but she had light-colored eyes and the shape of her lips was different.

“Are you…?” Eliot asked, and she smiled.

“You know who I am, but you don’t at the same time.” She said, then touched the crown on her head.

“But first . . .” The woman crouched down and pulled the dagger out of Margo’s chest. She set it down and placed her hand over the gash. The wound began to glow, then it slowly sealed up, and Margo stirred.

“Oh Ember, she’s alive.” Eliot said, then touched his belly as he watched Margo sit up and touch between her breasts. The wound from the dagger was gone, and the only hint it was there was the blood stains on her bra. She raised her head to see the woman, and a flash from the past came back to her. The face was familiar, and it made her heart start to beat hard as tears began to fill her eyes.

“You’re my-”

“Mother.” Elizabeth Hanson said, then helped her daughter to her feet.  The two women stared at each other, and for a moment, Margo thought she was hallucinating from her recent death. Elizabeth smiled as she placed a hand on Margo’s cheek.

“You grew up to be so beautiful.” She said softly as her eyes grew bright. Margo looked up at the crown on her head.

“I… I don’t understand.” She said, her voice thick with emotion, then she saw the opened gold box. “What happened?”

“Let’s deal with one thing at a time.” Elizabeth said, then both mother and daughter turned to Crissimar; the Viking king’s mouth formed a perfect circle.

“Oh, Thor!” He said as he dropped to his knees.

“I did it for my people, I only want to do what is best for them!”

“By putting a dagger between my tits?” Margo snapped, and Elizabeth gently patted her hand.

“The Norse gods demand purity of blood to keep magic strong in our land!”

“And that’s exactly what you tried to destroy!” Elizabeth shouted, then she waved her hand and the Viking king rose to his feet. She walked over to where Crissimar floated and threw him against the wall with her power.

“Do you see this crown on my head? Do you know where I got it?”

Margo watched the scene unfold and went over to Eliot, who hugged her hard, blood covered or not.

“Margo…” He said then the other kings came over and each one grabbed Margo, and hugged her so hard that she nearly fell over.

Elizabeth paused a moment to watch Margo reunite with her spouses, and the love she saw between them all only fueled her anger.

“Do you see what you almost did? Denied my daughter her life, and her child as well?” She watched as Idri dropped to his knees and kissed her small belly; there were tears rolling down his face. Margo gave him a watery smile as she stroked her hand along his head. Elizabeth waved her hand again, and the opened tarnished gold box floated in the air. She closed her eyes and it began to glow, then a small gold light came out of the box. The firefly-like light rose in the air, then it flashed, and the image of a man in pure black appeared, and he, too, wore a crown on his head.  He was light skinned, with thick black curly hair and sharp dark eyes, and he looked like a distant relative of their servant, Tick, only with lighter skin color and a longer, thinner frame.

“Peter…” Elizabeth said then held her hand out to him. He smiled, and when he did, Eliot blinked because he suddenly realized who this man was. He went and got a black silk robe for Margo out of their closet and put it around her. Margo once again wore a stunned expression on her face as she watched her parents.

Crissimar struggled against the power that held him to the wall.  He looked down to see the dagger on the floor and he closed his eyes, trying to get it to him. The dagger slowly rose in the air and began to float toward him. Peter caught it in midair and held it up, then took the outstretched hand of his wife.

“This is the dagger you used on my child?” Peter asked in a deep booming voice that made the Viking king flinch.

“Blood purity is important to my people.” Crissimar squeaked out, and Peter shook his head before lifting his gaze to see Margo.

“Jasmina.” He said, and Elizabeth sighed.

“They named her Margo. The earthlings.” Elizabeth said, and he held his hand out to his daughter.

“I know you have questions.”

Margo wrapped the robe around herself, trying to stop the shivering she suddenly felt that had nothing to do with her death or the cold. She looked up at Eliot, her dark eyes questioning, and he smiled as he smoothed her loose hair from around her face.

“You wanted answers, Margo. I think you’re about to get them.” Eliot said softly, then kissed her forehead.

Margo went over to her parents, and Peter took her hand and looked her over.

“The last time we were all together like this--” Peter started to say, then his dark eyes grew bright.

“We were attacked.” He sighed, then looked at Elizabeth.

“Your mother is from earth, but I am not.” Peter turned to look at Idri. “He took over for me when I disappeared.”  

“Idri.” Margo said then the former Lorian king’s eyes grew wide. “Shalimar?”

Quentin gasped beside him, and all eyes turned to him.

“I read about this!” Quentin said as he went over to the bookshelf in the room, and pulled out on of his Fillory books.

“King Shalimar ruled Loria, but then one day he vanished.”  Quentin tucked a hair behind his ear as he hastily flipped through the book. He stopped when he saw a picture and turned the book around to show the picture of the dark-haired man wearing the same crown.

“See? According to the book, Shalimar just vanished and Idri was appointed king.”

“Not vanished… was killed when he and his earth wife tried to establish a life there. The Pennon saw to that.” Peter touched Margo’s cheek. “You were so young, and they had attacked several times before, but this night they were prepared. We fought them as best we could, but in the end we were killed, and they carted our bodies away.”

Margo’s eyes widened as she remembered what was in her file. “I was found alone, and covered with blood, but there was no trace of either of you.”

“The Lorians returned to earth to find the princess, but you were gone too.”

“Taken to some filthy, disgusting orphanage where I stayed for 12 years before running away.” Margo scowled, but then it faded and she took her father and mother by the hand.

“I was so angry for a long time because I knew nothing of either of you. I had to go out and find my own family.” Margo turned to see Eliot, Idri, Quentin, and Gabriel and she smiled at them.

“If not for what happened, I wouldn’t have any of them, my kingdom, or my baby on the way. I wouldn’t change any of that.”

“Princess Jasmina.” Quentin said with a smile as he closed the book and pressed it to his chest.

Margo straightened her spine, then looked over at Crissimar. “So, what do we do about the Vikings and their assassination attempt on the Princess of Loria and the High Queen of Fillory?” She turned to look at Eliot. “Do we play the Red Queen card?”

“Sweetie, that’s so cliché.” Eliot went over to her and slipped an arm around her.

“And what would we do with a severed head anyway? Turn it into a table lamp?” Eliot then looked at Crissimar. “Though I should, considering what you did.”

“Would that really be best for your two kingdoms?” Peter put his arm around Elizabeth and kissed her gently before he touched his forehead to hers. Elizabeth closed her eyes as she nuzzled the side of her husband’s face.

“We created the gold box as a way to tell you the truth, if the worst should happen.”

“And it did.” Peter said softly. “But, I praise the god for you surviving, and I see the love your spouses have for you.”

Elizabeth lowered Crissimar to the floor with her power. The Viking king took a moment to adjust his clothing, then his gaze turned to Margo.

“I asked for your lineage because the Norse gods demand the best for the people.” Crissimar then slowly sunk to his knees. “I attacked you, Queen Margo and I was wrong. I’ll do what I must for my kingdom, even if it means surrendering my life for what I’ve done.”

Quentin, Gabriel, and Idri all went to surround Margo and Eliot. The high king and high queen looked at one another.

“Normally, anyone that did what you did, I’d be wearing your balls as accessories.” Margo moved away from her group of spouses and stood over Crissimar. She saw that Peter had the gold dagger, and she took it from him and looked it over.

“Its beautiful.”  Margo looked down to see the dried blood that was still on her chest.

“And sharp.” She sighed. “Crissimar, I’m a queen and I get that the people come first.” Margo reached out and touched his chin then raised it so they were eye to eye.

“My people mean everything to me, to us.” She corrected herself. “You came here to make peace with Fillory so both our kingdoms could prosper. I think despite what happened, we need to talk about that.” The tension in the air lightened considerably; Alex still had his sword out and he put it back in its sheathe. Eliot too breathed out a sigh of relief.

“High Queen Bambi is wise.” Eliot went to his wife.

“Rise, King Crissimar.” He took the gold dagger, flipped it in his hand, and offered the handle to the Viking king.

“Sheathe your dagger. We have a lot to discuss.”  

King Crissimar stood up, took the dagger, then bowed to Eliot and Margo.

“I think we do, your majesties.”

*** ********* ***********

The talks between King Crissimar and the monarchy of Fillory lasted all day and into the night. There were breaks in between, but by suppertime, things were winding down. A supper was prepared for the royal family and the guests. The meal consisted of fine venison steaks, roasted potatoes, roasted vegetables, rice, mashed potatoes, fresh baked rolls, and plenty of wine. Margo finished her meal and excused herself. The tales of the high queen’s resurrection spread through the castle, and the voices of earlier gossip were now whispers of awe as she walked down the hall. Finally, she opened the double doors to the royal bed chamber and went inside.

Margo removed her crown, set it on the nightstand, and disappeared into the closet. She emerged a short time later with her pink plushie robe over a long pair of fuzzy matching pink pajamas with flamingoes on them. The bedroom had a window box, which featured a built- in seat, and Margo frequently liked to sit there and look out at the amazing view.  Before taking her customary seat at the window, Margo opened her nightstand and pulled out the tarnished gold box. She went back to the window, sat down on the built-in cushion, and began to turn the box over in her hands.

The snow had returned, and she watched as the fat white flakes began to cover the already-frozen ground. Margo took in a deep breath, then sighed it out as she replayed what had happened in her mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The voice of Eliot interrupted her thoughts, and she whipped her head to see him coming into the double doors.

“I’ve already died once today, don’t need a sequel.” Margo set the box down on her lap.

“Thought you were busy entertaining?”

Eliot slipped into the closet, and he came out wearing a black silk robe with a gold embroidered dragon on the back of it. The hanging open robe revealed black flannel lounge pants that also had big gold dragons on it, and he tied his robe closed. Eliot sat across from Margo in the window box and held out his arms to her.

Margo quickly crawled over to Eliot and into his lap. She held the gold box in her hands as she adjusted the way she sat.  Sitting side saddle on Eliot’s long legs, Margo leaned her head on his left shoulder.

“Here…” Eliot said as he took the box from her hands and looked at it.

“You finally know the truth Sweetie, but if you don’t mind, there’s a few things I want to ask about.”

“I figured you would.” Margo said softly. “Go ahead. Before they went away, my parents and I had a really long talk, and they told me everything.”

“How did they even meet?” Eliot asked as he stroked a hand over Margo’s loose hair.

“Open the box.” She said as she raised her head. Eliot took the box and slide the lock open. He ran his finger over the keyhole and the seam of the box popped open. Inside the gold box, Eliot saw a small glowing old-fashioned brass key.

“A key? To what?”

“To Earth, apparently.” Margo picked the key up and looked at it. “Doesn’t seem like much does it?”

“Not really.” Eliot looked into the box and shook it a little to see if anything else came out of it.

“Take the key, put it in a lock, and turn the key toward the left.” Margo said then handed him the key.

“All right.”  Eliot stared at Margo and she slowly rose off of his lap.

“Hey!” Margo laughed as she hovered in midair. Eliot got up then she slowly sank back down to the cushion.

Eliot took the key and went over to the bathroom door. He stuck it in the lock and gave it a twist to the left. The wooden bathroom door shimmered, and dissolved away to reveal flashing neon light. Eliot creased his brow as he stepped closer.

“The fuck?” He then stuck his head into the open door and looked around. He craned his neck around the edge and saw the flashing Coca-Cola sign located in Times Square.

“Holy shit!” Eliot pulled back then tugged the key out. The flashing neon light faded and returned to the master bathroom.

“This is a key to New York City.”

“New York City is the key. It’s the place they met, fell in love, and had me. Mom was a student at NYU working at some hipster coffeehouse and Dad went there whenever he came to Earth. She noticed him, and would slip him free coffee, and the next thing you know…”

“Romeo and Juliet over latte?” Eliot sat back down in the window box, then pouted.

“And now I want a latte.”

Margo once again climbed into Eliot’s lap. She took the box from him and set it aside, then wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What is it, Bambi?” He stroked a big hand over her hair as she frowned. Margo closed her eyes as Eliot touched her, the touch soothing her a little.

“Just feel like things are unsettled. I got some answers, but still have some lingering questions.”

“You’re a princess of Loria, and the high queen of Fillory. You live here, but maybe what you need to do is go see Loria, which is technically your kingdom too.”

“A trip to Loria.” Margo sighed. “Idri is here now, Ess has taken over, and what do I tell him about the fact my father was the king?”

“The truth above all else.” Eliot said plainly, a serious expression on his face.

“All the time we’ve been here, we’ve never stepped foot in Loria.” Margo sighed, then reached up to take Eliot’s hand and laced her fingers between his. He knew her so well that he could tell she had a lot of lingering doubts.

“You found out a lot these past few days, Margo. You need to give yourself some time to sort things out.” Eliot touched her chin and raised it so he could see her eyes.

“Figure out some things, and then we can go to Loria, or even back to New York if you need to, okay?”

“How Princess Jasmina got her groove back?” Margo gave a small smile, which made Eliot smile too.

“You never lost it, Jasmina, which is a very beautiful and fitting name for you.”

A knock rang out on the double doors, they opened and Quentin poked his head in. The young king wore a tarnished silver helmet with two giant white horns on it. The horns were outlined with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds, and both Eliot and Margo looked at each other.

“Hey check it out!” Quentin strutted into the room, then spun and put his hands on his hips in a super hero style pose. With the hunter green pants, and shirt, he looked like the grownup version of Peter Pan.

“Bambi…” Eliot blinked. “I think we need to change his name from Quentin the Maladjusted to Quentin the-”

“Horny?” Margo finished as she got up and went over to him. “All right, show me the size of your sword.” She poked his waist, and Quentin laughed as he tugged her into a hug.

“Maybe later.” Quentin kissed her hair. “So glad you’re okay.” He said softly.

“Me too.” Margo pulled back and kissed him.

“King Crissimar wants you both to come back out.” Quentin still had his arms around Margo.

“All right, duty calls.” Eliot said as he stood up and went into the closet to change.

“Coming.” Margo let go of Quentin and followed him.

From outside the closed doors, a burst of cheers rang out that echoed throughout the whole castle. Quentin turned at the noise then smiled.

“Okay, okay, we’re coming!” Eliot came out in his grey paisley shirt and pants, then slipped his jacket on. Margo was in a gold and black dress and slipped a gold coat over it, which had a long train behind her.

“Royalty, bitches!” Quentin took their hands and tugged them out into the hall. Eliot waved the doors closed with one flick of his wrist.

Margo smiled and squeezed the hands of her husband’s. She held her head high and smiled.

“Royalty, bitch, and I got the pedigree to prove it.” Margo said as she marched down the hall toward the dining room.

END.

[squirenonny]

Hey, I got caught up in the periphery of some tumblr drama and ended up running into some aphobic stuff. Do you have any aro or ace headcanons for Team Voltron (and friends)?

D: I’m so sorry to hear that. I’ve run across some aphobic stuff myself lately, so it was very cathartic to get to write these headcanons. I hope they make you smile, as well. Because good news! All the paladins are ace/aro-spec. All of them.

Pidge – Aro/Ace

The Oblivious!Ace. Literally does not consider sexual/romantic attraction as a viable explanation for someone’s action until well after everyone else around figured it out

Didn’t realize Shiro and Matt have been dating since before the Kerberos mission

“Pidge, you literally walked in on us watching rom coms together.”

“Anyone can like rom coms.”

“I was sitting in Shiro’s lap. We were sharing a blanket!”

“I thought you were cold!”

Is super cuddly, but has learned that being cuddly, especially with boys, is a Romance Thing and so mostly only does it with family. Loves that Hunk will hug literally anyone, no strings attached, and was ecstatic when Lance immediately took the cuddles as a Sibling Thing instead of anything else.

Mildly sex repulsed, but super supportive of whatever sex life anyone else wants to have, so turns into an awkward vague-support monster.

*buries face in hands* “Guys, I love you and I support you and I want you to be happy, but please just don’t ever tell me. Anything. At all.”

“We weren’t planning on it??”

“Cool. Be safe or whatever.”

“Pidge!”

*puts on headphones and Does Not Think about whatever may or may not be happening*

All the Ace Puns. All the Aro Puns. Unironically into the cake jokes, and uses the “sounds fake but okay” line on anyone who starts getting sappy about their S.O.

Loudly and repeated points out that the Green Lion is already aro colors (green, gray, black, and yellow). Painted Green’s claws and tail in the black/gray/white/purple stripes of the ace flag.

The original Space Ace

Hunk – Pan/Demi (+polyamorous)

Used to think he was 100% ace/aro because he’s never dated and never really wanted to. Kinda started to develop a crush on Lance leading up to the start of the show, but it never went anywhere, and Hunk wasn’t inclined to push it

Was mad that everyone else was teasing him about Shay because he legitimately didn’t feel anything romantic toward her.

It’s like three months later after they’ve been space-Skyping nonstop that he sits back and realizes, wait….

Not really sure what to do with any of his feelings, completely flustered by everything, and it only gets worse after the Weblum incident when he realizes, oh, wow, hi Keith. Hi. I guess this is a Thing now.

Used to go to Pidge about ace/aro stuff until the two of them slowly realized that Pidge doesn’t have the context to help him figure out anything. So he’s in completely over his head and trying to figure out how anyone does?? Anything???

There are apparently rules for dating and people apparently know how to get from crushing to dating, but Hunk does not know any of this and it’s frustrating as heck

Cue lots of moaning into a pillow while Pidge pats his foot sympathetically but offers no real advice.

Shiro – Gray-Asexual/Biromantic

Shiro has always been on the ace spectrum, and found the ace community a few years before Kerberos, but has a hard time pin-pointing where on the spectrum he falls.

Was largely sex-neutral (wouldn’t instigate things for his own sake, but would follow his partners’ lead and/or do stuff for their sake)

His perception of “what is sexual attraction” vs. “what is romantic attraction making me want to do something I know they like” is very cloudy, and it’s only made worse because he’s at least 90% sure he has experienced some degree of sexual attraction where Matt’s involved, just… not consistently or predictably

It’s confusing

After his year of imprisonment he has a hard time with intimacy, especially physical intimacy

It’s a very complicated issue—part of it is that he’s self-conscious about his scars and doesn’t like taking off his shirt where anyone can see. Part of it is that if he’s in the wrong headspace, any kind of touch is stressful, painful, and/or panic-inducing, and it certainly doesn’t turn him on.

Reluctant to identify as a-spec now because so much of it is tied up in his PTSD. Generally tries not to think about it, except to be grateful that there’s no pressing need to address these particular questions

After they find Matt, he and Shiro have a long talk about it, and they agree to be non-physical for the time being.

Doing romantic but non-sexual things (fully-clothed cuddles, holding hands, long late-night conversations, making dinner together, star-gazing, ect. ect.) helps with Shiro’s anxiety, even if there are days where he’s pretty sure he’s sexually attracted to Matt but still too sex-repulsed to act on it.

Just in general, Matt is the best supportive bf and always takes the time to reassure Shiro that they’re doing good and Shiro’s happiness and comfort is more important to Matt than sex

Lance – Bi, Idemromantic or WTFromantic

Okay, so Lance has always known he’s bi. Because. I mean. People are really pretty? And he’s def been attracted to all sorts of folks

The weird part is romance because, like… Huh?

He figures for a long time that it’s just because he doesn’t have a lot of relationship experience, but he dates a few people and it’s still

Weird

It’s very hard for Lance to distinguish between platonic and romantic feelings. He needs it to be Clear

I flirted with you and you flirted back: *ding* Romantic

You flirted with me: ….processing….processing… *ding* Romantic!

We are rivals! *bzzt* Not Romantic! Not at all Romantic!

Basically Lance depends on context clues to figure out if a relationship is romantic or platonic, which usually boils down to “If we didn’t start out with pick-up lines or other overtly romantic things, we’re friends and we will always be friends.”

So if someone… hypothetically… wanted to move from the “friends” category to the “boyfriends” category, they would… hypothetically… need to say so explicitly, otherwise Lance just

will not

switch mindsets

Found the word idemromantic while searching for an answer to the question, “Am I just weird, or do other people get this, too?” But has a deep spiritual connection to the term “WTFromantic” because it accurately sums up his love life

Often confused for the Straight One in any given friend group, but that’s because he’s learned that dude + dude is automatically platonic, so he doesn’t even go there, and flirting is enough to cement him as allo in a lot of people’s minds

The other paladins lowkey thought that too when they first met him, so Allura was stunned when Lance admitted to her that he (a) likes dudes and (b) doesn’t understand romance at all.

Keith – Arovague

(Arovague being an ace/aro-spec orientation that’s highly influenced by neurodivergence.)

Because Keith is autistic

specifically he’s touch-averse and has other sensory issues that make anything sexual or even largely anything remotely physical very much a no-go for him

and he doesn’t get social cues in general, romantic norms in particular, and just. People. As a whole.

Oh, and also alexithymia (difficulty identifying your own emotions and putting them into words)

He doesn’t usually think about romance/sex because it just gives him a headache and he has better things to be doing

Like he’s not… opposed to having a relationship? In theory? He’s not sold on the sex thing, but he can see the appeal in having a boyfriend. He’d like a boyfriend in the same way he’d like more close friends like Shiro. He just doesn’t know how to go about finding either.

Also he’s just not really ever had many people he likes, let alone is attracted to

Even when he experiences attraction, it takes him a long time to realize it because he has a hard time sorting out his emotions anyway

He’ll figure out pieces of it—like that he gets nervous when his crush is around or that he’s happy when they’re together, but it just… doesn’t process as attraction?

Or he’ll consider that it might be attraction, then second-guess himself, then spend all night wondering if he’s making things up

It’s exhausting, and Shiro has honestly probably heard way too much of Keith not actually ranting about his love life (if only because Keith doesn’t think it IS a love life.)

Vents to Pidge a lot and Pidge, who wouldn’t recognize attraction anyway, is 100% on board with ace/aro Keith, which of course only further cements Keith’s belief that he is Free from the Chaos of Sexuality

Never really figures out if he’s actually experiencing attraction, but enjoys his relationships anyway, whatever they are—romantic, platonic, or something in between.

[jumpchain-drop]

Chapter 3.40: 9.97 Years

Year 10, day 355: Ten days before we leave and Piddle is still finding Glowbos somewhere. I swear, he has to have like half the Isle’s entire Glowbo population in the warehouse at this point. We’re just lucky that, for some reason, they don’t get shunted out of the warehouse when I close the door like it is with other living things. Maybe they count as pets.

However, he’s planning on holding off on finding a spell for this one. “If there’s a cool water creature in the next world,” he told me, “I think maybe I could make a spell to transform into it. I mean, I can turn people into boats and hovercrafts, why not something not native to this world?”

I like his forward thinking.

Year 10: day 356: We finally had the talk. It’s honestly just like me to leave something like this for the last possible moment.

I left Piddle and Bitbit at Banjo’s house to play video games (he doesn’t mind babysitting a lot, he knows Piddle is very well-behaved), then took Terra and Tooty into the warehouse. It was easier to keep the place a secret when the door isn’t so publicly accessible. I enjoyed watching the awe and wonder go across Tooty’s face as she looked over the place, when then kept going when I explained that our “monster” forms were actually something called Pokémon and a general gist of what that was about, along with the basics of the whole entire crazy scenario. Well, we left out that where I came from, these worlds were video games; you have to pace this kind of thing.

We went into the house. I sat in the armchair while they took the couch. I actually poofed into my human form, which Tooty was amazed by. Humans in this world are just straight up larger than any of the animal characters, but when most things are sized for the animals, you need either flight like a witch’s broomstick or size-changing magic like Humba’s to get places. I was definitely taller than I was as a pangolin, but I still didn’t have anything on Terra’s size.

“So,” I opened, “we’re here because Tooty has agreed to join us on this whirlwind adventure. Because of this, there is a lot of air that needs clearing and grievances to address now, before they spiral out into worse feelings.”

“What do you mean?” Terra asked.

“I can’t think of a nicer way to put this...” I said, already trying to swallow the lumps in my throat. “Since Tooty’s discharge, I’ve been dating both of you.”

The reactions were different, but not quite the ones I expected.

“Well, it makes sense when I think of how you looked at her the last few months,” Terra said. “I’ve never known a Pokémon to get jealous of their trainer’s romance with other humans, and even if our relationship is more than that, I still don’t mind.”

“Not surprised,” Tooty said. “I mean, you were pretty open about your feelings for her before I went underground, and since you were still living together after we started, I guessed you hadn’t broken up.”

“...Huh,” I responded. “I honestly thought you both would take this harder.”

“Jealousy is for the weak!” Tooty cried. “When you get down to the dirt, what matters is what happens! Besides, I can’t really blame you. I mean, I guessed you had feelings for Terra still, but I still dated you.”

“Yes,” Terra added. “I’m mostly hurt by how you hid it from me. I’m certain you have by how Piddle’s been acting lately.”

“I don’t want to hide it,” I said. “Never wanted to, but I was afraid of how you two would react and I’m bad at dealing with that. Now that it’s out, I want to get everyone on the same page so we can all get along without having to give up anything.”

“I’m listening,” said Tooty.

“I would very much like for us to all get along,” said Terra.

“I want to have us together in a polyamorous relationship,” I started to explain. “It means we’ll have multiple romantic partners, and as long as everything is agreed upon and consensual, it’s OK. I won’t even care too much if you develop romantic relationships with anyone else as long as you’re open about it to the rest of the group. Scheduling time for all the relationships will be tricky, but not something I think we can’t handle.”

“So, like… assembling a well-balanced team, only with relationships instead of element types?” Terra asked.

“Yeah, basically.”

“Then I agree.”

“I’m in!” Tooty chimed. “Sounds like fun, and I’ll try anything once.”

“Awesome.” I smiled. “So, first thing is we need to establish perimeters of individual relationships. The sorts of things we’re OK doing with each other. I assume you two currently don’t have a relationship with each other?”

Both replied no.

“So I’ll state what my feelings are about my relationship with each of you, and if you disagree on any point, we can negotiate on that. As a reminder, our relationships aren’t set in stone and can change over time. New people can also be added to the network, new relationships made with any of us at one end, though long-term ones that’ll potentially run longer than ten years are obviously inadvisable with everyone but other team members. Since we’re capped at seventeen on that front, as the apparent focal point of this entire adventure, new team members have to be run by me, but I hope that will be the only imbalance we have. We all OK with that?”

“I can’t imagine me needing any romantic partner besides you, Robert,” said Terra.

“That’s fine with me!” said Tooty.

“OK. I’ll start then.” I took a deep breath. “Terra. You have been with me since the very first day I’ve been on this crazy adventure. Our connection on an emotional level is undeniable. Your shoulder is the best to cry on and I know you’ll always have my back. You’ve previously stated you have no physical attraction to me, which seems to be the case even when we’re both human. As such, I view our relationship as one based on that emotional support, with dashes of the more not-necessarily-romantic physical acts. What do you think?”

“I think it’s more than just that,” she replied. “Our connection isn’t just emotional, it’s the bond between Pokémon and trainer that make both stronger. I value that bond just as much. I’m not sure why you keep downplaying it.”

“In my perspective, a good relationship has both sides be equal in contribution, or else it risks abusing the one contributing more. The trainer and Pokémon relationship seems unequal, with the trainer superior to the Pokémon. I don’t want to risk my abusing you.”

“I believe they are equal. Try thinking of that world through the eyes of a Mob. Even though we met in Orre, a land with no Pokémon League, you know that Pokémon follow human trainers solely by choice. So we get stronger together. It is why Pokémon traded to someone without the badges to prove their worth don’t listen; because they don’t view them as their equal.”

“I… I never thought about it that way, no.”

“That is how trainers and Pokémon are equal. If you can accept that, then we don’t have any more problems.”

“I can. Let’s hug later.”

“I would like that, Robert.”

“So that’s what you two are like,” Tooty said. I hadn’t quite forgotten her, but the emotions that flowed just now did push her into my mental background. “I don’t think I can match that kind of closeness.”

“Tooty?” I said. “Would you like to speak about how you view your relationship with me?”

“Yeah, I’d like my turn now,” she said. “My crush on you, Robert, basically… started with what you’ve done. Not just for me, but the Isle, you know? Locked up in the witch’s castle for a month and a half, struggling to survive. And then you go and offer me an adventure that’s… Just how much I’ve seen already is blowing my mind! You sounded more and more like someone I’d want at my back, if not my side. You’re like an adventure all by yourself. But there need to be breaks between adventures, and you don’t slack there, either. Our dates together were some of the most fun I’ve had since coming back home. I can’t ever provide the amount of emotional support you and Terra share, but I enjoy us being together, and… well, as a pangolin, you’re adorable and you’re nice to touch. Getting used to the idea of you being a human is going to take a bit.”

“I can’t argue with that,” was all I could say. I mean, even with a polyamourous open relationship, saying you wanted to eventually work your way to physical intimacy seemed like something better left unsaid. I don’t think I was violating my own secrecy rules, I mean, there’s keeping secrets and then there’s things you don’t say in polite conversation. “So, we all know where we stand and what our limits are?”

A round of affirmatives all around.

And so Tooty went to give her last farewells to her brother and all her other friends before going into the statis pod to rest for the next nine days. Terra and I shared a large human hug before resuming our animal forms and going to pick up our charges.