#imagine little Red telling Silver about his journey... big brother but it's still a baby too 😭

[beeholyshit]

My little bebes ❤️

[allthatglittersisnotgoldrush]

Author Interview: Victoryindeath2 (by Mythopoeia

Thank you @abadpoetwithdreams! I hope you don't regret the last question you asked :D

1. You are responsible for creating the characters of Frog and Sticks! What canon Silm event are you most excited to see from their child perspectives?

Soooo many things—but I am interested to see how they will feel when Mae is back on his feet, a warrior more deadly with his left than he even was with his right, the sort of man who can in canon create the Union of Maedhros. The children have seen Maedhros at his lowest, seen him tormented and crushed into the earth in the cruelest of ways. They also saw how he could be his best even when there was no hope or light for him—he protected them and was kind to them and loved them. I am just interested to see how other men’s and women’s opinions might change as Maedhros moves into the next phase of his life, and how the children will, in some ways, always see Maedhros as their Russandol.

Sticks: yeah I knew he was cool before you all realized it

Frog: *drops a rock in Mae’s left hand and curls up in his lap* tell me and my pet rock a story Mae

Mae: I actually have leadership things to do....

Sticks: you owe us for all the stories you didn’t tell us back in the Bad Place

Mae: *tells them a story and Fingon finds the kids sleeping under Mae’s arms twenty minutes later*

(There is also a non-canon event sometime in the future that I want so VERY badly but guess I can’t say because of spoilers *sighs*)

2. We often joke about how this AU is basically our own crazy version of a Silm tv series. What are some of favourite moments in the series so far that stand out to you as particularly cinematic?

There are so many moments, some of the wondrous and stunning variety, and some of the quiet and beautiful....but here are a few that leapt right to my mind:

a. Maedhros and Fingon parting the last time before Feanor divided the families almost forever! Maedhros with his hair in the sunlight on his horse and the line, “see you on the other side, cano!”

b. Gosh DARN it Mae on the cliff, with Morgoth offering him the chance to leap to his death, and he doesn’t take it *cries*

c. FINGON’S CHILD OF THE WOLF MOMENT WHERE HE TAKES MAIRON OUT (ALSO RIGHT BEFORE WHEN MAE GRABS AT HIS ANKLE AND TRIES TO GET FINGON TO SAVE HIMSELF)

d. Maedhros riding into the thrall camp and basically falling into Gwindor and SLINGING AN ARM AROUND HIS NECK YES HUGS ALL AROUND YESSSS

e. Look Ceili fic I know we talk about it all the time but I am here to talk about it again, especially the moment where Mae pulls Caranthir out on the dance floor and then they all dance together and everyone ends up in a pile on the floor except for Mae who just stands over them all laughing I think doubled over and there is so much good energy in that scene I NEED IT ON SCREEN

f. Personally I like to think that Celegorm stalking his way into a club in New York City and beating the living daylights out of Eol was cinematic

g. Maedhros having successfully argued Huan’s way into the journey west, stumbling all tired like up to the stairs, and meeting Nerdanel there, and resting his head on his mom’s neck. The darling tol bby

h. MAE ATTACKING ULFANG FOR THE SAKE OF HIS BROS, GOING FROM DEPRESSED BROKEN BABY WHO HAS LOST ALL HOPE TO DEPRESSED BROKEN BABY WHO HAS LOST ALL HOPE BUT STILL WILL FIGHT FOR HIS BROS

i. Bby Mae lying on Feanor’s chest ;;;;;;;;;;; before Feanor became the worst

j. Can’t even remember what fic it was at this point but there is a dream? Mae has? Of like....the sea and red sun or something? It was a lot

k. There are many many more moments and I am mad that I can’t remember the one that stood out to me recently

l. ..........the whole fic Seven Card Stud

m. MOONLIGHT GUNSLINGER MAE AND HOW HE TOTALLY OUTCLASSED MAIRON

n. Every hug and brotp and found family moment ever. I have addictions and there is never enough of what I want on screen

o. THERE ARE MORE SPECIFIC ONES BUT I HAVE TO STOP AT SOME POINT DON’T I

3. Walk me through what an ideal day would look like for Caranthir?

The MOST ideal day would be Caranthir waking up in his little closet bedroom in Formenos and realizing he just had a horrible nightmare, and also realizing that he still has his mom and ALL of his brothers. And then at the breakfast table Feanor says something like “wow I’ve been stupid in a good many ways, and a rotten dad because of that, good thing I have recognized my flaws and shall now be a better person, also Mae you can stop going to live in the city if you want, just stay here with your brothers. Also you know, Caranthir, even though you’re still my least favorite child, I’m proud of you. And not just because these are the best pancakes I have ever tasted.”

Then Caranthir probably helps his mom in the garden, gets some quality one on one time with Mae when Mae helps him make a pie, Mae reminds him how special and good he thinks Caranthir is, and Celegorm and Curufin ask Caranthir to join them for fishing. Not that Caranthir necessarily wants to do that, but he does want to be asked. Then Amras and Amrod ask him to help them with sums, so that he feels like a helpful big brother, and without being asked, Maglor takes out his fiddle and plays the slow-moving, peaceful song that Caranthir loves and Maglor despises because it is not challenging enough

4. What is a character POV you have not written yet about but would like to?

I would like to write something from Maeglin’s POV—I feel a powerful urge to protect that lost boy. He’s had an odd and often terrifying life and he needs a break. Good grief imagine having a mom like his mom, imagine Morgoth commanding you to call him uncle. Ew. Anyway, he’s exactly the sort of character I usually adopt as my son. An angsty sad boy without much future, who needs LOVE

5. If you could recommend only one fic from each author (including yourself, of course) what would they be?

HOW TO PICK?!

TolkienGirl: wayyyyy too many to really choose from but I have to go back to the beginning and say “news, breaking” because of the way it introduces my Feanorian boys, and also because of Mae wearing a flowered apron one minute and then a half open leather vest the next, with his glorious hair tied back!

Mythopoeia: I feel like I have to say “those gathered beneath” because it was so DEFINITIVE of our favorite Irish family, and also Turgon is a great narrator (but since I always talk about this fic I shall also add another, lesser known perhaps: “save ourselves unaided” because it introduces Haleth and more people need to appreciate Haleth and Mythopoeia’s Haleth is SO GOOD)

Victoryindeath2: “a certain slant of light (where the meanings are)” because it was my first Caranthir fic, and so it holds a special place in my heart

Bonus Q: The Feanorians are now a KPop group. What are their hair colors and roles?

THE WAY I CHOKED ON MY LAUGHTER WHEN I FIRST READ THIS QUESTION

I ALSO GOT WAY TOO CAUGHT UP IN THIS SO IF YOU ARE AN AU READER WHO DOESN’T CARE ABOUT KPOP IN ANY WAY YOU CAN STOP HERE, I WON’T BE MAD. On the other hand I think I have really good answers so maybe you should continue lol

Maedhros: He has to be a coppery red-head, doesn’t he? Maybe something of the red color that you once told me you wanted Heeseung to try. He would make a great leader, but ALSO. Also I think that he has had enough stress in canon in and in our AU, so I really just want to give him the opportunity to be merely the eldest hyung, who everyone goes to for comfort, for hugs and advice, and who supports the leader quietly. He is a good vocalist and can maybe rap in a pinch? but we put so much emphasis on him as a dancer that he HAS to be the dance leader. Obviously. Is widely acknowledged as the visual of the group

Maglor: Longish black hair, maybe midnight blue or deep purple. Has tried several different hairstyles and regretted half of them. He claims a specific aesthetic in hair and dress is necessary for him to compose the group’s songs, and while he gets teased by everyone for this he also writes amazing music so? It works? Is definitely a vocalist. His vlives consist of him playing every instrument known to man, and half the time Mae is sitting in the background listening with an awed expression on his face—till he falls asleep. Maglor can’t decide if he is pleased by this or insulted

Celegorm: Usually rocks blond or silver hair, but one time some fool insulted Amrod’s pink hair and the next thing you know Celegorm had pink hair for three months. Probably disparaged Maglor’s mullet phase but tried it once himself as a penalty for a game in a Run Feanorian episode and kinda thought it wasn’t half bad.

Celegorm is the “I don’t follow what the company says” member, “screw the rules if they aren’t good for my fam.” He is also a sick rapper and his diss tracks and mixtapes are things of beauty. He also clearly frequents the gym and will toss an annoyed member—most likely Maglor, but sometimes Curufin—over his shoulder any chance he can get. Has definitely done pushups with Amrod or Amras on his back. He and Mae swept the ISAC games

Caranthir: Typically goes with brown/black hair, which only throws the fandom into more of an uproar when the rare occasion arises in which he actually dyes it some other color. Probably went mint for a music video and Curufin started calling him mint choco boy, which offends him deeply as he is (sadly) on the side of “mint chocolate ice cream tastes like toothpaste.” He’s a vocalist with a rougher voice that is surprisingly pleasing to listen too.

Speaking of surprises, Caranthir never quite understands his own popularity. He didn’t like to do vlives by himself for ages, until Mae encouraged him to do cooking and baking vlives, and now he does one once a month on a schedule. Fans are putting together a book of his recipes

Curufin: He does intense and striking hairstyles and colors, and is probably the most likely to do black hair streaked through with red, teal, green, gold, white, etc. He claims to be the visual of the group and Mae is the one member who always agrees with him. I’d say he is also a dancer, one almost as good as Mae but with a different style, and he has a quick and sharp rap. He is heavily involved in the production of their songs over time.

Here is the thing though—I think, in this better non-canon non-Gold Rush AU universe, that Curufin could be the leader. See, Feanor is not gonna be the company CEO loll. Fingolfin is. And Fingolfin mentors better than Feanor EVER could. And Curufin is a sharp lad, very smart and crafty, and if he could just be convinced to care about all his brothers/group members like he does about himself and Celegorm in the AU, and if he just has proper guidance, allowing Mae to assist him in struggles, going to him for support, I think he would be an excellent leader

Ambarussa: Amras and Amrod have tried every color and color combination under the SUN, and they often coordinate with each other either to match or complement. Amras sometimes gets tired of this, preferring to stick to the general group color scheme, and when that happens Amrod just says fine be like that and goes off and does his own thing. Sooner or later though, Amras always gives in and joins him once again.

The twins obviously have all their hyungs wrapped around their little fingers, even Maglor who is driven insane by them crashing into his room shrieking and giggling when he is trying to write music or run a very serious vlive. As far as their musical talents go, I love when maknaes are ridiculously well-rounded, and these are Feanorian maknaes, so I’m gonna say they can both dance, sing, and rap. People have placed bets on whether they will grow as tall as Mae (spoilers, they won’t, no one ever will, he’s the tallest in Kpop world)

Huan: is the team mascot, and lives in their large dorm with them because Celegorm said so

Anddd that’s all folks

[gildersbane]

The Gilder’s Bane

“ Portraits “ 

Boots, loose around the ankles from their laces removed to  make a lasso, fell upon stone floors as Princess Petra marched down the corridors. Morning sunlight dipped in through dusty glass in arched windows. Lighting her path as she journeyed past locked doors and prying eyes toward the nursery. A place she’d not been since she was a baby, but which was now the home of a baby sister.

A baby sister who picked a truly terrible time to decide to join them. 

They weren’t expecting her for another couple weeks. Maybe if they had been allowed that kind of time, this whole mess would have blown over. Maybe without a new baby in the home and a mother recovering from labor, everyone wouldn’t be on high alert all the time. This would have been a problem, obviously, but they might have actually let it go after a couple days. 

But it wasn’t as if they could just put her back. She was here now and everyone was going to have to get used to it. And Petra… Petra was going to have to start setting a “good example”. Whatever that meant.  She liked to think that she was setting a fine example as she was. 

Steps came to a stop outside the cracked nursery door. Petra pushed it open the rest of the way and peered into the shadows. Inside it was dimly lit, with only a bit of light slipping through the sheer white curtain over the window. It was warm inside from the morning sun beating against the castle but the sleeping little one in the antique bassinet. Looking at this old, plush piece of furniture, the elder princess couldn’t imagine a time when she was ever tiny enough to fit inside it. It sat beneath a lovely canopy of pink cloth that draped around it. Providing a little fortress for the child to rest without light from the outside world slipping in.  For now, though, those drapings were withdrawn, as Meliora had just been in here with her daughter. Liking sitting with her in the leather armchair that sat just beside it within the canopy.

The little girl’s eyes didn’t open as Petra approached and looked down at her. She was swaddled in a plush blanket and peacefully sleeping the morning away without a care in the world. Despite the noise from the castle staff hurrying from one wing to another, the construction happening up on the roof and the barking of castle dogs beyond the window in the courtyard below. She didn’t stir. For however much longer that would last before she’d wake and begin to cry again for food or clean dressings or attention. It was a miracle she was able to stay quiet long enough for the nursemaid to step out and fetch something.

Petra leaned against the edge of the bassinet carefully. Looking down at the itty bitty princess as she lay. Her baby soft, warm brown skin. The tuft of dark, fluffy hair on just the very top of her head. She looked more like a doll than a little human.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Petra whispered as she stepped back from the child to let her have her rest. 

Clearly the currently nameless infant wasn’t in dire need of care. She was fine unattended before Petra showed up, surely she’d be fine for another few minutes while Petra took a walk to clear her head. Luckily she knew just the place for it that happened to be right down the hall. So Petra slipped out of the nursery without a sound, leaving the door ajar so she could hear her sister if she started to cry. A moment later she was walking further down the hall in a direction away from where she’d find anyone else in her family.

This path led Petra to one of the more prestigious halls in the entire castle. Down the hall, down a short flight of stairs and around a corner, she found the portrait hall. A place where portraits of every ruler of Argustead hung along with some of their treasured items. Alongside at least a dozen portraits of people Petra wasn’t certain the identities of. But it was the rulers who had the biggest and most ornate frames. 

Aside from the princess and her ancestors this hall was vacant. Everyone had much more important business elsewhere. With her head hung, Petra walked past more than a handful of her ancestors. Her paternal grandparents frowning down at the world in oil paint. A sour looking pair neither Lucien or Petra had ever met. Their parents beside them, looking even more uptight with ruffled collars that looked as if they would soon be swallowed whole. An empty space made to accommodate the portrait that would someday hang for King Lucien- The latest in a long line of great men. And beside that space…

“Hi, Dad.” 

Petra’s voice broke the silence that filled the hall with a solemn tone. Her eyes didn’t lift from the floor at first to look at him. But when she did, her chest felt tight and her shoulders heavy. Stoic eyes the same color as her own stared out at the world, seeming to follow her no matter where she stood. His expression was still and lacking any emotion but Petra didn’t mind. It was just good to see him again. King Samuel, late king of Argustead, stood poised with his head high. In his grasp he held his trusty wooden shield. He wore a deep red velvet suit with the silver trim like his own parents wore. Meliora had always used to tease him about looking like a tomato with those red clothes and auburn hair on his stocky body. Over the years he’d grown out the thick ginger beard that covered the lower half of his face in this portrait. It was painted only a couple years ago. Before anyone would have ever considered that the worst could happen. 

Below the portrait, hanging on the wall at eye level was an old, worn shield of wood. The one in the portrait but with a few more years and a few more battles added to its life. It’s circular shape had been broken by a large wedge of it having been hacked out by a powerful axe blow. The bronze plate at its center was scratched and dented but sturdy. Damaged as it was, it wouldn’t be of any use in a battle these days. But it had served Samuel well in his life, up until the very end. And when tragedy struck, it was with its king until the bitter end. Meliora had given her blessing to put the shield on display. To immortalize her late husband’s bravery and honor his memory.

‘Honor his memory’...

With a hefty sigh, the princess turned her back to the wall and sank onto the floor. She dropped her head back against the cold stone and closed her eyes tightly. She could feel the frustration rising again just thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Everyone partying at the Coronation like it was just another celebration, everyone telling her to stop acting the ways she’s always been encouraged to act, hammering in how things would need to be different now.

“How am I supposed to honor your memory if everyone wants to change everything you left behind?”

Petra knew there wouldn’t be an answer, but she needed to ask somebody. Nobody else seemed to understand why she couldn’t just let the past go. Why she didn’t want to stop doing the things he’d taught her to do. 

When she was little, Samuel always had an adventure for her. He knew that she’d never have the same esteem as Lucien since she was the second born child to the second queen… So he’d tried his best to give her as much freedom as he could give. As much room to forge her own path as their kingdom could allow. When he realized how much she loved to watch the guards training, he realized that she wasn’t going to be the same kind of reserved and quiet child her brother had been. He asked the captain to let Petra join the younger class of future soldiers. She trained along with the future squires and young hopefuls who longed for the days when they could be a brave knight for the kingdom. Defending their furthest borders from all manner of fiend and foe. It wasn’t the life most kings wanted for their daughters, but Samuel wasn’t blind as they were to what his children needed. 

Petra could still remember the swell of joy when she was given the family armor. It wasn’t a full suit, it hadn’t been as long as it was in the royal family’s possession. It had been refitted generations ago to fit a smaller body than the broad shouldered men of their family. It was a perfect fit for Petra. She wore that silver armor as often as she could get away with it. Sometimes even wearing the greaves under her gowns at formal events. She only got in trouble for it a couple of times. 

But even that had changed. All because of that sword. The moment she discovered it in that ancient forge, it drastically altered her life. In ways that she still didn’t fully understand. But it was special. Petra could feel it. A smoke creature no one could identify had come out of nowhere to attack her for it. It was a mystery that needed to be solved and nobody but her was even trying. She was certain that if she just went back up to that forge she could find clues. Maybe Petra could learn who put the sword there for her to find it. And maybe figure out why she was having such strange dreams. But Lucien had forbidden her from going back up the mountain. In fact, after her last fight, he’d locked her in the castle indefinitely. 

True. It was the worst Petra had ever been beaten in a fight… But the injuries were mostly superficial and wouldn’t even leave scars. Everyone was making a big deal out of the wrong things. She was okay. They needed to find out what was going on.

Why wasn’t anyone on Petra’s side in this?!

“Your highness?”

Her eyes opened with a start and the princess looked around the previously empty hall. The portraits still stared lifelessly out at each other on both sides. The only People in the hall were Petra and…. Whoever the guy at the end of it was. 

He didn’t look much older than her. A year or two, tops. He had a long, rounded face Petra may have seen around the castle a few times, but never paid close attention to. Maybe down on the lower floors by the dungeons. Where the court alchemists and royally appointed smart people worked. But this guy didn’t look like he was one of those people. He didn’t look aged or bearded enough for that. Plus he still had a full head of black hair divided into many thick locks atop his head. A lot of those old guys downstairs had long since lost their hair to the years.

He also wasn’t dressed nearly as elegantly as the court mages in their flowing robes. This guy’s clothes looked second hand and well worn. With visible repairs made to the seams of his green overcoat. 

“I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” Petra pointed out, gesturing to the portrait over her head. 

The boy didn’t seem deterred. In fact he only smiled and walked closer before stopping a couple yards back and bending at the waist to bow. 

“Your highness, I was hoping for just a few minutes of your time.” He said, lifting his head to peak up at her. “I heard whispers- gossip really. I had to find out for myself if it was true. Did you truly fight a … monster?”

A loud groan rumbled from the princess’ chest as she hauled herself up onto her feet, “What? Have you come to tell me I’m crazy too? That I should stop running into trouble? Or that it’s my own fault that some big purple smoke monster showed up and attacked me and tried to take MY magic sword?”

The stranger popped up from his bow, eyes wide and sparkling with delight at her words. His face split into a wide grin and his hands dove into the satchel he wore draped across his body. He pulled a roll of wrinkled parchment and a quill out and took a few steps more toward Petra.

“Crazy? It sounds exciting! In fact, I was hoping that you would allow me to be the one to document your account of the events.” 

This was definitely a surprise to Petra. This guy was the first to volunteer to listen to her.

“Who are you?” She asked, her brow furrowing curiously as she looked him over, “Why do you want my account? Hasn’t the king already given everyone the official story?”

Petra nearly rolled her eyes. Yes. Lucien’s story had, of course, been that the assault on her had been an isolated incident and not a reason for panic. That the one responsible would soon be brought to justice and that their peace wouldn’t be disturbed. Petra wondered if anyone actually believed it. 

With a sheepish smile, the young man bowed his head once again. “My name is Micha Fontaine. I’m an apprentice to the royal archivist. Mostly I help keep our scrolls organized and make sure the old books get dusted. But I’m hoping to change that.”

He righted himself and clutched his paper to his chest with purpose, his eyes full of resolve.

“Can I speak my mind, your highness?” Micha asked, his tone hopeful but careful. Petra gave a shrugging nod. She figured he was already doing that… “With all due respect to his majesty, I don’t think his story was… enough. The people want details. They want a mystery and they want to see it solved.”

Already Petra could see that she liked where this was going. 

He continued, his voice lifting enthusiastically. “I want to give the world a story they’ll never forget. Mystery, action, magic-!”

As he carried on, Petra’s ears picked up on something else in the castle. A different sound she couldn’t quite make out. A faint, distant droning. 

“If what I heard is true, your story of what happened three days ago could be just what I need.”

Petra raised a hand, trying to quietly shush the boy as his bright voice completely overpowered her hearing. That sound was still going. Shifting and changing in pitch somewhere within the castle. But what it was exactly she couldn’t tell with Micha talking over it.

“If I get your first hand account of your experiences then I could finally prove myself and move up in the world.” He blinked, watching the princess waving her hands to try and quiet him. “.... What are you doing?”

“Stop talking.” She whispered, eyes darting around the corridor, trying to discern what she was hearing and where it was coming from. 

The droning continued in an unbroken rhythm from somewhere else in the castle but here. It was an unfamiliar tone to someone who had spent every day within these castle walls. Petra had spent her entire life getting used to every voice, every creak and every groan these old walls held. But this was entirely new. It was also markedly nothing like the pounding of the construction. And with the castle locked down, it was very unlikely that they had a visitor. 

Not a welcome one anyway. 

One look at Micha’s face and Petra could see that he also heard it and was equally disturbed. Despite the fact that they’d never met, it was clear that the boy had been around long enough to know when something didn’t belong. As the princess took a few steps back down the hall the way she’d come, a chill rocked Petra to her bones. The humming was coming from…

Upstairs… The Nursery!

Petra gasped, her eyes snapping over to where Micha stood. “Come with me. Now!”

This apprentice archiver was not exactly the ideal backup Petra would have wanted when running into a potential danger. But she was unarmed and he was taller than her. He might at least tilt the odds in her favor if something truly bad was happening upstairs. 

Without pausing to explain or wait for him, Petra took off in a full sprint toward the stairs. She stumbled in her loosened boots but didn’t let that stop her. 

She never should have left her sister alone. She’d told her mother that she’d be there taking care of her. If something happened to her because she wandered off, it would be all her fault! Maybe Lucian was right. Maybe she was being reckless.

Slipping and sliding on smooth stone floors Petra, with Micha quick on her heels and stuffing his belongings back in his satchel, came upon the nursery door she’d foolishly left open. It was now a bit more ajar than she’d left. Confirming that someone had indeed come to this room since she left. She gave a glance back at Micha and signalled for him to follow her lead as she approached. And now that they were coming up on the room the sound they had both heard was clear as day.

It was a voice. Deep, smooth and melodic. A man’s voice by the sound of it. It held a calm but eerie energy with every moment it continued. It was very different from the booming, bone rattling roars of the monster that Petra had fought. This had to be someone else. Whoever this voice belonged to, they seemed to be… Humming. There was no mistaking it, though. It was not a voice Petra knew. And if she didn’t know them, they had no business with her baby sister. 

Casting out any doubts and any fears she might have, Petra threw open the door and entered the nursery, ready to confront this mystery man. When she entered, she saw the canopy curtains around the bassinet drawn closed, though the light from the window shined through them. It was warmer than it had been when she was last in the room. But a cold stab of horror still ran through Petra as she took in the dark silhouette of a figure sitting within the pink curtains. Taller than anyone Petra had known but unmistakably shaped like a person. A person sitting in the nursery of a three day old child, notably cradling something to their chest in the shadows. 

With Micha hovering in the doorway, Petra advanced. In a few quick strides she crossed the room and reached for the curtains to pull them open. When she ripped the curtains back, there was nothing that could prepare her for what she saw within.

Petra might have expected someone foolish enough to invade a castle and attack a child to be dressed like some sort of bandit or thug. But this person- or whatever they were, was dressed too well to be either. He wore a fine black and cream colored suit jacket with gold trimmings and embroidery around the lapels, cuffs and closed waist. His crossed legs were covered in what the princess could only assume were tall riding boots for they were all black and came up well beyond his knees. Making his legs appear even longer than they already seemed to be. But his clothes weren’t his strangest feature. 

He was… Tall. Nearly at eye level with Petra even while seated. And he was grey. Blue-grey like lead or steel and with nearly the same metallic sheen where the light struck him just right. His eyes, kept lowered even as Petra barged in on whatever mischief he might have been up to, were sunken and dark. If there were sclera in his eyes, there was no shine or whiteness in them. Only pools of darkness around two gold irises dotted with blue pupils. He almost looked like a statue sitting in Meliora’s chair. If not for the fact that when Petra looked to his grey hands, she saw him gently holding the baby princess’ tiny hand. While his other arm held the fragile baby close to his body and very out of Petra’s reach. It was worth noting that the infant was, as of yet, unharmed.

And then… there was his hair. Shimmering golden waves- literally- pouring from his scalp. Looking far more like molten metal than strands of hair, it seemed to flow away from his head and stop  of its own accord around his shoulders. Petra now wondered if the added warmth in the room was coming from him. 

This person- This creature was unlike anyone or anything Petra had seen before. He certainly wasn’t the same as that smoke creature. But she had no reason to believe he wasn’t just as malicious.

“Ah.. Hello, Princess.”

That deep voice cut through the silence, knocking Petra from her confused, stunned stupor. She’d been staring and trying to process what she was seeing for so many seconds that she was startled. She tightened her jaw and fixed the mysterious figure with a hard glare as she watched those hollow eyes slowly raise and settle on her. The sight brought abrupt and frightening memories of her dream before she’d awoken on the beach and left her with a powerful and looming sense of dread. The figure didn’t stand up. Didn’t make a move toward her. He only pulled back his thin lips into an unsettlingly calm smile.

“You and I have business to discuss...”

[kamino-ink]

Bubbles | Han Jisung

✧ Genre: Inspired by Fire Emblem: Awakening [gaius x fe!my unit], fantasy!au, comedy sorta, hella fluff, major angst my dudes, death//violence

✧ Summary: You were one of the many children sent back in time to help change the future - your reality. Along the way, you reminisce on old memories with a childhood friend that calls you quite the endearing name; bubbles.

✧ Word Count: 4.7k

✧ Check out my masterlist!

✧  Warning: graphic violence,, like I didn’t hold back kids - also spoilers for FE: Awakening sooo

                                         ✧

 You fucking told Minho that there was absolutely no way he could suddenly go back in time to try and save the life of his aunt, who had been a peaceful sort of woman from the stories you had heard growing up. She had been a beam of hopefulness to your people and their country, especially after the past exalt had only brought destruction and misery to another foreign land who’s citizens rightfully came to despise those of your motherland. After her untimely demise during an assassination plot, it was as if everything had gone tumbling downwards - the reality in which you had been raised in had come crashing down in a wake of burning buildings and slain lives of innocent people.

 But you had been approached by the very son of the past exalt - Lee Minho. Neither of you knew each other all too well, though he had heard of your strength and strategy on the battlefield during passing conversations. He had requested an audience with you, to which you hesitantly obliged, and then proceeded to tell you his masterplan; he would open a portal back into the past and save his aunt’s life, therefor saving your reality - their future. You, of course, had your doubts and expressed them urgently - if he was accidently killed during his mission, then there would be no telling of what might happen to him in the future. It was a risk you weren’t willing to take.

 So, naturally, you tagged along with the prince up until the very day he opened the portal, only to be separated when the ugly creatures in your world called Risen fell through into the past as well. The hideous, violent creatures chased you until you stumbled upon a little village, where a sly girl with a strong sword arm and red hair helped you kill the bastards so that they wouldn’t bring harm to the village. She didn’t ask too many questions, thankfully, and simply gave you some basic supplies for your journey to the palace - she didn’t ask about that, either.

 When you did finally reach the palace, you were surprised to notice that Minho hadn’t arrived before you had - you prayed that he perhaps took a detour to avoid the Risen, or something of that manner. One of the guards on duty, a pegasus knight with short, baby blue hair, bought your pathetic story of wishing to be a Shephard; Minho had told you that it was a band of righteous warriors his own father had led in his youth, so you could only assume that they were around still. When she led you into a shabby sort of barracks, however, your jaw had gaped so wide that the woman wondered if you had seen a frightening ghost.

 Your own father, whom you hadn’t seen in years since his death, was sat only a few feet away from you, stuffing his mouth with pastries and jerky like a madman. He was donned in heavy green and silver armor, and his trusty sword was resting in its holster - he seemed more happy, more... youthful, for obvious reasons. The last time you had seen him, he had started to grow tiny gray hairs from stress and worry, and his lips were always curled into a fake smile for your own sake, as if you didn’t know any better back then.

 “These are just a few of the Shepherds under Chrom’s command: the one with the iron axe is Vaike, the one struggling to carry the boxes without falling is Sumia, and the one currently eating like it’s his last damn meal is Stahl.”

 “Hmpf-! I - I am not eating that much, I swear!” The man in green defended himself, wiping his lips from any crumbs as he stood tall to meet your gaze with a warm, friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, mam! Seem a bit young to be with us, but we’ll take what we can get!”

 You laughed quietly, chewing on the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling so hard it would hurt. “My father was an excellent rider and swordsman, and he taught me everything he knew. I won’t become a burden, I swear it, sir.”

 “Oh really? What’s his name, is he a famous rider?”

 “Ah, you wouldn’t know him. But... he was the bravest man I ever knew.”

 I found you, father.

 The next couple of weeks were like a blur to you - while you helped the Shepherds defend their land and slaughter Risen left and right, you were left to wonder if another other visitors from your reality had fallen through the portal. If that was the case, you needed to find them, and fast. Luckily the gods had been smiling down on you, as only a short while later Minho had reappeared, though he was wearing a mask to hide his appearance and called himself Marth, likely using it as a ruse to hide his identity.

 The first time you had found the prince again, was during a tournament where Chrom had to challenge the West khan - it was a bit complicated, honestly; to win the support of the East khan, you all had to make sure you were her champions and beat the other khan, since their people believed far more in power than regular diplomacy. Whoever's champions won meant that the specific khan with their support would be the sole ruler of their country until the next tournament.

 You’d been hopping onto the saddle of your horse when you heard Chrom hiss under his breath as if he was shocked. Naturally your gaze trailed over to where he had been looking, and within seconds you recognized the warrior across the battlefield; it was Minho, but he was wearing a mask and new clothes. While to anyone else it seemed a bit strange, you knew he was only being cautious. Still, you were expected to fight him and the other warriors on the side of the West khan, whether you liked it or not.

 You got out of the fight with just a scratch, unlike the warriors representing the West khan. The entire fight you made sure to stay as far away from the hidden prince as much as physically possible, since you figured he would rather get the chance to fight his own father for the first time in ages. What amused you, though, was the fact that you knew damn well Minho had purposefully lost the battle - he had been trained by Chrom for crying out loud, he was by far the best fighter in your time; he only let himself be defeated so the events leading up to the big night of his aunt’s assassination could play out normally. Couldn’t risk too much change, after all.

 Like normal, the East khan offered the support of the Ferox soldiers to Chrom and his sister, and soon you were waiting for everything to unravel itself. In the meantime, you caught up with your father and your mother - both of them were still blissfully unaware of who you were to them, which only made battling alongside them harder than you could have ever imagined. You wanted to ride alongside the Bull and the Panther once more, where they knew you were their sole daughter, and that they had taught you everything you knew up until now. Yet the good thing to come out of it all was being able to see your own parents fall in love all over again, for you, at least.

 “You’re damn strong, Stahl, but your movements are so timid they wouldn’t even scare a mouse!” Your mother chastised the young man, stabbing the tip of her lance into the soil beneath their feet.

 “Ah, I may be strong, but I don’t think I’ll ever be as strong as you are, Sully. Actually, you’re probably the strongest of all the Shepherds.” The brunette laughed softly, making your lips twitch into an endearing smile from behind the piles of hay you were sat behind, listening to your parents talk to each other like old times.

 “Pah! How can you call yourself a knight if you crap out so soon? The legendary knights who served Marth would never give up so easily.”

 “You mean Cain and Abel? The Bull and Panther from the old stories?”

 You hold back a giggle as you listen to them, bickering like a married couple. The back of your head hits the yellow hay when you relax into it, your eyelids fluttering shut in peace at the reminiscent sound of your parents arguing over the simplest of things. Maybe Minho would truly be able to fix everything after all, and you would be able to be with your family again, like normal.

 That same night, Minho had appeared from the shadows again, just in the nick of time to stop the assassination of the exalt - and convince Chrom that he was indeed someone from the future. You had gotten to fight side by side with the man that night as well, to help him defend the door separating the coming onslaught of Plegians from the woman he had just saved. Still, as quick as he had come, he was gone right after the battle had ended, leaving you worried and alone. You weren’t sure what to do, since she had been saved and Minho had disappeared yet again - so you just kept traveling with the Shepherds.

 And then It was all for nothing - later, Emmeryn had been captured by the Plegians, and was meant to be executed. When the exalt heard the enemy leader offering Chrom the chance to save her by giving him the Fire Emblem, she sacrificed herself. You remembered clearly, watching the kind leader falling through the air until her body hit the ground beneath her with a sickening thud, her brother still racing to try and reach her in time - but he hadn’t.

 The exalt had died, even after you and Minho had travelled through time itself to try and save her.

 And again Minho reappeared sometime later, revealing himself to be Chrom’s son - he had shown the doubtful prince the brand in his eye, marking him as the same bloodline of Chrom himself. Then, Minho had explained who you were, and why you came with him - only to be separated when you both arrived to the past. Together, the both of them encouraged you to tell your parents who you were, and where you came from.

 Stahl had immediately started crying and ran over to your smaller body, tackling you into a warm bear hug. And even though she tried to hide them, you vividly remembered seeing the scarlet haired woman’s eyes glisten with unspoken emotions when she joined in on the hug, albeit briefly before going to think things over in her quarters - not that you exactly blamed her, either.

 Then it was like the other children from the future had started appearing out of nowhere, with your band of Shepherds coming across them so often you easily lost count of who had and had not been recruited into the army. While you now were somewhat alliances with the Plegians, the kingdom of Valm had started to wage war against your homeland in return, for no real reason other than the desire to conquer. With so many new experienced recruits, though, you were sure that your army stood a chance against the ferocious conquerors of the west.

 Even now, the army had taken a quick break from training and set up camp near a port where it was rumored that some of Valm’s soldiers would set foot on in a few days time, just to try and provoke the exalt, Chrom.

 Your muscles were practically screaming at you to take a rest, so you obliged and slumped down against a stray crate likely filled with rations or weapons, not that you cared which was which. A soft, airy breath escaped your lips as you took a minute to recuperate, watching as your parents set off to tie their horses to a post.

 “My fair maiden, if I were to theoretically take a couple of apples from the rations, would you rat me out to Chrom or Minho?” A whimsical voice purred next to your ear, but before you could reply honestly, the person speaking had already opened the crate you’d been leaning against and grabbed the fruit, plopping down beside you on the grass. “Here, you need to eat. You’ve been training for hours, Y/N.” Jisung murmured, forcing one of the two red apples into your hands while he took a hearty bite of his own.

 Feeling a bit too tired to argue with the persistent boy, you go ahead and take a bite of the delicious fruit, a moan of thankfulness seeping through your lips while you chewed. The blonde boy snickered in amusement and watched as you scarfed down the snack, making sure all the while that no one who passed by you two saw that you were taking a bit of the rations.

 “Thank you, Jisung-”

 “Han, bubbles! My name is Han.” He hissed sourly.

 “That’s your stupid codename you used when we were kids, genius. It isn’t your real name.” You retorted, flicking the sour boy’s forehead. “Besides, I know why you insist on going by Han for now - you still haven’t told Gaius that you're his kid-”

 “Shhh, bubbles! He could be around any corner.” He hushed you quickly, smashing one of his palms over your lips. You rolled your eyes, licking his hand to get him to swing it away from your mouth in mild disgust.

 “I just don’t understand why you haven’t told him or the tactician yet. They deserve to know, Jisung.” You tell him softly, placing your hand over the one you had licked comfortingly, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the top of his hand. The boy sighed almost inaudibly and glanced across the camp, your gaze following his.

 The legendary tactician that served Chrom herself, and his father, Gaius, were squabbling over something. Everyone from the future knew too well that those two were Jisung’s parents, as he had always bragged about them in your time period, in the future - even after their deaths.

 “I just -” he paused, his fingertips digging into the grass, “I’m so scared that they won’t approve of me. After everything my father did to become a good man for my mother, I ended up being just like he is now, erm… was.”

 Your heart ached for the timid boy and how fearful he was to possibly be disapproved of by the people his parents were now. He had followed in his father’s footsteps, to an extent - Jisung was a seasoned thief and assassin, and he was feared in your time for being so stealthy and of course, deadly. But his father had grown out of that phase long before he was born, and you understood why the blonde was troubled about revealing the truth to two of the most respected people in the country.

 Still, you flipped his hand over so you could gently intertwine your fingers with his own, squeezing them reassuringly as he glanced over at you. “Jisung, they would be so proud to be your parents. You were their pride and joy, don’t you remember?” You reminded him, your lips twitching into a warm smile as he nods at your words.

 And you were right, of course; the mother and father of the blonde assassin never failed to boast about their son. It was a known fact that even during strategy meetings his mother would somehow find a way to mention him, though most of the time he had nothing to do with any of it. The way Jisung’s parents died was... horrific, to say the least, and it left a scar on him to this very day.

 “Y/N, watch your flank!” Jisung hissed at you, his back pressed against yours while his sword clashed with a Risen’s, glancing back to you whenever he could.

 With a quick swing you were able to pierce the heart of another foul beast that had tried to catch you off guard, it’s heavy body falling against the wet ground with a sickly thud. “Thanks, Jisung!” You called back to the concerned boy, wiping your soaked hair out of your eyes before another beast could try and surprise you. “I think - I think that’s all of those bastards down here. Hyunjin and Seungmin can handle the one’s by the hilltops-”

 “Mother? F-father?”

 Eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why your partner was calling out to his parents when they were on a different part of the battlefield, you turned to face him, only to see his eyes widened in horror. You followed his gaze, only to feel your stomach start to churn in fear.

 The battle force his parents had been leading against the oncoming horde of Risen had been totally wiped out and pushed back much farther than anyone could have expected; and his mother and father were completely surrounded on the top of a tiny slope by the ugly purple monsters. The storm was only getting worse with each passing second, strikes of bright yellow lightning cracking in the dark sky while the rain continued to pelt down onto the battlefield.

 Gaius’s signature headband had been torn to shreds, and in its place were long claw marks slashed across the pale man’s face and part of his head, part of his ear missing along with his orange hair being matted to the top of his head. The master tactician was faring no better, her robes nearly shredded to pieces while the arm that clung to her thunder tome bled from various bite and scratch marks. You could only watch in growing horror as a Risen general drove his spear into the woman’s stomach, the tip of the steel weapon poking through her back and sticking itself into the muddy ground. Her husband screamed at the sight of his wife - the love of his life being murdered in cold blood right in front of him.

 The ex-thief rushed forward, defending his wife’s limp, bleeding body until the stronger monsters overpowered him and brought him to the ground, pummeling his smaller body like a twig.

 Then the horde of Risen began to charge at the remnants of your army, brandishing their bloodied weapons with sickening pride. You grab hold of Jisung’s arm, trying to drag him away before the enemies reached your positions. “W-we need to go Ji-”

 “No!” His heartbroken scream tore through the gloomy atmosphere, his body thrashing hopelessly against yours in an attempt to escape. “I can’t leave them here, please - please!” You could tell by his whimpers and pleading that he too knew it would be impossible to retrieve their bodies, but his heart wanted him to fight until he couldn't anymore. Without another word he stopped resisting, instead grabbing hold of your hand so he could lead you away from the carnage safely and reunite with the other survivors.

 “Of course I remember, bubbles.” Jisung let out a warm chuckle, leaning back against the wooden panels of the rations crate. “I’ll tell them soon, I promise. But... how did you tell Stahl and Sully that they - you know... died?”

 You don’t flinch at the question like Jisung clearly expected you to, instead scooching closer to the taller boy so you could rest your head on his shoulder. When you told your own mother and father of their untimely demise, they only got the basic recounting, as you didn't think you would’ve been able to stomach remembering everything that happened.

 Ever since Chrom and his wife had been killed in the fight for survival against the Risen army, as well as many of the other original Shepherds, your mother and father were tasked with leading the army as best as they could in their places. It tore the two apart each day, and you saw the grief swimming in their eyes whenever the deaths of their beloved comrades were brought up. Still, they had to lead now - they couldn't dwell on the past.

 If they had wanted to anyway, they wouldn't have been able to for much longer.

 You had been strolling around camp, too anxious to get any sleep in your tent that you shared with the other younger soldiers. So you went out for a midnight stroll to try and clear your mind, though you made sure not to stroll too far from camp.

 At some point you had come across a beautiful blue lake. There were two familiar bodies standing by the water’s edge; your parents. With a fond smile you decided to hide behind a tree and listen to them talk - perhaps they would be reminiscing on the old times, and you could involuntarily learn more of their past without prying about it so much in person.

 While you were honed in on eavesdropping, you hadn't noticed a shadowy presence being to make its way towards the unsuspecting couple, a scroll tight in the stranger’s fingers. The figure silently cast out an equally as dark, mysterious energy out onto your mother before they vanished as quickly as they had came.

 “- honey, what’s wrong? Sully - what are you doing-!” You heard your father’s voice become riddled with fear in a matter of seconds, so you peeked out from behind the oak tree, only to witness your mother driving her lance into her husband’s chest with no remorse. When she pulled her prized weapon out of her husband’s guts, she turned it onto herself and mimicked what she had done to him, driving it through her chest.

 You let out a scream, knowing it would likely alert those in the camp not too far away from where you were, and stumbled over to the two bodies sprawled out on the green grass, pools of crimson red blood growing under their bodies. First you check your mother’s pulse, only to feel nothing. A tear runs down your cheek as you quickly go to see if maybe your father is still somehow alive - and he is.

 Still the great knight is just barely holding onto his life, spurts of blood seeping over his chapped lips while his oddly calm gaze searches for your frantic eyes.

 “S-Sully did n-not do this, my child.” Had been his final words.

 At the brink of death, your selfless father had chosen to defend his wife’s honor and integrity until the very end. It was something that would haunt you until the day you too died.

 “Honestly? I told them that they had died together by a lake, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell them the truth of it all - I’m a coward, aren’t I?” You breathed out shakily, your eyes beginning to water as you reminisced on their final days in the future.

 The assassin next to you shook his head vehemently before he carefully turned so that he was sat in front of you, pressing your knees together while his warm hands found your shoulders, squeezing them to reassure and to calm your nerves. “Bubbles, you are not a coward, nor will you ever be. You’re the bravest person I know next to our parents, I swear it.” He whispered to you, pulling you into a tight embrace while you sniffed into his chest, a few stray tears making their way down your damp cheeks.

 Little did either of you know that four familiar faces had been watching the whole thing.

 A short while later, you found out that Jisung had come clean to his parents about his origin, and how he was their son from the future - he, like you, had apparently chosen not to give them the full story of their demise, which did reassure you in a sense. Although, one thing that confused you was the fact that he refused to introduce you to his parents - now, that is, since you sort of knew them in the original timeline.

 “But Jisung, I want to talk to them!” You whined to the blonde boy for the fifth time in a row, tightening your hold around his neck since you had your arms slung around his top half while he supported your legs that were wrapped around his waist.

 He rolled his eyes, knowing you couldn’t see them, and pinched the underside of your calves. “Maybe later, alright bubbles? They're very busy right now, especially my mother.” Jisung huffed.

 Of course you knew this was true, since the older Shepherds were starting to finalize a plan to get rid of the commander of the troops from Valm, so that the war could be ended before it became all the more destructive. You and the other kids from the future occasionally gave them some advice, but other than that a majority of you were left to your own devices; not including Minho, though. The prince was doubling down on making sure everything went according to plan, especially since none of you were sure what your futures looked like now after everything that had occurred since you all went back in time.

 “I know, I know... hey, isn't that them right over there?” You hummed in curiosity, peeking out from beside the boy’s head to see the man and woman in question walking in your direction. “Gaius, -” Your words are cut off abruptly by Jisung planting his palm over your lips quickly, the boy rushing to hide behind one of the tents before his parents could spot the two of you.

 “Did you hear someone calling for me, bubbles?” Gaius asks the tactician, and unknowing to them you can feel your eyes widen in shock - you could have sworn bubbles was your nickname given to you by Jisung; did his father overhear it and decide to use it for himself?

 “Probably just the wind, Gaius.” The woman snorts teasingly, the pair stopping just a few feet away from where you and their own son are hiding. “Speaking of... I was thinking earlier,”

 “That’s a miracle, dear!”

 “Shut it before I shock you with my magic, you dirty thief!” She snapped, whacking the orange haired man with her tome. “I was thinking about how Jisung calls his friend, Y/N, bubbles too. I thought it was my nickname.”

 You can feel the boy holding you up take a sharp intake of air, and if you dared to look at his plush, chubby cheeks, you would’ve been able to see how they flushed a deep red.

 “He takes after his father, I suppose. It is pretty obvious how he’s basically in love with her, after all.” Gaius snickers. “I mean, I don’t ever see myself not calling you bubbles now, so my guess is that the boy calls her the same thing since it clearly worked on you.”

 “Worked on me? What is that supposed to mean you little-”

 Their voices start to fade away as they begin to walk again, leaving you with a very stunned and silent Jisung still holding you up on his back. You slowly slipped down off of his back, going to step in front of him with pink cheeks. His eyes start to look anywhere but you, at least, until you smoosh his cute red cheeks together and (gently) force him to look you in the eyes.

 “Jisung? Do you - um...” You trail off, becoming flustered with how fast your poor little heart is beating in your chest.

 “Y-yeah, I do, bubbles.” He murmurs between his squished cheeks and lips, his shaking hands coming to rest over the top of yours that are still making him keep steady eye contact with you. “If - if you don’t feel the same way, I understand-”

 “I love you too, Jisung!” You say without thinking, not wanting him to even think for a second that you didn't feel the same way. His lips curl into a nervous but bright smile, and before you know it he’s gone to press them against your own into a shaky, innocent kiss.

 When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours.

 “So... I can still call you bubbles, right?”

 “Only if I can start calling you squirrel.”

 “Deal!”

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